What She Saw (11 page)

“That’s not right!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’d become a loose cannon. I’d disobeyed a direct order. If it hadn’t been too messy, I’d probably have been court-martialed. The quietest way to deal with me was medical retirement. Of course, if I’d been in any condition, I might have been stupid enough to fight it. The order was unlawful because it obstructed an investigation. I could have made a case, but it probably wouldn’t have gotten very far. Most people are more concerned with their careers than I was.”

“But that’s awful! If the son did something wrong, he should have gone to jail.”

He shrugged one shoulder, gently stroking the back of her hand with his fingertips. Delightful shocks ran through her entire body. “They dealt with him another way. I’m pretty sure he got the message, too. Jail isn’t the only answer for some things. My mistake for not accepting it.”

“How can you call that a mistake?”

“I’m a little older and much wiser now. In some situations, some people are almost untouchable. And what’s more important? Putting someone in jail, or just stopping them from whatever illegal thing they’re doing? Sometimes the latter is the best answer. There’s also another way to look at it.”

“What’s that?”

“Why ruin a good man’s career because of something his son did?”

She looked down at his hand on hers and pondered. “A lot of people get hurt by what their kids do.”

“Of course. But the military officer corps is a very tight-knit elite, and appearance counts for a lot. More so than in most civilian positions. Hell, a divorce can end your hopes of rising high. Imagine what having a criminal for a son could do? So this guy was important, he was on his way to the top, he was widely liked and supported, and everything would have come crashing down because of his son’s failure. I get it. They were fast-tracking him for a lot of good reasons, and they didn’t want him knocked off the track.”

He leaned back, taking his hand from hers. Meg served them their dinners, his steak and eggs, hers a fluffy omelet with mushrooms and green peppers. Haley looked down at her plate but barely saw the food.

“Anyway,” Buck went on when they were alone again, “at the point when they called me off, I wasn’t sure who I was dealing with. I just knew I was close to solving the case. I didn’t care what they said, I was going to finish it. That’s what I was paid to do. What’s more, I’ve got more that a little bulldog in me, and I wasn’t about to give up my bone. I wanted the answers.”

“And that’s the thanks you got for being a good cop?”

“They
did
thank me. They could have crushed my career, put me behind a desk pushing papers, and I’d never have seen another promotion. Instead they gave me a Meritorious Service medal, a promotion, a full medical disability and retirement.”

She studied his face, which revealed little. “How does that make you feel?”

“Glad I’m not the one in jail.” He shook his head. “The point I’m trying to make here is that when I take the bit between my teeth, I don’t quit. Stubborn might as well be my middle name. Plus, I hate unsolved puzzles. So I walked into a thicket in defiance of orders, rightly or wrongly, and I came out better than I had a right to expect in the circumstances. Does it chap me? Hell, yeah. But some things you just have to accept.”

Haley knew all about accepting things. She’d had a lot to accept herself. “It just doesn’t seem right,” she said finally.

He smiled crookedly. “Fairness, right and wrong—they’re things we impose on the world. Life isn’t inherently fair. I think you know that.”

“I do,” she said reluctantly, thinking of how life had treated her mother. Picking up her fork, she started on her omelet before it turned cold. “So is that why you decided to start driving? To get away from all that?”

“Maybe in part. I like being on the road. It’s mostly peaceful.”

“Until lately,” she said a little tartly.

“Obviously.”

Conversation trailed off as they ate, giving Haley the opportunity to think over what he’d told her. She decided that he’d probably been more upset by what had happened than he was letting on. Of course, he’d had to make peace with it afterward, but at the time it must have seemed like a terrible betrayal.

“How much more school do you have?” he asked eventually.

“That depends. First I’m getting my LPN, so I’ll spend most of the coming year working at the hospital, being trained on the job, so to speak. There’ll still be some classroom stuff, but mostly it’ll be hands-on. I’m looking forward to that.”

“And then?”

“I plan to work for a few years and save some money, then go for my RN. Well, actually, I’m thinking about a bachelor of science in nursing.”

“Will that take long?”

“Two or three years, depending on me, mostly. And where I decide to go.”

“So you can’t do that here?”

She shook her head. “This is just a junior college.”

He smiled. “Big plans.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to dream them up.”

“Where do you want to wind up eventually? What kind of nursing? A big hospital?”

His questions provided the perfect opportunity to forget about everything else and focus on something that didn’t leave her unsettled. She was only too happy to talk about the specialties she was thinking about down the road, and her indecision about whether she wanted a big hospital or a small community hospital. She warmed to her topic so much that she was startled to realize they were finished eating.

