Page 65 of Hostile Witness
Earl scanned the apartment for the bag of dirty clothes Harlan had mentioned. To his annoyance, it wasn’t there now. But he did locate a single military-issue dark-blue sock under the bed, and in a little crawl space storage area, he found a pair of size-nine ladies’ Nikes. Earl bagged them for evidence. He’d bet his next paycheck they belonged to Margie Plante, but he’d been wrong before.
They searched the garage below for the lights Harlan had spoken about. No lights but they did find bits and pieces of cut automotive wires and cable ties in the driveway. They bagged it all.
Earl pulled out a fast-food bag with a dozen burgers in it. He gave a whistle for the hounds, who’d parked their hides on Harlan’s front porch. The dogs bounded toward him with their tongues lolling.
“Aw, geez, Sergeant, you brought us lunch,” joked one of the rookies.
“Dream on, Son... these are for the hounds.” Earl unwrapped the warm burgers. “I can’t let Harlan come back until we know who he’s got living here. These burgers are a lure to get the dogs in the vehicle. We’ll board them at Bayside Animal Hospital and put Harlan up at a hotel in town for a day or two.”
Earl let the friendliest hound sniff his hand and then he tossed one burger into the back seat. It landed on Nelson’s lap. The dog leaped in and snatched it. One by one, Earl got them all in the back of the Suburban with his rookie, who was getting tail slapped, licked, and crotch inspected by the dogs. Earl slammed the door shut and assumed his position in the driver’s seat.
“Hey, Sergeant, why do I have to sit back here with these dogs? We could’ve just called a K9 unit, and they would’ve picked them up for us,” Nelson shouted.
“Because the closest K9 unit is an hour away and you and I are going to have a private chat, that’s why. I have it on good authority that you closed down the Tidal Lounge last nightafterlast call, rookie. You were soggy as a bartender’s towel after mop-up. Then you got a cab home sometime around four in the morning. Am I right?”
“Yeah.” Nelson elbowed the dog that was licking his face.
“You started work today at oh seven hundred. There is no way your system was clear of that liquor before your shift started. You put our team at risk because your head was still foggy when you arrived at work. You need to log it in your brain that when you man the early shift, you should be in bed by ten o’clock and have already poked your woman. Do I make myself clear, rookie?”
“My personal time is my own, thank you very much,” Nelson retorted, protecting his face from the wagging tails.
Earl threw the vehicle in park and turned around. “Oh yeah? Well, I just claimed a little more of your personal time on Saturday to help you develop your work ethic during our workout. You got a couple hundred burpees coming at you.”
Nelson gave an exasperated sigh. “All right, Sergeant. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Earl nailed him with a stare in the rearview mirror. He tossed the bag of burgers over his shoulder. “Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement now. Please finish feeding the dogs.”
Earl waited patiently for a flock of chickens to cross the driveway before he drove off. For all he knew, this raid might lead to another dead end. But eventually they would find the slippery bastard impersonating a cop, and Margie Plante’smurderer. If that happened to be the same person... even better.
The hard part was getting it done before anyone else got hurt.
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The salt water sprayed Ethan’s face, sending chills through his body as his Sanctuary team cruised the mouth of the Chesapeake in total darkness. It was hard to believe that only a couple of hours ago, he’d woken with Tia’s hair covering his chest and his burner phone buzzing incessantly that their newest mission was a go.
Mac relied on his instruments to locate and identify the yacht that held the captive teenage girl. Their source informed them that there would be three kidnappers and one child. At least the numbers were in their favor. As best they could tell, their intelligence from the Fed analyst was correct. Sanctuary preferred transfers that took place in port, closer to land, but the traffickers had moved farther out to sea and were harder to pinpoint but still in US waters.
The waves were choppy, and Ethan fought to maintain his footing on the deck. They’d need to swim the last fifty yards, board the yacht, and complete the rescue from there. Mac initiated the countdown, and everyone set their watches. On Mac’s signal, they quietly slithered into the water and started swimming.
Five minutes later they were on board with weapons drawn and night vision in place, counting rooms as they moved stealthily from one deck to another. Sanctuary always provided the layout of a vessel before they boarded. That was part of what Mac brought to the team—his knowledge of ships and, of course, his uncanny ability as a sniper.
The armed lookout on the main deck dropped, compliments of Mac’s rifle.
Gus’s silenced weapon took down the brute in the galley. That left one more degenerate before they found the kid. Buzz cleared one stateroom as Ethan cleared the next. The third stateroom appeared empty, but when Ethan opened the closet, two young girls clung to each other with tears running down their faces. Relief washed over him to see the girls in good condition and not drugged.
There was only supposed to be one girl, but a second was a pleasant surprise. Maybe that was why the money transfer from the buyer had an extra ten thousand in it? He strapped life jackets on the girls while listening in his earpiece for information on the whereabouts of the third kidnapper.
Gus was quick to identify the new threat. “I smell accelerant, and the third perp is in the engine room. He might blow the boat. Evacuate now.”
Ethan threw one girl over his shoulder and grabbed the second by her hand, then ran for the main deck. By the time he got them into the fresh air, Buzz had inflated the raft, and he seamlessly tossed the girls one at a time into it. He followed with a quick dive roll, started the small engine, and began to pull away.
Gus nodded for Ethan to join the raft, but that was when all hell broke loose. The third kidnapper sprayed bullets from the deck below. With one arm burning and useless, Ethan hoisted his weapon into his other hand while Gus took a barrage ofgunfire and fell back against the rail of the main deck. Ethan raised his gun as the bastard landed on the top stair of the yacht with two automatic guns blazing. Ethan never got to fire. Mac ended the confrontation from his sniper perch in an ugly way.
Gus was in a heap on the deck. Ethan had no idea where he found the strength, but he hoisted Gus over the rail and dropped him like a rock into the waiting second raft. Winded and dizzy, Ethan rolled himself over the edge, landing with a thud just before the craft sped away. He was covered in blood, and he had no idea if it was his or Gus’s.
The yacht exploded not a minute later, filling the predawn ocean sky with a massive fireworks display.
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