Impact Zone (Noah Braddock Mysteries Book 6) Read online

  Carter grinned at me. “I am a masterful negotiator.”

  FIFTEEN

  We drove down into the valley of avocado groves and I gave Carter the lowdown on what I remembered about the size and scope of the property. I made one wrong turn, but realized it pretty quickly and turned around. Ten minutes later, we were at the location of the camera.

  We got out and I showed him where the camera was mounted, how it worked, and then pulled up the photos on my phone. I'd asked Henry to send them to me the night before when I'd called him to accept the job. Carter palmed my phone in his massive hand and walked to the location of where the girl was, looking at the camera and just generally taking in the area. Then he walked back to me and handed me my phone.

  “It's weird,” he said.

  “Agreed.”

  He glanced around. “So he thinks she was out here lost or something?”

  “Yeah. Doesn't know her, doesn't recognize her, and he's worried that something might've happened to her.”

  “And he's searched around here? Looked for her?”

  “Said he did, but figured we could do some more looking today.”

  He frowned and looked around some more. “Doesn't feel right to me.”

  “Why?”

  “This is so far in.” He waved his hands at the trees surrounding us for emphasis.

  “I know.”

  “So let's say she was lost or whatever, drunk off her ass and wandering around. I think that's a reach given how remote the road we came in on from the highway was, but let's go with that for a minute,” he said, still looking around at the trees. “You really think she gets this far and then gets off the property?”

  “It's problematic.”

  “I don't think she would've made it this far,” he continued. “She either passes out or turns around and heads out. And this was at night, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “So it's dark as fuck in here, I'm assuming,” he said. “Who the hell is going to march into this nightmare forest when they can't see anything?”

  “Agreed,” I said, nodding.

  “So now let's say she wasn't drunk,” Carter said, frowning again. “Totally sober. I feel like there's even less of a chance she comes this far in. Again, completely dark and she'd have no idea where she was going. It would be a really, really strange choice.”

  I nodded.

  “No cars up on the road?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Missing person reports?”

  “Not that I've been able to find.”

  He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don't know what she was doing here, but I'm not buying she was lost.”

  It was the thing that had bothered me most from the outset. It didn't make sense to me either, for all the reasons Carter had just run through. I hadn't voiced them to Henry because I wanted a second opinion.

  “Agree on all counts,” I said. “So what the hell was she doing here?”

  “Looking for free avocados?” He glanced at the trees closest to us. “Looks like she got ‘em all.”

  “Serious. What was she doing here?”

  “I truly have no idea,” he said. “But I really don't think that some lost girl gets to this exact spot. Seems way too complicated.” He shook his head. “It's possible, but I wouldn't put money on it. Only way I'd buy it is if someone found her out here. Passed out or whatever. I'd literally need to see that to believe she got lost and somehow ended up here.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “Can we just tell him that and go collect the rest of our money?”

  “My money. You're getting nothing, remember?”

  “Right.”

  I shook my head. “No. We need to do more.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, look around I guess.” I motioned for him to follow me. “Let's walk for awhile and see where we get to.”

  “You think she's still out here?”

  “It's possible, isn't it?”

  “Sure, but someone would be looking for her by now, I'd think.”

  That wasn’t always true. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “She’s young, she’s blonde. Trust me, someone would be looking for her.”

  “Then let's look for something else,” I said. “Or see if there's a way she might've gotten here that we don't know about.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. Gotta earn my nothing.”

  “I'll buy you lunch.”

  “Fucking right you will.”

  We wandered down the trail for a mile or so, the thick grove of avocado trees lining the winding dirt road. I didn't see any other discernible path in the groves that someone might've come from. A hill rose in front of us and we trudged up and over, down into an even more expansive valley of trees. I wiped at the sweat beading my forehead and wished we’d thought to bring water.

  “We could've driven this,” Carter said, as we descended the hill.

  “Yeah, but we might've missed something.”

  “Like air conditioning? I’m definitely missing that.”

  Carter was never comfortable if the ocean wasn’t immediately accessible.

  “We haven't missed anything walking. Except AC.”

  “Right. But we only know that because we're walking.”

  “Sometimes, I don't like you.”

  “I'll get over it.”

  We walked for another twenty minutes before Carter pointed off to the right. “There's something.”

  The something was a path of trampled grass leading into one of the groves. It definitely wasn't a defined walking area, but based on how flat and worn the ground was, it had been used regularly to go somewhere.

  We veered off the main path and ventured onto what he spotted. We had to duck beneath the branches and the path was much narrower than the one we'd been on. We moved through an entire grove that was maybe a hundred yards long and came out onto another path like the one we'd left.

  “Well, that was helpful,” Carter said, squinting into the sun.

  I frowned. “Pretty much.”

  “This place is like one giant maze.”

  “Was thinking more like a house of mirrors, but sure.”

  “Which makes me even more skeptical that someone managed to get to that exact spot where the camera was by mistake.”

  “So you think she was there on purpose?” I asked. “For what?”

