by Hebby Roman
“Yes, but that was a very long time ago.”
“We found a paper trail connecting Warren Harper, Sr., Warren Harper, Jr., and Bailey Harper. If I were to assume that Bailey was Old Man Harper, would I be correct?”
“Yes, I suppose so, although I don’t remember anyone calling him by that name in a very long time.”
“What name did people call him by, then?”
Chapter Four
Dinah hugged and kissed Andy and Bridget, as she dropped them off at daycare, and then headed to the Sheriff’s Office. She was anxious to tell Ben about the latter portion of her evening and her visit with Bridey. She wondered if he would he think it meant something or not?
Too late, she remembered her hasty departure from his house and his arms. Her lips tingled at that memory. She shouldn’t have let his kiss freak her out like it did, but she had. She had no doubts she still loved him. She absolutely did. But the idea that she could lose herself—her identity—in a relationship with him, scared her shitless.
The office appeared to be empty, which was strange, for if Ben was out of the office, he usually had someone to answer the phone.
“Ben?’ she called out. “Are you here?”
From somewhere in the back, he answered, “Hold on, I’ll be right out.”
She waited in the front office until he came around the corner. He stopped short when he saw her.
He opened a drawer in a bank of cabinets along one wall and dropped the handful of files he’d been holding into it. He turned toward his desk, picked up his keys, and rested his hands on his hips.
“What are you doing here, Di?” He knew his words sounded clipped and short, but he didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. “I have to go out on a call. What do you want?”
His exasperated tone halted her mid-thought. She didn’t really want anything, only to share what she thought to be interesting information concerning the Harper family and his newly acquired property. He was the trained investigator, not her. There were so many things she should say, so many things she should apologize for, so many things she was responsible for, but she couldn’t yet. She couldn’t open herself up that way.
She walked to the front door, jerked it open, and glanced over her shoulder. “Nothing, Ben, I don’t want a thing.”
* * *
Ben watched her leave and walk across the street to Packard Realty. Once inside, she sat at one of the two desks situated behind the plate glass windows of the small office. He glanced away quickly, lest she catch him looking in her direction. Where was he, in middle school? Besides, why did he feel guilty? She was the one who’d done the leaving—twice.
He dropped his keys onto the desktop, since he didn’t have anywhere to go. There’d been no call, but there was no way he was going to stand there and carry on a conversation with a woman who couldn’t make up her mind whether to leave town or stay put. Hell, maybe he was in middle school. He rubbed the back of his neck and retrieved the file folders he’d stashed, when Dinah had derailed his thought process.
Bailey Harper had disappeared last year not too long before Ben had been elected, and the case had remained open and ongoing. Ben had reviewed the facts, at the time, and agreed with his predecessor that the case had reached a dead end. In light of the recent discoveries, he decided to reexamine the report to see if there was anything they’d missed. He also wondered if there were previous incidences involving Bailey or the ranch, and he hadn’t been disappointed. Fortunately, McTiernan’s law enforcement office was large enough they had ample room for on-site storage, and he’d pulled files from back in the sixties.
Finally, with the last piece of information put in order, Ben closed the folder, and realized the day had slipped away. It was after seven, and long past time to call it quits. He got ready to leave just as Charlie Williams, his deputy, arrived to take over for the night.
“Anything going on that I need to know about?” Charlie hung his hat on the standing rack behind the door, and sat behind his desk.
“Nope, it’s been real quiet.”
“That’s what I like.”
Ben picked up the folder, now bulging with information from his afternoon efforts. “I’m headed over to the Bigger Jigger for a while, call me if you need me.”
“Will do.”
Ben didn’t anticipate any such phone calls, Charlie was a capable deputy but, even in a small town, you never knew when the shit would hit the fan.
A few minutes later, he entered the Bigger Jigger through the access walkway from the Dine Inn café after he’d placed his dinner order. There were quite a few more patrons than there were normally, but then he remembered it was Monday and the last day of the Memorial Day holiday weekend. Locals mingled with visitors at the bar and on the dancefloor, as well as at the pool table.
He glanced over toward the laughter coming from around the pool table, and saw a familiar pair of blue jean pockets staring back at him. Dinah, the owner of said pockets, was leaning over the table to make a shot. His eyes traveled up to her shirt that seemed to be missing most of its back, and then his mouth went dry as the top half of a tattoo, peeking over the waistband of her jeans, snagged his attention. It looked like a bunch of flowers or maybe multiple butterflies trying to get free. Whatever . . . his interest was piqued at what was hiding beneath that denim.
Ben’s new interest in tattoos was interrupted by one of the players. Elliott Benning, an adopted son of Andrew and Bridey, held up his hands, laughed, and shook his head no to Dinah. He hung up his cue and sauntered over to the bar.
“Hey, Ben, how’s it going?”
“Not too bad. Quiet as usual.”
“That’s what we want to hear.”
“Sure enough,” Ben agreed, then took a swig from his beer. “I didn’t know you were still here. Since we didn’t get to visit the other night at the party, I thought you’d left already to go back to Dallas.”
