Cold Case at Cobra Creek

by Rita Herron

  What had happened? Where was she? Where was Dugan?

  Then reality seeped in, crashing against her, and she jerked and tried to sit up.

  “Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Dugan murmured.

  She rasped the sheriff’s name, then looked through the haze and saw Dugan looking down at her, his forehead furrowed with worry.

  “I called Jaxon. I’ll find Gandt, Sage, I promise.”

  She wanted to believe him, to trust him, but Gandt had gotten away. And...he didn’t know where Benji was.

  Tears clogged her eyes. If that was true, finding the sheriff didn’t matter. She still wouldn’t have her son.

  She clawed at Dugan’s hand, silently begging him to move closer. A strangled sound came from her throat as she tried to say his name.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Dugan whispered. “You need rest.”

  She shook her head, frantic that he hear her, then shoved at her mask.

  The medic tried to adjust it, but she pushed her hand away.

  “Dugan...”

  Dugan finally realized she needed to tell him something and leaned closer. “What? Do you know where he went?”

  She shook her head, her eyes tearing from emotions or smoke, she didn’t know which. “Said...Benji...” She broke into a coughing spell.

  Dugan clung to her hand. “Did he tell you where Benji is?”

  She shook her head again, choking out the words between coughs. “Gandt killed Ron.”

  “I know, and he sent Lloyd Riley to kill me.”

  Sage’s face paled even more. “Said Benji not with Ron....”

  “What?” Dugan sighed deeply. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded, tears running down her cheeks, like a river.

  He wiped them away and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Don’t give up. I will find him, Sage, I promise.”

  Despair threatened to consume her, and she gave in to the fatigue and closed her eyes. She felt Dugan’s hand closing around hers, heard his voice whispering to her to hang on, and the paramedics lifted her into the ambulance.

  Dugan squeezed her arm. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  She nodded. At least she thought she did. But she was too tired to tell.

  Then the ambulance jerked, a siren rent the air and she bounced as the driver raced off toward the hospital and away from the burning barn.

  * * *

  DUGAN HATED THE FEAR in Sage’s eyes because it mirrored his own. If he’d been five minutes later, she would have died.

  He shut out the thought. She hadn’t died, and the medics would take care of her.

  He had to find Gandt.

  But if Benji wasn’t with Lewis, and Gandt didn’t know his whereabouts, where was he?

  He’d already phoned Jaxon while waiting on the ambulance, and Jaxon agreed to put out a statewide hunt for Gandt.

  What the hell should he do now?

  Gandt was missing. Lewis dead. Rankins dead. Carol Sue dead.

  Who had Benji? Sandra Peyton?

  He jumped in his SUV and followed the deputy to the sheriff’s office to make sure that he locked Riley up. He half expected Gandt to be cocky enough to be sitting in his office, with his feet propped up.

  Did the sheriff know that Sage had survived? That Riley hadn’t killed Dugan?

  Did he think he’d gotten away?

  Itching to know, Dugan decided to check the man’s house. If he thought he’d gotten off scot-free, Gandt might be celebrating his good fortune. Or if he was afraid he was about to be caught, he might be packing to run.

  Dugan knew where the man lived. Out on the river, by the gorge.

  He whipped his SUV in that direction, eager to check it out.

  Traffic was nonexistent on the country highway, the wilderness surrounding him as he veered off the main road and drove into the wooded property where Gandt lived.

  The driveway was miles long, farm and ranch land sprawling for acres and acres.

  Why Gandt was so greedy when he had all this, Dugan would never know.

  When he neared the clearing for the house, he slowed and cut his lights.

  He rolled up behind a tree and parked, pulled his gun and slipped through the bushes along the edge of the property. The sheriff’s car was parked in front of the house, one car door open.

  Dugan slowly approached it, bracing for an ambush. But as he crept near the car and looked inside, he saw it was empty.

  Breathing out in relief, he ducked low and walked along the fence until he reached the side of the porch, which ran the length of the front of the house.

