Bones and Brew Read online

  Not wasting a moment, Louise hurried to his side.

  Morton poked his head out of the cave. “Daniel,” he whispered.

  The faint rustle of leaves foretold of his return. He poked his head into the doorway and eyed Morton expectantly.

  “Come back inside. Miss Louise is going to get the ball rolling for the negotiating process.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  MTAF Backup Arrives

  Seven broad-shouldered he-men, dressed in black tactical garb and armed to the teeth, huddled around Sarah.

  Alton briefed the team, bringing them up to speed on the plan Ruben, Milt, and he had concocted. “The quadcopter Ruben’s using isn’t as well equipped as ours, but the infra-red camera should pinpoint the targets for us.”

  “Lou? Can you hear me?” yelled a man in the near distance.

  “That’s Milt Tumble. He’s a former Marine, the town’s fire chief, and Louise Tumble’s brother-in-law. Louise is the mayor, co-owns the trading post with Milt, and is the sole proprietor of the Tumble Lake rental cabins. Her husband, Tom, was the former police chief. He was murdered over twenty years ago. His killer or killers never found.”

  “So what you’re saying is, these two Tumbles are the good guys and VIPs,” one of the balaclava-masked men summarized.

  “What can you tell us about the suspects?” asked Sgt. Filburn, the ranking agent in charge.

  “The Barrs sport Duck Dynasty-style beards and dress in plaid shirts like backwoodsmen. But don’t let their appearances fool you. They’re intelligent, know how to use firearms, and won’t think twice about taking a human life.” He bowed his head, thinking of their confidential informant, Dorothy Shumway. “That was evident when they tortured and killed our CI.”

  “Our recon team said the Barrs’ families live on this mountain. What do we know about the women and children? Could they be used by the men as human shields or hostages? Or could the women and children be hostile, armed, and prepared to engage in combat?”

  “Milt, I’m here. I’m okay,” Louise answered.

  “Woof-woof. Woof-woof.”

  “That’s Ben, the mayor’s dog,” Alton said. “Not sure if he’s had formal search and rescue training—”

  The sergeant cut off Alton with a swift slice gesture of his hand across his throat, indicating he should shut up.

  Heads cocked to the side, the men focused on listening to the unfolding conversation between Louise and Milt.

  “I’m with Morton, Hyrum, and Daniel,” Louise shouted. “They want me to speak on their behalf.”

  Alton leaned in toward the sergeant. “With that quadcopter, Ruben should have locked on to Mrs. T’s, uh, I mean the hostage’s location,” he whispered.

  Sgt. Filburn replied with a stiff nod.

  “I have no authority to negotiate the kind of legal deals the Barrs will want,” Milt yelled back.

  “Find Alton and Ruben,” she returned. “They’re MTAF agents.”

  Disapproval radiating, all eyes shifted in judgment to Alton.

  The sergeant hiked his brows and shook his finger in disapproval at Alton.

  “Long story.” Alton cringed and rubbed the back of his neck. Once the mission wrapped up, he’d have some serious explaining to do.

  “You said you were with three of the Barrs,” Milt stated. “I didn’t hear mention of Porter or Preston.”

  “They’re dead.”

  Alton exchanged glances of surprise with his teammates.

  “Morton said I need to end our conversation,” Lou shouted, her voice sounding hoarse from yelling. “He said we won’t talk again until you find Alton or Ruben.”

  “I’m on it, Lou. Hang in there.”

  Agent Filburn exhaled a sigh and eyed his team. “Gentlemen, the widow of one of our slain brothers in blue is being held hostage. From wherever in God’s heaven Chief Tumble may be looking down, I want us to make him proud by rescuing his wife. We owe him that.”

  “Hear, hear,” the men muttered in unison.

  “As soon as Ruben gives us the location of the suspects, I want a shock and awe operation,” Filburn instructed the agents.

  Adrenaline electrified the air.

  The sergeant turned to Alton. “You and Ruben stay here. Keep the fire chief out of our way.”

  Great. Glorified babysitters. Conceding silently to himself, they had blown the mission and deserved to be benched. Alton pasted on a half-smile. “Yes, Sir.”

