“Please step back, ma’am. Er, Sydney.” Nick pulled a set of handcuffs from his belt and looked at Cam. “Assault and battery,” he said softly. “You beat him up pretty bad. He’s at the hospital right now.”
“What? I never touched that son of a—”
“Step out and face the wall. Now.” The second deputy reached the porch, his gun pointed straight at Cam. “I won’t tell you again.”
For a long moment Cam didn’t move. Finally, he stepped through the door without a word, then walked to the side and turned around. Nick sent a wide-eyed glance at Sydney before he approached Cam and cuffed his hands behind his back.
When Nick moved away, the other deputy jerked Cam’s arm, forcing him to stumble and almost fall. “Come on, move,” he said. “Sheriff’s waiting for you.”
Cam wrenched away and glared at him. “I can walk,” he said flatly. He turned and strode for the porch stairs—barefoot and half-dressed, his wrists already reddened from the cuffs. He didn’t look at anyone.
The second deputy followed. When Nick started after them, Sydney dashed out to the porch and tapped his arm. “Stop,” she said. “Why are you doing this?”
Nick frowned a little. “I just said, he beat up Tommy. Guess they were fighting over…”
“Over what?”
He cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “You,” he said. “Because he broke up the wedding and all.”
Sudden tears spilled from her eyes, but she was more furious than anything. “Tommy said that Cam broke up the wedding?” Her chest tightened, and she had to force herself not to scream. “Look. I don’t know what happened to him, but Cam didn’t do it. He’s been here all day.”
Nick shook his head slowly. “Lots of folks…uh, witnesses saw them arguing at the S&S this morning,” he said. “And everybody heard him threaten Tommy at The Klinker.”
Her head spun crazily. “He didn’t do it,” she repeated in a whisper. “It’s impossible.”
“Let’s go, Donovan,” the other deputy shouted from the driveway.
Nick’s throat worked up and down. “You’ll have to take that up with the sheriff,” he said, and skittered off the porch like he was on fire.
Sydney’s eyes narrowed, her vision blurring. “Believe me, I will,” she said.
She watched the cars pull away, red and blue flashing against the night. Everything in her felt hollow and cold. She wasn’t going to believe this. She couldn’t, and she didn’t. Cam had a temper, but he’d never risk losing his ranch by doing something this stupid. Not when he was so close to saving it. She had no idea how Tommy had pulled this off—but she intended to find out.
And for that, she needed a little help.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Luka, praying she’d answer this time. Her best friend picked up on the third ring. “I know you have news,” Luka said, sounding half asleep. “I was going to call you back, honest. So what’s the news?”
“Never mind that right now. I need a favor.” She drew a deep breath and asked herself if she really knew what she was doing. Then she decided it didn’t matter, and plunged ahead. “I have to talk to Eddie Verona.”
* * * *
No one removed the handcuffs after Cam was marched into Sheriff Tanner’s office and forced into a chair. He sat there alone for half an hour while his arms throbbed progressively worse, trying to calm his temper enough so he could speak rationally. He wanted to believe this was the dumbest, most incredible mistake ever made. But he knew that wasn’t the case. Somehow, Tommy had set him up.
When the sheriff finally did make an appearance, he stood on the other side of the desk, trying to loom over him. And the first words out of his mouth were, “Looks like Tommy got a few blows in before you beat him down.”
Cam clenched his jaw. Hard. “Tommy didn’t touch me,” he said. “And I didn’t touch him.”
Sheriff Tanner shook his head. “You got unbelievable balls, young man. You’re gonna tell me those bruises on your gut didn’t come from a fight?”
“I’m running a ranch, Sheriff.” He couldn’t exactly explain that they came from Eddie Verona’s personal thug. But it sure as hell hadn’t been Tommy. “I got kicked by a bad-tempered horse. Whatever happened to Tommy, I had nothing to do with it.”
