Harmful Intent: A Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels/Dawson Hughes Novel (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

South Abilene

Day Fifteen, Evening

Deputy Sergeant Dawson Hughes

Times like this a badge didn't do me any good at all.

An emergency medical technician closed the back door of the ambulance. I grabbed his arm and forced him around so he faced me. "Do whatever it takes. Get him to Abilene Regional as fast as you can."

The man nodded. "We'll get him there safely and fast."

He jumped into the driver's seat and the vehicle pulled out, siren blaring.

I silently prayed the Lord would preserve Hick's life. He hadn't looked good when they hoisted him onto the gurney.

Overhead a chopper's blades sliced the air with ferocity.

I raced toward Thunder. "Which way did the Caddy go?"

The kid pointed in the direction of Route 83. Then in a kind of automatic-replay repeated the information he'd given me before.

I took the radio out of his hand and switched to the channel that let me communicate with the chopper. "It's a silver Caddy heading toward Route 83. Get after it. There might be somebody alive in the trunk. Do not shoot at the vehicle."

"Roger, that." The voice came back at me.

The chopper made a tight orbit then pulled away and the sound of its rotors faded.

My cell phone rang. "Hughes."

"Grogan, here. How's Hicks. I heard the radio transmission."

"Holding his own and on his way to Abilene Regional."

I swiped the back of my hand across my brow. What a weird twist of fate. If Hicks hadn't been fed up with covering the administrative duties Dixie Watts handled for me, the outcome might have been very different. If he hadn't insisted on riding with Thunder tonight, it could've been Grogan on his way to the hospital.

"Un-huh, good. Well, I might have somethin'."

"Shoot."

"Lester Burkholder phoned the station. Said a car was dumped on his property. So I looked into it. That little green bug your lady PI drives is hid behind some bushes on the dirt road goes out to the old man's place. I nosed around some at the spa, but it's dark as the bottom of a coalmine. Nobody around."

My gut seized. I knew that I knew, Ronnie was trapped in the trunk of that Caddy.

"Hughes, you there?" The deputy's voice demanded.

My hand trembled as I barked into the phone at him. "We're in pursuit of a silver Caddy goin' south on Route 83. When sighted, proceed with care, a hostage might be in the trunk."

"You mean, your lady PI."

"Get goin'."

"Yes, sir." A click on the line signaled he'd ended the call.

I raced to my Ram and gunned it onto 83, then hit the gas pedal harder. Maybe I could miraculously morph into Walker Texas Ranger, one of my favorite TV shows when I was a kid. But Chuck Norris I wasn't, and I didn't have a script that had me kicking ass from one end of Texas to the other.

I pressed the metal to the floor, then slowed down to a sane speed. It wouldn't help Ronnie if I creamed myself all over the highway.

The Caddy could've pulled off anywhere in the more rugged areas of south Abilene, but my money was on a reprise of Mark Ingel's killing. Amateurs make those kinds of mistakes. Something a professional killer would never do. I snatched up the portable walkie-talkie stored in the Ram and radioed the chopper. "You see anythin'?"

"It's still light enough I can see a vehicle off the highway kickin' up dust south of Lake Kirby. Not sure it's even a road. Might be a shallow gulley. I'm holdin' back so the driver can't hear the chopper and I haven't turned my search light on."

It was a long gulley and the exact location where Ingels had been found dead in his car. "I'm on it. Oh, and stay close in case we have to medevac someone out."

"Roger, that.

I radioed Thunder and Grogan advising them to come in low key. Didn't want to panic the driver who, I was sure was Cassidy Renault, by Thunder's description. Then I contacted the sheriff asking for a few more cars and an ambulance… no lights, no sirens.

Shadows were growing when I made the turn into the gulley and followed it, gaining a slight bit of altitude as I drove. Still I was able to keep the Ram's lights off. No need announcing my arrival.

Purple sage lined the sides of the cut I drove along. Ahead there was a rise with an outcropping of boulders and several copses of scraggy trees. Ingels had been found behind them.

