Bait the devil, p.24
Bait the Devil, page 24
When no other sound except for the girl’s screams came out of the room, Dot hopped to her feet and approached. Using the barrel of her gun, she pushed the door inward. It stopped mere inches away from the frame. The girl’s volume increased.
Dot reached inside and managed to find the light switch. Light flooded the room, shutting the girl up. Dot shoved against the door and felt the body slide. She poked her head inside and found the wisp of a girl tucked inside the bathtub. When the girl saw Dot’s dirty face, her eyes grew wide.
“Do you speak Dari?” Eriksson asked quietly behind her.
“No.” She pulled her head out and turned to him. “Do you?”
A pistol shot cracked through the air. Dot felt a momentary stab of panic at the sound.
Eriksson held up a finger. “Stay with her. I’ll be right back.” He rushed down the stairs.
Dot pushed the door open farther and checked on the dead man. Revach. That left only Hassin unaccounted for, if T.J. hadn’t already taken care of him.
She slipped inside the bathroom and took up a crouched position next to the doorway and gave the girl enough space to not feel threatened. The girl’s gaze bounced back and forth between Dot and the body for a bit until she finally settled on staring at Dot.
Not knowing what else to do, Dot fell back on the one thing that had always worked for her when dealing with a skittish animal or Bethany when she’d had a horrible nightmare and Ashley wouldn’t do.
Dot began speaking to the girl in Basque. She wouldn’t understand a word, but the lyrical words of the story of a fisherman who encountered the first pods of cod fish and brought the secret back to his people began to wipe the fear from the girl’s eyes. By the time Dot had come to the end of the story, she heard voices downstairs.
She held up a finger to the girl and left the bathroom. She spotted the three men at the bottom of the steps. T.J. looked like he’d taken a beating from Mohammad Ali but with Eriksson’s help was holding up a sickly looking Caleb Podolsky. He was missing the prosthetic, and he was struggling to keep his head from flopping around. Dot wasn’t too sure he was going to make it out of here alive.
“He speaks Dari,” Eriksson said.
“We’re not getting him up these stairs,” T.J. said.
“Just set me down,” Caleb said weakly.
The two men gently sat him on the bottom step. Caleb leaned against the wall and let it cradle his head. He looked upward, his face so bruised and bloodied, Dot didn’t know what he could actually see.
“Mina,” he called up in a strained voice.
Then he began speaking to her in her native tongue.
Dot heard the creak of the flooring in the bathroom, and she stepped aside. The girl appeared, hesitating when she saw Dot.
Caleb continued to speak to her, his voice and words losing steam. Mina moved to the top step. Her hands flew to her mouth, and when the sleeve of her dirty dress fell away, Dot saw the bruises on her wrists.
Mina answered Caleb and began crying at his response.
Caleb rolled his head to T.J. and Eriksson. “She begged me to kill her when she learned I could understand her.”
“Why in the hell would she ever ask that?” Eriksson asked incredulously.
“Because in her culture, if there is any sign of impurity on her, she will be killed,” Caleb said. “Her family sold her to the men. They got rid of her to keep her from Taliban rule, and they’ll never take her back. If there’s anyone even left. She said her father was killed because of her. If she goes back, the Taliban leaders will have her executed.”
“Fuck,” Eriksson said.
Dot inched closer to the sobbing girl. She had no one. She was alone in a foreign country and left with no options. She would rather be dead than live out her life in fear of being captured and slaughtered in the name of some unholy rite.
“T.J.,” Dot said softly.
Mina looked up at her, startled by her closeness, but didn’t shy away.
“I know that tone of voice. What do you have up your sleeve?” he asked.
“I think we know a couple who would love to have her around and treat her like one of their own.”
He didn’t speak, and neither did the other men. Dot let T.J. digest her idea.
“You know, Fly Girl, I think you’re right. Steve was the one who worked with the translators, and he picked up on Dari.”
A low moan came from Caleb. He slumped over and slid into T.J.’s hold.
“We’ve got to get him out of here. He’s going to die if we don’t.”
While he and Eriksson got Caleb up in their arms and hauled out of the house, Dot coaxed Mina down the stairs and into the last remaining unharmed SUV.
As they were driving out to the car, Dot realized they were minus a man. “Where’s Peters?”
Eriksson shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”
“Hassin?” Dot asked.
“Dead. Along with Follman and his bodyguard,” T.J. answered as he drove away from the farm.
She twisted around and looked out the back window at the property through the billowing gravel dust. All of this carnage just so a couple of men could make themselves rich. She looked at Mina.
Lives ruined. For a fucking dollar.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Somehow Vivian beat Cassius to the golf course, and she found the church easily enough. She drove the loaned SUV along the street at a crawl looking for the vehicle Loren had taken. The previous owner had given Sloane a good description and the license plate number. There was no sign of the truck.
The street was more like a county road with the golf course on one side and farm or commercial property on the other. Sporadic croppings of old trees lined the seal-coated gravel road. Vivian slowed the SUV to a stop and parked across the street from the small church. A bungalow-style home sat behind the building: the parsonage Sloane had told her about. The property was registered as a historic landmark and held special services certain times of the year but otherwise was left shut up and monitored by the historical society.
