“Volunteers don’t get paid, cowboy. Should have thought of that before we left the camper.”
“Well, I am kinda new at this. Maybe you could cut me some slack?”
“Maybe you could satisfy my curiosity,” she deflected. “How did you wind up with a name like Blue?”
Blue sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, that’s an interesting story actually. The short version is that it’s kind of a family name. See, my great-great granddaddy—the one I told you rode the Trails in the 1870s—he had come west after the Civil War, looking for work. Mind you, he didn’t fight in the war, he was too young.
“Story is that he was ten when the war ended, and an orphan. His daddy was a soldier who was killed in some battle or another, we don’t even know for what side, and his momma had died somehow. He didn’t know how she died because he was too young, and nobody who knew ever told him.
“Anyway, he had no education and no family to help him, just an uncanny way with horses. So he came up from somewhere along the Mason-Dixon line and struck out west, falling in with some folks headed out to help herd cattle out in Texas. Cattle had become a booming commodity, you see. Armour had opened his meat packing house in Chicago, and was paying record prices for beef.”
Blue paused to look out the window as a car pulled into the lot. “The only thing he brought west with him was his given name. He didn’t know his family name, or chose to forget it. To everybody he was just Thomas.
“Since he was so good with horses, he started off wrangling the remuda. That’s the herd of horses that travels with a cattle drive, the extra mounts for all the cowboys. When he was old enough, he moved up to ride drag, then flank, then swing, and eventually he became a point man.”
“What does all that mean?” Mitzi asked, charmed by the story, but not at all sure about this vocabulary of cowboy terms Blue was throwing at her.
“Well, it means he started at the bottom of the ladder, so to speak, and worked his way up to be one of the most respected riders in a cattle drive. That’s where the nickname came in.
“He worked really hard, never let anybody down, was fair and honest, and never turned anyone away. They had a saying back then: ‘He’ll do to ride the river with,’ and to say that about a fellow rider meant you trusted him with your life. They started calling him ‘True Blue Thomas,’ and the name stuck.
“He was all set to make trail boss the next year, but he over-wintered at a ranch in Kansas that needed an extra hand. Seems there was a young widow trying to make it on her own.”
“Your great-great grandma?”
Blue smiled. “But that’s an entirely different story.”
Mitzi found herself once again drawn into that sexy smile of his, and she quickly looked away, then sat up straight. “Hey now. There he is. Alone. Today must be my lucky day.”
“Really? Lucky?”
She chose to ignore that. “So, are you sure you want to be the one to talk to him?”
Blue was already getting out of the car, and Mitzi watched him amble across the parking lot, allowing herself the slight distraction caused by the view of Blue’s fine posterior. When this thing is over..., she let herself dream.
The man in the cable knit sweater and wrinkled slacks was climbing into a Volvo station wagon a row in front of them. He turned at Blue’s approach, and she nervously hoped Blue didn’t screw this up. Even one threatening look from Blue, and Doctor Smith could file attempted kidnapping charges against them both.
The hypnotherapist was speaking with Blue, one foot perched on the floorboard of the car. Blue gestured toward Mitzi, and Doctor Smith glanced her way. They spoke a moment longer, then the man put both feet on the ground and closed the car door. Her heart hammered in her chest as she realized they were coming her way.
It had worked!
She rolled down the window as the frumpy hypnotist walked to her side of the car. As they had discussed, Blue stayed on the driver’s side of the car in order to avoid presenting a threat.
“Well, hello,” Doctor Smith said, stooping a little to look into the car. “Your friend here says you want to quit smoking, but you’re afraid to come inside. How can I reassure....”
Mitzi knew the moment he recognized her when he stopped talking and stood up straight, glancing across the vehicle at Blue. Mitzi popped the door open, then held up her hands as she climbed out of the car. “You’ve seen the news, then?”
“Ms. Reardon, I don’t know what you think I can do for you, or why you have come to see me. I’m going to leave, now.”
