Bones and Brew Page 8

  Preston folded his arms over his chest, stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, and rocked back on his heels.

  Had she struck a chord with him? Interpreting his body language as contemplative, if not outright buying her suggestion, she ventured to ask, “And a hunting accident could explain your father’s—”

  “Shut up!”

  Louise recoiled.

  Preston’s three brothers exchanged glances, looks of cluelessness on their faces.

  “Leave Dad out of this.”

  Unmistakably, she had hit a nerve mentioning the patriarch of the family. Or was there something more? Did the brothers not know their father was dead? Could that information be her ace in the hole to turn the brothers against one another?

  “Sit down.” Preston thrust his index finger at a fifty-five gallon drum-sized tree stump, indicating Louise should take a seat.

  Without choice, she settled onto the makeshift chair.

  “An accidental drowning?” Preston narrowed his eyes. “How stupid do you think we are?”

  Rhetorical question, no doubt.

  “We had this planned perfectly until you and that dumb dog of yours had to ruin everything.”

  Dumb dog? Louise silently bristled at the insult.

  “Dot’s body wasn’t supposed to be found in the lake.” He raked his fingers through his hair and huffed. “Now, you leave us no choice. No choice at all.”

  Knees squeezed together, arms bunched over her chest, Louise never dreamed she’d check out this way. Unwilling to surrender her life without a fight, she analyzed her options.

  Out-muscled and outgunned, she conceded attempting to use any of her self-defense kickboxing techniques against four fit men half her age would equate to suicide.

  Bolting for freedom was out of the question as well. Even if an opportunity to run presented itself, with arthritis in her knees hindering an all-out sprint, she’d be quickly apprehended.

  Shouting for help was pointless. No one would hear her scream in the sound-swallowing thickets of the woods.

  Summoning help via the use of her cell phone led to another dead end. In the Tumble Lake wilderness, cell phone service was all but nonexistent. Which reminded her, What happened to my phone?

  With nonchalance, she grazed her fingertips over her necklace, seeking the lanyard holding the waterproof case. Nothing. When and where had the lanyard come off? Didn’t matter. A lost cell phone was the least of her worries.

  Ben giving Alton and Ruben the slip was her only consolation. Her only hope. Surely Ben sensed the danger and bolted to seek help, like the intuitive collie starring in the old TV show, Lassie.

  When Ben showed up at the trading post alone, folks would know something terrible had happened. They’d launch an immediate search to find her. Wouldn’t they?

  According to rumors, the Barr clan captured house cats and supposedly roasted and ate the felines like rotisserie chickens.

  As the mayor of Tumble Lake, folks were quick to share their suspicions, hoping she’d take action. Although the rumor started after two pet cats disappeared, she never believed the Barrs were the culprits. Seemed too outrageous, even for the odd Barr gang.

  But that was before she had been taken prisoner and witnessed Porter’s murder. Now all bets were off. Wouldn’t put it past the wackos to eat cats. Thankfully, Ben escaped capture to eliminate any temptation the backwoodsmen might have a hankering to sample dog meat.

  Louise figured if killing her was the clan’s plan, which seemed as evident as the lake mud caked on their boots, she had nothing to lose by attempting to engage them in conversation. She sat up a little taller and focused on Preston.

  “You said she gave you no choice.” Louise pointed with her chin at the bloated body a few feet in front of her among the mashed down weeds. “Everyone always has choices. You had the choice not to kill her.” She shook her head, unable to refrain from passing a bit of judgment. “She was your cousin. A member of your family. Yet, you killed her. Why?”

  “Cousin?” Preston narrowed his eyes, stepped over the body, and stood toe to toe with Louise. Gazing down at her, “How’d you know that?”

  Louise held her ground, though her bladder felt weak and heart pounded in her ears. “Dorothy came into the store with your father yesterday. He told me she was your cousin. If I recall correctly, he said she was from Tennessee on vacation.”

  The men surrounding Louise laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” She eyed each man, her attention resting on Preston.

