Deep Down Dead Page 13

  The thing is, trust only works to a point. It has to go both ways, otherwise it’s not trust, it’s just blind faith or stupidity. Both can get you killed. So I knew I had to push, had to know every angle on the situation, including what had gotten JT into this nest of vipers right back at the start. Couldn’t risk missing something that’d come back to bite us in the ass.

  I glanced over at JT. ‘Like what?’

  He frowned. Disappointed. ‘As I said, it’s personal.’

  Not good enough. ‘And my daughter was taken. Tell me why you got involved?’

  JT looked out of the side window. ‘Scott asked, I agreed.’ His tone was low, angry.

  I ignored it, had to keep pushing. ‘No, before that. Scott was a witness to criminal activity. Even without the proof you should have made him go to the cops. You uphold the law, that’s your job. You’ve never let nothing, nobody, get in the way, and certainly nothing personal.’

  He clenched his fists, his tanned knuckles turned white. ‘You have no idea.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  His scowl was intense, furious.

  I ignored his anger. Swung the Chevy out around a big log wagon, matched it, pace for pace for fifty yards, then gunned the engine and lurched us past and back on to our side of the highway.

  ‘Well?’

  When he spoke, his words were slow and measured. ‘Something happened to a person I care about. Winter Wonderland took no responsibility, shrugged the whole thing off. The cops did shit. I needed answers, proof.’

  Something about the tone of his voice made me feel suddenly cold. His expression was unreadable. I wondered who this person was that he cared so much about: a woman, a child? There’d been no mention of a family in the file. I’d never figured he’d change, let anyone get that close. Maybe I’d been wrong.

  ‘Needed?’

  ‘Scott has what I need.’

  I eased off the gas a little. ‘But you’re not done?’

  A muscle in his cheek began to pulse. ‘Not until I’ve gotten her justice.’

  I flicked an imaginary strand of hair from my face. The way he said that one word, her, told me how much he’d changed. If he was emotionally involved perhaps working together would give me the best chance of getting Dakota back. Still, from his tone, I doubted he was talking about taking the evidence to the cops. There was something else. Something primal.

  ‘A wise man once told me revenge never does taste like the sugar you expect.’

  He stared right at me. ‘And did you listen to him?’

  I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Concentrated on the road, trying real hard not to remember the feel of the Wesson Commander Classic Bobtail recoiling in my hand, the bright crimson of the blood leaking into the dirt, that rasping sound a person makes as they try to breathe through perforated lungs. Didn’t work. ‘You know how that story ended.’

  ‘So we understand each other.’

  I nodded. We always had.

  Whatever he was planning, the situation remained. I needed the device Scott had to get Dakota back, and I needed JT to get to Scott. For now, we were hogtied together, like it or no.

  Stepping harder on the gas, I forced the old Chevy faster. Gunned it down the blacktop. Ignored the rattle of the muffler getting louder. I cussed under my breath. JT’s cabin was hours away in Georgia. I wanted to be there now.

  ‘This isn’t on you,’ JT said after a while.

  I kept my eyes on the highway. ‘How so?’

  ‘You getting this pick-up job, it wasn’t luck.’

  Wasn’t luck? What the hell did he mean? ‘What are you—’

  ‘As soon as I discovered Emerson was on to us, I knew I had to protect Scott. I couldn’t get taken down. I’d known CF Bonds were tracking me before, but it was Bailey and, well, I looked him up and…’ He shrugged.

  ‘Yeah, I know. Bailey’s got as much gumption as a beet in a pickle factory.’

  JT nodded. ‘But after the run-in with Emerson’s boys in Virginia I knew things were gonna get serious. When I heard Bailey had gotten injured on another case I hit on an idea. I knew if I could get back to Scott, get the device and get it to the cops then they’d have to listen. So I figured on a way to swing the odds in my favour, to get help.’

  I frowned. Couldn’t take in what JT was saying. He wanted to protect Scott, and get the device to the cops. But I couldn’t let them do that. I needed the device. I kept thinking about Dakota. Seeing her face, her terror, as they bundled her into the black sedan. I shook my head. ‘But you always work—’

  ‘Alone. Yep. But this was different. If I failed, I needed someone who could help Scott get things done.’

