Page 12 of A Mile of Ocean (Pelican Pointe #19)

W hile the Duchess Callum greeted everyone at the main house who wanted to offer their condolences, Trent and Tate changed out of their clothes and met Brent and his team at Turtle Ridge.

“Eastlyn is filming the re-enactment,” Brent announced. “While everyone thought the shot came from due east, directly behind Mr. and Mrs. Callum, the autopsy suggests that he turned his head at the last minute, and the shot actually originated from a more northerly angle. Using all the evidence available four days after it happened, the ballistic expert believes it traveled about two hundred and fifty yards from a northeast location. The red laser beam you see follows the trajectory of that one bullet. We intend to fan out and walk every inch of ground along this laser path to see if we can find any other evidence the shooter might’ve left behind.”

With Trent sitting atop Phoenix and Tate riding Mermaid, the twins exchanged uneasy looks. “He was definitely out in the open,” Trent said, looking around at the flat terrain.

Tate nodded. “They were both sitting ducks.”

As Brent continued his assessment, he added, “The gunshot wound entered the back of his head at the center in a perfect shot that’s difficult to make. Yet it happened. We hired an expert from Sacramento who will use Eastlyn’s footage of the sightline to recreate an animated version of events. We should have that back within a couple of days.”

Brent walked toward where Trent and Tate sat on the horses. “Mr. and Mrs. Callum were looking west, watching the sunset. But for him to turn his head, he must’ve heard something to his left that caught his attention.”

“I have a question,” Trent said, leaning on his saddle horn. “If he glanced left, wouldn’t that mean someone might’ve been with the shooter, there for the sole purpose of distracting him?”

“Or your grandfather could’ve just heard a rabbit,” Trish proposed, staring out at the hedges of flannel bush and golden bush to the south. “That’s a perfect place for rabbits to wander around and breed.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Tate said to Trent. “She could be right. A guy who wears fancy cowboy boots doesn’t sound like he’d partner up with anyone.”

“Unless that person is a relative, someone they could trust.”

“Or someone older who might be unable to make that shot,” Tate offered. “We’re just guessing anyway, right? It’s all big-time speculation.”

“Yeah. I can see one person camping on the ranch going undetected, but two? I don’t think two could go unnoticed. That would be difficult to do. How would two evade everybody? What if they’re staying in town somewhere?”

“You should bring that up to Brent.”

“I will, whenever this is over. Brent’s got nothing solid, and it’s been four days. At this point, this is all conjecture.”

“Maybe the only reason Brent is here is to let us know he’s doing something,” Tate said.

“Probably. How do we catch this guy?”

“Set a trap for him, maybe? I don’t know. Something tells me you should put off that talk to Savannah’s class tomorrow. You could always promise to make yourself available for next week’s riding lessons, where you could talk to the kids individually.”

“Tate, don’t you get it? There will be no riding lessons until we catch this guy. We can’t risk bringing kids here. It was bad enough to bring people to the graveside service.”

“Oh, wow. You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Besides, Savannah’s already promised the kids that I’m coming. I hate to disappoint them. She did mention that I should probably stay at the ranch.”

“Then take her up on that offer. If something happens while you’re in town, you won’t be able to live with yourself.”

“There’s that possibility. I can’t win either way. Do you think she’d understand if I canceled, or is this something she’d hold against me later?”

“Look, if she brought it up, she understands how serious the situation is. If she doesn’t, then she isn’t the woman for you. But Savannah Quinn strikes me as a very level-headed female who understands our safety is at risk. What about putting up surveillance cameras all around the property?”

“It’s a ranch, not a public attraction,” Trent grumbled.

“Tate has a point,” Trish offered. “Surveillance is a great way to catch the guy in the act, whatever he’s planning next.”

“Where would I get that kind of equipment? Do I walk into the hardware store and ask Tucker to order it?”

“We have cameras in the storeroom with 1080 resolution that we could lend you. Or you could ask Tucker to order a specific type with night vision and better resolution. But the truth is 1080p gets you just as good an image as you’ll need to ID a suspect.”

“I guess we should put up a few cameras,” Trent muttered. “How many do you have available?”

“Four or five, maybe six. Putting up all of them will cover quite a lot of ground, more than you think. Shore up some blind spots, and you’ll have an almost three-sixty view.”

“We have that from the attic,” Trent noted.

“Yes, but unless you have multiple cameras around the attic that capture images good enough to use in court later, it’s not the same thing.”

