OUTLAW LAWMAN

by Delores Fossen

  She looked at Harlan to see what his take was, but his phone buzzed before he could say anything. “It’s Sergeant Tinsley from Cross Creek.”

  Caitlyn immediately shifted her attention to the call, and she hoped like the devil that it was good news. Maybe they’d even managed to catch the ski-masked guy who’d shot at them.

  “Marshal McKinney,” Harlan answered, and she could hear the hope in his voice, too. They so needed a break.

  But it wasn’t exactly relief or good news that she saw in Harlan’s body language. Caitlyn couldn’t hear what Tinsley had said to make Harlan’s forehead bunch up, but she figured it meant their attacker was still at large.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Harlan said to Tinsley. “And call me the minute you find him.” He ended the call and looked at her. “They got a print off the threatening note that was left on the steering wheel of the truck.”

  That was the last thing Caitlyn had expected, especially since Tinsley had already told them the cab of the truck was clean—no sign of anything they could use to confirm the identity of their attacker.

  “The print belonged to Billy Webb,” Harlan added.

  Caitlyn didn’t even try to stop the sound of surprise she made. Billy—Sarah and Jonah Webb’s son. And a prime suspect as his mother’s accomplice in the murder. Better yet, he was the one suspect the Rangers hadn’t been able to find or interview.

  “Billy,” Slade repeated. “This is the first time he’s surfaced since his father’s body was found.”

  “First time he’s surfaced in years,” Harlan agreed. “He hasn’t been using a credit card or bank account. No current driver’s license either. Even his own mother claims she hasn’t heard from him. The guy’s been off the grid for years—so long in fact that I thought he might be dead.”

  Yes, and that was why the attack and the threats didn’t make sense. “Why would he come after Harlan and me—especially like this?”

  All three of them stayed quiet a moment, obviously giving that some thought. “Maybe he wants revenge,” Slade finally suggested.

  Harlan’s gaze connected with hers, and she saw his bingo! moment.

  “Maybe Billy didn’t want his father dead,” Harlan continued. “Maybe he’s going after people he thinks could have helped his mother. Sarah’s in a guarded room at the hospital,” he quickly added.

  Probably because he saw the alarm in her eyes. If this theory about Billy was true, then he would want his mother dead—and Sarah was in a coma, unable to protect herself.

  There was no love lost between Caitlyn and Sarah. The woman had never lifted a finger to stop her husband from beating the kids at Rocky Creek. Caitlyn included. But truth was, Caitlyn owed Sarah a huge favor. If she hadn’t knifed her own husband to death, then Harlan, his brothers and all the rest might have had to spend even more time in that hellhole.

  “Why would Billy go after Sherry and Tiffany?” Slade asked—the very question that was on Caitlyn’s mind. “They both had decent alibis for the night of the murder.”

  Decent but maybe not enough. “Billy might know something we don’t,” Caitlyn concluded. “There were a lot of people moving around the facility that night, and the window for Webb’s murder is wide enough that anyone could have done it.”

  A chilling thought. Because maybe that meant Billy could be picking them off one by one. Still, Caitlyn wanted to know why he’d started with Tiffany. Maybe Sherry, too. And then moved on to her.

  “Do you have a current photo of Billy?” she asked. “Because I wasn’t able to find one.”

  Both Harlan and Slade shook their heads, and she knew exactly what that meant. Yes, Sergeant Tinsley and plenty of other cops would be looking for Billy, but without a current photo, it would make that search a whole lot more difficult—especially since, as Harlan had already pointed out, Billy had been off the grid for a while now.

  Caitlyn heard the sound of a car engine, and all three of them turned toward the road. She couldn’t see the ranch hands Slade had said would stand guard there. But she did see the approaching bright red sports car.

  Hardly the kind of vehicle a Texas Ranger would drive.

  “Someone you know?” Caitlyn immediately asked Harlan and Slade.

