Warning Shot

“She’s my fiancée and I won’t have her touched.”

“If she’s your girl, why she up here alone?”

“Rylee is deciding if she wants to live up this way. I imagine she got...confused. Turned around.”

“She was armed.”

“Everyone up here is armed. We got bear and moose and elk.” And survivalists with semi-automatic assault rifles, he finished silently.

Eddie released his grip on the rifle strap to scratch under his jaw at the coarse black beard. He looked so much different than from just a few years back when he was muscular and fit. Now his body looked undernourished and his face gaunt.

Axel watched Eddie as the man considered his options in silence.

After a long silent stretch, Axel had had about enough. “Open the gate or I’m ramming it.”

“You can’t do that.” Their eyes met.

“I’m getting my girl so open up or stand aside.”

Chapter Five (#u33d6a793-5388-5215-9aa5-4545932e00cf)

“Your girl, huh?” His old friend did little to hide his disappointment and Axel wondered if perhaps Eddie was attracted to Rylee. His answer came a moment later.

“She’s very pretty. Kind of prickly, though.”

“True on both accounts.”

He realized that here on the compound, Eddie had little opportunity to meet eligible women. Rylee was a beauty and smart and he was certain she would have zero interest in locking herself up on nine hundred acres to wait for disaster.

Rylee was here to stop that impending doom from arriving. He admired her for that.

“Eddie, I’m getting in my vehicle. That gate best be open before I get there.”

It wasn’t a bluff. He knew that his modest yearly budget did not include major damage to his vehicle, but he was getting up to the farm. By the time he had his unit in drive, Eddie was swinging back the gate.

Axel paused just inside to speak to Eddie. “Why don’t you come to my place for dinner one day?”

“Can’t.” Eddie made a face.

“Open invitation,” he said and headed off. Axel bounced along the twin groves that served as the access road to the compound, his windshield wipers screeching over the glass as he tried to clear the mist and mud.

RYLEE HAD BEEN stripped of her weapons and now accepted escort to one of the outbuildings. Judy Coopersmith had left her to see to her youngest son, Morris, who was heading to court today. Before leaving, she warned her husband, Stanley, that this little gal is a guest and is to be treated like one.

Stanley Coopersmith had his brother Joseph working on her car that had either a bad starter or a bad battery. Stanley thought Rylee should see something in his garage before leaving. She had time on her hands and so if Mr. Coopersmith wanted to give her a tour, she was happy to take it.

The garage turned out to be a huge prefab carport of aluminum, with a vertical roof that looked wide enough to park two tractor trailers in.

“We use it to repair our vehicles and construction. It’s right in here.”

The odor of motor oil, mildew and rust assaulted her before they’d cleared the single door that stood beside the huge twin garage doors. Inside, two pickup trucks stood end to end, one on blocks and the other with the hood open and a greasy tarp draped over one side.

Beside these casualties sat a backhoe with the bucket removed and showing one broken tooth. Along the back was a long tool bench. She picked her way past various replacement parts that littered the grease-stained concrete. On the cluttered surface of the tool bench sat one pristine device. It was a drone—white, approximately thirty-four inches with eight rotors, one of which had been damaged. She glanced at Coopersmith, who motioned her forward.

“Go on,” he said.

“Where did this come from?”

“Darned if I know, but I took that shot. It was carrying something, like a duffel bag. It dropped it across the river before I made that shot. Crashed out back and we scooped it up.”

“What’s across the river?” she asked.

He looked startled. “That’s the Mohawk Nation.”

“Do you believe that it is theirs?”

“No saying. I didn’t shoot it until it was over my place.”

“And its cargo?”

“Dropped on the Kowa side of the river.”

“Did they retrieve what the drone was carrying?”

“Can’t say. But I know someone has been trying to activate that drone remotely.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because the damn thing keeps moving around the garage. It’s why I chained her down.”

Rylee used a cloth to lift the drone. “Heavy.”

“Thirty pounds and no serial number. No markings at all that I can see.”

“When did you find it?”

“Yesterday.”

Monday, she realized, and the same day that Border Patrol followed a small man dropped off on the Canadian side, who crossed the border through a wooded area and then fled onto Mohawk land carrying a duffel bag. Had their suspect had the drone to carry out the cargo or did he have outside help?

“Were you planning to report it?”

“No. I was planning to take it apart and keep it. But if you want it, I’ll accept offers.”

“Offers?” She did a poor job holding back her surprise. “How much?”

“Take five hundred for it.”

“Done.”