Her Colton Lawman

by Carla Cassidy

  “Let’s go in quiet and see if we can identify what room they’re in,” Flint said. “You stick to the right side of the porch, and I’ll go to the left.” The two of them got out of the car and pulled their firearms.

  Flint knew as well as any officer of the law that domestic calls could sometimes be the most dangerous. Tempers exploded, and rational people suddenly became irrational. While he knew Ed and Thelma socially and had never been called here for any issue before, he had no idea what he and Patrick might be facing.

  They both moved stealthily, hugging the houses they passed in an effort to maintain as little visibility as possible. Patrick stopped at the side of the Brown house and covered Flint while he crouched and moved beneath the windows on the front porch.

  The minute he passed the door he heard voices inside yelling, indicating to him that the couple was in the living room. He motioned for Patrick to join him and then moved to the front door.

  With weapons still drawn, Flint knocked on the door. “Ed...Thelma, its Chief of Police Flint Colton. We got a call that you two were having a little problem.”

  “The door is unlocked. Come in, Chief,” Thelma cried out. “Ed’s gone stark raving mad, and you need to get in here and straighten him out.”

  “I don’t need straightened out,” Ed’s big voice boomed. “I just need you to get out of this house. You’ve got the virus, and you aren’t taking me down with you. You need to stay away from me and get out of this house.”

  Flint tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. He tensed as he slowly turned the knob and opened the door. He halted as he saw Ed Brown, a short, slender man with a gun pointed at his wife, an even shorter, slender woman with dirty-blond hair tied back in a messy knot at the nape of her neck.

  “Ed, you need to put the gun down,” Flint said calmly.

  Ed cast a quick gaze at Flint, his blue eyes filled with terror. “I’ll put it down when you get her out of here. She’s got the virus, and she refuses to leave. I swear she’s going to give it to me, and then we’ll both die.”

  “You stupid man,” Thelma said in disgust. She looked at Flint and then at Patrick. “I choked on a piece of toast. That’s all I did. It went down the wrong way, and I coughed and coughed and my eyes watered and then he started to freak out.”

  “Coughing and watery eyes...that’s the beginning of the virus,” Ed replied frantically. “She’s probably running a fever, too. Please get her out of here. I don’t want to die.”

  “Ed, we’ll take her to the clinic to get her checked out, but you need to put that gun down before something unnecessary happens,” Flint said sternly.

  “You’re going to take her to the clinic?” Ed asked.

  “They’ll test her and see if she has the virus or not,” Patrick said.

  Ed slowly lowered the gun and collapsed on the sofa. Patrick took the gun as Flint gently took Thelma by the elbow. “I’m sorry, Thelma. I’m so sorry,” Ed began to cry. “I love you, but I’m just so damned scared.”

  He was still weeping on the sofa when Flint and Patrick escorted Thelma to their car and placed her in the backseat. Patrick had taken the gun with them and they would hold it in custody for the time being.

  “He’s been plum crazy since Mimi Rand died and all those other people got sick,” Thelma said when they pulled away from the curb. “He’s stopped going to work and refuses to leave the house. If somebody comes to the door, he won’t answer it. I’m not sick. I know I’m not, but he just freaked out when I started coughing earlier.”

  “We’ll swing you by the clinic, and you can get checked out just to satisfy Ed. A simple blood test will give you the answer, and if it comes back okay then hopefully everything will go back to normal,” Flint said.

  “Normal? I’ve forgotten what normal is in this town these days,” Thelma exclaimed. “We’ve got a killer running around and men wearing space suits and wielding weapons keeping us all from leaving town.”

  Flint tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “I can’t do much about the space men, but I’m doing what I can to get Hank back in custody.”

  “You’re good people, Flint, just like your brother, Theo, and your sister, Gemma. You were raised with the right values by a good woman. How is Dottie doing?” she asked with concern.

  A knot of anxious despair twisted in Flint’s stomach. “She’s still unconscious so there hasn’t been a change, but at least she’s hanging on.”

  Flint couldn’t stand to think of the paternal grandmother who had raised him and his brother and sister after their mother had died when they were all young and their father had run off, being victimized by a virus that had kept her in isolation and barely clinging to life.

  Although he visited her when he could, it was heartbreaking to suit up to go into the isolation ward and be unable to stroke her forehead or hold her hand as he begged for her to find the strength to beat the illness.

  By the time they dropped Thelma off at the clinic and arranged with Gemma to find the woman a ride back to her house after her checkout, it was midmorning and time to start the hunt for the two fugitives in town.

  Once they were back at the station, Flint gave out assignments to his officers, tasking two of them to talk to anyone who knew or hung around with Jolene Tate. If anyone had possibly known where Hank was hiding out, it would have been Jolene and maybe she had told somebody else while drinking in the bar or in a little bedtime talk.

  Most of the officers would be on regular patrol with the instruction to keep an eye out for Hank Bittard and Jimmy Johnson. After the issue at the Brown house that morning, Flint warned his officers that tensions and fear were rising with every moment that passed, and they should be ready for any situation.

