The Marshal's Hostage

by Delores Fossen

  Great. The man had either lost it or had been misinformed.

  “The CSIs are collecting evidence, Rudy,” Dallas assured him. “They weren’t there to frame you. We only want to know the truth about what happened to Webb.”

  “The truth?” he howled. Joelle looked inside and saw that Rudy was pacing. Clearly agitated. And maybe even drunk because he wasn’t too steady on his feet. “You want the truth, you should be asking Sarah a thing or two.”

  “I heard that!” Sarah shouted. “Don’t listen to that drunk fool. He’s lied so much he doesn’t know how to tell the truth anymore.”

  “Sarah’s the one who told me this was a setup,” Rudy continued as if he hadn’t heard her, and he probably hadn’t. Sarah wasn’t yards away from the cell phone that was on speaker. “She’s a resourceful woman, and she knows how to set up a man like me to take the blame for something she did.”

  “What do you mean by resourceful?” Dallas pressed Rudy.

  Rudy cursed, shook his head and stumbled again. “I mean she coulda created them spots of blood on the window to make it look like I killed her husband.”

  “Did you kill him?” Joelle came right out and asked.

  “No.” Rudy made a groaning sound. “Jonah was my friend. And if you’re looking for a killer, look at Sarah.”

  Dallas huffed. “How could Sarah have gotten Webb’s blood to plant anywhere to set you up? The guy’s been dead for sixteen years.”

  “She probably saved the cleaning rags she used to wipe up his blood. Saved them and then used them today so these city boys would find it.”

  “Listen to yourself,” Dallas continued. “One minute you say that Sarah warned you this was a setup, and now you’re saying she’s the one who tampered with evidence.”

  “Because that’s what she said!” Rudy stopped, cursed some more and held on to the wall, probably to stop himself from falling. “She did this. She riled me up. Confused me.”

  “Or maybe you misunderstood,” Joelle offered. She glanced back at Sarah, and for just a split second, she thought the woman had a smug look. But maybe it was the twilight playing tricks on her eyes.

  “Didn’t misunderstand her,” Rudy snarled. “Who do you think really ran this place all these years? Not Jonah, that’s for sure. Nothing went on around here without Sarah knowing about it. And there wasn’t one kid who took a beatin’ without Sarah making sure it happened.”

  That sent an uneasy feeling through Joelle. She’d never liked Sarah, had always thought of her as a shadow of a woman. Had she been wrong? Of course, even if Sarah had pressed for the abuse, it’d still been Webb who’d carried it out.

  “It’s like what went on with that knife,” Rudy continued, yanking Joelle’s attention back to him.

  “What knife?” Dallas asked. He met Joelle’s gaze, and she could see the concern in his eyes.

  “My knife. The one I always used for skinnin’ snakes. She took it when I was out doing some yard work. Took it from my truck, and she brought it to Jonah and fibbed. Said she found it on Declan.”

  This was the first Joelle was hearing about any of this, and there was no mention of it in any of the notes she read, but Dallas made a slight sound as if recalling something. “Webb brought Declan and me into his office one afternoon and showed us the knife.” He looked at Joelle. “I forgot all about that until now.”

  “That’s right. He showed you, and you picked it up. Looked at it real good and said you’d never seen it before. Declan didn’t touch it but he said the same. Jonah told me all about it. Then, he said Sarah took the knife and put it away somewhere.”

  Oh, God. Had that really happened? Or was this the ranting of a drunk man who might be trying to cover his own guilt? After all, the knife very well might have been Rudy’s.

  “Rudy’s making it sound like I did something wrong,” Sarah shouted. “I didn’t steal the knife from his truck. I found it in the boys’ bathroom and took the knife to Jonah. After he showed it to some of the boys, I put it in Jonah’s desk drawer just like he told me to do. I told Jonah it might be Rudy’s, and he said he’d ask him about it later.”

  The sheriff motioned for Sarah to stay quiet. “Keep talking,” he instructed Rudy.

