The Sheriff of Sage Bend

by Brenda Mott

  “Any special reason your mom wanted to look up here?”

  “Not really. I think she’s just wanting to cover every possibility.” Miranda’s mouth turned downward. “This is an impossible task, isn’t it?”

  “Hey, don’t give up hope. I’ve seen searches go on for weeks until the missing person was found.”

  “Dead or alive?” She stared grimly at him.

  “To be honest, both.” He nudged Cimarron closer to Ranger. “Think positive. We will find her.”

  Miranda nodded.

  They set out on the steep, winding trail up the bare mountainside, riding single file along the narrow track. It went on for what seemed like forever before topping out at a flat spot, surrounded by timber.

  The trail continued through the trees—mostly pine and spruce—and Lucas breathed in the fresh air, glad he’d been born and raised in Big Sky Country. Even under the circumstances, he couldn’t help but appreciate the rugged beauty. Lost in thought, he was taken by surprise when Miranda’s horse bolted into Cimarron’s hind end at the sound of a gunshot. The peaceful silence was shattered. Birds flew squawking from the trees, and as Lucas reined in his spooked horse, he saw Miranda tumble from the saddle, landing at the horses’ feet.

  “Whoa! Whoa…” he said to the geldings as he swung to the ground. Lucas snatched Ranger’s reins before the black had a chance to bolt and possibly trample her.

  “Miranda, are you all right?” But before she could answer, another shot cracked the air, hitting a nearby tree. “Shit! Stay down. Move…over there!” He pointed, indicating a cavelike indentation in nearby rock.

  Without a word, Miranda did as he said, which meant she had to be as shook up as he was.

  Lucas analyzed the hillside opposite them, in the direction the shots had come from. “Hey!” He shouted toward the trees. “There are riders down here! Can you hear me?” He paused. “This is Sheriff Lucas Blaylock. Do you hear me?”

  The answer was a third shot.

  “Damn it.” Lucas scuttled as fast as he could toward Miranda’s rocky shelter, tugging the horses along behind him. He coaxed the geldings into an area where the outer rocks safely blocked them from danger…he hoped.

  “Who the hell is shooting at us?” Miranda snapped.

  “How should I know?” He thrust the horses’ reins at her. “Hold them.” Drawing his 9 mm, he eased toward the opening in the rock face.

  “Where are you going?” She laid a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off.

  “To see if I can arrest someone.”

  “Are you nuts? You don’t know how many of them there are. Obviously, they’re shooting at us on purpose.”

  “And obviously, it’s my job to stop them.” Ignoring her protests, Lucas eased back outside. Pausing, he listened. He didn’t hear anything except a few outraged birds.

  “You!” he called. “Show yourself. Now.”

  Of course, no one did. He hadn’t really expected them to, unless the shooting had been an accident—misplaced target practice or something. But he knew better.

  Lucas ducked back into the rock shelter. “You okay?”

  “Nothing hurt but my pride. I was so busy looking around, I wasn’t paying attention to my horse.” She shook her head. “Ranger normally doesn’t spook like that.”

  “Yeah, well, any horse can spook under the right circumstances.”

  “Now what do we do?” Miranda’s eyes were wide, not so much with fright as with acute awareness.

  “Wait it out. Keep alert.” She was shaking. Lucas squeezed her shoulder. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m not afraid of a lot of things, but that scared the hell out of me.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I thought for sure we were going to be shot.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Forty-five minutes passed without incident, but Lucas kept his handgun at the ready. When another fifteen went by, he was confident it was safe to head on up the trail.

  “My muscles are really starting to cramp,” Miranda said, as though reading his mind.

  Working out a charley horse, Lucas stood. “I hear you. Come on, let’s ride. Just be alert.” He holstered the 9 mm and took the lead. He’d gotten a bead on approximately where the shooter had been.

  “Do you think whoever it was was trying to hit me or you?”

  Lucas shrugged. “Who knows. Both of us, possibly…probably.”

  “Wonderful.” He could hear the catch in her voice. “First they take my sister, now they’re trying to kill us, too.”

