Love Inspired Suspense December 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 (9 page)

Rachel frowned. “That may make it harder to find out what's going on if no drugs are coming through the fishery.”

“Not necessarily. The scent of drugs will stay on an object for a while. Without so many people around, I might be able to investigate with Mitch inside the buildings, but because I'm a law-enforcement officer, our search has to be able to hold up in court.”

“In plain sight?” Rachel asked as she stared out the window facing the processing center.

Jake lifted the binoculars to his eyes. “Yes, unless we get a warrant, which will need evidence of probable cause. We think someone is touching the drugs, testing or cutting them, to the point that the scent ended up on your paperwork, but that won't be enough to convince a judge.”

Rachel's forehead furrowed. “Not even because Mitch discovered it? He's a drug dog.”

“We need to search everywhere because we don't know what's going on, so no. We'll have to have more evidence. If we went to a judge now with what little we know, it would get out what our intention is, and the smuggling ring would shut down until we go away.”

“This operation must involve more than a few people? These are people who have lived here and been our friends.” His shoulders slumped, Gramps shuffled to the lunch sack and laid out the containers and wrapped sandwiches on the counter.

“Not all of them, Lawrence. We've had an influx of new people due to the expansion at the fishery. Many have been here less than a year.”

“Yeah, but the ones in a position of authority are people from Port Aurora except Ivan Verdin. Could this go on without their knowledge?” Gramps took a bite of his fish sandwich, then drained the last of an old cup of coffee.

“My friend in state police is coming the first of next week. We'll gather what information we can and give it to him.”

“But what about Aunt Betty's murderer? What if her death had nothing to do with the suspicious stuff going on at the fishery?” Rachel brought Jake his lunch while he stood guard at the window.

“I think they are tied together. Why else would someone have murdered her? She could have taken some pictures that showed something. Maybe the intruders who searched her house took the photos. We may never know, but she must have made someone very uncomfortable for them to risk killing her.” Jake's gaze seized hers and held it. “You said that she was afraid. What made her act like that? Most likely, she stumbled upon something to do with the drug smuggling.”

“If some people at the fishery are involved, how far is their reach in Port Aurora? Remember, Aunt Betty was interested in talking to you because you were a police officer. Why didn't she go to the police here?” Rachel sat on a tall stool at the window with a view of the processing center. “What if she wandered around where she worked and discovered something? The catches are processed, then boxed up and shipped out.”

“Who handles the boxing and shipping at the fishery?” Jake leaned closer to the window where a few of the slats in the blinds opened at a slant, while the rest were closed.

“Ivan Verdin, another transplant from Seattle, runs the shipping warehouse.” Rachel popped a couple of chips into her mouth.

“Have I met him?” There was a time Jake knew everyone who worked at the fishery because Gramps used to do Sean's job. This visit had shown him how much he'd lost touch with the town he grew up in.

“Maybe. I can pull up a picture of him on my computer at my office.”

“When I walk you back, I need you to do that. I want to know what all the players in this look like.”

“I'll take over watching, Jake. Enjoy your lunch with Rachel,” his grandfather murmured, too low for her to hear.

“Don't go there, Gramps.” But Jake took him up on the offer. He'd rediscovered how much he loved Rachel's company and planned to enjoy it until he had to return to Anchorage. Jake sat on the other side of the counter from her and plopped his sandwich on the glass top. “I forgot to ask you if you like their fish sandwich.”

“It's good. Really nothing at the café is bad.”

“At least that's one thing that hasn't changed.”

“We have gone through a lot of changes in the past year. If you'd come back this time last year, it wouldn't have been that different.”

“When you think of your hometown, you always remember how it was when you were living there. I'm glad you haven't changed. There is one constant in Port Aurora—well, two with Gramps.”

“Do you feel you've changed?”

He nodded. “I'm not naive anymore. Growing up here sheltered me from a lot of evil in this world.”

“But you were a police officer here, too.”

“Not the same thing.”

“Are you happy in Anchorage?”

He didn't have a ready answer for her because he'd been avoiding asking himself that question. But if he said yes, he would be admitting it out loud. But he couldn't say no, either. So much had happened in the past four months. It might be different in another four. “I don't know.”

Her forehead scrunched, and she pressed her lips together—lips he would like to kiss again and again. “That in itself tells me a lot. You are either happy or not.”

“Not everything is black-and-white. In fact, most things aren't.”

She finished her sandwich, then said, “I realize you were in the hospital for a couple of weeks and have faced a long rehabilitation, but—”

“Okay, I was fine until I came home. I'd forgotten how much this place meant to me. I promise you I'll come home more from now on.”

