Page 78 of Deep Tide

Sean ducked between the barbed wire, snagging his T-shirt. He jerked it free, then crept toward a clump of mesquite. His eyes were adjusting to the dark now, and he could make out the shadowy silhouettes of bushes and scrub trees. Due north of him, he spied a faint glow over a clump of trees. Sean knelt down and pulled his Sig from his ankle holster. He tucked the pistol into the back of his jeans and then moved toward the glow. He heard a low hum of something mechanical in the distance. A generator? He moved steadily through the darkness, taking care to keep his steps soft and not rustle through the trees.

Suddenly, a light flashed on. Sean ducked behind a mesquite tree and peered through the branches at a distant pump jack illuminated by a spotlight. Tucking his flashlight away, Sean crept through the scrub brush and approached the oil well. Beside it was a metal shed, along with some tanks surrounded by chain-link fencing.

Through the foliage, he spotted the Jeep, headlights off. It was backed up to the shed, facing out, and Gagnon sat behind the wheel, his face illuminated by the glow of his cell phone. Creeping closer, Sean spied a second vehicle—a white pickup truck. No lights on. It sat on the opposite end of the fenced-off area from Gagnon. A shadowy form leaned against the tailgate, and Sean caught the glow of a cigarette.

Edging closer, Sean lifted his binoculars and studied the white pickup. It was a Ford F-150 with an extended cab. Sean wanted to get the license plate, but that was impossible in the dark from this distance. He wished he had a camera right now with a zoom lens, so he could at least get a shot that someone might be able to enhance later. But he was out of luck tonight.

Sean shifted his attention to Gagnon. Still no movement. Still waiting.

He peered through the binoculars again and studied the silhouette leaning against the tailgate. The man looked around six feet tall, medium build, baseball cap. Suddenly, a phone glowed in his hand. As he lifted it, Sean got a look at his face in the bluish light. Pale skin, brownish goatee. The man stared down at this phone, scrolling through. Something about him looked familiar. He tossed his cigarette away and then picked up a can from the bumper and took a long swig.

Sean adjusted the binoculars, wishing the light were better. He studied the guy’s face—the goatee, the prominent cheekbones. Sean felt like he’d seen him somewhere before, but he couldn’t place it.

Sean shifted his focus to Gagnon again. He and this guy seemed content to sit out here, fifty feet apart, not talking, clearly waiting for someone. Sean pictured the satellite image and tried to imagine which direction someone might come from. He’d only seen one road leading onto the property.

A distant grumble pulled Sean’s attention north, the opposite direction of the road he and Gagnon had used. It was a heavy-duty engine, probably a V-8, and the noise changed pitch as the truck bumped over the rugged terrain. Sean searched the scrub trees and spotted the glare of headlights through the foliage. Two thick beams, high and wide apart. The truck bumped closer, and Sean saw that it was a black dually with a big grille guard. It was coming in fast, mowing down everything in its path, including flimsy scrub trees. Sean darted his gaze around, looking for better cover. The only thing sturdier than mesquite was a scraggly juniper, and Sean rushed behind it.

The truck roared past him and stopped beside the pump jack. Sean crouched at the base of the juniper and watched.

The Jeep’s interior light went on as Gagnon slid out, leaving the door open. The goatee guy took one last swig of beer and tossed his can away, then slid his phone into his pocket and walked over.

The dually had two occupants, but only the driver got out. He was tall and potbellied and wore a cowboy hat that seemed pointless out here in the dark. He stalked around the front of his truck. Everyone shook hands and nodded, and Sean got the impression this was a business meeting of sorts.

Sean looked around for a better vantage point. He wanted those license plates, but he might not have time to get both. The white pickup was closest, so he ducked low and made a run for a clump of trees behind it. Then he crept around a bush, all the while keeping an eye on the meeting.

The black truck’s door opened, and the passenger handed something out to the cowboy. Sean stopped and lifted the binoculars.

The package was dark and flat—about the size of a brick—and the cowboy said something as he gave it to the goatee guy. Next, the cowboy handed Gagnon a small black duffel with a Nike swoosh on the side. The bag didn’t look full or heavy. Gagnon grabbed it with one hand and tossed it into the Jeep. Then he turned to leave. Pausing beside the Jeep’s door, he said something over his shoulder before hitching himself behind the wheel.

Meanwhile, the goatee guy was already back in his truck, starting the engine. The taillights glowed as he backed away from the fence.

Cursing, Sean lowered the binoculars and darted behind some scrub trees. He swung his attention to the black dually just as it lurched backward. Another throaty growl, and the truck lurched backward again. Then the engine changed pitch, and the headlights swung straight toward him.

Sean’s pulse jumped. He glanced around and dove into a shallow ditch beside some trees. The truck roared toward him, and for a deafening moment, he didn’t breathe, just flattened himself to the ground as the noise reverberated around him like an earthquake. Sean’s heart skipped a beat as the truck raced right past his head, pelting his face with gravel.

Fumes burned his eyes. Grit clogged his nose, his mouth, his throat. Finally, he lifted his head. Choking on dust, he squinted into the darkness as the taillights faded away.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

A loud thudding dragged Nicole from sleep.

She squinted at her mini-blinds. What time was it? It was light out, although it seemed like she’d just barely gone to sleep. She’d finally drifted off after watching a movie while propped against a stack of pillows. Slowly, she sat forward and looked at her clock. Who would show up here at eight on a Saturday? She grabbed the phone from her nightstand and figured out the answer as she saw a string of missed messages.

Coming, she texted back.

She got out of bed and shuffled to the chair where she’d left her jeans. Slowly and carefully, she pulled them on. Putting on a bra at the moment was well beyond her pain threshold, so she grabbed a button-down flannel from her closet and made a quick bathroom stop. Then she crossed her living room and opened the door for Sean Moran.

“Morning,” she said.

He looked immediately apologetic. “Damn. Sorry, I thought you’d be up by now.”

“Yeah, well. Late night.” She stepped back to let him in. “You had coffee?”

“No.”

She led him into her kitchen and gestured at a bar stool. “Make yourself at home.”

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