  Lucas pulled up on his reins and turned in the saddle. “Hey. What did I tell you about thinking negatively? Whoever that was, they could’ve and probably would’ve killed us if that’s what they intended to do. I think those shots were meant as a warning.”

  “I suppose. Unless whoever it was is just a lousy shot.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “So, the shooter was trying to scare us?”

  “Most likely.” Lucas faced forward. “Maybe we’re getting close to Shannon.”

  MIRANDA’S HEART THUNDERED AT the possibility that Shannon could be somewhere nearby. Of course! Why else would someone be at this very spot, at this very moment, shooting at her and Lucas?

  “There are several abandoned mines in this area, and a couple of line shacks,” she told him. “Oh, man, why didn’t I think of that before? Do you think Shannon could be hidden in one?”

  “If so, we’ll find out,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ve already had my deputies search most of them.”

  Miranda stared at the back of his cowboy hat. Silver hat, close enough to white. Good guy.

  Ha. She’d better stay focused on Lucas the lawman. Not Lucas the man. He wasn’t so good as far as she was concerned.

  A search of Lucas’s target on the hillside opposite turned up little. Miranda spotted a disturbance of the grass and of some evergreen needles covering the ground, but no clear footprints. No brass shell casings, either, which meant the shooter had either picked them up or had fired a gun that didn’t kick the brass out. But it had sounded like a .22 rifle.

  By the time she and Lucas returned to the ranch, Miranda would safely bet they’d covered close to ten miles, including the rimrock and a good deal of the forested BLM land around it. The only thing they’d stirred up were a few deer and a small bachelor band of mustangs. Miranda had paused to watch the beautiful sight as the young horses sniffed the air, nostrils flaring when they scented Ranger and Cimarron and what must be to them the strange smell of humans. Then the half-dozen young stallions had turned and run, until the trees swallowed them up.

  At the barn, Paige joined Lucas and Miranda as they unsaddled their horses.

  “Any luck?”

  Miranda gave Lucas a look. “Nothing yet, Mom.” She didn’t want Paige to know about the gunshots. It would only worry her more.

  “Keep your chin up,” Lucas said. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover yet.”

  Just then, his cell phone rang, and Miranda nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t realized just how much the shots fired at them had scared her. From now on, she’d be sure to pack the .44 when she went out searching, or her .357 magnum.

  Engrossed in grooming Ranger, Miranda almost missed the look on Lucas’s face. But when her mother’s own face went pale, Miranda stared at him. Something was definitely wrong. He walked a few feet away, speaking quietly into the phone. They heard him say, “I’ll take care of it.”

  He snapped the cell phone closed.

  She knew. But she asked, anyway.

  “What?”

  “That was Garrett.” Lucas paused, and his eyes said it all. “A woman’s body was found about a half hour ago in Cameron County. She fits Shannon’s description.”

  Miranda felt herself crumble, even as her mind registered her mother’s wail. Dizzily, she staggered a half step, her vision beginning to blur.

  This was not happening.

  Lucas took hold of Miranda’s elbow
, then wrapped his arm around her waist. “Hold on,” he said. “We don’t know anything for sure yet.”

  Paige grabbed her hand and squeezed so hard, Miranda thought her bones would break. “What do you mean, ‘We don’t know anything yet,’” Paige raved. “She’s dead! Oh, God. My baby girl is dead.”

  “Mom.” Miranda slipped from Lucas’s grasp and pulled her sobbing mother into her own shaking arms. “Shh. Lucas is right. We can’t be sure it’s Shannon.”

  “It is. I feel it.” Paige let out another animal-like wail that curdled Miranda’s blood.

  “Mom, stop it!” She gave her a shake. “Stop it. You’ve got to get ahold of yourself.”

  “I’m sorry,” Paige whispered, glancing at Lucas. “I’m really sorry. Look at me, falling all to pieces when I always taught you girls to be strong, no matter what.”

  “No need to apologize,” Lucas said softly. “Try to keep your chin up until we know something for sure. Okay?” This last he said to Miranda as he squeezed her shoulder.