“Alaskan King is still unloading. Tundra King has come into the harbor. It will be docking soon. I think this is a good time to go for a walk, Jake.”

He looked at Gramps. “You're right. I guess it's back to surveillance mode. I'll walk you to your office, then I need to take Mitch on a hunt. Afterward, I'll stop to talk to Charlie. As harbormaster, he might have seen something and not realized it.”

“Charlie is a good friend, but son, I wouldn't trust anyone, not even Randall after all that has happened.”

Jake rose and grabbed his dog's leash. Mitch immediately climbed to his feet, but not quite as quickly as he used to, which brought sorrow to Jake. “Let's go, Rachel. This may be the last time for a while that a boat is returning.”

“So you think if there are drugs going through the fishery, they're coming in by boat?” Rachel headed for the exit.

“It's the most logical answer. One or more of the trawlers could be meeting another boat in the Bering Sea. US ships aren't the only ones there, and the Coast Guard can only patrol so much area at a time.”

“I know.”

Five minutes later Jake entered Rachel's office and closed the door. He didn't want someone overhearing them as she pulled up Verdin's photo. “You should lock your door every time you leave during the day.”

“The important file cabinets are locked, so I only lock the door when I leave at night.”

“Still, I would feel better.”

“Okay.” She sat behind the computer and brought up a list of personnel. She clicked on Verdin's folder, and his picture popped up on the screen.

“I've seen him. Last Saturday he was two people back from me while I was talking with Sean, so Verdin could have overheard.”

“When you have time, you should wade through everyone's picture on here.”

“Will it seem strange you are accessing those files?”

“I do from time to time. Generally not all at once, but it would be good to know who else was at the general store that morning.”

“Then I'll be back after my stroll around the harbor.”

Jake left and made his way down the incline to the pier. He gave Mitch the command to search for drugs, then strolled the length to the right, also going down the docks attached to the pier where the boats were moored. When he saw Tom, he waved and stopped to talk for a few minutes, while keeping an eye on the activity by the pier that ended at the processing and shipping buildings.

“So Rachel is at work today?” Tom asked, winding a long length of rope.

“Yes. It was all I could do to keep her home yesterday, but by the middle of the day she was glad she didn't come in. She took a three-hour nap.”

“The cold water saps your strength. I'm just glad she's all right.”

Jake gestured toward the two boats tied up. “It looks like the Alaskan King is finishing unloading. They must have had a big catch. They've been at it for quite a while.”

“Yeah. That's always good for business.”

“I think I'll take a closer look. I see Sean with someone else on the pier, supervising the unloading.”

“That's Ivan Verdin. He oversees the shipping department.”

“I haven't met him yet. Now's a good time to.” Jake strode away.

Five minutes later Jake slowed his gait and headed toward Sean and Ivan, who stood holding clipboards, talking.

“Hi, Sean. I'm glad I caught you. I was going to stop by your office and see if you would like to go to the Harbor Bar and Grill this evening. We haven't had much time to catch up.”

His friend glanced at Ivan, then shifted toward Jake. “That sounds nice. Have you met Ivan Verdin? He manages our growing shipping department. Ivan, this is Jake Nichols. We hung around together when we were teens.”

Jake shook the man's gloved hand. “Nice to meet you. How long have you been in Port Aurora?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Since June. I'll be right back. I need to talk to the captain of the Alaskan King.”

When the tall, thin man left, Sean watched him walk away while Jake tried to see what was on his clipboard, but it was clasped against his coat. “I'm surprised Brad didn't promote within the workers at the fishery. That's what he did for you and Rachel.”

“Ivan comes with experience from another fishery in Seattle. He's had great ideas about the packaging and shipping.”

“So he's from Seattle like Brad's new partner?”

Sean's eyes popped wide. “I guess he is. I never thought about it.”

“Want to give me a tour of this part of the new fishery?”

“I wish I could. I'm going to be really busy for the next few hours.”

Jake had given Mitch a long leash, and he'd gone as far as he could, sniffing everything around him. Jake caught Ivan glancing back at him, a scowl on his face. This wasn't the time to look around. “See you at six at the grill.”

Jake didn't go to the bait shop because when he looked back a couple of times, he found Ivan watching him. Jake headed to Rachel's office to go through the rest of the employee files. He'd have Gramps take Rachel and Mitch home tonight while he met his friend to pump him for information.