  They didn’t answer but moved in front of her like a curtain of solid muscle. Slade already had his rifle ready, and Harlan drew his gun. Caitlyn didn’t blame them. If she’d had her weapon, she would have pulled, too.

  The car came to a noisy stop, the tires kicking up gravel and dust from the road, and the driver didn’t waste a second before she heard the car door open. She couldn’t actually see it, because both men were blocking her view.

  “You know him?” Harlan asked his brother.

  Slade shook his head.

  Caitlyn came up on her tiptoes and looked at their visitor from over Harlan’s shoulder.

  God.

  Her heart dropped to the floor.

  “Caitlyn,” the man said. Despite the wide smile stretching his mouth, he lifted his hands in the air as if surrendering. “Long time, no see.”

  “Who is he?” Harlan demanded.

  Caitlyn opened her mouth, but it took several moments to get her throat unclamped so she could speak. “Jay Farris.”

  Chapter Seven

  Harlan aimed his gun directly at the man walking toward his porch. Slade did the same, and he took up position on the other side of Caitlyn.

  “Don’t come a step closer,” Harlan warned their visitor.

  Farris came to a dead stop, but he kept smiling. Either this guy was truly nuts—a distinct possibility—or else he enjoyed unnerving everyone around him, because that smile was downright spooky. This darn sure wasn’t a smiling kind of situation.

  Harlan had never seen a photo of Farris and hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he hadn’t expected this. Farris wasn’t the sort of man to blend into a crowd. Not with that stark bleached-blond hair and deep tan. In his cutoff khakis and white T-shirt he looked more like a rich beach bum than a would-be stalker.

  Too bad Harlan couldn’t say with 100 percent certainty that it’d been Farris wearing the ski mask at the motel. And now the waters were even muddier with Billy Webb’s fingerprint that had been found on the latest threatening note. Still, Harlan wasn’t about to dismiss blondie here as innocent just because Billy had resurfaced.

  “Caitlyn,” Farris repeated as if welcoming her to come closer.

  Harlan didn’t budge in case she intended to do just that, but Caitlyn didn’t move either. One glance at her, and Harlan realized that was because she was frozen in place. She was too pale again, and she definitely wasn’t smiling. He saw every bit of the fear in her eyes.

  “What do you want?” she snapped at Farris. Her gaze was frozen as well on the madman who’d not only made her life a living hell, but also had tried to strangle her.

  Yet here he was. Free as a bird.

  Harlan would soon figure out what he could do about remedying that. The restraining order that Caitlyn had on Farris would have likely expired, but they could get a new one.

  “I needed to see you,” Farris said. If he was alarmed by the two guns trained on him, he didn’t show it. “It’s all over the news about your kidnapping. Someone took shots at you, they said, and when I saw Marshal McKinney’s name, I did an internet search and found the address of the ranch. I thought you might be here.”

  Hell’s bells. Of course it would be on the news. Harlan had forgotten about trying to suppress the story so it wouldn’t clue in people like Farris that Caitlyn might be with him or any members of his family. Of course, if Farris was the person trying to kill them, he already knew about the attack anyway.

  But there was something about this that just didn’t fit.

  If Farris had wanted Caitlyn dead, then why hadn’
t he killed her after he hit her with the Taser? He would have had the perfect opportunity, since she couldn’t have fought back. Of course, sometimes crazy people didn’t do logical things, and maybe he wanted a fight. Maybe he wanted to prolong her fear as long as possible.

  “Are you okay?” Farris asked Caitlyn. “Were you hurt?”

  She made a sound, a burst of laughter, but it wasn’t from humor. “That’s a strange question coming from you. The last time you were within reaching distance of me, you put your hands around my neck and tried to choke the life out of me.”

  It made Harlan’s blood boil to hear that. Caitlyn wasn’t a large woman by any means, and he hated that she’d come so close to dying. Back then and again today.

  Finally Farris’s smile dissolved. “Yes, that,” he mumbled. He scratched his eyebrow, then his head. “I was going through some bad stuff, but I got the help I needed, and I’m all better now.”

