Deadly Revenge (Pearl River #3)

Chapter 53

53

The next morning, Max was up before Jenna and was glad she’d set out the coffee and filters before going to bed. He made coffee and took it to the patio where he could think and plan.

Her house sat on a hill, and from the patio, he had a view of the mountains, where early morning haze rose like smoke from a chimney. No wonder she liked to sit out here. He turned and looked to the east, where a red sun crept over the horizon.

“Red sky at night , sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning .” If the old adage his grandfather liked to quote held true, it would probably storm before evening ... except he feared the storm might not be weather related.

He pulled his attention back to the problem that had him in a bad frame of mind. The problem he’d worried about all night. Had there been an intruder in the house? He wanted to believe Jenna—not that she was in danger from an intruder, but that there had actually been someone here and she hadn’t been dreaming. Either way ... they had a problem.

It was clear Jenna believed a man had been in her bedroom, and she’d fired at him. But Max had found nothing other than a bullet hole in the wooden doorframe.

He’d seen her lock the back door when they came in from the patio and heard the deadbolt snick in place when he left. If she was having PTSD again, he didn’t know what to do about it.

Max sipped his now cold coffee and made a face. Should’ve put it in an insulated cup.

“Good morning.”

Max turned around, and his heart kicked into overdrive. Jenna had braided her hair in one long braid, and she was dressed, down to her gun. “Same to you. Were you able to sleep at all?”

She nodded and handed him an insulated mug before she claimed the chair beside him. “Good coffee.”

“Thanks. I doubt it’s as strong as the stuff that passes for coffee at the sheriff’s office.”

“It’ll do.”

Polite conversation.

She looked toward the mountains. “I walked around the house looking for shoe prints.”

Her tone was defensive.

“Find anything?” He’d looked before he made coffee.

She shook her head, and neither of them spoke for a minute.

“The man was real last night,” Jenna said, her voice firm.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“You might as well have—you’re thinking it.”

“Jenna—”

“What’s the plan for today, assuming you still want me to work with you?”

“Of course I do.” Max took a sip of the coffee to let the air settle between them.

“We have a nine o’clock appointment with Mr. Weaver.”

“I know.”

They rehashed the security for the Founders Day picnic, and what they planned to ask Weaver.

Jenna finished her coffee and stood. “I put cereal out and there’s milk in the refrigerator. I’ve already eaten and will be in my office looking through the newspaper archives.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave.” He hated polite conversation.

What little they said on the way to town could be put in a thimble. When they arrived at Weaver’s office, he was waiting for them.

“Glad you’re on time. I have to get out to the Armstrong place ASAP.”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Evidently the people renting it moved out.”

“What?” Max’s heart dropped. “When?”

“Overnight. Bryan Bishop phoned me just before you got here. He saw a van pull out of the drive early this morning. He was curious and walked to the edge of his property to see what was going on. All the cars that had been parked there were gone, and the back door stood wide open.”

“He didn’t go in, did he?”

“Just the kitchen. Said it was plain they’d moved out. I have to get over there and see if they took any of the furniture.”

It was almost like the men knew they were coming. He glanced at Jenna. The look on her face said she was thinking the same thing. “Mind if we go with you?”

“I don’t see why not.” Weaver grabbed several files. “We can talk about the other rentals while we’re there.”

Jenna climbed into the driver’s side of her SUV while Max jogged around to the passenger side and climbed in. Silence rode with them as they drove to the Armstrong farm.

They were almost to the farm when Jenna broke it. “It’s almost like they knew we were coming.”

“My thoughts exactly, but how?”

“Could be coincidence. At least we can check everything out—maybe they left something behind.”

Twenty minutes later they pulled in the drive, parked behind Weaver, and climbed out. The place certainly looked deserted. Max turned to Weaver. “Did you get a driver’s license from the person renting the place?”

“I always get a license.” Weaver flipped through the rental file. “Here it is.”

Jenna snapped a photo of the license and handed the paper to Max. It was a Tennessee driver’s license for one Johnathan Smith with a Chattanooga address. “You want to call it in to DMV?” he asked Jenna.

“On it.”

He followed Weaver inside the house. “At least they left it clean,” the rental agent said.

Max walked through the house. Clean wasn’t quite the right word. More like sanitized. Even the plates on the light switches looked as though they’d been polished, and there wasn’t a scrap of paper left behind, not even in the trash cans. He turned as Jenna joined them. “Any results?”

“The license is fake.”

“Fake?” Weaver said. “That can’t be!”

“Did you check it out?”

“Well ... no. It looked real enough.”

That figured. All Tom Weaver saw was dollar signs.

“Do you have a key to the barn?” Jenna asked. “We’d like to see inside it.”

“What are you looking for?” Weaver asked.

Max said, “We don’t know, but it’s possible the people who rented the property were doing something illegal.”

“Can’t trust nobody anymore,” Weaver muttered and pulled a key ring with several keys on it from his pocket. After sorting through the keys, he pulled one off and handed it to Max. “Do you need me to come with you?”

“No,” they both said in unison.

He stiffened. “Just asking.”

They stepped outside into the bright sunlight. “Want to walk or drive?”

“Are you kidding?” Her tone had an attitude.

“Just asking,” he mimicked in Weaver’s high-pitched voice.

At least that got a chuckle out of Jenna.

“You can drive, but I’m walking,” she said. “It isn’t that far.”

He declined, and they approached the barn, both pulling on nitrile gloves. Once Max unlocked the door, he slid it open and they entered the building. Dust motes swam in the rays from a skylight window. He sniffed the air, and a lingering musk odor explained what the men had been doing here.

“They were growing marijuana,” Jenna said. “But I don’t think they were growing it in this room. Maybe in one of the side rooms?”

“Check it out.” He waved his hand in front of his nose. “It smells like some of them were smoking it.”

Judging by a couple of bales of hay against one wall, the building was used as a hay barn at one time. Max kicked a shoe box out of his way and eyed a couple of cardboard boxes. Apparently, it was also a place to store junk people didn’t know what to do with. He approached the two tables in the middle of the room.

Jenna wandered toward the side of the room. “I’m going to check out this area.”

He examined the tables while Jenna walked the length of the room, her gaze examining every square inch. Kirk had said this building was where the “mean guys” had told him to stay away. What were they doing out here? Max picked up one of the cardboard boxes and lifted the flap in the bottom. Was that—

Metal screeched on concrete, raking his ears. He jerked his head up.

“Hey, Max! Come see what I found!”

Urgency in Jenna’s voice propelled him to the side room door. A much stronger musk scent hit him when he approached the opening.

Jenna grinned at him. “I think we better call Alex.”

He stared at the pots of marijuana and the system of lights, fans, dehumidifiers, and sprinklers. “I do believe you’re right.” He fished the small clear cap from the box and held it up. “And that’s not all they were doing.”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “You were right. They were filling capsules.”

“Probably with heroin or cocaine. Much easier to transport and sell than in bulk.”

“No wonder the men ran Kirk off.” Jenna shuddered. “He was lucky they didn’t kill him.”