The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy

by Pauline Baird Jones

  “What now, Phoebe? Or should I call you Nadine?”

  SIXTEEN

  Peter Harding climbed into the rear of his limo and found Stern waiting for him in the richly appointed interior. He stretched his long legs out with a sigh of satisfaction, enjoying the faint vibration of the automobile’s leashed power underneath him. Like him, this car was near invincible. The same company that supplied the President’s vehicles had made it. No one could get in or out unless he wanted them to.

  Stern gave a warning look toward the open partition separating them from the driver. “The police have a suspect in custody. They want us to come in.”

  “Okay.” Harding tensed. This wasn’t part of the plan. “The police station, Jim.”

  The driver nodded and put the car into motion. Stern closed the partition and added, “They want to put her in a lineup for our edification and possible identification.”

  “Her?” Harding felt a sharp bite of excitement. If it was Nadine…

  “Her. And under no circumstances will you give any sign that you recognize her, Harding. Under—No—Circumstances. We don’t want her cutting any deals with the Feds, now, do we?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “She’ll need a good lawyer. We get her one, get her bailed out. My boys pick her up and—”

  “And bring her to me!” Nadine. Back in his power where she was supposed to be. Where she was meant to be. He’d teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

  “This is not the time for that. Not while you’re in the press spotlight. Let it go. Let her be the one you didn’t get. I’ll make sure she disappears after I find out who and where her partner is. Once they are dead and buried, so is RABBIT.” For a moment anticipation gleamed in Stern’s dead eyes.

  “I have to be sure it’s her,” Harding insisted. Damn Stern just wanted her for himself. The asshole liked a challenge. Well, he wasn’t getting this one. Nadine was his. “I’ll be careful. But I get her first. When I’m through, you’ll have no problem convincing her to talk. She’ll do what she’s told, just like she used to.” He looked at Stern. “You can get your jollies off her partner, but I get her.”

  Stern shrugged, but Harding could tell he was annoyed. For once, he wasn’t sure Stern would do as he was told. He thought again about the anonymous note he’d received, warning him about secrets and people who knew them. It was a pity, because Stern had served him well, but maybe it was time to bury his secrets. Permanently.

  * * * *

  Being booked wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to Phoebe, but it came in a close second. The worst part was the loss of control, the loss of her personal power. It brought back echoes of her past and threatened her steely grip on the present. Only pride—and Bryn Bailey’s watchful gaze—kept her from breaking down while being strip-searched and then deloused. She donned her jail garb with outward nonchalance, pleased and surprised at how steady her hands were, all the while wondering if she’d ever be free of the smell of the delousing solution, wondering if her own scent would ever return.

  The female uniform who’d done the search held the door open, but that door would only take her to another cage, a different level of confinement. Phoebe paused in the doorway, feeling the barrage of law-abiding Kirby eyes hit her. Felt like more than three guys. The trio sure packed a personality wallop.

  She lifted her chin and drawled in her most Southern accent, “Interesting experience. Kinda brought back memories of my wedding night. Also brief but thorough.”

  She heard a muffled choke from Jake’s brother, Luke, and couldn’t resist looking his way. He was trying hard not to smile. She winked at him before letting Bryn prod her into an austere interrogation room. Bryn indicated a chair across from the court appointed lawyer and left the room, but Phoebe knew she and the Kirby’s three would be watching through the mirror affixed to the wall. She chose the one chair that put her back to the mirror, then reversed the chair’s position and straddled it. With her elbows propped on the straight, battered back, she clasped her hands to keep them from trembling or twitching.

  This was Pathphinder’s most difficult game. The board was obscured, her pieces scattered, and she was facing a public defender who looked as if he was about to wet his pants.

  Dewey would have come on the run and played a better lawyer, but that was what Phagan’s Fibbie was hoping he’d do. She had to protect her knight. She didn’t have that many pieces to play.

