Nineteen
The FBI had issued a BOLO to police departments across the state on Fraser Pitts and Charles “Snake” Warren. Physical descriptions, mug shots and a description of a vehicle registered to Pitts were part of morning roll call all across the state.
Trey passed out copies of the information before the staff went out on patrol. Bobby Ramsey had been one of their own, and everyone wanted to get justice for his murder.
Today they had to transport a prisoner to another city, and before Trey could assign the task, Earl volunteered. So they shackled and cuffed the prisoner, then loaded him in the back of a cruiser and Earl quickly left town.
The rest of the day continued much like any other. Trey went out on a shoplifting call only to find out it was a young unmarried mother with a baby and no food or milk.
After a discussion with the store manager, punctuated by the young girl’s frantic pleas for mercy as the baby cried in her arms, the manager withdrew the request for arrest. Trey gave her contact numbers for Social Services, bought her some groceries, told her she wouldn’t be that lucky a second time and sent her on her way.
It was just after 3:00 p.m. when he finally stopped work and headed up to Charlie’s to get something to eat.
* * *
Earl had radioed that he was on the flip-flop back to Mystic, and as he drove he let his mind wander, preoccupied with an ongoing family drama at home, so when he passed a dark blue van in the oncoming lane, it was already gone before he registered what he’d seen. He thought about ignoring the sighting—the odds of that van belonging to the missing campers were slim—but his conscience wouldn’t let him. He had to check the tag, so he made a U-turn and took off to catch up.
He sped up without running lights or sirens, and quickly spotted the van topping a hill. He floored the gas pedal and within a couple of minutes he’d caught up. The minute he saw the tag number he knew he’d found the men. His heart was racing as he radioed in.
“Officer Redd to dispatch. Over.”
Avery caught the call and keyed back. “Dispatch to Redd. Go ahead.”
“Notify the highway patrol I am in pursuit of dark blue van, license tag NJ 337, as per the description on the BOLO from this morning. I’m going northbound on Highway 8 and just passed mile marker 223.”
“Ten-four,” Avery said, and quickly relayed the message as Earl hit his lights and siren, signaling for the van to pull over.
* * *
Trey was just about to order when his cell phone rang. When he saw the number that came up, he laid down the menu and answered.
“Yeah! What’s up?” he asked.
“Officer Redd is in pursuit of a dark blue van belonging to a Fraser Pitts out of Tennessee. They’re northbound on Highway 8 and just passed mile marker 223. Highway patrol has been notified.”
Trey was already out the door and heading for his car.
“Tell Earl to keep relaying locations, and contact Sheriff Osmond.”
“Will do,” Avery said.
Once again Trey headed out of town with lights flashing and the siren screaming. At his best guess, he was four miles behind, maybe more.
* * *
Snake was the first to spot the cop car behind them.
“Shit! Fraser, are you speeding?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“There’s a cop car behind us.”
Fraser glanced in his rearview mirror and then frowned. “That’s not highway patrol. That’s a city cop car.”
“It’s still a cop,” Snake said, and then the cop suddenly hit the lights and turned on his siren. “He wants us to pull over.”
“Like hell,” Fraser said, and floored it.
The van shot forward like a blue bullet out of a gun, widening the gap between them and the cop.
The cop responded by coming up on his bumper without breaking a sweat.
“Shoot him!” Fraser yelled.
“I can’t hit a goddamned thing at this speed. I only got one eye, you know!” Snake yelled.
“Just get the gun, and when I swerve onto the center line, start shooting. You’ll have a bigger target and you might get lucky.”
Snake was cursing at a remarkable rate as he rolled down the window and leaned out. As soon as Fraser swerved the van to the left, Snake found himself staring straight into the windshield at the cop in pursuit. He emptied the clip.
* * *
Earl was scared. He didn’t want to be in this position, but he couldn’t back away or he’d lose them. He was driving so fast the car was shaking and he wasn’t sure the tires were on the ground. The only positive aspect of the chase was the erratic squawk of radio traffic indicating other police departments were en route. He was driving with his thumb on the call button, and every time he passed another mile marker, he called it in.
