by D'Ann Lindun
“I will,” Rae promised. “You be careful out there at the ranch.”
Jamie touched the gun on her hip. “I have this. I’ll be fine.”
Together, they walked into the living room where Dani played with her toys.
Jamie sat on the couch and held out her arms. “Give me a hug. I’m going home now. You’re going to stay with Gram again tonight, okay?’
Dani scooted into her lap and wrapped her small arms around Jamie’s neck. “Okay. Love you, Mommy.”
Jamie’s heart folded up like a used tissue. She had to swallow hard not to cry again. “I love you, too, baby. I’ll see you at your game, okay?”
Dani nodded. “’Kay.”
Gently, Jamie placed her daughter on the sofa, then kissed her forehead. “Mom, I’ll see you two tomorrow, okay?”
“We’ll be looking for you.”
~*~
After Jamie parked her truck, she stepped out and hurried across the driveway. One of the horses neighed and she paused. Her skin prickled. Why were the horses restless? She had fed them early this morning before she left for work.
When Rae got so busy at the café that she began spending nights in the office, she and Big Jim decided to move closer to town leaving family ranch house empty. Until he’d been attacked, Big Jim still took care of his stock, driving out in the morning and again in the evening when he needed to.
Hammer met her halfway to the house, wagging his tail and grinning his doggy smile. She relaxed a fraction. The mutt was a great watchdog; if anyone was lurking around, he would let her know. She reached down to stroke his silky head. “Hey, boy. You being good? Come on. There’s a snack here for you. Mom sent you leftovers.”
He jumped in the air, his tail going in crazy circles.
A breeze picked up and the weeping willow trees around the yard blew, their thin leaves shaking. Jamie’s nerves hop-scotched under her skin as she looked around. Nothing looked out of place in the moonlight. The barn doors were closed, the tractor parked in its usual spot by the fence. Still, her hair stood on end.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she told herself as she unsnapped her holster. “It’s just been a long day.”
The doorknob turned easily, as it always did, when she let herself inside her house. Nobody, including Jamie, locked their doors in Confluence. Maybe it was past time they started. She flipped the light switch by the door and the kitchen lit up with its familiar yellow interior. The faint odor of cinnamon rolls Rae had sent home the day before hung in the air.
Dropping the two envelopes she’d picked up from the mailbox on top of the growing stack on the table, Jamie walked through the house, turning on all the lights. Nothing seemed amiss, but she couldn’t shake her feeling of unease.
She went back into the kitchen and placed her revolver on the table, then fed Hammer the snack Rae had sent him. He gobbled it, his tail going like a windmill. Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, Jamie popped off the top and took a long drink. The icy drink hit the spot and she sighed, a little more at ease.
She headed for her bedroom to change. Hammer ran ahead of her into the living room and plopped on the sofa. His big brown eyes implored her to join him and scratch his ears. “In a minute, boy. I need to get out of these clothes.”
He whined agreement.
She tossed her uniform in the laundry hamper, and lifted her T-shirt and pajama pants off the end of her bed. Her fingers brushed something hard and she flinched. “What the heck?”
Curious, she lifted the object. And gasped.
In her palm, she held a belt buckle. One she had seen many times. With the engraved words, Ignacio Rodeo Team High Point Girl, and the date circling the figure of a barrel racer. Jamie didn’t need to look on the bottom ribbon to see Kate Hollenbreck’s name stamped there.
The buckle slid out of her hand and landed on the bed with a soft plop. She covered her mouth. Dear God. Had Kate’s killer taken her buckle today? And brought it here as a taunt of some kind?
She rushed to the kitchen and grabbed her gun. Carrying it with her, she went through the house again, locking the windows and doors. Satisfied no one was inside, or could get in, she pulled on her boots. “Hammer, come.”
With the dog at her side, she headed outside.
