Washed Up (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 4) (10 page)

Marc took a step forward. “Need some help?”

Hank jerked Ricky back, causing the teen to yelp in pain.

“What?! Who?!”

“It’s all right, Hank. Let me help you.”

Ricky’s hair was matted with what appeared to be blood. His arms were a mass of lacerations. The boy was barely conscious, moaning, as they half-dragged the slight teen down the steep walkway to the parking lot.

“How did you know I was up here?” Hank asked, panting with exertion.

“I saw your truck,” Marc said simply. “He needs serious medical attention and an ambulance.”

Marc opened the rear door of the sedan, and Hank eased Ricky onto the seat.

“You can’t do that. Then everybody will know. We need to get outta here and fast. I can’t leave my truck up here either. If it’s seen—”

“He needs help. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

“Take him in your car. We’re all dead if they find us.”

“Who’s ‘they,’ Hank?”

“They … and that’s all I’m saying. If they catch Ricky, he’s dead and I’m dead too.”

“All right, but you need to follow me back. I’ll give you protection. Ricky too. You can’t walk away from this.”

Hank nodded; perspiration and fear covered his face. “Canyon View Hospital?”

“Right. Make sure you follow me.”

Ricky was slumped over. Marc gently laid him prone across the seat.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Ricky,” he reassured the teen, shutting the door.

Hank unlocked the truck with his key fob and opened the door. The crack of the rifle shot made Marc drop to the ground. He saw Hank stagger, clutching at the door handle. Another shot shattered Marc’s windshield.

“Get down!” Marc yelled, crawling to reach for his radio in the front seat. “Stevens, Special Task Force, needs backup. Man down. Shots fired at Our Lady of the Sierras. Lower parking.”

“Ten-four,” the dispatcher’s voice crackled.

Marc drew his gun, looking at the dark mountain above him. There was no way he’d see the shooter. They were sitting ducks. The silence up above was as worrisome as the shooting. Where was the shooter or shooters? He crawled to the front of the vehicle, his back against the retaining wall, invisible to anyone above. The sour taste of fear was in his mouth. He tried to make out Hank’s location. A dark shape lay under the pickup. Marc couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad sign. He strained to spot any movement that would at least tell him if Hank was alive. Below on Highway 92, the welcome sound of sirens greeted his ears.

Two ambulances eventually pulled out, transporting both Ricky and Hank. Marc leaned against his car and took a deep breath. Agent Galvez walked from Hank’s pickup, lighting a cigarette.

“You were lucky, Stevens.”

“Don’t I know it. Not sure why they stopped.”

“They got Hank, and that may have been the point.”

“Maybe. Let’s hope he makes it, and we can talk to him and Ricky.”

“The kid’s in bad shape. Dehydrated, cut up pretty bad, and a nasty concussion. He’s the one we really need to talk to.”

“I can’t believe he made it out of the mountains down this far.”

“Well, he’s probably got quite a story.” Galvez ground out the butt on the asphalt. “We have our work cut out for tomorrow. We’re interviewing everybody on that trail repair crew again at the B & B. Something’s not quite right about the stories.”

“What’s not right? You can’t want to interview Gracie again. She’s not involved in the case. I’d hate to see the rest of her time here ruined.”

“Hold on. Your girlfriend isn’t on the radar, but Mrs. Littlefield’s escapade in the cave, now Ramage for sure, and the Regan gu
y
something’s not adding up with their stories. Plus this B & B is conveniently located for all sorts of traffic. We need to take a look around there.”

Marc fumed over the last comment. Amanda was no drug runner. He didn’t like any part of the focus on the B & B. But, as he knew all too well, everybody lies to the police. He hoped that Amanda was guilty only of being reckless with evidence, not an accessory to a crime.

“Please tread lightly,” he managed, working to keep his personal feelings buried.

“Don’t worry about it. Remember: Ricky’s capture is need-to-know only. Nobody, not even the hospital, knows we have him and Ramage. Too dangerous.”

Marc nodded, recalling Hank’s words all too well. The man was hanging on by a thread. It would be a miracle if he survived.

They watched the crime scene team pack up their van. The adrenalin rush had taken a toll. He felt wrung out physically and emotionally. If interviews were in the morning, he wanted to be present and coherent.

Before he could ask, Agent Galvez said, “Let me take you home, Stevens. You won’t be driving your vehicle anywhere. And here’s the tow truck finally.”

A flatbed tow truck growled its way up the incline. Agent Galvez met the truck and handed Marc’s keys to the driver.

“Ready?” he asked, looking at Marc.

“Yeah. It’s been quite a night.”

Gracie sat in the shady courtyard, enjoying her second cup of coffee and watching the hummers dive-bomb each other. They were feisty little things, so much fun to watch. Her bird book purchase was a big help identifying the diverse birdlife. She’d already spotted three different varieties: a broadbill, Anna’s, and magnificent. All were beautiful with shimmering greens, purples, and bright pinks. Marc had promised to join her this morning after the trail crew interviews. Fortunately, her presence wasn’t required for any of it.

Amanda padded glumly from her living quarters, Cochise and Molly running ahead, anxious to be let out into the yard. Once the gate opened, they were off on their rounds. Gracie thought she saw telltale signs of red, puffy eyes on her hostess. It hadn’t been a restful night apparently.

“Good morning.” Gracie leaned back in her well-cushioned wrought iron chair.

“It’s morning. That’s all I know or care to,” Amanda answered dryly.

“Sorry about the repeat interview.”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone is being questioned though, so at least it’s fair. Gary and Hank should be here any time. Have you seen the cops?”

“No, but I think I’ll steal another muffin from the kitchen. Want one?”

“No thanks. My nerves are shot after yesterday, which has my stomach in revolt.”

