by Jeff Carson
Baine and Yates looked like they’d been caught stealing, then relaxed when MacLean shook his head and smiled. “You Wolf boys are popular.”
“All right, everyone gather around, please.” Wolf raised his arms.
They walked to Wolf while Burton and Jack slipped away to Burton’s truck.
“Where are they going?” Baine asked.
“They’re getting out of harm’s way.”
Baine frowned. “Somewhere safer than here?”
“The abandoned firehouse, where there’s not going to be a shootout,” Rachette said. “Now shut up.”
“The group of individuals who killed my wife are just to the east of us right now. About eleven miles down that road.” Wolf pointed at the back of Burton’s vehicle as it drove away. “They’re heavily armed. But so are we. And if we play this right, we won’t fire a single shot, and you guys will be bringing in a whole bunch of cartel members along with me into the station.”
“Not a bad day’s work,” Wilson said with a smile.
“Sir,” Yates said, “the FBI went mobile this morning. Something big is going down for them.”
Wolf paused. “What do you mean?”
Yates looked at Baine.
“They just flew out of the station,” Baine said with a shrug.
Wolf looked at each of them in turn. “Then we don’t worry about them. Ordinarily, we would be involving the FBI, but Special Agent Luke here has some inside information about their investigation, and I’m afraid we don’t have time for lengthy discussions with them. The timing is perfect right now, and we have to move. If anyone feels too nervous to continue, please feel free to leave right now.”
Wolf glanced at Munford.
She stood like a steel tower. Nobody else moved a muscle.
Wolf nodded. “The plan is simple.”
Chapter 38
Patterson and Lancaster stood on the front porch of the Muller residence and rang the doorbell again.
Patterson peered inside the window next to the front door. The morning light hitting the other side of the house illuminated within, and there was no sign of movement inside Sarah’s parents’ house.
Still no answer.
She exhaled, feeling lethargic as her caffeine buzz wore off and the lack of sleep from the night before began to take its toll.
“He’s not here, either. Let’s try back in town, I guess.”
Lancaster stepped off the front porch and she followed.
When her cell phone vibrated in her pocket she almost grunted with surprise. Slipping it out, she checked the screen.
Hello, Patty.
She’d been activated.
Howdy. She typed into the phone, and then waited to press send.
She checked her watch. It was 8:49:32.
They reached the car and Lancaster got into the driver’s seat at 8:49:40. She pressed the send button and watched the progress bar.
Come on, come on.
“You coming?” Lancaster asked.
She stood outside her open door and looked back toward the house, as if she was thinking about something.
Glancing down at the phone again, she saw the message had gone out. Her watch said 8:49:46.
One minute and counting.
Despite her electrified body, she climbed in and sighed, lazily setting the phone in the center console.
Lancaster started the engine and shifted into drive.
“You know what?” she said. “Ah, I feel like an idiot, but I have to pee so bad.” She pushed open the door. “I’m going to go around the back of their house. No one’s home. They won’t care.”
With no show of emotion whatsoever, Lancaster shifted into park and put both hands on his thighs.
“So … I’ll be back.”
Leaving the phone, she stepped out and walked away down the driveway. With a discreet glance, she saw that her watch said 8:50:07.
At 8:50:46, exactly one minute after her reply had gone out, her phone was going to chime as a message lit up her screen. The center console of the SUV would vibrate, and Lancaster’s eye would be drawn to a message that, like a huge sheet of fly paper, would ensnare him and his co-conspirators.
She stopped dead in her tracks, realizing she’d left her phone in silent mode.
Oh my God.
With shaky steps, she continued walking.
It would still vibrate. It would still catch his attention.
She stepped around the side of the house and out of sight of the squad SUV.
“Damn it,” she hissed, clenching her fists.
She took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about it now. What was she going to do? Sprint back there, open the door, flip the switch, and then leave the phone and walk away again?
Ten seconds to go.
Idiot!
Her heart hammered and the blood rushed in her ears. Realizing she actually had to pee, she relieved herself, which helped her kill more time, and then she stood at the side of the house for another few seconds for good measure.
At 8:52:15, just around suspiciously-long-pee time, she took a hard breath to steel her mind and marched back around the corner to the idling SUV.
She kept her eyes glued to the ground, and then halfway there she peeked up and saw Lancaster was on the phone inside.
Was it working? She stopped and tied her shoe, giving Lancaster a little more time.
A few moments later, she climbed back inside just as Lancaster ended his call.
“All right, all better now.”
He shifted into drive and turned around.
Feigning disinterest, she picked up her phone and gave it a nonchalant glance.
When the screen woke from sleep mode she read the words.
Hey, don’t worry. Me, Burton, Wilson, and Munford have Jack at 1483 Star Ridge Road. Keep it quiet until further notice. Come after work if you want. Still no sign of Wolf here. Keep us posted.”
It was all there, clear as day. She’d set her phone so that the entire message would appear onscreen as it came in, even if the phone was locked.
