Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (25 page)

“Get on the ground. On the ground now!”

The orders were barked mere seconds after rough hands shoved them into the sand, boots planting themselves on the sides of their faces. Rick and Logan didn’t resist. They knew better.

Other hands moved in to pat them down, looking for other weapons. They were stripped of their phones, flashlights, spare ammo clips and anything else they had on them. Then they were pulled brutally to their feet and slammed against the rocks. All the while, they kept their hands raised, offering no threat whatsoever to the men who were manhandling them.

The men all wore tactical gear. They had body armor on, capped by either face masks or shields. There was something written on the back of every uniform, but things were too frenzied for Rick to make it out. Then a single man stepped forward, clearly the one in charge. His face was steel-set and immovable. His right cheek bore a long scar.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he growled.

Rick recovered first. Above all, he wanted to present as innocuous a story as possible, leaving the cops no room to suspect him or Logan of any wrongdoing.

“My wife and I were in the woods earlier, looking for our dog. It was barely dark, but she screamed and then she disappeared. I called my friend here for help and we were looking for her.”

“With weapons?” The man in charge squinted his eyes nearly closed and scowled. His face was far too close for Rick’s liking.

“You never know what kind of animals you’re going to find in the woods.”

“And I take it you didn’t find your wife? Why were you sneaking around down here?”

“I thought she might have gone over the cliff.” Rick’s face was unreadable. He had had some practice at lying, to be sure.

The man’s face relaxed, though he continued to stare at Rick like he was a trapped insect, ready to be squashed beneath his thumb at any moment. “You got permits for those guns, mister?”

“Yessir.” Rick swallowed again. “Concealed carry, shoot to kill, the whole nine yards. I’m ex-law-enforcement and we’re both ex-military.”

“I see.” The man paused, stepped back, let his eyes widen a bit. “I haven’t seen anything of your wife. But I have an operation going on here and I need the two of you gone. I suggest you go back to the woods and continue your search there. It’s not safe for you here.”

Rick nodded curtly and rubbed his arm where the officer had grabbed it hard. He was sure there was a bruise there and while he had no hard feelings about that, he was experiencing a bit of discomfort. “We’ll do just that. But the only thing we found in the woods was her cell phone. It was lying on the ground next to a hole which dropped into some sort of cave or something.” He watched the back of the man’s head, then looked him right in the eye as he turned, wide-eyed, to stare at Rick. “The hole was easily large enough for a woman to fall through.”

The man’s frown twitched once, twice. He spun away, bringing the mouthpiece to his mouth and speaking in a deep growl. “Be advised, there may be a hostage. I repeat, there may be a hostage inside. Proceed with due caution.” He pulled the mouthpiece away from his face and cast an order back over his shoulder. “Hold them here. Do
not
let them near the site.”

Rick and Logan exchanged worried glances. Rachel had definitely gone into that tunnel. And now, there was some sort of police operation going on. There was tactical gear and assault weapons galore. If Rachel was still in the tunnel, chances of her coming out unscathed were slim.

R
achel nearly screamed as she heard the very-near crashing of boots and screams of pain. She had seen enough TV shows to know that it would be suicide for them to fire a weapon in the vicinity of the lab. They would all have to rely on hand-to-hand combat to end this little war. With no idea who was out there or what their beef with the meth cooks was, she was convinced that she wouldn’t make it out of all this alive.

When your life is measured in minutes, odd things go through your mind. Rachel wondered first if she had remembered to tell Rick that she loved him this morning. Then she worried over who had fed the cats. She pictured them in the house for days, nearly starving, trying to break into the cabinet where the food was kept. Then she wondered if Rick would hire a new waitress immediately, or wait to replace her.

She tried to shake off all these strange thoughts, but the sounds of glass shattering and bodies being pummeled only made her more nervous. Then came the loud and commanding voices and the rest of it stopped. The only sound inside the trunk was Rachel’s hard and fast breathing. To her, it sounded like a wind tunnel.

The man next to her patted her hand again. She couldn’t see his face in the complete darkness, but she thought he might be smiling. Maybe they would get out of this alive. Maybe it would be soon.

