Undercover Sheriff

by Barbara Phinney

  He eyed her shrewdly. “And Rosa helped you in this ministry? Was she a soiled dove, as well?”

  “She used to be,” Rachel admitted.

  “Maybe she returned to her old habits?”

  “No, she has given her life to God.” Rachel folded her arms. “Obviously you’re not a Christian, to be so willing to discount the work of the Holy Spirit.”

  Zane raised his brows, looking insulted. “I assure you, Miss Smith, nothing could be further from the truth.”

  Rachel studied him. Although she couldn’t say why, she believed his words. She had no proof, save the indignant look. She had no proof that Alex’s disappearance was related to Rosa’s, either, but like Zane’s answer, she knew it to be true.

  His scowl returned. “So you reported her disappearance to Alex?”

  “Yes, but as soon as he opened an investigation, he went missing, too.” Rachel bit her lip. Had Alex somehow given up on this town and abandoned his duties? Had the work here proved too much for Proud Bend’s new sheriff? Too much stress and anxiety?

  Automatically, Rachel’s thoughts moved to her childhood friend, Bea. Hard times had hit Bea’s family and by the time Rachel and Bea were eighteen, Bea had turned to prostitution to help make ends meet. A year later, in a fit of remorse for her choices, Bea had taken her own life. That sad act had cemented Rachel’s desire to help the soiled doves of Proud Bend.

  That same year, along came Liza, who’d approached Rachel one day on the street, asking for money and followed by a younger, equally squalid-looking woman. It was Rosa, Liza’s daughter—a young woman who knew nothing else but to follow her mother in the profession of prostitution.

  Rachel shut her eyes, trying to banish the memory. It still hurt to think of Liza and the terrible part Rachel had played in her untimely death.

  You should feel guilty.

  Two women, two deaths. Another woman missing. You could have tried harder to help Bea. And Liza might still be alive today if you hadn’t convinced the other soiled doves to hand over their life savings for you to invest. You would never have been robbed and assaulted that night. And if that hadn’t happened, Liza wouldn’t have decided to confront the man she believed was the thief. Your arrogance—your belief that you could save those women—played a big part in Liza’s death.

  Rachel pushed aside the painful memories before they gained a stronger foothold. Right now, she couldn’t afford to dwell on them. Finding Rosa and Alex must come before wallowing in guilt.

  Had she done enough to help Alex with the investigation? Maybe if she’d spoken to him more, she would have known more about what he’d uncovered—and what had caused his own disappearance. But Rachel had deliberately kept all of her interactions with the sheriff as brief and discreet as possible, seeing him only in the early morning, when most of the women who worked in the cribs behind the saloon were sleeping. Rachel didn’t need to be known as someone who was close with the sheriff, considering the distrust and suspicion the soiled doves felt toward law enforcement. Prostitution wasn’t illegal, but those women were often arrested for vagrancy and theft, leading them to avoid the law as much as possible.

  Rachel sighed. None of this answered why Proud Bend’s sheriff had written her name on a postcard from the neighboring town or even when he’d done so. Rachel stepped closer, indicating the postcard that Zane still held and determined to glean from it every ounce of information she could. “Are you sure it’s Alex’s handwriting?”

  He tossed her a sharp look. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Of course not.” She frowned at his defensive tone. “Are you absolutely certain that’s his handwriting?”

  “We wrote—write—to each other regularly. When I received a telegram stating he was missing—”

  “You received a telegram? When? From whom?”

  Zane’s mouth thinned before he answered. “This past Sunday. I took that day’s train. In fact, I have only just arrived.”

  “Who sent you that telegram?”

  “Alex’s deputy,” Zane answered. “A man named Wilson. He informed me that Alex was missing and asked if I’d heard from him.”

  Rachel swallowed. Instead of searching this room, the new deputy had contacted the brother who lived miles away? Why wasn’t the deputy doing more to search for answers here in Proud Bend? Instead, he’d sent a telegram and, as far as Rachel could tell, done little else.

