Holding Out for a Hero (Baytown Heroes #9)

Chapter 31

31

ARTIE

Artie felt his heart beat faster as he cautiously peeked out his bathroom window through the small slit between the curtains again, this time with Dorothy’s binoculars pressed against his eyeglasses. She’d kept the pair in the kitchen so she could look out the back window and birdwatch. Cardinals, towhees, mockingbirds, morning doves, wrens… every time she spied a new one, she’d mark it off in the little bird book he’d given her one Christmas. “Artie, God wants us to see things,” she used to say.

Since she’d died, the binoculars had sat unused on a shelf in the kitchen cabinet near the book. He’d kept many of her cherished belongings but found the memories too sharp to look at every day. Now, grateful that Dorothy had wanted to see things clearly and up close, and that he hadn’t given them away, he watched the activity out at the barn.

He hadn’t had a chance to search the area without the men around since the last time he’d peeked out the window. But seeing all four of the men near the barn set off his suspicions. That was another thing he’d learned from Dorothy: “Not everything is as it seems. Not everyone is who they say they are.” She was the most forgiving yet astute person he’d ever known, and he’d learned early in their marriage that she was usually right.

As he peered through the binoculars, her words whispered in his ear. Because he’d spent his days sitting in the office with no window other than looking out over the front lane and the door leading just to the garage, he had foolishly not spent time paying attention to what Flip’s men might have been doing on the property behind him.

For the past two days, he’d stayed at home, feigning illness as a ruse so he could keep an eye on the back of the property from the lone bathroom window. He figured if they thought he was unwell and in bed, they might get sloppy and give him a chance to see if they were up to no good.

When the detectives had come by to talk about stolen cars, he told them the truth and gave them permission to check the garages and sheds. Artie had nothing to hide. But seeing Flip, Jaybird, Babyface, and TinMan around the old barn made him sure something was happening. “No one with any sense would go near that big ole fallin’ down pile o’ wood,” he muttered.

He hadn’t seen anyone use the overgrown grass-covered lane leading to the barn in years. He rubbed his chin, remembering an old path from the back of the property that his granddaddy used to use when he’d store the tractor in the barn. That tractor was long gone, and the barn had fallen into disrepair since Artie hadn’t used it. But something was going on out there, and he was determined to see what it was.

From his viewpoint, his gaze remained fixed on the activities taking place. Keeping the binoculars pressed against his eyeglasses, he watched as a van came from the far side to drive inside the newly fenced area of his property. Flip was driving, but no one else was in the van with him. Artie gasped in disbelief as the van stopped at the back, and Babyface slid open a section of the fence. “They got a way to get in and out back there? Ain’t no gate there,” he grumbled.

But as he continued to stare, a section completely slid to the side, and the van drove through, straight into the barn before Babyface closed the fence section again, once more making it look like a solid fence.

Artie lowered his binoculars, blinking several times as though to dispel the image that he’d just witnessed. “Somethin’ is definitely goin’ on in that barn. Somethin’ not right, and I’ll be damned if it happens on my property.”

Having explored every inch of the family’s land from the time he could toddle as a child, he considered how best to get to the barn unseen. He’d spent over eighty years roaming this land and figured his best way to check it out was to take the long way around. With his binoculars hanging around his neck and his cell phone in his pocket, he walked into the bedroom on the far side of his house, facing away from the garage, office, and barn.

It had been his and Dorothy’s room, and since she’d passed a few years ago, he’d taken to sleeping in the guest room. It was only fitting—without his beloved Dorothy, he was more of a guest overstaying his welcome. He figured she’d be angry that he felt that way, but a man couldn’t help how he handled living after he’d loved and lost. Taking a moment to stare at the double bed they’d shared for sixty years, he heaved a sigh. “This might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, Dorothy, but I’m not going to have any shenanigans on the farm.”

With that, he flipped the latch and gave a push to open the window. Grateful it wasn’t stuck, he leaned his head out and lifted his leg. Rheumatism and creaking joints made crawling out difficult. but once his feet settled on the grass, his bony chest heaved in relief. He then lowered the window behind him and hurried into the line of trees near the edge of the yard.

