by B. J Daniels
Also, she had no desire to see Joyce Mason again. She considered her for a moment as True Fan and couldn’t imagine the woman going to the trouble to write her the threatening letters. Joyce was more of an in-your-face kind of person.
“I’m going to duck into the coffee shop,” TJ said. “Why don’t you meet me there when you’re through?” They agreed and parted. She breathed in the winter day, her thoughts instantly returning to Silas. Worrying about him, she didn’t even notice a figure step out of the alley until she was grabbed.
A hoarse voice whispered, “Don’t scream. It’s just me, your biggest fan.”
Chapter Fourteen
Silas drove down the main drag, parking next to the city park. Whitehorse had been one of those spots along the railroad that had grown into a town. Because of that the unmanned depot sat beyond the small park on the other side of the tracks.
His senses were on alert as he got out of his truck and checked the street. With all the shoppers, the small town was bustling. DeAngelo couldn’t have picked a better time. The rest of the year a large, dark-haired burly man wearing city clothes would have stood out from the locals and been easier to spot.
DeAngelo always wore expensive slacks and polished black shoes. He was obsessed with shoes and many times couldn’t stop himself from stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to wipe away a spot on the leather.
Silas had been expecting him to show up for over a year. He’d thought it would be outside his apartment in New York City. Or maybe even inside his apartment. He’d been rigging his doors all these months, so sure that it was only a matter of time before they came face-to-face.
When that happened, he’d always told himself that he would have only a matter of seconds to make his move. In truth, he would probably not have any time at all. DeAngelo knew him too well. Also there was nothing to say that hadn’t already been said in court. From the witness stand, DeAngelo had mouthed “You’re a dead man” the last time he’d seen him.
But after a year had passed with DeAngelo back on the streets, Silas had thought maybe the man had wised up. Maybe even a little time behind bars had taught him that he didn’t want a repeat appearance.
Silas should have known better.
And now DeAngelo had not only shown up in Montana, but also at the worst possible time. Now Silas had met TJ and promised to help her. Lately, he’d even let himself think he might have a chance at settling down, having a home, a family. He desperately wanted this chance to get to know Tessa Jane. He’d actually been thinking that he might have a future.
Now those thoughts mocked him. As long as there were DeAngelos in the world, he would never find peace, let alone chance falling for someone and starting a family.
He waited for a car to pass, then ran across the street to the last place he’d seen his former partner. Pushing open the door to the Mint Bar, he stepped into the warm beer-scented darkness.
* * *
TJ SCREAMED AND kicked as she tried to free herself from the person who’d grabbed her. The toe of her boot came in contact with bone.
“Damn, you didn’t have to kick me.”
She spun around to come face-to-face with Tommy Harwood. The scream died in her throat as she saw him rubbing at his shin as if she’d nearly broken his leg.
“You can’t just grab someone like that,” she said, furious with him for scaring her the way he had.
“I just wanted to get your attention.”
Well, he’d done that.
He quit rubbing his leg and looked embarrassed. “I thought... I thought you might want to have a cup of coffee with me.”
She’d been headed for the coffee shop, she reminded herself. Also, hadn’t she wanted to quiz Tommy about the ream of paper he’d bought? “I’ll buy,” she said. “For kicking you.”
Grudgingly he agreed.
“You’re not working today?” she asked after they’d ordered two black coffees and taken them to a table by the window.
“Got off early.”
She realized that this could be the longest coffee date she’d ever had if the conversation was anything like this. She decided to get right to it. “I meant to ask you about some paper you bought last summer at a garage sale.”
He seemed surprised by the question, but answered anyway. “At Melinda Holmes’s house.”
“So you remember.” When he said no more and looked away, she said, “Do you own an old manual typewriter?”
He looked up then, his dark eyes boring into her. “Is that really what you want to talk about?”
“I’m looking for one to buy,” she said.
“And you thought I’d have one?” He shook his head. “Why wouldn’t you go out with me in high school?”
Seriously? “High school? Is that what you want to talk about?”
“Yes. You knew I had a crush on you. You weren’t even famous then. You weren’t even popular. So why not go out with me?”
He wanted to be honest? Fine. “Since apparently you followed me home every day after school you would know that I didn’t date much. Also it was creepy, you always looking at me the way you did, not to mention the only time you asked me out was in the middle of Biology class. You expected me to say yes in front of everyone?”
“That wasn’t my best moment, I’ll admit, but you still could have said something after that.”
“I wasn’t interested. But I wasn’t interested in anyone else either.”
“You went out with Darwin.”
“That was his junior prom. I double-dated with my sister Chloe. She forced me to go.” TJ remembered the scratchy dress, the uncomfortable high heels, the whole awkward night right up and through Darwin’s sloppy kiss. The memory made her shudder. “It was a mistake. One I wasn’t about to repeat.”
“So you were shy and awkward. So was I. You didn’t even give me a chance.”