  He told Patrick to do a ride along with him to the gas station where Hank had worked. Despite the murder, Flint knew Hank still had friends there, friends who might harbor a fugitive or at least have some idea where Hank had gone to ground.

  Normally, Flint rode alone, but he’d cautioned all his officers to work in pairs and intended to take that advice himself whenever possible. Hank was desperate and dangerous, and Flint didn’t want any of his men trying to take him down alone without backup.

  It was just after ten when they arrived at the Dead River Gas Station, a two-pump business with a small building that held a cashier and sold the usual variety of soda, coffee and packaged food to fuel a driver passing through.

  There was usually only one person manning the station, and Flint was pleased to see Ted Garrett behind the counter. He and Hank had been drinking buddies and had been fairly tight before the murder.

  Ted frowned as he saw the two men enter the small building. “I don’t have anything to tell you,” he said as he straightened his thin shoulders defensively. “I didn’t have anything to tell you the last time you talked to me, and nothing has changed since then.”

  “Things have changed. He’s killed again,” Flint said with more than a hint of steel in his voice. “Jolene Tate didn’t have a chance against him. He dragged her out of her house and wrapped a length of rope around her neck and strangled her to death.”

  Ted’s brown eyes darkened. “I know. I heard. Look, I haven’t had any contact with Hank since the day he killed Donny here at the station. Even though we hung out and had a few beers together before then, he wasn’t like my best friend or anything, and once I knew he had killed somebody, I definitely didn’t want anything else to do with him.”

  “Who might still want something to do with him?” Flint asked. “Surely you knew him well enough to know what other friends he might have, maybe somebody he could depend on if he got himself into some trouble.”

  Ted frowned and raked a hand through his shaggy, slightly greasy, brown hair. “Hank didn’t exactly have a bunch of close friends. He just had drinking friends. He was a bully who put people off wit
h his temper and arrogance. But there was one guy who usually hung out with us, a little weasel who works part-time at the auto body place. He seemed to have a little bit of hero worship going on where Hank was concerned.”

  “What’s his name?” A sharp jump of adrenaline filled Flint’s veins as this was information he hadn’t had before. Of course he hadn’t been looking for a fugitive before.

  “Ralph Dane,” Ted replied.

  “I know him,” Patrick said. “He’s a little pip-squeak who also works part-time as a busboy at the Blue Bear Restaurant. Do you have an address for him?” he asked Ted.

  “He still lives at home with his parents. I’m not sure of the exact address but it’s someplace on Cherry Street.”

  Once again, a surge of adrenaline pumped through Flint. Cherry Street...where Jolene had lived and where she’d been killed. What were the odds? Maybe Ralph had been hiding Hank in his parents’ basement or up in the attic? At this point Flint believed anything was possible.

  “Then I guess we need to go talk to Ralph and see if maybe he’s still got fond feelings for his old friend,” Flint said. He looked at Ted intently. “You know that if I find out you have done anything to aid Hank Bittard, I’ll throw you in a cell and tie you up in the court system for months.”

  “Trust me, I don’t want anything to do with a murderer, especially one who killed a woman,” Ted replied fervently.

  “So, you’ll let me know if Hank tries to contact you in any way.” Flint said it as a statement, not a question.

  “I swear I will,” Ted replied. “I don’t want anything to do with Hank, and I won’t think twice about turning him in if I get the chance or hear any information about where he is.”

  “We appreciate your cooperation,” Patrick said.

  Minutes later they were back in the car and headed down the block to the Dead River Auto Body Shop. “I can kill two birds with one stone here,” Flint said. “Since that little creep Jimmy worked here before he ditched Molly, we can question everyone working about both men.”

  “That jerk should be hog-tied for what he did to Molly. She’s one of the sweetest gals in town, and I can’t believe he took advantage of her the way he did. It’s like trying to understand why people kick puppy dogs...not comprehensible in my world.”

  “Mine, too,” Flint agreed. “But we both know there’s all kinds of people capable of all kinds of things. Molly’s heart will eventually heal, and she’ll make back the money he took from her, but I definitely want the Colton family ring back that he stole.”

  Maybe after they talked to Ralph they’d swing by the diner for some lunch, Flint thought, and then immediately dismissed the idea. He wasn’t particularly hungry for diner food, he just wanted to see Nina’s face and smell that dazzling scent of hers.

  Fool that he was to be attracted to a woman for the first time in years, a woman who obviously felt absolutely no attraction to him in return. He had to stay focused on all the other issues that faced him, and at the moment he had a date with a weasel named Ralph.

  * * *

  Nina had spent half the morning trying to forget the very hot vision of Chief of Police Flint Colton tousle-haired and bare-chested on the sofa as she’d crept through the living room and into the kitchen at the crack of dawn.

  It had not been an easy vision to put out of her mind. He was hot enough when in uniform with his black cowboy hat topping his head, but the sight of him half-naked in the dawn light had weakened her knees.

  She’d been desperate to maintain distance from him, knowing that she was in his home only temporarily for her own protection. She trusted him completely to keep her safe, but she didn’t trust him as a man, especially as a man wearing a uniform of power.

