Twisted Creek

Chapter 19

Saturday

September 28

0100 hours

North Shore

Luke lowered his field glasses and swore. His lead to the drug business had disappeared into smoke; all the evidence was burning up and any clues were being stomped on by curious campers and Allie.

He’d been sitting at this spot, watching the drug dealers for two days. He’d even made up names for each of them as they’d unloaded their supplies and set up a lab.

Sneezy, a little guy whose drug habit was so bad his nose dripped constantly.

Tanker, a big man in black, who wore a shoulder holster and a huge cannon of a gun. He never bothered to talk to the other two unless he had to.

The third Luke called Skidder, for he was constantly in motion. Skidder’s clothes hung loose on his thin frame as if he’d lost a great deal of weight in a short period of time. Meth could do that. Unfortunately the teeth and hair disappear along with the weight.

Luke hadn’t moved in on them because he knew none was the boss and he’d love to catch the head man. If he didn’t, the boss would find three more losers to do his dirty work within days. Luke had too many questions and none of these clowns would know the answers. He had to stay put and watch. Eventually, the main guy would show up to make sure they’d set everything up right.

After sleeping against a tree, Luke was tired and hungry when the three came back to work the second day. Still no boss.

He watched as they hauled all the supplies from an SUV and finished the setup. About sunset, Tanker drove off and returned an hour later with burgers in a bag, and beer. To Luke’s surprise, they sat down on the slip of dry sand by the water and ate. He could see them plainly, thanks to the moon and his field glasses. He could almost make out what they were saying. Skidder and Sneezy seemed far more interested in shooting up than in food. While they sampled drugs from their last batch, Tanker ate all three hamburgers, drank most of the beer, and lay out like a beached whale on the warm sand.

Skidder and Sneezy laughed and pointed as Tanker began to snore, and then must have decided to have another round of meth for dessert with their beer.

The night cooled. The druggies left their fat friend on the beach and went inside their newest lab. They had their heads together, obviously plotting something as they walked away. Skidder opened the back of the SUV and took out something before he went inside, but Luke couldn’t tell if it was a small suitcase or a can of gasoline.

Luke waited. He knew the rules. His next step was to call in backup. He’d wait a little longer to make sure they were all asleep, then canoe back to his place. From there he’d climb into the car he hadn’t used in two weeks and drive until his cell phone could pick up a signal. He’d have a team out in an hour. They’d clear out the three losers and wait for the big boss to show up.

Only he hadn’t had time to carry out any plan. Five minutes after Sneezy and Skidder went inside, Luke heard an explosion. Fire exploded across the inside walls of the cabin. He heard screams, and a car door slammed.

“Shit,” Luke swore. The two fools must have added sniffing gas to their collection of drugs.

He ran along the shoreline toward the cabin, trying to see past the cloud of smoke that seemed to be doubling by the second. When he reached the spot where their partner had been sleeping on the beach, the big guy was gone.

As Luke rubbed his eyes, trying to see through the smoke, Tanker disappeared near the SUV.

Luke moved closer, trying not to breathe. The sound of cussing and crying circled in the smoke as the SUV’s engine roared.

By the time Luke reached for his Glock, the SUV was in the trees heading out. He ran, taking a shortcut to intersect Tanker at the dam road, but the big guy was driving like a madman.

Luke only got one shot off before the SUV was out of range.

Since then, he’d done nothing but watch from the trees. He could have stepped out and made everyone keep clear of the scene, but dressed in his camouflage everyone wouldn’t take long to figure him for some kind of cop.

He wouldn’t have minded if the Nesters knew, but there was a good chance the boss of this infestation of meth labs would be among the folks standing around. Whoever picked the spots had known which cabins were abandoned. And that person might guess that a senior ATF agent wouldn’t be here just taking a vacation.

They might figure out that Luke was looking into Old Man Jefferson’s death, too. If someone had killed Jefferson, and knew he was looking, the killer would go so far underground Luke would never find him.

Luke slipped into the night, moving silently to his canoe. No one watching the fire saw him slice into the water and disappear.