“I decided to stay for a few days and help Andrew at the office.”
“Is he still okay health wise?”
“Oh, yeah . . . no, I’d told him I’d help him when I could.” Elliott shook a cigarette out of a pack and lit it. He held the pack out and, when Ben declined, he set it on the bar, lit the cigarette with his lighter, and continued, “We finally have Southern Star Airlines back up and running at optimum capacity. It took a while to rid the business of Widmore and Riordan’s corruption. I saw the other day where their trials are set to start after the first of the year.”
“The wheels turn slow, don’t they?” Ben thought of all the havoc those two men had caused with their money laundering, drug smuggling, and their involvement with the Cammarone Cartel. Not to mention the grief they’d inflicted on the Benning family with the murder of their only natural-born son and Maggie’s husband, Wyatt. “Their arrests seem to have stopped any further influx of riffraff in this area, for the time being, at least.”
“I hear you bought the old Harper’s place?” Elliott asked.
“I did,” Ben said. “When the county put it up for the taxes, I couldn’t let it go by.”
“Good for you, I know you’ve had your eye on it for a while.”
“Yeah, the house is going to take a major redo, but the land is good.”
“Is that stock tank still on the back of the place?”
“It’s more of a small lake, but yeah. I’ve contacted someone in East Texas to have it stocked with Bream and Catfish. You’re welcome to come fishing when it’s ready.”
“I believe I’ll take you up on that.”
Ben signaled Harry for two more beers, and said, “Elliott, you’ve been here most of your life, what do you remember about Old Man Harper?”
“Not much, other than he was a son of a bitch and would shoot first, and then ask you how you wanted your coffee.”
“It’s one of the first things I heard when I came here.” Ben chuckled. “What I meant was, though, do you know anything about him, his life or his family history?”
“Nah, just curious.” He didn’t want to say anything yet, until he had a reason to drag this attorney and Dallas ADA into his investigation . . . more than just his and Di’s curiosity, anyway. Elliott stood, and put a few bills on the bar. Ben handed the money back and said, “Let me know before you leave?”
“Yeah, I’ll give you a call, but right now, I’m going to go find a pillow with my name on it.” He shook Ben’s hand and glanced in the direction of the pool table. “I’d better go tell Dinah I’m leaving. I told her I’d take her home.”
“Go on,” Ben said. “I’ll take her.”
“You sure?”
“It’s against my better judgement, but, yeah.”
“Okay.” He held up the money Ben had returned. “Thanks for the beer, man.”
Ben waved goodbye and turned back just in time to see the wings of what he was now certain were butterflies inked on the small of Di’s back. He couldn’t help but wonder when the tattoo had made its appearance. Had she done it for herself . . . or for someone else? She sipped beer from the longneck bottle, and his breath hitched thinking about what those lips could do. When he realized he was jealous of a beer bottle, he knew he was certifiable.
* * *
Dinah watched Ben out of the corner of her eye. She knew better than to flirt and tease, but she’d had just enough alcohol to do it anyway. She’d come within a fraction of a second of running after Elliott to remind him he was supposed to take her home, but stopped short. Ben would get her there, safe and sound, and if she hadn’t had one too many beers, she’d be real pissed about that.
Lying the cue stick on the table, she made her way over to the bar and Ben. He stood, pulled his wallet out of his pocket, paid Harry, and picked up another white Styrofoam box.
“Eat here a lot, do you sheriff?” She set her empty bottle on the bar next to his.
“I do,” he answered. “The food’s good, and I don’t have to cook or clean up.”
“Let me guess, another cheeseburger with jalapeños and fries?”
“Yep. Are you ready to go?”
His fingers grazed her back and she shivered, like she always did when he touched her. “No, I’d like another beer. Are you in a hurry or something?”
“Not particularly, but I’d rather eat my dinner before it gets cold, if you don’t mind, and you’ve had enough to drink.”
She fumed out the door ahead of him and sat in the passenger seat of his patrol SUV. While she didn’t dispute the fact that she’d had more than enough to drink, his taking charge over her, set her teeth on edge. They’d talked before how she hated that, but he just didn’t get it. Didn’t want to, either, evidently. So, they ended up playing stupid games.
Dinah hated playing games, and yet, that’s what she kept doing with Ben. She needed to talk with him and clear the air. Somehow, she had to make him understand, once and for all, how she felt about losing her identity. As he turned onto McTiernan Ranch Road, she decided tonight, while she was braced with false courage, was as good as any to set things straight between them.
“Ben, before you take me home, can we talk?”
He let out a big sigh. “About what?”
“Us.”
“Us? There is no us. You’ve made that clear.” He looked straight ahead, never once glancing in her direction. His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. He didn’t want her to know how much she had hurt him in the past, or how easily she could do it again.
“I owe you an explanation.”
He turned into the entrance to Graeme and Maggie’s place and stopped the car. He gazed out the window, briefly, and then hit the gas, pulling back onto the road. He drove until he reached the turn-in to Hard Luck Ranch.
Sliding to a stop, he cut the power to the engine, and faced her. Pinning her with a glare, he said, “Okay, shoot.”
