Lone Star Lawman

by Joanna Wayne

  HEATHER RUBBED the small of her back with her right hand and stretched as far as she could manage in the high-backed swivel chair. They’d been going over records for hours. It seemed more like days, especially since they hadn’t stopped for lunch. Matt apparently wasn’t joking when he’d said starvation was part of the plan when he was on a case.

  “There’s no record of a Kathy Warren in Dry Creek or any other town in Texas in the months preceding her dropping you off at the orphanage.”

  “Meaning if she was around, she stayed out of trouble with the law?”

  “Meaning I can’t even find her listed as having applied for a driver’s license or any kind of welfare or medical aid.”

  “Do you have access to all of those records in this one office?”

  “No, I have other people running searches for me in various state databases. People are usually easy enough to find if you can pinpoint the area. Kathy Warren doesn’t fit the mold. She either kept a very low profile or she gave birth to you somewhere else and then brought you to Texas.”

  “She might not have wanted her family to know she was having a baby.”

  “That’s a real possibility.”

  “But someone in her family must have found out. That person came and told the people at the orphanage that Kathy had been killed in a car accident.”

  “Maybe she confessed on her deathbed. If she knew she wasn’t going to make it, there would have been no point in keeping secrets.” Matt stood and paced the room. “The only proof we have that Kathy Warren existed was that she dropped you off at the orphanage one night in October.”

  “Were there any crimes reported in Dry Creek that night?”

  “Not in the records. In fact there are no records at all for October of that year.”

  “Isn’t it strange for a town to have no records for an entire month?”

  “Yeah, especially since I know of one crime that happened that month that was never solved.”

  “Susan Hathaway, the woman you and your brothers found. So where do we go from here?”

  Matt shrugged. “Back to Dry Creek to talk to Logan Trenton. If anyone knows what happened to those records, it should be him. He was deputy under my dad and replaced him as sheriff when we moved to Colorado.”

  “Can we eat first? I’m starved.”

  Matt’s beeper rang at his waist. He read the number from the display and grabbed the phone from the desk. “As soon as I return this call.”

  Heather drank a cup of water from the dispenser and willed her stomach to refrain from growling while Matt completed the call. “Good news, I take it,” she said, noting his smile as he hung up the receiver.”

  “It could be. Rube just called Gabby. Edna’s ready to talk.”

  “Did she say she saw the man who killed Ariana?”

  “She hasn’t said anything yet. Her talking has strings attached.”

  “What kind of strings?”

  Matt grabbed his hat. “She’ll only speak if you are present.”

  “Me? Did she say why?”

  “Yeah. She says the man who killed Ariana is a friend of yours.”

  Chapter Nine

  Matt had decided the interview would go better in his living room than in either Gabby’s office or the motel. An unthreatening environment that was removed from the scene of the crime was what he wanted. He’d accomplished his goal, Heather decided.

  So far the meeting had the ambience of an impromptu gathering of good friends. The men had chatted about the rising price of feed and the poor beef market before Rube and Gabby had walked out to the tack room to look at a saddle Matt was thinking about selling.

  She wondered if Rube realized that every aspect of the session had been orchestrated by Matt and agreed on by Gabby before he and Edna had arrived.

  It was the familiarity Matt had talked about, the problem with investigating and questioning people you had known all your life. And, of course, neither Edna nor Rube was an actual suspect in Ariana’s death. Heather wondered how different the method of questioning would be if they had been. Somehow she couldn’t see Matt engaged in the bad-cop intimidation routine so popular on TV and in the movies.

  “Would you like some more coffee, Edna?”

  “No, Matt. I’m ready to talk.”

  Heather sat up a little straighter in the rocker opposite the couch where Edna huddled against a plaid pillow.

  “I should have told you everything yesterday,” Edna continued, “but I was afraid. I still am.” Her voice shook. “Somebody capable of killing Ariana in cold blood like that. I mean you don’t know what they might do to you if you cause them trouble.”

