Walker Pride (The Walker Family Book 1)

by Bernadette Marie

  “Douglas Brant was already out this way. I think he suspects something. We’ve planned to call him if we find out anything.”

  Lydia wrinkled up her nose. “There’s another one of those losers on the force that has been hitting on me for years. What is it with this town hiring cops that do that?”

  “He said you’d turned him down for a date. He’s sweet on Bethany now.”

  “Who wouldn’t be? She’s hot, but she’s better to stay away.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

  Lydia shrugged. “He’s just got a bad vibe to him. Not as bad as Smyth’s, but bad.”

  Susan thought about Eric’s story and how he covered for him. Maybe it would be better for everyone involved to find someone else to check into Dwight Peterson and Shooter Magee.

  Tyson walked through the kitchen before their guests arrived. “This smells great.”

  “It’s one of my favorite menus. Certainly a more upscale catering meal.”

  “I think Eric’s a lucky guy. I admire you for what you’ve built.”

  She was completely unprepared for the compliment, but she smiled graciously. “Thank you.”

  “I hope someday I’ll find a gal who will stick by my side when the world around me falls apart.”

  There were tears stinging her throat and she didn’t know what to do with that.

  Tyson must have known that too when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll take care of you in his absence. No one is going to get hurt tonight in any way.”

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket just as the doorbell rang. He pushed a button and held it to his ear. “Eric? It’s show time. I’m going to put my phone in my shirt pocket mic up. If you can’t hear me call Susan and let her know.” He nodded. “I’ll tell her.”

  Tyson slid his phone into his pocket and turned back toward Susan. “He says he loves you and he’ll kick my ass if anything happens to you.”

  “I love him too,” she said leaning toward Tyson’s pocket. He gave her a wink and headed out of the kitchen.

  Susan placed her hand on her chest. Her pulse had quickened with the nerves that bolted around in her stomach.

  She took in a long soothing breath. She had a job to do and she was going to do it well. On the counter next to her the birthday cake Elias Morgan had requested for his daughter. It was all too personal now and there could be no mistakes.

  Now she waited for Lydia to let them know it was time to serve dinner.

  Chapter Thirty- Two

  Eric had found an old Bluetooth earpiece he’d used for his phone a few times when he was out with the cattle birthing calves. He’d muted his phone and placed the earpiece in his ear.

  He could hear the rustling of Tyson’s shirt, but he could hear the conversations well enough.

  The one thing he’d learned in the fifteen minutes that Shooter Magee was in the Morgans’ house was that he was an asshole.

  From the way the man replied when introduced to the crude whistle he gave when Lydia walked into the room, Eric was sure this was the guy messing up his life.

  “Why don’t you call Douglas and tell him to head over this way. I don’t like this guy. He gives me bad vibes,” Eric said and Bethany nodded.

  He continued to listen as she called. The moment Susan walked into the room a chill zipped up Eric’s spine.

  “You’re keeping the hotties locked up in this place ain’t ya?” Shooter said and his grandfather shushed him.

  Eric didn’t hear Susan’s voice , but he was sure she was gritting her teeth at the comment.

  The talk was boring. Elias and Dwight Peterson bantered about oil. His father made a few good comments about placement of the wells, if they were to drill them. Byron’s voice, however, was never heard. Eric wasn’t even sure he’d shown up.

  Susan had served up the first plate and Shooter had made some comment about how nasty lettuce was. Still, he never heard Susan’s voice, she was simply doing her job, he thought.

  It hadn’t been but five minutes when he heard a car pull up in front of his house. A moment later Douglas walked in.

  “What, were you close by?” Eric snapped covering the earpiece.

  “Maybe I was.” He scanned a look over Bethany and she turned to look the other way. “So what’s going on?”

  “Peterson and Magee are at the Morgans’. Tyson has his phone on so I can listen.”

  “That doesn’t sound legal to me. Does it to you?”

  “It sounds like I’m being safe,” Eric said as he heard the doorbell at the Morgans’. He held a hand up so he could hear clearer.

  ~*~

  Susan carried the last of the salad plates to the kitchen as the doorbell rang. She wondered if it were Byron Walker, as he’d yet to show for dinner, but no one seemed to mind.

  With the main course plated she carried three of the plates out to the dining room. Tyson must have gone to open the door, because his seat was vacant.

  Susan set the first plate in front of Lydia—ladies first. Then she served Dwight Peterson. He was a distinguished looking gentleman, whom she assumed might be nearing sixty. He had mind for business by the way he spoke of his. As she set down his plate thanked her with a generous smile.

  Shooter Magee, on the other hand, was nothing like his grandfather. Susan would have assumed Dwight Peterson picked Shooter up from a bar and brought him to dinner. He reeked of alcohol. Wearing a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket, he certainly didn’t fit in.

  It was obvious he hadn’t shaved in at least a week and it had probably been a year or more since he’d had a haircut. The man gave her the creeps. If they found out he’d been the one to steal her car, she was going to sell it. Just the thought of him being in it gave her chills.

