Washed Up (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 4) (8 page)

“This is Manny’s.”

Marc sat in the unmarked Sierra Vista Police vehicle in the Fry’s parking lot, watching Hank load two bags of groceries into his truck. So far Marc’s hunch hadn’t played out the way he’d hoped. Hank had accomplished the most mundane of tasks: getting cash from an ATM, filling his truck with gas, and now buying groceries.

Marc’s cell phone rang, breaking the monotony of his surveillance.

“Hey, Stevens, this is Gunderson. I’ve got that background check on Ramage.”

“Great. How’d it come back?”

“He’s not lily-white. Lost a landscaping contract with the Park Service last year because he was selling off old equipment that was going to auction.”

“What was the disposition?”

“He’s still making restitution and doing community service on the trail maintenance team to avoid jail time. He lost his contractor’s license too. Plus, our victim is the one who blew him in.”

“Really? What’s the connection?”

“He’s … he
was
the hydrologist for the park. Apparently, Enriquez caught Ramage loading his truck with park maintenance equipment late one night and wasn’t having any of the story Ramage spun for him.”

“Interesting. So, he’s not chummy with Mr. Enriquez, which is contrary to what he said in his statement. Anything else?”

“Well, there are a few rumors he might be working with a group to redesign vehicles for trips over the border, which lines up with what we saw yesterday. I’m goin’ over to talk to Ernie again. I might find some interesting extra compartments in that old car.”

“Thanks, Gunderson.”

Marc decided to tail Hank for a little while longer, easing the car into gear. The pickup turned left onto Highway 92, headed south toward the Coronado Memorial. He was three vehicles back from the pickup when his phone rang.

“Marc?”

“Gracie. What’s up?”

“Uh … well … are you available to meet us in a cave off the Allen Trail?”

“Why are you in a cave off the Allen Trail, and who’s ‘we’?”

“Amanda and I were hiking and decided to explore this cave. We accidently saw Justin and Alex in there. Fortunately they didn’t see us. But Amanda found Manny’s whistle in the cave.”

“His whistle?”

“She says he always wore a whistle when he was hiking. You know, because of bears or mountain lions … to scare them off.”

“Okay. And where are you right now?”

“Well, we’re resting behind some bushes near the cave. What do you want us to do? They might come back. And we think they’ve got drugs.”

Marc hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. Hadn’t he told her to stay out of this investigation?

“Stay put, and I’ll try to find you. I need to figure out where you are exactly. I’ll call the ranger. He must know where this cave is.”

“Let me ask Amanda.”

Marc heard muffled voices, and then Gracie was back.

“He might, but she’s not sure. He came from another park in Texas a few months ago.”

“All right.”

“But Amanda says the docents at the visitor center probably know about it.”

“I’ll call them. Stay out of sight and don’t touch anything.”

“Uh … all right.”

He sighed. They’d touched something … the whistle, most likely. What was it doing in a cave? The forensic crew had looked everywhere for it. In the water, all around the pool area, and above the falls. How far was this cave from where they’d discovered the body? So much for tailing Mr. Ramage. He punched the accelerator to make his way through the light traffic.

The two docents at the Coronado Memorial Monument visitor center knew of the cave, but since it wasn’t on the trail map, neither one had an exact location. Ranger Ortiz was taking some vacation time and didn’t answer his cell. Marc had to find Gracie and Amanda and fast, but he needed to locate the two suspects as well. More resources were definitely needed. He made a quick call to his supervisor.

At least he could focus on finding Gracie. It never rains but it pours. As if on cue, thunder rumbled. Magnificent cumulonimbus clouds were building over the Huachucas.

Stuffing the map in his back pocket, Marc ran to the car, hoping he would beat the rain.

***

“It’s going to rain,” Amanda confirmed the obvious. “And I don’t want to get struck by lightning.”

“I second that motion. I think we should try to make it back to the parking lot. Those guys have to be long gone by now,” Gracie said. “Who knows if Marc will find us, and my phone doesn’t have a signal.”

Amanda held her phone up, circling it overhead. “Mine neither. We’d better hoof it.”

