Chapter Text
"Russell needs your help."
Colter had absolutely not expected to hear those words when he'd answered Reenie's call. He shook his head slightly and then continued into his RV after having paused mid-step at her pronouncement.
"What?" He managed to sound only mildly concerned, although he'd already mentally run multiple scenarios and assigned probabilities to each.
Injured in the middle of nowhere? 30%. Russell was just as adept at taking care of himself in the wilderness as Colter, if not more so.
In the hospital with someone needing to contact next-of-kin? 5%, only because it was Reenie calling, plus she didn't sound worried enough for that.
In jail somewhere? 90%. While Russell would 100% have called Reenie if he couldn't get out of it alone, she was more than capable of making his bail or getting whatever charges against him dropped without having to call Colter.
Colter's current case was putting him in the crosshairs of some shadowy government organization? 0%, but only because Colter didn't have a current case. He had wrapped up his latest one two days before with no funny business; it had been a straightforward kid-goes-missing-on-a-hike sort of case.
Someone Russell knew was missing? 99%, especially since it had already happened once. The only question was why Reenie was the one calling Colter and not Russell.
"He's fine," Reenie added quickly, immediately dropping most of the scenarios in Colter's mind to 0%. "But he's looking for a missing detective in Central America and needs your help tracking him down."
Okay, that wasn't exactly what Colter had expected, but it wasn't shocking either. "The local cops can't find their own guy?" he asked, moving to his kitchenette to put the coffee on.
"Ah, but he's not a local," Reenie replied. "He's, uh—" the sound of shuffling papers interrupted her, then she cleared her throat "—a Charlie Hudson. He went missing in Belize yesterday."
Colter frowned. "An American is missing in Belize? Shouldn't the embassy be involved?"
"Well, he's Canadian, but circumstances are also a little… ah, murky… at best, according to Russell. I think his exact words were, 'Tell Colter to stop asking questions and just come down here and help me.'" Her grin was evident in her tone.
"Of course he did," Colter chuckled. The sound of the coffee machine starting to brew drew his attention for a moment, then he took a breath and nodded. "Well, if Velma can hold any further cases for now—"
"Already done," the other woman chirped over the line.
"Well, then, guess I'm going to Belize."
"Glad you finally made it," Russell remarked with a grin.
Colter shot him a look as he climbed up into the cab of Russell's truck and swung the door closed behind him. "You didn't even pick me up from the airport; you don't get to complain about how long it took me to get here."
They were parked outside of a depot, where Colter had just debarked from an hours-long bus ride following his flight into Belize. Colter glanced out of the windshield, watching his fellow bus passengers depart in various forms of transportation.
"I was busy," Russell retorted, though his tone immediately betrayed any attempt to seem gruff about the situation. "And it looks like you found your own way all right. You didn't need my help." He reached over and handed Colter a Thermos. "Here, got you a coffee."
"So are you going to tell me why you dragged me all the way down here, or is this going to be one of those 'I love you, little brother, but if I tell you, then I have to kill you and neither of us wants that' kind of situations?"
Russell raised an eyebrow. "First of all, I don't sound like that."
Colter smirked and took a sip of coffee.
"And second, no, I can actually tell you—at least mostly—this time." He held up a finger to head off whatever his brother was about to say. "But there is part of this story that I can't tell you, so don't push me for too many details, got it?"
"Got it." Colter didn't even try to hide his grin behind his cup.
The elder Shaw rolled his eyes but left the banter alone as he launched into his explanation. "For… reasons, I've been working down here, some nasty business with the cartels in the area that I don't have time to get into right now. Suffice it to say, anyone who could be a witness against them is usually threatened into silence or taken out. Sometimes both; the cartels don't seem to be too picky."
"And that's what happened to Hudson?"
"No." Russell gave him a look. "Well, not exactly. More in a roundabout way. He was down here looking for his missing brother, Jack Hudson, who it turned out got mixed up in helping a witness. When Jack went missing, Charlie came down to find him and got pulled into the cartel mess when he showed up."
Colter nodded slowly as he took another sip of coffee. "So it's safe to assume the cartel is also probably looking for him?"
"That's why we have to find him first."
"Where do we start?"
Tilting his head in a 'wait a moment' gesture, Russell shifted in his seat to reach into his back pocket. He pulled out a folded map, which he spread across the dashboard. Colter leaned forward to study the overview of the area as his brother continued.
"So, Hudson went in here," Russell said, pointing at one point on the map where a blue line snaked through the terrain. "He took a bullet when the cartel showed up for the witness his brother was helping. Jack and the witness were rescued by local law enforcement, but they were right by the water and the force of the shot took Charlie into the river before anyone could help him."
