Page 80 of Welker

“There are two men here,” Margaret hissed. “They knocked, but I didn’t know them, so I didn’t answer. They look…dangerous. They’re dressed in leather, and their motorcycles are parked out front.” She let out a tiny screech. “Yes, my door is locked, but now they’re hitting it with something big. I’m afraid it’s not going to hold.”

Moira could hear the pounding over Margaret’s terrified voice.

“Listen to me.” Moira spoke quickly. “Go out the back door. Close it behind you and head to your root cellar.” Margaret had told her it was not only habitable, but had some supplies stocked inside. “Does the cellar have a lock?” she asked.

“A deadbolt,” Margaret confirmed shakily.

“Lock it, and don’t open for anyone until you hear my voice. Do you understand?”

“Close the back door. Head to the root cellar. Throw the bolt. Got it.”

Dammit. There was no way they could stay in touch. Margaret had eschewed cell phones, and only owned a land-line.

“Go now,” Moira ordered. “I’ll be there, soon.”

“Hurry.”

The line went dead.

Moira prayed it was because Margaret was following her instructions.

Knowing time was of the essence, Moira walked as quickly as she dared, retrieving her Glock along with adequate ammunition from Welker’s safe. But she wasn’t going to be so stupid as to go it, alone. She knew this couldn’t be a solo operation. She was only working at half-capacity, and needed help.

The thing was…

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it.

Her team was headed north, and there was no way she’d bother them. If she called either Welk or Everlee, they’d divert half the team to Margaret’s and possibly blow the robbery operation.

She could call the police, but everyone she trusted was on the SWAT call-out, and Chief Ildavorg of the OPD—whom she knew from get-togethers—was out on leave after gallbladder surgery.

The sheriff’s office wasn’t an option because they were under suspicion of being compromised, but…

Hayden.

Perfect. The woman kicked ass, and was the perfect partner.

Moira went to hit her number, but before she did, her phone rang.

Caller unknown.

Well, shit.

“Yeah?” she answered, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

“It’s Mick. We have the old bitch, cunt. Come alone or she dies.”

Click.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Hayden. Shit is going down,” Moira barked out.

The deputy sent back an unexpected reply. “More than what Tex has uncovered?”

As intriguing as that statement was, details would have to wait.

“Yeah. Margaret’s in trouble.”

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