Читать книгу Wanted - Delores Fossen - Страница 9

Chapter Three

The sound of the bullet blasted through the house.

“Get down!” Wyatt shouted to Lyla.

Wyatt got down, too, but he stayed near the back door so he could keep an eye on the gunmen. One was already racing across the pasture, away from the house, and the other didn’t even take aim before he fired another shot and then took off running, as well.

Hell.

Wyatt couldn’t let them get away, but he also couldn’t risk one or both circling back around and coming after Lyla. He had no idea if she was innocent or not, but by damn, he was not going to let her get gunned down.

“What’s happening?” Lyla asked. She was on the floor, thank God, one hand over her head and the other over her stomach. He hoped she stayed that way, though her hands would be a paltry shield for bullets.

“Someone’s trying to kill me,” Wyatt relayed to her. “Or maybe you.”

But there was something off about this attack, if it was indeed a murder attempt. For one thing, the men had waited way too long before shooting. In the twenty minutes or so that Lyla and he had been in the house, two gunmen could have torn the place apart with a shower of bullets.

Maybe that meant they’d wanted her alive.

Or scared.

If so, they’d succeeded in doing both. Lyla was trembling on the living room floor, but she hadn’t been hurt, and that meant the baby was safe.

Wyatt tried not to think about that. Tried not to think about the deception that had gone into creating this child. He just focused on the job, and right now the job was keeping Lyla and the baby safe and stopping those gunmen.

The moment that Wyatt heard the cop car brake to a stop in front of the house, he bolted out the back door. Not because he was afraid of being arrested. No, he could handle that. But now that Lyla had someone else to protect her, it was time to see what he could do about the gunmen.

Wyatt had to go after them.

Both of the men were running, their backs to Wyatt. He considered shooting but dismissed it. If he hit one, the other could return fire, and he was still too close to the house to risk that.

Wyatt leaped off the porch and hit the ground running. Not the easiest thing to do in cowboy boots and winter gear, but the men were weighed down by equipment belts, which no doubt held extra ammo. Maybe extra weapons, too. They’d obviously come prepared for an attack that they’d barely carried out.

The pasture wasn’t that deep, unfortunately, and behind it was a fence and then a heavily treed area. He wanted to stop the men before they could disappear into those woods, but they had too much of a head start on him. When Wyatt saw the first man reach the fence, he knew he had to do something.

“Stop or I’ll shoot,” Wyatt called out.

Still not listening, they didn’t stop. Both of them continued to run, and the one in the lead latched on to the top rung of the wood fence and started to hoist himself to the other side.

Wyatt fired at him.

The shot was off because he hadn’t stopped and aimed, but it got their attention. The guy on the fence turned and fired right back. Wyatt saw the bullet slam into the ground and kick up dirt. Much better than it going toward the house.

Wyatt fired another shot. Ducked. But the one on the fence didn’t take the bait this time. He scrambled over the top and disappeared into the trees.

Wyatt turned to fire at the other one, but the shots began to blast through the air. Obviously, the gunman on the other side of the fence hadn’t run away and left his partner after all. He was trying to save his sorry butt, and to save his own butt, Wyatt had no choice but to dart behind an old cast-iron bathtub that’d been turned into a watering trough.

He cursed, waiting, but knowing this would allow the second man to get away. Wyatt lost count of the number of shots fired, all of them smacking into the trough and the ground around him.

But they stopped just as quickly as they’d started.

Wyatt waited another second or two and then took off running again.

Neither man was in sight now, and since he didn’t know the area, Wyatt couldn’t even predict which direction they’d gone. Maybe he would be able to find their footprints and follow them.

“Stop!” someone yelled from behind him. Not Lyla. A man, probably the deputy.

Wyatt spared him a glance over his shoulder. Yep, a deputy in uniform, all right, and he was standing with his gun drawn on the back porch. It was a risk, because the lawman might shoot him in the back, but Wyatt was so close to the fence now that he took his chances. He barreled over it and dropped to the ground.

There were footprints. Plenty of them, and some had bits of dried leaves and twigs in them, which could mean they were several days old. Later, he’d need to ask Lyla about who had access to this part of the property, but he was betting these weren’t the footprints of a neighbor.

Someone had been watching her for a long time.

He lifted his head and listened for any sound of footsteps. Nothing. Just the wind. But he soon heard something he didn’t want to hear.

An engine starting up.

