Page 109 of Concrete Evidence
“In a short time we’ve been through a lot. I think we’re a good team.”
“Maybe so. Time will tell.”
“As we get closer, stop the UTV and point me in the right direction.”
“Won’t you need me?” she said.
“Both of us have wounds, and I’m the trained agent.”
“Really, Marc? And to think I just agreed we’re a good team. I’d punch you, but I don’t want to assault a federal officer.” She drew in a breath. “Was Jake transferred to a cell?”
“Late last night. Roden and I hope a combination of a night in jail and his OCD will persuade him to talk.”
Anger swirled where moments before she’d fought sickness. “Are you saying he might be released if he talks?”
“No, Avery. He’s guilty of attempted murder. Talking could render a lesser sentence.”
“I don’t like the idea of a man dying, even for murder. But I hate the thought of him back on the streets more.”
“Not a chance.”
“Is your mother all right? She went straight to her room after dinner.”
“Like Tessa, Mom believed our father was murdered, but the reality shook her up. The news also confirmed her as a target.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to spend some time with her today and Tessa.”
“At the ranch. Promise me.”
“Not going anywhere in this rain. Have you checked on the dam? The weather report says the storm’s one of the slowest on record, dumping inches per hour as it creeps inland and now over us.”
“Your granddad texted me before 5a.m. with an update. He can’t sleep with the chaos and the water’s rising.”
Jake’s arrest for murder released the burden of guilt for those crimes but not the dam’s poor construction. She pointed to a grove of oak and pine trees ahead. “The gate’s in there. Not visible from the road, and you have to know where to look from this side.”
“I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“It’s pouring, Marc.”
“I need to search the area, and I have my phone.”
Avery stopped the UTV to let him out. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared, and the wind whipped the rain horizontal. “I’m going with you.”
He turned to her, his face granite. “Stay put.” He jogged toward the trees, sloshing through mud and standing water. He wanted to spare her finding a body, and she appreciated it. Despite the suspicions against Craig, he was family, like one of Granddad’s sons. She struggled with learning the truth, and the waiting tormented her soul.
Another flash of lightning. Closer. Thunder cracked the sound barrier. Several feet away, Marc circled the area, each time closing in on the perimeter. He slowed, then rushed toward something. What had he found? He bent to the wet ground and waved in her direction.
She pressed the gas pedal and raced toward him, the tires spinningin the mud, while she hoped and prayed he hadn’t found a dead man. Marc battled the rain to tend to someone. He pulled his shirt over his head. To bandage a wound?
She pulled the UTV next to him. A pair of jeans and boots extended above a puddle.
“He’s alive.” Marc scooped him up and carried him to the vehicle’s rear seat. “He has a bullet wound on his right side, and he’s lost blood. I’ll stay back here with him. He’s unconscious.”
She called 911 and alerted Granddad. While attempting to turn the UTV toward the ranch, she spun the wheels. They were stuck in mud.
“I’ll push,” Marc said. “Can you keep an eye on Craig while steering?”
Craig’s blood- and rain-soaked clothes caught her attention, but his unconsciousness alarmed her the most. “Craig,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
