Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(58)
“He left with her by boat?”
“Yeah,” Wade said.
“Find him, Wade. If Wheeler somehow did survive . . .”
“Ten-four,” Wade broke in. “I’ll have him before the sun rises.”
40
As the sun began to peek its head above the eastern horizon, Rick Drake’s eyes shot open, and both hands grabbed for his left calf muscle. Cramp, cramp, cramp, he thought, holding in a scream of pain as he twisted and rolled off the cushioned seats of the boat and onto the floor. He tried to straighten his leg, but the muscle had completely seized up on him, and he writhed on the floor of the boat in pain.
“Kid, are you all right?” a voice came from behind him in the dark, and Rick turned, eyes wide, as adrenaline poured through his body. What . . . ? Who . . . ? He squinted, seeing a dark shape on the dock above, crouching to look at him as he lay on his back, holding his calf. He rubbed the muscle hard, but it was still seized, and Rick bit his lip.
“Cramp?” the voice asked.
“Yeah,” Rick managed, continuing to rub furiously on the calf as his leg slowly began to relax, the cramp gradually easing. Rick sucked in a quick breath. “Who are you?”
“Wade Richey,” the man said, flashing his badge. “Detective, Tuscaloosa County Sheriff’s Office.”
Rick creased his eyebrows. “Tuscaloosa?”
Wade nodded. “Our office has escalated its investigation into the whereabouts of JimBone Wheeler.” He paused. “Your partner suggested that he thought JimBone was following him and you, so I trailed you last night to Destin and”—he sighed—“I think we got him.”
“My partner?” Rick scratched his head and tried to stand, putting both hands on one of the seats and pulling himself up. He stumbled when he tried to put any weight on his left leg. “The Professor asked you to trail me?” Rick blinked his eyes, adjusting to the dark, which was becoming lighter by the second as the sun slowly rose behind them. Peter Burns was still passed out on the seat across from him, snoring loudly and oblivious to anything that was going on.
“Yeah, it was Tom’s idea. And it worked. Wheeler was here, and I . . . think we got him.”
Rick felt his body go cold. “He was here. You mean . . . ?”
“He was watching you and the girl. When y’all stepped into the boat, he ran down the dock and was about to shoot at you, but I got there first.”
“Jesus,” Rick said. “I didn’t have a clue. I . . .” He felt his calf begin to seize again, so he plopped down on the seat below him, rubbing the muscle with both hands. “JimBone Wheeler was here,” Rick said, still not believing it.
“He was.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“Because I called his name on the dock and he turned around. I spoke to him using his name, and he didn’t try to correct me.”
“What happened? Where is—?”
“He jumped in the harbor,” Wade interrupted. “The city and county police have been patrolling the area all night, looking for him.” Wade pointed, and squinting out over the water, Rick could see several police boats moving back and forth.
“Any word?”
Wade shook his head. “None. I think I may have shot him, so—”
“He might be dead,” Rick offered, involuntarily shivering.
“Maybe,” Wade said. Then, correcting himself, “Probably. I just don’t see how he could not have turned up by now, and I never saw his head come up out of the water.”
“I can’t believe we didn’t hear the shot,” Rick said, scratching the back of his neck.
“With the breeze coming off the Gulf, it’s hard to hear anything. I wouldn’t sweat that. Listen, where is the girl? Before we go, I need to warn her about Wheeler.”
Rick pointed toward a small duplex that fronted the dock and stood on wobbly legs. “In there.”
41
Rick watched as Detective Wade Richey briefed Darla on JimBone Wheeler and the attempt on their lives the night before.
“We will arrange for a security detail to watch you for a few weeks, Ms. Ford, just as a precaution,” Wade concluded. “Like I said, we think Wheeler is probably dead, but just to be safe we’ll have someone with you until we know something for sure.”
“Thank you,” Darla said, her voice distant.
“You’re going to be OK,” Rick said, but he heard the unease in his own voice.
Wade set his coffee cup on the steps and stood. “Give you a ride back to your car, kid?” he asked, his voice containing a sense of urgency that made Rick also stand.
“Yeah.”
Darla Ford remained seated on the steps and placed her chin in her hands. Rick squatted so that he could look her in the eye.
“We’re gonna have to call you as a witness at trial,” he said. “About the confession and who you told.”
Darla nodded. “So be it,” she said, her voice cold. “If I’m called to testify, I’ll tell the truth.” She gave her head a quick shake and stood. “I have to go to work now,” she said, brushing past Rick without saying good-bye.
He watched her go and then felt a hand squeezing his arm. “Time to go, kid,” Wade said, releasing his grip and heading away from the dock.