by Hope White
“Stay here, please.” Nate shouldered open the door into the bay area.
He glanced left, then right. Nothing seemed strange or out of place. Scanning the garage all the way to the back exit, he spotted the car Tony had been driving, and a sedan haphazardly parked, with the driver’s door open.
Keeping his back close to the wall, Nate side-stepped tools and cords until he reached the other side of the shop.
Nate studied the sedan parked out back.
Smudges of blood smeared the trunk.
FIFTEEN
Agent Nance was supposed to meet Nate, and the sedan with the open door looked like a rental.
Nate holstered his gun, grabbed a crowbar and rushed to the car.
“Steve,” Nate called, leveraging the crowbar against the trunk.
There was no response. Tony wasn’t stupid enough to kill or mortally wound a federal agent, was he?
With a quick jerk, Nate opened the trunk.
Agent Steve Nance, bound and gagged, was looking up at him. Nate removed the gag.
“I can’t believe that kid,” Nance said. “He’s going away for a very long time.”
“Where are you hurt?”
“Besides my pride?”
“There’s blood on the trunk.”
“Not mine. His. He was pretty beat up, and that girl looked terrified.”
Nate cut the agent free of the duct tape and helped him out of the trunk. “What happened?”
“The girl distracted me, said she needed my help and the next thing I know, I’m on the ground and he’s tying me up.”
“They took Cassie’s car?”
“Yeah, with the evidence.”
“At least you’re okay.” Nate’s cell rang. He ripped it off his belt. “Chief Walsh.”
“Detective Vaughn ran into trouble at the Echo Mountain Rentals office. I’m en route,” Officer Carrington said.
“Ten-four.” Nate looked at Agent Nance. “My detective’s in trouble.”
“Go ahead. I’ll give my statement to police and catch up to you.”
* * *
By the time Nate reached the rental office, an Echo Mountain cruiser, state patrol car and ambulance were parked in the lot.
Nate got out of his car. The trooper and Red approached him. “She’s okay,” Red said. “Just a little banged up. She didn’t see who hit her.”
Nate nodded at the trooper. “Thanks for the backup.”
“Sure.” The trooper went back to his vehicle.
“Should I hang around, Chief?” Red asked.
“No, go back to your patrol. I’d like to maintain a sense of normalcy in town.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nate went into the office where Detective Vaughn was being examined by Rocky, along with Cassie’s cousin Madeline. Carol the office manager stood in the corner, eyes wide.
“Ma’am, I need to—”
“I’m fine,” Detective Vaughn interrupted Rocky, jerking away from him.
Blood dotted her shirt, matted her hair and stained her hands. She glanced at Nate and must have noticed his worried expression.
“Head wounds always bleed a lot. I’m okay, Chief. Thanks to this one.” She nodded at Carol who was wringing her hands. “She found me and called it in.”
“Carol?” Nate said.
She snapped her attention to him, obviously traumatized by all the blood.
“Thank you for taking care of my officer,” he said.
“Oh, uh, sure.”
“Why don’t you check her for shock,” Vaughn ordered Rocky.
“Then you’ll come with us?” Rocky said.
“If I have to.”
“Oh, she’ll go,” Madeline said, stepping up to continue the examination of Vaughn’s head wound.
Rocky led Carol outside.
“What do you remember?” Nate asked Detective Vaughn.
“Everything, well, until someone whacked me.”
Nate noticed a trophy with red smudges on the floor in the corner. He used a tissue to pick it up. “Maybe with this?”
“Probably that Tony punk.”
“Couldn’t be Tony. He was in Lake Stevens stealing Cassie’s car from the garage and tying up Agent Nance.”
“Unbelievable,” she said, then winced as Madeline tended to her head wound.
Madeline glanced at Nate. “We should take her to the ER.”
“Enough.” Vaughn batted Madeline’s hand away. “I need to talk to the chief alone.”
“Give us a minute, Maddie?” he said.
“I’ll be right outside.” Madeline packed up her supplies and left them alone.
“What did you find?” Nate asked.
“The name and address of the laundry service, Viceroy Laundry, Mount Vernon, plus—” she glanced out the window and back at Nate “—a connection between Mr. Anderson and a Chicago company called Wallingford Imports that I suspect is a front for the mob. I took pictures of email printouts. They’re on my phone, but I can’t find it.”
“We didn’t have a warrant anyway. Couldn’t use it in court.”
“Yeah, but at least we know where to look.”
“Speaking of which, how did you end up inside the office?” Nate asked.
“I thought I heard something and climbed in through an unlocked window.”
“Heard something?” he challenged.
“A man yelling.”
“And when you got inside?”
“No one was here, and the back office was locked. I guess that’s where the guy was hiding. Anyway, I did a little, ya know, looking around.”
