by Pam Crooks
“Yes,” Quinn said, remembering. “The association’s annual meeting.”
“That’s right. You were staying in your usual room. Sarah and Elliott had theirs downstairs. I was just coming back from bringing fresh towels to one of the other guests when I ran into her outside your room. She was crying, obviously upset about something.” Loretta smoothed her starched apron over her lap. “She was always polite to me and all, considering my past. I had a lot of work to do, but I told her I’d listen if she needed to talk. We went into a maid’s closet for privacy, and--and she said in case something ever happened to her, that someone needed to know the whole story. The truth.”
“The truth? About what?” Quinn demanded.
“She and Elliott were having problems, for one.”
He rubbed his chin. “Yes. For quite some time.”
Sarah had wanted a child, he recalled, and Elliott refused. Hell, he would have made a lousy father. Just as he made a lousy husband.
And brother.
“She was going to ask for a divorce that night. That’s why she was pacing outside your room. She was waiting for you, Quinn. She was going to tell you first, before she told Elliott.”
A pang of regret shot through Quinn. Sarah had confided in him often. It would be just like her to come to him with her decision.
If only he’d been able to talk to her . . ..
“Sarah was afraid of Elliott,” Loretta continued. “He was terribly jealous of you, Quinn, because T.J. left you the Star L. Elliott never forgave you for that.”
He’d been furious after the reading of their father’s will. For years, Quinn had struggled to make things right between them, to ease that fury and resentment, but as the eldest son, Elliott believed the Star L should have been his birthright. Though Quinn did his best to include him in ranch decisions, Elliott remained bitter.
Bitter enough to hurl him into a nightmare in prison.
“Sarah said he was plotting against you, Quinn. She didn’t know the details, but he was working with someone else, and--.”
“Who?” demanded Jody.
“She didn’t say. I didn’t ask.”
“Go on,” Quinn said, frowning.
“About then, someone came down the hall. From the closet, we couldn’t tell who it was, but it looked like you, Quinn. Sarah went rushing out.”
“But it wasn’t me.”
“No,” she whispered. She dabbed at a tear trickling from the corner of her eye. “It was Elliott. He’d been drinking. He had a key to your room, I guess, and when he saw Sarah, he yelled at her, accused her of having an affair with you. Then he slapped her, and--and pulled her into your room with him.” She sniffled, heaved in a breath, and continued. “I heard awful sounds coming from inside, and I knew he was beating her. I got so scared.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God.” She fought a sob. “I should have done something. I should have burst into that room and stopped him, but I was so scared.”
Quinn’s blood ran cold. “What did you do then?”
“I went to find Humphrey. I trusted him. He’d know what to do. By the time we ran back up there, the room was quiet again. Humphrey opened the door, real slow-like, and peeked inside.” Loretta hiccupped. “I couldn’t see much, but I could see the blood on the bed, and Sarah didn’t have her dress on anymore, and then Humphrey started breathing funny, wheezing a little, you know, and I got even more scared. He told me to go get the sheriff, and I started to, I swear I did, but someone was coming up the stairs and I hid in the closet again. God! I was such a coward!”
Dead silence followed her vehement words.
“I watched through a crack in the door. Two men I didn’t recognize were helping you up the stairs. I’ve seen enough drunk people in my day to know you weren’t drunk that night. You’d been drugged with something, and you were trying to stand, but your legs wouldn’t let you.”
“Quinn?” Jody’s low voice drew his attention from Loretta. “What do you remember?
He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Very little at that point. I’d had a few drinks, but”--he pursed his lips--“the drinks I did have were always brought to me by the same waitress, even though there were several of them serving us that night. I remember thinking she must have singled me out because she was sweet on me.”
“Probably working for Elliott,” Jody said.
Quinn nodded in agreement. “Keep on with your story, Loretta.”
