Indulgence (252 page)

Tomorrow he would track down each of the land transactions.
He needed to find Ashford’s cabin. If they could flush him out into the open,
they would have a much better chance of capturing him. It would be even sweeter
if they could trap him inside his cabin and take him out before anyone knew
what happened.

The desk phone rang. “Kennedy,” he barked.

“Sheriff Kennedy, this is Lieutenant Buckholtz from the
Department of Public Safety. I’m sorry to keep you so late. Traffic was bad
coming north out of the city. If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience, could
you meet me at the rest area instead of your office? I’m almost there, and it
would speed things along. I don’t have many questions, and the captain wanted
some additional crime scene photos.”

“Sure, I can meet you there. It’ll take me about fifteen
minutes.”

“That’s just about perfect. I’m one exit away and going to
grab a cup of coffee. Can I bring you one?” Graeme liked him already. “Yes,
please. Black.”

“No problem and, by the way, the captain is real anxious to
talk to Ms. Ashford and Mr. Enwright. I don’t suppose you have contact
information for me?”

“Afraid not, however, Enwright promised to stay in touch. I
expect I’ll hear from him sometime tomorrow. I’ll make sure he contacts you.
See you in a few.”

*****

Graeme filled out yet another report while he waited at the
rest stop. He’d made good time and figured the lieutenant wouldn’t be far
behind. He was looking forward to the coffee. As if he’d conjured it, the cup
appeared in his side mirror, held by a man in blue jeans, a faded denim shirt,
and a ball cap. He snorted. You didn’t see too many undercover DPS agents. He
reached to open the door, just as the hand holding the coffee reached through the
open window.

Laughing, he grabbed for the coffee so it wouldn’t spill and
never saw the taser before it exploded against his neck.

*****

Graeme woke slowly, vaguely aware he was in very deep shit.
The rest of his thoughts were scrambled, but he recognized the danger. He kept
his breathing steady and tried to keep his muscles as relaxed as they’d been
when he was unconscious. He didn’t want to give any indication he was awake in
case he wasn’t alone.

There was the sound of birds; he could hear them clearly. No
other sound intruded. He must be alone. After what seemed like an eternity, he
slowly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Fuck.

He was in the main room of a small cabin, facing the tiny
kitchen area. He could see an immaculately clean countertop, a two-burner
stove, and stainless steel sink. He was suspended from the center beam of the
ceiling, in some type of a sling or modified hammock. His arms were bound
behind his back, knees folded up tight with his ankles strapped securely to his
thighs. His head was restrained, but he could move it just enough to make out
two closed doors behind him. He figured one for the bedroom and one the
bathroom. He’d found Ashford’s cabin, he thought, just before his chin dropped
onto his chest as he fell unconscious once again.

*****

Something was wrong. Michael knew it deep inside, he could
feel it. He’d been calling Graeme’s cell every ten minutes for the last
half-hour. Each time it had gone straight to voicemail. It was turned off. He
couldn’t think of a single reason Graeme would turn it off. Someone had turned
it off for him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. His profession was security,
and he was responsible for Lizzie’s safety. Graeme wouldn’t want it any other
way.

“Liz, wake up. I need you to get dressed now. I’ll tell you
what’s happening on the way.

To her credit, she didn’t ask questions, just got up and
started moving.

“Should I pack?” she asked.

He thought for a second. “Get us each an extra pair of jeans
and a couple of shirts. We both need jackets, too. We can buy anything else we
need. I need to make some calls,” he said and went to the living room, already
dialing the phone.

“Jolynn, it’s me,” he said.

“Go,” she said.

“I haven’t been able to reach Graeme for the last thirty
minutes. He called to say he was meeting the investigator at the rest area and
would be here within the hour. That was less than ninety minutes ago, and now
his phone is going straight to voice mail.”

“Ashford,” she said. “Fuck!”

“Yes. You know what I’ll do. Get things in motion. Call me
if it’s not safe. Otherwise maintain silence with me.”

“I will. Be safe, Michael. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Jo.”

He turned to find Liz staring at him with her big green
eyes, clutching an overnight bag.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “No more talking in
here. Follow me,” he said as he led the way to the garage apartment.