  “Dorothy, or Dot as she liked to be called, was a third cousin.” He backed away from Louise and nodded at the remains attracting a swarm of flies. “We had the same great-great-grandparents.”

  Preston’s knowledge of his family’s genealogy surprised her. But shouldn’t have. The Barrs were more intelligent than they looked or often acted. Although they embraced an off-grid lifestyle, they considered higher education a necessity. According to her best recollection, Preston graduated with a bachelors degree in engineering about fifteen years ago.

  “As far as Dot being on vacation…?” Preston twisted his mouth to the side and shook his head. “Dad suspected an ulterior motive for her so-called vacation from the moment she messaged him on Facebook.”

  Facebook? Louise pancaked her eyes in disbelief. Didn’t know the off-grid sort followed social media, let alone participated in it.

  “Her sudden interest in us and claim she wanted to ‘get to know the family better,’” he said making air quotes with his fingers, “were her first mistakes. The red flags shot up when she started talking about working with us to expand our business to the Midwest.”

  “Business?” Louise blurted before she could censor herself. Probably dealing in some kind of illegal commerce. Smuggling drugs, running guns, pirating music…

  Preston continued his explanation without a blip. “We soon discovered Dad’s suspicions were spot-on. Dot wasn’t vacationing or interested in our family or growing our business. She intended to save her own lousy skin by ratting us out to the MTAF.”

  “Militia Threat Assessment Force?” Louise’s voice rose as high as her raised eyebrows.

  “I can tell by your reaction you’ve heard of the MTAF.”

  She nodded. “They’re the reputed bad boys of federal law enforcement. I remember Tom talking about some of the black ops he heard the MTAF pulled off and their perfect conviction rate. He said no other law enforcement agency would get away with one-tenth of what the MTAF did.”

  “Then you understand our concern.”

  Didn’t the Barr’s realize killing an MTAF informant wouldn’t cause the tenacious agency to back off their investigation? If anything, it would escalate it.

  If the Barr’s knew the MTAF was breathing down their necks, Louise wondered if that alone would give them pause about killing her. No doubt, they could likely pull off covering up their cousin’s disappearance and body for a while. Maybe even their father’s. But if they killed her, she would be missed. After all, she was the mayor of Tumble Lake and the co-owner of the Tumble Lake Trading Post.

  Assuming Ben made it to town, Milt, and maybe Chief Frampton, were presumably already searching for her. Then there were Alton and Ruben. If they were working with the MTAF, surely they would launch some sort of a rescue effort. Wouldn’t they?

  Regardless of the positive possibilities she played through her head about the MTAF or Milt rescuing her, an ugly realization kept surfacing. I could end up suffering the same dreadful fate as Dot.

  Louise bowed her head and massaged between her eyebrows. Looking up, she rested her attention on Preston. “I don’t understand why your family would be concerned about the MTAF. You run a lawful brewery.”

  The brothers snickered and exchanged glances.

  Louise interpreted their smug reactions as confirmation that the Barrs conducted some kind of illegal operation; a suspicion Chief Frampton and many of the locals held, but no one could prove.

  Continuing
to play along that she believed their business operations were on the up and up, “I don’t understand why you think Dorothy would be working for the MTAF.”

  “You said yourself, the MTAF operates out of legal bounds. To us, that means they can plant evidence and fabricate information to maintain their perfect conviction rate.”

  “I suppose, but thinking the government is out to get you leans more to paranoia than reality.” Louise cringed after hearing her words. The Barrs were the epitome of conspiracy theorists and lived in a paranoid state 24/7.

  “It’s not paranoia when you catch someone snooping around your house and storage sheds and taking pitchers with her cell phone.”

  Pictures, Louise wanted to correct the engineer turned cold-blooded killer but bit her tongue.

  Once again, Preston folded his arms over his chest, spread his legs shoulder-width apart, and rocked back on his heels. “After we stuffed Dot inside the wooden crate and nailed the lid shut, she squawked like a panicked crow. Told us everything in a futile attempt to bargain for her life. Even offered to service us men whenever we wanted,” he thrust his pelvis and pumped his arms forward and back several times. “If you get my meaning.”