The wind had picked up a little, sending a cool breeze across her skin. Jamie shivered. Making sure her safety was off, she carried the gun, ready to shoot. Nothing unusual moved or seemed out of place.
Her heart pounding, Jamie opened the barn doors.
She hit the light switch by the door and one of the light bulbs exploded. She flinched, but nothing moved. Walking through the dim alley, she saw empty stalls, unused implements and pile of sweet-smelling hay at the far end. The dog paced at her side, apparently unconcerned.
No lurking killer.
Jamie’s heart slowed a fraction and her breathing steadied.
Hammer stopped and growled. Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie saw something coming her way. Instinctively, she threw her hands up, but something hard connected with her head, sending her reeling.
When her hip and shoulder slammed into the hard-packed earth, Jamie’s hold on her gun loosened and it flew across the barn floor. She reached for her weapon, but her fingers felt numb. Dimly, she heard Hammer barking. He sounded far away, as if he’d chased the bad guy out into the driveway.
Jamie’s stomach cramped.
Lifting her fingers to her forehead, she brought them in front of her eyes. Red, gooey stuff. Blood. Hers.
She pushed to her knees with a moan.
Bile rushed up her throat, and she emptied her stomach.
With a shudder, she fell to her side. Her sore shoulder hit the ground and she gasped. “Dammit,” she muttered. “Got to get inside.”
The lights shone brightly, then dimmed. Her ears rang.
She was going to pass out.
Closing her eyes, she tried to summon what little stamina she had. Lying on the barn floor until her attacker came back and finished her off wasn’t an option. With a curse, she made it to her knees, then her feet. With shaking legs, she crossed the barn, bending to get her weapon. The world spun and her stomach threatened to erupt again.
Hammer trotted to her side and licked her cheek.
“Good boy.” She managed to straighten.
With the gun in her hand, she started toward the house. One tiny step at a time, she made her way without passing out. Her stomach tumbled like dice.
Her front door stood wide open. Had she left it like that? It seemed like she hadn’t, but her head hurt too much to think it through. With a moan, she wove her way to her bedroom and found her cell phone in her jean’s pocket. With blood trickling down her face and onto her neck, she dialed and spoke into the receiver. “Austin? I need you—”
The phone fell from her fingers, clattering across the hardwood floor.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Austin tore up the endless country road as if he were an Indy driver on the final lap. His pickup fishtailed on a sharp corner, and he let up on the gas for a second. Worry about Jamie had him almost immediately pressing back down on the accelerator. She sounded awful on the phone, as if she could barely talk. If anything happened to her—
Jamie wasn’t Marisol. She was more levelheaded and sensible than his late partner had been. And younger and less experienced…
He cursed and pressed harder on the pedal.
Tearing into her yard, he barely let the truck come to a complete stop before he jumped out and sprinted for her house. The front door stood wide open and his scalp tightened.
Slowing, he drew his gun from his shoulder holster and cocked it. Moving cautiously, he stepped inside. Everything looked normal. The kitchen as he remembered it. The TV stood silent in the living room.
His heart pounded in an uneven rhythm. “Jamie?” he called softly.
No response. Fear churned in his belly like the bad beef and beans he’d once eaten in a tiny border town. He stepped into her bed
room, and his heart stopped. Jamie lay across her bed, right cheek in a pool of blood. “Fuck.”
His legs felt heavy as steel pipes as he crossed and knelt beside her. He stuck his gun in its holster and felt for a pulse. Slow and shallow. Her blue eyes were unfocused and staring. Then she blinked. “You came.”
Relief poured through him. “Of course I did.”
Her eyes drifted shut.
“Jamie? Stay with me.” He touched her icy shoulder. “I’m going to call 911.” His fingers flew over the keypad on his phone. He gave the dispatcher the necessary information, then hung up. One glance at Jamie scared him shitless. She was fading. “Jamie? I need you to tell me who did this.”
She groaned and lifted a limp hand.
