The Troubled Texan

by Phyliss Miranda

“Just call 911. Jessup will answer. Say ‘cake’ and my whole office will empty out to get over here to see if there’s any left.” He laughed and touched her lightly on the nose with his finger.

  He slipped out the door, relieved to get out without Rainey discovering the letter. He was lucky to have a T-shirt on or the plastic would have stuck to him like chewing gum dropped on a sidewalk during the heat of summer.

  When Deuce entered the sheriff’s office at the town hall, Danny looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. “I thought you were helping your lady friend.”

  Deuce deliberately shot him a frown. “Got something I’ve got to do first.” He opened the door to his office and shot over his shoulder, “I’m not here if anybody asks.”

  Within minutes, the sheriff had taken all the precautions to preserve any fingerprints or other trace evidence on the envelope and read its contents.

  I’ve been counting the days since I last saw your fearful green eyes, so I can ask you why will you say that I am mad? It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I kill because I like to see the expression on their faces when they know they are about to die.

  With fond memories of your

  green fearful eyes, AFH

  Fury replaced the numbness Deuce felt after he finished reading the words a second time. During his years in law enforcement he’d seen and heard things that upset him beyond words, but this topped the list, second to the first letter.

  He got up and walked to the window that looked out into the town square. Putting his hands on each side of the window facing, he leaned into the glass. Because of the air conditioning it felt cool against his forehead.

  What was he to do?

  The first thing, of course, just like with the other letter, was to send this one to the crime lab. But not until the next time Federal Express was scheduled to be in Kasota Springs, and that wouldn’t be until Monday.

  Thoughts of not telling Rainey about the second letter weighed heavily on Deuce’s mind. He knew it wasn’t fair, but for the first time since she’d arrived in town, he had witnessed her interacting with the town folks seemingly without being skeptical that they were out to get her.

  Thinking this through, he sat back down in his chair and looked at the wall covered with diplomas. They didn’t help him an iota where his heart was involved. Knowing he needed to get back down to the depot so Rainey wouldn’t suspect anything, he drew himself to his feet and ambled to the door. Opening it, he asked Danny to come in.

  “Deuce, I promise I sent that off this morning. How’d you get ahold of it?” Danny began almost before he got through the threshold. “I promise—”

  “I know you did.” Deuce turned the letter in a protective envelope around towards his chief deputy. “Take a look at this. I found it at the depot this morning.”

  Danny turned pale as he read. “Damn it, Deuce. Exactly the same, but only with different words.” He turned the protective sleeve over. “Same paper and the letters look like they were cut from the same publication. And there’s something else.” He continued to study the letter. “Look at the last sentence. It’s different. A much more educated person wrote it, not a lunatic. The other words are literary, like the writer has been trained in journalism.”

  Frowning as he reread the words, Danny finally asked, “Want me to get it ready for the crime lab? No need to wait until Monday for pickup. This ups the ante a bunch, doesn’t it?” Without waiting for a response he continued. “Since FedEx already came today and I’ve got to go over to Amarillo to meet Brody VanZant this evening, I can drop it off at their offices. No need to wait until Monday.”

  Deuce nodded. “Is there something new happening with the task force?”

  “Same ol’ thing. We got a BOLO for a shipment of meth coming out of California crossing our counties this evening or early tomorrow morning so we’ll all be on duty, along with the DPS guys, until we get the bastards in custody.”

  Deuce shook his head, wishing every drug dealer would fade away like a buffalo wallow in a drought, but he knew that wasn’t gonna happen. But without guys like Danny and Brody out there doing their job, there’d be even more drugs on the streets.

  Danny gathered up the letter and turned to leave.

  “Thanks,” Deuce said to his deputy. “And be sure to make a copy of this one, just like the other one before you leave.” He felt the tightness that radiated through him subside when he forced himself to relax. “Hey, I owe you, man.”

  “Then the next time I’m undercover you won’t stay on my ass about getting a haircut?”

  “Not going that far.” Deuce sat back down in his chair. “Another thing. I don’t want Rainey to know about the second letter. You hear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Danny raised an eyebrow. “Makes me feel better to know that I can hold intercepting federal mail without a warrant over your head.” The chief deputy quickly closed the door before Deuce could be tempted to throw his shoe at him.

  Deuce took a deep breath, trying to prepare to return to the depot and act like nothing was wrong.

  Might be easier said than done but he’d make it happen . . . to protect the woman he knew he was falling in love with.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning Rainey sat in her car in the parking lot of the Kasota Springs Nursing Home waiting on Sylvie. She stared at the sign and the throngs of people going inside and thought back over the last twenty-four hours. She’d totally forgotten just how much she had missed over the last several years while putting one hundred and fifty percent of herself into being a deputy district attorney. What all had she missed?

  For starters, a love life of any sorts. She had gone on an occasional date, if those were what she could call a date, generally with an associate who talked business during the whole evening. Although most were handsome, intelligent men, she’d gotten very little satisfaction out of any of her dates except for good food and decent company. She always went home filled but not fulfilled and went to bed alone, not even settling for casual sex, with few kisses to be remembered. She couldn’t place all the blame on the men because if they weren’t talking about their cases, she was thinking about hers. That left little room for sweet talk much less pillow talk.