A small alarm sounded as soon as they entered, and Michael
reset the security precaution. He went to the monitor and saw the instant message
from Jolynn that included the name of a hotel in Sedona along with which of his
identities he should use. He smiled. She was fast. He typed a quick thanks and
told her he was shutting the system down and taking the processing unit. It
would prevent any intruders from hacking into their communications. He grabbed
two of the pay-as-you-go phones stored in the cabinet and left his own phone
behind.

“Give me your phone, Liz. We’ll leave these here.”

“How will Graeme find us, then?” she asked, and he could hear
the fear in her voice. He didn’t tell her Graeme might already be dead. He
couldn’t bear the alternative either. If Ashford was keeping Graeme alive, he
would be tortured until he begged for death. Jo hadn’t shared the whole story
with everybody that night at dinner.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Graeme can call his own office or
mine. Either way they’ll be able to track us down. Right now, you and I need to
get out of here and someplace safe. Then we can talk about how to find Graeme,
okay?” He kissed her forehead.

An hour later, they had swapped vehicles, and he was now
driving an older looking Tahoe, instead of his sleek black version. This one
was appropriately dented, scraped, and looked to have lived a tough life. In
reality, it was bulletproof, equipped with a powerful engine, and swept clean
of tracking devices. He silently thanked Jo for her insistence on leaving a
clean vehicle where he had access. He’d thought it was unnecessary. He’d been
so very wrong.

*****

Fuck. They’d gotten out before he could get back to
Kennedy’s cabin. He’d called in a reported sighting of a vehicle going off the
mountain near Flagstaff to draw the other deputy as far from the sheriff’s
house as possible. Since he had Kennedy tied up at the moment, it would be a
while before help would arrive. He’d planned to go in fast, before any backup
could arrive from the hidden alarms. He should have checked the fucking tracker
first.

Fuck it. He always had a backup plan. He quickly scanned the
cabin and located the mini command center above the garage. As soon as he
noticed the equipment had been disabled, he knew they weren’t coming back.

He calmly went downstairs and brought in the gasoline
containers from the back of his truck. Humming softly, he opened the lid,
reveling in the aroma, letting the memories wash over him. He walked through
each room, covering the walls and floors, working quickly, knowing he’d tripped
the alarms on his way past the perimeter system. Someone would be here soon,
but he wasn’t sticking around. He tossed in a match, stepped back, then moaned
as the blast of heat washed over him.

He used his phone to take a picture before running to his
truck and speeding away. “Hope you’re awake when I get there, Graeme. We need
to…talk.

*****

“Goddamn it, Marcus!” Jo shouted. “The whole fucking cabin?”

“Yes,” came the low cultured voice. “The whole place. From
the patterns of the alarms, he went through the house first. He discovered the
garage unit. We got all of that from the interior security cameras before we
lost contact. They just aren’t made to withstand the heat from the fire he set.

“The good news is, no one was home. The bad news is, if the
sheriff survives, he’s got nothing left to come home to, I’m afraid.”

“If Graeme survives let’s hope that’s the worst problem he
has. We know how Ashford likes torture. Christ, Marcus. We’ve got to find him,
now!”

*****

“Jo, we’re here, what’ve you got?” Michael barked.

“We caught him on camera at Graeme’s cabin. He was alone. No
one’s heard from Graeme since an incoming call to his private line ninety
minutes ago. No one was running a tracer on the sheriff’s line, obviously, but
we do know his dispatcher logged him as departing for the rest area to meet a
state investigator at the scene of the crime. After that we got shut out, and
no one will talk to us. Marcus even spoke in person to the deputy. No go. No
release of information to private individuals,” Jo said, disgust layering her
voice.

“I assume you’re monitoring now through less traditional
means?” Michael asked, knowing she would be.

“Yes. Michael, you’re not going to like this, but I think
Ashford has had a complete psychotic break.”

“Tell me.”

“He showed up at Graeme’s cabin. The camera in the
monitoring room captured him humming and sniffing gasoline before he torched
everything. There’s nothing left of the place.”