  “Forgive me if neither my neck nor I believe that,” Caitlyn snapped.

  Harlan wanted to cheer for her. It was hard to sound that gutsy when he could feel her trembling against his back.

  “I can understand why you’d be skeptical,” Farris went on as if discussing a parking ticket rather than a felony. “But, honestly, I’m just here to help.”

  “Help?” she repeated.

  “How the hell can you help?” Harlan added. “And you’d better say it fast because you’re not going to be anywhere near this ranch in a couple of minutes.”

  Despite his warning, Farris stayed unruffled, which only added to Harlan’s opinion that this guy was crazier than a june bug. “I need to reach in my pocket and take out something. Please don’t shoot me when I do it.”

  Harlan wasn’t about to agree to that until he had more info. “What’s in your pocket?”

  “Something you both should see. It’s a photo.”

  That got his attention. Apparently it got Caitlyn’s, too. “What kind of photo?” she demanded.

  “One of the marshal and you. Someone sent it to me early this morning.”

  Obviously as puzzled as he was, Caitlyn glanced at Harlan and shook her head.

  “Take out the picture slowly, using just two fingers, and hold it up for us to see,” Harlan ordered. “Don’t come any closer.”

  Farris followed Harlan’s orders to a tee, and he thrust the photo in their direction. Even though Farris was a good five yards away, Harlan could still make out Caitlyn and him. Her gasp let him know that she’d made it out, as well.

  It was a shot of Caitlyn and him half-naked on the motel bed.

  “Needless to say, I was shocked to get this,” Farris went on. A muscle flickered in his jaw, and for the first time since his arrival, Harlan thought he might be seeing some real emotion on the man’s face.

  And that emotion was jealousy.

  Great. Just what they needed. A jealous nut job of a stalker with homicidal tendencies.

  “Who sent that to you?” Harlan asked.

  “Don’t know.” Farris looked at the photo, and the jaw muscle got even tighter. “Someone rang my doorbell this morning, and when I answered it, no one was there. Just an envelope on the doorstep with this photo and a note inside.” Farris’s gaze snapped to Caitlyn. “I didn’t know you were seeing your old flame.”

  “I’m not,” she insisted.

  Farris studied the picture again, made a sound of disagreement. “You’re in bed with him.”

  “Not voluntarily,” Harlan supplied. “Someone drugged us and handcuffed us together.”

  That caused Farris to pull back his shoulders, and without taking his attention off the photo, he shook his head again. “I don’t see any handcuffs.”

  “They were there.” Harlan held up his left hand so that Farris would see the reddish circular bruise on his wrist. “Now, what did the note say?”

  It took a moment for Farris to answer, and while he could be faking, he seemed genuinely surprised with the handcuff revelation. “The note was typed, and it said you were in room 109 at the Starlight Inn in Cross Creek.”

  “God,” Caitlyn murmured.

  Harlan hadn’t thought it possible, but he felt her muscles tense even more, and she put her hand on the small of his back. Probably because her legs weren’t so steady. With her still fighting off the effects of the drug and the near fatal shooting, a confrontation with her stalker was the last thing she needed, but Harlan saw this from the eyes of a lawman. That photo was evidence of a setup.

  Well, it was if Farris was telling the truth.

  Harlan had no plans to believe him any time soon.

  “I’ll bet you weren’t happy when you saw that picture of Caitlyn and me,” Harlan remarked, and he kept a close watch on the man’s reaction.

  “I wasn’t.” His gaze rifled to Harlan. “Wait a minute. You don’t think I was so enraged when I saw this that I then tried to kill you?”

  Harlan shrugged, but that was exactly the direction he was going. “You tell me. Is that what happened?”

  “No.” Farris cursed and denied it again. “I got help for my mental problems. I’m not a violent person anymore.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Caitlyn said, and she cleared her throat and repeated it. “Because someone did come to that motel room and try to kill us.”

