Defender (Doms of Mountain Bend Book 3)

by BJ Wane

  Six nights of little-to-no sleep had taken its toll by the time the sun lowered to a red-orange, half crescent on the horizon. With enough daylight remaining to keep the pitch dark of night at bay for another hour, she closed her eyes, intending to rest for fifteen minutes before deciding where to hole up for a while.

  A sharp rap on Skye’s window tore a strangled scream from her throat a short time later, or what she’d thought was a minute interval. Cringing from the large shape of a Stetson-wearing cowboy peering at her through the glass, she could barely make out his features other than he was definitely easy on the eyes. Just not the heart, since hers continued its frantic drumming against her chest.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  His deep voice penetrated the glass, the smooth rumble oddly soothing to her jangled nerves. Seeing no way around it, she lowered the window enough they could talk, not enough he could reach inside. Thank God she’d made sure the doors were locked before dozing.

  “I’m fine. Thank you,” she managed in a somewhat steady voice.

  He stepped back, as if sensing her nervousness. “Do you know where you are, ma’am?”

  Skye frowned, wondering what he meant. Looking out the windshield, she saw his SUV facing her car with headlights dimmed, leaving the woods on either side of the narrow lane shrouded in darkness. Forcing the cobwebs of sleep away, she turned back to him. “I pulled over to rest my eyes, and it appears I slept longer than I planned. I’ll move so you can get by. Sorry.”

  “No problem, sweetheart. You’re welcome to visit my ranch, just please come through the gate and let one of us know next time.”

  “I’m on private property? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” Skye started the engine and turned on the headlights, but when he remained too close to pull away, she asked, “Is there something else?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? Is there someone you can call to make sure you arrive home safely?”

  His concern was both touching and worrisome. The only thing that was clear to Skye at this point was the man didn’t recognize her, and, for some reason, she was comforted by that. She didn’t have to guess at answers, or fret about being accused of murder. Too bad a lie was necessary to extract her from his considerate interest in her welfare.

  “Yes. I haven’t been home in a while and afraid I pushed myself to get there faster. I’m not far. Thanks.” Before he could reply, she rolled up the window, hit reverse, and executed a slow U-turn. She drove back to the main road, conscious of his vehicle following at a safe distance, and didn’t breathe easy until he veered in the opposite direction from her.

  Her older model car didn’t come equipped with GPS to locate the nearest campground, and, since it was going on nine p.m., the library she saw in Mountain Bend was likely closed. Skye resigned herself to parting with more of her limited cash for one night in the motel she’d passed on the outskirts of town.

  An hour later, she fell asleep in yet another strange place, praying something would give soon that would offer hope for her destitute circumstances.

  ****

  Clayton waved to Shawn when he saw him getting into his sheriff’s cruiser as he drove by his house on his way into work. He and Shawn, along with their friend, Dakota, each lived in their own place on the Rolling Hills Ranch they co-owned. Even though Clayton and Shawn both worked thirty miles away in Mountain Bend, and his prosecutor’s office was located next to the sheriff’s department Shawn stood a good chance of heading soon, they opted to drive to work separately due to their often crazy hours.

  Pulling out of the double gates onto the main road, he went over his schedule for the day, using the drive into town to gear up for whatever was on the agenda. This morning, the only thing on his plate was a deposition before driving into Boise for court. When the D.A. had given him the option of working out of the smaller town office after Buck Cooper willed his fifty-thousand-acre ranch to the three of them, he hadn’t hesitated to accept. He and his closest friends had agreed to relocate to the ranch from Phoenix when they were fifteen, as opposed to getting separated and sent to individual foster homes after running off from their current, abusive foster parent.

  It was a decision none of them regretted now, but that hadn’t always been the case during those first months in Idaho. Living under Buck’s strict rule, the manual labor of learning to work a ranch, and answering to the first person since losing their parents who actually cared whether they attended school or not had tested all three of them. They credited a lot of their adjustment to Buck’s wife, Miss Betty, as she insisted they call her. Her motherly hugs and home cooking had been worth minding the rules, and eventually they’d grown to love the ranch, and the Coopers.

  Buck’s sudden death two years ago had hit all of them hard, and it warmed Clayton whenever he saw Miss Betty with widower Jerry Sanders nowadays. He didn’t have to worry as much about her being alone, even though she’d insisted she was happy living in the senior retirement community with her friends nearby.

  Clayton rolled down his window to let the warm, fresh air in. Winter always arrived too early to suit him, and he never wasted a chance to spend as much time outdoors during the spring and summer months as time allowed. Between his job as city prosecutor, doing his share to help around the ranch, and now part owner of Spurs, their private club, hours free of obligations were a rare commodity.

  Passing the turnoff where he’d come across the woman sleeping in her car last night, Clayton frowned. From what he could see inside her vehicle, she’d been away for a while, and he hoped she had arrived home without any problems. As safe as this area and Mountain Bend were, a woman alone couldn’t take enough precautions.

