After three hours, Montana saw nothing was happening. Not even Margery Anne had shown up. To say she was disappointed was putting it mildly. The lights were still on in Armstrong’s house, which gave her hope, but her butt muscles ached. Montana didn’t want to admit it, but maybe it was time to go home.
She started down the step ladder but stopped when a pungent odor filled the air. Montana looked down, and an animal looked up. She scrambled back up the ladder and stood on the top rung hanging on to the tree.
“Shoo. Go away. Go. Get out of here.”
Without a flashlight, she couldn’t see exactly what it was. Montana scooted back onto the tree, but her foot caught on the ladder and knocked it down.
“Oh, no. Look what you made me do.” She pulled out the night vision binoculars and took a look. A skunk. Were skunks able to climb? She knew nothing about skunks other than they lifted their tail and sprayed. If it crawled up the tree, its tail would be at the opposite end.
“Listen, it’s time to leave. Do you understand me? Go. Shoo.”
The skunk didn’t seem to understand anything. Montana searched through her knapsack, looking for anything to get that darn skunk moving. In the front flap, she found a small container of breath mints. Totally frustrated, she tossed the little white pellets hard at the stinky creature.
“No. Do not eat those. You need to leave, now.” She couldn’t believe it—a skunk with good breath. Why wouldn’t it leave?
“Okay, skunk, you win. I’ll just sit up in this darn tree until you leave.” Her only worry at this point was falling out of the tree if she dozed off.
Something woke her. The strong smell of the skunk was gone, but was it? Using the binoculars, she searched everywhere around and then some. Motion on the beach brought her fully to attention and her pulse raced.
“Well what do you know? I knew I was right,” she whispered.
Four kayaks were beached in front of Armstrong’s house. Now she had something to call Ray about. Montana searched through her knapsack for her cellphone, positive she’d put it in. Then she remembered she’d left it plugged in to charge. At this point, the best she could do was pay attention to details, which would require getting a lot closer than sitting in a tree.
Montana estimated to be about seven to eight feet off the ground and at five feet five inches tall, she would only have to worry about a foot or so to drop, that was if she could dangle from a branch, but could a branch hold her weight? Her best option was to hug the tree and slide down.
Montana wrapped her arms and legs around the trunk and started the downward slide. Partially down, she dangled her legs to catch herself but ended up landing on her butt, knocking the air out of her. After about ten minutes, she forced herself up and moved her body around. She winced a bit, but other than bruising, she was fine. Sprinting to the logs on the beach was now out of the question. This was why she wished Jeannie was there with her. They could have talked about their options and weighed the odds.
What to do next? The answer was so simple: call Ray. In twenty minutes, she could be home. Montana ignored the ladder and hobbled to her car. When she put her car in reverse and let the clutch out, it stalled. Montana tried three times. Any more attempts would bring attention. Totally frustrated, she decided to meditate.
An hour later, she still had no answers but felt better. In thirty minutes, Jeannie would be at the Ferry Dock café putting cinnamon rolls in the oven. The café was closer than her home, and the thought of a hot roll sounded pretty good. Her eyes had adjusted to the night, but she still checked for the skunk to see if it was prowling around. Clear, she grabbed the knapsack and off she went down the dirt driveway. Nearing the end, Montana stopped. Her body alarm had reached full alert, but she wasn’t sure why. She pulled out the binoculars and scanned the area. There was nothing out of the ordinary. But what sent her body on alert?
Voices? A slamming door? At the end of the Ryan’s drive, Montana peered down Blue Heron Lane, into the night. Still seeing nothing amiss, she made her way to the neighboring drive. The little red lights at the end of Armstrong’s drive indicated the security cameras were on. Staying down low and out of the scan of the camera, Montana watched Armstrong’s driveway and listened.
Totally caught off guard, a small box of a car flew down the driveway onto Blue Heron and onto the main road. It happened so fast, she never really heard it coming her way. Resigned to a completely failed night, Montana started walking into town to Jeannie’s place.
Ray Carlson had not laughed so hard in a long time. He was perched up on the cliff-side ledge that had a direct view of the beach and Armstrong’s rental house. He had discovered Jeannie and Montana spying up there last spring and really liked the location. Ray watched the entire episode of Montana and the skunk. His night vision binoculars zoomed right in to the entertainment while he had Armstrong’s place under surveillance. Short of manpower and good solid leads, this was the best he could do for the moment. Ray clicked off several photos of the beached kayaks. So far, each kayak only had one person: the kayaker dressed in a protective dark wet suit. Unless there was illegal contraband inside, he still had nothing to make an arrest. Armstrong and a kayaker carried the kayaks off to the rear of the house, leaving the beach empty. It was time for him to head out.
Ray climbed off the lip and on to the madrona tree that grew out over the water and lowered into the pontoon boat he had tied up. He motored to the neighboring inlet, tied up the boat, and climbed the hillside trail up to a plateau where he’d left his vehicle. It was time to rescue Montana. He headed down the road and spotted a lone figure way up ahead, but then it ducked into the brush. About where he estimated she hid, Ray stopped and rolled down the window.
