Lassoed

by BJ Daniels

  Emma put the vacuum away, went back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the table to plot the best way to draw Aggie Wells out into the open.

  She had a feeling it wouldn’t be necessary if Aggie thought she was alone at the house. Emma remembered how Aggie had repeatedly warned her that she would be the next wife of Hoyt Chisholm’s to die.

  She curled her fingers around the warmth of the mug. If Aggie had just been waiting for the time when Emma would be all alone in his big rambling ranch house, this was the time. No Hoyt. No stepsons. No cook or housekeeper. Just Emma, the fourth wife of Hoyt Chisholm.

  Chapter Twelve

  Duane could not believe what he was seeing. He’d turned off where Billie Rae had told him to, driven down the narrow dirt road, but when he’d come to where the road disappeared over the edge into the gorge, he’d thrown on his brakes with a curse thinking she’d meant to kill him.

  Now as he stood next to the car, listening to the wind whistling down the river canyon, he hoped to hell he was seeing things. Billie Rae didn’t really expect him to drive down that road cut into the side of the mountain, did she?

  “What the hell were you thinking, woman?” he yelled. The wind blew his words back at him.

  That’s when he spotted her. She was standing at the entrance to a foot bridge that hung high above the river gorge. Who was this woman? Not the woman he’d married. Billie Rae had never been daring. He scoffed at even the idea. If anything he would have said his wife was timid. He thought of the way she often cowered away from him, which only made him more angry with her at the time.

  So what had happened to her?

  He frowned as he took in the small red compact car she apparently had been driving. Where the hell had she gotten that? From that cowboy? Or some other man she’d told her hard-luck story to? He ground his teeth at the thought that she’d told people about him. What went on between them was private. She had no business sharing anything personal with another person.

  He watched Billie Rae start across the bridge.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled again. She didn’t seem to hear him as she took another step, then another.

  He looked from her to the road. No way was he driving his car any farther down this road. He reached back inside the Lincoln, pulled on his shoulder holster and, on impulse grabbed the small unregistered handgun he’d taken off a drug dealer in Oklahoma. He stuffed it into the waistband of his slacks, covered it with his shirt, and slammed the car door.

  As he walked away, he hit the automatic lock on his keys, heard it beep once, then pocketed his keys.

  Billie Rae had stopped on the bridge. She was clinging to the rope rails. What was she doing out there in the first place? The damned fool woman must have changed her mind knowing he was going to be furious with her and now she was trying to get away from him by crossing the river?

  He glanced to the other side and saw only a narrow trail that led to what appeared to be some kind of weather station box used by meteorologists. The trail ended abruptly. Billie Rae was only going to find herself at another dead end. The stupid damned woman.

  Well, if she thought he was going out on that bridge after her, she was sadly mistaken. She could just figure out how to get back and when she did, he would be waiting for her.

  The road was rocky and rough and the dress shoes he was wearing were all wrong for chasing his wife into a river gorge. Duane swore as he started down the road, telling himself he would make Billie Rae rue this day.

  TANNER HAD FELT THE BIG CAR slow, then turn onto a bumpy road. Is this where the cop was meeting Billie Rae? Or was this where he was getting rid of the passenger in the trunk?

  He’d listened. Earlier he’d heard stereo music and even at one point, Duane signing along. The man couldn’t carry a tune.

  Tanner had tried hard not to bounce around on the rough road. He was hoping that Duane, in his hurry to get to Billie Rae, had forgotten about him. At least he was driving slow now—no doubt to protect his car—not his passenger.

  The Lincoln had finally come to a sudden stop, throwing Tanner hard against the trunk wall. He had lain dazed, blinking in the darkness as he heard Duane get out of the car.

  He heard the wind and then the cop swear. Tanner thought he smelled the river. Or at least water. All his senses seemed more acute. He felt something against his hip and realized it was his cell phone. It had fallen out of his pocket. He hadn’t even thought to check for it, just assuming Duane would have taken it.

  Picking it up, he hit 911. When the operator came on, he whispered, “Someone is about to be murdered. I don’t know where I am. I’m locked in the trunk of a black Lincoln with North Dakota plates, off the road, north of Great Falls. Hurry.”

  He disconnected as he heard Duane get back into the car and cut the engine. This must be where Billie Rae had told Duane to meet her. Was she outside the car? He listened but didn’t hear her voice, but he’d heard Duane yelling earlier though he hadn’t been able to make out what he’d been saying with the howling wind rocking the car.

  Tanner felt an overwhelming need to call her, let her know the police were on their way, but he’d feared with the music and motor shut off, the cop would be able to hear him since he could hear the cop moving around in the front seat. The car shifted as Duane got out again, slamming the door.

  Tanner held his breath, assuming Duane would be walking back to the trunk and that any moment the lid would swing open and— He heard a beep and the doors all lock. Then there was nothing but the sound of the wind outside the car.

  Listening hard, Tanner tried now to gauge how much time had passed. He keyed in the number of his old cell phone and prayed Billie Rae would answer.

  BILLIE RAE WASN’T SURE she could do this. She’d never been afraid of heights, but as she started across the swaying bridge, she felt motion sickness roil in her stomach.