“Tommy—”
“Tom.”
“That is all history. I can’t undo any of it. If I could, I would never have gone out with Darwin, all right?”
“But you might have gone out with me?”
She picked up her coffee cup. “So you don’t have an old manual typewriter?”
“What if I do?” he asked challengingly.
“Then I’d like to see it.”
* * *
THE BAR WAS dim enough that he had to walk halfway in to see everyone inside. He told himself that he’d recognize DeAngelo without any trouble. He was wrong. The man who turned around on his bar stool had changed. His dark hair had receded. His face was gaunt and pale, and he’d clearly lost weight. He didn’t look healthy, let alone strong and dangerous.
“Took you long enough,” DeAngelo said. “I see you got rid of your date,” he said, looking past him. “So have a seat. You can buy,” he said, patting the empty bar stool next to him. “We need to talk.”
The last thing Silas wanted to do was have a drink with his former NYPD partner. From the beginning they were too different. Silas went by the book. DeAngelo never met a rule he didn’t want to break. But even so, Silas had never dreamed just how crooked the man had become before it was over.
“We have something to discuss?” he asked without moving.
His former partner chuckled. “You were always as stubborn as a brick. Sit down. If I was here to...” he lowered his voice even though there was no one sitting close by “...kill you, you’d already be dead and we both know it.”
That, Silas thought with a grimace, was true. He knew firsthand how dangerous this man was. A part of him was thankful that DeAngelo wanted only to talk. Silas had become complacent. Up here away from the city, he’d become too comfortable. He’d let his guard down. Given that DeAngelo was here, Silas knew he should be dead. So why hadn’t his former partner made his move?
Sliding onto the bar stool, he nodded to the b
artender that he’d take the same thing his “friend” was having. A few minutes later, two beers were plunked down in front of them.
“I’ve never seen you drink beer,” Silas commented. “You always went for the hard stuff.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
He wouldn’t bet the farm on that, but he said nothing as he took a swig of his beer from the bottle. “What are you doing here, Nathan?”
* * *
TOMMY HAD WANTED her to ride in his car with him, but TJ had insisted on meeting him at his house. She let him think she had her own car. She also let him know that she had to tell her sisters where she was going since she was supposed to be shopping with them.
“Whatever,” was all he said as he headed for his pickup parked across the street.
TJ waited until he drove away before she started to go down to the gift shop to tell her sisters where she was going. It was the smart thing to do. If Tommy was True Fan, she had no business being alone with him, period—let alone being with him alone and with no one knowing where she’d gone. So she was glad when the first sister she came across was Annabelle.
“I’m running over to Tommy Harwood’s,” she said, making it sound casual. “I’ll be back soon. Shall we meet up before supper, maybe go have a steak or something?”
“Dawson’s mom invited us out, remember?” Annabelle said. “You remember Willie and she wanted to see you.”
“Okay. I won’t be long. I have my cell.” With that she left Annabelle looking at jewelry, knowing she could be there for a while.
The walk to Tommy’s house was only four blocks down the side road that followed the tracks out of town toward Glasgow. Back when the towns along this stretch of new rails were being named, whoever was in charge got tired of coming up with ideas and simply spun a globe and randomly picked. It was why there were towns with names like Malta, Zurich, Havre and Glasgow.
Tommy’s car was parked in front of a small neat white house. She tapped at the front door and it opened almost as if he’d been watching out the window for her.
“You walked?” He sounded appalled that she’d done that after turning down a ride with him.
“I decided to leave the car for my sisters. Anyway, it’s such a nice day, I wanted to walk.”
He shook his head and turned back into the house. She followed. The place was as neat inside as it had been outside. She wondered if there’d been a woman in his life at some point. Hadn’t Annabelle told her that he’d lived with his mother for years until her death?
“Can I get you something to drink or eat?” he asked as she closed the door behind her.
She turned and seeing how nervous he was, instantly became more nervous herself. Coming here had probably been a mistake. Knowing Annabelle she might not even remember where her sister said she was going.
“I just came to see the typewriter,” she said, trying not to be rude, but not wanting him to get the wrong impression. “It’s a gift for my sister Chloe.”
“Yes, the typewriter,” he said glumly. “It’s in here.” He led the way through the house. She found herself looking for possible weapons she could use against the man if needed. Tommy wasn’t large but he looked strong. Definitely stronger than she was.
He’d reached the kitchen. She saw stairs that went down into the basement but had already decided she wasn’t going down there. He could bring the typewriter up if that’s where he kept it. She was beginning to doubt he even owned one and was beginning to suspect this had been a ruse to get her into his house. But if that was the case, then at least he wasn’t True Fan.
“There it is,” he said, not going near the basement stairs.
She looked to where he was pointing and saw an old manual Royal sitting on the floor in front of a door to the screened-in back porch.
“I use it for a doorstop. It weighs a ton,” he said.
