Page 13

THIRTEEN

W est had caught a glimpse of the black Chevy sedan just as the window lowered, revealing a hand holding a gun. Possibly a Glock, but he couldn’t say for sure as he’d yanked Trisha to the ground to avoid being shot, wrapping his arm around Peanut to keep her tucked beneath him.

When there was a lull in the gunfire, he poked his head up to shot three times in rapid succession. The sedan swerved making him think one of the bullets had hit its mark, but the driver kept going.

“Peanut, stay.” He jumped out from behind the car and ran out into the road. He wished the driver would come back to make another attempt, but he didn’t. Obviously the perp knew he was outnumbered. He couldn’t figure out why this guy who’d tried to kidnap Gabriel had shot at them twice now. Was he trying to scare them into cooperating? Or was he frustrated and lashing out in anger at not getting what he wanted?

Killing Trisha was not the best way to get his hands on the key that he believed was located in her house.

Then West realized the shooter must have been trying to get rid of him, leaving Trisha more vulnerable to an attack.

Not gonna happen on his watch. Besides, she was a cop—it wasn’t as if she would simply throw her hands up and tell him what he wanted to know.

Especially since she had no idea where the stupid key was, or what it opened.

“He escaped?” Trisha asked, coming up to stand beside him.

“Unfortunately.” He leaned down to stroke Peanut for a moment. With a sigh, he holstered his weapon and turned to look at Trish. “I really want to know how this guy knows where to find us.”

“If he killed Bryan and dumped his body here, he may have assumed we’d show up sooner or later.” She scowled. “It’s as if he’s baiting a trap, scattering breadcrumbs for us to follow, then lying in wait to make his move.”

It made sense, similar to what had taken place at the apartment building. “Yeah, that must be it.” The situation nagged at him. It was always a problem when criminals didn’t act in a logical manner. He bent down to scoop Peanut into his arms. “You okay, girl?” He ran his fingers over her fur, but didn’t find any indication she’d been injured.

“She’s really good about not bolting at the sound of gunfire,” Trisha observed.

“Well trained,” he agreed with a nod. He opened the rear hatch of the SUV to put Peanut inside, then closed the door. “We need to get out of here.”

“Without reporting the shooting?” She asked.

He shrugged. “We’ll let Doug Ross and Dan Slater know. But there’s no reason to stick around.”

“Fine with me. What about lunch?” she asked.

“First call Laurel, make sure all is well back at the safe house.” He couldn’t shake the feeling they were missing something. “It might be better to grab something to go.”

“We can’t just give up the investigation,” she protested. “What about checking to see if we can get that search warrant for the storage facility? Or stopping at the bus station?”

He hesitated, torn between wanting Trisha to be safe and doing his job. And since when did he let a woman get in the way of his career? He had to remind himself she was a cop.

“Okay, we’ll head to the bus station first.”

“Let’s grab something to eat on the way. For some reason, being shot at makes me hungry.” She sounded cranky as she wrenched her door open and slid into the passenger seat.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he went around to the other side. “Okay, how about a drive-through burger? Will that work?”

“Fine.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her auburn hair. “I feel like we’re no closer to getting the answers we need.”

He nodded, sharing the sentiment. “I hope this guy isn’t waiting for us at the bus station.”

“Anything is possible, so we’ll need to be on high alert.” Her brow furrowed. “If the stash is in a bus locker, then a storage unit is probably too big.”

He shrugged. “Just because storage units are large, doesn’t mean you can’t hide something smaller inside.”

“True.” She sat back with a sigh. “It’s driving me crazy that I don’t know where this key is or what it opens.”

“I feel the same way.” Could there be more than one guy involved? It didn’t seem likely, but that was another possibility. Maybe the owner of the personal items that were taken had hired muscle to get it back.

Too many unanswered questions, he thought grimly.

He chose a chain hamburger place for lunch. They each ordered cheeseburgers, along with two bottles of water. Trisha called Laurel to check in at the safe house. She chatted with the older woman for a few minutes before hanging up.

“No issues back at the safe house?” West asked when she slipped the phone into her pocket.

“Laurel sounds tired and said she’s still a bit sore, but otherwise things are good.” She grimaced. “Maybe having her take care of Gabriel wasn’t the best idea. I worry she’ll have a relapse.”

“Would you rather skip the bus station?” he offered. “I’ll drop you off at the safe house now, and just go with Peanut.”

“No. You need backup.” She took another bite of her cheeseburger. “Besides, we’ll have to head back to the safe house when that’s done. It’s not like we have any other leads.”

They didn’t, although he was hoping they’d have some additional evidence to go on by now. He finished his burger as they approached the bus station. This could be a wild-goose chase, but he wanted to see the lockers for himself. The key to a storage unit was much like that of a house key. The locker keys could be smaller, or maybe even a padlock style.

But if a padlock had been used, then why was the gunman looking for a key?

Were they on the wrong track checking the bus station?

Maybe whatever Trish’s ex had taken was large enough to warrant a storage facility. He abruptly glanced at her. “What sort of vehicle did your ex-husband drive?”