  “Jonah didn’t know the knife was mine,” Rudy went on. “When he described it and I told him it was, he looked for it but said Sarah must have taken it. I think Sarah used that knife to kill Jonah, and if she did, Marshal, she’ll try to pin his killin’ on me or you. Me because it was my knife and you because your prints were on it.”

  Dallas’s gaze met Joelle’s, and she saw the questions in his eyes. Of course, Rudy’s accusations didn’t address their number-one suspect.

  “Did Owen have access to that knife?” Joelle asked.

  “Owen?” she heard Rudy question, and he shook his head. “I doubt it. Well, unless Sarah gave it to him.”

  “I didn’t,” she called out. “I put in the drawer, and I don’t know why it wasn’t there when Jonah looked for it.”

  Maybe because someone had taken it.

  Someone like Owen.

  Of course, Sarah could have taken it, too.

  Dallas looked back at her as if thinking the same thing. “I swear to you,” he said to the woman, “that I’ll get to the bottom of this. I won’t stop until I find the killer.”

  If he’d meant it as a warning, it worked. In fact, it sounded more like a guaranteed threat. It certainly hushed Rudy and had Sarah looking a little uncomfortable.

  “This knife isn’t important,” Sarah responded after several moments. “All this stuff Rudy is spouting about happened months before Jonah was killed,” Sarah added. “It doesn’t make sense that I’d hide a knife all that time.”

  It would if Sarah intended to keep it for protection against an abusive man. But that didn’t rule out someone else doing the same thing.

  Joelle wanted to ask Sarah if Owen or anyone else had access to that drawer. Of course, if Owen had taken it, that meant he’d kept it hidden away after all these years. That was a long time to withhold evidence.

  Unless he used it to murder Webb.

  If Owen had known about Dallas’s prints being on the knife, then he could have kept it simply to pin the blame on Dallas. But then that meant whoever the real killer was had used gloves so that only Dallas’s prints would be there.

  Could Owen have thought to take those kind of precautions when he was only seventeen years old?

  Maybe.

  And if he had, it meant Webb’s murder hadn’t happened in the heat of the moment. It was premeditated.

  Yes, she definitely had to ask Sarah some questions, including ones about that safe. Had she even known about it? And did she have any idea what was inside it?

  Joelle turned to do just that, but she only made it a few steps toward Sarah before Dallas and the sheriff cursed. She whirled back around and saw that Rudy was no longer in the entry. He’d dropped his gun and was running up the stairs.

  “Don’t shoot him,” the sheriff called out to Clayton. “He’s not armed.”

  But that didn’t meant he wasn’t dangerous. “Webb’s office,” Joelle said on a rise of breath. “He might try to set it on fire.”

  Dallas, Clayton and the others started running. “Make sure the back of the building is secured,” Dallas shouted, and Clayton headed that way.

  Joelle ran after them, cursing her heels, which were only slowing her down. Dallas made it to the front of the building first, and with his gun drawn, he threw open the door and raced toward the stairs. She saw Rudy’s gun on the floor where he’d discarded it, but she prayed he didn’t have another weapon on him. Joelle didn’t want this to turn into a shootout with Dallas caught in the middle.

  The sheriff retrieved Rudy’s gun, stuck it in his pocket and barreled up the stairs behind Dallas. “Wait here,” he insisted.

  Joelle didn’t want to wait. She wanted to stop Rudy from hurting Dallas and destroying evidence, but since she wasn’t armed and probab
ly wouldn’t be able to restrain Rudy, she did as the sheriff said and stayed put.

  The seconds crawled, and she looked around to see if Sarah had followed them, but the woman was nowhere in sight. Later, Joelle would need to find her and ask her about Owen’s possible access to the knife.

  “Rudy went down the laundry chute,” she heard Dallas shout.

  Joelle remembered exactly where that was, and it wasn’t anywhere near Webb’s office. Maybe Rudy hadn’t planned to set it on fire after all, but she didn’t breathe easier yet because Dallas was still up there, and Rudy was clearly trying to escape.

  And that’s when she remembered that the chute emptied into the basement. Basements were a rarity in Texas, but Rocky Creek had one that was used as a laundry and storage area.

