Mr. Taken

by Danica Winters

  “Are you Deputy Reed? Billy Reed?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. Billy raised his eyebrow. He didn’t recognize the woman. And he would have remembered if he had met her before.

  She had long black hair that framed a clear and determined face. Dark eyes that openly searched his expression, trying to figure him out for whatever reason, high cheekbones, pink, pink lips, and an expression that was split between contemplation and caution. All details that created a truly beautiful woman. One who had the deputy’s full attention.

  “Yes, that’s me,” he answered. “But I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

  The woman, who he had placed just under his own age of thirty-two, pasted on a smile and cut her eyes around them before answering.

  “I believe you’re trying to build a case against my father.” Billy immediately went on red alert, ready to field whatever anger or resentment the woman had with him. However, what she said next changed everything. Her dark eyes hardened, resolute. With a voice free of any doubt, she gave Billy exactly what he needed. “And I can help you do just that.”

  Chapter One

  Three years later, Billy Reed was kicking off his shoes, digging into his DVR and turning on a game he’d been meaning to watch for a month. During the season he hadn’t had time to keep up with teams or scores but he liked the white noise it produced. And, maybe if it was a close enough game, his focus might leave his work long enough to enjoy it.

  He popped off the cap of his beer and smiled at the thought.

  He’d been the Riker County sheriff for under two years, although he’d lived his entire life within its lines, just as his father had before him. It was one of the reasons Sheriff Rockwell had personally endorsed Billy to take his place when he’d decided it was time to retire.

  “You always want what’s best for Riker and I can’t think of a better outlook for a sheriff,” Rockwell had said. “After what you’ve helped do for this place already, I can’t imagine a better fit.”

  Billy’s eyes traveled to a framed picture of the former sheriff shaking his hand. The picture had been taken during a press conference that had come at one of the most rewarding moments of Billy’s career as deputy, when drug supplier Bryan Copeland had been locked behind bars for good.

  He didn’t know it at the time, but that case would help him become the man he was today—the sheriff who was trying desperately to pretend there was such a thing as a night off. He took a pull on his beer. But as soon as he tried to move his focus to the game on the TV, his phone came to life.

  So much for trying.

  The caller ID said Suzy. Not a name he’d wanted to see until the next morning. He sighed and answered.

  “I just got home, Suzy,” he said.

  Suzanne Simmons didn’t attempt to verbally walk carefully around him. Never mind the fact that he was the boss now. He didn’t expect her to, either. She’d been his friend for years.

  “That ain’t my problem, Sheriff,” she snapped. “What is my problem is Bernie Lutz’s girlfriend drunk and yelling at my desk.”

  Billy put his beer down on the coffee table, already resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rest of it.

  “Say again?”

  He’d known Suzy since they were in middle school and knew that the short pause she took before answering was her way of trying to rearrange her thoughts without adding in the emotion. As chief deputy she couldn’t be seen flying off the handle when her anger flared. The sheriff’s right-hand man, or woman in this case, needed to appear more professional than that. Though that hadn’t stopped her from expressing herself within the privacy of his office from time to time.

  “Bernie Lutz, you remember him?” she asked. “Short guy with that tattoo of his ex-wife on his right arm?”

  Billy nodded to himself, mind already going through old files.

  “Yeah, drug dealer until he went the straight and narrow about a year ago.” Billy remembered something else. “He said he found Jesus and started doing community service when he got out of lockup.”

  “Well, it looks like he just found a whole lot more than Jesus,” Suzy said. “Jessica, his girlfriend, just ran into the station yelling about finding him dead in a ditch when she went out to their house. She’s asking for our protection now. And, by asking, I mean yelling for it.”

  Billy ran his hand down his face, trying to get the facts straight.

  “So, did you check out if what she said was true?” he asked.

  “Working on it. I tried to get her to come with me to show me exactly where she found him but, Billy, she freaked out big-time. Said they could still be watching her.”

  Billy stood, already looking for the shoes he’d kicked off when he’d thought his night off might stick. His cowboy hat was always easier to find. He scooped it up off the back of the couch and put it on. The act alone helped focus him even more.

  “They?” he asked.

  “She claims that two men came to the house last week and asked Bernie for drugs, and when he said he didn’t deal anymore, they told him they’d come back and get them both.” Suzy lowered her voice a little. “To be honest, I think Jessica is under the influence of something right now—why didn’t she call us from the scene?—but I sent Dante out there to check it out. I just wanted to give you a heads-up if this thing ends up escalating and poor Bernie really is in a ditch somewhere.”

