Perilous (21 page)

He shrugged. “I’m old. Dying while trying to protect my wife isn’t the worst way to go out.”

“Interesting way of looking at the situation. I found the guy’s teeth in your bedroom.”

“You said you killed him?” he asked.

“I shot the guy out back. He was dead by the time we got to him.”

“Good, and good riddance. The world doesn’t need people like that in it.”

I decided not to get into the finer points of the justice system with my father at the moment, and in that particular instance, I tended to agree with him.

“So, your sister said she was on the way?” he asked.

“They should be here any minute. She did say she was going to call me when they left though, but I haven’t heard from her.”

He shrugged. “Call her and see what’s up.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket and tried Melissa. After a dozen rings, I hung up.

“No answer?” my father asked.

I shook my head. “Let me try Callie.”

I dialed her number, and she answered right away.

“Hey, babe,” she said.

“Did you guys leave yet?”

“No. Still sitting here. The car won’t start.”

“Did you guys leave a light on inside or something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Try having one of the sheriffs give it a jump.”

“That’s what they are doing now. Jeff is out there with them.”

“If they can’t get the thing going in a couple minutes, I’ll just come and get you guys.”

“We could probably just wait until morning,” she said.

“I know, but I also know how Melissa is. When she wants to do something, she wants to do it now. It will be easiest for everyone if I just come and get you guys. Call me back in ten minutes and let me know.”

“Okay, babe.” She hung up.

I looked at my dad. He stood at the front door, waiting for me to get off the phone. “Car won’t start?” he asked. “I guess it’s been pretty cold.” My father walked from the door and headed for his workshop. He spoke over his shoulder as I followed behind. “Did they try to jump-start it?”

“I guess that’s what they are doing now,” I said.

“Is it turning over?”

“I didn’t get into it with them.”

He stopped at the door and rested his hand against the knob. “Jeff’s car or hers?”

“Melissa’s.”

“That’s a newer car she drives. Are they sure it’s not out of gas?”

“Dad, I don’t know. I’m going to give you a hand with the windows quick and then head out there to get them if they can’t get it started.”

He pushed the shop door open. “Maybe I’ll shoot out there with you. We’ll bring a gas can and my jump pack from the shop here.”

“It’s getting late, Dad. I’ll just go get them and come back if I have to.”

My dad grumbled something I couldn’t make out as he walked into the shop.

“What did you say, Dad?”

He walked past his truck to the workbench at the back. “Nothing. If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go.”

“That’s not it at all. I just figured, after what you guys had just been through, you’d—”

“Look, Carl,” my dad interrupted. “I’m old, but I’d like to think I’m still useful.” He snatched an armful of plastic sheeting from the shelf and shoved it at me. He quickly grabbed a similar-sized armful for himself.

Maybe Melissa wasn’t imagining him getting stressed about his age.

“If you want to come, Dad, come. I just figured you wanted to try to relax a little. I’m sure I can use your help, though.”

He grumbled.

“Man, you’re getting sensitive in your old age,” I said with a smile.

He flashed me an annoyed glance.

“I think they call that
crotchety
actually.”

He smiled. “Smart ass. Here.” He handed me a roll of duct tape.

We started back toward the house.

Sandy took a break from cleaning up glass and debris to cut the plastic to the right sizes. My father and I made quick work of taping the pieces over the blown-out windows. We were done within twenty minutes. Callie had called me back a few minutes prior to tell me they were still there. The car wouldn’t start, and the sheriffs were at a loss as to why.

I tossed the roll of duct tape onto the table. “I’m going to head over there in your truck if that’s okay. Did you want to come or what?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ll tag along.” He looked at Sandy. “Do you want to come, hon, or stay here?”

“Well, I don’t have any peroxide to start cleaning the blood. That’s going to have to wait until morning. I could keep cleaning up and enjoy my time with our house guests,”—she nodded at the officers outside—“but I think I’ll go with you guys.”

“Good enough. Let’s go,” I said.

“Hold on, let me go find my hat,” my father said.

“I’ll meet you out front,” I said.

