The Hunters Series: Volumes 1-3

by Glenn Trust

  Reaching into his pocket, Stimes pulled out a key and opened a padlock that secured the shed door. Throwing it open, light from the battery-powered lanterns inside cast their white glow in an elongated rectangle across the ground.

  As Stimes disappeared into the shed, George appeared at the far corner, making his way along the front to the open door. He moved slowly, stopping to listen and then moving forward. George was the expert when it came to tactical operations. That suited her just fine, she thought, following suit from her side. Playing it by ear, Sharon was all for it, just move it and do something, Mackey.

  Stopping just inside the door, Boss Stimes looked at the gathering on the floor in front of him. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Sitting in a circle around Andy’s unconscious form, the girls said nothing. Wide-eyed, fearing what would happen next, they wondered if they had made the right decision. Two were sobbing. All stayed protectively around the unknown man who had come for them. Their last link to the world they had been dragged from, they were determined, despite the fear sitting like a dead weight in their gut, not to abandon him to this man who was intent on beating him to death.

  “Sit still.” Monica’s voice quavered as she struggled to strengthen the resolve of the others. “We are valuable to them. They can’t hurt us.” She looked up at Stimes, summoning the courage to give a defiant smile. “You can’t have him. We won’t let you hurt him anymore.”

  “Really?” There was a moment of stillness, the girls looked at Stimes, he regarded each of them in turn, smiling. His hand flung out suddenly, backhanding Monica across the mouth sending her reeling backwards. “One down,” he said. “The rest of you still here?”

  Reaching down, Stimes grabbed another of the girls by the hair and threw her across the dirt floor. Rolling to a stop, she lay still not moving, afraid of what might come next.

  Stepping around to the head of the prostrate man, he reached down and grabbed the girl hovering protectively over Andy’s head. His large hand closed around her throat; he jerked her roughly to her feet. Juanita Lopez struggled to breathe as the hand closed tighter, cutting off her air.

  Fuck it. Budroe was right, just kill him now and be done with it. Stimes drew the forty-five from the holster on his right hip.

  “Stop!” Standing in the door Sharon’s arms were extended in front in the police combat position, her pistol held in both hands pointing at Stimes. “Let her go! Move away.”

  Pulling Juanita close to him, his head barely visible behind hers as he crouched, he pointed the forty-five at Sharon, standing silhouetted in the doorway. Lit by the light from within the shed and contrasted against the black night outside, she made a perfect target. A look of curiosity crossed his face. “I know you. You’re with the GBI, or you were.” He smiled, understanding coming into his eyes. “That explains this one.” He nudged Andy with his boot.

  “I said, move away!”

  “I don’t think so. You’re Mackey’s woman, aren’t you. That means old George is around somewhere.” His eyes moved, scanning into the dark. “George! Show yourself! This lady is making an awfully tempting target.”

  Moving into view from the other side of the doorway, George gave Sharon an annoyed look. She mouthed the word sorry and nodded towards Andy on the ground. George understood immediately. She had stepped forward when the threat to Andy had appeared imminent. He couldn’t blame her for that. The question now was how were they going to get out of this without both being killed, followed instantly by Andy, still unconscious and unaware.

  He positioned himself between Stimes and Sharon, receiving an annoyed look from her in return. He didn't care. She might be a law enforcement officer, but she also was Sharon, and he was not about to leave her to the whim and aim of Boss Stimes.

  “Looks like we have a standoff, George. You best put your weapon down, and no one will get hurt.”

  “This isn’t any television shit, Stimes.” He held his pistol firmly. “We’re not putting our weapons down. You know that.”

  “You’re right, George. This ain’t no television shit.” He pulled Juanita close against him, lifting her so that her toes barely touched the ground. “We have a standoff. I could shoot you or her…” He motioned to Sharon standing slightly behind and to the right of George. “But then the other would shoot me. Lot of rounds would be going off. No doubt some of these girls would be shot in the process.” The girls on the ground whimpered and tried to make themselves invisible. Stimes smiled. “In fact, I guarantee you that they will be shot.”

