Wyoming Brave

by Diana Palmer

  “Dead, right?” Paul asked curtly.

  “Very dead. We’re backtracking on the truck right now. It’s a rental. The killer left the rental sheet in the glove compartment. Sloppy.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t the contract man.”

  “You mean, maybe he subcontracted the job?” Cash asked. “Well, it would be a novel approach.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ll do some checking of my own,” Paul told him.

  “He means, he’ll ask Mikey,” Sari said with a pale smile.

  “Mikey knows stuff.”

  “Yes, he does,” Cash said. “He’s got connections, and a mind like a steel trap.”

  “Cash came out to the house to talk to Mikey,” Sari explained to her husband. “Turns out they served overseas near each other, and they have mutual acquaintances,” she added.

  “We do.” Cash chuckled. “Your cousin can tell some stories,” he added to Paul. “Amazing, with his history, that he doesn’t mind talking to policemen.”

  “Funny thing, he actually likes cops.” Paul chuckled. “He sits in on a regular Friday night poker game back home with a slew of detectives from the precinct near his house.”

  “I like poker myself,” Cash replied.

  “Here’s a free tip,” Paul said. “Don’t ever get in a game with Mikey.”

  “He cheats?”

  “He doesn’t have to. He’s locked out of every damned casino in Vegas, and a couple of big overseas ones, too. I can tell you for a fact that Marcus Carrera meets him at the door if he even walks into the Bow Tie on Paradise Island in the Bahamas.”

  Cash laughed. “What luck!”

  “Yeah. Pity he got barred. But he already had the Rolls by then, anyway. He could buy a small third world country with what he’s got in Swiss banks.”

  A man approaching caught their attention. It was one of the bodyguards, Barton, with a bottle of capsules.

  “Mandy said you needed these urgently.” He handed the bottle to Sari.

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “It really is a mission of mercy,” she told Cash.

  “I’ll take her word for it, this time,” Cash told the newcomer with pursed lips. “I don’t trust men who eat sheep’s eyes.”

  Barton rolled his. “Listen, they’re an acquired taste which I acquired because it was the only damned thing I could get to eat in the village where I was hiding out.”

  “Hey, at least he doesn’t blow up people with hand grenades,” Paul defended him.

  “I don’t do that anymore,” came a deep, amused voice from behind them.

  They all turned at once. Dr. Carson Farwalker was standing there in a white lab coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck and a clipboard in his hand.

  “Luckily, we’re also short on crocodiles in Texas,” Cash mused, alluding to an incident in South America when Farwalker and Stanton Rourke had fed a cold-blooded killer to one.

  Carson chuckled. “Luckily. Doc Coltrain sent me out to tell you that Merrie’s doing well,” he added, the smile fading. “He’s putting in the final sutures now. They’ll wheel her down to recovery in about ten minutes.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Sari said. Hot, joyful tears ran down her cheeks. “Thank God!”

  “Great news,” Paul said. “Thanks, Carson.”

  “They’re bringing in your ex-chauffeur,” he told his companions. “Dr. Coltrain will perform the autopsy, probably later today. Maybe it will give you some answers.”

  “Maybe so.”

  Carson nodded and left them. Cash left a minute later.

  Paul pulled Sari into his arms and rocked her. “It’s okay, honey,” he said softly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “We have to catch the killer,” she said at his ear. “We have to. Or next time...”

  “Yes. Or next time we might not get lucky. Don’t worry. We’ve got plenty of people hunting him. We’ll find him, baby. We will.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Merrie opened her eyes in the recovery room and looked up into her sister’s face.

  “I feel like I fell off a cliff,” she said in a weak voice.

  Sari squeezed her hand. “I imagine so. You’re all right, sweetheart. Dr. Coltrain patched you up. Now all you have to do is heal.”

  Merrie managed a smile. “So sleepy...”

  “You go right back to sleep. One of us will be with you, all the time,” Sari promised. “All the time, Merrie.”

  Merrie closed her eyes and drifted away.

