A light came on somewhere in front of them and the sheriff could be seen returning to the car. “I’m going to try to kick the door open when he comes to get us,” whispered Jake to Nick, who nodded.
Reggie had just gotten Jake’s door open a crack when Jake reared back and kicked hard at the door with both feet. The door slammed into the sheriff, knocking him over into the snow. Jake struggled out of the back seat, hindered by his handcuffs. The sheriff was in fine physical condition however and managed to make it onto his feet again by the time Jake got out of the car.
“Good try counselor,” the sheriff said amiably. “Can’t say as I blame you, but…” His words were cut off as his fist met Jake’s jaw. It was Jake’s turn to tumble in the snow this time.
Nick scrambled to get out of the car to help Jake but Reggie had stepped back, out of range. He drew his gun and trained it on Jake. “That was careless of me,” he said. “Rookie mistake, I ought to write myself up for that.”
Sheriff Newsome laughed at his joke, pulling the hammer back on his revolver. “But then I’d have to file a report on this and we both know that’s not gonna happen.”
Jake braced himself for the shot. Time seemed to stand still. His mind flashed to Emma, her smile, her voice, the feel of her body next to his. He flinched at the sound of the gunfire, but there was no pain from the bullet. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he’d closed them.
Sheriff Newsome’s body was laying face up in the snow, at a right angle to the patrol car. Blood trickled from a small round hole in his temple and a look of surprise was slowly relaxing from his face. His body twitched and was still.
Jake looked up at the building he hadn’t even noticed was there, so focused had he been on the confrontation with the sheriff. The light he’d seen was a floodlight attached to the front of the building.
The building looked like a metal storage building and Jake noticed a forest service logo painted on the door. Had the sheriff managed to succeed in killing them there it would have been weeks, months maybe, before their bodies would have been found.
He heard footsteps running from around the side of the building and struggled to sit up in the snow. He looked up and saw Emma, her head caressed in a glowing halo by the arc of the floodlight.
Emma stopped briefly at the sheriff’s body to kick the gun away from him in case he was only knocked down. Then she stepped around him and threw herself down into the snow, her arms around her husband.
17
“I never saw anything more wonderful than the sight of you in that floodlight,” said Jake, hugging Emma to him tightly.
“That was a hell of a shot, Mrs. R.” said Nick, sipping his cocoa. He was wrapped in a warm blanket, sitting as close to the pellet stove as Casper would let him get. The sleeping dog did not like to share his place in front of the fire. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“Yes, where did you learn to shoot like that?” asked Jake. “I bought you that pistol two years ago and you’re always too busy to go target shooting with me.”
“I took lessons,” confessed Emma. Jake raised his eyebrows. “At the gun range in town. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well you sure did!” said Jake. “How on earth did you find us?”
“I passed the sheriff’s cruiser as he was headed onto the highway and I had just turned off,” she explained. “I had quite a shock when I noticed Nick and someone I couldn’t quite see in the back seat.” She looked up at Nick, who smiled at her. “I thought I’d better follow you and bail you out.”
Jake looked accusingly at Nick, who lifted his hands in appeal. “When was I gonna tell you without letting the cop know? I was just hoping Mrs. R saw me.”
Emma filled them in on how she had followed them. “I called the police when I realized you were headed out of town. They dispatched two cars but when we turned off the highway you would know that would be when my cell phone lost signal.”
As they learned after the deputy and highway patrolman had caught up to them, the dispatcher had heard Emma’s report about turning off the road and relayed the information to the patrol cars. The headlights Emma had seen behind her were the deputy’s. The highway patrol car was a few miles behind him.
“I’ve been carrying my pistol ever since Kristy showed me that she’s been carrying hers,” explained Emma. She didn’t have a concealed carry permit, as her assistant did, but no permit was required in Wyoming.
“Thank God for that,” said Jake. “Remind me to give her a raise.”
