Deadly Business

Deadly

Business

Anita Dickason

Mystic Circle Books

Other Titles by Award-Winning Author

Anita Dickason

Operation Navajo

The first page thrusts readers into a tangled world of high-powered politics and global finance.

Not Dead

Not Dead sits firmly in the top five books I've read this year (and I have read piles of them).

A u 7 9

I wasn’t quite ready for the dizzying speed when the storyline took off and the action didn’t stop. I loved it!

Going Gone!

If you like action-thrillers, this one has murders, covert agents at risk, car chases, explosions, ex-special forces good and bad guys, paramilitary action, gun battles, etc.

Sentinels of the Night

It started with a bang and kept the momentum and intrigue going to the very end.

https://www.anitadickason.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book or cover may be used or reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author's written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

Copyright © 2021 Anita Dickason

Publisher: Mystic Circle Books

Cover Design: Mystic Circle Books & Designs, LLC

Editor: Jennie Rosenblum

ISBN

978-1-7340821-5-9: Paperback

978-1-7340821-6-6: Hardback

978-1-7340821-7-3: eBook

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021907781

Acknowledgments

To my daughter

Christy Kay

I couldn’t have done it without you.

To my friends

Pat Pratt

Beth Vansyckle

Thank you for taking the time to read the

manuscript. Your comments and critiques

were invaluable.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Epilogue

The Story Behind the Fiction

About the Author

Embedded in the hard ground, the sharp edges of rocks dug into her thighs as she inched forward. Stalks of weeds, impatiently thrust aside by a brush of her hand, tickled her nose. Alongside her, Davy scooted, pushing his body and rifle until he reached a gap in a thicket of small trees. It wasn’t the best of cover, but they’d had worse.

Davy’s arm stretched to flip out the folded legs of the bipod. He leveled the rifle on the rough ground before tucking the stock tight against his shoulder.

While her partner settled into position, Piper propped her elbows and brought the farmhouse into focus through the small collapsible binoculars. Her earpiece crackled. A raspy voice echoed in her ear. McKay, status? Her head swiveled toward Davy.

He quickly nodded and thumbed off the safety.

Ready, she answered.

Earlier, they’d tossed a coin for who would be on the rifle. Piper lost. She’d handle the communications.

Barely visible in the early morning fog-laden air, the farmhouse appeared to be abandoned. A weed-infested yard, a porch with missing and broken slats, cracked and peeling paint, and missing roof shingles were proof of the toll from neglect and time. Still, she searched for any movement at the windows before turning her attention to the dilapidated barn. What she couldn’t see was the black pickup parked behind it. The truck had been spotted during the flyover and matched the description of the last one stolen.

Three days earlier, Harvey Benton, a violent psychopathic killer, had escaped from federal custody. Convicted for the brutal murder of a federal judge, Benton was on his way to death row when the prison van was run off the road. Two men, Benton’s brother, Charlie, and a cousin, Dario Mata, overpowered the two U.S. Marshals. One was killed. The other was still fighting for his life, and the outlook was grim.

Benton’s escape galvanized the law enforcement community. A massive manhunt ensued. Pictures of the men had been broadcast on every news channel, and a hotline was set up.

While she studied the terrain around the farm, Piper couldn’t help remembering the shock that ripped through her when the news hit her office. It could have been her, either dead or on life support systems. She’d been on the schedule instead of Tom Harper, the marshal killed during the attack. At the last moment, her boss, Supervisory Deputy Luke Purdy, pulled her off the detail. As one of the unit snipers, she occasionally helped train officers for the local law enforcement agencies. She was walking out the door, headed to the range when Luke got the call.

The three men had left a bloody trail as they systematically hijacked cars, killing drivers and passengers. By the time one vehicle was found, they’d stolen another and managed to stay one step ahead of the officers tracking them. Their plan had succeeded until yesterday afternoon.

A call came in on the hotline from a convenience store in Tipton, a small town near the Texas and Oklahoma border. The store clerk reported seeing one of the men. Piper and Davy were in Lawton where the last vehicle had been hijacked, a black Ford F-150. They immediately headed to Tipton.

Inside the Hop and Sack, a grungy-looking teenager sat on a stool behind the counter. As the bell tinkled over the door, he looked up from the cellphone in his hand.