She stepped over to gaze down at the machine. It had an old, worn-out ribbon in it, but from the dust on the key arms it appeared it hadn’t been used in years. “This is the only one you have?”
He gave her a disbelieving look. “You didn’t come here to buy a typewriter. I know. I read your book.”
That stopped her cold. She held her breath, always wary when this was the way someone began a conversation with her. I read your book. Sometimes that was all they said. But she had a feeling Tommy had a lot more to say.
Chapter Fifteen
“Look,” Nathan DeAngelo said after taking a long gulp of his beer. Silas could tell it wasn’t his first. “I don’t blame you for what you did. I knew the kind of guy you were from the start. A Goody Two-shoes.” He held up his hand before Silas could say what he was thinking. “Don’t get me wrong. You did what you thought you had to do bringing us all down. But some of the guys aren’t as...forgiving.”
“This isn’t news,” Silas said, already bored with this conversation. He took a drink of his beer, wondering what had really brought his old partner all the way to Montana. Not to tell him something he already knew.
“I’ve moved on,” DeAngelo continued. “I’ve got a pretty good gig going with a security company.” He shrugged. “Keeps me out of trouble. The thing is, you taught us all an important lesson. We’re not going to make the same mistakes again. We’re not going to get our hands caught in the cookie jar again. That’s why the guys all chipped in to hire a hit man to take you out. No way to trace it back to them.”
Silas looked over at him and saw that he was serious. “And you came all this way to warn me.”
“Like I said, I’m more forgiving.” His gaze softened. “You and I were partners. The others can’t believe you’d turn in your own partner. But I knew you would. I even suspected you were coming after us.”
He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
DeAngelo shrugged and drained his beer before pushing to his feet. “I can’t explain it myself. Maybe I’m getting soft.” He did look like he was. The security job obviously wasn’t keeping him in as good of shape as the police department had. Or maybe he couldn’t get his hands on the kind of drugs he’d had on the streets.
“Like you said, you could have killed me yourself and been on the next plane out of here. Why hire someone?”
“A professional seemed the way to go. Also we have something on the assassin so less chance of any blowback, you know what I mean?”
He did. “When?”
His former partner laughed. “Now what would be the fun of me telling you that?” He patted Silas on the shoulder. “Thanks for the beer. Almost like old times.”
“One more thing,” he said. “Did you chip in for the hit man as well?”
DeAngelo laughed and raked a hand through his thinning hair. “You know I did. Don’t want them gunning for me next. It’s bad enough that I didn’t get the amount of time a lot of them did. And before you ask, no. No one knows I came up here to warn you. I know it’s crazy, but I guess it’s my way of saying I’m sorry. If you hadn’t been so damned straitlaced we could have been great friends.”
“I wasn’t straitlaced. I just wasn’t a dirty cop.”
DeAngelo’s smile blinked out, just like the light in his dark eyes. “See, you have to go and ruin a nice moment. Good luck.” With that the man turned and walked away.
* * *
“I’M SORRY, BUT I don’t have any idea what you’re referring to,” TJ said, just wanting to leave this house and Tommy. “You read my book and you know what?”
“Durango. I know why you killed him.”
She hated to ask, but saw no way not to. “Why?”
“Because he wasn’t the kind of man you wanted anymore.”
“Tommy—”
“Tom.”
“I’m not Constance. Durango died because he got cocky. He felt invincible. He forgot he was mortal.” Also because Constance needed to move on from him. S
he needed another hero, maybe one not as flawed as Durango. Or maybe more flawed. She wouldn’t know until she wrote the book.
“He was Marc, the guy you were engaged to in college,” Tommy said.
She felt her face burn with irritation and embarrassment. That was one of the problems with a small town. People knew way too much of your business even after you left. Anger overtook her embarrassment. She didn’t have to explain her actions to anyone, especially Tommy.
“I really don’t want to talk to you about this,” she said, and looked at her watch. Her sisters should be through shopping by now, or at least interested in eating.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to admit it,” he said. “But if you ever quit making the same mistakes with men...”
She stared at him. True Fan told her how to write. Tommy was telling her how to run her love life? “Who are you to tell me who I should be with?” she demanded angrily.
“Just the man who’s watched you make the same mistakes since you were a girl,” he said, apparently unperturbed by her angry outburst.
“I can see myself out,” she said, and spun on her heel, stomping out of the house. The walk back into town did her good, even though the temperature had dropped. The air smelled as if snow was imminent. She’d heard that yet another storm was coming in. Winter in Montana, she thought, and pulled her coat tighter around her.
She was almost back when a horn honked right behind her. She jumped, having not heard a vehicle approach. Turning, she told herself that if it was Tommy she would kick in one of his door panels.
But as the car pulled alongside, she saw it was her former English teacher Ester Brown. Great, she thought, as Ester whirred down her passenger side window.
“Why don’t you get in,” she said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t a question but an order. “It’s too dangerous to walk along this road.”