“A blue pickup truck. Why?” Then she nodded. “Oh, I see, you’re trying to estimate how big this item is.”

“Yeah.” He remembered now that the BOLO had included the blue pickup truck registered under Bryan Little’s name. “I’ll feel better if we at least check the bus station.”

“Me, too,” she said with a weary smile. “That way we can check one possibility off the list, right?”

“Spoken like a true investigator,” he teased.

She flushed. “You’re nice to say so.”

It wasn’t nice, it was the truth. There was a small parking lot out front, but then a much larger parking area behind the building. He pulled into the closest spot, then glanced at her. “I wonder if finding Bryan’s truck would help us narrow down what this is.”

“Maybe. I’m surprised it hasn’t been found yet.” She pushed her door open as he did the same.

Moments later, he had Peanut on leash. He gave her a sip of water, then said, “Find tools, Peanut. Tools!”

Peanut wagged her tail, excited at the chance to work. Or play, as she was taught. The dog eagerly walked beside him, her snout in the air.

They were here to search for a possible hiding spot for Bryan Little’s stolen stash, but he wanted Peanut to be on alert for weapons, as well. Two birds, one stone.

It was the same approach he’d used at the Fitness Guru Gym, which had revealed one stolen weapon.

He counted at least a dozen people inside the bus depot. To the left, there was one wall with lockers, smaller in size compared to the gym lockers. They weren’t tall and skinny for hanging clothes. They were small and square, roughly big enough for a small duffel bag.

Peanut’s nose worked as he and Trisha walked toward the lockers. Scanning them, he only saw a handful that had locks. And all of those were combination padlocks, rather than ones that needed a key.

Probably not the location of Little’s secret stash. Peanut sniffed the lockers with interest, then surprised him by sitting right beside a locker that was located farthest from the bus depot front counter.

Her alert had him glancing around, curious to see if anyone was watching. No one was paying them any attention.

“Is there a gun in there?” Trisha whispered.

“Either there now or had been recently.” Peanut’s nose was good—she could sometimes capture the smallest amount of gun oil left behind. He tugged on the lock, then reached for his phone. Thumbing the screen, he found the Dakota Gun Task Force leader’s name.

“What’s going on, West?” Dan Slater asked.

“I’m at the bus station. Peanut has alerted on a locker here secured by a combination padlock. We were searching for something else, but I think we need to know what’s inside.”

“I’ll be right there,” Dan said.

“Bring a bolt cutter with you,” West advised. “Weapons are not allowed in here and these lockers don’t belong to any person in particular, so we shouldn’t need a search warrant to get inside.”

“Got it.” Slater ended the call.

“I’m going to the front desk to see if anyone recognizes Bryan,” Trisha said.

“Good idea.” It was a smart move, and he thought again that Trisha had great investigator instincts. As she walked away, he pulled Peanut’s ducky from his pocket and tossed it as her reward for a job well done.

Trisha returned a few minutes later. “Nobody recognized him.”

Before he could respond, he caught a glimpse of Dan Slater, accompanied by his Great Dane, Dakota, entering the building. The ATF agent must have broken speed records to get there so quickly.

“This the one?” Dan asked, hefting a bolt cutter up with one hand.

“Yes.” He grinned as Dan snapped the lock off. Then frowned when the inside of the locker was empty. He knelt down and cautiously sniffed, catching just the slightest scent of gun oil.

“A gun was kept in here at some point.” He straightened and shrugged. “This could be used as another drop point for a small gun sale. The locker is only big enough for about ten handguns.”

“I’ll ask an officer to stake the place out for the next day or two,” Dan said. “I’ll request photos of people going in and out to see if we can match them with perps having a criminal record.”

“That sounds good.” West hoped this drop point was still in use, but it could have been recently abandoned, too.

Another depressing dead end for both the gun trafficking case and the search for the masked perp.

Trisha could tell both West and Dan were bummed, but the plan to keep an eye on the place was a great idea.

In the meantime, she had no idea where to look next for something that might hold stolen property. She was anxious to head back to be near Laurel and Gabriel, although she feared that once she did that, West would take Peanut and go off on his own.

He was in as much danger now as she and Gabriel were. It didn’t sit well that he would leave her behind.

Granted, he was participating on the gun trafficking task force that could call him away at any moment. She had hoped they’d have a few answers by now.

How much longer would she, Gabriel and Laurel have to stay at the safe house? How could they find this guy when they had no idea where to look?

Or who he was? Nick Cutter? Or someone else?

“Okay, we can get out of here,” West said after Dan finished speaking on the phone. “Dan has it under control.”

She glanced around, then reluctantly nodded. There wasn’t anything more to do here. There were four lockers that were closed with a padlock, but a key wouldn’t work to gain access.

And the masked perp had specifically mentioned looking for a key.

“Come, Peanut,” West said. The beagle trotted to his side and dropped the toy ducky on the floor at his feet. He picked it up, tucked it away and clipped the leash to her collar.

She fell into step beside him as they headed back out to the SUV. The ATF agent’s SUV was parked next to theirs, or so she assumed because there was what appeared to be an extra-large crate area in the back for his impressive Great Dane K-9.

