Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)

He stopped beside them, cutting his siren.

“We found our friend,” Remi said, then opened the passenger door.

The deputy looked in, saw Bree still tied up, his mouth dropping open slightly. Then, recovering, asked, “Anyone hurt?”

Remi removed the gag from Bree’s mouth. “How are you?” she asked.

“Fi—” Bree stopped, took a deep breath. “Fine. My cousin? Where is she? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

Remi used Sam’s pocketknife to cut her ties as the deputy drew Sam to the back of the car out of the roadway. “What’s going on?”

He gave a brief explanation, showing him the video on Remi’s phone, shielding the screen from the scattered rain.

“Where did this happen?”

Sam pointed north. “About five miles up. Some old warehouses on that first street near the docks. Second warehouse in.”

The deputy glanced at the bullet holes along the right rear fender of the SUV and the missing rear window, then keyed his radio, reporting shots fired at one of the abandoned warehouses outside Beaufort. “Three suspects. Description: white male adults, dark clothing.”

The dispatcher copied.

The deputy started for his car, but Bree called out, “What about my cousin?”

“What about her?” he asked.

“Did you talk to her?”

“At the house?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. No one answered the door. It was locked.”

Bree turned toward Remi, her face pale. “We have to go there and check! What if something’s happened to her?”

Nine

Bree grasped Remi’s arm. “Please. Larayne might be in trouble.”

“She’s right,” Sam said. “We have to check on her.”

“Sir,” Deputy Wagner said to Sam. “I’m going to have to trust you know what you’re doing. I have no idea what sort of backup Beaufort’s sending, and I’ve just sent the only other deputy within driving distance to deal with three armed men. I’m not about to leave him without backup.”

“We understand.”

The deputy turned a stern gaze to Bree. “I want the three of you—four, if your cousin is there—at the sheriff’s office for statements when this is done.”

He hurried to his patrol car, then sped off, the engine roaring.

“Let’s go,” Sam said, opening the driver’s door.

“What about our car?” Remi asked, climbing in the front passenger seat.

“We can pick it up on the way back,” Sam said.

Bree slid into the seat behind Remi, telling Sam, “Please hurry.”