Innocent Target

by Elisabeth Rees

  Slowly and with trepidation, she opened the front door, feeling the cool, moist wind blow into her face. She realized she was trembling as she stepped out onto the porch.

  “I’m strong and capable,” she said, bolstering herself. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  She took the gun out of her purse and placed it in her pocket. She intended to keep it the glove box of the car while she drove. And she intended to drive all the way to Oklahoma State Penitentiary, a journey of almost three hours that should see her arrive just as afternoon visiting hours began. With her wits about her and her gun within reach, she could be there and back by dinnertime.

  Behind the closed front door, she heard the phone ringing and waited until the machine picked up. Then, as she had anticipated, her cell began to buzz in her purse. She fished it out and looked at the display. It was the number of the sheriff’s office.

  Hitting the answer button, she said, “I asked you not to call me today.”

  “You didn’t pick up the home telephone.”

  “I already told you I wouldn’t.”

  “Did you leave the house?”

  “No.” That wasn’t a lie, not while her feet were still on the porch.

  “Please don’t do anything rash, Kitty. I’m worried about you.”

  “Listen, Ryan,” she said. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m busy, so unless you have something important to say, I’d like to get on with my day.”

  “Sure,” he said. “You’ll call if there’s any trouble?”

  “Of course.”

  She clicked off the phone without an ounce of regret for neglecting to tell him her plans. His earlier cruel words about her father still lingered in her ears. Ryan might be ashamed to visit her father, but she certainly wasn’t. She would march into that prison with her head held high.

  She didn’t need Ryan’s approval. She didn’t need anybody’s approval.

  * * *

  Ryan stood in the window of the station watching Price’s Hardware Store, hoping to spot anything that might be considered suspicious. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but his gut told him that Buzz was hiding something.

  “What can you tell me about the Price family?” Ryan asked Shane.

  “They’re proud people,” he replied. “After the scandal of both of Buzz’s parents running off and abandoning him, they kind of keep to themselves.”

  “And what do you think of Buzz? Is he a good kid in your opinion?”

  “For sure, but he’s bullied by his grandpa.” Shane brushed crumbs from his shirt. “Frank’s got a mean temper on him, and Sheila and Buzz bear the brunt.”

  Ryan turned around. “Do you think Frank ever gets physical with them?”

  “I believe so. Sheila sometimes has bruises, but she clams up whenever I press the matter. It’s hard to get close to her, and believe me, I’ve tried.”

  Ryan had seen Sheila Price just once, a small, birdlike woman who scurried away from his presence when he went to introduce himself in the store. He vowed to check up on her and ensure she was okay.

  He watched Carla Torlioni sweep the sidewalk outside her café and inspect the potted plants, her white apron stretching taut over her plump figure as she leaned over. When she noticed him looking at her, she stuck her chin in the air. Frank came out of his store and went to join her, pointing at Ryan and talking energetically. Carla shook her head and pursed her lips, all for Ryan’s benefit, he was sure.

  “I don’t think I’m very popular with people in this town, Shane,” he said.

  Shane pushed his chair away from the desk and wheeled it over to the window to peer out.

  “Oh, don’t worry about those two,” he said. “They don’t like anybody. A town like this isn’t easy to crack, but you’ll get there. There are plenty of good folks here. Paul and Nancy from the grocery store tell everybody how impressed they are with your professionalism.”

  Ryan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “They do?”

  “Yeah, and it’s getting to be a little annoying, if I’m being honest. I’ve been working in this town for ten years and the nicest thing anybody said about me is that I smell good.”

  Ryan sniffed the air and laughed. “And even they were lying.”

  Shane put a hand on his chest, mimicking being wounded. “That was harsh, boss...but you’re probably right.”

  The phone rang and Shane rose from his chair. “I’ve got it.”

  Ryan focused his attention on the street again. Frank and Carla had been joined by her husband, and Joe was encouraging her to go back inside, while she resisted. Joe had given Ryan a statement regarding the recent incident in the woods, but he wasn’t surprised that Carla had not.

  “I’m sorry,” Shane was saying into the receiver. “I can’t make out a word. Do you want to talk to Chief Deputy Lawrence?”

  Shane held the receiver toward Ryan. “It’s a bad line, but I think he asked for you.”

  Ryan took the phone. “This is Ryan Lawrence. How can I help you?”

  The voice that replied was deep, gravelly and distorted, leading Ryan to immediately suspect that it might be channeled through a voice changer.

  “Kitty Linklater is in danger.”

  “Who is this?”

  “That’s not important. Kitty will be run off the road today unless you help her.”

  “But she’s at home.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s on the highway, probably headed to the prison, and she’ll be attacked on her way back.”

  Ryan was dumbstruck for a second. Would Kitty lie to him, drive almost three hours on her own and put herself at serious risk? He needed no time to consider the answer. Of course she would.

  “Where will she be run off the road?” he asked, snatching up his keys. “Tell me exactly where?”

  “I don’t know. It could be anywhere, so quit talking and get moving.”

