The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy

by Pauline Baird Jones

  Matt and Luke paused in their gawking to give Bryn politely incredulous looks. Her answering smile lacked humor.

  “Trust me. This guy could make the Statue of Liberty disappear,” she said.

  Luke rubbed his face and scowled at the oblivious lawyer through the glass. “Like to help you take this Phagan and his gang down. Hate people who prey on abused kids.”

  Jake felt his defenses come up at his brother’s words, but before he could speak in Phoebe’s possible defense Bryn said with more than a hint of defensiveness in her own voice, “He doesn’t exactly prey on them. At least, not the way you’re thinking.”

  Both Jake’s brothers turned to stare at her as if they couldn’t quite believe what they were hearing. They were so much alike, that it was almost spooky.

  Bryn was still staring at Kevin and his lawyer, so she didn’t know she was in trouble yet. “You’re thinking he’s like Fagan in Oliver Twist, but it’s not like that at all. He…well…helps them.”

  The silence that followed these words seeped into her distraction and alerted her too late to the danger. With lifted chin she turned to face their amusement.

  “Are you saying,” Luke asked, “he’s a good thief?”

  She stared at him for a long moment before replying with tight annoyance, “Of course not. He does get these kids in school, he finds them places to live, helps them become useful citizens.” The polite incredulity in his brothers’ faces slowed her down some, Jake noted with an inward grin. “At least, that’s what the word on the street is. His actual…band…of thieves is a very small, very limited…group. And their targets are not even close to being upstanding citizens.”

  She kept her chin up and gave them a cold stare, then turned back to the window, leaving Jake to grin at his brothers.

  “Actually,”—Jake offered a bit of support, since he happened to agree with her—“their targets are downright gnarly.”

  “And if,” Luke asked, “we figure out who their current target is here, we have to protect them?”

  Jake nodded, noting out of the corner of his eye that Bryn started to say something, but then stopped. He made a mental note to probe this later, when they were alone.

  “Well, that sucks.”

  Jake nodded again.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t try so hard here?”

  Matt shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe their attitude. “If we identify their target, how about we take him out ourselves?” He pointed his hard gaze at Luke, then at Jake before asking, “I supposed you’ve tried to infiltrate?”

  “Of course.” This question put Bryn back on more comfortable ground. “But we couldn’t come up with a cover deeper than Phagan could penetrate. We even tried using actual runaways.”

  “What happened?” Luke asked.

  Bryn compressed her lips into a grim line, then opened them far enough to admit, “He turned them. He has a reputation for being quite the charmer.”

  It was obvious to a blind man that this was touchy ground for Bryn, and neither Jake nor his brothers were blind. As one, they all gave silent whistles and turned to the far more fruitful activity of pondering the wickedly attractive lawyer in the interrogation room, who now had Kevin grinning like an idiot.

  * * * *

  Phoebe closed her briefcase and stood up to leave. When the curtain of her hair swung forward to cover her face, she told Kevin, “They’ll move you to juvie after I get done with them. Hang tight. We’ll have you out of there before they can spoil your palate.”

  Kevin stood up and wiped his hand on the side of his ragged jeans before taking the hand she held out to him. “Uh, thanks.”

  His voice cracked in the middle, but Phoebe pretended not to notice. She’d stayed longer with Kevin than she’d planned to, because of a mix of pity for his obvious terror and her own self-preservation. She’d needed the time to achieve internal equilibrium again. She could feel Jake watching her through the one-way window. Coldhearted bitch had definitely been the right choice.

  It had been quite a shock to come face to face with him, especially so close on the heels of running into his brother the DPD cop. Jeez, looked like the whole family was into law enforcement, though she still wasn’t sure exactly what Jake was. She sure knew how to pick a guy to lust after. If Phagan ever found out, there’d be no virtual reality peace for her ever again.

  She gave Kevin’s clammy hand one last, comforting squeeze, squared her shoulders and turned to face her problem. At least she’d soon know exactly what he was and what she was up against.

