Searching for Risk, page 18
Zak grinned over his shoulder from the passenger seat. “And he’s a smart-ass. Good. You’ll fit right in, Holden.”
“Not sure I want to fit in with you guys,” Cal muttered and sank back in his seat as the Tahoe stopped in front of Monarch Development Corp’s main office. “People around you tend to disappear. Or get shot. Or firebombed. I like my bacon extra-crispy, not my skin.”
Ash grumbled low in his throat and shut off the car. “Just what I need, more smart-asses in my life.”
Zak chuckled. “Ignore the bear in the driver’s seat. He forgot to hibernate, and he’s grouchy.”
Ash pushed open his door. “Remember, you are not deputies. You are here solely as witnesses.”
“Uh,” Cal said and held up a finger in the universal gesture of hold on a second. “If I’m here to cover asses, I’d recommend you deputize them.”
“Fuck,” Ash muttered. Then, “Fine. You’re all deputies now. Happy?”
Zak pumped a fist in the air and followed him to the sidewalk.
Donovan didn’t move. He couldn’t seem to make his limbs work, couldn’t grasp the door and shove it open.
“You good?” Cal asked and squeezed his shoulder.
He shook his head. “What if this doesn’t work? I’ve lived with this hanging over my head for so long… I can’t imagine it finally being over.”
“Hey, Ash Rawlings is a man with a plan, and he never fails. It’s fucking annoying. All the defense attorneys I know shudder in fear when they see his name on a police report because he is a solid cop with a superior arrest record and a reputation for dotting all of his Is and crossing all of his Ts. And jokes aside, as your lawyer, I’m here to tell you this will work. Your name is about to be cleared, man.”
Donovan sucked in a breath and forced his hand to move from his knee to the door handle.
“That’s the spirit,” Cal said.
The three of them spread out and followed Ash into the building like a defensive line. The secretary’s smile fell away when she spotted them approaching, and she grabbed the receiver of her desk phone.
Ash placed a hand over hers. “No need to call security, ma’am.” He produced a rolled stack of papers from his back pocket and handed them to her. “I have a search warrant for Mark Salas’s office.”
The secretary’s eyes widened as she scanned the warrant. “I-I’ll call Mr. Salas and let him know.”
“Much appreciated,” Ash said with a nod. “But we’ll be heading up now.”
The elevator ride up to the top floor was silent, the tension in the small space palpable. Donovan couldn’t help but feel as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment that would clear his name and free him from years of unjust suspicion.
As they stepped off the elevator, they were met with a sleek, modern office space that seemed to go on for miles. Glass walls separated various departments, and people in suits bustled around. Donovan followed Ash, Zak, and Cal as they made their way to Salas’s office.
Ash knocked briskly on the door, then pushed it open before anyone could answer. Mark was sitting at his desk, his eyes glued to his computer screen. He looked up at the intrusion, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “What the hell is this?”
Ash ignored the question. He simply held up the search warrant and tossed a pair of latex gloves at Zak. “Toss the place.”
“With pleasure,” Zak said, his smile all teeth as he pulled the gloves on. He moved around the office, rifling through drawers and files.
Mark half-rose from his desk. “You have no right— “
“We have a search warrant, Mr. Salas,” Ash said. “And a lawyer here to verify we do everything by the book.”
Mark’s eyes flicked to Cal, then shifted to Donovan, who stood at the back of the group. “And what’s the basis for this search?”
Ash stepped forward, his face set in a grim line. “We have reason to believe that you were involved in the murder of Darcy Cantrell. It’s all there in the warrant. Feel free to read it.”
Mark sat back down and reached for his phone. “Fine. Go ahead and search.” His smirk faded into a scowl as he dialed. “But I’m calling my lawyer.”
“Yeah, get JT up here,” Ash said and pulled another pair of gloves from the pocket of his Lost County Sheriff’s Department jacket. “It will save me the trouble of tracking him down to arrest him.”
