Confessing to the Cowboy

by Carla Cassidy

  The heat in the room grew more and more intense and he expected the flames from the burning sofa to jump to the bedroom door at any moment. If that happened he’d have no other choice than to abandon the room and leave the dog behind.

  “Twinkie,” he yelled again, grateful to hear men’s voices coming from the other side of the bedroom door. Apparently help had arrived.

  At the same time Cameron felt a furry little body run into his head. “Twinkie, thank God.” He grabbed the trembling dog to his chest and then backed up to the open window.

  With the dog safely in his arms he exited the building, grateful to see the volunteer fire truck nearby with hoses already in use.

  He ran across the snowy landscape to his car. Matt opened the back door, his arms opened to receive his precious dog. “Thank you,” Mary said, her eyes filled with tears.

  He nodded. “Just keep the doors locked and the car running so you stay warm. Don’t open the doors for anyone but me and if somebody tries to get in, then drive away and I’ll find you later.”

  Mary nodded solemnly, as if she realized what Cameron had already assessed, that this fire could have simply been a diversionary tactic to get Mary and Matt out of the café and into the snow alone and vulnerable.

  Thank God Cameron had been doing hourly drive-bys and checking out the perimeters of the café and had seen the fire blazing when he had. By the time Cameron arrived, Matt had already climbed out his window and was crying for his mother and Twinkie.

  When Cameron realized Mary was still inside, his heart had frozen with fear. Now, with all three of the occupants safe in his car, he raced back to see that the firemen were pulling their hoses back through the broken main door of the café.

  The chief of the fire department, aptly named Smokey Johnson met him in the kitchen. “Fire is out, only mortality is a sofa and some smoke damage mostly contained to the main room in the back. No question that it was arson, probably gasoline poured over the sofa material. There’s a broken window in the room, probable point of entry for whoever lit the fire.”

  Smokey pulled off his helmet, his ragged features indicating exhaustion. “We don’t get called out at three in the morning very often.”

  “Thank God you got here before any real damage was done or somebody lost their life,” Cameron replied. He slapped Smokey on the back. “I’ll be in touch for your official report sometime tomorrow. In the meantime if you all could board up the broken windows before you leave I’d appreciate it. I’ve got Mary and Matt in my car and I want to get them someplace safe and warm for what’s left of the night.”

  “We’ll take care of everything,” Smokey replied. “And when we’re finished we’ll let your men move in for whatever they need to do.” Cameron knew he could depend on the fire chief, who had served efficiently in his capacity for the past ten years.

  After speaking with Deputies Larry Brooks and Brent Walkins about their own crime-scene investigation in the café, Cameron hurried back to the car, his goal now to get Mary and Matt settled in at his place.

  The interior of his patrol car was nice and toasty and Matt had already fallen back asleep with Twinkie curled up on his chest.

  However, Mary still had the shell-shocked look of a woman somebody had just tried to kill. Her hair was wild around her face and one cheek sported a smear of smoky residue.

  “I’m taking you to my place,” Cameron said as he put the car into gear and headed out of the Cowboy Café parking lot. He was grateful she didn’t object. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for objections from anyone.

  “How bad is the damage?” Her voice sounded faint, as if she were trapped in a dream and couldn’t wake up.

  “You’re going to need a new sofa and there’s a lot of smoke damage, but that can be fixed with a little elbow grease and some new paint.”

  He felt her gaze on his as he carefully maneuvered the dangerous curve he had to drive in order to get to his ranch. “You know it was probably Jason. He was probably hoping the whole place would come down.”

  “Maybe, but I was doing cursory checks around your building throughout the night. It was on this last check that I saw Matt standing outside his bedroom window in the snow, crying for you and his dog.”

  Mary straightened in the seat. “You weren’t the man who broke his window? You didn’t tell him to get out of his room?”

  Cameron shot her a quick glance, his jaw tense. “No, he was already out when I arrived.”

  Mary worried her fingers together in her lap and shot a quick look over the seat to her sleeping son. “Matt told me somebody tapped on his window, then broke it out and told him to get out of the building because it was on fire. It had to have been Jason.”

  She stared out the passenger window and then turned back to Cameron. “He must have run away when you arrived. Jason’s intention was to kill me and take Matt. Thank God you came when you did.” She shivered, as if any other scenario filled her with ice.

  With the thick layer of snow, Cameron hoped his deputies would be able to find footsteps to follow that might lead them to tire tracks and from those they could at least figure out what kind of vehicle the person was driving or something physical about the person who had left behind footprints.

  Mary fell silent and Cameron desperately tried to keep his attention on the snowy road and not on the length of her legs that was bared by the shortness of her oversize black T-shirt.

  As he tried to ignore Mary’s bareness and maneuver the slick roads, his mind also worked over the elements of the entire case. Three dead bodies, an abusive ex-husband who couldn’t be located and Mary. There was no question in his mind now that Jason McKnight was behind it all. But was he working alone or was he working with somebody here in town?

  And where in the hell was he holed up?