“Let’s do it, Trent,” Tate urged. “Let’s put some kind of system in place so that we can find out who killed Granddad and Slade.”

“It might make things easier during all those night patrols,” Theo pointed out. “If one person is stationed in front of those cameras, it could pop the case wide open if he appears on camera. All we need is a picture of his face.”

“That should work if you think he’s still hanging around,” Brent supplied.

“Won’t he simply avoid the camera range?” Trent asked. “What’s the point if he watches us install the system?”

“Then we’ll add motion detectors,” Colt expanded. “The problem with motion detectors is activation by rabbits and other small game.”

“We could fine-tune the settings so that it wouldn’t pick up small critters,” Trish countered. “I’ve seen it done on high-profile stakeouts.”

“Sounds like overkill to me,” Trent argued. “Couldn’t we go back to where we know the guy has been and use the dogs to track him? Locke and Lotus are amazing trackers.”

“Use the dogs. Use everything at your disposal to catch this asshole,” Brent advised. “This guy has murdered two people. We want him before he makes it three.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Theo stressed. “Throw the kitchen sink at him. But it’s your call.”

Trent blew out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. Let’s get those cameras up before nightfall. Tate and I will take Locke and Lotus with us tonight.”

“Maybe trade-off with the other teams,” Tate suggested. “Locke and Lotus work well with anyone they know.”

“We could also call in Terra Search & Recovery,” Brent tossed out. “If they’re available, Birk and Beckett Callahan would help us in a heartbeat.”

“Go for it,” Trent said. “I want to nail this guy before anyone else dies.”

Trish and Eastlyn agreed to take turns monitoring the surveillance system from the attic because it was better than sitting outside the gate all night in the cramped front seat of a vehicle on a stakeout. At least this way, neither had to pee in the bushes. They could use a bathroom like a normal person.

Hawk and Drum had the camera system hooked up and running before the nightly patrols began. But the motion detectors were another matter.

Trish spent the first night familiarizing herself with the controls and settings, adjusting the motion sensors so that they wouldn’t set off an alarm each time a raccoon, possum, or deer crossed the path. After modifying the hardware and fine-tuning the software, she avoided false alarms.

As she settled into her routine, she found a certain satisfaction in watching the monitors, knowing she might spot the murderer at any moment. The landscape appeared serene, almost deceptively so, under the watchful eyes of the cameras. Despite the relative tranquility, Trish remained vigilant, her eyes scanning the screens for any sign of the elusive killer. She knew that the safety of the Callums and their employees depended on her due diligence.

Meanwhile, Trent and the rest of his crew continued their nightly patrols, communicating regularly with Trish to ensure every corner was covered.

Colt and Theo joined the ranks, taking turns patrolling the more remote areas. At the same time, the other team members stuck to their original assignments, focusing on well-traveled pathways and anywhere else their suspect might set up camp.

With the new approach, Trent didn’t have to say much to convince Savannah that leaving the ranch, even in the middle of the day to show up at school, was a bad idea. She readily agreed that he needed to take that time and catch up on his sleep or do whatever chore needed doing. Things like riding lessons, dinner and a movie, or simply picking up life where they left off would have to wait.

The killer didn’t make a move that night or the next. The lack of progress was frustrating. By the third night, the tension began to wear on everyone. Yet, Trent knew they had to stay the course. He became convinced the surveillance system was their best chance at catching the guy off guard.

One evening, as Eastlyn watched the monitors, something caught her eye. A shadow moved swiftly near the perimeter fence, too tall to be an animal. Her heart raced as she zoomed in, trying to get a clearer view. The figure vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a trail of broken twigs and crushed grass.

She immediately alerted the others to the exact location, dropping a pin via text message, and within minutes, Colt and Theo responded to that section to begin tracking him with the dogs. Soon, the team nearest the quadrant—Cecil and Lincoln—joined the hunt.

Trent radioed everyone else to remain in position, just in case it turned out to be nothing or the man wandered into another sector.

Nothing came of it after spending nearly two hours pursuing the lead. Locke and Lotus lost the scent after crossing a dry creek bed and scrambling up boulders as if their mystery man had vanished into thin air. Not even the dogs could pick up his scent on the other side of the rocks.

Despite the setback, Trent’s determination grew stronger with each passing night. The fourth night brought a renewed sense of awareness among the team. They refined their strategies, ensuring every possible angle was covered. Trish’s eyes never wavered from the monitors. Her senses heightened by the anticipation that tonight might be the night they caught their suspect. The team understood that patience and persistence were their best allies in this relentless cat-and-mouse game.

