Justice for Katie (A Jake and Emma Mystery Book 3)

by Linda Crowder

Jake carefully disconnected a key from the ring hanging in the car's ignition and handed it to Emma. "Mine's in the console. If we see Jameson's car, get it out and load it. If we have enough time, I'll use the rifle, but if we need firepower fast, load it and hand it to me then get down below the dashboard."

  "Will do. Oh, Jake, I can't stop praying that we'll find Sandra and she'll be all right."

  "Believe me, I'm praying too."

  They covered the distance in record time, thanks to Matt's police light and blaring siren. Reaching the crossroads where Jameson would have to come if he were headed north to I-90, Matt pulled off the road. Jake pulled in behind him. Matt got out of his car and jogged back, while Jake opened the window.

  "Dispatch is sending a car to guard this crossroad and they've asked me to secure it until he relieves us. He's right behind us so once he gets here, we'll go on ahead until we meet up with the Highway Patrol."

  "Any news?" asked Emma.

  "Nothing. They reached the spot where the car was sighted and sent two cars on ahead. They have two more checking out the side roads in case they turned off there."

  "Good idea," said Jake. "Those are mostly dead ends out there, but Jameson might not know that."

  "That's the thought. Matt saw the cruiser's lights in the distance and jogged back to his car. They pulled back onto the road and headed at full speed toward where Jameson had last been spotted.

  17

  "We have company." Sandra started at the sound of Jameson's voice. He hadn't said a word to her since they left the trailer park. She caught his eyes in the rear view mirror. He was looking behind them so she turned to see what he was looking at.

  A Highway Patrol car was visible in the distance. Sandra's heart soared, thinking she might yet make it home to her husband and baby. "Let's see if we can lose them," said Jameson. He took the first left turn into a rural housing development.

  The houses sat on 5 acre lots. Massive wind turbines loomed over them, a quarter mile east. At 30-50 stories high with blades more than 100 feet long, they were so massive they dwarfed the houses. Home owners hated the turbines, arguing they were too noisy and brought property values down.

  Jameson made a sharp right turn and pulled into the driveway of one of the houses. There was a realty sign in the yard with a banner that read, Move in Today - Bank Foreclosure! Sandra wondered why anyone would so clearly broadcast a home was vacant. Even out here, it might attract vandals or teenagers looking for a place to hold a party.

  Jameson drove around the vacant house and into what would have been a back yard had the homeowner installed a fence or done any landscaping to separate it from the surrounding sagebrush. A six foot berm sat fifty yards behind the house, acting as a make-shift snow fence. The prairie grasses were only just reclaiming it.

  "Be right back," Jameson said as he turned off the motor and got out of the car, pocketing the keys. He took off running around the side house, disappearing from view. Sandra waste no time. With a strength fueled by desperation, she kicked the screen separating the seats. Two solid blows and it fell. Sandra scrambled over the seat after it.

  Pushing open the passenger door, she slipped out of the car and with a frantic look toward the house, ran for the berm. She scrambled up and over it, then stumbled on a growth of sagebrush and tumbled to the bottom. She lay dazed, listening, but heard nothing.

  Sitting up, she scanned her surroundings. The nearest neighbor was a hundred yards away. There was a gap of perhaps 50 feet between the end of the berm and the neighbor's fence. If she could make it to the fence line, she would still have open ground to cover before she reached the protection of the house. Even then, would anyone be home in the middle of the day?

  She had no choice. She had to try. Jameson would kill her if she didn't break away from him. Sandra moved as quickly as she could, crouching to keep her head below the top of the berm. With ten feet to go, the height of the berm dropped so she was forced to stand and run. Taking a deep breath and saying a fast but fervent prayer, Sandra stood and made a dash for the fence.

  Expecting every moment to hear Jameson shouting behind her or even the sound of gunfire, she slipped through the wire fence. She sprinted the last yards to reach the neighbor's house. She threw herself around the corner, the house finally shielding her from Jameson's view, then paused to catch her breath. What seemed like hours passed before she spotted a Highway Patrol cruiser moving slowly down the dirt road. She ran toward it, waving her arms and shouting to attract their attention.

