Committed (22 page)

“I guess you could say that we kept in touch for a bit after she quit.”

I motioned with my hand for the guy to continue. “Define
kept in touch
for me.”

“We saw each other from time to time. Um, romantically, I guess you could say.”

“You and Molly McCoy had a relationship?” Beth asked.

“Describing it as a relationship might be a little much—more like we saw each other from time to time.”

I stared at the guy. He was midfifties, overweight by around a hundred pounds, short, and balding and had some gray tufts of hair coming from the neckline of his shirt. I saw nothing physically that would attract a young woman to the guy aside from a sparkling personality or, more logically, money.

“Were you paying her?” I asked.

He didn’t respond.

“Is that a yes?” I asked.

“Not really like you think. We’d spend some time together, and I’d give her a little money to help get by.”

“Sounds exactly like I think,” I said.

“Well, whatever you want to think about it—either way, she didn’t call me.”

“We had the call traced back through the phone company. It went to you here at this address,” Beth said.

“I’m telling you she didn’t. Unless she’s a reporter with whatever newspaper that wanted to get a story. That’s the only phone call I received.”

“Have your phone here?” I asked. “Caller ID?”

“Yeah, hold on.” He rose from his seat and rounded the breakfast bar back into the kitchen. He went to the far corner below the cabinet and removed a cordless phone from its base. Then he brought it over and handed it to Beth. “Check the call log,” he said.

Beth pressed a few buttons, and the phone beeped with each button pressed. “What time was that call exactly?” she asked me.

On my phone, I pulled up the e-mail Scott had forwarded to me with the information from the phone call. I gave her the time and phone number.

Beth turned and looked at Mr. Gormon. “Your reporter was Molly McCoy calling you from a home where they’d just murdered a family.”

He didn’t respond.

“What did she say? It was a woman on the phone, correct?” Beth asked.

“Yeah. Female. She just said she was from some newspaper. Hell, I don’t even remember the name that she said. Basically, she just wanted to know if I was open to doing an interview. I said yes, and she asked if I was going to be home this week. I told her I’d be home, to which she replied that she’d be in touch later in the week to get something scheduled. That was it. The call was quick.”

“She wanted to know if you’d be here. This may be their destination,” Agent Kronke said.

“Why here? It’s not like it’s out in the country or anything. Hell, I can see neighbors from every damn window of my house. If they wanted to go somewhere private, they’d go up to my—” He stopped his sentence cold.

“Go up to your what?” I asked.

“Cottage that I own with a couple friends,” he answered. “Well, more house than cottage. If they wanted to go to somewhere off the beaten path, they’d go up to my property in Babb. Three-hundred-plus acres on the border. Shit. She’s even been there before. A bunch of times, actually.”

“McCoy knows where this is? Would she remember how to get there?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Gormon said.

“Address,” I said, pulling my notepad from my pocket.

Gormon gave it to me and told me the property was owned by him and two friends under a trust. The location was on a reservation, which presented another problem.

“How far is this place from here?” I asked.

“About a two-and-a-half-hour drive,” he said.

“Agent Kronke, do you mind sitting with him here for a second?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said.

I grabbed Beth and the lieutenant and stepped out onto the patio.

“What do we think?” I asked.

I got a shrug from the lieutenant.

“We don’t know if A, they are coming here or B, they are going up to this cottage on the border,” Beth said. “She was either calling to see if he was going to be home—”

I interrupted. “Or calling to make sure he wasn’t going to be up there.” I looked at Lieutenant Whishaw. “What’s it like up there? Any kind of law enforcement presence that we could have go and check the place out?”

“Middle of nowhere, really,” Lieutenant Whishaw said. “The reservation is going to have their own police force. Do you have that address he gave you?”

“Yeah.” I pulled my notepad from my pocket and flipped to the page.

“Let me go to my car and make the call. I’ll get someone to go and check it out.”

“Try to get in touch with some kind of border patrol that covers that specific area and give them a heads-up,” I said.

“Will do,” he said.

I ripped the page from the notebook and passed it over. The lieutenant walked down the steps to the ground level and disappeared around the corner.

