Her Texas Lawman

by Stella Bagwell

  “I know you’re right, Nicci. But I can’t relax. I’m scared to death.”

  The other woman sighed. “Yes, I suppose your blood would have to be made of ice water to make yourself relax at a time like this. To be honest, Luci, I’m scared to death, too. But I have faith in the officers working this case.”

  Lucita glanced at Nicci as she forced herself to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I’m worried about Daddy. Have you taken a look at him? I don’t think he’s slept a wink since this whole thing started.”

  Nicci let out a short laugh. “Mingo is a tough man. He doesn’t want to be coddled, especially by a doctor.”

  A grimace tightened Lucita’s already strained features. “I don’t care what he wants. It hasn’t been that long since he recovered from his brain surgery. If all this stress does something to him—” She blew out a heavy breath. “I—can’t imagine losing him, too.”

  Nicci rose from the chair and took a seat next to Lucita, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You’re not going to lose your father or your son. Don’t even think in those terms.”

  Pressing her lips together, Lucita tried to ward off the tears that continually burned the back of her eyes.

  “You know, Nicci, four months ago I was so happy to come back to the Sandbur. Coming home again filled me with new hope. I truly believed I could start life over and put everything that had happened with Derek behind me. And I thought the ranch would be the very best place for Marti. Being with Gracia and the rest of his family was what he needed—but now—oh, God, bringing him here has—” Shaking her head, she whispered tearfully. “What have I done, Nicci? Why does everything I try to do only cause more problems for me and everyone around me?”

  Nicci gave her a gentle shake. “Stop it! Stop it right now! In just a little while you’ve got to climb into that car with Ripp and if you’re not pulled together then you could put him, yourself and Marti in danger. And I don’t think you want that.”

  Shamefaced, Lucita pinched the bridge of her nose and sucked in several bracing breaths. “No. Ripp has been—he’s gone above and beyond to help me. And I’m not sure why. I’ve not—made any sort of commitment to him.”

  Nicci didn’t make an immediate reply and Lucita glanced over at her cousin’s face. There was a shrewd expression on her pretty features, as though she could see things that Lucita couldn’t.

  “Ripp is a dedicated lawman. But I don’t think that has anything to do with him wanting to help you and Marti. With or without a commitment from you—he cares. Maybe when this is all over you should think about that.”

  But when would this ever be over, Lucita wondered sickly. And would Ripp still be around when that time came?

  Rising from her seat on the edge of the mattress, she walked over to the dresser and began to pull her long hair into a ponytail.

  “The sun is going down,” she said in a strained voice. “I’d better get ready to leave.”

  Chapter Nine

  Five miles down Salt Lick Road was a low hill with a wide pull-off decorated with a row of rural mailboxes. It was a lonely spot out in the countryside, a place where a rancher once had a maze of feedlots. Many years ago, the wooden corrals had been torn down. Now the only things left were a windmill, a water tank and a molasses lick for the herd of cattle pastured there.

  There were no houses or neighboring structures to be seen for at least two miles surrounding the old salt lick. The only thing suggesting that people lived on the finger roads branching off Salt Lick were the mailboxes. The isolation was no doubt one of the main reasons the kidnapper had specified the place for the money to be dropped. The rough dirt road was hardly traveled and when it was, the dust boiling behind a vehicle was a dead giveaway.

  Lucita drove the SUV slowly; her hands white-knuckle, her heart pounding like thunder in her ears. Somewhere in the near vicinity was a group of Rangers and deputies in undercover vehicles, but they were too far away to give her and Ripp any sort of support if things went wrong. Their job was to wait until the kidnapper picked up the money, then nab him as he drove onto one of the main roads.

  In the seat next to Lucita were two duffel bags stuffed with five-hundred-dollar bills, straight from one of the Sandbur accounts, along with phony money the Rangers used for just such situations as this. Lucita didn’t know exactly how much real money was in the bag, nor did she care. Money had ruined her marriage and now it was being bartered for the life of her son. She hated it.

