Page 23 of Vanish From Sight (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #2)

W hat on earth was the stranger doing?

It was only as he got closer that Noah recognized it was no stranger. Detective Angus McKenzie had his back turned and was resting his foot on top of the Bronco’s rear bumper, pumping it as if testing the suspension.

The vehicle groaned.

After working his way out of the collective group back to his vehicle, Noah was surprised to see the peculiar Scotsman. He had a phone up to his ear and was talking loud enough to scare a flock of birds out of the trees. They soared overhead, squawking as Noah cleared his throat.

McKenzie turned, eyeing him. “Aye. I’ll tell him. I will do.”

He hung up.

“You mind,” Noah said, gesturing to his muddy boot on the bumper .

He removed it, sniffing hard. “Shabby ride. State not able to swing you a cruiser?”

“I prefer this,” Noah replied, moving around him to get in. He had his hand on the handle when McKenzie let loose.

“Well, if I’m going to be with you, we should probably discuss rules. One being who drives.”

“Excuse me?”

“I prefer to drive. Nothing against you but with retirement around the corner the last thing I need is my life cut short by a heavy-footed Yank. I’m not going out that way.”

“Um. Back up the train.” Noah released his hand from the driver’s side, closing the door. “You must have your wires crossed; Thorne is assisting.”

“Not now she isn’t. I mean. Let me rephrase that. Not in the capacity you think.” He winked at him as if suggesting his relationship with Thorne was more than copacetic. McKenzie strode around to the driver’s side completely convinced he was getting in.

Noah pulled out his phone and stood in front of the driver’s door, blocking access.

“If you’re looking to run it by Rivera, forget it,” McKenzie added. “That’s who I was just speaking to on the phone. She was the one that green-lit this little shindig. Now, I’ll admit, it’s not my first choice but I can’t argue with the powers that be.”

“But you said you were snowed under with work.”

“I am. Trust me, lad, if I had my way, I would be anywhere but here. But with another body on our hands, and no nearer to solving it, between you and I, Rivera doesn’t want this going sideways. Hence, the need for me.” He held out his hands. “Keys.”

“You’re not driving my vehicle.”

“Aye, I am, lad.”

“Oh, hell no. ”

McKenzie jabbed a finger in the air. “Now let’s not start off on the wrong foot.”

“I’m not your lad.” Unconvinced by the crap spewing from his mouth, Noah leaned back against the Bronco and made the call, keeping a close eye on him. Rivera answered almost as if she knew what he was about to ask.

“It was my decision, Noah,” she said.

“I have Callie.”

“Of course you do, but now you have McKenzie.”

“I appreciate that but we can handle it.”

“I have no doubts. I am just tripling our efforts in light of the recent discovery. The sooner we have answers, the better. The mayor and media are all over this. Rumors of a serial killer in our midst are already being tossed around. That kind of talk, well, it gets everyone a little antsy.”

“I understand, but—”

“Let’s not forget, Noah. State is working with us and local PD, not the other way around this time. With all due respect, this isn’t the murder of your brother, and so, I want the best working on this.”

“And that’s McKenzie?”

The Scotsman looked over at him through narrowed eyes as he tried to eavesdrop on the conversation. He already had an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“I should remind you that Thorne isn’t a detective. Maybe one day, but for now, she’s just one of our deputies.”

“And a damn fine one at that,” Noah shot back.

“I don’t dispute that but McKenzie brings two decades’ worth of experience from the big city.”

“City policing is very different.”

“It doesn’t take away his experience, Noah. Now I’ve made my decision. Run with it or I’ll call State and have them assign someone else. ”

“Understood.” He hung up.

“So?” McKenzie said in his brash tone.

Noah turned and got in the driver’s side before he had a chance to argue. “She’s cleared you to work with me… but not to drive. Something to do with your eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“What?”

“They dropped you off here, yes?”

“Aye.”

“Exactly. Read between the lines. Sucks, but hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” He slammed the door closed and through his open window thumbed over his shoulder. “Get in. You’re riding shotgun.”

Noah stifled a laugh as McKenzie mumbled a few choice words and skirted around the rear to the passenger side.

