On Common Ground

by Jansen Schmidt

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “A convoluted version of the truth.”

  Trevor waited close-mouthed for Rocky to explain what the “convoluted version” entailed.

  “Ketra was quite upset. Which alone might not have raised any brows. But she has that gash on her head and….”

  “How’d you explain that?”

  “I told him Ket and Brooks were in the tack room, moving some stuff around, and she got knocked down and hit her head on the work bench. Which is true if you omit the part about it being Brooks who knocked her down.”

  “Not so much of a red flag. Accidents happen.”

  “But Kettie had a semi-automatic pistol sitting on her table. That got him digging a little deeper.”

  “It’s not against the law to have a handgun in your own home for Christ’s sake. What the hell was he doing in her house anyway?”

  “Well…Kettie let him in. Brooks waved at her from the back seat of the police car. She panicked. She wanted to get away from him and the only place to go was inside.” He took another drink of coffee. “Wanna tell me why Ket had a semi-automatic pistol on her table? I’m assuming you gave it to her.”

  “Yeah. I gave it to her. Thought it might make her feel a little safer since she’d be alone.”

  “Well, that kind-hearted gesture on your part was a mistake. Now she knows you’re a cop.”

  “You told her?”

  “She suspected. I didn’t deny it, but I didn’t confirm it either.”

  “What made her suspect?”

  “Something Atkins said about the gun.”

  “Jesus, it’s just a freaking gun.”

  Rocky put a hand in the air. “I’m just letting you know, the cat’s out of the bag.”

  “What else did you tell her?” Trevor tried not to sound irritated, but patience had never been his strong suit.

  “I didn’t tell her anything but the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “You’re here to replace Dominic until he’s able to come back to work.”

  “What did Atkins say about the gun that made her suspect I’m a cop?”

  “He wanted to know why she had the same high-powered handgun typically used by law enforcement in these parts.”

  “That’s bullshit.” Trevor exploded. “The guy’s just being a dick.”

  “Well, here’s something else you might want to brace yourself for.” Rocky paused. Every muscle in Trevor’s already exhausted body tensed. “I expect Atkins will come nosing around again, in a friendly, ‘I wanna make sure everything’s okay’ kind of way. Be prepared for an inquisition. You’re new here. You’ll be his target to interrogate.”

  “Terrific.”

  “He suspects something’s wrong, so I’d expect at least one more call as a follow-up to yesterday’s visit.” Rocky took another drink of coffee. “Just giving you a heads up.”

  Trevor leaned into the plush leather cushion and ran his hands through his still damp hair. Pressure built behind his eyes. His fingers curled into his palms. The last thing he’d expected about this “laying low” assignment was a good Samaritan cop from Podunk nowhere snooping around his business. After a couple of minutes, he leaned forward. “What did Ketra tell him about the gun?”

  “She said she got it from a friend.”

  Trevor nodded, wondering why she hadn’t given the deputy his name, but grateful she hadn’t.

  Rocky stood and gathered his empty lunch dishes. “I doubt Atkins will come all the way out here today in this storm. I’d guess we’ve got at least twenty-four hours.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lighting flashed outside the window. Trevor drained his coffee and took his empty cup and sandwich plate into the kitchen. When he returned, Rocky offered whiskey or brandy.

  “Whiskey would be great,” Trevor said.

  As Rocky poured the pungent amber liquid into two glasses, he broached the topic of Brooks. “I’ve been thinking about something. I could use your opinion.”

  “I’m all ears.” Following Rocky’s lead, he sat back down on the couch and stretched his legs on top of the coffee table. His mother would scold him up one side and down the other for putting his feet on the furniture, but Rocky liked to put his feet up as well, so he didn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable.

  “This is Ketra’s home now,” Rocky said. “I built all of the new stuff so she could pursue her dream of working with horses. Things didn’t work out the way Mary Jo wanted, so I really want to make them work for Ket. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

  Rocky sipped his whiskey before continuing. “Mary Jo had such high hopes. She wanted to be a horse trainer and veterinarian in the worst way. I can’t help but wonder if she’d be living here now, doing that, if things had been different between her and…your dad.”

  “Well, for my sake, I’m glad it turned out the way it did. Where’re you going with this?”

  “I promised Mary Jo that Ketra’d be safe here. I intend to see that she is. But, I also made a promise to Brooks’ mom that I’d look out for him. So I’m in a tough place right now. Those two promises conflict.”

  “So, what’s your plan?”

  Lighting flashed again as thunder rumbled, closer and louder than before. Rocky downed his whiskey and refilled the glass, holding out the bottle. Trevor splashed more liquor into his own glass then handed the bottle back.

  “I was thinking maybe I could take Brooks to your dad’s place for a while. Maybe he could use an extra hand around the ranch. Brooks’ll do just about anything without complaining; he’s strong and knows his way around horses. What do you think about that?”

  Trevor swallowed the whiskey, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the silky heat in his throat. Rocky stocked good whiskey. “Well,” he finally drawled, “That might be a viable option, except I’d rather Dad not know I’m here. If Brooks goes there, it’ll come up.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re here?” Rocky asked.

