A Promise to Protect (Logan Point Book #2): A Novel (17 page)

Wade slid a square box from his pocket, took out a toothpick, and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed on it for a minute. “Copperheads go away from people, not toward them. They wouldn’t congregate where there was a crowd.”

Ben nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. That’s why I think someone put them there. This place is busy from daylight to past dark with mowing, runners, kids playing.”

Wade worked the toothpick back and forth in his mouth. “Maybe . . .”

“Maybe what?”

Wade flicked the toothpick to the ground. “The fire and the snakes were a diversion.”

“From what?” Sometimes his chief deputy drove him batty with his Lone Ranger mentality. “All right, Wade, spill it. What are you working on? And start at the beginning.”

“Remember the dog we found?”

“The one out by the Gresham place.”

“Yeah. When I looked him over, I found at least twenty scars from where he’d been bitten before. And since that pup didn’t bite himself, I figure he was used as bait by dogfighters. And Jonas is callous enough to just discard an animal.”

Ben’s jaw tightened. “You think Gresham is involved in the ring?”

Wade nodded. “I was at Molly’s Diner this afternoon, heard him talking to Lester Cummings in the booth behind me. At first I thought they were talking about a dice game going down tonight, but as I listened, I figured out pretty quick it wasn’t. It sounded like something pretty big, though.”

His chief deputy glanced toward the smoldering jail. “If you wanted to direct attention away from one part of the county, what would you do?”

Ben followed his gaze. “Create a diversion. The snakes could even be part of the diversion. Did you hear the location?”

“Not exactly. About that time Ginny Peters came in with that wild bunch of hers and drowned out everything else. That’s why I was patrolling up around the Tennessee line. If I was going to do something illegal, it’d be in that part of the county. Saw some traffic around the Edwards farm, but then Andre called, and I hightailed it back to town.”

Ben tried to place the Edwards property, and a vague memory surfaced. “Didn’t someone from up north buy his land?”

“Yeah. And stopped everyone from hunting on it. Made a lot of folks mad.”

“I’ll check at the courthouse tomorrow and see who owns it,” Ben said.

“Good idea. It’d be the perfect location for dogfighting. The Tennessee line splits it, and you can access it from either state. It’s remote, and it’s rugged—I’ve hunted that land and helped cut the timber on it back before I went into the army. Last time I hunted there, the logging roads were passable, so we could walk in easily enough.”

“Tonight?”

Wade eyed him. “Why not?”

“Sounds good, but first, let’s get Andre and Randy scouring that alley.”

Wade glanced down at Ben’s feet. “You better get some shoes you can hike in, and make sure they’re tall enough to keep you from getting snake bit.”

Moonlight guided their path through a break in the canopy of trees overhead. So far Ben hadn’t seen anything or heard anything except buzzing around his head. He used the back of his hand to wipe his forehead as sweat stung his eyes. Another mosquito bit his neck, and he slapped it as quietly as he could.

He shifted the lightweight backpack that carried binoculars, water, and extra ammo. They had hiked at least two miles after they parked Wade’s pickup in a wooded area near the farm. Now they were following Caney River, walking the bank upriver toward Tennessee. Should they get lost, they could follow the river to where it intersected the highway. If Wade didn’t argue with the compass, they shouldn’t get lost, though. His chief deputy seemed comfortable enough, taking the lead as they slipped quietly through the woods. Maybe Ben ought to get into the woods more often. Faint
barking reached his ears, and he almost bumped into Wade when his deputy abruptly stopped.

“I think I know where they are. When I was hunting here, I came up on a basin. It’s ringed with bluffs, but there’s a road into it. ’Bout as good a place to do something illegal as any place I know.”

Ben had never hunted these woods, and he deferred to Wade’s judgment, but when his chief deputy veered away from the river to the right, he questioned him. “The barking sounds like it’s straight up the river.”

Wade grunted. “The river winds and twists, fooling you. That road ought to be nearby—those dogfighters aren’t hiking in here.”

“When we get back under the trees, how will we see where we’re going?”

“We’ll have to depend on what moonlight we get. Can’t risk a flashlight.”

As they picked their way through the dense grove of sycamore saplings, Ben tried to put the memory of the five copperheads slithering on the ballpark field out of his mind. Fifteen minutes later they broke through the underbrush onto a road. One that was well-traveled.

Wade checked his compass. “We’ve probably crossed over into Tennessee.”

“How do you know?”

“When I was hunting here, the only road this good came out on the Tennessee side over on Highway 312. I had forgotten that was the way we took the logs out.”

Ben pulled his sweat-soaked T-shirt away from his body. “Why didn’t we just go in on the Tennessee side, instead of hiking through the woods? Never mind,” he muttered. Like they could just drive right up to the dogfight. “You know a way to get to that basin besides this road? Sure wouldn’t want to run into any of their guards.”

Wade’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Yeah. We’ll skirt to the south, climb the ridge, and follow it to the bluff overlooking the basin.”

Ben figured there’d be more hiking. He followed Wade, branches slapping his face, and mosquitoes buzzing his ears, and no telling what beneath his feet. When they came to the base of the ridge, the terrain went from flat to straight up.

“Dig your toe into the dirt and grab a hold of the saplings and pull yourself up,” Wade said. “Unless you want to feel around on the ground for vines.”

“I’ll use the trees.” Ten minutes later, he caught his breath at the top of the ridge. The barking had become louder and frenzied. “That’s not coon dogs,” Ben said.

“Nope. From here on out, no talking. I doubt they’ll have a guard on the ridge, but you never can tell.”