“Which is against procedure. You should have left once you realized no one was in trouble.”
“Chief—”
“Pushing the limits is what got you in trouble with the FBI. I told you when I offered you this job that that kind of behavior is not acceptable if you’re going to work for me.”
She glanced down and sighed. “Sorry, Chief.”
Nate would have probably done the same thing if he thought it would give him insight into this case, insight to help him plan a strategy to put these guys away and keep Cassie safe. Still, he didn’t want criminals to elude charges because his department hadn’t followed proper procedure.
“Come on, you need to get your head looked at by a doctor,” he said.
She stood and went white. Nate grabbed her as her legs buckled.
“Madeline!” he called.
She glanced into the office, then called over her shoulder, “Rocky, we need the stretcher!”
Madeline rushed inside and checked Vaughn’s vitals. Rocky brought in the stretcher and they secured her in place.
“I’m okay,” she said in a strained voice.
Nate fisted his hand in frustration. This had to end.
“Chief, find my phone,” Detective Vaughn said as they wheeled her out.
“I will.”
Shelving his concern, he refocused on finding the phone. He knelt on the floor and searched under tables and chairs and behind file cabinets. The phone seemed to have disappeared from the tidy office.
The attacker must have taken it with him.
“Chief?”
He stood and glanced at Carol, who hovered in the doorway.
“I was going to lock the office,” she said.
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m not sure, so I called a car service.”
“I could drive you home.”
“Thanks, but you’ve got more important things to do.”
“Give me a minute?” Nate searched for Vaughn’s phone but with no success. He left the office and Carol locked the door.
“Do you know where Mr. Anderson is?” Nate asked.
“He went to lunch about half an hour ago.”
“Have any idea where?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
He handed her a business card. “Can you ask him to contact me when you speak with him next?”
“Sure.” Eyes downcast, she took the card and walked to a minivan in the parking lot.
Carol would be traumatized by today’s events, and it struck him that no one was exempt from the brutality of these criminals, not innocents, not even law enforcement.
Marching to his cruiser, he wondered how he’d tell his friend Will Rankin about Sara’s injuries. This was exactly what Nate had been trying to avoid.
He pulled out of the parking lot and called Will on speakerphone.
“Hey, Chief, got a SAR call?” he asked in cheerful voice.
“Actually, I’m calling about Sara.”
“What happened?” Will said, his voice suddenly flat.
“She was taken to the hospital with a head injury.”
“How serious?”
“She was coherent, but nearly passed out when she tried to stand up. She went into a situation alone—”
“Why didn’t you order her to wait for backup? You know she thinks she’s some kind of superwoman, but she’s not. She’s breakable like the rest of us.”
“Will, I—”
“I’ve gotta go.”
The line went dead. Okay, that went about as badly as expected.
Nate’s next call was to Agent Nance. His voice mail picked up.
“It’s Chief Walsh. I’m following a lead at Viceroy Laundry in Mount Vernon. This might be where it all started. Call me back and let me know if you can meet me there.”
Nate was about to call Cassie when his phone rang. He thought it might be the FBI agent calling him back. He hit the speakerphone button.
“Chief Walsh.”
“Hey, it’s Cassie. I wanted to check in. How are you?”
“Frustrated.”
“What happened?”
“Tony assaulted the FBI agent and stole your car. Becca was with him.”
“What are they thinking?”
“And Detective Vaughn was assaulted.”
“Nate, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Cassie, let’s not go there.”
Silence. Then, “I’d better go. Mom and Bree are on the way.”
“Be nice,” he teased.
“I’m always nice. That’s my problem. Talk to you later.”
He wanted to call her back, but thought better of it. He knew she was feeling responsible for everything that was happening. Nothing he said could persuade her otherwise.
The best thing Nate could do was chase the Viceroy Laundry lead and gather evidence to end this thing.
* * *
“Why did you lie to the chief about your mom and Bree?” her cousin Ryan asked.
“I didn’t lie,” she said, petting Dasher, who lay content in her lap. “They’ll be back shortly, trust me.”
“Semantics, coz. What’s the deal?”
“I hate putting Nate through this.”
Ryan leaned against the kitchen counter, his brows scrunched together. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.”
“Ya know, not all of the McBride men are thick-skulled, macho types like your brother.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maybe I can help?”
“Thanks, but I need to be alone with my thoughts for a while.”
“That sounds ominous.”
Tapping sounded at the door.
Cassie sighed. “See? Mom and Bree.”
Ryan looked through the peephole. “Not quite. It’s the FBI agent.”
He opened the door and let Agent Nance into the apartment.
“Officer, Cassie,” Agent Nance greeted. “Is the chief here?”
“No, he’s following up on something. I heard you were assaulted by Tony. I’m so sorry.” She sighed and glanced down at the dog.