“Wow, I ran on!”

“I enjoyed it. It made a nice change from my obsession.”

His obsession being whatever was happening with those shipments. The reminder caused a tiny trickle of ice to run down her spine.

“What are you going to do?” she asked him.

“Not here.”

So she let it go for now, passing on dessert because it was so late. She didn’t feel particularly eager to go back to her apartment, but there was nowhere else to go.

Worse yet, he said goodbye to her in the parking lot. Just a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, nothing meaningful, and certainly nothing to be misinterpreted. Then he said good-night and started walking toward the highway and the motel.

Unhappily, she started her car, eased out of her parking place and headed out of the lot. She hadn’t driven very far down the highway, moving slowly because she was so reluctant to go home, when Buck was suddenly there, trotting alongside her car and tapping on the window.

She stopped and he slid in quickly, shoving a duffel onto the floorboards.

“Go,” he said.

“What was that all about?”

“Unless someone was paying awfully close attention, they think I’m back in my motel room.”

“That’s important why?”

“Because from there I could see the entire truck-stop parking lot.”

And his rental car was parked out there, she realized. It was a great bit of misdirection. But to what end?

“I’m thinking about getting rid of my rental in the morning,” he remarked as they drove.

She almost didn’t hear him because she was busy wondering why he was coming with her. Everything that interested him was at the truck stop. All of a sudden her head was buzzing with questions.

“Buck?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you drive to the college?”

“I like walking and it isn’t all that far.”

“It’s going to be a long walk back from my place.”

“I like walking.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“About what?”

She reached the traffic light in the center of town. At this time of night it blinked red in all directions. She stopped and looked. “You just said you’re thinking of getting rid of your rental, right? Why?”

“Because it makes it look too easy for me to get around.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I’m confusing you.”

“Just slightly.”

“It’s really simple. If everyone thinks the only thing I have to drive is my truck cab, they’ll be looking out for that.”

“Oh. Will you need my car?”

“Not tonight.”

They turned onto a quiet street two blocks from her apartment.

“Let me out here,” he said.

She braked and gaped at him. “Buck, what in the world?”

“I have to meet someone. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leaned over, pecked her cheek again in an almost brotherly fashion that annoyed her, then climbed out with his duffel. “Morning,” he repeated, then slammed the door.

She stared after him as he walked down the street, then accelerated toward her apartment. She had lost her mind, she decided. Completely and totally. She had given her trust to a man she didn’t know, one who was now acting suspiciously enough that if she had two brain cells left she’d be wondering if he was involved in this mess.

What she never expected when she pulled up at her apartment was to see a car in a usually empty slot nearby. She could see a shadowy figure inside it.

Her mouth turned dry and she hesitated. Maybe she shouldn’t get out. Maybe she should just go somewhere else for the night. Like the sheriff’s office, or some friend’s. Not that she felt comfortable about calling any of them out of the blue for a bed, especially when she wouldn’t be able to explain it.

But as she sat there, motor running, trying to make up her mind whether there was any reason to be afraid, the car’s door opened and a woman climbed out. A split second later she recognized Deputy Sarah Ironheart despite the civvies.

Sarah came up to the driver’s side and bent down, waiting for Haley to roll down her window.

“Hi, Haley. I just wanted to tell you how great you were in the play.”

As if, Haley thought. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Is something wrong, Sarah?”

Sarah’s smile became gentler. “Not a thing. I just thought we could have a glass of milk or something, gab for a couple of minutes. Do you mind?”

Something was definitely wrong, Haley thought. Her every instinct kicked into high gear and her heart found a faster rhythm. Damn, she was getting sick of not knowing anything and being nervous about everything as a result.

She climbed out of the car, bringing Buck’s roses with her, and walked into the building with Sarah. Sarah Ironheart was much older, married and the mother of two. They didn’t move in the same circles at all, and there was absolutely no reason Sarah should have gone out of her way to come talk to Haley about the play.

Something was going on, all right. She just had to find out what it was. She hoped Sarah would at least tell her when they got inside.

She didn’t say much as they climbed the stairs. Sarah did all the talking, about the play, about her kids. Once they were inside the apartment, though, everything changed.

Sarah made no bones about checking out the two rooms. “Everything look okay to you?” she asked Haley.

Haley glanced around. “Yes. Now will you tell me what’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Not that I know of. I just know Gage asked me earlier to be here when you got home tonight and check things out. Consider them checked. He also asked me to make it look like a normal social visit. I hope it looked that way.”

“To everybody but me.” Haley dropped the roses by the sink, then retreated to her desk chair. “So you don’t know anything about what’s going on?”

