by Kathy Ivan
Walking through the doors of the coffee shop, he spotted his boss sitting at a small round table at the back. After placing his order for a large black coffee, he headed over, easing onto a chair. Daniel had a cup sitting in front of him. Roland sipped on one of those frou-frou coffee drinks, the kind with all the whipped cream on top. Ridge barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
Roland had no business being out in the field. He was great with numbers and all the finite details of his team’s behind the scenes activities. In the real world, where DEA agents put their lives on the line every day, the citified accountant stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.
He laid the box on the table and pushed it toward Daniel. “Here’s the drone we talked about. Get it to Gizmo ASAP. Shouldn’t take him long to get answers on who’s spying on Maggie’s property.”
Roland perked up at the sight of the box. “A drone?”
“Not one of ours,” Ridge shot back.
When his name was called, Ridge stepped away long enough to grab his coffee, flashing a smile at the young girl behind the counter, who blushed, before he headed back to his seat.
“You have what I asked for?” His boss tossed him a small plastic bag, containing the GPS tracking devices. Ridge pocketed them, and then took a sip of his coffee.
Daniel shot a glare toward Roland, who kept picking at the tape on the package holding the drone, before turning his attention back to Ridge. “Anything new? Other than somebody flying drones over her place?”
“Maggie snuck out of the house this morning. Drove off before I could catch her. I’m pretty sure she didn’t leave the property. She wasn’t gone long enough. And her tires were caked with mud. If she’d stuck to the public roads, which are paved, she wouldn’t have picked up anything.”
“You think she was meeting somebody? Maybe about the shipment?” Excitement laced Daniel’s voice.
“Don’t know. I’m going to spend a couple of hours later tonight checking the lay of the land, after she’s gone to bed. Can’t do it before, or she’d be suspicious. There’s only so much tap dancing I can do without giving the game away. A security specialist works within the house and outlying structures, not gallivanting around the property. I might get away with suggesting perimeter fencing, but anything more and it’s gonna raise eyebrows.”
“Gallivanting?” Roland snickered and Ridge barely resisted another eye roll. Why had Daniel brought this guy along?
“Get those trackers on her vehicles ASAP.” Daniel slammed his fist on the tabletop. “I want her every movement monitored. She’s our number one suspect. We have to shut off the route. Allowing the drivers to get off the interstate where we’ve got a higher saturation of agents, they’ve doubled what’s gotten through over the past six months.”
“How sure are we they’re using Maggie’s land to move the drugs? I mean, there are other good-sized pieces of unincorporated, undeveloped properties in the area. Not nearly as big as hers, but cutting a swath across unoccupied land? Could be happening someplace else, right?”
Something still didn’t sit right in Ridge’s gut about this whole situation. After having met Maggie, spent a little time with her, he couldn’t picture the dark-haired beauty consorting with smugglers.
“Ridge, we’ve been over this before. Ms. White’s property is the perfect place for larger vehicles to drive across without being spotted. It’s far enough off the interstate to not arouse suspicion, and has huge areas of acreage with large native foliage which provides natural camouflage. There is access to paved roads bordering it on both the north and the south. Our biggest problem has been gaining access without going through official channels, because then the property owner is informed. If they are involved in the smuggling, it blows our chance at catching the smugglers red-handed. And two, finding a drivable path through such densely forested land is a daunting task, because the foliage from above makes it nearly impossible to survey by satellite. I’ll be honest, until you brought this,” he motioned toward Gizmo’s package, “I never considered using drones again. We have satellite images, but they’re practically useless because of the dense forestation. Our sources are credible, and they point at Ms. White not only being involved, but culpable in providing access to her land, and right-of-passage to the drug smugglers.”
Ridge shook his head, refusing to believe Maggie was involved. He’d be the first to admit he didn’t know her well enough to be one hundred percent positive, but after spending time with the woman, he’d willingly risk his reputation with the DEA that she was innocent.