“I won’t stop you, Doctor Smith. But please, just give me five minutes of your time so I can explain.”
Doctor Smith hesitated, and Mitzi knew she had a small chance. “I need to remember, Doc. I need help to remember what it is they said I did.”
That caught his attention. “You don’t remember shooting that woman?”
He cut to the chase too quickly. “It’s the stuff before that. They’re after me for something I don’t remember doing. I didn’t shoot her.”
“They were just saying on the news that preliminary ballistics reports show the bullets match your service firearm, which is still unaccounted for.”
Mitzi closed her eyes as she absorbed that information, feeling more and more boxed in.
“My service pistol is locked in a safe at home. I didn’t shoot anyone with it. Listen, Doc. Please. I saw something. I mean, I think somebody thinks I saw something, something that the real killers want to keep quiet.” She knew she was babbling, and she took a deep breath. “I didn’t kill that woman, but I have been chased and shot at, and I’m running for my life. You’ve seen the news. Does it sound like I can turn myself in without getting shot?”
She saw doubt flicker in his kind, hazel eyes, and pressed onward. “If I did see something, I need to know what it is so I can figure out what to do next. I need your help, Doc. I’m begging you. I’ve got nowhere else to turn.”
The doctor glanced again at Blue, who was leaning against the other side of the car, facing away from them. “What would you do if I told you I was going to go back inside and call 911?”
“I would get in the car, and we would drive as fast as we could away from here.” She spread her hands as if putting all her cards on the table.
“You wouldn’t try to stop me?”
“No. I need your help, but I’m not going to try to force you. We will do...I will do whatever you say, short of walking in that building, to get your help.”
The doctor looked down, considering, and Mitzi watched him closely. She caught herself mouthing a prayer with more fervor than she had since she was a child praying for a pony that never arrived.
She heard his breath exhale, and she held hers in anticipation of his decision. “I believe you,” he said at last. “But I may not be able to help you. I’m a clinical hypnotherapist. I help people break habits and overcome phobias. What you really need is a forensic hypnotist.”
“What’s that?” she stammered, totally unprepared for this answer.
“That is someone who hypnotizes with the goal of recovering lost memories. It requires pretty specific training. I looked into it while I was in school because it seemed fascinating. But after a few classes I realized I didn’t want to bear witness to some of the things people are trying to uncover....”
Doctor Smith’s explanation drifted to a halt, and Mitzi leaned back against the car, nonplussed by this unexpected turn. Of all the things to get in her way. Who knew there was more than one kind of hypnosis?
“I realize you can’t just pop across town to find a forensic hypnotist, Ms. Reardon,” Doctor Smith began.
“Would you be willing to give it a shot?” Blue asked, and they both looked to see him with his hands planted firmly on the hood of the car, an encouraging smile fixed on his face. “Miss Mitzi can pay you for your time, regardless of the results.”
“Wouldn’t that be aiding and abetting? I know you don’t want me to press any charg
es against you. You’ve been careful enough about that, but what about charges against me?”
“Not if you don’t tell anyone,” Blue persisted.
“No, he’s right,” Mitzi said. “I’m asking an awful lot of you. Just standing here....” She turned to get into the car. “Come on. Let’s leave the good doctor alone.”
“Wait,” Doctor Smith said, and she turned back to see an agonized expression on his kind face. Slowly his expression changed to a kind of cheeky defiance. “Listen closely. Relax. Breathe deep and evenly.”
Startled, Mitzi began to protest, but instead she did as he told her. She relaxed against the car and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and steadily.
“Focus your mind,” the doctor said gently. “Think about the people involved, about one person you want to remember. No, don’t say any names. I don’t want to know. Think about that person. Think about the last time you saw them. Focus on every detail you remember. You are trained to remember details. Let them come. Do you see that person?”
