Nowhere Pure, page 9
Cole cleared her throat and hastened to make introductions. “Bryce, this is Callaway. He’s my partner.” The word “partner” sounded odd as it left her lips, and she wished she had used another word such as “coworker,” but she could not take it back now.
“Callaway,” Bryce mused, as if trying out the sound of the name. “That a first name?”
“Last,” Cole said, feeling a sudden need to smooth things over. “It’s something we do in our line of work—use last names a lot. He calls me Cole half the time.”
Bryce nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. Inwardly, Cole cursed herself for not being more diplomatic. She was making it sound as if she and Callaway had a special bond, something Bryce couldn’t understand, and that was the last thing she wanted to convey to him.
Callaway interrupted the awkward silence. “You break a lot of horses?” he asked Bryce.
“My fair share, yeah,” Bryce said. “Might not pay as well as your line of work, and I don’t get to wave a gun around and flash a badge at people, but it’s an honest living.”
Cole sensed a hint of insecurity in Bryce’s manner, which surprised her because he was normally so confident. Did he feel threatened by Callaway? That seemed awfully small of him … and yet, she couldn’t ignore the evidence she was seeing.
Maybe he senses my discomfort, and it makes him uneasy, she thought. After all, what reason do I have to be uncomfortable?
Callaway smiled, showing no sign that he had been offended by Bryce’s words. “Well, someone’s got to catch the bad guys so you can be safe and happy on your little ranch, don’t they?”
The two men stared at one another, neither backing down. Not liking the direction this conversation was going, Cole cleared her throat to get Bryce’s attention.
“Listen,” she said, “we actually didn’t stop by just to chat. We’re looking for someone who lives in the area. His name’s Shaun Morrow.”
Several seconds passed as the two men continued to stare at one another. Finally, Bryce looked away, gazing off into the distance. “Yeah, I know Shaun,” he said.
“What can you tell us about him?”
Bryce shrugged one shoulder. “Keeps to himself. Never really had a conversation with the man.”
Was there a note of resentment in Bryce’s voice? Was he hurt that she had come here on business, rather than simply out of a desire to see him?
“Any idea where we can find him?” she asked.
Several seconds passed. It became increasingly apparent to Cole that Bryce was indeed upset about something. She was not, however, going to address it now, not with Callaway present. There was no way Bryce was going to open up in the presence of her partner.
Callaway’s impatience got the better of him. “Listen, buddy, we’ve got a killer on the loose, and there’s no telling when he might kill again. We ain’t got time for all this hemming and hawing.”
Uncertainty flickered in Bryce’s eyes as he looked at Cole. “Is that what this is about? Finding a murderer?”
Damn it, Callaway.
“Yes,” she said, then hastened to add, “but the man we’re looking for right now could have nothing to do with the murders we’re investigating. He could be innocent.”
“Murders? Plural?” Bryce uttered a low, mirthless laugh. “Now, I’m definitely coming with you. Let me go grab my truck.”
Cole felt a stab of panic. “You really don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, I insist. What kind of a man would I be to let you go after a murderer on your own?” If he had any understanding that his girlfriend confronted murderers on a regular basis, his face did not show it. He turned and started away.
Before he could get far, however, Cole’s words stopped him. “You can’t come with us.”
He looked back, cocking one eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“Because this is an active murder investigation, and you’re …” She paused, trying to think of a word that would carry her meaning across without offending him. “A civilian.”
He stared blankly at her. Then, after a few moments, he approached her window.
“It’s not like I’m going to arrest the guy,” he said in a low voice. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“I am safe. Callaway and I have done this before, many times.”
“Callaway,” Bryce repeated, nodding and glancing away. It was clear from the tightness in his face that he did not like leaving it to Callaway to look after her—not that she really needed looking after in the first place. Or was this about something else? Did it make him jealous to think of the two of them working together?
“Please,” she said. “I just need to know where I can find Shaun Morrow. That’s how you can help me.”
Bryce stared into her eyes, looking hurt and betrayed. Finally, he said, “He’s over by Gray Gulch.”
Cole frowned. “The name’s familiar, but I’m not sure I could get there again. Any way you can give me directions?”
Bryce turned and stared into the distance, squinting one eye against the sunlight. Several seconds passed. Just when Cole thought he was going to refuse to help them, he said, “Got a paper and pen?”
Cole gestured at the glovebox. Callaway opened it, pulled out a pencil and a pad of paper, and handed them to Cole, who passed them on to Bryce. As she did so, her fingers brushed Bryce’s, lingering a moment before relinquishing the items.
Bryce, showing no reaction to her touch, pressed the paper to the fence post and lightly drew on it. He was done within half a minute.
“There you go,” he said, handing the paper and the pencil back to Cole. “That should get you there. If you get lost, give me a call.”
His tone was brusque, as if he were eager to end the unpleasant conversation and get back to work. Nowhere in sight was the lazy, boyish grin that would ordinarily accompany such an offer. Instead, he gave a quick wave and stepped back before turning away. He hadn’t so much as touched her.