  George looked over his sights at the slim target area of Stimes’ head and part of his body, barely visible behind the girl he was holding. He was right. This wasn’t television. This wasn’t the place to take a shot. Stimes wouldn’t care who was killed or how many, if it saved his ass. That was the dilemma. Stimes could shoot anyone to get what he wanted. They would only shoot him. Stimes had a lot more targets at his disposal.

  Knowing that Stimes controlled the situation for the present, George knew he had to get him into a position where the odds were evened. “What you got in mind, Boss…to end the standoff.”

  “How about you surrender and hand me your guns,” he said laughing, at his own joke. Then becoming serious he said. “I’m leaving. She’s coming with me.” He pulled Juanita closer still. “When I get away from here, I’ll leave her along one of the trails in the swamp. May take a while, but you’ll find her.” He looked down at Monica, who sat on the ground where she had fallen after being backhanded. “You. Stand up. Come here.”

  Monica looked up at him without moving.

  Putting the forty-five to Juanita’s head, Stimes repeated his command. “Stand up. Come here. Now.”

  Monica stood up.

  “Come stand here. Link arms with her.”

  Monica walked over, turned and linked arms with Juanita.

  Stimes whispered in her ear. “You stay glued to her, like that. If you try to move away, I will kill you both. Do you understand.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she said, “I understand.” Her hand reached out and linked fingers with Juanita’s.

  “All right, Mackey, here’s what’s going to happen, so you don’t get any surprises and start shooting. We’re moving out to my truck. You and your GBI friend are going to back away. If you don’t try to stop us, no one will get hurt here.” He pushed the girls forward towards the door. “Move it.” His eyes never left George and Sharon

  Backing away from the door and the rectangle of light, George and Sharon watched as Stimes inched forward with the girls. When he had reached the doorway, Stimes stopped. “Over there, to the side of the shed.” He motioned with the pistol and then put it back to Juanita’s head.

  There was nothing to do, but give him his space. Weapons still drawn and trained on Stimes and the two girls, George and Sharon moved to the side of the shed at the edge of the woods. Stimes backed across the clearing holding the girls close.

  It wasn’t until he had reached his pickup that Boss Stimes realized he had a dilemma of his own. His back against the pickup, he held the Colt in one hand. The other hand held the back of the girls’ shirts bunched together in his grip. He needed a third hand to pull the keys to the truck out of his pocket, but not being equipped with one, he had no choice.

  “Stand still.” Moving the forty-five to his left hand, he reached his right hand into his pocket for the keys. It might have worked with someone else. It might have worked with Juanita and Monica a few days earlier, but something inside them had changed. Their captivity, the constant fear, the lack of control over their most basic actions, the helplessness they had felt, all of it had hardened in them a determination to end this. They would not go peacefully to whatever awaited them. They had nothing to lose.

  Hands and arms linked together, Monica dropped to the ground, taking Juanita with her. Flattened in the dirt, they made themselves as small as possible.

  Stimes, startled by their sudden drop out of sight, felt indecently
exposed as if he had just dropped his shorts in public. It was an uncomfortable feeling. He started to lower the forty-five in their direction. The metallic bang against the truck’s doorframe made him raise it.

  There would not be another chance. George began running as the girls fell to the ground. His first round was fired as he started moving forward, aimed high just trying to force Stimes to focus on him instead of the girls. It struck the back of the cab, just below the roofline. The second round was better aimed. The breaking glass of the driver’s door window followed the explosion from George’s Glock.

  Raising his arm, Stimes fired twice towards George, who dropped to the ground as the rounds buzzed overhead. Sharon opened fire from the side of the shed, squeezing off three aimed rounds in quick succession. The bullets smacked into the truck close behind Stimes as he turned and ran for the cover of the woods. Outgunned, he had lost the initiative because of the girls’ unexpected defiance. He took the only course available. Get the hell away from the shooting as quickly as possible.