  She also remembered something else.

  “There are basement access doors on the ends of the building,” she called out to the Dallas and the others who were upstairs. She immediately heard someone headed back down the hall toward the stairs.

  Joelle hurried to the front door and looked out. Still no sign of Sarah, but it didn’t take long for her to spot some movement.

  Rudy.

  He must have cut the lock on the east side of the building because he staggered out into the near darkness and headed toward the thick woods that led to the creek. And his trailer.

  “Rudy’s getting away!” she yelled, and it didn’t take long for Dallas to appear on the stairs.

  He practically jumped down the steps and raced outside. “Which way did he go?”

  Joelle pointed in the direction where she’d last seen him just as the sound cracked through the air. Her heart dropped. Because she knew that sound.

  A gunshot.

  Oh, God. Was someone shooting at them?

  She couldn’t tell if the bullet had hit anything, but it had seemed to her that it’d been fired close by. Of course, miles was too close as far as she was concerned.

  “Get inside,” Dallas ordered.

  Joelle stepped back into the entry, but Dallas didn’t do the same. Using the building for cover, he went outside. So did the sheriff, and one of the deputies leaned out from the door and fanned a bright flashlight into the woods. She didn’t see Rudy, but the deputy and others inched closer toward the trees.

  Joelle peeked out, praying that there wouldn’t be another shot and that no one was hurt. But that thought had no sooner crossed her mind when she heard someone shout.

  Rudy.

  “I’ve been hit,” he yelled. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

  That put her heart in her throat. She wasn’t fond of the man, but she didn’t want him dead.

  But someone did.

  Who?

  And why?

  Joelle glanced around, looking for Sarah. Or God forbid, even Owen, but she didn’t see anyone, only Dallas and other law enforcement.

  The deputy’s flashlight slashed over the dark woods, and he came to an abrupt stop when the light caught the movement. All of the lawmen aimed their weapons in the direction.

  “Stop!” Dallas called out. “And put your hands in the air.”

  Joelle held her breath, hoping that Rudy would do just that so the standoff would end. But then she heard Dallas curse.

  “What the hell?” he mumbled.

  Joelle leaned out even farther so she could see what had prompted that response and the puzzled mumblings of the other lawmen. Thanks to the spray of light, she saw that the person in the woods had indeed done as Dallas had ordered.

  But it wasn’t Rudy.

  It was a woman.

  With her hands lifted in the air, the woman turned toward them. Joelle couldn’t see if she was armed, but she did get a good look at the woman’s face.

  Lindsey.

  What the devil was she doing at Rocky Creek, and why had she shot Rudy?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dallas hadn’t figured this night could get any longer or more frustrating, but he was obviously wrong. The latest phone call had proven that, and he hung up wondering if he was ever going to catch a break on this investigation.

  Joelle’s huff let him know she felt the same way.

  “I can tell from your expression that it’s bad news,” she mumbled.

  Well, it wasn’t the news he’d wanted. Before Dallas explained, he opened the door to the ranch house and motioned for her to keep her voice down. It was late, nearly midnight, and he didn’t want to wake up Kirby.

  And Kirby was another subject he needed to tackle.

  Take a number.

  Dallas wasn’t pleased with his foster father withholding the pregnancy news, but a heart-to-heart with Kirby would have to wait. There were actually more pressing things.

  Like Lindsey.

  Dallas tugged off his Stetson and hooked it on the peg. He also set the security system. “The sheriff tested Lindsey for gunshot residue,” he told a waiting Joelle. “And they didn’t find a gun on her or anywhere else in the woods.”

  Joelle’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “But she was there, and someone shot Rudy.”

  Both of those things were one hundred percent true. Rudy had indeed been shot. Well, sort of. A bullet had grazed his arm, but it wasn’t serious. He’d only needed a few stitches. However, none of the evidence was pointing to Lindsey as the woman who’d shot him.

  If anyone had.

  “Clayton said Rudy’s wound was superficial,” Dallas added in a whisper.