  Suspicion rose in her, but she crushed it. Not so long ago, the night her father had died, her father’s business partner, Clyde Abernathy, had tried to kill her and her mother in an attempt to gain control of the bank he shared with Rachel’s father. Now, Rachel felt mistrust at every turn.

  No. Suspicion and doubt did not come from God, she told herself fiercely. Nor should she complain about Deputy Wilson’s choice at where he would start his investigation. She hadn’t considered this room either until late last night. Rachel wouldn’t condemn Deputy Wilson’s decisions, not when she was just as negligent, even if her own investigation could not be sanctioned by the law.

  With deep concern, Rachel rubbed her arms to suppress a shiver. She couldn’t afford to give in to this worry.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Zane cut her off. “I would prefer to be the one who asks the questions,” he said. He glanced at the door. “How well do you know my brother?”

  His words might have been suggestive, but Rachel heard nothing but concern in Zane’s tone. “That’s not important,” she answered. “How did you know where your brother lived? You said you came straight here from the train.”

  “Alex had written me about his new home.” Zane narrowed his eyes. “Are you intimate enough with Alex that his landlady would let you in anytime you want?”

  Now those words went beyond suggestive into insulting. Coloring, Rachel tugged on the pocket flaps of her outfit’s fine jacket. “Absolutely not!” It was only then that she noticed how Zane had left the door open. Although it was clear and bright this December morning, the cold draft barreling in had dissolved any heat created by the sunshine through the window. “I’m not intimate with Alex in any way, shape or form. Mrs. Shrankhof let me in because she is as concerned over his disappearance as I am and she trusts me.”

  “How commendable of you.” He folded his arms. “Now, the real reason you took the card.”

  Rachel blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m delighted you are so concerned for Alex that you would search his room for any leads as to where he’s gone, but I don’t believe that’s your main reason, Miss Smith.”

  Her mouth felt dry all of a sudden. “W-why do you say that?”

  “You were very focused. You went straight to this desk.”

  “How do you know?”

  Zane pointed briefly to the floor. “There is a skiff of snow outside and you have tracked it only to the desk, not to the wardrobe or the chest of drawers.”

  Rachel glanced down at the small pools of melting snow that indicated where she’d walked. Zane Robinson was as eagle-eyed as Mrs. Shrankhof. Despite her pounding heart, she shrugged. “It was the logical place to start. I came, and the first thing I saw was the desk.”

  She threw back her shoulders. “Since I first reported Rosa missing, I have gone to the sheriff’s office every day for an update, even after Alex disappeared. When I learned that Deputy Wilson had focused his investigation into Alex around the saloon only, I decided to start my own. I came here and found that postcard. As you have pointed out, that’s all I’ve done.”

  “And you know for sure Wilson has not searched this room yet?”

  “Mrs. Shrankhof confirmed that no one has been in here. It’s her job to clean once a week. She’d tidied his room the day he went missing and then locked it up. Believe me, she would notice anyone coming. Unless it was Alex, who has his own key, they would need t
o ask her to unlock the door. I don’t know why Deputy Wilson has not yet searched this room. Perhaps you can ask him that.”

  Rachel paused. Until this moment, she hadn’t considered that Deputy Wilson might have obtained Alex’s key and slipped in under the cover of darkness. What if Wilson had taken it after he’d kidnapped Alex?

  No. Wilson wouldn’t risk incriminating himself in that way. However, what if he’d slipped in here in the middle of the night and planted that postcard, hoping to point the finger at Rachel?

  She brushed away the wild conjecture. Such was the result of a stalled investigation and a too-suspicious nature after being exposed to her father’s and Abernathy’s sly corruption.

  “I plan to question Wilson very thoroughly.” Zane tipped his head to one side. “So, Detective Smith, what’s your next move?”