“By now, Humphrey was having trouble breathing, and he kept clutching his chest and leaning on the wall. The men were real nervous seeing him there, and one of them pushed him into your room, saying something about letting Elliott take care of him.” Tears streamed down her face, her damp handkerchief having little effect at drying them. “He had a stroke,” Loretta said, her voice hardly above a whisper. “He collapsed into a coma in your room and died the next day. I never spoke to him again.”
Brows furrowed, Jody crossed his arms over his chest.
“The newspaper claimed Humphrey had been the first one to discover you and Sarah together in bed, and that he was so horrified from the killing, his heart couldn’t handle it. No one questioned the story. He was old. In his late sixties.” Jody shrugged. “Hell, it was believable. Until now, I believed it.”
Quinn’s mouth twisted from the irony. Besides Loretta and the two men, and of course Elliott, Humphrey would have been the only one to know of Quinn’s innocence.
“Did you ever go for the sheriff, Loretta?” he asked quietly.
“I was going to, I swear it. When I thought it was safe to come out of my hiding place, I hurried down the stairs. Then Elliott came tearing down behind me, covered in blood and yelling that you’d killed Sarah. God, he ran right past me!” Loretta burst into tears again. “I tried to deny it, but no one would listen. It was chaos, Quinn. Pure chaos! Everyone running and screaming. No one would listen to me. And why should they? I was a nobody, a--a whore-turned-hotel maid. How dare I dispute the high and mighty Elliott Landry from the powerful Star L ranch, with all its money and millions of acres! God, he was so convincing!”
Hurt and disgusted, she swiped her handkerchief across her nose.
“It would have been my word against his. Don’t you see?” Clearly desperate for Quinn to believe her, she took his hand tightly into hers. “Because of you, I had a new life here at the hotel. I was happy, happier than I’d ever been. I had Billy and a home, and I knew, I knew, Elliott would take it all away from me.”
Gall burned in Quinn’s stomach. Elliott would have done exactly that. He would have used every weapon to destroy her.
Loretta released his hand with a despairing sigh.
“Everything happened so quickly after that. Elliott and some of the men dragged you from the room and down the stairs and into jail. I ran, then. I ran all the way home. I was so scared. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Have you told anyone else what happened that night?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No one. Not even Billy.”
She’d lived her own nightmare. She’d suffered as much as he, Quinn realized.
Hannah knelt beside her and pressed a cool cloth to Loretta’s cheeks.
“It took courage for you to tell us this now,” she said. “Thank you. Quinn deserved to know the truth.”
“Is there anything you haven’t told us?” Jody asked.
“No. I’ve told you everything.”
“Will you testify in court, if it should come to that?”
“Yes. Yes!” she said fiercely. “It’s the least I can do.”
Jody nodded. “I’ll hold you to it, then.”
She looked him square in the eye. ‘I want you to.” She rose, her lids puffy, her nose red, but seeming to feel better for the confession. “I have to get back to my job. But there’s one more thing I want to add.” She turned to Quinn. “I wronged you terribly, after all you’d done for me. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me . . ..”
The words tr
ailed off, as if she knew she hoped for the impossible.
Quinn thought about hating her for what she’d failed to do.
He thought about denying her absolution, of prolonging the hell she’d lived. After all, he’d lived his own nightmare, far more horrific than hers.
He thought about all those things. But if he allowed her to continue to suffer, he’d be no better than Elliott.
He took her into his arms, then, and held her for a long moment before releasing her.
“We survived, Loretta. Four years later, we can talk about it. Reckon we should be grateful and see that it doesn’t happen again. For either of us.”
She leaned toward him, kissed both his cheeks. “I’m not worthy of your forgiveness, but I thank you for it. From the bottom of my heart.”
Drawing back, she turned to Hannah and clasped her hand warmly. “You’re fortunate to have him.”
“I know,” Hannah said. “Very fortunate.”
Loretta’s gaze found Jody’s. “I’ll do anything to bring Elliott to justice. You know that now, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Please do.”