  Matt patted her hand. “No one’s going to hurt you, Edna.”

  She kept her head down but raised her eyes to meet Heather’s. “I’m sorry, Heather, but your friend is a real mean man.”

  Heather wrapped her arms about her chest as a sudden chill settled over the room. “Why do you think the man is my friend?”

  “He told me he was, but I’m not sure I believe him. But he knows who you are. You may not be safe as long as he’s around.”

  Matt leaned in close to Edna. “The sooner we catch the guy, the safer everyone will be. Just tell us what you saw.”

  “I was outside watering the plant by the window.”

  “What time was that?” Matt asked.

  “About nine. I had a headache and I’d asked Rube to call Ariana over to clean Heather’s room and do the laundry. I just wanted to put the water hose to my bougainvillea before it got too hot.”

  “Then what happened?” Matt’s voice was gentle, coaxing, the same tone he’d used to settle Heather’s horse at the dude ranch.

  “I heard noises coming from Miss Heather’s room, but I didn’t see her car anywhere. I didn’t know then that the sheriff had it.” She paused, her fingers clutched around the strap of her handbag. “I knocked on the door and called out, but no one answered.”

  “Were you alone at the time?”

  “Yes. I hadn’t seen Ariana, and Rube was in the office fiddling with that computer of his.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I tried the knob, and the door was open, so I just walked in. I thought maybe one of the dogs had gotten in there and was tearing things up. That old cur of Rube’s has been known to do that.”

  “But it wasn’t a dog, was it?” This time Heather asked the question. Edna’s hesitancy was driving her nuts. She wanted the facts spoken fast and laid out neatly.

  “No. At first I didn’t see anyone, but I noticed my shoes were getting mud on the carpet. I took them off and dropped them right inside the door. When I looked up the man was standing there watching me.” Edna trembled and sank lower into the couch. “I’ve never seen such eyes, so cold, so evil.”

  “What did he do when he saw you?” Matt asked, keeping Edna on track.

  “He asked me who I was. He talked rough-like, and he had a strange accent.”

  “Strange in what way? Did he seem like he was from another country?”

  “No, but I don’t think he’s from around here.”

  Heather scooted to the edge of her seat. “Did he say he was looking for me?”

  “Yes. He said he was looking for a woman named Heather Lombardi. He knew you didn’t live in Dry Creek, but he said he’d heard you were visiting here.”

  “Did he say why he wanted to see me?”

  “He said you were old friends, that he was here to reunite you with your past.”

  The fear pummeling Heather’s insides mixed with hope. Edna could be wrong. The man might not have anything to do with the murder. He could be someone from her birth mother’s family.

  “Tell me about him,” Heather begged. “What did he look like?”

  “He was a thin man, rough looking as if he’d led a hard life. I’d say he was close to fifty, starting to lose his hair. What he had left was blond, but thin and set way back on his forehead. I don’t remember much else, except that he was a mean-looking fellow. I thought so the m
inute I laid eyes on him.”

  Heather fought back a shudder. Edna’s description was almost exactly the same as Cass Purdy’s. Only Mrs. Purdy hadn’t seen the man as evil. Worse, the wrangler who’d been at the dude ranch had described a middle-aged man with blond hair. Paranoia again. There was no way they could all be describing the same man.

  Matt took over the questioning. “What else did the man say to you?”

  “He wanted to know where he could find Miss Lombardi, only he called her Heather.” Edna turned to face her. “He said not to tell you he was looking for you. He wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “Did he give his name?” Heather asked.

  “No. He didn’t really say anything else until I said I didn’t know where you were. I told him he had to get out of your room. He told me he was leaving, but he’d be back.”

  “Did he leave then?”

  “He was about to, but about that time a wasp came flying in and buzzed around his head. He swatted at it, hit it, too, but it didn’t die. That’s when he picked up my sandal and started beating it into the rug. He smashed that bug until it was nothing but mush. He tossed the other shoe aside and left.”

