Читать книгу Killer Colton Christmas - Regan Black, Lara Lacombe - Страница 15

Chapter 4

“Ace!” Emiliano’s heart kicked hard in his chest at the sight of Ace Gregor slumped against the front door. He pressed his fingers to the man’s throat, searching for a pulse. Finding it steady, if slow, Emiliano drew his first deep breath of relief.

No sign of blood or wounds aside from scraped knuckles, which could mean anything for a man working on a ranch. Had he had a heart attack or a stroke? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities. At sixty-three, Ace had been part of life at Ortega Ranch since before Emiliano was born. The man was as good as family and reliable as sunrise. He’d never done anything so uncharacteristic as passing out in a doorway.

Carefully, Emiliano felt around the man’s head and neck for any obvious injuries. There was a large goose egg at the back of Ace’s head, but no blood in the thin blond hair going gray at the temples.

Nothing out here on the porch would have caused that kind of injury and left Ace in this position, unless the man had fallen into the doorknob. An unlikely scenario. Emiliano looked around, seeing no signs of a struggle, which baffled him even more. Had the man knocked himself senseless and passed out before he could get into the house? Again, unlikely. Knowing the first-aid supplies were in the kitchen, Ace would have gone to the back door, not the front.

“Ace. Come on.” Emiliano jerked out of his jacket and eased the older man flat on his back, pillowing his head. Stretched out, Ace seemed to breathe easier. Emiliano shook his shoulder gently, praying he’d come around.

Inside, Scrabble was going nuts, as if she was encouraging Ace to wake up. The antics didn’t surprise him, as his dog and the ranch hand had a tight bond. Ace often used her to help with the cattle and he took the brunt of her care whenever Emiliano had to travel for work.

“You know him? He’s alive?”

Emiliano turned, looking up into Marie’s worried face. “Yes. He’s our ranch manager.”

“Do you still want me to call an ambulance?”

He let his gaze drift down her compact body, from her lovely face, over the shapely legs bared by her tailored skirt, to the heels that wouldn’t last a day out here. His job was to keep her safe while they assessed the hack and her potential culpability, not catalog her finer attributes.

“Let’s give him a minute. Help me get him inside.” Dragging her out of Dallas and promising her safety, only to find a body in the doorway, probably didn’t instill much confidence. It certainly left him rattled and wondering.

“Shouldn’t you check for intruders or a break-in?”

“If someone was inside, Scrabble would’ve told me by now.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Predictably, his stocky little dog squeezed through at the first opportunity and turned a happy circle at his feet before snuffling around Ace’s face and neck.

She jerked back and sneezed, then startled him by growling at the older man. “Settle. Back it up, Scrabble.”

The dog stepped aside and plopped onto her rump at his left foot. Her ears cocked for his next command, Emiliano saw her curious gaze drift toward Marie.

“In a minute,” he said to his dog. He’d make introductions as soon as he got Ace inside. As gently as possible, he hauled Ace over the threshold and settled him on the nearest couch in the central room.

Marie followed with Gordo and the luggage, and closed the door.

“Kitchen’s that way.” Emiliano pointed. Scrabble put her nose under Ace’s hand in a move that usually earned her an ear rub. Ace remained still. “Can you find a towel and wet it with cool water, please?”

Marie hurried off while Emiliano continued evaluating Ace. The older man didn’t reek of alcohol and wasn’t known to get sloppy drunk. The next guess was drugs, though that too would be out of character. Emiliano searched the man’s pockets, found his cell phone and checked for any incriminating messages or callers, coming up empty.

Marie handed him the cool, damp towel and stepped back while Emiliano pressed the cloth to Ace’s cheeks and forehead.

Scrabble studied the woman between her attempts to rouse Ace.

“We should call an ambulance,” Emiliano muttered. “I just don’t know what to tell them.” Suspicions of heart attack or stroke wouldn’t help a paramedic diagnose anything. With Ace breathing and a steady pulse, he decided to give the man another minute or two to come around.

They had a security system in place, but it was primarily aimed at protecting the vet practice. It hadn’t been armed here when he’d opened the door, which told him Ace had been working nearby today. Wouldn’t Scrabble have been out there with him?