  The door screeched opened, and Gandt appeared. Dugan ducked low and watched, surprised at the sight of Gandt pushing a gray-haired woman in a wheelchair out the door.

  “I don’t understand why I have to leave,” the woman said shrilly.

  “Because I’m going away for a few days and can’t take care of you, Mother,” Gandt said, his tone contrite.

  “Can’t you hire a nurse like you did before?”

  “No, that costs a fortune. Gwen said you can come and stay with her.”

  The woman laid a hand on Gandt’s arm. “But her husband doesn’t like me.”

  “Mother,” Gandt said, his patience wearing thin in his voice, “just please try to get along with them. When I straighten things out, I’ll come back for you.”

  He pushed her down a ramp attached to the opposite side of the porch.

  “What do you have to get straightened out?” she cried.

  Dugan stepped from the shadows, his gun drawn. The woman gasped, and Gandt reached for his weapon.

  “Don’t,” Dugan said. “I’d hate to have to shoot you in front of your mother.”

  The woman shrieked again. “Please don’t hurt us.” She clutched Gandt’s arm. “Who is this man?”

  “My name is Dugan Graystone,” Dugan said. “I hate to tell you this, ma’am, but your son is not all you think he is.”

  Her sharp, angry eyes pierced Dugan like lasers. “You have no right talking to me about my son. What are you, some criminal on the loose?”

  “Mother, be quiet,” Gandt said through gritted teeth.

  “I’m not the criminal here,” Dugan said. “Mrs. Gandt, your son tried to have me killed, and he tied Sage Freeport—”

  “Shut up,” Gandt snarled.

  “You don’t want your mother to know what kind of man her son really is?”

  “My son is a wonderful man. He takes care of this town.”

  “Mother—”

  “He stole land from the ranchers and conned them. Then he shot Ron Lewis.” Dugan paused. “Did you kill Wilbur Rankins, too?”

  The woman turned shocked, troubled eyes toward Gandt. “Son, tell him that’s not so....”

  “It is true.” Dugan waved his gun toward Gandt. “Now I want to know where Sage Freeport’s little boy is.”

  Gandt walked toward Dugan, his eyes oozing steam as if he refused to admit to any wrongdoing. “You have a lot of nerve coming to my house, carrying a gun and making accusations.” He handed his mother his phone. “Call my deputy and tell him to get over here right now.”

  Dugan stepped forward, unrelenting. Did Gandt really think he could get away with all this? “Fine, tell him to come, Mrs. Gandt. Also tell him he’ll be arresting your son for murder.”

  The older woman gasped and clutched at her chest.

  Dugan dug the gun barrel into Gandt’s belly. “Now, where is Benji Freeport?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A siren wailed, headlights lighting a path on the house as Jaxon roared up in his Texas Ranger truck.

  Gandt cursed. “Let me take my mother back inside,” he said to Dugan. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Dugan felt sorry for the older woman, but he shook his head. No way did he intend to let Gandt out of his sight. Not even for a minute.

  Mrs. Gandt curled her arthritic hands in her lap, around the phone, fear mingling with doubt in her expression now. Had she suspected he
r son was helping to swindle the town? Or that he was capable of murder?

  Jaxon’s car door slammed, and he strode toward them.

  “Sheriff Gandt,” Jaxon said. “You are under arrest for the murder of Ron Lewis and for the attempted murder of Sage Freeport.” He read the sheriff his rights.

  Gandt reared his head, shock on his face. He hadn’t known Sage had survived. “You have no evidence of any crime I’ve committed. I’m the law around here.”

  “As a matter of fact, Sage Freeport is alive and she will testify that you tied her into the barn and set fire to it.”

  Gandt’s mother gasped, her expression reeking of shock. “No, no...tell them, son, you didn’t do those awful things.”

  “Lloyd Riley also claims that you blackmailed him into helping and ordered him to kill me,” Dugan added.