  Now she had someone in her life who rarely discussed business and seemed more into her and her project at the ol’ Rock Island Depot than anything else.

  She checked the time. Sylvie should have been there by now. Rainey smiled thinking about how easy it was to get Deuce to let her have her car back once he heard she was taking his advice and spending the afternoon with Sylvie. He never asked what they were doing, and she presumed he thought there wasn’t much happening in Kasota to get a Miss 1950 Prom Queen impersonator and a workaholic in too much trouble.

  Rainey felt exhausted but happy with all the work that had gotten done the day before. Almost all of the painting was finished. She had the bathroom to do, but things were coming together nicely. Even Gideon had helped paint and wash windows.

  By the time she and Deuce had gotten back to his ranch house after working all day, it was way past midnight. They immediately headed for the showers. Wrapped in each other’s arms afterward, they drifted off to sleep like two babies who had spent the day at a family reunion.

  The smell of coffee had awoken her long before daybreak. She couldn’t resist the temptation to have coffee with Deuce, so she got up, pulled on a robe and trotted barefooted downstairs.

  Finding him sitting at the table, she filled her cup and joined him. After typical morning chit-chat, particularly about how the work was going at the depot, she had the opportunity to thank him again for having the courage to bring up PTSD with her and it made her feel not so alone. He seemed pleased when she told him that she’d taken his advice and had accepted an invitation to spend the day with Sylvie.

  Deuce told her how happy he was that she’d taken her first step
to get outside her comfort zone. He kidded her about Sylvie being the perfect companion and had said that he needed to take care of some out-of-town business and wouldn’t be home until late.

  He never said where his out-of-town business was and she hadn’t asked. It was likely connected to his job or he would have offered an explanation.

  Glancing at the clock again, she began to get worried about Sylvie being so late. Of course, it being Sunday, and the fact they were going to a Mother’s Day Tea, she probably needed extra time to get ready. Rainey smiled, thinking that Sylvie would likely show up wearing a hat and gloves just like Rainey remembered her mother doing when she was a little girl.

  Thoughts about her mother caused an ache to settle in Rainey’s heart. She’d tried to reach her to wish her a happy Mother’s Day but got her voice mail instead. She had tried several more times over the morning before calling her father and receiving his voice mail.

  Maybe her mother didn’t want to be remembered on Mother’s Day. Not wanting to be reminded she was a mother because she’d then have to admit she was the much younger woman who broke up Rainey’s father’s first marriage by getting pregnant.

  Rainey took a deep breath and repeated the words she so frequently thought to herself.

  She’s my only mother and I’m her only daughter and that will never change.

  Rainey’s cell phone rang and brought her back to the late spring day.

  “Hello, Sylvie. You running late?” she asked.

  “I’m so sorry but I’ve come down with a sour stomach and need to stay home. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Sylvie’s voice rang of true sorrow at missing the event. “The administrator’s name is Elaine. She’s expecting you, so go see her.”

  “Please don’t feel bad about not being able to come. There are some things you can’t help. Just take care of yourself.” Rainey checked the rearview mirror to make sure she still had enough lipstick on. “Thanks for Elaine’s name. I need to get to know more people and this is a good start.”

  After another half dozen “I’m sorry’s” from Sylvie, Rainey disconnected, turned the ringer off, and placed her phone in the inside pocket of her purse.

  When she got to the entrance, she was immediately met by a woman who welcomed her and told her to help herself to the refreshments. “Enjoy your Mother’s Day. If you or your mother need anything, please let me know,” the willowy woman said before turning to the next arrival.

  Rainey felt sure that if the woman knew how the words only added to Rainey missing her own mother, the greeter would have never presumed Rainey had come to visit her.

  A professionally dressed lady in heels, about the age of forty, whom Rainey pegged as the administrator walked up to her. “Hi, I’m Elaine and I don’t believe I’ve met you before.” She extended her hand and Rainey reciprocated, giving the lady her name.

  “You’re opening an antique shop in the ol’ Rock Island Depot, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Sylvie told me all about you. Let me introduce you around.” She turned back to Rainey and said, “I understand you’d like to volunteer some and we can sure use your help. But if Sylvie hasn’t told you, we do have a number of residents who are suffering from dementia and Kasota Springs is fortunate to have an Alzheimer’s unit. Although, when they reach the latter stages of the disease, we don’t have the manpower it takes to handle them, so most have to be moved to a bigger facility.” Elaine never took a breath during her whole spiel.

  Rainey watched the residents interact with everyone around them.

  Four ladies sat at a game table playing Monopoly. Others laughed with their loved ones, obviously enjoying the day. Several sat all alone or with people who were staff, based on how they were dressed.

  Elaine went on to explain that if Rainey wasn’t familiar with Alzheimer’s that it was paramount that the residents not be upset or confused any more than they already were. She went on to say that there are various stages of the disease, but it was also hard to distinguish which stage they might be in because of their erratic behavior.