Sandy and I walked toward the workshop. I stopped and let the deputy outside know we were heading out and would be back in an hour or so. Then I met Sandy back inside the garage.

“We’ll have to take both trucks, huh?” she asked.

I hadn’t thought about it, but she was right. We wouldn’t have enough room in one.

“Yeah, I guess. Why don’t you and Dad take yours, and I’ll drive his old one.”

“I’ll drive mine solo. Have your father ride with you,” she said.

“You sure?” I asked.

“Yeah, you guys can have a half hour of father-and-son time.”

I jumped in my father’s truck, hit the button to open the garage door, and pulled out.

My father came from the house a minute later and jumped in. He pulled the seatbelt over his shoulder and clicked it in.

I pulled out of the driveway, and Sandy followed.

Yury pulled down the street. A sheriff’s cruiser sat parked at the end of the block. It hadn’t been there the last time he passed. The local sheriff’s office must have been watching the area. Yury kept his eyes on the cop car. The interior light was on, and the sheriff sat inside. Yury drove past and continued around the corner to the end of the street. He glanced in his rearview mirror. The cop didn’t follow.

A small bar and restaurant sat on the water’s edge at the road’s end. The place was closed, the parking lot empty. A small billboard out front read See You in Spring. A frozen boat ramp was directly ahead. Yury killed his headlights and pulled out onto the ice. The hard snow covering the ice crunched under the car tires. He turned right and stayed close to the frozen piers jutting out from the shoreline. He drove until he saw a snow shovel protruding from the snow on a dock. He’d left it as a marker earlier. Yury pulled along the small pier and shut off the motor. His vehicle would only be visible if people were on the lake, ice fishing. Yury stepped from the car and looked around. The moisture from his breath hung in the air. A number of ice shanties littered the frozen lake. He spotted no lights and heard no noise. The place was quiet.

Yury walked to the trunk of the car and opened it. From inside, he pulled out his ghillie suit. It would be the second time wearing it in the past six hours. The first had been when he disabled the vehicle by cutting the main engine harness. He needed to make sure Kane’s family stayed put.

White and gray camouflage strips hung from the jacket and pants. Yury pulled the pants over the ones he wore and then pulled the jacket over himself. He snapped the front closed and pulled the hood over his head. He unzipped his duffel bag in the trunk. When Erik had delivered everything Ramon’s team requested, he also brought Yury a duffel bag filled with his own requests. Inside the bag was an AR-15 rifle, complete with scope and suppressor, and a couple frag grenades. He grabbed one of the grenades and scooped up an extra magazine for the rifle—he placed both items in the ghillie suit’s pocket. He took out the rifle and rested it against his shoulder.

Yury closed the trunk and walked across the ice, past a couple properties. He started up the hill. He was adjusting his plan on the fly and would have to take out the cops first. Once that was complete, he would enter the cabin and take out the occupants one by one.

He sludged up the hill through the deep snow. At the hill’s crest, he looked to his left. He could see the cabin owned by Betty Lowers, Kane’s old partner’s aunt. Ivan had claimed finding the property took a lot of work. Smoke rolled from the chimney. A sheriff’s cruiser sat backed into the driveway. The cop’s family was still there. Yury spotted movement outside the place. He dropped down and put the scope on the area. A sheriff and another man were attempting to start the disabled vehicle. He held his finger against the trigger. He had a clear shot on the man. Yury let out a breath and then pulled his finger away.

He had shots only on the cop and that other man. Too many variables could come into play. Someone else could call 9-1-1. The other sheriff would respond immediately. Yury lay in the snow, thinking.

An idea came to his mind. Yury crouched and made his way through the snow, back down the hill, and across the ice to the car. He opened the trunk and clicked on the cell-phone jammer. He checked his peripherals and closed the lid. All he had to do was take out the sheriff at the end of the block. After that, he’d kill the second sheriff—then it was a shooter’s choice. They wouldn’t be able to call for help.

