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THE TEAM GATHERED AROUND their two tents, grabbing food and reorganizing equipment as they chowed down.
Fish, sniffing the aromas of grilled meat from the campsites, munched a power bar and went through the team’s gear bags as Manny anchored a map with rocks and explained what he’d learned.
“Blackthorne had a chat with the Border Patrol and DEA. Border Patrol shared drone footage. We have a possible location for Rambler.”
At that, everyone stopped and gave Manny their full attention.
“In a nutshell,” Manny went on, “Rambler met with Mexican smugglers, who passed the drugs to him. Rambler then turned them over to Ace, who, judging from the video, held Rambler at gunpoint, had him strip, and marched him out of range. Neither showed up again. Using those coordinates, Fozzie was able to say with acceptable certainty that Rambler wasn’t put into a vehicle and driven away.”
“Which means he’s out here somewhere,” Dapper Dan said.
Nobody mentioned the dead or alive factor. One way or another Rambler was coming home.
Dapper Dan continued, “I got zilch from the river offshoot. A couple of little land masses with clusters of cottonwoods, but nothing to indicate anyone had been there.”
“You can’t leave footprints in the water.” Hotshot shone his flashlight on the map and pointed. “If the smugglers took Rambler and used a water route, they could have followed the branch Dapper Dan checked, which flows back into the main river. He could be downstream from here.”
“Which is what we’re going to check out,” Manny said. “Meanwhile, gather your gear, refuel, rehydrate, and be ready to roll.”
“Anyone want NVGs?” Fish asked as he found the sack of night vision goggles in the gear bag.
“We’re a few days short of a full moon,” Olivia said.
“Better to have it and not need it,” Manny said, quoting part of another unwritten Blackthorne rule.
Fish passed the sack around. “What about T-Bone?”
“He’s going to maintain cover and stay with the tour. It’s highly unlikely Ace would want to explain two of his charges gone missing. If anything hits the fan, Cheese will arrange a pickup,” Manny said.
“Why don’t we strike camp?” Scrooge said. “I can’t believe anyone will give a damn about a group of crazy rafters deciding to go somewhere else. Anyone asks, we can say we think it’s too crowded here, or we like moonlight river cruises.”
Manny seemed to consider it. Clearly, he was working under orders from HQ, but as team leader, he had the task of evaluating changing conditions.
After a moment, he said, “Agreed. We’ve established ourselves as having minimal common sense.”
“Right,” Scrooge said. “The sort of well-lubricated people who’d decide a night river run would be an adventure not to be missed.”
“Looking for peccaries,” Dapper Dan said.
“Say what?” Fish said.
“Peccaries. Javelinas. Kind of like pigs, but they’re not.”
“They live around here?” Fish asked.
“Yep. Not truly nocturnal, but then we’re not the brightest bulbs in the chandelier.”
“Good enough for me,” Manny said. “Gives us a good reason to light up the area.”
“You think Ace might try to stop us?” Olivia said. “Afraid we might stumble onto Rambler?”
“He might be more worried if it looks like we’re sneaking off. We’re not hiding anything,” Manny said. “A few words about making sure we have plenty of beer, looking forward to the adventure.”
“If he tries to talk us out of leaving, I can handle him,” Olivia said.
They broke camp and carried everything to the river, with a few loud comments about beer and peccaries—or giant peckers, as Scrooge and Dapper Dan referred to them. As Scrooge had suggested, none of the campers seemed to do more than glance their way as they passed. Dinner preparations had been cleared, the air had chilled with the sunset, and those who hadn’t retired to their tents were sitting around campfires, most with glasses of wine or cans of beer.
Manny and Dapper Dan secured their gear. Manny gave everything another check, then said, “Fish, Scrooge, you’re in front. Hotshot and Olivia, second row. Dapper Dan, you’re steering.”
Everyone took their positions, and with a few whoops, they paddled off. A quick check of the shore showed T-Bone and Ace engaged in conversation near the campfire. Hotshot shone a spotlight at the two men, shouting, “Gonna find us some ugly pigs.”
T-Bone would be telling Ace that the team was a bunch of crazies.
They swept their lights back and forth from one side of the river to the other. Cliffs lined the waterway.
“Two rafts would have made this easier,” Scrooge said. “We could hit both sides of the river at the same time.”
“We have what we have,” Manny said.
They paddled on. Once out of sight and earshot of the campers, they dropped the crazy act and shifted into serious search mode. Everyone put on headsets. Manny reported to Fozzie, who was high above them in the helo.
“No sign of him,” Fozzie said. “Hang on. Something up ahead.”
Scrooge slipped on his NVGs. “A watercraft. Small. Too wide for a kayak or a canoe. A rowboat. Inflatable.”
“Cheese, can you light him up?” Manny said.
“Belay that,” Fozzie said. “No point in letting him know he’s been spotted before we have to.”
“I can make out one person rowing,” Scrooge said.
“I’m getting a second heat signature. Faint,” Fozzie reported.
Fish’s heart bounced. Could Rambler be in the raft? He reached for his NVGs, but stowed them again. Putting them on now would screw up his night vision when he took them off. Scrooge could report.
The small inflatable moved swiftly, the man at the oars clearly familiar with the river. No, its speed was picking up because so was the current. Sounds of rushing water had Fish’s hands go clammy on the paddle. The river curled to the right, and the rowboat disappeared.
