Page 30 of Bait and Switch (Subtle Deceptions #2)

The fire appeared to be dying out. However, it proved too soon to think that as they slowly approached what had once been Gordon’s shed.

Something major shifted in the center, and the conflagration whoofed and snapped as it was fed new fuel.

A plume of flame and sparks shot upward, lighting up the area around the blaze.

Embers caught in one of the lurking trees and began to smolder.

“Fuck, that is not good,” Gabe said, watching the flames start to crawl up the tree.

“A water truck is on the way. We need to focus on finding Casey and Bowie.”

Right, focus on finding Casey.

Stopping well away from the flames, Gabe peered around, hoping to see Casey or the dog, but neither were visible.

“Casey,” Elton called out. He had the tire iron up and ready; he must have been formidable when he was younger. Hell, he was formidable now.

There was no answer to Elton’s call. Gabe stopped walking for a moment, thinking he’d heard something, just not words. He walked faster, heading into the dark.

There was a crash followed by the sound of quick footsteps, but they were moving away, not coming closer.

“Someone’s out there! Casey!” Elton yelled again, and—again—got no answer.

But then, maybe, a groan.

Gabe never would’ve expected Elton to move that fast, but the old man did.

Whoever else was out there wasn’t trying to be quiet as they stumbled through the brush and brambles that grew after clear cuts. A few muttered curses and grunts and then silence. Did they have a vehicle? Casey’s truck was the only car Gabe had seen.

Bowie yipped: Get over here already! Gabe quickened his pace, wary of the uneven terrain, the wrench a comforting weight in his hand. A just-in-case weapon. He didn’t make it far before spotting Bowie and a still form on the ground. His heart rose in his throat, nearly choking him.

Scratch that, not still. Casey rolled onto his side, a groan escaping him as he forced himself to a sitting position. Bowie was wagging and bumping against him, the doggy version of Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me .

And me too . But Gabe wasn’t about to say that out loud.

“Ranger Man, you scared the crap out of us.”

Or maybe he was.

A large silver flashlight lay a few feet from Casey, its fading beam spearing the dark beyond him. Grabbing it off the ground, Gabe shone the light over him and had to stop himself from gasping.

“Your head’s going to hurt in the morning.” Gabe had to force himself not to pat him down, to prove to all of them that he was alive and breathing. “Do not get up.”

Remarkably, Casey stayed seated, which only meant that he was in real pain. Bowie sat on his haunches next to him, his furry body pressed against Casey’s larger one. Gabe glanced at Elton, whose expression said the person who got away was damn lucky. Probably matched Gabe’s.

Gabe blinked at the sight of the blood trickling down the side of Casey’s face and into his beard. Goose bumps popped up over his entire body, and a rage he’d never experienced began to crawl through his veins. He’d never understood the phrase seeing red . He did now.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Casey insisted. “Head wounds bleed, we all know that. Hurts, but I’m okay, not seeing double.”

“How can that mean you’re okay?” Gabe wanted to know. “It’s fucking dark out.”

“What happened?” Elton asked. “Who attacked you?”

“Asshole caught me by surprise. Snuck up on me, didn’t they?” Casey shifted to his knees and twisted around, looking for something or someone. “Is Perkins still hanging around? It wasn’t him who hit me,” he was quick to add.

Gabe couldn’t begin to process the thundercloud of emotion that was close to choking him. He simultaneously wanted to beat the living daylights out of whoever had done this and wrap Casey up in cotton. So, like a normal male person, he ignored it. Wasn’t easy.

“Who was it?” Elton repeated. “Did you get a look at them at all?” He put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder and squeezed it, as if he somehow realized Gabe was a heartbeat away from losing his shit.

“Dunno,” Casey mumbled, rolling his neck. “Never got a good look at them and they didn’t give me their name.”

With a grunt, Gabe knelt in the muddy snow next to Casey, ignoring the pounding of his heart.

The panicked thumps had zero to do with adrenaline and everything to do with Casey’s irritating self, which, regardless of his personality, had managed to become important to Gabe.