Yury trekked back again, following his previous footprints. Staying low and quiet, he crested the hill and once again looked over. He checked with his scope. The two men were still outside. He continued through the woods toward the street. He saw headlights through the trees. Yury picked up his pace through the forest and then dropped to his stomach forty feet inside the tree line. He had a clear view of the sheriff’s squad car. A truck had pulled up next to the sheriff’s car, and another truck sat behind it. Yury put the scope on the driver of the first truck. A smile spread across his face—Lieutenant Kane was behind the wheel.

Yury watched and waited. The trucks pulled away, heading for the cabin. The light in the squad car remained on. Yury walked twenty yards west for a better view on the deputy in the sheriff’s car. He held the crosshairs on the side of the deputy’s head, and his finger started pulling back on the rifle’s trigger. The light inside the car flicked off. Then the brake lights lit up and the reverse lights flashed as the cop shifted the car into drive. The cruiser made a left and pulled away up the street.

Yury shook his head. “No idea how lucky you just got, pig.” He stood and started back through the woods and snow to find another position.

Slowing near the sheriff’s car at the end of the block, I pulled alongside him and lowered my window. He did the same.

“Help you?” he asked.

“I’m Lieutenant Carl Kane. This is my father here, John.” I pointed up the street toward Jim’s cabin. “My family at the cabin there is the reason why you guys are out here.”

“Some trouble over in Oconto County, huh?” he asked.

“That’s an understatement.”

“I hear there were some missing family members.”

“That was me and my wife, in the truck behind us. We’re found,” my father said.

“Good. Well, it’s been pretty quiet around here. I’ve only seen one car in the last hour or so, which headed down toward the ice. We got another sheriff stationed up at the cabin there. I guess they are trying to get a vehicle started or something.”

“Yeah, well that’s why we’re here. We are going to try to get it started and then head out one way or another. You guys should be able to get back to your rounds then,” I said.

“Are you guys going to need a tow?”

“I don’t know. Not tonight, either way. If we can’t get it going, we’ll come back in the morning and deal with it.”

“Okay. I’ll probably roll out of here in a second, then. The deputy that’s up there is named Benson. If you guys need a hand, just have him radio me, and I’ll shoot back.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

I rolled up my window and drove up the street toward the cabin—Sandy followed in her truck behind us.

We pulled in. Sandy pulled her truck to the side of the driveway up front. We continued past the cabin to the backed-in squad car, and my sister’s Subaru still butted up against the pine tree. I pulled parallel to the sheriff’s cruiser and Melissa’s car’s back bumper. Our headlights shone off the back of the property to the frozen lake. The floodlight on the back of the cabin was on.

Jeff looked around the side of the hood of the Subaru at my father and me.

I killed the lights and motor. My father and I stepped out and walked over.

Jeff and the deputy were wedged between the pine tree and the front of the car.

“She won’t start?” my dad asked.

Jeff shook his head. “Hey, John, Carl. I’ve had about enough of screwing with this thing. We tried jumping it with the deputy’s jump pack, but it wouldn’t start. The car has gas. I don’t know. I’m at a loss. It has to be something electrical related. I’m freezing my ass off out here. Stupid tree keeps dumping snow down the backs of our necks.”

“Any power at all?” I asked.

The sheriff shook his head. “Dead as a doornail.”

“You’re Benson?” I asked.

He wore a sheriff’s winter cap pulled low on his round head. The front of his winter jacket had dirt on it from leaning into the engine compartment. “Deputy Chris Benson.”

“The deputy posted down at the end of the block told us you were up here. I’m Carl Kane. This is my father, John.”

“I shook his hand.”

“Jeff here says you’re law enforcement?”

“Tampa homicide lieutenant.”

He nodded. “Well, what do we want to do here? I don’t think this thing is going anywhere tonight unless it’s on the back of a flatbed.”

“We’re going to get the family loaded up and head out. It should just be a couple minutes, and you guys can get back to whatever you have to do.”

He shrugged. “Not really too much of a rush. She’s pretty slow around here in the winter months. I wouldn’t mind getting back to the station and getting a couple of cups of coffee in me, though.”

“Okay. Like I said, we’ll be quick.”

He slid himself out from the front of the car.

“Thanks for keeping an eye out here,” I said.

“No problem.”

My father, Jeff, and I headed for the back door of the cabin.