by Lea Kinkade
Her little red Mazda was special to her. It was the first car she had ever owned. She was proud of the fact that she had paid for it herself, working part-time jobs while she was in college and scrupulously saving her money until she had enough to buy the thing outright. Her father hadn’t seen the need for Abby to have her own car, so he wouldn’t help her pay for it or cosign a loan for one, either. He had even insisted she park it on the street even though they had a two-car garage and they had always only had one vehicle. Abby had realized a long time ago that her father had been something of a passive-aggressive when he couldn’t control her as he wanted as she had gotten older.
Up until her mother was murdered, she and Abby had traveled by subway most of the time, going to the animal shelter, museums, and other places. After the murder, Abby’s father had driven her where she needed to go or insisted that she take a cab. When he couldn’t drive her, he always paid for a cab. He never complained about the expense. He didn’t want her on the subway any more than she wanted to be on it.
Abby tried turning the key in the ignition again and groaned in frustration when all it did was make a clicking noise. Shit. She was going to have to call Dillon to come and get her. She got out her phone and realized it was dead. She’d forgotten to charge it last night. Oh well, she’d just go back into Raymond’s and ask to use their phone. She grabbed her purse and cracked open the car door as she started to climb out.
“Hey, Abby. Everything all right?” asked a familiar voice. Abby looked up and saw Jaime Hernandez standing next to her little Mazda looking at her questioningly. When she looked over his shoulder, she could see that he had parked his truck directly behind the Mazda, blocking her exit.
Chapter 10
Dillon punched the disconnect button as Abby’s voicemail picked up again. He’d called her four times already, and each time the call had gone immediately to voicemail. He had also tried the clinic phone but got the answering machine on that as well. He checked his own phone again. No messages or missed calls. He’d even called the phone at the house and got the answering machine. He had left messages at all locations for Abby to call him as soon as she got the message. So far, nothing. He knew Rio’s man was watching Hernandez, but he didn’t like the fact that Abby was out of touch. He had a bad feeling about this. He headed to the clinic office to see if she’d left him a note or something.
It was a quarter to one and he’d been in the first horse barn since shortly after eight o’clock this morning treating a mare that had gone down and wasn’t getting back up. The mare was twenty-one years old and probably needed to be put down or sold off as a pet for some little girl or boy where she would be treated very gently. Brownie, as Dillon had named her when he was just a kid, was a gentle mare and was very good with new riders and kids. She was just such a neat horse that nobody had wanted to admit was getting older and had a touch of arthritis.
The Ranch didn’t usually keep horses after they got to a certain age and couldn’t be working horses anymore. There were a few, though, including Brownie, that nobody could stand to see go anywhere else. So, Dillon had spent the morning trying to get the mare back on her feet. He’d given her injections of a steroid to help the swelling of the arthritis as well as one for pain. They’d gotten her up about an hour ago, and Dillon had watched her for a while to make sure she didn’t go down again. He needed to make sure she was put out in the front pasture along with the other elderly horses from now on, but he wanted to monitor her closely for several days before he did so that he could make sure she wasn’t in pain. A regular regimen of anti-inflammatories should help the old girl maintain a good quality of life for her last years.
Now, though, he needed to find out where Abby was and why he was unable to reach her. Decker had called while he was in the barn with the mare and told him the handwriting expert wanted to view the samples in person. He was going to drive to Deseo from Corpus Christi and should be at the sheriff’s office by 1:00 p.m. Once Dillon found out what was going on with Abby, he intended to head into the sheriff’s office himself. He wanted to hear what the guy had to say.
He saw the note on his desk as soon as he opened the door to the clinic. Reading it quickly, he let out a sigh of relief. She was at the clinic and she had probably had to turn off her phone. Now that he knew she was safe, he took the ATV to his house, got into his truck, and headed into town. He called Rio on the way to let him know about the handwriting expert coming to town to do his analysis.