  The impact of Jake’s gaze was every bit as unnerving as she’d expected it to be. To avoid direct eye contact, she pulled out fake business cards and handed them around.

  “He’s got nothing to say,” Phoebe said in a clipped northeastern accent that she’d picked up on a gig with the band many years ago, “and you’d better move him to juvenile detention or your asses are grass. I feel certain that you’ll charge him within the required time?”

  With smiles that were half-dazed, half admiring, and one that was very bitter, the three men and one woman handed her their cards.

  Luke signaled to a uniform. “Move the kid to juvenile,” he directed, then turned back to Phoebe. “You’ll be the first to know when we file charges, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” She turned and found Jake looking at her, a frown between his wild-boy brows. Time to get the heck out of Dodge before he figured out what puzzled him. It took all her control not to let any sign of recognition light her glassy green eyes. Her fingers gripped the handle of the briefcase so tight her arm ached. Turning away from him was like breaking free of gravity. She didn’t lose the force of his pull until she was outside.

  Dewey was waiting, but she wished he wasn’t. She needed time and some space to regroup. During that Maine gig, where she’d acquired the accent, she’d taken an early-morning walk down to the wild, rocky shoreline. The wind roaring in from the sea had almost knocked her back on her heels. She’d dug in and taken the buffeting until she was tired enough to sleep again.

  That’s how she felt now, only this time the wind wasn’t coming from just one direction. It was hard to dig in her heels against this multi-directional buffeting. Her instinct was to hit the ground and hope it all would pass her by, but that instinct had to be suppressed. She’d brought this on herself by trailing her cloak in front of Harding. As always, there was no retreating, only forward until some kind of ending was reached. Then it wouldn’t matter what happened.

  She felt the sun’s light hit her without giving warmth. She missed warm, missed the warm she’d felt around Jake. There was tonight, she reminded herself. He was meeting her at the bar. It wasn’t wise to look forward to it, now that she knew he was a federal marshal. Course, if she’d been wise, she wouldn’t be getting into a limo next to a thief.

  This made her smile as she climbed in beside Dewey.

  “I take it things went well?”

  “He’ll hold,” Phoebe said. “But he’s made some interesting new friends.” She handed him the business cards she’d collected. She should tell him about Jake, but she didn’t think she could without giving away more than she was ready to.

  Dewey studied the cards, his eyebrows arching like rising half-moons. “Impressive. Kev’s definitely hit the big time.”

  “The woman and this guy,” she tapped Jake’s card, careful to keep her voice neutral, “were at the bar last night. You may have noticed them, too. She left with Jesse and he was my ride.”

  Dewey made a face. “The flyers. Phagan thought he got them all. He won’t be happy to know he didn’t.”

  “I called Phagan from the pay phone in the hall. I know better.”

  “Hey, hounds have been closer than this. Don’t sweat it. Just do what you do best. Find us our next step forward.”

  The next step? She frowned. Their game was picking up the pace. She could feel it the same way she felt an avalanche coming. They needed to move faster or they’d get buried
. “You got your phone with you? I need to call Phagan.”

  He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and pushed the power button, then gave it a shake. “Guess I let the battery run down. Sorry.”

  Phoebe leaned forward and opened the glass between them and the driver. “Pull over here and wait.”

  She slid out, leaving Dewey alone in the car. He pulled the door to and watched her walk over to the pay phone, her walk hitting somewhere between the bitch lawyer and Phoebe. She fed it coins, punched in the number, and a few seconds later his cell phone rang. Sometimes he thought he should just tell Phoebe he was Phagan. But, it protected them both. As long as she didn’t know who he was, she wouldn’t have to choose between her freedom and his if the Feds picked her up.

  He fitted a voice synthesizer over the mouth of the phone and then pushed Send.

  “Yeah.”

  “The missing one returns,” Phoebe said, her voice sardonic and relieved. “Jeez, Phagan, the shit’s hitting the fan here. Not a good time to go AWOL.”

