by R. C. Ryan
Will audibly exhaled.
“But that raises a question. Could our mysterious shooter be this Ranaldo Rider? And if so, isn’t it safe to assume you could be the target?”
Will’s eyes went wide. “Do you know that for a fact?”
“What I know is this. Ranaldo went to Mercy’s place. She told him you’d been counseling her, and because of that he couldn’t come in and wouldn’t be allowed to see Hunter or be there for the birth of their daughter unless he agreed to show his respect by marrying her and supporting all of them. He went off the deep end and threatened her and her mother. When her mother phoned the local police, Ranaldo ran and hasn’t been seen since.”
Detective Godfrey waited a beat before lowering his voice. “I need to know. Was this a romantic involvement on your part or on the young woman’s part?”
“No.” Will gave an emphatic shake of his head. “I would never…” He paused before trying to explain. “If anything, I thought of Mercy as a little sister. I just wanted to do what was right, not only for her but also for her children.”
“All right. I’m willing to believe you. Reverend Palmer believes that, as well. So, there was no romantic relationship between you. But you know you messed up. You should have confided in your mentor. That’s his job, to counsel the counselor, and he takes it very seriously.”
Will bowed his head. “I know.”
“Reverend Palmer feels he failed you. Because of your inexperience, you have put the lives of innocent people in danger. Mercy and her son, her unborn baby, and even Ranaldo.”
“Ranaldo?” Will’s head came up sharply.
“He’s young. Angry. Scared. And probably being taunted by his friends for letting his woman push him around. That can cause a young man with a gun and a hair-trigger temper to do foolish, dangerous things. Right now, he isn’t wanted for any serious criminal activity. But all that could change. For all we know, he could be here in Haller Creek right now, seeking revenge against the man who started this downhill slide in his life.”
Will lowered his head to his hands. “I never thought it would go this far.”
“Nobody ever does.” Detective Godfrey stood. “I suggest you stay close to home. Don’t walk the streets. And stay away from the crowds at the Autumn Festival until this is concluded. We have a photo and description of Ranaldo Rider circulating among law enforcement agencies. We intend to keep a close eye for any sighting of him. At this point, because of the previous shootings, we have to believe he’s armed and dangerous. That means that the police have the right to treat him as a dangerous criminal and use deadly force if necessary.”
The detective glanced at Ben, who had remained silent throughout the entire interview. “I believe we now know the intended target of those shootings. I’ll be contacting Ms. Henderson with the news that she is no longer considered a target.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
Ben shook hands with Will and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay indoors, Will. I’ll drive past your house as often as I can, just to make sure nothing seems out of place. Call if you see anything suspicious.”
“Thanks, Ben. I will. And, Ben…” He swallowed. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”
Ben followed the state police detective down the steps to his truck. Once there he turned toward the sheriff’s office. As he drove, he breathed a sigh of relief. Even though this shooter hadn’t been found yet, it was enough to know the name of the suspect and to be assured that Rebecca was no longer the target.
Now to get this young punk off the streets before he did something he would live to regret.
Regret. Poor Will was learning a thing or two about that.
Ben tapped a finger on the steering wheel. His dad often said hell is paved with good intentions. A single deed, like a stone tossed into a pond, can create ripples that go on and on, changing calm waters to raging tides.
“So, our new minister was counseling a pretty young thing.” Virgil was seated at his desk, listening as Ben filled him in on the interview.
“He urged her to assert herself. When you think about it, that’s what most of us would want for her. But Will’s mentor, Reverend Palmer, claims it’s a mistake too many amateurs make. They forget about the consequences of such actions. In this case, the father of her kids is young and running with a bad crowd. Now he’s between a rock and a hard place. He loves the girl and their son but has to save face with his buddies.”
“And he decided to punish the one who got into his business.”
Ben nodded. “Detective Godfrey ordered Will to stay off the streets until this is resolved. I promised Will I’d drive past his place several times today and every day, just to see that he’s safe until the shooter is apprehended.”
“Good idea. The state police told me they’ll be patrolling the highways around Haller Creek and will have some undercover agents standing in the crowds at the festival. Hopefully, if that hoodlum comes within miles of our town, they’ll soon have him off the streets and in custody.” Virgil steepled his hands on the desktop. “You’ve got to be plenty happy to know Rebecca’s in the clear.”
“Yeah. Though I can’t tell her the details of the interview between the detective and Will, I thought I’d drive over to the hardware store and buy her lunch. Detective Godfrey was planning on giving her the good news that she’s no longer a target.”
“That should make the Autumn Festival a lot more fun for both of you.”
“Yeah. This is a huge relief.” Ben was smiling as he got to his feet and started toward the door. “But I’ll feel even better when the threat to Will is ended.”
Though he would be driving past Will’s place several times and was wearing his uniform and police-issue gun, he decided to drive his own truck, since he was officially off-duty while the state police filled in.
He couldn’t wait to see Rebecca’s face when he told her the good news.
