Lock, Stock and McCullen (The Heroes of Horseshoe Creek Book 1)

by Rita Herron

  “Think,” Carl said, his voice shrill.

  Pure panic flared in his eyes. If she didn’t figure out where he’d hidden it, Carl would kill her.

  She swallowed hard. He’ll kill you anyway.

  For all she knew, her father had lied about the tape, had made it up as a precaution. And no telling where he’d stuck that cash. If in fact, he actually had taken it.

  She couldn’t believe anything Carl said.

  Her only hope was to stall. If Maddox was still alive, she had to give him time to find her.

  * * *

  MADDOX SPOKE WITH the head of the US Marshals’ office, a man named Stone Hunter, as the crime team processed the homestead and the firefighters extinguished the shed fire. “Yes, we found Marshal Norton dead. And the killer took Rose Worthington hostage.” He explained what he knew so far and his suspicions.

  “Yes, Norton was investigating the Worthingtons and searching for that little girl on the milk carton. Apparently Norton’s uncle was the sheriff who worked the case years ago. He put the little girl in that foster home and never got over the fact that she was kidnapped on his watch. On his deathbed, he asked his nephew to continue looking for her.”

  “What did Norton find out?”

  “Hang on, I’m accessing his files now.”

  Maddox heard the tapping of keys and silently urged the man to hurry. Every second meant Rose could be closer to death.

  “His notes indicate that the little girl’s real name was Hailey Hudgens. Her father, Keith, worked for a pharmaceutical company owned by Bill Redding.”

  “The Bill Redding of Redding Pharmaceuticals?”

  “One and the same,” Hunter said. “Norton scribbled notes that he suspected Hudgens discovered Redding falsified data regarding drug testing to push FDA approval and made a fortune.”

  “But Norton said Rose’s birth parents and the Worthingtons were involved in money laundering?”

  “That was a theory early on when the couple went missing, but his notes here say he didn’t believe it. That he suspected Redding murdered the Hudgenses to keep them quiet about the pharmaceutical.”

  “The Worthingtons, aka Millie and Lloyd Curtain, were friends of the Hudgenses. They took the little girl and went into hiding, because she witnessed the murder and could identify Redding?” Maddox said.

  “That’s what Norton believed.”

  “So they were protecting her?”

  “Yes.”

  “When Norton began digging into the old case, Redding must have panicked and hired someone to kill Rose,” Maddox said.

  “That makes sense,” Hunter said. “And explains how Thad Thoreau got involved.”

  “The man who assaulted me and kidnapped Rose is too young to be Redding,” Maddox said. “He probably hired him. Do you have an address for Redding?”

  More keys clicking, then Hunter replied, “Yes. Oh, and according to this, Redding has a son named Carl. I’ll text you his photo now.”

  Maddox’s phone dinged with the incoming text, and he cursed as he looked at the picture. “Dammit, Rose mentioned that she overheard Thad talking to a man named Carl. Carl must have Rose now.”

  Hunter scowled. “I’ll send men to Redding’s office and home.”

  “Good, but the son wouldn’t take her there.”

  “Maybe not, but we can pressure Redding to tell us where he’d go.”

  “Good point. Did Redding own any property away from town? A vacation home or cabin somewhere remote?”

  “Let me look.” A tense minute passed, then Hunter spoke again. “Yes. I’ll text you the GPS coordinates now.”

  “Thanks.” Maddox joined Hoberman again, and quickly relayed what he’d learned. “Call me if you find something,” he yelled as he jogged toward his car.

  He flipped on his siren, pressed the accelerator and roared away. According to his GPS, the place was about thirty miles away.

  “Hang on, Rose,” he whispered. “I’m coming.”

  * * *

  ROSE’S MIND RACED for a way to stall Carl. But he was pacing, his movements agitated, his words becoming incoherent.

  “How can you do this to me? We played together when we were children.” She searched his face for any semblance of the kind boy she’d once known. “You pushed me in the tire swing. I remember that now. And we played hide-and-seek and roasted marshmallows on that old metal rim that my father used as a grill.”

