Scorned Justice: The Men of Texas Rangers Series #3 (Men of the Texas Rangers)

by Margaret Daley

  “Which means Laura didn’t put up a struggle or Mrs. Norris would have heard it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m glad you’re looking into Laura’s disappearance.”

  Brody waited until an officer approached his SUV. After giving the man Rebecca’s car keys, Brody pulled away from the curb. “I hope you don’t mind me being your guest again for a while.”

  “It’s fine. But I don’t want anyone else. I don’t see how Laura’s disappearance has anything to do with me directly. My family needs their life back. I don’t want to ever go through again what we’ve been through these past few weeks.”

  “How about Dad? He’s going to insist if he thinks you might be in danger.”

  “I love having your dad around. He’s been great for Hattie and the girls.”

  “To tell you the truth, last night he complained the whole way back to my house about not being at the ranch. I think he misses his ranch.”

  “Why did he sell it?”

  “It was too much to keep up with and be a full-time cop, too, plus driving back and forth from the ranch into town was taking up so much of his time. Sometimes when he was really into a case, he would stay at a motel close to the station. He hated that.”

  “But now he’s retired, and I think from what I’ve seen lately, he needs a purpose.”

  “I hadn’t thought of encouraging him to get a small spread, but I think you’re right. Since I’ve been back, I’ve seen how restless and unhappy he has been. He isn’t the type to sit around all day and watch TV or play golf four or five times a week, or even read much beyond the newspaper.”

  “I know of a ranch Jake was telling me about a couple of miles from the Circle S. Maybe he should take a look at it while he’s staying with us. I’ll bet he could talk Hattie into showing it to him. She knows the owner, who is moving to Florida to be near his aging parents. I’ve seen Sean’s interest in Hattie. She’d be down the road from him if he bought the ranch.”

  “Are you matchmaking, Rebecca Morgan?”

  “Yes, they would be good for each other.”

  At a stoplight, Brody angled toward Rebecca. “When things settle down, you and I need to have a serious discussion about what’s going on between us.”

  His gaze scorched a path over her face, but the urge to break eye contact was overridden by the need to stay connected. She wanted to say that there was no future beyond friendship, and even that was becoming risky. But the words wouldn’t form. The silvery gray of his eyes bound her to him until the person behind them honked.

  As Brody turned to face forward and drove through the intersection, she lifted her hand to her hot cheek. Surely, when her life got back to normal, she wouldn’t feel so drawn to this man, who offered her protection.

  J. R. fought his way out of a deep sleep. He jerked upright in the lounge chair in front of the TV, some inane show on, and grabbed his cellphone sitting on the table next to him. “Yes, what’s taken you so long to call?”

  “Obligations. It’s time. Make your move tomorrow.”

  “Good. I want this over with.” He disconnected the call and picked up the remote to turn off the TV. What he’d done this weekend hadn’t been as easy as he thought.

  He dragged himself out of the chair and headed for bed. Tomorrow would be a long day. But he doubted he’d get much rest tonight. He wasn’t looking forward to what he had to do next, but the woman deserved all the pain they could give her for what she’d done to his family.

  16

  What are you doing here? Taking me to lunch?” Rebecca said the next day when she let Brody into her office, not wanting to stay in there one second longer than she had to. Whenever she went to get something from Laura’s desk, she quickly retrieved what she needed and hurried back into her office. Laura’s empty chair and desk taunted her with a sense of helplessness concerning her friend’s disappearance.

  She faced Brody in the middle of her office and stiffened. His grim expression told her what she didn’t want to hear. “Laura? You’ve found her?”

  “No, not yet, but we found her car.”

  Rebecca took a step back and reclined against her desk. “Oh, good. She could still be alive. I thought—”

  “Rebecca, the police discovered her car in your driveway.”

  She gripped the edge of the desk. The galloping of her heartbeat matched the pounding of a horse’s hooves in a full run. “Was—was she in the car?”