He moved carefully, a little slower than he would’ve liked to, but tripping and breaking a hip in the woods wouldn’t help his cause. He stopped several times to listen and look, irritated that neither his vision nor hearing was the best, but he ascertained no threat, and it didn’t seem anyone had seen or heard him as he moved toward the back of the property.

The opening to the barn appeared dark in the shadows, but standing at the edge of the woods with his binoculars back to his eyeglasses, he could see nothing. It still just appeared as a large, dark hole. It struck him as odd, considering that the openings in the barn's roof would have fallen in over the years. With sunlight streaming through, he thought there would’ve been more light coming from the inside.

Still unable to understand what he saw, he made it to the back of the property. Then moving farther along the line of shrubs and trees, crumbling, old farm fences no longer standing, he crouched low. His knees didn’t like the position, and his back wasn’t too happy with him either. But he moved forward, staying in the shadows, determined to make it to the barn if for no other reason than to take a look at an old structure he hadn’t bothered checking in years.

From where he was, he spied all four men walking out of the barn, then they pulled a few pieces of old wooden slats down to partially cover the entrance, making it appear just as dilapidated as Artie knew it was. What the hell do they have in there?

They slipped through the fence at the place he now knew they’d made into a hidden gate and then walked back toward the garage bays and office.

He waited until they were out of sight, and his curiosity heightened as he moved closer to the barn. He figured he’d feel foolish if there was nothing in there or it was just a place where they held old parts, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d felt foolish. Dorothy’s voice filled his head again. “Don’t hold back on doing something you really want to do just because you’re afraid of looking silly.”

He wasn’t sure she meant what he was about to do, but having her in his ear encouraged him. He crept closer and put his binoculars up to look back toward the garage, but there was no activity. Taking the opportunity offered to him since they’d left, he moved to the barn opening and peered inside. He didn’t see the van that had pulled in, but the light streaming from the holes in the roof illuminated what looked like a large black metal container—big enough to hold at least three vehicles. The black exterior made it almost impossible to see the container from anywhere except inside the barn, and from the looks of the ramshackled barn, no one would dare to look inside for fear the structure would fall down around them. Years ago, he’d even placed some Keep Out signs around the barn after Dorothy feared some teenagers might sneak in.

Once inside the barn, he looked down to see tire tracks leading from the barn doorway to the side of the container. Why the hell did they drive a van into this container? His lips pursed as the idea hit that they were stealing vehicles and doing something with them. Anger urged him on. He wasn’t a man to accuse someone without proof, but staring at the chain and padlock on the container door, he wondered how he would get in. Thinking about the detectives who came to talk to him, he thought he should give them a call. They could look inside. He waffled for only a moment, then pulled out his phone to place the call. He didn’t have anyone’s number and hesitated.

Suddenly, the sound of talking from inside the container caused him to drop his phone. He bent to pick it up and started to back away, thinking someone else Flip had working for him must be inside. Then he distinctly heard the sound of a female voice.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re going to get out of here.”

He blinked and, for a second, thought he must be hearing Dorothy’s voice in his head. But this voice was younger and coming from inside!

Brad stared at his phone, then cursed.

“Something going on?” Mark asked.

“Just got a text from my sister. She and Bess went to Artie’s to have him check the van and Bess wanted me to know that’s where they are.” He looked over. “I’d told Bess that I was uncomfortable with her being there without me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Thanks—” Before he had a chance to say anything else, Jonathan Sullivan and Sheila Fordham, two of the other detectives, hustled into the bullpen.

“We may have a break in the case,” Jonathan Sullivan said. “You know that guy we’ve got in jail. He was running his mouth all night long, and one of the older inmates talked to a guard. Bobby Tee was telling someone about Flip Wilson running cars down here. Said he’s got a sweet deal with an old man who, in his words, Don’t know shit about shit.”

Sheila added, “I ran the name Flip Wilson through the database for gang-related offenses and came up with Levelle Wilson. He’d been in jail in Baltimore with Jeremy Miller, who goes by Jaybird.”

“Fucking hell. That’s two of the assholes who are with Artie Williams!” Brad said, jumping to his feet. “My sister and Bess are heading there now.”

“I’m driving,” Mark said, hustling after Brad.

“We’ll follow,” Jonathan said.

Brad didn’t care who drove as long as they could get him there the fastest.