  From all accounts he was an honorable man who people trusted and respected. The men from her childhood had shared the same traits, but they’d been masters at hiding their true natures until finally they could hide them no longer. She shoved thoughts of that past out of her head. It was not relevant in the life she had chosen for herself since she’d left Casper behind.

  She now stood at the counter waiting for a pot of coffee to brew. Grace walked over to stand next to her. Thankfully, Grace’s illness had been a touch of the flu and not the virus.

  Nina turned to smile at her. “I’m glad to have you back here. I missed you when you were gone.”

  Grace returned the smile. “Trust me, I’d much rather be here than home sick. Thankfully, Billy didn’t catch the flu from me, and we’re back to life as usual.”

  “I can’t wait for him to get here after school. I had Charley bake those cupcakes that Billy loves so much.”

  “You spoil him too much,” Grace chided.

  “I love him to death,” Nina replied. “He’s the son I’ll never have.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Grace replied. “Someday you’re going to meet the man of your dreams and have children of your own to love and spoil.”

  Nina shook her head firmly. “Not happening. I’m definitely anti-marriage, anti-family. I can’t believe after that fool husband of yours ran off and left you and Billy that you’d want anything else to do with marriage.”

  “What can I say? I’m just a hopeless romantic. I got it wrong once, but that doesn’t mean the next time wouldn’t be wonderfully right,” Grace replied.

  Nina laughed. “You’re definitely a hopeless romantic, and I see that booth three looks like they are ready to order.”

  Grace nodded and hurried to take care of the two people in the booth. Nina looked around the diner, making sure that all the customers appeared satisfied and her staff appeared busy. The jukebox played a tune by Garth Brooks that had her tapping her foot, despite the fact that it had been a slow day.

  Once again, her thoughts turned to Flint. She had to confess that both last night and this morning had been awkward as she’d stifled her natural openness in Flint’s presence.

  She wasn’t sure why, but she felt that she had to protect herself from him, from her own attraction to him. He was the absolute last person on earth she would ever want to hook up with, and yet he was the first man in a very long time who stirred something that felt dangerous and exciting in her.

  With a frustrated sigh she headed back into the kitchen to check on preparations for dinner. Charley Crane was a tall, thin man who had worked for her since she’d bought the place. Unlike the cook’s assistant, Abe Tennant, who would talk to a tree if nobody else was available, Charley was a quiet man who suffered Abe’s constant chatter like a benevolent uncle.

  She had another cook, Gary Wells, who was less creative than Charley, but equally competent at putting out food she could be proud of. She also had a handful of cook assistants that worked a variety of hours.

  She remained in the kitchen until three-thirty when she returned to the dining room and waited for Grace’s son Billy to arrive after school.

  At precisely three forty-five he came through the door, bringing with him an infectious grin, an undeniable energy and a bright yellow backpack that made his dark brown hair appear even darker and his blue eyes even more vibrant.

  He waved at his mother, who was serving a table and then quietly slid into the chair at a two-top table near the end of the counter where he always spent his after-school time. Nina sat across from him. “How’s my favorite guy?”

  “Good.” He smiled, and a smattering of freckles danced across the bridge of his nose. “How’s my favorite fake auntie?”

  Nina laughed. They had decided months ago that fake auntie would be her title. “Good. How was school?”

  “It was okay. Actually, it was kind of boring.” He opened his backpack and pulled out several notebooks.

  “Lots of homework?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Lots of math. I’d rather do science than math homework.”

 
Nina stood. “I’d rather do anything than math homework, but I have a little treat that might help take the bad taste of math out of your mouth. I had Charley bake up some of those cookie dough cupcakes that you like.”

  “Awesome!” Billy’s eyes lit up.

  “How about you get to work, and I’ll bring you one with a big glass of milk.”

  “Thanks, Nina. You’re the very best,” Billy replied.

  His words warmed her as she headed to the kitchen. She delivered the cupcake and milk to Billy and then left him to his homework. She went into the office located beyond the kitchen and quickly checked the schedule for the week, making sure the diner was fully staffed each night until closing.

  Normally, she would be the one who closed up each night, but with Flint taking her home at five, she had to make sure the evening hours were all covered and somebody responsible was assigned to do the closeout when the diner went dark at nine.

  By the time she finished up in the office, it was nearly time for Flint to arrive, and she returned to the main dining area, where she greeted the few guests coming in and visited with those who were there.

  She finally moved behind the counter and refreshed Curtis Carpenter’s coffee. Curtis was a regular. At seventy-three years old, he’d been a widow for several years and often found himself seated at Nina’s counter.

  “How’s it going, Curtis?” she asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I believe the end times are upon us,” he replied with his gray eyebrows furrowed close together.

  “Goodness, I hope you’re wrong about that. I’ve made a lot of plans for my Thanksgiving Day feast here, and that’s still a couple of weeks away,” Nina replied. “Ben Mack is donating fresh turkeys from his farm, and Charley is making stuffing and cranberry salad.”

  “What about his sweet potato casserole?” Curtis asked.

  “We’ll have that, too, along with all kinds of goodies.”

  Curtis took a sip of his coffee and then set the mug back on the counter. “Then maybe the end of times needs to wait. How many people are you expecting to show up?”