  As she turned to set Shooter’s plate down, he patted her butt causing her to reel back, nearly spilling his plate in his lap.

  Just as she took a breath to let the S.O.B. have it, Tyson stepped through the door with Smyth in tow.

  “I suggest you never touch her again,” Smyth said in a low growl.

  Susan stepped back from the table and found that Lydia too had risen to move.

  Shooter leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nice to see you, Officer Smyth. Didn’t know you were coming to dinner.”

  Smyth walked into the room fully. “I’m guessing you know exactly why I’m here.”

  Dwight Peterson squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What have you done now?” he asked.

  Shooter merely grinned at Smyth.

  “I’ll tell you what he did. He approached an under aged woman to solicit sex while in our fine city. That’s after he parked in a fire lane and exited his car with an open container.”

  Dwight looked up. “Why didn’t you arrest him then?”

  “He was under suspicion of another charge, we just needed him to lead us right to that.”

  Shooter scratched the scruff of a beard that traveled down his neck. “I didn’t realize you were such a detective.”

  “It seems Shooter was the man who set up the card game in which Byron Walker lost.”

  Elias cleared his throat and held up his hands. “I paid his gambling debt. Mr. Walker owes no one.”

  “Didn’t say he did,” Smyth said. “Illegal gambling operation set up by Mr. Magee. That’s one offense. The other is the game was rigged. Mr. Walker shouldn’t have lost.”

  Shooter snorted a laugh. “You can’t prove that.”

  “You should be careful what you say to a wired under aged woman when you’re soliciting her. Sometimes the sting hurts,” Smyth said as he moved in and yanked Shooter to his feet.

  Shooter grunted as Smyth slapped handcuffs on him and another officer walked through the front door.

  Tyson moved toward them. “What about our properties? The poisoned animals? The slashed tires? The stolen cars? The lurking about, setting off the alarms?”

  Shooter shook his head. “I have no idea what t
he hell you’re talking about. I really don’t even give a crap who you are, let alone what you have. The old man drug me along, trying to change my image,” he said as Smyth began to lead him from the room.

  Tyson stopped Smyth from leading him out of the dining room. “Wait. You had nothing to do with all of that? But the oil rights? The land merger?”

  Dwight Peterson rose. “I never told him about any of that. I didn’t trust him with the information.”

  Everett Walker stood from his seat and walked toward Susan and Lydia. “I think it’s about time for us to leave,” he whispered. “Call Eric and tell him you’ll be heading home.”

  Susan nodded then she and Lydia retreated to the kitchen.

  ~*~

  Eric ripped the earpiece from his ear and threw it onto the table. “Damn it!” He picked up his phone and unmuted it.

  “What happened?” Bethany asked.

  “They just arrested Shooter Magee.”

  “For what he did to you?”

  “No. What he did to your father. He rigged the card game your father lost. He had nothing to do with the rest of it.”

  Eric put his phone to his ear and listened to Tyson’s phone, still hidden in his pocket. “Tyson? Tyson?” he repeated. When there was no answer he lowered the phone, but didn’t yet turn it off. He’d been recording the call just in case they’d needed the evidence. He didn’t see any reason to stop the recording until Shooter Magee had been driven away.

  Douglas stood with his back against the refrigerator. His arms were folded over his chest and his ankles were crossed. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Bethany since he’d walked through the door.

  “You look so much like your mother,” he said as if he hadn’t been paying any attention to what Eric and Bethany had been talking about.

  Bethany turned her attention to Douglas. “You knew my mother?”

  A grin formed on his mouth. “Oh, I knew her. I knew her very well.”

  Eric wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, but he didn’t like it. “Doug, why don’t you head home? Doesn’t seem as though we got any information we were looking for.”

  Doug didn’t react or seem as though he’d even heard him.

  “You have her hair. Her color eyes. Even that same dimple in your cheek.”

  Bethany pushed from the table.

  “I don’t know how you knew my…”

  Douglas moved closer to Bethany. “I knew your mother on levels no one else knew her.”

  “Doug, that’s enough. It’s time for you to…”

  Douglas withdrew his gun and pointed it at Eric. “Shut your mouth. I’m so sick of listening to you. I’ve listened to you my whole life and you’ve never had anything to say.”

  “Please put the gun down,” Bethany pleaded. “I’m not my mother.”

  “She left Georgia when you were two. Your father turned her away and she left.”

  “He didn’t want us.”

  “I wanted her. Don’t you understand? I loved her.”

  Eric felt the pressure build behind his eyes. “That’s the older woman you were having the affair with?”

  Doug cocked the gun. “I told you to shut up. You have no idea what we had. Your uncle was an idiot who neglected her. She was such a woman and she loved me.”

  Eric heard Bethany sob. “This isn’t true. My mother wouldn’t do that.”

  Douglas moved closer to her, forcing Bethany to step back until she was pressed up against the wall. “We could have it all again, Violet.” He lifted his hand to her cheek. “We could love like that again.”

  “I’m not Violet,” Bethany’s voice shook under her tears. “Violet is dead.”