He caught it and held on. Her hand swam in his bigger one. She was so fragile. What the hell was a girl like her doing playing cops and robbers? Didn’t she know the good guys didn’t always win? Didn’t she realize the guys in white hats didn’t always come out on top? She should take care of Dani, become a Brownie leader. Not chase a killer who might take her out next.
Austin hated calling Jamie’s mom. The last time he had to notify loved ones of a shooting had been one of the worst days of his life. Marisol’s mother had broken down and accused him of not protecting her daughter; her father’s stoic silence hadn’t been much better.
With a heavy sigh, he dialed.
Rae’s sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”
Austin introduced himself, then told Jamie’s mother what happened and to meet the ambulance at the clinic. The woman hung up without a word.
He turned his attention to Jamie again. Her breathing remained slow and shallow. He wished the ambulance would hurry. If Dani lost her mother ...if she died ...He shook his head. Jamie wasn’t going to die. Not on his watch.
When he caught the son-of-a-bitch who did this, he’d make him beg for mercy.
His dark thoughts were interrupted by the flashing blue and red lights of the ambulance. The crew hustled in and had Jamie on the gurney within minutes.
Austin grabbed the arm of the nearest attendant. “How bad is she?”
“We need to get her to the hospital. We’ll know more then.”
Reluctantly, Austin let him go. “Hurry.”
“You following?”
“I need to look around first.” Austin watched them load Jamie into the ambulance before he went back inside her house. Taking his time, he moved through the interior, looking for anything suspicious. Nothing looked out of place.
In the kitchen, he spotted the dog dish. Where was the mutt? Had he run off the would-be killer?
Maybe there was something outside.
He left the house, closing the door with a firm click.
He retrieved a flashlight from his glove-box and walked into the barn. On the wall by the door was a light switch, and he flipped it. The interior lit up, and he walked the alley looking for clues. About halfway down the aisle, he spotted a shovel with a dark stain on its blade. Without being told, he knew this was the weapon that had struck Jamie. Taking a clean bandana from his pocket, he picked it up by the handle, carried it to his truck and placed it in the back seat.
There wasn’t much more he could do around here. He’d stepped into the truck when Jamie’s dog came into view. The dog’s pink tongue lolled and his sides heaved as if he’d had quite a run.
Austin pulled up beside the dog and rolled down his window. “I wish you could talk. Tell me who did this.”
The dog hung his head and headed for the house.
Austin rolled his window up and drove on.
~*~
At the small medical clinic, the familiar scents of medicine and cleaner assaulted Austin’s nose as he hurried down the hall. Jamie had been stowed in one of two examining rooms. He’d met Jamie’s mother at the café, but he’d never met Jamie’s dad. He understood the man had been shot in the head and was in intensive care in Grand Junction’s St. Mary’s hospital.
Rae came out of Jamie’s room and greeted Austin with a quick hug. “Austin, so good of you to come.”
“How is she?’
“She has stitches and a mild concussion, but going to be okay.” Rae wrapped her arms around her waist. “Thank God.”
“Can I see her?”
“Of course.” She indicated the door behind her. “Go on in.”
Austin watched her go, then entered Jamie’s room. Her eyes were shut, and she wore a white bandage wrapped around her head and one of those thin hospital gowns. She held the sheet in a tight grasp.
He was turning to wait outside when she spoke. “Austin?”
“It’s me.” He took the seat by her bed and took in her two black eyes and pale skin. “How’re you feeling?”
She grimaced. “I have a devil of a headache and a bunch of stitches, but it could have been much worse.”
“Do you know who hit you?”
She shook her head, then froze. “Ouch.”
“Take it easy,” he advised.
“I didn’t see anything. When Hammer growled, I turned, and that’s when somebody smacked me good. Hammer chased him off, or he might’ve done me in right there.”
“How did you get to the house?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. Walked, I think. Maybe crawled. I can’t remember.”
“Did you see anything?”