Emma poked him in the ribs and continued. “I got my gun out and followed on foot when I saw your car had stopped. I kept to the trees so I wouldn’t be seen. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it couldn’t be good so I was careful not to be seen.”
“How did you know the cop was the killer?” asked Nick.
“I didn’t, not until you two told me on the way back,” admitted Emma. “I saw Jake hit him with the door and when he got up, I saw him draw his gun to shoot him. Good guy or bad guy, I couldn’t just stand there.”
“Thank God you’re a crack shot,” observed Jake. “The coroner said Reggie was wearing body armor. If you’d hit him anywhere else, it wouldn’t have done much damage. He might have been able to get a shot off.”
Emma blushed, “I really can’t take credit for that,” she said.
“What do you mean?” asked Jake.
“I was aiming at his chest. I missed.”
ePILOG
The investigation into the corrupt Sheriff Newsome’s affairs led to a stash of ill-gotten cash and drugs, both of which the state promptly confiscated. A subpoena confirmed the sheriff owned The Gerecht Group just as he had boasted. He had thought the name a great joke since “Gerecht” is Dutch for law enforcement.
A few arrests were made, mostly drug dealers who had gladly sold the Meth Nate cooked in exchange for the sheriff looking the other way on some of their other activities.
After the trauma of being kidnapped and almost killed, Nick decided to take a semester off from school, with the blessings of both the college and of his former probation officer. They agreed he should stay close to his support system until classes started in the fall, so she helped him find a job and an apartment in Casper.
No one had claimed his father’s body so Nick and Jake arranged to have his father buried in the family plot on the ranch, next to his grandparents and great grandparents. Jake ensured the family retained an easement so that Nick and his descendants would always be able to tend to the gravesites.
Natrona County residents had been shocked and saddened by the turn of events. Sheriff Newsome had been a Wyoming native and he’d been elected and re-elected by a wide margin. People had liked him and the thought of him being a killer and a drug kingpin was a hard pill to swallow.
Still, people were thankful the investigation seemed to have cleaned up the corruption. The County Commissioners appointed a new sheriff until a special election could be held. The story faded into the background as life resumed its hectic pace. Fears subsided and people felt safe again.
The cell phone rang. He wasn’t going to answer it, but he knew that would only bring a temporary reprieve. They would call again. They always called again and they would keep calling until he gave in and answered. But that wouldn’t be today, he thought. Today, he was strong enough to just let it ring.
A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR
I started volunteering in the gift shop of Fort Caspar after retiring from a career in nonprofit human services. In November 2012, I was speaking with museum staff about a book I was writing that would eventually become Too Cute to Kill. They graciously suggested I locate a scene at the Fort.
I have taken minor creative license with some of the details of the setting in order to serve the purpose of the plot, but the Fort Caspar you see in the book is for the most part the one you will see if you are ever in Casper, Wyoming.
It is a delightful experience for children and adults and well worth ta
king time out of your next trip to Yellowstone National Park to swing through Casper and visit. There are many wonderful sights in and around Casper that will find their way into future Jake and Emma mysteries, but the Fort is an excellent starting point for tourist and author alike.
In the mid-1800’s the area around the present-day Casper offered home and hunting for the Shoshone, Crow, Lakota, Cheyenne, Arapaho and Ute tribes. The North Platte became a fixture of the trail as emigrants began to embark on a dangerous overland journey seeking a new life in the Oregon Territory, gold in California or religious freedom at the foot of the Wasatch Range in Utah.
Turbulence between the Lakota and Cheyenne tribes and the rising tide of emigrants inspired the Army to send a detachment of soldiers to guard the emigrant bridge built across the North Platte by Louis Guinard, eventually renaming the encampment the “Platte Bridge Station.”
On July 25, 1865, 22 year-old 2nd Lieutenant Caspar W. Collins led 25 men out of the Station on a mission to meet a small wagon train and escort it to the Station through the hostile Cheyenne and Sioux that had gathered nearby.