Ace’s hand twitched, his fingers sinking into Scrabble’s ruff. The dog gave a soft woof and another nudge. The man’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked around, winced and closed his eyes tight.

“Ace?”

“Emiliano?” he rasped. He coughed a little and tried to roll to his side.

“Easy, friend.” Emiliano turned to Marie. “Water?”

She dashed to the kitchen, her heels snapping on the slate flooring between the thick area rugs.

“What happened?” Emiliano asked when she was out of earshot.

“How did I get in here?”

“I carried you,” Emiliano said. “I’m calling a doctor.”

“No. That’s silly.” Ace pushed himself to a seated position and clapped a hand to his neck. Scrabble hopped up, growled at the spot. “I’m good, sweet girl.”

“Let me see.” Emiliano pulled back Ace’s work shirt, tugged aside the collar of the T-shirt underneath. “This looks like a bruise from a needle with a scratch to go with it. You need the hospital.”

“No.” Ace coughed. “I’m awake. I’ll be fine.”

“Here.” Marie held out a bottle of water.

Ace squinted up at her. “Who are you?”

“Marie Meyers, CDO of Colton, Incorporated,” Emiliano answered for her.

“You’re pretty.” Ace accepted the water, drank deep. “What’s a CDO do?”

“Ignore him. Our Ace is an incurable flirt,” Emiliano deadpanned. He pushed back to sit on the edge of an ottoman. “Give me a reason not to take you over to the hospital, old man.”

“That’s where I was,” Ace said. He blotted his face with the cool towel and let it fall to his thigh as if that small movement exhausted him.

“You were at Memorial?”

“No, no. The vet hospital. Tires on the driveway.” He closed his eyes. “It doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows your parents are out of town.”

Ace was right. Everyone in Shadow Creek knew the veterinary offices were closed because his parents were taking a long-overdue extended vacation before the holidays. No one should have been driving around that part of the ranch. “Come on.” Emiliano pulled his keys from his pocket. “I think the doctors should take a look at your head.”

“My head’s just fine,” Ace protested. “Call in Dr. Ramirez if you want,” Ace said stubbornly. “I’m not going to a damn hospital.”

Considering the injection, Emiliano decided Ramirez was better than nothing, so he made the call. If Ace didn’t have a clear recollection of the events that landed him in the doorway, they needed to be sure he wouldn’t be dealing with any lingering side effects. “Why wasn’t Scrabble with you?”

Ace smiled at the little dog resting her chin on his boot. “We’d gone out for a romp and I brought her in, gave her a treat.”

“What time was that?” he asked.

“Around two, I think. That’s normally when we go out.” Under his sandy eyebrows, his pale blue eyes shifted to Gordo. “Then this one went with me to the back pasture to check on the horses.” He took another pull on the water. “The tires on the driveway were too loud. Whoever it was came in too fast.”

Emiliano checked the big clock over the archway between the great room and kitchen. It was a quarter past six, so Ace must have been out for the better part of four hours. It had been too dark for Emiliano to have seen any obvious skid marks in the gravel where the driveway split off to the offices. He’d have to take a closer look once Ace was steadier.

* * *

Marie couldn’t help feeling like an interloper, no matter that she was here at the FBI’s insistence. She wished there was something to do besides worry as the older man answered Emiliano’s questions.

“The alarm sounded on your mother’s office. I remember running that way. The back door was open.” Ace rubbed his neck again. “A man stepped out, wearing some weird mustache mask thing.” He waved a hand around his face. “I tried to confront him and got clocked. He must have drugged me, but why drag me over here?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Emiliano promised.

Marie wanted to wallow in his sheer confidence. The determination in his deep voice made her feel better despite everything that had happened today.

Emiliano reached for his phone as Ace described the mask. “Did the mask look like this?”

Marie caught a glimpse of the image of the Guy Fawkes mask used by more and more protesters in real life and online.

“Yeah. That’s it,” Ace confirmed. “What’s this about?”

“Cohort,” Emiliano murmured.

Although he was the investigator, she knew they couldn’t dismiss the cyberattack in Dallas and the attack on Ace a few hours later as coincidence.