Mark shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Sheriff. I had nothing to do with Darcy’s murder.”
Donovan suddenly had a flash of the younger Mark wearing sunglasses, even though it was dark, and layered polos—light blue and pink—with the collars popped and a tie knotted loosely around his neck. He’d been drunk and obnoxious and had flipped a card table full of red Solo cups after losing a round of beer pong. He’d hit on Darcy as she stormed away. She’d ignored him…
...and then he’d followed her into the woods.
Donovan remembered it so clearly now and played it over in his head like a movie on repeat. He remembered Darcy scowling at the tiny diamond in his grandmother’s ring and slapping him when he said she was acting like a bitch. He could almost still feel the sting of the slap on his left cheek. He remembered watching her run off into the woods and seeing Mark follow after her with JT chasing close behind. He remembered bitterly thinking Mark and Darcy deserved each other before turning away and downing his beer.
He stared at Mark across the desk and wanted to put a fist through his conceited face. His fingers curled at his sides. “You followed her. What did you do to her, you bastard?”
Mark’s face twisted in anger, and he stood up from his desk. “I didn’t do anything to her. You killed her, you piece of shit trailer trash, and everyone knows it.”
“Then why did you follow her?” Donovan pressed, taking a step forward.
“I don’t have to answer that,” Mark said.
“Well...” Cal said, drawing the word out. “Yeah, technically, you don’t. Fifth Amendment and all that. But you’re under suspicion for murder, and I try to tell my clients to avoid pleading the fifth when they can. It always makes you look guilty.”
Mark clenched his jaw, then slowly sat back down at his desk. “Fine. I followed her because she was acting weird. I thought she might be sneaking off to do drugs or something.”
“And did you find her doing drugs?” Ash asked.
Mark shook his head. “Nope. I couldn’t find her, so I went home.”
Donovan’s blood started a low boil. “You’re lying. Darcy watched her mom die of an overdose. She didn’t do drugs.”
“But she sold them. And more,” Mark added, his greasy smile slithering back into place. “Ah, I see you didn’t know she’d been whoring herself at the truck stop when she wasn’t spreading her legs for you. She was a slut. You ask me, she got what she deserved.”
Donovan felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “She wouldn’t...” He trailed off because, as much as it hurt, he heard the ring of truth in Mark’s words.
More than anything, Darcy had wanted to escape, but she needed money to do it. How often had she complained that The Grove didn’t pay enough? She was so afraid she’d be stuck in Steam Valley forever that she absolutely would have turned to selling drugs or even her body if it meant she could leave sooner.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart aching for the girl he’d once loved to distraction. “You killed her.” He knew it without a doubt.
Mark chuckled and spread his hands. “Even if I did, you can’t prove I was there that night.”
“Watch me,” Ash said, his voice low and dangerous. “Zak, check his computer. We’re looking for any files related to Darcy Cantrell.”
“Wait, I have a better idea,” Cal said and pulled out his phone. He scrolled for a moment and then grinned like the cat who ate the canary and held up the phone so everyone could see the screen. “Look at that. Someone forgot to set their Facebook to private. And, oops, also forgot to go back and delete all of their embarrassing party pictures. If I’m not mistaken, that douchebag playing beer pong on Hidden Beach on October 26, 2007, is you, Mark. And that…” He pinched his fingers on the screen, zooming in on the girl in the background of the photo. “…is Darcy Cantrell.”
“So what if I was there? Doesn’t mean I killed—” His eyes popped wide as Zak pulled a decorative box off the bookshelf and flipped the lid.
Zak stared down into it for a moment, then looked up, his face grim. “Ash.”
Ash crossed to him, looked into the box, and grabbed his handcuffs. “Mark Salas, you’re under arrest for the murder of Darcy Cantrell.”
Donovan held his breath and crossed the room in three long strides. He didn’t want to see what had put that grim horror on his friends’ faces, but he knew he’d never find peace if he didn’t look.