  Speaking of that woman… Clayton narrowed his eyes and slowed as he approached the motel on the right, spotting the same car parked in front of a room the same black-haired woman had just exited. He didn’t like she’d lied to him about returning home but understood her need for safety. Waking to a stranger staring into her car window must have freaked her out, and she’d done an admirable job of holding it together. With luck, she would arrive at her destination today without further delays.

  He put her out of his mind as he drove on into town and parked in front of his office on Main, not surprised his paralegal, Josh, and receptionist, Gayla, were already behind their desks. He would have to arrive before seven-thirty to beat Gayla, and Josh would have the conference table ready for their eight-thirty deposition. It paid off in spades to hire loyal employees.

  “Morning,” he greeted them, hanging his hat on a hook inside the door.

  “Morning, Clayton. Here are your messages.” Gayla handed him three pink slips as he paused in front of her desk.

  “And I’m ready in the back, “Josh tossed out from the coffee bar in the corner.

  “Thanks, both of you. I’ll answer these then meet you in there when Louise and her attorney get here. Let’s hope she doesn’t change her mind yet again.”

  Louise Campbell had suffered her husband’s abuse for years, yet every time she had promised to file charges and leave him, she ended up dropping them and returning to the bastard. Her sister, Theresa, happened to be visiting this time, and hadn’t left Louise’s side since Chester knocked her down the porch steps last week. Had Clayton or the deputies known about a sister who lived in Helena, they would have contacted her themselves ages ago. Louise had kept Theresa’s name out of all of their conversations, even when they’d probed for a family member she could call.

  “I met Theresa when I visited Louise in the hospital. Unlike her sister, she’s a ball-buster. I like her, a lot,” Gayla said.

  “For a nice older lady, Gayla, that tone always makes me cringe.” Josh handed Clayton a cup of coffee.

  Gayla bared her teeth. “I’m not nice under certain circumstances.”

  “You and me both.” Clayton held up the steaming cup with a nod. “Thanks. Be right out.”

  He slipped into his office and settled behind his wide mahogany desk that f
aced a large, three-paned window with a view of Main and Second, the park on one corner and library across the street. Reading through the messages, he sipped the coffee sweetened just the way he liked then reached for the phone to return the first call when his eye caught a glimpse of a dark-haired woman entering the library. Pushing to his feet, he moved in front of the desk to get a closer look and recognized the same woman he’d run into last night.

  With a much clearer view of her in the light of day, Clayton guessed she was average height, five-five or six, and nicely rounded. Then again, he found favor with all women’s shapes – petite and slender or carrying a few extra, soft pounds – he liked each and every one. This woman’s pale face bothered him, and he wondered if that was her natural complexion or if fatigue or stress caused her pinched look. If he didn’t have that deposition, he’d cave to the temptation to run into her at the library, just to make sure she was okay.

  But he did have work, and a woman he was sure needed his help. Hoping for the best for the stranger, he returned to his desk, finishing his calls just as he heard Louise arrive. Gathering up his files, he strode out of his office with a confident smile for his skittish witness.

  “Louise, come on in. You’re looking much better. How are you feeling?” Her bruises were fading, her wrist was still in a splint, and her eyes hadn’t lost the uncertainty she’d exhibited when he’d visited her in the hospital right after getting the call from Shawn.

  “I’m doing good. Thank you.”

  “Don’t lie, Louise.” Holding out her hand, the woman who resembled Louise said, “Theresa Addison, Louise’s sister and the last to know what’s been going on under her roof.” She cast her sister a disproving glare, shaking his hand.

  Louise fidgeted, her expression reflecting guilt. “I—”

  The tall woman dressed in a power suit of red interrupted them. “Let’s save it for the deposition.”

  Clayton had worked with private attorney Devon Mahoney on cases before and respected her dedication to her clients. “This way.”

  They settled around the table in the conference room and were thirty minutes into the deposition when Louise started backtracking. Clayton and Devon were prepared but not Theresa when her sister started hedging.

  “Maybe we should hold off on filing charges,” Louise said when Clayton listed the offenses he was considering against Chester.

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding, Louise,” Theresa snapped, outraged. “Just because you didn’t marry until almost forty is no reason to think he’s the only man out there.”

  Louise reddened and looked away from her sibling’s angry face. “I don’t think that,” she mumbled.

  Theresa scoffed, but Devon held up her hand and gave Louise a compassionate look. “You know he’s not going to change. I’m speaking from years of experience in defending abused spouses, both women and men, and he won’t stop. He may even kill you one day.”

  Shaking her head, Louise’s eyes turned teary. “No, it’s only when he’s had a bad day, or I do something that upsets him. He doesn’t mean it…”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” Theresa turned to Clayton. “Do something,” she demanded, and he could hear the worry and fear in her strident tone.

  “Trust me, we’ve tried. Louise, your family now knows and have offered you a place to go and start over. My advice is to leave with Theresa and don’t look back. Once Chester realizes you’re no longer willing to be his punching bag, he’ll take a plea, and you’ll be done with him. A lot of women start over at your age, and go on to better, happier relationships or times in their lives. You’re running out of options.”