  “No one knows I’m here. And it has to stay that way for the time being.”

  Rocky processed that for a minute while he savored his whiskey.

  “My other option is to take him to Ruth’s,” Rocky said. “I don’t know if she’s up for it, though she might be getting tired of taking care of Dominic. Maybe she could use the help with her stubborn brother.”

  “How far away is that?”

  “She lives on the other side of Flag.”

  “If you’re asking my opinion, I like that idea better. If Brooks says anything at all about me, it would compromise my situation. If someone questions my dad about my whereabouts, I’d rather he not know. That way he can answer honestly.”

  Rocky nodded. “I’ll call Ruth tonight.”

  Trevor finished his drink and set the glass on the coffee table. Another flash of lighting preceded an immediate crack of thunder that shook the house.

  “Damn. I thought it was raining hard yesterday.” Trevor rose and jammed his hat down tight. “Let me know how it goes with Ruth.” He ran out into the downpour toward his cabin.

  Halfway there, another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, thunder booming on its heels. Trevor kept his head ducked and sprinted for his front porch. A multi-forked bolt lit up the darkening sky followed by deafening thunder. Water poured off of his hat and jacket. Flipping on light switches, he peeled off wet clothes for the second time today.

  To ward off the unexpected chill, he built a fire. He called Denny, who answered with the code word meaning the coast wasn’t clear, so he hung up. Checking his e-mails took about thirty minutes. After that he had nothing to do but dwell on his problems.

  Although he knew he wouldn’t be welcome, he wanted to talk to Ketra. He fretted for several minutes about how to approach the woman who invaded his thoughts. Nothing clever formed in his br
ain, so he opted for the direct approach. He threw on his jacket, ran back out into the rain and knocked on her door. A surge of something akin to excitement zinged through him when she peeked through the curtains. The fizzing sensation was perplexing but not unwelcome. Had it only been a week since he’d promised to stay away from women?

  “What do you want?”

  Emboldened by the whiskey and his elevated adrenaline level, he lowered the tone of his voice. “What I want and what I’m willing to settle for are two different things.” Leaning closer to the screen door separating them, he murmured, “What I’d settle for is an invitation to come in.”

  Ketra snorted before opening the door. She motioned for him to sit. He did then patted the cushion next to him, beckoning her to join him on the couch. Instead, she dragged a chair from the kitchen, turned it backwards and straddled it, resting her hands on the back.

  “Okay, you’re in. Now what?”

  “For starters, I’d like to know how you’re holding up.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Trevor frowned at her response then studied her for a minute. He cocked his head. “How’s your head?”

  “I said I’m fine. What do you really want?”

  He extended his legs in front of him and locked his hands behind his head. “What I really want is your lush little body, sweating and panting beneath me, begging me not to stop.”

  “Don’t be crude.”

  “Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.” He smiled inside when she fidgeted on the chair. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders, exposing the tender flesh behind her ears. Flesh he wanted to taste.

  Get a grip, Donaldson. “I understand there was a sheriff’s deputy out here yesterday.”

  She nodded.

  “He asked about my gun.”

  Her eyes darted to the Sig still on the table where he’d left it. “He did.”

  “I don’t know why you didn’t, but thank for not giving him my name. For reasons I don’t care to discuss, I appreciate your discretion.”

  “Those reasons being that you don’t want anyone to know you’re a cop?”

  For now, he’d evade the question. “You’re making that assumption because of the gun?”

  Silence.

  “Well, let me set the record straight. Cops don’t have special cop guns. Anyone can buy any kind of gun. Unless…” he drew out the word for effect, “they happen to be on parole for something.” He shot her a quick glance. Her upper body stiffened. “Course even then, they could get one illegally. It’s a fallacy to think that cops have the edge with special weapons or something, because they don’t. The bad guys have the edge.”

  “And you know all of this…how?”

  “That’s common knowledge, sweetheart.”

  Her phone rang. He enjoyed the wiggle of her perfect little backside as she went to answer it.

  “Hi, Mom.” A smile brightened her face. “Can you hold on a minute?”

  He was about to be dismissed. He rose from the sofa. “I’ll talk to you later, Love,” he said in a loud exaggerated voice.

  She glowered at him and stuck out her tongue then spoke into the receiver, “It’s nobody. Just the new jerk foreman. And he’s leaving.” She over modulated the last words as he winked and closed the door.

  On the porch, he smiled. That didn’t go quite how he’d hoped but he should be able to rest now. She’d hadn’t promised, but he was almost certain she’d keep quiet if the sheriff came snooping around again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Trevor’s cell phone rang. Without waiting for a greeting, Denny asked, “You know a guy named Brian Hamilton?”

  “No.”

  “He’s a politician in California. He’s involved in illegal activities to fund his causes across several states. He might be our mastermind, but I haven’t got all the players yet so I can’t connect the dots. Hamilton’s number was on Sean Glaskel’s phone. His records show multiple calls to Hamilton right before his death.”

  “Why would a politician from California be involved with an off-duty Arizona officer in a robbery attempt?”