* * *

Almost nine o'clock and the Harbor Bar and Grill was finally beginning to thin out. Jake had drunk three cups of coffee while Sean had ordered one beer after another. He'd never seen his friend drink so much alcohol. Thankfully, he lived near the harbor so he could walk to and from his job. What had made Sean change? When other teens were experimenting with alcohol, Sean never had. He prayed that Sean wasn't involved in the drug smuggling. The guy he grew up with wouldn't have been.

“I'm going to have to head home,” Jake said when the bartender rang a boat bell nine times.

“Don't. We haven't had a chance to talk about your job. I think you know everything that has gone on since you left, but you're awfully closemouthed about Anchorage.” Sean slurped the last of his drink and set the mug on the table with a loud thud.

“There's little to tell.”

“You were injured searching a bombed building. What about that?”

He hated talking about it, but he didn't say that to Sean. Instead, he replied, “We'll get together again, and I'll tell you all the gory details. Let me drop you off at your house before I head home.”

Sean waved his hand in the air. “I'm not drunk. I can walk. You go on and leave.”

“I don't mind taking you home.”

“I know. But I'm gonna stick around and escort our waitress Bev home. She lives down the street from me.” He tapped his temple. “I've got my eye on her. She's interested in me.”

Reluctantly, Jake left the restaurant and limped to Gramps's SUV. It was long days like this one that reinforced he'd been injured only four months ago and nearly died. Sean could take care of himself.

He climbed in and started the car. He hadn't learned much tonight, but he did get the feeling Sean really didn't care for Ivan and that the man was difficult to work with.

After looking through the photos of the employees, Jake couldn't remember anyone else that stood out to him that Saturday at the general store. What if one of the police officers was involved? After all, he'd been talking with Randall about where else he was going on that day. They might have alerted the arsonists to go to Betty's cabin. So many questions, so few answers.

The roads were much better since the last snowfall, but Jake focused his full attention on the highway. In the dark, he didn't have a lot of time to react if there was a slick spot that had developed that day.

In the distance across a field, he spied the Christmas lights on Linda's house. That meant he was only a mile away. Suddenly, someone stepped out of the brush on the side of the road and aimed a rifle at Jake.

CHAPTER NINE

R
achel circled the living room for the tenth time and glanced at her watch. Nine thirty. Where was Jake? She paused at the front window and stared into the night, hoping to see two headlights coming. Nothing but darkness.

Mitch came up beside her and sat, looking up at her.

“I know, boy. Something doesn't feel right. He should have been home by now.”

“Child, my grandson can take care of himself. He was meeting with Sean. You three used to hang out together in high school. You know how those two will get to talking and forget the time.”

“You're right. But if anything happened to him because of me, I don't know what...” Emotions crowded into her throat, stopping her words. She swallowed hard but couldn't continue. She didn't want to lose him again, especially now that he was back in her life. This time she hoped he would visit Port Aurora more often, and she would go to Anchorage to see him. And maybe in time they—

Lawrence wedged himself between the Christmas tree and her. “I know how you feel. You love him.”

“Of course I love him. He's my best friend. I'm not letting him disappear from my life for the next eight years.” He'd hurt her when he'd left and she'd mostly stayed away, nursing her wounds.

Lawrence angled his head toward her. “I think it's more than friendship, but you two are too busy running away from commitment to see it.”

Was that true? In the past week so many feelings had surfaced. Anger at him for keeping his distance. Relief that he was here to help with Aunt Betty's case. And then she thought of the kiss they'd shared—not anything like two good friends would. But Lawrence had a point. They both had commitment issues.

“Tell you what, Rachel. We'll give him another half an hour, and then I'll drive you to town. We'll take Mitch and hunt him down.”

“He's at the Harbor Bar and Grill. I could call them and see if he's still there.”

“Give him some time. I know a lot has been happening in Port Aurora, but the town is still essentially the same.”

She turned toward Lawrence. “Is it? This past year we have added over five hundred to our population. With growth can come more crime, and if there is drug smuggling going down in the town, then it will only get worse.”

“We still don't know that for sure.”

“Both Jake and I strongly suspect it. We'll find the evidence to prove it if it's there. We can't ignore the scent of drugs on those papers in my office.”

“Let me call the grill.” Lawrence covered the space to the phone sitting on an end table in the living room, and dialed the number.

Rachel went back to her vigilance at the window.
Is this the way wives of police officers are when their husbands are late?

Lawrence hung up and approached Rachel. “He's been gone for over half an hour. We're less than fifteen minutes from town.”

“Then we have to go out looking for him.” She headed for her purse and snatched up her keys to the Jeep.

* * *

A shot rang out, and the bullet hit the SUV's windshield. Jake ducked, and the car swerved toward the shooter. Another blast pierced a second hole into the glass, followed by a third.