  Failed? JT didn’t do failure. He had the top clearance rate across the Southern states, specialising in taking down the most hardened and vicious fugitives. My hands began to tremble. I gripped the wheel tighter. ‘Why me?’

  He smiled. It looked more like a grimace. ‘Well, you always were my best student.’

  ‘Don’t shit me. I was your only student. So how do I fit with this?’

  ‘When I heard Bailey was out of action, I figured they’d put someone else on me, given how close my bond’s getting to the summary judgement. I knew you worked for CF Bonds, and after a bit of digging I found out their other bail runners already had cases, so I guessed they’d assign me to you.’

  It made sense. ‘So you took a risk.’

  ‘Odds were good. They had to send someone. I hadn’t reckoned on them having Merv pick me up, but then even he wouldn’t haul me back to Florida without a licence.’

  ‘How’d Merv know where to find you?’

  ‘I called up Bailey. Tipped him off.’

  Shit. The whole damn thing had been a fix. JT had outmanoeuvred Bailey. Quinn. Me. ‘All this to have me help you? You could have just called.’

  He glanced at me. ‘Could I? You’d have taken my call?’

  Yeah. He had a point. Unlikely. I said nothing.

  ‘So, as I said, what’s happened, at the ranch, the gas station. Dakota. It’s not on you, it’s on me.’

  I was silent. Tried to process what he’d said. I thought I’d been free from him all these years. But he’d known exactly where I was the whole time. ‘So you manipulated me, my work. Got me sucked right into the middle of this shit-storm. How could you do—’

  ‘Didn’t know about the kid.’ He shook his head. ‘I’d never have got you in on this if I’d known about Dakota.’

  The anger tightened around the base of my throat like a noose. This was just like the first time: he’d gotten me involved in his shit and the people I loved had been hurt. I’d trusted him. Loved him. And then he’d hurt me too. Less than twelve hours after seeing him again it seemed history was already starting to repeat. ‘You’re right. It is on you.’

  I stepped hard on the gas, and forced the Chevy to its limit. The cabin was near on three hundred miles’ drive. For me, the time could not pass quick enough.

  21

  Miles passed. West Virginia became Virginia. We followed the forest route. By the time we hit I-77 the mountain terrain was well behind us. The landscape flattened into wide-open spaces. Green. Pretty. Made no difference to me. What JT had said about him being to blame hadn’t been any kind of comfort. All I felt was guilt. It gnawed at my stomach lining, making me sicker with every passing moment.

  My fault.

  I shuddered. Tried not to think about what they could be doing to Dakota now.

  It’d been my mistake, going back for JT. I should have left him, shouldn’t have abandoned my child. Should have gotten into the car and driven as far away from him, and the devil hunting him, as I could. But I hadn’t.

  So I fought the nausea. Kept my foot on the gas. Hoped to hell we’d get Dakota back safe.

  We crossed the state line and entered North Carolina just before noon. I figured I couldn’t leave it much longer to call Quinn. He’d already left thirteen messages on my voicemail.

  JT wasn’t happy
about me calling. He said the last thing we needed was a bondsman with a deadline. Reckoned Quinn would have the cops on our tail just as soon as he’d worked out our location. I disagreed. I knew the way Quinn worked. The way I saw it, I should follow my usual pattern, and that meant checking in with the office.

  I picked up my cell. Held the wheel steady with my right hand, dialled with my left.

  From the way JT clenched his jaw a little tighter I knew nothing I’d said had stopped his fretting. ‘I know what’s at risk,’ I said. ‘I won’t tell Quinn about Dakota.’

  He nodded, said nothing.

  So be it. This was my job. I was expected to bring JT in and I’d do my damnedest to make that happen. But Dakota came first; always had, always would. I needed to buy us some time, convince Quinn we’d had no part in the trail of bodies at the ranch and the gas station, and reassure him that I was on my way back. Even supposing we made it in time for JT’s summary judgement, the way things were heading there would still be a bunch of awkward questions coming my way. I needed Quinn onside.

  I called the number. Put the cell to my ear.

