Perilous (12 page)

“I’m probably just being paranoid. I think someone was tracking my phone, maybe listening as well. If the cabin can be directly traced back to you, I might have to look elsewhere.”

“I’m guessing there would be some serious footwork involved to trace it to me. My aunt has been remarried twice since my uncle passed. You would be digging through a couple different last names just with her. Then you would have to connect her to my father and then on to me.”

“Okay. Just double checking. Thanks again, Jim. I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure. Again, if you need anything, call.”

“I will.” I clicked off and handed the phone back to Cooper. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Carl.” He shook my hand. “Be safe.”

“I will.”

I walked back inside the house. Callie sat with Melissa, Jeff, and Tommy in the kitchen.

Tommy made siren noises and pushed a toy cop car around the kitchen island. I assumed the idea sprouted in his head from seeing the cars, and police, outside.

“Are we going on vacation?” Tommy asked.

I flashed him a smile and knelt before him. “Kind of, buddy. Are you ready?”

“Mom and Dad packed a bunch of my toys.”

“Good.” I rubbed his hair and used the kitchen island to pull myself to my feet.

“Are we set?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Jeff said. He snugged a winter hat over his short strawberry-blond hair. He adjusted his glasses. Jeff scooped a backpack from the floor and pulled it over his maroon zip-up sweatshirt. “Where are we going, and for how long?”

“My old partner has a place up north. As far as how long, I can’t tell you right now. It could be a day. It could be longer. I don’t know.”

“I have to work, Carl. I can get the rest of the week off, but it’s going to become a problem after that.”

“I’m going to do whatever I can to get you guys back to normal as soon as possible, but I don’t know what’s going on here. I need you guys someplace safe so I don’t have to worry about you. After I talk with my dad and Sandy and make sure they’re safe, we’ll see where this goes.”

“You’re making me scared about Dad and Sandy,” Melissa said.

“Mel, I can’t get a hold of them.”

“I’ve called them for days and haven’t gotten a response.”

I decided not to get into it with my sister. Whether she was right or not, I was worried, and the feeling wouldn’t go away until they were standing in front of me.

“All right, cell phone roundup time.”

“What?” Jeff asked.

“We can’t take the chance that any of our phones are being monitored. Mel, do you have some scrap paper?”

“For?” she asked.

“Write down any numbers you need. We’re going to leave our phones here and scoop up some prepaids on the way up.”

We left the house within ten minutes. I drove the 4Runner, and Jeff, Tommy, and the girls followed in Melissa’s Subaru. After a quick stop for phones, gas, and food, we headed north. The truck’s heat was set on high, but that did nothing to combat the cold wind coming through the open windows. The arctic air swirled around my head and nipped at my neck. I yanked my winter cap lower on my bald head, glad I’d grown a beard. It may have been doing something to keep my cheeks from freezing. My gloved hands wrapped the wheel. While Jeff’s new Honda Accord would have been a far more comfortable, and warmer, ride, I would need something with four-wheel drive up north.

I slipped my right hand from its glove and grabbed my prepaid phone from the passenger seat. I looked through the handful of numbers I’d programmed in and called Hank’s cell.

“Hank Rawlings,” he answered.

“Hank, it’s Kane. Save this number.”

“For?”

“It’s the cell phone I’m using.”

“What happened to yours?”

“Someone might be tracking it or listening in.”

“What?” he asked. “It sounded like you said it might be getting tracked. What’s with all the wind noise? Are you in a wind tunnel or something?”

“Someone shot up my sister’s house this morning with us inside. They shot the windows out of the truck I’m in, too.”

“What?” he asked again. His voice rose an octave.

“Are you getting any of this?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah. You were getting shot at. Who?” Hank’s words came fast.

“A couple men. They were organized. It wasn’t a random attack. I need you to get together with the Cap and see what you can find out.”

“Okay. Give me a place to start. Do you think Viktor Azarov was behind it?”

I slowed and let Jeff, driving my sister’s car, get alongside me. “Hold on a second, Hank.” I motioned for Callie, sitting in the passenger seat, to roll down her window. She did.