I made a judgment call and parked my truck on the other side of the rise, I was pretty sure it wouldn't be seen from the gulley should a bad guy be in pursuit. I'd go the rest of the way on foot.

I hadn't gotten more than ten feet when a car kicking up volumes of dust sped up the gulley. A black BMW. Reece Morgan. My hand went to the gun at my side as I bent low and dashed for the far side of the rise.

Keeping my balance was tricky as I struggled to get close enough to be of use to Ronnie and yet not be seen.

Ronnie slouched against a rock formation, hands behind her back. Her matted blond hair had fallen into her face. She shook it back revealing fatigue-lined features and looking much older than she had just yesterday. Anger churned in my stomach, but I kept hidden waiting for the exact moment to make my move. The Renault woman held what looked like Ronnie's Glock and waved the firearm around. It was too much gun for her, but even not knowing what she was doing, she might be able to do Ronnie a lot of damage before I could intervene. I drew my service weapon.

Morgan shook his head. The slight bulge at the back of his shirt would've gone unnoticed except to the trained eye. He was also armed. That was two against one, but I was fairly confident I was the better shot.

He pointed at Ronnie. "I don't want to do her here."

I immediately clicked on the mini tape recorder the deputies had given me for Christmas and buttoned it inside my shirt pocket, hoping to obtain what would amount to confessions on tape.

"Why not?" Cassidy's tone broadcasted the pout on her lips.

"Because it's where you did her husband. This is where they'll look first."

Bingo. Morgan wasn't as dumb as he looked.

A coyote howled far in the distance. When Morgan and Renault turned their heads toward the sound, Ronnie started working her hands up and down behind her back, most likely in an attempt to cut her bonds on a piece of jagged rock. When they turned back, she stopped. If she could free herself, she'd be an asset to me if I had to act before backup arrived. Or at least not a complete sitting duck.

If I were going to count on her in any way, she had to know I was present. I rose so my head was visible above the rock formation and gave her a two-finger salute. It seemed her eyes widened, but that was her only reaction. I ducked back down to my previous position where I could continue peering through a small gap in the rocks.

"You'll never get away with this. Cassidy shot a deputy. He can identify you. His partner can too." Ronnie's voice had an emboldened ring to it.

"Oh darlin' don't you worry none about little ole me. I have in my possession a handy little gadget called a cell phone. It has an internet connection. I'll order plane tickets and leave tonight for Moldova, where there's no extradition and where I'm goin' to get a new identity. We were set on openin' a spa in Europe anyway. Perhaps in Monaco. Now we'll just fast forward our plans."

"So, you two fooled everybody." There was a bitter ring in Ronnie's tone.

"Looks like we did," Cassidy purred, ending with a look of triumph.

"Ran that inept deputy you seem so fond of around in circles." Morgan sneered at Ronnie.

Ronnie jutted her chin out. "Guess you guys will be pretty rich. But you forgot one little thing, without Mark, how will you get the heroin to New York, let alone other places?"

"We don't need Mark." Morgan let a string of expletives fly leaving no doubt about his contempt and hatred for Mark Ingels.

Ronnie tossed her head and her hair landed behind her shoulder. "Why, he was too much competition in Cassidy's bed for your taste?"

"And you, boo, were the last to know about his cheatin' heart." Morgan's sarcastic tone had an icy tinge to it.

My blood raced in my veins. I wanted to rush forward and bash his face in, but made myself take a few deep breaths instead.

She disregarded the taunt. "Now Mark's gone, and with Cassidy in Europe you can't get another boyfriend lined up for her to shuttle the drugs to New York."

For a moment, it looked as if Morgan was going to back hand Ronnie, but didn't. I released a long slow breath, managing my rage and letting out my relief.

"The dope comes to us packed inside the large ceramic tippin' jar fountains we sell. All we have to do is invoice the spa in West Hampton for a few fountains and ship them across country. Nobody's the wiser." A self-satisfied grin spread over Morgan's face, the one asserting what he felt was obvious… that he was smarter and better than everyone else.

