Dogs Don't Lie Page 17

  “Coffee?” Sam pleaded, her hands clasped.

  “Yes,” I shouted from the back seat.

  “Really? You have to ask?” Gracie chuckled and headed into town.

  Twenty minutes later, we passed Ruch and toward the little town of Williams. For a short time, the fog cleared, but then we left the sun behind and entered the valleys that wound toward the California border. The GPS led us east on narrow gravel roads, deeper into mist-shrouded forests and back into Jackson County.

  “How much farther?” I stretched as far as my seat belt allowed in order to look at the directions on the dash screen.

  A soft chime sounded, followed by the “destination is on your right” prompt.

  “Good timing.” Sam giggled.

  “I don’t see a road, dirt or otherwise.” Gracie stared ahead, searching the trees and brush.

  “There.” I pointed to the right, my arm between the front seats. “Looks like a turnout. Pull in and we’ll take a look around.”

  “Just to take a quick look,” Sam cautioned while staring out the passenger window.

  “Sure. A quick look,” Gracie repeated. She crept into the car-sized notch at the edge of the tree line and turned off the engine.

  I unhooked my seat belt, pulled the handle, and pushed the door open.

  Sam slid the window down, but only halfway. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to stand right here, next to the car, and listen for any unnatural sounds.”

  The window slid the rest of the way down. “I can do that from right here.” Sam frowned. “Like what kind of unnatural sounds?”

  “Banging, an engine running, or loud voices.”

  Gracie stepped next to me and hunched into her jacket, her hands tucked deep into her pockets. “Do you think there’s anything or anybody out here?”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Okay. Let’s go, then,” Sam said from the car. Her earlier bravery was failing her.

  “In a minute.” I squinted through low limbs and dense brush. About ten yards in, the trees thinned, leading into a wide meadow.

  The engine of Gracie’s car ticked an irregular cadence as it cooled. Other than a gentle wind breathing in the treetops, I heard nothing—no birds chirping and no chatter of squirrels.

  Behind me, on the other side of the road, the forest didn’t give way to a clearing. There were just darkening shadows and deep branches dancing in the soft breeze.

  “Sam?” I leaned over and watched her through the open window. “Can you see the meadow beyond the trees?” I pointed.

  Grimacing, Sam nodded.

  “Okay. Good. I’m going to walk to the edge. You’ll be able to see me the whole time.”

  Gracie volunteered. “I’m going with you.”

  The click of a seat belt releasing heralded the opening door. “Well, I’m not staying here by myself.” Sam zipped her coat and tugged on gloves. “Let’s go—quick.” She clapped her hands, the sound dull under thick yarn. “Like a bunny.”

  Gracie and I laughed.

  Recovering before me, Gracie sputtered, “Like a bunny?”

  Sam frowned as a blush formed in her cheeks. “Something my grandma used to say.” Hands on hips, she turned so she could look at us. “See how rattled you have me? I’m reverting to Grandma’s old sayings.”

  “I think it’s cute. ‘Cause, you know, bunnies are quick.” I snorted, and the giggles started again, Sam included.

  Gaining control of my snickering outburst, and my nerves, I stepped away from the car. “Looks like a bit of a path there.” I headed toward the slight break in the brush, working my way forward. Stopping while still under the cover of trees, I surveyed the area and guessed the size at about forty acres.

  “What are those?” Gracie squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand.

  Out from under the dark canopy of trees, the sudden brightness in the clearing had me reaching for my sunglasses even with the fog. “It looks like irrigation?” Lines of freshly turned soil maybe three feet apart ran the length of the meadow. Every two feet, what appeared to be small sprinkler heads popped above the dirt.

  “For what? There’s nothing but weeds and …” Sam stepped behind a thick trunk. “Do you think this is a—”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  “You mean marijuana?” Gracie scowled. “But isn’t it legal here now? Why try to hide it way out in the boonies like this? I see grows all over—some right outside town.”