  * * *

  WHEN SARI WENT back out into the waiting room, Paul had company. A tall, very handsome blond man was sitting with him, sipping coffee and looking morose.

  “Hi, Sari,” Randall, Ren’s brother, said, rising to shake hands. “How is she?”

  “Weak, but she’ll get better,” Sari said wearily. She sat down on the other side of Paul and accepted a cup of black coffee. “This has been a hell of a day.”

  “Paul filled me in,” Randall said. “Why did she leave Skyhorn?” he added.

  “She used her credit card in Catelow,” Paul said, bypassing the real reason Merrie had begged to come home. “The contract killer traced her to your brother’s ranch.”

  Randall ground his teeth together. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I still think she’d be safer there than here, though. It’s so isolated that any movement gets picked up. Although,” he added heavily, “Ren’s beating himself up over a truck driver who almost managed to get on the property. Paid a neighbor to swear he mixed up the address on a delivery. Ren thinks he was looking for a way in that wouldn’t put him under suspicion.”

  “Merrie’s home now,” Sari said curtly. “We’ll take care of her.”

  “What’s going on?” Randall asked bluntly. “I mean, Ren got drunk. Really drunk. I’ve never known him to do that, not even when he found out Angie was cheating on him and broke his engagement.”

  “Got drunk?” Paul asked.

  “Stinking drunk, Willis said,” Randall agreed. “Couldn’t lift his head for a whole day.”

  Paul had a good idea why the other man’s brother had gone off the deep end. He glanced at Sari and realized that she was thinking the same thing.

  “I told Ren that Merrie was my girl,” Randall said, wincing. “If I gave Ren the wrong impression and caused him to, well, to offend Merrie, I’m very sorry.”

  “She used her credit card, that’s all,” Paul said, smoothing it over. “We had to bring her back home after that.”

  “Yes, but what happened to her today was no accident, was it?” Randall asked worriedly.

  “Probably not,” Paul said.

  Randall shook his head. “I’m just so sorry. I feel like the whole thing’s my fault.”

  “Life happens,” Sari said quietly.

  “Ren asked me to come by here. I was going to San Antonio to talk to a prospective buyer, anyway. He wanted me to see Merrie and apologize. He didn’t say for what.”

  “He seems to be a few days late,” Sari said with cold sarcasm.

  “He’s not a bad man,” Randall defended his older brother. “He’s had a hard life and it’s made him bitter. But my big brother doesn’t go on benders. Your sister means something to him.”

  Sari softened, just a little. “When she’s in a room, I’ll tell her,” she said quietly.

  “Okay. Thanks.” He scribbled down a number on a paper from the small notepad in his jacket pocket and handed it to Sari. “That’s my cell number. I’m never without my phone. If it isn’t asking too much...”

  “Yes, I’ll keep you in the loop,” Sari told him. “And thanks for coming by.”

  “I’d rather it was under nicer circumstances,” he said with genuine feeling. “Merrie’s very special. I’m sorry I’m such
a rake, you know,” he added. “If I wasn’t, I might be tempted to try my luck with her. She’ll make some man a wonderful wife someday.”

  “I don’t think she’s looking along those lines anymore,” Sari replied. “She’s enthusiastic about buying a local art supply store and gallery here in town.”

  Randall just nodded. “I see.”

  “It’s a nice little town. Sort of like Catelow,” Paul interrupted. “Tell Ren she’s going to be okay, will you?”

  “I’ll tell him. I’ll keep you all in my thoughts. And my prayers,” he added. He noticed Sari’s expression, and he smiled sadly. “I went to college, too, but I wasn’t as easily influenced as Ren was. He was fascinated with one of his professors, a female physics teacher who was antireligion. I’m not sure he realized it, but the person more than the subject matter was what influenced him. He had a crush on the professor.”

  “Merrie and I had little else except religion after Mama died,” Sari said with a sad smile. “Your brother may find that his priorities will undergo a radical change one day when he’s faced with a loss more personal than a cow or a bull.”

