The Sheriff of Sage Bend

by Brenda Mott

  Making her way around the back of the cabin, she studied the pair of outbuildings in the cluttered yard. One looked like a toolshed, the other a makeshift garage. “Shannon!” she called, her voice bouncing off the hillside. If her sister was here, she would surely hear her. Miranda scanned the surrounding trees, and called again, with no answer except the whistle of a red-tailed hawk, gliding low in the sky.

  Gripping the sheathed hunting knife she’d brought from the glove box, Miranda crept through knee-high grass and weeds toward the toolshed. She tried the door, but it was locked. One small window at the back let in a stingy amount of light, but again, the glass was so dusty and covered with cobwebs, she couldn’t make out much. She had more luck with the garage.

  The double door slid open easily on its track to reveal an oil-stained dirt floor. The place smelled musty, like damp wood and old car parts. A classic Ford pickup—Miranda would guess it to be a 1950-something model—sat on blocks, four tires that had seen better days propped around it. The truck was dark blue, lightly coated with dust, a few fingerprints on the fender, hood and door. A canvas tarp covered the bed, and Miranda’s heart hammered, echoing inside her ears.

  She moved in for a closer look. The tarp had been moved recently. Were the prints on the truck small enough to be Shannon’s? Had Vance taken her away in this old pickup, then put it up on blocks to make it look as if the truck didn’t run? Miranda reached for the ropes on the tarp, her fingers working to free the knot.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Swallowing a yelp, she whirled around to face Vance. The man looked angry, and taller than he had in town.

  And in his broad hands he clutched the thick handle of a heavy-looking, sharp-bladed ax.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I DIDN’T THINK YOU could sneak up on an Indian,” Vance said. “Not unless you happen to be another Indian.” He narrowed his eyes. “Lakota Sioux—on my daddy’s side.”

  Miranda swallowed her fear, angry with herself for not hearing his truck pull into the yard. “Lay that ax down,” she said, her gaze holding his. “Slowly.” Damn! She’d been stupid to come up here like this. What had she been thinking?

  That Shannon needed her.

  It was all that had mattered.

  To her annoyance, Vance chuckled. “What’re you gonna do? Stick me with that buck knife you’ve got sheathed in your belt there afore I can chop up your gizzard with this?” He hefted the ax, and Miranda could see the silver glint of steel where the blade had been sharpened many times.

  “I learned to throw a knife before I was old enough to recite the alphabet. I can pin a grasshopper to a dandelion stem faster than you can pop a top on a cold beer. So lay that ax down, and don’t make me tell you again.”

  Vance shrugged. He couldn’t quite erase his crooked smile as he leaned the ax against a toolbox. “You think I took your sister, don’t you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You tell me.”

  He snorted. “And why would I be stupid enough to do that, if I had taken her?”

  Miranda felt for the buck knife at her thigh for reassurance. “You wouldn’t, which is why I came to have a look for myself. Why do you hide away in this cabin, anyway?”

  He rested one booted foot on an open tackle box that held more fishhooks and lures than the local hardware store, and pulled a pouch of tobacco from his shirt pocket. “I don’t like people,” he said. “At least, not most of ’em.” He smirked. “You, now…you I could learn to like. Spitfire that you are.”

  “You said you know my mom,” Miranda said calmly, though her heart still raced. She still wasn’t sure if Shannon was tucked away inside that dark cabin somewhere. “She’s never acted like she knows you.”

  “She’d have no call to,” Vance said, neatly tucking a pinch of tobacco inside his cheek, his brown fingers deftly rolling the foil pouch closed again. “I was a year behind her in school, plus I dropped out in the tenth grade. But I remember pretty Paige, with her black hair and those big ole brown eyes.” He shook his head. “I hated that she hooked up with your daddy. He never was no account.”

  “I won’t argue with you there,” Miranda said. “What’s under that tarp?”

  Vance eyed the Ford as though he’d never seen it before. “Just a body or two,” he muttered. “Well, the heads, anyway. Have a look for yourself, seeing as how that’s what you’d aimed to do.”