  Behind Lucita the seats of the SUV had been folded down to make a cover for Ripp, who lay flat against the floorboard.

  Throughout the drive from the Sandbur to the drop-off point, he’d said very little, except to give her a word of encouragement now and then. But talk hadn’t been necessary. Just knowing he was back there was enough to bolster her courage.

  “I’m here at the pull-off, Ripp. It’s eight o’clock on the dot.”

  “Do you see anyone? Anything?”

  With the motor running, she cut the lights on the vehicle and stared around at the darkness encircling the vehicle. “I can’t see much. It looks like nothing but pastureland with a few trees and a small herd of cattle.”

  “Good,” he said in hushed voice. “Lower the windows, then kill the motor and get out of the vehicle.

  Start carrying the bags over to the fence—I’ll be covering you from the back window.”

  “All right.”

  Her hands were shaking almost violently as she gathered up the duffel bags and opened the door. For one second before she stepped to the ground, she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her to the jagged-topped cedar post where she was supposed to place the money. But she didn’t have a choice. If the kidnapper was close by, he would no doubt open fire on Ripp if she had him come out to help her. And that was a risk she would never let him take.

  Sensing her hesitation, Ripp whispered, “Lucita? Can you do this?”

  Swallowing at the heartbeat throbbing in her throat, she whispered back, “I’m going. Now.”

  The distance from the SUV to the fence couldn’t have been more than thirty feet, but to Lucita it was the longest walk she’d ever made in her life. Guided only by a sliver of moon, she took one careful step at a time.

  Except for the faint sounds of cattle chewing the Bermuda grass and a few buzzing locusts, the night was quiet and still. The humid air was hot and Lucita could feel sweat drenching her face, rolling beneath her blouse and seeping into the waistband of her jeans.

  Once she finally reached the fence, she dropped the bags and went down on her knees to search the ground around the cedar post. A note with directions to find Marti was supposed to be here somewhere. But where?

  Frantically, she began shoving away small rocks and weeds. Fire ants climbed onto her hand and instantly seared her skin with bites and stings. Biting down on her lip to keep from screaming out, she frantically brushed at the insects while trying to continue on with her search for any sign of a paper.

  Where was it? Oh, God, please let me find it, Lucita prayed. If she couldn’t locate the note, her only choice would be to carry the bags back to the SUV. The money was their only leverage for getting information to find Marti.

  She was beginning to think the kidnapper had led them on a wild-goose chase when she decided to give the post a shove. It was loose, and as the base pulled away from the hard ground, she spotted a piece of dark-colored paper sticking up from the edge of the hole.

  Snatching it up, she raced to the SUV and jumped inside.

  “Damn it, Lucita! You were out there forever! What took so long?”

  He sounded shaken and she couldn’t blame him. Even though it couldn’t have been more than five minutes, it felt as if she’d been out there by the fence for a half an hour. No doubt he’d been expecting shots to ring out at any given moment.

  “I couldn’t find the note at first. But I’ve got it now!”

  “Give it to me and drive! Quick,” he ordered.

  She tosse
d the paper back over the seat to him and quickly started the engine. As she started to pull onto the road, the flash of headlights bounced off the side-view mirror.

  “Ripp! There’s someone coming!” she yelped out.

  “Don’t worry about it. Go. Now!”

  “But if it’s the police they’re going to ruin everything!” she cried.

  “It’s not the police. Now do as I say!”

  He barked out the order and she reacted by stomping on the gas pedal. The tires on the SUV spun in the gravel and the vehicle fishtailed onto the main road.

  As she fought with the steering wheel, Ripp vaulted into the passenger seat and quickly punched out a number on his cell phone.

  “The money is dropped,” he reported bluntly to the person at the other end. “I’ve got the directions. I’ll call you when I figure this thing out.”

  From the corner of her eye, she could see him snap the phone shut and begin to read the note with a penlight.