  “As usual, the news media’s chomping at the bit for a story,” Sgt. Filburn continued, addressing the men who would be participating in the hostage rescue op. “Let’s give them one with a happy ending for the good guys.”

  Alton cleared his throat. “Sir, what about a negotiator? If I may be so bold to suggest, and I don’t mean to brag, but I graduated at the top of my class in negotiating. I would be happy—”

  “Good for you, Son, but forget it. The MTAF doesn’t negotiate with hostage-takers. Put your top of the class negotiation skills to use by keeping the fire chief out of our hair.”

  The men snickered.

  Embarrassment burned Alton’s face.

  “Woof-woof.” The dog’s bark sounded close. Closer than it had moments earlier.

  Everyone focused on the dirt path ahead.

  Seconds later, Ben, Milt, and Ruben emerged from the dense woods.

  Alton sighed with relief. The three were a sight for sore eyes.

  Ben unleashed a barking fit.

  Milt shushed the dog.

  Ben quieted but continued a throaty growl.

  The sergeant motioned with his hand for Ruben and Milt to gather around the UTV.

  “Come on, Ben.” Milt kept the dog at his side.

  “We heard every word you said,” the sergeant whispered. “Keep your voices down and…” turning to Milt, “do whatever it takes to keep that animal from barking, including returning to town.”

  Alton cringed, certain Milt hadn’t taken kindly to the sergeant’s underhanded way of suggesting he leave the scene. One look at Milt confirmed his assessment.

  The blood vessels at the sides of Milt’s temples pulsated, appearing he could uncork a barking fit of his own any second on the MTAF sergeant.

  “Uh, Sir,” Alton spoke up, hoping to ease the tension. “This is Milt Tumble, the fire chief, and Ben, is Mrs, T’s, I mean Louise Tumble’s dog.”

  “I’m sergeant Filburn.” He extended his hand to Milt. “We appreciate your help and the use of your quadcopter.”

  They locked eyes, appearing to be in mortal combat, shook hands, but said nothing.

  Filburn released Milt’s hand and turned to Ruben. “Fill us in on what you saw with the infra-red.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  On the Move

  “What are we up against?” Morton asked his younger brother. “Did Milt really leave or just say so.”

  Louise gulped a bubble of air. Hoped Milt had kept his word to find Ruben or Alton.

  “Milt and the dog were standing on the trail and surveying the mountainside when he and Miss Louise spoke.” Hyrum frowned, pointing at the security camera monitors. “I also picked up the heat signature of a third person. Likely one of those MTAF boys. The guy stood in a clearing several feet off the trail. He was operating a drone.”

  Drone? Was it Sanders? Louise pinched her brows together. If Milt was with Ruben or Alton, why didn’t he admit it?

  “It’s a setup,” Hyrum said, about the time Louise arrived at the same conclusion.

  “Are they still hanging around?” Daniel asked.

  Hyrum shook his head. “They’re gone and out of the range of our infra-red cameras.”

  “They were in recon mode. That drone’s probably equipped with a variety of cameras that pinpointed our location.” Morton stroked his long beard. “That means there’s a team of heavily armed MTAF agents preparing to storm us,” he said, seemingly verbalizing his thoughts.

  A sinking feeling snuffed out the hope Louise moments earli
er had harbored.

  “We should move to the south cave,” Daniel suggested. “We can launch countersurveillance from there.”

  The brothers glanced at one another and bobbed their heads in agreement.

  Hyrum opened a drawer under the computer keyboard and pulled out a black hood. “I’m sorry, Miss Louise, but we can’t let you see where we’re going or how we’ll get there.”

  A hood! She swallowed hard. Did they bring outsiders to the cave so frequently that they kept a sight-depriving hood handy? Though curious and tempted to inquire, a more baffling puzzle taunted her.

  How could her day have ended up so twisted? Hindsight being twenty-twenty, had she not accepted Rachel’s offer to finish her shift, she’d still be at the trading post…

  “I understand,” Louise said, though it wasn’t true. She understood nothing about the mess. Bowing her chin toward her chest, without making a fuss, she permitted him to slip the hood over her head. As the blackness stole her vision and dread mounted, an idea hatched. “Wait a minute.” She jerked her head up. “I better use the bathroom before we go.”