“Hey.” Agent Nance joined her at the dining table. “I’m okay, and we’re close to solving this case.”
“Not close enough. I can’t stand that people are getting hurt because of me.”
“Shut up, Cassie,” Ryan said.
Agent Nance shot Ryan a disapproving look.
“It’s okay,” Cassie said to the agent. “He’s my cousin.”
“Well, he’s on duty and should act professionally.” Nance nodded at Ryan. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“My orders are to stay here, sir.”
The agent redirected his attention to Cassie. “None of this is your fault.”
“That’s what the chief says, too.”
Ryan’s phone buzzed and he answered, walking into the other room.
“Then believe us,” Nance said. “We know what we’re talking about.”
“I want this violence to end so things can go back to normal.”
“Did you feel like Becca was a willing participant, that she knew Tony was stealing money?”
“I’m not sure. I think she got in over her head.”
“That’s a shame because these guys won’t believe that. She’s a target, like you. And trust me, Tony and Becca are not smart or resourceful enough to elude them for long.”
“You mean...?”
“Whether your friends have the money and passports or not, the mob will put a hit on them.”
Cassie closed her eyes.
“But if we bring them in first—”
“It’s Bree,” Ryan said, rushing up to Cassie. “She’s missing.”
SIXTEEN
Cassie stood. “Missing, what do you mean missing?”
“They can’t find her.”
“Scott was supposed to—”
“He got pulled away on a guest emergency, not long, like ten minutes. He’s been texting and calling, but she’s not responding.”
Cassie put the dog down and paced to the door. “I need to find her.”
Ryan blocked her. “You’re staying here.”
“I’ll protect Cassie,” Agent Nance said. “You go help find your cousin.”
Ryan looked from Cassie to the agent, then back to Cassie.
“If you don’t go I’ll break out of here and search for her myself,” Cassie threatened, feeling utterly helpless.
Ryan pointed his index finger at her. “Don’t leave this apartment.” He whipped open the door.
“Text me when you find her,” she called after him.
The door slammed shut. Cassie paced to the sliding patio door, covered by a curtain meant to hide her presence.
“There’s got to be something I can do. I can’t stand that the people I love keep getting hurt.”
“You want to protect them,” Agent Nance said.
“More than anything.”
“I might be able to help with that. Actually, we’d be helping each other.”
Before she could respond, the door opened and Aiden stormed inside. “We’re on lockdown. Mom’s safe, Scott’s out looking for Bree, Officer Carrington is checking out Bree’s cottage.” Aiden finally noticed Agent Nance standing there. “Where’s Ryan?”
“I told him to help find Bree,” Cassie said.
“I’ll watch your sister,” Agent Nance offered.
“What can I do, Aiden?” Cassie asked.
He ran a nervous hand through his thick blond hair. “Nothing, just—” He hesitated. “Don’t do anything. Don’t call anyone. Just stay out of trouble.�
��
Aiden blew past the agent and left.
Don’t do anything. Like always. The world continued around her and she couldn’t do a thing to participate, and in this case help get her family and friends out of trouble.
A slow burn rose up her chest. Just stay out of trouble. Is that what everyone thought? That Cassie had somehow caused this? She’d blamed herself from the beginning, yet Nate had almost convinced her she was not responsible for anything that had happened.
Bree was missing. Cassie’s fault.
She narrowed her eyes at Agent Nance. “You were saying something before about helping me stop this madness?’
“You can start by calling Becca. We’ll set up a meeting place.”
“Are you going to arrest her?”
“Not if she cooperates.”
“I should tell Chief Walsh.”
“Let’s get Becca into custody first. I’ll convince her to give up Tony and testify against him. When the chief returns with evidence from the laundry facility, we’ll have everything we need to shut this down. It will be over.”
Finally. Cassie would be out of danger, her family, her friends...
Nate would be out of danger.
Cassie pulled out her phone and made the call.
Becca answered in a frantic state. “Cassie, I’m scared and now Tony’s gone and I don’t know where he is, and he said if he didn’t come back to leave town but the bad guys will follow me!”
“Becca, listen, the FBI can protect you.”
“They’ll arrest me!”
“Agent Nance won’t arrest you if you cooperate. I’m with him right now. Meet us somewhere so he can keep you safe.”
“Tony said—”
“Stop listening to him. Hasn’t he gotten you into enough trouble?”
The agent scribbled something on a piece of paper and slid it across the dining table.
“Bec, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound cross, but I’m worried about you, and my family.”
“Your family?”
“Bree is missing. Becca, please help me. Meet me at—” she glanced at the slip of paper “—Sammish Park on Route Two, north end parking lot. Okay? Do you have a car?”
“I have your car.”
“Can you meet us at the park in about—” She glanced at the agent.
“An hour,” he said.