“I’ll try and get the trackers on her vehicles today or tomorrow, depending on when she’s around. I’ll tag the ones she uses the most, though she’s got several really nice cars and trucks in her garage.”
“I don’t care how you get them on, just get it done.” Daniel ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Ridge was all too familiar with. His boss did it whenever he got frustrated, or thought a case was turning sideways.
“I’m sorry you’re spending so much time away from your family, boss. How’re June and Sammy?”
“Not happy that I haven’t been home in months. Sam’s started playing Little League, and I’ve missed every stinking practice. June says he’s being a good sport about it, understands that Daddy’s working. But I hate it. I want to be there to see his first at-bat. I should be in the stands, cheering him on, watching him play second base. Instead, I’m sitting here in a coffee shop in Texas Hill Country, trying to take down a Mexican drug cartel.”
“Hopefully, it’ll all be over soon, and we’ll have thrown a huge monkey wrench into Escondido’s pipeline. You’ll get a break, and be sitting on the sidelines at your son’s games before you know it. All I ask is you send me pictures.”
Daniel pulled out his phone, tapped a couple of buttons, and turned the phone toward Ridge. “June took this one last week.”
Ridge whistled low. “I almost don’t recognize the kid. Man, he’s growing so fast.”
“Yeah, and I’ve missed too much of it.” Daniel tucked his phone into his jacket pocket, and placed his hands on the table. “Everybody knows what their assignments are. The teams are in place. I’ll get the drone to your buddy Gizmo. Keep looking for where the trucks are cutting through. I’ve got a couple of guys patrolling the roads to the north and south of Ms. White’s property, doing surveillance for anybody looking suspicious.”
Ridge stood when Daniel did, while Roland gathered up the various pads, papers and pens he’d spread over the tabletop. “I’ll check in tonight after I’ve searched, either by text or e-mail.”
“My gut tells me we’re close. We can’t afford to make any mistakes.” Daniel’s expression hardened. “I got word this morning that the heroin confiscated from the last Escondido bust was laced with fentanyl. He’s getting dangerous and careless. Who knows how many people died from that poisonous combination?”
Shock coursed through Ridge at his boss’ words. If Escondido’s crew was lacing their product with fentanyl, that ramped up the urgency tenfold. Fentanyl had become the latest rage for users, because the high and the rush it gave magnified anything heroin alone produced. But it was also deadly.
“I’ve got to get back, Maggie’s gonna be waiting for me.” He gave Daniel a brisk nod. “We’ll get them.”
Without another word, Ridge walked out into the sunshine, and headed back toward the grocery store parking lot. He couldn’t screw this up. As much as he trusted Maggie, there was too much at stake.
Escondido and his army of drug runners were going down.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maggie loaded the supplies into her trunk, shaking her head at the growing pile of paper bags. Later, she’d transfer everything to the Jeep and head back to the cabins and stock them for the coming occupants. Right now, they stood empty, but she’d gotten word her guests would be arriving within the next two days, and everything had to be perfect. No mistakes, no missteps, no blunders.
Guests. What a misnomer. Mor
e like people who had nowhere else to turn. Who’d had all their options taken away, left with no resources to count on—except her. She both loved and hated she’d become embroiled in this subterfuge, but given the choice, she’d do it again in a heartbeat. After all, she could identify with them. Feel their struggles. Knew in excruciating detail the mental and physical anguish they endured, and the unimaginable choices that led them down a path from which there was no return. No way out.
Nobody could know. If anybody found out what was happening on her land, her property, she might be arrested. No, she would be arrested. She’d been threatened more than once, but she couldn’t let the thought of going to jail keep her from doing what she had to—lives were at stake. What she did helped the ones who couldn’t help themselves.
Closing her eyes, she leaned against the car, her hands atop the trunk, and felt the memories of that horrible night rush back, like it had happened yesterday. Fresh enough in her mind, she could almost feel her ex’s forearm around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. Hear the blaring wah-wah of the police sirens. Smell the acrid stench of smoke from the teargas clogging her nose and choking her, making her gasp for air. She couldn’t breathe. Heartbeat racing, adrenaline pouring through her body, she struggled against the crushing hold forcing her to her tiptoes as she tried to suck in air. Still felt the prick of the knife’s blade beneath her breast.