  While Sandra was breaking out of his car, Jameson was yanking violently on the realty sign. He knew the patrolmen would stop to check a vacant home and he needed them to keep moving. With a little effort, he was able to wrench the sign from the ground. He ran with it to the side of the home and dropped the sign flat on the ground. He reached the back of the house just as the cruiser turned off Cold Canyon Road.

  As Sandra ran toward the neighbor's fence, Jameson pressed himself against the back wall of the vacant house, his attention focused on the sound of the passing cruiser. Jameson eased himself to the window and looked inside. Silently thanking the previous owners for tearing down the window coverings, Jameson was able to see through the empty home and out the front of the house. The vehicle was moving very slowly.

  He held his breath when it stopped in front of the house. His hand tightened on the gun he'd tucked into his pocket. When the cruiser resumed its progress up the road, Jameson let his breath out with a rush. He leaned back, head against the wall and took a long breath to calm his nerves.

  Then he saw his passenger door standing open and realized Sandra has escaped. He should have taken the time to tie her up before they left the trailer park. Blakely was right, hostages were a pain in the neck. He debated whether or not to go after her. He spied the mound and smiled. There wasn't anywhere else she could be hiding. He set off for the back of the property.

  ***

  As Jake drove, Emma settled back in her seat. If they didn't cross paths with Jameson, it would be a good 10 minutes before Branding Iron hit Coal Canyon and they could expect to meet the Highway Patrol. She pulled out her cell phone and called Grace.

  "Nancy is teaching me how to knit," she said after Emma brought her up to date. "We thought it might be better than sitting here, pulling our hair out. Neither of us can concentrate."

  "The only time I tried to knit, Sparky kept attacking the yarn."

  Grace laughed softly. "She's been on top of the grandfather clock ever since Nancy got here. I think we're safe but I'll keep my eyes on her."

  "I'll keep you posted if there's any news." She hung up. "They're trying not to worry but I don't think they're succeeding any better than I am."

  Before Jake could answer, Matt called. "They've got her!" His voice came through the truck's speakers, full of excitement. "Sandra flagged down a cruiser and Jameson is holed up behind a vacant house off Coal Canyon and Bent Arrow Lane. They're calling for all available units."

  "But is Sandra okay?" asked Emma after Matt abruptly ended the call.

  "If she was able to flag down a cruiser, she's fine."

  Matt was the first Casper police on the scene, joining three Highway Patrol vehicles spread out in front of the vacant house. Matt pulled a bullet proof vest out of the trunk and slipped it on. Trying not to present a clear target, he worked his way to the lead vehicle where Sandra Birch was sitting in the back seat.

  He opened the door for her and advised her to keep her head down as she stepped out. Still buckling his vest, he walked with her to Jake's truck, which was stopped well away from the others. From their vantage point, Jake and Emma could see Jameson's car behind the house, but there didn't appear to be anyone in it.

  Before Jake could stop her, Emma was out of the truck and running toward them. She met them half-way, hugging Sandra in relief to find her safe and looking unharmed.

  "Move your truck back," Matt said brusquely when they reached the truck. "If you can see the house, Jameson can
see you. I don't think he has anything other than a handgun but I'm not taking any chances. Keep your engine running. If Jameson breaks, I want you out of here."

  Jake opened the back door of the extended cab and helped Sandra climb in. She thanked him with a shaky smile. "I'll feel better once they have him in custody."

  Emma reached back and took Sandra's hand as Jake turned the truck around and parked it another hundred feet away from the house. "It doesn't matter what happens to him now. You're safe and that's everything."

  "Do you think I could use your phone to call my husband? Tad smashed mine."

  Emma fished out her cell phone and handed it to Sandra, who cupped it in her shaking hands and tapped out her husband's cell number.

  While Sandra spoke with her husband, Jake got out and pulled the rifle from his gun rack. He and loaded it carefully and, using the side of the truck as a bench rest, looked through the scope at Jameson's car. "What are you doing?" Emma asked with alarm, climbing out of the truck to stand beside him.

