Texas Ranger Showdown

by Margaret Daley

  “Not until you do.”

  “I am. Granny won’t go to asleep until I do. I wanted to ask you one question. Do you think the killer has murdered a fourth victim? Those notes usually show up when he has. The question mark might mean we have to guess who it is.”

  “As I said, no photo. I don’t know exactly why he left that note with the question mark, but he may genuinely be wanting you to stop him.”

  “I don’t know who the killer is. How can I stop him?”

  He grasped her upper arms and brought her closer. “All I know is that I don’t want you alone. His fixation on you is growing.”

  She shuddered. Ian rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

  “Where I go you go, and where you go I go. I’m not losing you after all these years.” He brushed his mouth across hers, whispering, “Good night.”

  He stepped back. She wanted to throw her arms around him and never let go, but the next few days would be difficult and, without rest, impossible.

  She moved to the door and slipped into Granny’s bedroom.

  “It’s about time you came in here. Now I can go back to sleep,” Granny murmured from the bed.

  Caitlyn quickly got ready for bed, then slid under the sheet and coverlet. Within five minutes, Granny’s soft snores indicated she was okay. But Caitlyn wasn’t. She was sure she knew the killer. So why couldn’t she find him? Put an end to the terror in Longhorn?

  * * *

  During the midpoint commercial of her Monday radio show, Caitlyn leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a few seconds. Each listener’s call brought fear that it was the killer. Saturday night he had left a plastic doll at her grandmother’s house that looked surprisingly like her. She was walking around with a bull’s-eye on her back. Why her?

  As she reached for her glass of water, her hand shook. She took a long sip, her gaze embracing Ian’s in the producer’s booth. He smiled, its warmth chasing away the chill buried deep in her as though it were part of her marrow. She wasn’t alone.

  When the commercial ended, Caitlyn sat forward and said into the microphone, “Welcome back. Let’s see who our next caller is.” Her finger hovered over the on button a moment longer than usual. When she finally pressed it, she continued. “This is Dr. Caitlyn Rhodes. You’re on the air. How can I help you?”

  For a few seconds, silence ruled. Caitlyn stiffened. Was it the killer? Her pulse pounded through her body.

  “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I can go through with my wedding this month.”

  Not the killer. Relief filled her. “Why do you feel that way?” Caitlyn rolled her tensed shoulders and dived into helping her caller.

  After the young woman had hung up, Caitlyn took another caller and relaxed even more, throwing herself into what she loved doing the most: helping others. Ten minutes to the end of her program, she answered her the next one.

  Halfway through her spiel, the familiar disguised voice interrupted her. “You don’t know how to stop me. What kind of therapist are you? Three people are dead because of you.”

  The killer talked rapidly, not allowing her to say anything, then hung up, leaving Caitlyn stunned, still trying to assimilate the question. Melanie signaled for her to continue while the door opened and Ian entered the studio.

  He sat in a chair next to her and rubbed his hand up and down her upper arm.

  She blinked and took the next listener on the line, somehow managing to say the right words. In between that caller and the next one, Ian received a text and he showed her: Using Missy Quinn’s phone but not enough time to trace.

  When Caitlyn finished her program, she slumped back into the chair. A loud swoosh of air blew from her mouth. But no words came to her mind to say.

  Ian lifted her chin and turned her in her chair so that she was looking into his face. “I’ve heard you with your listeners, and I can say you’re a caring therapist who wants the best for the people you work with. Your words matter.”

  “The call from the killer means it isn’t Clark Williams. He’s in jail and wouldn’t have Missy’s cell phone on him. For Allison’s sake, I’m glad it wasn’t him. So, either Greg Quinn or someone we haven’t thought of is the real murderer. And we don’t know where he is.”

  “Yep. Is there a reason Greg would be after you too? His message has changed. He’s blaming you for everything.”

  “I can’t imagine why he would be after me. Missy barely talked about him.”