Piper pulled out her badge case, flipped it open and extended it toward the kid, who didn’t look old enough to work in a store that sold beer. I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Piper McKay. This is my partner Davy Fenwick.

As he hopped off the stool, the kid’s face beamed with excitement. Oh, man! You’re here about my phone call. You really think I saw one of them?

Maybe, Piper answered. Are you Billy Massey?

He gulped. That’s me.

From the file folder he held in his hand, Davy spread six pictures across the counter. Mixed in were three fake photos. Gesturing with his hand, he asked, Do you recognize any of these men?

Yeah! Billy stabbed a finger at one. That one! That’s the one. He came into the store.

Piper and Davy peered down. It was Charlie Benton.

What happened? Piper asked.

Billy bounced from one foot to the other. I … I … just can’t believe this. It’s freaking unbelievable. Oh, man! Wait until the guys hear about this.

Her tone sharp, Piper said, Billy! Tell us what happened.

Okay … okay. This truck pulls up to the pump. A guy jumps out from the passenger side. You see, you have to pay for the gas upfront, cash or credit card. The boss had too many customers drive off without paying. He took a deep breath. So, this guy, pointing to the picture, walks in. Man, he was a mean-looking dude. Gave me the willies just lookin’ at him. He tosses a couple of twenties on the counter. Never said nothing. Just turned around and walked out.

Did you see anyone else in the truck? Piper asked.

Yeah. Two men. The windows had a dark tint, so I couldn’t really get a good look at them.

What happened next?

After he pumps the gas, I thought they’d leave, but they didn’t. The guy leans into the truck, talking to the men. Then he walks back inside. This time he grabs bread, lunch meat, and a twelve-pack of beer. I ring up the stuff and bag the food. He hands me the money. After I give him his change and receipt, he picks up the stuff and leaves.

What time did this happen?

Billy scratched his face as he thought. Before my lunch break, maybe elevenish or so.

Why did it take you so long to call?

I was surfing my phone, and the article about the jailbreak popped up. That’s when I seen the pictures.

What kind of truck?

Uh … black, Ford F-150. Looked new.

Piper picked up the fake photos and the one of Charlie Benton. Have you ever seen these two men around here?

Billy looked at the remaining pictures again before shaking his head no.

She handed him a business card. If you remember anything else, call me.

The kid cradled it in the palms of his hands and stared at it in awe. I will!

Despite the grim reason they were in the store, Piper had to smile. She figured she’d just made Billy’s day, though he was damn lucky Benton didn’t kill him. Her hand on the door, she paused to look over her shoulder at the kid with the goofy grin. Why didn’t Benton kill him?

Outside, Davy was on the phone. He motioned to her. When she stopped in front of him, he said, It’s Luke. I’ve already told him what we found out from the store clerk. He clicked the speakerphone. Luke, Piper’s listening.

Her boss’s voice echoed. Anything else, Piper?

What’s the status on the background for the brother and Mata? she asked.

We’re still digging, but so far, nothing that would give us an idea where they might be headed.

This could be a long shot. Look for any relatives or ties to Tipton.

Luke said, All right. But why Tipton?

Because Benton didn’t kill the clerk.

Tell me why it isn’t just good news.

I may be grasping at straws here, but they’ve tried to eliminate everyone who has seen them. Why not the clerk? Is it because they didn’t want cops snooping around Tipton?

You might be onto something. Stay in the area. Talk to other people in town.

A wry look crossed her face as she viewed the deserted street and boarded-up buildings. Sure, boss. Just don’t hold your breath. The population is 847, at least according to the city limits sign.

Luke just grunted and disconnected.

Piper ambled toward their parked car. Davy, you heard the man. Let’s see if we can find someone to talk to.

Over the next hour, they queried employees and customers at the few businesses in the tiny community. No one recognized the three men. It wasn’t until they stopped at a small wood-frame house on the outskirts of town that they hit paydirt.

An elderly man, wearing faded and worn overalls and a long-sleeved shirt, sat in a rocker on the porch and watched with interest as they approached.

A large hound dog crawled out from under the steps. Mournful eyes looked up at them for several seconds before the dog flopped on his side.

The man leaned over the edge of the rocker. A stream of black spit hit the ground near the dog. He swiped at a dribble of chewing tobacco sliding down his chin, then wiped his hand on his overalls.