The detachment was attacked, heavily outnumbered, and fought their way back to the Station. Five men, including Collins, were killed. Later that day the wagon train was attacked within five miles of the Station with only one survivor.
To honor the young cavalry officer, the Army changed the name of the Platte Bridge Station. Since Fort Collins in Colorado had already been named after Caspar Collins’ father, the Army chose the name Fort Casper (misspelling the name and it was this spelling the town of Casper adopted when it was incorporated nearby). In 1867 the Army moved the garrison to Fort Fetterman in Douglas and Fort Casper was abandoned.
In 1936 the citizens of Casper partially reconstructed the fort, reflecting how it would have looked in 1865. The citizens who rebuilt the fort decided to correct the Army’s misspelling and christened the museum Fort Caspar.
The museum is operated by the City of Casper and features the reconstructed buildings, a replica of the Mormon ferry that operated at the site in the 1840’s and a rebuilt section of the bridge. The fort buildings are open May – September with a year-round set of exhibits available in the museum building.
On your way in, be sure to put a pin on the map to mark your home town as visitors have done from across the U.S. and all over the world.
Main street murder
a jake and emma mystery
“You have got to be kidding,” groaned Emma Rand as she stood at the bedroom window, gazing dispiritedly out on a landscape that looked more like February than May. Yesterday she had been exploring her flower beds, welcoming each tulip and daffodil that heralded the coming of spring.
Sometime during the night it had started to snow and it had kept on snowing. “There must be two foot of snow out there,” Emma said, “and it’s still coming down. I can’t even see the mountain.”
Her husband mumbled incoherently. Emma turned away from the window and crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed. “Jake, wake up. You’re going to have to drive me to work.” Emma was a transplanted Californian and the one thing she hated most about her life in Wyoming was driving in the snow.
Jake mumbled again and pulled the quilt over his head. Emma nudged him but there was no response. She tugged the quilt down to his shoulders and kissed his cheek. No response. She stroked his shoulder and blew softly in his ear. He swatted at her and snuggled more deeply into the bed.
Emma sat up and gave Jake a playful push, “We have obviously been married too long,” she told him. “You’re immune to my womanly charms.”
Emma yelped when Jake’s arm suddenly emerged from beneath the quilt and wrapped around her waist. Jake pulled her onto the bed next to him and gave her startled lips a hungry kiss. Emma giggled and smiled up into her husband’s no longer sleepy eyes. “That’s more like it,” she told him.
An hour later they stood together in the sunroom, watching the blizzard. The snow swirled in every direction, blotting out the mountain, the lights of Casper – they couldn’t even see the lights of their nearest neighbor, just half a mile away.
Peachy, their regal older cat, walked behind them into the sunroom. She went sedately through the kitty door into the back yard, as was her habit on cool spring mornings. She turned back so suddenly when she discovered it was snowing that she ran headlong into Sparky, who was following hot on her heels.
Hisses and paw swipes were exchanged before both cats settled into a comfortable chair close by the sunroom’s heater. Sparky snuggled next to Peachy, tucking her feet under the larger cat. Peachy promptly bit her ear but the younger cat merely purred and went to sleep.
“I don’t think you’re going to work today,” said Jake.
“I have to,” she answered. “I have clients. I’m booked solid all week because we’ll be gone next week.”
Jake and Emma took the second week of May off every year to celebrate their anniversary. Every year they took a trip to someplace they’d never been before. Next week they were going to Montana, to be among the first visitors of the year at Glacier National Park.
“Nobody is going to drive through a blizzard to see their therapist,” said Jake. Emma elbowed him in the ribs. “Or their attorney,” he added quickly. “I’m just saying people in Casper are smart enough to stay home when the weather gets like this. Nobody is going to expect either one of us to be in the office today.”
“If it’s as bad in town as it is here, I agree with you,” replied Emma. “But you know we always get more snow this far up the mountain. I’d better call Kristy and see what she thinks.”
