by Mary Alford
His suspicions clicked to high alert as he approached the vehicle. When he was two feet away, the driver’s-side door opened, and a bald man in a navy windbreaker stepped out.
“Hey,” the man said. “Quite the night for a walk, eh?”
“It’s cold,” Gideon agreed as he bent to look at the passenger inside the car. Clean-shaven, stocky build, probably not much of a talker if he were to guess from the man’s gloomy countenance. “Do you gentlemen need help?”
“Nope. We’re fine.” The guy in the navy windbreaker dismissed his concerns with a flick of the wrist. “We’re in from Fargo, but we didn’t expect this much snow cover on the highway.”
“You might want to head home and try back later. The storm’s still blowing in, so it’ll be rough for a while.”
“Thanks,” the driver said. “Appreciate the advice.” He slid behind the wheel and did a U-turn on the tarmac.
Gideon watched the taillights of the SUV disappear down the road. When it was completely out of sight, he made his way down the embankment toward the van. His eyes fixed on the rear bumper of the disabled vehicle. The V-shaped fold in the center matched the crack he had noticed on the front of the SUV, a fact he filed away for later consideration.
Using a blade from his pocketknife, he pried open the lock on the gate of the trunk. The kids had taken most of their gear when they left for the cabin, but a few random personal items and bits of trash remained. He tossed a notebook and a bag of Twizzlers into the back seat and whistled for Lou. The shepherd jumped into the cargo hold and began sniffing at the floor. Good thing he was trained to ignore food smells. Wrappers and stained paper napkins were scattered everywhere. But Lou was as single-minded as he was tenacious. His nose twitched as he pawed the top of one of the cardboard boxes that had been shoved toward the back of the trunk.
“What’s in there, boy?” he asked as he reached over and slid open the flap of a box marked BIBLES FOR THE RESERVATION. The pleasant scent of new books assailed his nostrils, and for a minute, he entertained the notion that Lou had been mistaken.
He should have known better. Underneath the top layer of Bibles, a dozen or so plastic bags of loose powder formed a soft white nest. His stomach dropped. Even though this was what he’d been expecting, he had hoped for a different outcome. Packets of loose white powder always meant the same thing. Drugs. He fumbled in his pocket and located his phone, which he used to snap a dozen or so pictures of the stash. Good thing he still had a narcotics identification kit at the cabin. He’d test the powder when he got home, but his gut told him it was cocaine. He loaded the packets into his oversize backpack and shoved the box back where he had found it. This wasn’t the way they did things back at the DEA, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
At least he was wearing gloves.
His ears still upright, Lou nudged a second box and then a third one. The contents were all the same. Anger surged through Gideon’s body like a flame. Even now, two years off the job, the sight of such a huge cache of drugs filled him with revulsion. And fear. There was enough white powder in the back of the van to make someone desperate enough to kill.
Copyright © 2018 by Jean Bullard
ISBN-13: 9781488088261
Grave Peril
Copyright © 2018 by Mary Eason
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