  Out of reflex, she reached up and covered his hand with hers. “Wh-where is she?”

  “The coroner’s office. Garrett’s headed that way.”

  “Not without me.” Miranda lowered her hand.

  “It’s not necessary.”

  “The hell it’s not.” She turned to her mother. “Mom, I want you to go in the house and call Tori…Fae…someone. Have them come stay with you while I go with Lucas.”

  “I want to go, too,” Paige said firmly. “Shannon is my daughter.”

  “And she’s my sister and you’re my mother, and I’m not about to let you identify…Just stay here, Mom. Please?”

  At that moment, the past few days seemed to catch up with Paige. Her face turned a shade of gray that scared Miranda spitless. All she needed on top of everything else was for her mom to have a heart attack.

  “Come on.” Miranda took her mother into the house and steered her to a recliner, dissuading further argument. She spread a lightweight throw over Paige’s lap.

  Paige whipped the throw off. “Criminy, Miranda, it’s eighty-some degrees outside! Are you trying to kill me?”

  Taking a deep breath, Miranda leaned over and gave her mother a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. “Sit tight, Mom. I’ll call you the minute…I’ll call you when we get there.”

  “Fine.” Paige sulked like a child. Miranda wondered when her mom had last slept.

  Probably about the same time she had.

  Receiver tucked between her chin and shoulder, Miranda phoned Tori, who’d already heard the news via the police scanner Fae and Mae had recently installed in the back room of the Truck Inn.

  “My God, Miranda. I was just headed out the door to your place. Don’t move an inch, I’m on my way.”

  “Tori—” But she’d already hung up. “Dang it all.” Miranda couldn’t wait for her. She had to leave now.

  She pushed her way through the screen door, and stopped in her tracks on the porch. “Damn you, Lucas Morgan!”

  His Blazer was no longer in the driveway.

  No matter.

  Miranda fired up her truck and sped after him. With Lucas and Garrett on their way to the coroner’s office, leaving only Mac and Frank to take care of other duties, she had a fifty percent less chance of getting a speeding ticket.

  Pressing her foot down on the accelerator, Miranda watched the speedometer climb, and tried not to picture her sister lying on a cold, steel table.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LUCAS WALKED THROUGH the halls of the Cameron County coroner’s office looking for the right set of doors. He’d been here only once before, but he hated the place. The walls were painted a color that reminded him of pea soup someone had seen twice. Moving at a brisk pace—he knew Miranda would be close behind him—he found what he was looking for.

  Pushing through the double doors into another smaller hallway, Lucas found Hal Sutherland’s office door open. The guy couldn’t be more than thirty years old, and Lucas wondered what would make a man his own age want to take a job like this.

  “Sheriff Blaylock.” Hal stood and held out a big-boned hand. “It’s good to see you again, though I wish the circumstances weren’t what they are.”

  “I hear you.” Lucas shifted his weight, hating this part of his job, which, thank God, didn’t come up often. The worst case had been a few years ago, when he’d had to witness an elderly woman identify her daughter and two grandchildren, who’d been killed by a bear.

  “Might as well get it over with,” Hal said, as though reading his thoughts.

  Lucas went with him to the room at the end of the short hallway. Inside, two stainless steel tables and various saws and autopsy tools gave Lucas the heebie-jeebies. He wished Cameron County could afford video cameras for on-screen identification.

  Hal paused in front of the row of steel drawers, and suddenly Lucas was filled with an intense sadness. If the woman inside this awful place was Shannon, Miranda was going to lose her mind. And if she wasn’t, then some other poor family would have to face their loss.

  “Ready?” Hal asked, hand on the drawer.

  He nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Hal flipped the latch, then slid the steel table out and expertly folded the white sheet away from the woman’s face. Lucas let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding.

  It wasn’t Shannon.

  Thank God.