“Hey, Montana, come get in the car. Montana.”
A head poked up from the ditch area. “Ray?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Ray.” The door opened, and she hopped in. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“You have?” His phone hadn’t vibrated.
“I mean, I wanted to call you, but I left my phone at home.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“I saw you sort of fall out of the tree.”
“Uh-oh.” She let out a big sigh. “Where were you?”
“On your old spying ledge.”
“Lucky.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Jeannie’s. The Ferry Dock.”
“Is she open?”
“Hopefully, if we go to the back door.”
Ray parked in the back behind the café. Together, they knocked on her door. The back light flipped on, and Jeannie peered out. The door flew open. “Montana. Ray. What in the world is going on?”
They trooped in. Jeannie’s eyes widened looking at Montana, so Ray took a closer look and grimaced. Ouch.
“What happened to your face?” Jeannie asked.
“I kind of fell out of a tree.”
“It looks like you scraped it pretty bad.” Jeannie pulled out a first aid kit and handed it to Ray. “You need ice on it otherwise you’ll have some bad bruising.” Jeannie handed a towel filled with ice cubes to Montana. “Were you up in the tree too, Ray?”
“No, I found her walking down the road headed here.” He gave Jeannie a look.
“Go get some coffee and get fixed up. I’m sure there’s a story in this somewhere. When you’re done, the first batch of cinnamon rolls should be coming out of the oven.” Jeannie pointed to the coffeepot and threw up her hands.
Ray escorted Montana out to the counter and returned with two cups of coffee. Montana cradled her face in the ice with her elbows propped on the counter. She looked so pathetic he went looking for a straw. After her second cup of coffee, he quizzed her and took notes.
“The part that bothers me is I never
heard that car come down the drive. Swoosh, it went by, just like that.”
“If it was a hybrid, you wouldn’t have heard it.”
“Now what?” Montana asked.
Ray examined her face. “You’ll live, but I’d put some salve on your face. We’ll eat and then head to the ferry to see if we can spot the car and or those four kayakers. There shouldn’t be that many hybrids leaving the island.”
Ray handed her the first aid kit. Montana winced when she got off the bar stool and walked slowly to the bathroom. He guessed her pride along with her body was pretty bruised.
Just like Jeannie promised, she delivered two hot cinnamon rolls. “Edwina should be here shortly and she can fix you up some breakfast. Let me know if there’s anything more I can get you.” Jeannie headed back into the kitchen, passing Montana coming out of the bathroom.
Ray finished his cinnamon roll first and refilled their coffee. “Why are you so fixated on those two?” he asked Montana. “I must be missing something.”
She took her time and dipped a piece of roll in her coffee and ate it. “I don’t know other than I am. I just get this feeling she is clueless to what she is doing. I mean, I know she knows she’s having an affair, but I’m not sure…oh, I don’t know.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed. “The world has goodness and evil. His evil needs to be contained.”
“I agree. And so do a lot of other people. But you have to let us do our job.” He studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “You seem to have a sixth sense about things. I know I’m probably going to regret this, but if the situation calls for it, and I keep you in a safe zone, do you want to help watch Sweet Cheeks and Big Daddy?”
She tried to smile, but winced.
“I take that as a yes.”
They finished their breakfast and exited through the kitchen. Jeannie asked, “Are you headed home?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Were you up all night?” Jeannie glanced at Montana, who nodded.
“Pretty much,” replied Ray.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not really.”
She handed him a thermos of coffee and a container of cinnamon rolls. “Then you’ll need these.”
Ray’s only plan was to let his dog out and switch vehicles. Even though the Mustang was an unmarked sheriff’s vehicle confiscated from a drug deal operation, Ray thought it stood out. Up until now, he’d worked overtime to keep his personal life private, but…Somehow, Montana had inched her way in.
Chapter Thirty-One
Early morning traffic was non-existent Saturday morning. Just off the main road about a mile from the terminal, Ray turned down a secluded lane and stopped at a small cottage with a carport attached. Luke peered out the window, barking.
“Try and come up with a plan while I let Luke out. Please.”
The small cottage suits Ray, she thought. She closed her eyes and liked the feel of Ray’s surroundings. Montana got out of the Mustang and stretched; her body hurt. To keep the muscles loosened from the fall, she moved around with slow swinging yoga motions, thinking of what to do.
The lab bounded up to her and sniffed, then went looking for a place to pee. Ray threw a ball for him in different directions. Montana stopped in mid-motion and asked, “Are we taking the Jeep Wrangler?”
“Yes.”
Montana moved into her next move and paused. “We should take Luke with us.” She continued her movements. “Let’s pretend to get on the ferry, but don’t. I’ll stay with the Jeep while you run Luke. How does that sound?” Her arms went above and then around several times.
“So we can both be looking at the vehicles boarding without standing there looking conspicuous. I can take Luke jogging down the road while you just sit in the Jeep.”
“Yes.”
“I like it.”