  George advanced to the pickup, knelt beside the girls, scanning the woods and holding his weapon in front, pointed in the direction Stimes had taken. Sharon came up on a crouching run.

  “You see him?” Hovering over the girls on the ground, Sharon had her arm and pistol extended, slightly to the left of George, watching for movement, ready to return fire.

  “Shit.” It was the disgusted exclamation of a man who knew he was going to have to do something he really didn’t want to do. Tracking a killer in the dark in the woods was more like baiting a trap for a cougar, except you were the bait. The odds were on the cougar’s side. “He’s gone.” He looked at Sharon. “I’m going after him.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. We get him now, or he’s gone, we lose him.” Listening intently for movement, he peered into the dark woods. “I’m not losing him.”

  George was already up and moving to the tree line. “Get these girls into the shed, quick. Kill the lights, close the door, and shoot anyone who tries to come in.” He turned and gave her a brief smile. “Except me that is.” As he stepped into the woods, he added over his shoulder. “Budroe is around. Get moving. He won’t want any part of a gun fight, but he’s dangerous.” He gave a final look at Sharon and the girls on the ground. “Now move.”

  Sharon pulled the girls up, urging them towards the shed. She looked over her shoulder as George disappeared into the trees. “Mackey, I’m going to be really pissed if anything happens to you.”

  72. Helluva Thing

  Watching from the darkened camper trailer, Roy Budroe definitely did not want any part of the firefight in the clearing. He crouched by the window until the exchange of gunfire ceased and Stimes disappeared into the woods. A moment later, George Mackey was kneeling beside the two girls on the ground. Seeing the chief deputy of Pickham County intruding into his business dealings once again, Budroe could not suppress the anger he felt. The motherfucking son of a bitch. Saying the expletives out loud did not adequately express the intensity of his hatred for Mackey. Cocky, arrogant, always present, always watching, George Mackey was the virus that infected his world. Budroe was working himself into a killing mood. Someone would pay.

  Mackey disappeared into the woods, intent on following and finding Boss Stimes. Budroe knew that Mackey would pursue Stimes like a hound on a scent. He would not give up or turn back. Good. Budroe did not doubt that his lieutenant would make the most of the opportunity. Finding Stimes alone, in the woods, in the dark, would be like a dog following the raccoon’s scent into a cave and finding a bear waiting. Not a good outcome for the dog. Mackey’s interference in their affairs would soon end.

  From the camper’s small window, he watched the girls and that bitch from the GBI move to the shed. It was time to leave the clearing and regroup. His business enterprise here was ended. He had no illusions about that. But, the model was a good one. He could relocate, somewhere away from Mackey and the prying eyes of his friends in the GBI. It would still work. The millions in profits were not lost, just delayed. All businesses went through setbacks, growing pains. This was a setback, a temporary delay, nothing more. Budroe's ability to conceive of ways to take advantage of human weakness and greed was his great talent. Confident as always, he believed without question in his ability to recover. Whatever else he lacked in character, his determination and entrepreneurial spirit were admirable.

  Taking the shotgun from beside the door where one of Rivera’s dead men had propped it against the wall, Budroe eased the trailer’s door open. Peering carefully around the clearing, he stepped softly to the ground and moved to the back of the trailer. He sat for a minute watching and listening. There was no one in sight, no movement. The clearing was empty. Mackey and Stimes were somewhere in the woods playing their game of hide and seek. The girls and GBI woman were in the shed. No lights were visible. It was now or never.

  Moving with an agility that was surprising for a man of his size, he crouched and ran to the Escalade, pulled the door open and slid behind the wheel. The engine turned over and came to life with a roar, Budroe’s foot holding the accelerator to the floor. The Cadillac’s headlights bouncing wildly up and down, Budroe spun the wheel and fishtailed out of the clearing.

  Inside the shed, Sharon had begun an assessment of Andy’s injuries. She picked up the portable radio.

  “Jake…Rince… come in.”

