Cold Shot (33 page)

They all crowded around Declan’s bed, Five Guys’ burgers and fries spread about them.

“Vern Michaels made two calls the day he died. One to a man named Charlie Ricker.”

“He’s a shooter,” Griffin said, popping a fry in his mouth. “Used to shoot against him at tournaments. And the second call?”

“To Kevin Murphy’s answering service.”

“Kate.” Declan turned to her. “Pull up whatever you can on Charlie Ricker. Home and work addresses first priority.”

45

T
hey pulled up to Ricker’s trailer. “Wait here,” Griffin told Finley as he parked the pickup.

“What? Why? I’ve come on everything else.”

“It’s not like Ricker is Murphy or Kovac or
whatever
his real name is.”

Griffin took in the solitary nature of the surroundings. It was quiet—
too quiet
. “I don’t like it. Wait here.”

“My presence will make him more likely to open the door.”

He hung his head, knowing she was right.

He held her close to his side, sheltered as much as possible by his body as they approached the trailer. Two metal steps led to the door.

“Let me.” She stepped up to the door and knocked. “Mr. Ricker. I’m hoping you can help me.”

The front curtain slid an inch to the side.

“I just need a minute of your time,” she said.

“We can come back with the Feds, if you’d rather,” Griffin offered.

Finley frowned back at him.

“What?” He shrugged. This was taking too long.

The door opened and a burly man as wide and tall as the doorway stood staring down at them. He glared at Griffin and then smiled at Finley. “What can I do for you, darling?”

“We need to ask you about Kevin Murphy and Vern Michaels.”

He went to shut the door, but Griffin wedged himself in. “I was serious about the Feds. We don’t want to cause you any trouble. Just ask a question or two.”

“That’s all Vern did, and he’s dead.” He looked past them, gazing at the ridgeline arching around them.

Griffin quickly shifted position to shield Finley.

“We just need to know what you told Vern and we’ll leave,” she pleaded.

“I can’t do that. I’ve been warned.”

“By Kevin Murphy?”

Recognition sparked momentarily on his face, but he remained silent.

“We just need to know where we can find him.”

“You find him. You die.”

“Please,” Finley said.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m probably already a dead man.” He nervously scanned the perimeter surrounding his home, sweat beading on his brow.

“Then help us catch him before he can kill you or anybody else.”

“Springer Road. There’s a gate at the end. Keep going.”

Before they could ask anything else, he slammed the door.

Griffin pulled his cell as he escorted Finley back to his truck.

Declan answered on the second ring.

“I need what you can pull up on Springer Road. I’ll text you the coordinates. I get the feeling we’re close.”

Springer Road was less than ten miles away. Declan instructed them to wait at the feed store a couple miles from the turnoff until he could provide Google Earth images, so they could at least have some idea of what they were walking into.

Nearly an hour passed, and Griffin’s patience was evaporating. “I know how to scout. I can go in and assess.”

“Declan said to wait.”

“Listen to the lady,” Declan said, rapping on the pickup window.

Griffin turned, ready to throttle him. He’d heard a car approach. Seen a man exit and move toward the store, but Declan was supposed to be in the hospital. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be recuperating.”

“You didn’t really think I was going to let you enjoy this one without me, did you?”

“Or me?” Parker said from Finley’s side of the vehicle.

“Both of you?”

“Actually . . .” He gestured to his Expedition, where Tanner waved from the backseat.

Griffin looked back at Declan. “You can’t be serious?”

“She hid in the back. Didn’t know she was with us until we were halfway here. It’s a wonder we were able to get Kate and Avery to hang back. Now, let’s get to the matter at hand. I thought you and I would approach the house,” he said to Griffin.

Parker shook his head. “No way I’m sitting this one out, especially with you not at full capacity.”

“Parker’s a good shot,” Griffin said to Declan. “We could use him. There’s a strong chance Ricker panicked and warned Kovac. And an even greater chance he’s got the perimeter around his place rigged to alert him to intruders.”

“All right,” Declan said. “Let me call in a team.”