“Geez, Ben,” she said, shrinking against the passenger door, “Turn off the interrogation lamp, will you? My armpits are starting to sweat.”
“Dinah . . .” he warned, and huffed out another sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, and looked down at her hands, fisted and white knuckled. “I want to explain why I left before. I—”
“What the hell?” He leaned forward, squaring his body to the steering wheel, and stared through the windshield.
Following his line of sight, she caught the beam of a flashlight moving through the house. “Crap, Ben, someone’s in the house!”
“Yeah.” He grabbed the mic, keyed it, and called dispatch. “Charlie, lock up the office and meet me at Hard Luck Ranch, as soon as you can, I need backup.” He listened, and then said, “A break-in’s in progress.”
He got out of the car and picked up the gate lock laying on the ground. He pushed open the gate, and rejoined her. He started the engine, pulled the car through the opening, and parked in the grass beside the one lane, dirt drive.
“What do we do until he gets here?”
“We don’t do anything,” he clarified. “You’re staying right here, while I get closer to have a look-see.”
A car pulled in behind them, headlamps turned off, and parked on the opposite side of the drive. Graeme McAlister got out and crossed over to the SUV.
Ben opened the car door wider and said, “Grae, what are you doing here?”
“Color me crazy,” he said, “But when a strange car pulls partially into my driveway after dark, no lights, and then high-tails it down the road? I’m going to find out why.”
“Sorry, that was us,” Dinah explained quickly. “We decided, last minute, to come down here to talk.”
“So, what’s going on?” Graeme asked.
Ben pointed to the house, as a beam of light flashed across the living room window. “Break in.”
Dinah followed Ben to the back of the SUV where he retrieved a black bag full of equipment, and handed Graeme a handgun. She listened to the two men plot a strategy for surprising and taking down the intruder. She hated this part of Ben’s job, and even though she knew Graeme was ex special forces, and often worked with the Sheriff’s Department, she knew Maggie hated it, too.
“Please wait for Charlie.” She grabbed Ben’s arm, pleading, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“We’re not going to do anything stupid, we’re just going to be in position when he gets here.”
“Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know if she believed him, but his word was all she had. “What can I do, then?”
“Nothing,” Ben said. “You’re staying right here.”
Hands on her hips, Dinah stood her ground. “I am not, I’m—”
Graeme held out his set of car keys, and spoke up. “Di, take my car, and go help Maggie get the kids into bed. I’m afraid I left her stranded.”
Dinah knew, he knew, she would cave where Maggie was concerned. She would do anything for the woman who was more than a sister ever could be. She took the keys.
“All right,” she agreed, “But both of you be careful.”
Reluctantly, she climbed into Graeme’s car and backed onto the road. Of all her many regrets, she very much wished she had kissed Ben goodbye.
* * *
Ben led the way up the dirt drive to the house. He was thankful that, in spite of the three-quarter moon, there were enough clouds for decent cover. When they’d almost reached the house, he heard Charlie’s squad car turn off the road. The deputy met him and Graeme behind the well house, in the side yard.
“Good timing,” Ben said. “I was just telling Graeme, there are three exits from the house. Graeme will take the rear, you take the right side, and I’ll go in the front.” He handed his young deputy a third walkie-talkie. “We don’t have any idea who’s in the house. It could just be kids poking around, but whoever it is could be armed. No firing unless fired upon. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
He made eye
contact and said, “Let’s go.”
As usual, in this type of situation, his breathing was magnified and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. It kept him alert and on point, which kept himself and others safe.
When he reached the porch, he silently navigated the steps to the entrance, where he listened intently, his ear to the door . The noises coming from inside the house sounded like doors opening and slamming shut, and drawers or furniture hitting the floor.
He tried the door knob, but it was locked. The intruder hadn’t entered this way. He pounded the front door with his fist. “This is Sheriff Hammond. My deputies have the other exits covered. Why don’t you come on out and we can talk?”
The rummaging stopped. Silence was his only answer. He unlocked the door with his key and turned the knob. Opening the door a fraction, he then thumbed the side button on the walkie-talkie. “We’ll go in on three.”
Only when he’d heard, “Copy that,” from both men did Ben proceed to count and enter the house. His heartbeat hammered in his chest, as he made his way further into the house. Charlie and Graeme met him in the hallway. They gave him the all-clear sign for the back of the house, and the three of them moved slowly toward the dining room and kitchen.
As they neared the dining room, Ben smelled the perfume called, “White Shoulders”. The familiar fragrance was one his grandmother had worn, and fond memories flashed through his mind. He rounded the corner behind his service weapon and flashlight, to find a petite, elderly woman sitting at the table. A cup and saucer sat in front of her as if she were having tea.
Charlie and Graeme came in behind him, both mimicking his stance. The whole scene was so ludicrous, words failed him. Realizing how ridiculous they all must look, he holstered his weapon and motioned for the others to follow his lead. He reached behind him for the hurricane lamp he’d noticed the other day, and lit it with the box of matches sitting beside it on the table.