A renewed sense of determination filled the air as the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. The ranch seemed almost impenetrable under the watchful eyes of the cameras and vigilant patrols. But they all knew that the killer could strike at any moment from anywhere. They hoped he would eventually make a mistake, and they would be ready when he did.

The team continued their patrols methodically, communicating with Trish or Eastlyn, whoever manned the monitors, along with each other to ensure no corner of the ranch remained unguarded. The nights stretched on. Each shadow was scrutinized. Each movement was evaluated. The ranch lay in a tense silence, waiting for the moment to break the monotony and bring them one step closer to capturing their elusive prey.

While on guard duty, Tate and Trent often talked more than they had since they were kids. They tossed out theories, discussed personal issues, and spent much of their time wondering how their grandmother fit into all this.

“I just wish I could get her to come clean about what she knows,” Tate reasoned. “Why would anyone want to hurt Mom and Dad? Why wait twenty-two years to kill Granddad? Something tells me she holds the answers to both those questions.”

Trent sighed. “The Duchess always did keep her cards close to her chest. But I agree, we need to find a way to get her to talk to us. Maybe she knows something that could explain why all this is happening now. I just don’t see her opening up to us, though, at least not yet.”

Tate glanced around, the darkness pressing in. “I just hope we get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Same here. Savannah mentioned she wanted to join us on night patrol. I don’t think it’s a good idea. But I don’t want to discourage her, either. I don’t want to sound like one of those guys trying to tell her what she should and shouldn’t do. Have you ever seen her ride? Is she any good?”

“Of course, she’s good.”

Trent narrowed his eyes. “You’ve never seen her on a horse, have you?”

“Well, no. But if she says she can ride, I believe her. We had a long talk one day last spring about riding. I could tell she knew a lot about horses. She wasn’t faking it. Why do you think I asked her to help with the lessons this summer?”

“But do you feel comfortable having her ride along with us on patrol? Is she a liability or an asset?”

“I can’t answer that. With everything going on, the question should be, can she handle a rifle?”

“Can she?”

Lincoln’s voice crackled over the radio, interrupting the discussion. “This is North Unit. Over. Be advised that we’ve discovered what looks like a campsite around an old well. Cecil confirmed that it looked like someone had been camping at this location for at least several days. But they’ve moved on. Over.”

Trish responded by cautioning them, “This is Base Camp. Don’t touch anything. Maybe we can get DNA from anything he left behind. Over. Wait a second. Something is happening near you. Our suspect is on the move, heading south of your grid and toward the southwestern quadrant where Blake and Brock are. Be on the lookout for our suspect entering your section. Over.”

“This is East Unit. Over. He’s heading toward the main house. We need all eyes on that. Over,” Trent declared, exchanging a tense look with Tate before giving Phoenix free rein to run. “Hiya! Let’s move out,” he said quietly, removing his rifle from its scabbard.

Tate cut her eyes to the rifle and followed Trent’s lead. She flicked the reins, kicking Mermaid into action before sliding out her .22 rifle.

Using the radio, Trent alerted Hawk and Drum. “Get to the main house before us. He’s making a play for the main house.”

“This is Painted Heart. Over. We’re already on it. Over and out,” Hawk replied.

The siblings rode quickly in a westward direction toward home. A three-quarter moon lighted their pathway as they passed through Painted Heart, Hawk and Drum’s grid. The only sounds were the muffled thuds of hooves on the soft earth and the wind whistling through the trees.

Tate’s mind raced with thoughts of their prey. “We should expect him to shoot without warning.”

“Oh yeah. He’s crazy enough to try anything,” Trent retorted, his voice low and steady. “We can’t take any chances.”

Tate tightened her grip on Mermaid’s reins, her pulse quickening. “Stay sharp,” she whispered, her eyes scanning the shadows ahead. The landscape was eerily still, save for the wind flitting through the trees.

Trent’s gaze flicked between the pathway and the surrounding brush as they neared the barn. “He’s got to be close,” he murmured, his knuckles white around the rifle’s stock.

A distant rustling caught Tate’s ear. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Trent responded, his voice barely audible. He slowed his pace, every sense on high alert. The moon cast long, ghostly shadows, playing tricks on his vision.

Suddenly, a twig snapped to their right, followed by hurried footsteps. Trent slid off Phoenix and signaled for Tate to flank left as he veered right, both moving with the stealth of seasoned trackers.

“Where is he? Over,” Trent hissed through the radio. “Does anyone have eyes on him yet? Over.”