T
here was chatter on the headsets of the two men left to guard them. Rick listened, knowing the terminology but not really giving a damn about the operation. He was waiting to hear word of Rachel, something that indicated they had found a civilian inside. So far, there had been none.

To his left, men were being marched out of the cave at gunpoint. They were cuffed, each of them looking like a refugee from a bad gang movie. They were taken to a large truck, prodded with the muzzle of a gun if they moved too slowly, and shoved roughly inside. Rick pushed off from the rocks so that he could get a better view, hopefully catch sight of Rachel.

The officer raised his weapon, aiming it directly at Rick’s chest. “You stay right where you are. Nobody goes anywhere until we get the all-clear.”

Rick checked his eyes, seeing a bit of fear there. Sure, Rick had a good sixty pounds of pure muscle on the man, and he had been trained in a great many disciplines. But the officer had a weapon and Rick had nothing. In the interest of not getting his chest ventilated, Rick merely nodded and sank back against the boulders.

More men were marched out of the cave and into the truck. Rick’s hopes soared with each person who came out of that cave. His heart skipped a beat.

Still, there had been no sign of Rachel, no word that she had been seen.

I
nside that trunk, Rachel was all ears. Every sound, scrape, bump or rattle made her jumps inwardly. She wasn’t sure who was outside, other than the bad guys. More bad guys? Worse guys? The police? She could only hope.

After a long while, the tunnel fell silent. The man next to her shifted slightly and disentangled his arm. As quietly as he could, he opened the lid of the trunk millimeter by millimeter, squinting out of the darkness and into that little slit of light. When finally the lid was open a good four inches and he could see most of the cave, he let out a long breath.

“I think we’re clear now. Let’s get out of this thing.”

He unfolded himself by degrees, hauling himself out of the trunk and then offering his hand to help her out as well. Every muscle in her body ached from the tension and from being folded up inside that trunk. She unfurled slowly, trying to reach a standing position before the cramps in her legs threw her to the ground.

Then she was out, free, but by no means safe. She offered a smile of gratitude to the man who had shoved her into that trunk. He didn’t have to. He could have let her fend for herself.

“Thank you for saving me,” she offered feebly. “I know you didn’t have to and it was a risk.”

He waved her off. “No sweat.”

There were footsteps coming toward them now. They came from the cemetery end of the tunnel and Mr. Hoodie turned quickly in their direction. Every muscle in his body was taut, braced for a flight or fight situation. When he caught sight of who was coming toward them, he relaxed all at once.

“Thank God it’s you. Let’s do this. I want to get out of here, man.”

The officer smiled at the man, then risked a glance at Rachel. “You two get all cozy in the trunk there, pal?”

“You better cuff me now, dude, or I’ll go all Jackie Chan on your ass.”

Rachel was momentarily stunned. She couldn’t figure out the two players, where they sat on the law-enforcement chain link fence. The man in riot gear produced a cable tie, securing the other man’s wrists with it. She might have imagined it, but she thought he smiled as he cinched the cable tie just a smidge too tight.

Mr. Hoodie jerked away in protest. “Hey, watch it, pal. You don’t have to break my wrists, you know?”

“Just keeping it real, man. Let’s go.”

They walked for a bit, Mr. Hoodie at the end of the officer’s gun, Rachel bringing up the rear. She listened intently for any tiny sound that might come from behind them. For the first fifty feet, she was convinced that the bad guys were going to come up behind them and shoot her in the back before she could make it onto the beach. But then she saw the light at the end of the tunnel, figuratively and literally. She fought the urge to bolt, to run into that clean white sand and keep running all the way home.

N
o one had come out of the cave for fifteen minutes. There was some chatter on the headsets, but even that had died down to the occasional pronouncement or joke. Inside, Rick’s stomach was churning and he fought the burning desire to simply bolt away from the officer in charge, counting on his good nature not to shoot him in the back.

“Last one,” boomed the voice from just inside the cave.

