Page 77 of The Harborer
Like other first responders in these desolated mountains, his pickup was outfitted with a radio similar to the one in his service vehicle. Right now, he barked into that radio.
“Central, 431. Ranger Gunderson and I northbound 550, just past mile twenty-nine, following two suspect vehicles turned eastbound 352. Possible headed to Allen sliver lode. Blue-gray Ford Explorer registered to Councilwoman Amy Caufield. Unable to locate councilwoman—possible kidnap victim. Second vehicle, silver Chevy Tahoe, matches narcotics drop pursuit, two days ago. I’m off-duty, POV, in pursuit. Request all available units.”
Donna’s voice came back. “Copy, 431. Two vehicles eastbound 352 from 550, Explorer to Caufield, councilwoman missing, possible victim, Tahoe matches narcotics pursuit. All units copy.”
Gunderson side-eyed him after he ended the transmission. “What do you think Caufield’s connection is to all this? Is she involved?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “Knowingly? I’m not sure. I think they’ve been using her shop as a place to store their drugs until they’re ready to deliver. I think that’s what the blue square and theStstand for.”
“Store?”
“Yeah, could indicate her physical store or storage. Too many threads to unravel right now.”
“So with or without her knowledge, they’ve been using her business like Grand Central Station, moving their shit in and out of Fall River?”
Shane nodded. “And I think those black dots are their drop sites. Or pickup sites. Or both.”
“Then shehasto be involved. How could she not know what’s going on under her nose? I mean, she’s at that place twenty-four-seven, right?”
Shane had asked himself the same question again and again. He gritted his teeth. “Not exactly. She opens early but closes mid-afternoon. She keeps a tight lid on the keys, but someone still could have duplicated and distributed copies. She’s reported things being out of place that she can’t explain.”
“That could be a cover.”
“It could,” Shane agreed. “But whether she’s part of this or not, she could be in danger. We’ve got to find her.”
“Are you and the councilwoman …” Gunderson made a circling motion with his wrist.
Shane slid him a warning glance. “We’ve been friends a long time.”
“Friends, orfriends?”
“Like I said, friends for a long time.”
Gunderson raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I’m not trying to replace Dixie as the town yenta. I’m just trying to get a lay of the land. We’re already going into this blind, and I like to gather as much information as I can beforehand. Kinda puts me at a disadvantage otherwise, especially if there’s personal shit riding on the line.”
Shane sighed. “I get it. And if it turns out she’s part of this operation, whatever ‘this operation’ is, I’ll make the arrest myself.” His heart thudded, a heavy stone lodged in his chest.
Gunderson nodded.
The thrumming of the truck’s tires on the asphalt was the only sound for several long minutes. Then he asked Gunderson to radio Dispatch. “Ask her if 346 is done with that fatality yet. I want to talk to that deputy about the vehicle.” As Gunderson picked up the mic, Shane reminded him that the fentanyl had been tossed from a beige pickup.
“Got it.” Gunderson raised Donna. “Central, 431. Can you check if 346 is clear from that fatal at mile sixty-three? I need contact.”
“Copy, 431. Stand by.”
A beat passed, two, three … Gunderson pointed out the windshield. “Mile marker forty-seven up ahead. Your turn onto County Road 352 is just beyond, and it’s hard to see through the trees, especially at night.”
They’d been flying along a good ten miles over the speed limit, and Shane slowed down, anticipating the turn.
The radio crackled to life.
“431, this is 346. Dispatch advises you needed me?”
“Affirm,” Gunderson replied. “You clear from your fatal at sixty-three?”
“Wrapping up now.”
Shane gave Gunderson a look, a silent push to dig deeper.