The Sawyer Group operated out of a warehouse just off Old Military Road. It was located just across from High Peaks Self Storage. It stood out, abandoned and forgotten. The outer walls, once painted in a bright shade of blue, had faded to a dull grey over the years.

Reaching it was a headache in and of itself, not only because McKenzie wanted to be brought up to speed, but because a section of the roadway had been closed off for repaving in the months prior and still hadn’t been opened, causing a detour through the town and traffic headaches.

“And you say this lad is a journalist?” McKenzie stifled a laugh.

“What does he write about — the homeless?” He chuckled and glanced at Noah who said nothing.

After parking, they got out and headed over to a large steel gate that blocked off the entrance and required a code for entry.

There were two cameras angled down. The owners of the establishment certainly looked as if they were taking security seriously.

A large sign on the gate read: WARNING: KEEP OUT! GUARD DOGS ON PATROL.

Beyond the gate, Noah could see activity.

The property was used by multiple businesses, none of which were related to each other.

The sound of machinery could be heard coming from an auto repair shop — sanders in operation and the steady clang of wrenches and steel.

Several doors down were an out-of-business printing company, beside that a clothing manufacturer, and finally a coffee roastery that also didn’t look as if it was open.

If the Sawyer Group was operating out of one of the offices, he couldn’t see a sign.

Noah reached out of the driver’s side window and hit the button. The speakers squawked. “Can I help you?”

“Here to speak with Nate Sawyer.”

There was no answer.

Noah gave it a second or two before he pressed the button again.

This time no one answered. McKenzie’s impatience bubbled up to the surface.

He got out. “Aye, let me handle this.” He went over to the gate and gave it a shake to see if it was open.

The clatter brought an angry Rottweiler out from underneath a stack of metal on a stand.

It came barreling toward the gate, barking furiously.

“Ah, shut your noise!” McKenzie said.

“McKenzie. Get in. They’ve probably gone to get him.”

McKenzie returned. Noah tried the buzzer again. “Hello? Mr. Sawyer. I’m an investigator from State. We need to speak with you. Could you pull the dog back and open the gate?”

He released the button and waited. Then the same voice from earlier came back on the line. “You got a badge?”

Noah took it out and waved it toward the angled cameras.

“Can’t see it,” the voice replied .

He stretched it out a little further.

“All right,” the voice said.

There was a short pause before the door to one of the offices opened farther down and a large African American stepped out.

He was sporting a blue shirt with the top button undone, a pair of black slacks and highly polished shoes.

He let out a whistle and the dog retreated into the office.

The guy disappeared back out of view and then the gate groaned open.

He reappeared a moment later, standing in the doorway.

Noah drove through and parked off to the right of the building. He got out and was about to approach when the guy hollered, “That’s close enough. Whatever you need to say, you can do it from there.”

“You Nate Sawyer?”

“I am.”

Noah looked off to his left then back at him. “Sir, it’s probably best we go inside.”

“Why did you look toward the gate?” Nate asked, looking a little skittish.

“Can’t be too careful. Look, we’re here about Katherine Evans.”

Nate squinted. “Zeus. Sic ’em!”

“What?” McKenzie blurted.

In an instant, the dog shot out of the office, darting toward them.

McKenzie bolted back to the Bronco. Noah reached for his service weapon, intent on scaring the dog off.

But the dog was too quick. Before he managed to withdraw it, the beast was on him, knocking him to the ground and latching on to his forearm.

Fortunately, he was wearing a thick jacket, otherwise the dog’s jaws would have made quick work of a suit.

Still, Noah writhed in agony as it yanked at his arm, tearing through the jacket.

He had every right to shoot the dog but it had a hold of his gun arm .

“McKenzie!” Noah shouted.

If there was ever a time he wished he had Axel, it was now. He loved dogs but the merciless beast was rag dolling him. Out the corner of his eye he saw Nate sprint for a nearby truck.

Crack .

A round boomed.

Now he knew what McKenzie had gone for. The shotgun between the seats. The dog yelped, let go and streaked away back into the safety of the office.

“I didn’t say shoot the damn thing,” Noah yelled as he scrambled to his feet and ran toward Nate’s truck, hoping to stop him before he could swing out of the property.