“Did Laurel need us to bring food back?” West asked once they were settled in the car.

“No, she mentioned having groceries delivered,” she explained. “I guess she felt we were running low on diapers and formula for Gabriel so she made the call. I told her I’d reimburse her for the expense.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure I like the idea of a stranger delivering food.”

“What else was she supposed to do?” She shot him an exasperated look. “The shooter was out at the Wild Wild West Restaurant, so they were perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m being overly protective.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that betrayed his frustration. “That was smart of her to order out for items she needed.”

“We need something more to go on,” she said, sharing his frustration. “What about heading back to my house?”

“No.” His tone was sharp. Then he added, “I considered that, but we’d need to search with backup on standby. I’ll call the captain to see if we can arrange to do that later.”

“Okay, that sounds good. To be honest, I’m not even sure where to start looking for the stupid key.” She frowned. “From what I remember that first night when Laurel was injured, the perp had done a good job of tossing the kitchen and living room and had started on Gabriel’s room before we arrived.” The more she thought about the possibilities or lack thereof, the more depressed she became. “Maybe Bryan only told him he’d hidden the key in the house, but really put it somewhere else.”

“Your bedroom wasn’t touched?” he asked.

“Not that I know of. Maybe he assumed that if Bryan had hidden something in the house late at night while I was home, he wouldn’t have gone into the room where I was sleeping.”

“And how many bedrooms?” He asked.

“Just two. It’s a small home, more than enough, though, for what Gabriel and I need.” It was also all she could afford.

“I think we’ll have to check it again, just to be sure,” West said. “I’m inclined to believe you’re right that he wouldn’t have risked stashing the key in your bedroom.”

“Maybe the garage, although Bryan didn’t have any tools or anything.” She sighed and shook her head. “I still find it hard to believe he stashed anything at my house in the first place. I mean, why would he? Why not take the goods and skip out of state?”

“He may have hidden it to wait for the heat to die down,” he said thoughtfully.

She straightened in her seat. “But there was no heat. Unless I missed hearing about a robbery.”

“That’s a really good point,” he admitted. “We need to look into robberies that may have taken place a year or so ago.”

Now she was anxious to get back to the safe house. “We should have considered that option before now.” She mentally kicked herself for the lapse and immediately used her phone to search for any South Dakota robbery reports.

“I agree, I have not been doing my best here,” West said.

“You’re doing great, and considering how often we’ve been dodging bullets, it’s amazing we’ve been able to find anything at all.” She felt bad for speaking about the lapse out loud.

Several hits about robberies came up from her search, but as she began scrolling through them, her brief surge of hope evaporated. Most of them were small-time stuff—shoplifting from stores, holding up gas stations or personal car-jacking robberies.

In many cases the perps had been caught as being drug addicts searching for money to supply their drug habit. There was a string of armed gas station robberies in which there had been no arrests yet.

Could Bryan have committed them? Her ex had never owned a gun, but what did she really know about him, anyway?

Not nearly as much as she’d thought.

As West pulled into the driveway of the safe house, she gave up her search. It may be easier to do on a laptop, anyway, accessing the criminal database for specific unsolved cases.

West pulled into the garage, then shut down the engine. By the time he had Peanut out of the back, she was already stepping inside the house.

“Laurel?” She didn’t call out too loudly, unwilling to wake Gabriel in case he was sleeping.

There was no answer. Maybe Laurel was taking a well-deserved nap, too. She walked into the kitchen, then frowned when she saw Laurel stretched out on the sofa.

Her friend groaned, her eyelids fluttering open. Trisha rushed to her side, noting how pale Laurel was. “What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t feel well,” Laurel whispered. “I got Gabriel down, though, and hoped you’d get here soon.” She moaned again, putting a hand to her left side. “My back is killing me.”

“Your kidney?” Trisha battled a wave of guilt and helplessness. “We need to get you back to the hospital.”

“I hate leaving you,” Laurel whispered. The fact that the tough cop wasn’t arguing about being examined by medical staff told Trisha everything she needed to know.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“No, please, just have West drive me.” Laurel grimaced. “Ambulance companies charge over a thousand dollars for a one-way trip.”

That seemed outrageous, but just then West came over. “What’s wrong?”

“She needs to go to the hospital and wants you to drive her.” Trisha put a hand on Laurel’s head, somewhat relieved she wasn’t running a fever. Then she checked her pulse. Fast, but steady. That was also reassuring. She nodded at West, silently agreeing with the plan to drive her, rather than calling 911.

“We’ll go right now,” West said. “I’ll leave Peanut here.”

“Thanks. Come on, Laurel. Let’s get you to the car.”

Her friend managed to stand, making her way to the car on her own two feet, although her features were pinched with pain. Trish watched with concern and sent up silent prayers for healing as West and Laurel drove away.

Despite being armed and a cop, she couldn’t deny a sense of dread at being here alone with Gabriel.

The shooter couldn’t know about Laurel’s relapse, but that didn’t keep her from going from one window to the next, searching for any sign of danger.