Cassidy gave a good impression of a cat about to spit. "We'll do the same thing when we open our spa in Europe, but you'll be history."

I hoped the little recorder was picking all this up. Then later, when they were all lawyered up, they couldn't claim they knew nothing about the heroin in the fountains.

With Morgan doing all the talking, Cassidy seemed to relax. She now held the Glock at her side. She turned to him. "Where do you want to kill her?"

We'll follow this gulley as far as it goes. There's a narrow, but deep and jagged gorge not far from here. Years ago, a few college buddies and I found it when we used to come out here to smoke pot. We'll push her over the side. Who's to say she wasn't hiking and fell?"

The woman thrust a shock of blond hair off her face with blood red claws. "We'll have to take the duct tape off her wrists if we want anyone to believe that scenario."

Morgan nodded. "The two of us can manage that."

If they believed that, they weren't thinking clearly. Any coroner worth his salt would find traces of duct tape, but like so many criminals in a tight spot, they were starting to miscalculate. I wondered if Ronnie realized these two weren't as together as they'd like her to believe.

Ronnie's eyes darted toward the gulley and her head jerked slightly as if she'd heard something. Both Morgan and the woman moved in that direction to check it out and Ronnie worked her hands up and down furiously on whatever she was using to cut the bonds. She flashed a huge smile and a quick nod I took to mean her efforts were successful.

Good girl. Faked them out.

Morgan pulled his gun out from a holster at the small of his back. "Stay with our guest. I'm going to take a look."

I hoped he wouldn't search far enough to find my Ram. Not to worry. He came right back. "Nothing there, boo. Dudley Do Right ain't comin' to save your pretty
derriere
."

I caressed my service weapon. If Morgan made one menacing move, I'd gladly put a bullet in him. And where was Thunder? I knew Grogan, and the backup I'd asked for, would take a while, but Thunder was with me when I radioed the chopper and should've been right behind me.

Morgan motioned with his weapon for Ronnie to stand.

Ronnie struggled to rise. "My leg's asleep. Let me stretch it a bit."

"Get up. Now!" Renault screeched.

Ronnie's eyes focused on where I was hiding behind the rocks, as if to tell me to stay alert. She rose keeping her back to the rocks behind her, then stumbled to the side, and onto her left knee, groaning. In a flash, she brought her right knee up beside her, and whipped the banker's special out from under her pant leg.

Then time seemed to compress. Everything went in slow motion.

Ronnie rolled, firing at Morgan, and missed.

Renault raised the Glock point-blank at Ronnie as she came out of the roll. I fired, hit the woman's hand, and sent the automatic flying. It was a million-to-one shot. Only problem was, I'd been aiming for a body shot.

Another shot rang out from a nearby small rise. Morgan screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his leg which dripped blood and might've been broken.

Thunder rose to his feet from where he'd been hunkered down and walked down the side of the slope carrying at the ready the Ruger Hawkeye Tactical Rifle he favored. His lips formed a gash that seemed to slice his face in two.

The Renault woman shrieked at me. "You shot me." She made a disparaging remark about my mother and started to run.

Ronnie sprang off the ground and tackled her former best friend. She whipped the woman's hands behind her back and Thunder supplied a pair of handcuffs.

The blond kicked at Ronnie with a red high heeled boot but missed. Hatred burned in her eyes.

Ronnie stood and shook her head sadly. "Cassidy, it appears you're the one who's done."

I cuffed Morgan and walked over to Thunder. "I was gettin' a might antsy wonderin' where in tarnation you were."

Thunder grinned. "Us Injuns, we blend into the land."

Chapter Thirty-Two

South Abilene

Day Sixteen, morning

Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels, PI

I gingerly wrapped the dull green-hospital gown around my bandaged shoulders and back as securely as I could, but there was still a draft at my posterior end. So, I snagged another gown from an orderly and put it on the opposite way, tying it in the front. If not glamorous, at least now I felt my caboose was covered.

