Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (23 page)

R
ick panicked at once. Rachel had been in the woods, had called to him. Then she had screamed and now there was no sign of her. He spent several minutes, frantically searching the area for signs of her, but quickly realized that his desperation was only going to work against him. In that frame of mind, he might overlook something right under his nose and screaming Rachel’s name would only draw attention to himself, not to her.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Logan. His heart had become a hammer, trying to beat its way out of his chest. His breath came in hard gulps. He could remain calm during riots, talk down suicides, and in general handle any situation that arose with complete professionalism and levelheadedness. But not this.

“Logan!” he barked when he heard his friend’s voice. “I need backup. Fast. Bring flashlights and a gun. Rachel and I were searching the woods out by The Point and she’s disappeared. Track my phone on the GPS and you’ll come right to me. I’m calling the cops now.”

He ended the call without giving Logan a chance to utter a single word. He brought the phone down again so that he could dial Dooley’s number and only then did he realize how badly his hand was shaking. It took forever for Dooley to answer and when he did, Rick nearly hollered into the phone.

“Sheriff! I’m out at the old woods. Don’t give me any lectures now. Rachel has disappeared somewhere in the woods. We were looking for something and then she screamed and she was just gone. I could use some help. Please?” It was a word that Rick rarely used. It went against his nature to ask for help. He did so now only because his pride held no sway so long as Rachel was missing.

“You weren’t by any chance out there investigating your wife’s little mystery, were you?” There was a mocking tone in Dooley’s voice. Surely he was going to ride them hard for this for a long time to come.

“You can lecture me or arrest me or anything you want. Just get down here and help me find my wife. Then I’ll do anything you want.”

“We’re on our way, Rick. You stay put and don’t do anything until we get there.”

“Thank you. Take the turnoff from the beach road. I’m on the old farm, just shy of the woods.”

“Be right there.”

The phone went dead in his hand and Rick sighed. How could he do nothing? Every second could count. He had to do something.

R
achel tried to regain her calm. If she panicked and made a stupid mistake, it could cost her her life. She had to think like Rick, figure out what Rick was doing right then, and figure out what Rick would do if he were in her place.

There were three men working in the lab just then. They wore protective clothing but no face masks, so Rachel felt confident that the air cleaners were doing their job and she wasn’t in any immediate danger from the fumes. When she had first been deposited there, they had glanced at her every few minutes, perhaps afraid that she might somehow escape. Now, however, they barely spared a thought for her. They went on about their business, ignoring her for the most part.

She took a deep breath and tried to think logically. Rick, if he had found the hole through which she had fallen, would not try anything as stupid as coming down after her, gun or no gun. He would call for help. So, she was on her own.

She had been bound with heavy ropes. They were light brown, thick, and scratchy. Though she had no idea what they were originally intended for, she knew that they made excellent bindings. A quick look around told her that there was not a single thing within her reach that she could use to cut the ropes. Add to that the fact that the ropes were cinched very tightly and it made for an impossible situation.

But no matter how large and strong a rope was, it was still composed of many tiny strands. And these little strands could be broken until the rope was thin enough that she could snap it.

Already, the ropes were wearing on her skin, rubbing it raw and causing dents in her wrists. No matter. She twisted one hand around and bent her wrist backward until her fingers could reach the rope. She said a silent prayer of thanks for every yoga class she had ever taken. She was limber enough to pull it off and that was because of those classes.

Nails working, her eyes on the men in the lab, she began picking at the fibers, snapping them one, two and three at a time. There was no telling how many fibers made up the thickness of that rope, but from the feel of things, it must have been hundreds. The important thing was to stay calm, work steadily, and remain still enough that nobody would suspect what she was doing.

R
ick saw the headlights of the truck as they took the turn onto the dirt road and he knew it must be Logan. Just the sight of his best friend made him feel better. But when Logan climbed out of the truck and shoved a pistol into his waistband and slung a rifle over his shoulder, he felt immeasurably more confident.