"Which is why I'm here," Colter nodded. "You want me to help track him down in case he's still alive." He reached forward and pulled the map closer, his eyes quickly tracing the various branches of the river Russell had indicated.
He'd done some research on the area during his trip down to join Russell, his brother having sent him enough information about the area they'd be searching for Colter to start scouring the internet for more details. Between that research and what Bobby had forwarded to his phone, Colter had a pretty good idea of what they would be up against in terms of the river conditions and the local flora and fauna.
"Okay…" Colter frowned, continuing to study the map as he ran through mental calculations. He sipped his coffee and traced the river with the index finger of his free hand. "Given water temperature at this time of year and currents… I'd estimate he could have made it… five or six miles downstream. Possibly as far as ten, but that would be stretching it even with the strongest currents. There aren't any major rapids to worry about, thankfully, and water temperatures in March here are warm—but you know as well as I do that an extended amount of time in the water while injured can still lead to mild hypothermia, especially if it takes hours before he's found."
"Mm," Russell nodded in agreement. "And we have to be concerned about infection risk from river water while he has a gunshot wound, besides the whole matter of blood loss."
Colter nodded grimly. "We need to find this guy now."
"Okay," Russell said, letting out a long breath. "Where's your best guess about where he'd have come out?"
Colter traced a circle on the map with a finger. "It's still too large an area for us to search alone, but I'd say probably this general radius. Whether he dragged himself out or someone found him remains to be seen."
Russell reached for the cell phone sitting in the empty cup holder. "Let me make a call. Hopefully we can get satellite photos of that area that'll point us in the right direction."
Colter lifted an eyebrow. "Do I want to know how you're getting those?"
"I know a guy," Russell replied with a smirk and a shrug of his shoulder.
It took much less time than Colter would have assumed for the photos to come through. Although considering how quick Bobby was sometimes, he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised that Russell's shadowy contacts had just as quick of a response time.
The brothers had started heading toward Colter's estimated search radius while waiting on the satellite images. They didn't have a lot of time to waste just sitting around; it was highly probable Charlie Hudson was in bad shape, and every minute counted.
Russell's phone buzzed, vibrating in the cupholder where he had deposited before shifting the truck into gear and starting down the rutted dirt road leading into the jungle.
"Here," Colter grabbed the device and handed it over. "Don't text and drive," he quipped.
"Very funny." Russell slowed the vehicle and turned the wheel to pull off to the side. The precaution probably wasn't necessary, as they hadn't seen another vehicle since they'd started out, but he ignored it and quickly parked and unlocked the phone.
The air conditioner was running full blast, but Colter could still feel the heat coming through the windows as the sun beat down on their vehicle. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve as he watched Russell's eyes flicking over the information on his phone screen, hoping for some indication Russell's contact had come through. They were going to be much more successful in their search for the missing detective with something to narrow down exactly where they should be searching. The jungle was dense, much more dense than some of the forests Colter had navigated for jobs in the past, and there was only so much visibility that any satellite imagery could give them. Not that Colter wasn't up for hiking through the jungle, although it wasn't his favorite terrain, but he knew Hudson's chances of survival went further down the longer they spent looking for him. The goal here was speed and efficiency, and he welcomed anything that gave them an upper hand in their task.
"Here," Russell said, snapping Colter out of his thoughts. He tilted the phone so they could both see as he swiped through the files. "Eyes in the sky, courtesy of a… guy who owes me a favor and doesn't ask questions."
Colter leaned across the center console, studying the slightly pixelated photo on the small screen. "This is the area we think he might've ended up in?"
"Based on what you think, yeah," Russell replied, scanning the aerial view of a dense patch of green and the snaking line of the river cutting through it. "Looks like these pictures are of the same area, just taken a short time apart."
Colter squinted. "Go back one."
Russell swiped in the opposite direction. "This one?"
"Yeah. There." Colter pointed at the screen. "Zoom in."
The photo was of a small bend in the river. Just above the shoreline was a pale smear, barely distinguishable but different enough from the surrounding shadows to catch his eye.
Russell tapped the screen to zoom in on one particular section of the photo. The detail wasn't great at such magnification, but the shape was obvious. Something—or someone—had been lying there.
"You see that?" Colter asked, gesturing at the screen.
"Yeah," Russell said quietly, flicking back to the previous photo, then forward again. "That wasn't there in the earlier frame."
"And it's not there in the next one," Colter remarked. "But see that?"
The shape was gone, but something else had taken its place.
"That's a canoe," Colter continued, and Russell moved the phone closer to study the image. "They pulled it up to the bank, dragged him out, then shoved off again."