“Well, now what?” I asked. “Sit and wait to see if these two show up? Take a two-and-a-half-hour drive to do the same thing?”

Beth rocked her head from side to side. “Let me give Scott and Bill a ring and see if they’ve got any new news this morning.” Beth pulled her phone from her pocket.

“I’m going to head back inside and see if I can get anything else helpful from our guy.”

Beth nodded and took a seat at the table on the patio.

Nick stayed low and jogged up the street toward the home’s driveway, his gun hanging from his hand. Molly followed at his back. He entered Red’s property before reaching the driveway and stopped behind a couple small bushes a hundred feet from the house.

Molly stopped at his side.

Nick stared around the corner of the bushes at the cop car and truck. He looked up at the house for anyone moving in the windows but saw no one.

“Why don’t we just wait until the cop and whoever else is here leaves?” Molly asked.

Nick was in thought and didn’t respond.

“Nick, come on.” Molly tugged at his sleeve. “This is a bad idea. Let’s just wait.”

“We’re not waiting.”

“Nick, this is crazy. You’re trying to go into a house with who knows how many cops in it. You fire a single shot, and we’re done. If we don’t get shot by someone inside, we’ll have who knows how many more cops to deal with as soon as anyone hears gunfire.”

“If your head isn’t in this, then go sit in the truck. I don’t need to worry about you when this is going down.”

“When what is going down? What is your plan here?”

Nick remained silent.

“This is suicide—one way or another. Do you want this all to end here for no reason?” Molly stuffed her pistol into her waistline and grabbed Nick by the shoulders. She turned him toward her. “Baby, I’m taking a stand here. If you don’t come back with me to the truck, you’re on your own.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That means I’m leaving. I have no intentions of dying today.”

“How do you suppose you’re going to leave me without the truck keys?” Nick patted the pocket on his jeans.

“I’ll walk. I don’t care. If you love me, you’ll come with me and get out of here before it’s too late.”

“And if you love me, you’ll stay by my side, and we’ll handle this,” Nick said.

“Going into a house full of cops was never our plan. We’ll come back later.”

“We’re doing this now. We’ll be quick. Everything will be fine.”

A noise caught Nick’s ear from the driveway. He placed one hand over Molly’s mouth and pointed. Through the bushes, he could see movement at the police car. Nick crouched and tried to get a view through the bush’s branches. Through a tiny opening, he could see a cop getting into the patrol car and closing the door.

Nick spoke at a whisper. “The cop is in the car. He’s just sitting there, though.”

Molly pulled at the back of his shirt. “Let’s go.”

Nick reached back and swatted her hand. “I think I can get the drop on him,” he said. Nick started rounding the bushes.

“Where are you going?” Molly said in a hard whisper.

Nick didn’t respond but waved her along. He crouched and moved quickly along the driveway’s edge then stopped at the white Suburban’s rear bumper. The back of the patrol car was just ten feet away. Molly came to his side but said nothing. Nick looked around the side of the truck—the cop was still sitting in his car, entering something into the car’s computer. A shotgun was standing up in the center of the vehicle.

Nick backed up a few steps and put his mouth to Molly’s ear. “Stay here and cover me,” he said. Nick dropped to his stomach and army crawled his way to the police cruiser’s rear bumper. He brought his legs back underneath himself and crouched. He looked at Molly at the rear of the truck. She stared back at him and then mouthed the words
I’m sorry
. She turned away, ran through the bushes near the driveway’s edge, and disappeared from view.

Nick shook his head and positioned himself to attack as soon as the cop stepped from the car. He took his gun in his hand by the barrel. Nick heard the driver’s door of the police car open and then close. He waited a moment and peeked around the rear bumper of the police car. The cop was nearing the corner of the house. Nick stepped out and took a few steps before accelerating to a lunging stride. He brought the pistol up and delivered it to the cop’s forehead as he turned to see who was coming up behind him. The cop stumbled backward into the garage door. Nick delivered another blow to the top of his head and then another that spattered the garage door with blood and sent the cop to his knees. The cop looked at Nick and scrambled for his gun on his hip. Nick kicked the cop’s hand away from his gun and pistol whipped him repeatedly until the cop was motionless on the ground. Nick crouched over the deputy’s body, took his gun, which he jammed into his waistband, and pulled his cuffs from his belt. He rolled the cop onto his stomach and linked up his arms behind his back. Nick dragged him between the truck and the police cruiser and opened the patrol car’s rear door. He caught movement at the front of the white Chevy. Molly stood at the truck’s hood and stared back at him.

