Texas Hunt (15 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“Let's go,” Dylan said after they'd sat for forty-five minutes watching the warehouse.

The longer Ryan was away from Lisa, the more clenched his gut became. He didn't want to acknowledge all the reasons. Rather than climb on that hamster wheel again, he followed Dylan inside the building.

The air was still and it was dead quiet. He immediately smelled cleaning agents, which were common materials used in making bombs.

Inside was a long, open room. Metal bars kept the ceiling from caving in. On one end of the building was a door. All three men seemed to lock in on it at the same time. If anyone was there, they'd be inside that room.

Dylan and Brody flanked Ryan as he stalked toward it, careful not to make a sound.

There were containers shoved up against the walls and gallon jugs of rat poison. He glanced at a bucket filled with old cell phones and his immediate thought was that they could be used as remote devices used to activate detonators.

None of this was damning evidence unless he could tie the Alcorns to the building in some way. Charles Alcorn would be smart enough to erase any paper trail leading back to him.

Ryan immediately noticed the rust on the door handle as he approached. There were two logical explanations. The first was the building's age. The second could be from chemicals used to make a bomb. They'd rust any metal nearby.

There were cords half-unraveled on the cement floor, too.

Definite signs of bomb activity.

Ryan tried the door and it was locked. He pulled out the knife Brody had packed in his rucksack. Since the doorknob was a simple push-button affair, all he had to do was jab a tiny blade into the hole and push on the locking mechanism.

He popped the lock easily and opened the door much to the wide-eyed stares of his buddies. Ryan didn't dare defend himself before he found out what was on the other side. Besides, he might be reliable Ryan but he'd had his share of reasons to pick a lock to get to his brother.

Palming his gun, he used it to lead the way inside.

The room was empty save for a wooden table that had been pushed to one side.

“The place is clear,” Ryan said.

“I've been here before.” Dylan focused on the table with a look of disgust. “I also saw wires out there and they tied off my head covering with something like that.”

“I'm sure both of you noticed the supplies in the other room,” Ryan said, leading the way back. “And the smell.”

Brody stopped, his gaze locked on to something in the corner. He walked over, picked it up and held it up.

It was a toy race car.

“I don't like the look of that,” Ryan said.

“Neither do I,” Brody replied, setting it down gingerly in the same place. “There's so much they can do with forensics nowadays. Maybe they can lift something off it and identify the owner. Damn, that makes me think I should've left it alone.”

“That's a good point. We shouldn't touch anything else we see,” Ryan said. “Even though we're wearing gloves, we might smudge a print.”

Dylan agreed.

They returned to the bigger room and pulled light sources out of their packs. The inside of the building was surprisingly free of graffiti, so it had been maintained or at the very least watched over by someone.

Bored teenagers generally knew every vacant building in the county because they were always looking for places to gather, drink and goof around. Another sign this place was under someone's protection.

“What's that smell?” Ryan asked.

“Could be this,” Dylan held up an opened bottle of vinegar. “They have so many freakin' ways to make bombs in here. I think these are acetone and aluminum powder. Then there are these bags of sugar, nitric acid, potassium chlorate and nitrate. They've even got car batteries stacked over here.”

“A good source of sulfuric acid,” Ryan said. “These thermometers are a source of mercury. And this hydrogen peroxide is available at pretty much every store. One thing here and there and we have no case against the owner of this building. Put even a few together and this is worth law enforcement's time.”

“How do we want to do this?” Brody said.

“We can call it in anonymously,” Ryan said. “Use the tip line.”

“I've got someone looking into this, as well,” Dylan said. “Doesn't hurt to squeeze out whoever's involved by calling in the law.”

“In the meantime, let's take pics of everything we see,” Ryan said. There was dirt and sawdust on the floor. “We'll need to erase our footprints.”

“You two shoot, I'll take care of our footprints,” Brody said.

When they were done, they shut down their light sources and turned toward the door in time to see headlights, which almost immediately shut off.

“Spread out,” Brody said.

Ryan moved near the door, behind a column so that no one could see him when they breached the entry.

He crouched low, ready to spring into action.

There were voices on the other side of the door. What was it? A police radio.

If the deputy or whoever was out there walked ten steps inside the door, he'd be face-to-face with Ryan.

He ran toward the back room. Dylan and Brody had the same idea because they both tore in the same direction.

They closed the door within seconds of the other being opened.

Dylan checked the window. “I hear two voices.”

“We need to get the hell out of here. They catch us in here and we'll never be able to explain our way out of it,” Brody said.

Following Dylan's lead, Ryan stealthily climbed onto the table that had been pushed against a wall. He could hear footsteps echoing louder on the concrete in the other room moving toward them.

Once the window was open, Ryan slipped out first, followed by the others.

They crouched down and belly-crawled toward the brush.

Once they found their original path, they broke into a full run and didn't stop until they were at Brody's truck again.

“What the hell was that?” Ryan asked.

“Someone must've beaten us to reporting that place to the deputy,” Dylan said.

“But why? It makes no sense,” Ryan said. “Unless...they wanted us to get caught. What better way to accuse us of being involved than to have us caught red-handed with bomb material?”

“You're right,” Brody said. “The question is how did they know we were there in the first place?”

“It must be wired.” Ryan took his seat on the passenger side after Dylan and closed the door.

“My tech guy didn't detect anything,” Dylan said. “Then again, there are lots of new toys out there that can fly under the radar and we didn't have time to properly screen the location.”

With Alcorn's money, Ryan figured only the best would do. And he also realized they'd walked right into a trap.

If someone in Alcorn's camp knew about them visiting this site, then Lisa might be in danger. Dammit.

“We need to get back,” he said to Brody.

“I thought of that, too,” Brody said. “I'm on it.”