“You okay?” Logan asked as he trotted toward Rick’s position.

“No.” Rick swallowed hard and let loose of a long breath.

Logan put one hand on Rick’s shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make the man wince. “We’re gonna find her. You can count on that. Now, show me about where it happened.”

Rick started for the woods, his boots hammering the earth beneath him and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. They were still shaking a bit and he didn’t want Logan to see. Then he stopped abruptly.

“I was standing right here and she went into the woods. I told her to stop and wait for me and then I started walking toward her.”

“And she didn’t listen.” More accusation than question, Logan shook his head as he spoke.

“Exactly. She was talking and her light was sweeping back and forth and then she hollered to me that she found something sticking up out of the ground there in the woods. I yelled at her to wait. I started running toward her. But I was too late. She screamed and then she was just gone.”

Logan slapped Rick on the back and smiled at him. “It’s not your fault, man. That blasted woman never listens to a darn thing you tell her. So, let’s see if we can find where she was when she disappeared.”

Logan led off this time. He was a soldier and a hunter and his tracking skills were far superior to Rick’s. Besides, in his current state of mind, Rick’s powers of observation weren’t exactly up to snuff.

“She came through this way,” Logan muttered, indicating a small path through the first of the trees with his flashlight beam. He walked a few steps, always looking at the ground. “There’s small sneaker prints here, so she kept walking…came past this way…look at the broken branches between these two trees.”

Rick trained his flashlight beam several yards ahead, looking for the object which Rachel had claimed to find. “I think it might be up there,” he said and took one step forward.

Logan put a hand against Rick’s chest and stopped him cold. “Don’t you go messing up my tracks, pal. Let me do my job.” He winked for good measure. Rick missed it.

“Where are the damn cops?” Rick growled, more to himself than to Logan. “I called them right after I called you and they’re closer.”

“They’ll be here.” Logan went back to studying the ground, his face contorted in an effort to fish some tiny detail out of the morass of shadows around him. “I just had a thought. It’s human nature to drop whatever’s in your hand when you start to fall or if someone grabs onto you. It’s a protective move. So where’s her flashlight? It hasn’t been long enough for her battery to go dead.”

“She didn’t have one,” deadpanned Rick. “She was using her cell phone.”

Logan’s face lit up and he reached for his phone, dialed Rachel’s number from his contacts. Ahead of them some fifteen feet, Rachel’s phone sang out that familiar Sixties’ tune which was her ringtone for Logan.

“Bingo!” Logan spat with a chuckle. He took the lead with Rick hot on his heels and reached the phone in five easy strides. When Rick drew up alongside him and looked like he might go further, Logan reeled him back in. “Whoa there, buddy. You don’t want to suffer the same fate as your wife.”

Logan trained the flashlight on the ground in front of them. The palmettos had grown up thick and dark in that area and at the center of one clump was a large pipe which protruded from the ground some ten inches. But just in front of that was a hole, a small area where the pipe had collapsed or deliberately been cut through. It was easily large enough for Rachel to have fallen through.

Rick and Logan flanked the hole and shone both flashlights down into it. Rick couldn’t quite decide whether it was good news or bad, but Rachel’s body wasn’t lying at the bottom of that hole. He stepped carefully around the hole to stand next to Logan.

“Well, it’s for sure she went down there, one way or another.” Logan checked Rick’s face, tried to gauge his state of mind. “Should we take the risk of going after her?”

Rick thought for a moment. Rachel wasn’t lying at the bottom, so either she hadn’t been hurt in the fall and had hurried off toward one exit or the other, or someone had found her and dragged her off. The pipe was long, stretching several miles from the center of town to the beach. The odds of guessing which end she would go toward were not good. No matter which direction they went, it stood a good chance of being a wild goose chase.

“There’s something I have to tell you before we decide,” Rick said with a mournful sigh. “There’s most likely bad guys down in there. Gun runners.”

