Читать книгу Sheriff - Laura Scott - Страница 10

ONE

The low rumble of a car engine caused FBI Agent Julianne Martinez to freeze in her tracks. She quickly gave her K-9 partner, Thunder, the hand signal for stay. The Big Thicket region of east Texas was densely covered with trees and brush. This particular area of the woods had also been oddly silent.

Until now.

Envisioning the map in her pocket that Dylan O’Leary, the team’s technical guru, had drawn up for them, she realized she must have gone too far south, heading toward the rural road, barely paved, instead of north to the cabin where their missing colleague, FBI Agent Jake Morrow, could very well be held captive by the criminal mobster Angus Dupree.

Moving silently, she angled toward the road, sucking in a harsh breath when she caught a glimpse of a white-and-black prison van.

What in the world? The van abruptly halted with enough force that it rocked back and forth. Frowning, she edged closer to get a better look.

The reason the van had stopped was that there was a black SUV sitting diagonally across the road, barricading the way.

Reacting instinctively to the perceived threat, Julianne rushed forward. As she drew her revolver, she heard a bang and a crash followed by a man tumbling out of the back of the prison van. The large bald guy dressed in prison orange made a beeline toward the SUV. Another man stood in the center of the road pointing a weapon at the van driver, who held his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender.

A prison break!

“Stop!” Julianne pointed her weapon and shot at the gunman, hoping, praying she could save the van driver’s life. Her aim was true, and the assailant flinched, staggering backward, but didn’t go down. Instead he turned toward her, a fierce expression etched on his face.

He had to be wearing body armor.

Seconds later, the situation spiraled out of control. The gunman shot the driver through the windshield, then came running directly at Julianne. She gave her K-9 partner two hand-signal commands.

Hide. Stay.

Good boy, she thought, as Thunder slinked behind a large tree. He was an English foxhound, and his brown-and-black coat, along with his black FBI bulletproof vest, worked well as camouflage. She didn’t want him to get hurt, but she also needed him to protect her back.

Just as she’d protect his.

She ducked behind a tree, then took a steadying breath. Tightening her grip on her 9 mm, she peered around to where she’d last seen the shooter. She fired at him once again, then ducked behind the tree.

Keep moving.

Julianne eased from one tree to the next as Thunder watched, waiting for her signal. Now the silence was suffocating, the slightest rustle of a leaf unbearably loud.

When she couldn’t take the quiet for another moment, she peeked out trying to identify where the gunman was located.

Crack!

She ducked, feeling the whiz of the bullet miss her by a fraction of an inch, a piece of bark flying off the tree. The perp was roughly twenty feet in front of her, far closer than she’d anticipated.

After a long moment, she was about to risk another glance, when the assailant popped out from behind a tree. He looked her square in the eye, the barrel of his gun pointing directly at her chest.

“Stop right there,” he shouted in a hoarse voice. “Put your hands in the air.”

Angry that she hadn’t anticipated the gunman’s move, Julianne held his gaze, refusing to glance at Thunder, hoping the thug hadn’t seen her partner.

“Put your hands in the air!” he repeated harshly.

She continued to stare at him, knowing if she did as the gunman demanded, he’d shoot where she stood. He’d already killed the van driver, what more did he have to lose?

Nothing.

So why hadn’t he shot her already? Was he looking for information?

“Fire that gun, and I’ll plant a bullet between your eyes,” a familiar, deep husky Texan drawl came from out of nowhere.

Brody Kenner?

The gunman jerked and glanced to his left. In that split second she fired at the arm holding his gun. Her FBI training didn’t fail her. He screamed in pain. Blood spurted from his right arm, and he dropped the weapon.

Then he turned and fled.

“Thunder, fetch!” Julianne didn’t bother to look over at the man she’d once loved, the man who’d just saved her life, but remained focused on not losing the perp.

She wasn’t nearly as fast as Thunder when it came to running through the woods, dodging trees. And it seemed like just mere moments later when she heard tires squealing as a car drove away. She slowed down, gasping for breath, knowing it was too late.

The gunman and whoever had run from the prison van had escaped.

Frustration clawing through her, she headed over to the vehicle to check on the driver. The poor man was dead. She murmured a prayer, wishing she had something to cover him with before turning her attention to the issue at hand.

“Thunder?”

