Into Dust

by B. J Daniels

  “Apparently, Russell can’t leave until he’s sure that Sarah is all right.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing like a man blinded by love.”

  Frank raked a hand through his hair. “You know, the closer this damned election gets, the more I worry. I’m sure you heard about what Buck told that reporter on the plane.”

  The reporter had been a woman sitting next to him who hadn’t identified herself as being with the media. She’d weaseled information out of Buck and the damned fool hadn’t suspected a thing. He’d told her how he felt about his first wife.

  Nettie, who attracted gossip the way bald tires pick up nails, heard about it the moment it hit the news. Not that she was surprised. Buck was still in love with Sarah. The only thing that had been standing in their way was Buck’s second wife, Angelina. With her dead and gone, Sarah broke her engagement to Russell and moved into one of the houses on Hamilton Ranch. Nettie had seen that coming for months.

  Her cell phone buzzed. She pulled it out. “Mabel Murphy just texted me.”

  Frank groaned. “How does Mabel find time to eat?”

  As robust as Mabel was, she obviously did find the time, Nettie wanted to point out, but couldn’t contain the latest news. “Mabel saw on Twitter that Buck just bought Sarah an engagement ring.”

  “What? The stores have been closed for hours.”

  “The owner of a jewelry store in Bozeman opened as a special request for the ‘presumed’ future president.”

  The sheriff sighed. “If voters turn against Buck for this, he’ll lose the election. I hate to hope for that since I think Buck actually might make a damned good president. But his being back with Sarah makes me uneasy.”

  Frank was convinced that Buck running for president and Sarah suddenly coming back after twenty-two years was too coincidental—and dangerously so. He worried that she had some ulterior motive that had nothing to do with love.

  “If you’re right, Sarah won’t do anything that will jeopardize Buck becoming president,” Nettie said. “So if marrying him would hurt his chances, she’ll turn him down. Which could explain why she hasn’t moved in with him. It’s been months since Angelina’s death.”

  “I guess we’re about to find out if Buck has reasons to fear Sarah,” the sheriff said. “This is one time when I wouldn’t mind being wrong about someone.”

  * * *

  BUCK FELT FOR the small jewelry box in his pocket as he got out of his SUV and walked toward Sarah’s door. It was late but there was a light on inside the house.

  He’d been thinking about his life all the way to the ranch. Mostly, he’d been thinking about what he would do if Sarah refused to marry him and move into the main house with him again.

  Four months ago she’d been packing to do just that. So what had happened? Or maybe he should ask himself, who? She’d cared enough about Russell Murdock to agree to marry him. Had Russell come back into her life? Buck didn’t believe that Russell had left town. Was the man waiting around for Sarah? Or was Russell waiting around for Buck to fail her?

  That thought was the one that had hit the hardest. The Sarah he’d known, the one who had given him six daughters, hadn’t been thrilled about his involvement in politics even all those years ago. Now he was running for president. Was that the problem?

  He knocked since he didn’t feel he could just walk in despite that he owned the house. Things between him and Sarah were too much up in the air for him to just assume he would be welcome.

  His heart was pounding as he knocked again. The car he’d bought her was parked outside, but maybe she’d left with someone else. But she’d known he was coming home tonight, surely—

  She opened the door and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. His love for this woman practically knocked him to his knees. He didn’t need his campaign manager to tell him how dangerous that was. This kind of love could destroy a man.

  He’d planned to wait, but seeing her standing there... He dropped to his knee as he dug the ring box from his pocket with one hand and reached for her hand with the other.

  She looked startled and took a step back.

  He flipped open the ring box. The diamond caught the light from inside the house. He looked from it to her face. He’d never been so afraid in his life. “Sarah, please marry me.”

  “Buck.” Her voice broke. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Buck.”

  * * *

  THE LOCK ON the old metal box broke with a pop. Jack put down the screwdriver he’d used to pry the lock apart and glanced nervously at Cassidy. The neon light from the diner filled the car with a sickening green glow that made them both look ghastly. She was staring at the metal box, waiting for him to open it. From her expression, she was just as anxious as he was.

  “Let’s go inside so we can see what’s in here,” he said, picking up the container and opening his car door. He knew he was stalling. Outside the car, he took a deep breath. The Texas night smelled of oak trees and marshes mixed with the cloying scent of fried food coming from the diner.

  He heard Cassidy get out, close her door and come around the car to join him. He told himself he should confess all to her before they saw what was in the box. It there was anything in here with the Durand name on it, she would put two and two together and realize he’d lied to her. Even if she didn’t run shrieking for help, she wouldn’t trust him ever again. He hated the thought more than he should have since he’d only known her for hours. Worse, he wouldn’t be able to protect her from his father if she took off on her own.

  They were almost to the front door of the diner when he stopped. “Cassidy—”

  “Beany.”

  “Okay, Beany, there’s something I should—”

  “Please, let’s just get inside and open the box,” she cried, hugging herself even though the Texas night was hot and muggy. “You’re killing me.”