  “I’m Calvin. Calvin Dobbs, Miss…er…” His voice wavered up and down several octaves and his glasses slid to the end of his nose, dislodging a bead of sweat that had been hovering there. It dropped off the peak, then ran down to rest in the indention above his upper lip.

  “You call me whatever you’d like to, Calvin. I’m very flexible.” Phoebe smiled at him, but that only seemed to throw him into further disarray. “Have you ever done this before?”

  He gave her a panicked nod that could have meant yes or no. “Your charge sheet says your name is Nadine Beauleigh. Also known as Phoebe Mentel.” He looked up, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically against the pale skin of his long neck.

  Phoebe sighed and gave him a sad, soulful look. “Is it a crime to change your name?”

  “Um, no.” He stared at her as if mesmerized. “Um, is there anyone who can…verify…your identity?” He switched his pen from hand to hand.

  If the guy had any more nervous habits, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done. Phoebe slid her chair toward him, so that she was positioned between him and the mirror, took the pen and wrote a number on the inside cover of the file. “Call this number and punch in nine-one-one, then your number. Can you do that for me, Calvin?”

  “Of…course.” He took out his cell phone and dialed the number. When he’d managed it without too much shaking, Phoebe relaxed back in her chair. Now Dewey would know she’d been picked up, but that she didn’t need a lawyer.

  Calvin’s fingers tapped against the tabletop until he stopped himself by curling them into fists. “Now about these charges…”

  “I am, of course, completely innocent.” She gave him her most innocent look, batting her eyelashes a couple of times for emphasis.

  “Right.” He wrote completely innocent on the sheet, his handwriting blocky and labored like that of a first-grader taking a spelling test.

  She wished Jake were in here. He’d get a kick out of Calvin. Couldn’t be a coincidence she’d gotten such a totally lame lawyer. It appeared Bryn intended to play as dirty as she could get away with.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” Calvin asked. “Anyone else you want me to contact?”

  “I wouldn’t mind something to read. And cigarettes?”

  “Cigarettes? You don’t look like—”

  “I heard they’re just like money in prison.”

  His smile was surprisingly sweet. Good teeth, too. Calvin had lots of unrealized potential, Phoebe decided.

  “I don’t think you’ll be in here long enough for that. As soon as you’re arraigned, we’ll have you out on bail—”

  Before he could finish, the door opened. Bryn stepped into the room. “We need your client to participate in a lineup for the owner of TelTech.”

  Phoebe could feel her stomach muscles tighten and forced herself to relax. Peter Harding couldn’t touch her while she was in jail. Wow, she thought as she followed Bryn out, who’d have thought there could be an upside to getting your butt tossed in jail?

  * * * *

  Jake stood in shadow to one side, positioned to watch Peter Harding and his sidekick during the lineup. If he was Phoebe and Phagan’s current target, he wanted to know it. He heard the shuffle of movement as five women came out and formed a ragged line on the other side of the one-way glass. Harding licked his lips, his gaze moving along the row, stopping for a long moment on Phoebe before moving on.

  “Turn to the right,” Luke directed the women through a mike.

  Again Harding’s gaze traveled the row. It didn
’t stop at Phoebe, but it came back to her. He licked his lips again, and Jake saw sweat pop up on Harding’s upper lip. Jake’s skin crawled. The guy had a definite kink. No question.

  “Now to the left,” Luke said. “See anyone you recognize, sir?”

  Jake saw him look at Phoebe one last time, then at Luke. He shook his head.

  “Sorry.”

  He’s lying. Jake knew it even before he saw Harding watch Phoebe file out with the others. So why not finger her? Dumb question. If he was her target, he’d have a lot to hide. But what part of Phoebe’s past was he involved in? Research had revealed that all of Phagan’s other targets had a family connection of some kind to one of his runaways, but this guy, while old enough to be Phoebe’s stepfather, didn’t even remotely resemble the descriptions of Montgomery Justice. Maybe they needed to cast the net wider, look at her schoolteachers and others from her past.