  “There’s never a good time to go AWOL, darlin’,” he said, grinning when he saw her shake her head. “Besides, the brown stuff is your specialty, not mine.”

  She leaned against the side of the phone booth and rubbed her face, her wry smile lighting her face.

  “What you gonna do about it?”

  “I think we need to move up the timetable.” They’d planned to hit TelTech the night before Harding was due to turn RABBIT over to the military, going for maximum embarrassment, but she could tell in her gut that things weren’t going to hold together until then.

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow. I think we need to go tomorrow.”

  “Okay. You want to tell Dewey or should I?”

  “He’s waiting for me in the car.” She hesitated, then added with sudden mischief, “I met your Fed. You know, she’s more likely to kick your ass than jump your bones.”

  She hung up before he could bite back. He stowed the phone. “Smart-ass. I knew you’d figure something out.” He sighed. “Wish you weren’t right about my Fed.”

  He leaned forward and told the driver, “Find me a flower shop.”

  Phoebe heard him as she scrambled back in beside him. “Don’t tell me you’re in love, too?” she asked, sliding in next to him and closing the door. “You and Phagan will have to start a club.”

  He grinned. “I won’t. And we won’t.” He leaned back. “So what did Phagan say?”

  EIGHT

  Jake stared after the lawyer, his instincts screaming a message he didn’t quite understand. Or maybe he didn’t want to understand. Because what he was feeling just wasn’t possible, was it?

  Behind him he heard Bryn saying, “Somebody check this name and address. See if she’s local. If she’s not—” She didn’t have to spell it out for them. If her ID was bogus, she was a link to Phagan, however tenuous. “Check this card she gave me. You should be able to get her thumb and index. Also, check here where she touched the doorknob, the table and the chair she pulled out and sat in. Get me a good set of latent prints and I’ll buy you a round at the local bar. Get me a real name to go with them and I’ll have your child.”

  Jake heard their chuckles but from far away as his brain played with the pieces of the puzzle, trying to find a pattern. The bar. The game seemed to be shifting to Denver, but he still felt JR’s was important. Or did he just want to keep his promise to meet Phoebe there later? Wasn’t like him to lose his focus in the middle of the hunt. Or was his focus getting clouded? It was obvious someone besides him was interested in the bar. Could it be someone sent by Phagan’s current target?

  Okay. Phagan targeted people who hurt kids. If past patterns were any indication, it wasn’t enough to just hurt them. He’d want his target to know who was after him and why. Not a surprise, and on the advice of their lawyers, Phagan’s past targets weren’t talking about their experiences with him. No information available on whether Phagan engaged in a little judicious gas lighting prior to the main move. If he were Phagan, it’s what he’d do, even if an alert target was harder to move on.

  Just thinking about Phoebe’s being involved in something so dangerous sent cold chills down Jake’s back.

  Queen to king’s three.

  Her beeper message abruptly came back to his mind, this time weighted with more significance. Was it really a chess move, or a call to some other action? There’d been no chess set at her office and he hadn’t seen one at her house this morning.

  If the king were the target…

  The queen was a key piece.

  Was this Phoebe’s game? Or was she Phagan’s Pathphinder? Their initial investigation on Phoebe Mentel had turned up no sign of criminal priors, but that didn’t mean much. With Phagan involved, Phoebe wouldn’t be her real name. In Phagan band’s past priors there was no hint of a woman. Despite their care and obvious expertise, the FBI had picked up Dewey Hyatt, Ollie Smith and a couple of the runaway kids. Hadn’t managed to hang on to them, but they had been picked up. If Phoebe was Pathphinder, as he was beginning to suspect more and more, then it was possible that her role was that of planner, strategist, and not active participant.

  Until now?

  She was one tough lady, but she wasn’t superwoman. He could feel the heat, the subdued rumble of trouble about to blow out of control, more trouble than even she could manage. That’s what his gut was telling him, and he always trusted his gut.

  “What you gonna do?” Matt asked him.

  “Heading back to JR’s and keep a close eye on the lady singer. She’s gonna make a move soon and I plan to be there when she does.”