  “No. I came to get the key to your house. I could have broken in, but I felt I owed it to you to let you know.”

  “You think she’s inside?”

  “I don’t know. Charlie is waiting there. We checked around the house and couldn’t find anything to indicate that someone broke in, but we still need to search your place before we expand the perimeter.”

  “I fixed the back door but hadn’t had a chance to get a new security system.” She straightened. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I figured you would say that.” He closed in on her and caged her against her desk, his hands on her upper arms.

  “She may be inside,” chilled and trembling, she swallowed the knot in her throat and continued, “like that man.”

  “That’s why you shouldn’t come.”

  If that’s the case, I’m the reason. I can’t run from that, but the person responsible will pay for it. “If she is inside, then I’ll need your protection because that means someone is after me, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the case I was presiding over.”

  “I’ve brought an officer to guard you.”

  She shook her head. “Not the same thing. I trust you and right now I’m not sure who to trust. This feels very personal.”

  “Yeah, I agree. And that is something we’re going to have to talk about. Who wants you to suffer?”

  That question stayed in Rebecca’s mind the whole way to her house, a place she never wanted to see again. When she saw Laura’s car, that notion was solidified—she would be putting the place up for sale as soon as possible. There was no way she would stay another night in that house. Shivers skimmed over her body, and she quickly got out of Brody’s SUV and into the warm early afternoon sun, but it did nothing to heat her cold insides.

  Charlie approached Brody. “If this is a crime scene, I can have some men here quickly. As is, the crime scene techs are coming to process Laura’s car, then have it towed to police impound. I’m sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances, Rebecca.”

  “Let’s get this over with.” She marched toward her front porch, took out her key, and put it in Brody’s palm. “I’m not staying out here.”

  He slid a look her way that warmed her insides a little. “I know. But you’re to stay put just inside the door. You don’t need—”

  “I won’t move,” she cut in. If Laura was found in her house, she didn’t want her last image of her friend to be anything but that of the alive, vibrant woman that she knew her to be. The second she stepped inside and the decaying scent of something dead accosted her, she knew Laura was somewhere in her house.

  As Charlie and Brody began their room-by-room search, Rebecca stood so straight her muscles locked into place, tension in every fiber of her being. The seconds—minutes—crawled by as she waited for the confirmation. Knowing it was coming. Wishing she was anywhere but here. The sound of footsteps alerted her to Brody’s approach. He didn’t need to say a word. Grief marked the planes of his face and darkened his eyes to a stormy gray.

  “Where did you find her?”

  He swallowed hard, tearing his gaze from hers. Again his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “In your bedroom, on the bed, like the other victim, except dead roses are scattered all over.”

  A picture of the witness on her bed, blood everywhere, invaded her thoughts. But this time Laura was the victim. Trembling started in her hands and spread through her body. She clutched her hands together to try to keep them from shaking so much.

  Brody laid his hand on her shoulder
.

  She yanked away, saying in a bare whisper, “No, not Laura. Not like that.”

  The sound of footsteps barely penetrated her mind. But seconds later, Charlie appeared in the foyer.

  “Rebecca, we need to get you out of here. I’m taking you back to the ranch.” Brody hung back, but concern clouded his eyes.

  “I have—I have a trial.” She couldn’t remember what case she was hearing, but work might keep her from thinking about . . .

  “I’ll let them know you’re ill and won’t be there.”

  She finally locked eyes with Brody. “Fine.”

  She headed for Brody’s SUV, Charlie and Brody flanking her. She lifted her chin and tried to present a facade of composure. If for some reason the person behind this was watching to get his jollies, she was not going to let him think he had won.

  Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she murmured, “I want you to come back and find the person responsible. He will pay.”

  “Rebecca, we can arrange for another security detail,” Charlie said.

