CHAPTER TWO

. . . . .
. . . .

For a long time it was quiet.

The engine was off, and there were no sounds: no voices, no radio, no door opening or closing.

He could make out one lonely cricket nearby, and that was it.

At least half an hour passed, half an hour where Carlton's considerable ability to wait patiently was sorely tested.

A half hour where he asked himself repeatedly why, why, why he had sent that last text to Juliet. It was true, damn it all, but if he made it out of here, she was done with him, and if he didn't, what was the point of having told her?

Idiot.

Locked in your own damned trunk idiot.

And maybe not getting out again if the trunk release was damaged beyond repair. When they'd stopped the last time, the man had to thump it more than once to get it open.

Fan-freaking-tastic. With the space much too small for him to twist around and try to get out via the back seat, they'd have to jaws-of-life his pretzelized corpse out.

Yeah, waiting sucked.

The fact that it sucked led to why the man stopped the first time. He might have left that part out of his text to Juliet: he'd been determinedly struggling to see if he could get the trunk release to work despite the number his captor had done it.

He might also have been yelling a bit. And kicking. And generally not being a quiet little victim.

The guy had stopped rather abruptly, marched back to the trunk, popped it with difficulty and unleashed a stream of Spanish/English invective of which Carlton understood every heated word and then backhanded him for good measure before slamming the lid down again.

Pain, he reminded himself grimly, was temporary.

Waiting was interminable.

Suddenly the car shifted, the thunk of the car door unmistakable. The man had gotten out.

Whatever was going to happen, was happening now, and Carlton felt relief rather than fear.

Except…

Not necessarily.

For another thirty minutes, he heard the scuff of footsteps on the dirt road, all around the car, over and over. His captor was pacing? Waiting. Undecided?

There were muffled sounds, as if the man were talking to himself. Carlton didn't think it was a phone call; the tone of the sounds was more… well, like a man talking to himself. And not exactly in a flattering way, either.

This could be good: it meant his initial impression of the guy not being a natural born killer was right.

Except…

There came an inexcusably loud thump a few inches from his face, and with a sudden whoosh, the trunk flew open above him. The man pointed the gun at Carlton and said coldly, "Get out."

So… not necessarily.

It wasn't that easy to clamber free; he'd been stuffed in there going on two hours now and his long legs needed some untangling time.

The man was unsmiling. He didn't look like anyone Carlton had ever imagined killing him.

Walloping him upside the head with a gun, sure, and not just because it happened when he resisted getting in the trunk in the first place.

"What's the plan?" Carlton asked when he had both feet on solid ground, because he'd had enough waiting.

"You stay. I go."

He looked around: tall trees, stars glinting through the branches. Chilly. Dark. The dirt road, illuminated by the tail lights, uneven. No idea where in the hell he was, and it was unlikely he'd be given a flashlight. Or a match.

"Where are we?"

"Go through the trees there," the man said with a head jerk to the left, "and you'll hit Mono Creek. Head north, to the right. When you hit another dirt road follow it back to Mono Campground. You can get help from someone there."

Carlton tried to get a read on him but he was so expressionless it was difficult. "What are you going to do?"

Now he smiled, but it was thin. "I'm gonna kill a relative."

Okay… you're done with stupid-ass texts to your partner. Time to be a cop again.

"You sure about that?"

The man looked at him.

"You don't have any other options?"

"Through the trees, amigo. The creek's a hundred feet away."

"You might as well talk to me. When I find help maybe I can send some in your direction."

The scowl he got back was impressive—nearly as good as one of his own. "Unless you're a some kinda ninja you can't help. Nobody can. Besides, I cracked you in the face. Why would you want to help me?"

Carlton kept his body language as neutral as possible, resolutely not swiping at the blood he could still feel damp against his aching head. "What about the relative you're going after?"

"You help him, you kill my family."

Every last one of his cop-sensors went on full alert.

"Okay, see, now I have to know. Don't make me wonder about it while I'm working my way up the damned creek in the middle of the blackest night God ever made."