“You guys drive ahead of me for a while,” I yelled. “We’ll be on this highway for an hour at least.”

“Okay,” Callie yelled back. Her voice trailed off in the wind.

I flipped on my directional and tucked in behind them. Then I looked in the rearview mirror and took an inventory of the cars in the distance. “Sorry, Hank.”

“Do you think Viktor was behind it?” he asked again.

“Has to be.”

“Were the guys Russian?”

“I don’t know. They wore masks. I put two of them down before getting everyone out of there. The bodies were gone by the time police arrived.”

“Damn. What are you doing now?”

“I’m getting these guys somewhere safe. After that, I need to find my dad and stepmom, Sandy.”

“What do you mean find?”

“I can’t get a hold of them.”

“Do you think—”

I interrupted. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. I’m walking over to Bostok’s office now. We’ll get something going with Faust and USP Coleman. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

“Thanks, Hank.”

“Just be smart. Watch your back.”

“I will.”

I clicked off and tossed the phone back on the passenger seat. I slipped my hand back into its glove, and regripped the wheel. Hank, coordinating with Faust and the prison, could give me something, but it didn’t solve the immediate problems. Professionals had tried to kill us. I didn’t know who they were, how to find them, or if they would try again. As bad as that was, my father and Sandy not responding to my calls was eating at me more. If someone went after him, it wouldn’t go well. My father was not one to be taken lightly and would never succumb to a would-be attacker. He’d fight tooth and nail until his dying breath. The thought added to my worry. After another inventory of the cars behind us, I retook the lead in front of Jeff and increased my speed.

Yury dialed Ramon.

“Yes?” Ramon answered.

“Make sure the parents can’t make any noise, and keep your eyes open for cops.”

“Why?”

“There is a sheriff on the way out there to check in on the cabin. They may do some door knocking.”

“How do you know this?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know that it is happening,” Yury said.

“Okay. Is that it?”

“No. The cop says he’s on his way up there. Have your guys do some patrols past the parents’ cabin. Get eyes on the cop. Let me know when he’s spotted. I’ll tell you then how to proceed.”

“Got it.”

Yury hung up and jammed his phone back in his pocket.

The app had done the job once again, letting Yury listen in on the last calls the lieutenant made. He knew that the cop was headed to his father’s property, that he’d contacted the local sheriff’s department to send a squad car out to the property, and that Lieutenant Jim Gase was providing a place for Kane’s family to stay.

Yury sat in his car in a restaurant parking lot. The name Jim Gase and the words
up north
were written on the notebook in his lap. Yury’s eyes went to the clock on the dash. He’d been driving past the front of the farmhouse every half hour. On his last drive-by, the police had still been working the scene. The time approached to make another pass.

Yury set his notebook on the passenger seat and started the Mercedes. He eased out of the parking lot. The farmhouse was just a few miles up the road, so the drive was short.

Yury saw the property in the distance. A police cruiser sat at the side of the road in the same position it had been on his last pass. From a block away, he saw two cars pulling to the end of the driveway. A 4Runner with no windows on the driver’s side stopped, waiting to exit. Behind the truck was a red Subaru. At fifty miles an hour, Yury got only a quick glance as he passed the driveway, but that was all he needed. The lieutenant was the driver. Yury watched in the rearview mirror. Both cars pulled out and headed in the opposite direction.

“What the hell,” Yury said.

He fumbled his cell phone from his pants. The last time he’d checked, Kane’s phone was still at the house. The app was supposed to alert him of any phone calls or movement. He received no alert. Alternating between watching the street and the phone, he pulled the app up on the screen. It said the location of Kane’s phone was still at the house. He tried refreshing the app, but the status didn’t change. Yury looked for the first place to turn around—a driveway, street, anything. He spotted nothing in view. Yury checked his mirrors, and pulled to the side of the road. He made a U-turn in the street. The cop and other car had to be at least a mile or more away in the opposite direction. Yury planted the gas to the floor and built speed. He flew past the farmhouse doing twenty over. He passed cars at every opportunity. A few miles up the road, he spotted the back of the red Subaru. Yury slowed as they entered town.