I padded down the hall in dopey cloth-slippers with non-slip thingies on the bottom. After making a turn at the end of the hallway, I headed for the ICU. The doctor had assured me I'd be allowed to spend a few minutes with Hicks. His surgery had been successful and his prognosis was excellent.

When I entered the room, the nurse on duty told me he was in the bed on the end with the drawn curtain. My feet seemed to stick to the floor. I took halting steps and finally peeked past the edge of the white cloth.

My stomach lurched. He was hooked up to a heart monitor, had an IV drip, and an oxygen tube stuck in his nostrils. A sheet covered the bandages protecting the wound to his gut and his face was nearly as pale as his pillow. "Hey, you up for a little company. The nurse said I could visit a few."

He smiled weakly. "Lookit you, all dolled up in hospital green."

"Yeah, I'm gonna paint the town green." I tossed him a grin. "This is about as dolled up as I get, anyway."

His smile vanished. "I heard they roughed you up some."

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Don't worry about me. You just take care of yourself. Listen, Hicks…"

"No, you listen, Missy. About time you let someone care for you… a man who really appreciates you and who would step up to the plate. I think you know what I'm drivin' at."

I did, or rather, I knew who he referred to, but didn't want to go there. "Um, um."

He reached out with the IV stuck into the back of his hand. "Don't be so hard headed."

I took his hand. "Um… I want to thank you for stopping the Caddy and investigating the noise coming from the trunk. If you hadn't done that…"

"Doin' my job, ma'am. Just doin' my job." His half-grin turned into a cough.

"Can I get you some water? Do you need a nurse?"

"Naw, they watch me like a hawk here."

Dawson Hughes stepped past the curtain, his Stetson in his hand. "Wait till they find out what a pain in the butt you are. They'll be beggin' the doctor to get you into a room."

A stocky ICU nurse with glasses pulled back the curtain a tad. "Miss, your time is up. Deputy, you can have five minutes."

I kissed Hicks on the cheek and turned to leave.

Hughes took my elbow. "Hicks, I'm gonna walk Ronnie to her room, then I'll come back for a visit."

He nodded. "You keep her in line, hear? Can't have no New York PI runnin' all over Abilene willy-nilly."

"I'll do my best."

When we got to my room, Hughes helped me into bed. "I've got a piece of the puzzle you might want to know about."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Reece Morgan was the shooter up in the hills behind the Chuck Wagon that day you were ridin' Henry. Apparently he knows the terrain well enough to disappear into thin air. He also shot Trudy Bobkirk. The Renault woman gave him up durin' questionin'."

"Ever loyal, that's my former best friend." My laugh had to have bled sarcasm. Then with its next beat, my heart ached all over again for Trudy.

"Clever them shippin' the dope in those fountains." His lip twitched and he raised an eyebrow. "They had cases of incense packed around those fountains to throw off any dope sniffin' dogs at the border."

"When they unloaded the truck at the spa, Cassidy called off the items. I wondered what they needed fifteen cases of incense for."

Hughes shrugged one shoulder. "Pretty crafty."

"If Cassidy were able to change her identity in Moldova, they might've gotten away with it. Reece would've claimed no knowledge of her actions and business would've thrived as usual."

He shrugged one shoulder. "That's a big if. Hastily made criminal plans more often than not tend to unravel at the seams."

"That's a moot point now, Deputy." I grinned.

He patted my hand and held it a moment. "Indeed. I'm just grateful you're all right."

"Right as rain." I gave him my best smile.

He still had my hand. "You stay that way, hear?"

I cleared my throat, averted my eyes, then brought them back to him, while gently removing my hand. I pretended to fuss with the tie of my hospital gown. "You know, during one of our sleuthing escapades at the spa, Bertha took a fancy to the medium-sized fountains. I was going to get her and Hoot one as a wedding gift. Can't do that now."

