Page 25 of Canyon of Deceit
I’d encountered few evil people in my line of work, mostly those struggling to survive against incredible odds.
He talked on. “Another question is, who flew the plane? Is the person one of the men holding Alina, or are there three men like Rurik speculated?” Blane blew out his exasperation. “Sergio and the FBI suspect a cartel member. What a mess of unanswered questions.”
My heart thudded against my chest, and my ears sounded warning alarms. “Blane, what have I been thinking? We’re looking at a man who understands surviving in the high desert and has no value for human life. I’ve thought of little but who that person could be. One who can pilot a plane with strong connections to the cartel. That’s him.”
He swung to me like I’d spoken an alien language. “You have a name for someone who has those characteristics?”
I swallowed hard, fear creeping up my throat. “I’ve had two dealings with a man fitting that description. Nasty. Cruel. He uses different aliases and disguises, making it easy to escape the authorities all over the southwest. He’s wanted for murders and a suspect in other violent crimes. He runs guns for a cartel, steals whatever he needs and whatever else brings him money.”
Blane grabbed his phone. “Name?”
“His signature calling card is a peregrine falcon feather.” Scaling a cliff was easier than sorting through names. “Rumors are he chose the bird of prey because of its hunting skills and incredible speed.” His image confronted my sanity. “He has a nasty scar down the right side of his face. I swore I’d never forget Chan—”
“Are you talking about Tom Chandler? His criminal activities are usually associated with the cartel. He’s like a chameleon and deadlier than a lit fuse.” He snapped his fingers. “He flies his own plane in and out of Mexico and South America. Why would he take on a kidnapping unless the ROC have more at stake than the conversation Rurik overheard?”
“Chandler has the skills to pull this off.” I grabbed my coffee from the cupholder and finished it. I’d hoped, no prayed, I’d never see Chandler again except a photo of him cuffed in policecustody. “He’s memorized every rock and bush of the Guadalupe Mountains.”
“If Chandler flew the kidnappers here, he wasn’t involved in the murder or kidnapping, or he’d have left a feather.” Blane pressed in numbers on his phone. “I’m texting Rurik to find out.”
How could one demonic man be involved in this?
Blane’s phone sounded with a text. “He says, no, and asked why.” Again Blane typed into his phone. “I told him we had a possible suspect but nothing concrete.”
I stuck a loose strand from my ponytail behind my ear. “If it’s Chandler, they paid him well.”
“He’s a piece of work—arrogant. Would double-cross his own mother.” Blane’s worry lines deepened around his eyes. “Chandler doesn’t release hostages.”
I shivered. “Makes me sick.”
“What were your dealings with him?”
Not exactly a fond memory. “Happened about four years ago. A man had gotten lost while hiking Mount Whitney in California. His hiking partners called for help, and I led a search team. We found him unconscious off an icy trail. He’d encountered Chandler, who’d stolen his backpack and shot him in the leg. Left him to bleed out.
“While some of the men tended to his injuries and prepared to carry the hiker to safety, I led two armed men to hunt for Chandler. At the time I had no idea what he looked like, only had the wounded hiker’s description.” I gripped the steering wheel of the Jeep. “I’ll never forget those beady, near-black eyes, fitting for a peregrine. We heard gunfire and backtracked to find he’d ambushed those we’d left behind. A man ordered Chandler to drop his weapon. He whirled around and fired at him. I kicked the gun out of his hand. Took him down. He bested me, retrieved his gun, and got away. I have a scar on my left arm where I survived a bullet. I had a knife in my boot, and... I gave him the scar on his face.” I couldn’t stop my body from shuddering. “Anyway, the hiker and two other men didn’t make it.”
“I’ve heard tales, and none of them give me any reassurance. Iunderstand he likes to taunt his prey, then tells them exactly what he will do to them. He despises women.”
I gripped the steering wheel and hoped Blane didn’t notice my terror. “I had my hair up and wore a full-face hat in the cold.”
“Probably what kept you alive. I’m sorry. If he’s with Alina and the kidnapper, we’ll need our guns more than negotiating skills.”
“There’s more. Later in the news, my name came out. I’m sure he’s not forgotten me.” I sent a silent prayer to the One who routinely out-negotiated the devil.
He used his phone and greeted Major Montoya. Blane relayed that Tom Chandler might be involved in Alina’s abduction. “Would you check out Chandler’s latest whereabouts and get back to me?” Blane waited while Major Montoya talked. “Right. I’d be interested in learning if the city’s security cams link him with Rurik Ivanov, Jurg Falin, or any Russians who might have had a hand in this.” He waited again. “Yes, and a link between the cartel and Russians might open this up more. Check security cams in Texas and New Mexico around these mountains.”
Blane listened to his major. “Did the security cams around Alina’s school grounds give us anything? Any cams that traced Daria’s route home or passengers? What about security cams from the homes around the Ivanovs’?” He gazed at me, no doubt repeating what Major Montoya had said for my benefit. I wished I’d heard the major’s words firsthand.
Blane laid his phone on the Jeep’s console. “Nothing at this point.”
“Why did Daria pick up Alina from school when she obviously didn’t spend time with her? And how did her decision affect her murder and Alina’s kidnapping?”
“You and I are experts at asking questions without answers. Those will come just like rain when we need it most.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. You do know high altitude affects memory.”
“But not a seasoned wilderness-survival expert like you.”
“Hey, Jack.”