“They’re a hacktivist group,” Marie explained. “They attacked Colton, Incorporated, this morning. They breached the database and stole a great deal of private information on our employees.” And posted a reward for her capture or death. Although she was here, it was still too bizarre for her to say it aloud.

“Huh.” Ace’s gaze moved slowly from Marie to Emiliano and back. “Why would they come out here looking for you?” he asked her.

“They wouldn’t,” Emiliano snapped. “The decision to bring Marie here for her protection was only made hours ago.”

She bit her lip to hide the nervous trembling and followed his gaze as he stared at the needle mark on Ace’s neck. Had this man been hurt because the Cohort was after her? The thought made her stomach pitch.

Emiliano stood up and drew his gun. “I need to check the drug inventory at Mom’s office.”

Marie almost told him to be careful, but this was his property, his job. She was certain he knew how to handle himself.

“You two wait here,” he said. “I’ll set the alarm system behind me.” He looked at the dogs. “Scrabble, stay. Gordo, come.” Scrabble sat up a little straighter between Ace’s boots. Gordo lumbered to his feet and followed Emiliano. “We’ll be back before Dr. Ramirez arrives.”

Marie turned to Ace. “More water?”

“I’d rather have coffee,” he said, in a hopeful tone.

She wasn’t sure that was smart. “I’ll brew some for you if the doctor says it’s okay.”

“Fine.” Ace sighed and sat back. “You can tell me what a CDO does while we wait.”

She would certainly do her best to keep him distracted.

* * *

As Emiliano jogged up the drive, he added up the various factors without any comfort in the preliminary solutions. His FBI career was no more a secret than his parents’ vacation. Why would the Cohort come here? And if they could strike down Ace on Ortega property, was there any place where he could possibly hope to keep Marie safe?

At the fork where the gravel driveway split off toward the vet offices, he saw Ace was right. Someone had taken the turn too quickly. Near the office itself, he found skid marks where someone had pulled to a stop and left again in a hurry. He took a few pictures, though he’d have to take more in the better light of morning. At the office door, he took pictures of the broken lock. He would review the security system video after he checked the inventory. To drop a man as big and tough as Ace, the attacker likely went for xylazine, one of the tranquilizers his mother used in her equine practice. Like all reputable vets, Natalia Ortega kept careful records of the controlled substances. She used computer logs as well as a handwritten chart on a clipboard near the cabinet to track when each patient received what kind of dosage and why.

Sure enough, the locked cabinet had been busted off its hinges and two vials of xylazine were missing. Emiliano swore. It was a safe bet she was short a box of syringes, as well. A quick search confirmed that. He noted the signs of a brief struggle. Ace was tall, strong and wily. How had he seen the thief’s masked face and still been overpowered?

On hands and knees, he found a syringe under the desk with a few milliliters of fluid in the barrel. His mother didn’t keep controlled substances predrawn, which meant there had to have been two people here, one fighting Ace and another to prepare the drug. Emiliano pulled on exam gloves and dropped the syringe into a plastic bag, hoping to preserve any fingerprints.

At the security system panel, he checked the time of the alarm that had brought his ranch manager into range of the thieves. He and Marie had just gotten on the road out of Dallas when Ace was attacked here. Did that mean the incidents were connected or coincidence? He pulled out his phone to send a text message to his boss and changed his mind. Better to get more facts together. He could share this development on the team video conference scheduled for tomorrow.

Emiliano tucked his phone away. Knowing his mother’s security codes, he moved the remainder of her controlled substances into a cabinet that locked properly. He was going to have to open a Food and Drug Administration report on her behalf, as well. With luck, being an FBI agent would make that process run a bit smoother.

He should probably call her, but he didn’t want to interrupt their holiday cruise. It was the first big vacation they’d taken in years. The least he could do was handle things in their absence. Satisfied the meds were secure, he managed to get the door to stay closed with the dead bolt so he could reset the alarm. Tomorrow, he could make a decision about repairing or replacing the door.

He returned to the house just as Dr. Ramirez’s sedan turned into the driveway. He and Gordo waited for the older man to climb out of the car with his bag. Together the two men and the scruffy dog walked inside, where Marie and Ace were chatting like old friends in the great room.