  “Go ahead, Sharon.”

  “We’ve got Andy and the girls.”

  “10-4. Your location?”

  “There’s a shed in the clearing under the trees. You can’t see it from the air.” She paused and looked at the homicide detective, Juanita and Monica hovering protectively over him. “Andy’s hurt bad. We need an ambulance.”

  “10-4, Sharon, I’ll get an ambulance enroute. Can you give me the nature of his injuries?” Rince had taken the radio from Jake and was speaking. Andy was his responsibility, his friend. They had history.

  “Multiple contusions. He’s been beaten. Probable internal bleeding and injuries.” She lowered the small flashlight she carried in her pocket. “Pupils non-reactive. He’s unconscious.”

  “10-4.” There was a pause while he relayed the information to the dispatcher in Tifton. “They’re enroute. They have to dispatch from Valdosta. It’s the only available unit. ETA is going to be at least two hours. There’s no way to get a chopper in there. Can you move him? Meet them somewhere.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m afraid we’d kill him if we tried.”

  “10-4. Stay with him. Do what you can. Keep us advised.”

  “10-4.” Her head lifted at the sudden noise from outside. Standby one.”

  The roar of the Escalade’s engine was clearly audible as Budroe cranked it. Running to the door, she cracked it open in time to see the Cadillac’s taillights disappear into the woods down the dirt road.

  “Rince, can you spot lights in the woods leaving our location?”

  “Standby, Sharon.”

  The men in the plane scanned the dark terrain below. After a minute, Jake pointed to the green luminescence under the canopy of leaves. “There.”

  “We have the lights, Sharon. Who is it?”

  “Budroe, in his Escalade, getting the hell out of Dodge. Can you follow him?”

  “We’re on him.” Rince banked the Cessna to cut a path towards the car’s lights. “You take care of Andy, Sharon,” he added softly.

  “I will.” Putting the radio down, she joined the girls huddled over Andy. Helpless, without the tools or skills to provide the medical care he required, she could make sure of one thing. No one else was going to hurt him.

  Fishtailing around the dirt road’s curves, Roy Budroe passed the SUV that Sharon and George had left a half mile from the clearing, nearly hitting it as he rounded a bend in the road. He slammed on the brakes, moved to the right and gunned the throttle of the Cadillac.

  Overhead, Rince and Jake tracked the moving glimmer of light.

  �
�He’s going to hit the main road soon. We’ll lose him if he gets into traffic, makes it to the interstate.”

  “What can we do from up here?” Jake scanned the darkness below, watching the green radiance move under the trees towards the county road.

  “Not much,” Rince said. He turned his head to Jake and repeated, “Not much. You keep an eye on him. We don’t want to lose him.”

  “What are you doing?” Jake felt himself pushed back in the seat as the Cessna climbed.

  “Gonna scout around a bit. See where he might go. Don’t worry, you just keep an eye on him.”

  Jake watched the lights under the trees as Rince circled the plane higher.

  “He’s coming up to the main county road.”

  “Right,” Rince said. “Tell me which way he turns.”

  Two minutes later, Jake gave Rince the news. “He’s at the county road, turning left, west.”

  “Good.” Jake pushed on the yoke, banking the plane into a descending turn.

  “What are you doing?” Jake’s fingers were leaving permanent imprints in the sides of the seat.

  “Just gonna see if we can slow him down.” Taking his eyes off the ground rising to meet them, Rince explained. “It’s a straight shot to the interstate for him, and in this part of Georgia there’s nothing down there to stop him. You’re up here with me. If he makes it to the interstate, he will be gone, lost in the traffic in the dark. He can head to the Keys, an airport, or pick up I-10 and head west. Too many ways to lose him in the dark.” He turned back, peering down at the ground.

  “But…” The only thought that seemed to come into Jake’s mind was; high is good, low is bad. “We’re going down.”

  “I know. Sorry about that. Best I can do. Andy’s close to dead, those girls would have been sold. We have to try.”