  Clayton nodded to Josh, who turned off the deposition recording. Gathering up his files and notes, he stood, addressing Devon. “I have court in Boise, but feel free to use this room as long as you need it. Let me know your client’s decision this week. Ladies.” He walked out with a heavy heart, hoping for the best but not counting on Louise to come through.

  “I’ll check in with you two on my way back from court this afternoon,” he told Gayla and Josh as he headed out. “Have a good afternoon.”

  “You, too, Boss, and don’t worry. She might come through this time,” Josh replied.

  “We’ll see.”

  Donning his Stetson, he left the office and took a deep breath of fresh air to help clear his head of one case and gear up for the next. There was always another victim to defend, and he couldn’t afford to waste a lot of time and energy on someone who continued to refuse to help herself, no matter how much he wished otherwise. Shawn and Dakota often wondered how he could so easily shed his ruthless prosecutor persona for his more laid back, amiable disposition, allowing little to bother him. He figured by now, since they both had committed to someone special they could focus their energies on, they realized the benefits of letting go of the stress. In Shawn’s case, he could leave his job in law enforcement at the end of the day and focus on Lisa. Instead of spending every spare moment seeking revenge for his mother’s death, Dakota now enjoyed sparring with Poppy when he wasn’t taking care of her.

  He was happy for his friends, but Clayton enjoyed socializing and women in all forms and didn’t plan on settling down with one. They were his stress relievers, and his parents, both with high-powered, corporate jobs, had shown him it was a simple matter of switching gears at the end of the day and focusing on something else. Up until the day the drunk driver responsible for their deaths had walked away on a technicality, he’d been easy-going all the time. It had taken months of living under the Coopers’ roof for him to lose his angry bitterness and start heeding Buck’s advice to turn his attention on righting or preventing such outcomes instead of wasting time bemoaning what he could never change.

  God, he really missed the gruff rancher who had given the three of them new leases on life.

  Clayton opened the door of his Bronco, glancing across to the library just as the dark-haired woman was getting into her car. Checking the time, he wondered what she’d done inside for over two hours then shook off his curiosity, clearing his head of the woman’s odd behavior as he slid behind the wheel. He always looked forward to putting another bastard behind bars for a long time, gaining justice for another victim, and couldn’t let anything interfere with that goal.

  ****

  I’m a successful writer. After spending time on the library computer, first looking for news on her husband’s death then, after still finding nothing, searching for the nearest campground, Skye went browsing for something to check out. Thankfully, she’d found a library card in her purse that was good at all county libraries. As soon as she’d seen the cover of a romantic suspense by S.L. Anders, her brain had filled in the blank of what she did for a living. It was strange how she knew right away the details of the book, even how long it had taken her to write it and her research. Yet, she still possessed no recollection of her past, nothing about a husband who was now dead, or the alleged friend she’d run from out of fear of the unknown.

  She looked at the stack of books she’d checked out and shook her head. Only two of the ten novels were titles by someone else, ones she didn’t remember reading. The others were her works of fiction, if she could rely on her faulty memory, and having them with her now was a link to her identity she needed as much as she did air to breathe. She wouldn’t question anything that would help her stay sane through this ordeal.

  Skye drove to the small country grocery next and bought toiletries and a few items that didn’t require refrigeration, like a large jar of peanut butter and loaf of bread, then went in search of the campsite. According to the website directions, it was spread out between Mountain Bend and the historic mining town tourist attraction along the river. After a few wrong turns, she found the Pioneer Campground and a secluded spot to park close to trails leading into the surrounding woods.

  At a loss over what to do or where to go from here, she fought off a wave of despair. Surrounded by strangers no matter where she went emphasized how alone
she was, and the image of Alex’s body along with her absent memories left her scared of her own shadow. Tears pricked her eyes, watching a family of four grilling by their small camper, the little boys playing tag running around the campsite. Did she have siblings, parents? If so, where? Were they worried about her, looking for her, or were they estranged, indifferent to each other as some relatives?

  Was there anyone who cared about her?

  “Enough!” she muttered, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes.

  Skye had no idea whether she’d always been this maudlin and cowardly but vowed to pull herself out of this funk and find a way to get her life back. That required strengthening her spine and taking risks, easier said than done when she might end up going to prison for killing a husband she didn’t remember. Even so, she couldn’t go on indefinitely like the past thirty-six hours.

  By the time she’d eaten a sandwich, explored the campground amenities, and found the showers and restrooms, she decided to wait it out around here until money forced her to take the chance on returning to Boise for answers. With luck, her memory would return before then, giving her something concrete to work with to decide where to go from here.

  Chapter Two

  Nothing. Not a word. Worried and on edge, Skye shut down her search and pushed away from the small computer table. Standing, she stretched then picked up the two books she selected to replace the ones she returned. So as not to draw undo attention, she’d ventured into Mountain Bend only once this past week instead of every day, like she wanted. She’d made a point to visit the small shops, acting the tourist before stopping in at the library. And still no word, not even a mention of a man by the name of Alex Gregory or his death by gunshot.