Eagle's Last Stand (4 page)

Chapter Four

Rick picked up a soft drink inside the fast food place, then walked back to where he’d left Daniel’s loaner SUV. He’d drive rather than walk back to campus. With time to spare, he took the long way, reacquainting himself with Hartley. Eventually he pulled into campus.

When he’d taken classes here right out of high school, the community college had been nothing more than a multi-classroom structure and administration building. Now the campus comprised about three acres, with a grassy commons area and central fountain.

Rick took the road leading to the visitors’ parking area and pulled into the first slot he found. After a short walk, he found Kim standing just down the hall talking to a man who looked vaguely familiar. It hit him a moment later when the guy turned and Rick saw his face clearly for the first time.

“Karl Edmonds. It’s been a lifetime,” Rick said.

“You know my professor?” Kim asked.

“
Professor?
That’s one career I never would have expected you to choose,” Rick said, looking at Karl.

“I’m technically an instructor, Cloud. I teach part-time, and work full-time for the Hartley P.D. I run the bomb squad,” he said.

“Now
that
fits the kid I knew,” Rick said.

Karl looked at the scar that ran across Rick’s face, then glanced away quickly. “Looks like you came in second in a knife fight, dude. Hope you’ve brushed up on your hand-to-hand since then.”

Rick remembered why Karl had always annoyed him. They’d always been competitors, never really friends. Karl’s biggest problem, which had obviously followed him into manhood, was that he never knew when to shut up.

“We’d better get going. Kim and I need to meet with Preston,” Rick said.

“It was good seeing you, buddy,” Karl said.

“I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Rick held Karl’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Instinct was telling him to be careful around the man. Was it that old competition between them or something more? He couldn’t tell, but until he figured it out, he wouldn’t lower his guard.

* * *

K
IM
FOLLOWED
HIM
to his SUV. “You and Karl... You weren’t ever really friends, were you?”

“No, but we attended school together and played on the same football team. We were friendly—at times.”

“I can’t believe how rude he was to you,” Kim said. “Do you really need to meet your brother or was that an excuse to walk away?”

“Both. It’s a bad idea to make enemies with someone Preston may have to depend on someday,” he said. “Right now, I’d also like to get clearance to take a look around the Brickhouse again in daylight,” he said. “Afterward we’ll head to Turquoise Dreams. Angelina certainly got my attention today.”

“Are you sure your brother’s going to be okay with you investigating on your own?”

“Under ordinary circumstances, no, but the Hartley P.D. is badly understaffed. I can be an asset to them because I’ve got the best law-enforcement training in the world.”

“Will I need clearance, too?”

“Yes. I need you there because you’re familiar with the place and can help me reconstruct the scene. If something’s off or doesn’t belong there, it might stick out to you but slip right past me.”

* * *

A
S
THEY
RODE
to the station, she remained quiet. Although she never looked directly at him, Kim was aware of the way his strong hands gripped the wheel and how he seemed to completely focus on whatever he was doing at the time. She wondered what he would be like in bed—all that intensity, all that drive.... Everything about him spoke of endurance and masculinity.

She shifted in her seat. This was not the time for thoughts such as these. Still watching him out of the corner of her eye, she saw him rub the bottom tip of the scar near his cheek.

“Does it ever ache?”

“What?” he asked, focusing on her.

“The scar.”

“Not generally. The skin around it feels tight sometimes, but that’s about it.” He glanced at her, then back at the road. “When we first met, you never looked directly at it. Most people stare when they see me for the first time, then try to pretend they weren’t.”

“Your eyes drew me more,” she said.

“My...what?”

“You have a way of looking through people, not at them.”

“I observe. It’s how I stay alive.”

“Is the scar one of the reasons you left the Bureau?”

“Yeah, it ruined me for undercover work. I became too easily identifiable.”

“You could have still been involved in routine investigative work,” she said. “Why leave?”

“I preferred undercover assignments.” He shook his head. “No, it was more than that. I knew it was time for me to come home and try to reconnect.”

“With your brothers?”

“With myself.”

* * *

T
HEY
ARRIVED
AT
the police station a short while later and Rick led her down the hall to his brother’s office. Preston waved them inside.

“Anything new?” Rick asked.

“No, but it’s too soon. The lab’s backlogged.”

“I’d like clearance to search the crime scene,” Rick said. “I know the arson investigator and your crime scene team has already been through there, but maybe Kim and I will see something that’ll trigger a memory. It can’t hurt.”

“You’re right. In fact, I’ve already asked my captain about getting you officially involved. He’s agreed.”

Preston reached into the drawer and brought out a shield. “I’m deputizing you. Raise your right hand.” Preston swore him in with a short phrase.