Jake steered blind with one hand while fumbling for the glove compartment where his gun was. He grasped it as the SUV went into a spin. He rose, catching a glimpse of a figure fleeing right before Jake crashed into the thicket at the side of the road, the airbag exploding against his chest.

The hard impact into the ditch tossed him back then forward. A fine white powder choked him, and he coughed. Stunned and pinned against the seat, he closed his eyes to still the swirling sensation.

For a few seconds he couldn't remember what happened, then it all slammed back into his mind. As he shoved at the deflated airbag, he searched for his seat belt release. He pushed down on it.

It
'
s stuck.

He fought rising panic, sucking in shallow gasps. Scenes from the bombing threatened to overtake his senses. Then he felt his weapon still clutched in his hand. Even if the man came to finish him off, he could protect himself. He jammed his thumb against the release once. Twice. Finally, the latch popped out, and the strap slackened across his chest.

His heartbeat racing, he began dragging in deeper breaths and searching the terrain around him. His headlights gave off illumination, enough that he didn't think the assailant was near. But how long would he remain away?

After he retrieved the flashlight in the glove compartment, Jake groped for the car handle, found it and shoved the door open. It creaked. The sound seemed to magnify and echo through the air, sending out a signal he was getting out of the car. All he had was a foot to squeeze out of the SUV. He pushed on the door, but it wouldn't budge any more.

After wiggling out of his bulky overcoat, he transferred his Glock to his left hand and clutched the parka in his right one. When he sucked in his breath, his bruised body protested. He gritted his teeth and squirmed out of the car.

When he stood, his legs started to give way. He gripped the door, leaning into it as he got his bearings. Then he noticed the cold boring into him and remembered to put on his coat.

He didn't want to stay around the SUV or walk home using the road. If the assailant came back, he would easily find him. He started across the field, using the lights in the distance as his guide to his destination. It had been years since he had walked over this ground. He tried to remember what obstacles were in his path.

Trudging slowly through the snow, he would head behind Betty's house and avoid the woods near where she'd lived. It would be a little longer but safer. He didn't want to use his flashlight unless absolutely necessary. If his assailant was looking for him, he wasn't going to make it easy.

The wind whipping across the flatland drove the cold deeper into him. Every sound heightened his alertness. About halfway home, Jake paused, turned his back to the wind and inhaled frigid air. His healing leg throbbed. His knee must have hit against the console. Every muscle screamed for him to sit and rest, but after a minute he scanned his dark-shrouded surroundings, then kept going toward the Christmas lights. The first thing he would do when he reached Linda's house was kiss them for stringing so many.

Then in the distance to his left came the sound of howls. A pack of wolves. He pressed on, trying to increase his speed to keep distance between them, but each time he lifted his leg out of the foot-deep snow, his steps shortened.

The howling continued. Jake's grip tightened around the gun handle. He pushed himself even more. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement, but he couldn't tell what was there. From the well of what energy was left, he poured everything into his speed.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him fell away, and he tumbled downward.

* * *

“That's your car!” Rachel pointed toward the Jeep's front windshield. “He's been in a wreck.” The words rushed out so fast she could hardly understand herself.

Heartbeat pounding against her rib cage, Rachel pulled over to the side of the road and put the Jeep's flashers on while Lawrence hopped from the car. They both converged on the driver's-side door, the headlights from her Jeep glowing into the SUV's dark interior.

Rachel straightened and turned toward Lawrence. “He's gone. I didn't see him walking home.”

He leaned around her and examined the front seat. When he lifted his head toward the windshield, he tensed.

Slightly behind him, Rachel asked, “What's wrong?”

“There are three bullet holes in the windshield.”

Rachel squeezed around Lawrence and bent forward, glancing at the holes then the seat. “I don't see any blood. The keys are gone. Maybe he's okay, and we just missed him on the road.” But as she said that, she didn't believe it.

Lawrence rounded the back of his car and opened the passenger door, then checked the glove compartment. “The flashlight is gone. Do you have one in your car?”

“Yes, the same place.”

While Lawrence retrieved it, Rachel inspected the ground illuminated by the Jeep lights. “There are a lot of footprints here. I'm not sure which ones are ours.”

Lawrence shone the flashlight a few feet from the SUV where there were two sets, not theirs. “There was someone else here. No doubt the shooter. One of these went southwest toward town and the other into the field.”

Rachel followed the footsteps leading to a huge meadow near her house with the woods bordering part of it. “All I see is our Christmas lights. Nothing like a flashlight.”