Seeing Chief Hatfield in last night’s rainstorm, Mitzi nodded, and the doctor went on in a soothing voice. “Good. Now remember the time before that. Think about what they were doing on that occasion. Every minute detail. Where were you? Were you eating? What did you smell? What did you hear? What did you touch?”
As Doctor Smith asked his questions, Mitzi could see Chief Hatfield in the briefing room about a week ago, giving an update about the Mayor’s new program, and how it was going to affect their station in particular. She remembered the smell of coffee burning on a hotplate, and the murmur of opinions being expressed about the new program. She remembered Justin’s Old Spice aftershave, always overpowering in the morning....
“Now, the time before that. Where were you? What did you see, smell, touch, taste?” The doctor’s voice drifted off quietly as Mitzi cast her memories back to a party she had attended a couple weeks ago. She frowned, but followed the memory where it was leading.
It was a club Eric had wanted to go to, one that wasn’t really her scene. Loud music throbbed across the dance floor, people drank and danced and scattered all over, spilling out into the parking lot and up the stairway to the second level. The stench of stale beer, perfume, and cigarettes assaulted her nostrils.
Mitzi was looking for a quiet place to tell Eric that she’d had enough. She was tired of the random late night phone calls and spontaneous invitations to “epic parties” she was sure two police officers had no business attending. Tired of being called his “ball and chain.” She was so over trying to make Justin’s little setup work, and she was ready to break it off.
She had taken Eric’s hand and pushed her way up the stairs, around couples kissing in the hall. It was all very reminiscent of National Lampoon’s Van Wilder—much like her entire experience with Eric.
She pushed open the door to a private-party room only to find a couple in a passionate clutch on the couch. She opened the next door to see a group of men gathered around a low table, and she shut the door and moved on to the next room.
But standing in the parking lot today, well removed from the personal emotions of that day, she went back to that second room again, telling herself she could see what those men were doing in there, if she tried. With Doctor Smith’s calm voice prompting her, she opened that door again and took a good look around.
Five men, she counted. Two of them carried themselves like professionals, either ex-military or law enforcement. They were big and fit.
Another one had the air of a thug, mean and undisciplined. He reminded Mitzi of the pimps she knew from downtown, and with a shock she recognized the man from last night.
Then, with her memory slowed to a speed she could easily process, one of the big men leaned back to glance at her standing in the doorway. Through the gap she got a look at Chief Hatfield and a briefcase open on the low table.
The fifth man remained hidden by the others. She never got a look at his face, though she took note of the ring on the pinky of his left hand. Something with a big black stone in a gold and silver setting, with letters imprinted on the stone. She focused on the ring. The letters might have been “CU.” University of Colorado.
What was in the briefcase? She returned her memory to the shiny silver case lying open on the table. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then her eyes flew open, and her gaze met and locked with Doctor Smith’s.
“Don’t tell me,” he said quickly. “We have no doctor-patient privilege here. As it is, I’m required by law to report seeing you, since you’re wanted in connection with a violent crime. I can give you about twenty minutes before I call. As long as they don’t put me under oath, I’ll say that you approached me in this lot but didn’t stay, and I didn’t recognize you until I saw a news report after lunch.”
“Doc,” she began. “I....”
“Go, before someone else sees you.” A pickup was pulling into the lot, and Mitzi ducked down and climbed into the car.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
“Just sort it out so that I don’t end up in court, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” she answered, but the doctor was already heading back to his car. “Blue?”
Her cowboy was still standing outside the car, and she leaned over to roll down his window. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”
Slowly, Blue moved to open the driver’s door and climb into the car. “I remember now,” he said, turning to her. “I remember where I saw the Mayor’s daughter.”
“What?” Mitzi was thrown completely off track. “You saw who?”
“It’s been bugging me, and when the doctor started asking you all those questions, it got me thinking. Leigh Ann Wharton. I saw her yesterday afternoon while I was looking for work.”