“Kovac would see them coming a mile away, and we’d lose him. Us, he’d believe he could take.”

“So essentially we’re serving ourselves up as sitting ducks.” Parker gave two sarcastic thumbs-up. “Good plan.”

Griffin smiled. “Exactly.”

They drove the couple of miles to the Springer Road turnoff, putting together their strategy. Declan and Parker would take the lead, and Griffin would follow behind, to provide cover. Fortunately, Finley and Tanner had agreed to remain in Declan’s vehicle at the feed store, at least until they’d swept and cleared the place, but he’d left his snub nose .38 with Finley, just to be safe.

Griffin stopped his pickup at the gate, and Parker looked back at Griffin one last time before he and Declan headed in on foot for Kovac’s cabin. Griffin moved swiftly, having scoped out and studied the terrain via the satellite footage the Bureau provided.

Soon, cresting a low ridge, Griffin spotted Kovac’s cabin—and with it, Declan and Parker. Declan signaled to Parker for them to split up so they could cover both the front and back entrances.

All was quiet. Maybe they had actually gotten the drop on Kovac.

Targets ripe for the picking thanks to Ricker’s tip.
Ricker—he’d take care of him later. Stupid man, thinking his confession
would save him. Fact was, he’d still given him up, and for that he’d die.

Kovac tracked the two men moving across his property, deciding which to drop first.

He traced from one to the other.
Eeny, meeny, miny
 . . .

Finley shifted uneasily in Declan’s vehicle, Tanner doing the same.

“How much longer?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Finley shook her head, her hand gripping the gun. “I don’t normally work this end of things. I’m always called in after the fact.”

After.

She prayed
after
included the man she loved and their friends all safe and sound.

With Kovac behind bars and Rativik on the way to stand trial for his war crimes. His new identity hadn’t been cracked. Marley might have discovered his alias in her months of searching, but if she had found the evidence locating him, it was most likely in Paul Geller’s storage facility, which they still hadn’t been able to locate.

The window smashed beside her head, glass shattering. She swallowed her scream, lifting the gun as an armed man lunged at her, knocking the weapon from her hand with brute force. Shoving her aside, he retrieved the weapon and slid it into his pants while keeping his gun firmly fixed on her. With a grunt, he climbed into the vehicle beside her.

He pressed the muzzle of the gun under her chin. “Stay put or she dies,” he told Tanner.

46

H
e exhaled, waiting for the natural pause before inhaling, his finger squeezing the trigger.
Moe
.

The rifle kicked from his grasp before he could fire.

McCray
.

He rolled, leaping up into a crouch, pulling his knife.

McCray stood before him, gun aimed at his chest.

He rushed. The coward had left the profession. He wouldn’t pull the . . .

McCray’s gun fired.

Impact like a sledgehammer collided with his chest.

A second report and—

Griffin’s breath moved in and out in white puffs, birds screeching from the trees, their wings flapping upward in a frenzy.

He took two steps and crouched over Kovac’s lifeless form.

One shot to center mass. One to the head.

“Griff?” Declan called over the radio, his tone urgent.

“Yeah.”

Declan’s relieved exhale said it all. “How many shots?”

“Two, as always with a rusher. You heard another shot too?” He’d heard it in between his shots, off in the distance.

“Yeah. Sounded like it came from the feed store’s direction.”

Finley.

Finley squeezed her eyes shut as the gun fired and then opened her eyes, anticipating heaven. But she was still in the Expedition, Tanner’s shrieks ringing in her ears.

She glanced over to find Mark Perera pulling a dead man out of the car, letting his body slump to the pavement.

Finley looked at the man on the ground. He looked familiar. “Is that . . . ?”

“Rativik,” Perera said with disgust as he opened her door and bound her hands with a zip tie. “You can thank me later.” He slammed the door and she twisted in her seat as he opened the back door and bound Tanner as well. As he pulled the zip tie tight, he turned his head slightly, his gaze malicious. “Hello again, Tanner. Told you I’d find you.”