Piper flipped open her badge case. Piper McKay, U.S. Marshal. We’d like to ask you a few questions. What is your name?

A rusty chortle erupted. Well now, if that just don’t beat all, a pretty girl like you a federal marshal. He looked at Davy. Guess you’re one too.

Davy grinned and held up his open badge case.

I’m Jedediah Wilson, though most folks just call me Ole Jed. Gotta be something important to bring two feds to Tipton.

How long have you lived here? Piper asked.

Plus or minus, about ninety-two years. Born on a farm about ten miles from here.

Plus or minus? Piper questioned.

Don’t rightly know the year, no birth certificate.

Davy handed him the photos. Do you recognize these men?

Rheumy eyes narrowed as he studied the images. I’ll be damned. These are the yahoos everyone’s chasing, killed a few people from what I saw on the news. He handed back the pictures. I can’t say I’ve ever seen them.

Did a family named Benton or Mata ever live around here?

He leaned to spit another stream of tobacco juice, this time barely missing the dog. Yeah. The Mata family has a farm north of here. Old man Mata still lives there. The old coot’s older than I am. He grinned, flashing his nicotine-stained teeth.

What can you tell us about the family? Piper asked.

Not much. The wife’s dead. The son took off for greener pastures years ago. The old man mentioned the boy had married and had a couple of kids, but I’ve never seen any of them. Let me take another look at those pictures.

Davy handed them to him.

The dog sighed. The chair creaked as the old man rocked and shuffled the photos. After a few seconds, he slid one on top before handing them to Davy. That one could be Mata’s kin. Something about the eyes. But couldn’t swear to it.

A look of excitement flashed between Davy and Piper. The picture on top was Dario Mata.

Where is the farm? Piper asked.

Ole Jed gestured with his hand. That road will take you to Buck’s County Store. Turn north. When you get to an intersection with a water tower, turn west. The road curves, and right after the curve is the Mata place. Can’t miss it.

We appreciate the information. She turned to walk to the car, then looked back. It would be best if you didn’t mention our conversation to anyone. This is a ruthless gang who won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way.

A gleam sparked in the old man’s eyes. Missy, already figured that one out. He spit. It splattered across the dog’s butt. The tail just thumped as the man roared with laughter. Got ya.

Her phone call to Luke about Jedediah's information set the events in motion that ended with her and Davy lying on a slight rise overlooking the Mata farmhouse.

A medivac helicopter had been commandeered for the flyover, though the pilot was a marshal. Once the pilot spotted the black truck, teams of men and equipment left Oklahoma City.

Assigned the task of finding a location for the staging area, one that wouldn’t draw attention to their arrival, Piper and Davy found a roadside park about twenty miles from town. They made one more trip to visit Ole Jed. This time when they left, they had a diagram of the interior of the Mata house.

Before the sun had risen, officers crowded around a conference table inside the tactical van to study a plat map, along with the house diagram. There wasn’t an easy approach. Flat, empty fields surrounded the place. Using the trees along a stream that bordered the property offered the best protection. The team’s exposure would be limited. Piper and Davy set up across the road.

Through her earpiece, voices sounded as the tactical unit moved into place. Coming in at dawn, her boss hoped the men would be asleep. Her gaze shifted to the trees. In the dim light, she could see the dark shapes of the entry team. At a steady pace, they started across the open field. Her gaze turned back to the house as she scanned the windows. A shot from inside the house cracked, then a second.

Pull back! Luke shouted. Nolan’s been hit!

Fear ripped through Piper. Powerless, her fingers tightened around the binoculars. Several of the agents returned fire as they moved backward. Nolan’s body hung over the shoulder of a teammate. Their worst scenario had just become a reality.

Luke’s voice echoed in her ear as he ordered the driver of the tactical van to move up. The hostage negotiator would take over the communications. The other piece of information Ole Jed had provided was Mata’s telephone number.

From her position, she could see one side of the house and most of the front. Her eyes shifted from window to window. Davy would be doing the same, looking for a target through the rifle scope.

Tim’s voice, the unit’s hostage negotiator, sounded over the tactical van’s loudspeaker. Federal Marshals. Answer the phone.

The front door opened. A frail, elderly man was shoved forward. His hands helplessly flapped the air. Behind him, Harvey Benton had one arm wrapped around Mata’s neck while the other held a gun to the side of the old man’s head.