  Douglas’s face contorted in near pain. “Don’t say that ever again,” he growled as he wrapped his hand around Bethany’s throat.

  “Get your hands off of her,” Eric charged toward him just as Douglas pulled the trigger of the gun.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Tyson pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll let Eric know what’s going on,” he said as he lifted the phone to his ear.

  Susan watched as his forehead creased.

  “Tyson, what’s wrong?”

  “Is Douglas at Eric’s?”

  “He was in the area,” she said with a shrug.

  Smyth handed Shooter over to the other deputy who walked him out to a car. “Did you say Brant is with Walker?”

  Tyson nodded, the phone still pressed to his ear. “They’re arguing.” He continued to listen and then his eyes opened wide and his face went white. “Someone just fired a gun.”

  Susan’s breath caught in her lungs and she felt her head begin to spin. Slowly her world was going black and she couldn’t force herself to breathe until a set of hands gripped her shoulders. The air that had been trapped inside of her gave and she took a breath.

  “Get in my car,” Everett Walker said firmly.

  Susan nodded and hurried toward the car just as everyone else did the same.

  Tyson had been the first to speed away from the house followed by Smyth. The other officer drove away in the other direction with Magee.

  Everett Walker followed behind with Susan and Lydia both sobbing.

  He reached for Susan’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “He’s going to be okay. This is Eric. He’s always prepared.”

  ~*~

  Eric rolled on the kitchen floor. This pain was worse than any other pain he’d ever had in his life.

  Blood soaked his shirt from where the bullet had penetrated his arm.

  He sucked in breath after ragged breath trying to get a grip on what had happened, but he’d hit his head when he fell and he thought perhaps he’d blacked out for a moment. But how many moments?

  Eric coughed and his lungs burned.

  Where was Bethany? Where was Douglas?

  He coughed again.

  The house was filled with smoke. He couldn’t pinpoint the source. He tried to crawl out, but with one arm the task seemed nearly impossible.

  “Eric! Eric!” The voice broke through the smoke. “Where the hell are you son?”

  It was Byron.

  Eric coughed again and a moment later someone reached out for him.

  “Let’s get you out of here. The back of the house is engulfed.”

  “Beth…”

  “We have to get to her. Brant has her. C’mon.”

  Byron pulled him to his feet and led him through the front door.

  ~*~

  “Oh, God!” Susan’s voice quaked as they crested the top of the hill and she saw the small house engulfed in flames.

  Tyson’s truck sped up passing another truck going the opposite direction.

  “That’s Byron’s truck,” Everett said.

  Lydia gripped the seats as if she were getting a good look. “Eric is with him.”

  Everett nodded and Smyth must have noticed too as he followed Byron and didn’t go up to the house.

  Everett followed Smyth, but stopped as two more trucks sped toward Eric’s.

  He slowed and rolled down his window as Russell stopped. “Eric’s not in the house, but it’s engulfed. Don’t go inside.”

  “We’ll try to get a handle on it.”

  “Get to Tyson before he goes in looking for Eric. I’m following Byron.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Everett said as he took off down the dirt road following his brother’s truck.

  ~*~

  Eric held tight to his arm as his uncle sped down the road.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Eric asked through clenched teeth.

  “I assume he’s headed to the lake. Son-of-a bitch!” He slapped his hands on the steering wheel.

  “He was calling her Violet.”

  “He’s lost his ever loving mind,” Byron said as he turned the corner at full speed causing the tires to slide on the gravel.

  Holding on increased the pain in Eric’s arm.

  “What happened b
etween him and Violet?”

  “They had something going on. It had been going on since he was in high school. Right before Bethany was born.”

  Byron sped over the bouncy gravel and Eric winced at the pain it caused. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

  Byron wiped his hand over his forehead. “She was a failing model and a horrible actress. She felt as though she were too old. I guess having affairs with seventeen year old boys made her feel younger.”

  The thought made Eric sick.

  “I met her when she was thirty-five. I fell in love hard.”

  Eric seemed to remember that. He didn’t remember Violet very well at all, but he’d remembered his uncle falling for the red head.

  “She broke it off with Brant. She got pregnant and that set off her depression again. Now she was fat to boot. After Bethany was born she started up her thing with Brant again and he became obsessive about her.”

  “She left then?”

  Byron shook his head. “She broke it off with him. We were going to work it out. Get married. But she got scared. Not of marriage, but of Brant.”

  “That’s when she moved to California?”

  Byron nodded as he skidded into the entrance of the park where Douglas had once wrecked Eric’s truck. The thought of Douglas having had Violet Waterbury in his truck when he’d crashed it made Eric even madder, which only made the pain throbbing in his arm worse.

  “This is why I didn’t want Bethany out here. I didn’t want her this close to the psychopath. She’s the spitting image of her mother.”

  Douglas’s car was parked by the lake and shaded by a small grove of trees.

  Eric felt the vile feeling rise up in his throat.

  Byron skidded his truck to a stop and slammed it into park. He quickly jumped out and pulled the shotgun from his backseat.