  “And speaking of evidence,” Jaxon said, “I just got confirmation from ballistics that the bullet that killed Wilbur Rankins is the same caliber you use, so add on another murder charge.” Jaxon took handcuffs from inside his jacket. “Put your hands behind you, Gandt.”

  Gandt shifted to the balls of his feet, jerking his hands as Jaxon grabbed his arms. “Mother, call Sherman, my lawyer,” he snarled.

  “No one is going to get you off,” Dugan said. “Because you’re going to pay for what you’ve done to Sage and to the people in this town.”

  Jaxon snapped the handcuffs around Gandt’s wrists, then spun him back around. “Do you know what happened to Benji Freeport? Did you kill him, too?”

  Gandt shook his head. “I told that woman he wasn’t with Lewis. I have no idea where he is.”

  Dugan ground his molars. Gandt was already facing murder and attempted murder charges, along with fraud charges.

  Why wouldn’t he tell them where the boy was?

  Because he really didn’t know. Which meant they might never find Benji.

  * * *

  SAGE WOKE IN the hospital to find Dugan sitting by her bed. He looked worn out, his face thick with beard stubble, his eyes blurry from lack of sleep, his expression grim.

  She broke into another coughing spell, and Dugan handed her a glass of water and held the straw for her to drink. “What time is it?”

  “About four in the morning. You okay?”

  Was she? She’d nearly died. And she still didn’t have her son back. “I’ll live,” she said softly.

  A pained smile twisted at his lips. “I got Gandt. He’s in jail.”

  Sage sighed and took another sip of water.

  “He blackmailed Lloyd Riley into helping him and ordered him to kill me.”

  Sage’s eyes flared with shock. “Did he tell you where Benji is?”

  A darkness fell over Dugan’s face, making her stomach tighten with nerves. “Dugan?”

  “He claims he has no idea, that Benji wasn’t with Lewis when he killed him.”

  Sage closed her eyes, hating the despair overwhelming her. She’d thought for certain that finding Ron’s killer would lead them to her son.

  “I won’t give up,” Dugan said in a gruff voice.

  “But Carol Sue, the woman we thought might have Benji, is dead.”

  “True, but Sandra Peyton is still unaccounted for.”

  “I know. Thanks, Dugan.” Her earlier ordeal weighed her down. Or maybe it was defeat.

  Sage closed her eyes, willing sleep to take her away from the memory of Gandt leaving her in that burning barn.

  And the reality that she still had to face another Christmas without her little boy.

  * * *

  DUGAN SETTLED ONTO the recliner beside Sage and watched her sleep. Although the danger was over for her, he couldn’t bear to leave her alone tonight.

  Not with knowing he’d failed to find Benji.

  And not with images of her lying in that blazing fire, nearly dead, tormenting him. He could have lost her tonight.

  Lost her? He’d never had her....

  The realization that he cared so damn much that it hurt made him stand and pace to the window. Cobra Creek was quiet tonight.

  The deputy would temporarily take over for Sheriff Gandt. Once the red tape was handled, the ranchers who’d been duped would get their land back.

  But Sage was right back where she was when he’d decided to help her.

  Making matters worse, Christmas was almost here. The image of that pitiful little Christmas tree with the unopened package under it taunted him.

  Sage should have a full-size tree with dozens of gifts beneath it, and her little boy should be home making cookies with her and opening presents Christmas morning.

  He considered buying her a gift, but nothing he could buy would make up for the void in her life that losing Benji had left.

  She stirred, restless, and made a mewling sound in her throat, then thrashed at the covers. He soothed her with soft words, gently stroking her hair with one hand, until she calmed.

  More than anything, he wanted to bring Benji back to her.

  He’d never felt this emotional attachment before. This intense drive to please someone.

  God...he was falling for her. Maybe he had been from the moment she’d looked up at him with those trusting, green eyes.

  But what was he going to do about it?

  He couldn’t tell her or pressure her. Sage had already suffered too much. And she was vulnerable.

  Besides, why would she want him when he’d failed her?

  He finally fell asleep in the chair but woke a couple of hours later when the nurse returned to take Sage’s vitals. He stepped out for coffee and to grab some breakfast while they helped her dress.