Luke got in the backseat and poked his head between the seats. Within a few minutes, they arrived at the terminal. No one was waiting yet, not even an employee. The sky had just started to lighten. Ray parked off to the side and leashed Luke, just in case.
“I’m still hungry.” Montana opened the container. “I think it’s the enticing aroma.” She offered him the box. “You want one?”
“Sure.” Ray pulled apart a piece and gave it to the dog, and then took a bite.
“You know, Ray, you might have to accept the possibility those kayaks are a decoy. Rob Armstrong is cunning and a very deceitful greedy man. He’s the sort of guy who would scream police harassment by setting you up.” Montana opened the thermos, poured Ray a cup, and then one for her. “What do you think is in those kayaks?”
“That time of night with those wetsuits, my guess is contraband of some sort. I hope it’s not women like Jack thinks.”
Montana closed her eyes and shook her head gently. “Maybe if it were a canoe or a raft. A small person could lie on the base and be covered with a canvass, but a kayak? Where are they coming in from?”
“We think Victoria and Vancouver.”
“Ah, yes. They do have quite a problem. I volunteer at a mission over there to try and get the young prostitutes off the street. They need good role models.”
Ray’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at her.
“What? You don’t think I’m a good role model?”
“No, it’s not that. You just surprise me. That’s all.”
Two cars pulled in and parked down by the water off to the side. Workers had arrived. Ray headed over to speak to the people and returned a few minutes later. He moved the Wrangler down the line and off to the right.
“We will be the last vehicle to board, but I will be gone. The guys said they would motion and yell, throw up their hands, and then pull out, leaving you behind. You will act clueless to where I am. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.”
Cars pulled in periodically, but nothing that screamed hybrid or illegal. Ray read off license plates, and Montana recorded them. With fifteen minutes to go, Ray took Luke out of the car and walked him to the edge of the lot. Like all good male dogs, he sniffed out a place and lifted his leg. He and Luke moved at a nice trot up the parking lot and out of her view.
Just like they talked about, when the ferry started to load, Montana got out of the Jeep and started the worry watch. The last vehicle was loaded, and they technically had five minutes to go before pulling out. Just the like men said, they yelled over to her and she threw up her arms in despair. Montana turned and looked up the road for Ray and Luke. Four bicyclists pedaled in fast, coasting the last bit down to the ferry. They did not stop to buy tickets, but handed something over when they boarded. Montana used Ray’s phone and clicked away. The ferry pulled out, leaving her behind, just like they’d planned.
Trotting at a good pace, Ray and Luke joined her. “I’m guessing those were our kayakers,” said Ray.
Montana handed Ray his cellphone. “I got back-side photos. Swoosh. They were fast.”
“Yep. Would you pull the Jeep over there while I make a few phone calls? I’m going to see if the ferry personnel noticed anything.” He opened the door for Luke to hop in and handed Montana the keys. She moved the Jeep off to the side.
Ray joined her in a few minutes. “No one noticed anything out of the ordinary.” He shook his head. “I sent the photos on to Friday Harbor. Not sure what they can do other than grab them for questioning when they exit the ferry. I can tell you that won’t go over well.”
Montana felt his frustration. “You can’t let them get to you.”
He raised his brow. “You’re one to talk.”
“I think it’s different for me.”
“I’m a very patient man. What we have here are tiny puzzles combined with arrogance, but arrogance might be what will bring them down.”
Montana and
Ray headed back to the Ryan’s to fetch Montana’s car. She started her car and put the Saab in reverse, backed up, and turned around with no problem.
“This is so odd. Last night I just kept stalling.”
“Who knows? Maybe you were meant to be stuck,” he said matter-of-factly, grinning. “I’m giving up on figuring certain things out.” He wanted to add especially when it comes to you. “I’ll follow you home to make sure there is no other problem.”
Ray waited until he saw Montana emerge from her car and give him a wave. He hit the gas and headed home, wondering how he missed the complexity of sleepy Hartz Island where nothing happens—other than smugglers and sex traffickers. On top of that, Ray had underestimated Armstrong, and it pissed him off.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The early morning light streamed through the mini-blinds. Jack held Cassie tightly with her back up next to him. She smiled. Someone was awake, even though his breathing said differently. Cassie turned over so she could see his face. Her reaction to him had never wavered from her teenage years to now: heat flooding her body, her heart pounding out of control, and the intense desire to melt into his arms. And there she was. But what about tomorrow, or the next day, and the next? That was the future, but today was the present. If she and Jack were meant to be, they would; if not, well, she’d deal with it.
In the last week, so many of her mother’s sayings popped into her brain, like some things are worth waiting for. Yep, Mom you got that one right. Or you have to put your trust in God. Cassie wasn’t so sure about that one, but she was willing to pray she and Jack belonged together.
She gently stroked his cheek. Jack stirred, slightly parting his lips, inviting a kiss. She pressed her mouth to his, and oh, yes, he was inviting. Jack moved his body over hers, and he explored her mouth with slow, searching kisses, leaving her burning for more. He opened his eyes and smiled.
Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) Page 20
