A Promise to Protect (Logan Point Book #2): A Novel (33 page)

B
en turned onto County Road 213 and called the FBI agent back. “It looks like Wade is at the old Edwards farm. I’m traveling east on County Road 213 headed that way. Five of my deputies are on the way.”

“Gotcha, Ben. I’ve located the logging road on Google Maps and we should be there in minutes. Tennessee is putting up roadblocks and checkpoints on their side of the land,” said Eric.

Ten minutes later, Ben turned onto the logging road. Eric’s dark SUV was parked on the side of the road, and the FBI agent leaned against it with a map spread across the hood, talking to Luke Donovan, the U.S. Marshal.

Ben pulled on a tactical vest and hooked his radio to his belt as he stepped out of the truck and shook hands with the two men. The area was crawling with all kinds of law enforcement personnel—sheriffs, game wardens, Ben even recognized a Mississippi Department of Transportation agent. Everyone really was sitting on ready.

“Been trying to connect to the receiver in that pen,” Ben said, “but so far all I get is static.”

“Same here,” Eric said. “Let’s don’t waste any time.”

Headlights flashed as four additional cars pulled into the field. “I’ll ride with you, but first let me instruct my deputies.”

Quickly, Ben stationed two of his men at the entrance, and instructed Andre and the others to follow the FBI agent’s SUV.

Once under way, they rode in silence, listening for any change in the static. Ben winced as the vehicle hit a rut. Suddenly Wade’s voice came over Ben’s phone.

“I just want to buy a
dog.”

Wade was cornered. Ben heard it in his voice.

“You’re lying.”

Jonas Gresham’s voice. The dull thud of fist hitting flesh made Ben’s skin crawl. “Hurry,” he said as he patched in to his dispatcher. “Send an ambulance to the logging road on the Edwards farm. A couple of deputies will be stationed there.”

“I
’m not lying.”

“You think you’re so smart. Let
’s see if this pipe loosens your tongue—”

“Hit the siren,” Ben yelled. “He’s going to kill him.”

Eric activated the siren and floored the gas pedal, sending the SUV bouncing over the rough road. They rounded a curve, and their headlights flashed on Gresham standing in a small clearing with a pipe against Wade’s throat. The five or six men gathered around Wade and Gresham scattered into the nearby bushes.

With his gun in his hand, Ben jumped out of the SUV with the two agents. His deputies spilled out of their cruisers and took off after the men.

“Let him go, Gresham,” Ben ordered. “Kill him and you’re facing the death penalty.”

Gresham blinked against the bright lights. “We’re just havin’ a little fun, Sheriff. Ain’t we, Wade?”

Suddenly Gresham shoved Wade forward and pulled a gun from his waistband as he dove for the bushes.

Gresham’s first bullet hit the ground in front of Ben, the second a little closer. Ben fired and hit the dirt, rolling behind the SUV as the other two men took cover.

“I think you hit him,” Luke said.

Cautiously Ben peered around the car. “Gresham, give it up,” he yelled.

“You’ll . . .” He coughed. “Have to come get me.”

“Throw your gun out.”

“Think I’ll hang on to it a while.” Gresham coughed again.

“Sounds like he’s been hit,” said Luke.

“You need medical attention.” Gresham couldn’t die—it’d be too easy an out for him. Ben wanted to see him serve time for what he’d done.

“Figure it’s too late for that. Got a question, Sheriff. You checked on that pretty little doctor lately?”

Ben froze. Was he threatening Leigh? He wouldn’t play Gresham’s game. “You’re able to talk, so it’s not too late. Just throw your gun out and then come out with your hands high.” Gresham didn’t answer. “Jonas, if you hurt Leigh, you’ll wish you’d died.”

“Ain’t me after her now. What’s in it for me if I talk?”

Nothing would drag Leigh away from the hospital and TJ. Ben wasn’t negotiating. “You have two choices, Jonas. Lay there and bleed to death or give yourself up.”