  Sex slave. Louise grimaced, imagining the woman’s desperation to resort to offering her body for the scoundrels’ carnal pleasures.

  He stroked his unruly beard. “When we loaded the crate onto the boat and told Dot we planned to dump her into the lake, she begged us to shoot her. But that would have been too quick of a death for the spying rat.” A sly grin weaseled across his face. “Besides, we didn’t want to waste a bullet.”

  Preston’s brothers eyed one another and smirked.

  Louise shuddered, unable to imagine the terror Dot must have experienced sealed inside a small wooden crate and thrown into the lake to drown.

  Was she about to suffer a similar death? They had constructed three coffins for a reason. Who else did they plan to kill or sentence to a drowning death besides Dot and Porter?

  Time to play her ace in the hole. She pointed at the homemade coffins. “I guess killing your father with a bullet was kinder than drowning him in a wooden box.”

  “Shut up!” Preston flung the rifle off his shoulder, thrust it above his head, and prepared to hit Louise in the face with the butt of the gun.

  She cowered, leaned back, and raised her arms to protect her head.

  “Hold on!” Morton grabbed the barrel of the rifle, preventing Preston from bashing Louise in the head. “What’s she talking about you shooting dad?”

  “Where’s Dad?” Hyrum and Daniel asked in unison, worry on their bearded faces.

  Louise lowered her hands and sat up. She twisted her body and pointed to the woods behind her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Dad!” Hyrum shrieked, bolting in the direction Louise had pointed.

  Teary-eyed, Daniel stared at Louise, his eyes begging for more information.

  Her heart ached for the man. Murder was a treacherous way to lose a loved one. “I was at his side and holding his hand when he passed…”

  “Nooooo!” Daniel lurched into a sprint following Hyrum.

  “I did what had to be done.” Preston curled his lip at Morton, both men still grasping the rifle. “Dad was the roadblock in expanding our business.”

  “He loved your idea to include macadamia nuts in our beer.”

  “Yeah but,” Preston snickered, “he didn’t love the idea of using those nuts and our brew to smuggle the counterfeit fentanyl I spent months perfecting.”

  “You son of a—” Morton yanked the rifle, attempting to rip it out of his older brother’s hands, but Preston held on.

  As the battle ensued, Louise recognized the turmoil as her opportunity to escape. Keeping her eye on the raging fracas, she slowly rose from the log. Held her breath. Waited for the right time to make her move.

  Grunts and expletives bellowing from the warring brothers filled the air. Like a clash of ferocious grizzly bears, the brothers’ fight took on the appearance of a deadly dance. Back and forth they shuffled, twisted, and stumbled.

  Once their fight had moved to the other side of Dot’s body, Louise interpreted that as her opportunity to run. Pivoting on her heel, she burst into an all-out sprint down the mountainside toward the lake. Following the shoreline was the fastest way back to town.

  If Lady Luck were on her side, she’d find the emergency duffle bag she had dropped and use the flare gun to signal for help. Or, as a last resort, use the flare gun in self-defense should one of the Barr brothers, or Alton or Ruben, come after her.

  BANG-BANG-BANG.

  The rapid fire of gunshots froze Louise mid-stride. She cranked her head over her shoulder, looking back in the direction from which she came. Was she being shot at or had Preston and Morton resorted to mortal combat? Either way, Louise wasn’t hanging around for the answer. Turning, she gasped, about running into Hyrum standing directly in front of her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He grabbed her shoulders. His fingers, like talons, dug into her flesh.

  She winced, yet without a second thought, drove her knee into his groin.

  He groaned and buckled in two, his hands clutching his crotch.

  Louise interlaced her fingers, creating a double fist, and hammered her hands into the back of his skull.

  He dropped to his knees.

  She burst into a sprint. Hope for escape soared as she ran along the rugged path as fast as her feet would carry her.

  Louise had covered about thirty yards when out of nowhere something hard clipped her right shin. “Ahhh,” she shrieked, tumbling to the ground in excruciating pain.

