Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 2 Read online

  I gave him the Readers’ Digest version, then said, “How did this happen?”

  “Gary asked me to help him sell some stuff and he said I could make some extra money. So I took a load of wiring and sold it to Front Range Electrical. I did this a time or two and I made some good money.” He stretched again, then continued. “But one time when I went to Gary’s, I heard him talking to Shane about stealing more materials. I didn’t know they were stealing the stuff. I told Gary it was wrong and that I wanted out. And I said I was going to tell Chuck about it. Then last Friday night, when Ace and I were walking home, Chuck called and asked if I could meet him back at the bar. I walked back and we talked. He told me he’d stop and return the money, and I said okay, I wouldn’t say anything as long as they stopped. Then I started walking home again.” He stopped and took another drink.

  “Why didn’t you tell Ace about what was happening?”

  He shrugged. “I was kinda embarrassed. I should’ve known they were stealing the stuff.”

  “So they fooled you, don’t worry about it,” I said. “Think you can walk now?”

  Deuce stood up, a hand on the sink to keep his balance. He gave me the water bottle and I set it on the floor outside the door. “Give me a second.” He waved a hand in the air in front of his face. “Man, I need a shower.” At least he still had his sense of humor. Then a humiliated look crossed his face. “I…wet myself,” he whispered. “The first night. I’d had a few beers and I couldn’t help it.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, growing angrier by the second at what he’d been put through. “Have you had anything to eat?”

  He shook his head. “Not much. Someone comes in the morning and again at night. They give me a little water and one day,” he thought for a second, “maybe yesterday, the guy had a donut.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I dunno.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. If someone came at night… “Deuce, I know it’s hard, but we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “I know.” Deuce took a couple of steps. “I’m so stiff.”

  “Come on.” I helped him out of the bathroom. “What happened after you left B 52’s?”

  “I was walking down the street and a big black SUV came up behind me. Two guys jumped out and before I could run, they grabbed me and threw me in the back of the car. They put a rag on my face and the next thing I knew, I was tied up here.” He screwed up his face. “I tried to fight, Reed. I did.”

  “I know,” I said. “They knew what they were doing and you didn’t stand a chance.”

  We made it a few more feet and then Deuce had to lean against the table.

  I fretted but tried not to show it. “The guys that took you –”

  “He’s the president of Criss Cross Construction.”

  “Lon Carlson.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, and I think one was an owner of another company in town. Last week I overhead them talking about some bids they had coming up, and the bid rigging. I didn’t know what that was, but they saw me and quit talking. Carlson talked to me later and I asked him what bid rigging was. He said it was nothing and I shouldn’t say anything about it. He’s usually nice, but he was pretty angry with me then. It was kinda strange, so I asked a couple of guys who they were. I went home and Googled them. Turns out all of them were owners of big companies.” He looked at me shyly. “I was trying to be a detective, like you.” I smiled. “I wrote down the companies, and I was curious, so I looked up bid rigging on the computer. I was trying to ask you about it, but then it was my turn to play pool again.” He coughed and wiped a hand over his mouth. “I guess they thought I knew too much.”

  “You guessed right.”

  He sucked in a breath, then let it out in a slow hiss. “Okay, I think I can make it.”

  “Good,” I said. I grabbed the flashlight. “We’ve got to get out of here before someone shows up. Here, put your arm around my shoulder.”

  Deuce did as I instructed and we took two steps.

  I stopped. “What’s that?”

  “A car,” Deuce lowered his voice. “They’re here to check on me.”

  My mind raced. “Back in the bathroom!”

  “Wait, no! I can’t!”

  “You just have to. It’s okay,” I said as I steered him in that direction. “Just act normal and when they leave, I’ll get you out of here.”

  “Normal? I don’t normally do this.”

  Good Lord, I thought. “Act like you have since you’ve been here.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  As the sound of the car engine grew louder, I quickly helped Deuce back onto the floor in the bathroom. I tied his hands and feet and put the gag back on him.