Russell nodded, expression grim. "But we know they didn't take him to any of the hospitals. There's not one in that direction anyway, even if we didn't already know he hasn't turned up at any of the ones in the area."
"There aren't even any villages in that direction, not close by anyway," Colter said, recalling the map they had studied earlier. "That's nothing but jungle. Whoever found him's either hiding—either off the grid by choice or too scared to go anywhere else."
Meanwhile, Russell was still going back and forth between the photos. "Well, we know he was alive when they pulled him out. Otherwise, why take the risk of moving him at all?"
They were quiet for a moment, thinking over various scenarios and the implications of each. Then Russell let out a breath. "Okay, then we start there. That bend is maybe a day's hike upriver once we drive as far as we can go that way," he said, gesturing out the window. "Depending on the terrain once we get there," he added. "Not sure what the rains might have done to the ground recently."
"Right." Colter nodded and wiped away sweat from his brow again. "We'll have to move fast. If whoever found him thinks they're protecting him, they won't take kindly to strangers crashing through the jungle. "Not to mention," he added, "if the cartel's watching the river, we're not the only ones who might've noticed a trail like that."
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Russell replied with a nod of his head. He dropped the phone back into the cupholder before throwing the truck back into drive and spinning the wheel to get them back on the dirt road.
By late afternoon, they had reached the town closest to the stretch of river they had identified. It was a small place, just a few weathered buildings huddled together in the middle of the jungle. The number of boats that lined the shore told the Shaw brothers that most of the patrons frequenting the bar had traveled the river to get there.
They split up to ask around.
Colter tried the locals selling fruit under sagging tarps. No one had seen anything. Or rather, no one claimed to have seen anything, but he was inclined to believe them when the money he flashed still got him no real information. All he received were a lot of shrugs and suspicious glances when he mentioned someone washing up from the river.
When they regrouped at the bar, Colter dropped into the seat across from his brother with a scowl. "Nothing. Either they're protecting someone, or they just really don't want to talk." He glanced over to see a weathered fisherman counting a small pile of bills at a far table and looked back to Russell with a raised eyebrow. "I take it you had better luck than I did?"
Russell grinned and took a drink from a dark-colored bottle. "Yeah. He didn't have all the details, but he had quite the story about a half-dead foreigner who got pulled from the river a couple days ago."
"Did he know who?" Colter asked, leaning forward. Worry was nagging at the back of his mind though. If this fisherman had so willingly given the information to Russell, who else had he told? And how long did they have before the cartel found out—if they hadn't already?
"Someone who doesn't want attention," Russell responded wryly.
Colter raised an eyebrow.
"Real off-the-grid type, from the sound of it."
"So they're hiding him?"
"Maybe not hiding , exactly," Russell said. "But definitely not volunteering him to the authorities. My guess? They saw the gunshot wound and figured it was some kind of trouble they didn't want to invite into their life."
Colter frowned. "Makes sense. If they thought bringing him in would put a target on their back, they'd probably keep their head down until he recovered enough to move on." He glanced at the map again. "Did your new friend say where this off-the-grid good Samaritan lives?"
Russell shrugged and took another drink. "General direction. Just upriver from here, back into the jungle. No roads, but there's a narrow footpath that follows a ridge. We can be there by tomorrow if we leave at first light."
Colter nodded slowly. "Let's hope we're not already too late."
His eyes flew open with a start.
He didn't even remember drifting off in the first place, but trying to think just hurt his head.
Everything was hazy, and it was hard to focus on anything. He squinted at the ceiling above him, seeing it but not quite understanding where he was.
He'd been… where had he been? How had he gotten here?
For that matter, where was here? Where was he?
A low sound came from nearby, and panic flashed across his thoughts, so quick and desperate they took his breath away. He couldn't hold onto any one of his thoughts to even process what was going on, but the panic was there and strong enough to tighten his chest and quicken his breathing.
And that brought with it fiery pain that flashed up through his stomach and into his chest. He didn't even have time to think before it all crescendoed into a pounding in his head.
It was so sudden and so intense that it immediately took his breath away.
Something moved near his feet, a shadowy figure that sparked more panic. A low voice was speaking in a quiet, even tone, but a touch on his shoulders sent yet another jolt of renewed desperation through his chest.
He tried to move, tried to get out from under the pressing hands, but every attempt to move just made his stomach and chest hurt worse, and he couldn't find the energy to move more than a fraction of an inch.
The desperation continued to build, but he couldn't move.
The darkness along the edges of his vision continued to grow, ignoring the way he was struggling to stay awake. He had to wake up, had to fight off whatever was happening, couldn't let himself fall asleep…
But it didn't matter. The darkness took him while he struggled to draw a breath.