  Lying on her side, both hands cradling her throbbing shin, pain triggered tears that rolled down her face. She squinted, gazing up at the silhouette of a man standing in triumph over her. He held a long tree branch and shook it at her.

  “I didn’t want to trip you up, but you left me no choice.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Semper Fi!

  Driving the Tumble Lake Fire Department utility task vehicle, Milt kept one eye on Ben and one eye on the rocky trail.

  About a quarter of the way around the lake, Ben leaned forward and growled.

  Milt slowed. “What is it, Boy?”

  “MTAF!” A man jumped out from behind the bushes on the side of the trail.

  Milt slammed on the brakes.

  Ben bared his teeth.

  “Hold it right there,” the man demanded, his arm extended straight out in front of him, a gold law enforcement badge in his hand.

  Milt wrinkled his face and poked his head forward. “Alton?”

  The young man nodded, clipped the badge onto the side of his belt, and strolled to the driver side of the UTV.

  “You’re an MTAF agent?” Milt scratched the side of his head.

  “Grrrrrrr.” Ben rumbled a throaty growl at Alton.

  “Me too.” Ruben crawled out from the cover of the bushes on the opposite side of the trail and brushed dried leaves off his pants.

  “What’s going on? Pete said the MTAF is involved but…” Milt couldn’t wrap his head around what he saw. Alton and Ruben federal agents? Pretty rich boys seeking a career in law enforcement?

  “You need to go back to town.” Ruben stood in front of the UTV and twirled his finger in the air, gesturing for Milt to turn around.

  Milt set his jaw and spiked an eyebrow. “No. You need to move. Lou’s in trouble—”

  “We know.” Alton tapped his hand on Milt’s shoulder. “We have the situation under control.”

  “Situation? What situation? Where’s Lou?”

  Ruben and Alton swapped glances but said nothing.

  “I heard gunshots. Multiple gunshots and it’s not hunting season.”

  “I’m sorry.” Alton shrugged. “We’re on a classified mission. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

  Classified mission? Milt felt the color drain from his face. An icy fist tightened in his stom
ach. What had Louise gotten herself into? Wrestling to maintain a calm facade, he probed, “You know where Lou is, don’t you? She’s in trouble. Big trouble, isn’t she?”

  Ruben gnawed his lip and nodded slightly.

  Alton rubbed the back of his neck.

  Milt cut the engine and leaned back into the seat. “You have no backup, do you?”

  “They’re on the way. Meantime, we can handle the situation.” Slumped shoulders and the visible tension on his face gave away Alton’s lack of confidence.

  Milt analyzed the men. Rookies. Maybe their first solo mission. Their lack of experience could cost Lou her life.

  Unless a critical situation involved a fire-related safety hazard, all levels of law enforcement trumped his authority as fire chief. Nevertheless, the wet-behind-the-ears agents needed help. More importantly, Lou needed help. He wasn’t about to leave his sister-in-law’s fate in the hands of agents more interested in the successful completion of their mission—whatever that was—than rescuing Lou.

  Tiptoeing around possible ego issues, Milt pitched an idea. “No doubt you’re capable of successfully completing the mission on your own. Otherwise, the MTAF wouldn’t have given you the assignment. Be that as it may, it’s obvious you’re in a bind. I have supplies,” he stabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the back of the vehicle, “and I’m a former Marine.”

  Alton and Ruben perked up at the former Marine comment.

  “I’m familiar with combat tactics and know how to follow orders.” He tipped his Tumble Lake Fire Department ball cap and patted his bulging stomach. “Don’t let my balding head and a little extra weight fool you. Semper Fi.”

  Lips parted and heads nodding compulsively, relief skidded across the MTAF agents’ faces.

  “Brief me on your plan and give me orders.”

  “Woof-woof.”

  Milt patted Ben’s back and eyed the agents. “We’re ready to adapt, improvise, and overcome,” he said, reciting a Marine motto. “Oorah!”

  Chapter Eighteen