“Maggie?”
She jerked free from the memories, staggering back a step away from Ridge. Breath soughed in and out of her lungs, and she sucked in a gulp of air, eyes wide. Now that she’d been pulled from her memories, she recognized the moment for what it was, because it had happened before.
A panic attack.
Wow, she hadn’t suffered from one in such a long time, she’d thought—hoped—they were over. Yet here she stood, in the center of the grocery store parking lot, trembling with the aftereffects of falling head first into things better left alone. But the past once again reared its ugly head. She knew why. It was going to the tiny cabins, knowing they’d soon be filled, and she despaired over seeing anybody staying in them. Didn’t matter, she’d made her choice. It was her decision. Right or wrong, she’d stand by her word—because there wasn’t any other choice.
“What’s wrong?” Ridge started to reach for her, and she took an unconscious step back. His hand froze at her movement, and he slowly pulled it back, lowering it to his side, his expression shuttered.
“Sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I was lost in my thoughts, and didn’t see or hear you.”
“Maggie, you’re white as a sheet and you’re trembling. Did something happen?”
“No, Ridge, I swear everything’s fine. Just a few unpleasant memories, nothing more. It’s over. You ready to go?”
“Sure. Want me to drive?”
Maggie almost slumped with relief at his offer. The thought of climbing behind the wheel, with her hands shaking so badly she could barely hang onto the keys, scared her. Thank goodness Ridge came when he did, because she’d been close to succumbing to the panic attack. She’d be better soon, but coming down from the adrenaline high usually took time, and she didn’t want Ridge to see her fall apart.
“That’d be great.” She handed him the keys, hoping that he didn’t notice her fingers quivering. Quickly walking around the car, she climbed onto the passenger seat, and fastened the seatbelt, crossing her arms over her chest.
Just hold on. Once you’re home, everything will be fine. You can do your meditation exercises. Focus on the positive. Concentrate on the here and now. The past can’t hurt you. Never again. You’re not vulnerable. You are strong. Capable. You are not a victim.
Maggie focused on her breathing, slowing it down and taking controlled easy breaths in and out. She cut her eyes at Ridge, hoping he didn’t notice her stiff posture, the rigid self-control she exerted to keep herself from falling to pieces.
“Unclench your muscles, Maggie. Uncurl your fists, stretch out your fingers, one at a time.” His voice was soft, the tone soothing and reassuring. An unconscious hitch in her breathing had her closing her eyes, praying he wouldn’t ask questions. It was too much, too soon, and she didn’t have answers she wanted to share with him.
“That’s it. Smooth, steady breaths. You’re doing fine. We’ll be home soon.”
She didn’t answer him, instead focusing on the road beyond the windshield, watching the white lines blend into each other with every mile. The rhythm of the tires on the asphalt hummed in the background like a lullaby, the soft shush-shush sound easing through her until her eyes drifted closed.
Ridge glanced over at the sleeping woman at his side. She’d finally relaxed enough to fall into a light doze, which gave him time to study her and wonder what had happened to trigger a panic attack. Definitely a PTSD reaction, he recognized it for what it was, because he’d seen several in the past. Whatever triggered it had to have been a doozy of a memory, because she’d be so pale, he’d wondered if she’d pass out.
He’d recognized the signs. The hyperventilating, the startle response when he’d called her name. Swaying on her feet, he’d reached for her, instantly wanting to comfort and ease her. Instead, he’d maintained the distance between them, at least physically.
With one hand on the wheel, he dug in his back pocket for his phone, and called Buckeye. Somebody fell down on the job when doing the assessment of Mary Margaret White, and he needed to fix that glitch before it became a bigger problem. Nothing in her background indicated anything traumatic in her past. In fact, her records were almost squeaky clean. Now, in hindsight, maybe they seemed a little too perfect.