“A horse,” the sheriff said. With a neutral expression, he opened a drawer and pulled out a bunch of photos, then fanned them across the desk. They showed Tommy with a black eye, a split lip, blood matted at one temple, an arm in a sling. “This is what happened to him. Maybe a horse kicked him, too, and he mistook it for you.”
“Maybe,” Cam ground out, his fury on a fast approach to full boil at the sight of those pictures. The son of a bitch must’ve beaten himself up, or had someone else do it, just to get him hauled in. “All I know is, I didn’t do it.”
“The hell you didn’t!” Sheriff Tanner pushed the photos off the desk, sending them fluttering to the floor. “We have eyewitness accounts of you threatening Tommy Lowell in public, twice. Last night at The Klinker, and this morning at the Stop ’n Shop. You are wearing physical evidence of a fight. And my deputies found Tommy Lowell’s fiancé at your ranch—which gives you plenty of motive.”
Cam shot to his feet. The sheriff flinched back and reached for his gun. “Motive?” he said. “Let me tell you what my motive would be, if I did this. Which I didn’t.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to believe it wasn’t you.”
“Shut up and listen!” He no longer cared about the sheriff’s gun, or the charges, or any of it. “I didn’t break up the goddamned wedding,” he said. “Sydney did. She dumped Tommy’s ass after she found it fucking a waitress in his apartment. With or without me, she wouldn’t go near that cheating bastard again if you paid her.”
Sheriff Tanner’s mouth dropped open for an instant, but he recovered quickly. “So you do have a motive,” he said. “Well, boy, being a liar isn’t against the law. But assault is.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a motive.” Cam glared at the sheriff until he dropped his gaze. “But I never touched Tommy. I respect Sydney too much for that. Maybe you should ask yourself how good of a liar he really is, and how far he’d go to get back at me.”
The sheriff looked up, once again expressionless. It was a long time before he spoke. “If he’s a good liar, you might be a better one,” he said. “Even though I know damned well you did, I’m half convinced you didn’t. But I don’t argue with the evidence.” He let out a sigh. “This interview is over. Let’s get you into holding.”
For a minute Cam thought he wouldn’t be able to move. He’d just stand here frozen with shock forever, or at least until a couple of deputies came in to drag him away. Anger had given way to a dull, distant horror as he realized there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop this. He hadn’t done anything, but it was impossible to prove a negative.
All the evidence, every coincidence and every lie, pointed to his guilt. He was going to jail—for months, maybe years.
He would lose the Leaning T.
Somehow he managed to follow Sheriff Tanner out of the office and down a few hallways, until eventually they came to the holding cells. There were four of them, two on each side of a large room, with a desk at the front end. The skittish deputy, Nick Donovan, sat behind the desk and pinned a wary stare on Cam as the sheriff led him through.
He was brought to the first cell on the left, which was already open. It reeked of disinfectant and hopelessness. Only one of the others was occupied—in the far right cell, someone was sleeping on the narrow cot. He walked through the cell door stiffly, and it slammed shut behind him. “Back up and put your hands through the bars,” the sheriff said.
He did. The cuffs were removed, and he lowered his arms slowly.
“Judge won’t be in on Monday, so we can’t get you arraigned until Tuesday,” Sheriff Tanner said behind him. “You’ll have to stay here until then. But if you make bail, you should have time to make some arrangements for
your place before the trial.” After a pause, he added, “Is there anyone you want to call? Your mother, maybe?”
Cam turned slowly. His gut felt dull and heavy, as though a big rock had settled in it. “She’s been gone for six years, Sheriff,” he said. “I don’t think she’s going to come back and take care of the horses now.”
Something in the sheriff’s face changed, but it hardened again just as fast. “Guess you’d better think of somebody, then,” he said. “Because I can’t let you go until we talk to the judge.”
Sydney. She was the only person he wanted to talk to, the only one who might care about any of this. He knew there was nothing she could do, but just hearing her voice would be enough.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t even thought to get her number in these last few days. And he did have to get someone out there for the horses and chickens. Three days was plenty long enough for them to starve to death.