Rick’s head swung around in that direction and his hands pressed him several inches away from the rocks. He became peripherally aware of Logan’s hand on his shoulder, of the weapon pointed at his chest.

First came the guy in the hoodie, his hands bound behind his back. Right behind him was an officer in tactical gear, his weapon drawn, his face sour.

Rick drew in a breath and held it.

“Get moving, jerk.” The officer gave Mr. Hoodie a sound shove in the back, making him stumble forward.

“Keep your hands off me, man. You do that again and…”

“Just get in the truck, idiot.” Once more, he shoved the guy, laughing as he stumbled against the unopened door, then climbed up onto the bumper. “We’ve got a nice ten-by waiting for you. Welcome to Hotel Fed.” And he slammed the door shut half a second after Mr. Hoodie pulled his foot inside.

At the same moment, someone stepped clear of the cave mouth. Rick, his breath still in his lungs, squinted to try and make out who it was. For long seconds, he couldn’t even tell whether it was man or woman. Then he spotted the cut of the jeans, the way she stepped carefully on the sand.

“Rachel,” he muttered with that held breath. “That’s Rachel. It’s my wife. Please?” His face was pathetic and pleading and the officer must have felt a tug at his heartstrings.

“Go ahead.” He dropped his weapon to his side and waved Logan on as well.

“Rachel!” Rick called out, feet pounding the sand as he ran.

She spotted him then, the tears coming at once. “Oh my God! Rick!”

And then she was running, her breath only tiny gasps of useless air as she went. She skipped the last three feet, throwing herself across the space and into his arms.

And he caught her, grabbing on tight and letting the momentum carry her to his chest, swinging her around, clutching her, crushing her face against him and shaking hard.

When he set her down, his eyes were brimming, his heart pounding. His voice was a memory as he pushed her back to look her over, then crushed her to him again.

“Thank God you’re all right,” he sighed, stroking her hair.

“I was so scared,” she said and her voice was half sob, half scream. Then softer, “I was so scared.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He kept stroking her hair, as if she weren’t real, as if she would poof away at any moment.

Behind her, someone cleared his throat. The man in charge was there, staring at them. “I know this is a wonderful reunion and all, but I need just a few words with your wife. Then you can take her home.”

Rick looked into Rachel’s wide eyes, then nodded. “Make it fast.”

He pulled Rachel aside and removed his headset, tucking it into a pocket. He still hadn’t smiled. Rachel doubted he knew how.

“I want to caution you not to say anything about what happened in there tonight, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ve been months building this case and there are certain parties involved that could be put in danger if you spoke about it. It would end their career and possibly their life.”

“I get that, believe me.” She nodded rapidly, drawing in a shaky breath. “As far as I’m concerned, I fell through a hole. There were bad men in there and the police saved me.”

“Good then. Do you need medical attention?”

“No. I think I’m fine.”

“Very well. Have a good night, ma’am.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

Rachel watched him go for a moment, trying to make sense of everything she had just been through. Then Rick’s hand came to rest on her shoulder and she put her own hand on top of his.

“Take me home, please.”

Chapter 13

T
he diner opened late the next day; for lunch rather than breakfast. Rachel, Rick and Logan had been tired from the ordeal of the previous night and had mutually agreed that missing one breakfast shift wouldn’t kill any of them.

Rachel and Rick had gone straight home and taken hot showers. They spoke of nothing in particular, just chit-chat about the cats and the diner. Then they had crawled into bed and, no matter how badly Rachel wanted to figure things out in her head, she dropped off almost immediately.

Refreshed and with a much better outlook on life, they appeared at the diner promptly at ten and made ready for a late opening. Macy and Diane were already there, with Logan still in absentia. At the sight of them, Macy flew across the diner and grabbed Rachel into a tight hug.

“Oh, thank God you’re in one piece,” she moaned. “I told you that one day all this cloak and dagger stuff would do you in. Do you have any idea how scared I was for you?”

Rachel laughed. “Everything’s okay now. Let’s just let it go.” She pushed past Macy and headed for the counter, ready to fulfill her duties as waitress.