  “I’ve been saying that for years. My mother is facing the possibility of cancer treatment. Ren hasn’t spoken to her in a long time, but he seems to be softening a little,” Randall said. “Whatever his faults, he’s still my brother and I love him.”

  “Merrie and I would have liked a brother,” Sari said.

  “I’d have liked a sister,” Randall replied. “Take care.”

  Paul shook hands with him and he left.

  “You should cut Ren a little slack, honey,” Paul said gently. “Men aren’t perfect.” He pursed his lips. “Well, I am,” he amended with twinkling dark eyes. “But you can’t hold the rest of the male population up to such exacting high standards, right?”

  She laughed and hugged him, laying her cheek against his broad chest with a sigh. “I guess not. If he got that drunk, Merrie must mean something to him,” she conceded. “Unless it’s just a guilty conscience.”

  “I never got drunk from just a guilty conscience.” He kissed her red hair. “But I did get stinking drunk after I left here that first time, after I’d told your father a whopper of a lie.” He held her closer. “I was hurting. I imagine the Wyoming rancher is hurting, too. If he was fighting what he felt, and he assumed Merrie was experienced, he’s probably kicking himself for what he did to her.”

  “If she hadn’t come home...!” she began.

  He put his finger over her soft mouth to silence her. “Isabel,” he said gently, “if she hadn’t come home, the killer would have found a way to get on the ranch. Maybe he found a way in that Ren didn’t know about, maybe he had a position marked out that gave him access to Merrie’s window with a high-powered rifle. This idiot bungled the job. He ran a truck into the limo and didn’t kill her. If it was another guy, if the killer is still in Wyoming with his rifle, he might not be aware of the attempt here.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean, there might be two killers?” she asked, ice flowing through her veins at just the thought.

  “He was watching both places. He might not have known for sure that Merrie had left Skyhorn, but it would be stupid not to watch for her in Jacobsville and Comanche Wells, too.”

  “What sort of hit man uses a pickup truck as a murder weapon?” she asked.

  “Somebody who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, most likely,” Paul said. “Mikey picked up a rumor that the contract killer has a distant relative on the wrong side of the law in Houston. That’s not too far from here.”

  Sari wrapped her arms around her chest. “This just keeps getting better and better. Do you think one guard on the door will be enough?” she added. Her face tautened. “And this time, we’d better double-check the background of anybody we get to do security for Merrie.”

  “I’m two steps ahead of you,” he assured her. “I think...”

  He broke off as Mikey came down the hall toward them. He was bareheaded, his thick, wavy black hair glistening, as if he’d been out in the misting rain. He was wearing a suit that probably cost more than one of the two Grayling limousines, a blue pin-striped one with a spotless white shirt and a maroon patterned tie that set off his olive complexion.

  As he neared them, they saw a glimmer of amusement in his black eyes that were so much like Paul’s.

  “Got some good news for a change?” Paul asked as Mikey stopped in front of them.

  “Maybe,” he said. “How’s baby doll?” he asked.

  “She came through surgery okay,” Sari told him. “She’s still in pretty bad shape.”

  Mikey’s face hardened. “The guy who did that won’t get far,” he told her quietly, glancing around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “I called in a marker.”

  “Hey, now,” Paul began.

  Mikey held up a hand. “You don’t know a damned thing,” he told his cousin. “Period.”

  “I work for the FBI, Mikey,” Paul persisted.

  “Baby doll in there—” Mikey’s head jerked toward the general direction of the recovery room “—is one in a million. And nobody, I mean nobody, hurts her and gets away with it.”

  “You’re a nice man, Cousin Mikey,” Sari said softly.

  He averted his eyes, looking sheepish. “If I’d met somebody like her years ago, maybe I’d have turned out different.”

  Paul and Sari exchanged speculative glances.