Blake’s voice called out, “Negative. But Brock spotted a pickup turning around at the main gate. Over.”

“Black pickup, no license plate, distinctive front grill,” Trish announced. “Estimated to be a 2000 Dodge Ram seen leaving the property. Theo is in pursuit now. Over.”

“Don’t lose him,” Trent shouted as he rounded a corner of the barn.

A figure darted from the cover of the trees, heading straight toward him, carrying an assault rifle. Trent raised his gun, but before he could fire, the figure let loose with a spray of bullets.

Trent dove for the ground while rounds spit out in rapid fire around him. He heard a blast of gunfire coming from another angle, then footsteps racing back into the woods.

“I think I hit him,” Hawk yelled. “Drum and I are going after him.”

Trent picked himself up off the dirt and looked around for his sister. “Tate, where are you?”

“I’m here,” she called out from the shadows, her blue eyes scanning the area. “Are you hit?”

“No, what about you?”

“I’m fine.” But she heard a groan across the yard and noticed Brock lying on the ground. “Oh, no. Trent, I think one of the bullets must’ve ricocheted off the barn and hit Brock in the arm.”

But Trent was already seeing the trickle of blood running down Brock’s shirt as he rushed to the man’s side to inspect the wound. He picked up the skinny kid and lugged him all the way to the back porch where, a week earlier, they’d been celebrating with Dolly’s special punch. “It’s not bad. We’ll get you to the hospital.”

Dolly opened the door and rushed outside, holding a washcloth and a first aid kit. “The paramedics are on their way. How bad is it?”

“Looks like the bullet grazed his upper arm,” Trent said, gently putting him down on the concrete. He pressed the cloth to the wound, his face etched with worry. “Hang in there, Brock. Help is coming.”

“I can’t move my arm,” Brock noted.

Blake hurried up the steps, looking frantic. “What the hell are we up against?”

“A guy with an assault rifle,” Monty corrected.

Tate rushed over to take Brock’s pulse, willing her own strength into that bony frame. “We’ll get you patched up, Brock. I promise. Don’t you worry, you’ll be good as new.”

The chaotic scene seemed to slow down, every sound muted except for Brock’s labored breathing. Trent’s focus sharpened when the rest of the team surrounded the porch, some clearly confused by the turn of events.

“I don’t understand why this keeps happening,” Tate said, as if speaking for all of them, while squeezing Brock’s hand for reassurance. “Who keeps doing this?”

Trent had no answers. “Maybe Hawk and Drum will catch him tonight, and this will end.”

The paramedics arrived again for the third time, taking over with skilled hands. Trent stepped back, wiping his brow and watching intently as they stabilized Brock for transport.

“He’ll be okay,” Linus assured him. “He’ll have a sizeable scar, but otherwise, he’ll be up and around in no time.”

“Are you certain? Does he need blood? We can each come into town in shifts to give blood.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary, but then a hospital never turns away blood donations,” Linus relayed. “He’s very lucky. An inch or two down, and it would’ve blown his arm off.”

But Trent didn’t feel any of them were lucky. The heavy weight of responsibility he felt in his chest nagged at him as he watched them load Brock into the ambulance.

“I’m going with him to the hospital,” Tate proclaimed. “I’ll call someone to pick me up after I talk to the doctor.”

Trent nodded. “Good idea. Text me an update.”

“Will do,” she said, hopping into the back of the ambulance alongside Linus.

Nearby, Hawk and Drum emerged from the woods, their expressions grim. “We lost him,” Hawk reported, his frustration evident.

“How is that possible?” Trent retorted, removing his Stetson to run a hand through his hair. “He must know the area. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“That’s my guess,” Hawk replied. “But he won’t get far. We know his vehicle.”

“It’s not enough,” Trent answered, though his mind was half on Brock as the siren wailed in the distance. He stood taller and took a deep breath. “We need to lock this place down,” he said to everyone within earshot, his eyes wide with concern.

“You can try,” Duchess said from across the courtyard, her voice raspy from lack of sleep. “Two thousand acres is a lot of ground to lock down. But do what you have to do. We’re a man down. I don’t care what you or Tate have to say about it. Pair me up with someone because I’m tired of sitting around the house watching you guys try to capture this lowlife hooligan.”

Trent didn’t even feel like arguing with her because the night was far from over. Instead, he glanced around at the faces of his crew, knowing they were all bone-tired and weary of the situation. But in his mind, they were in this together. They had to be. They needed each other now more than ever.