  His men had been working over the past week to check out every abandoned barn, shed and building. Any stranger walking the streets would be noted by somebody and brought to his or one of his deputies’ attention, but so far that hadn’t happened.

  “Maybe you should just take us to the motel,” Mary said, breaking the silence that had grown between them.

  “I’d feel better if you were at my place.” He’d wondered how long it would take for her to protest his plans.

  “And I’d feel better if we weren’t.”

  He shot her a glance of surprise. She stared out the front window, as if not wanting to meet his gaze. Was her reticence because of what had happened between them before?

  “Mary, if you’re worried that I’ll somehow take advantage of you or you’re regretting what happened between us, then let me assure you that I will be a complete gentleman.”

  “That’s not it.” She turned to look at him, her eyes shimmering in the illumination from the dashboard. “Don’t you understand? Jason is hurting all the people I care about. I don’t want him to think that I care about you in any way and put you in danger.”

  Her words warmed him, but also made him more determined than ever that she and Matt would stay with him until this was all over.

  There was no question in his mind that the end was near, that Jason had honed in on Mary rather than any of her waitress friends. The fire tonight proved that he was finished playing games with her. He wanted her dead and Cameron was determined to do everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.

  He just hoped it was enough.

  Chapter 13

  There had been little conversation once they reached Cameron’s house. Cameron led Matt and Twinkie to a small guest room with a double bed covered with what appeared to be a multicolored handmade quilt and a chest of drawers.

  Mary was taken to the guest room next door, one that obviously got more used than the room where Matt and Twinkie slept. It held a double bed and dresser with a mirror and the room was decorated in sky-blue.

  Mary took a quick shower, pulled on a pajama top that Cameron had provided and then tumbled into bed. The top smelled vaguely of Cameron’s cologne a
nd thankfully she immediately fell asleep.

  She awakened at dawn, for a moment disoriented as she gazed at the room around her. The sun was just beginning to awaken behind the opened blue curtains at the window. She stared at them in confusion. She didn’t have blue curtains in her bedroom.

  She sat up and memories of the night before tumbled through her head. The fire. The panic. Her utter, gut-wrenching fear for her son. Cameron returning to the burning rooms to rescue Twinkie.

  She was surprised to see the closet door open and some of her clothing hanging there. Apparently at some point during the night somebody had brought clothes for Mary and Matt from the café to Cameron’s place.

  She got out of bed and quickly grabbed a pair of jeans and one of her Cowboy Café T-shirts, then raced across the hall to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her hair.

  When she felt prepared to face whatever the day might bring, she left the bathroom and instantly checked on Matt, who remained sprawled asleep on the bed with Twinkie curled up against one ankle.

  She followed the scent of fresh-brewed coffee down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she found Cameron seated at the table, files and papers strewn before him. He looked up in surprise at her appearance. “Good morning, I didn’t expect to see you so early.” He shoved some of the papers aside and pointed to the empty spot. “Help yourself to the coffee and come join me.” He closed a couple of the files.

  “I don’t suppose you managed to get Jason behind bars while I was asleep,” she said as she poured herself a cup and then joined him at the table.

  “No such luck,” he replied. “I’ve got my deputies checking the whereabouts of Denver and a couple of other men at the time of the fire. Thomas Manning apparently got home from Oklahoma City late last night and so he’s not off my hit list of suspects.” Cameron released a deep sigh and motioned to the files before him. “I was just going over everything again for the hundredth time, trying to see if there was something, anything we missed, but so far nothing is popping.”

  “Last night was the most up close and personal he’s gotten with me,” she said as she lifted the cup to her lips. As she thought of the fire, of that moment when she feared she wouldn’t be able to get Matt out alive, she needed the hot brew to heat the icy chill that swept through her.

  She took a sip and then looked out the window. “Looks like the snow has moved on.”

  “Left behind about three inches, but is now heading for Kansas. The roads have been plowed and we’re in good shape. We’re just supposed to stay cold for another day or two and then a warm front is moving in.”

  “That will be nice.” It seemed so odd to be sitting at his table talking about the weather with her business, her home, her very life, in utter shambles. She glanced at the clock on the oven.

  “I need to get Matt up for school in just a few minutes. Could you drive him there and then drop me off at the café?” she asked.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a little time off and keep the café closed for today?” he asked, his concern deepening his voice.

  She shook her head vehemently. “He might have burned my sofa, but thankfully, from what you told me last night, the café itself is still ready for business. He doesn’t get to win, Cameron, at least not in me closing down the café. In all the years I’ve owned it we’ve never shut down for a whole day for anything and I’m not about to do that now.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, as if assessing her inner strength. She raised her chin, knowing the kind of strength she had inside her, a survivor strength that had seen her not only through the past nine years but also the years she’d spent as Jason’s abused wife.

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll take Matt to school each day and you to the café, and I’ll pick you both up there when you’re finished for the day, but in return you agree to stay here with me until all danger has passed.”

  “But that could be months,” she protested. “He could just keep killing waitresses, tormenting me for months...until we’re all crazy.”