  He nodded. As he pushed open the diner door, he was glad to see that there were only a couple of old men sitting at the counter. Jack led her to a back booth and took a seat across from her, putting the box on the cracked vinyl seat next to him.

  The waitress, an older woman with what appeared to be a fresh perm and wearing too much rouge, brought them water and menus. He realized that to her, they probably looked like a couple on a late-night date.

  “I’d love some coffee,” Jack said, looking at Cassidy, who nodded. “And...” The daily specials were on a chalkboard behind the counter. “The breakfast special.” It was ham, eggs, pancakes and hash browns and a side of biscuits and gravy. It was also the first item on the chalkboard.

  “Me, too,” Cassidy said as if she just wanted the waitress to go away so they could open the box.

  The waitress hobbled off on orthopedic white shoes that creaked with each step. Jack waited as she moved behind the counter to post their orders. A fan whirred noisily overhead. Tension hung in the greasy-smelling air.

  Across from him Cassidy toyed nervously with the short hair at her neck as the woman returned with two coffees and silverware. Once the waitress wandered off, Cassidy gave him an impatient look.

  He picked up the metal box and placed it on the table. His gaze went from it to Cassidy. Last chance to tell her the truth.

  “Jack,” she said in a pleading tone.

  Slowly, he lifted the lid.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FOR A MOMENT, Jack only stared down into the metal container. A driver’s license lay on top of the papers inside. The mug shot was a younger version of his father, but the name on the license was Martin Wagner. He picked up the license and saw that the expiration date was October of 1982.

  As if she couldn’t stand it any longer, Cassidy slid out of the booth and came around to his side of the table. He slid over to let her sit down.

  “Who is Martin Wagner?” she whispered.r />
  “I have no idea.” It wasn’t a lie. Right now he didn’t even know who Tom Durand was—the man who he’d believed was his father. The man who had raised him since birth.

  In a daze of confusion, he let Cassidy take the license as he began to look at the other paperwork in the box. There was a birth certificate for Martin Wagner, a social security card, even a passport that apparently had never been used from 1979. Under those items were newspaper clippings.

  Pulling out one, he saw that it was about an anarchist group called The Prophecy. Cassidy took the clipping from his hand, frowning as she glanced at it.

  “The Prophecy?” she asked.

  He shook his head, afraid what the two had to do with each other. Why would his father keep the clippings unless they had something to do with him?

  He dug deeper, his fingers grazing what felt like card stock. As he lifted out the rest of the newspaper clippings, he saw that there were half a dozen photographs at the bottom of the box. Picking them up, he quickly leafed through them.

  There were numerous photos of his father with other people he didn’t recognize. From the clothes and haircuts, he guessed the shots had been taken in the late seventies or early eighties. Jack stopped to stare at one of them. Several people in the photo held automatic weapons. What the hell?

  He turned the photo over. Written on the back were the words: The Prophecy 1978. Apparently, his father had been a member of this group.

  Staring at the photo again, Jack couldn’t help but notice something else that sent a shock of pure ice up his spine. His father was smiling at the camera in a way Jack had never seen him smile. Tom Durand looked happy.

  Except, apparently Tom Durand wasn’t even his name.

  Jack thought of his serious workaholic father, a man who had apparently thrown himself into his work. Because he’d been running from something?

  “Did you see these?” Cassidy demanded, holding up the newspaper clippings. She dropped her voice. “The Prophecy was some anarchist group that blew up buildings and killed people.”

  He saw the date. A year after that happy photo of his father. It all began to sink in. Was this what his father had been running from? He realized he didn’t know the man at all. Never had. That was the thought that kept racing around in his head like a hamster wheel.

  Cassidy put down the clippings and reached for the photos. Jack felt numb. He couldn’t have been more shocked. He’d wondered how far his father might go if he was behind Cassidy’s attempted abduction. Now he felt he had a pretty good idea of what Tom Durand/Martin Wagner might be capable of.

  He started to dig in the box again when he saw the key. That must have been what had made the rattling sound when he’d shaken the box earlier, he thought as he drew it out. It appeared to be a safe-deposit key from a bank.

  More secrets, Jack thought with growing concern. Still, nothing in this box explained why his father had hired Ed to kidnap Cassidy, except for the fact that Tom Durand had been a man named Martin Wagner. And Martin Wagner had been a member of an anarchist group called The Prophecy. Was he still a member?

  As he palmed the key, he watched Cassidy looking through the photos. Furtively, he dropped the key into his jacket pocket, telling himself it wasn’t wrong to keep this from her. Whatever was in the safe-deposit box could be worse than even this. He didn’t want her involved any more than she already was. Who knew what other secrets his father had that the two of them could stumble across? As it was, there was no going back from this.

  But even as he thought it, his mind rebelled against all of it. There had to be a mistake. Maybe his father had an identical twin named Martin Wagner and they were separated at birth. His father couldn’t have been part of this group.

  Cassidy let out a cry, startling him.

  He looked over, instantly afraid. “What is it?”