"Might be nice if you waited for Hoot to pop the question." He laughed.

I shrugged. "You know he's gonna."

Hughes cleared his throat. "Now that the investigation is over, I imagine you'll be returnin' to Brooklyn."

"I do have a job there."

He turned his hat around by its brim. "And I have one here."

I nodded. "Yeah, that seems to be the long and the short of it."

"Listen, Thanksgivin' will be here in a few short months. Do you think you'd like to have a cowpoke sittin' at your table?"

"I'm real good in the eating department, but not so good at cooking. You're welcome if you want to risk it." I gave him a grin I hoped was hospitable and inviting. "I learned how to sauté free-range chicken. How hard can roasting a turkey be?"

"I think the two of us can manage to stuff a bird." He leaned over, took my face in his hands, and gave me a soft, lingering kiss.

This time I didn't pull away. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and returned the kiss. Slowly, reluctantly, I released him. "Listen, Hughes. I mean Dawson. Maybe we've reached the point where I should call you Dawson."

"I like the way you say Dawson with your New York City accent. Kinda cute."

"Yeah, that's nice… I mean that… really, but you see, the thing is, I don't want you to misunderstand. It's not that you're not special, really. It's just that, I've only been a widow for a little over two weeks and I'm not the type to jump into something else real quick." I managed to get that out with my usual social acumen. My only hope was that he didn't write a letter about it to Ms. Manners.

He straightened the sheets around me. "I knew that, deep down. I did. I do."

I do
. The words jumped out at me. I'd said those words to Mark thinking it would be forever, and here I was in a hospital bed because of his actions.

Bertha stuck her head into the room. "You-hoo, Ronnie, Deputy Hughes."

I motioned her to come in. "How'd you get away from the Chuck Wagon?"

"Hoot told me to get over here to see you and never mind about nothin' else. Ronnie, he's got those three old-codgers who're soft on you waitin' tables. It's hilarious."

"This I gotta see. After I check in on Hicks, I'll definitely head over to the Chuck Wagon for lunch." Hughes stepped through the doorway, looking back at us with a grin. Then he turned and left.

"Honey, I gotta tell you somethin'. Well, show you, really." She put her purse down on the vinyl-upholstered easy-chair next to the bed.

I sat up in the bed. "What's the matter? Are you all right?"

"Aw, honey, I couldn't be better, even if I tried."

She displayed on her left hand a heart-shaped, sparkling yellow stone set in a solitaire.

I clasped the tips of her fingers, as tears of joy threatened. "Does this mean?"

"Yep, Hoot asked me to marry him and I'm so proud, I can hardly stand it."

"Bertha, you and Hoot deserve every happiness."

"Aw, thanks, Honey. I'd like you to be my maid of honor. Would ya, Ronnie?"

"I'd be honored. But, you mean, matron of honor, don't you?"

"Naw, I mean maid of honor. That first marriage of yours don't count. Now if you were to marry Dawson Hughes, that one would count."

Want to get control of a conversation, or change the subject? Ask a question. An interrogator's trick. "Is that a yellow-topaz?"

"Yep. Ronnie, ain't it beautiful?"

"It certainly is. Have you set a date?"

"We're not gettin' any younger, so this ain't gonna be a long engagement. We're thinkin' a November weddin'."

"Hughes said he'd come to Brooklyn to see me for Thanksgiving."

"Now, Ronnie, you know you can't cook a turkey for the man. Come to think of it, a Thanksgivin' weddin' might be just the thing. You come on back down here. Then maybe he can fly east for Christmas. He might just have somethin' all wrapped up in a little box to put on your ring finger by then."

Like the mess in my life and the emotional turmoil in my heart could be fixed by then. Not likely. But, she meant well, so I hugged her. "I think you're pushing it. Still, I'd love to come back to Arroyo for your Thanksgiving wedding."

"Honey, and what about Christmas?"

I gave her another hug. "I'm sure Hughes and I can figure that out."

The End