Cole felt a pang of disappointment—guilt as well, though she couldn’t think of anything she had done wrong. She shifted into drive and drove away, circling back toward the ranch’s entrance.
“Seems like a nice guy,” Callaway said. “A bit of a yokel, maybe, but we all got our faults, don’t we?”
“He’s just stressed about something,” Cole said, feeling the need to defend Bryce. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s going on with him. He’s usually a lot friendlier.”
Callaway chuckled mirthlessly. “I have that effect on people sometimes. Usually they’re criminals, though.”
Cole said nothing. She wasn’t sure what kind of interaction she had been hoping for between the two men—a spontaneous friendship? A good-natured, perhaps even brotherly playfulness?—but at the very least, she’d hoped they wouldn’t butt heads, which was exactly what they’d done.
And, worse, she’d found herself caught in the crossfire.
Her neck felt hot as she thought about it. She was trying to put it out of mind when her phone buzzed. Glancing at it, she saw a text from Bryce.
One more thing. From what ive heard, morrows pretty territorial, so be careful. Ive got a feeling hes not about to welcome you in with open arms.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Jeez,” Callaway said. “How many ‘Keep Out’ signs do you need?”
They were driving along a barbed wire fence, searching for a way through. “Keep Out” signs were tacked to the posts like mile markers, making it abundantly clear how the owners of the property felt about outsiders.
According to Bryce’s directions, Shaun Morrow’s bunker was located on the other side of that fence, somewhere in the vicinity of a tiny, unincorporated community known only as Beevor’s Fall. Cole could only imagine how these people would react to the sight of two federal agents showing up uninvited.
As she drove along, searching for a gate or an opening in the fence, her phone buzzed with another message from Bryce.
Hey, you gonna be alright out there? Are you sure you dont want me to come with you? Could be dangerous.
As much as she appreciated the offer, she didn’t need Bryce to protect her as she was more than capable of doing so on her own. Sometimes, he acted as if Cole were not used to the reality that suspects were very often dangerous individuals.
That’s alright, she texted back. But thanks for the offer.
“Better get your eyes back on the road,” Callaway said. “I think I see our way in.”
Tossing the phone back into the cup holder, Cole noticed a gray gate with a chain looped around one end, securing it to the adjoining post, which leaned crookedly to the side as if trying to get out of the way of oncoming vehicles. She pulled up to the gate, and Callaway opened his door and hopped out. To Cole’s relief, there didn’t appear to be a padlock or any other kind of lock, so all Callaway would have to do was unwind the chain.
Cole watched Callaway as he deftly unwrapped the chain. He moved with a fluid, unconscious grace, and Cole found herself wondering why he and Bryce had taken such an instant dislike to one another. Was it just two alphas testing one another to see who could get the upper hand? Or did they have a deeper reason to compete with one another?
Were they competing for something or someone?
Her phone began to ring, startling her. She answered it, expecting it to be Bryce, but at the last moment, she noticed her brother’s name on the caller ID.
“Hey, Greg,” she said, wondering why he was calling a second time that day. Once upon a time, they had been close, and they had checked in with one another now and again. But that was years ago, and a great deal had changed since then.
“Hey, Sis,” he said, sounding tired, as if he had something weighty on his mind. “You have a minute to talk?”
Cole watched as Callaway dragged the chain free and looped it over his forearm like a dead snake. He pushed the gate open and held it.
“One or two,” she said, pulling forward. “What’s up?”
There was a pause, and Cole immediately sensed she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. Her stomach clenched in anticipation.
“I’ve been talking with Dad,” Greg began.
“Yeah? How is he?”
“Day-to-day. But he’s a fighter. Some days he can’t get out of bed, other days you wouldn’t know the word ‘cancer’ is in his vocabulary.”
Cole nodded. It had been a while since she’d last seen her father—or Greg, for that matter. Her relationship with her father had been a rocky one since her sister’s disappearance, both of which—her rocky relationship with her father and her sister’s disappearance—had factored into her decision to leave New Mexico in the first place to start over on the East Coast. Ironically, his failing health was one of the main reasons she had come back, but repairing her relationship with him after so many years of hurt and misunderstanding was a work-in-progress.
“And how are you?” she asked to fill the silence as she stared into the mirror, watching Callaway secure the gate behind them.
Greg took a hissing breath and let it out slowly. “Been better, been worse. Listen, you remember when we promised to always be honest with one another?”
Cole blinked, searching her memory. “Was that after Kelly and I lied about the cigarettes?”
“That’s right. You kept telling me you didn’t know anything about them, but I’d seen you two trying them. I knew it wasn’t a big deal—you were just trying to fit in at school, see what it was all about—but what was a big deal, at least to me, was the fact that you felt you couldn’t tell me about it. I wanted you to be honest with me … and you’ve always asked for the same honesty in return.”
Here we go, Cole thought, suddenly wishing Greg would just spit it out and stop beating around the bush.
The door opened, and Callaway climbed into the vehicle. He looked at Cole and lifted his chin in a silent question: Who’s on the other end of the line?
Brother, she mouthed.