Vivian rolled down all the windows and studied the surroundings. Cassius, where are you?
She turned to the golf course. A yellow flag flapped in the breeze. She was too far away to see which hole she was near. Judging by the location, she’d guess she was at one of the later greens. Except for the hum of wildlife and breeze rustling through the trees, it was quiet and peaceful. Not a human in sight. Had Cassius gotten management to corral their patrons and steer them away from this side of the course? Was that why he wasn’t here?
Why would this place be the first thing to pop into Loren’s head as Hal’s bolt-hole?
Vivian felt like a sitting duck. There was no place to hide her car, and with no traffic coming along here, it was harder still to blend in.
Loren had to have it wrong.
She shifted out of park and was about to pull away, then movement behind the church caught her attention. She let the car creep forward until she was under one of the trees and had a better view of the church.
A man loitered near the parsonage.
Vivian’s breath caught in her throat. Hal!
He was crossing the yard to the church. Vivian didn’t see a vehicle and wasn’t sure what he was doing.
With Loren’s whereabouts unknown, and what his current state of mind was like, Hal had made himself a moving target. Vivian was preparing to turn the SUV around, but Hal jerked and stumbled forward.
The tell-tale crack of a rifle shot reached her as Hal fell to the ground.
“No-no-no-no!” She whipped the beast of a vehicle around and stomped on the gas.
The car plowed through the miniature yard, Vivian driving straight for Hal. Something pinged against the SUV’s body, and she shrieked, ducking down.
She stomped on the brakes, using the car to block Hal from the shooter. He was on his knees, pressing a hand to his right shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers.
“Hal! Get in!”
Another shot hit the back window, splintering the glass. Where the bullet went, Vivian didn’t have time to care. Hal managed to stagger to the car and crawl into the back seat as another shot shattered the back window.
Gritting her teeth, Vivian hit the gas the minute the door behind her shut. She peeled out of the yard and circled around the back of the church. She could stay there, wait for Cassius and crew to show up. She should stay there, but a gut-twisting groan came from Hal. He didn’t have time to wait.
And the last thing she wanted was to wait for the shooter to get into a better position and shoot them.
“Fuck it!” Vivian gunned the engine and tore out of the churchyard.
The tires hit the sealcoat and the SUV fishtailed. Vivian drove through the slide and was flying down the street. As she navigated the street at seventy miles an hour she called Cassius.
“Where are you?” he answered.
“Where the hell are you?” she yelled at the same time.
“At the golf course,” he said.
Vivian heard the squeal of tires and looked in the rearview mirror. The truck Loren had taken was in hot pursuit.
“Shit!”
“Vivian, what the hell?”
“Cassius, shut up. Loren shot Hal, and now he’s chasing me down.”
“What the fuck?”
“I’m on River Birch Lane going south.” She blew right past the golf course’s main entrance and caught a brief flash of Cassius’s vehicle in the parking lot. “And I just went past you.”
She glanced at the mirror. Loren was catching up.
“Vivian, get out of the residential area. We don’t need a car accident.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“In two more blocks, there’s a construction area.” Vivian heard the slam of a door through the connection. “Drive into there. I’m coming.”
“This is getting real tedious having you run to my rescue, Sergeant.”
She shouldn’t have taken her eyes off the pursuing vehicle. The SUV jerked, and she struggled to maintain control.
“Hurry!”
“I’m coming.”
Vivian saw the site he’d told her about. She glanced in the mirror and found Loren preparing to ram her again. Taking in a fortifying breath, she threw the car into neutral, hit the brakes, and yanked the steering wheel to make the turn. Thank God no one was on the road.
Loren flew past her, barely missing the bumper that would have sent her into a spin. Vivian shifted the engine back into drive and manhandled the SUV into the dirt lot, bouncing over ruts and tiny piles of gravel. Construction employees and heavy equipment operators were scattered about the lot. A man in a neon orange vest and yellow hard hat ran toward her waving his arms.
Vivian blew past him. “Sorry!”
She glanced in the mirror and didn’t see Loren’s truck. She slowed the SUV and swung it behind a parked dump truck.
Seconds later, the wail of sirens flew past the construction site.
“Vivian, where are you?” Cassius asked over the speakers.
“Behind a dump truck.” She twisted around and looked back at Hal.
He was staring at her and still breathing. His shirt was completely soaked in blood.
“Cassius, hurry. I don’t know if Hal will make it.”
The shouts of men and the sound of an approaching vehicle made her jerk. Cassius’s car pulled into view.
“Follow me, Counselor.”
“What about Loren?”
“My guys are on him. Let’s get Hal to the hospital.” Cassius turned on his sirens.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dot allowed the gelding’s easy gait to lull her. A bite to the air warned of the incoming snow. Next to her, T.J. rode a sturdy roan. Ahead, keeping a brisker pace than the two behind her, Bethany led the way along the trail around the Ybarra ranch.
Dot and T.J. had taken the last few months off from bounty hunting to recoup. In the days and weeks following the shootout at the abandoned horse farm, they had been forced to reassess their business setup. The discussions hadn’t gone well at times, eventually leading Dot to declare neutral ground.