  “I have no idea,” he said. “But this place is so damn big, I just find it really hard to believe she happened to wander onto that particular path in the middle of the night.”

  I nodded. His logic made sense. The ranch was massive and at night, it would've seemed even larger and more foreboding. The idea that a young woman on her own could've gotten to that particular spot was becoming more problematic the more we looked.

  “So now what?” Carter asked.

  The cocking of a shotgun pierced the air and we both froze.

  “Right now, neither of you is going to move,” a voice behind us said. “Or you won't move ever again.”

  SIXTEEN

  “Turn around,” the voice commanded. “Both of you. And not in a hurry.”

  We did as instructed.

  The man holding the gun looked comfortable doing so. His head was shaved clean and a thick, bushy mustache spread over his top lip. His eyes were small black dots and his chin resembled a square piece of concrete. He wore a green, long-sleeved work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dirty denim jeans hugged legs the size of tree trunks and his work boots were caked with dried mud.

  He motioned to his right with the shotgun. “Move to your left and step away from your partner.”

  I took two steps to my left. “We're working for Henry.”

  Recognition flashed through his eyes. “I didn't get a phone call about that.”

  “So maybe rather than pointing the gun at us, you call him and find out?” Carter suggested.

  “Maybe you just need to keep quiet.”

 
; “Or maybe I just need to take the gun and jam it down your throat.”

  The man centered the gun barrel on Carter's chest. “You could try.”

  Carter smiled at him.

  “My name's Noah Braddock,” I said, trying to, once again, prevent Carter's death. “You can call Henry and ask him yourself.”

  The man kept his eyes and his gun on Carter.

  “Or we can stand here for another thirty minutes and when you finally figure it out, I'll be happy to explain to Henry how you wasted our time,” I said. “And his.”

  “What're you doing for him?” he growled.

  “You'll have to ask him about that,” I said.

  “Don't think I won't,” he said.

  “Then do it now.”

  “I mean, do you think we're out here making guacamole?” Carter asked. “Guacamole thieves?”

  “Get on the ground,” the man said. “Both of you. I'll call Henry.”

  “I'd rather stand,” Carter said.

  “Just do it,” I said, annoyed with the whole situation. I sat down on the ground and leaned back on my hands. “So we can keep working.”

  “Working?” the man asked.

  “Ask Henry,” I said. “I'm done talking.”

  Carter finally sat down on the path, stretching out his long legs.

  The man shifted the rifle into his left hand and lowered the barrel. He pulled a phone from his back pocket and punched the screen, his eyes shifting from the screen to us and back to the screen. He held the phone to his ear.

  Carter looked at me. “This is gonna cost you lunch and dinner.”

  “I figured.”

  “Henry,” the man said into the phone. “It's Marcus. I'm out here in zone 21 and I've found two men and one of them says they're working for you.” He listened for a moment, his eyes flitting between Carter and me. “Uh huh. Well, I...alright. I didn't know. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Alright. Will do.” He punched off the phone and put it back into the pocket of his jeans. “Mr. Dowdell says you are who you say you are.”

  “Well, no shit,” Carter said, getting to his feet. “Imagine.”

  Marcus glared at him. “I didn't know who you were and this is private property.”

  “It's fine,” I said, getting up and trying to diffuse the tension. “Doing your job.”

  Marcus nodded at me. “That's right.”

  “As are we,” I said. “So let's try this again. I'm Noah, this is Carter. You are?”

  He held the gun loosely at his side, barrel down. “Marcus Sloan. I manage the field operations on the ranch. And I apologize for coming on like that. Strangers don't show up here very often. But I'm responsible for what goes on out here.”

  I nodded. “Good to know. Did Henry explain why we're here?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “The girl. On the camera.”

  “You saw the pictures?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What did you think of them?”

  Sloan shrugged. “I assume she's some kid messing around in the middle of the night.”

  “You didn't know her?”

  “Never seen her.”

  “No idea how she got to that spot?” I asked.

  Sloan shook his head. “None. But the camera doesn't lie. She was there. No idea why, though.”

  “What exactly is your job here?” I asked, changing course. “You said field operations, right?”

  “I oversee everything out here on the ranch,” Sloan said. “The employees, the production, vendors, all of it.”

  “For how long?”

  “Twenty-two years. And I ain't never needed help out here before and I don't think I do now,” he said.

  He was clearly perturbed at our being there and whatever Henry had said to him on the phone hadn't sat well with him. He thought we were on his turf and doing his job. Which I didn't quite see the same way, but I didn't want to antagonize him, either.

  “I'm sure you don't,” I said. “And we aren't here to get in your way. But we are going to be out here for awhile looking around because Mr. Dowdell asked us to.”

  Sloan frowned. “Not sure there's much to see. I know Henry has himself worried, but I think he might be wasting your time.”

  “Understood,” I said.

  Sloan hoisted the shotgun up onto his shoulder. “Can't stop you if Henry says you're supposed to be here. But the workers are on a tight schedule. Please be respectful of that. You wanna talk to them, make sure it's on their breaks.” He stared at each of us for a moment. “I'll be around.”