As Ben followed Wade toward the river, curses and whooping blended with the barking. They crawled on their hands and knees to the edge of the bluff and stared down at the scene. Portable spotlights ringed a small enclosure. A man stood in the middle of a circle with a dog on either side of him. One lunged toward him, but his handler jerked him back.

The dogfighters sent a hot rage through Ben. He fumbled in his backpack for the binoculars and raised them to his eyes, scanning the crowd. Where did these people come from? “You recognize anybody?” he whispered.

“Chester Eaton. Over to your right,” Wade whispered back. “There with Lester Cummings and Rafe Carter.”

Ben shifted his binoculars. The burly logger had his thumbs hooked in his overalls and a wad of snuff in his lip. Seeing Eaton didn’t surprise Ben. He never figured all those blue barrels at Eaton’s housed anything as innocuous as breeding roosters, but he’d never been able to pin cockfighting on him. Maybe he’d moved on to dogfighting.

He was surprised about Lester and Rafe. Lester was a family man with boys the age of his nephews. Ben shifted the binoculars to the left to the man standing next to Eaton. Jonas Gresham. From the soured expression on his face, he was losing. He trained the glasses on the father of Tommy Ray and Billy Wayne as Gresham counted out something to Eaton. Money, he was sure, and lots of it. No wonder Jonas didn’t look happy.

He crawled back out of the line of sight and checked his cell phone. Just as he’d expected. No service. A logistical nightmare. Not to mention they were badly outnumbered.

Wade joined him. “I only made out Mississippi and Tennessee license plates—I don’t think this is a big fight. I did recognize a few more men that I know. Coon hunted with some of them in the past, even bought a coon dog from one of them. I might even be able to infiltrate the ring. Make them think I want to buy another dog—a pit bull this time.”

“I don’t know. Won’t it bother them that you’re my chief deputy?”

“Nah.” Wade chuckled. “Those boys I coon hunted with think all cops are on the take, anyway.”

Ben eyed him. “And you did nothing to discourage their thinking. Let’s get back to town, and first thing in the morning I’ll contact the FBI and Highway Patrol.”

“I just wish we could do something tonight.”

Ben gritted his teeth. “Me too.”

TJ slipped his pajama top over his head and hopped into bed. “Mom, can we stay here forever?”

“You mean Logan Point?” Leigh’s heart rate slowed. She didn’t have the energy to tell her son that they would be leaving town in six weeks.

“No, here at Pops and Granna’s house.”

Pops and Granna. If Ian had just given her a price for the house
on Webster Street, she’d move into it tomorrow. Might anyway. Then in a week or so, she could break the news to TJ that they were moving to Baltimore. “No. We’ll be moving out as soon as we find a place to stay. And that might be pretty soon.”

“Aw, I like it here. I can play with the twins.”

“Even if we move, you can still hang out with them. How would you feel about going back to Miss Jenny’s?”

His shoulder drooped. “I like it here with Granna.”

“Well, just think about it.” She turned at a rustling in the doorway. “Oh, look, it’s Miss Sarah.”

“How was your practice today, TJ?” the older woman asked.

“I hit a home run, but then my friend got bit by a snake. Mom, why were those snakes on the field? Are you sure Martin is going to be okay?”

She didn’t know which question to answer first. “I don’t know about the snakes, TJ, but I’m pretty sure your friend is going to be fine. I expect he’ll be there Saturday night to cheer you on. Maybe even Miss Sarah will come.”

“Since I’m not leaving until Sunday afternoon, I’ll be there. So, you hit a home run?” Sarah high-fived him. “Who was pitching?”

“Ben. And Mom got to see it, didn’t you, Mom? Why didn’t you come with us? Why did Mr. Ian bring you?”

TJ was full of questions tonight. Questions she didn’t know how to answer.

“TJ,” Sarah said, “have you said your prayers?”

He caught his breath. “Not yet! Will you stay and hear them? You too, Mom.”

Saved by Sarah. “Sure.”

A few minutes later both women kissed him on his forehead, and Leigh turned out the light before they left TJ’s room.

“Mom!”

Leigh stuck her head back inside the room. “Yes?”

“Can I have a drink of water?”

“I’ll get it,” Sarah said. “You go on and put your feet up.”

“Don’t be silly . . . there’s a paper cup in the bathroom. I can get it.”

“I insist.” Sarah paused. “Did you hear about the fire at the jail?”

“I did. I wonder how bad it was?”

“Just before I came up, Marisa said the firemen had it under control. Not much damage.”

“Good.” Leigh hadn’t heard Ben’s truck return, but she could’ve missed it while she was in the shower. She moved to get TJ’s water, and Sarah stopped her.

“I said I’d get it. You look beat.”

So much had happened today, and she was beyond tired. “Just this once,” she said with a sigh. “After you tell him good night again, could you join me in my room?”

Leigh padded down the hall to her bedroom and sank into one of the two glider rockers in the room. She put her feet on the bed and massaged the muscles in her neck and shoulders. She might ask around at the hospital tomorrow to see if there was a good masseuse in town.

Thoughts of Ben returned. Would he have kissed her if his phone hadn’t rung?
Stop it.
There was no future with Ben Logan.

She put her feet down when Sarah came in and plopped in the other rocker. “Get him settled?”

“Maybe. I think ball practice then his little friend getting bitten has him wound pretty tight. Or he could have picked up on the tenseness radiating from you. You’re wound tighter than he is. What’s going on?”

Leigh didn’t know it was that obvious. She pressed her hands to the side of her face and massaged the sore muscles in her jaw. She’d been clenching her teeth again. Finally, she leaned back and sighed. “I don’t know where to begin.”