  She took another step, sliding her hand along the rope railing to where it connected with the lower part of the bridge, forcing herself to let go and reach for another section of rope. The bridge swayed beneath her like a writhing snake.

  Don’t look down.

  She thought she’d heard Duane yelling something at her, but realized she may have only imagined his angry bellow.

  Then she heard him. Duane was yelling at her, his voice closer. She couldn’t look back. She wasn’t even sure now if she could pull off her plan because it meant not only reaching the middle of the bridge, but also turning around.

  She kept moving, one step, then another. The wind whipped her hair around her face, rocked the bridge and kicked up dust from the mountain on each side of the gorge. She didn’t look back, couldn’t. Just a little farther.

  She stumbled on one of the boards that had bowed in the weather and almost fell. Tightening her grip on the rope on each side of her, she froze as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

  As she started to take another step, her cell phone rang. She’d stuck the phone in the pocket of her slacks earlier and had forgotten about it. The phone rang again.

  She stopped moving across the bridge, willing herself not to look down. Gripping the ropes on each side of the narrow footbridge, she turned her head just enough that she could see the road cut into the side of the mountain. Duane was half way down the road, coming on foot. She squinted at the bright sun, the wind in her hair and the bridge swaying under her feet.

  She’d thought it would be Duane calling her. But he wasn’t on his cell phone. That meant… Tanner was calling. A bubble rose in her chest. He would have reached the casino by now and be waiting for her. The phone rang again.

  Billie Rae thought of him worrying about her. She knew it was foolish, what she was about to do. She needed to get to the middle of the bridge. Duane was coming. The man was crazy. Who knew what he would do?

  But she also desperately needed to hear Tanner’s voice right now. She was too aware that it was probably going to be
the last time she heard it.

  Letting go of one of the rope railings, she started to reach into her pocket. The bridge rocked wildly in a gust of wind and she lost her balance. She grabbed for the rope railing again, her fingers closing on it. Her heart lodged in her throat so tightly she could hardly draw a breath.

  The phone rang again and she let out a cry of frustration and pain. She steadied herself, praying that Tanner wouldn’t hang up before she could get the phone out of her pocket. She dug it out, balancing her weight on the bridge and trying hard not to think about Duane coming up the road toward her.

  “Hello?” She had to raise her voice over the wind.

  “Billie Rae, where are you?”

  She couldn’t speak; his voice filled her with sudden warmth and made her ache for what could have been.

  “I called the police. They’ll be here soon.”

  She felt her pulse begin to race. “Here?”

  “I’m in the trunk of Duane’s car. Tell me if he’s far enough away that I can try to bust out.”

  She looked back toward Duane’s car. “No,” she said into the phone. “You shouldn’t be here. Please don’t—” The bridge rocked in another gust of wind, throwing her off balance again. She dropped the phone. It hit at her feet, bounced once, then fell between the bridge slats.

  She watched the cell phone drop to the deep green of the river and rocks far below as she grabbed wildly at the rope, missing it, then lurching for it again. Her fingers clamped over the line and she teetered between the two ropes, her pulse thundering in her ears as she fought to regain her balance again.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Duane’s angry bellow sounded as if he was right behind her. He must have run the last stretch and was now at the other end of the bridge.

  She didn’t dare look back for fear he would be racing along the bridge toward her. Concentrating on nothing but her next step, she slid her hands along the weathered ropes, letting go only to grab the next section.

  “Billie Rae, you stupid bitch! Get back here now!” Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught glimpses of deep green through the gaps between the wooden slats of the bridge floor as she took a step—just enough to remind her what was at stake if she failed.

  “If I have to come after you…”

  She heard a creak, felt the rope railing on her right grow taut and knew without looking that Duane was on the bridge behind her.

  TANNER FELT AN URGENCY like none he’d ever experienced before. Something in Billie Rae’s voice. Where was she? Close by. He’d heard the sound of the wind and a creak of boards. But it was what he’d heard beneath her words that had him frantically shifting his body around so his feet were pointed at the back seat of the Lincoln.

  He prayed that Duane was far enough from the car that he wouldn’t hear the noise and come back, but he couldn’t wait any longer.

  He kicked the back seat, putting as much force as he could into it given how cramped his surroundings were. He kicked harder. He felt the seat give a little.

  Repositioning himself, he braced against the wall of the trunk and kicked and pushed as hard as he could. He felt the seat give a little more.

  He stopped to listen, afraid he would hear the beep of Duane unlocking the car doors—or worse, the trunk lid.

  Hearing nothing but the wind, Tanner kicked again and again. The seat finally gave. He lay in the trunk breathing hard, then gave the seat a final push. He could see light coming in through the rear tinted windows.

  Just a little more….

  AS HE STEPPED OUT ONTO the bridge, Duane watched the water far below and felt the muscles in his legs begin to spasm. It was all he could do to keep standing. He clung to the rope rail, feeling sick to his stomach.

  He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Acrophobia. That’s what the doctor had called it.

  “It’s not unusual,” the mandatory police department psychiatrist had told him after the fire escape incident. “A large percentage of the population has the same problem.”

  “Acrophobia? What the hell is that?”