“Come on,” Nick said. “Help me get him into the back.”

Molly came to Nick’s side. “I couldn’t leave you,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Grab his feet.” The two shoved the cop into the cruiser.

“What if there are more inside?” Molly asked.

“I’m betting that there are,” Nick said. “What’s this Red look like?”

“Middle aged. Shorter. Always had a red beard—it’s where he got the nickname.”

Nick closed the rear door of the patrol car and opened the front passenger door. He reached inside and took the deputy’s shotgun. Then he swung the door closed and propped the shotgun up against it. After pulling the cop’s service weapon from his waist, he handed it to Molly. “Round up anyone you see that doesn’t match that description. We’ll kill them quietly if possible. If someone shoots at you, all bets are off.” Nick jerked his chin to the side of the house. “You get the stairs going up on that side. I’ll get the other.”

I stood in the kitchen speaking with Agent Kronke and Mr. Gormon.

“I’m not sure why they would be trying to get to my land, now that I think about it,” Gormon said.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Well, I mean, she’s been there. She’s had to see what they have going on there.”

I motioned for him to continue.

“Well, first there is a trench and a fence at the border. Second, I think they have ground sensors or some kind of hidden cameras or something. You step foot over the border, and the damn border patrol will appear out of nowhere. It’s pretty amazing, actually. Like, they honestly just appear. You’d really have to pull some magic to cross undetected.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.

“Hell, had to be a number of years now. She took up a job with some kind of amusement company—was always gone, and we just kind of stopped talking.”

“Amusement company?” I asked.

“Carnivals and fairs. I have no idea where the place was out of, but they operated nationwide.”

“Name of the company?” I asked.

He shrugged.

I looked toward the patio door. The lieutenant had been gone for almost ten minutes. We needed to pick up the pace and make sure everything was in order and men were in position, on the chance the suspects were in fact headed to Gormon’s other property.

Out on the patio, Beth set her phone down on the table. Her body language looked odd. Beth glanced at us inside the house, stood, and walked to the patio door to come back inside. She held her open, empty, hands up. I saw another hand reach out and slide the door open. A woman appeared at Beth’s back and shoved her inside.

“Kronke,” I said.

I pulled my weapon and took aim on the woman, immediately realizing it was Molly McCoy. Kronke did the same.

McCoy, who appeared as if she was recently in a fight, wrapped her left arm around Beth’s neck from behind, brought her pistol up over Beth’s shoulder, and pressed the barrel against her temple. “On your knees, or this bitch gets it.”

I glanced to my right to see Gormon cower backward into his kitchen for cover.

“Put the gun down!” I instructed.

“Not a chance,” McCoy said. “Give us Red, and we’ll leave without anyone getting shot.”

The word
us
in her sentence caught my attention. I quickly glanced over my shoulder at the other patio doors. I saw the barrel of a shotgun and then a man square himself to the door. He was bald and maybe six foot—Nick Frane. He brought the gun up to his shoulder in a firing position and aimed into the house at Kronke and me. He reached out with his left hand and tried to slide the glass door open, but it didn’t budge.

“You.” McCoy stared at Agent Kronke. “Open that door.”

Kronke didn’t obey. Instead, he turned and took aim on Nick. “He isn’t hitting us through that door before I put a pair in him,” Kronke said quietly.

I looked back at Beth, who still had her hands up. McCoy’s left arm was around Beth’s throat. Beth’s right hand was only inches from McCoy’s hand with the gun. I stared at Beth’s face. She mouthed three words at Kronke that I couldn’t make out. I kept my sights on what I could see of Molly McCoy hiding behind Beth.