The front door swung open, and Gary entered, followed by Marc, Ranger Ortiz, plus the inseparable DEA agents. Amanda bit her bottom lip and silently joined the group inside.

“Where’s Hank?” Amanda asked.

Gary looked at the floor, and Agent Galvez took Amanda into the reading room. Marc joined Gracie in the courtyard, quickly settling in at her table.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Hank,” Marc said. “He died this morning.”

“What? How? Why?”

“He was shot last night. It’s under investigation.”

“Shot? He’s dead?”

Marc nodded. “Yeah. I thought he was going to be all right, but it didn’t work out that way.” He grasped her hand, his eyes pleading. “Gracie, please don’t go with Amanda anywhere or do any more hiking in the mountains.”

“Really? Do you think Amanda’s in danger?”

“It’s possible. We need to sort out all the connections today. Otherwise, someone else may … get hurt.”

Her ill-timed holiday had officially become the vacation from hell. Maybe she should consider trying to find a flight home. She wished he’d divulge the whole story of what was really going on.  Marc’s communication style left a lot to be desired. She and Michael had talked about everything. They worked side-by-side in the barn, always together. This relationship with Marc was far different than her expectations. She pulled her hand away, giving him a weak smile.

“Thanks for the advice. I should call and check on the kennel.”

“Sure. The interviews are starting, and I need to be in there.”

Marc left her finishing the cold dregs from her cup. She’d call Jim. He’d have a logical, unemotional perspective, which would help clarify this murky relationship.

***

Once in Amanda’s office, Agent Galvez said, “Sorry I had to break the news about Mr. Ramage.”

“I know. I can’t believe it.” Amanda blew her nose into a soggy tissue.

“While Deputy Stevens and my partner question Mr. Regan, Ranger Ortiz and I have a few follow-up questions. Nothing serious.”

Amanda nodded, wiping tears from her eyes.

“What do you know about Mr. Ramage?” the ranger began.

“He’s a landscaper. Or
was
a landscaper. He and Mistee lived together. She’s the yoga instructor here. He’s had a little trouble in the past, but he had made restitution.”

“Did you know the trouble was with the Park Service?” the ranger asked.

“Well, sort of. Yes. I did know. Actually Manny had mentioned to me that Hank was in trouble over a contract with the Park Service.”

“Did you know that Mr. Ramage had been turned in by the victim?” Agent Galvez asked, pacing around the small office.

Amanda swallowed hard. “I did. Manny wanted Hank on the maintenance team to make sure he showed up to do community service, which was part of the agreement.”

“How did the two of them get along on the team?” Agent Galvez asked, stopping and looking at Ranger Ortiz.

“All right. Most of the time. Hank wasn’t happy to be under Manny’s thumb. It stuck in his craw that he was being watched like a kid. Manny wasn’t always the nicest guy. He was tough, but he was really dedicated to keeping the trails in good shape. He loved the area.”

Amanda twisted the damp tissue in her hands.

“Do you think Mr. Ramage wanted to harm Mr. Enriquez?” Agent Galvez asked, taking a seat next to Amanda. The ranger sat on the wood-and-leather loveseat, scrutinizing her facial expressions.

“How should I know? He never threatened Manny or got into a fight with him. I can’t see Hank hurting anybody, but then again, who really knows a person? I wasn’t a close friend with either of them—not really. Hank worked for me on different jobs. He took a real shine to Ricky when he was here though. Ricky liked Hank too.”

“Ricky worked for you?” Ranger Ortiz asked.

“A couple of times. Manny wanted to keep Ricky busy when they first took him into their home. He’d been hanging out with the wrong crowd, and Manny wanted him to know what physical work was like. Work off some steam and stay out of trouble.”

“Right. That was nice of you.” Agent Galvez kept writing on his notepad. “Did Hank, er … Mr. Ramage store tools or supplies here?’

“Sometimes, I guess. He would leave stuff in the maintenance shed next to the chicken coop.”

“Would you mind if we took a look in your shed?”

***

Gracie sat on the edge of her bed in the casita, phone to her ear. “So, that’s the story, Jim. I’m thinking that I should see if I can find a seat on a flight tomorrow.”

“You really want to come home?”

“Pretty sure. It’s been a terrible excuse for a vacation. A dead body, a cave with maybe some treasure or a drug cache, and now someone else from this trail crew is dead. It’s not very peaceful or relaxing.”

“And Marc really doesn’t have a job?”

“No. He’s unemployed in three weeks. That’s between us for the moment. He’s not himself—I don’t think he is anyway.”

“I see.” Jim’s voice remained impassive.

“In the meantime, I’m cooling my heels waiting for him to wrap up this case, and hoping no one else is killed. I don’t like this drug cartel thing at all. It’s way too dangerous, and I don’t want to have to worry about him day and night.”

“But that’s what he does. Law enforcement is dangerous. Gracie, if you can’t handle his job now, then you won’t be able to handle it if you marry him.”

“I know. I want to handle it. He loves his work. I love him. I really love him.”

After a pause, Jim asked, “If you do, then maybe it’s better to part ways, rather than be constantly miserable about his work.”

“What? I want to be with Marc, as in married to him.”

“I’m not hearing that.  Chief, you need to figure out what’s best for you. Love may not be able to conquer all in your case.”

“I don’t think—”

“Rethink, Chief. No romantic thinking, but daily life stuff. He goes to work with a gun to catch bad guys. You have to decide if you can deal with marriage to a cop or not. It’s simple.”

“Not really … oh forget it,” she croaked, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She’d asked for it. Jim always looked out for her best interests, and that meant some tough love. However, Jim’s failure rate in relationships was rather high. He wasn’t exactly a shining example of how to succeed in a committed relationship. Rather than stew about the situation further, she’d check flights to explore her options.