“That tells me he couldn’t rule out a match. It must be close. I’m going to let my man know what’s going on so he can be extra vigilant watching Hernandez. You said Abby’s in town? He’ll keep an eye on this asshole and make sure he doesn’t get anywhere near her. I’ll meet you at the sheriff’s office. I’m leaving now.” Dillon was glad to know how seriously Rio was taking Abby’s safety and how sure he was that Hernandez was a threat to that safety.
Dillon and Rio arrived at the sheriff’s office at the same time. They got out of their vehicles and headed up the walkway to the front door together. The sheriff’s office was right next door to the county courthouse.
“My man knows to keep Hernandez away from Abby. Right now, Hernandez is eating lunch with a few friends at Raymond’s. I gave my guy a description of Abby’s car and he says it’s in the parking lot in front of the clinic which, as you know, is right next to Raymond’s. Evidently, Hernandez drove around the parking lot looking for a spot and stopped behind Abby’s car for a few minutes before parking and going into Raymond’s. My guy thinks Hernandez made a call on his cell phone but didn’t have a good angle to know for sure.” Dillon knew if Rio trusted his man, he could, too.
Sheriff Decker met them in the waiting room at the front of the office. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I thought I’d see you here sooner rather than later. Come in to my office, the expert is just finishing his analysis. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
As they entered Decker’s office, an older man with glasses and a long beard looked up from a table in the corner of the office.
“Nate, this is Dillon Chisholm and Rio Andrade. Dillon is Abby Barnes’s fiancé, and Rio is the Ranch’s head of security and a former Navy SEAL. Guys, this is Nate Wentworth. He’s the handwriting expert I asked to compare the two writing samples.”
Turning to Nate, he raised an eyebrow asking the question silently.
“Yes, I understand that you’re anxious to have answers. I needed to see the originals of the documents to compare the amount of pressure used by the writer of each document. I’ve compared the two writing samples, and I can tell you with ninety-nine percent accuracy that the same person is responsible for both samples. I brought an affidavit verifying my findings, if you need it for any type of warrant. If the judge wants to talk to me, I can do that, too.”
Rio was on his phone before Mr. Wentworth finished talking, telling his man on the ground to intervene if Hernandez attempted to contact Abby in any way whatsoever.
“I’ve got an application for a search warrant all typed up and ready to take to the judge. I called over to the courthouse and found out the judge went to a late lunch but should be back any minute. Let’s go.” Sheriff Decker didn’t wait to see if everyone was following him.
The four men headed down the hallway to a door that opened directly across from a door to the courthouse. “This is the way we take prisoners over to the courthouse. It’s the most direct route,” assured the sheriff.
Decker led the way to one of the courtrooms and walked right in. “Judge back yet, Marnie? I’ve got the paperwork for that warrant I talked to you about a little while ago.”
“He just got back. Let me tell him you’re here.” She took the paperwork from the sheriff’s hands and headed back to the judge’s chambers. Dillon could hear two muted voices coming from the room off the courtroom.
“He’d like to see you, Sheriff. Is the handwriting expert still here? He’d like to talk to him as well.”
“Yes. This is Nate
Wentworth. He’s the expert.”
“Good. Go ahead and go back. I’m afraid the other two gentlemen will have to wait here with me.” Marnie sat back down and started typing into the computer.
Dillon was chomping at the bit. What the hell did the judge want to talk to the expert about? He had a sworn affidavit. What more did he need? He could hear several voices coming from the chambers now as he prowled around the little area around the court attendant’s desk. She continued to type away on her computer. Just when Dillon was about to ask what the hell was taking so long, Marnie moved over to the printer at the side of her desk, took a sheet of paper off the output tray, and walked back into the judge’s chambers.
Movement from the chambers drew both Dillon’s and Rio’s attention as Marnie came back out followed by the sheriff and Mr. Wentworth. Marnie went to the copy machine behind her desk and copied the document she was holding. Decker looked reassuringly at Dillon and nodded his head discreetly. Dillon let out the breath he had been holding and stopped pacing.