“At the end of this case, if you want to join the force officially, your application will go to the top of the pile.”

“Thanks.”

Preston looked over at Kim. “Stay with Rick and follow his orders to the letter. You are
not
a police officer, you’re just an observer.”

“Understood,” she said.

“All right.” Preston looked at his brother. “Remember to wear gloves,” he added, handing him and Kim a pair each.

After they left the station, Rick asked, “What were the names of the servers last night?”

“Bobby Crawford and Kate Masters.”

“How do we find them?”

“Kate’s probably in class right now. She carries a heavier load than I do and is just a few credit hours away from her business degree. She probably won’t be much help. Kate’s a hard worker, but her mind’s always on some test or paper. She rarely even goes into the kitchen.”

“What about Crawford?”

“Bobby comes in on time and does his job, but never has much to say. We don’t talk about anything other than job-related things.”

As they neared what remained of the Brickhouse, Rick slowed down to study the heavily damaged structure before parking across the street.

“Look down the alley. The back wall was pretty much blown out last night, but it looks even worse this morning. More bricks and roof beams must have come down since then. The loading dock and half the alley are blocked.”

“At least all that flying debris didn’t penetrate the side wall of the furniture store. These old downtown buildings were built to last,” Kim noted.

“Well, whoever cut the gas line and blocked the door counted on the initial blast and resulting fire to do their work,” he said. “If we hadn’t escaped and lived to tell the real story, it might have been written off as an accident caused by faulty connections.”

Kim peered ahead at a young man ducking beneath the tape and walking into the alley. “I think that’s Bobby Crawford. See him over there? He’s wearing jeans, a gray sweatshirt and ball cap,” she said, pointing.

Rick caught a glimpse of the man just as he climbed over a pile of rubble and headed toward the loading dock. “Come on. Let’s go talk to him.”

By the time they’d crossed the street and reached the crime scene barrier, Bobby was nowhere in sight. Rick slipped beneath the crime scene tape and climbed up the rubble-filled stairs of the loading dock to look inside.

“Stay here,” Rick said, then slipped though the gaping hole where the blown-out kitchen doors had once stood.

Rick moved slowly and carefully, picking his way through the mess. Only a few wall studs and pieces of wallboard remained between the kitchen and the dining room. The left wall of the kitchen facing the street had also lost most of its roof structure. From where he stood, Rick could see blue sky and part of the parapet. As he turned to look back out into the alley, Rick noticed that the remaining outside brick wall on both sides of the gap was bowed, ready to crumble.

At the far end of the dining area was a set of brick-littered stairs leading down into the basement. Except for a few inches of water, it was probably the least damaged room in the tavern.

He stood still for a moment, listening. Someone was going through the rubble in the north end of the dining area, the side farthest from the street and hidden by the remaining walls. He turned toward the sound. Despite his size, Rick could move silently when he hunted man or beast. He had a tattoo over his heart with the word
chaha’oh.
It meant shadow.

“Federal agent. Don’t move.” As he stepped through what remained of the doorway, he realized he’d spoken out of habit. He was now working with the Hartley Police. “Turn around slowly.”

“Just don’t shoot, okay? I work here,” he said. “Remember me from last night? I’m Bobby. Bobby Crawford.”

Hearing footsteps behind him, Rick turned his head for a second and saw Kim. She’d come in the same way he had, through the door cavity, and was wearing a white hard hat and holding another.

“Dude, just chill, okay?” Bobby said, his hands up. “In the rush to get out last night, I lost something important. I was hoping to find it before they brought in the bulldozers. It was a gift from my mom.”

Rick sized Bobby up in a glance. He was around eighteen or nineteen, stood five foot six and had dark hair and brown eyes.

“Did you mention this to the police when they took your statement?”

“No, I didn’t realize it was gone until this morning. It’s a gold crucifix I wear around my neck on a chain.”

“You shouldn’t be here. That’s why the yellow tape’s there,” Rick snapped. “It’s not safe for the public to be rummaging around, moving things around.”

“Dude, are you
listening?
It’s not evidence. It’s a family heirloom.”

“Forensic experts and the fire marshal will continue to sort through the debris and recover items. If your crucifix is found, you’ll get it back,” Rick told him. “Let me see your driver’s license.”

When Bobby handed it over, Rick took a quick look, then returned it. “All right. Get going. If anything belonging to you turns up, I know how to find you.”

Bobby backed out through the kitchen and quickly disappeared down the steps.