  “His hands are in a lot of pockets in California, Nevada, Arizona, and Oklahoma. Annie, a little gal working with the FBI, has been giving me some of their intel. Looks like she’s at least trying to solve this case. Unlike some folks. Most just want to hang someone as soon as possible for killing a cop. My gut’s telling me there’s some connection between Glaskel, Hamilton and Southwestern. Annie agrees. There’s a boatload of suspicion surrounding Glaskel’s appearance at the scene.”

  “Well, your gut’s never been wrong, so I’d go with it.” Trevor paused while the information spun around in his brain. “So, you think Southwestern is a coverup for some money laundering business?”

  “Or embezzling to fund extortion of some kind. I have no idea why the Feds were there. Unless they suspected Glaskel of something. Or they got the same tip we did. Since no one’s working together yet, it’s hard to know what’s going on.”

  “Your ‘little gal’ wouldn’t share that information, huh?”

  “She uses selective sharing.”

  Trevor squeezed his eyes shut. “Do you think Glaskel was there to keep us away? Someone on the inside knew we had the tip. Glaskel’s job was to shut us down?”

  “I’m exploring that angle. But it could’ve been pure coincidence. Doesn’t seem possible that the Feds got the same tip we did. But maybe. I sure wish I could figure out how Glaskel fits in. I’ve got Ace working outside again.”

  Ace, a former cop in their department, had been fired for bad behavior with a female officer while on duty. If the rumors had any truth, more than one female was involved. Ace was a good detective, not afraid to stick his nose where it might not belong, making him an asset for unofficial, off-the-record, jobs like this one.

  Denny continued, “Ace loves this kind of don’t-have-to-play-by-the-rules under cover shit. He’ll get me something soon. You doing okay?”

  “I’m surviving. How’s Noah?”

  “He’s out of ICU, but he’s not out of the water yet. He asked about you. Since I have no idea where you are, he’s a little worried, I suspect.”

  Trevor raked his fingers through his hair. “Tell him I’m fine. Jesus, Denny, the last thing he needs is to worry about me.”

  “I’m going see him later tonight. I’ll tell him you called. Meantime, stay put. I expect to have something more to report very soon.”

  “You have my number.”

  He disconnected and tossed the phone on to the table behind him. Lightning flashed like a strobe light, wicked spikes through black clouds swooped low on the horizon. Thunder shook the house, rattling the windows in rhythm with the pelting rain. He turned the blinds against the gloom. When the lights flickered he went in search of a flashlight and candles.

  He stoked the fire then checked the items in his almost empty freezer. A half a box of frozen breaded chicken would suffice for dinner. While he waited for the oven to heat, he sent a silent prayer heavenward that the electricity wouldn’t go out before his meal cooked. Reclining on the sofa, he channel-surfed, while trying to decide which college football game to watch. The oven timer buzzed. He was halfway to the kitchen when the front door banged open.

  Ketra froze in the doorway, shoulders hunched, pulse throbbing in her ears. Lightning streaked, and rain bombarded the yard as thunder boomed a deafening cadence. Her drenched men’s pajamas clung to her skin. Strands of wet hair plastered her face. Another streak of lightning tore through the sky. She lurched forward when thunder crashed on its heels. Trevor approached with caution.

  “Ketra?” Brushing dripping hair behind one shoulder he coaxed, “What’s wrong?”

  Trevor’s voice, tender and full of concern, didn’t calm the rivers of panic gushing through her veins. Her legs grew unsteady. How s
he managed to stay standing was a mystery. A kaboom of immense proportions shook the house. She launched herself into Trevor’s chest and clung for dear life.

  His arms encircled her, secure and warm. She tried to slow her breathing, concentrating on the solid wall of muscle against her cheek. The fresh outdoors smell of his soft gray t-shirt filled her lungs.

  “What’s wrong?” Trevor stroked his palm across the back of her head. The soothing sensation eased the panic. She squeezed him tighter. He made shushing sounds in her ear and rubbed her back.

  “It’s okay. The storm’ll be gone soon.”

  Words would not formulate amidst the dreadful effigies in her mind. Each flash of lightning zapped a mental image from the nightmare that happened two years ago. Even squeezing her eyes shut didn’t stop the scenes from replaying behind her eye lids. Tears streamed down her face.

  “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  His repeated words of encouragement calmed her. She sniffed and tried to pull away, but he allowed her only enough space to separate her chest from his. His arms around her waist anchored her to him from the waist down.

  “Tell me what’s got you spooked?”

  His question broke through the veil of terror clouding her brain. The incessant buzzing she thought initiated in her own ears turned out to be from an external source. The oven timer? “I’m sorry. This isn’t a good time.”

  “This is the perfect time.” He guided her to the sofa, lowering her on the end closest to the fire. “Talk to me.”

  “I interrupted your dinner.”

  Trevor turned off the oven and silenced the timer. He plucked a blanket off his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You should get out of those wet clothes.”

  She hunched as water dripped off her hair. Kneeling in front of her, Trevor used a towel to absorb some of the moisture from her tangled curls. “You’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  “He’s out,” she whispered.

  “Brooks?”