In the box, under a dirty red canvas shoe, was a handful of photos that had obviously been printed at home by a LaserJet printer. They were sloppily cut and yellowed around the edges, but they clearly showed a girl on her knees, her clothes torn off. Her hands were tied behind her back with the tie Mark had been wearing that night. One of her eyes was swollen shut, but the other brimmed with tears as she pleaded with the person behind the camera.
Donovan strode across the office, yanked Mark out of his chair, and slammed a fist into his face until he had two black eyes to match the one Darcy sported in the picture. Then he let the asshole drop to his feet and walked away.
“I didn’t see that,” Cal singsonged and deliberately looked up at the ceiling.
“No?” Zak said, his voice cold. “Because I did. He was clearly resisting arrest and getting violent with a deputy. Right, Ash?”
“That’s exactly what I saw,” the by-the-book sheriff said without a flicker of hesitation and clicked the handcuffs around Mark’s wrists.
“Fuck,” Cal muttered. “I knew I’d regret coming here. At least read him his rights.”
Donovan ignored them all and shoved through the office door, nearly knocking JT into the wall. When the little shit tried to slink away, he grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the office. Because JT Tennison had been in those photos, too, eagerly participating in the rape and murder of an innocent girl.
“There’s the other one,” he said through his teeth, then strode away. He took the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, and made it out into the smoke-heavy air before his knees gave out.
He sank to the sidewalk, and that was where Zak and Cal found him minutes later. They didn’t say anything, simply picked him up, one man under each of his arms, and carried him to the Tahoe as several other deputy cars pulled in.
Zak slid into the seat beside him. “You okay?”
Donovan flexed his fist. His knuckles were split and bruised. “I think so.”
Zak nudged his shoulder. “Bet that felt good, didn’t it? I’ve wanted to punch Mark fucking Salas since high school.”
The knot in his gut uncoiled, and the tension he’d carried for fifteen years left him with a small laugh. “We all wanted to punch Mark in high school.”
“And you finally got to do it.” Zak made a fist and punched his palm. “Now I’m gonna punch him in court. He’s going to pay for all the distress he’d caused my wife and kids.”
“Ooh,” Cal said as he slid into the front seat. “That sounds fun. Can I help with that?”
“Of course.” Zak grabbed his wallet and pulled out a dollar bill, which he passed to Cal. “Here’s your retainer. You’re officially Redwood Coast Rescue’s lawyer.”
Cal opened his mouth but closed it again without saying a word and leaned back with a groan. “Aw, fuck. What have I gotten myself into?” But he pocketed the money as Ash jumped into the car and cranked the engine. “Whoa, Sheriff. Where’s the fire?”
Ash stared at him for a beat, then pointed to the horizon where flames danced. “The wind’s shifted.”
chapter twenty-five
The fire was headed directly toward town.
They had to evacuate.
Now.
Despite Ash’s protests, Donovan jumped into his Jeep the moment they reached the sheriff’s office and burned rubber home. He’d lost everything else good in his life. His mom. Sasha. He was not leaving his dog behind and losing her, too.
He left the Jeep running in his driveway and sprinted toward his house. It didn’t register that his door was open or that Spirit was barking from somewhere deeper in the house, along with another dog. All he saw was Sasha standing in the living room, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Angel, what are you doing here? We’re under evacuation orders.” He crossed to her in several quick strides, but she flinched back when he reached for her.
And then he saw it.
The vest half-hidden under her coat, strapped over her scrubs. The cylinders, the wires.
“Donovan,” she whispered, voice quivering. “He’s here somewhere.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her and carefully pushed her coat aside to get a closer look at the bomb vest. “Tiago?”
She nodded. “He called my answering service and said a dog had been found badly burned on the side of the road. I-I grabbed Matilda because I didn’t want to leave her alone and went to work and—and he was waiting.”
“Did he hurt the dogs?”
She gave a jerky shake of the head. “He shut them in the garage.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I don’t know where he went, but he didn’t leave. He put this thing on me and said—he said he wants to watch you lose everything.”