“I ran into the fire marshal out on the sidewalk,” Kim said, and handed Rick the hard hat. “Preston had called to tell him we’d be here, so Medina came over to make sure we followed safety protocols. He said no one’s allowed inside the Brickhouse without hard hats and he intends to stand by until we’re ready to leave.”

Rick gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Medina give you hard time?”

“No, not really,” she replied softly, gesturing to the street to indicate the man was close by. “He told me not to lean on anything or to move any structural elements. Then he gave me these and insisted we wear them.”

“All right,” he said, putting the hard hat on. “Let’s take a look around, then we’ll go into the kitchen, where all this started.”

She stood in one spot and turned around in a circle, slowly surveying the wreckage. “I can’t believe what this place has become. You could always hear laughter here.”

“Everyone’s okay and we have another chance at life. That’s a reason for laughter. You ready to go into the kitchen?”

She nodded. They picked their way back, stepping over and around the remnants of the shattered interior.

They were barely in the kitchen when Arnie Medina poked his head in through the front door and yelled. “This place is coming down! Get out.
Now!
”

Rick grabbed Kim’s hand and moved toward the gap in the wall facing the alley. Before they could reach the opening, a cloud of dust descended and bricks began to tumble from overhead, raining down on their escape route.

Rick turned back toward the dining area when a roof beam sagged, then cracked as the ceiling gave way.

Chapter Five

Rick spun Kim around and pushed her toward the basement stairs. “Down! Jump!”

Because the wooden steps were littered with chunks of bricks and debris, Rick and Kim ended up sliding into the basement, flat on their backs. As dust and ash billowed down the steps with them, Rick rolled on top of Kim, his body protecting her from the building materials that bounced down the steps. One brick struck his hard hat like a stone fist.

Within seconds the earthshaking cascade was replaced by a loud rattle, then a dozen or more solid thumps from somewhere above. When it was quiet again, Rick rose and looked down at Kim, who still had her eyes tightly shut. It was a good thing, considering her face was covered with dust.

“Keep your eyes shut and I’ll blow away some of the dust.”

He tried, but they both started coughing. He helped her sit up.

For a moment she kept her head down. Finally she opened her eyes and looked up at him. “We’re alive, I take it?”

Rick smiled. “Pretty much. You okay?”

“I feel like I just went down a rock slide, but all I’ve got are bumps and bruises, I guess,” she said, looking down at herself.

Shaken, she turned to look at the stairs. They were piled high with bricks and rubble, but light was coming in as the dust began to disperse.

“At least we’re not totally trapped,” Rick commented. “But we’re going to need help digging out of here.”

“Can you hear me?” came a man’s voice from up above.

“I hear you, Medina, and we’re both fine. There’s a lot of debris in the way, but once we clear a path we’ll have enough room to crawl out,” Rick called back.

“No! Don’t start moving things around. Something else could come down. Wait until my people have a chance to check the situation up here. Stay away from the stairs, hang tight and we’ll get you out.”

* * *

T
WENTY
-
FIVE
MINUTES
later Rick and Kim were standing in the alley at the rear of the Brickhouse. The firemen had braced the remaining walls as well as the sagging roof beams, then cleared a path for them.

“Did I ever tell you how much I
hate
closed-in spaces? I felt like I was smothering down there,” she said, coughing.

“That was poor air quality, not claustrophobia,” he said, clearing his throat. “At least you did all the right things, including the most important of all—keeping your head.”

Arnie Medina came to meet them. “Speaking of keeping your heads, good thing I handed you the hard hats, huh?”

“Yeah, but I still don’t get it. I made sure we stayed in sections that looked stable,” Rick said.

“You had someone working against you. A guy with mirrored sunglasses, dressed in sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt, gave it a push with a two-by-six. He stopped the second I saw him and yelled, but I have no idea how long he was out there.”

“Wait. Sweatpants or jeans?” Rick asked, instantly thinking of Bobby.

“No way,” Kim said, reading Rick’s thoughts.

“You know who it was?” Medina asked.

“Maybe,” Rick answered. “What color hair? Height? Give me anything you’ve got.”

The fire marshal shook his head. “He was wearing a hoodie, and his face was turned away from me when I saw him leaning into the wall. I went to confront him, but he dropped the board and took off like a jackrabbit. Practically knocked a homeless man to the ground, too.”

“The homeless man—six feet tall, red beard and brown hair?” Rick asked.

“Yeah, that fits. He was over by the furniture store’s loading dock for a moment and then he disappeared down the far end of the alley,” Medina said.

“Thanks for everything,” Rick answered.

“You’re through here, I assume?” Medina asked.

“For now,” Rick said, then added, “Would you and your men keep an eye out for a gold crucifix on a chain? The male server who worked here last night—Crawford—was hanging around when we first arrived. He claimed he lost it last night and came back to look around.”

