Fearless Gunfighter

by Joanna Wayne

  Whatever that meant, she prayed it proved not to be true.

  “One of my night clerks is copying all the tapes we confiscated today. That way I can get them to Jackson first thing in the morning.”

  “That will be a big help.”

  “Something better help soon. Whole county’s chewing their bit—men scared to let their wives and daughters out of the house by themselves. That’s why I wanted to be sure and get this to you tonight.”

  Nor did he want to miss warning her not to upset Millie Miles.

  “Guess that about does it for now,” Cavazos said. “I’ll let you get inside and get some rest.”

  “I’ll be burning the midnight oil tonight,” she said, “starting with the security tape.”

  “If you’re half as good as Jackson claims, you might have this all figured out by morning.”

  “I know Jackson didn’t promise you that.”

  “’Bout damn near it.” He handed her the small brown envelope that held the thumb drive. “A change of subject, but do you reckon Esther’s got some of that dinner left?”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  They’d reached the back of the sprawling house. From this point the path they’d taken meandered past a nearby woodshed. Sydney’s small patio was a few yards to the right.

  “When you see her, tell her that you walked me to my patio door and I went in to get some work done.”

  “Will do. And thanks for understanding about Millie.”

  She understood, but that didn’t mean she’d grant his request. Lives were on the line.

  * * *

  SYDNEY KICKED OFF her white sandals and switched on her laptop. Anxiety rode her nerves again. Four women’s lives might be riding on what she did or didn’t discover.

  If the deputy didn’t see anything that looked suspicious, then Rachel must have been alone. Best scenario now was to spot someone or something that raised questions in her mind.

  She took her computer, small notebook and a pen to an upholstered chair tucked away in the corner of the room. She missed her office with its large desk and work area and a huge wall for charting her findings.

  She was fifteen minutes into the digital recording when she got her first glimpse of Rachel entering the shop. Her breath caught. Her sweet sister, relaxed, stunning in a flowing, summery dress.

  She was immediately struck by the desire to stop the frame and let that image soak in, but her mind overrode her emotions. She needed to see everything that transpired exactly as she would have seen it if she’d been there the first time.

  She would replay it many times before the night was over.

  Rachel was alone. She stopped momentarily before getting in a line that stretched almost to the door. Two teenage girls were in front of her, both on their cell phones. An elderly couple with two preteen boys—likely their grandsons—were behind her.

  No doubt bored from the inactivity, the boys started some horseplay. One shoved playfully; the other fell into Rachel. She laughed it off, though it was evident the gentleman was scolding the boys. After that, Rachel and the grandmother got into what was obviously a friendly conversation.

  That was the extent of Rachel’s involvement with strangers until she reached the counter. Dani greeted her with a smile and then bagged Rachel’s pastry while the same cute teenage girl who’d been helping out today served as barista.

  Instead of taking a seat, Rachel perused the gift items while she sipped her coffee, the pastry still in its bag. At one point, she picked up a colorful coffee mug, checked the price and returned it to the shelf.

  She didn’t speak to anyone until she reached the pottery display. Two men who appeared to be in their midtwenties seemed to be comparing two tall vases.

  A minute later they engaged in an animated conversation with Rachel. No sign of confrontation or disagreement. Eventually, Rachel decided on a bowl and went back to the counter to pay for it.

  She talked with Dani as she completed the credit-card transaction and carefully bound the bowl in protective wrap. Rachel returned the wallet to her handbag, took her package and left, balancing her bowl, pastry and coffee.

  A man who was coming in as she was leaving held the door for her.

  That was it.

  Rachel hadn’t pulled out a roll of cash at the register, hadn’t engaged with any men except the two extremely unlikely suspects at the pottery display, and her only run-in had been with a mischievous kid who accidentally bumped into her.

  Worthless as a knot in a stake. She had to ask Tucker what that meant.

  She was glad Tucker was giving her this time alone to work but she wondered if she’d see him again tonight. If he did come in to say good-night, then what?

  The kiss was still on her mind, just tangled with the ever-increasing urgency of finding Rachel. The intensity of her attraction toward him had accelerated so fast she was afraid to trust her emotions.

  One thing was for certain: she’d never let any other man into her life so quickly. Had never once been blown away by a kiss.

  She rewound the tape and started it over at the point just before Rachel entered the store.

  She paused the play immediately. She’d been so intent on Rachel’s movements that she hadn’t noticed the woman who’d been leaving the bakery as Rachel entered.

  Even now she couldn’t be certain, as much of the woman’s face was blocked by the door, but it looked like Millie Miles. Sydney quickly zoomed in on the image.

  She was almost sure it was Millie. Not that her being at the bakery at the same time as Rachel carried any suspicious connotations, but the Miles family were popping into this investigation on a regular basis.