  Billy spotted his shoes and went to put them on.

  “Go ahead and get descriptions of the men she claims paid them a visit,” he said. “They could very well be suspects in a murder. And, if not, at the very least, they could be trying to buy or spread narcotics in the community.” His thoughts flew back to Bryan Copeland.

  “And we don’t want any more of that,” she finished.

  “No,” Billy said. “Definitely not.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you a call when this all pans out.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, tying the laces to his shoes. “I’m coming in.”

  “But—”

  “The people of Riker County didn’t elect me to sit back when potential murderers could be roaming the streets,” he reminded her. “Plus, if there is a body and a crime scene, we need to act fast so that the rain doesn’t destroy any evidence. Call Matt and tell him to go ahead and head out there. Even if it’s a false alarm I’d rather be safe than sorry. Don’t let Jessica leave the station until I get there.”

  Suzy agreed and said goodbye. She might have been his closest friend, but she still knew when to not argue with an order. Even if she had been trying to look out for him.

  Billy turned the game off, not bothering to look at the score, and mentally checked out. He tried recalling where Bernie had lived when he’d arrested him and the road that Jessica would travel going there. Billy had grown up in Carpenter, which was one of the three small towns located in Riker County, and Billy had driven all of its roads at least twice. It was the epicenter of a community fused together by humidity, gossip and roots so deep that generations of families never left. Billy Reed was a part of one of those families. He lived in the home he and his father had both grown up in, and a part of him hoped that one day his kids would walk the same hallways. Not that he had any kids. However, it was still a thought that drove him to try and keep the only home he’d ever known a safe, enjoyable one. If Bernie and his past drug habits were back at it, then Billy wanted to nip that in the bud.

  Billy tried to rein in thoughts from the past as he searched for his keys, the one item he always seemed to lose, when a knock sounded on the front door. Like a dog trying to figure out a foreign noise, he tilted his head to the side and paused.

  It was well past dark and had been raining for the last hour. The list of visitors he’d typically receive was relatively short, considering most wouldn’t drop by unannounced.
Still, as he walked through the living room to the entryway, he considered the possibility of a friend coming by for a drink or two. Just because he’d become sheriff didn’t mean his social life had completely stopped. Then again, for all he knew it could be his mother coming into town early. If so, then he was about to be berated for his lack of Christmas lights and tree despite its being a week away from the holiday. While Billy knew he had to maintain a good image within the community, even when he was off, he hadn’t found the time or will to get into a festive mood. Though, if he was being honest with himself, the holidays had lost some charm for him in the last few years. Still, he opened the door with a smile that felt inviting, even genuine.

  And immediately was lost for words.

  It was like looking in a mirror and recognizing your reflection, yet at the same time still being surprised by it. That’s what Billy was going through as he looked at Mara Copeland, dark hair wet from the rain that slid down her poncho, standing on his welcome mat.

  “Hey, Billy.”

  Even her voice pushed Billy deeper into his own personal twilight zone. It kept whatever greeting he had reserved for a normal visitor far behind his tongue.

  “I know it’s late and I have no business being here but, Billy, I think I need your help.”

  * * *

  BILLY DIDN’T MAKE her spell out her situation standing there on his doorstep. He’d regained his composure by the tail end of Mara’s plea. Though she could tell it was a struggle.

  “Come in,” he said, standing back and gesturing wide with his long arms. Mara had almost forgotten how tall he was. Even in the mostly dark space outside his door, she could still make out the appearance of a man who looked the same as he had almost two years before—tall, with broad shoulders and a lean body rather than overly muscled. Lithe, like a soccer player, and no doubt strong, an attractive mix that carried up and through to a hard chin and a prominent nose. His eyes, a wild, ever-moving green, just sweetened the entire pot that was Billy Reed. Mara had realized a long time ago that there wasn’t a part of the dark-haired man she didn’t find appealing.

  Which didn’t help what had happened back then.

  She hesitated at his invitation to come inside, knowing how meticulous he was with keeping the hardwood in his house clean. Which she clearly was not. The poncho might have kept the clothes underneath dry, but it still was shedding water like a dog would its fur in the summer. Not to mention she hadn’t had a hood to keep her long tangles of hair dry.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, guessing her thoughts. “It’s only water.”

  His smile, which she’d been afraid she’d broken by her arrival, came back. But only a fraction of it. The lack of its former affection stung. Then again, what had she expected?