  Harding started to leave. Jake stepped into his path. He was convinced Harding was Phagan and Phoebe’s target and decided to play a new card, one he’d been holding back. “Could you look at this picture, sir?” Jake pulled a mug shot of Oliver Smith out of his inside pocket. “You ever seen this guy?”

  Harding took the picture with an odd air of reluctance and studied it. “I’m not—sure—” He licked his lips again, but this time it was an obviously nervous movement.

  Stern took the photo, studied it, and handed it back to Jake. “He worked at TelTech for about three months. Then one day last week he didn’t show up for work.”

  “I’ll need the exact day,” Jake said.

  “I’d have to check his personnel file.”

  “We’ll need a look at that file,” Bryn said.

  “Our files are confidential and—” Harding began.

  “He’s dead. I don’t think he’ll care,” Jake said. Neither man looked surprised. Stern looked like a guy who might get his jollies pounding faces. Jake was looking into his past, but he’d look harder now.

  “I’ll see that it’s sent over,” Stern said. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No.” Jake watched them leave, relieved to have them gone. There was something off, something definitely wrong about the pair. No question—Stern was running interference for his boss.

  “Lovely pair, aren’t they?” Bryn asked.

  “You don’t like them?”

  She made a face. “I don’t like them, and I don’t like that I can’t find what they’re hiding. Did you see Harding staring at our girl?”

  Jake nodded. “You’re so sure they are hiding something?” he asked, curious to get Bryn’s take.

  “Oh, yeah. Guys like that, they can’t help it. I just haven’t found the right rock to look under yet.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “And I might not, without Little Miss Larceny. If we don’t open her up—” She looked at Luke. “You monitoring her?”

  Jake looked at his brother, too, noticing Luke didn’t look too happy.

  “Of course I am, but I’m not sure this is such a good idea—”

  “What’s not a good idea?” Jake asked. He looked at Bryn. “What’s going on?”

  Her expression hovered between defiant and guilty. “We haven’t got much time until she’s out on bail. Once she’s out, she’s gone.”

  “What have you done?” he asked Luke.

  Luke’s look was apologetic. “We put Phoebe in with Holly the Horror.”

  “What the hell?” Jake didn’t have to ask why Holly was a horror. Every jail had a prisoner who could be counted on to make life rough for the newly incarcerated. “Have you lost your minds?”

  Bryn bristled like an outraged hen. “It’s a proven technique for softening up—”

  “Explain to me how putting someone who was probably abused into running away from home into an abusive situation is going to soften her up?” He got in her face. “From where I’m standing, it just makes us abusers, too.”

  Her mouth worked for a moment as she struggled for control. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Next time you have a plan for my collar, have the professional courtesy to run it past me first.” He saw red spots of rage bloom on her cheeks, but he didn’t give a damn. He whirled on his brother. “Get her out of there. Put her in federal holding. Alone. Now. And I want her watched all the time. No one—I mean no one—goes near her without my permission.”

  Luke raised his hands in surrender. “I’m on it.”

  Jake saw more than surrender in his brother’s eyes. He also saw questions sprouting like weeds. He didn’t have answers. Well, he didn’t have good answers for why he was so pissed-off. At least not answers he wanted to share with his big brother. Life was hard enough without Luke and Matt knowing he’d gotten emotionally involved with a perp.

  “Chill, little brother,” Luke said, stirring the still-hot embers. “No one’s going to let your…collar…get hurt.”

  Jake’s hands curled into fists. He turned and stalked out before he took a swing at his brother. He’d lose that one, since Luke topped him in height and weight. That left Bryn, but, even pissed to hell and back, he knew better than to hit a woman. Maybe he ought to hire Holly to kick her ass.

  * * * *

  Phoebe knew something was up before she reached the cell in the local, not federal, section of the jail. When the cop opened the door, the hair on the back of her neck rose in warning. She stepped far enough through the door so he could close it, but no farther.

  “Be nice to the new girl, Holly,” the cop said with a smirk before strolling off.

  Phoebe heard a low growl from the shadows of the lower bunk. The bed creaked, then groaned as Holly rolled over and got up.