  Carl paused, his eyes wild with anger and panic. “Don’t you see? I can’t stop now. It’s too late.”

  “You don’t have to kill me,” Rose said. “Is that what your father wanted? For you to become a murderer?”

  “My father wanted to build an empire and help people,” Carl shouted. “And he did, but your father was going to ruin it.”

  “Just because they messed up doesn’t mean we have to,” Rose argued. “You can stop it now, Carl. Stop the violence and prove that you’re a good man.”

  Carl fisted his hands and shook them in the air, sweat beading on his skin. “You don’t understand. It’s too late.”

  “No, it’s not too late. It’s never too late to do the right thing.”

  His eyes flared with indecision, regret. But he continued pacing, his hand tightening around the gun. “Just tell me where the tape is.”

  “I told you, I don’t know anything about money or a tape.”

  He grabbed her by her hair and shook her. “Think, Rose!”

  A sob caught in her throat. “I’m sorry, Carl, but you’re wrong. The Worthingtons lived a meager life, we didn’t have much, they never bought things. They didn’t have any money.”

  He yanked her up by her hair and dragged her toward the door. “Then I’ve got no use for you.”

  “Wait!” she cried. “Don’t do this, Carl, please.”

  She tried to elbow him, but he slammed the gun at her temple again and pain ripped through her head. She swayed, dizzy and nauseated, then he dragged her outside.

  Terrified, she dug her heels in, but he yanked her so hard her knees buckled, then he hauled her across the ground. Her legs and arms scraped dry brush, gravel digging into her sides.

  But he dragged her toward the river, his rage out of control, then shoved her facedown into the water.

  She held her breath, but mud and water seeped into her nose and she gagged. He jammed his foot on her back to hold her down, and pushed her deeper. She lost her breath and began to choke.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Maddox spotted the sedan parked by the cabin and prayed he wasn’t too late. But that car meant Carl had brought Rose here.

  He gripped his gun at the ready, pulled to a stop and jumped out. He headed toward the house, trying not to alert the man that he’d arrived, as he scanned the property and house for activity.

  A light burned in the front room.

  He eased up to the window and peered inside, but he didn’t see anyone. A noise from the back jarred him, and he hurried around the side of the cabin, braced to fire.

  His heart stopped when he spotted the outline of a man.

  And Rose—dear God, she was on her knees and the man was holding her down in the water. The bastard was going to drown her.

  Maddox inched closer until he stood less than a foot away, then lifted his weapon and aimed it at Carl. “Let her go,” he growled. “Or you’re a dead man.”

  Carl pivoted enough to see Maddox and the gun he had shoved in his face. Fear widened his eyes, and he released Rose. She fell face forward in the water like a rag doll.

  “Rose!” Maddox kept the gun trained on Carl, and hurried to drag her from the river. But Carl lunged toward him, swung his arm up and knocked at his gun hand. The gun fired into the air, and the two men fought for it.

  Maddox gripped it with all his might, and slammed his fist into Carl’s gut. Carl grunted but fought back, and the two of them traded blows. A hard one to the solar plexus sent Maddox staggering for a moment, and Carl jumped him.

  They went down
in a tangle, but rage fueled Maddox, and he bucked the man off him and rolled him to his belly. He glanced sideways for the gun but didn’t see it. Dammit. It had fallen between some rocks.

  Carl shoved him, but Maddox balled his hand into a fist and punched him in the face. Blood spurted from Carl’s nose and he spit out a curse, but an image of the man holding Rose’s face in the water taunted him, and Maddox punched him again.

  Carl’s head lolled to the side, but fury made Maddox punch him again and again until he lay limp.

  Finally a noise behind him brought him back to reality. Rose...

  God...

  He jumped off Carl and ran toward her. She was struggling to push herself up from the water, but the current was about to drag her away. He raced into the edge of the river, took her shoulders and lifted her head above water. She coughed and he picked her up, carried her to the embankment and laid her in the grass.