The message had been from Thomas Rachette, a contact she had added last night for the cell-phone number she’d been given. The real McCoy contact in her phone was Tom Rachette.
She looked over at Lancaster.
He was a statue.
She told herself he must have seen. A person’s phone sitting right in front of you, vibrates, you look at the screen and read it … it was human nature.
It was probably how most cheating husbands and wives got nabbed by their significant others these days.
Lancaster drove in typical silence, revealing nothing with his World Series of Poker Champion face.
She smiled inwardly. Because he had been on the phone.
He’d seen it. He’d relayed the message to his murdering cartel cronies, and they were on their way to getting taken down by half the Denver FBI field office.
Now she just had to lure this freak back to the station, where they were waiting to take him down, too. Where she’d be free from the creepy interior of this SUV once and for all.
“Hey, I was—”
Her phone vibrated in her hand, cutting her off.
It was an incoming call from Tom Rachette.
She stared dumbfounded, reading the real McCoy’s contact name a second and third time as the phone vibrated.
Silencing the call, she flipped the screen down and looked out the window.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Lancaster said. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips.
Had he read who the call was from as she sat staring at it like an idiot?
With a red face and alarm bells drowning out her thoughts, she pressed the green button.
“Hello?”
“Hey, don’t say my name, but it’s me, Wolf.”
Patterson’s heart leapt and she took a deep breath. “Mmhmm.”
Had Lancaster seen the subtle difference in the names? Had he seen anything at all?
“…
my instructions exactly, okay?”
Patterson nodded.
“Patterson? Are you there?”
“Yes,” she said in an annoyed tone. “Go ahead.”
“Good. Now when I hang up, I want you to act distraught, and then really worried, and then tell Lancaster that it was me.”
Patterson kept silent.
“When I hang up, he’s going to ask who this was. Be cagey, and then admit that it was me, and that you know where I am. Tell him I’m with Jack and Rachette, and you want to go meet us. Say you’re worried. He’ll refuse and say that the official channels need to be notified, and he’ll make the phone calls. Let him, because he’s going to send some men to come eliminate us, and he can’t be anywhere near when it happens. The address is 138 Wildflower Road. We’re texting you the address now.”
Wolf paused, and Patterson’s phone vibrated against her ear. She checked and the address was there.
“Are you still there?”
“Mmhmm.” Patterson changed phone hands and glanced at Lancaster. He definitely seemed interested.
“Tell him the address, show it to him, and then let him call the shots from there. Lancaster is dangerous, Patterson. He’s working for a drug cartel from inside the Sheriff’s Department and has for years in Byron County. You’re going to lure the cartel to us and we’re going to take them down. We’re waiting here and we’re prepared to do it.”
“Good plan.” She sighed loud like she was bored with the conversation. “Not necessary, but good plan.”
“What? Patterson, do you copy? Do you need me to repeat?”
“No.” She scratched absently at her pant leg, as if she were a teen having a conversation with her friend.
“We’re counting on you,” Wolf said. “Please text us back to confirm it’s in motion. Can you do this?”
Patterson nodded. “Listen, Dad, I have to go. Just get her out, all right?”
“Good girl.” Wolf hung up.
She pocketed her phone and gazed out the window, resisting the urge to scream out the window.
They had virtually the exact same plan! And they’d be surprised when it was a complete dud, but they’d be pleasantly surprised, and they’d all have a laugh in a couple of hours, after the FBI was done doing the dirty work.
“Who was that?” Lancaster asked.
“My dad. He’s trying to get my mom out. I’m afraid he’s going to try dynamite pretty soon. Listen, do you mind if we go back to the station so I can see them?”
Lancaster nodded.
Patterson leaned back. “Thanks.”
Game. Set. Match.
Chapter 39
Wolf hung up and stared at the phone for a second.
“What’s up?” Rachette asked.
He shook his head, recalling the single strange words Patterson had said—Good plan. Not necessary, but good plan. What had that meant?
“What? What?” Rachette was wide eyed, looking like he was going to strangle him.
“Nothing. Let’s get ready, people. Let’s put the trucks in the trees around back except for MacLean’s and Baine’s, which will stay where they are. Everyone into cover positions.”
Baine wiped his forehead. “Shit.”
Rachette slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I bet we won’t even fire a shot. And what are you worried about? I’m the bullet magnet here.”
“Speaking of,” Munford said, “you going to be able to hit anything?”
Rachette glared at her and then smiled.
Wolf had trouble figuring out whether she was kidding or not.
“No, I mean I have to take a shit,” Baine said. “I’m not feeling so good.”
Rachette removed his hand from his shoulder. “Yeah. Okay, man.”
Wolf watched Baine slink away into the trees, knowing exactly what his fellow deputy was feeling. It was pre-game jitters, and they were multiplied by ten when losing the game meant dying.
He remembered how he’d felt on his first mission as an army ranger. He’d vomited right in front of the entire squad. They’d even called him Puke for a few weeks after that.
Wolf pushed the radio button and put it to his lips. “Nate, you copy?”