“No.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Nothing.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was the same guy who killed Kate Hollenbreck. I’m guessing this guy might’ve been looking for something when you surprised him.”
Jamie’s eyes widened and she struggled to sit up. The sheet fell away, and Austin pretended not to notice the way her full breasts strained at the thin fabric of her gown. The plain brown clothes of her uniform didn’t do her figure justice.
“I just remembered something. I found Kate’s old trophy buckle tonight. She won it in a high school rodeo ages ago, but she still wore it all the time. It was at the end of my bed under my P.J.s.” She shoved the covers off her long legs and swung her feet toward the floor. She swayed, and Austin caught her before she fell. Her breasts crushed against his chest, and for a nano-second he relished the sensation. Then he remembered who he held, and he placed her back in the middle of the bed, tucking the covers up to her chin.
“How did it get there?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. Kate’s never been to my house.”
“You’re not going anywhere. I’ll check it out.”
“I’m the sheriff. It’s my job,” she protested.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m going. You’re staying. That’s final.”
She opened her mouth to argue and he interrupted. “I’ll drop by in the morning.”
“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. “First thing.”
~*~
There was no belt buckle.
He’d searched her entire bed, under the covers, under the mattress and between the headboard and wall. Her unique scent lingered in her sheets. A combination of wildflowers and baby powder. He gritted his teeth and ignored the unwanted reaction it created in him. He knelt and looked under the bed. A few dust bunnies and a couple of toys. But that was it. No buckle. Nothing even resembling a trophy buckle.
He sighed and stood. What made Jamie believe she’d seen Kate’s belt buckle? Was her head injury way worse than he first thought? He hadn’t talked to her doctor, or her mom. Now he wondered if he should have done both.
The dog—Hunter?—slunk into the room, and Austin held out his hand. “You did your best to protect Jamie, didn’t you?”
The mutt wagged his stump of a tail and his unmatched eyes lit up as if he understood. With a soft, pink tongue, the dog licked Austin’s hand, and he stroked the dog’s head. He’d had a dog a long time ago. But, with his schedule, there wasn’t room for a pet in his life. He missed a pet’s unconditional love.
Giving the dog a final pat, he glanced at the bed again. The fresh, dark stain o
n the mattress reminded him how close Jamie had come to losing her life, sending a shudder rattling up his back. He had to catch this guy, and fast. Before another woman Austin cared about died.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tad Carver dragged in an unsteady breath. He ran a hand through his short hair, then pulled on a ball cap. That had been close. The damn dog had almost given him away. If his reflexes had been a little slower, Sheriff English would have caught him red handed. He hadn’t meant to brain her, just knock her out to get her off his scent until he could slip out of there undetected. He didn’t think anyone could put him at her place, but if they did, that opened a whole new shit can of stink. He’d hidden the buckle in her bed to scare her, then retrieved it for the same reason.
He needed a drink to calm his jumping nerves.
He stepped out of his truck and headed across The Moon’s parking lot. Halfway there, he stopped and grinned. If the lady sheriff did end up murdered, everyone would suspect the same guy who supposedly killed Kate Hollenbreck. Not him. It was perfect. If he got real lucky, maybe he had smacked her hard enough to do her in.
Feeling a whole lot better, he whistled a cheery tune as he entered the bar.
It was empty.
No band. No people screaming to be heard over pounding music. The overwhelming odor of disinfectant instead of warm bodies and alcohol filled the air. Only Mark Boyd sat staring at a TV hanging from the ceiling behind the bar. He was an okay guy, even if he had painted himself up with tats like an Indian on a warpath. They’d shot the shit a few times.
Tad took a seat on a barstool and grabbed a handful of peanuts from a full bowl. “Dead in here tonight.”
Mark shot him a bored look. “Yeah.”
“Give me a Bud.”
The bartender took his sweet-ass time uncrossing his long legs and standing. He retrieved the beer from a fridge behind the bar. “Need a glass?”