  As Hyrum slowly pulled off the hood, static electricity crackled as it frizzed her hair.

  With the hood removed, Louise blinked and patted down her hair.

  Hyrum stepped to the side and gestured at the portable toilet.

  “Thank you.” Louise pulled the brown plaid shower curtain around the toilet before lifting the seat. She scanned the camp trailer-sized space.

  Dirt floor. Rock ceiling. Rolls of toilet paper stacked on a waist-high spindle. And hand sanitizer in a gallon container with a pump spout. Not much to work with to leave a note and little time to allow the creative juices to flow. Yet she had to do something.

  Not wanting to draw attention to herself by taking too long, Louise slowed the flow of her urine, knowing the tinkle-tinkle sound drifted beyond the flimsy curtain.

  While sitting on the pot, she grabbed the top roll of toilet paper from the spindle and pumped a tablespoon-sized glob of the liquid sanitizer into her palm. She leaned to the side, scraped up some dirt, and quickly mixed the sanitizer and dirt together in her palm to create a gritty brown sugar-like concoction.

  Crossing her right leg over her left, she balanced the roll of toilet paper in the crook of the back of her knee and dipped the end of her shoestring into the mixture. Using the plastic-coated tip of the shoestring like a dip pen and the sanitizer dirt blend like ink, she scratched GONE 2 S CAVE on the toilet paper. Once complete, she held the roll out at arm’s length, checking to see if it was legible. Able to read it, she chuckled to herself, thinking the message looked like it had been scrawled with poo.

  She replaced the toilet paper on the spindle and turned it so the lettering could only be seen when sitting on the toilet.

  “Miss Louise, we have to get going,” Hyrum said through the shower curtain.

  “Okay.” She wiped the ink from her palm with toilet paper, cleaned herself, rose, and adjusted her clothing. She took another look at the toilet paper roll with her message, said a little prayer that it would remain hidden from the Barrs but easily found by the MTAF, and pulled back the shower curtain. Shaking her hands in the air, she dried the alcohol-based sanitizer.

  “One more thing,” Morton said as he slipped the hood over her head. “I’m going to spin you around a few times to disorient you. Think of it as playing pin the tail on the donkey.”

  Which of you is the jackass?

  “I’m going to place my hands on your shoulders and turn you around in a circle a few times,” he said as he spun her around.

  “Morton stop. Please stop. I’m so dizzy I feel like I’m going to fall over.”

  “We won’t let you fall.”

  Finally, Morton stopped turning her. She stood swaying like a drunk.

  “Extend your hands so I can guide them to Hyrum’s hips.”

  As instructed, Louise extended her arms.

  Taking her by the wrists, Morton guided her hands to rest on Hyrum’s hips. The meaty side of her right hand bumped against the butt of his pistol. For the briefest moment, she considered attempting to grab the weapon but nixed the idea. She was still outnumbered. And now temporarily blinded and dizzy.

  “Once we start moving, take slow, small steps and hang on to Hyrum. You can think of him as your seeing-eye dog.”

  Louise figured he said that to give her a chuckle but she wasn’t laughing. Shrouded in darkness, her head still spinning, she lowered her chin toward her chest.

  The toes of her athletic shoes and the dirt floor were visible.

  Morton hadn’t pulled the hood all the way down around her neck! Though her sight was restricted, maybe she could see enough to tell where they were going and how they got there. At least she had access to some fresh air.

  “In both of our best interests,” Morton continued, “I’m cinching the hood around your neck so you can’t see the ground when you look down.”

  A wave of panic scrunched up her shoulders and stiffened every muscle in her body. “I-I don’t like things around my neck. I don’t wear turtleneck sweaters or—”

  “Cinch was the wrong word.” Morton pulled the hood down, flattening the bottom of it over her chest. “My apologies. I’ll loosely tie a piece of rope around the base of your neck to prevent the hood from flying up.”

