“Unless you know for sure how they found us, it’s the safest way.”
From the facial expression Chief Mertz wore, he knew his former boss was conflicted and understood Cap’s logic. There could be a leak within the police or sheriff’s department.
“In case I am being monitored, I’ll need a burner phone, cash, and a non-department vehicle,” Cap said.
Mertz nodded. “I’ll get you what you need. Communication will only be between you and me.”
“I don’t know…”
Mertz’s silencing glare shot to Styles, cutting him off.
Cap hoped there wouldn’t be a jurisdiction war here.
“We need to get Emma to the hospital. She needs sutures and X-rays,” an EMT informed them from the doorway.
Cap’s heart kicked hard. He hadn’t realized how badly hurt she was.
“How bad?”
“Manageable, but she needs care. The wounds on her feet need to be cleaned, and one cut needs to be stitched on the side of her foot. The X-ray is just to confirm her left arm is only sprained.”
Chief Mertz looked at him. “Go with her. I’ll work on what you need and meet you at the hospital.”
“We’ll sort out this mess here and comb through the SUV,” Styles added.
Mertz looked at the EMT. “Have you had any radio communication regarding this potential transport?”
“No, just that we are at this location.”
“Radio that there is no transport and you are back in service. Then run to the hospital with no lights or sirens.”
Cap pulled his feet out of his slippers and eased them into tennis shoes. Then, he quickly stuffed his and Emma’s belongings into their duffel bags. He retrieved the weaponry he’d stashed throughout the cabin.
“Never know how much you need,” he said to Chief Mertz in response to the man’s arched brow.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to work for the police department?” Mertz asked.
Should he feel ashamed at how much the thrill of danger invigorated him? He only wished the danger didn’t include Emma.
Chapter Nineteen
Dario pushed the barn door shut with his boot and slid the barrel slide bolt into place.
The deputy’s muffled whimper carried through the cool morning air. He rolled his shoulders a couple of times, trying to chase off the irritation gnawing at him ever since everything had gone to hell.
This wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. Get the drugs from the courier. Deliver the drugs to the buyer. Get paid by Marco Garcia. Repeat. During the eight years he worked for the Garcia cartel, he’d always delivered, making Marco happy and rich. Marco didn’t like it when things didn’t go so well, and surely the wrath of Marco Garcia would rain down on him if he didn’t resurrect this deal, or at the very least get a pound of flesh.
He crossed the dirt floor, the single light bulb swinging from a rafter, throwing his shadow long across the deputy tied to the metal folding chair. Deputy Donna Vanderwood. Forty-eight. Clean record. Mom and Dad living in a farmhouse just outside of the city. He’d checked.
She lifted her head when she sensed him close, lips split, eyes swollen.
“I already told you. I don’t know where they moved her. She’s under the radar. They don’t tell us that. You have my radio. You know this,” she rasped.
He had her radio, and it had been silent since the shootout. He thought he’d struck gold when the young officer watching the house accidentally divulged the location of the cabin on the non-secure channel. The Glidden Cabin. Sure, it took a while for him and Victor to figure out which cabin, but once Victor got out there and drove the winding road and discovered all the large non-cabin-like homes, that didn’t leave many remaining to research. Using the county’s online geographic information system, they could eliminate some of the smaller homes and cabins from the list. Then, another simple drive-by of those that remained on the list revealed the location.
The other cabins had lights on and people outside enjoying campfires on the beach, or cars in the driveways. But, this one little lonely cabin had the curtains pulled, with light shining dimly around the edges of the covered windows, and no cars in sight, as if hidden purposely. When Victor noticed the hint of a brush guard poking out from around a small garage, he knew he was in the right place. It was confirmed when he discovered the brush guard was connected to a county squad. This was almost too easy. He and Victor made their plan, which included the perfect time to strike. Early in the morning, while it was still dark. No witnesses. Turns out the best-laid plans aren’t always that.
Now, the girl was gone. The drugs were still gone, and Victor was dead. His entire team was dead. Victor, Mateo, and Carlos.