* * *
The siren in Trey’s ears became a high-pitched whine. He was driving so fast that the view from his passenger window was little more than a blur. He could tell by the sound of Earl’s voice that he was scared, but he was staying with the van.
Suddenly he heard panic in Earl’s voice and the sounds of gunfire, followed by skidding tires, breaking glass and crushing metal. The silence afterward was sickening.
Highway patrol dispatch was trying to raise Earl, but with no response, and Trey had no option but to keep driving.
* * *
“You got him!” Fraser crowed, as he watched the cop car careen across the highway into the oncoming lane, and then skid onto its side as it began to roll.
“We gotta get off the highway!” Snake shouted. “They’re likely to drive up on us from both directions any minute. We’re less than half a mile from the turnoff to that bitch’s farm. From there we can get onto those dirt roads and they’ll never find us.”
Snake was good as his word. A minute later he pointed, and Fraser barely hit the brakes as he took the turn off the highway, then quickly disappeared over a hill. They were less than three miles from the Phillips farm.
* * *
Trey drove up on the wreck while the wheels were still spinning. The police car was upside down between a ditch and a stand of trees, with smoke coming out from under the hood.
He radioed for an ambulance as he slid to a stop angled across the southbound lane, and followed up with the information that the van was no longer in sight. He grabbed his fire extinguisher and jumped the ditch, reaching the vehicle just as the smoke turned into flames and began reaching through the dash inside the cab.
Earl was still buckled into the seat, upside down, bloody and unconscious. Trey kept trying to reach through the broken window to release the seat belt, but the flames were too close. He shot a burst of foam from the fire extinguisher, which gave him enough time to reach the latch, but then the catch wouldn’t release.
He wouldn’t think about how close they were to blowing up together, or that the flames were getting closer to Earl’s face with every passing second. The only way he was going to get Earl out now was to cut him out. He grabbed his pocket knife, and just as he began sawing at the heavy nylon strap he heard a siren coming up behind him. Moments later a highway patrolman came running, grabbed the fire extinguisher and began spraying it at the fire as Trey kept slashing at the seat belt.
All of a sudden the strap gave way.
“He’s free!” Trey yelled, as he caught Earl by the shoulders and began dragging him out of the car. Once Earl was free, Trey threw him over his shoulder and ran.
The patrolman emptied the fire extinguisher into the flames, and then bolted only seconds before it blew, sending fire and burning shrapnel into the air.
“Is he alive?” the patrolman yelled, as he reached the ditch where they’d taken cover.
“I’ve got a pulse,” Trey said.
The explosion had caused a fire that quickly began threatening the wooded area nearby, and the patrolman raced back to his car, requesting assistance from the fire department. The last thing they wanted was to start a forest fire.
Now that he had a better view of Earl’s body, he could see a bullet wound to the shoulder and a deep cut on his forehead. He packed gauze pads on top of the bullet wound and kept applying pressure in a desperate race to stop the bleeding. Because there was no exit wound, he had to accept that internal bleeding was not only possible but probable. He kept calling Earl’s name and asking him questions, afraid if he stopped, Earl would never come back.
And then all of a sudden help was on the scene and paramedics had taken over. They stabilized Earl for transport, and just as they were leaving, the fire trucks arrived.
The highway patrolman had also radioed in for assistance and was directing traffic on the highway as the ambulance departed.
Within minutes a half-dozen patrol cars pulled up from two different directions, all with the same bad news. They’d never seen the van. It had exited the highway, taking any one of a number of side roads that wound up into the mountains.
Trey knew those roads as well as he knew his own name and put a call in to tell dispatch where he was headed, then quickly left the scene.
From the scene of the wreck, the closest exit off the highway was the blacktop that led to both his mom’s house and the Phillips farm. He knew the sheriff and his deputies would be combing the rural back roads, so as soon as he knew his mom and Dallas were safe he would get back to town and check on Earl.
He called his mom as he drove, and when she answered, he began filling her in, describing the men and the van, and then he told her to make sure all her doors were locked.