Minutes later, a black object sailed out of the bushes, hitting the ground ten yards from Ben. “Don’t shoot. I’m coming out.”

Ben kept his finger on the trigger as the older man staggered out of the bushes, holding his stomach. He took a few steps and crumpled to the ground.
No!
Ben raced to where he fell and knelt beside him. “Why did you blow up her car?”

“So you’d know what it’s like when somebody you love dies,” Gresham whispered.

“I never meant for your boys to die. Tommy Ray’s death was an accident.”

“It hurt all the same.”

“Why Tony? I never really knew him. Why did you kill him?” Where was that ambulance?

“Didn’t kill Tony.” Gresham coughed. “Too bad about the doc . . .”

“You are not dying, old man. Tell me who’s after Leigh!”

“Don’t know what you’re talk . . .” He closed his eyes.

Ben lowered him to the ground and felt for his pulse. Thready, but there. Then he turned to check on Wade. Eric and Luke were helping the chief deputy to his feet. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Guess you figured out there wasn’t a dogfight tonight.”

“Something like that. If I’d had to tell your mother . . .” Ben let the sentence dangle as he looked around. His deputies had returned with four of the men in custody. He wasn’t needed here any longer. “Do you know why Gresham mentioned Leigh?”

Wade shook his head.

He took out his cell phone. No reception.

“Go check on her, Ben,” Wade said. “I can take care of this.”

“Don’t let Gresham die,” Ben said.

Wade waved him on. “Don’t worry. He’s too ornery to die.”

“I’ll take you back to your truck,” Eric said.

There was one bar of reception when Ben reached his truck, and he dialed Leigh’s number again. She didn’t answer; she was probably with TJ. His son. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eric asked.

“No. I’m just going to the hospital, but thanks.”

As he pulled out of the logging road, he called Sarah’s number. Maybe she could tell him where Leigh was.

“Oh, Ben, thank goodness!” Sarah said when she answered.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone to someplace called Friar’s Point to deliver Tony’s flash drive. Whoever wants it said they’d kill TJ if she didn’t give it to him.”

“How long has she been gone?” His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the ID. His mother.

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“Do you know exactly where at Friar’s Point?”

“No,” she wailed.

“Okay, I’m heading out to the landing now.”

Ben switched over to his mother’s call. “What is it, Mom?”

“Your dad is beside himself. He keeps trying to tell me something about guns and Mexico and some email. He keeps typing Max so I’m assuming he’s talking about Maxwell Industries.”

Pieces clicked together. The email in the papers that had been on his dad’s desk the day he was shot. He wished he’d looked at the photo better.

“Mom, ask Dad if the gun in the email he received was a Maxwell AR-15.” He waited for the answer.

“Yessss!” His dad’s voice rang loud and clear over the phone.

The Maxwell AR-15-type rifle. Mexico. Tony. What if someone was stealing rifles and shipping them to Mexico? And Tony discovered it and downloaded the information on a flash drive? And now Leigh was meeting that someone to hand over the information. “Mom, I’ll call you back.”

Ben called Andre on his radio. “Where are you?”

“Still at the crime scene,” his deputy replied.

“I need backup at Friar’s Point, but come in without sirens or lights. Leigh may be in danger. Is the U.S. Marshal still with you?”

“Eric and I both are still here,” Luke said over the radio.

“Good. I have a wild hunch.” Ben explained his theory. “Can you find out if Maxwell Industries has any outgoing trucks tonight? And if there is, can you stop the truck without a search warrant?”

“I can’t, but your MDOT agent here can.”

Ben should have thought about the Mississippi Department of Transportation agent that had joined the raid. “Get him on it. I’m almost to Friar’s Point, and I’m going in on foot.”

“You need to wait on backup—”

Ben cut the radio off.

W
ith the quarter moon providing faint light, Armero cut the power to the blue and white MasterCraft and drifted to the end of the dock, noting two jet skis moored to the bank. He hadn’t counted on company. Laughter floated from somewhere to his right. Teenagers, from the sound of it. He hoped they stayed put, at least until he finished his business.

