by Brenda Mott
Garrett had gotten a full confession out of Clint. He’d taken it down while Lucas watched and listened, Frank a formal witness just to be sure no one accused them of impartiality. They’d gotten it in writing and on videotape. Once Clint had been escorted to lockup, waiting for the bus that would take him to the county jail, Lucas had played that tape over and over.
Clint admitted he hadn’t done it just for the money Lonnie Masterson promised to pay him. He’d done it to hurt Lucas. Clint had taken extra pleasure in going after Shannon once Lucas had arrested him for abusing Dena. That admission gave Lucas pause. Apparently his estranged brother realized how deeply connected he felt to the Ward family…even when Lucas hadn’t known it.
He slowly shook his head. He couldn’t understand why or how his brother could hate him this much. Of course, domestic violence charges was the least of Clint’s worries right now. He faced charges of kidnapping, burglary and assaulting a police officer with a deadly weapon, among others. Lucas could take satisfaction in knowing that his brother was locked up where he couldn’t hurt Dena anymore, but now he wondered how she’d make it without the salary Clint earned working down at the sawmill.
Lucas vowed to make sure she didn’t want for anything, but still, where did all this leave her? Married to a man in prison. Would she stay with him…wait for him to do his time and get out, only to abuse her again? Lucas hated to think of the day Clint would walk the streets again, even if it was twenty years from now.
Miranda. She’d made him madder than a wasp in a shaken nest more than once. Yet he had to admire her devotion to her sister. A devotion that had led her to risk her own life, making sure Shannon was safe.
What would it be like to have family like that?
He’d never know.
LUCAS WOKE UP TO THE sound of knocking. For a moment, he was disoriented. Had he fallen asleep and missed going out with the search party? Then he remembered. Shannon Ward was home.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he made his way to the door and opened it. Dena stood on the other side.
“Morning,” she said. “Can I come in?”
“Sure, but I’ve only got a minute. I’m running late for work.”
Dena’s gaze roamed the still-darkened room as she stepped through the doorway. “Wow. This is some place.”
Lucas grunted and pulled the curtains open. Suddenly, he realized his own sister-in-law had never been inside his house.
“Guess you had a hard day yesterday, huh?” she asked.
“I’m sure it was no picnic for you, either. I’m sorry things had to turn out this way, Dena.”
“Don’t apologize, Lucas. Clint is a real loser, and I should’ve woken up to that a long time ago.” She hesitated. “I wanted to let you know that I’m planning to divorce him and move out of state. If I stay here, I know I’ll break down and go to the prison and visit Clint. I’ll lose my nerve, and I don’t want to do that.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Do you think they’re going to let him out on bail?” Fear pinched her otherwise pretty features.
“I doubt it. He’s a pretty good flight risk, given his fear of Lonnie Masterson. Plus his previous record of DUI, domestic violence…I don’t think the judge will let him out.”
Dena breathed an audible sigh of relief.
“Where will you go?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t thought quite that far ahead. But I’ve got cousins in Colorado and California. Probably one of the two.” Dena had become estranged from her parents years ago when she married Clint. They hated him, and wouldn’t have anything to do with giving their blessing to their daughter’s marriage.
Lucas couldn’t blame them.
“I also wanted to give you this,” Dena said. “I don’t know if it’s important, but I thought you ought to have it.”
Lucas held out his hand as she passed him a small object. He looked down at his palm and saw that it was an unusual button, probably off a ladies’ blouse. He looked up at Dena quizzically. “Where’d this come from, and why should I have it?”
“My cat was playing with it on the steps.”
The big gray cat, playing with what Lucas had thought was a pebble. Had it been the button?
“It’s off a blouse I made for Shannon,” Dena said. “For her birthday one year, back when we were just out of high school.” She smiled sadly. “Back when we were still hanging around together. Clint gradually made sure he ran off all of my friends, Shannon in particular, since she was Miranda’s sister, and you two…well, you know.”
“I don’t understand,” Lucas said, frowning. “What would your cat be doing with a button off Shannon’s old blouse?”
“It was always her favorite,” Dena said. “I made it to last. Not like the cheap junk you buy in the stores today.” She thrust her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I went to the jail yesterday, and I asked Clint point-blank where that button came from, and what it was doing on our porch. At first he tried to lie to me, but then I think he realized that he’s going to be in prison for a long time, without a friend in the world.”
She looked down at her feet. “He doesn’t know I’m leaving. Anyway, he told me he’d been watching Shannon for a long time. And that he’d planned to do something to her for Lonnie weeks ago. He…he took her blouse out of her bedroom one night when she left her window open. Can you believe that? That he’d have the nerve to go into Miss Paige’s house like that, when they were all sleeping?”
A chill raced down Lucas’s spine, causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end. He closed his hand into a fist, wishing he could have a few minutes alone in a room with Clint…same as Jack McQuaid had wished for the other night when Lucas had talked to him at the Silver Spur. But that wasn’t right. Justice was what Lucas stood for, and he’d gotten that.
So why did he feel so empty?