Betsy had been a cop’s wife too long to panic, but she didn’t like the news.
“I’ll pay attention,” she said. “You stay safe. Have you told Dallas yet?”
“Just about to. You spread the word to the neighbors, okay?”
Moments later he took the turn and accelerated. It was only three miles to the farm, but Dallas wouldn’t be there. She was even farther away, up on the mountain, and he wasn’t sure where. He called her number, then waited impatiently for her to answer.
* * *
Fraser spotted the big barn on the Phillips property as they topped a hill.
“There it is!” he yelled, pointing off to the right.
“I see it,” Snake said. “Now start watching for the driveway.” They drove a quarter of a mile farther before he saw a mailbox. “There’s the road,” he said.
As soon as Fraser took the turn, he was forced to slow down to negotiate the narrow gravel drive through what felt like a tunnel of trees.
“Nice place,” Fraser said when they arrived, eyeing the house and all the outbuildings.
“We’re not window-shopping,” Snake growled. “Look for a road that will take us up through the pasture to where we saw her parked.”
Moments later Snake spotted the cattle guard. “There!” he yelled.
Fraser winced. “Stop screaming in my ear. I got both my eyes. I can see, damn it.”
Snake cursed and tried to backhand him.
Fraser fended off the blow with one hand and slapped Snake on the back of the head. “Keep your damn hands to yourself,” he said. “We got a job to do.”
“Then don’t make fun of how I look,” Snake said.
They aimed for the old pickup at the far end of the pasture and didn’t talk until they were getting out of the van.
“Get the tranquilizer gun,” Snake said. “We won’t have to chase her down if we can dart her.”
Fraser made sure the gun, which they’d originally got to help with the dogs, was loaded and pocketed the extra darts as he went over the fence. Snake crawled through it. The ground was soft, and it was easy to follow her tracks. They stepped into the forest and within a few yards were deep in the trees.
* * *
Dallas had one bag almost full and had stopped to get a drink when her cell phone began to ring. She saw the caller ID and smiled as she answered.
“Hey, good-looking,” she said, expecting Trey to answer in kind.
Instead, she heard the tension in his voice when he asked, “Where are you?”
“I’m still at the patch. What’s wrong?”
“Earl spotted the two men suspected in Bobby Ramsey’s murder and gave chase. He took a bullet in the shoulder and rolled the car, and we lost the van. We’re guessing they took one of the side roads off the highway, and yours was the nearest one. For sure they’re in the area somewhere. I need you to get home and lock yourself in, understand?”
“Yes! I’m gathering up my things as we speak,” she said, and headed for her backpack, carrying the sack of roots with her as she went. The moment she stopped for the backpack, she thought she heard something. Sound carried on the mountain, but Trey was still talking.
“Trey,” she whispered sharply. “Stop talking. I think I hear voices.”
Trey’s pulse jumped. That was the worst thing she could have said. He stomped the accelerator.
Dallas took a few steps to the right and then moved up about a yard. From where she was standing she could see a long way down the trail, and within seconds two men come into view.
She crouched and ran for the shotgun, talking softly as she went.
“Two men coming up the trail right toward me. Why here? Why me?”
Panic shot through Trey so fast he couldn’t think.
“I don’t know, but the why doesn’t matter. I want you to run.”
She moaned. “They’re between me and the truck.”
“Then go another direction! I’m almost at the house. Get out of their line of sight, then find a way to get off the mountain. I’ll find you. You still have the shotgun, right?
“Yes.”
“If you shoot, aim for the waist down. Buckshot in their legs and balls will slow the bastards down. I’m not far behind. Don’t talk, but don’t hang up on me. If you need help, I’ll be listening.”
She dropped the phone in her jacket pocket and headed west at a dead run, leaving everything behind but her gun.
Trey put his phone on speaker and dropped it in his pocket, then grabbed his radio and began calling for backup.
They had a possible sighting and a woman in jeopardy.