He tried refreshing the GPS tracking app again. It still reported the cop’s phone was at the house.

“Dammit!” he said.

Either the app wasn’t working properly, the cop had forgotten the phone at the house, or worse, he had figured out the phone was being tracked.

Brake lights lit up on the Subaru just a hundred feet ahead. Past it, the 4Runner made a right into the parking lot of a superstore, and the Subaru followed. Yury passed and took the next entrance. He located the two cars parking. At the back of the lot, Yury found a spot where he had a visual on the cars. He lifted his elbow off the center console, flipped open the lid, and removed a pair of binoculars. He waited.

Twenty minutes passed before he spotted the group walking from the front of the store. Bags filled their arms. They gathered at the back of the 4Runner. All the bags, aside from one, went into the back of the truck. The cop was handing out items from one bag. Yury took a quick look through the binoculars to see what they were doing. They appeared to be unpackaging multiples of the same item. His index finger adjusted the diopter for better focus.

“Dammit!”

Yury set the binoculars in his lap. They’d purchased new cell phones. The cop either knew or suspected it was how they were found. Without the original phone, Yury was in the dark as far as real time movements were concerned. He wouldn’t be able to get information from his calls. Yury shook his head.

“Shit!” he said.

The group entered their cars and pulled from the lot. Yury followed. They pulled into the combination gas station and fast-food restaurant across the street. Yury parked again and waited. They were inside for another ten minutes. Then Yury followed them east to the freeway, where they headed north. Yury backed off to a safe distance and scooped up his notepad from the passenger seat. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. The phone rang.

“This is Sergeant Blok.”

“It’s Yury. There’s a problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Our friend ditched the cell phone. I’m following now, but I need whatever you can get me for property owned in northern Wisconsin by a man named”—Yury glanced down at the notebook—“Jim Gase. The guy is a cop at the Milwaukee police.”

“I’ll have something for you shortly.”

“Thanks, Ivan.” Yury hung up.

We were a couple minutes away from Jim’s family’s property. I called the Oconto County Sheriff’s Department for an update. The car that had been sent out to my parent’s place found no signs of forced entry. The front door was locked—no cars in the driveway. They claimed everything looked normal and wouldn’t go in without probable cause, and my worry didn’t qualify. I’d tried both of their mobile phones and home phone at least ten times with no answer. My worry grew.

I slowed to make a right at the main street that took us back toward the lake. I watched Melissa’s car follow in my mirror. The highway stretched out straight at least a half mile behind us. No cars followed in the distance. After a couple turns, we took a right at Woodhaven Lane. The frozen lake could be seen between the cabins and small houses. Small shanties for ice fishing were scattered across the ice. While normally fairly active during the summer months, the neighborhood was still. I turned left at the red address marker, number 959, by the driveway—Jim’s place. An old two-bedroom log cabin sat toward the back of the lot. The snow crunched under the 4Runner’s tires as I pulled down the unplowed driveway. I swung left at the back porch overlooking the lake and eased the nose of the truck into a snow-covered pine tree. I motioned out the window for Jeff to park beside me. Blocked by the cabin, anyone driving past wouldn’t be able to see our vehicles. We got out, and I walked to the back to start getting out the groceries.

Jeff rounded the back of Melissa’s car and walked over to help. “What about the tire tracks?” he asked.

I pulled the first two bags from the trunk and handed them to him. “Not really any way to hide them, unless you want to shovel.”

He nodded.

I scooped up the rest of the bags and set them on the snow-covered back porch. Then I took a quick look around the side of the house to the street out front—no cars in sight. The only thing moving was a snowmobile somewhere off in the distance. The sound of its engine echoed off the icy surface of the lake. I found the key under the steps at the front of the cabin. I walked back around, scooped the bags from the deck, and opened the back door.

The group followed me in. The inside looked just as I remembered from my last visit, years before. A wood stove for heat was to my left. Deer busts, mounted fish, and antiques covered the log walls while brown shag carpet covered the floors. An old blue couch with matching chairs sat in the living room. A small television on a stand stood in the corner. The place probably hadn’t changed in the last twenty or more years.