Chapter Twenty-six
It was almost noon, and Rebecca was getting ready to close her business for the day. Her smile was as bright as the afternoon sun. The detective’s news that she was no longer considered the target of that shooter had given her an amazing sense of freedom. She hadn’t realized just how tense and fearful she’d been, and how much of a dark cloud had been hanging over her, until the fear and tension were suddenly lifted from her shoulders.
When she’d asked the detective about Will, he’d said only that she didn’t need to be concerned. She hoped and prayed that meant that they had both been cleared of any threat.
Rebecca closed out the cash register and began counting the money. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted sudden movement and glanced over her shoulder.
“Hi. Sorry. I didn’t see you there. I’m afraid we’re closed now.” She nodded toward the throngs of people walking along the street. “Autumn Festival is just about to start. But if there’s something I can help you with, just say the word.”
When the stranger didn’t respond, she turned to him.
The young man was good-looking in a rough sort of way. His jeans were worn so far beneath his waist they appeared to be falling off. His muscle shirt looked out of place in the cool autumn breeze, especially in a town where most of the young men wore denims and plaid shirts. Long black hair was blowing across his dark eyes. He lifted a hand to brush it aside.
That’s when she spotted the shiny object in his hand.
Rebecca froze, her gaze riveted on the pistol.
She held out a fistful of money. “Here. Take it. Just take it and leave.”
She turned away, hoping to run to the safety of the hardware store.
The sharp sting of metal against her temple had her seeing stars as the money slipped from her nerveless fingers and dropped to the ground, where it began blowing across the yard.
She stumbled, then righted herself and gained her footing, desperate to escape.
He lashed out a second time, hitting her harder.
His voice was a low rasp of barely controlled fury. “I di
dn’t come for the money, bitch. I came for you. You make a sound, you’re dead.”
Those were the last words she heard as her legs failed her and she felt herself slipping down, down into a long tunnel of darkness.
Ben was forced to leave his truck parked on a side street, since the main street along the downtown area had been turned into a pedestrian walkway for the race.
He started along Main Street on foot, enjoying the festive air.
The Hitching Post had wisely parked a food truck along the route, and a long line had formed to buy chili dogs and beer.
Dolly’s Diner was offering wrapped sandwiches and soda at a curbside tent. Families were lining up, eager to get ahead of the crowd before the race began.
The crowds had already begun forming on Main Street. The runners, each with a number across their chest, were milling about, stretching and trying to stay limber.
As Ben walked past the throng, he was forced to stop and chat with dozens of neighbors.
The mayor and the town council were gathering around a makeshift stage and viewing stand, where a microphone had been set up, along with a row of chairs for the officials to watch the race.
After his usual speech, the mayor planned to fire off a shot to signal the start of the race.
Everyone’s attention was focused on the mayor holding up the pretty gilt statue of a runner that would be awarded to the winner.
After passing the reviewing stand, and saluting the mayor and council members, Ben turned toward the hardware store, hoping he could find Rebecca in this crowd. Maybe, if he was lucky, she was still at work, and he wouldn’t have to hunt for her.
He was smiling as he ambled toward the fence marking her business alongside the hardware store. The sight of Roscoe’s fancy wrought-iron gate had his smile widening.
As he drew nearer, he saw Hank Henderson on his cell phone, gesturing wildly. Beside him, his wife, Susan, was crying.
Crying? That didn’t make any sense.
A crowd of people had gathered outside the fence, staring in grim silence.
As Ben shoved past them, his cell phone rang. He plucked it from his shirt pocket, noting the sheriff’s number.
“Yeah?” As he spoke, he saw Rebecca lying in the dirt in the center of her garden area and a young man crouched over her.
In that same instant his heart stopped when he heard someone in the crowd cry, “Gun! He has a gun!”
Ben’s family finished their ranch chores early and headed to town in a festive mood. Sam was at the wheel of the truck, with Mac seated between him and Finn. In the backseat, Roscoe, Otis, and Zachariah were carrying on a lively discussion of where they should end the day. Zachariah was singing the praises of Dolly’s meat loaf, while the two old cowboys voted for the Hitching Post’s half-pound burger and cold longnecks.
By the time they’d arrived at Haller Creek and located a parking place, they’d come to an agreement. They would have dinner at the Hitching Post and top off the evening with pie and coffee at Dolly’s diner.
Mac looked around at the nearly empty viewing stand. “Did we miss the race?”
Roscoe was shaking his head. “I thought we left in plenty of time…”
Sam pointed. “There’s something going on over at Henderson Hardware. Look at the crowd.”
The six men started over at a quick pace. Halfway there Finn spotted Horton Duke.
“Hey, Horton. What’s up with that crowd?”
The old man gave a quick shake of his head. “Some wild-eyed gunman is holding Hank’s daughter hostage.” He looked over at Mac. “With the sheriff out of commission, your boy’s alone, staring down the barrel of a gun. If you ask me…”
He found himself talking to air as the six men began running flat out toward the scene.
For the space of a heartbeat, Ben’s blood seemed to freeze in his veins.
Instinctively his hand went to his holster, and he removed his pistol before striding forward.
The sheriff’s voice was high with emotion. “Ben. I just got a report from Hank Henderson that Rebecca is being held hostage by a crazy gunman.”