  “Let’s go to Nana’s and get ready for the funeral.”

  “That sounds great. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m going to take a nap before we go.” Caitlyn rose at the same time Ian did.

  He moved in front of her and cradled her face between his large hands. “I’m not going to let this maniac get to you. He’s not going to win.”

  “Right now, I feel he is. Three women are dead, and he’s affecting my practice.” The blood on the sheets in Missy’s bedroom was her type, and the police were waiting on a DNA test to confirm it all belonged to Missy. Surviving that much blood loss would have been unlikely. “I hope at least for Missy’s family that her body is found. Have y’all been able to find her next of kin besides her husband?”

  “Not yet. There wasn’t a lot of information at her house. We’re still working on connections through Greg’s family.”

  “Missy said that they were both from Texas but had moved around as kids and as a couple.”

  “That’s what we’ve run into. Let’s go.” Ian opened the door and waited until Caitlyn walked into the hallway, where Melanie was waiting for her.

  Her producer hugged her. “What do you want to do about the show the rest of the week?”

  “I’ll be here on Wednesday. I can’t let this killer win. But I am going to have you vet the callers. My listeners can’t be pulled into his game. He doesn’t want help.” There had been a time she’d hoped to get the man to turn himself in before killing someone else.

  “I can do that. I’ll see you at the funeral later today. I think the whole town is turning out for it.”

  When Caitlyn settled in Ian’s SUV, she asked, “Is Sean going to Jane’s funeral?”

  “The last time I talked to him, he wasn’t sure. I thought it was because of Jack and Sean’s relationship at first, but now I don’t know.”

  “I’ll talk to him. He needs to go and say goodbye to Jane.”

  “He wouldn’t go to Mom’s, and I had a hard time getting him to Dad’s. He insisted on a closed casket at our father’s funeral.”

  “He needs the closure.”

  “Yeah, but he’ll never admit it.”

  Ten minutes later, Ian pulled into his grandmother’s driveway. “I want to go a little early.”

  Every time she was outside she panned her surroundings, as she’d seen Ian do. This time was different. A sense of being watched crept through her. She hurried her steps, nodding at Officer Collins as she ducked inside. Both Granny and Emma were standing in the living room doorway. By their serious expressions, she knew that they had listened to the show.

  Granny moved to her and took a hand. “Honey, don’t believe a word that man said today. None of this is your fault. It’s his.” She tugged her toward the couch while Emma put her arm around Caitlyn.

  She stopped Granny from continuing in the same vein. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me up in an hour?”

  Her grandmother’s mouth formed a tight straight line but she released Caitlyn’s hand. “Don’t let him get to you.”

  “I’m not. I just need rest.” She backed away from the two women and bumped into Ian. Gasping, she whirled around. “I didn’t hear you come into the house.”

  “I’ll walk you to your room.”

  She glanced at Emma. “Where’s Sean?”

  “Out back. I think he’s going stir-crazy like we are,” Emma said.
<
br />   “I’ll talk with him,” Ian murmured into Caitlyn’s ear. “If he hasn’t changed his mind, then you can talk to him. Get some sleep. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Granny and Emma exchanged a quizzical look.

  Emma set her fists on her hips. “It’s not polite to whisper. What are y’all hiding?”

  Ian looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Sorry, Nana. Nothing.” Then he guided Caitlyn toward the bedrooms.

  At her door, she peered up into his handsome face. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “Anytime.” He smiled, kissed her forehead and started down the corridor.

  Caitlyn removed her shoes and collapsed on the bed, hoping sleep would whisk her away from her reality. As she finally felt herself sinking deeper into a dream state, the doorbell rang, jerking her totally awake. She rolled over and glanced at the digital clock. She still had half an hour until she needed to get ready for the funeral. Her eyelids drifted closed.

  “Get off my property, or I’ll have these officers arrest you for trespassing!”