  I watched the far side of the meadow, my gaze tracking right and then left. “Yes and no. I guess there are permits and lots of other conditions in growing it for sale. Not sure how easy it is to get into the business for recreational and medical marijuana. And it’s still a crime as far as the feds are concerned. It can’t be transported over state lines either.”

  “So is that what R and A is doing? Growing on some of the land they conned people out of?” Sam appeared from behind the tree. “Would the money be worth it?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe not right away. Not until …”

  “Not until what?” Gracie pressed.

  My forehead wrinkled and I bit at my lip. “What if they think the feds are going to loosen up on the whole marijuana thing, and soon? I think having the land and water, and being able to deliver massive amounts of product when the market does open up, would be worth it.”

  “The three sites we’ve seen aren’t capable of that, are they? I mean, this place is big, but when you think of the demand …” Gracie sighed. “I don’t see it happening on the get-rich scale of things.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Me either—even if the last two properties are the same size as this or larger. But what if Jackson County isn’t the only place? There must be other areas good for growing marijuana.”

  Tara’s conversation from earlier tugged at my mind. “Yeah, but how do we find out if R and A has dealings in other counties and maybe even other states?” I glanced at Gracie and Sam. “We still have nothing to go to the police with. There’s no law against putting irrigation on your property.”

  “But it’s not theirs,” Sam grumbled.

  A chill ran up my spine and tingled at the back of my neck. “Shhh.”

  Gracie and Sam froze.

  Tilting my head, I listened. Nothing. I turned in a slow, tight circle. It was quiet, except for the occasional sigh of wind—too quiet. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pictured the meadow and the forest, limbs swaying in the breeze.

  Gracie gasped.

  I opened my eyes, my mind still in that calm, inviting state.

  From the far side, a doe and her fawn trotted along the tree line. Head up, she sniffed the air and then stopped, her big brown eyes settling on the three of us standing across the meadow. She stepped into the clearing and stood still, facing us—no, me. She swung her head to the left, back the way she’d come. She turned to me with dark intense eyes, her message clear. People, men, laughing, voices, smells, walking slow, working their way forward, strapping small boxes on slim trees.

  A branch cracked in the distance. The connection ended, and the doe and her fawn turned away and disappeared into the trees, two silent wraiths among the shadows.

  “We should leave. Right now,” I whispered.

  “What—?”

  I spun around and tugged Gracie’s coat sleeve, urging her to get moving. “Remember what I said about things getting iffy? Time to go. Come on.”

  I didn’t have to convince Sam, who led the way.

  By the time we broke through the brush at the side of the road, Sam was already strapped into her seat.

  Reaching for the handle as Gracie rounded the front of the car, I stopped. “I’ll be right back. Get the car turned around.”

  “Kallie,” Gracie shouted. “What are you doing?�
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  “I want to take a few pictures.” I pulled my phone out and ran into the woods.

  “Kallie, no. Get back here—now,” Sam demanded in a hoarse whisper.

  I didn’t stop. I just kept heading toward open land. Behind me, the engine whined, followed by the crunch of gravel under tires. Going from the cover of one tree to the next until nothing obstructed my view, I took pictures of every angle of the clearing, getting close-ups of the new irrigation system. Sudden movement on the far side caught my attention.

  Four men in camo carrying backpacks and black cases emerged from the forest.

  They were the people the doe had shown me. I dropped into a crouch, turned, and duckwalked to the closest tree. With my heart pounding in my ears, I pressed against the rough trunk and listened for shouts of detection from the men. I didn’t hear any. I rose, still hunched over, and sidestepped to the next tree. My progress deliberate, I worked my way to the road and paused under low limbs and dense brush every few feet to listen. Again, there was nothing. Relief swept through me, my tight chest unclenching its hold over my lungs. With segments of the road in sight, I started to stand to rush the final steps.

  A deep male voice demanded, “What are you two doing out here?”