  “No, so much manpower has already been used. I want those people on the case trying to find out who is behind this. I can have the ranch hands patrol, and with Brody or his dad guarding me, I’ll be fine, but I do want someone on Thomas and an officer to pick up the girls from school. Until this is over with, they’ll be staying at the ranch and not going to school.”

  “But you need . . .” Charlie stopped when he caught Brody shaking his head. “You two work it out. I’ll be processing the scene.”

  As they left, more cars arrived, bringing home how real this all was.

  “Hattie’s cell is going to voicemail. She’s already gone to pick up the girls.” Rebecca dropped her phone onto her lap.

  “Sheriff Overstreet sent a deputy to pick up the girls. He’ll follow them home.” At a stop sign, Brody reached over and wrapped his hand around hers for a few seconds. “When I get back later today, you and I need to talk about who would be after you if we rule out Alexandrov. Make a list of everyone you can think of. What cases have you presided over? You’re at the center of all this.”

  “You don’t think what happened to Thomas was an accident?”

  “I’m going to look at it as an attempted murder in light of what happened with Laura.”

  “Your car bombing?”

  “Maybe tied to this, but could still be part of the Petrov trial.”

  “What about the witness who was murdered and put in my bed? That has to be Alexandrov.”

  “With the tie to his bodyguard, yes, but to prove it may be hard.” Brody blew out a long breath. “But the guy who tried to run you down who was found behind the pawnshop might not be connected to Alexandrov. If it wasn’t Alexandrov, then why was Peter Ivanov killed?”

  “The gang?”

  “I don’t think so. The staging of the man’s body points to both groups. Why would either one do that?”

  “Then the killer was watching me. What if he didn’t want someone else to kill me because he wanted to?” Faces of people she’d seen in the last day scrolled through her mind. Some familiar. Some not. Was one of them the murderer?

  “Revenge?”

  “That can be a hazard of our job. A criminal not liking what happened and coming after us as payback.”

  Brody turned onto the highway that led to Dry Gulch and the Circle S Ranch. “When making your list of suspects, think of that. Who wants revenge on you? Who would go to these lengths? This has been carefully orchestrated.”

  The thought that someone hated her that much shook her to her core. Hugging her arms, she folded in on herself, wanting to escape to a place where none of this could happen, where peace would reign.

  I’m here for you, Rebecca.

  But all she wanted was to shout at God: Why is this happening to me? What have I done to cause this?

  Parked on a dirt road off the highway that ran from Dry Gulch, J. R. spied the car coming toward him, then checked to see if anyone was following behind it. Timing was crucial if this were going to work. As the vehicle passed him, he tugged on a ski mask, then pulled out onto the road, matching its speed while he scanned the area to make sure there was no traffic. The second he determined they were the only vehicles on the road, he accelerated and pulled around the PT Cruiser. When his truck was even with the car, he swerved into it. The driver jerked the wheel to the right, veering onto the shoulder of the highway and then into the drainage ditch.

  He slammed on the brakes, jumped from his pickup, and ran toward the PT Cruiser. The front end was smashed, and the vehicle sat at an odd angle, partway in the gully. As he yanked open the driver’s side door, he retrieved the syringe from his pocket and before the moaning woman could turn toward him, he plunged the needle into her neck.

  The older woman in the front passenger seat screamed. He raced to the other side as she opened the door and tried to stand. When he reached her, he hit her in the face with his fist, knocking her back into the car, her head striking the console.

  In the distance, he spotted a car coming toward them. He dragged open the back door near him, unsnapped the seatbelt, and grabbed the crying girl. The other one sat beside her in shock, her eyes round, her body stiff. No time for her. He hurried up the small incline with the child in his arms, wiggling and twisting. Her arms were flailing, but he managed to grab them. She screamed, an ear-piercing sound that shot pain through his skull.

  At his truck, he glanced back. The car was about three hundred yards away. He tossed the girl into the front, fumbled for the cloth soaked with chloroform, and managed to hold it over her nose and mouth long enough to knock her out. She slumped down, and her body slid onto the floor. He hurried to the driver’s side and floored his truck as the other car slowed at the scene of the wreck.