Emiliano opened his mouth to make introductions and stopped short. Scrabble hadn’t met him at the door. She was sitting on Marie’s lap in one of the leather armchairs, her canine grin expressing delight and pride in finding a new friend.

Huh. His dog was an excellent judge of character. It was uncharacteristic for her to become so friendly with anyone so fast, especially in light of Marie’s inexperience with animals. Having her take that relaxed, affectionate stance toward a woman he hadn’t completely removed from the suspect column made him reconsider Marie’s position within the investigation.

“Who’s the patient?” Ramirez asked. “You both look well enough to me.”

“Ace is the patient,” Marie said, gently stroking Scrabble’s long back when the dog refused to relinquish her place.

Emiliano explained how and where they’d found Ace and the missing supplies from the vet office. Ace chimed in with what he remembered of the incident. “I’d appreciate you keeping this quiet,” Emiliano said when the basics were complete.

“Assumed as much.” Ramirez’s thick salt-and-pepper eyebrows knit into a frown. He took blood and urine samples to verify the suspected xylazine and, after some additional evaluation, told them Ace had a mild concussion and would recover with a few days’ rest.

“You’ll be here, Emiliano?” the doctor asked, packing up his bag.

“Yes.” This time of year the ranch ran on a skeleton crew so everyone had more time with family, although they would all pitch in and make sure Ace had enough help.

“Good.” He snapped his bag closed and tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. “I’m counting on you to be sure he doesn’t overdo it or the recovery will take twice as long.” He aimed a meaningful look at Ace. “I mean it.”

“I heard you,” Ace said.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Meyers,” Dr. Ramirez said. “Enjoy your time in Shadow Creek.”

Emiliano walked the doctor back to his car. “Ace had to be out for close to four hours,” he said.

“I did the math,” the doctor agreed. He unlocked the car and set his bag on the passenger seat. “That works in his favor in this case.”

“How so?”

“Because being unconscious, his body was able to purge the drug without as much of a fight,” Ramirez explained. “Once I have these labs back, I’ll know if he needs more attention. In the meantime, water and rest will do him the most good. If he were in real trouble, it would be obvious in his breathing and heart rate.”

It was small comfort, but he’d take it. “Do you think his assailants dragged him to the door?”

Ramirez chuckled. “Knowing Ace, he stumbled there on his own, trying to find help. He’s too stubborn to let a head injury or sedatives have all the advantages.”

While the last part was true, Emiliano was sure Ace would’ve gone for the back door over the front. It was habit. Then again, between the head injury and the drug, he couldn’t have been thinking clearly. Maybe more details would come out as he recovered.

“I found a syringe in the office,” Emiliano said. “I’ll let you know what the evidence lab finds.”

Emiliano watched the doctor drive away, the bagged syringe in his back pocket for the evidence team to process later, and his thoughts scattered.

At the sounds of small paws on the gravel, he turned to see Scrabble racing his way, Marie hesitating under the soft glow of the porch light. “Is Ace okay?”

“Just fine,” she said. “He’s hungry and I wanted to check with you before I invaded your kitchen.”

Emiliano knelt down and patted his chest and Scrabble bounced into his arms, a trick he’d taught her when she was just a puppy.

“Impressive,” Marie said as they joined her.

“Corgis are more athletic than people think at first glance,” he said, his mind on more complicated issues. He was about to walk inside when she hesitated. “What?”

“Do you think your team will sort this out quickly?” she asked.

“Missing Dallas already?”

“Not exactly.” Her mouth turned down as she frowned at him. “I told you Shadow Creek is lovely.”

“You’ll see more of it,” he replied without thinking it through.

“But the Cohort,” she pressed. “Do you think they hurt your friend because of me?”

“Time will tell. It’s hard to believe these incidents are unrelated.” He rubbed at the tension in his neck. “The Cohort isn’t easy to crack, even when its motives are clear,” he admitted. “Then again, the FBI is investigating and Christmas is the season of miracles.”

She stared up at him for a long, silent moment.

Under her puckered brow, he read the doubt in her big brown eyes. She didn’t have to say the words aloud for him to recognize she was a woman who didn’t have much faith in people, the FBI or miracles in any season.