“Shit,” he said under his breath. He inhaled deeply, forcing
air to the bottom of his lungs. Once. Twice. Finally, he asked, “What next?”

“We need access to Graeme’s notes. Apparently, he was on the
computer all afternoon, tracking down information from county land offices, but
I think his notes must be handwritten. We’re getting stonewalled. You aren’t
going to get anymore from the sheriff’s department unless you call in Homeland
Security,” Jo said.

“Do it. Patch me through as soon as you’ve got the Secretary
on the line. Tell her I’m calling in a marker.

*****

Graeme woke, unsure how much time had passed, only aware of
the agonizing pain in his muscles and joints from hanging bound in a ball shape
like a fucking piñata. He could no longer feel his fingers and toes. His
circulation was restricted, and things were starting to numb. That couldn’t be
good.

The sky was fully dark through the kitchen window, and no
interior lights shown in the cabin. He judged he was still alone. Pushing away
thoughts of Lizzie and Michael, Graeme evaluated his situation. He knew Ashford
had him, and he knew where. It was his favorite of the possible locations he’d
identified from county records. Unfortunately, he’d told no one, just made
cryptic notes to himself on his pad, intending to enter into his computer
later.

His deputy was a good man but a plodding investigator, often
more concerned with avoiding missteps rather than moving forward. It was not
likely he’d share the notes with Michael. Fuck. How could he have been so
stupid? He’d walked into the trap like a rookie. Too Goddamn busy thinking
about his personal life and not paying attention to the details.

Lights flashed briefly through the window, signaling the end
of this phase of his captivity. He’d seen the reports. He knew what he was in
for. Questions, followed by torture, then more questions, more torture.
Eventually, he’d wish he was dead.

*****

“I’ll take this one,” Michael pointed to a cabin just off a
Forest Service road, about forty minutes from their current location. He’d
narrowed the list of possible locations to three, based on Graeme’s research.
He was taking the most likely. “Marcus, you’re with me. Deputy, Lieutenant,” he
nodded to each of the official law enforcement officers. “I know you’re not
happy about how the orders came down. Sorry about that, but we don’t fucking
have time to play whose dick is bigger.

“The Secretary and DPS are sending in reinforcements, but
there’s not likely to be time to get an assault team to each of these
locations. You’re going to have to go in fast and quiet. Consider Ashford
extremely dangerous, probably armed with one or more automatic weapons.

“I know Ashford because I’ve studied his profile. He likes
to torture. He’s already torched the sheriff’s cabin. The sheriff could be dead
within the hour. Get going. We each have a team, and we’ve got a life to save.”

“Vest up,” the lieutenant ordered.

Michael knew the lieutenant was reasserting a small measure
of authority by giving that order. His captain was going to be plenty pissed
the civilian got to run the show instead of the state officers. If the
lieutenant wanted to give an order, he’d let him.

Everyone split into their respective teams, and Marcus and
Michael ran for the Tahoe. They could reach the cabin in thirty minutes if they
drove like hell. He snapped the magnetic flasher on his roof and knew the cops
wouldn’t dare object. With a silent nod of thanks to the Secretary, Michael
thought sometimes it paid to have friends in high places.

Once they were on the highway, Marcus said, “I know you’re
stressed over this one. You want me to take over command?”

He unclenched his jaw long enough to say, “No. I’ve got it.”
Then Michael sighed. “I’m okay, but our standard rules apply. You see me losing
it, you take over, no questions asked.”

“Got it. I’ve got your back, boss, and I trust you with
mine.”

*****

The door swung open, and Graeme kept his eyes closed, just
in case.

“Hey, Graeme. Long time, no see,” Ashford said.

This felt right. There was no sign of Ashford’s vehicle, but
Michael was sure they’d found his place. They scouted the back, discovered only
one entrance, so he signaled for Marcus to go low, and he went high as they
burst through the door of the darkened cabin. It smelled like blood and burned
flesh. His stomach turned over, and he bit back the acrid bile. A moan from the
center of the room told him they weren’t too late. Moving quickly, they
determined Ashford wasn’t in the cabin, and they’d seen no sign of his vehicle.