  Dropping back down, I crept to the left and flattened myself to the ground under a fir bough. I adjusted my hood around my face, leaving only my eyes unobstructed, and pulled the strings. With my red hair stuffed out of sight, at least I wouldn’t be in stark contrast with the deep greens around me.

  Two men, their sidearms holstered in plain view, stood on either side of Gracie’s car.

  The one next to Gracie rested his hand on the butt of his pistol. “I asked you a question.”

  Sam dipped her head to stare at the man next to Gracie’s window. Her voice steady and strong, she said, “We had a day off and decided to take a drive. If we’re on private property, we’re sorry, but we didn’t see any no-trespassing signs.”

  “Way to go, Sam,” I whispered. “Don’t let that big bully intimidate you.”

  The bully sidestepped and looked at his buddy. This left me a straight line of sight to Gracie.

  Both hands gripping the wheel, her gaze drifted toward the woods, her hazel eyes wide.

  Making sure the two men weren’t looking in my direction, I waved, caught Gracie’s attention, and pointed down the road.

  Her almost imperceptible nod was all I needed. In stealth mode, I slipped back into the shadows and settled behind a thick tangle of cedar branches.

  Low voices came from the meadow, not close enough to make out what they said. On the road, gravel crunched under tires, and the purr of the car’s engine faded.

  Good. Gracie and Sam are leaving.

  I, on the other hand, was stuck there—my back to a tree, under a cover of dense cedar boughs—until the area cleared. My biggest fear was that Gracie or Sam would panic when I didn’t show up down the road right away and call Ben.

  A limb snapped behind me. My breath caught mid-inhalation. Branches rustled and then stilled.

  “You believe they were just out on a drive?”

  “No reason not to. They didn’t look like cops to me.” The bully chuckled. “Besides, they were really scared.”

  “Should we tell the others?”

  “Why? You have a problem with the way I handled it?”

  “No. No. It’s all good.”

  “Okay then. Set the camera trap.” The bully paused. “Looks like a storm’s coming. And we’ve still got to finish the south perimeter.”

  Boots shuffled behind me within inches of my hiding spot.

  I bit back a gasp, my pulse hammering.

  “Not sure the strap’s gonna go around this tree.”

  “Then secure it to a higher limb.” A thump against the bark at the far side of the tree rattled branches. “Here. And hurry up. Face it that way. It’ll cover some of the road.”

  Not moving, I glanced up through a four-inch-diameter hole in the boughs. The gloved end of a camo-clad arm swung out of sight. I clamped my eyes shut, barely breathing. After the zip of the strap sounded through a buckle, their boots lumbered across dry leaves, away from me. Quiet voices still chattered from the direction of the meadow, just not as close anymore.

  No longer able to hold my breath, I inhaled. Blessedly cool air filled my burning lungs. I sat there with my muscles trembling and my heart racing.

  A vibration buzzed across my stomach.

  No. Not now.

  My hand shot inside my pocket, fingers searching for the mute switch. Before I managed to silence it, the first resounding notes of the Imperial March blared through the quiet forest.

  Chapter 24

  I scrambled from my hiding place. Pushing upright, I didn’t think. I ran. Limbs grabbed at me. Bare branches snatched the hood off my head, scratched my cheeks, and caught at my hair. Shadows and overhanging limbs gave way to a cloud-covered sky. Gravel rolled and crunched under my boots as I dashed across the open, narrow road and into the forest on the other side. Trees closed in around me and blocked the light. I didn’t stop, my outstretched arms breaking a path through low branches and dense brush. I must have sounded like a herd of elk stampeding in the forest with all the crashing about and snapping of limbs.

  Shouts came from behind me, still across the road. I ducked behind a tree, stopped, and listened. My heart pounded out a disjointed rhythm. I tried to breathe without the hitching, gasping heave of air into my aching lungs. Did they hear my mad dash?

  I couldn’t stay here by this tree, but I did need to move with less panic and more stealth. Peeking around the rough tree bark, I looked back. Limbs still swayed from my hasty passage. At least the road wasn’t visible, and neither were the men in full camo. It was time for a plan.