“How far is it?” Gracie asked, fearing the answer.

“Not sure. Probably about two miles.”

“Excellent.” Gracie took a deep breath.

A crack of thunder motivated the pair into action. Leaving their leafy hideaway, Amanda led the charge.

Their ambitious pace got them to a marker that told them the Allen Trail was a half mile ahead. The breeze was full of the smell of rain. As if on cue, raindrops spattered Gracie’s face, and she lengthened her stride. Amanda had her head down, focused on the path. The trail widened, the surface more dirt than rocks, making the way easier.

“I hope we don’t run into Frick and Frack.” Gracie was now able to walk side-by-side with Amanda.

“They’re probably back to their vehicle at this point … although they had heavy packs.”

“Did you see the drugs?”

“I think so. There was a brick of something. It was wrapped in plastic.”

“Just the one?”

“That’s all I saw. They had some other things that were pretty interesting too.”

“Like what?”

“Jewelry and some small copper bowls. Maybe they found real artifacts or maybe not. Those boys may have quite a scheme they’re working on.”

Gracie whistled softly. She checked her phone for a signal. Marc would want to know this. No bars appeared. Voices up ahead made the women stop dead in their track
s
.

Marc jogged Allen’s Trail, while trying to call Gracie again. Her phone went directly to voicemail.

“Ugh!”

If he’d had Max, the dog would’ve surely picked up Gracie’s and Amanda’s scents.

The storm was gathering strength; the wind had increased, and a light rain hit his face. The cave was supposed to be off the trail about a mile from the parking lot. He glanced at the ascent ahead, redoubling his efforts to keep the pace steady. Thunder growled, and he put his head down to begin the climb, hoping to avoid the inevitable lightning strikes. The trail gave way at the top to more trees and bushes, where a trail marker indicated he had to choose between the Allen and #317 trails. He kept to Allen, hoping his GPS phone app was accurate. He was almost at the one-mile mark, where he needed to find a wash and then locate a little-used trail (probably overgrown, according to the docents) that would lead him to the cave. The ambiguous directions made him uneasy, but with a crucial piece of evidence and the love of his life in a dangerous jam, he’d find that cave. He had no other options.

***

Gracie and Amanda crouched behind a pile of rocks a few feet away from the trail, straining to hear the male voices.

“Help me pick this up,” Justin demanded.

“Hang on. I’ve gotta get this pack off first.”

Another bolt of lightning arced overhead, with an ear-splitting crack of thunder close behind.

Gracie closed her eyes, hoping that Marc was somewhere close by. It seemed like ages since she’d called him.

“There. That’s it. Come on. Move it. The mine isn’t much farther,” Alex said.

Amanda inched forward, with Gracie next to her.

“They’re going off the trail,” Amanda whispered.

“I see that. Did he say something about a mine?”

“That’s what I heard. I don’t know of any mines in this area.”

Amanda scrambled up the rocks, watching the men disappear into a manzanita thicket.

“Come on, Gracie. We need to keep moving.”

“Right behind you,” Gracie grunted, scraping her hand on the rock’s rough surface as she pushed herself up.

Amanda was off at a brisk trot on the level trail. Gracie hastily gathered a small pile of stones to mark the spot the young men had detoured. The rain erupted in torrents. She hurried to catch up with Amanda.

As they began their descent, they caught sight of a bedraggled Marc slogging toward them.

“Marc!” Gracie called, relief washing over her.

She flung herself at him, grateful for the safety of his arms.

“No time for mush,” Amanda growled. “Let’s get outta here!”

***

They watched the downpour from Marc’s vehicle, the nearby wash raging with branches and rocks carried by turbulent waters. Gracie couldn’t believe the empty wash from the morning was now a muddy powerhouse.

“All right, ladies, tell me everything,” Marc demanded.

Gracie, feeling a lack of any moxie, left the telling of their cave adventure to the redoubtable Amanda.

“You left the whistle in the cave, right?” Marc’s face was like flint.

“Of course not,” Amanda sputtered. “Gracie wanted me to, but … What if those guys found it or someone else picked it up? I put it in my pack.”