Kristy Castle was Emma’s receptionist, and a gem. The two women were nothing alike in looks or personality. Emma was tall and slender with dark brown hair that got shorter with each year she lived in the Casper wind.
Kristy was a platinum blonde, five feet tall in heels with a figure she described as “comfortable.” Kristy’s passion for detail kept the office running smoothly despite Emma’s impulsive forgetfulness.
She’d come to Emma as part of a work-training program. Emma had never dreamed her practice could support both herself and a paid assistant. She’d been through a number of program trainees over the years. Some of them helpful most were less so until Kristy was assigned to her.
Kristy’s efficient billing of insurance companies and gentle but firm collection of delinquent accounts had enabled Emma to hire her full-time when her placement ended. Despite their differences – Kristy joked it was because of their differences – the partnership worked.
Kristy lived in a downtown loft and would know what the roads in Casper were like. Unless she was already at work, thought Emma, wondering why I’m not there yet.
Kristy picked up on the first ring. “I already called everyone who was on the schedule today,” she answered, seeing Emma’s name on her caller ID. Having heard the weather reports calling for heavy snow, Kristy had brought the calendar home with her for just such an emergency.
Emma laughed, “You’re two steps ahead of me, as usual. How much snow have you got down there?”
She could hear Kristy walking to the bank of windows that lined the south wall of her apartment. Kristy’s steps echoed on the polished concrete floor. Emma loved Kristy’s loft for the view and the convenience but the style was far too modern for her tastes.
Kristy had laughed when Emma asked when she was getting her floor put in. “This IS my floor, Emma! I had them tear up what was here then stain and polish the concrete before I moved in.” Kristy laughed again when Emma had observed it would at least be easy to clean. Emma’s affection for dust-gathering knickknacks drove Kristy to distraction.
Normally, the loft boasted an amazing view of Casper Mountain but today all Kristy could see were the buildings around hers. “It’s pretty bad out there,” she told Emma. “I’d say we have at least a foot, maybe more. The plows are out but it’s coming down too fast for them to keep up. What’s it like up there?”
> “It’s a typical spring morning on the mountain,” joked Emma. “Jake says the weatherman is predicting three feet or more.”
“Then we’re sure to get five,” observed Kristy.
“Or it’ll stop in an hour,” agreed Emma. Weather was notoriously difficult to predict near the mountains. They laughed again and said goodbye.
Emma turned to Jake, who was filling the pellet stove which they used as their primary heat. “You were right. Snow day! You get the movies, I’ll get the popcorn.”
Jake shut the lid to the stove’s hopper and put the empty pellet bag in the trash. “I have a better idea,” he told her.
He wrapped his arms around her and tilted her head up to his. “I suppose the movies can wait,” agreed Emma.
2
The snow finally stopped early the next morning, dropping more than four feet on a water-starved Casper Mountain. The May Day Storm, as the newscasts referred to it, broke records across Wyoming for snowfall and low temperatures. Some parts of the state got nearly twice as much snow in that one storm than they’d had all winter.
Wyomingites rarely complain about snow. In fact, men across the state were humming as they broke out neglected snow blowers or hooked little-used snow blades to their pick-up trucks and started to dig out. They were too happy to see the moisture to complain about getting it in one storm.
Jake whistled as he waded through the drifts to the barn. Some of the drifts were over his head and at more than 6 feet tall that was saying something.
Casper, named for his all-white coat long before Emma ever thought about moving to Wyoming, rolled over for Jake to rub his belly. Charlie, jet black yin to Casper’s yang, jumped up and down, barking excitedly at Jake until he finished petting the older dog and had time to pet the six year-old “puppy.”
He fed the dogs and the barn cats, filling their heated water dish from the frost free tap the previous owner had installed for his horses. After doing a quick cat count, Jake went through to the attached equipment shed and started up his skid-steer.
Linda Crowder - Jake and Emma 01 - Too Cute to Kill Page 9