  By the time he returned, the doctor was dismissing her.

  “I’ll drive you home, Sage.”

  She thanked him but remained silent as the nurse wheeled her to the exit and on the drive home. When they arrived at the inn, the Christmas lights mocked him.

  “Thank you, Dugan. I have to go shower and get out of these clothes. They stink like smoke.”

  She was right. Worse, they were probably a reminder of her near-death experience. He climbed out and walked her to the door.

  “I can stay with you for a while if you want.”

  Sage shook her head, fumbling with the key as she tried to unlock the door. “I need to be alone.”

  Dugan took the keys from her and unlocked the door, not ready to leave her. He needed to hold her, to know that she was still alive and safe. That there might be hope for the two of them.

  But she stepped inside and blocked the doorway. “Good night, Dugan.”

  Dugan reached up to take her hand, but she pulled it away and clenched the door edge.

  “I’m not giving up, I will find Benji,” Dugan said earnestly. Sandra Peyton might be the key.

  She gave a small nod of acceptance, yet the light he’d seen in her eyes had faded. Damn, she’d lost hope.

  The hope that had helped her survive the past two years.

  She closed the door in his face, and Dugan cursed.

  Maybe she didn’t return the feelings he’d developed for her. But he’d be damned if he’d let her give up on her son.

  * * *

  SAGE WAITED UNTIL Dugan left, then walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. The Christmas tree with Benji’s present sat on the table, looking as bare and lonely as she felt.

  Dugan said he wasn’t giving up.

  But she was smart enough to realize that they’d reached a dead end. If Gandt didn’t know where Benji was, who did?

  Sandra Peyton.

  The woman could be anywhere by now. If she’d taken Benji knowing Ron abducted him, she had probably gone into hiding.

  Angry and frustrated and full of despair, she took the water to her bedroom and jumped in the shower. The hot spray felt heavenly as it washed away the stench of the smoke.

  But the memory of Gandt coldly leaving her to die couldn’t be erased so easily.

  The silence in the house echoed around her, eerie and lonely, as she dried
off, pulled on a pair of pajamas and collapsed onto her bed.

  Dugan’s scent lingered, teasing her senses and making her body ache for his comforting arms and touch.

  But she couldn’t allow herself to need him. She had to stand on her own.

  The only thing she wanted right now was the little boy who’d stolen her heart the day he was born.

  She had nothing to give to a man like Dugan. A man who deserved so much more than a broken woman like her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Christmas Eve

  Dugan had called Sage several times the past two days, but she had cut him off. Not that she hadn’t been polite. She’d made it clear that if he learned anything new about her son, he should call her.

  But she obviously didn’t want a personal relationship with him.

  Because he’d let her down. He’d promised to bring her son home and he hadn’t, and she would never forgive him.

  He let Hiram and his other two hands go early so they could spend Christmas Eve with their families.

  Dugan would spend another one alone.

  Normally the holidays meant nothing. Being alone didn’t bother him. He loved his land and his work and his freedom.

  He didn’t know how to be part of a family.

  So why did his chest have a sharp pain to it because he wasn’t spending the night with Sage? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her, wondering what she was doing, if she was baking for Christmas dinner, if the inn smelled like cinnamon, if she was lighting a candle for her son, in hopes that it would bring him back to her?

  Dammit.

  He rode back to the stables, dismounted and brushed down his favorite horse, then stowed him in his stall. Just as he walked across the pasture toward his house, his cell phone buzzed.

  Hoping it was Sage, he snatched it up, but Jaxon’s voice echoed back.

  “Dugan here.”

  “That reporter, Ashlynn Fontaine, called. Said she got another tip from that tip line.”

  Dugan’s pulse jackknifed. “Tell me about it.”

  “This woman claims she thinks she’s seen Benji, that she works with this waitress named Sandy Lewis, who has a little boy named Jordan. When she saw the news report, she realized Jordan was the spittin’ image of Benji.”