He was going to lose them one way or another. But he refused to let them suffer a cruel death.
“All right,” he finally said. “Let me make that call.”
They brought him a phone, and he called Alex Walker, one of his part-timers. Alex agreed to head out to the ranch twice a day and take care of things, at least through Tuesday. He wasn’t sure beyond that.
When they left him alone, Cam sat on the flimsy bunk and faced the back wall, unwilling to talk to or even look at anyone. In less than a week he’d gone from having nothing, to everything, to worse than nothing.
And he didn’t even have the satisfaction of doing what they said—but beating the hell out of Tommy would be a cold comfort now.
The Lowells had won.
Chapter 16
Sydney stormed into the police station, clutching the slim bag Eddie Verona had given her. He’d explained what it was—evidence that Boyd Lowell had bought his way into the town selectman’s seat, and continued using his influence to rip off half the town and line his own pockets. They’d planned to have Cam turn it in to the sheriff after he got to the bank on Monday.
Now she planned to use it to get him out of here. Somehow.
The front lobby was empty. She figured she could stand here and shout until someone noticed she was here, or go in further and look for the sheriff. She decided on the latter. The door to the right of the big desk was open a few inches, so she headed that way.
Behind the door was a hallway. Nothing on the right, a frosted glass door halfway down the left marked RECORDS. There was a left turn at the end of the hall, and when she entered a wider corridor, she found a hanging sign that read HOLDING with an arrow pointing down another hallway.
That was where she needed to go.
A few minutes later, she walked into a big room with a desk at the front, and Nick Donovan behind it with his propped on the surface. He was leaned back, holding an open book over his head and reading with apparent concentration. The deputy didn’t notice her, but she didn’t care. She’d found Cam.
He was in the closest cell, huddled on the bunk with his back to the world. It broke her heart seeing him here, locked up like the animal the whole town thought he was. And maybe he did beat Tommy up once, a long time ago, but he hadn’t done this. No matter how it looked from the outside. He said he didn’t, and she believed him.
She couldn’t imagine what really happened, but she intended to find out.
Just as she opened her mouth to call his name, she heard Nick behind her. “Hey, what the…Sydney!” There was a thump, probably his feet hitting the floor. “You can’t be in here. You’re not authorized.”
Cam flinched. He turned his head slowly—and then he was on his feet, coming toward her. She put an arm through the bars, and he reached for her. “Sydney, I—”
Before he could touch her, Nick was there, pulling her back. “Ma’am, please step away from the prisoner,” he said. “There’s no contact allowed. And you can’t be in here.”
“Prisoner!” She jerked away and whirled to face him. “Nick, that’s Cam Thatcher. You went to school with him, and you know he’s not a criminal.”
Nick shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, but…you didn’t see Tommy.”
“I didn’t touch him,” Cam growled. “Goddamn it, why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
Sydney looked at him with a sad smile. “I do,” she said.
“What the hell’s going on in here?”
The voice came from Sheriff Tanner, who’d suddenly materialized in the doorway opposite the one Sydney came through. “Sheriff, I need to talk to you,” she said, walking quickly away from Nick. “You’ve got to let Cam go. I have…evidence.”
“Sydney, don’t.” Cam sounded half-angry, half-desperate. “Whatever you’re doing, just stop before you get yourself in trouble. I’ll be fine.”
Somehow she knew he’d figured out what she had in the bag. But she couldn’t stop now. If she looked back at Cam and caught the misery in his eyes, she’d probably cave. So she stared straight at the sheriff. “Please,” she said. “You have to see this.”
“No! Sydney, they’ll just turn it around on you. Stay out of this.”
“You keep quiet,” Sheriff Tanner said, pointing a finger toward the cell. Then he sighed and ran a hand down his face. “All right, young lady,” he said. “But you need to understand that no matter what you have there, I can’t let him go until at least Tuesday when the judge is available to handle the arraignment.”