* * *
Snake slipped on a wet patch of moss and fell down on one knee, slamming it hard into a rock.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelped, as he scrambled back to his feet.
“Shut the hell up or she’ll hear us coming,” Fraser snapped. “She’s gotta be somewhere close.”
Snake rolled his eyes, but shut his mouth and followed in Fraser’s tracks.
Fraser was on the alert, listening to every sound while scanning the woods above them. All of a sudden he caught a flash of dark blue moving west through the trees.
“She’s running! She spotted us!” he yelled, and took off running in the same direction, but at an angle so he could intercept her, with Snake right behind.
* * *
Dallas caught a glimpse of movement down the slope and realized that not only had they spotted her, they were running parallel to her trail. Now she couldn’t go down without getting caught. It was an instinct for survival that made her pivot and run up the slope. She ran until she was out of their sight, then backtracked east as fast as she could go. When she saw the trail, she took it down. Ignoring the steep incline, she ran at full speed, knowing at any moment she could go head over heels. She just kept telling herself that Trey was coming, that any minute Trey would be here.
* * *
Within seconds Fraser had lost sight of her. His heart was pounding, and he was already out of breath. He didn’t know where she’d gone, but the only way she could have made it out of their sight was to go up, so they ran up as well, with Fraser cursing Snake for lagging as they went.
The next time he caught sight of her, he was standing on a rock scanning the trees, and she was a hundred yards or more below them and descending at an unbelievable pace.
“There she goes!” he yelled, pointing down the trail. He leaped off the rock onto the path, confident his long legs and greater strength—not to mention the fact that he was going downhill—would quickly lessen her lead.
* * *
Dallas heard them coming, but she couldn’t look back for fear she would stumble. At the speed she was running, it took every ounce of her concentration to stay upright.
When the first tranquilizer dart flew past her and thunked into the tree beside her head, she panicked.
She might outrun them, but at this distance they could still put her down like a mad dog, and she wouldn’t even see it coming.
She only had one chance, and she knew without looking that now was the time, because he would be reloading the gun as he ran. She clenched her jaw, planted her feet and then crouched as she spun. Allowing for the incline, she aimed for the middle of his body and unloaded both barrels.
She saw the surprise on his face as the buckshot hit. When he grabbed at his legs and crotch, she turned and ran.
* * *
Fraser staggered as the buckshot pierced clothing and flesh, and let out a roar of pain and rage as his body began to burn. The pain was piercing , like having fire ants in his jeans with no way to relieve the fury of their bites.
“She shot me!” he screamed, as his hand came away bloody. “She fucking shot me!”
Snake didn’t stop to visit. She was getting away, and Sonny Dalton would kill them. He ran past Fraser with his eye on the prize and a skinning knife in his hand.
* * *
Trey flew up the drive, fishtailing in the barnyard as he took the turn across the cattle guard, continuing to radio in the final details of his location. When he saw the blue van parked at the far end of the pasture beside Dick’s old pickup, he floored it. The ruts were muddy, but he was going too fast to get stuck.
He slid to a halt behind the van and jumped out on the run with the rifle clutched tight in his hand. It was easy to see the footprints, and like Fraser and Snake, he followed them up the mountain, with the sounds of approaching sirens coming fast behind him.
He was less than a hundred yards up the trail when he heard a shotgun go off somewhere above him and shifted direction, ignoring the men’s tracks. From the sound he knew she’d fired both barrels, so wherever she was, she was almost certainly unarmed now. Fear lent speed to his feet as he lengthened his stride.
* * *
Dallas’s legs were shaking. She knew someone was still in pursuit, and the extra ammunition for the shotgun was back at the dig. Her only hope was Trey.
No sooner had she thought his name than she saw him running up the trail toward her with a rifle in his hand. For a heart-stopping second she thought she was hallucinating, and then their gazes locked.
She caught a flash of joy on his face just before she heard him yell. When he motioned for her to drop, she took a fast dive forward, doing a belly flop in the moss and mud.
* * *
One moment he’d been on the trail alone, and the next she ran into view, coming toward him at breakneck speed. The fact that she was still free and breathing, with at least one man still in pursuit, was a miracle.