  “Rose, it’s me, you’re okay.” He quickly untied her hands, then raked her wet hair from her face and felt for a pulse, but it was weak and thready. She was also shivering from the elements. Worried about hypothermia, he jerked off his jacket and wrapped it around her. Scratches marked her face from the rocks but thankfully, there was no gunshot wound.

  He tilted her head back and checked her airway, then crossed his hands and pressed gently on her chest. Once. Twice. Seconds later, she coughed and began to spit water. He rolled her sideways, holding her head while she coughed up the murky river water.

  He stroked her face, grateful when she opened her eyes. They looked weak, strained, frightened, but when she saw him, a relieved breath rushed from her chest. “Maddox?”

  “I’ve got you,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  She tried to nod, but was obviously too weak. A noise sounded behind him. Brush rustling. He swung around and saw Carl crawling toward his gun.

  Maddox lurched up, darted to the rocks where his gun had fallen, snatched his weapon and aimed it. Carl swung his arm around and fired at Maddox, but Maddox dodged the bullet and fired back.

  His bullet pierced Carl’s chest. Carl’s eyes widened in shock as he sank like a rock. Maddox gripped his gun and strode toward the man, keeping his eyes on him in case he rallied. But when he reached him, Carl lay still, his lips parted in shock, his eyes wide in death.

  Still, Maddox checked for a pulse. Nothing.

  Relieved, he grabbed the bastard’s gun and jammed it in the waistband of his pants, then hurried back to Rose. Grateful she was alive, he pulled her into his arms and held her as he called for an ambulance.

  * * *

  THE NEXT FEW HOURS passed in a blur for Rose. She was so exhausted from her near death that she allowed the medics to transport her to the hospital for rest and observation.

  Maddox assured her he’d meet her at the hospital after he moved Carl’s body to the morgue.

  She slept for what seemed like hours, her dreams riddled with nightmares of Carl trying to drown her. When she woke up, morning light poured through the window, but she could still taste the stench of the muddy river water.

  She rubbed her eyes and propped herself against the pillows, then spotted Maddox in the chair in the corner, his head lolled to the side in sleep. When had he come in?

  Hating to wake him when she had no idea how long he’d been asleep, she slid from bed, washed her face and brushed her teeth with the toiletry set the nurse had left. One look in the mirror and she gasped at her disheveled appearance. Her hair was still streaked with dirt and mud. Desperate to wash off the stench of the night before, she showered and put on a clean hospital gown that she found folded on the shelf by the sink. She vaguely remembered the nurse telling her she’d leave it for her when she felt up to a bath. Then she combed her damp hair and tiptoed back to bed.

  She was alive and the danger to her was over. She wanted to go home.

  Only—she had no home. Carl and Thad had taken that from her, like they’d taken everything else.

  Where would she go? Maybe she could stay in the back room at Vintage Treasures.

  She pulled the covers up over her, contemplating calling the nurse to be discharged. Maddox stirred, then looked at her from the chair. His jaw was dark with stubble, his eyes grim.

  “How do you feel, Rose?”

  She swallowed back the emotions his gruff voice stirred. “Better now I showered.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she realized he was looking at the bruises on her neck and face. Self-consciously she rubbed her neck.

  “Carl’s body is at the morgue. We arrested his father last night.”

  A sigh of relief escaped her. “Did he confess to killing my parents?”

  Maddox gave a noncommittal shrug. “He lawyered up. But the CSI team that searched and processed your parents’ house found his prints there. And...they found the tape your father had recorded. Your father never took money from him, Rose. He turned it down flat. That’s the reason Redding killed him.”

  Relief flooded Rose At least her parents had been honest, good people. “Where did they find the tape?”

  “In the little jewelry box in your room.”

  “The ballerina music box?”

  He nodded. “CSI hunted everywhere in the house for a secret hiding place. Then I remembered how much your mother loved the music boxes she collected and told them to search for a music box. The only one in the house was—”

  “The pink one I had as a child.”