Wyatt raced toward the sound, weaving his way through the trees and scraggly underbrush, and it didn’t take him long to get to a clearing with a trail. He caught just a glimpse of the black SUV as it disappeared out of sight. He didn’t even have a chance to get the license number.

Oh, man. He didn’t need this.

Without thinking, he yanked out his phone, and he got a quick reminder of why he hadn’t already called one of his brothers. Still no service out in this rural area. That meant he needed to get to a landline ASAP.

He also needed to face that gun-pointing deputy.

Wyatt meandered his way back to the fence and was about to climb over it when he spotted something.

A camera mounted on one of the trees.

He followed the angle of the lens—it was aimed directly at Lyla’s house. Yeah, someone had been watching her.

But who?

Wyatt figured the camera might give him some clues about that, so he ripped it from the tree and climbed back over the fence. The deputy was still on the porch, but there was no sign of Lyla, who was hopefully still inside and on the floor. That was because the gunmen might make a return visit and this time launch another attack.

“Marshal McCabe,” the deputy said as Wyatt got closer. He was a pencil-thin man with pink flushed cheeks and nearly white blond hair. “I’m Deputy Walter O’Neal.”

“I hope you called for backup, because the shooters got away in a black SUV. They used what appears to be an old ranch road.”

The deputy nodded. “Got two other deputies on the way. You can give us a description at the sheriff’s office, ’cause I need to take you in for questioning.”

Yeah, Wyatt had figured that, and he had no plans to resist. Or even argue. The sooner he finished his business with the deputy, the sooner he could have the camera analyzed and figure out the identities of those gunmen.

“Lyla said you accused her of some wrongdoing,” O’Neal added when Wyatt made it to the porch.

“I did.” He held up the camera. “And this might prove it.” However, it was more likely to prove her innocence, since she had no reason to put her own house under surveillance, unless it was part of some security system to make sure no one got too close.

Like him.

“I did nothing wrong,” he heard Lyla repeat, and she stepped onto the back porch to join them. But not for long.

Wyatt took her arm and put her right back inside. “She shouldn’t be out in the open, because of the gunmen.” And he turned to the deputy. “You need to bring her to the sheriff’s office with us.”

“She insisted on coming,” the deputy said, sounding a little uncertain about that. Or maybe his uncertainty was just for Wyatt and the shots that’d been fired. “Though I did suggest she see a doctor while I deal with getting your statement.”

“The men really got away?” she asked, her eyes wide. Lyla grabbed her coat and purse from the peg next to the door that led to the garage.

Wyatt nodded and held up the camera. “Any idea who’s been watching you?”

That didn’t help ease the look of concern on her face. “No.”

He hadn’t expected any other answer from her, but then she stopped. “Three days ago someone from the electric company showed up and said he needed to do some repairs on the lines. He seemed, well, a little suspicious. Like he was nervous or something.”

That was a start. “I’ll make some calls and see if he was legit or not. Also, if there’s a surveillance disk in here, we might get a better look of the gunmen’s faces.” Of course, there probably wouldn’t be a disk. It likely had some kind of wireless feed to another device.

One that the gunmen had almost certainly taken.

Wyatt doubted they were so incompetent that they would have left something like that behind. Still, he might get lucky. He would have a closer look later.

“I take it all of this is part of some official investigation?” O’Neal asked.

“An investigation, yes,” Wyatt answered. “Official, no. Not yet anyway. I’m here for personal reasons.”

He waited to see if Lyla had told the deputy about the in vitro switch, but she didn’t say a word. Wyatt figured that would change, though, when they got to the sheriff’s office. Lyla was a crime scene analyst, bound by the law, and she no doubt trusted this deputy more than she trusted him.

Yeah, she’d tell, all right.

“I’ll let you keep your gun,” O’Neal said, leading them out the front and to his patrol car. “For now.”

Wyatt didn’t like the guy’s attitude, but he had to admit it was a generous concession. If their situations had been reversed, Wyatt wouldn’t have let him stay armed.

Since there was a bulky equipment bag in the front passenger seat, Lyla and Wyatt got into the back. She didn’t say a word to him, but she did shoot him another glare. Wyatt gave her one right back. So far, the evidence was pointing to the fact that she might be a pawn, but until Wyatt knew for sure, he intended to be as wary of her as she was of him.

“What will happen now?” she asked, directed not at Wyatt but rather the deputy.