  “Well, that someone wasn’t me,” Farris practically shouted. But the fit of temper went as fast as it came, and he scrubbed his hand over his face. “Look, I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay and because I thought you should know about this photo. Caitlyn, someone obviously wants to hurt you.”

  “Obviously,” she said with a massive amount of sarcasm dripping from her voice. “But I didn’t need you or the photo to convince me of that. The bullets convinced me just fine.”

  “I’m sure they did. But what’s this all about?” Farris pressed. “Is this happening because of one of your articles?”

  Harlan wished it were that simple. Heck, for that matter he wished he could just go ahead and arrest Farris on the spot and force him to confess to setting all this up.

  But Billy’s fingerprint didn’t fit.

  In fact, it was entirely possible that Billy had been the one to set it up and that he’d merely used Farris as a pawn. As unhinged as Farris seemed to be, he’d be easy to manipulate.

  “This is Marshal Slade Becker,” Harlan said, tipping his head to his brother. “And he’s going to escort you into town, where you’ll be tested for gunshot residue.”

  He waited for Farris to object, but the man only shrugged. “I didn’t fire a gun.”

  “Then you have nothing to be concerned about, do you?” Harlan answered.

  Farris glanced at his car. Then the road. And Harlan braced himself for the man to make a run for it. He didn’t. Farris turned back to them and nodded.

  “Hope the test won’t take long,” Farris said. “I have a therapy appointment in two hours.”

  “I’ll make it fast,” Slade growled. “I’ll follow you to the marshals’ building on Main Street in town, and don’t think about ditching me because I will chase you down.”

  Coming from Slade, that was a formidable threat, and Harlan mumbled a thanks to his brother.

  “My advice,” Slade whispered to Harlan. “Don’t wait around for Ranger Morris to arrive and arrest you. We need to be able to clear your name in case this bleached-blond piece of work doesn’t pan out.” He went down the porch steps to his truck.

  “I’ll be in touch, Caitlyn,” Farris called out to her as if this had been some kind of social visit. The man was an idiot.

  Or else he was very smart.

  And that was what worried Harlan most.

  “What happens if there’s gunshot residue?” Caitlyn asked. “Will that be enough to arrest him?”

 
Harlan watched them drive away. “Enough to hold him for a while.”

  He took her by the arm and led her back inside. Partly because he didn’t want Farris gawking at her in his rearview mirror. But the main reason was there could still be another attack.

  Right away he noticed the open drawers on his TV cabinet. Things had been moved around but not trashed even though there was fingerprint powder on just about every visible hard surface. His brothers had no doubt sent an entire team of CSIs out to his place once they’d realized he was missing.

  Caitlyn pulled in a weary breath and sank onto his sofa. “What are we going to do about those warrants for our arrest?”

  Harlan wasn’t sure she was going to like this. Or even if it was the right thing to do, but he was going to listen to Slade on this. “We should leave.”

  She’d already started to ease the back of her head onto the sofa, but that stopped her. Harlan figured she’d at least question that decision.

  Caitlyn didn’t.

  She got up and looked down at the scrubs she was still wearing. “At least let me get my overnight bag from my car so I can change clothes.”

  He nodded, locked the door. “I need to do the same.” He’d stick out like a sore thumb in the green scrubs because he didn’t come close to looking like a medic. “I won’t be long, and if you hear a car drive up, stay away from the windows.”

  Harlan headed to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of jeans. His bed was unmade and things had been tossed around. A reminder that whoever had shot them with a Taser had probably ransacked the place.

  But looking for what?

  More proof that he and Caitlyn were sleeping together? Something to do with Webb’s murder?

  He pulled on his jeans and was in midzip when he heard the movement, and he automatically grabbed his gun and whirled in that direction.

  However, it was only Caitlyn.

  “Yeah, I’m jumpy, too,” she muttered. She bracketed her hands on the jamb. “But I was thinking of something. Whoever orchestrated this attack didn’t make any mistakes—”