  Hearing voices in the hallway, he turned in time to see Miranda burst in—just ahead of Garrett—an older woman with a pinched face hot on their heels. “Miss, I told you, no one is allowed—”

  “It’s all right,” Lucas said. “She’s with me.” He lowered his voice as he took hold of Miranda’s shoulders in an attempt to block her view of the body.

  She craned her neck, trying to see around him.

  “It’s not Shannon,” he said. Still, he had to keep a firm grip on Miranda’s shoulders before it finally registered and she stopped squirming.

  “It’s not? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’d say that gal is about twenty years old, shorter than Shannon by a couple of inches.” He didn’t want to tell her that death often made faces unrecognizable, especially after a few days. Still, he’d seen enough to be sure.

  “Thank God.” Miranda covered her eyes, fighting back tears. “Who is she, I wonder?”

  “I have no idea. Hopefully, Sheriff Runyon and the state police will figure it out. Excuse me a minute.” Lucas stepped aside to speak to Garrett and two patrolmen who had just arrived—officers he’d worked with in the past. Carter and Hernandez.

  “We’re going to follow up on this,” Hernandez said. “With Lonnie Masterson in jail, I don’t really see a connection, but with the similarities, well, there’s always a chance. Or it could be a copycat.”

  Lucas nodded. “I guess it’s possible.” This might give credence to Miranda’s original suspicion that Shannon could be a victim of a copycat killer, especially since they hadn’t found a connection to implicate Lonnie. Hal closed the drawer again.

  “Sorry I couldn’t be of any help,” the coroner said. “But I’m glad our Jane Doe isn’t your missing girl.”

  “Appreciate it.” Lucas nodded. “If there’s anything I can do, call me,” he said to Hernadez and Carter. “Tell Runyon I’m at his disposal, and that I’ll call him later.”

  “Will do.” Carter tugged at the brim of his hat. He and Hernandez and Garrett left the room.

  Hal held the door open for them, and Lucas steered Miranda through, never so glad to leave a place in his life.

  Outside, he marched her to her truck. The heated engine was still ticking from having been pushed to highway speed—and then some, if he knew Miranda. He turned her to face him, rubbing his thumbs against her arms. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I had to know.”

  “What, you don’t think I would’ve told you?”

  “I had to see for myself.” She glared at him. “Why did you take off without me?”
>
  “To spare you from what you just saw.”

  Her features softened, but only for a brief moment. “I don’t want to be spared. Lucas.”

  The look on Miranda’s face. The fire in her. That was what had attracted him to her in the first place. He gave her arms one last rub, then reluctantly lowered his hands.

  “My shadow may end up cooling her heels in a jail cell overnight if she’s not careful,” he said. “How fast did you drive, coming here?”

  “Obviously not quite as fast as you did.”

  “I’m a cop, remember?”

  She merely narrowed her eyes, then climbed behind the wheel of the Chevy. “Goodbye, Lucas. Keep in touch.”

  “You know I will.” He leaned on her open door, preventing her from closing it right away. “Drive safely.”

  “Will do.” She gave him an innocent smile, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her pull away.

  MIRANDA DROVE AS FAST AS she dared back to her mom’s place. Paige had fallen into an exhausted sleep in the recliner and didn’t move when she came through the door. Miranda took a moment to study her face. She had dark circles beneath her puffy eyes, and her mouth was pinched and drawn, her muscles tense even as she slept. Miranda hated to wake her.

  “Mom,” she whispered. Paige shot up out of the recliner as if she’d been goosed.

  “Shannon?” She looked around. “Miranda. Oh…I—I must’ve been dreaming.” She blinked, obviously trying to clear her thoughts.

  “It wasn’t her, Mom.” Miranda managed a smile. “The woman over in Cameron County isn’t Shannon.”

  “Oh, dear Lord. Thank you.” Paige pulled her into a hug. For the first time in days, Miranda felt her mom’s strength as she gripped her.

  “Are you positive? Did you…see her?”

  Miranda nodded. She’d caught only a glimpse of the woman in the morgue, and it had been a sad, sad sight. One she’d never forget. How much worse if Jane Doe had been her sister.

  “It’s not her,” she repeated.