“Go ahead.”
“We’re on.”
“Got it. We’re on.”
Wolf clipped the radio to his belt and turned to Luke.
Luke stood tall and still, her hand resting on the stock of the M4 Fabian had given her earlier.
“You know how to fire that thing?” Wolf asked.
She blinked in response.
Baine came out of the trees, looking better, and came over to Wolf.
“You okay?” Wolf asked.
Baine wiped his forehead. “I’ve felt better.”
Luke eyed him up and down and stepped back.
“All right, everyone. Let’s go over this again.”
Wolf outlined their plan to let the cartel get close and attack, going over various scenarios and what they would do in response.
There was no way to predict the cartel’s exact movements. Would they stop down the road and come in on foot? Would they drive all the way to the front of the house and come out with guns blazing?
It was going to take good play calling on the fly from Wolf, and quick reactions from everyone else.
Morale was high after Wolf’s third rendition of the basic plan. Now they just had to wait.
He checked his watch: 9:01. It had been eleven minutes since he’d talked to Patterson.
“What do you think?” MacLean stepped close.
Wolf closed his eyes against the sun’s warmth. “I think Patterson will be in touch any minute now.”
He shifted onto his left foot, and his right leg throbbed. Looking down at Rachette’s phone, he wondered whether Patterson was having trouble getting back in touch. Maybe the wheels were already in motion but she had no way of contacting them. Cell service coverage was minimal in many areas around the Chautauqua Valley.
“How are you holding up?” MacLean asked.
Wolf nodded. “All right, let’s get into position.”
Chapter 40
By 9:13 a.m. there was still no response from Patterson and Wolf’s blood pressure was escalating.
Baine swiped at something invisible. “Damn spiders are everywhere.”
They both squatted behind a rotting pile of firewood a few paces off the east end of the house. The wood sat underneath a sagging lean-to structure made of bleached timber.
Off to their right Rachette and Munford huddled next to one another alongside the house, taking refuge behind two piles of scrap wood.
“They’re quite the couple,” Baine said with a smirk.
Wolf watched as Rachette’s lips moved and Munford’s stretched in a nervous smile.
“I wonder what her angle is,” Baine said.
“What do you mean?”
Baine shrugged. “Mmm. I don’t know. Beautiful girl like that going after Rachette? Kind of reminds me of Gail Olson all over again.”
Wolf kept silent. He’d been thinking the same thing, but was never going to say it.
“She’s the only Byron person here.”
Wolf had gone through these same thoughts in his own mind and had already pulled Rachette aside, telling him to keep a close eye on her when the action started, and that’s all that could be done.
“We have approaching vehicles,” Nate’s voice came through the radio.
Baine perked up. “Pattterson hasn’t even called and they’re showing up?”
Wolf held up a hand to Baine and raised the radio. “What do they look like?”
“They just came onto the straightaway. The lead is a black pickup truck with KC lights on top. It’s kicking up a lot of dust, but I think there are three pickups in line behind it. Same type, different colors.”
“All right! They’re coming in. Everyone out of sight and wait for my signal!”
Wolf’s pulse thumped in his neck.
Baine
leaned on one knee and stared past Wolf down the dirt road.
They had a small gap in the trees through which they had a view all the way down the quarter-mile driveway to the end, where the county road passed by.
Right here they could see what the cartel’s first moves would be, whether they pulled in and stopped, letting out the men to come in on foot, or whether they decided to drive up.
“All right. Keep me posted, Nate. You ready?”
“Damn right,” his voice scratched.
Wolf smiled, thinking about one high-school game when Nate had the assignment of blocking the most dangerous man on the other team—a lightning-quick linebacker who later went on to play in the NFL. Repeatedly, Nate had gotten smothered, just barely slowing the big man enough to give Wolf time to let his desperate passes fly before getting leveled himself. Every time in the huddle before the next play, Wolf would ask him, You got number seventy-eight? and Nate would straighten his sod-covered helmet and say, Damn right.
“They’re two hundred yards out.”
A bead of sweat slid down Wolf’s cheek. The droning insects suddenly stopped and a low rumble filled the silence.
“They’re … not slowing,” Nate said.
Wolf dared not blink as he watched the county road below.
The rumble grew louder and a black pickup truck flitted by, then a white pickup, then two more pickups, and then there was nothing but a cloud of dust.
“They just went by. I’m looking … no brake lights. They’re not stopping.”
Wolf stood up. “What the …”
“What’s going on?” Baine asked, coming up alongside him.
“What happened?” Rachette asked from the side of the house.
“They drove right by!” Baine answered.
Wolf held the phone in his hand and stared at it. There was still nothing from Patterson. He brought her phone number up on the screen.
“Wait a minute,” Nate said, his voice urgent in the radio. “We’ve got more vehicles coming. Stand by.”
Wolf pocketed the phone and walked to the woodpile again. “Everyone hold your positions!”
“What the hell is going on?” Nate said. “It’s FBI.”
“What? Are you sure?” Wolf gripped the radio tight.