  She was beautiful. Tall and formed like an magnificent Amazon, she had a rioting mop of red hair and hard purple eyes. Her lush body strained every seam of the drab prison garb. The pointed red tips of lethal-looking nails fanned across her hips as she surveyed Phoebe with a distinct lack of welcome.

  Phoebe had a feeling Holly’s “nice” wouldn’t be pleasant.

  “You must have pissed somebody off, honey, ’cause that asshole knows I hate sharing. And I really hate getting woke up from my beauty sleep.”

  “I guess that means you’re going to try to kick my ass.” Phoebe spread her feet and softened her knees, her body tensed to respond to any sudden movement.

  “No, honey, it means I am going to kick your ass.” Holly clearly didn’t think it would be a problem.

  “It may not be as easy as you think. You’re gonna get bruised, too.” Phoebe met her narrowing gaze squarely. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “I don’t see why we should give the cops what they want, getting all bloody and bruised? Besides being messy, it’s boring.”

  “Boring?” A touch of amusement softened Holly’s hard eyes. “Getting pounded on is boring?”

  Phoebe shrugged. At least she’d succeeded in piquing Holly’s interest. “Let’s just say I prefer the unpredictable.”

  Holly circled to Phoebe’s left. Phoebe turned, keeping them face to face.

  “And unpredictable would be…?”

  Phoebe extended her hands, empty palms up, turned them over, did a small flourish and turned them back. A small harmonica was now in one hand.

  Holly looked surprised. “They let you bring that in here?”

  Phoebe shook her head.

  “How did you get it through the search?”

  Phoebe grinned. “Magic.” She made the harmonica disappear, then reappear.

  Holly laughed, a rich, rolling sound that echoed around the jail, bouncing off the arid walls in diminishing volleys before dying away. “I like you. What did you say your name was?”

  “My friends call me Phoebe.” Phoebe played her get-out-of-ass-kicking-free card. “I’m betting you have a hell of a fine voice. What say we kick their asses instead of ours?” She lifted the harmonica to just short of her mouth and smiled at Holly.

  “No wonder they wanted me to kick your ass.” Holly
’s eyes weighed her in the balance, then she smiled. “What the hell. No reason to break a nail for those assholes.”

  She sat down. “What can you play on that thing?”

  “Anything you can sing.” Phoebe sat on the commode and played a scale, then launched into an intro for “Amazing Grace.” She was right; when Holly came in on cue, she had one hell of a voice.

  SEVENTEEN

  Jake waited until he’d cooled down before heading for the jail. He found Luke and Bryn watching a closed-circuit monitor.

  “What?”

  Without answering, Luke pointed at the screen. Jake stepped around him and saw Phoebe in a cell with someone who had to be Holly the Horror.

  “Why haven’t you moved her?”

  “We were waiting until they finished Wild Thing.” Luke grinned at his brother.

  Jake did a double take. “Is that a harmonica?”

  Bryn’s expression was classically conflicted, with equal parts rage and laughter. She managed to control her twitching lips long enough to say, “Looks like the poor, little, abused girl can take care of herself.” She rubbed her temples. “Sure like to know how she got that thing past us.”

  Jake grinned. “Magic?”

  Luke gave Jake an amused, pointed look. “It’s obvious she has a highly disruptive influence on everyone she comes into contact with.”

  Jake rubbed the back of his neck, saw Bryn and Luke watching him do it and lowered his hand. “How about you get her out of there before she gets too comfortable, Luke, while Bryn and I figure out a new approach?”

  “You sure know how to take the fun out of things,” Luke grumbled good-humoredly as he left. Something told Jake he’d be back, though, with more questions for his little brother. Behind the humor had been a boatload of worry.

  Bryn crossed her arms and leaned against the console. “Works for me. What are you thinking?”

  Jake turned his back on the console and Phoebe. He couldn’t think while looking at her. “They go after their targets mainly to expose their nasty secrets, right?”