––––––––
THE SHERIFF ARRIVED within the hour. The two detectives assigned to the case weren’t far behind. I gave my report and answered questions while law enforcement taped off the crime scene and gathered evidence. One of the detectives confiscated the Beretta, since that was the only gun that had been discharged. I handed over the .45 giving them the excuse that I felt safer not having a firearm lying on the ground where anyone could grab it. It was my word against a dead man’s regarding who pulled a gun first, although the autopsy report would show that I’d been near the ground when I shot him, which would help substantiate my story.
Sam showed up a little while later. He had a word with the lead investigator, who came over to tell me they’d gotten what they needed and that I was free to go. Sam and I walked back inside the cabin to gather my things. I’d already packed, so it was more a matter of making sure everything inside the cabin was as I’d found it. The owner had been notified, but she lived in California and wouldn’t arrive until the next day.
Thinking about what to say to Sam, I straightened up the living area, making sure nothing was out of place. Sam carried my suitcase out to the car and came back inside.
“I need to tell you something.”
He looked at me expectantly.
“I need you to hear me out before you get pissed off. Do you remember the night I came home late?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “Sure.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly tell you everything.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Really.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on me.
I took a deep breath and let it go. It was unnerving that he knew me so well.
“Yes, really. Smart aleck.” I lifted the bag out of the kitchen garbage can and tied it closed. “That night, the two men I followed in the van had just done a drug deal. They ended up at the same house where Bobby the Barracuda was murdered.”
“Chacon’s place?”
I nodded.
“And?”
“And they offloaded a shipment of pharmaceuticals—I assumed they were counterfeit. I think that Chacon’s place was a distribution hub for the bad fentanyl. Anyway, I watched them through a window.”
Sam didn’t move, his expression unreadable.
“They didn’t see me at first, until someone let out the dogs. I tried to run, but they caught me.”
“Jesus, Kate.” Sam put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. When he finally raised his head, his eyes were the darkest I’d ever seen them. “You could have been killed.”
“I realize that.”
“How did you get away?”
“A neighbor complained about the dogs and the police showed up. As Chacon was dealing with them, I made a deal with one of his guys. He looked the other way while I climbed out a window.” I figured Sam didn’t need every little detail.
“I think Chacon sent that guy.” I nodded toward the door, indicating the hit man lying dead outside. “He knew what I was driving.”
“And you’re telling me this because you think the house is compromised?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the case. How else did the guy know that I was headed to the coast?”
“Did he ever have possession of your cell phone?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I put it inside the Jeep before Chacon’s goon grabbed me.”
“You might want to check the battery, just to be sure.”
I rummaged inside my purse and pulled out my phone. A quick check showed nothing unusual.
“How about the Jeep?” He crossed his arms again. “They could have attached a tracker.”
“I didn’t think of that. Wouldn’t the batteries have run out? I mean, we’re a week out from the night in question.”
Sam nodded. “They could have switched it out, or put a tail on you. Or he tapped into the battery. Takes longer, so I’m leaning toward either a tail or a slap and go.”
“I wonder why he waited so long?”
“I imagine Chacon had other concerns occupying his time, like moving his operation. Add to that the fact that we both keep strange hours. There’s no discernible pattern, which makes it difficult to stage a clean hit. He probably figured he’d be able to isolate you eventually.” He opened the door. “We’ll have to wait for daylight to run a thorough check on the Jeep, but I can give it a quick once-over before we leave here.”
“So.”
“So.”
“I suppose this means you won’t trust me again, right?”
Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I trust you, Kate.” He glanced out at the team of law enforcement working the area under bright spotlights. “God knows why, but I do.”
Why did I always screw things up? I was a walking disaster. People needed to stay far, far away from me. The bad spirits that guy told me about in Mexico a lifetime ago still hadn’t left me alone.
Um, you can’t blame bad spirits, Kate. That was too long ago.
I never said I wasn’t good at denial.
