“Now, there’s the really interesting thing. Among the cases the prosecutor was investigating was one involving this sleazy politician. Bribery, misuse of funds, drug distribution connections, that sort of thing.”
“Did he have evidence?”
“I think he might have. But the data in his computer was destroyed. And I mean destroyed. The hard drive was shattered. All the paperwork on the case disappeared. Seems the prosecutor had hired a temp to sub for his sick secretary just before he was killed and all the records went missing.”
“There would have been police reports, investigator’s notes,” Tank began.
“I’m coming to that. All vanished. It’s just the word of the police officers and detectives. Know what that’s worth in court without a paper trail?”
“Damn!”
“Marquez’s language was much more colorful,” he said. “Anyway, there’s nothing that can connect the politician to any of this. Except...”
“Except?”
“It seems he has an enforcer with expensive tastes. The enforcer, a man named Richard Martin, was seen wearing a paisley shirt just like the one the prosecutor’s wife gave him.”
“Don’t tell me—he was also wearing a watch that plays Joan Jett.”
“Bingo.”
“Now what’s the bad news?”
“Same as before. No paper trail. Nobody who saw him could identify him except maybe you and Hayes Carson and the feds. He’d have to be nuts to go after the feds, by the way. Or maybe he thought about importing some overseas talent for those. Oh, and Cash Grier’s cute little secretary with the photographic memory—she saw him. They’re still trying to tie in her father’s attempted murder with the poisoned would-be assassin.”
“Somebody had better be watching her back, just in case,” Tank said grimly.
“I know things about her father that I can’t tell you,” Rourke said.
“The minister?” Tank asked.
“He wasn’t always a minister. Leave it at that. Besides, she works for Cash Grier. I know career criminals who’d think three times before they even considered tangling with him. He may be a small-town police chief now, but those old skills aren’t rusty. He also has a network of, shall we say, off-the-radar friends and associates. Some of them are reputedly wanted by a number of world governments.”
“Very interesting.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Rourke’s voice became serious. “Marquez said that the sleazy politician’s enforcer has a reputation for extreme violence, especially in tight corners. We can’t let our guards down for a moment.”
“Clara and Merissa have to come over to the house and stay with us,” Tank said firmly.
“I told them that. Merissa was willing at first. Now, she’s not. She thinks they’ll be all right at the cabin. Clara says if Merissa wants to stay, so will she.”
“Don’t even let them argue with you about it. Pick them up and carry them out to the car if you have to.”
“It’s a truck, but I take your meaning.”
“Get Merissa’s computer and any sentimental items you can carry, as well. Just in case he has any ideas about making a bad situation worse.”
“I’ll do it right now.”
“Watch yourself.”
“I always do. Take your own advice. Talk to you later.” He cut the connection.
TANK TOOK HIS brothers into the kitchen, turned on the mixer in spite of Mavie’s exasperation, shooed her out of the room and told them what had happened.
“Things are getting very dangerous,” Cane remarked.
“Yes, they are,” Mallory agreed. “Carson set up his system to do facial recognition, and we pinpointed a man today with a criminal record who ran when we tried to question him.”
Tank felt the danger. “I wouldn’t have put you two in the middle of this, or the wives, or your son,” he told Mallory, “for anything.”
“It’s worth the danger if we can keep you alive,” Cane said tightly.
“It’s Merissa I’m most worried about,” Tank confessed.
“She’s safe for now, though,” Mallory told him. “Rourke won’t let anything happen to her or her mother.”
“That’s not all.” Tank shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Something’s got me worried.”
“What?”
“The trail he left in the snow, the one that led to the highway.”
“Old hunter’s trick is to double back on a trail,” Mallory mentioned.
“If he was laying a false trail deliberately, he’d make sure we saw it. So where do you think he’s been hiding?”
Mallory’s face was hard as rock. “In the cabin itself.”
Tank felt his breath catch in his throat. “Merissa and Clara!” he exclaimed, fear in his expression.
HE OPENED HIS cell phone and called Rourke. The phone rang and rang. But Rourke didn’t answer.
“Something’s wrong,” Tank said. “I’m going over there.”
“So are we,” Cane and Mallory said together.
“No,” Tank replied emphatically. “You stay here. I’ll call all the cowboys to stand around the house with loaded weapons. Carson’s going with me.”
“Be careful,” Mallory said tautly.
“You’re the only little brother we’ve got,” Cane added and tried to smile.
“I’ll be fine.”
Tank started out the door. He had Darby Hanes on the line before he reached it, slinging out orders as he headed to his truck.
“Carson!” he called to the dark-haired man on the porch.
Carson looked up from his laptop.
“Let’s go. Right now!”
Carson put the laptop down and ran to the truck. “What is it?”
“You can eavesdrop.” He phoned Cody Banks. “I’ve lost communication with my man who’s guarding Merissa and Clara. How soon can you get there with a couple of deputies?”
“I’ll meet you at the front porch,” Cody said, and hung up.
“We think he laid a deliberate trail away from where he was,” Tank said through his teeth. “He’s in the damned cabin! Probably in the attic. We never even checked it!”
Carson groaned. “What a damned lack of foresight!”
“I just pray we’re in time,” Tank said, and stood down on the accelerator.
WHEN THEY GOT to the cabin, the sheriff’s car, a state police car, an ambulance and a fire truck were sitting on the road that led to it, sirens and lights just dying down.
“What happened?” Tank asked, trying to fight down terror as he joined Cody Banks at his squad car.
“He’s got the women,” Cody said in a hunted tone. “He won’t negotiate. He says he’s through trying to do it covertly. Now he’s just going to kill them.”
“They aren’t dead?” Tank asked.
“Not yet,” Cody replied.
Tank let out the breath he’d been holding. “Then what do we do?”
“I don’t have a hostage negotiator,” Cody told them. “The police department in Catelow has one, but he’s back East on a long Christmas holiday with his folks. The state police sent us a man who did it for Houston P.D. a few years back.” He indicated the man, who nodded. “Right now we’re waiting for the utility companies.”
“Utility companies?” Tank burst out. “What in hell for?”
“We turn off everything we can turn off,” the state trooper said gently. “Then we negotiate for power,
