Taking Aim (7 page)

“You think they were expecting to meet someone who wasn’t going to be shooting at them?”

“Yes.” Zach rounded the truck and climbed up into the driver’s seat. “There have to be other people nearby who knew what was going to happen. Cartel members like to brag about their kills and ambushes.” He paused with his fingers on the key in the ignition. “If we find the right people, we might discover who knows something, like who’s responsible and where they’re holding your sister.”

Jacie’s eyes lit. “Then what are we waiting for? Go!”

Zach twisted the key and set the truck in motion, heading down the long, dusty gravel driveway. “Now, don’t get your hopes up. Cartel members tend to be pretty close-lipped around strangers.”

Jacie slammed a fist into her palm. “Then we’ll beat the information out of them.”

Zach chuckled. “That’s my girl. Tough as nails and soft as silk.”

Her cheeks flamed. “I’m not your girl,” she muttered. “And I’m not soft.” She stared at her work-roughened fingers. “And ‘honeycakes’? Really, was that all you could come up with?”

Zach chuckled, betting she was soft in all the right places, and “honeycakes” was perfect.

He shook himself and forced his attention back to the road, headed into Wild Oak Canyon.

“Where does everyone go at one point or another to talk or share a cup of coffee?”

“That would be Cara Jo’s Diner,” Jacie said. “She’s a friend of mine. Everyone has dinner there at least once a week to catch up on everyone else’s business.”

“Good. We’ll start there.”

Chapter Seven

Jacie entered the diner first, her nostrils filling with the comforting smells of meat loaf, roasted chicken and fried okra. Once Zach passed through the door and it closed behind him, Jacie paused, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the aromas calm her.

“Smells like home.”

Jacie opened her eyes and tipped her head toward Zach.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

This was perhaps the first clue he’d given her about his life outside his work. “Did your mother make her kitchen smell that good?”

“Always. She loved to cook and we always had great food.” His smile faded. “I miss her.”

“What happened?”

“She and my father had me late in life. And all that good cooking clogged their arteries.” He sighed. “They died within months of each other. Mom couldn’t imagine life without Dad.” Something about the grim set of his lips spoke more than his words.

“Where were you during all this?” Jacie asked.

“I wasn’t there when Dad had his heart attack.”

“Were you working for the FBI then?”

He nodded.

“Undercover?”

Again he nodded. “I didn’t know until it was almost too late to see my mother before she passed too.”

Jacie’s chest tightened. She and Tracie had lost both their parents to an automobile accident. “At least you got to say goodbye to your mother,” she said quietly. Then she squared her shoulders. “How about that booth in the corner?”

“I’d prefer to sit at the bar. We might learn more there.”

“Right.”

As she strode across the floor, Cara Jo, the diner’s owner, pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen with her hip and carried a large tray full of steaming entrees to a table of cowboys. “I’ll be with you in a minute. Seat yourself,” she called out.

Cara Jo’s shoulder-length, light brown hair swung as she spun around in her cute little waitress outfit. The retro-styled dress that hadn’t fazed Jacie in the least in the past suddenly made her more aware of her dusty jeans and even dirtier shirt. Her face probably had the same layer of grime and her hair... “We’ll take a seat at the bar,” Jacie said.

“Suit yourself.” Cara Jo laid out one full plate at a time in front of the cowboys. No sooner had she set a plate on the colorful gingham tablecloth than a cowboy practically stabbed her with a fork, diving into the vittles.

Jacie chuckled. “Cara Jo has the best food in the county.”

“Isn’t this the only diner in the county?”

“Only one that’s stayed in business. People come back when the food’s this good.” She stopped at the bar. “I’m going to wash up. I’ll be right back.”

“Me, too. I can still smell aviation fuel and dead men.” Zach wrinkled his nose. “Back in two shakes.”

While Zach headed for the men’s room, Jacie pushed through the door of the ladies’ room.

What she saw in the mirror was worse than she’d imagined. Brown hair stuck out of the loosened ponytail, in complete disarray, windblown, not in a good way, and tinged gray with dust. Her face had a layer of fine Texas sand over it, giving her a sun-dried, tanned look that wasn’t any more appealing than it sounded. When she patted her shirt, a cloud rose from her and she coughed.

Holy hell, you’d think she had more pride than to show up in town looking like...well, like one of the cowboys. People expected the men to look wind worn and filthy. But a woman was supposed to have more pride.

She squared her shoulders and stared into the mirror. “Why do I care? My sister is missing and no one really cares about how I look.” Except herself. She yanked the ponytail out of her hair, bent over, her long brown hair hanging down, and ran her fingers through the thick tresses, shaking out the dust. When she flipped it back, it was better. Not great, but better.

She patted her shirt, flapped it to get the dust to fly loose, then slapped at her jeans. The light in the room grew hazy.