  Her heart was pounding with fear, yet underneath the awful dread was a wild surge of hope. Marti. They were going to find Marti. They had to.

  She was silently repeating that mantra when Ripp spoke. “Keep going in this direction until we reach Willow Point Road.”

  The headlights behind them were growing dimmer now, telling her that the vehicle wasn’t trying to keep up with them. Still, her throat was so tight with nerves, she squeaked when she asked, “How far is that?”

  “I know this area. It’s not far. Maybe three miles.”

  “Then what?”

  “We turn east and head toward Victoria until we reach—”

  Ripp continued to read the note, but Lucita was no longer registering his words. She was envisioning Marti. Finding him. Pulling him into her arms and never letting go.

  “—house by the canal.”

  Catching the end of Ripp’s words, she took her eyes off the rough road for one brief second to look at him. “Do you know where that is? Can we find it?”

  “I don’t know exactly where it is. But we’ll damn well find it, Lucita. Right now, just concentrate on driving and I’ll tell you when to turn next.”

  She could do that. For the next fifteen minutes she concentrated on keeping the vehicle between the ditches and following Ripp’s orders.

  About five miles southwest of Victoria, residences began to appear, but they were few and far between. Eventually, Ripp directed her to turn onto a small blacktopped road that led them past a salvage yard with acres of trashed vehicles. To their left, a ghost yard of broken-down mobile homes were jammed at odd angles on the side of a hill. She caught faint glimpses of busted-out windows, doors hanging open and metal siding falling away to expose hunks of insulation. The idea that Marti might be in one of those dark, rat-filled places made her shiver with fear.

  “Ripp, I think we’re coming up on the canal. Do you think Marti might be in one of those trailers?”

  He glanced from the note in his hand to the junkyard on their left. “I don’t know. It just says house by the canal.”

  As the bridge spanning the canal suddenly appeared, Lucita stomped on the brake and brought the SUV to a halt in the middle of the street.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Ripp barked at her.

  Breathing hard with fear and frustration, she tossed up her hands. “We’re at the canal, Ripp. There’s no use going farther!”

  “There might be a house on the north side of the canal. Now step on it!”

  “But those old trailers—wouldn’t they be a likely place to hide someone?”

  “We can always turn around and search them later. I’m betting on a regular house.”

  Realizing he could be right, she gunned the vehicle across the bridge.

  “There isn’t anything around here, Ripp. No streetlights, no traffic. It’s eerie. I—”

  “There’s another road,” he interrupted. “Turn now! To your left!”

  She whipped the steering wheel and the vehicle careened onto a dirt drive. In a matter of seconds, the beam of headlights bounced across some sort of structure partially obscured by a massive oak tree and a thick tangle of rose hedge.

  “Stop. Turn off your lights!”

  Automatically she followed his orders and once he started to exit the vehicle, she moved to follow.

  “No!” he whispered loudly, catching her by the shoulder and pinning her back to the seat. “We don’t know who might be in there waiting with a gun. You’ll stay right here while I make the initial search.”

  Lucita’s instinct was to rip away from his hold and race to the dark house and she strained against his grip. “Ripp, Marti is my son! Let me go!”

  Instead of complying with her wishes, his fingers tightened and he paused for one moment to lean his face close to hers.

  She was quivering from head to toe, her breaths coming in rapid gulps as he forced her to focus on the dim outline of his features.

  “Lucita, use your head! I care about you. I don’t want anything happening to you—or to Marti. Now stay put unless you see me signal otherwise. Understand?”

  After a few moments his firm voice penetrated her frantic senses and she nodded jerkily.

  “I—I’m sorry, Ripp,” she whispered. “I’ll stay here. Promise.”

  “Good girl.”

  He patted her cheek and then he was out of the vehicle and slipping through the shadows in front of her.

  From his vantage point behind the rose hedge, Ripp could see the house was little more than a half-rotted frame. Part of the roof had long ago caved in and the windows were vandalized. There was no front door and on one end of the covered porch was a pile of rotting carpet.