  “So you were wearing the sandals?”

  “I’m sorry, Matt. I was just so afraid yesterday. I saw what he did to that wasp, and what he did to Ariana. I don’t want him to come looking for me. And Rube...”

  “What about Rube?”

  “He doesn’t want me mixed up in this. He’s scared, too, Matt. He won’t say it, of course, but I can tell. He’s nervous, chewing his nails, jumping down my throat if I try to talk to him about anything. That’s not like him. You know that.”

  “I know, Edna. We’re doing all we can to find the killer, and Gabby’s going to have one of his deputies stay at the motel for a few days.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “You still need to be careful, but I don’t think the man will be back. He’s probably on the run.”

  “I hope so. I hated lying to you. Then after I did, I couldn’t live with myself.”

  Heather only half listened to the rest of the questioning. It was a rehash of what she’d already heard, and her mind was spinning with possibilities. The truth was Edna hadn’t seen this man with Ariana. It could have been anyone who killed the cleaning lady, a jealous boyfriend, an angry relative, a stranger passing through town. Edna honestly believed it was the man she saw in Heather’s room, the one who had asked about her, but that didn’t make it so. Killing a wasp—no matter how brutal the technique—didn’t make a man a murderer.

  There was no reason to believe a member of her birth family could be involved in Dry Creek’s secrets when Kathy Warren had only been in this town by accident. Even Matt would have to see that.

  Heather stayed lost in her own thoughts while the question-and-answer session droned on. Matt wrapped up the session about the time her right foot went to sleep in protest. A minute later, Rube and Gabby rejoined them. The men visited for a while at the kitchen table, sipping the lemonade Heather served them and munching on some store bought cookies.

  Heather and Edna walked out to the porch and sat in the swing. Gabby’s dog left his spot by his master’s pickup truck and came over to sit at their feet, moving only when the need to scratch overcame his lethargy.

  “I’m sorry things have been so hard on you, but I’m glad to know it’s not one of Dry Creek’s people that is responsible.” Edna slipped her hand over Heather’s. “You’re a sweet lady, smart, too. You’re real good for Matt. It’s time that boy settled down with someone like you.”

  Heather jumped to attention. “Matt and I aren’t living together. I mean we are, but we’re not together. He had me move out here so that he could protect me.”

  “Maybe so, but I know what I see. Matt likes you a lot, and you could do a whole lot worse. He’s a good boy, from good stock, at least on his dad’s side. His mother wasn’t much of a woman. She ran off and left her husband and her son. I’ve got no use for a woman like that.”

  “She may have had her reasons.”

  “What kind of reasons would make a woman leave her own child?”

  “I don’t know, but there are some. And for all we know, leaving might be a hundred times harder than staying.”

  “I never thought about it quite that way.”

  “I have. I’ve thought about it a lot”

  “I guess you have,” Edna said, “seeing as how you were left at that orphanage.” She ran her hand behind her neck and gathered the wisps of hair that had escaped the knot at the back of her head. “I always wanted a daughter like you, but Rube and I just had boys. If I were your mom I’d tell you two things, Miss Lombardi.”

  “Call me Heather. And go ahead and tell me. One can never have too many mothers.”

  Edna took Heather’s hand and squeezed it. “I’d tell you to stay safe. There’s evil out there, and it’s looking for you.”

  “I’m trying hard to do that.”

  “And I’d tell you to get a hold of that man in there and don’t let go. A good man like Matt McQuaid doesn’t come along every day of the week. Look at my Rube. We’ve been married thirty years, and I’m just as in love with him as I was the day I met him. I may not get all gooey-eyed, but I love him all the same.”

  “Why, Edna, are you suggesting I seduce the Ranger who brought me uui here to protect me?”

  “I’m suggesting you do what you have to. If you don’t, some other woman will, and she won’t be half as good for him as you are. Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do.”