  “It’s an extreme or irrational fear of heights.”

  “Are you saying I’m irrational?” he’d demanded.

  “It means that sufferers of acrophobia experience panic attacks in high places and often become too agitated to get themselves down. Isn’t that what happened to you, Officer?”

  Duane raised his gaze to look down the swaying footbridge to where Billie Rae had stopped moving. Maybe she was coming back. At the thought, he felt a rush of relief, of gratitude, almost love. If she came back, he wouldn’t be forced to go out any farther on this bridge.

  Maybe he wouldn’t kill her. He’d just make her wish she was dead.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” he called to her. “If you’d made me come after you…”

  You don’t want me to have to come after you.

  Duane was startled by the sound of his old man’s voice echoing in his head.

  So what’s it going to be, sonny? You think you can get away from me? You want to try? Or are you going to take what’s coming to you like a man?

  He’d been six years old that day when he’d stood in the field, his father standing at the edge of the barn door with a thick leather strap dangling from one large hand.

  You going to take your medicine like a man or am I going to have to come after you? I guess I don’t have to tell you what’s going to happen if I have to come after you, do I, Duane?

  “Come on back now, Billie Rae,” he called to her when she still hadn’t moved. He could tell by the way she was balanced on the bridge, her head and shoulders slumped, that she’d scared herself. She didn’t want to go any farther. She would come back now.

  “You want me, Duane?” she called back over one shoulder. “Then you’re going to have to come get me. I can’t move.”

  He swore under his breath. Hell, he’d just leave her there. She’d either starve or lose her balance and fall. Either way would work for him.

  But his need to teach her a lesson with his hands pulled at him, taunting him. “Damn it, Billie Rae.”

  Duane looked back over his shoulder. It wasn’t that far back to solid ground. If he turned around now… He started to, but then he saw Billie Rae glance back at him and remembered the night that dumb cop had told her he was afraid of heights. It was bad enough that she’d left him, bad enough that she’d put him through all of this, but now she was almost daring him to come out on the bridge.

  Unless you’re too afraid, you coward.

  He stared at her, realizing she didn’t think he could do it. She was planning on him getting scared and…what? Falling?

  “You’ve made a big mistake,” he called to her as he took a step toward her, then another. “You think I won’t come get you?” His laugh echoed on the wind. “Oh, I’ll come get you, Billie Rae. But you are going to wish to hell and gone that you hadn’t done this.”

  SQUIRMING AROUND, TANNER worked his torso through the opening he’d made by kicking the back seat free. Now he just needed something to cut the plastic handcuffs. He managed to get the rear door open and dropped to his feet outside the car.

  With a shock, he took in his surroundings. Duane had parked the car only feet from the edge of a precipice. Tanner stared at the river gorge for a moment wondering where the cop had gone. Was he really meeting Billie Rae here?

  His stomach knotted at the thought.

  He quickly reached into the car and unlatched the trunk. In the back, he found what he was looking for. A pair of pliers. He worked the pliers between his wrists, snapped the handles shut and snipped the plastic. The cuffs fell away.

  For a few seconds, he searched through the tools to see if there was anything he could use as a weapon. He chose the tire iron, saw that it had what looked like dried blood on it, and quietly closed the trunk.

  As he neared the rim of the river gorge, he peered over, saw the deep gorge, then looked upriver to where the narrow road that
had been cut in the side of the mountain ended at a footbridge.

  His heart dropping, he saw Billie Rae had stopped part way across the footbridge—the cop close be hind.

  Tanner began to run, the wind and dust blowing in his face, fear gripping him. He didn’t want to think of what was going to happen when Duane caught up with her on the bridge.

  Tanner wouldn’t be able to reach Duane before he got to Billie Rae. The treacherous road made running at any speed almost impossible. Duane was now slowly moving across the bridge going after Billie Rae.

  He could hear Duane yelling. So far, the cop hadn’t seen him. Tanner had a feeling that Duane had forgot ten about him. The wind howled in his ears. He could smell the river and the dust that kicked up along the steep bank of the gorge.

  Billie Rae had started to move again, but the cop seemed to be gaining on her. Tanner ran up behind the car she’d bought. The cop still hadn’t seen him apparently. He noticed that Duane was wearing a shoulder holster but he hadn’t reached for his gun. Instead, he was holding onto both ropes suspended across the river gorge as if his life depended on it as he continued across the bridge after Billie Rae.

  Tanner ran from behind the car over to the entrance of the bridge. A gust of wind whirled up dust around him and rocked the bridge wildly.

  Billie Rae had reached the middle of the bridge. Suddenly she seemed to lose her balance. He felt panic seize his chest as he saw her drop to her hands and knees on the footbridge.

  Duane was yelling obscenities at her as he clutched at the rope railing, the bridge swinging crazily. The cop was staring down at the river and rocks far below him. He wasn’t looking at Billie Rae.

  But Tanner was.

  He saw her reach into the pocket of the large jacket she wore and attach what looked like a length of climbing rope to the steel cable that held the suspended footbridge in place.

  Then she got to her feet again and turned around so she was facing Duane who was still yards away, the rope hidden behind her leg.