  Miranda kept an eye on the man as she went to work at the knotted ropes once more.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  She jumped when Vance stepped up beside the old truck, but if he noticed, he gave no indication. In tandem, they undid the ropes, and the burly man flipped the canvas back with one flick of his wrist. Miranda swallowed another scream at the sight of the glass eyes of two mounted deer heads among a scattering of items in the pickup bed. Most of it looked as though it had been there for quite a while.

  “Told you,” Vance said, laughing out loud.

  Miranda almost smiled. “You going to show me around, then? I want to make sure my sister’s not tied up somewhere in your cabin.”

  “Come on.” Vance motioned for her to follow, and Miranda saw a jagged, white scar along the back of his hand. “I only tie my women up on Tuesdays, so you’ll have to come back in a couple of days if that’s what you’re aiming to see.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Well, I haven’t had much practice at tellin’ jokes, seeing as how these dogs don’t appreciate my sense of humor any more than you do.” He opened the cabin door. “Go ahead and look. I’m going to put my supplies away.” He tossed her a key. “Check the shed while you’re at it. Maybe Ted Bundy’s holed up in there or something.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Well, there you have it. More bodies for you to poke at. Maybe your sheriff friend can have a look-see while he’s here.” Vance jerked his chin in the direction of the dirt road just as Miranda heard the sound of tires on gravel.

  She turned and saw Lucas in his Blazer, a scowl on his face she could spot even from this distance.

  He parked behind her truck. “Now, how did I know you’d be here,” he said, getting out. He stood with one big hand cocked against his hip, reminding her of an Old West cowboy about to draw his gun.

  “Someone had to check. Heaven knows you couldn’t have questioned Vance for more than a minute, as fast as he got back home.”

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

  “And don’t tell me what to do.” She tossed the shed key to him, and he caught it deftly. “Here. You want to be in charge, search the shed.”

  “Any evidence I found wouldn’t stick without a search warrant.”

  “He gave me permission to look—you, too.”

  Lucas’s scowl deepened. “Miranda, you know what I’m saying. You don’t have any business being here.” He lowered his voice a notch—barely. “Suppose Vance was dangerous…what then?”

  “Then I guess you’d be investigating a stabbing about now. If he didn’t ax me first.”

  Lucas stared at the knife hanging from her belt. “I’m not even going to tell you how much trouble you could get into for carrying that thing. I came up here to let you know we’ve got a lead, and this time I think it might be legitimate.”

  Miranda’s breath stuck in her windpipe. “What? When?” she gasped.

  “A woman called a few minutes ago, and she didn’t sound like a crackpot. She supposedly saw Shannon with a guy on a motorcycle at the Gas-N-Go in Silver Creek last night. When the woman saw her picture in the news, she called in.

  “She saw Shannon with a guy? Do you think this has something to do with Shannon’s phone call the other night?”

  “I was headed out that way when I realized you’d probably come up here.”

  “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

  “There’s no need for you to come. If the tip pans out, I’ll call you.”

  Miranda let out a dry laugh. “I don’t think so, cowboy. S
hannon’s not just my sister, she’s my best friend. You can bet your sweet butt I’ll be there anytime, anywhere there’s even a hint of a lead.”

  “Let us do our job,” Miranda. You could inadvertently destroy evidence, get in the way…bungle this case. Please.” He turned and walked toward Vance’s dilapidated toolshed.

  “Lucas!” Miranda hurried to catch up, then gave his elbow a tug. At the feel of familiar, hard muscle, she pulled her hand away. “Go, then. I’ll look in the shed.”

  “Miranda, go home. Paige shouldn’t be alone. She looks like death warmed over.”

  She bristled at his condescending attitude. “Did you call her? She would really want to know about the tip.”

  “I’m not going to get her hopes up until I have something concrete to tell her. Now go on.”

  Ignoring him, Miranda set her jaw and continued walking. She heard him mumble something under his breath but chose to ignore it.