  Remaining stiff and taking short, fast breaths, Louise tightened her grip on Hyrum’s waist as Morton secured the rope around her neck.

  “Relax.” Hyrum caressed the tops of her clenched hands. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Louise heard his words, but they didn’t register.

  “Miss Louise, please relax.” He chuckled, adding, “Your fingernails are burrowing a tunnel through my skin.”

  Those words registered, snapping her out of panic mode. “I’m sorry.” She loosened her death grip.

  “I can only imagine how frightening this is for you,” Hyrum said, his voice soft. “Dad taught us to respect women, and that respect went double for you. He would have never approved of us hurting you or causing you fear. Miss Louise, you have my word, when it comes to taking care of you, I’ll do my best to make Dad proud.”

  The sincerity in his words touched her heart.

  “As will I,” Morton pledged.

  “Me too,” Daniel concurred.

  “Thank you.” Relief de-escalated the alarm that moments ago had induced chest pains and numbed her extremities. “I know your father would be proud of you, not only for taking care of me, but doing what’s right.”

  Hyrum patted the top of her left hand. “As soon as Morton and Daniel open the passageway, we’ll get moving. Morton will lead the way. Daniel will follow behind you. As needed, he’ll help steady your balance to make sure you don’t fall.”

  Their plan was too organized. Too well-thought-out to be spontaneous. Again Louise wondered how many times they had guided hooded people to wherever they were taking her … and why.

  Morton and Daniel grunted as they strained to move something heavy. The sound of dirt grinding under a massive weight led Louise to surmise they were pushing an enormous boulder. Oddly, she envisioned them rolling a rock similar to the one covering the tomb of Jesus.

  “Here we go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  South Ridge Trailhead

  Megan surveyed the small crowd of hikers gathered at the trailhead and glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s time to get this party started.” She clapped her hands and smiled. “But before we do, I see a couple of new faces. Welcome to the Tumble Lake Pliking Club,” she said to the two college-age women she didn’t recognize. “Let’s take a few minutes to introduce ourselves before we embark on this litter picking-up hike.”

  The six women and three men exchanged pleasantries.

  Megan explained after retiring three years ago as a business analyst from a large financial organization, she and her husband moved to Tumble Lake. Combining her love of hiking, socializing, and concern for the enviro
nment, she created the Tumble Lake Pliking Club.

  Once a month, those interested met at a designated site in the Tumble Lake area where Megan leads them on a hike. While enjoying the scenery and each other’s company, they pick up garbage. Items gathered included food wrappers, cans, and plastic bottles discarded by those having little respect for nature.

  Megan brushed her fingers through her short salt and pepper hair and adjusted the bright green straw sun hat on her head. “Has anyone hiked the South Ridge of Tumble Lake before?”

  All of the participants wagged their heads and muttered in unison, “No.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat. This trailhead is somewhat secluded. Few people other than the locals know about it. As such, we shouldn’t see much litter until we connect with the main trail to the lake.”

  “Isn’t this where that girl was murdered a few weeks ago?” one of the hikers asked, intrigue in her voice.

  “Aubrey Witherspoon.” Megan pulled a face. “She was the leader of a writing group. Two brothers, wanting to become best-selling authors, lured her to the trail under the guise of novel research.”

  “They claimed that’s why they killed her,” one of the college-aged women said. “For research for their novel.”

  “Wow. I never knew writers could be such sickos,” one of the men joked.

  “I heard on the radio there’s some kind of memorial service being held this weekend for the murdered woman,” another hiker noted.

  “You’re right.” Megan bobbed her head. “That’s the reason we’re working the South Ridge this afternoon. Lou said a plaque will be dedicated at the lake Saturday in Aubrey’s memory.”

  “Who’s Lou?” one of the men asked. “Is he the head forest ranger around here?”

  “Louise Tumble is the mayor of Tumble Lake. As long as I’ve known her, she’s gone by Lou.” Megan paused and smiled, thinking of her larger-than-life friend. “Lou’s the reason we’re here today. She believes some of those attending the dedication, including reporters, might walk the trail where Aubrey was led to her death.”