Then she saw him, and the look of fear on her face stopped his heart.
“Get down!” he shouted, and motioned for her to take a dive.
She went belly first onto the ground without stopping, and she was still sliding when he took the first shot.
Snake Warren feared two things: going blind and dying. Now they both happened all at once.
Trey’s shot went through his good eye. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Fraser Pitts was in a pain-filled rage but he was still moving, and the minute Snake was no longer in front of him, he swung the tranquilizer gun up, aiming straight at Trey’s face.
Trey fired the rifle again.
The bullet shattered Fraser’s right knee and sent him tumbling over Snake’s body like a semi rolling over a skunk. He came to rest facedown, screaming in pain.
Trey’s relief was instantaneous.
He dropped down beside Dallas, who was still belly down in the mud.
“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you!” he kept asking.
“I hurt myself,” she moaned, as she rolled over onto her back, holding her stomach.
“One’s still alive. Don’t move,” Trey said, and ran up to where Fraser was lying, confiscated the tranquilizer gun and Snake’s knife, then patted Fraser down and removed the other darts from his pocket.
Fraser rolled over onto his side, clutching his knee with both hands.
“She shot me up with buckshot. My legs are on fire, and my pecker hurts. You busted up my knee. I’m bleeding to death. Someone get me a doctor. I don’t wanna die.”
Trey yanked the big man into a sitting position and handcuffed his hands behind his back while Fraser continued to curse him and scream.
“Did Bobby Ramsey beg for his life?” Trey asked, as he locked the second cuff around Fraser’s wrist.
“I don’t know who that is. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fraser insisted.
Trey yanked the handcuffs. “The ranger, you fucking coward. You shot him in the back.”
“No, no, no, we didn’t do that,” Fraser moaned.
Trey aimed his rifle at the other knee.
“I’m going to ask you again. Why did you kill him?”
Fraser shuddered, rocking back and forth in mindless pain.
“He shouldn’t have been there. If he’d minded his own business it wouldn’t have happened.”
Trey felt sick. It had happened to his father like that—dying between one heartbeat and the next just because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He pointed at Dallas. “Why were you chasing this woman? What does she have to do with you?”
Fraser moaned.
Trey pushed the barrel of the gun down on Fraser’s injured knee.
Fraser screamed.
“I asked you a question,” Trey said. “I want an answer. Why were you chasing this woman?”
“She killed Sonny’s dog, damn it! She killed Zeus, and Sonny said since his dog was dead, he wanted her in return. Please! I need a doctor. Don’t let me die.”
Dallas had been sitting there listening, and when she heard the man tell Trey why they’d been after her, she thought her hearing was playing tricks. She crawled to her feet, screaming out in fury as she started toward him.
“All of this happened because I killed a dog to save my life? Are you serious?”
Before Trey could stop her, she swung a fist and punched Fraser in the face. He fell backward, bawling, as he rolled from one side to the other.
“She broke my nose! She broke my nose!”
“Whoa now!” Trey yelled, and sat Fraser back up so he wouldn’t drown in his own blood. Then he grabbed Dallas around the waist and swung her out of harm’s way. “You can’t hit an unarmed felon, even if he deserves it,” he said.
Dallas was shaking with rage. “Yes I can! I’m not a cop!”
Trey grinned. “Well, just don’t hit him again, okay?”
She was mud from her chin to her knees, and there was a bleeding cut over one eye, but the fury on her face was clear.
“Whatever,” she muttered, then sat down with a thump, suddenly too weak to stand.
The sirens they’d been hearing stopped abruptly.
“Backup has arrived,” Trey said.
“You saved my life,” Dallas said, and then put her head between her knees to keep from passing out.
Trey cupped the back of her neck as he crouched down beside her.
“I’m damn proud of you,” he said. “You kept your head and saved yourself.”
She looked up. He grinned at her and winked, just like the first time she’d seen him.
“I was so scared,” she said, and then she started to cry.