  An easy sense of camaraderie had settled over them by the time the men came barreling out the screen door. For a second Heather almost forgot that somewhere in Dry Creek there was a killer walking the streets. Almost forgot that two nights ago she had been attacked by two strangers. Almost forgot someone had tried to blow her and her car into little pieces.

  Almost, but not quite.

  “ARE YOU GOING to go through those files all night?” Heather plopped down on one of the musty boxes Matt had crated over from the back room at Gabby’s office.

  “Probably, unless I find what I’m looking for first. Do you have a better idea?”

  “I thought we might take a ride before dark. You have those beautiful horses just going to waste.”

  Matt peered over the file he’d been scrutinizing. “You must be bored if you’re asking to ride a horse.”

  “When in Rome, or in this case, when in Texas. Besides, I kind of liked riding the other day after I got used to it. Of course, I’d want a gentle horse like the one I had at the dude ranch.”

  “Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

  “Worn out. Another victim of Dry Creek’s warm hospitality.”

  “In that case, I have just the horse for you. Maverick. A pretty chestnut. He’s big, but he’s got more sense than most men I know. He won’t fight you for control, unless you make him.”

  “How big?”

  “Big enough you don’t want to go flying over his head, but he won’t let you. Why don’t you go have a look at him while I finish this file? But do your looking from outside the corral. And don’t wander off anywhere else. I don’t want you out of yelling distance.”

  “Yes sir.” Heather gave a mock salute and headed out the door. She still hadn’t had a chance to shop for boots, but she had traded her sandals for her tennis shoes. When she shopped, she might even buy a hat. One like Matt’s, except with a smaller brim.

  Not that she’d ever wear the boots or hat again once she went home. Home to Atlanta. The thought seemed strange. As long as she’d stayed in the motel, Dry Creek had seemed like a foreign country. But she’d been at the Lone M five days now, and she was getting way too familiar with the ways of Ranger Matt McQuaid.

  Sitting across the breakfast table from him. Seeing him fresh from the shower, his hair wet and dripping down his sun-bronzed face. Knowing he was a few steps away when she crawled into bed at night. And always dealing with the smok
y desire his nearness kindled inside her.

  She took a shaky breath and stepped onto the bottom rung of the corral. A chestnut came trotting over. So did a large horse that was more brown than red and a prancing horse with white legs that looked like he’d dressed in boots.

  “Hello, baby,” she said crooning to the booted horse who was nuzzling her hand. She scratched his face the way she’d seen Matt do the other day at the dude ranch. “Are you ready for a ride or do you just want a little attention?”

  The wind picked up, waving the grass and whirling sand. Heather stepped back. She had the crazy feeling that she wasn’t alone, that someone was nearby, watching her. Was it some sound she’d heard, or only groundless fear that twisted in her stomach?

  Her first impulse was to run back to Matt, to fly into his arms and let him hold her until the shaking stopped. But what would she tell him—that she felt eyes that weren’t there? She sucked a deep breath of air into her burning lungs. She’d almost convinced herself she was safe and alone when footsteps rustled the grass behind her.

  She spun around. “Matt, it’s you.”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “I’m just jumpy these days.”

  “With plenty of reason. Our ride may help. There’s a creek past the south pasture, fed by a spring. The water’s cool and clear, and overhung with branches of the biggest oak tree in these parts.”

  “You do love this ranch, don’t you?”

  “Have you ever met a rancher who wasn’t partial to his own spread?”

  “Up until a week ago, I’d never met a rancher.”

  “And now that you have?” Matt swung open the gate and Heather followed him inside, watching where she stepped.

  “I’d say you’re a fascinating breed. Other than that, the vote is still out.”

  “Good answer. You don’t want to get too sassy with the wrangler who’s saddling your ride.”

  “Is that from the cowboy book of lore?”

  “No, it’s from the gospel according to Matt McQuaid.”