  Other than Millie catching Sydney’s attention, the second viewing gave her nothing. Neither did the third.

  Disappointment had reached new levels, but she was nowhere near ready to give it up for the night. She’d brush her teeth, wash her face and change her bandage before she started charting everything she knew about every element of this investigation.

  Few serial perps had ever chosen their victims strictly at random. Something triggered their acts.

  Unless the perp was completely mad.

  * * *

  TUCKER HESITATED AT the closed door to Sydney’s room. He didn’t want to make her think he was being pushy by interrupting her while she was working. Yet he couldn’t just ignore the fact that she might need his company after viewing the film.

  He tapped softly.

  “Who is it?”

  “Tucker.”

  “Come in if you dare.”

  Neither the words nor the tone were welcoming. He opened the door and peeked inside. The floor was littered with markers, tiny stick-on stars, tape and white poster board. Presumably, the supplies she’d picked up in town earlier today.

  “An art project?”

  “If it is, I’m failing badly. Take a seat if you can find one.”

  He dropped to the edge of the bed. Sydney was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sticking stars on a detailed map of Winding Creek and the surrounding area that had been taped to a large square of poster board.

  “How did your talk with Esther go?” Sydney asked.

  “She thinks I’m a hardheaded, macho imbecile who thinks it’s cool to try and get myself killed just for the fun of it. Other than that, she loves me.”

  “You can’t blame her for worrying.”

  “I don’t blame her. I’m not even sure she’s wrong. That’s an interesting map,” Tucker said, ready to change the subject. “Where did you get it?”

  “It was in the folder Jackson passed out at the first meeting along with the personal data of the women who’d been reported missing. All except for Rachel’s. I had to fill everyone in on her.”

  “What do
the stars represent?”

  “The blue stars show the last place the women were known to be before they disappeared.”

  “What do the numbered stars next to the blue stars represent?”

  “The order in which they went missing. The time of day they were last seen is printed on the white strip stickers.”

  Tucker stooped on his haunches to get a better look.

  “I’m looking for a pattern,” Sydney explained. “The pictured representations tend to make them pop out at you better than a table of printed facts.”

  “Just like on the cop shows on TV.”

  “Yes, except I tend to go overboard with all the facts I like to include. I’m a visual learner.”

  “Makes it easy to see how fast the frequency of the abduction is escalating,” Tucker said. “One six months ago. One three months ago. And now two in the past six weeks.”

  “And then he’s likely responsible for Sara Goodwin’s death and no one knows for sure yet when she went missing.”

  “Guy is definitely brazen.”

  “Or he has mental problems that are worsening,” Sydney said. “Here’s what we know so far. The missing women are all attractive brunettes who were traveling alone. Since they were all last seen in this area, I assume he hooked up with them at some spot in or around Winding Creek.”

  “Except for Rachel’s car, none of the women’s vehicles have been found,” Tucker added. “It could be that he has a place to dump them where they haven’t been found and he ran out of space.”

  “Good point. But he has to make sure no one sees him driving their car.”

  “Maybe he forces them to drive him somewhere, and then he k...” Tucker stopped short. Sydney knew as well as he did that there was a chance all the missing women were dead, but she’d avoided saying it out loud.

  He got that. Positive thoughts were far more productive.

  “I think the perp either lives in Winding Creek or near here,” Sydney said. “He’s somewhat of a loner. For some reason, he spends a lot of time in town. When forced to interact, he holds it together so that people may think he’s odd, but don’t realize how mentally unbalanced he is.

  “He may not be actively looking for victims, but something he sees in a woman triggers the violent nature he may have kept in check for years until something happened to change that.”

  “You are good at this,” Tucker said.

  “I could be way off track,” she admitted, “but I don’t think so. What I can’t figure out is how he gets the women to go with him. Is it willingly? Or does he overpower them? If so, how does he do that over and over without being seen? And where are they now? Prisoners in his house or some isolated location where no one goes except him?”

  “Most every ranch except the very smallest has old, dilapidated structures somewhere on their land. Barns that haven’t been used in years. Rotting sheds filled with nothing but spiders, snakes and rusting tools. The problem is it would take weeks or maybe months to search them all.”

  “That’s why we have to keep narrowing this down.”

  “And cover this town and surrounding areas with posters offering that reward Dudley promised,” Tucker said. “That would get everyone looking for this guy on their own land, doing your work for you.”

  “Or getting themselves killed trying to apprehend him. We have to stress that all we want is information. No one is to go after this man on his own.”

  “Lot of luck with getting that message across,” Tucker said. “This is rural Texas. I’d wager most cowboys or ranchers carry a gun in their vehicle or have one with them when they’re out working. For protection from snakes, not people. But they know how to shoot.”

  “Still, we have to stress the perp is dangerous. I’ll work on designing the poster tonight.”