It took a moment for the importance of that to sink in. “Yesterday afternoon? You mean, after she disappeared?”
“Yeah. After. What about you? Did you figure your thing out?”
“Blue, you can’t just tell me that and then change the subject. Where did you see her?”
“It was over in Englewood. I went to a job site over there. They’re building an apartment complex next to one of those parks. I saw her looking out the window of one of the units that was done. Then....”
“Then what?”
“Well, someone pulled her away from the window. Not rough, just like someone tugging her sleeve to get her attention, you know? I remember thinking she looked like my niece, but I didn’t remember where I saw her until just now. I guess that hypnosis stuff really works, hey?”
“Crap,” Mitzi said.
“What?”
“Between you and me, we’re sitting on clues to the two biggest mysteries in town.”
“So, you did find what you were looking through your memories for?” Blue asked. “What is it you didn’t know you knew?”
Mitzi contemplated Blue’s anxious face for a moment before she closed her eyes to see if she could still see it. And yes, the image was still there. A room, Chief Hatfield, and a briefcase full of neat stacks of money.
“What I saw was a payoff. Either Chief Hatfield was being bought, or he was buying someone or something. Either way, my boss is a dirty cop, and he doesn’t want anyone else to find out.”
Blue whistled appreciatively. “But now you have to set your case aside, because the safety of that child comes first.”
“I have to do what?”
Chapter Nine
Mitzi’s tone of voice shocked Blue.
“We have to help Leigh Ann first,” Blue said after a rather lengthy pause. He found himself staring at Mitzi; surely she was just caught up in her own discovery and not thinking things through?
“I don’t think so!” Mitzi protested. “I mean, you can call the tip line, but the only place I’m going is to the library, where I can get access to the University alumni list.”
“But I don’t remember the name of the project,” Blue said evenly. “I’
m not even sure what street it’s on. We have to go and look around and find it.”
“Needle in a haystack, Blue. You should be familiar with that concept. The project will be on the books. The police will find her faster than we could.”
“Needle in a haystack?” Blue repeated. “Okay. Fine. Well, what about your alumni list? What’s the big deal there?”
“One of the men in that room was wearing a CU alumni ring.”
“And that’s not a needle in a haystack? There can’t be too many of those here in Denver.” He wasn’t accustomed to using sarcasm, but it slid off his tongue easily enough.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, brushing off his argument. “You can still collect the reward for calling in a tip.”
He found himself in a stare-down with this fiery little filly, and she wasn’t backing down. For the first time since he met her, Blue felt anger stirring.
Leaning close, he took her chin in his fist and brought her face close to his. “She’s twelve, Mitzi. No doubt scared and alone, and I bet all she wants is her momma. I’m sure her momma is frantic and worried sick about her. How can we not help?”
Mitzi’s brown eyes filled with compassion at last as she laid a hand over his. “Don’t you see, Blue? If I go anywhere near her I’ll put her in danger, too. I have already turned you into an accessory to murder after the fact, not to mention obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting, and harboring a fugitive. And Miss Regina has no clue that her car is being used by a fugitive. If they aren’t already knocking on her door, I’d be amazed. Now poor Doctor Smith has to lie to protect himself from charges too. I’m a walking disaster, and you want me to go put that poor girl into harm’s way, too?”
Blue didn’t break his gaze away from hers, but he felt his blood run cold as she listed the possible charges he could face, all for helping a desperate woman in a wet dress. He had thought he knew what kind of trouble he’d be in if she couldn’t clear her name, but some of that stuff sounded way more serious than what he had imagined.
“Holy crap,” he said after a long moment. It wasn’t like him to swear in front of a woman, but after what she’d just told him.... He let go of her chin abruptly, and turned to start the car. “We gotta move. The doc will be calling 911 any minute, and I sure as heck don’t want to get caught with you now.”
Last Shot at Justice (A Thomas Family Novel Book 1) Page 7