  JT glanced across at me. ‘Be vague.’

  ‘I got this.’

  The phone rang once before Quinn picked up. ‘Lori?

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘You okay? Jesus. I’ve left you like a million messages. I saw the news. The shooting … those men dead, and I thought—’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Are you sure? Is he making you say that? It’s just that I saw the—’

  ‘Quinn, hold up a minute. I’m good, okay. I’ve got Tate. He’s in cuffs. We’re on our way back to Florida.’

  Silence.

  In the traffic up ahead a small Toyota’s brake lights lit up. The cars around it braked too. I noticed a state trooper sitting in his ride just off the blacktop on the opposite side of the highway, watching. Judging by JT’s frown, he’d seen him too.

  I went easy on the gas, held back a little ways away from the car in front. Tried not to cause any drama. ‘You still there, Quinn?’

  ‘What the hell have you been doing?’ His voice sounded louder, angrier. ‘Did you kill those men?’

  I kept my tone light. ‘They were breathing when we left.’

  We passed the state trooper. I felt my shoulders tense, held my breath. Watched in the rear-view mirror for him to pull a u-turn and pursue us. He didn’t.

  I exhaled.

  Quinn was still sounding pissed, ‘Well, they aren’t anymore. And why shoot Merv, what’d he done?’

  So Merv had been the fourth man mentioned on the news bulletin. ‘I don’t carry. You know that. And we didn’t shoot Merv. We didn’t kill anyone.’

  ‘What’s with the we?’

  I sighed. ‘Look, when I got to the ranch I saw Merv’s car but there was no sign of him. Those three guys had Tate all tied up. I walked right in, thinking they were redneck friends of Merv’s, and they tried to take me down. I still don’t understand what the hell they were doing there. Was Merv able to give a statement? He needs to tell the cops it wasn’t Tate.’

  ‘Merv’s in the ICU. Whoever shot him didn’t do the job right. But he’s in a critical condition, still hasn’t regained consciousness.’

  ‘Shit.’ Until Merv told the cops what had really happened at the ranch, we’d remain their primary suspects.

  ‘The cops from West Virginia called. They’d seen Tate’s warrant, guessed that I’d have sent someone after him.’

  Double shit. JT made a winding motion with his finger.

  I ignored him. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Well, given Merv wasn’t licensed to act for me, I couldn’t say a whole lot about it, now could I? Most I said was that you’d been on Tate’s trail.’

  ‘Thanks, Quinn. Appreciate it.’

  ‘There’s this other guy, a Fed, whose been asking too. Minute they caught wind you could be heading out of State they got in on this. Their man in charge, Alex Monroe, out of the Richmond field office, has already been in contact. Seems a real serious type – you know how those guys are. Anyways, now we’ve spoken I’m going to have to call him right back and tell him you’ve got Tate.’

  ‘A Fed?’ I glanced at JT.

  He cussed under his breath.

  Quinn sighed. ‘Hell, Lori. This whole business with Tate, it’s too dangerous for you and Dakota. If I’d have known what was going to happen I’d never have given you the job. Drop Tate off at the first police precinct you pass. Get yourself safe.’

  If only I could, but if I gave up JT I’d lose my only bargaining chip with the people who had Dakota. I needed to keep him out of jail, for now at least, so I could get to Scott and the device. But I couldn’t tell Quinn that. If I did, he’d pass it right along to the cops, and that could not happen – the people who took Dakota had been real clear on that. ‘No, this is my job. I’m bringing him back to Florida. I’ll let you know when I’m close.’

  ‘Don’t be so stubborn—’

  Quinn was still talking as I ended the call, his voice rising in pitch and volume.

  I turned to JT. ‘He’s going to tell the cops I’ve got you. If they’ve figured out we stole this car, which I’m betting that they have, we need to change vehicles, fast. Failing that, we need new plates for this one.’

  JT smiled. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Seems you did pay some mind to what I taught you.’

  Fourteen miles later we pulled into a rest stop. It was the second we’d passed. The first had been small, its surroundings too open. This one had a large convenience store, a fast-food taco place and a parking lot enclosed by a high timber fence. It was the convenience store I needed.