  Chapter Two

  Rachel blinked away all the suspicions and paranoia and focused on Zane, telling herself again not to be intimidated by this abrasive version of her town’s sheriff. “I was going to check out that postcard.”

  He held it up. “The one that has your name on it? Logically, it seems to point to you, so interviewing you would be the next step, except you claim that you had nothing to do with Alex’s disappearance. Therefore, this card is a dead end, so why bother taking it?”

  Rachel felt even more heat flood into her face. Before she could answer, he continued, “I’ve been watching you, Miss Smith. I believe that as soon as you found that postcard, you realized that you might be implicated in my brother’s disappearance, which prompted you to try to dispose of it. In fact, I believe that was your sole reason for coming here. To remove any incriminating evidence because you’re involved somehow.”

  “That’s not true!” Rachel swallowed, realizing too late that her outburst wasn’t such a good idea. “You should be asking the deputy why this room hasn’t been searched.”

  “I intend to, and since we have already established that Mrs. Shrankhof trusts you—”

  Rachel tried her best to look knowing. “She’s an excellent judge of character.”

  “I disagree. You’re a thief. You stole this card. Since you clearly have Alex’s landlady in your back pocket, we will have to consider her a biased witness and disregard any statement she might make in your defense.” Zane took a step toward her as his gaze flicked up and down her frame.

  Rachel tipped her head up, something she rarely had to do with men, thanks to her height. She studied Zane. She didn’t remember seeing the tiny creases between Alex’s eyebrows, but Zane had them. He also seemed a whole lot more canny than his easygoing twin. How did he know so much about biased witnesses, statements and such? Was he also in law enforcement?

  “You have all but admitted that you have another motive rather than the noble one of finding three people,” Zane asked.

  Rachel pulled herself together. “You know this because...”

  “You call Alex by his first name.”

  Normally, Rachel wouldn’t be so improper as to call the sheriff by his first name, but Alex had insisted on Christian names once he’d learned of her ministry, saying he valued her work. She’d appreciated the friendly personality, but had kept her encounters with him as brief and as few as possible, not wanting the women she helped to believe there was more between the sheriff and her than there really was.

  Alex had understood that. He was easy to get along with, candid even, unlike this brother, who currently looked travel worn and testy, as suspicious as that postcard.

  Despite knowing why she kept her distance, Alex had been quite companionable, often greeting her in the street. This twin appeared to be the exact opposite. Rachel folded her arms. “What of calling Alex by his Christian name? We had exchanged them.”

  “Really? He’s not in your class.”

  Rachel bristled but refused to answer. Although her mother had always tried to instill in her the importance of staying within one’s class, Rachel knew, even years ago when the Lord had changed her young life, that all were equal at heart. Wasn’t that a founding principle that made the United States? She remembered the celebration when Colorado had joined the union. Hadn’t the mayor commented on that? It didn’t matter. She knew enough not to argue with this man. Not today, anyway.

  “As for another motive, it’s nearly noon,” Zane commented abruptly, “and judging by the freshness of the rouge on your cheeks and the powder under your eyes, I would say that you have only just completed your toilet.”

  “How does that indicate another motive?”

  The corners of Zane’s mouth rose slightly. “I can tell that you retired very late last night. What exactly were you doing until all hours? Whatever it was, I wonder if it’s making you feel guilty,” he speculated.

  “Not in the least.” She threw back her shoulders and tugged on the sleeves of her jacket. “The hours I keep are none of your concern.”

  He was being ridiculous, she told herself. Staying out late did not cause her to feel guilty. Was he goading her?

  “And how do you explain these?” He lifted her left hand and indicated her rough knuckles before turning it over to expose the dry, hard calluses. “Are you a washerwoman by night?”

  She yanked back her hand, regretting that she’d removed her gloves upon entering this room. “That’s none of your business.”

  “I would say it is. You are full of contradictions, which imply that you’re hiding something. Something that I believe is making you feel guilty. I saw it on your face the moment I walked in here.”