  “That woman,” Cassidy said, pointing at the only woman pictured in the group photographs that included his father.

  He hadn’t really looked at anyone in the snapshots other than his father. Now he took in the redhead Cassidy was pointing at. The woman stood between Jack’s father and another man. They all looked to be in their early twenties, except for one tall, lean older man off to the side. They were all smiling at the camera, eyes bright. Alarmingly so.

  Cassidy pointed at the woman in the photo. “That’s my mother.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE ENGAGEMENT RING was beautiful. Sarah stared at it on her hand. Of course Buck had remembered her size, so it fit perfectly.

  He’d slipped it on before she could stop him. He’d taken her stunned, horrified reaction for acceptance. She’d broken down, sobbing her heart out when he’d dropped to his knee and proposed. He thought that this was what she’d been waiting for. That realization had only made her cry harder.

  She didn’t know what she was going to do. When she’d seen him down there on his knee, she’d wanted to blurt it all out, telling him everything. But the truth wouldn’t save either of them.

  “Do you like it?” he asked now as he came into the room with two glasses of champagne. Of course he had thought of everything.

  She could only nod. Her eyes burned with fresh tears, but she fought them back as he bent to kiss her on the cheek. She closed her eyes, wanting him to take her in his arms and make love to her. She yearned for that escape. But at the same time, she felt too vulnerable. What if she did tell him everything?

  She had to pull herself together. Before Dr. Venable had left, he’d warned her.

  “The members of The Prophecy have been leading normal lives—much like yours and Buck’s had been.”

  “Before I tried to kill myself.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “They aren’t going to just stop because you’ve changed your mind or because you want to confess all. The plan will go on. You’ll see it all happen from your prison cell, where you will be powerless to stop it—or what happens to your family.”

  He must have seen that she preferred that to whatever they planned to do.

  “Unfortunately, your family will pay the price,” Dr. Venable said. “One wrong move, and your daughters—”

  “What are you planning to do?” she’d pleaded, only to have him shake his head.

  “If you want to protect your family, then you have to do what I say,” Venable had said. “I’m your best bet, trust me.”

  “But I don’t trust you.”

  “As long as you keep what you know to yourself and make sure nothing keeps Buck from winning this election...”

  So that was it. Buck had to win. And then what? That was why she was back here. They’d sent her back. Dropped her outside of town from an airplane. She’d parachuted in at night with no memory of the twenty-two missing years or why she’d tried to end her life that winter night in the Yellowstone River.

  How could she doubt that The Prophecy would carry out their threats given the lengths they had already gone to? According to Doc, The Prophecy had been responsible for all kinds of terrorist activities around the world all these years. Now they were determined to use her—and her family—for some big show of their power. Joe’s power.

  Dr. Venable had made his threat clear before he’d left. If she confessed all, if she tried to stop this, they would still succeed, but they would go after her daughters. The thought crippled her with fear.

  “I wish I’d never heard of The Prophecy,” she’d said with disgust.

  Dr. Venable had laughed. “Sarah, this was your plan. It has just taken a while to implement it. But now that your husband is so close to being our next president... The members will carry it out with you—or without you. But once your memory is completely restored you will feel differently about what needs to be done.”

  She’d thought she couldn’t be any more terrified by what was ha
ppening until he’d said those words. “You think I’ll turn back into this woman Red, the leader?” she’d asked, horrified at the thought.

  Doc had smiled. “Everyone is planning on it.”

  Everyone? Who was left in The Prophecy? She hadn’t seen the others in years. If Dr. Venable was telling the truth, they’d all still been active. She wondered how many bombings, riots, killings and maybe even wars in other countries they’d been responsible for.

  She hated them for using her family as leverage, hated herself because she was responsible for at least this part of it—if Doc could be believed. Now they were using her family and her past to keep her in line. She wasn’t fool enough not to realize that they planned to continue to use her. Use her to get to Buck, once he was the president of the United States.

  If it was her plan, then wasn’t there a chance that she could stop it? Unless Doc was right about her becoming Red again once her memory was restored.

  * * *

  BUCKMASTER TRIED TO relax as he watched Sarah take a sip of her champagne. Her hand shook as she brought the glass to her lips. From excitement, surprise or something else?

  Her reaction to the engagement ring had been more than even he had hoped for. They were getting married. He would have to tell Jerrod to start putting a spin on the engagement and upcoming wedding. He would balk, reminding him about lost votes if he didn’t wait. Ultimately, Jerrod would go along with it, because that’s what he got paid to do. But knowing the man, he would insist they get married at the ranch, do the whole photo thing for the media. Sarah would hate it.

  “Have you heard from the girls?” Buckmaster asked as they sat down on the couch.

  “Harper stops by occasionally.” Sarah’s voice sounded strange. She still looked as if she might burst into tears again. “They’re all busy with their own lives.”

  If he had any misgivings about her mental stability, he pushed them away. This was his Sarah. He knew this woman intimately. No matter what had happened all those years ago or where she’d been and what she’d done, she was still the same woman.