  "I want to be ready if Jameson gets past the police."

  "Matt told us to get out of here if that happens." Emma kept her voice low, not wanting Sandra to hear.

  "I heard him, but until reinforcements get here, Matt needs a rear guard."

  Jameson reached the mound of dirt when he heard Sandra flagging down the cruiser. He cursed his own carelessness and debated what his next move should be. He ran for the car. He had to get away before more police arrived.

  Reaching the car safely, he dove in behind the wheel but before he could turn the key, he heard a siren approaching. One siren was joined by another. He swore under his breath as two more Highway Patrol cruisers pulled up, followed shortly by the sound of another siren and more vehicles arriving.

  He knew enough about police procedure to know they would position their vehicles to block the road. He abandoned the car and with the butt of his gun broke a pane of glass in the back door of the house. Reaching through the opening, he unlocked the door and slipped inside.

  Matt deployed the patrolmen as best he could with such a limited number of officers. The patrolmen crouched behind their vehicles, aiming their weapons at the door of the vacant house. Careful to keep his head low, Matt shouted toward the house, using a bullhorn one of the patrolmen had in his trunk. "Jameson! We know you're there. There's nowhere to go. Give yourself up."

  A hard look came into Jameson's eyes and his grip on the gun tightened. "If I die, Joyner, I'm taking you with me! You got that?"

  "It's over Jameson! Throw out your gun and come out with your hands behind your head."

  Two Casper police cars arrived as Joyner spoke, the officers positioning their vehicles to block the road before joining their fellow officers in front of the house. "Special Incident Team is five minutes out," one told Matt before taking up his position.

  With the arrival of the reinforcements, Jake relaxed his aim with rifle but remained at his post. Emma had climbed back inside the truck, but both she and Sandra turned in their seats to watch the action playing out behind them.

  "You're going to jail, Jameson. You know that and I know that. Special Incident will be here any minute. They'll shoot that house full of tear gas and you know it. Just come out and we can end this right now."

  Jameson broke the window in front of him and fired three quick shots, the bullets slamming into Matt's car. In the truck, Emma screamed and Sandra ducked down onto the floor.

  Unharmed, Matt lifted the bullhorn. "You keep shooting at us, Jameson, and next time we return fire. We have six guns to your one. How's that gonna turn out for you? Throw your gun out now and you get out of this alive."

  Jameson stopped firing. Checking the chamber, he saw he had two rounds left. He'd left Casper without picking up spare ammunition. Once again, he cursed his own carelessness. He sat beneath the window and considered his options. Two shots was not enough to get him out of this. He could surrender and face a lifetime in prison or even the death penalty.

  Jameson bolted for the back door and ran to his car. He'd have a lot of empty ground to cover but the police would be expecting a direct assault. He was going to try an end around.

  Jameson flipped a tight u-turn and hit the gas, racing cross-lots toward the only house between him and the open highway. "He's going around us!" shouted Jake, raising his rifle and firing at the speeding car. A barrage of gunfire from the police slammed into the vehicle before Jameson could reach the shelter of the neighboring house. The car came to an abrupt stop. There was no movement from inside.

  Signaling Jake to stay back, Matt and the other officers walked warily toward the car. Bullet holes riddled the vehicle, the engine idling. Reaching the car, Matt found Jameson was slumped sideways behind the wheel.

  Police surrounded the vehicle and Matt reached in to switch off the engine. Jameson was unconscious, his breathing shallow. He'd been hit by several shots and when Matt placed a finger on his neck he found only a faint pulse. The officer on the passenger side retrieved Jameson's gun from where it lay just beyond the man's outstretched hand.

  "Get an ambulance out here," Matt told the officer standing beside him. The officer ran to his car but saw an ambulance that had been called to care for Sandra Birch pull up behind the line of police vehicles. Running to meet it, he guided the crew to Jameson's car.