  “Sorry to intrude,” she said, once they were both shut inside the house. Its warmth eased some of the nerves that had been dancing since she’d gotten into the car that morning, although not nearly enough to keep her stomach from fluttering. Although she’d known her destination since she’d buckled her seat belt, seeing the sheriff in person had stunned her, in a way. Like finding a memory she’d tried to forget suddenly within reach. She started to wonder if he had tried to forget her. “I would have called but I couldn’t find your number,” she lied.

  Billy stood back, giving her space. The small part of his smile that had surfaced was disintegrating. Mara’s stomach began to knot. She had a feeling that Billy’s politeness was sheer Southern reflex.

  And now he was starting to remember exactly who she was.

  She didn’t blame him or the mistrust that distorted his handsome face next.

  Though, that stung a bit, too.

  “You could have called the department,” he deadpanned. “You might not remember, what with you up and leaving so quickly, but I’m the sheriff. I’m sure if you asked for me they’d patch you right on through.”

  Mara kept the urge to flinch at bay. In her road trip across Alabama, back to the last place she’d ever thought she’d return—especially with Christmas only days away—a small part of her had hoped Billy would have somehow forgotten or forgiven what she’d done. That when and if they ever met again, he would smile that dimpled smile that used to make her go weak in the knees and they’d—what?—be friends? Her thoughts had always derailed at that question. They always seemed to when she thought of Billy.

  The little girl asleep and hidden beneath the poncho, held up by Mara’s arm, didn’t help matters.

  “I do remember that you’re the sheriff,” she said. “And, you’re right, I should have called there, but—” Mara had rehearsed a speech in the car explaining the exact reason she had driven back to Carpenter, back to his house, instead of just calling. Now, however, the words just wouldn’t come. All she could find were his eyes, ever searching for an answer. “Well,” she started again, trying to find a stronger voice. “It seemed too important to not talk about face-to-face.”

  Whatever reply Billy had been brewing behind those perfect lips seemed to stall out. His brows pulled together, his nostrils flared and then, just as quickly, his expression began to relax. He took a deep breath.

  “Fine,” he finally said. “But make it quick. I just got called out.”

  That was as warm as she’d bet the man was going to be, so she nodded. The simple movement shook water free from the bright yellow poncho covering her. She tried to give him an apologetic look.

  “I didn’t have an umbrella,” she explained.

  “You never did,” he said, also, she believed, on reflex. Like the nod, it was such a simple statement that Mara wondered if he’d even registered he’d said it at all. “Here, let me help with that.” Billy reached out and took the bag from her shoulder. Any mother might recognize it as a diaper bag, though it was designed to look like an oversized purse, but she could tell Billy Reed hadn’t caught on to it yet.

  Or the bulge beneath the poncho.

  She must have really thrown him for a loop.

  “Thanks. Do you have a bag or something I could put this poncho in?” She motioned to the very thing keeping their conversation from diving headlong into the foreign topic of kids.

  “Yeah, give me a sec.” He set her bag on the entryway bench and headed toward the kitchen. It gave Mara a moment to take two deep breaths before letting each out with a good shake.

  It had been two years since she’d seen Billy Reed. More than that since she’d met him in a bar, ready to do her best to help him take down the only family she’d had left. Now here she was, standing in his house, dripping on the hardwood.

  “This is all I have to put it in,” he said, coming back. His smile was still gone but at least he wasn’t stone-faced.

  “Oh, thanks,” Mara said to the Walmart bag he extended. She didn’t take it. “Actually, I’m going to need your help with this one. I don’t want to drop her.”

  And, just like that, Billy Reed must have finally looked at her—really looked at her—taking in the large bulge beneath the poncho. Wordlessly, he helped her pull it off. He stood there, eyes wide, as the dark-haired little girl came into view. She wiggled at the sudden light but, thankfully, stayed asleep. One little blessing that Mara would more than take.

  “This is Alexa,” Mara introduced her. She watched as his eyes widened. They swept over the little girl with attention she knew he was proud of. For a moment she forgot why she’d come. So many times over the last two years she’d thought about this meeting. Would it happen? What would he say? What would she say? However, Mara reminded herself that she hadn’t come back to Carpenter because she’d decided to. No, a man and his threats had made that decision for her. Mara cleared her throat. It was now or never. “Billy, meet your daughter.”

  Copyright © 2017 by Tyler Anne Snell

  ISBN-13: 9781488013171

  Mr. Taken

 
Copyright © 2017 by Danica Winters

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