They’d moved quarters to Euskadi and the ranch. To get her mind off the changes, Dot had taken two trips up the mountain with Angela and hunting parties. T.J. had relented on the second trip and came along. The excursion had helped him move further through his own decompression process.
Caleb Podolsky had died as they were rushing him to the hospital that day. T.J. had taken the death hard, despite not knowing the man personally. He was still a fellow veteran. Eriksson later admitted at Podolsky’s funeral—the last time they’d spoken to or seen the man—he’d found out that Caleb had had stage four brain cancer with no chance of survival. He’d kept it from everyone involved on the task force. It hadn’t made T.J. feel any better about the ordeal.
Dot had seen him perk up for a few days when they—with a few strings pulled on Eriksson’s part—were able to see Mina settled in with Steve and Dana. The Afghan girl had taken to their newborn daughter. T.J.’s moment of respite was short-lived. It wasn’t long after they returned to Boise that Dot moved them to Euskadi.
Vivian had come out a few times to do her own decompression trips, her brush with death having left a few mental scars. Yet, there was a gleam of strength Dot had not seen before in her cousin’s eyes. She’d faced down killers and a former colleague hell-bent on seeing her dead to keep up his façade of a respectable lawyer and she’d survived.
Between Vivian’s and Larrabee’s accounts of what she’d done to save Hal Jones and slam the jail cell door shut on Loren, Dot still marveled how Vivian managed it all without Dot there to save her. Vivian did reiterate that this was the last time she’d ever do anything this reckless and dangerous again. She preferred her nice, quiet job as a lawyer, thank you very much.
Dot and T.J.’s prolonged visit was stirring up Bethany’s desire to see them stay. On this windy, chilly autumn Saturday, she’d coaxed them out on a ride, trying to eke out every last drop of attention from them she could get. And lob pointed comments about how nice it was out here.
T.J. reached out and grabbed Dot’s free-swinging hand. She looked over.
“I’ve been thinking long and hard about this. For the last six months or more,” he said.
“About what?”
He released her hand and reined in his mount, and she did the same. Bethany, oblivious to their halt, kept right on riding.
“I had every intention of moving Shadow Force Solutions out of Boise to here,” he said.
She frowned. “There’s not enough work to keep us afloat up here.”
“You’d be surprised what work will fall our way, especially with the PI business side of things.” The roan shifted under him and danced around to face Dot’s gelding. “I know I’ve apologized probably a hundred times now for getting us caught up in that mess …”
“It turned out to be a good thing. So shut up already.”
He sighed. “It could have gone a lot worse. You’re right, we’re not on missions anymore.”
“Meh, I think we still are.”
T.J. chuckled. “Okay, in a way, we still are. But we’re too fucking old to keep that shit up. Sloane’s got everything set up for us to run both the bounty hunting and our private investigation services here.”
“So, what kept you from saying something sooner?” she asked.
“I wanted to make sure you were ready and able to handle the bounty hunting side.”
“That can’t be all.”
He crossed his arms over the saddle horn and leaned into them. “Yeah, Dot, that can be all.”
Bethany, who’d finally realized they weren’t following her any longer, was making her way back to them. Gidget and Zip, and one bossy Boer goat, danced around the gray’s legs.
“You thinking of expanding our services to a bigger region?”
“I’m working on it, yeah.”
“And when we’re slow on work?”
He sat up and swept his hands the width of the land around him. “We help your ama out with the ranch and the outfitting business.”
Dot smiled and shook her head. “You’re crazy—you know that, right?”
“I want Bethany to have her favorite aunt around more. And I want you to continue being who you are, Dorothy Ybarra.”
“Bethany needs you too. Needs to know what a good man is.” Dot reined her gelding around to come alongside the roan and T.J. “And you need her to remind you that there are good things worth fighting for.”
“Is that a yes, we’re moving up here?”
Dot gave him a playful shove. “Fuck yes.”
“Swear can!” Bethany shouted, then she spurred her gray. “Race you back!”
The gray and the two dogs shot past them. Dot gestured for T.J. to pursue.
“Hurry up.”
“You’re not coming?”
She pointed at the goat bleating after the fleeing horse and dogs. “She’s not going to keep up.”
“She needs to be locked in a stall. She’s a bitch.”
Dot laughed. “Only to you.”
With a “Ha!” T.J. spurred his roan, and the gelding took off like a rocket. Far ahead, Bethany’s gleeful laughter drifted back.
Dot looked down at the doe, who stared up at her. “Come on, Pineapple, let’s go.” Dot shook her head at the name Bethany had bestowed on the goat, one that had stuck and the only one the goat responded to. “Pineapple for a goat.”
She’d have to get used to it.
Dot looked over the rippling blades of grass and the towering trees surrounding her home.
T.J. was right, this place was in her blood. Deep in her bones. They could make a real go of it with the business here.
Dot had no doubt about it.
The End
Acknowledgments
I’m a faith-based woman, and with that comes the assurance that everything I write will touch readers in whatever way, shape, or form it needs to. I always give thanks to the Almighty Who cultivated this gift and drive to write.