“We can do that.”

Rick hurried with Kim back to his SUV. “I’m going to drive around to see if I can spot Mike.”

“I’ll help you look.”

After twenty minutes of Rick circling downtown and driving down alleys, he glanced over at her, shaking his head. “It’s like he vanished off the face of the earth.”

“Mike’s like that,” she said. “I’ve tried to help him, get him connected with people who’ll give him food and shelter, but he didn’t want any part of it. He sets his own rules and comes and goes as he pleases.”

“There’s something to be said for that, I suppose.”

“There’s one thing I’m sure about. If he knew someone was out to hurt me, Mike would find a way to let me know. He’s not a bad guy. He’s hiding—from the world, from himself, I just don’t know—but there’s a lot of good inside him.”

“And you know this how?” Maybe Kim was still an innocent, a woman determined to see the best in everyone.

“I’m not just another idealistic do-gooder, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “One time after I handed him a sack of food, I reached into my purse and my wallet fell out. It was late, I was in a rush and I didn’t discover it missing until I was finally home.”

“Did you have cash in it?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. My salary, my tips and my one credit card. I canceled the card, but my driver’s license was also gone. Replacing it and buying groceries for the week was going to be difficult without any cash.”

“Couldn’t you have asked your uncle for help?” he asked. “Or at least for an advance on your salary?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have done that until I’d exhausted every other option.”

He bit back a grin. He was the same way.

“The next afternoon when I went back to the Brickhouse to start my shift, Mike met me by the back door and handed me my wallet. He’d kept it safe for me. I tried to give him some money as a reward, but he wouldn’t take it. He just asked that I bring him a
sopaipilla
with green chili for dinner—but only if I wouldn’t get into trouble. That’s the only time he ever spoke to me in full sentences.”

Rick smiled, glad to see she’d made a logical decision, not one based on pity, an emotion that often conspired against a man, destroying him from the inside out.

To this day, he still remembered the pity he’d seen in almost everyone’s eyes after his mother had abandoned him at six years old at the trading post. Those looks had completely sapped his confidence, continually reminding him that no matter how sorry they felt, few would ever open their doors to him. They had their own lives, and he wasn’t included.

Last year, after surviving the knife fight, he’d wondered if the scar on his face would arouse a similar reaction. He’d made it a point to carry himself ramrod-straight, determined not to give anyone an occasion to feel sorry for him.

As it turned out, the agents he’d been working with had looked at the scar as a badge of honor and respected it. Outside the Bureau he’d held his head high, went about his business without hesitation, and in the end his efforts paid off. He’d seen fear in some and shock in others, but pity had been absent.

“I know we were supposed to go to Turquoise Dreams, but do you mind if we stop by my place first? I live in a duplex that’s on the way and I’d like to drop off my books and notes. I also want to make sure that the mail carrier picked up a job application I left in the PO box.”

“What kind of job are you applying for?” he asked as he followed directions to her home.

“One that’s connected to law enforcement,” she said, crossing her fingers. “There’s a security company in town that hires and trains, and it would give me the kind of experience that could come in handy when I apply for the police academy.”

He glanced at her quickly. “Exactly what position are you applying for?”

“The only part-time they’ve got at Complete Security right now—monitoring cameras at night. There’s more to it, but they’re very tight-lipped and don’t give out job details until after they do a background check.”

“How’s the pay?” he asked, knowing they were talking about his brother Daniel’s firm. Level One Security was the parent company of Complete Security, a new venture for his brother. CS was an electronic service Daniel had started up for small businesses in the area.

“The pay’s just average, but they could really teach me a lot—if I get the job.” She pointed. “Here we are, up ahead on the right, 1916 Pine Street.”

Seeing the For Rent sign, he tensed. “The other side of the duplex is empty?” he asked, not liking the tactical complications that presented.

“Not for long. The rent’s reasonable and the owner advertises on campus.”

He quickly parked. As he got out of the SUV, the hairs at the back of his neck prickled. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

Rick looked around, but everything appeared peaceful.

As they stepped onto her small porch, he noticed that her door was slightly ajar. “Do you have a housekeeper or a nosey landlord?”

“A housekeeper? Me?” Kim laughed and then, following his gaze, saw what he was looking at. “I always lock it before I leave, but my landlord, Mr. Hopson, has a set of keys. That might be him, replacing the furnace filter,” she said. “Come in. I’ll introduce you.”

“No.” He pulled her back. “Wait outside.”

She froze. “What did you see?”

Rick reached for the pistol inside his boot, then moved forward quietly, holding the weapon down by his side, the safety now off.