  He stared at the bloody scratches on his hand that the girl had inflicted. Great. He didn’t like things to go wrong. There was only supposed to be the driver to deal with. Why had that changed?

  In the foyer at the ranch house with his cellphone to his ear, Brody started walking away from Rebecca and his father. He shoved open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. “What do you mean the kids and Hattie weren’t at the school?”

  His question rooted Rebecca to the floor for a moment until she couldn’t hear anything else he said. Then she charged forward to find out what was going on. Sean followed.

  “They were picked up?”

  Brody’s scowl riveted her attention, and she tried to discern what was happening. “Is something wrong with the girls?”

  He held up his finger and said to the deputy on the other end of the line, “We’ll try both of them again. Thanks.”

  When Brody lowered the phone from his ear, he looked at Rebecca, his expression evening out into a neutral one. “The deputy missed Hattie by a couple of minutes. He’s driving toward the ranch, trying to make up time. He should overtake them soon. Here. Try Hattie and Tory. They both picked up the girls today.”

  Rebecca tried Hattie’s phone, and it went to voicemail again. Then with a trembling hand she punched in Tory’s number, and on the fourth ring, a man answered.

  “Oh, sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

  She started to disconnect when the man said, “Were you calling a woman with long blonde hair?”

  “Yes?” Sweat coated her forehead.

  “I just pulled up to a wreck. There’s a little girl in the back, not saying a word, just sucking her thumb and rocking, an older woman out cold in the front seat and a younger blonde lady behind the wheel. Unconscious, too. I called 911.”

  She barely heard anything beyond the word wreck. It took half a minute for the meaning to sink in. “Where are they?” Her mind ached, as though it were on overload and couldn’t process anything else. What was she missing?

  After the man gave her the location, she thanked him and clicked off. Both Brody and Sean hovered nearby, staring at her. “Tory, Hattie, and Aubrey were in a wreck outside Dry Gulch, driving toward San
Antonio the back way at the one-mile marker.”

  Brody moved closer and took his phone. “Where’s Kim?”

  “Kim? She wasn’t in the car. She might have gone over to a friend’s house. She’d been wanting to. Or . . .” The implication of what might have happened flooded her mind, halting any further words.

  “Let’s go. Dad, please stay here in case Kim is at a friend’s house and she calls or is brought home.” As he strode to his SUV with Rebecca right behind him, he placed a call to Sheriff Overstreet.

  No, Kim’s at a friend’s house playing. Rebecca had left early this morning and didn’t know exactly what her niece’s after-school plans were. That has to be it.

  But on the short drive to the scene of the wreck, Rebecca still couldn’t speak the words to reflect the doubt bombarding her from all sides. Her mind went blank until she saw the wreck a few hundred yards away. The ambulance was already there along with a car from the sheriff’s department.

  When Rebecca stepped out of Brody’s SUV and approached the PT Cruiser in the ditch, she saw that one paramedic was checking Hattie who sat in the passenger side front seat, while the other was seeing to Tory, lying on a gurney near the ambulance. Rebecca was striding toward Hattie to find out what had happened when her gaze latched onto Aubrey, sitting in the sheriff’s patrol car, the back door open, her feet dangling out, her thumb in her mouth, her chin touching her chest. Rebecca changed direction and hurried to Aubrey.

  “Honey, are you all right?”

  For a long moment, Aubrey kept her gaze and head down.

  Rebecca laid her hand over her niece’s. “Aubrey?”

  When she glanced up, the blank expression on her face scared Rebecca more than if the child had been hysterical.

  “Sweetie, tell me what’s wrong.”

  Tears began to well up in her niece’s eyes. “He—took her.”

  “Who?”

  “Bad man took Kim.”

  “So your sister was with you?”