“We’ll start with your statements,” he answered, his attention shifting all around. Wyatt was doing the same thing, looking for those gunmen. “I guess neither of you recognized those two men?”

“No,” Wyatt and she answered in unison. That seemed to annoy her, too. “But the marshal probably thinks I’m lying about that.”

“The marshal figures she’s telling the truth,” Wyatt countered. “About that anyway.” He looked at her for the rest of the explanation. “Those bullets were real, and I don’t believe you’d put the baby at risk by hiring idiot gunmen to shoot at or near you.”

“I wouldn’t.” Her chin came up. Her voice was strong. “This baby is my life, and...” She snapped away from him.

Wyatt could finish that for her. This baby is my life, and you have nothing to do with it.

Or something along those lines.

She’d already said she didn’t want a baby daddy. Wyatt had to make sure that was the truth. Then he’d figure out what to do with that truth and everything else that seemed to be hitting him at once.

“Call ahead,” Wyatt instructed the deputy, “and arrange for Lyla to be checked out by a doctor. Just in case.”

He expected her to argue with that, too, and maybe it was on her mind when she opened her mouth. But then she just slid her hand over her stomach.

“Thanks,” she said under her breath, and the deputy made the call.

While he did that, Wyatt checked his own phone. He finally had service, so he made a call and asked one of his foster brothers, Marshal Declan O’Malley, to find out if the utility company had sent someone to Lyla’s house. With one thing down, he mentally went through the long list of other calls he had to make.

But the ringing of Lyla’s phone stopped him.

“Mr. Mobley,” she greeted the caller. Her boss. “I might not be in this morning. I’m on my way to the Bulverde sheriff’s office....Oh, you heard about the shooting.” She paused. “No, I’m fine.”

Lyla opened her mouth to say more, but Wyatt heard the chatter on the other end of the line. He couldn’t tell what her boss was saying, but it had captured her complete attention.

“What?” she finally said, quickly followed by “Why?”

More chatter, and Wyatt still couldn’t make out enough of it to tell what was going on, but he hoped like the devil it wasn’t more bad news. He’d had enough of that already.

“We’ll talk when I get to the office,” Lyla snapped, and she ended the call. It took several moments, though, for her to look at Wyatt. “Mobley excused himself from the Jonah Webb investigation, and the Rangers want me to take over.”

Not exactly a surprise. “I hate to say I told you so, but I did.”

“It could mean nothing,” she concluded, but the worry in her voice said it was a whole lot of something. “Mobley got another job. A civilian company with much higher pay. They want him to work with a legal watchdog group that’s retesting evidence from old criminal cases.”

“The timing’s suspicious, but it gives me another lead. The person who offered Mobley the new job could be behind the rest of this.”

She swiveled around to face him. “What exactly is the rest of this?” She glanced uneasily at the deputy and moved closer to Wyatt. “If this is some kind of plan to get me to falsify evidence, it won’t work,” she whispered.

“It might be that.” But he just didn’t know.

“The in vitro could have been just an honest mistake,” she whispered a moment later. “Mobley’s new job could be a coincidence.”

“And the gunmen? The camera?” Wyatt pressed. “More coincidences? Because when there are that many of them, we call that a pattern.”

He almost told her about the information trail that had led him to her, but his phone buzzed. Declan.

“First of all, the utility company didn’t send someone to Lyla Pearson’s house,” Declan said the second Wyatt answered. “And second, what the hell’s going on?”

Considering that Wyatt had been about to ask his brother the same thing, this wasn’t a good start to what he needed to be a good conversation. “Are you referring to something specific? Because there’s a lot going on.”

“The Rangers got an anonymous tip that you’re trying to influence the Webb murder investigation.”

Ah, man. He didn’t need this. “No, someone else is trying to influence it.” And maybe already had. “Look, this is too complicated to get into over the phone—”

“Does it have anything to do with Lyla Pearson, the assistant director of the San Antonio CSU?”

That sent an uneasy feeling knifing through him. “It does. Why? Other than the fact that she didn’t get a real service call from the electric company, what do you know about her?”

“According to the criminal informant I just talked to, she’s in big trouble, Wyatt, and you should avoid her at all costs.”

“Too late.”

Declan cursed. “You’re with her?”

“Yeah. Now why don’t you tell me why that’s a bad idea?” Wyatt insisted.

“Because according to the informant, by going to her, you just signed her death warrant.”