  Matt stepped aside and watched the crew pull Jameson's limp body out of the car. The pulse Matt had found was gone and after working feverishly to revive him, one of the EMT's looked up at Matt. "He's dead, sir."

  Matt sent the crew to check on Sandra and asked an officer radio for the Coroner's van. He leaned back on the car and breathed a sigh of relief. With the danger past, Jake slipped on the safety and put the rifle back in his gun rack.

  Emma slipped out of her seat and threw her arms around him. She was shaking with fear and relief, so Jake held her tightly, stroking her hair and mumbling words of comfort and assurance.

  The EMT's were checking Sandra for signs of injury and shock when a Casper police cruiser pulled up beside Jake's truck. Almost before the car stopped, the passenger door was thrown open and Sandra's husband embraced her, both sobbing in relief. The officer unbuckled Sandra's son from the child safety seat in the back of her cruiser and brought him to her.

  Sandra cradled her baby, covering the boy with tears and kisses. The little family was oblivious to the ministrations of the ambulance crew or the arrival of the Coroner's van 20 minutes later as they loaded back into the police car to have the officer drive them home.

  Jake and Emma drank in the sight of the happy reunion, then wove their way through the smiling faces of the ambulance crew, policewoman and assorted onlookers that always seemed to materialize whenever there are lights and sirens.

  They found Matt fingering the bullet holes in his car while speaking with Kristy on his cell phone. The uniformed officers had cordoned off the area and they all waited for the Coroner and crime lab technicians to do their work.

  "God help me for being grateful for someone's death," said Matt when he flipped his phone shut.

  "Thank God Sandra got away from him," agreed Jake.

  "I hate to repeat what I heard during someone else's phone call," said Emma, "but I don't think she'll mind. Sandra told her husband that Jameson killed Blakely."

  "Which we suspected," said Matt.

  "She also said he kept calling Blakely the Boss. Isn't that what Kristy's ex-husband called the man who told him where he could find her?"

  Matt whistled. "The Boss, huh? That might explain a few things."

  Jake watched while the Coroner zipped Jameson's body bag shut and loaded the stretcher into his van. "In a way, it's a pity they're both dead. It leaves a lot of questions unanswered."

  18

  When they searched the car, the crime lab technicians found a jump drive on Jameson's key ring. The information was encrypted so they turned it over to Arty Tomes. It took a few weeks to break the code but when he did, the tale it told was more
spine-tingling than any novel Jeb Cannon ever wrote.

  Jameson kept detailed records on the dealings of the criminal operation he Blakely helped to run. DNA tests on both men, performed routinely and run through the FBI database, turned up the startling fact that Blakely had been Jameson's father. No one stepped forward to claim the bodies so they were buried together in the State Prison cemetery.

  Blakely had initially put his son to work running drugs between Wyoming and Mexico. When Jameson caught his Mexican partner skimming money off the top, he'd killed him. His father rewarded him by bringing him to Casper and making him second in command of what turned out to be an extensive criminal enterprise.

  With the young man taking an active role in the operation, Blakely was able to create distance for himself as he laid the groundwork for a Senate run. Fabricating a back story for him, Blakely had hired Jameson as an Assistant County Attorney. He directed all of his legal work since his son had never been to law school.

  From his position inside the CA's office, Jameson learned the secrets of Casper's leading families and he began to add extortion to the family business, apparently without Blakely's knowledge. Some of the secrets provided him with leverage which, according to the log, he took pleasure in wielding.

  Matt felt disgusted as he read through the records. Jameson and Blakely had been a regular two-man Mafia all under the protection of the County Attorney's office. An entry in Jameson's journal caught his eye.

  My idiot father makes everyone call him 'The Boss.' We laugh at him behind his back, the old windbag. I make all of my associates call me 'The Boss' too. If it ever comes out, everyone will think it's him.

  The most recent entry detailed Carolyn Maxwell's murder. Maxwell had barged into Blakely's office, her moral sensibilities offended both by Taylor's affair and his flippant attitude when she'd confronted him about it. She'd walked in to discover Blakely and Jameson going over the material stolen from Cannon's locker.