“Whatever it is, no. I get that Gage asked me to do something and he doesn’t ask lightly, so I figure somebody’s giving you some trouble. That trucker guy?”

“I don’t think so.” Haley hesitated. “Gage checked him out and called to tell me he was okay. I think...well, they may be working together.”

Both of Sarah’s dark eyebrows rose. Her Native heritage had kept her beautiful well into her forties. “That would explain a lot.”

“How so?”

“Gage and Micah have been putting their heads together more than usual. There’s something not right about that truck accident, but we’re not investigating it yet as anything but an accident. I can tell you, though, it doesn’t look like an ordinary accident to any of us. So I’m wondering why we haven’t gone into full-scale investigation mode.”

“Oh.” Haley didn’t know what to say to that. If Gage didn’t want Sarah to know, assuming Gage knew everything, then it wasn’t her place to talk.

“Then we ran a random registration check on a certain type of truck, but nobody said why. White or pale yellow box truck, I believe.”

Haley bit her lip.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sarah said philosophically. “It’ll come out in good time. Just weird.”

“Are there a lot of those trucks around here?”

“A few. I didn’t get the count.” Sarah suddenly laughed. “Cloak-and-dagger stuff. I haven’t seen that in a while. How deep into it are you?”

“Everyone’s trying to keep me out of it, pretty much, whatever it is.”

“Welcome to the club. Well, apparently that’s why I’m here. And you’re stuck with me.”

Haley felt her eyes widen. “You’re my bodyguard?”

“I’m something.”

“But don’t you have to get home?”

“Sweetie, despite the clothes, I’m on duty. And frankly, I’d rather spend my time sitting here than driving the roads. You don’t have to stay up on my account. Go to bed, read, anything you feel like. I’m just here until my shift is over.”

Chapter 8

“D
on’t tell me what you’re planning,” Gage said to Buck as they drove out of town and into the countryside. “I’d hate to have to stop you.”

“I won’t.”

“But if it involves trespass, let me warn you. If you wind up dead, there won’t be much of an investigation. Folks protect their property.”

“I don’t intend to wind up anything.”

“No one ever does,” Gage said philosophically.

Buck almost laughed. “I’m just a guy going for a walk.”

“Right. I’ve got a deputy with Haley like you asked. How worried are you about her?”

“Worried enough that I don’t want her to be alone. She saw the driver of the box truck. She can testify that Ray was perfectly alert a few minutes before he died, which pretty much limits the time and opportunity frame for him to have been drugged. She saw the cargo exchange. And I’ve got two more pieces of information.”

“What would they be?”

“That Claire Bertram poured the coffee Ray drank, and that Claire also talked to the other driver and asked him why the hell they were shifting cargo in the lot.”

Gage swore. “She tell Haley that?”

“Yup.”

“Thin leads, but I’ve been there before. Twist around, will you? You’ll feel a sheepskin on the back floorboards. You might need it.”

Buck came up with a patch of sheepskin, wool still attached. The wool felt oily with lanolin. “What’s this?”

“Let’s just say if you happen to wander among sheep, you should smell like them if you don’t want to disturb them. Friend of mine gave that to me earlier. Should you happen to lose your way, rub it on yourself.”

“What about hogs?”

“Can’t do anything about hogs except warn you they can be mean. You don’t want to startle them.”

“Well, I won’t be getting close.”

“Not as far as I know, anyway,” Gage agreed. “We ran registrations on the truck description you gave us. Nine of ’em in the county, most owned by local businesses in town. That doesn’t mean a damn thing, though. It could be from out of county.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if it was. But it’s got to have a base here in order to meet with the trucks at the truck stop in a timely fashion. Truckers are regular enough, but not that regular. You don’t want to spend an hour or two hanging around waiting for one to arrive if you don’t want a lot of people to notice you.”

“True.” Gage tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Nothing from trip logs to help you?”

“Not yet.”

“Hell. But why the parking lot? It’s kind of an obvious place.”

“But most casual viewers wouldn’t know it’s wrong for the cargo transfers to happen there. It would take another trucker, and even then it might be dismissed as some shipment having gone the wrong direction. You try that at some turnout along the highway in the middle of nowhere, and
any
passerby is going to notice.”

Gage nodded. “I sure would. I think most folks would.”

“The problem I’m having is keeping an eye on everything. Like tonight. I can’t watch Haley, so I’m grateful to you for that, but if there was a cargo exchange going on right now, I’d miss it.”

“You need some help.”

“Haley goes back to work tomorrow night.”