  Rachel felt her mouth thin. “Very observant of you.”

  “Alex isn’t the only lawman in the family.”

  She narrowed her gaze, knowing that if he was like most lawmen, he would not give up until she admitted that he was correct. They stared each other down as she fought the urge to blink. She fought every fiber in her body that screamed to tell Zane everything, to pour out all the guilt that ate at her.

  That would be a very bad idea. Just because he looked like his twin didn’t mean he was as understanding as Alex.

  His stare continued.

  Finally, needing to say something, anything to end the accusatory silence, she blurted out, “Fine, then. I didn’t want anyone to think I had something to do with Alex’s disappearance. I came here for any clue to help find him, and hopefully Rosa and Daniel, but as soon as I saw this card, I was afraid that if Deputy Wilson discovered it, he would focus on me, to the exclusion of all other suspects. I want him to find Rosa and Daniel because their disappearance must be connected to Alex’s. But I’m not responsible for what has happened to any of them!”

  Even as she blurted out her words, she knew Zane didn’t believe her. As his stare continued, a shiver ran through her.

  * * *

  Not for a minute did Zane believe Rachel’s words. He glanced down at the postcard in his hand. A painted picture of Castle Rock? Why would his brother have a postcard from another town? And why waste a good postcard by writing only Rachel Smith’s name on it?

  In fact, when had he written Rachel’s name on it? Before or after Rosa’s disappearance?

  There was also another on that list of hard questions. How was it that he could so easily see the lies on Rachel Smith’s face, yet he had not seen how his own staff back in the little town of Canaan had conspired against him?

  It was hard to believe Rachel could deceive anyone with a face that open and expressive. It was clear the woman was nervous, an emotion so tangible he could nearly taste it in the air. But did that mean she was involved in his brother’s disappearance? Could she be telling the truth about that?

  Maybe her nervousness was simply because he’d startled her. And just being an identical twin to a missing man might unnerve another person. Enough to make them look guilty?

  Perhaps, but that didn’t expla
in the postcard. Neither he nor Alex had anyone to send postcards to, aside from each other. They had lost their grandparents to old age a few years back, and parents to a flu outbreak last winter. At their parents’ shared funeral, Zane and Alex had decided never to lose contact with each other. That was how Zane knew exactly where to go as soon as he’d stepped off the train. In his first letter from Proud Bend, Alex had given him detailed directions to his home and office. Zane would have preferred to go straight to the sheriff’s office for an update, but since this room was on the way, he’d stopped here first, just in case his brother had returned.

  It was a good thing he’d chosen this detour. Now it looked like he might be taking Miss Rachel Smith in for questioning. He latched on to her elbow. Firmly.

  She immediately stiffened. “Let me go! What’s the matter with you?”

  Zane saw shock flare in Rachel’s eyes, but he had no intention of releasing her. Just because a woman was indignant, didn’t mean she wouldn’t knock him over and bolt the second he released her. This Miss Rachel Smith looked healthy enough to get a good head start on him while he was scrambling to stand. She was taller than most women and if she hiked up that fashionable skirt of hers, she could race out of this room at a fairly good clip.

  “We’re going to the sheriff’s office,” Zane ground out. “I want to see if the deputy has heard from my brother.”

  Rachel dug in her heels. “You don’t need to handle me like a wayward child!”

  “I think I do.” His grip wasn’t hard, but firm enough to ensure her compliance. “I want to question you in a professional manner and that means at the sheriff’s office.”

  “You have no authority here.”

  He was about to reply when he was cut off by a deep, booming voice. “What’s going on here?”

  Zane turned. Standing in the open doorway was a large, well-dressed man, middle-aged, with extra weight around the middle. An even older woman, wearing a worn cotton skirt and blouse, with a flour-dusted apron wrapped around her wide girth and a heavy shawl draped over her shoulders, stepped out from behind him. Some of her gray, wispy curls escaped her white maid’s cap. Her eyes were wide, taking in every action.