Fearless Gunfighter

by Joanna Wayne

  “Good thinking.”

  The sheriff left Sydney at his office door. She tapped softly. When no one answered, she opened the door and slipped inside.

  She kept her voice low and calming. “My name is Sydney Maxwell, Joy. I’m with the FBI. I heard you had a close call this morning.”

  “He tried to kill me. I didn’t do anything. He didn’t know me. He just wanted to kill me.” The words were broken, fighting their way out between short gasps of breath.

  “I believe you and I know how scary that must have been.”

  “Why? Why me?”

  “We think he may be the man responsible for the women who’ve gone missing from the Winding Creek area over the last few months. We need to stop him before he hurts someone else.”

  “He’s crazy. I could see it in his eyes.” She closed her eyes tight for a few moments before opening them again.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” Sydney asked.

  “How do I know he won’t come after me again if I do? Are you going to protect me?”

  “If you need protection, I’ll see that you get it. I know how afraid you are, Joy, but you got away. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

  Joy covered her face with her hands. Sydney pulled up a chair so that they were facing each other, so close that their knees brushed when Joy shifted in her chair.

  “My sister is one of the missing women, Joy. I don’t know if she’s dead or alive. I only know that she and at least three other women might still be his captives.”

  Dead or alive. The words were difficult to utter, but the truth refused to be silenced this time.

  Joy uncovered her face and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Heaven help them.” She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “What is it you want to know?”

  “Everything, just the way it happened. Take your time. Don’t leave anything out. I’ll be right here with you. There are law-enforcement personnel all around. He can’t hurt you now.”

  Finally, Joy opened up and the words tumbled from her lips, mostly coherent, sometimes stifled by a shudder.

  Joy was a romance writer from Gruene, Texas, who’d driven to Winding Creek that morning to speak to a county-wide book-club meeting.

  The library had a parking lot but it was full when Joy got there and she had to park two blocks away near the pharmacy on Main Street.

  The only place she went after the meeting was to Dani’s Delights to get an iced latte to drink on her way home. She hadn’t seen her accoster at the library or in the bakery and hadn’t realized he was following her until he drove up even with her on a two-lane road.

  “He started waving his arms and yelling hysterically for me to pull over to the shoulder and stop the car. I tried to wave him off, but he looked so upset, I rolled down my window. He pointed to the back of my car and told me I was leaking gas and sparks were flying.

  “I didn’t see any smoke and I was afraid to stop. There were no other cars in sight and there were wooded areas on both sides of the blacktop.”

  “What made you stop?”

  “He slowed and dropped behind me, still waving for me to pull over. Then I heard an explosion that sounded like it came from my trunk. I thought the car might be about to blow up.”

  “I can see why you would.”

  “I threw on my brakes as I pulled to the shoulder and jumped out of the car. There were no flames, no smoke, only this wild cowboy running toward me.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I panicked, jumped back in the car and grabbed my revolver from beneath the seat. Before I could lock the door, he yanked it open and was coming at me, both hands fisted.

  “I shot and the bullet hit him in the right leg. Blood spurted everywhere. I didn’t care. I kicked him away from my car and left him bleeding in the middle of the road. I drove all the way to the highway before I felt safe enough to pull over and call 911.”

  Tears started to flow down Joy’s cheeks. “It’s not my gun. My husband made me bring it because of all the trouble we’ve been hearing about. I’ve never shot a man before.”

  “You did the right thing, Joy. The brave thing. You may have saved the lives of many other women.”

  Now all Sydney needed from Joy was an extremely accurate description, but the urgency had soared to its highest level yet.

  The Lone Star Snatcher would be running scared and a psycho running scared was dangerously unpredictable.

  * * *

  ROY SALES PUT the whiskey bottle to his lips and gulped it down as if it were water. His leg hurt something fierce and whiskey was the only painkiller he had.

  He was in big trouble now. The whole town would be talking about the attack. The sheriff, the FBI, even the Texas Rangers would be out to get him now.

  They’d be looking for a man with a bullet wound in his right leg. They’d have his DNA and his description.

  He couldn’t even show his face at the big house to force Millie to give him more money. His sweet little blackmail deal was over. He’d done what she asked, killed on demand. Blew poor old Charlie Kavanaugh’s brains out with him begging for mercy.

  He didn’t like to kill. He hadn’t wanted to kill Charlie. He hadn’t wanted to kill sweet little Sara Goodwin, but she’d called him a monster. A monster, after he’d picked her up off the street and taken her in.

  She’d said he was crazy. He wasn’t crazy. He did what he was told. Mommy didn’t like it when he disobeyed. She didn’t like to have to lock him in the cold, dark basement. She just wanted him to learn to be a good boy.

  Mommy was yelling in his brain now. He put his hands over his ears and tried to shut her out, but she wouldn’t stop. She never stopped. Even after he’d pushed her off the ladder and killed her, she wouldn’t stop tormenting him.

  Kill your prisoners. Kill your prisoners. Kill your prisoners and run for your life. Run, Roy. Run and never stop.