  “I don’t think so,” he countered soberly. “I think things are coming to a head. Last night he got close...too close. He’s taking bigger chances and I think he’s ready for the main event.”

  “I can’t figure out why he just didn’t slit my throat last night. He got into our quarters without me or Matt hearing him. Why not just finish me off then?” She took another drink of the coffee, needing it to battle the coldness that filled her each time she thought of Jason.

  “I can’t answer that,” Cameron replied thoughtfully. “Maybe he just wanted one more opportunity to terrorize you completely, a final chance to show you how powerless you are and how powerful he is.” Cameron’s fingers whitened as he gripped his coffee cup handle tightly. “He could have killed you last night and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to know that he holds the ultimate power of life and death where you’re concerned and he decides when it’s time for it to end.”

  “I get it,” she replied drily.

  “He may be winning the battles, Mary, but that doesn’t mean he gets to win the war,” Cameron said firmly. He set his cup down and instead reached across the table for her hand.

  It felt right, his big hand covering her smaller one. She was a strong woman, but Cameron was a strong man and she knew they just might make a good match...if she lived long enough.

  * * *

  Cameron watched Mary’s face as they entered what had been her living room. The sofa was a melted mass of wood and blackened material, the walls darkened from all the smoke that had unfurled against the paint. Matt’s artwork that had decorated the walls were curled and blackened around the edges, but at least they were mostly still intact.

  The smell of smoke lingered in the air despite the scent of frying potatoes and onions that Rusty had going in the kitchen.

  “A new window and sofa, a fresh coat of paint and several loads of laundry and it will all be as good as new,” he said, in an attempt to take away the stunned look from Mary’s face. “It could have been so much worse.”

  She blinked a couple of times, as if warding off the threat of tears. “I hated that sofa anyway,” she finally managed to say, the words a mixture of laughter and a sob.

  Cameron threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close against him. “You’ll get through this, Mary. You’re strong. You’ve been to hell and back and I’m not about to let anything else bad happen to you or your son.”

  She forced a smile up to him. “Then you better get going. You aren’t going to find the bad guy sitting here having breakfast.” She moved away from him and into the kitchen.

  He followed behind but she ignored his presence as she talked to Rusty about breakfast service. Cameron left the café, knowing she was in good hands, but unsure where he stood with her. Right now he was her protector, but what would he be to her when this was all over?

  Earlier, when he’d dropped Matt off at his school, he’d gone inside and spoken to Matt’s teacher to let her know that Matt was to be released only to him or Mary and should remain inside the classroom until one of them arrived to pick him up. He was also forbidden to take recess outside without close supervision. The last thing he wanted was a snatch-and-grab of Mary’s son. That would be the straw that broke her completely.

  He headed to his office, eager to hear what his deputies had to share about their investigation into the fire scene the night before.

  He met Ben Temple coming in. Ben had returned from Oklahoma City late last night when Thomas Manning had come back to town. Cameron motioned him into the office. “So, how did you find the big city?”

  “Boring except for the drive home in the snow. That was a little bit of a challenge.” He sat in the chair opposite Cameron’s. “I’ll tell you, I don’t know if Thomas Manning can be bought off and paid for as a serial killer, but while he was in the city he took all of his meals at the truck stop where his wife used to work.”

  “Interesting. And what time did h
e make it back here to Grady Gulch last night?”

  “Just a few minutes after midnight.”

  Cameron reared back in his chair and rubbed the center of his forehead. “So, he would have had enough time and could have set the fire at the café.”

  “It’s definitely possible.”

  “I think it’s past time to bring him in for some questioning.”

  “Agreed,” Ben replied. “Want me to bring him in?”

  “That would be great. As soon as I get Smokey’s report and the investigative report from Mills and Walkins, I’ll be going over those and there might be somebody else I need brought in.”

  That was the beginning of one of the most frustrating days of Cameron’s life. Within an hour Ben had returned to announce that Manning wasn’t at home, nor was he at the café or anywhere else that anyone had seen him that morning. They agreed that Ben would sit outside his house and bring him to the office as soon as he showed up.

  Smokey’s report yielded nothing more than what he’d told Cameron the night before. Somebody had broken through the window, crawled through and had shoved the sofa from the center of the room to block Mary from getting into Matt’s room. That person had then poured gasoline all over the sofa and had lit it on fire.

  What made it even worse was that after talking to Matt this morning Cameron knew that the person who had set the fire had broken Matt’s bedroom window and made certain the young boy had awakened and gotten out to safety.

  Matt couldn’t describe the man, he hadn’t seen him. He only knew that the breaking glass in his bedroom had awakened him and a deep voice had commanded him to get out, that his life was in danger from a fire. Matt could smell the smoke and so he’d done as he’d been told and had scrambled out the window.

  By the time Matt got out, within seconds Cameron had arrived and there had been no sign of anyone else in the area.

  Although fresh snow should have yielded footprints, the area around Matt’s window was a muddled mix of prints...Matt’s and Cameron’s and Mary’s. They were so mixed up and smeared it was almost impossible to discern what other prints might have been there.