“This is crazy. It’s not like the man sees me as anything more than the job.” She sighed. “Oy, but that kiss...”

Jacie splashed her face with water from the sink, wishing she had a little lip gloss to coat her dry lips. Who was she kidding?

Semisatisfied that she didn’t look like a complete loser, she stepped out of the bathroom and ran into a hard wall of muscle.

Zach caught her in his arms and steadied her. “Do you always talk to yourself in the bathroom?”

Her cheeks burned and she grimaced up at him. “Are the walls that thin?”

He nodded.

Mortified, she couldn’t bring herself to ask how much he’d overheard. “Well, then, we should start our investigation.” She hurried past him, hoping he’d only heard her mumbling.

“Just so you know, you’re not just the job,” he called out softly behind her.

Jacie was sure her face couldn’t get any hotter. She plopped into a bar stool and gave Cara Jo all her attention. “Could I get a glass of ice water?”

“You bet. Guess it’s getting pretty hot out there already.” Cara Jo snagged a full, frosty pitcher, poured two glasses of ice water and set them in front of Jacie and Zach. “Jacie, sweetie, who’s your handsome friend?”

Jacie stiffened at Cara Jo’s flirty query. “Zach Adams.”

“Her boyfriend from college,” Zach interjected.

Cara Jo’s eyebrows furrowed, a smile playing at her lips. “You never told me you had a boyfriend from college.” Still holding the pitcher of water, she planted her fist on one hip and looked down her nose. “Come on, tell all.”

“Not much to tell.” Jacie hated lying to her only friend outside the Big Elk Ranch. “We met in college.”

“Well, it must have been more than a chance meeting for him to show up here after all these years.”

“I missed her.” Zach slid an arm around Jacie’s waist, his breath stirring the hairs around her neck, making gooseflesh rise on her arms.

Jacie couldn’t continue the lie and she had more important things on her mind. She sucked in a long, steadying breath. “Cara Jo, Tracie’s missing.”

Cara Jo plunked the pitcher on the counter. “Oh, my God. How? When?” She reached across the counter and gathered Jacie’s hands in hers. “Oh, baby, you must be beside yourself. And to think, she was just in here the day before yesterday.”

“That’s when she got in town.” Jacie gave her the bare-bones details of what had occurred since.

“Holy hell, Jacie, you were almost killed.” She rounded the counter and hugged her friend. “What about Tracie? Do you have any idea where they might have taken her? Have the FBI and DEA arrived? Have they mounted a search and rescue?”

Jacie gave a wry chuckle. “Slow down, will ya? We have no idea where they took her and yes, the FBI and DEA are on it. But I can’t just sit around and wait for them to find her. I have to do something.”

“Honey, what
can
you do? You’re not trained to fight the Mexican cartel. Hell, even the soldiers and agencies who
are
can’t seem to slow them down.” Cara Jo stopped talking when she looked Jacie in the face. “Sorry. I’m not helping, am I?” She squeezed Jacie’s shoulders and stepped back around the counter. “What can I do? Want me to join the search party? I will.”

“No.” Jacie shook her head. “They want me to stay out of it. What I need is to find out anything I can about when my sister came to town. Did she talk to anyone? Meet anyone here in the diner? Say anything?”

Cara Jo pinched the bridge of her nose. “She asked for directions to the Big Elk Ranch.... Think, Cara.” For a long moment she said nothing. Finally she looked up. “I seem to recall her talking to a man outside the diner.”

“Did you see him? Who was it?”

“I don’t know. He was dark haired, maybe Hispanic. Not very tall.” Cara Jo’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. If I remember correctly, someone was sitting at the window booth staring out at the same time Tracie was talking to the man.” Cara Jo’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Oh, yeah. It was Bull Sarly. Maybe you can get that cantankerous old man to tell you who it was.”

Jacie bit her lip. “All we can do is try. Maybe if he knows how important it is to find her quickly...”

“Yeah.” Cara Jo snorted. “Good luck with that.” She raised a finger. “If you’re planning on going out there, I have something you’ll need.” She hurried into the kitchen and emerged a minute later with a wad of white butcher paper. “You’ll need this.”

Jacie smiled. “Thanks.”

“Cara Jo, can you remember anything else?” Zach asked. “A conversation, maybe not between Tracie and anyone else, but one that might have to do with a meeting in Wild Horse Canyon?”

Cara Jo shook her head. “Nothing like that. I’ll tell you what, though, the whole time your sister was here, she kept fiddling with her cell phone. She’d press a button, put it to her ear and then take it down and end the call before it even had time to ring. I thought it was weird at the time but figured the line was busy or something.”

“Cara Jo.” A pretty blonde with a miniature version of herself sitting beside her in a booth waved her hand. “Can I get a cup of milk for Lily?”