  They weren’t prisoners. They were his guests. He didn’t want to kill them. He didn’t like being alone at night when the voices came at him from all directions.

  But he couldn’t just leave the women here to tell all kinds of lies about him.

  He’d burn the shack to the ground. That was it. There would be nothing but ashes. They might even think he’d burned with his guests and then they’d never come after him.

  All except Rachel. He couldn’t kill Rachel. She was starting to understand him. They were friends. His mother hated her, but that was too bad. This time he wouldn’t listen to her no matter how loudly she screamed into his mind.

  Rachel would be going with him.

  It was time to start the fire.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They had their description. They knew how the kidnapper operated. Rene had even found a huge firecracker casing at the crime scene to explain the explosion.

  It was progress. It just wasn’t enough progress.

  Sydney called Tucker as she left the sheriff’s office and asked him to meet her at Dani’s Delights so that she could explain the latest developments. The way he’d stood by her this week, he deserved to be kept in the loop.

  And she wanted to see him. No use in hiding from the truth any longer. It didn’t change anything at this point, but she was tired of fighting the unalterable fact. She was falling hard for the bull rider.

  She drove the few blocks to Main Street and pulled into the angled parking spot between two black pickup trucks that had both edged over the white line and into her space.

  Wide, long-bed, black pickup trucks. Her FBI team was right. The town was overrun with them. What did the cowboys have against magenta or deep burgundy?

  Millie Miles stepped out of the passenger-side door of the truck to Sydney’s right just as Sydney was stepping out of her car. This was obv
iously one of those days she hadn’t wanted to drive. Why should she when she could just have one of her many wranglers to serve as chauffeur.

  Or maybe she had the same chauffeur every day. Driving Mrs. Millie.

  In town—on a regular basis like the day Rachel had been walking into Dani’s Delights when Millie was walking out. Had Millie been in Winding Creek but perhaps in different shops whenever all of the victims had last been seen in Winding Creek?

  It was a long shot but the best thing she had going now.

  Sydney walked over to the truck, stopped beside the driver’s open window and introduced herself.

  “Hi, I’m Sydney Maxwell with the FBI.” She flashed her badge. “May I ask you a few questions?”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “Not unless you’ve broken the law.”

  “I had a speeding ticket last year.”

  “I’ll let you pass on that. I just noticed Millie Miles getting out of your truck. That’s so nice of you to drive her around. Do you do that every day?”

  “No. That’s usually Roy Sales’s job.”

  “Where is Roy today?”

  “He was here earlier. He dropped the boss lady off at the library for some kind of meeting. He was supposed to come back and pick up her and a friend at Caffe’s after lunch. He never showed. The friend got a ride home and I drew the flunky card. Don’t tell the boss lady I put it that way.”

  “Never. What do you think happened to Roy Sales?”

  “Who knows. He’s like a blister. Annoying as hell and doesn’t show up until the work is done, if you get my drift.”

  “I do. I think I may have met Roy before. Does he have greasy brown hair that crawls into his shirt collar? A slight build. Short—only a few inches taller than me.” As per Joy White’s description except for leaving out the crazy look in his eyes.

  “Yep. You’ve met him. That’s him to a T.”

  Her heart burst into overdrive. This was the way it felt when all the pieces fell into place.

  She thanked the driver for his trouble, rushed back to her car and put in a call to Jackson. She got his answering machine, which meant he was likely talking to someone else. He didn’t like to be out of touch with his agents.

  She left a message.

  “I think we’ve got our man. Name’s Roy Sales. Works for Dudley and Millie Miles. I’m headed out to Kurlacky Acres Ranch, where he lives now. Meet me there. Call Tucker for directions. And hurry.”

  Excitement and adrenaline rushed through her, but even that couldn’t bury the surging fear. She had no idea what she’d find when she got to Roy’s place.

  She prayed as she pushed the accelerator nearly to the floor.

  Please let Rachel be alive and well. Let all the Snatcher’s prisoners, however many there are, be safe.

  * * *

  SYDNEY ALMOST PASSED the rickety gate before she saw it. She slammed on her brakes and swerved into the dirt and grass of the drive.

  It occurred to her that she didn’t know where to go once she was through the gate. Tucker had said there were shacks, sheds and dilapidated barns scattered all over some of the ranches.

  The smart thing to do would be to pull her small rental car into one of the wooded areas she could see from here and wait for Jackson. She couldn’t afford any stupid mistakes this time.

  With luck, Roy would be working at Dudley’s ranch. They’d be able to search the premises for Rachel and the others before dealing with him. Once they encountered him, he’d know this was the end of the road for him. She didn’t expect him to go down easy.

  She got out of her car to open the rickety gate.

  She smelled smoke before she saw the black furls sweeping above the treetops. It could be just a trash fire.

  It could be Roy Sales’s last hurrah.

  Panic jolted her into action. The latch on the gate was locked. She ran back to the car and barged through the gate, knocking one side completely off its rusty hinges.