As long as Beckett Alcorn was free, none of their friends were truly safe.

Pulling into the gravel drive more than half an hour later, Ryan felt his heart sink to his toes when he saw a cruiser parked out front.

As soon as the truck stopped, he bolted for the front door.

Lisa was already coming outside, followed by Deputy Adams.

“What's going on?” Ryan asked.

She got close enough for him to see the absolute panic in her eyes.

“Ryan Hunt, I'd like you to accompany me to the station for questioning,” Adams said.

“What are you talking about?” Ryan asked. What on earth could Adams want to ask him at the station that he couldn't ask right there?

Lisa's expression was complete panic by this point. “I tried to text you, but he asked me not to. He won't say what's going on.”

“Don't I have a right to know why you want me to go with you?” Ryan asked, not wanting to leave Lisa alone for even a few hours.

“Like I said, I have questions.” Adams was looking at Ryan as if he'd finally gotten one of the Hunt boys on a criminal charge. Ryan didn't like it one bit, and this was coming out of left field. “If you're refusing to cooperate, I can make the next visit more official.”

Was that a threat?

“I'll keep an eye on things here, Ryan,” Dylan offered.

Brody said he wasn't leaving until Ryan returned, as well.

At least he could count on them to take care of Lisa, her sister and Grayson until he could figure out what the hell was going on with Adams.

“Fine,” he said to the deputy. “I'll go with you.”

Sheer panic crossed Lisa's features. “Can I come, too?”

“That's not a good idea,” Adams said.

So whatever he wanted to say to Ryan couldn't be said in front of her?

Ryan didn't like any of this a bit. It was one thing for the sheriff to look the other way and allow Alcorn free rein on the town. It was entirely something else if he knew and was pocketing money. But this screamed that Ryan's rights were about to be violated, and no Texan was about to put up with that, least of all Ryan.

He followed the deputy to the SUV and started toward the passenger side.

Adams opened the back door instead.

* * *

F
ROM
THE
SECOND
the cruiser had pulled up, Lisa's panic alert had been firing on high. Never in her wildest imagination would she have figured what would come next. When Deputy Adams asked about Ryan's whereabouts, she'd been confused. Now that he was being taken in for questioning, she was flabbergasted.

“I don't like any of this,” Dylan said as he ushered her inside.

Brody followed suit, sending a text to Rebecca to let her know that everything was okay in case she woke up looking for him.

Dylan pulled mugs from the cabinet and filled them with fresh coffee.

“The kids will be awake soon,” he said. “I'll call in Mrs. Anderson today to help out with Maribel.”

“Is it too early to call Justin?” Lisa asked.

“You sure you want him in the middle of this?” Dylan asked as a look passed between him and Brody.

“He deserves to know what's going on with his brother,” she said.

“You're right. It's just that there isn't much he can do, and coming back might make matters worse for Ryan,” Dylan said.

“I didn't realize that,” she said.

“We all know how much the sheriff disliked Justin and I don't want to prejudice anyone else around town.”

“He's not that person anymore. And it wasn't his fault when he was,” she countered. “It was their father.”

Dylan gave her a look and she knew exactly what he was thinking, but she couldn't let a sleeping dog lie. “He might be able to help.”

Lori shuffled into the kitchen with Grayson on her hip. “He's hungry.”

Lisa held Grayson while Lori mashed a banana. “You want me to feed him?”

“No, thanks. Taking care of him keeps my mind off things,” Lori said.

Lisa knew exactly what her sister meant. She didn't know what to do with her hands when Lori took Grayson back.

“What else can we do?” Lisa asked.

“I need to make a few calls to find a good lawyer,” Dylan said. “Until then, there isn't much.”

That was about the most frustrating thing Lisa had heard tonight.

Dylan excused himself to the office out back as Samantha entered the kitchen.

“Any news?” Samantha asked.

“Nothing, I'm afraid. I just keep wondering what on earth they could think they're going to accomplish,” Lisa said.

Brody finished his mug of coffee and set it on the table. “Alcorn has been after the Hunt family for years. He might be targeting Ryan, trying to make it seem like he's doing something illegal. We know the truth about him. That's what matters right now. Until we know what accusations we're dealing with, we can't mount a defense.”

“So, what until then?” she asked as Samantha put her arm around Lisa's shoulders.

“We wait,” Brody said.

Three excruciating hours later, Dylan walked into the house.

Lisa had been folding clothes with Samantha when she heard the back door open. She raced to the kitchen.

“What have you found out?” she asked.

“He's still being questioned. They're not finished with him yet according to Stern, his new attorney,” Dylan said.

“Questioned for what?” she asked.

“Apparently, his family owns the land we visited last night,” Dylan said, his tone ominous.

“What does that mean?”

“We found a warehouse full of supplies that could be used to make a few kinds of bombs,” Dylan said. “Sheriff's office is saying the supplies match the material used in the one at the funeral home.”

“How could he have planted a bomb there? He was with us, for heaven's sake.”

“I know it. You know it. About time the sheriff's office figured it out, too,” he said.

“Is that the same warehouse you were taken to?” Samantha asked, entering the room behind Lisa.

He nodded.

“That's not possible,” Lisa said. “No way could he own that land. I should think he'd know about something like that.”

“Not necessarily. His brother might know. They inherited it after their father died,” Dylan said.

“Then we have to speak to Justin,” Lisa said. “Don't stop me this time. I'm calling him right now.”

She retrieved her phone. When she returned to the kitchen, Dylan was holding out a slip of paper.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Justin's phone number.”

Oh. Dylan wanted her to call. Good.

“He's the executor of their father's estate. He'd know about the land. I want you to talk to him. It'll be better coming from someone like you, less suspicious,” Dylan said.