To his surprise, the man laughed. "I hear that."

And he didn't raise the gun higher, and he didn't renew his threat.

Carlton waited, keeping his arms at his side and his gaze unwavering.

"I'm going after my cousin," the man finally said. "He took something from some people. They want it back. They took my family from me and said if I don't get their property from my cousin, my family's dead and then I will be too."

He gave Carlton a moment to digest this.

"So I got nothing left to lose, yeah? But I don't want to kill you. You make it up to Mono, you can tell everyone I'm no killer."

Carlton had to point this out, but withheld the snark he might have used on an ordinary suspect: "Well, except for your cousin being dead."

The man spat on the ground. "He's a low-life. There's a reason he hides way out here."

"Did he take their drugs or their money?"

"Drugs."

"And what's your plan?"

The man tilted his head, obviously sensing a shift here. "Why you want to know?"

Tread carefully, Lassiter.

"Maybe I have some ideas. Your cousin lives in a camper or a tent? What's your plan?"

"Why you asking?" he repeated, a touch belligerently.

"Look, he probably knows he's in their sights. He'll be ready for someone to come in after him."

"Yeah. That's why they sent me."

"What, you're supposed to just walk in there and say 'hey cuz, what's up,' and he won't shoot you on sight?"

He grinned at that. "We're familia, man. Gotta give family the benefit of the doubt."

"Fair enough. But then what? What's your reason for turning up in the middle of the night in a car he doesn't recognize?"

"Emergency. Had to get word to him about his sick mom."

"He doesn't have a phone?"

"Out here they don't work much. I can say I tried but gave up."

Thank God his phone had worked. Too bad it hadn't quit before he metaphorically bared himself to his partner.

"And then you say 'hey, as long as I'm here, mind if I search the place?'"

"Whatever, man. Why do you care?"

"I don't want your family hurt."

"Why do you care?" he repeated angrily. "You don't even know me."

Carlton retorted, "My therapist said not to be picky about where I start new friendships."

Although being on the wrong side of a gun held by the guy who punched him and forced him into his own car trunk probably wasn't what she had in mind.

While the man was staring at him, he added, "I'm Lassiter. What's your name?"

Long, long, long pause.

"Rico."

"Rico, if you drive up to his door while I go around the back, I can start the search while you distract him out front."

Rico's mouth fell open. "What the hell?"

"Does he have dogs?"

"Look, I don't know who you—"

"Is there anyone else on the property? Girlfriend, partner in crime, parrot with an attitude?" He paused. "Olympia Dukakis?"

"Dude, are you crazy?"

He shot back, "Are you?"

They held each others' glares.

Carlton pushed on, "If you have a family, then you have everything to live for. I've got nothing. If I can help you get them back, I've had a hell of a lot better day than I started out with."

"So would I," Rico said after a moment.

"Then tell me what I need to know."

But Rico wasn't done. "What do you mean, you got nothing? You got a car. You got clothes on your back."

"Those are just things."

"Things count sometimes. You mean you don't have people."

People?

Maybe he did have a few… scattered. Indifferent. Other than Juliet, and maybe his sister, they were all indifferent. He and Jack Daniels had discussed this a few times.

And suddenly, here in the forest under the stars with a gun-wielding stranger, it seemed as good a time as any to spill his guts.

"Tonight I told a woman I loved her. A woman I can never have and who doesn't want me, and by telling her, I just wrecked everything about our friendship, which was the best and most important thing I have ever had, or will ever have, in my life." He crossed his arms and didn't care if it seemed defiant. "So going up against your cousin? Big. Frickin'. Deal."

He'd been having a crappier week than normal. A multitude of little insignificant things had gone wrong, cases were stalling out, Chief Vick had been pushing at them to get through their paperwork backlog, and worst—and really the only truly bad thing—Shawn Spencer had been coming around again, working on Juliet, and he thought he'd seen her weakening.