Piper’s chest tightened at the sight of Mata’s seamed and unshaven face, bleached white with fear, his mouth open as he gasped for air. Every detail was magnified by her binoculars.

Front door, she said.

I see it, Luke answered.

Davy said, No shot.

Benton shouted, Stay back. We’re leaving. If I see a single cop, I’ll kill the old man. He jerked the man back, slamming the door shut.

Piper, do you have eyes on the truck? Luke asked.

No.

We can’t see it either.

Piper knew, just as everyone else did, it had to end here. No options, no giving three killers a chance to escape.

The only way to get to the truck was to move past the house and double back. She could use the trees for cover until she had to cross the road. If anyone looked out that side of the house, they’d see her. The entry team was on the other side. If this was going to work, Luke would have to create a distraction to keep the three men on his side of the house.

Luke, I can get to the truck. Try to keep them occupied.

He clicked the mike to acknowledge.

Davy said, I’m coming with you. I can’t cover you from here.

Piper folded the binoculars and slid them into a pocket. They both eased backward. Once they were out of view of the house, they stood. Trotting, they weaved around the trees, paralleling the road until they passed the house.

While Piper watched the farmhouse, Davy dropped to the ground, crawling until he was in a position where he could see the barn. Ready, he told Piper, then keyed his mike. Now!

Shots rang out. Piper, her gun held tight in her hands, ran flat out until she reached the side of the barn.

Luke’s voice crackled in her ear. Davy?

She’s in place, he answered, his gaze tracking her through the scope.

Piper stepped next to the truck and aimed. Two shots hit the front tire, then she locked onto the rear one, firing two more. The tires collapsed.

Davy’s voice rang out in her earpiece. Behind you!

Piper whipped around to see two armed men charge across the yard. She fired. The lead man stumbled, then fell. Even as she swung her weapon toward the other, she knew it was too late. The barrel of Charlie Benton’s gun was aimed at her face. Time seemed to slow. Piper heard the shot. Astonished, she watched Benton topple forward. The thud of his body hitting the ground galvanized her. She ducked back, using the side of the barn for cover. There was still an active threat inside the house.

Piper said, Two down.

Luke’s voice followed, telling the entry team to go. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered how her hands could be so steady while she kept the gun aimed at the back door. From inside, doors slammed and shouts erupted.

Once Luke called the all-clear, she moved toward the men lying motionless on the ground. It didn’t take a check of their pulse to know they were dead as she holstered her gun and finally felt a tremble. This had been close, too damn close.

Davy, his rifle slung across his shoulder, ran toward her. Agents streamed out the back door. Luke walked over and stared at the bodies of the Benton brothers and the guns lying near them.

There wasn’t any other way this was going to end, Luke said.

Nolan? Davy asked.

Alive, Luke told him.

While they waited for the county sheriff, coroner, and ambulance to show up, everyone clustered around the tactical van. Dario Mata was handcuffed and seated in one of the marshal’s cars. His great-grandfather was inside the house where he’d collapsed. The team’s medic was keeping an eye on him. Nolan was inside the van. He’d taken a round in the thigh and had already been patched up, at least enough to get him to the hospital.

Between moments spent rehashing the confrontation and endless cups of coffee brewed inside the van, everyone was riding an adrenaline and caffeine-driven high.

Piper said, Damn glad you had my back.

Hey, you did the hard work. I had an easy shot.

Maybe so, but for an instant, I thought I was a goner.

Luke stepped out of the van and motioned to Piper. She followed him back inside. Usually, his face glinted with humor. This time, his grim look set off a tingle of uneasiness.

Piper, my office got a call from Grady Estes.

Her heart jumped. Grady was the foreman at her grandmother’s ranch.

Her voice, almost a whisper, What happened?

Your grandmother is in the hospital. It doesn’t look good.

Why?

According to Mr. Estes, her horse threw her. She suffered severe head trauma.

Agitated, Piper shook her head. No! No! That can’t be true. My grandmother is an experienced rider. There isn’t a horse in the whole damn county that could throw her. It’s not possible.

The look of sympathy on Luke’s face was almost her undoing. I’ve already authorized an emergency leave for you. You and Davy head out. If there is anything I can do to help, anything at all, let me know.

Her mind reeling, she mumbled something before stumbling out of the van. Luke followed her, motioning to Davy.

