Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(90)

Wally was sitting low in a folding camping chair. His flashlight was a headlamp that was now focused on his lap where he appeared to have taken a gun apart, probably to clean it. She calculated it would take her two long steps to reach him in the chair. The floor to the right of the chair appeared to be clear, and she intended to roll him out of the chair and onto the ground, where she could keep him quiet.

Josie couldn’t enter the room and announce herself as police protocol dictated, but she was well beyond protocol at that point. Doing so would give Wally time to respond, to make noise. She stood just outside the entrance to the tack room, took a long breath, and in one fluid motion entered the room, reached him in two strides, and pointed her gun directly at his chest. He lifted his head, his eyes wide and terrified, the headlamp pointing directly into Josie’s eyes. Before he had time to react she jumped on top of him, collapsing the cheap camping chair, both of them landing on the ground. Metal gun parts clattered to the dirt floor as she rolled Wally facedown and sat on his back, clamping her hand over his mouth.

Josie whispered into the headset. “I’m in. All clear.”

The headlamp had fallen off and was facing up. She flipped it so that the light couldn’t be seen by anyone outside. The takedown had caused very little noise, and Wally was breathing hard from his nose, but not attempting to twist free or make noise. Josie figured he didn’t want the cartel’s attention either.

She leaned forward on his back, and with her right hand she positioned her Beretta directly in front of his eyes and whispered, “See this?” She rubbed the tip of her forefinger lightly across the safety. “It’s off. I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, and if you make so much as a sound I will knock you out cold. If you attempt to escape I will shoot you dead and leave you here for the cartel to clean up your remains. Nod your head if you understand.”

He nodded his head, the dirt underneath him scratching his face.

Josie removed her hand and wiped it on her pants. Without another word she pulled his arms behind his back and handcuffed him. Marta was suddenly on her knees beside them. She helped Josie roll him over, onto his back, then pull him to sit upright. Josie crouched beside him, her gun just above his head. She whispered, “Remember, I will knock you out cold if you so much as breathe hard.”

He nodded his understanding.

“Where’s the money, Wally? And don’t jack me around. I will not play games,” Josie said.

Wally tipped his head toward the corner of the room. With the headlamp facing the floor the room was barely lit, but she could see a piece of aluminum that appeared to have been pulled from the roof and propped up in the corner. Josie nodded at Marta, who stood and moved the metal. Behind it stood three large black suitcases.

For the first time in her life, Josie recognized her heart as an organ with a shape. It knocked against her chest cavity, the soft thud pushing fear up into her throat. Those three black suitcases could hold the key to Dillon’s safety.

Wally was now in a sitting position, his hands cuffed behind his back, his legs straight out in front of him. Kneeling beside him, Josie leaned forward and placed her mouth just above his ear.

“Tell me exactly what is inside those suitcases.”

“Nine million.”

Josie knocked her gun onto the side of his head and he flinched, shutting his eyes. “Not so loud.”

“It’s all there, minus a few thousand. Other than that, count it. It’s there.”

Marta slowly unzipped a corner of the suitcase and they held their breath in paranoia at the sound of the zipper, imagining the Medrano cartel outside the barn, waiting with their arsenal for Josie to find their money, ready to claim what was rightfully theirs.





TWENTY-SIX


The drive to the Arroyo County Jail was excruciating. Josie, Marta, and Otto had only taken one vehicle to the river to avoid drawing extra attention. Now, nine million dollars held in three suitcases was piled so high in the back of Josie’s jeep that she could barely see out the back. As each car passed in the opposite direction, Josie couldn’t help but think about the fact that she was carrying some of the most sought-after cargo in the world at that moment, cargo that would get each of them killed if certain people knew they had it. From the silence and the icy tension running through the jeep, she could tell Otto and Marta both felt the same. To add to this edge, the smell emanating from Wally Follet, who sat handcuffed and breathing heavily in the back seat with Otto, was revolting. Hovering above the smell of the cigarette smoke that permeated his filthy clothing was the smell of a body that had not been washed in many days. Otto asked Josie to roll both windows down in the back, preferring the cold night air to Wally’s odor.

Josie wondered what Wally Follet was thinking. On one hand, his arrest and turning over the cash had just ended half of his issues; he hadn’t won, but the battle with the Medranos was at least over. But what happened when he made the transition to prison? Josie had little doubt that the long arm of the Medranos could reach him behind bars. It happened every day.

Sheriff Martínez met Josie outside of the loading bay behind the prison. They had agreed Wally’s arrest would remain confidential until the money was in federal custody. That kind of money brought incredible danger not only to the jail but also to the citizens of Artemis. Josie realized she was turning over the cash that might ensure Dillon’s freedom, but there was no other choice. The money could never be given to the Medranos, but they didn’t need to know that.