“I figured bad guys were involved. Why else would you tell me to bring a gun?” Logan smiled that devil-may-care, fearless smile of his.

“The equipment is louder down by the cemetery, so if they took her, they went that way.” Rick swallowed hard and looked into the distance. “But if she managed to get away without being seen, then she headed for the beach. The pipe exits through the cave there.”

“Okay, so we toss a coin? What?” He waited for Rick to decide…something. “What does your gut tell you?”

There was the quick, echoing sound of a gun being cocked and then, “My gut tells me that you fellas been messing around where you shouldn’t oughtta.”

R
achel had managed to pick through about half the fibers that comprised the rope. She was sure that if she could see back there, she would find that her fingernails were bloodied from her efforts. Still, it would all be worth it if she got out of there in one piece. The men continued with their cook, completely ignoring her now.

They had made a mistake by not binding her feet. Once the rope was gone, she could free her hands and just slip away. She knew two things about these guys in front of her. First, they were chemists, brainiacs, not the physical sort at all. Second, they were so engrossed in their cook that it might take them several minutes to realize that she was gone. And several minutes was all she needed to be away from that spot.

Still, the tunnel was a long, straight shot from end to end. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape save for the beach and the mausoleum. The beach end was heavily guarded, she now knew. And she had no idea how the mausoleum exit opened from this side. Even if it weren’t guarded, she might well find herself trapped against that exit with nowhere to run. Still, she had no doubt in her mind that they intended to kill her eventually, so taking a chance on escape was far from a gamble.

She picked steadily at the rope, ever aware of the men working some ten feet away. The air cleaners produced quite a racket, so she didn’t have to worry too much about making noise, just about keeping her face expressionless and not making too many movements.

Then she heard shouts from the mausoleum end of the tunnel. Perhaps the men at that end were having a disagreement. Perhaps they had partaken of their own wares. She couldn’t make out words, just volume and lots of it.

Similar shouts began from the beach end of the pipe next, causing the cooks to look up worriedly. They stood motionless, eyes riveted on the beach end of the tunnel, hands still gripping flasks and tools. Words were exchanged but Rachel couldn’t hear them. She began to pick faster at the rope, feeling a sense of dread deep in the pit of her stomach.

Had Rick come to save her, guns blazing? She didn’t think so. It would be a stupid move, dangerous, likely to result in both of them being captured. Perhaps a rival gang had discovered them? Or a hostile takeover by someone in the seller’s chain of command? She just couldn’t be sure.

Then the cooks saw something which sent them spiraling into chaos. They set down the beakers with great care so as to not cause an explosion. The others dropped their tools where they stood, ripped off their gloves. And then every one of them bolted past Rachel and ran toward the mausoleum end of the pipe.

“D
ooley! I should have known!” Rick had recognized that voice even before he turned.

Hands in the air, Rick and Logan turned to face their assailant, twin jaws clenching and unclenching, flashlights still clutched in beefy hands. Dooley stood some ten feet from them, a rifle in his hands and a grin on his face.

“I tried to warn you and your wife away from this, but you just wouldn’t listen. Now look where it’s gotten you.” He shook his head in mock sadness and shifted his weight onto his right leg. “Now, how about you two toss those weapons over here.”

Logan gave up his weapons at once, but Rick hesitated. It was only three seconds, but for those three seconds, he considered trying to outdraw Dooley, or even taking a bullet in order to kill the man. In the end, he did the smart thing and tossed his gun on the ground.

“Where’s Rachel?” Rick asked. His voice was more animal than human and his eyes burned into Dooley’s flesh as he spoke.

“I don’t know and that’s the God’s honest truth, Rick. I had no idea any of you was out here until you called.”

“All I want is my wife back in one piece. Beyond that, I don’t give a damn what you’re all doing down there.”

Dooley laughed. “Heck, I’m not even real sure what I’m gonna do with you two, much less what might have happened to Rachel.”