Hearing nothing but silence, her heart lodged in her throat. Had the dog jumped into the getaway car? Or had someone attacked him? But then her partner came bounding back through the woods toward her. When he saw her he let out his usual, strangely musical foxhound howl.

“Good boy,” she said, bending over to give him a good rub, scratching the soft spot between his ears. “Good boy, Thunder.”

“What in the world was that noise?”

Taking a deep breath, she straightened and turned to face Brody Kenner. He was taller and broader than she remembered, but had the same dark hair and brilliant blue eyes that she’d tried not to dream about after he’d broken her heart six years ago. He was dressed in a deep brown uniform with a sheriff’s star on his chest.

So he was the Clover County sheriff now?

Somehow she wasn’t surprised.

Brody looked good. Better than good. Her chest felt tight and she had to concentrate in order to breathe normally.

What was wrong with her? What she and Brody once had was over and done with. Had been for a long time. A familiar flash of resentment twisted, turned into something softer. Regret? Seeing him again, she hated to admit that maybe things weren’t as finished as she’d wanted them to be. Just looking at him standing there, so big and strong and formidable, wreaked havoc with her emotions.

Erupting her buried feelings to the surface where they had the power to hurt her all over again.

* * *

Brody’s pulse still pounded at how Julianne had nearly been shot to death right in front of his eyes.

What was she doing here? As far as he knew, she hadn’t stepped foot in the Lone Star State since joining the FBI academy six years ago.

“Thanks for helping.” Julianne’s clipped voice was colder than the Clover River in January.

“Hey, what are friends for?” He grinned, but she didn’t smile back. Her long ebony hair was pulled back from her face and her large dark eyes, a legacy from her Puerto Rican father, never made it easy to guess what she was thinking.

She wore khaki slacks paired with a dark shirt, a small FBI K-9 logo over the left breast pocket. He’d known Julianne had left Texas to attend the academy but hadn’t known the FBI had a K-9 unit. Or that she’d joined it. Although she always had loved dogs.

She frowned. “How did you get here so fast?”

He lifted a brow. As the sheriff he was the one who should be questioning her about what she was doing trampling through the woods in his county. “I was following the prison van.” Then he scowled at where the van sat stationary in the road, the dead driver slumped over the steering wheel. “Obviously not closely enough.”

If Julianne thought his actions strange, she didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the time to bring up how he’d intended to watch his former best friend, Nathan Otwell, walk into the maximum security prison for himself. It had taken Brody a long time to gather the evidence he needed to prove his former juvie roommate had actually participated in luring troubled young men and women into drug running, prostitution and human slavery.

Several months of fourteen-hour days, because he hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Until he’d seen the evidence with his own eyes.

“I’m sorry the prisoner got away.” She swiped a hand across her forehead. “He must have had a backup plan.”

He nodded, glancing curiously at her dog, sitting straight up at her side. When faced with a stranger, he didn’t bark, aside of the weird howl he’d let out.

What had she called him? Thunder?

“Excuse me, I need to call this in.” She slid her service weapon into her hip holster and then pulled a mobile phone from her pants pocket.

“Wait a minute. Are you here in Clover on official business?” Brody scowled. The feds were supposed to notify local law enforcement when they were doing an investigation.

As a courtesy at the very least.

But he hadn’t been told anything at all about an FBI investigation taking place in his county. Which was why he’d been shocked to find Julianne facing the wrong side of a gun.

“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, which only added fuel to the slow burn of anger and resentment in his belly.

What, had he really thought she’d come back to find him after six years?

No, of course not. He’d given up on that foolish hope a long time ago. She’d made her decision, one that hadn’t included him.

“Max? It’s Julianne. I have a situation.” A brief pause as she listened, then nodded. “Okay.”

Brody ground his teeth, wondering who Max was. Her partner? Or a personal friend? Something more than a friend?

He cocked his head, listening to the sound of someone making their way through the woods.

A tall, muscular man with short blond hair emerged from the brush, a caramel-brown female boxer at his side. The man’s rugged face bore a concerned look. “Julianne? What happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” There was a sharp edge to her tone. “I would have gotten the assailant if he hadn’t been wearing body armor.”

“Who are you?” the man, who he guessed was Max, demanded, noticing Brody.