  The shed turned out to be cluttered, but there was no evidence her sister had been there. Miranda stared at the shelves and boxes of junk.

  “What about Vance’s cabin? We should look before you go.”

  “Just chill, okay?”

  She glared at him. Hurry up, for pity’s sake.

  After relocking the shed, Lucas headed for the modest log house, and knocked before entering. Miranda peered through the screen, having no real desire to go in unless she had good reason. Let Lucas look, since he’d gone all macho-professional on her. She heard him speak briefly with Vance, and minutes later, the two came back out on the porch.

  “She’s not here,” Lucas said.

  “Told you so.” Vance smirked.

  “I’ll call you later,” Lucas added.

  Miranda started to argue, then shut her mouth and got in her truck. She refused to look at him as he backed out. Then she gave him thirty seconds before she followed him. She knew exactly where Silver Creek was, a town not much bigger than Sage Bend.

  It might be Lucas’s job to investigate, but she wasn’t about to sit and wait. No way was she going to play damsel to this white knight.

  LUCAS GLANCED IN HIS rearview mirror, already knowing what—or rather whom—he would see. Damn, but Miranda was hardheaded. He watched to see if she’d take the turnoff toward the Rocking W, but as he’d suspected, she followed him to the main highway.

  Flipping on his lights, Lucas made a U-turn and headed back to the parking lot of the Truck Inn. Miranda drove up beside him and rolled down the passenger window of her Chevy. “What are you doing?”

  “If you’re going to follow me, you might as well park that thing and ride with me.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” She eased forward an inch, then braked. “This better not be a trick, Lucas, because if you drive off without me while I’m parking, I’ll be back on your tail so fast you’ll have to turn around and give me a ticket.”

  “No doubt.”

  She smiled smugly, found a spot for her pickup and was in the passenger seat of his Blazer before he could question his judgment.

  Did he really have a choice?

  “You ought to consider joining the force,” he grumbled. “You’re like a dog with a steak bone.”

  “You’re just noticing that?” She buckled her seat belt. “Tell me more about this woman who called in. Did you get her name?”

  “Anonymous caller—came from a phone booth in Silver Creek.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  “She supposedly saw Shannon with a guy on a motorcycle at the Gas-N-Go.”

  “With a guy? Do you think this has something to do with Shannon’s phone call the other night?”

  “I don’t know. The woman gave a pretty fair description of Shannon. But of course, she might’ve seen her picture on the news and made the whole thing up. It happens, as you know.”

  He didn’t want to give Miranda false hope. He probably shouldn’t have even told her about the call in the first place, but he’d had to do something to make her leave Vance Porter’s place.

  “I can’t stand watching the news anymore.” She swatted at a buzzing fly. “Mom’s obsessed with watching it, listening to it. She’s got two TVs tuned to different stations, plus the radio’s on in the kitchen. It’s enough to give me a migraine.”

  Clearly, Miranda was hurting. He wanted to reach over and lay his hand on her arm. Give her some sort of comfort.

  But he couldn’t.

  “I guess that’s Paige’s way of coping.”

  “I suppose. Me, I’ve got to do something more active. Sitting around waiting for the phone to ring is making me squirrelly.”

  “I never would’ve guessed.”

  Lucas stared at the road ahead. The thirty-five miles to Silver Creek was likely to feel like thirty-five hundred.

  Leaving the siren off, he used his lights to speed their progress, praying the phone-in tip was legitimate.

  “Since the caller was anonymous,” Miranda said, “how will you know who to question?”

  “Anyone and everyone around the Gas-N-Go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot. He’d been here before on more than one occasion, when he’d stopped to buy salmon eggs on his way to one of the best fishing holes he knew of, five miles north of Silver Creek.

  A cowbell rang above the door when he and Miranda walked in.

  “Hey, Sheriff.” A burly man with thinning red hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache greeted him. “What brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look dressed to fish.”

  “Nope. I’m hoping you can help me out, Scott.”

  “Sure, any way I can.”

