In Too Deep. Sharon Dunn

nice. Cozy,” she said. “And your commute time to work is close to perfect.”

      He pointed for her to sit down on the couch. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get a couple hours’ sleep before I have to open up the shop.” Once his clerk came in, he would have to retrieve his boat. “Why don’t we wait on contacting the police. I can stick close to you for a little while until we know that guy won’t be after you anymore.” Though he didn’t want to alarm her—Sierra could potentially identify a man they’d been tracking for years—chances were, her life was still in danger.

      She studied him for a moment. “I could use some rest, I guess.”

      He hurried over to a closet and pulled out a blanket. “Be my guest. Take the couch.”

      “Do you have a landline? I want to make a few calls about Trevor first,” she said.

      “In the kitchen.” If she didn’t locate Trevor, she’d probably call the police about him. He couldn’t see the harm in that—the kid needed to be found—as long as she didn’t get the cops poking around his life and figuring out he was undercover.

      Joseph stepped down the hallway and collapsed on his bed. He listened to Sierra’s soft voice as she talked on the phone. His jaw tensed. He walked a tightrope here. Sierra was going to need some level of protection. If she knew he was undercover, they could come up with a ruse as to why they were together. She was working for him. Or they were an item.

      Out in the living room, things had gone silent. She must have lain down to sleep.

      Joseph pulled a pay-as-you-go phone out of his bureau drawer. His work required that he always keep an extra around. He dialed a number and explained the situation to his handler.

      “It is your call. If you think you can trust her not to blow your cover,” said the handler. “Clearly, she’s important to the investigation. Maybe her memory would be jogged if we got her to sit down with a sketch artist.”

      “I think I can trust her.” He clicked the phone off and closed his eyes. It took him only minutes to drift off to sleep.

      Sometime later, the ringing of the phone woke him with a start. He heard Sierra’s voice, this time filled with panic as she talked.

      She must have given his number to the people she’d called about Trevor. His chest squeezed tight. Judging from the tone of her voice, something bad had happened.

      Sierra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Trevor, where are you?”

      “I’m in trouble, Miss M. You need to come and get me. I can’t explain. I’m at Leman’s junkyard. Please hurry.” The line went dead.

      She hung up the phone with a trembling hand. Was Trevor’s plea sincere, or was she being set up? The anguish in his voice seemed very real.

      Joseph spoke from the hallway where he stood. “What’s going on?”

      “It’s Trevor. He’s in trouble.” She turned to face him. “I need to go get him.”

      “How did he know to call my number?”

      “I gave this number out to the people I called when I was looking for him. He must have gotten in touch with one of them first.” She rested her palm on her chest, where her heart beat erratically. “I have to go.”

      “This could be a setup.”

      “I know. I also know Trevor’s character and how hard he worked to get sober. I couldn’t live with myself if he was sincere and I left him out to dry.”

      “It could be a dangerous situation. Why don’t you let me go?”

      “Trevor trusts me.”

      “I’m going with you, then,” Joseph said. “You don’t have a car, anyway.”

      “I could just borrow yours.” Relief mixed with guilt as she stared into Joseph’s brown eyes. “What about the shop?” The truth was, she would feel better having Joseph’s help. She was still shaken by their run through the forest and being shot at.

      “I can call my clerk and tell him to come in early and open up.” He grabbed a denim jacket off the rack where he hung his coats. “Take this. Looks like a chilly morning out there.” He left the room and returned a moment later, wearing a jacket and holding a phone.

      “Do you always keep a spare phone around?”

      He grinned. “It’s a Boy Scout thing. Always be prepared.” Then he pressed in some numbers on the phone and pointed toward the landline phone. “Make note of the number Trevor called from the caller ID.”

      When she checked the number, she realized it wasn’t Trevor’s regular number. More cause for alarm. She wrote it down. Sierra listened while Joseph spoke to the clerk. Nothing in his tone let on that they were facing an urgent situation. “Listen, Jake, something has come up. If you could come in half an hour early and open up the shop, that would be great.”

      Joseph listened for a moment and then said, “Okay, thanks.” He hung up the phone and gazed at Sierra.

      His eyes seemed to look right through her. There was something he wasn’t saying. He hurried down the hallway and returned a moment later without explanation. They headed out the door, down to his Jeep.

      She tensed.

      What if they were stepping into a trap?

      She still didn’t know why Trevor had run off down at Fisherman’s Crest. She didn’t know where the boy’s loyalties lay. But she did know that she had to give the kid the benefit of the doubt, if there was any chance at all for him to turn his life around. Last night and this morning, when she’d talked to him on the phone, she’d detected the anguish in his voice.

      Joseph twisted the key in the ignition. “You’re going to have to give me directions.”

      “Head toward the north side of town. Take a left off State Street and follow the road out of town.”

      “Easy peasy,” said Joseph.

      She appreciated how calm he seemed to be. It helped her to relax, as well, as the morning sun warmed the interior of the car. Maybe this would just be a simple pickup. Sometimes teenagers tended to be dramatic when there was no reason to be.

      She glanced over at Joseph as they came to the edge of town. He drove past fields filled with cows, and the road changed from gravel to dirt. They drove for a long time without seeing another dwelling. This place was pretty remote.

      Then the junkyard, surrounded by a high fence, came into view. Buses and single-wide trailers served as part of the fence. The man who had owned the junkyard, Peter Leman, had died two years before, leaving no heirs. The county had not had the funds to clean up the area. The No Trespassing signs had not stopped teens from using it as a place to hang out.

      “The front gate is locked. We’ll have to park outside and walk in.”

      Joseph pulled off the road and killed the engine. “This is a big place.”

      “I have a pretty good idea where he might be.” She pushed open her door. “There’s a gap in the fence where we can get in.”

      As she hurried around to the side of the junkyard, her heartbeat kicked up several notches. She slipped in between a bus and board fence.

      Joseph followed her. He stood beside her, his hand slipped into his open jacket. She saw then why he had gone into the bedroom. He had a gun in a shoulder holster. He thought they might be stepping into something violent, too.

      Hadn’t he lost his first gun somewhere on their run through the forest? Maybe it was just for protecting his business, but she wondered why the manager of a skateboard shop would have two guns.

      A wall of partially crushed cars blocked her view of the rest of the junkyard. “This place is an accident waiting to happen, but we haven’t been able