  “Did you get anything enlightening from Dani’s security film?”

  “No. It seemed like business as usual. Rachel was alone. She talked to several people, but nothing that looked the least bit threatening. She did talk to two men about pottery. I’ll ask Dani about them, but I didn’t get any bad vibes.”

  “Rotten news.”

  “Yeah. That’s why I’m back to the drawing board. Millie Miles made an appearance, but she was leaving as Rachel was arriving. I don’t know if the sheriff mentioned it to you, but he said my visit upset Millie and that Dudley doesn’t want me on the ranch again.”

  “He mentioned it. I told him to stuff it—in a gentlemanly way, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Sydney picked up the markers and loose stars and dropped them into plastic bags.

  “Through working for tonight?”

  “Through with the art part, not nearly through with the thinking and searching for any pattern that could lead us to the freak.”

  Tucker helped her pick up the rest of her supplies. When he finished, he went back to his perch on the edge of the bed. To his surprise, she walked over and sat down beside him.

  Their thighs touched. Inconspicuously. Unintentionally, he was sure. His chest tightened and his manly urges checked in as if on autopilot. She put her hand on his arm, and when he met her gaze, he felt the heat deep inside him.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “I don’t think you really want me to answer that question.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

  “I’m thinking how gorgeous you look tonight. I love you in jeans. But you look delectable in that dress. To be honest, it’s all I can do not to take you in my arms right now.”

  Her lips on his was her unexpected response. Passion exploded like fireworks. He kissed her lips, the tip of her nose, her eyelids and then back to her lips again. He couldn’t get enough of her. Every part of his body craved more.

  Yet when she pulled away, he forced himself to let her go.

  “I know I started this but I can’t keep doing this, Tucker. It’s not you. You do everything right. It’s just that my emotions are so raw and unprotected right now.”

  “You don’t have to say more. I’ll never push you into anything you’re not ready for. When the time is right, we’ll both know.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to the bathroom to get ready for bed,” she said, “but only because I’ll fall asleep working. You should probably be gone when I come back.”

  His mouth didn’t argue the point. His body did. It was hell watching her walk away.

  * * *

  SYDNEY CLOSED THE bathroom door and leaned against it, struggling to put everything in some kind of perspective that made sense. Her concern for Rachel was ripping her heart from her chest.

  How could she feel this level of attraction for a man she’d just met?

  The only explanation was that the heart-wrenching feeling of helplessness was making her emotionally vulnerable. Tucker wasn’t just an incredibly virile hunk. He was smart, thoughtful, protective.

  It would be only natural that he’d stir strong feelings inside her. When this was over, when Rachel and the others were safe and the world tilted back on its axis, she’d figure this out.

  Until then, she couldn’t let anyone affect her focus—not even Tucker Lawrence.

  She pulled a pair of pink flowered shorty pajamas from the drawer beneath the dressing table. Simple, comfortable and unsexy pajamas just in case Tucker came back.

  She took her time washing and creaming her face while struggling to regain her proper focus, though her energy was beginning to falter.

  It was at least five minutes later when she opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.

  Tucker had not left. He was stretched out on her bed on top of the covers, fully clothed except for his boots. His head rested on her pillow. His eyes were closed.

>   He was snoring, not the house-shaking racket her dad used to make, but nonetheless loud enough there was no doubt that he was sound asleep.

  Temptation took an unbidden turn, and she experienced an almost-overwhelming desire to crawl into bed beside him. Not to make love, just to feel her body lying next to his for a few brief moments.

  Instead she went back to her computer and spent the next few hours going over every tidbit of information she had yet again.

  Eventually, the words began to blur and her thoughts got lost in a fog. She glanced at the clock. It was 2:00 a.m. Tucker was still asleep. She suspected he hadn’t been sleeping well after watching his good friend die so tragically. Either that or not making love had worn him out.

  Her mind was muddled from exhaustion. She didn’t have the energy or the inclination to wake him up. She stepped out of her slippers, flicked off the light and crawled into bed beside him. Caught somewhere between levels of consciousness, she cuddled against him.

  He made her feel safe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thursday, September 21

  Tucker woke to a sharp blow to his stomach and low growling and moaning sounds in his ear. He realized where he was and what was going on just in time to avoid another jab to his body, not from a fist but Sydney’s elbow.

  He pulled her into his arms and rocked her against him. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. It’s all good, just a nightmare.”

  She jerked away from him and sat up in bed.

  “Tucker?”

  “It’s me.” He didn’t remember falling asleep in this bed, but obviously he had.

  “You’re still here?”

  “Looks that way. Not intentionally,” he assured her. “I’ve been sound asleep. Bed is too damn comfortable.” He’d only planned to stay in her room long enough to make sure she was okay after her abrupt escape to the bathroom.