Piper stared about her in confusion as she tried to assimilate what Luke had told her. It didn’t make sense. With an inner shake, she pulled herself together. The first priority was to get to Texas. Standing around in a daze wasn’t solving anything.

Once they were on the road, she checked her phone. She’d missed several calls from Grady. When she tried calling back, his phone went to voice mail. She left a message telling him she was on her way. Her next call was to the hospital in Sulphur Springs. After confirming she was next of kin, all she learned was that her grandmother was still in intensive care, and there was no change in her condition. She told the nurse she’d be there in a few hours and left her number if someone needed to contact her.

It took less than two hours to reach Oklahoma City. When breaking the speed limit, it helped to be in a vehicle with U.S. Marshal Service plastered on the car doors. Davy dropped her off at her apartment. After reassuring him several times that she didn’t need him to drive her to Texas, he finally left.

Propelled by a sense of urgency, she took a quick shower and washed her hair. Dressed in jeans, her favorite hiking boots, a long-sleeved shirt and jacket, and her wet hair twisted in one long braid, she grabbed clothes from the closet, stuffing them in a suitcase. The Glock 19 lying on the dresser was shoved into the holster on her leather belt.

As she headed to the door, rolling the suitcase behind her and her backpack slung over her shoulder, she paused. Not sure why the thought popped into her head, she walked back to the bedroom and grabbed a duffel bag from the closet. It contained additional ammunition and an assortment of tactical gear. She added tactical clothing, the gun belt she’d worn earlier, and her combat boots.

Everything but the backpack was tossed in the trunk that already contained her sniper rifle and gear she removed from Davy’s car.

She made good time, not as good as Davy, but still managed to pull into the hospital parking lot in a little over three hours.

After identifying herself to the receptionist, she was directed to the intensive care unit, where another nurse greeted her. The news wasn’t good, no change in her grandmother’s condition, and she hadn’t regained consciousness. Until the doctor gave permission, Piper wasn’t allowed into the ICU.

She wandered into the small waiting room. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted in the air. Holding a cup, she walked to the window. The depressing view from the back of the hospital didn’t help her mood.

What the hell had happened? She just couldn’t envision Jennie Layton flying off a horse. As a young woman, she’d lived up to her name, Jennie Storm. Billed as Jennie, the Rodeo Belle, she’d been a champion barrel racer. Awards and ribbons filled the bookcases in Jen’s home office.

The rodeo circuit is where she met Sam Layton, a bronco and calf roping rider. They married and continued to follow the circuit until a horse rolled over on him, breaking his hip. It ended his rodeo days. They quit and bought an 800-acre cattle ranch near Sulphur Bluff, about thirty miles northeast of Sulphur Springs, the county seat for Hopkins County. When her grandfather dropped dead from a massive heart attack, Jennie took over running the ranch. Hardly a day went by that she wasn’t on a horse.

Behind her, footsteps sounded. She turned. A man in blue scrubs strode toward her.

Ms. McKay?

Yes.

I’m Doctor Henderson.

Puzzled, she stared at him.

Uh … is something wrong? he asked.

Collecting herself, she said, No. It’s just, well, I’m sorry. I expected Doc Able. He’s been the family doctor for years.

Ah, I see. Dr. Able was here earlier. I’m the neurologist. Won’t you have a seat? He motioned toward a chair.

The cup clutched tight in her hands, Piper perched on the edge of the chair. A neurologist? How bad is it?

When she fell, Ms. Layton cracked her skull. I had to operate to relieve the pressure on the brain and repair the damage. While it was successful, it is still very much touch and go. The next twenty-four hours are crucial. Her vitals are strong, and according to her medical records, she is in good health. Dr. Able described her, and I use his words, as one tough cookie.

May I see her?

Yes, but just for a few minutes. It would be best for you to go home. There is really nothing you can do here. If anything changes, I will call you immediately. Do we have your contact information?

Yes. I gave it to the nurse.

Good, follow me.

The inside of an ICU wasn’t a new experience. She’d been in several since she became a marshal. Still, she wasn’t prepared for the sight of her beloved grandmother lying motionless in the bed. Tethered to multiple machines that beeped and flashed, her small frame seemed to disappear under the white sheet. Her ghostly white face blended into the white bandages circling her head.

As Piper stepped