  “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll be right here, I promise.”

  He nodded but his eyes were filled with fear.

  “Remember, act like you have since you’ve been here.”

  He nodded again.

  I doused the light as muted voices grew louder. I shoved the chair back under the doorknob and in two strides I was across the office. I ducked behind the desks just as the office door opened. I held my breath.

  The glow from a powerful flashlight illuminated the center of the trailer, but it left me in deep shadows.

  “Let’s get him and get out of here,” a deep, gravelly voice said.

  “You know he can’t walk right away,” said a second, higher-pitched voice that I recognized. Lon Carlson.

  “Well give him a minute, but let’s hurry.”

  “I don’t like this,” Carlson said. “Murder was never part of the plan.”

  “I don’t like it either,” said the deep voice. “But now we’ve got the cops poking around because of that scam Chuck cooked up, and that detective is still looking for Deuce. We can’t keep him here forever, and we can’t let him go or he’ll go straight to the cops. It’s time to get this taken care of. That section of flooring is being poured tomorrow so we put the body in a hole underneath tonight and it’s cemented over. No one ever finds the body.”

  “You are an evil man, Byers,” Carlson said.

  Byers! Must be from T.F. Byers, one of the construction companies on Deuce’s list, I thought.

  “Yeah, you’ll thank me when you’re not in prison,” Byers said.

  Something scraped, then a thump, and the desk in front of me moved. I jumped. Then I heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. I peeked around the desks.

  The folded chair was leaning against the desk, and Carlson and Byers were standing in front of the bathroom door. Carlson held the flashlight, shining it into the bathroom. Byers aimed a gun at Deuce. Deuce squinted as he gazed up at them, but he didn’t move. Either he was acting really well or he was too scared to do anything different. Probably the latter. Pretend like I was never here, I silently implored Deuce. And then I almost yelped. The water bottle I’d given him was still sitting next to the door! I breathed a noiseless prayer, hoping Deuce’s captors wouldn’t notice it.

  “Let’s go,” Byers said. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and a bald spot on the back of his head. He reached down and yanked Deuce to his feet. Deuce let out a muffled cry, but he did a good job of acting weak. He leaned against the doorjamb with his eyes closed.

  With one hand, Carlson untied the gag, then Deuce’s hands and feet. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he commanded.

  Deuce staggered into the room. “Water,” he said, making his voice grate.

  “You’ll get some when we decide,” Byers said.

  They walked on either side of him, headed for the door. I had to act.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I stood up and pulled the Glock out. “Stop right there.”

  Byers and Carlson both jumped and stared in my direction.

  “It’s the detective!” Carlson yelled.

  Byers cursed and aimed his gun at me. “You better be ready to use that.”

  “Reed!” Deuce hollered as he pitched himself into Byers. The gun went of
f and I ducked. Deuce and Byers dropped to the floor. Carlson was waving his hands wildly, the flashlight in one hand shining all over like a fast-moving spotlight. I dove to my left as Deuce and Byers wrestled.

  I tried for a shot but all I saw in the shadows was arms and legs, so I moved toward Carlson. Then, to my horror, Deuce managed to get to his knees and he had Byers’ gun. He pointed it at Byers and Carlson …and me!

  “Deuce, don’t!” we all shouted.

  He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

  “Argh!” Carlson dropped the flashlight as his right leg buckled and he dropped to the floor. “He shot me!” The flashlight winked out.

  In the commotion that followed, Carlson moaned, Deuce shouted for me, and then a fist knocked me backward. A second later, the trailer door opened and Carlson and Byers dashed outside, Carlson limping as they ran. I darted after them, but tripped over Deuce. He let out an “oof!” and I hit the floor hard, the breath knocked out of me.

  When I could breathe again, I scrambled to my feet and hurled myself at the closed door. It budged, but just barely. Apparently, both men were pushing against it from the other side.