Armero loosely tied the boat to the dock in case he had to make a quick getaway then grabbed a nylon cord and stuck it in his pocket. One never knew. He scanned the parking lot, not that he expected Leigh here yet. He’d made the call to her from the lake house, and the trip across the lake hadn’t taken twenty minutes.

He climbed the hill to the vacant office and found the key drop box. Someone had jimmied the lock long ago.
What if she doesn’t show?
She would. She was scared for her kid.

He took the recorder from his pocket, and a shriek almost jarred it from his hands. Sweat popped out on his face. The teenagers. He heaved a breath and steadied his heart before placing the recorder in the box. Now to wait.

Fifteen minutes later, he thought he saw lights, then nothing. Maybe she missed the turn. He took out the synthesizer and disposable cell phone and dialed her number.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Where are you?”

“I’m lost.”

She sounded near tears. Good.

“I just passed County Road 920.”

She was five minutes away. “Turn around and come back a couple of miles. You’ll see an old sign, an arrow pointing left. The drop box is in front of the office.” He paused then whispered, “I’ll be waiting.”

Friar’s Point. Ben navigated the s-curves on the back roads to the old campground and boat ramp. The place had been popular at one time, but that was before budget cuts killed renovation of the cabins and boat ramp. Now it was used mostly by fishermen or teenagers looking for a place to drink and smoke pot.

His headlights caught a weathered sign pointing right. Friar’s Point. He killed his lights as he eased the truck into the road. At the first side road, he parked, estimating he was about half a mile from the boat dock.

He unsnapped his holster as he stepped out of the truck and silently eased the door shut. A quarter moon hung in the sky, giving off just enough light for Ben to see where he was going. Too bad he didn’t have the full moon from a couple of weeks ago.

From deep within the woods, a shriek sent him reaching for his gun until he realized it was probably teenagers. Looked like he needed to send his deputies by here a little more often. Headlights swung onto the road, and he slipped into the trees. Sarah’s white Honda with Leigh driving sped by the spot where he hid.

Just like Armero expected, five minutes after the doc’s call, headlights appeared on the road. He barely breathed as the car pulled up next to the office. From his vantage point beside the toolshed, he had a clear line of vision to the box ten yards away. He willed
her to move faster, but she took her time as she stepped out of the car and surveyed the area.

She couldn’t see him behind the shrub, but that didn’t keep him from ducking. Abruptly, she stood straighter and marched to the box. He held his breath as she removed the recorder and played the message and Gresham’s disembodied voice broke the silence.

Dynamite, with a real blasting
cap this time. Just didn’t figure on a remote
start button. Or the doc and boy would be history.
I won’t miss the next time.

His nightmare was almost over. Once he had the drive, he would have nothing to worry about.

Suddenly she wheeled and ran to her car.

After Leigh passed, Ben stepped back on the road and jogged after the car. If he could only catch her before she did something stupid. Her lights disappeared around a curve, and he stopped and bent over, bracing his hands against his knees as he panted in the humid night air. He shed the tactical vest and wished he’d parked closer. Leigh was probably already parked and getting out. He rounded the curve.
Almost there.
Leigh was running to her car.

“No!”

The cry rent the night like the howl of a wounded animal. Ben fell into an all-out run.

“Let me go!”

Leigh stood with her back to him talking to a man in the shadows. He crept to the back of her car as the man stepped toward her.

Geoffrey Franks.

He held a gun on Leigh.

“You just had to mess it up,” Franks snarled. “You couldn’t do what I said. Give me the flash drive.”

Ben willed Leigh to give up the flash drive. If he could just get to her.

“You killed my brother. You’re going to jail.”

“No, you’re giving me the drive or I’ll kill you and your son.”

“You want it so bad. There.” Leigh tossed something as Ben sprang toward her.

A gunshot rang out.