  “I need more information. What highway?”

  But the man had hung up. And Ryan’s chest burst with fear and dread. Kitty was driving right into a trap.

  “What route does Kitty take to and from the prison?” he asked Shane. “Do you know?”

  The deputy wrinkled his brow, thinking. “She once mentioned that she likes a rest stop on Highway 1. It’s just outside the town of Allen, called something like Toasty Cabin. Head out toward that.” He checked his watch. “Prison visiting hours are just about to end, so if she’s there, she’ll be leaving in five minutes or so.”

  “Stay here and hold the fort,” Ryan said, opening the door. “If that guy calls back, contact me on the emergency radio channel immediately.”

  “What else can I do to help?” Shane asked, recognizing the severity of the situation. “I can’t just sit here, doing nothing.”

  “You can say a prayer,” Ryan called as he ran to his truck. “Kitty’s gonna need it.”

  SIX

  Kitty breathed in the crisp, fresh air outside the Oklahoma State Penitentiary, trying to stem her flow of tears. She had no idea when her father would be able to experience the perfect joy of breathing free air again, and she was worried that he was beginning to lose hope. He was becoming very thin and frail, clearly not eating enough. He’d smiled and pretended he was doing fine, but she saw right through it. His despondency had increased her motivation to work harder.

  She started up the car, switched on her phone and placed it on the passenger seat before setting off. It bleeped several times, letting her know that someone was trying to reach her, most likely Ryan checking on her. She decided to return his calls after figuring out how she would broach the subject of the apartment. She didn’t want to provoke another fight, but she had to be firm about her feelings. It required careful consideration. Glancing at the display on the cell, she saw that she had missed several calls, and smiled a little smugly. Ryan had no need to worry
about her. After all, she was successfully proving to him that she could manage her own safety.

  She turned up the radio, wound her way through the streets of McAlester and then headed onto the rural highway that would take her home. The journey took her through some beautiful little towns dotted along the way, but she had to struggle to enjoy the scenic views, knowing that her father was behind bars, counting the minutes until her next visit.

  The sign for her favorite rest stop, the Cozy Cabin, was very welcome when it came into view. Kitty was definitely ready to refuel both her body and the car. She turned onto the road that led to the rustic establishment, noticing a black car approaching rapidly from the rear. She tried to tuck herself onto the shoulder, giving the vehicle plenty of room to pass, but the driver continued coming toward her with what appeared to be malicious intent.

  “Go around,” she said, putting her arm out the window and trying to wave him past.

  But he didn’t go around her and didn’t slow down. Kitty braced for the inevitable impact, hunching her shoulders and gripping the wheel as if her life depended on it.

  The crunch of metal on metal was horrible and her car jerked forward on the asphalt, veering from side to side. She struggled to maintain control, slamming the gas pedal to the floor in an attempt to flee. The small engine of her car whined, managing a pathetic top speed that would never rival the more powerful vehicle on her tail.

  “Oh, Lord,” she said aloud. “I need You now.”

  Then she was slammed again and the force of the impact was enough to deploy her airbag. Kitty screamed as the huge white balloon rose up in her face, causing her to lose sight of the road. Her car skidded out of control until she didn’t know which way was forward. She seemed to be spinning like a top, totally at the mercy of the momentum.

  She came to rest in a ditch filled with muddy water, cold and shocking against her warm skin. She panicked, fearing that she would drown, and fumbled to undo the buckle of her seat belt. But she couldn’t find the button beneath the water and began to shout for help. Thankfully, it took only a minute for rational thought to reassert itself and show her that the water level was only to her waist.

  The danger in this situation wasn’t drowning—the true danger hadn’t yet revealed itself.

  Finally getting herself free from the seat belt, Kitty tried to crane her neck to check the location of the black car. She couldn’t see it, but heard footsteps on the asphalt. She reached beneath the waterline to open the glove compartment, but she fumbled in her panic and the weapon slithered through her fingers. Her cell was somewhere under the water, too, having fallen from the passenger seat into the murk.

  Then the sweetest sound reached her ears: a siren. It was heading her way. She would need to flag down the emergency vehicle before it passed; that was perhaps her only chance of survival.

  After scrambling through the open window of the car, she splashed through the ditch water and climbed up the bank to the road, where she saw her attacker walking toward her. She stared at him, horrified, his masked face hiding all but his small eyes. It took her a second or two to register that he was pointing a gun at her and she found herself frozen to the spot, her muddy, wet pants dripping onto the dry ground.

  Her attacker said, almost imperceptibly, “I’m sorry for this,” and calmly squeezed the trigger. She screamed, wondering if she would feel any pain or if it would be quick. Nothing happened. Instead of a gunshot resounding through the air, the man’s swearing filled the space. His gun had jammed. As the siren grew louder and louder, she watched him furiously hurl the weapon through the window of his car before climbing in and squealing off in the opposite direction. Then she allowed herself to fall back onto the road, flat on her back, arms out to the side, recovering her breath.