“I’m still scared some idiot judge will let him out on bail,” Dena said.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here to protect you, Dena. And if you need any money, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Lucas, but I’m fine. I’ve got a little tucked away that Clint doesn’t know about. Plus I’m selling his truck, for what it’s worth.”
Lucas laughed. “That piece of junk? You’ll be lucky to get scrap metal dollar out of it.”
“Fine by me. It might be sort of fun to watch that crusher come down on it.”
He grinned.
“Well, I’d better let you get off to work,” Dena said. She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for everything, Lucas. I’ll keep in touch.”
“Do that.” Lucas stood in the doorway, watching her leave. She gave a little finger wave as she drove away.
Lucas closed the door and headed for the shower.
The button burned a hole in the palm of his hand. It made him even happier that Clint was behind bars.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MIRANDA SPENT THE NEXT two days after Shannon had come home, at the Rocking W. She was afraid to leave her sister, even though she knew that fear was irrational. Clint was behind bars, as was Lonnie Masterson—and with phone privileges suspended until after his trial. And it wasn’t as though her mom and sister were helpless.
Still, she couldn’t get thoughts of the unidentified woman over in Cameron County out of her mind. Somebody was responsible for her death, and from what Miranda had gathered, listening to the local news with her mom and sister last night, Clint was not believed to be that person. What he’d done to Shannon had personal motivation.
So who had killed that poor girl? Miranda had to admit that Lucas’s concern had rubbed off on her. She’d never given much thought before to Tori working late at the Silver Spur. But now she found herself worrying about her friend, in spite of Tori’s reassurances. They’d patched up the hurt feelings between them, and everything felt normal again. Except Miranda’s worries.
She drove to the Spur that Saturday night, before it got dark outside. The band didn’
t start playing until eight o’clock. Miranda sat at the bar and ordered a beer. She could use one.
“So,” Tori said, pushing a frosted mug of draft in front of her, “you gonna hang out here every time I’m working?”
“Until whoever killed that girl is caught.”
“Miranda…babe.” Tori laid her hand over Miranda’s, looking her straight in the eye. “You need to worry about yourself. You live out on that big ole ranch alone. You think I don’t worry about you?”
“I’ve got my dogs, and a gun or two.”
“And I’ve got a shotgun, plus Fae and Mae.” Tori grinned, and added sotto voce, “And a derringer in my purse. So quit being such a momma hen.”
Miranda sighed, and was about to argue the point further, when she caught sight of Lucas coming in. She stiffened.
“Hi,” he said, sliding onto the bar stool beside her. He wore his uniform. “Give me a Coke, would you please, Tori?”
“Coming right up.”
“I’m sorry I was short with you the other day,” he said to Miranda.
“Were you? I didn’t notice.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said dryly. “So how’s Shannon doing?”
“Pretty good, all things considered.” How could she stay mad at him? “I really am grateful for everything, Lucas.”
“Did you ever consider becoming an officer?”
“No, thanks. I think I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime.”
Lucas sipped the Coke Tori set in front of him, waiting until she moved down the bar before speaking. “Miranda, I stopped by here to ask you something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Would you go with me to the animal shelter on Monday?”
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “The animal shelter? Well, sure. Are you adopting another cat?”
He shook his head. “Actually, it occurred to me that your mom and Shannon ought to have some dogs on the ranch. You know, watchdogs, like your Aussies. I’d like to get them a couple, as a sort of welcome-home gift for Shannon, and for your mom…just because.” His face reddened. “Hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, but…” He hesitated, as though debating something. “Miranda, my brother was stalking Shannon long before he kidnapped her.”
Miranda nearly choked on her beer. “Stalking her?”
Lucas nodded, then went on to explain Dena’s visit.
Miranda felt sick, and glad she was already sitting down. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”
“As a heart attack. I can’t be your sister’s and your mother’s constant shadow, or yours, either. It makes me feel better knowing you’ve got those dogs.”
“And my gun,” Miranda said. “Mom’s got a shotgun, two rifles and two handguns.”
“Maybe so, but she still didn’t hear Clint when he came into Shannon’s room.”
“When did he do that?” Miranda’s hand shook, and she took another sip of her beer.
“I don’t know, exactly. So, will you go with me to pick out the dogs?”
“Yeah, I will,” she said. “Mom used to have a dog—a husky—but he was old, and she lost him last summer. I guess she just wasn’t ready to replace him.”
“Well,” Lucas said, “let’s hope she’s ready now.”
LUCAS CAME TO MIRANDA’S place on Monday morning, right after she’d finished her chores. She rode with him to the shelter. It made her sad to see how many wonderful dogs were there. A border collie mix caught her eye. But she was so sweet, Miranda couldn’t see her in the role of watchdog.
She and Lucas finally decided on a pair of Australian shepherd German shepherd mixes, six-month old littermates. Lucas filled out the paperwork, while Miranda walked back and looked at the border collie one more time. She was two years old, mostly white with black patches over her body. She had one comical marking over her left eye—a black patch that made her look as if she were wearing eye shadow. She woofed at Miranda.
“All right,” Miranda said. “I guess Tuck and Smudge could use some more company.”