  I’d reckoned that it would be easier to change the plate than the car. Modern cars are damn-near impossible to hotwire. I couldn’t risk it. Better to unscrew the plate, swap with another, and get on our way. I needed this done, fast. Every minute lost delayed me from getting to Scott, and finding Dakota.

  So the plan was clear. Get in, find a screwdriver, and get out. No messing.

  I parked the Chevy in the far corner of the parking lot, nose-in. Best chance of JT not getting noticed that way. With his mugshot all over the news channels we couldn’t risk him getting spotted. For now, he needed to stay free.

  He stretched, his arms reaching up above his head. Placed his hands back in his lap. ‘You going in, then?’

  Killing the engine, I unbuckled my belt and turned to JT. ‘Stay here. Don’t move.’

  He nodded. ‘Go ahead. You’ve got my word.’

  I guess I trusted him, to a point. But leaving him alone in the car was a risk. I needed the car to get to Scott, and I needed JT to help me get him. I couldn’t chance losing either of them. Besides, my mentor had always been real clear on risk-taking: limit it or eliminate it. I pulled the keys from the ignition. Limited the risk.

  JT didn’t look pleased.

  I didn’t let it rile me. Him being pissed at me meant nothing. I’d do anything to get Dakota back. Whatever it took. JT had to understand that.

  I climbed out of the car. In the parking lot, without the Chevy’s rattling old air-con, the temperature was a whole lot higher. The humidity clung to me like a damp blanket, my skin was sweaty in moments.

  By contrast, the store was air-conditioned to the max. I scanned the aisles, searching for the stuff I needed. Grabbed bottles of water, snacks. Tried to be fast, without drawing attention. Needed to find the tool section.

  I headed towards the far end of the store. Dodged an old couple, and scooted around a young girl picking out ice creams with her momma. I remembered how Dakota had packed her ice cream in the cooler for our trip. Wondered how that could have been barely twenty-four hours ago; it felt like another lifetime. Everything was different now. My lower lip began to quiver. Stop, I told myself, crying wouldn’t help none. I kept moving, hurried around the corner to the next aisle.

  There I found what I needed. A screwdriver. I
grabbed it, and a pair of wire-cutters. Turned on my heel and hustled to the front of the store.

  The line at the counter was three-deep and slow-moving – one server getting coffee and operating the register. Looking over the rack of candy beside me, I peered out of the window. The Chevy was still in the parking lot. JT was sitting inside. So far things were working out just fine.

  On the wall beside the checkout a flat-screen television was showing the news. A suited male newsreader reeled off the top stories: a driveby shooting in Charlotte; a missing teenager in Fayetteville. The third story was the shooting in West Virginia.

  Damn. I hoped no one spotted JT. Willed the line to move quicker.

  The newsreader looked earnestly into the camera. ‘The investigation continues into the multiple homicide in Yellow Spring, West Virginia, where three men died and a fourth remains in a critical condition…’

  The line moved along; now I was one from the front. I turned around to watch the screen. They were showing film of the ranch house, a body bag being wheeled across the porch on a gurney. Any moment I felt sure that JT’s mugshot would flash on to the screen. And, given that, by now, Quinn would most likely have spoken to the Fed, Alex Monroe, I wondered if I’d be seeing my own face up there too.

  My heart beat faster. I felt cornered. I had to stay in the line, needed the screwdriver to change the plates, just couldn’t risk the Chevy getting pulled over on the drive to the cabin. But I couldn’t be spotted here either. If my face appeared on the screen, one of these people would make the connection. I’d never get out of here, and even if I did, the cops would know where to look for us. That could not happen.

  Stepping to my left, I pulled a newspaper from a rack in front of the counter. Opened it, held it up as if I was reading it. Hoped that it covered most of my face.

  ‘… the identities of the murdered men have been confirmed as Richie Royston, Johnny Matthews and Gunner Zamb of Broward County, Florida. All three men have previously been connected to a Florida drugs cartel. The purpose of their visit to Yellow Spring is as yet unknown, but, given the recent increase in drug-related homicide as turf battles grow ever more violent…’