Page 22 of Fighting for Mallory

“Don’t worry. I’m taking you to Reno. Maverick Stone is meeting us at Reno Stead airport in the morning on his employer’s private jet. He’ll keep you hidden until we stop these people.”

* * *

During his shift, a California Highway Patrol officer noticed an orange glow in the mountains above Marysville and called it in. “Looks like we have a fire in the Sierras. I’m heading up there to check it out.”

“Copy that, Officer Donovan. Alerting Cal Fire.”

Near an access road leading to one of the cabins on the lake that the officer suspected was on fire, he came upon an unexpected sight. “Holy Mary, Mother of God!”

Four ATVs blocked the road east and west. Two bodies lay sprawled on the blacktop. One slumped forward over the steering wheel of one of the ATVs. The fourth sat upright in the driver’s seat. All of them wore black clothing and ski masks. Officer Donovan drew his weapon and spoke into his shoulder mike. “Captain, we’ve got four dead bodies on State Road 52 right before the turnoff to the cabins on the lake.”

“Damn it! Cal Fire is on their way. Secure the area and stay alert. I’m on my way.”

Sirens blasted the silence, and flashing lights broke the darkness. Engine 18 from Cal Fire turned onto the access road and headed toward the fire where smoke billowed. Several rescue vehicles and a host of law enforcement agencies arrived en masse and began to assess the situation. They strung crime scene tape around the perimeter and marked evidence with yellow place numbers. Crime scene investigators took photos of the dead men without their masks and collected DNA samples. Detectives spoke among themselves. They made notes and took their own photos on their cell phones.

During this organized chaos, a helicopter touched down, and Judd Morgan disembarked. He ducked under the yellow

tape and strode into the middle of a group of detectives speaking with crime scene investigators, who broke off their conversation at his intrusion. “What in God’s name do we have here?”

A detective sent up from Sacramento stepped forward and offered her hand. “Lieutenant Debra Kendall. Mind telling me what you’re doing here, Mr. Morgan?”

He bristled with indignation. “Trying to catch a pair of murderers. Detective Luca Martinelli and Mallory Hayes.” Morgan swept his arm toward the crime scene. “Mind telling me what happened? Because this looks a lot like the scene I just left near Chino.”

“We have four dead men, all clean kill shots. From the trajectory we’ve determined the shots came from above.”

“An assassin hiding in a tree?”

Lieutenant Kendall shook her head. “Probably a helicopter.”

“A helicopter? Any security cameras around here?”

“No. The scene you mentioned earlier. Did the victims have snake tattoos?”

“Yes.”

Lieutenant Kendall showed Morgan one of the bodies. “No ID. Just this tattoo.”

Morgan opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Officer Donovan. “Lieutenant, we found a fifth body at a cabin, and…a shed filled with charred snakes. Lots of ‘em. According to the fire captain out of Yuba City, a car explosion set the cabin on fire. It’s almost a total loss, but we salvaged this.” He held up a laptop in a bag. “An accelerant, gasoline, caused the shed fire.”

“Have you identified the car’s or the cabin’s owner?” Morgan snapped.

“The car doesn’t exist according to DMV records. But the cabin belongs to Justice and Brielle McQuaid.”

Morgan cursed. “Well, that explains what happened here. We believe Detective Martinelli killed four other men like these down in Chino. Damn it all to hell! Laguna Beach cops are helping him and Mallory Hayes.”

Lieutenant Kendall’s eyes narrowed. “I know Detective Martinelli by reputation. If he killed anyone, it was in self-defense. He didn’t kill these four men, and we don’t have enough information to leap to any conclusions about the fifth victim at the cabin.”

“Just do your job and keep me informed.” Morgan returned to the helicopter and ordered the pilot to return to LA.

* * *

Judd let himself into his three-bedroom apartment in a brand-new, luxury high-rise in downtown LA. Recently divorced after twenty years of marriage, he found himself single at forty-five. He tried to save his marriage, but his wife had long since left it and their bed, emotionally. They agreed to sell their home and split their assets. The ink was barely dry on the divorce papers when his ex-wife called to tell him that she was moving to Florida with her new man. Too numb to be stunned, he’d wished her well and focused on the one constant thing in his life?his career.

The past forty-eight hours caught up with him, and he crashed on his bed. Some nightmares about snake people jerked him awake. His shirt, drenched in sweat, clung to him. Judd wiped the beads from his forehead and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stripped off his clothes and ambled, still half-dazed, into his pristine bathroom.

Under a soft rainfall, he allowed the water to ease his tension and frustration. After his shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, shaved, and dressed in a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt.

In the kitchen with its modern stainless-steel appliances and clean white lines, Judd brewed a pot of coffee and carried his first cup into one of the spare bedrooms that served as a home office. He hadn’t eaten for hours, but his appetite waned. No light in the sky broke the morning yet. Judd booted up his laptop and opened a manila file folder. He spread the photos and his notes on his worktable. Nothing about Mallory’s case or the current situation made any sense to him.

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