“Maybe that's why he went that way. It's the shortest way to our houses.”

“What if he's hurt?” Rachel pointed to the tracks. “He's dragging the leg he injured in Anchorage. Isn't that what it looks like?”

Lawrence focused the flashlight on the drag marks in the snow. “He crashed into the side of the ditch. He was going fast enough for the air bags to deploy. At the least he would have some bumps and bruises.”

“Then we need to follow the tracks. What if he hit his head and isn't fully himself? He could have internal bleeding or...” Her throat jammed closed. She fought the tears welling inside her.

“He's a survivor. It was hours before he was safely rescued from the building rubble. He made it.”

He had to be okay. He was hurt because of her.
Please, Lord, be with him. Show us where he is
.

Lawrence went first, illuminating the path, while Rachel trailed close behind him.

After walking ten minutes, she said, “Shine the light toward my house. We might catch his silhouette.” She
needed
to see he was all right.

But when Lawrence swept the flashlight across the meadow, no one was there. Rachel's heart sank. “We've got to keep going. He may be in trouble.”

* * *

Jake's feet went out from under him, and he slid downward. He slammed against the bottom of a snow-crusted crevice, his body wedged between the narrow walls. Pinned down. Stuck.

The only thing he could move was his right arm. His left one was trapped between his chest and the jagged stone. His weapon had jerked from his fingers as he fell, but lay within reach of his good arm.

He switched on his flashlight to see if he could figure a way out of the crevice. On both sides of him the walls were closer together. Until he'd fallen into the gap, he'd forgotten about there being a few in this meadow. He could have avoided or stepped over if he'd seen the fissure in time.

He turned off his light. He didn't want to call attention to his location. Hopefully, Gramps would find his SUV and figure out where he was going before anyone else. This was a time he was glad his grandfather was an expert shot, having been a sniper in the US Marines. He should be able to take care of himself if his assailant returned.

Since he couldn't see the wolves getting at him, all he had to worry about now was keeping himself warm when he could hardly move his limbs. The wind whipping through the crevice cut right through him. With his free hand, he pulled his hood, bunched around his neck, over his beanie. Occasionally, he stomped his feet and moved his right arm to keep the blood circulating, but the sting of needles pricked his trapped one.

As time ticked away, the cold snaked through his body like fog slowly creeping over the landscape until it was everywhere.

Lord, I know I
'
ve been a stranger lately, but I need You. Gramps and Rachel say You are always with us. Help me get out of this
.

His teeth chattered, and he shivered. He needed to stay awake, but his eyelids drooped. Then his head dropped forward, hitting against the side of the ice-encased rocky surface. He didn't care. Maybe if he rested for a while...

Growls and yelps ricocheted through his tired mind. Jake jerked his head up and aimed the flashlight above.

Amber eyes stared down at him.

* * *

“Did you see that?” Rachel pointed to an area about three hundred yards in front of them and to the right. “I saw a light. It's gone now, but it was coming from the ground. That could be Jake.”

“That's near those fissures in this meadow.”

“He could have fallen into one.”

“Let's go.” Rachel charged out in front of Lawrence.

He grabbed her arm. “Wait. Look.” He gestured toward the area they were heading to.

Rachel froze, her gaze riveted on a pack of four wolves, all standing around and peering down. At Jake? Hurt? “What do we do?”

Gramps handed her the flashlight and grabbed the rifle he'd slung over his shoulder before leaving the Jeep. “That's why I always come prepared.”

“You're going to kill them?” Because she went hiking and camping, she knew how to use a gun, but one of the things she loved about her home was all the beautiful creatures that lived in Alaska.

“Not if I can help it. I had my fill of killing in the Vietnam War.” His gruff voice softened and thickened when he mentioned being a soldier. Jake had once told her he would never talk about being in that war.

Lawrence crept forward. “Shine the light on them.”

When Rachel did, a shot rang out in the night.

* * *

When the gunshot sounded, the wolves yelped, turning away from Jake, their attention on someone else. Had the assailant decided to see if Jake was hurt or dead? Had he brought reinforcements?

Sweat popped out on his forehead and rolled down his face. He was a sitting duck, but at least he still had some rounds in his weapon. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

Another blast echoed through the darkness, followed by a third one. Suddenly, the wolves jumped over the crevice and ran off, leaving Jake to face whoever was out there.

He lifted his Glock and prepared for the worst. With each second that passed, his heart rate increased until all he heard was its thundering beat against his skull. More sweat stung his eyes, and he blinked several times so he could see his assailant. He wouldn't have much time to make a decision. He pointed the barrel upward.