“But there’s tonight.” Gage sighed and reached for a radio on the dashboard. He held it to his mouth and keyed it. “Nine-ninety-nine to base.”

“Base here, Sheriff.”

“Tell Beau to meet me at the truck stop for pie.”

“Any reason?”

“No reason. Just tell him I’m meeting him for pie. I can’t sleep and I’m keeping Emma awake.” He keyed the radio off and slipped it back onto the dashboard. “Nobody will pull a switch with a patrol car sitting there. Better?” he asked.

“Thanks.”

“We’re on the same side, you know. Loosen up a bit and let us help when we can.”

“If I had more information, that would be a whole lot easier.” Buck hesitated. “I got a call from my boss. He pulled me off the case. I told him I hadn’t learned anything and I was going to stay another week because I’d met someone.”

Gage gave a low whistle. “Think he’s involved?”

“I wish I knew. It sounds crazy as hell to send me to investigate, then back off. I smell someone covering a backside.”

“Maybe not Bill,” Gage said presently. “Somebody had to have reported the discrepancies. Would it have gone through him?”

“Or one of the other shipping supervisors. At this point I’m really flailing in the dark, but it’s likelier I’ll find the end of the thread out here than back there.”

“Maybe so. I take it by what we’re doing right now that you’re not quitting. Okay. If he calls us again, I’ll stick with the story that you told us you were pulling out and I’ll tell him we have nothing to investigate other than an accident. Or something to that effect.”

“Thanks.”

Gage dropped him at a crossroads seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Buck started to climb out, but Gage stopped him with a question. “How much of a country boy are you?”

“Depends. If you mean what do I know about farming or ranching, I know squat. I was an army brat.”

“Then let me warn you. Folks sleep lightly. Any sign of distress from their livestock wakes them. They have to constantly worry about predators.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Another warning. Murdock Bertram has at least one hired hand I know of, and he doesn’t sleep in the house. There’s a bunkhouse out back, a few hundred yards from the barn. Of course, since you’ll be staying on the roads and shoulders, you don’t have to worry.”

“Exactly,” said Buck, keeping up the pretense. He understood perfectly the need to protect Gage from having to lie on a report or under oath. The man had gone far enough out on the limb by bringing him out here.

“I’ll see you where we agreed at first light. You don’t have a whole lot of time. I hope you walk fast.”

The large knife was already tucked on his belt. The folding knife was tucked in his boot, but after he pulled on his black clothing, he’d tucked it into his pocket so it wouldn’t irritate his ankle. He tugged on a ski mask, rolling it up to serve as a stocking hat for the time being. Before the sound of Gage’s motor had completely faded away, he was running, not walking, toward the Liston homestead.

Gage’s remark about time had been an understatement, but he knew how far and how fast he could run.

Quick in, quick out. He just needed to check a couple of barns.

* * *

The night was as dark as any he’d ever seen. Starlight didn’t help much when it had nothing to reflect off, no snow or metal. The ground seemed to soak it up the same way rain soaked up headlights.

He made good time to the Liston place, though. The expensive sports car was still parked out front, seeming almost to glow compared to everything around it. Not a single light gleamed from anywhere. He wished he could get inside that house, meet Jim Liston and get a measure of the man.

That wouldn’t help him look inside the barn, though. Those crates that were changing hands had to be somewhere reasonably nearby. The truck could maybe be in another county right now, but there was too much risk in transporting the crates too far. An accident could blow the whole thing, and a damaged crate would raise huge questions. He figured they were taking them just far enough to hide them until the next exchange, at a place that provided sufficient privacy to pull something out of them and make them look like they hadn’t been tampered with at all.

A place like a barn.

He glanced at his watch, the glowing dial assuring him he’d made good time. Reaching into one of the many useful pockets of his new black hunting jacket, he pulled out a cheap nightscope that he’d had for years.

A scan of the farmstead told him everything was quiet. The hogs had settled for the night in a large pen that wasn’t too close to the barn. At least he hoped it wasn’t too close. How the hell would he know at what point those pigs might decide he was a threat?

He’d almost have preferred to have a unit of Rangers camped out there. Evading human detection was relatively easy and something he had been trained to do. Animals were a whole other game. For all he knew, they might be better than the highest-tech security perimeter.

He decided the best approach was directly up the rutted dirt drive. The grasses were browning either from lack of sufficient water or from the approach of autumn. Either way, they’d make noise, crackling at every step. At least his clothing didn’t rustle. Thank God for the passion for hunting around here.

He kept to the side of the drive where the clay was less rutted, and stepped as lightly and quickly as he could, freezing when he heard stirring from the pigs in the pen. Mostly they seemed to be huddled in deep sleep.