“Clover County Sheriff Brody Kenner.” Brody folded his arms across his chest. “Who are y’all? And what brings the FBI to my neck of the woods?”

He didn’t appreciate the silent exchange Julianne shared with Max.

“FBI Special Agent in Charge, Max West.” The fed stepped closer and offered his hand. “My partner, Opal, and this is Agent Julianne Martinez and her partner, Thunder.”

Brody shook Max’s hand, more pleased than he had a right to be to know his former flame wasn’t married. “I know Julianne, we went to college together.”

“I see.” Max glanced at Julianne who still wasn’t smiling.

“A guy I sent to prison just escaped,” Brody continued. “His associate came after Agent Martinez. He took a shot at her, but thankfully missed, although not by much.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Max asked, reaching out to put a hand on Julianne’s arm.

She shook off his grip. “I’m fine, but Brody is right. I witnessed the prison break. The perp who shot at me killed the van driver. I managed to hit him in the arm so all the hospitals in a hundred-mile radius need to be put on alert.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Brody assured her. Using his radio, he notified his dispatcher to put all the deputies on notice. He also ordered roadblocks on every major highway and for his deputies to follow up with the law enforcement agencies and hospitals located nearby. From the way the gunman had been bleeding, he felt sure the guy wouldn’t last too long without medical care. Lastly, he requested several of his deputies to report to this location in order to attend to the crime scene.

When he finished he overheard Julianne and Max speaking in low tones.

“Y’all still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” Brody stepped up, making it clear he wasn’t going to be ignored.

“Following up a lead,” Max said, resting his hand on his boxer’s head.

Brody bit back a flash of impatience. Why the secrecy? “What kind of lead? Who are you looking for?”

Once again, Julianne and Max exchanged a long look, as if debating how much to tell him.

He scowled, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“The information I’m about to tell you is classified, understand?” Max said. Brody nodded his agreement, so he continued, “We’re part of the FBI Tactical K-9 Unit, working a case related to one of our agents, Jake Morrow, who went missing several weeks ago.”

“Missing?” He frowned. How often did FBI agents, especially those in some sort of secret elite team, go missing? “That’s strange.”

“I don’t disagree. We’re here because we received an anonymous tip via a disposable cell phone, one that we were unable to trace, that Jake is being held in a secluded cabin in the area,” Julianne explained. “We’re not sure who our informant is, but we’re determined to check out each clue no matter how improbable, so if you don’t mind, we need to get back to work.”

“I’m afraid I do mind,” Brody drawled.

She ignored him, looking at her superior. “What did you find at your cabin?”

“Opal didn’t alert on anything. It’s deserted and looks as if it’s been that way for a long time.”

“Okay, then that leaves the cabin here as the primary search zone.” Julianne pulled some sort of computer-engineered map out of her pocket.

“What’s that?” Brody asked, stepping closer to get a better look.

“A map put together by Dylan O’Leary, our team’s technical expert. He’s located back at headquarters, helping to coordinate our activities. Here.” She tapped the map, glancing up at Max. “This is where I veered off track. We need to head due north.”

“Maybe you didn’t understand what I meant,” Brody interjected. “I’m going with you.”

She frowned. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary. We can take it from here.”

“This may be your jurisdiction, Agent Martinez.” He emphasized her formal title with a hint of sarcasm. “But this is my county, and I’m going with you. Whether y’all like it or not.”

She stared at him for several long moments. “What about the crime scene here?”

“My deputies will be here any moment—they’ll take care of things.”

He wasn’t going to let anything change his mind. Whatever Julianne and Max were doing was just as important as searching for Nate Otwell.

Now that Julianne had reappeared in his life, there was no way she was going anywhere without him.

* * *

“I see you’re just as stubborn as ever, Brody.” There was no time to waste, so Julianne didn’t bother trying to talk him out of joining them.

She hadn’t been able to convince him to believe in her, to come with her to join the FBI academy six years ago, either. The man could teach stubborn to an ox.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” Max asked for the third time. “I can take over.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Stop asking already.” She was annoyed at the way her boss was treating her, as if she were some helpless damsel in distress who couldn’t hold her own.

She was a trained FBI agent. Getting shot at came with the territory.