  He hurried off down the road.

  SEVENTEEN

  “He seems fun,” Carter said.

  I glanced over my shoulder as we walked down the road. “Yeah. A ball.”

  “You think it's normal for the ranch manager to walk around with a shotgun?”

  “Not really sure, but I'm gonna ask.”

  “Weird that he came out of nowhere, too.”

  I nodded. “Yep. Gonna ask Henry about that, too.”

  We walked up the road and over another hill into what looked like another vast valley of avocado groves. The property truly seemed limitless, and I really did start to wonder where the borders were and if they were even reachable on foot. The more I saw of the property, the more it made sense to me about Sarah learning to drive before she was sixteen.

  We walked for another ten minutes and the grove opened up slightly on our right.

  “That's a house,” Carter said. “In the middle of the grove.”

  He wasn't wrong. It was a small, single-story structure and looked to be one of those modular homes where the pieces were brought in and assembled on the spot. A single door in the middle, windows on either side. A small, square, concrete pad had been poured next to the house where there normally would've been a garage. The roof was flat, and there were two small bicycles next to the front door. Several potted plants were out front and grass was struggling to grow in the small patch of dirt in front of the house.

  The door to the house opened and a man emerged, eyeing us cautiously. He was short, compact, tan. His short black hair was combed neatly to the side and there were deep lines on his tanned forehead. I put him somewhere in his early forties. Dark stubble surrounded his chin and mouth. His checkered long-sleeved shirt was tucked tightly into his tan workpants and a wide-brimmed hat hung behind his neck, held there by a drawstring. He wiped the palms of his hands on his pants and walked slowly toward us.

  “May I help you?” he asked with a strong Hispanic accent.

  “My name is Noah,” I said. “This is Carter. We are working for Henry Dowdell.”

  The man stood a little taller, still less than six feet at his tallest. “I work for Mr. Dowdell also. My name is Beto.”

  We shook hands.

  “You work here on ranch?” Beto asked, his dark eyes examining each of us.

  “No,” I told him. “Mr. Dowdell has hired us to help him with a problem he is having. Can I ask what you do here?”

  Beto set his hands on his hips for a moment, watching each of us. “I do not mean to be mean, but do you have...how you say? I.D.?”

  I nodded and pulled my wallet from my pocket and flipped it open to both my driver's license and investigator's license. He leaned over slightly to read them closely.

  Carter watched the house.

  “Am I in trouble?” Beto asked, standing back up straight. “I have done nothing wrong. And I pay the taxes as I am supposed to. I have my number.”

  I was confused. “Uh, you're not in trouble with me.”

  He pointed at the wallet. “You are investigator. With I.C.E.?”

  I shook my head. “No. No. I'm sorry. I should've been clear. I'm a private investigator.”

  “Private?”

  “Meaning, I don't work for any agency or anything like that. Mr. Dowdell hired me because of some photos he came across.”

  Beto squinted at me. “So I am not in any trouble
? Or my family?”

  I shook my head. “Not from me, I promise.”

  He took a deep breath, exhaled. He shoulders fell slightly, tension seeping out of them. “I see. Please forgive. I get nervous when I do not know people who show up. It is...how you say? Nervous?”

  “Nerve wracking?” I offered, smiling.

  He pointed at me. “That is it, yes sir. Nerve wracking.”

  I knew that immigrant labor made up a large part of the agricultural work force, but his anxiety over our showing up there reminded me that not everyone struggled in the same way.

  “If you'd like to call Henry to confirm, I understand,” I told him.

  He considered that for a moment, then shook his head. “No, sir. I believe you. Thank you for telling me.”

  “And we just met another guy,” Carter said. “Marcus Sloan. You could confirm with him, too.”

  Beto pursed his lips. “I prefer to speak to Mr. Sloan only when necessary.”

  Carter smiled. “That makes two of us then.”

  “Has Henry asked you about the pictures of the girl?” I said to Beto.

  He tilted his head to the side. “I do not know what you mean.”

  I pulled the folded up photos of the woman out of my pocket and showed them to him. I explained where they were taken and he knew immediately where I meant. He studied the pictures carefully, leaning in close to both of them.

  He handed them back to me and shook his head. “I never seen her. I am sorry.”

  “Are people in the groves at night?” I asked. “Is that a regular thing?”

  Beto shook his head. “No, never. If you do not know where you are, you will be lost very easily. And the ranch, it is very safe.” He frowned. “I don't mean safe, I mean...how you say? So no one will get in?”

  “Secure?” Carter offered.

  “Yes, secure,” Beto said, pronouncing it carefully, as if he was committing it to memory. “It is very hard for people to come on to the ranch if they are not supposed to be here.”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  The door to the small home opened and two teenagers emerged. Both had the same dark hair and coffee-colored complexion as Beto. The boy was taller than Beto and skinnier, in jeans and a blue T-shirt. The girl was shorter, her hair longer and swept back behind her shoulders. She wore black yoga pants and a red tank top.