Raising her hand in a wave, she hurried from the room to return to her duties. She latched the door firmly behind her and left the three of them silent and pensive in her wake.
Finally, Jody whistled, long and low. “Helluva story, wasn’t it?”
“But it’s still her word against Elliott’s. After all this time, how can we possibly get evidence against him?” Hannah asked, sighing.
Quinn’s mind groped to dissect that fateful night, to search out every loose end they might have missed.
“I want to see the coroner’s report,” he said suddenly. “George Larson had the job then. Maybe there’s something in his notes we could use.”
“And how the hell do you expect to see his report?” Jody demanded.
“I’ll insist on seeing it. Or you can.”
“Whoa. Slow down.” Jody held up his hand. “Have you forgotten you’re a fugitive, Landry? A convicted murderer on the loose. They’d string you up from the nearest rafter so fast your teeth would sing.”
“Damn.” That detail had escaped him.
“You go strolling around town demanding to see four-year-old reports, and you’re digging your own grave. And why would I stir things up after all this time? Hell, Stephen Larson would know something was brewing. You think he’ll give up those notes without a fight?”
“All right, all right. There’s got to be a different way, then.”
“You took enough of a risk walking to my office in broad daylight yesterday. And registering in this damned hotel under your real name! Yes, I checked.”
“I won’t hide under a rock, Jody. Not anymore.”
“It’d be best if you did. Thank God, no one has recognized you yet.”
“Yet,” Hannah said somberly.
Clearly, she dreaded the moment when his arrival in Amarillo spread like wildfire through the citizenry. The local lawmen.
Elliott.
All the more reason to have his evidence gathered and ready. Soon.
He had to see that report, Quinn thought. Any way he could.
It came to him, then. Clear as a bell on a mission church.
His gaze found Hannah. She paled.
Jody watched the exchange, his puzzlement evident.
“How can she help you?” he demanded.
Quinn flashed him an impatient glance. “She’s a con artist. She can throw locks and blow bank safes and pick pockets. And she’s damned good at it.”
At the revelation, Hannah rose and left the sitting room.
Jody’s jaw dropped. “She’s what? You said she was a nun!”
“A novitiate,” he corrected in a rough voice. “And she’s not one anymore. She’s married to me now. Different vows.”
He strode into the main room of their suite. She stood at the window, her arms crossed tightly over her bosom.
“Hannah. Just get us into Larson’s office. We’ll find his notes, then get out again. It’ll be an easy job for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Easy. And what if we get caught?”
“We won’t. You’re too good to let us.”
She bit her lip. “I vowed to never sneak-thieve again.”
“Please.” He lowered his head and touched his mouth and tongue to hers, his coaxing blatant and sincere. Slowly, his head lifted.
“Some vows are made to be broken,” he said and grinned.
“Glory. When I think of all I’ve broken of late . . ..” A reluctant smile curved her lips, and she stroked his cheek. “Yes, my love. I’ll break into Larson’s office for you.”
Chapter 19
Larson’s Drug Store sat on a corner lot one block off of Third Street and four more from the hotel. While she sat on a park bench sucking on a licorice stick, Hannah studied the building’s location, noticing the six-foot high picket fence squaring the back and side yards, and the second-story level.
A nuisance, that second story.
“He sleeps there, you know,” Jody commented, inhaling leisurely from a cheroot. “Same as his old man did. Stephen never married, so he’d be up there alone. Far as I know, anyway.”
“A problem, darlin’?” Quinn asked, rolling his cheroot between his fingertips.
“Not if he’s a heavy sleeper,” she replied and took another lick of licorice.
Tall windows graced the front of the store, and from their vantage point in the park, Hannah could see the merchandise lining the long counters and shelves reaching to the ceiling. Larson did a fair business in his store filling his own prescriptions, selling patent medicines, soaps and sundries.
And licorice sticks.