Jacie’s friend smiled at the woman and called out, “Got it.” Then she focused on Jacie again. “Hey, would you like to meet Kate and Lily? They just moved into the old Kendrick place.”

“Maybe next time I’m in town.” Jacie liked meeting people, but her sister took priority over socializing.

“I understand.” Cara Jo pulled a carton of milk out of a refrigerator under the counter and poured a plastic cup full, snapped a lid on it and stuck in a straw. “It was good to meet you, Zach. I’d hang around and chat, but I have to work. My waitress called in sick. Let me know if I can do anything to help. I can shut down the diner in a heartbeat and be ready.”

“Thanks, Cara Jo. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your ears open.” Jacie reached across the bar and squeezed Cara Jo’s hand. “If anything comes up in a conversation that might relate to Tracie’s disappearance, call me.”

“You bet I will.”

While Cara Jo waited on the tables, Jacie swallowed some of the ice water and stood. “Let’s go find Bull Sarly.”

“I take it you know the man.” Zach cupped her elbow and escorted her from the diner as if she were dressed in a fine dress at a cocktail party instead of wearing jeans and a dusty T-shirt.

Jacie hated to admit it, but she liked it. After working at the ranch for the past few years, she’d almost forgotten what it was like to be treated like a lady. She’d made it a point to be one of the guys. The men trusted her as a guide more if she looked like one of them. For a long time, it had seemed like an asset, her ability to blend in with the menfolk. Since she’d met Zach, the ability seemed more a liability.

* * *

Z
ACH
PULLED
OUT
onto Main Street. “Where does Mr. Sarly live?”

Jacie blew out a breath. “On a small plot of land west of town. Out by the dump.” She glanced at Zach. “Let me warn you, he’s a cranky old geezer. Never has anything good to say about anyone. We’ll be lucky if he tells us anything. Hell, we’ll be lucky to get past his rottweiler, Mo.”

“We’ll manage.” Zach had been shot at, beat up and tortured in his line of work. What kind of grief could one cranky old man give him that he hadn’t already overcome?

Five miles west of the town of Wild Oak Canyon, Jacie motioned for him to pull off the road onto a rutted track that looked more like a shallow ravine than a road. It wound through clumps of saw palmetto and prickly pear cactus, the vegetation like so much concertina wire strung along a perimeter.

“I take it Mr. Sarly doesn’t get many visitors,” Zach remarked, bracing himself for a meeting with the man.

“He doesn’t want any. He’s said as much.”

“Sometimes a man might push others away to keep from being hurt. Perhaps Mr. Sarly was hurt by a woman or lost someone he loved and hasn’t gotten over it.”

“Uh-huh. Or he’s just plain cranky and doesn’t like people at all. I always give him the benefit of the doubt. But he always gives it right back in my face.” Jacie shook her head. “You can’t please all of the people.”

“True.” As they rounded a patch of scrawny mesquite trees, a tired, gray-weathered wooden house came into view. Sitting on the porch with a shotgun in his lap was a big man wearing only a faded pair of blue jeans and old brogan boots. His gut hung over his waistband and his long gray, shaggy hair blended into an equally long and shaggy beard, neither of which had been combed or cut in at least a decade. A husky red-and-black rottweiler lounged on the porch beside the man’s chair, seemingly unconcerned by the approach of a strange vehicle.

Zach pulled to a halt out of range of the shotgun’s blast.

When Jacie moved to open her door, Zach held out a hand. “I’ll handle this.”

“But—”

“Please.”

Jacie shrugged. “Here, you might want this.” She handed him the package wrapped in white butcher paper he’d all but forgotten.

With a frown, Zach held up the package. “What’s this for?”

She grinned. “The dog.”

As soon as Zach’s boots touched the ground, the dog leaped off the deck and raced toward him.

“Throw the package,” Jacie yelled.

Without thinking, Zach did as Jacie said and threw the package at the dog.

The rottweiler ground to a halt, sniffed at the offering and then clamped his teeth around it. He then trotted off into the brush.

“Damned good-fer-nothin’ hound,” Bull Sarly grumbled from the porch.

After the dog left, Zach headed for the porch. “Mr. Sarly.”

“Ain’t no mister up here.”

“Bull Sarly?” Zach continued toward the man with the shotgun.

“That’d be me. Ya got twenty seconds to state yer piece. Take that numbskull that long to rip into whatever you brought for him. And I’ll be shootin’ whatever’s left after the dog’s finished with ya.”

“Then I’ll speak fast.” Zach never let his gaze drift from the old man’s. He studied the way the gnarled fingers tightened around the worn wooden stalk of the gun in his lap, anticipating any aggressive move on the other man’s part.

“Tracie Kosart was kidnapped yesterday by Mexican cartel.”

“So? I ain’t no Mexican cartel. Get off my property.”

“You were at the diner day before yesterday when she came in.”