He gave her a quick hug, and as the sound of running feet came closer, he laid the rifle at his feet and stood up. Moments later, plainclothes FBI and uniformed officers from the county sheriff’s office reached them.
Trey held up his arms and his badge, standing between Dallas and the chaos.
* * *
While the FBI were taking Dallas’s statement, Trey went up looking for the ginseng patch, and when he found it, he could only stare in disbelief. From where he was standing, dark leaves and red berries dotted the side of the mountain as far as the eye could see. It was a miracle it hadn’t been poached.
Then he remembered what he’d come to do and began gathering up her things. On his way back down he got a phone call from Lonnie Doyle, with an update on Earl.
“He’s out of surgery,” Lonnie said. “He’ll be off work for at least six weeks. He had a bullet in his shoulder, broken ribs and a pretty severe concussion. But Carl said Earl woke up and knew him.”
“That’s great,” Trey said. “I tried to call the station earlier to check, but no one answered the phone. Did you shut the place down?”
Lonnie chuckled. “No, but Dwight has the runs. Said it was something he ate. He’s kept the path hot between the dispatch desk and the bathroom, that’s all.”
Trey had to chuckle. “Oh, okay. I know the schedule is all messed up right now, and it’ll be tomorrow before I can go in and work it out. Just consider everyone on duty until further notice, okay?”
“Yes, sir. I wanted to ask, is your girl okay?”
“She’s still in one piece. If I can keep her that way long enough, she’s bound to heal up one of these days.”
“Tell her we all asked about her,” Lonnie said.
“I’ll do that, and thanks for holding down the fort. If a big emergency comes up, just call. I can be there quick.”
“Yes, sir,” Lonnie said, and hung up.
Trey dropped the phone into his jacket, anxious to get back to Dallas and take her home.
By the time he got back down to the scene, she was sitting off to one side with her head resting on her knees. From where he was standing he could see her body shaking, most likely from the adrenaline crash.
After a quick confirmation from the lead investigator that she could leave, he helped her up.
“Think you can walk, baby?”
“You mean I can go home?”
“Just hang on to me,” he said, and started leading her away.
Dallas clung to him all the way down the mountain. When he loaded her into his car, a couple of agents helped them get her old pickup home. One parked the pickup in the shed and then hitched a ride back with his buddy, who’d followed in his own vehicle.
The hens were scratching and squawking as Dallas hobbled up onto the back porch. “My poor little chickens,” she said.
Trey kissed her forehead and then tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear.
“I’ll feed them and shut them up, and I’ll put the ginseng in the cooler. You can fix it like you want tomorrow,” Trey said. “For now, you need to go soak in a long hot bath.”
She was watching his lips move, but she couldn’t focus on a word he was saying. He was her anchor to sanity, and all she wanted to do was latch on and never let go. Her head was spinning as she leaned against him, pressing her muddy cheek against his chest.
“You saved my life.”
He pulled her close, resting his chin on the crown of her head, and focused on a spot on the wall to keep from crying.
“I waited a long time for you to come back to me. I couldn’t lose you again.”
“They had nothing to do with Dad’s murder, though, did they?”
“Unless some revelation happens at a later date, I don’t think so.”
He felt her body wilt and understood her despair. She needed all this to be over.
“Do they have enough to arrest the boss who caused all this hell?”
“You mean Sonny Dalton?”
She nodded.
“Then I would say yes. Fraser Pitts was offering up all kinds of testimony against Dalton in trade for a lesser sentence.”
“But he murdered Bobby!” Dallas said.
“And West Virginia doesn’t have the death penalty,” Trey reminded her. “Go take your bath. All of that will happen without us.”
“I’m filthy,” she said, as she unlocked the door.
“Leave your clothes in the utility room. I’ll put everything in the washer after I come back inside.”
“Thank you, Trey...more than I can say.” She stopped inside the utility room and stripped. It was beginning to become routine.
“Oh, totally my pleasure,” Trey said, as he watched her jacket, shirt and bra hit the floor. He paused a moment longer to admire the scenery and then went out to do her chores.