  “Back off or I shoot through the door,” Byers’ deep voice boomed from the outside.

  I backed up, sucking in deep breaths. “I’ve got a gun, too.”

  “Damn, he got me,” Carlson moaned. “Ah, it hurts.”

  “Shut up,” Byers said to him. “Hey, Mr. Detective,” he called to me. “Throw your gun and cell phone through the window on your right.”

  My mind raced. Could I fool them and throw out something different? But even in the dark, they’d know if I didn’t throw out the Glock. If I could keep from surrendering my phone…I’d been in situations where I didn’t have my phone, and not having one stunk. I frantically looked around for something to chuck out instead of my phone. A tape measure lay on the desk. Would that work? Or maybe I should start firing through the door…but Byers seemed to be moving around, and I couldn’t pinpoint where he was. Could I hit him?

  A loud pop interrupted my thoughts and I jumped. Byers had shot through the door!

  “Throw your gun out! Now!”

  I rushed to the window, staying off to the side, just in case Byers decided to take another shot at me. I put the safety on the Glock, then reached over, slid the window open, and tossed the gun out.

  “Now the phone.” Byers’ voice came from a different place.

  Without thinking, I grabbed the tape measure and hurled it out the window as far as I could, hoping Byers wouldn’t notice it wasn’t a phone. If I was even luckier, he’d go looking for it.

  “You asshole,” he said.

  I peeked out. In the faint moonlight a shadow moved underneath the window.

  “Byers, I’ve got to go to the hospital,” Carlson said, his voice almost a whine.

  “We can’t,” Byers spat at him. He was right below the window, reaching down for the Glock. “How are we going to explain it? They report gunshot wounds.”

  “We’ll make something up,” Carlson said, groaning. “I can’t just leave this. Oh, I’m feeling lightheaded. I think I’m losing a lot of blood.”

  I made a snap decision. I grabbed the folded chair leaning against the desk and hefted it up. I peeked back out the window. Byers was right below, still arguing with Carlson. I aimed, then hurled the chair out. It hit Byers squarely on top of his head. He collapsed in a heap.

  “Byers!” Carlson yelled. He limped over and shook Byers. Nothing happened. Carlson cursed at me as he rolled Byers over.

  I backed away from the window. “Deuce, where are you?” I whispered.

  “Over here.”

  He was backed up against the rear wall, his arms wrapped around his knees.

  “I want to go home,” he murmured.

  Carlson’s voice drifted inside. He was threatening to come inside, but the fear in his voice made me think this wouldn’t happen. If Deuce and I were going to escape, we had to act quickly.

  I put my mouth to his ear. “Are your legs okay?”

  He nodded.

  “We’ll go out the back window and run. Be as quiet as you can.”

  He nodded again as he pushed himself up.

  Out front, Carlson worked to revive Byers, cursing at him and us. I went to the back window by the folding chairs. I grabbed one and opened it, positioning it under the window. I motioned to Deuce. He got up on the chair, hoisted one leg through, then awkwardly pushed his head and torso out. He held onto the window frame, pulled the other leg through and dropped to the ground. I gave him a thumbs-up sign.

  I stood up on the chair and climbed out. I was hanging from the ledge, about to drop, when Carlson called through the front window. “What’s going on in there?”

  I let go and tumbled to the ground.

  “Come on!” I pushed Deuce ahead of me and we struck out into the field behind the trailer. It was the opposite direction from the highway, but we needed distance from Carlson.

  Behind us, he shouted.

  “Oh no,” Deuce huffed.

  “Keep running,” I said. “It’s dark and he’s hurt.”

  We went a little farther and stopped. I peered back at the trailer, but didn’t see Carlson. I started to the north, wishing we were farther away from the trailer, but knowing that Deuce didn’t have a lot of stamina.

  “My car’s parked on the highway,” I said in a low voice. I wanted to stop and call the police, but I didn’t want to take the time, and I didn’t know if Carlson would be able to see the light from my cell phone. “Stay low and follow me.”

