Chapter 13
John was driving his Jeep, his wife’s best friend beside him. Nadia sat in the front passenger seat, hands on her cheeks. They turned the corner headed toward Nadia’s house.
Sam watched them go and then moved in the other direction. They did need to find the dog, but he was more hoping the dog was going to lead them to Shadrach. Was John in the process of telling Nadia that her twin brother had breached the town?
Sam walked down Main Street. It was a rough calculation, but the map of the town had shown him one thing. The trajectory of the bullet which hit Harrison Knight, and the bullet that hit the library wall inches from his face only led to one place. It didn’t mean the sniper would be there, but he had likely taken both shots from the same spot. Or somewhere near there. Otherwise the line-of-sight was interrupted by buildings, or trees.
It was a place to start looking at least.
Sam avoided the road to the ranch and cut across the grass toward the trees. The sun was going down, but he had a flashlight. And it wasn’t like he’d never pursued someone in the dark before.
“Need some help?”
Sam glanced aside at the tall Hispanic man on the horse. “He’ll hear us coming a mile off with you on that thing, Farrera.”
The big man shrugged. “Quieter than a diesel engine.” Sam could believe he’d been a DEA agent. He had that rough and ruthless look. Probably spent most of his time undercover, since he’d likely fit in well with crooks.
“Got another horse?” Sam had ridden a few times, but not for years.
“Yeah, I keep one in my pocket.”
Sam kept walking. “Thanks for your help.”
“Looking for the sniper?”
“What if I am?”
“I could tell you where he is. Show you the quickest way to get there.”
Sam turned. “And why would you do that now when you’ve apparently known where he was all along.”
“Okay, so we got off on the wrong foot and all. But there’s no reason why we can’t be…maybe not friends but something amicable at least.”
Sam studied him. Higher end western clothing, black Stetson. Dark coloring, back straight. Clean but worn boots. He might look the part, but he just didn’t fit on a ranch. Not when he should’ve been by the pool of his Miami mansion, posting pictures on Instagram of what his chef created for lunch so his million-and-however-many fans could see it.
Sam shifted his hand toward his weapon, holstered on the back of his belt. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something to do.”
Bolton Farrera didn’t move. When Sam stepped between two trees and looked back, he was still on his horse in the same spot. Studying Sam. Thinking. Plotting. Obviously up to something. Sam didn’t know what or why, nor did he have time to figure it out. But there was definitely something Bolton wanted.
And he seemed to think Sam could get it, or he’d never have offered to help.
He couldn’t lose focus, no matter what Bolton Farrera thought he could do. Sam had to take care of Beth, Remy, and Tommy. In that order. Finding Shadrach was part of taking care of Remy, since there seemed to be something between them. If he could lock down the sniper, he’d be able to neutralize the threat. One less thing to worry about at this point would be welcome.
If you don’t make it, it’s not failure. It just means the Good Lord has something else for you to do.”
Sam shifted on the dock, his bare feet dangling in the water. “Why can’t He just tell me what that is?”
Pop chuckled. “If God told you what was to come, you’d miss out on the fun in discovering it for yourself.”
Sam just couldn’t bring himself to pray about it. God was in control; he believed that. But Pop wasn’t here to guide him. How was Sam supposed to navigate his life without Pop to be his mentor and his sounding board? It was like a chasm in his life had been left by Pop’s death. His murder. The chasm lay between Sam and God, and how was he supposed to cross it? Pop had always helped him with that.
Maybe he should pay Tura a visit, when he got some time. The older Sam might be able to help him figure this out.
The ground lifted in an incline. Sam trudged up the hill with the wound in his thigh burning. He’d told Beth his leg was fine now. And it was, as long as he sat around doing nothing all day. Which had never been his way.
Boulders. Tree roots.
A path intersected his climb. Sam crossed it and kept going. A trained marine sniper never stuck to the beaten path. He couldn’t even imagine where the man’s head was at. He’d been imprisoned while the sniper was left for dead, and yet both of them were trapped in this town now. Both were trying to neutralize the threat.
