Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(86)
Otto looked bereft. He reached out to pat Josie’s hand but she pulled it back.
Silently, they cleaned up the trash from dinner and sat back down at the table. Josie ran the palm of her hand along the smooth wood in front of her and thought about the connections, all of the separate pieces that needed to be assembled to form the larger picture. She looked up at Otto. “I keep thinking about Hec and how he’s been caught in the middle. He had the Medranos watching. We were watching him. Who else wanted Hec?”
Otto thought for a second. “His dad.”
Josie grinned, warming to the idea.
“So you’re saying Wally was watching Hec like everyone else appeared to be doing.”
“Exactly. Remember Hec saying that his dad quit calling him after he found out Dillon had been kidnapped?”
Otto frowned and nodded.
“We checked the phone records. Hec’s not lying. So why would his dad suddenly quit calling when things are getting worse for Hec, not better?”
Otto had continued nodding his head, understanding where Josie was headed. “He quit calling because he’s here.”
“And where’s everyone else been camped out watching Hec?”
Otto winked at her and grinned. “Down by the river.”
She looked at her watch. “Got any camo pants?”
*
Fifteen minutes later Marta arrived at the police department from the jail, where she had been working with the sheriff to book Bea Conroy on murder charges. She pulled out a chair and sat down with Josie and Otto at the conference table to describe her hiding spot on the Rio.
“Both nights I was sitting on the east side of Wally’s Folly, facing the river. Last night I got closer. I got settled into the woods, then after sundown I moved my way toward their camp, a few feet at a time.” She looked at Otto. “My plan was to see if you could get me a deputy to drive an unmarked car into the lot tonight. I wanted to see how the men by the river reacted.”
“Why’s that?” Otto asked.
“They’re either not real bright, or they’re convinced what they’re doing is a waste of time. They haven’t caught on to the timed lights in the trailer yet. No one has entered or exited the trailer in two days, but they don’t seem to notice. I’d like to see how they react to a visitor.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Josie said. “Wally quit contacting Hec by phone, but I believe he did so because he’s found another way to keep tabs on him. With Dillon kidnapped, and the Medranos threatening Hec that they’ll kidnap him next, I think Wally has come back to get his son. I think he’s camping out down there, surveying the situation with the Medranos and with us. He’s waiting to make his move, he just doesn’t realize Hec isn’t there yet.”
Marta nodded. “It makes sense, Josie.”
“I think we scout along the river, on either side of the salvage yard, just far enough away that Wally would be protected from view by the Medranos.”
Marta narrowed her eyes at Josie, her expression suddenly skeptical. “I’ve been up and down the river to the east. The Rio Camp and Kayak is a half mile downriver that way. They’ve got half a dozen kids. I can’t imagine Wally thinking that area would be safe to hide out.”
“What about to the west?”
“Thick woods and scrub brush. No houses for several miles. That’s a possibility.”
“How far downriver from the salvage yard do we start?” Otto asked.
“I’d say a quarter mile at the most. It’s pretty dense woods, and the river’s choked with downed trees and salt cedar. It’ll be tough walking,” Marta said.
*
Wrapped up in Otto’s barn coat, Delores stood on the back porch of their ranch home watching the goats wander toward the barnyard for the evening feeding. A turkey tetrazzini casserole was in the oven, ready to serve as soon as Otto arrived home. She was thinking what a fine life she had. She’d married her high school sweetheart and loved him still after all these years; they had a good daughter married to an equally good man, good friends, and a church family who rounded out their life. On evenings like this, looking out across the land that she and Otto loved so much, she wondered what she had done to deserve such bounty.
The distant ring of the phone brought her out of her reverie and she rushed into the kitchen to grab it. “Hello?” she called.
“I’ve bad news. I won’t make it for dinner. Will you save me a plate in the oven?”
“Of course I will. What’s happening?”
“We think Wally Follet is holed up down along the river. If this turns into what we hope, it may be morning before I make it home.”
Delores hung up with Otto and took the casserole out of the oven, disappointed that he wouldn’t be home, but certainly not angry. She had never understood a police officer’s wife fussing over her husband missing dinner. It wasn’t as if he had a choice. Dinner or not, the job had to be done. She set the teakettle to boil and placed the hot baking dish on the stove to cool. She stole small bites out of the corners of the dish, hungry but preferring to wait for Otto in case he made it home. She would have a biscuit with peanut butter later if she got too hungry.
Once the kettle’s whistling started she placed foil on the casserole to prevent herself from taking any more, and she poured a cup of hot water over a bag of chamomile tea. Leaning against the kitchen sink, she stared out the window at the bloodred sunset, the color so violent it looked as if the desert had caught fire. She thought it was a fitting sundown for the work Otto hoped to accomplish that night. The horror that had been unleashed on so many people came down to nothing more than one man’s greed. A very, very stupid man. They almost always were, criminals, though they often were surprised to find it out.