  “Right. Your father had hidden a key to a safety deposit box under the bottom.” He removed a small envelope from inside his jacket and handed it to her. “These were also tucked inside.”

  Rose took the envelope and opened it, tears swelling in her eyes at the sight of the handful of photographs tucked inside—pictures of her as a baby and a little child with her birth parents. They were holding her, loving her, celebrating Christmases and birthdays and having a picnic at the park.

  She wiped at the tears and offered Maddox a grateful look. “Thank you so much for these, Maddox.”

  “You’re welcome.” He paused. “There’s something else.”

  What more could there be?

  “Trina Fields...I know you thought she worked with Thad Thoreau, but that’s not exactly the story.”

  The sense of betrayal she’d felt with Trina returned to dig at her gut.

  “Then what is the story?”

  “She should be the one to explain.”

  Rose frowned, confused. “Why? If she helped Thoreau—”

  “Trust me, you’re going to want to hear her side.” Maddox stood. “Are you up for it now? She’s awake and anxious to talk to you.”

  Rose swallowed hard. “Fine.”

  “I’ll call the nurse for a wheelchair.”

  “I don’t need a chair, Maddox, I can walk.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, making sure the gown was tied in place, then allowed him to hold her arm as they walked down the hall to Trina’s room.

  She took a deep breath when she entered, a mixture of hurt and curiosity crowding her chest as Trina looked up at her with a tentative smile.

  Maddox grabbed the chair from the corner and situated it by Trina’s bed. “Sit down, Rose.”

  Her legs felt weak, and she sank into the chair and knotted her hands.

  “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”

  She started to protest, to tell Maddox she needed him, but bit back the words. Now she was safe, she had to learn to stand on her own again. Maddox had his own problems.

  “Thank you for coming, Rose,” Trina said softly.

  Rose gripped the edge of the chair with her fingers, ready to bolt any second. “Maddox said you wanted to explain.”

  Trina pushed herself to a sitting position, wincing as she settled the blanket in place. She was obviously in pain from the surgery.

  “I’m sorry for the way things happened,” Trina said. “But I want you to know the truth.”

  “You helped Thad Thoreau find me and...you both lie
d to me.”

  “He used me,” Trina said. “I had no idea he wanted to hurt you, Rose. You have to believe me when I say that. I would never hurt you.”

  “But you did by helping him.”

  “That wasn’t my intent. You have no idea how sorry I am. How much I regret trusting him.”

  Rose worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “What do you mean, he used you?”

  Trina ran a hand through her short hair, spiking the ends. For a moment, she looked young and vulnerable. “I’m adopted,” she began. “My adopted parents were great, and I loved them. But they were killed in a car accident a few months ago, and I decided to search for my birth family, for any relatives I might have. Thad told me he worked for an agency that helped adopted children find their families. He agreed to help me search.”

  Rose wrinkled her forehead, confused. “But he told me he worked for an energy company.”

  “I know. He used that as a cover story to get to know you.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Just bear with me. A couple of months after I hired him, he called and told me to come to Pistol Whip, that he’d found something. So I came here and applied for a job at Vintage Treasures.” Trina worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “At first, I was nervous. I didn’t tell you what I was doing, because I wanted to make sure it was true.”

  Rose was still having trouble following her. “Make sure what was true?”

  Trina wet her lips with her tongue.

  “What do you remember about your birth mother?” Trina asked.

  Rose toyed with the hem of her hospital gown. “Not much, just that she liked music boxes, and she let me crawl in bed with her at night when I was scared, and she’d sing to me.”

  Trina picked at a broken fingernail. “You don’t remember that she was pregnant when she died?”

  Rose gasped, struggling to recall details of her mother’s face. Her body. But she’d been so little at the time...

  “In fact, she was almost nine months pregnant,” Trina said. “Apparently she delivered the baby right before she died. The man who killed her took that infant and left it at a church nearby.”