“Tuesday?” she whispered. “But that’s too late. He has to—” She stopped abruptly as the pieces snapped into place. Tommy and his father wanted Cam out of the way long enough to let the bank seize the Leaning T, so they could buy it. Boyd Lowell and Judge Price were close friends. He could’ve arranged for the judge to be “unavailable” until it was too late.
An idea started to form. It was completely crazy, but she was willing to try anything if it would stop the Lowells from ruining Cam’s life. “I understand,” she finally said. “Just let me show you.”
Shaking his head, the sheriff stepped back and held the door for her.
She expected another outburst from Cam, but he stayed silent. So she risked a glance back.
From what it looked like, he was too furious to speak.
There was no time to convince him she knew what she was doing. Besides, she really didn’t—she was running on wild hunches here. She’d just have to go through with it and hope he’d cool down enough to listen later.
Sheriff Tanner led her to his office. When they were both sitting, she put the bag on the desk and pushed it toward him. “Everything’s in here,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Want to tell me what ‘everything’ is?”
“It’s…evidence,” she said. “Just look at it.”
Frowning, the sheriff unzipped the bag and pulled out a small pile of folders. Then a few stacks of microcassette tapes, held together with rubber bands. Then a bunch of photos paperclipped on two sides. He stared at the top photo a minute. “It’s Boyd Lowell,” he said. “And the mayor. Shaking hands. Miss Davis, are you here to waste my time? Because I’m not in the mood.”
“They’re not shaking hands,” she said. “It’s a payoff.”
The sheriff glared at her.
“I’m serious. Look closer.”
“Miss Davis…” He glanced down—and then looked again. He picked up the pictures and squinted. His expression lapsed into careful blankness as he put them back down slowly and opened the first folder.
After a long few minutes, he said without looking up, “What’s on the tapes?”
“Phone calls.”
Sheriff Tanner closed his eyes. “Where did you get all this?”
She hesitated. If the words ‘Eddie Verona’ came from her mouth, she’d probably be guilty by association or something. And she bet they wouldn’t even let her share a cell with Cam. Finally she said, “I found it.”
“You found it.” The sheriff stared at her. “Young lady, I believe that about as much as I believe your frien
d out there didn’t lay a hand on the Lowell boy.”
“Well, he didn’t, and I did. I mean, I found the bag. Not I beat up Tommy.” She drew a deep breath and told herself to stay calm. Babbling like an airhead wasn’t going to help her case, especially when she got to the crazy part.
“Spying on people and recording them without their permission is illegal,” Sheriff Tanner said. “Do you understand that?”
“I’m sure it is,” she said. “But finding something isn’t illegal. Neither is turning it in to the sheriff. Right?”
He drummed his fingers on the open folder. “These are very serious allegations,” he said. “If someone…found these things, and they were falsified, the finder could be in a whole lot of trouble.”
Sydney’s jaw clenched. “They’re not fake,” she said.
There was a long, awkward silence. At last the sheriff’s shoulders slumped. “All right,” he said. “I’m going to let your miraculous discovery story slide for now, because this appears to be legitimate. If it is, we’ll probably arrest Boyd Lowell.” He almost looked sorry as he added, “But this doesn’t implicate Tommy. It has nothing to do with Thatcher’s situation.”
“I know.” She breathed out slowly and tried to tell herself this was so crazy, it just might work. “Listen, Sheriff…can you do me a huge favor?”
* * * *
Apparently, not everyone in town had heard about the cancelled wedding yet. The receptionist at the hospital was happy to let Sydney know that Tommy was in a first-floor room for observation, and the nurse at the station walked her personally to the door. It was already open, but not enough so she could see inside.
She really hoped Tommy didn’t have a roommate. Otherwise, this would never work.
After taking a moment to compose herself, she knocked gently and pushed the door open. Tommy was in the bed closest to the door. The other was empty. So far, so good.
He looked like he’d been dozing, but he turned his head when she closed the door. His eyes widened—in surprise, not anger. He actually smiled a little. “Sydney?” he said. “Is that really you?”
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