“Okay, angel. It’s okay. Can you lift your jacket and turn for me? Let me see the back of the vest.”
She sucked in a shaking breath, but lifted her coat and slowly turned in a circle.
Fuck. It had the same switch as the car bomb, and this time, the bastard had armed all of the fail-safes. Donovan’s heart pounded in his ears as he took in the details of the bomb. Tiago had really outdone himself this time. There was no way he could disarm it without setting it off. One wrong move and Sasha would be blown to pieces. He couldn’t let that happen.
His bomb kit was still in his car and, with the fire eating its way toward town, he didn’t have time to go get it. He stood up and looked around the room, searching for something, anything, that could help him. His eyes landed on his butcher block. His knives weren’t as sharp as they should be and had seen better days, but they were all he had handy.
Without thinking twice, he grabbed the entire block off the counter and set it on the floor in front of Sasha.
“Okay, angel,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “We’re going to get this thing off you. But I need you to trust me.”
Sasha nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He could see the fear in them, but he could also see the trust and love she had for him. It gave him the strength he needed.
“Okay, now listen to me very carefully,” he said. “I need you to stay perfectly still. Don’t move a muscle. I’m going to try and cut the wires on the vest, but I have to be very careful. If I cut them in the wrong order, it could trigger the bomb.”
Sasha nodded again, biting her lip so hard that it started to bleed.
He reached down and chose a medium-sized knife from the block, testing the edge with his thumb. Not sharp enough but all he had. He studied the vest, trying to make sense of the tangle of wires and cylinders, then took a deep breath and began to cut. The first wire snapped under the blade, and something on the vest beeped.
“Donovan?” Sasha’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m here, angel,” he said, his voice steady. “It’s okay.”
He cut the second wire and then the third, his fingers steady despite the thunderous pulse of his heart.
Another wire, and the beeping increased in frequency.
“Donovan,” Sasha said, her voice trembling. “Please hurry.”
“I’m almost done,” he said, his own voice shaking now. He cut through two more wires in quick succession, going too fast, getting too sloppy. The knife slipped and there was a sharp hiss followed by a loud pop. He froze for a second, his heart in his throat, but then he saw that the cylinder he had pierced had only been a dummy.
Sasha sobbed. “Oh, God. Donovan, the fire—”
He glanced over his shoulder and saw a wall of flames devouring the woods around his house. It roared like a wild animal. The dogs howled in the garage.
“I need another minute.” He was almost there, he could feel it. Just one more wire and—
The front door crashed open, and Tiago stepped inside, a gun in his hand. “Get away from her. You can’t disarm it. You clip that last wire, and we’re all dead.”
Donovan stepped back and raised his hands slowly. “We’re all dead if we stay here much longer.”
“Good. I’ll enjoy watching you burn, but this time, I’ll stay until the end and make sure the job’s done.”
“Tiago, man. Why are you doing this?”
“Because you murdered Chrissy so she wouldn’t tell everyone you killed Darcy, and nobody in this fucking town cares! She was just a drug addict. Another sad overdose. Nobody was doing anything about it, so I took matters into my own hands.”
“I didn’t kill Darcy. Mark Salas did. He was just arrested for it. And I didn’t kill Chrissy, but you’re right— someone did, and I’m working with Ash to figure out who.” Donovan risked a glance at Sasha. “Let her go, Tiago. This isn’t going to solve anything. Chrissy wouldn’t want this. She liked Sasha.”
Tiago shook his head, his finger tightening on the trigger. “You took everything from me. Now it’s your turn.”
A crash sounded from the back of the house, and Tiago swung toward it for a split second, but it was enough of a distraction for Donovan to make his move. He hit Tiago at the same time as a furry, dog-shaped bullet. The three of them slammed into the floor, and Spirit sank her teeth into Tiago’s arm. He released the gun with a scream. Donovan rolled away and came face-to-face with a stack of explosives.