Marnie brought the document she had been copying, along with several copies, over to Decker and gave them to the sheriff. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, Marnie. I’ll probably see you a little later.” He herded Dillon and Rio out of the courtroom while Mr. Wentworth followed them out into the hallway.
“We got the search warrant. You two can follow me to Hernandez’s place, but you cannot go into the house. If you try, I’ll have my men arrest you. Understood? We do this by the book.”
“Understood,” each man said.
“He lives on county road F-29 heading east out of town. I already have two of my men there staking out the place just in case Hernandez comes back before we can get there with the warrant. Let’s go.”
Dillon and Rio took Rio’s truck and followed the sheriff out of town. When they drove up, they saw two deputies in a county cruiser waiting in the driveway.
“He’s still gone, Sheriff. Nobody’s been in the house since he left this morning.”
“Okay, guys. Good job. Let’s go in and see if we can find a spare set of keys to his truck. The warrant covers his vehicle, and I don’t plan on waiting for him to come back home to execute it. It’s sitting in front of Raymond’s in town right now.”
The two deputies that had been waiting at the house grabbed a black case that looked almost like a briefcase only it was much thicker. Opening it up on the trunk of their vehicle, they took out latex gloves, shut the case, and headed to the door. Sheriff Decker knocked on the door twice and yelled out to Hernandez to open the door as he had a search warrant to execute. Hearing no answer, the other two officers drew their weapons and covered the sheriff as he busted the front door open with one well-placed kick. Pulling his sidearm, the sheriff led his men into the house to clear it. Dillon and Rio heard their voices as each room was cleared. Finally, they heard Sheriff Decker call out the all-clear sign.
Another sheriff’s vehicle drove into the long driveway with two more deputies in it. The passenger got out of the vehicle and headed to the front door where he was met by one of the deputies already inside and given a set of keys and a piece of paper. Dillon assumed this was the spare set of truck keys. Without making small talk, the deputy got back in and the car pulled back out onto the highway, headed back into town.
Dillon and Rio moved closer to the open door but stayed off the porch. They could hear doors being opened and closed and furniture being moved around the house.
“Shit! Carney, bring me the camera and a shitload of evidence bags.”
Dillon could hear footsteps in the house as he presumed both deputies went to the room where the sheriff was located and had asked the items to be brought.
“Holy Christ. This motherfucker’s sick,” one of the deputies exclaimed.
“Where do we start, Sheriff? Should I call for the forensics unit? We’re going to need all the help we can get if we want this all documented today.”
“Yeah, Carney. Tell them we need four warm bodies and tell them to bring plenty of evidence bags and at least two more cameras. Maybe a video camera so we can document the whole room in a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn. I’m going to go talk to Dillon and Rio. Start at the door and work your way clockwise. Make sure you overlap a little with each picture. Nothing gets moved until forensics gets here and makes sure we got the pictures we need before we start cataloging all of this.”
Dillon watched the door, waiting for Decker to come out of the house. When he came out, the sheriff’s face was grim.
“What is it? What’s in there?” demanded Dillon. He could feel Rio at his shoulder offering unspoken support.
“Dillon, just remember that the motherfucker isn’t going to get anywhere near Abby. The judge is signing an arrest warrant as we speak. I’ve got two of my men waiting for it at the courthouse. Rio, if you would put the man you have on Hernandez in touch with the deputies to advise them of Hernandez’s location, I would appreciate it.”
“No problem. I’ll call him now. What number do you want my guy to call?” The sheriff gave him the number for one of the deputies and turned back to Dillon while Rio made the call.
“I want to see what that bastard has on Abby,” demanded Dillon. He felt Rio’s hand settle on his shoulder to calm him down.