The truck was too fast. Nate floored it but not before Noah latched on to the back of the tailgate.

His feet dragged behind him as it tore out of the gate, bounced over the curb and headed north to what would become Route 86.

Noah had only once seen this happen in his career, and it was back when he was a regular state trooper.

The officer he trained under had stopped an unlicensed vehicle.

He was in the process of getting the driver out when the vehicle tore away.

The officer had half of his body through the driver’s side, trying to get at the keys.

Eventually the driver shook him off and they ended up catching the guy one state over.

His partner had ended up in the hospital for a couple of days with a broken arm, and multiple scratches and bruises. He was lucky.

Noah figured he might not be.

“Shut off the vehicle!” Noah yelled but his voice was lost in the roar of the engine.

Was Sawyer even aware that he was dragging him?

Releasing his grip seemed the most logical thing to do, but at the speed he was going, having his skull bounce off the asphalt might have been game over.

Instead, Noah hung on for dear life, his boots trailing behind him as he tried to pull himself up while the truck slowed to take the T-junction off Old Military Road and 86.

By a stroke of luck or fate, as the truck turned, Noah managed to get a forearm over the tailgate, keeping his body high up on the back.

An engine roared behind them.

Noah cast a glance over his shoulder to see his Bronco driven by McKenzie closing in on them. Wind blew grit up in his face, making him squint as Sawyer tried to shake him off the tailgate. But that wasn’t happening.

One thing Sawyer had underestimated was McKenzie.

The Scotsman quickly closed the gap.

Still, unable to get his feet up, Noah glanced back at McKenzie who was dangerously close to the back bumper. Had Sawyer slammed the brakes on, Noah would have been sandwiched between the two of them.

Noah figured if McKenzie brought the Bronco close enough, he could bring his boots up onto the front bumper and use that to push himself over the tailgate into the bed of the truck.

It was a feat that might have been easier had Sawyer not been zigzagging all over the road to prevent McKenzie from trying a pit maneuver.

The situation only got worse by the second. With the wind whistling in his ears, he couldn’t tell McKenzie to back off. If he lost his grip now, he would go under the Bronco.

Noah could already feel his hands slipping as he desperately tried to maintain his grip.

Then, as if McKenzie could read his lips or realized by Noah’s frequent glances back what he had in mind, he closed the gap, bringing the Bronco in really tight, almost to the point of pinning him.

Noah slapped the worst thoughts from his mind as he used every ounce of strength to lift his boots onto the front bumper of the Bronco directly behind him.

It wasn’t easy as Sawyer could see in his rearview mirror and was trying to put distance between the two vehicles .

Still, McKenzie stayed close, allowing Noah to finally lift his boots up onto the bumper.

As soon as they touched, he pushed off and went over into the bed of the truck.

His body thumped hard against the metal, causing Sawyer to glance back.

Battered, bruised and more pissed off than before, Noah clambered towards the front of the truck.

As soon as he was behind the rear window, he pulled his service weapon and tapped the window. “Pull over. Now!”

He might have had every reason to squeeze the trigger and end Sawyer’s life but he didn’t. Reality came rushing in as Sawyer eased off the gas and slowed the truck, bringing the vehicle to a stop at the edge of the road.

Gravel crunched below the tires. Grit swirled in the air.

In an instant, McKenzie swerved the Bronco up beside it to block off any attempts by Sawyer to change his mind.

With a gun raised, Noah cried out commands.

“Driver. Turn off the truck. Take the keys out and put them on the roof.”

The engine died. A cautious hand extended out the driver’s side and placed the keys on the top.

Noah scooped them up and got out of the back of the truck.

His body ached. His muscles felt as if they’d been stretched far beyond what they should.

His arm felt like it was on fire, and he could feel trickles of warm blood running down to his hand.

“Get out with your hands up!”

“You good, Sutherland?” McKenzie hollered while keeping his service weapon trained on Sawyer.

“Never better,” he said sarcastically.

“Like I said, you should have let me drive.”

Noah scoffed, shaking his head. Within seconds, Noah dragged Sawyer to the ground and put a knee into his shoulder blade and began to read him his Miranda rights.