They had a connection. They were brothers more than anyone else Sam had met so far. He and Shadrach Carleigh had to be able to come to some kind of agreement that involved Sam not getting a .338 round between his eyes.
Sam slowed. Noise from the town had died away to a silence he wasn’t eager to penetrate. Each footfall became intentional, at a particular spot, at a particular angle. He didn’t draw his gun, not yet. He didn’t want to appear as a threat. That was why he’d tucked the deputy sheriff badge in his pocket. Even though John had expressly told him he was still an “officer of the law” even when he wasn’t wearing it.
The trees came further apart, and Sam entered a clearing with a hot spring. Definitely a spot he’d visit if he was hiding in the woods. The beginnings of a cabin was being constructed at one end of the clearing, but given the patches of snow on the forest floor, not much progress had been made beyond flags stuck in the ground and wooden stakes that marked out rooms. He’d have to ask John about that.
Sam found a less-worn route on the far side of the clearing. He stepped in that direction. Paused. Turned back, hand on the grip of his gun.
Dark hair covered by a frayed knit cap. Thick, dark eyebrows. A long nose any Middle Eastern prince would have been proud of. Wide mouth. Wide jaw. Baggy clothes designed to hide him and all the things stuffed in his pockets.
“Shadrach Carleigh.”
The man didn’t move. Judging by the strap across his upper body and the muzzle behind his shoulder, he could have his rifle up and firing in a second. Sam would be flung back by the force of the bullet before he realized what happened.
A dog barked. The man lifted two fingers, and the dog stopped beside him, ears up and eyes on Sam. He didn’t know who to be more afraid of, man or animal.
Was he really going to arrest Shadrach?
“I’d ask who you are, but I don’t care.”
“I don’t believe you,” Sam said. “I think you know precisely who I am.”
“Be that as it may, Lieutenant. What I said stands. Don’t care.”
“Do you care that you put a bullet in the president?”
His eyes narrowed, a slight twitch easily missed.
“You at least need to come down and explain that, Gunney.”
Shadrach touched the dog’s head. Not a pat, so much as a simple brief touch. While Gunnery Sergeant Shadrach Carleigh walked to Sam, the dog sat in position. Unmoving. Evidently the touch meant, “Stay.”
Shadrach stopped, six feet from Sam.
“One of your bullets ended up in the president. You nearly shot me. You did kill a man named Harrison Knight—”
“You should be thanking me for that.”
“Didn’t say I wouldn’t.” Sam paused. “So. Remy?”
“I don’t require your opinion on that.”
Sam noted the man wasn’t asking for his blessing, either.
“Not from the hotshot SEAL looking to be the commander-in-chief’s son in law. Scored you some points with the boys, no doubt. Landing Beth Sheraton.” His smile held no humor. “Remy told me all about it.”
“Then you know Beth and I have been together far longer than the media knows.”
“Goes to show. What’s published isn’t always the truth. And the truth is usually far more nuanced than anyone realizes.”
&n
bsp; “I know the president hired you for protection he should never have needed. And he certainly shouldn’t have put those risks on someone else’s conscience.”
“It’s done now.” Had Shadrach even blinked yet? Sam didn’t know that he had. “Can’t undo it.”
“I’m sorry about your spotter.”
Shadrach gave him nothing.
“Your sister lives here. I’m sure she’d like to see you, make sure for herself that you’re okay.”
The dog barked.
Shadrach’s hand moved toward the rifle on his back. Sam drew his weapon and aimed it at the ground but ready just in case.
“No!” Nadia Marie Carleigh broke free of John’s grip and ran over.
“Nadia—”
She shoved Sam. “Don’t kill him.”
“I’m not—”
Her fist slammed into his chest. Sam grunted as she hit him again. “Nadia.”
John was grinning.
Sam looked at her. “Nadia.”
She kept hitting him.