  To my right, stands of cedars and pines thinned, giving way to buck brush dense enough to hide that stampeding elk herd. That wasn’t a good idea, though, since Gracie and Sam were waiting for me down the road to my left. I gauged the distance to the next thick trunk and between several others along a path of escape. I had my plan. Holding my breath, I listened. A jay squawked and scolded from a sturdy limb ten feet above me. I took his call as a warning and crept to the next fir, low branches sweeping the dark soil at my passage. I stopped only long enough to listen for boots crashing through the undergrowth or shouts of discovery. Hearing neither, I kept moving.

  Forty yards closer to freedom and feeling confident I’d escaped, I passed two intertwined trees without stopping.

  A gloved hand came from the shadows, covered my mouth, and yanked me to the brushy ground. I tried to fight, but an arm and a heavy leg crossed my body and held me motionless.

  “Quiet.” His husky whisper brushed against my ear.

  The bully. I recognized his voice.

  “You’re lucky I found you instead of my associate.” He loosened his grasp so I could breathe again. “Now don’t move. Be quiet.”

  Nodding, I opened my eyes. I glared at him and waited for my chance.

  Layers of lacy ferns folded over us, blocking out sky and trees.

  An unseen jay chattered and screeched.

  The same one from earlier? Did he try to warn me and I didn’t listen?

  The softest swish of boots on the ground passing just feet away stopped.

  Not making a sound, my captor let go of me with one arm. The movement smooth, his free hand snaked to the holster on his hip. The slight click of a strap releasing sounded deafening in the sudden quiet.

  Confusion mixed with the adrenaline snapping in my brain. My skin felt as though it were on fire, pulse pounding in my fingertips. His associate? What does that mean? And why is he hiding from his own people? Was this guy part of a rival drug gang? Or worse? I concentrated on the moment, taking in all I could. Just make it through the next few seconds—

  I
heard that quiet rustle again—moving away.

  Okay. No guns blazing. No ricocheting bullets.

  My heart banged against my ribs. I took a deep breath and tried to slow the hammering, sure that the wild thumping was loud enough to alert anyone within a ten-yard radius.

  After what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, he took his hand from my mouth. His whisper low, he said, “We still need to be quiet—give him some distance.” He snapped the gun back into the holster. “I’m Agent Davis with the DEA, Doctor Collins.” He raised his head. “I can show you proof after we get to my truck. My credentials and badge are in a hidden compartment. Until then you’ll just have to trust me.”

  “You’re what?” I squeaked. “And you know who I am?”

  “The whole DEA team knows. You’re the animal-communicating vet that found out more about what’s going on with R and A in the last few days than it took us to research in weeks. Like your visit to their office, finding out Smith was missing, the gun found at the Whedon’s place, and who actually shot Smith. Doubt we would’ve found his body so quickly if it wasn’t for you. It’s made the case against Johnson much stronger. Then there was all the title-company evidence and the confirmation about the employee at the delivery service you dug up.” His grimace switched to a smirk. “No matter how many times I tried to scare you off, you didn’t stop. Not even a butcher knife through your cupcakes discouraged you.” Davis shrugged. “Sorry about that. But you and your two friends almost blew my cover today.” He stood, extended his hand, and helped me up. “My contact with the sheriff’s department and my supervisor joked about just adding you to the team—figured it’d be faster.” He rubbed at the heavy red-brown stubble on his square jaw.

  “Sorry. I didn’t know—”

  “You weren’t supposed to. That’s the whole idea of undercover.” He glanced around. “We need to get out of here. He’ll be back.”

  “Does he know who I am?” I bit at my lip, a frown creasing my forehead.

  “Yes. Those on Johnson’s land-scam team do, but not the group controlling the business out of the barns.” He shook his head, shaggy brown hair poking from under his camo hat. “They weren’t running a very sophisticated operation.”