And if she were honest, she’d admit that seeing Brody again, hearing her name spoken in his familiar southern drawl, had shaken her up more than any gunman. Especially since it looked as if her ex wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

Ignoring the four deputies who’d just arrived at the crime scene, she retraced her steps, looking for the evidence bag she’d dropped in her mad rush to stop the prison break. Fifty yards back, she found the sack containing an old shirt belonging to Jake Morrow. Kneeling on the ground, she opened the bag and encouraged Thunder to take a deep sniff.

Thunder buried his nose in the bag for several long seconds.

“Find, Thunder.” She pointed north in the direction where the cabin was located. “Find Jake.”

Thunder’s tail wagged, then his nose went to the ground. He walked in a few circles, then trotted north. Julianne followed, trying to ignore Brody dogging her heels.

As they made their way through the woods, the brush grew more and more dense. Twice Thunder made a few circles, as if he’d caught a whiff of something important, but he never alerted.

The trees offered significant shade from the hot May sun, but that didn’t mean it was cool. Sweat beaded along Julianne’s scalp, rolling down her temples.

“Do you know the people responsible for Agent Morrow’s disappearance?” Brody asked.

Julianne glanced at him. If in fact Angus Dupree had a cabin in the area, Brody deserved to know. “We have reason to believe that Jake was captured by a highly organized crime family headed up by Reginald Dupree. We raided a warehouse owned by the Duprees, capturing the head of the family, Reginald, but his second-in-command, Angus, got away. Angus is running the show now. Upon further investigation we found evidence that Jake had been there. Unfortunately he’s been missing ever since.”

“How long ago?”

“Too long.” Julianne’s voice was curt. “But I’m convinced that with Thunder’s help, we’ll find him.”

“Are you sure your dog knows where he’s going?” Brody asked as they wedged their way through a particularly dense thicket. “I can’t believe there’s a cabin anywhere in this mess.”

“He knows,” she said in a terse tone. “Besides, I have a map.”

“I’d like to see it.”

Julianne shook her head, there wasn’t time, besides, they’d already told Brody more information than they should considering the confidential nature of their team. Keeping her gaze trained on Thunder, she noticed her partner was slowing down thanks to the denseness of the woods and she wondered how much farther they’d be able to go. By her estimation, the cabin was still a good mile away.

A mile that may as well be twenty based on the difficult terrain.

“I should have brought a machete,” she grumbled as she forced her way through another bush.

“Wouldn’t help.” Brody was so close she was surrounded by the spicy scent of his aftershave intermixed with his unique male essence. Breathing through her mouth to avoid his intoxicating scent, she tried her best to fight the memories.

Both the good and the bad.

Don’t, she warned herself. Don’t go there.

Abruptly, Thunder veered right, heading straight for a large tree. Julianne held her breath, closely watching her partner.

Thunder sniffed along the base of the tree, then jerked his head back to the right side of the tree. Then he scratched at the spot and plopped down on his butt, staring at the ground as if there was something to see.

“What in the world?” Brody sounded incredulous.

Julianne glanced at Brody. Max and Opal were bringing up the rear. Opal was a bomb-sniffing dog, so Max had given Julianne and Thunder the lead in attempting to pick up the trail.

“Thunder alerted on Jake’s scent. He was here, Max. Jake Morrow was here.”

“I see that, but where’s the cabin?” her captain asked.

Good question. She joined Thunder. “Good boy,” she praised him. “Good boy. You found Jake.”

She stood near the large tree for several moments, then pulled Dylan’s map out again.

“Max? Hand me your binoculars.”

Brody took them from Max and brought them over. Raising them to her eyes, she peered through the magnified lenses and incrementally moved the glasses from right to left.

There! She used the dial to sharpen the image.

“I found it,” she said excitedly. “There’s a house, not a cabin, but a large house roughly three hundred yards away. The only problem is, I don’t see a driveway or even a path that could be used to get in there. All I see are trees.”

“There has to be a way in,” Max insisted.

She inched the binoculars over the wooded area, then stopped abruptly when she saw the wire. “There’s a chain-link fence well disguised with brush and trees, topped by barbed wire.” She pulled the glasses from her eyes and turned to her boss. “This has to be it, Max. It reeks of Dupree.”

“Yeah, but how are we going to get in? Obviously not on foot,” he said.

Max was right. She battled a wave of frustration. They were so close. She knew Jake Morrow was being held against his will somewhere inside that house.

They just needed to figure out how to get in to rescue him.