  “Okay,” Deuce whispered.

  We slowed our pace, making it easier to move quietly. After a few moments, we were parallel with the trailer. Headlights suddenly split the blackness, and I ducked down, pulling Deuce with me. I glanced toward the trailer. It looked like Carlson was helping Byers into the SUV.

  “He’s giving up on us,” I muttered.

  Carlson got into the driver’s side and the SUV backed up, then started down the dirt road to the highway.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Deuce stood up and followed me. As we hurried on, the headlights dimmed and then went out. A few minutes later, we approached the highway.

  “There’s the 4Runner,” I said.

  We ran across the road and piled into the car. Deuce let out a huge sigh of relief. I locked the doors, and as I drove off, I glanced over at him, grateful he was all right.

  Chapter Thirty

  On the way back to Denver, I called Bob and told him I’d found Deuce. I handed the phone to Deuce and he chatted with his brother, his voice breaking at times. He was excited, but mostly exhausted. When they’d finished talking, I took back the phone, called the police, and asked that someone get in touch with Detective Spillman. It took a few minutes and then she called back and I gave her the rundown. She told us to come to the station and give our statements, and her tone left no doubt that I was to follow her orders. As much as I wanted to take Deuce home, I drove to the police station, where Detective Spillman was waiting for us. Once there, Deuce assured us that he didn’t need to go to the hospital, so she’d taken him off somewhere to get his statement, and I was brought into another room and left sitting there by myself.

  Now I was safely sitting in this room at the police station, contemplating my surroundings. The walls were dull white. There was the table with two chairs, and a video camera mounted up in the corner of the ceiling, and nothing else. And I was having an awful time staying awake. An inauspicious end to finding Deuce. After a while, I propped my elbows on the edge of the table, interlaced my hands, and rested my head on them. I closed my eyes and was on the verge of sleep when the door opened. I sat up and repressed a yawn.

  “Are we boring you?” Detective Spillman said as she entered.

  “Yes, you are,” I shot back. “Am I a suspect?”

  She stared down at me. I locked eyes with her. Not the brightest move, maybe, but I just wanted to get Deu
ce home and go to bed.

  Spillman pulled out the chair opposite me, sat down, and slapped a manila folder on the table. “I needed to check your story.”

  “And it took this long?”

  “And we’re getting the story from your friend.” Her lips curled into the hint of a smile. “Is he really that…naïve?”

  I nodded. “It’s part of his charm.”

  She tapped the folder for a moment. “We just picked up Lon Carlson. He’s got a gunshot wound to the leg, like you said.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He tried to lie, for about a second.” She let out a cynical laugh. “He’s a businessman, not a professional criminal. He’s talking.”

  “Did he admit what he did to Deuce?”

  “Yes, and how Deuce shot him.”

  “Will you charge Deuce?”

  “No, it was self-defense. But there are a lot of legal hoops with a situation like this.”

  “And then we can go?”

  She nodded. “Yes. We’re almost finished.” She stood up to go. “There’s one thing I don’t get.”

  “Yeah?”

  “How did you piece all this together? That’s a lot of research to get done so quickly.”

  I tried to maintain a straight face. “I guess I’m good.” No way I could tell her about my sidekick.

  She gave me a knowing look. “All right,” she finally said. “Sit tight for a few more minutes.” And she left.

  ‘A few minutes’ was more like an hour, but eventually she returned and I was able to take Deuce home.

  “Deuce!” Ace said as we got out of the car. He ran up and hugged Deuce, grinning and crying at the same time.

  “Hey,” Deuce said.

  Bob hugged him, too, his voice choking as he tried to talk.

  Ace was so excited he couldn’t complete a sentence. The two Goofball Brothers headed into their condo, but Bob held back.

  “I really owe you,” he said, holding out his hand.

  I shook it. “I wish I could’ve found him sooner.”