  “I know very little about it,” Rainey admitted, opening the door for Elaine to continue her explanation.

  “You’ll find some who are confused about what day it is and don’t know significant details about themselves or their families. Just go along with them and don’t try to pressure them for details. Remember they are in a world only they know and it’s kinda like channel surfing to them. The scenario changes. Being suspicious and delusional is fairly common at all stages. They don’t see the world as we do. Just mingle and let them enjoy you being here.” Elaine touched her on the shoulder. “We’re so happy you’re willing to volunteer. We have a couple of classes you’ll need to attend to become a regular volunteer, but today especially, we’re thrilled to have you. We’re so shorthanded, as you can see.” A sadness came to her eyes as she looked around the room.

  This is the perfect place for me to volunteer! I need them as much as they need me!

  “I’d like to introduce you to a couple of volunteers and wish I could spend more time with you, but can’t. I hope and pray you’ll find this a good fit for you and you can come back and visit. I can see the kindness in your face, so please consider it.” Elaine kept a watchful eye on first one, then another resident. She was obviously good at her job, and Rainey suspected that Elaine loved her patients as if they were her own family.

  “I can already tell this is what I want to do. Now, until I get the antique store opened, I’ll be limited on time. But maybe I can come one or two days a week.”

  “Mrs. Michaels, even an hour a week is more than some of our people get. Please excuse me, but I can see that Mr. Simpson needs to make a trip to the bathroom.”

  Rainey followed her gaze to an elderly man sitting in a wheelchair who obviously hadn’t asked for assistance soon enough. “I’ll warn you now that incontinence is a serious problem for many of our residents. I need to get a nurse’s aid to get him cleaned up.”

  “Ma’am,” an elderly voice called from behind. “Ma’am.”

  Rainey turned and walked directly to the man who looked lonely sitting by himself. “May I sit next to you?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I don’t reckon I’ve met you before,” he said with a rather strong voice for his obvious advanced age.

  For what seemed like only fifteen minutes, but by glancing at the wall clock, she realized it’d been nearly an hour, she listened to the veteran, who had introduced himself as Captain Chalmers. He proudly shared his stories about World War II and the Korean War.

  As another elderly man joined them, she learned that the ninety-two-year-old gentleman wasn’t telling stories but true tales from a much decorated veteran. She felt happy that she’d spent time with the man, but while he and his friend talked on, she couldn’t keep her eyes off a lady probably in her late seventies who sat alone in the corner shredding one tissue after another. When she was finished with one, she’d put it in her pocket and get another tissue and the process began all over again.

  Although Rainey had never met the woman, her gaze kept returning to her because she looked so familiar. So far nobody had come to visit with her. Whether she knew her or not, Rainey felt that she had to spend some time with the elderly lady.

  Suddenly, someone came to mind and she took a breath of relief finally remembering who the woman reminded her of: Marie Cowan, Deuce’s mother. But could that be possible? Although she had brought up the subject of his mother several times, Deuce had avoided giving her any information. Rainey had come to the conclusion that it had to be for one of two reasons—either she had passed away and he didn’t want Rainey to know, or they had had a falling out, which she couldn’t imagine. The other possibility, of course, was that she still lived in Denton and had a life of her own that didn’t necessarily involve Deuce.

  Anger rose inside of Rainey because she’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings of despair and guilt, coupled wit
h being afraid of everybody she came in contact with, that she hadn’t pressed Deuce on the issue.

  As the men talked on, she kept a watchful eye on the woman, who by now had ripped up at least a dozen tissues, each time placing them in her pocket.

  The more Rainey watched the woman, the more she came to the realization that she couldn’t be Deuce’s mother because Rainey remembered her as being almost as tall as her son. A proud, stout lady with shoulder-length, raven hair, while the woman tearing up Kleenex had short, gray hair, probably didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, and slumped down in her chair making her look about as short as Rainey.

  No—no way could this be the same woman, although she did have dark brown eyes just the color of Deuce’s.

  Rainey had to remind herself that there were a million people in the world who had brown eyes, not just Marie and Deuce Cowan.

  Rainey excused herself from the two men, telling them how much she enjoyed visiting with them, although she hadn’t gotten a word in edgewise.

  “I hope you’ll come back and see me,” Captain Chalmers said, giving her a toothless grin and a wink.

  “I’d be honored to, sir.” She patted his hand. “I really enjoyed visiting with both of you.” She smiled at one, then the other before walking in the direction of the woman in the corner.

  “Hi, I’m Rainey Michaels and I’m new here,” she said to the woman, who looked up at Rainey with vacant, sad eyes.

  “I don’t know you,” the resident said in a no-nonsense way. “But you look nice.”

  “How about me getting us some punch and I’ll sit and visit with you?”

  “That’d be nice. But I don’t want to drink very much because my son will be here soon and he’ll want to have some, too.” She tore another strip off the tissue in her hand. “That is, if he can make it today, but if not, that nice young man who comes every day will be here.”

  “Let me get some punch and maybe a cookie.” Rainey rushed off to the refreshment table.