“Na-Na.”
She froze. A tear tracked its way down her cheek as she turned to her brother. “I thought you were dead.”
Sam wanted to hold her back. Was her brother safe? It wasn’t out of the question that he could harm her. Sam glanced at John, who shook his head once.
“You let me think you were dead.”
Shadrach lifted his eyes, a match for Nadia’s. Aside from their coloring and tall, lean build, there was no other indication of a resemblance between them. Shadrach’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I am dead, Nads.”
**
“So it’s you, is it?” Abigail sneered. “A little anticlimactic. I’ll admit.”
Beth didn’t move from her seat in the waiting area. Remy was looking at Abigail like trouble just walked in the door, but she had to be seriously worried. Was this where everything would explode in their faces?
Andra came out from behind John’s desk, establishing a protective stance in the center of the room between Beth and Remy. “Tell me who you’re working for.”
Abigail’s nostrils flared. “I hardly think that’s the point. Even if I was going to share it with the jezebel-turned-saint. Sleeping with the sheriff, I bet you’re privy to a lot. But that doesn’t mean you’re the queen of the town no one knows about.”
Andra didn’t even flinch. “Tell me who you’re working for.”
Abigail grinned but it wasn’t humor; it was malice. She directed it at Remy. “They’ll know who you are now. They already know you’re here. Why else would Beth have come? Now I can give them the answers they wanted. It’s only a matter of time before they rain down everything they have on you. When they do, you’re all dead and the syndicate will get their property back.”
“Their property?” Remy stood.
“Who do you think your father worked for? He needed backers. People to hire worker bees for the hive. Your father is a dreamer. The syndicate—they are the ones with the real vision to implement his plan.”
“He’s crazy. It’s nothing but the ramblings of a delusional old man. How could they possibly want to implement what amounts to nothing less than genocide?” Remy shook her head, wide-eyed. “How could they?”
Abigail shrugged. “What do I care? They pay well.”
“You think my father will let them get away with it? He’s going to get it for himself and use it. He would never let anyone else.”
“I’m sure he’d love to take the credit, except for the fact he’s been dead nearly a year. Buried where no one will ever find him.” Abigail lifted her brows. “I should know. It was my shovel.”
Remy didn’t even breathe. Beth didn’t feel bad for Remy’s father, not even if he’d been horrifically killed. That might be heartless, but it was more than he deserved to receive. She considered it righteous judgment for his sins. Remy was probably relieved to hear he was finally, permanently gone from her life once and for all.
“The syndicate will get what they came for. Now they know who to…extract it from.”
Remy spoke low, almost too quiet to hear. “I won’t tell.”
Abigail laughed. “You won’t have to, dear. I hold all the cards. One phone call and I can rain destruction down on this sad little town you call home.”
Remy’s eyebrows lifted.
“And don’t think your sniper is going to help this time.” She paused. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up where Shadrach Carleigh is concerned.”
The door opened.
“Hal.” Andra smiled. “Nice of you to join us.”
“Didn’t like the body language.” He shut the door and leaned back against it, blocking any ability Abigail had to exit swiftly. “Thanks for coming down when I called.”
Andra nodded. “Any time.”
Abigail glanced back and shot him a look. “I suppose I should be scared now.” She chuckled. “As if I’m going to do anything to jeopardize my remittance.”
“Once this is done you won’t be getting anything but a cell with no window.”
Abigail zeroed her gaze on Beth. It was possible she shouldn’t have spoken. Abigail would not have forgotten she was there, but she didn’t need to draw attention to herself either. Sam wouldn’t have been happy, but the move meant Andra could get closer to Abigail without her knowing.
“Is that a promise?”
Beth lifted her chin. “You won’t win. In fact, I doubt you’ll leave this town alive.”
“Am I mistaken, or is this not still America? I am entitled to due process.”
“So you can plead to a judge that you were coerced into betraying your country for money like Senior Chief Locan?”