Callaway nodded, turning his attention back to their surroundings as Cole shifted into forward again, slowly guiding the Jeep through the dusty, barren hills, below which lay pools of shadow like oil slicks.
“Harley,” Greg began, still sounding hesitant, “why did you come out here?”
Cole scanned the hills, searching for signs of habitation, but her mind was on Greg’s question. She didn’t want to be having this conversation now, but she knew how much it would hurt Greg if she dismissed him.
“Dad’s health,” she said. “That, and a career change.”
Callaway glanced at her, raising one eyebrow, and then looked away again. Several moments passed in silence.
“If you’d known Dad would last a little longer,” Greg asked, “would you have come here? Or was it just because you knew he might pass any day?”
Cole clenched the steering wheel tightly in her hand. “Of course, I would’ve come,” she said, though she was not entirely sure this was true. Facing her father on his deathbed had felt necessary, but what if he had never gotten cancer? Would she ever have come to visit? Would she ever have tried to repair their relationship?
“If that’s true,” Greg said, “then why don’t you ever visit him? Why don’t you ever visit me?”
“Greg, that’s not fair. I haven’t even finished unpacking my things at the new house. I’m—”
“Don’t give me that crap,” he said, no longer disguising his anger. “You’ve had plenty of opportunities. There’s something else holding you back. I don’t know if it’s unforgiveness, a petty grudge—”
“A grudge?” she repeated, her anger rising to meet his. “You think I would’ve moved out this way if I was holding a grudge?”
Greg fell silent. Cole had the impression he was making an effort to calm himself.
“Look,” he said after a few moments, “I didn’t call to argue with you. I wanted to invite you to dinner, believe it or not.”
Cole blinked, unsure what to make of this. “Dinner?”
“With Dad and me. You owe it to him, Harley. He’s not going to be around forever.”
“Hey,” Callaway said softly, waving his hand to get her attention. He pointed ahead to where a thin trail of smoke rose above the next hill.
“Harley?” Greg asked. “Did you hear me?”
Cole felt her blood pressure rising by the second. She needed time to think, time to sort through her feelings about her family (which were always complicated), but time was something she did not have at the moment. Given the potential danger of confronting Morrow, she knew she needed to focus all her attention on the task at hand. But she couldn’t do so without giving Greg an answer.
She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead in defeat. “Okay,” she said softly. “When are you thinking?”
“How about tonight? Say … eight o’clock, so you have plenty of time to get things done? Come on over to Dad’s place—I’ll whip something up.”
“Sure, sounds good,” Cole said. She didn’t like the idea of planning a family dinner in the midst of an active investigation, but neither did she want to haggle with Greg over a compromise.
“I really have to go now,” she added. “But I’ll see you later.”
“Okay,” Greg said softly. “Thanks, Harley.”
Cole hung up the phone and returned her full attention to the road as the Jeep climbed the hill. On the other side, the land fell away, and Cole spotted a pair of trailers at the side of the road. There were no vehicles and no people in sight.
“Don’t see no bunker,” Callaway murmured, his head rocking with the motion of the Jeep over the uneven ground.
“But maybe there’s someone at one of these trailers,” Cole said, “who can tell us where to find Morrow.” Assuming anyone’s home, she thought dismally. She couldn’t tell whether the trailers were just beat-up and rundown or abandoned.
She pulled up to the closer of the two trailers, a vintage Airstream whose bullet-like shape and gleaming metal made it look to Cole like a spaceship. A tattered awning was stretched out front, overshadowing a few toppled lawn chairs and a rusted grill, with a stone-lined fire pit nearby.
Cole parked and took several breaths, calming herself as she processed the discomfort of the two previous conversations she’d just had.
“Hey,” Callaway said, watching her with concern, “you gonna be alright?”
“I’ll be fine.” She opened her door and stepped out.
No sooner had she done so than the first gunshot tore through the evening.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cole ducked against the Jeep, drawing her sidearm as she peered up at the hills in search of the shooter.
“Where is he?” she shouted to Callaway.
“I don’t know!” he called back.
A moment later, Callaway appeared at the back of the Jeep, moving at a low crouch. He stopped by the rear tire and leaned against the frame of the vehicle.
“What was that?” he asked. “An AR?”
Cole thought back to the sound of the gunshot. “Yeah, could’ve been.”
As if to confirm Callaway’s guess, another shot rang out, echoing across the hills. Cole flinched, imagining herself in the crosshairs of a shooter’s rifle. But where was he? She had seen no muzzle flash, heard no impact from the bullet. She began to suspect the shooter wasn’t particularly good at aiming.
Then there was a third gunshot, followed immediately by the high ringing of metal. As the report faded, Cole heard laughter.
She glanced at Callaway, who was frowning at her, looking as puzzled as she felt.
“They’re not shooting at us,” she said, shaking her head in surprise. “It sounds like they’re behind the camper.”
“Then we’d better go see what they are shooting at,” Callaway said, rising.
Cole kept her gun at the ready as she approached the corner of the camper. She moved slowly, listening carefully for the sound of laughter again, but it did not come. For a moment, she thought she heard the murmur of voices carried on the wind, then another rifle shot shattered the silence.