“Rapids ahead,” Fozzie said. “Keep left.”
Dapper Dan called out steering directions. Paddle Forward. High Side. Left Back.
Fish focused on what the man said, reflexively following the commands. They made it through, the rowboat still the same distance ahead.
“Something’s gone overboard,” Fozzie said.
Dumping the drugs?
At this point, it didn’t matter if the man in the boat knew they were there. Cheese dropped the helo until it was fifty feet above the river, the spotlight turning the water brilliant shades of white and silver.
“It’s a person,” Fozzie said.
The small boat zipped through the next set of rapids and headed for shore. Cheese and Fozzie would keep an eye on it. The task at hand was to save whoever was in the river.
Dapper Dan shouted commands. Everyone dug in, paddling to reach the man.
No brightly-colored personal flotation device. No sign of swimming. More like floating. Rolling. Was he bound? Drugged? Unconscious?
They pulled alongside.
“Backward,” Dapper Dan shouted, trying to keep from getting too far ahead of the man.
“Fish. Go.” Manny’s words rang from the back of the raft.
***
KALEN LEFT THE CAFÉ.
Lexi lingered over a second espresso, organizing her thoughts, making a list. There was the appointment with the cleaning company, gathering the rest of Sofia’s clothes and possessions. Then, a stop at Human Services to further argue her case to become an official foster parent, since nobody had uncovered anyone else Sofia could stay with. She’d learned long ago that in-person visits yielded better results than phone calls.
Her list continued with things related to Cataline, Snake, and the Falcon, but for now, she’d have to be satisfied that Kalen was digging.
She finished her espresso, then drove to Cataline’s apartment. Dragging the empty suitcase, she climbed the stairs and fished the apartment key from her purse. Lexi slotted the key, gave it a twist, and pushed the door open.
She froze.
Furniture was upturned, the clutter from their previous visit strewn over the floor. She reached for her weapon, and took two steps into the apartment. Silence greeted her.
She was a cop, but a cop on leave. And this apartment complex wasn’t on her normal patrol route.
By the book, she told herself. She found her cell and dialed the number for Dispatch and identified herself to the dispatcher on duty. She went on to report what she’d seen. “If Kalen Nauck is free, this might be related to a case he’s been working on.”
A brief pause, and the dispatcher reported she’d send him right away.
“I’ll be in the manager’s office,” Lexi said. She’d rather look around for herself, but wasn’t going to give anyone on the force a reason to say she’d planted evidence or otherwise compromised a crime scene.
“Roger.”
Before going downstairs, however, Lexi made a stop at Julie Shortt’s apartment. The aroma of spaghetti sauce filled the air when the door opened. Lexi explained the apparent break in. “Did you hear anything?”
Julie’s eyes widened in shock. “No. When did it happen?”
“I don’t know. I came to get Sofia’s things and found the mess. The police are on their way.” She hadn’t identified herself as a cop yesterday and saw no reason to do so. Yet.
“Do you want to come inside and wait? The girls are napping.”
Lexi saw the fatigue in the woman’s eyes, as if she could use a nap, too. “No, I said I’d be in the manager’s office, so I’ll wait downstairs.”
Hector Kahale’s reaction was almost identical to Julie’s, although anger accompanied his surprise. He slammed a fist into his opposite palm.
Lexi explained she’d told the police she’d wait in his office.
“I thought you were an officer,” he said.
“I am, but I’m off duty. It’s always better to go through the proper channels.” She forced a smile through her own anger. “It’s about what stands up in court these days, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah. Damn lawyers.”
She let the remark slide. She’d been married to a lawyer, knew a lot of good ones, but as a cop, she’d had her share of frustrations with the system.
“I’d better cancel the cleaning service.” She made the call, saying she’d reschedule.
“I want to look at the apartment. Assess the damage,” Hector said.
Lexi convinced him to wait for the police and asked about the crime rate in the neighborhood.
He stood and ran his hands in front of his body, a menacing expression coloring his features. “You think anyone’s going to mess with a guy who looks like this? When I came on board as super, I spent a good part of my days standing on the stoop with a baseball bat. Nobody messes with my tenants.”
My tenants, she noted.
Kalen arrived, and allowed her and Hector Kahale to accompany him upstairs after extracting their promises they would remain in the hallway.
On the way up, Lexi recounted that she’d been in the apartment earlier to pick up Sofia’s things. “A friend and colleague from my days on the job in Indy was with me. He did a cursory search for drugs and didn’t find any.”
Kalen gloved up and examined the door. “No signs of forced entry. Was the door unlocked?”
“No, it was locked. I used Sofia’s key,” Lexi said.
Kalen turned to Hector Kahale. “Who has keys?”
“The tenant. Me. The kid, if Ms. Becker says so. There’s nothing to stop a tenant from having keys made, give to a neighbor, keep as a spare in case you lose one.”
“Julie Shortt next door might have one,” Lexi said. “She watched Sofia from time to time. I talked to her briefly after I saw the mess. She said she didn’t hear anything.”
Kalen made a note. “I’ll want to talk to her myself.” He pulled out his phone and stepped inside, snapping pictures as he wandered through the apartment.
Lexi waited. What if whoever had done this was still inside?