Miranda helped Lucas secure the Aussies in the back of his truck in some airline crates she’d bought. The crates would come in handy for her mom in housebreaking the pups. But the border collie rode in the front seat between them.
Lucas patted the dog’s head. “I’m sure your killer hounds are going to be thrilled.”
“They’ll get used to her,” Miranda said. She laughed. “Look at that tail. It never stops wagging. I think I’ll call her Happy.”
“I think I’ll let you take the dogs out to Paige,” Lucas said. “I don’t think she likes me very much. She might receive the pups better if she thinks they’re coming from you.”
Miranda started to protest, but then remembered her mom’s remark the other day. Maybe you were better off not marrying into that bunch, after all, Miranda. “All right. If you’re sure.”
He nodded. Just then, his cell phone rang. Lucas answered, listening for a few minutes. He spoke quietly, then hung up, his expression serious.
“What is it?” Miranda’s pulse raced. She hoped nothing else was wrong.
“That was Sheriff Runyon, over in Silver Creek. They identified their Jane Doe—a twenty-one-year-old Jana Wilson. She lived about fifty miles from Silver Creek—with her parents. They’d gone on a vacation without her, and just got home.”
“That’s awful.” Miranda clamped a hand to her mouth, unable to imagine how the poor couple must feel. “They still don’t know who killed her?”
Lucas shook his head. “Not yet.”
Minutes later, they pulled into Miranda’s driveway. Smudge and Tuck chased the truck, excited to see the dogs they’d already scented. Lucas helped Miranda transfer the big pups to her truck, and stayed for a few minutes while she introduced Happy to the Aussies. Tuck wagged his tail, but Smudge stiffened to a dominating posture and hooked a front paw over Happy’s middle. “Hey,” Miranda scolded. “Be nice.”
“Where are you going to put her?” Lucas asked. “I mean, you can’t just turn her loose, right?”
“I’ve got a dog run out beside the barn. I have to put Tuck and Smudge in there once in a while. Happy can stay there for a few days until she adjusts.” Miranda led the dog around to the far side of the barn and into the chain-link run, and gave her food and water.
Happy stood on the doghouse and barked at Tuck and Smudge, her tail going a mile a minute.
“Looks like she fits her name,” Lucas said. He shifted uncomfortably, and for a moment, Miranda thought he was going to say something else to her. But then he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’d better be going. I need to run by the station and make sure Garrett and the others heard about Jana Wilson.”
Miranda nodded. “Okay. Lucas, thanks for getting the dogs. Are you sure I can’t pay you for them?”
“Nope. My gift.” He touched the brim of his hat. “See you later.”
Miranda watched him walk away, still wondering exactly where she stood with Lucas.
She drove the pups out to the Rocking W. Paige was in the arena with Shannon, watching her work a new horse. Her mother’s face glowed, and Shannon looked so happy on the mare’s back that no one would’ve guessed she’d recently suffered a traumatic experience.
Except for the dark circles under her eyes.
“Hey, Mom,” Miranda said. “Nice mare.”
“Isn’t she?” Paige kept her eyes on the blue roan. “Chet found her at an auction Saturday. He got her for a steal.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re in the mood for new animals, because I brought you something.”
“What—did you find a good horse, too?”
Miranda shook her head, motioning for Paige to follow her. She led her to the truck.
Paige peered into the dog kennels. “What have you got here?”
“They’re sisters,” Miranda said. “Do you want them?” She held her breath. What if her mom wasn’t ready for another dog yet?
What in the w
orld would Miranda do with five dogs?
But Paige’s face lit up. “Where did you get them? They’re adorable.” She poked her fingers through the doors of the crates. “Hi, babies. How are you? Huh?”
The black-and-tan sister wagged her tail, and the one that had merle markings licked Paige’s finger.
“I got them from the animal shelter,” Miranda said. “Actually, Lucas bought them for you.”
Paige straightened. “Lucas? For me?” She couldn’t have looked more surprised if Miranda had told her the dogs were a gift from Elvis. “Why would he do that?”
Miranda told her about Clint. “But you can’t tell Shannon,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to put her through any more than what she’s already been through.”
Paige clenched her fists. “I swear, if they don’t put that son of a bitch in prison for life, I’m going to kill him myself.” She took a deep breath. “I agree with you. Let’s not tell Shannon. But I still can’t believe…Lucas.” She shook her head. “The man never ceases to amaze me. Maybe I’ve misjudged him.” She smiled at Miranda. “People change.”
“Yeah, they do.”
Miranda only wished she could make Lucas believe it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I’M AS NERVOUS AS a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Shannon said as she stood outside the courtroom with Miranda, Paige and Tori.
“You’ll do just fine,” her sister said. “And that scum-sucking creep Masterson will be put away, hopefully for life.”
Just days ago, the news channels had been flooded with the story of Jana Wilson’s murder and the arrest of a man in the next county charged with the crime. A copycat killer, as Miranda had originally suspected. A guy who frequented local bars and who appeared on the evening news wearing a ball cap and blue jeans.
Miranda shivered, recalling Jack McQuaid’s description of the man who’d started to follow Shannon outside the Silver Spur the night she’d witnessed Jo Ella’s abduction.