Grabbing a flashlight from his rig, Sam did a quick check underneath the Jeep for a tracking device but didn’t find anything suspicious. As soon as all my stuff was secured in the back, we headed for home. The drive gave me time to consider what happened and to try to formulate a plan to keep Chacon from coming after me again.
I’d have to do something, and do it quickly. But what? If he hadn’t already, Chacon would be moving into a new place to conduct business. Sure, I could use Momo again to find the guys in the van and track them to Chacon’s new location. That was if Chacon was the only supplier they used, and if Momo would sell me another big order.
Big ifs.
And then what? The DEA was no longer interested in dealing with me. Chance’s anger at what I’d done, coupled with not having a contact familiar with the case, spoke volumes. I couldn’t blame them. They acted on information I gave them and ended up with a big fat nothing. And, Chacon made them look foolish. I’d be pissed off, too. I was lucky they didn’t bring me up on charges for interfering with a federal investigation.
There was still time.
Three hours later, we were home. Exhausted, I dumped everything in the closet, intending to sort it out later. Sam cooked some eggs while I glanced through the news on my tablet.
While Sam plated the eggs, I laid the tablet on the counter in front of me and cleared my throat. “I was thinking.”
“That’s dangerous,” Sam said without turning around.
“Funny man. But seriously, when that guy pointed a gun at me, I didn’t know how to respond, and I had a gun. What should I have done in that situation?”
Sam turned away from the stove, a plate in each hand, and set them on the island. He’d added some strawberries and a couple of slices of melon on the side. I stabbed a strawberry with my fork and ate it. He picked up the salt and pepper before coming around the island to sit beside me.
“That depends.” He ground a liberal dose of pepper on his eggs and offered me the grinder. I shook my head and he set it down. I reached for the hot sauce and poured it on my eggs until the Scoville heat unit would kill a rhino.
“On what?”
“Size and position of your assailant, for starters.” He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing as he thought. “Your ability to handle a gun, which, in your case is pretty good, especially since you’ve been practicing at the range.”
“But what should I have done? I couldn’t have just pulled out the Beretta and shot him. Even though he didn’t know I had a gun and I had the element of surprise, I don’t have the confidence or speed to try something like that.” I nibbled on a piece of melon. “What would you have done?”
Sam shrugged. “From the scenario you described, I would have most likely feigned surprise, spun around, and blinded him with the Maglite while drawing the Beretta.” He speared his fork into one of the strawberries. “Of course, I’ve had a lot more training than you and I’m pretty fast. But for your skill level, you did just fine.” He smiled as he popped the berry into his mouth. “You survived. That was the main objective, right?”
“I guess.” I played with my eggs. “Can you teach me? I learned a lot training with Quinn’s guys, but it’s been awhile since I’ve used any of the moves. I’m rusty.”
Sam nodded. “Good idea. I can show you what they taught me in the Academy, and add some specialized martial arts into the mix. That way”—he brought his hand up and stroked my cheek—“I won’t have to worry so much.”
***
Later on, after I’d gotten a few hours of sleep, I called Chance.
“If you don’t already have one, I would suggest that you and Sam install a security system at the house,” he said. “Make it the best you can afford. A man like Chacon—if indeed it was Chacon—will have access to thugs who know how to avoid detection.” He sighed. “Until this is over you’re in danger, and by proxy, so is Sam.”
“Have you heard whether the DEA is going to bring me up on charges?”
“I haven’t heard, but I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Chance. I owe you.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kate. If anybody owes anyone, it’s the DEA. Because of you, two of the most elusive drug traffickers in recent memory are dead, and the Feds are well on their way to finding the power behind the drug cartel throne. I’d say that’s damned fine work. You just need to tone things down, stay the hell out of their way for a while.”
We ended the call with Chance promising to have someone at the DEA contact me for my version of events at the cabin. He also promised to put in a good word toward getting someone assigned as a new contact.
The next day, Sam purchased an alarm system for the house, complete with audio and video feeds and a computer backup. When I offered to pay for it, he brushed me off, telling me he’d been thinking about installing one for years but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
I just hoped it was enough.