“I’m here. I see them both. I’m on it, Virgil.” Ben automatically slid the phone into his shirt pocket before he stood, feet apart, facing Rebecca and the stranger.
Rebecca had been dragged to her feet, though she appeared dazed and wobbly. The man’s arm around her waist was holding her upright. In his other hand was a gun, pressed to Rebecca’s temple.
Ben knew, from the photo Detective Godfrey had shown him, that this stranger was the shooter they’d been hunting.
A shooter now holding Rebecca hostage.
At first, all he could focus on was the confused, terrified expression in her eyes and the blood dripping from an ugly cut to her temple.
Blood.
He’d hurt her. This madman had hurt sweet Becca.
Had she tried to resist? Or had he simply hurt her for the thrill of it?
Ben’s finger actually trembled on the trigger. All his old survival instincts kicked in. He was thrust back into a brutal childhood, where a sadistic man who’d passed himself off as a father figure had beaten a helpless boy for the slightest infraction of his rules. A past where two little brothers had clung to him during a rare reunion, begging him to find a way for them to escape their endless hell. He’d risked his life, and theirs, to make it happen.
All the pain of those years, all the feelings of desperation, were nothing to the fury that rose up in him at the sight of his beloved Becca at the mercy of this madman.
His icy demeanor masked the white-hot fury boiling inside.
But this time, he wasn’t a helpless kid.
His primal instinct took over his reasoning.
He knew, without a doubt, that he was the best marksman around. He was absolutely certain he could take this guy out with a single shot. But was he quick enough to keep this gunman from killing Becca in that same instant?
“Stop right there, Cop, or I blow her away.”
Ben stood quietly, absolutely determined to do what he had to.
From somewhere nearby came Reverend Will Theisen’s voice, trembling with emotion. “Let her go. I’m the one you want.”
Ben whirled to see Will standing, pale and shaking, just about to step inside the fenced area.
He kept his voice low, controlled. “You were told to stay indoors.”
“Rebecca’s father called to tell me she’s in trouble. This is all my fault, Ben. I brought this trouble to her doorstep. I want to help.”
“You can help by staying as far away as possible.” Ben moved, carefully positioning himself between Will and the gunman so there could be no clear shot to the unarmed minister.
The stranger shouted, “Yeah. You’re the one I want, Preacher. You’re the self-righteous pompous ass who persuaded Mercy to turn away from me unless I married her. Because of you she won’t even let me see my own kid. So now, Preacher, you’re going to see how it feels to have somebody take over control of the ones you love. Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. That would be too easy. Instead, I’m going to take out this pretty lady while you’re forced to watch. Then, just like me, you’ll never again get to see your woman.”
Ben kept his eyes steady on Rebecca’s, willing her his strength. “You made a big mistake. She’s not his woman. She’s mine.”
The stranger swore, loudly, fiercely, before shouting, “You’re lying, Cop. That’s what guys in power like you do to guys like me. You’re trying to confuse me. But I’m not stupid. Every time I trailed that preacher, he was with this woman.” He jammed his gun hard against Rebecca’s bloody temple, causing her to cry out as fresh blood streamed down the front of her shirt.
There was an audible gasp from the crowd of onlookers, who were watching the scene unfolding with looks of horrified fascination. Like witnesses to a horrible train wreck, they couldn’t tear their gazes from the gunman tormenting their neighbor and friend, even though it was heartbreaking to see
.
“I saw how cozy the preacher and this female looked. So don’t try to lie. I know she’s his woman.”
Ben’s finger hovered on the trigger of his gun while his mind circled every angle. Will’s arrival had caused this gunman to become even more agitated, and that made him all the more dangerous.
In Ben’s misspent youth, he’d been fearless, engaging in bloody, knock-down, drag-out fights without regard to anyone but himself and his own survival. This time was different. Rebecca was counting on him to save her. Her safety, and hers alone, had to be his only concern.
His own death didn’t even enter the equation. He would gladly die if he could save Becca from any more pain.
He’d never been forced to test his skill against such overwhelming odds. But he sensed, without a doubt, he could take out this gunman with a single shot, if only he could be certain Rebecca would be spared any more pain.
And then he caught a glimpse of his family. For the space of a single moment his gaze locked with his father’s. He could hear, in his mind, Mackenzie Monroe’s constant lectures about the Golden Rule. About doing to others what he wished for himself.
Mac called it karma. Getting back what was given.
Did it apply here? Now?
Why was he letting such thoughts crowd his mind? How could such rules matter at a time like this, when Becca’s life was held in the balance?
The answer came in a sudden jolt of understanding.
Without dwelling on what he was about to do, Ben called, “Listen to me, Ranaldo.”
The gunman showed a glimmer of surprise before glowering at him. “How do you know my name?”
“By now every police officer in the state of Montana knows your name and what you look like.”
Ranaldo swore and yanked Rebecca’s head back sharply, causing her to cry out again. “They’ll really know me after I kill the preacher’s woman.”
“You don’t want to do that, Ranaldo. I was telling you the truth. She isn’t the preacher’s woman. She’s mine.”