“That man did this country a service. It’s only a pity your husband wasn’t killed along with his team. Traitors all of them. Didn’t you hear?” She shifted her hips. “His only regret is likely never getting to finish the job.”
Beth smiled her most catty smile, something that had come in handy through years of dance. “He’s welcome to come here and try.”
“I’ll be happy to relay that information.”
“You do that.”
“Okay, you’re done.” Hal stepped forward.
Abigail shoved her hand in her clutch and drew out a weapon. Not a gun, it looked more like some weird kind of stun gun. Beth had never seen anything like it.
Andra pitched a stapler at her just as Abigail’s weapon fired. Hal cried out. Andra hit Abigail in the head, and she dropped at the same time as Hal. Metal barbs had attached themselves to Hal’s chest, strung with curled wires to the gun. He twitched and grunted, his muscles locked as he writhed.
Beth moved toward him.
“No!”
Beth stopped. Remy pushed her hand away and reached for the barbs herself. She gritted her teeth and pulled them out of Hal. “Yah.” She flicked her fingers then sucked on them. “Ouch. He’ll be out for a while.” She checked his pulse with her other hand.
Andra strode to the cell and unlocked it. She pocketed the key. “Help me get her inside before she wakes up.”
Beth grabbed a leg, same as Remy. They hauled Abigail into the cell and left her on the floor. Andra locked the door and then returned the key to the desk drawer. She clapped her hands together, brushing them off. “Okay, next problem.”
She strode to Hal and crouched. Slapped his cheek. “Wake up, old man. Shake it off.”
Beth glanced at Remy, who was smiling also. She started laughing.
**
“Don’t say that, Shad.”
He didn’t move. Despite his sister’s earnest words, he was apparently unaffected. A man like this wasn’t going to give anything up easily. Maybe Remy, with their connection, could get through to him.
“Let’s go down to town and talk about this.” Sam motioned toward the path that led down the hill.
Shadrach backed up a step. Nadia stepped forward at the same time, like a synchronized move.
Sam grabbed her elbow, not hard. But she wasn’t going to get
close to the sniper. He could move in a split second. A man like that, sister or not, was capable of anything.
Shadrach’s eyes narrowed. “You let my sister go.”
“Come into town.”
John clicked his fingers. Shadrach whirled around in time to see his dog trot over and stop by their huddle. “Good boy.” The sheriff gave him a rub down until the dog almost drooled, his tags jingling together in the otherwise quiet clearing.
Dauntless moved again to sit by Nadia.
Shadrach relaxed. Sam saw it in his shoulders. Out of all of them, it was the dog who was going to make him realize he could trust them. Go figure. Sam wished everything else about this was so easy.
“Shadrach?” Sam waited until the man shifted his gaze again. “We need to talk. To figure this out. You look like you need a good meal, and your sister is here. The people of this town care a great deal about her and about Dauntless. They’re going to welcome you into their fold.” Did he need to add that Shadrach would be safe here? The man looked like he desperately needed to feel safe.
“Until they find out I shot the president.”
Nadia gasped. “You would never—”
Shadrach pinned her with a look, and she swallowed the rest of what she’d been about to say.
She didn’t give up, though. “Please come down into town.”
Sam was prepared to arrest the man if necessary. And so was John, judging by the way the man’s hand twitched toward his handcuffs. Sam knew the rules, and Shadrach had broken them. But he couldn’t say this was the best answer to this situation. Did John think it was?
Shad stepped back. “I’m not coming in.”
“You have to, Gunney. There’s nothing else.” Sam fell back on their bond. “You can tell me what all this is. I’ll listen.”
“Lieutenant.” Shad looked almost broken.
“I’ll make it an order if I have to.” It wouldn’t hold much weight other than the respect they both had for the Navy chain of command. “You don’t have to stay, but I want a debrief. Just between us, if you want.”
“I didn’t kill the president.”
“No one thinks you did.”
Sanctuary Breached WITSEC Town Series Book 3 Page 15