  A pat down for his keys helped him avoid his brother’s eyes. He found the keys halfway through a long pause. Nothing for it but to look up. Some things couldn’t be avoided. His brother’s eyes were among those things.

  “What?” he asked, resenting the fact that his brother could still make him feel defensive and about fifteen years old.

  “What’s going on?” Matt asked.

  “What’s always going on—the hunt.”

  “Just the hunt?”

  Jake met his brother’s probe squarely. “Just the hunt.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Even if he felt something for Phoebe, there was nothing he could do about it except follow the rules. Jake followed the rules. Always.

  “Call me,” Matt ordered.

  “It’ll be late. Don’t think Dani would appreciate the wee-small wake up,” Jake said in lieu of agreement as he headed out the door.

  “Call me.”

  Jake stopped, his shoulders rising in a sigh as big as Phoebe’s Texas. He looked back. “You’re worse than Mom.”

  “That’s ’cause I’m bigger and meaner.”

  He had a point. Jake grinned. “I’ll call you.”

  He waited until his back was to his brother to mentally add, when I’m damn good and ready. He tossed his keys up and neatly caught them coming down. A pretty, policewoman coming into the building smiled back.

  Jake held the door for her, then forgot her as his thoughts turned once more to Phoebe and JR’s. Those thoughts were as twisted as the road back to Estes Park, and like some bizarre version of a Monopoly game where all moves led to jail, with the Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free cards in the hot hands of Bryn Bailey—who wasn’t known for passing them out.

  Bryn hadn’t said much about her investigative efforts today but he had a feeling she had a good lead to Phagan’s target. Obvious she didn’t want to talk about it, either in the police station or in front of his brothers. He’d dig it out of her later.

  Jake turned his truck into the parking lot at JR’s, surprised to find Phoebe’s SUV missing. It was well past the time for the band’s sound check. Somehow it didn’t seem like her to be late.

  Inside JR’s he found two Mentel boys hunkered down in front of the bar nursing a couple of beers. The other two were hanging from the ceiling with climbing gear.

  Jake had known guys like that; climbers who just weren�
��t comfortable unless they were suspended over something. Once again, Jake was struck by what a pretty group of boys they were. No wonder girls flocked around them like buzzards to a carcass.

  All four returned Jake’s examination with varying degrees of interest, ranging from the outright bored to the mildly curious.

  “You seen Phoebe Ann?” her ex-husband asked Jake. “Ain’t like her to be late for a sound check.”

  Jake shook his head. Worry took a big bite of his gut and held on like a pit bull. Maybe he should have stayed on her tail instead of following the con. “Not since this morning.”

  The one called Toes lowered a bag to his brother at the bar, drawing it back up when it held a couple of beers. “Think she headed into Denver,” he said. “Something about needing strings for her guitar.”

  So she had been in Denver today. Trouble was, he couldn’t see how she could have pulled off what he suspected she’d pulled off. How she could change herself that much? How she could face him down in the freaking police station without even a flicker of nerves? It didn’t seem possible. So far the prints Bryn had collected had turned up a big, fat negative match with Bryn’s Phagan gang files but it would take several days to get a definitive answer back from the national database.

  Leg spun himself in a slow circle, snagging one of the beers from his brother as he went by. “One of the amps is acting up, too.”

  Their comments reinforced his initial impression that Phoebe was the linchpin that held this group together. The insight aroused his professional interest as much as her earthy sensuality aroused his body.

  “Wouldn’t she call if she was running late?”

  From the doorway, Phoebe watched the guys look at each other. Mert said, “Dunno. We’re usually the ones who are late.”

  “Well, that’s surely God’s truth,” she said. She stared at the waiting men, holding herself erect with an effort. She was both glad and sad to see that Jake had beaten her here. She’d wanted to see him as bad as she needed air, but not yet. Not without some time to put Phoebe back together. She’d been too many people today. She felt fragmented, her hold on Phoebe uncertain and fragile.