Marc groaned.

“I’m not an idiot. I took a picture with my phone before I picked it up, several in fact. Here.”

Amanda shoved the phone into his hand. She unzipped her green canvas backpack and carefully extracted a red bandanna, twisted into a knot.

Marc studied the photos and then took the cloth-wrapped whistle.

“It’s Manny’s for sure. It has a bit of white tape that covers a crack,” Amanda assured him. “And before you ask, I picked it up with the bandanna, not my hand.”

“Still not good, Amanda.”

“Well, now you have it, and once you catch up with the Bobbsey twins, you’ll have your killers.”

“He needs to know what we heard on the way back,” Gracie prompted.

“You mean, there’s more?” Marc kneaded his brow. “OK. Spill!”

Gracie gave him the barest of facts and nothing about their hiding place in the rocks. It had been a bit dicey getting in and out of there, and they’d been too close to the treasure hunters. Considering Marc’s current state of mind, she felt sure that any details along those lines would send him into low earth orbit.

Marc grabbed his phone from the console. “All right. Let’s hope a team is on the way up.”

The cave was full of crime scene technicians, lights, the DEA agents, and a couple of Cochise County deputies. Marc watched one of the technicians spritz Luminal in the area where Amanda swore she’d found the whistle.

Unfortunately for Amanda, Agent Galvez was rigorously interrogating her about why she’d removed a crucial piece of evidence from its location. He’d known this would happen. Amanda now looked like a very good suspect and hence subject to all sorts of questions.

“I think I want my attorney,” she bristled. “You’re twisting my words to make me look guilty. Even if I’d left it there, you’d say I planted it. This is a no-win scenario for me. Like I said before, I was afraid someone would find it and take it before you got here. I picked it up with the bandanna, like they do on TV.”

She stomped off, hands on hips, reminding Marc of a foul-tempered hen from Amanda’s chicken yard.

Marc needed to stay out of this interview. He was too connected. Gracie stood gazing into the cave, a million miles away from the vacant look in her eyes.

“A penny for your thoughts.” Marc placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t want to know any of my thoughts at the moment.” She scowled, glancing over at Amanda, who’d found a seat on a damp boulder away from the activity.

“Understood. She made a big mistake by picking that whistle up. If she’d left it alone and taken the picture, we’d be fine.”

“Or if I’d witnessed her picking it up,” Gracie added.

“You don’t want to be any more involved than you are already.”

“I think I’m up to my eyeballs in involvement. How did this happen? Hiking seemed like such a relaxing activity. Helping repair a trail. A little community service while on vacation. Exploring a cave. But no! A body in the water and now stumbling onto the murder scene. Unbelievable!”

“I know. You deserve a do-over on your vacation.”

“I guess. But let me ask you this. What was Manny doing here? Was he involved in a drug deal or trying to stop a drug deal between Ricky and those two guys?”

“Good questions … ones we’ll be looking into. Meanwhile, I still maintain that Ricky is the key to the murder. It could be a drug deal gone wrong, and Manny was somehow caught up in it. I don’t want to speculate any further.”

“Hey, we’ve found something,” a technician called from the cave.

“I’ll be back,” Marc promised.

The tech led Marc and the DEA agents to the niche where Amanda had allegedly found the whistle.

“We discovered some blood here on the cave wall and on this rock,” he said, showing them an evidence bag with a rosy quartz stone.

“Good,” Agent Galvez grumbled. “It’s something.”

“The best part is these fibers we found snagged back here.” He held up another evidence bag with green nylon threads.

“The lanyard that strangled the victim was green. Looks like it could be a match.” Agent Miller took the bag and examining the ragged threads before handing it back.

“There’s one more thing,” the freckle-faced technician added, moving back into a mound of rocks that formed one of the niche’s walls. “You can hear water running behind these stones. We moved a couple of them back to take a look, and there’s an entrance down into what appears to be another passageway. We found the fibers behind the rocks. The body was probably shoved down into this tunnel and went into the water somewhere below.”

The law enforcement team gawped in astonishment as the two technicians carefully uncovered the opening.