The cases would eventually unstall, and the copier would get fixed, and the paperwork would get done, and Chief Vick would relax, but Juliet falling for Spencer would be his undoing.

You have to shake this, he'd warned himself. You have to put her back on the 'Partner And Friend Only' shelf. You have to stop noticing her and wanting her and loving her.

He'd contemplated having another talk with Jack Daniels, who was beckoning to him from a new bottle on the kitchen counter. But Jack's friendship was fleeting and always left him with a hangover, so he looked the other way and got in the car and started driving instead.

It wasn't the first time. With the windows down and the chill of the mountain air whipping around him, a long drive into nowhere had often cleared his head, if not his heart, and given him back some breathing room.

Tonight, a flat tire had led him to this moment, confessing to a stranger and prepared to help said stranger do something which, while possibly bad if Rico did kill the guy, was ultimately good.

He needed to tell Rico he was a cop.

He needed to text Juliet that he was okay and about to do this thing and ask her to send someone over to wherever Rico's family was being held.

"How far away is his place?"

Rico was still staring at him.

"Rico. How far are we from your cousin's place?"

"Half a mile," he said, and pointed away from the direction he'd wanted Carlton to walk into the woods.

"Do you trust me?"

The silence seemed very loud suddenly.

The nearby crickets, the rustling of leaves.

The glint of moonlight off of Rico's gun.

. . . . .

. . . .

Karen Vick wasn't surprised when Juliet stormed into the station. She'd told her to stay put, to be ready to respond if Carlton texted again.

But Team O'Lassiter, as she thought of them privately, were fierce about each other in a way she didn't even think they understood.

Juliet's color was high and her anxiety higher. "I need an update, Chief."

"Rangers are moving in on foot toward the Mono Campground. They're checking every nook and cranny, Detective. You should be at home."

She'd just gotten to the station a few minutes ago herself, and was waiting for a fresh pot of coffee.

"I'm going up there."

"Which would accomplish what? You know that road. It'll take you ninety minutes just to get to where he was, and he hasn't been there for an hour. Let the ground units do their work."

"Chief, please. I can chopper in—"

She rounded on her, empty cup in hand. "Excuse me?"

"Not close enough to be heard," Juliet insisted. "But close enough to shave some time off. I could get to the ranger station and—"

"Enough," Karen interrupted. "Sit down and listen."

Juliet sank into her chair almost weakly, and Karen took the chair beside the desk.

"Detective. I know you have an exceptionally strong connection with your partner, and I'm as worried as you are. But you need to stay put. There is nothing you can do to help except be available—and focused—when and if he contacts you again."

It took a long while for Juliet to compose herself, but when she spoke, it was more businesslike. "Is there any information from P-Bar Flats on who this man might be?"

"Not yet. Those campgrounds, they're not meant for permanent living, but people slip through the cracks all the time. It's a big forest and the rangers can't be everywhere."

Juliet looked as if she wanted to say "duh," but wisely withheld even the eyeroll.

Karen relented a little. "Did Carlton say why he was up in that area?"

She spotted the hesitation before Juliet answered.

"He said he was just out driving."

"But you have another theory?"

The dark blue gaze turned her way for a few moments, but the young woman was silent.

"O'Hara?"

"Not really. I asked him more than once."

She sensed that was true. "And nothing?"

Juliet looked down at her hands briefly. "I can only tell he was troubled about something."

Karen sensed that was true as well. "Something you think you might be able help him with?"

The blue gaze was back, startled and … caught.

That's what I suspected.

Now, as Chief I should remind her not to get involved with her partner.

As a woman… there's only one thing I can say which matters.

"You'll have your chance, Juliet. Carlton's too fierce to go down without a fight, and you're too stubborn to let him go without an explanation." She stood up, adding quietly, "Besides, I'm pretty sure the two of you are going to be together for a long damned time."

She heard Juliet's intake of breath, but busied herself with the coffee pot, and wasn't at all surprised that Juliet chose to remain silent.

. . . . .

. . . .