  “Yeah, yeah, years ago, she’d have been in diapers, I know,” Mikey muttered. “Just saying. Anyway, the hot rod hitter has a record in Houston for attempted murder. He killed a guy two years ago in what was claimed to be a horrible accident after he ran a truck through his minivan at an intersection.”

  “Damn!” Paul groaned.

  “He got off because the two witnesses suddenly had memory loss and couldn’t describe what they saw,” Mikey continued. “One of them was driving a brand-new Mercedes shortly thereafter.”

  “So he walked,” Paul muttered.

  “He walked.”

  “I want him alive,” he told Mikey firmly. “He might have some idea where the shooter is and what he’s planning.”

  “Not likely.” Mikey dropped into a chair next to Paul and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I know the shooter, Paulie,” he said softly. “I know how he operates, how he sets up a hit. I’ve been doing some reconnoitering around your house,” he added. “Barton and Rogers went with me. We planted devices in every space he might occupy. He’d have to be a ghost to get through.”

  “That’s at home, Mikey,” Paul said heavily. “But Merrie’s going to be here for several days. You can’t lock down a whole hospital for one patient.”

  “Think so?” Mikey asked with a grin.

  “Okay. What are you up to?” Paul asked, because he knew that grin.

  “Oh, I got a few people who are going to be working here temporarily. In fact,” he added, nodding toward a man carrying a mop and pail, “there’s one of them now.”

  Paul’s eyebrows arched as he noted the way the man was looking around him, as if he were an escaped fugitive.

  “Mikey, none of these guys would have their likenesses posted on the FBI website, would they?” Paul asked.

  “Well, not in this country, at least,” came the amused reply. “Just relax. I’m not even breaking the law. These are honest citizens. The hospital administrator likes them a lot.”

  “Why does he like them?” Paul asked.

  “I just happened to mention how much I support labor unions, and I noticed that this little hospital doesn’t seem to have one...”

  “God, Mikey!” Paul exclaimed.

  “It’s all in a good cause,” Mikey said. “Keeping baby doll safe. And you know, Paulie, you can get more with a gun and a smile than you can with jus
t a smile.” He grinned.

  Sari was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

  “See?” Paul said, pointing at Mikey. “That’s me, if I’d made different choices in my life.”

  “He’s not so bad,” Sari defended Mikey. She smiled at him. “Thanks for everything.”

  Mikey smiled back.

  * * *

  RANDALL HAD DECIDED that Merrie’s accident wasn’t the sort of thing he could tell Ren about over the phone, so he detoured through Catelow, Wyoming, on his way to Denver to see another client.

  Ren was at the supper table when he arrived. He looked up from the mashed potatoes Delsey was plopping on his plate. They both stared at him.

  “You’re supposed to be in Denver,” Ren commented. His brows drew together. “Has something happened to your...our mother?” he amended.

  Randall took a breath. “No. We still haven’t heard anything from the biopsy.”

  Ren relaxed. “Oh. Well, have a seat. Delsey made pot roast and mashed potatoes.”

  “My favorite.” Randall kissed her on the cheek. “You sweetheart!”

  “You flatterer.” She laughed, moving back into the kitchen to bring coffee.

  Randall pulled up a chair and sat down. Ren looked bad. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were purple half-moons under his black eyes.

  “You don’t look as if you’ve slept in days,” Randall remarked.

  “I haven’t.” He glanced at Randall with faint irritation. “You might have told me that she wasn’t one of your lovers.”

  Randall sighed. “I was trying to protect her,” he said quietly. “She’s the most innocent human being I ever knew. I was afraid if I didn’t say she was my girl, you might...well.” He shrugged. “Paul said she went back to Comanche Wells because she used her credit card in Catelow and the killer traced it here.”

  Ren ate a forkful of roast without tasting it. “He came to get her. You never said she was an heiress, either. I thought she was poor.”

  “You should see Graylings. That’s where she and Sari and Paul live. The stables are the talk of Texas. They breed racehorses.”

  “Paul told me.” He’d avoided it as long as he could. “Did you see her? Did you tell her what I asked you to?”