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“Yeah,” Bart said as Wallace walked over. “We were just out for a nature hike when we got attacked by this little shit.” He flipped over the unconscious perp. “Give me your cuffs so I can make a citizen’s arrest.”
“You’re keeping me hopping today.” Wallace handed over the silver hand cuffs. “I want full statements from both of you.”
“You’ll get it. We didn’t do anything wrong.” Bart gave a short version that didn’t include going inside Tim’s house as he cuffed the attacker’s wrists, looping one of the bracelets through the belt loop of the pants as well. Bart had no doubt the guy could still get out of the cuffs if he was determined, but the belt loop trick would slow him down a few seconds. Hopefully that would be long enough for Wallace to notice and take action.
He let Hannah explain the gang tag on the grill. “Paint is still tacky,” she confirmed, leading Wallace around to take a look.
Bart let them go and invited the paramedics to deal with the bullet wound. The graffiti would dull the edge of Wallace’s ire with Bart for snooping around.
While Hannah explained to Wallace what she knew of the gang symbol, Bart watched the attacker wake up. “Call yourself an artist, I bet.”
The attacker didn’t react.
“Where’d you toss the can of spray paint? Littering carries a hefty fine around here.” Anything to keep this guy in custody, Bart thought. He’d encountered criminals in all corners of the world and while he agreed with Hannah that this guy was a follower, Bart’s instincts warned that he was a dangerous follower.
When Hannah and Wallace returned, Wallace took statements and helped the perp hobble to the car.
“He’ll bolt first chance he gets,” Bart said.
Wallace agreed. “Let him try. We’re not as dumb as we look around here.”
Bart laughed, but it died quickly as his gaze fell on the swelling around Hannah’s eye. “Whoa. Did I do that?” He pointed to his own cheek rather than touch hers.
“No. It happened during the chase. A tree gets the win.” She gingerly outlined it with her fingertips. “It doesn’t hurt too much.”
“You need ice,” Bart said. Ignoring her eye roll, he walked over to the ambulance and demanded an ice pack. “Here,” he said, holding it to her face when he returned.
“Gee thanks, Galahad.”
Bart bent at the waist in a deep bow, hiding his amusement. Standing tall again, he turned to Wallace. “Can we go?”
“Sure.” Wallace waved them on. “I know where to find you.”
Hannah fell into step beside him as they headed back to the Camaro. His thoughts were racing around and he didn’t try to organize them, letting his mind sift and sort the many elements they’d seen. It was a habit he’d picked up in the Army, giving himself time and space to think about what had happened before the inevitable after-action debriefings.
In this particular circumstance, he’d prefer to discuss it on the drive when there was no chance of being overheard. As soon as they were in the car and headed back to the truck stop, he saw Hannah pull out her phone.
“Anything I should know about the graffiti?”
“It pisses me off.” She made a low growling sound in her throat. “The sign has been around for a few years in conjunction with gang turf wars and drug trafficking, usually closer to the Mexican border areas. It’s been popping up more frequently on the Eastern seaboard.”
“Can you send me a copy of that? Maybe some of the truckers have seen it at other stops.”
“That’s a good thought. Want me to send it on to Eva too?”
Of course Hannah assumed that was his next move. She’d be right. He could argue, but that would only make him look like more of a fool. The reality was he appreciated her efforts to help and he should stop being an ass about the whole mess. “Please. Saves me a step.”
“Any message?”
“Just that I’ll contact her later.” It had always fascinated him what Eva foundbeforethey pointed her in a specific intel-gathering direction.
“Okay. Done.”
They turned onto the main road and rolled down the windows, and he wondered if Kyle would complain about a car with no air conditioning in the hot Virginia summers. He figured the raw power of the car would override the potential discomfort.
As the first mile ticked by and he pushed the engine closer to the speed limit, he knew he had to get Hannah talking about the cartel. “What aren’t you telling me about the Mexican cartel working in this area?”
Chapter 9