“No, Dillon. You don’t. Trust me as your friend. He…He’s seriously sick, buddy. He’s got a whole room dedicated to Abby. You don’t want some of those images burned into your brain. They’ll just drive you nuts. You need to get in your truck, go get your woman, and go home. It’s going to take us the rest of the day and into the night to get this all catalogued. I’ll be out tomorrow morning, along with the prosecutor, to talk with you and Abby after the arraignment. The prosecutor will argue against bail due to the violent way he trashed her apartment and what we found here today. I’ll tell you, in general terms, what’s in that room tomorrow morning. He’ll be in jail for the night. I should be hearing soon from my men that they’ve arrested him. I’ll process the bastard myself.”
When Dillon looked like he wanted to argue, Decker took him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes and spoke softly to his old friend. “Trust me, Dillon. You don’t want to see this.”
Dillon sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. He nodded once and turned back toward Rio’s truck. His friend clapped him on the arm and got into the truck, backed out of the driveway, and headed back into town so that Dillon could get his truck. He belatedly wondered if Abby was through at the doctor’s yet. He could drive her home and have a couple of the ranch hands pick up her car later. He needed to see her—to have her near him right now.
* * * *
“Something wrong, Abby? I was coming out of Raymond’s and heard you try to start your car. I’ll give you a lift back to the Ranch if you need one.” Jaime looked at Abby solicitously and she had to wonder again. Was this man a monster or was he simply a guileless ranch hand with a crush? Abby didn’t know but didn’t plan on getting into the man’s truck regardless.
“No thanks, Jaime. I need to call the garage to come tow the car and then I can call Dillon to come and get me. I’ll go back to Raymond’s and make the calls. Thanks for the offer, though.” Regardless of her troubled thoughts about this man, she’d been raised to be polite. As she stood up fully and exited the car, Jaime didn’t step back to give her more room. He was all up in her personal space. Trembling for some reason, Abby dropped her purse on the pavement and ended up spilling most of the contents across her feet.
“Shit.” She bent down to start picking up her personal belongings when she felt Jaime kneel down to help her.
“Really, Abby. It’ll be no trouble at all. Chisholm doesn’t have to come all the way into town to get you when I could easily take you out there.” He was picking up her things and shoving them back into her purse while he talked.
“Hey, what’s this?” he asked, staring at one of the pregnancy pamphlets the doctor had given her before she left the clinic. “Abby, what the
hell is this? You’re pregnant? You’re going to have Chisholm’s brat?” His voice had been steadily rising as he seemed to get angrier by the second. He reached out and grabbed her arm in a punishing grip. As he turned toward his truck, he started to pull her with him, seeming intent on getting her inside. Suddenly, her arm was free as the hand he had been using to pull on her with was twisted up behind his back by a bad-ass-looking man wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. The man shoved Jaime up against his truck and kept him in place with one hand pressed tightly into the smaller man’s shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing?” sputtered Jaime. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. You can’t do this to me. You’d better let me go or I’ll press assault charges.” The larger man ignored him and asked Abby if she was all right.
“Sorry I didn’t get to you before he touched you, ma’am. I didn’t want to take the chance that you would get hurt while you were both bending down over your purse. You’re not hurt, are you? Rio will kick my ass if you are. I wasn’t supposed to let the guy get his hands on you at all.”
“I’m okay. He just wrenched my arm a little bit. It’s no big deal. Thank you. I don’t know what he would have done if you hadn’t been here.” It was beginning to dawn on Abby just what could have happened if Rio’s man hadn’t intervened. There wasn’t anybody in the parking lot, and Jaime could have had her in his truck within seconds if he hadn’t been stopped.
She watched the big man pull out what looked like a long piece of plastic from his back pocket. He held it in his teeth while he wrestled Jaime’s other arm behind his back and secured them with the tie. Some sort of plastic handcuffs, Abby figured out. The big man wasn’t being gentle, and Jaime was still trying to threaten him while periodically crying out in pain. Once he had Jaime secured, he pushed him down to his knees on the asphalt.