He’d taken Hannah’s money with a nod and no idea she’d return tonight in search of evidence against him.
That was the beauty of thievery, Pa always said. They never knew.
Larson kept his doctor’s office in the back. Hannah’s slow, sweeping glance had taken everything in--his desk, the oil lamp on top, the drawers of files, and the leather-bound medical books on one wall. The location of the back door, the key in the lock. Stairs. Windows. Shades.
She’d noted them all, just as Pa had taught her.
Satisfied, Hannah rose. All that remained were tools to purchase and fashion to suit her needs. “Ready, gentlemen? The hardware store is our next stop. I need a few supplies for this evening.”
“Will our plan work?” Quinn asked, pulling his Stetson lower and hooking her arm with his.
“It will. Nicely, I think.” She popped the last of the candy in her mouth.
“And it’s as dangerous as standing bare-assed in a snake pit.” Jody glowered. “I’ll be glad when it’s done.”
Understanding his concern, Hannah slipped her other arm in his. “This heist should be easy enough. I’ve done worse.”
“I’ve seen her work, Jody,” Quinn said. “She’s been schooled by the best. I wouldn’t have asked her if I wasn’t convinced she could do it.”
“There are risks.” Jody frowned. “But if anyone can do it, I guess James Peter Benning’s daughter can.”
Hannah exchanged an amused glance with Quinn. Her father’s reputation as a master con artist had been more widespread than she’d realized. Jody had recognized the name immediately, was shocked to learn he was her father. His shock had given way to grudging admiration and reluctant agreement to the night’s illicit activities.
All in Quinn’s interest, of course.
Still, he was right. There would be risks. And Hannah’s belly bunched in apprehension at the thought of all that could go wrong.
But nothing would. She wouldn’t let it. She had to do this for Quinn, to prove his innocence.
Elliott must be brought to justice.
At midnight, Quinn and Hannah prowled through the deserted streets with the stealth of two cats on the hunt. Dressed in black woolen shirts, pants and felt-soled slip
pers, they clung to the shadows and hurried to the park across from Larson’s Drug Store.
Jody stepped out from the second tree on the left, third row back, their agreed-upon meeting place.
“Lights have been out for over an hour,” he said without greeting. “He’s alone. No dog in the back. The street is as quiet as a morgue.”
“Good.” Hannah was glad Jody had volunteered for the stake-out. His assurances eased her trepidation. She glanced at Quinn. “Ready, then?”
“I’ve been ready for four years, darlin’,” he drawled. “Let’s do it.”
With Jody following, they skulked to the alley behind Larson’s store and pressed back against the fence. The slats reached to the top of Quinn’s head.
“You’re turning me into a damned shyster, Hannah,” Jody grumbled, pulling his collar up against the cold.
“Exciting, isn’t it?”
She yanked at the drawstring on her black flannel bag. Delving inside, she removed a ball of strong twine and briskly tied the end to Quinn’s wrist.
“Give this a good pull to alert us to anyone coming,” she said to Jody, handing him the ball. “The night is still. Sound will carry very easily.”
“Just make it quick. I can feel my hair turning gray already.”
She closed the bag again and turned to Quinn. “Okay. Heft me up.”
He complied, lifting her easily toward the top of the fence, her buttocks firmly planted into the palms of his hands, until she scrambled over the top. Within moments, he joined her, his movements as noiseless as hers.
“Did I ever tell you you’re a skinny shit?” he asked under his breath.
Her mouth twitched. “Yes. Hush.”
She sprinted across the yard to the back of the store. Her hand closed over the door knob. It didn’t yield, but she didn’t expect it to. She dipped into the black bag a second time and retrieved a pair of fine nippers, slipped the nose into the keyhole and turned the inside key. The door opened with ease, and she removed the tool, dropping it safely back into the bag.
She drew in a slow, careful breath. The first step in was always the worst, when she made that initial furtive search into the haunting stillness of a room, never knowing exactly what waited for her.