Page 26 of Special Agent Raven

Chapter Twenty

Although Raven seemed happy to see Henry waiting at the dock ready to help tie them in place, Cane had to stifle his male reaction. Their pleasure in being together didn’t sit well with him, not if he took in the fact that his mouth tightened to where his jaw hurt. And the bile in his stomach began to churn bad enough for him to reach for the sodden antacids he carried in his pocket.

When Henry lifted Raven from the side of the boat and purposely took a few seconds to hold her in his arms, it was all Cane could do not to push the asshole into the water and hold him under.

Though Raven appeared more than happy to allow this to happen, Cane had to turn away and keep his fist out of sight. The fact that she’d beamed as Henry held her longer than necessary ate away the good mood they’d enjoyed on the trip back to town. He forced the calm back before joining them.

That’s when the fake cheeriness in her voice caught his attention and went a good way to calming the pissiness. “Hey, Henry, figured you’d be out on a call.”

“Just heading out now as soon as the helicopter picks me up. Thank God the winds are cooperating so we can finally get airborne. We’ve been busy in town with a few fire events because of the power lines. Just got another call that there’s a family stranded around the bend, turns out their boat capsized when it hit a submerged truck. Thank goodness they were able to hang on.”

He turned to include Cane. “Just a warning. It’s a crazy place here right now… almost glad to get away. Folks are furious. No one, including me, has any answers as to what’s going to be done for them.”

Cane heard the note of condescension and had to say, “They’re legitimately frightened. Can you blame them?”

“Of course not. But they keep thinking I’ll step up. Yet I’m as much in the dark as everyone else. Oops, gotta go. They’re ready for me. See you later, honey.” He leaned in for another hug that ended before she could pull away. Then he raced to the end of the pier where his men had landed the chopper.

Cane turned away in disgust at what he considered an overabundant display of narcissism and dragged a reluctant Dale out of the boat. “I’m thinking we lock this son of a bitch up in a jail cell for now… until the city police can pick him up. You agree?”

“Works for me. Maybe Palmer is feeling well enough to tell us what the normal procedure around here is for something like this.”

Raven helped Val with Bonnie, and they all trudged toward the town center with Cane holding tight to Dale’s tied hands. Once on the main street, they saw people crowded in big groups andthe level of noise from the anger many felt left them no doubt that the folks were riled.

Raven pointed to the path that led up the hill, “Val, that’s where the schoolhouse is that I told you about. Just tell them that Raven sent you, and the women there will take care of everything from a change of clothes for you both and a place to settle in until we can get back to you to take your statement.”

“Since we got nowhere to go and everything we own is in the trunk of my car, guess I’m gonna follow your advice.” Val trudged away looking so forlorn, Raven wished she could go with her. Unfortunately, she had no idea what they might find at the police station and suspected Cane could need her backup.

Good thing too, because once there, they found Palmer slumped at the desk, the bottle that had appeared almost empty earlier had been replaced by one almost full. Praise the Lord, Palmer appeared to be functioning better than the last time they saw him. Which wasn’t saying much.

Cane took the lead, hoping to get Palmer to straighten up. “Hey, partner, we have a prisoner for you. This useless knucklehead killed a man, kidnapped and raped his girlfriend, then took over the Miller family property where he held them, plus Steve and Aggie hostage.” “Where do you want him held?”

Palmer’s bleary eyes blinked a number of times during Cane’s speech before he answered, “I-I d-don’t know. M-maybe in th-the c-cell?” He scratched at the new beard growth on his cheeks, adding, “We have a f-few others th-there too. Don’t know w-where else w-we can hold ’em all.”

Taking the keys from the desk drawer, he went to stand and fell backwards into the chair almost knocking it over. “R-raven you g-gotta help me. I’m a m-mess. My h-head hurts, and my stomach is b-bad… been sick all night. Doc says I g-got the Co-vid. I’m so-or-ry, but I just wanna go h-home.” Tears appearedand the poor man’s sincere pleading made Cane soften his first impression.

Sympathy rearing, he turned to Raven, “Can you give him a lift home? I’ll stick around here and look after things.”

“Sure. I’ll wait until you get Dale settled.”

Cane marched the other man to the holding cell and using the nearby handcuffs, he cuffed him to the far side of the place, away from the other two sleeping off their drunk… if the stench was anything to go by. Once he had the small room secure, he returned to where Raven stood next to Palmer.

“Come on pal, let me help you.”

Once he knew he was getting his way, Palmer sniffled, his sad expression lightening, but his speech impairment becoming worse. “I’mm r-really s-s-sorry, R-Raven. I tr-tried to be g-good. B-but without the sh-sh-sheriff here, I ju-just fell apart.”

“Hey, it’s me, buddy. We go back a long way. I’ll take you home and once the fever is over, and you’re back to being healthy, it’ll all be better, I promise.” She took his hand and helped him to the door and in seconds they were gone, leaving Cane alone with the prisoners… and that fucking fifth of scotch.

With good intentions of getting it out of his sight, Cane reached out for the bottle, but his arm seemed to have a will of its own. Slowly, he lifted it closer and got a whiff of the alcohol. Basically, the same liquor he’d used to medicate his pain for over two years. He closed his eyes and tried to remember why he shouldn’t have that drink that every cell in his shaking body yearned for.

Just as his hand rose to uncap the bottle, the power came back on and the brilliant light in the room flooded over him.Christ! What the hell, man? What’re you thinking?

Flinging the bottle back on the desk, then catching it before it fell over, he took a long, deep breath, dropped his chin, and said the same prayer he’d used for months when battling thetemptation. A strange knowing overcame him, and he whispered his thanks for what he took as a helpful warning, reminding him of how close he’d come to throwing away months of agonizing willpower.

Sitting behind the desk, he opened the side drawer and shoved the offending thing inside. Using the sudden privacy, he pulled out the ointment that Winona had pressed on him and heading for the bathroom, he rubbed it over the new cut on his thigh. He’d downplayed the knife wound but in truth, it hurt like a son of a bitch.

Once he’d done what he could, he checked the messages on the phone, all 911 calls from folks needing help… most showing yesterday’s date.

The few that posted earlier that day, he tried to return, only to come up with a busy tone or leave a message voicemail every time. Then he contacted the coroner’s number Palmer had listed on his phone pad and asked if they’d sent a forensic team to the site with the dead body yet and if they had a report ready. He had no doubt who the victim was, but they needed the paperwork and to have the body picked up and taken to the morgue. Of course, with so many dead, they put him off, explaining they’d get back to him in good time.