  She stared at him a moment, processing that, and then groaned. “Are you saying Rudy could have shot himself?” But she waved him off before he could confirm that. “He could have done it to throw suspicion off himself, so that we wouldn’t believe he killed Webb.”

  Bingo.

  And the problem was, it was working. Yes, Rudy had been arrested for the standoff at the building, but he hadn’t fired at any police officers and hadn’t damaged any property that anyone could find. Coupled with the fact that he had no police record of any kind, and Dallas figured Rudy would be out of jail by morning.

  Maybe earlier.

  “The sheriff gave Rudy a Breathalyzer, and he was way over the legal limit,” Dallas continued. “I’m sure his lawyer will say that was the reason for his erratic behavior.”

  Another soft groan, and she leaned her back against the door. “And what’s Lindsey’s lawyer saying?”

  “She hasn’t asked for one, and the truth is, she might not need to. Unless they find a gun in those woods with her prints, the most the sheriff can charge her with is trespassing.”

  And it was doubtful he’d even charge her with that since there weren’t any no-trespassing signs posted in that area of the woods.

  She closed her eyes a moment, opened them and met his gaze. “Well, at least all the evidence is still intact.”

  Yeah, but they both knew that evidence might produce nothing that they didn’t already have. It was Webb’s blood on the window frame and possibly the stairs, and the CSIs might even be able to guess at the height of the killer. But that wouldn’t give them a name.

  But whatever was in that safe might.

  “I did convince the sheriff to remove all the documents from Webb’s office,” Dallas explained to her. “The safe and its contents, too. They’ll be moved to the marshals’ office for now, but I didn’t want anyone destroying something that could catch a killer.”

  She made a weary sound of agreement. “I’m betting Sarah and Rudy won’t like you taking those things.”

  That was a correct bet. According to the sheriff, both had pitched hissy fits. They were too damn territorial for Dallas’s liking, especially since their insane need to preserve Rocky Creek could also be preserving the identity of the killer.

  “I need a drink.” In fact, he needed several of them, but Dallas would settle for one and then crash because he figured tomorrow wouldn’t be any easier than today. “And I need to toss this.” It was the rest of their fast food dinner that they’d grabbed on the drive back to the ranch.
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  Joelle pushed herself away from the door and followed him into the kitchen where he dropped the bag in the trash. Judging from the exhaustion on her face, he’d expected her to say good-night and head for the guest room, but instead she motioned for him to hand her a beer when he took one from the fridge.

  She twisted off the top, had a sip and made a face. Maybe beer wasn’t her usual drink, but she still had another sip of it. “Look, I know this isn’t something you want to hear, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

  Hell. Dallas knew where this conversation was going, and he wanted no part of it. “Not now,” he warned. But he might as well have been talking to the air.

  “I did what I thought was right at the time,” Joelle continued. And she didn’t just continue. When he started to walk out, she grabbed his arm. “You can be mad at me all you want, but you’re going to hear me say I’m sorry for keeping the pregnancy a secret.”

  Dallas could have easily thrown off her hand and put off this conversation for another decade or so, but he didn’t. Maybe it was the fatigue, the beer or the pain in Joelle’s eyes, but he nodded.

  “Apology accepted,” he said.

  She blinked. “You mean that?”

  “Yeah.”

  She got closer, studying his eyes. Then, she frowned. “You’re just saying that to get me off your back.”

  “That’s part of it,” he readily admitted. “The other part is I do forgive you. I do understand.”

  She still looked skeptical.

  “Now, I need to know just one thing. How did you get past this?” He tapped his chest, his heart. “Because even though I didn’t know my baby existed before today, it’s killing me to know we lost her.”

  “Yes.” And the tears instantly sprang to her eyes.

  Dallas hadn’t wanted to make Joelle cry again, but the pain and tears were all part of this.

  Joelle shook her head, then swiped at the tears. “Time helps. Some,” she amended. More tears came. And she tapped the locket she wore around her neck. “It helps that I have her picture with me everywhere I go. I can make you a copy. And give you copies of some other photos that my foster mother took during those few hours that Amber was alive.”