At last he made it to the well-packed front yard, where the sports car and an older vehicle were parked. From there he turned and light-footed it to the barn.

Pulling out a small penlight, he hooded it with his hand and began to edge around the barn, taking care not to trip on any obstacle as he approached each window and tried to peer inside.

Screwed, he thought instantly. If the window had ever been washed any time since the barn had been erected, he couldn’t tell. It was so covered in dust and grime that all it did was diffuse his flashlight, seeming to light up the glass like a beacon. He switched the light off immediately and leaned as close as he could, trying to peer inside. If any light penetrated the interior, he couldn’t tell. It was as dark as a tomb. He tried to open the window, but it refused to budge.

Hell. Moving carefully, he went window to window, only to find the same thing. Around back he found a small door, but it was firmly padlocked. For a minute he toyed with breaking in, then decided against it. He didn’t want anyone to know someone had been here, and he didn’t want to disturb those damn pigs by making the wrong noise.

Then he found a place where the boards had warped enough to give him an opening. Pressing both the flashlight and his eye to the gap, he was able to see something of the interior. Dark shapes everywhere, some of them clearly equipment, but on the far side of the barn he saw a big, rectangular block. It was as black as the night outside, shrouded in what appeared to be a tarp.

But it was the right size, as big as most of the crates he transported.

His heart accelerated a little, even though that glimpse wasn’t enough to confirm anything. What he knew now, though, was that he needed to get closer to what was going on at the Liston place.

He glanced at his watch again. Time to move on to the Bertram place. No time to waste.

He took a step and his foot hit something that clanged. As quiet as this place was in the dead of night, it sounded as loud as a gunshot to him. He flattened himself immediately on the ground in the darkest shadow he could find, switching off his penlight.

Barely had he hit the ground when the pigs reacted. God, he’d never guessed they could squeal that loudly. Squeal, yes, but at that volume?

Thank God he wasn’t easily visible from the house, but it was entirely possible that if Liston came out because the pigs were acting up he might look far afield for a wolf or a cougar.

The side door of the house slammed open, and he recognized the figure of the elder Liston stepping outside, accompanied by the unmistakable silhouette of a shotgun. Then a high-power flashlight switched on, flooding the night with brilliance as it wandered toward the pigs’ pen.

He heard the old man muttering as he clomped down his side steps and headed toward the pigs. Buck pulled his ski mask down swiftly and closed his eyes to protect his dark adaptation, then pressed his face to the ground. His ears would have to be his sentinels, and the old man sure wasn’t making any effort to be quiet.

The footsteps trailed away from the barn toward the pigs. Good.

Then a young voice called out, “Dad? Everything okay?” Jim.

“Dang pigs took a fright. Don’t see nothing. Maybe one of them hogs was gettin’ randy.”

Jim laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time. You want me to check around?”

Buck stiffened.

A long silence answered the question, and Buck realized the hogs were beginning to settle again.

“Nah,” said Mr. Liston. “They’re quietening. Wouldn’t be if’n it was some wolf or cougar.”

A few more minutes dragged by endlessly, then Buck heard the heavy steps heading back toward the house. The door slammed closed again. Buck risked his eyes and looked up. There was still some dim golden light pouring from the window beside the side door. And some from a room upstairs.

Counting the minutes on an internal clock and getting more restive as each one passed, Buck waited. A glance at his watch told him he was now going to cut it very close. He didn’t like the idea that he might not be able to check out the Bertram place tonight.

But at least he’d been able to put the Listons on his list of possibilities, higher than they’d been before. This place didn’t look as if it made enough money to afford much that would come in a full-size shipping crate.

Even so, he wasn’t sure it was one of the crates he was looking for. Lying there, he tried to tamp his impatience by figuring out how he would insert himself into the Liston situation. He would have to come up with a believable reason.

The last of the lights went out. Peace fell over the world again. Aware that he had no time to spare, he backed up and rounded the barn on the side away from the house, taking care not to make any noise louder than wind rustling in dry grass.

As he came around front, though, he noticed the wheel ruts leading into and out of the wide barn doors. Wide enough to accommodate a box truck. Those ruts seemed deeper than they should be for a regular car, and the elder Liston clearly left his tractor outdoors. At least at this time of year.

No way to know how old those ruts were. From what little he’d been able to see inside, though, there was no big machinery in the barn that could have carved them. He tucked the thought away, looked toward the house one more time, then began to slip away down the driveway, half expecting to hear a door behind him open and a voice yell out at him. His neck crawled.