  That was her closest escape yet.

  * * *

  Ryan’s truck screeched to a halt next to Kitty’s car, which was listing on its side in a ditch. He’d spotted the car while racing along Highway 1, and his stomach had lurched at the sight of the damage. Kitty herself was lying on the road, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling hard.

  He jumped from the truck. “Are you okay, Kitty? Please say you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay.”

  He dropped to his knees at her side, noticing that she was shivering in her wet clothes.

  “We’ll get you to a hospital,” he said. “You should be checked over.”

  “I don’t need a hospital. I’m fine,” she said, sitting up. “But I’d be dead by now if that guy’s gun hadn’t jammed.”

  “I saw a black car speed past me on the highway just now. Is the driver the man who did this?”

  “Yeah,” she said, sitting up with a groan. “He came out of nowhere and rammed me from behind.”

  “I put out a radio alert already, so let’s hope he gets picked up soon. Who was it? Did you know him or recognize the car?”

  She shook her head. “He was wearing a mask again, and it all happened so fast, I didn’t have time to get a good look at anything. But the weirdest thing is that he apologized to me before trying to fire the gun.”

  Ryan helped her to her feet, keeping his senses alert in case the suspect came back for a second attempt.

  “How did you know I was in trouble?” she asked. “Your arrival can’t have been a coincidence.”

  “I got a tip-off. Somebody called the station and said you’d be run off the road on your way back from the prison. It’s fortunate that I got to the right place at the right time.”

  “You got a tip-off? Who was it?”

  “I’m pretty sure it was a man’s voice, but it was being channeled through a distorter, so he wants to remain anonymous.”

  Kitty walked to Ryan’s truck and leaned against it, her color gradually returning. “What did he say?”

  “He said you’d made a trip to the prison today and would be attacked on the way home.” Now that Ryan had established Kitty’s well-being, he was finding it hard to contain his annoyance. “At first I thought it must be a prank, because I figured there was no way you’d come all this way without telling anyone where you’re going. I mean, nobody is that reckless, right?”

  Kitty looked at the ground. “I thought I could handle it,” she said quietly. “I wanted to prove that I could take care of myself, that I didn’t need you.”

  How could he say this diplomatically? “But you do need me.”

  She appeared unusually reticent as she replied, “I have to learn to get by without you.”

  “Okay,” he said, uncertain exactly what she meant. “But you have to rely on someone, because you can’t do this on your own. You need someone watching out for you.”

  She nodded, apparently accepting his words.

  “I must’ve called your cell twenty times or more,” he said. “Why didn’t you answer?”

  “My phone was off while I was in the prison. When I turned it back on as I was leaving, I saw the missed calls but I didn’t realize you were trying to warn me.”

  “I was hoping to steer you away from danger, to get you to stay at the prison until I arrived. The man who’s targeting you is always waiting for the right time to strike. And you gave him that opening by coming here alone. You can’t put your life on the line like this just to make a point.”

  “I wasn’t making a point,” she said. “I was visiting my dad.”

  “I think you were doing both.”

  She said nothing, crossing her arms and pressing her lips shut.

  “I understand how hard it must be relying on my protection,” he said. “Especially when we fight and you resent me.”

  “I don’t resent you,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

  “Well, okay, maybe a little, but you really hurt my feelings today and as a result, I made a hasty decision. I know this is my fault and I’ve be
en careless. You don’t need to rub it in.”

  “I don’t mean to make you feel bad,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I just want you to understand that you can’t always assume you’ll be okay. Am I right that you didn’t tell anybody else where you were going today?”

  She nodded.

  “Did anybody see you leave town?” he asked. “Did you stop anywhere along the way?”

  “I stopped at the gas station just outside town. Frank Price was there filling up his delivery truck. He asked me if I was headed off to the prison.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “To mind his own business.”

  “Frank could’ve told any number of people that he saw you in your car, heading in this direction.” He imagined the grapevine of Bethesda set in motion. “And somehow your attacker got word of your whereabouts and guessed your destination. But fortunately for us, he told someone else of his plans and that Good Samaritan decided to do the right thing and warn us. If it weren’t for his intervention...”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

  “That mystery caller saved my life today. And you, of course.”

  He smiled. “It’s getting to be a habit, huh?”

  She closed her eyes and let her head fall against the door of the truck behind her as a fine rain began to fall.

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “I do hate having to rely on you for protection. I hate that I’m forced to place my faith in a man who doesn’t believe in my father’s goodness. I wanted to prove that I didn’t need you.” She opened her eyes and looked over at her car in the ditch. “But I clearly do need you, no matter how much I wish it wasn’t true.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he said, standing directly in front of her and resting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not a trained member of law enforcement. You’ve never been shown how to deal with assailants or how to repel an attack. It’s not shameful to need help. And I want to help you—keep you safe.” He took a deep breath. “The fact that I don’t believe in your father’s innocence is something we’ll have to learn to live with. I’m really sorry we’re not on the same page, but that’s just the way it is.”