  Only moments before, he’d called Sheriff Travers to let him know he was going into the structure. He wasn’t about to wait for backup. Not if Marti could be inside. And even though Lucita had promised to stay put, he wouldn’t be a bit surprised to turn around and see her glued to his back.

  Drawing his weapon, he stepped from behind the hedge and crept stealthily to the back of the house. Once he entered the structure, the faint glimmer of moonlight that had been illuminating his way was gone and he was forced to pull out a tiny flashlight.

  Pack rats scurried as the wooden boards beneath his boots creaked from his weight. Inside the tiny rooms, the air was stale and so humid he felt as if he were breathing water. Mosquitoes buzzed around his face and made a feast on his arms. Sweat rolled from his temples and into his eyes, but he didn’t dare reach up to wipe it away. Not when the next second might find him face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.

  Long, long moments passed before Ripp reached the front room of the house. By then it was apparent that the kidnapper wasn’t present. But was Marti?

  Holstering his weapon, he began to search every dark nook and corner while he prayed for Marti’s safety.

  “Marti? Marti, are you here?”

  He’d hardly gotten the words past his lips when he spotted a closet door with a wooden pallet jammed tightly at an angle between the door handle and the floor.

  Flinging it out of the way, Ripp jerked the door open and heaved out an enormous breath of relief as he stared straight at the stunned boy sitting cross-legged on the floor. A patch of gray duct tape covered his mouth.

  “Marti!” Dropping to his knees, he carefully pulled the tape from the boy’s lips. “Marti, are you okay, son?”

  Tears welled up in Marti’s eyes and then he flung himself straight into Ripp’s arms and began to sob.

  Ripp held Lucita’s child tightly as an overwhelming sense of protectiveness swept over him. “It’s okay, Marti,” he said, rubbing a hand over the boy’s head. “It’s all over. Let’s go home.”

  Later, as the clock neared midnight, Lucita stood in a hallway at the sheriff’s department. Her father’s arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders as the two of them stared through a small window and into an interrogation room.

  Inside the tiny square space, a slip of a woman sat at a bare table
. Her wrists were handcuffed together, her head bent. Red hair hung in limp hanks around her head, hiding most of her face. Across from her sat one of the Rangers who’d been working the case. At the moment he seemed content to let the woman talk at her own pace.

  Two hours after Lucita and Ripp had dropped the money at the salt lick, the Rangers had picked the woman up on a rural road east of Goliad. A .38 snub-nosed revolver had been found on her person and another Colt .45 in her vehicle, along with the duffel bags full of money.

  Her name was Faye Warner and she was a stranger to Lucita and the whole family.

  “Surprised the hell out of me when they brought her in,” Mingo muttered. “All along I figured it was Derek.”

  Lucita swallowed as she tried to control the wild swing of her emotions. Looking at the woman felt surreal, as though she was viewing evil in human form.

  “She says that Derek is dead,” Lucita said bluntly. “Shot by the Mexican mafia near Cuidad Juarez about a year ago for reneging on a drug deal. And so far her story has checked out with the Mexican police.”

  Since they’d brought her in for booking, Faye Warner had been singing like a bird in order to gain leniency. Lucita was still in shock to hear that her ex-husband had been having an affair with this woman. That the two of them had stolen her inheritance together and spent it lavishly down on the Mexican coast, living the high life until Derek got mixed up with the wrong people.

  Mingo snorted. “Justice, if you ask me. He never knew what he had in you and Marti. All he ever wanted was your money. Well, he got that and more. Only God can help his soul now.”

  “Ripp said that this woman had been planning the kidnapping for a long time because her money was running low. She’d followed me around in Corpus, memorizing my daily routine and figuring out the best way to nab Marti.”

  Mingo muttered a few curse words under his breath. “Guess you put a kink in her plans when you moved up here from Corpus.”

  Lucita nodded numbly. She’d never felt so cold in her life. Even the warmth of her father’s hand couldn’t keep her from shivering.