  Her plan to wait for Jackson to arrive was canceled. She followed the smoke until she was close enough to see brilliant gold and yellow blazes shooting toward the sky.

  By the time she reached what was left of the house, timbers were falling and most of the roof was gone.

  She jumped out of her car and heard women screaming for help, their voices almost drowned out completely by the roar of the flames.

  “I’m coming, Rachel. I’m coming,” she screamed. She rushed toward the fire. The heat and smoke stole her breath but she kept pushing on.

  Her eyes poured water. Her lungs burned. Coughing spells tore from her dry throat. The fiery blazes were lapping at everything around her. Struggling to stay conscious, she fell to her knees. Then she looked up and saw three women stumbling hand in hand from the blaze. Coughing and fighting for breath, they fell to the ground in a huddle the second they were out of harm’s way.

  Sydney crawled toward them, her heart beating so fast it pushed her along. Finally, she escaped the worst of the fire and called out for Rachel.

  The women turned toward her. None of the three were Rachel. Dizzy and nauseous, Sydney stumbled back toward the flames. She could swear she heard Rachel calling her name. She fell to her knees as the heat overtook her.

  She tried to get up, but her legs wouldn’t move. She was so hot, so very, very hot. Someone picked her up in his arms as a huge timber crashed around her. Or maybe it was death calling her home.

  Blinded by smoke and tears, she looked up and had to blink repeatedly before she realized it was Tucker who had saved her from the flames.

  “How did you get here? Where did you come from?”

  “Jackson called and said you were here waiting on backup.”

  “I didn’t save Rachel.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry, baby. So very sorry. God knows you tried.”

  Reality merged with grief. She wiggled out of his arms but held to Tucker to keep her balance even after her feet were planted on solid ground. “We have to help the women who just escaped that literal hell.”

  When she turned to find them, they were no longer there.

  “There were three women who walked out of the fire. I didn’t dream them, did I?”

  “The only person I saw was you,” Tucker said.

  “I know they were here. Everyone except Rachel was right here a few minutes ago. The fire must have burned the locked doors that held them.”

  “Jackson’s on his way here. If they’re here, he’ll find them. Let’s get you to my truck.”

  “I’m not leaving here until we find them.” She rushed off into the woods to look for them.

  “Sydney, over here.”

  The voice was the quietest of whispers but Sydney was certain it was Rachel calling to her. Rachel. Alive.

  “I’m coming,” she called through sobs of pure joy and thankful release. “Oh, Rachel, I’m coming.”

  Finally, she caught a glimpse of her sister motioning to her from behind a thick tree trunk.

  Moving as quickly as she could, she made her way to Rachel. She collapsed into Rachel’s arms, holding on tight, afraid to believe Rachel was really alive and safe.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Rachel whispered. “The monster is out there somewhere, Sydney. He’s always there.”

  “No, you’re safe,” Sydney whispered. Safe. Her sister was safe and alive. Relief surged through her as she let the feeling sink deep into her heart.

  “My friend Tucker is waiting for us. The FBI is on the way. The monster is history.”

  “No. You’ll see. He’s never going to let me go. He’ll kill us both.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because he always does what he says.”

  This time the voice was gruff and Sydney felt the barrel o
f a gun pressed against her temple. Rachel was right. The monster had been there all along.

  “So this is the way you want it, Rachel? You’d rather run away from me and burn to death than stay with me. In that case, who wants to die first? Oh, that’s right. I promised Rachel she could watch her sister die. Or was it the other way around?”

  Sydney took a deep breath. She’d been here before. That time the Strangler had the upper hand. This time it was the Lone Star Snatcher, but the situation was the same.

  Take control or die. If she was going to die anyway, what did she have to lose?

  The gun was at her head. A quick pull of the trigger and it would all be over and the Snatcher would win. She and Rachel would be the monster’s last victims.

  She was not ready to die. She had a bull rider waiting for her and a whole marvelous life to live.

  She tripped intentionally and fell backward, maneuvering her body so she’d fall against Roy Sales’s injured leg. Roy yelled out in pain and then raised his pistol to slam it into her head.

  Instead it went flying through the woods.

  “Sorry, Roy. Not my first rodeo and you just bought yourself lifetime accommodations in the state pen. Now, would one of you ladies mind picking up Roy’s gun and handing it to me? I hated to get it dirty but he wasn’t playing nice with it.”

  “Tucker.” Sydney turned to find the situation reversed. Tucker was a step behind Roy with his gun pointed at Roy’s head.

  No one had ever looked that good to her in all her life.

  A symphony of sirens signaled the approach of the sheriff, Jackson and hopefully a fire truck or two.

  Alice, Michelle and Karen joined them at the edge of the woods. All the women ended up crying thankful tears in each other’s arms.

  Each of the women would go back to their lives a different person than they were before this horrible experience, but they were going back alive. Sydney would be there to help Rachel through her adjustment every step of the way.

  The reign of the Lone Star Snatcher was over, but that wouldn’t end the evil in this world. That was why Sydney would be staying with the FBI. Somebody had to fight for right. She loved the job, so it might as well be her.