With care, Gabe eased the hood of Casey’s coat off his head and removed the wool cap he wore.

“Con man and EMT? That’s quite a skill set.”

“Fuck off,” Gabe said mildly. The reality was, if Casey could snark, he wasn’t on death’s doorstep.

Gabe’s heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace.

“I’ll have you know, I’m qualified. Mom bought me a doctor’s kit for my eighth birthday.

Definitely qualified enough to say you are one lucky fucker.

That hideous hat must’ve absorbed a lot of the impact. ”

“My toque was given to me by a friend.”

“A friend with no fashion sense.”

“I work for the Forest Service, not GQ .”

“Focus, you two,” Elton interjected. “What do you think you were hit with?”

“Whatever it was, it was hard and heavy. Maybe firewood, a branch, something like that. Did you see Perkins?” he asked again.

“No. Did you see him, Elton?” Gabe pushed to his feet and glanced around. Still dark, still nothing that he could see. Only the pile of snapping embers that had once been Gordon’s shed, and the single tree that had caught.

“Nope. But the fire truck’s finally made it.”

Elton gestured toward the Forest Service water truck that had rumbled past Casey and Elton’s vehicles and parked as close to what remained of the fire as they could get. Two people in full gear jumped out and presumably began to drag hoses from the tank toward the blaze.

“I had Greta call it in. Help me up.” Casey had one hand raised Gabe’s direction.

“No.”

“Gabriel,” Casey said with a sigh, lowering his hand.

“Calvin had something with him—I didn’t see what it was before the attack.

Is it still over there?” He pointed generally toward the emergency responders.

“Kind of to the right, I think. If it’s still there, I want to know what it is before it gets hosed off. ”

“I’m on it.” Gabe gingerly made his way to the spot Casey had indicated. Elton could watch over Casey.

Sure enough, there was something sitting on the ground twenty or so feet away from the flames.

“It’s still here,” he called back to Casey. “Should I be worried? This is Perkins, after all.”

“Just—can you grab it and bring it over here?”

Rolling his eyes, Gabe darted around the spray of water from the fire hose as the responders doused the cedar tree. Hoisting the black bag off the ground, Gabe carried it back to where Elton and Casey were impatiently waiting.

Whatever was encased in the black plastic bag wasn’t excessively heavy. The bag itself had been wrapped with what appeared to be silver duct tape, but the adhesive had dried and cracked so it no longer stuck to the plastic.

“What do you think’s inside?” he asked as he set the bag down again.

“Dunno. I think we’re going to have to open it to find out. You got a knife in your pocket, Elton?”

Gabe couldn’t read Casey and Elton’s thoughts, but technically, they were disturbing a crime scene.

But no one had come to check on them yet, so was it an official crime scene?

And who knew what side the cops were on in this scenario.

Gabe’s experience thus far did not have him rushing to put his trust in the TCSO.

Elton stuck a hand in his pants pocket and brought out a penknife with a bone handle. “Always prepared.”

It seemed there were some ethical lines Ranger Man would cross. Noted.

Flicking open the knife, Elton bent down and swiped at the tape a few times. Casey held the flashlight so Elton could see what he was doing. The ancient plastic bag began to fall apart on its own, and Gabe reached down to tug it further open.

“This is like when Geraldo Rivera was opening Capone’s safe.”

“It’s not.”

“Not a speck of romance in your soul.”

“There was nothing romantic about Al Capone. He was a vicious killer.”

Gabe had a clever retort ready, but the bag was fully open now.

“What is that? A backpack?” he asked. “Why would Calvin have a backpack in a bag?”

It looked old, at least to Gabe, who was not an expert on outdoor gear. The brand was North Face, which he did know was fairly pricey. A tag attached to a rusty beaded chain hung from one strap. Gabe flipped it over in case there was a name on it.

“What does it say? Whose was it?” There was something in Casey’s tone that had the hair on Gabe’s forearms rising and the goose bumps returning.

The ink was faded but not so much he couldn’t read what had been written there. “ Property of Suzie Warner . There’s a phone number, address too.” Gabe looked at Casey and then Elton. “On Heartstone.”