“Hey, Ridge. How’s it going in Texas Hill Country? Missing the big city yet?”
“Nothing wrong with loving Texas, my friend. You ought to try it sometime.”
Buckeye laughed. “Thanks, but I’ll stick to the sun and the sand. This Florida boy likes things a little more tropical. Cow patties and rattlesnakes aren’t my idea of paradise, my brother.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” Ridge stole another glance at Maggie, checking her breathing, and noticed the tiny sigh she gave before settling back against the seat. “Listen, I need you to do a little digging for me—off the record.”
“Business or pleasure?” He could picture Buckeye sitting up straighter in his chair and cracking his knuckles over his keyboard, ready to explore the World Wide Web, coaxing it to reveal all its hidden secrets. There weren’t many around who could finesse their way around the internet like Buckeye. There wouldn’t be a byte of information on Maggie that he couldn’t uncover. Ridge hated digging into her past, especially when it came to her personal life.
“Business,” he started to reply, but then changed it to, “personal. I don’t want anybody to know about me asking, or what you find. This is between you and me.”
“No problem. Whose skeletons am I digging out of the closet?”
“Mary Margaret White, goes by Maggie. She owns a pretty sizable piece of property that straddles Burnet County and Shiloh Springs. DEA ran her, but my gut’s telling me they missed something. It may be unimportant, but I get the feeling there’s a whole lot more to Maggie White than what they found. I need everything. Everything.”
“How soon do you need it?”
Ridge’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, tightening until his knuckles were white.
“Yesterday.”
Buckeye sighed, and Ridge could hear the clacking of keys as Buckeye began searching for info. “Gee, why am I not surprised by your answer? I’ll get you something ASAP.”
Ridge hesitated for a second, before he added, “Buckeye, somebody might have doctored her identity. Or made something important about her disappear. Nothing is adding up, and I don’t like it.” He kept his voice soft, not wanting Maggie to wake and hear him.
“Well, I’m guessing since the DEA did a background check, she’s part of an ongoing investigation? Just asking, because I don’t want to leave footprints in case somebody
else starts digging into your gal.”
“Definitely no footprints, buddy. E-mail me everything you find. And I owe you one.”
“After you finish whatever you’re working on, take a break. You haven’t stopped working in I can’t remember how long. Head on down to sunny Florida, and I’ll treat you to beaches, babes, and all the beer you can drink.”
“Deal. Thanks.”
“No problem, catch ya later.”
Disconnecting the call, Ridge turned the car into the drive leading up to Maggie’s house, and pulled into the open bay in the garage. Maggie’s eyes opened at the sound of the garage door closing.
“Welcome home, sleepyhead.”
Her head whipped toward Ridge at the sound of his voice. “What happened?”
“You had a little bit of a meltdown at the grocery, and I drove us home. No big deal.” He jerked his thumb toward the trunk. “Gimme a minute and I’ll unload your stuff. You want it in the kitchen?”
Maggie shook her head, opening the passenger door and climbing out. “No, that’s okay. It’s not for me; I picked it up for somebody else. There’s nothing perishable in there, so it’ll be fine until I drop it off. But thank you.”
Ridge placed his hand on the small of her back, and she stiffened almost imperceptibly beneath his touch before relaxing and heading into the house. It might have been a leftover reaction from her panic attack earlier, but it still bothered him that her nerves seemed frayed. Whatever caused her meltdown, it must’ve been bad. Then again, posttraumatic stress sucked at the best of times. In his line of work, he’d seen far too much of it.
“Want something to drink?” Maggie swept into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of glasses from a cabinet. “I’ve got soda, water, or sweet tea.”
“Tea, thanks.”
While she fussed with the tea, Ridge heard the text alert ding on his cell phone. Pulling it free, he smiled at the message.
Lunch at the Big House on Sunday. Unless you are bleeding or have lost an appendage, you WILL BE THERE. Love you.