  Caitlyn groaned and sat up. Was that Emma yelling? She left her bedroom, padded down the hall and peeked around the corner into the foyer. The front door was wide-open with Ian and Sean standing in the entrance. Emma and Granny were behind them.

  “What’s going on?” Caitlyn ambled forward, smoothing the wrinkles in her blouse, then running her fingers through her hair, as she realized she looked disheveled.

  Granny turned in Caitlyn’s direction, her forehead creased with deep lines of anger. “Reporters trying to camp out in Emma’s yard.”

  “Why?” Caitlyn asked although she was pretty sure what the reason was.

  “They want to interview you. There are at least twenty of them. Some are from out of state.”

  Finally, the brothers stepped back, and Ian shut the front door. “Chief Franklin is here and forcing them to leave the yard. Instead they’re standing around on the sidewalk, ready to mob anyone who comes out of this house.”

  “How do we get to the funeral? I’m not talking to the press.” She didn’t want to do anything to encourage the killer. Caitlyn entered the living room and made her way to the front window to peek outside while staying behind the curtains.

  “The chief’s giving them an update in the case. Hopefully that will satisfy them. They’ve been hanging out at the Shephards’ ranch for the past day. When they heard your show today, most of them came here.”

  “Do you think they’ll go to the funeral?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then I’ll have to deal with them.”

  Ian frowned. “Yeah, but the police will be there too and will try to minimize their presence. The police are working with the Shephards.”

  “Sean, are you going to the funeral?”

  He nodded at Caitlyn.

  “Good. I’m going to get ready. If there’s a way to leave this house without the press knowing, I’d appreciate it, especially if we can make it look like I’m staying here and not going to the funeral. At least the number of reporters will be less there if some are camped outside the house.”

  Ian took both of her hands. “I think I’ve got a plan. Go get ready while I work out the logistics.”

  The confident look in his eyes bolstered her. “Thanks.” She headed for her bedroom. God was with her.

  I can do this, and if dealing with the press is part of it, that’s all right.

  She quickly donned black pants, a white blouse and a matching dark jacket, as she’d done with Kelli’s funeral yesterday. Then she slipped on black flats and ran a brush through her shoulder-length hair. She was afraid that, when they found Missy’s body, she would have to wear these clothes again.

  When she returned to the living room, Granny, Emma and Alice were ready to go and stood near Sean. “Where’s Ian?”

  “I’m here.” He strode through the dining room and stopped next to Caitlyn. “I’ve set everything up. Are y’all ready to leave?” he asked the four women and Sean. “Ignore the reporters and get into the car as quickly as possible.”

  With Sean leading the older women, they filed out of the house, then Ian closed and locked the front door before Caitlyn could leave.

  “Aren’t we going?”

  “Not that way.” He hurried toward the kitchen door, let Caitlyn go first outside, then joined her on the patio, nodding toward the deputy covering the area.

  Caitlyn spied a stepladder at the back of the property. “We’re climbing into the neighbor’s yard?”

  He nodded, heading that way. “The deputy will take the ladder away once we’re gone and keep the reporters at a distance. Sean is picking us up on the street behind yours.”

  Caitlyn followed him across the grass. Ian went over the fence first, then she did the same. When they reached the street, Ian’s SUV was there with everyone waiting. She looked around and didn’t see one reporter. She and Ian squeezed into the rear seats with Granny and Alice.

  “Good thing I watch my weight,” Granny murmured, “or we’d never fit in here.”

  Emma twisted around in the front seat and peered at Caitlyn. “I’m so glad, dear, you didn’t need to answer the questions they were asking all at the same time. Even when Sean said, No comment, that didn’t stop them.”

  She hoped there was a less chaotic scene at the church, but when they arrived, the reporters were held back but covered every entrance.

  Sean parked, and they all poured out of the SUV. Caitlyn was the last to climb out and, as she rearranged herself beside it, she caught sight of a small mob scurrying toward them. She grasped Ian’s hand.