  “We’re looking for my sister,” Miranda blurted. “She’s been missing from our ranch in Sage Bend since Friday.”

  Lucas pursed his lips, trying to hold on to the last of his patience.

  “I heard about that on the news,” Scott said. “I’m awful sorry, ma’am.”

  Lucas pulled one of Miranda’s flyers from his vest. “Somebody put a call in to my dispatcher from your pay phone—said they’d seen Shannon here yesterday evening. Do you know anything about that?”

  Scott shook his head. “That’s news to me. But I wasn’t working yesterday. You might want to talk to my nephew Brad, and see if he noticed who all used the phone. Not that many folks do, most people having cell phones these days. Brad pulled a double shift, on account of my regular guy being sick.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  Scott gave directions to Brad’s house. “You can’t miss it,” he added. “It’s painted a bright turquoise—only one in town that color.” He chuckled. “Folks around here call it the Smurf house. Pisses my sister off something fierce, since she picked out the paint.” He gave Miranda a sheepish smile. “Pardon my French, ma’am.”

  “Thanks, Scott.” Lucas touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll see you next time I’m down fishing.”

  “You do that. I sure hope you find your sister, ma’am.”

  “So do I. Is it all right if I put up a couple of flyers?”

  “You bet.”

  Miranda taped one to the window and one to the ice machine. Outside, she wasted no time getting back into the Blazer. “Speaking of cell phones, have you found anything on Shannon’s records, or Mom’s phone?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Nothing useful.”

  “What about the call Shannon got last Friday night?”

  “It came from an unknown caller. Could be a blocked number or a disposable cell phone. Those can’t be traced, but I am going to check with all the stores in this area that sell them. Matter of fact, I’ve got Garrett started on that today. I’ll catch whichever ones he doesn’t get to.”

  Miranda let out a palpable sigh. “Talk about looking for a needle in the old haystack.”

  “True enough.” Lucas glanced at her. And wished he hadn’t. In that moment, she looked young and vulnerable, reminding him of the twenty-year-old he’d left at the altar. A woman barely past being
a girl.

  He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  But that girl was gone the instant Miranda caught his eye. The hard gaze of a woman used to toughing things out on her own stared back at him.

  “I’m going to find her,” she said. “No offense to your abilities as a sheriff.”

  “None taken.” He wasn’t offended, just concerned. He didn’t want Miranda running foolish risks, getting herself into trouble too deep to get out of. “But you need to let me and my deputies handle this. You can help by sitting near the phone, in case Shannon calls. Your mom’s at the ranch, but what about your place? Have you got anyone there, besides those cantankerous dogs of yours?”

  “I hadn’t given that much thought,” Miranda said. She slammed her fist against the Blazer’s door panel, startling him. “Damn it, I can’t be three places at once. I want to be with Mom, I want to be out looking for Shannon…” She let the words trail away.

  “What about your barrel racing students?” he asked. If he could get her to stay busy, she’d also stay out of his hair—and safe. He didn’t dare tell her his suspicions about Lonnie Masterson. She’d probably end up at his jailhouse door, knowing Miranda. And Lucas already had his hands full with the DA where Masterson was concerned.

  “They understand,” Miranda said. “I’ve already phoned most of them, and I’ll call the others later today. I’m sure they’ve heard all about what’s happened by now.”

  “Don’t you need the money your clinic brings in?”

  Her face reddened. “What concern is that of yours?”

  He couldn’t win for losing. “None.”

  She was right. He had no claims on Miranda, no right to tell her what to do or to try to protect her.

  After all, he’d been the one to hurt her most. And for that, he’d never forgive himself.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MIRANDA SWALLOWED HER disappointment as they headed back to Sage Bend. Brad the nephew had turned out to be a kid barely old enough to have a job, with a typical teenage attention span. He’d noticed nothing important or out of the ordinary yesterday evening, but had agreed to let them know if he saw or heard anything that might be useful. Lucas had also knocked on a few doors throughout the neighborhood near the Gas-N-Go, showing Shannon’s picture around, asking people if they’d seen her.