  “We knew they would be here, but they won’t be inside. Keep focused on the front door,” Ian whispered, following the women and Sean as though they were running interference.

  It didn’t work. Somehow the throng of reporters managed to separate them from the rest of their family. Ian released her hand and slung his arm around her, bringing her closer to him. Suddenly they were surrounded, and their steps were slowed to a halt.

  “Why did the Stop me! killer blame you for the women’s deaths?” one man asked, shoving a microphone into her face.

  Another on her left crowded close. “Why is he targeting your patients?”

  More microphones were thrust at her, and the press jostled her as they hemmed her in.

  TWELVE

  The killer could be in this crowd. Scanning the mob, looking for Greg especially, Ian pushed Caitlyn behind him and glared at the reporters. “No comment.” Then he inched forward, slowly at first with Caitlyn following in his footsteps, but finally the press gave them some space. He was glad he’d worn his Texas Ranger star on his shirt.

  When he could, he brought her around to his side, and again he slung his arm over her shoulders and sheltered her against him. The crush of reporters progressed with them until they came to the barrier the police had set up to keep the press back. Chief Franklin came toward them as several officers prevented the media from getting any closer.

  The police chief walked with them toward the Longhorn Christian Church. “All I’ve been doing today is fielding questions instead of trying to find the killer. They started arriving in force early this morning, and then, after the radio show, Caitlyn, it seems like the numbers have doubled. I should have figured this. We have a prominent rancher and state senator and a radio talk show host involved in a serial-killer case.”

  “Later we need to use this to our advantage by asking for help finding Greg Quinn and his missing car.” Ian glanced at Caitlyn, who had finally relaxed against him.

  “And Missy,” she added. “Both their photos need to be plastered everywhere.”

  Behind Ian, the reporters continued to shout their questions. “Let’s get inside.”

  “I need to figure out what to say to them. Then maybe they’ll leave
me alone. But first I need to talk with the Shephards.”

  “After Jack saw the mob here at the church, he asked for Caitlyn to join him and Ruth before the funeral,” Chief Franklin said.

  “Good. Where are they?” Caitlyn said as they entered the church lobby.

  “A conference room off the pastor’s office.” Chief Franklin walked to a corridor to the left. “He wants to figure out how best to handle the media with so many in town.”

  “How is he?” Caitlyn asked, nearing the room.

  “Ruth is handling this better than Jack.” The police chief took his cowboy hat off and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

  Ian passed a room halfway down the hall that had a sign on the door for the Shephard family. “Are we meeting with only Jack and Ruth?”

  “Yes. The governor is with their relatives right now.” Chief Franklin knocked, then opened the door. “Caitlyn and Ian are here.”

  Jack stood and shook Ian’s hand. “I hear there’s a suspect in Jane’s murder. How confident are you it’s Greg Quinn?”

  “There are a lot of questions surrounding him, but we’re also looking at all the possibilities in case the killer isn’t Quinn. At this time, we’ve ruled out Clark Williams.” Ian took a seat next to Caitlyn on a love seat near the Shephards.

  “Don said there was another note left Saturday night.” Jack gripped his wife’s hand next to him.

  “There are several indications that Williams isn’t the murderer. One of them is he was in jail when the note was left taped to a life-size plastic doll.” Ian felt Caitlyn’s tension heighten at the mention of the doll.

  Ruth swung her gaze to Caitlyn. “Why would Greg Quinn kill Jane? She didn’t know him. For that matter, I doubt she knew Clark Williams either.”

  “I don’t know that or why he’s calling me and leaving me notes everywhere. Until the police find Greg, we won’t know if he was involved.”

  Anger mottling his face, Jack turned to the police chief. “Why else would he be gone? What are you doing to apprehend him?”

  “We’ll be interviewing everyone he worked with, as well as anyone here in Longhorn who had anything to do with the Quinns. An alert has been put out for both Missy and Greg.”