Lone Ranger

by VK Powell

  When the vague neon lights of Wally’s bar appeared ahead, she accelerated. The car behind matched her pace and quickly closed the gap. A light tap from the vehicle sent Emma’s pulse racing. The car maintained contact with Emma’s, pushing it forward. She gripped the steering wheel harder and applied the brakes. Her car skidded to the right. She overcompensated, and the skid morphed into a slow-motion sideways spin. Emma wrestled to keep her vehicle between the ditches on either side of the road as it swerved violently back and forth.

  She stood on the brake pedal and cut the wheel sharply to the right again. When the car finally stopped, her right rear wheel was inches from a very steep ditch. Her pulse pounded, and her palms were slick with sweat. She looked around for the other car. It was nowhere in sight. She took several deep breaths and tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and cottony.

  What the hell was going on, and why was someone trying to kill her? If she was getting too close to the truth, she really wished someone would tell her, because she didn’t have a clue.

  She should’ve reported last night’s assault, as Donovan suggested. The sheriff was likely to regard her claim of four potentially threatening incidents with suspicion. Fortunately, she’d kept notes on each and would produce them when she reported this latest attempt. Emma waited for her nerves to calm before restarting her car and coasting into Wally’s lot.

  Emma sat in her car, staring at the bar with broken windows and peeling paint. Why had she thought this was a good idea? She got out of the car on trembling legs and did a quick survey of her bumper for damage. Not even a scrap of foreign paint. When she opened the tavern door, the stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke made her nauseous. Men crowded around the small bar and yelled to be heard over the melancholy wail of country music. Everybody stared at her as she elbowed her way up to the service area and ordered a vodka tonic.

  A fake redhead with skin textured by sun and cigarettes responded. “We don’t have none of them fancy drinks. Just beer.” Her raspy voice made Emma swallow in sympathy.

  The men around the bar rolled their eyes at each other and grinned. Several blew streams of cigarette smoke in her direction.

  She hadn’t thought this little excursion through carefully. She was usually better prepared. “I’ll have whatever’s on draft.”

  When the barmaid delivered the drink, Emma asked, “Is Daniel Tanner here tonight?”

  The woman pointed toward a small booth near the pool tables in the back. “He’s here every night, one of my best customers, when he’s not smashing up the place. You ain’t here to haul him off, are you?”

  “No, ma’am. I just want to talk to him.”

  “Well, you better hurry. He goes downhill the later it gets.”

  Emma walked toward the hunched-over figure seated in the back booth. She watched as the white-haired, seventyish man stared into his mug of beer, oblivious to her presence. His large frame had probably been muscular in his younger days, but now his bulk simply sagged into a resigned pose.

  She cleared her throat. No response. “Excuse me, sir.” He still didn’t respond. She bent closer and repeated herself. “Excuse me, sir.”

  The man gave a startled jolt and rose from his seat. His eyes were clear and focused but shot angry sparks in her direction. “Yeah, what do you want?”

  The rapid transformation from despondent barfly to irritable aggressor surprised Emma, and she mustered her most authoritative voice. “I’m looking for Daniel Tanner.”

  “You’ve found him. Why are you bothering me? Can’t a man drink alone any more?”

  “Ferguson, my name’s Emma Ferguson. I’m a reporter.”

  “I don’t care who you are.” Tanner continued to stand, making no offer of hospitality.

  “I’m just asking a few questions of folks who were around when Theodore Thompson disappeared.”

  “So? Got nothing to do with me.”

  “I understand you were working at the drugstore that night.”

  “I work every night. Go away.”

  Emma wasn’t going to be dismissed like a pesky kid. “I’ll go a lot quicker if you answer my questions. Were you alone at the drugstore?”

  Tanner seemed to consider his options for a few seconds before answering. “I couldn’t really afford any other help at the time. Things were pretty tight financially, as I recall.” He took a long gulp of beer and gazed past Emma into the bar. After his protests to be left alone, he was being more forthcoming than Emma expected.

  “Did the police interview you about Thompson’s disappearance?”

  “No. They didn’t really interview anybody. They just went around asking general questions a few weeks after but never made it to me.”

  “Did you see Thompson at all?”

  “No, but that’s not unusual. He never came into my store, and it’s a good thing too.” Tanner’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw worked in time to his clenching teeth.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We didn’t care for each other. His family owned almost everything in town, and what they didn’t own they tried to control. They had the mayor, city council, and the bank manager in their back pockets. You couldn’t spit in this town without the Thompson family’s permission.”

  “So you disagreed on politics or principle?”

  As if he’d run out of steam, Daniel Tanner slumped back into the booth and slapped his hands on the table in front of him, motioning for Emma to sit.

  “We disagreed on everything, but I wasn’t the only one. The whole town hated Theodore Thompson. His grandfather and father were admired men, but Theodore didn’t inherit any of their genes, just the money. He thought that bought him respect, but his power was intimidation.”

  “And he intimidated you?” Emma contained her excitement as another possible suspect rose from the mire of Theodore Thompson’s past. Extortion wasn’t a large leap from intimidation.

  “He tried to intimidate everybody. He also tried to buy my store more than once. He wanted it for one of his shady schemes.”

  “Obviously he didn’t succeed.”

  “Nope. He disappeared before he destroyed the entire town. And I have to tell you, Ms. Ferguson, not many people were sad about that. I certainly wasn’t.”

  “Does anything else about that night stand out in your mind? It might seem small, but it could be helpful.” Her enthusiasm waned as Tanner talked.

  “I remember it was cold as blue blazes. Not many people were out. That’s why I thought this was a little strange.” Some of the fire left Tanner’s eyes as he seemed to recall something.

  “What?” Emma leaned closer, hoping this would be the lead to set her on the trail of a killer. “What seemed strange?”

  “I saw Ann West and little Carter walking down Main Street. I thought it was unusual because of the weather and because they live so far out of town. I remember thinking they could both catch their death of cold.”

  Emma’s heart skipped a beat, and she silently prayed that Tanner’s next statement would help rather than hurt Ann any further. “And what time was this, Mr. Tanner?”

  “Somewhere around ten thirty. I can’t be certain, but I know it was about that time. I’d closed early since there weren’t any customers, and I was headed out here.”

  “Which way were they going when you saw them?”

  “Toward the factory.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone about this before?”

  “Nobody ever asked. Besides, I always liked Ann and Carter. That poor child had been through enough in her short life, and neither of them deserved to be mixed up in that hateful man’s disappearance. I’m sure they didn’t have anything to do with it anyway. How could they?”

  Emma wondered the same thing as she exited the bar and surveyed the parking lot, but it would take more than two people’s opinions to prove Ann wasn’t involved, especially if Donovan got wind of this latest piece of information. She seemed intent on making Ann her prime suspect. Emma shivered as she walked t
oward her car and thought of the long, dark drive back to the park.

  “Anything you’d like to share with me, Ms. Ferguson?”

  The voice from behind her startled Emma, and she turned with fists clenched.

  “Hold on, slugger.” Donovan stepped back and raised her hands in mock surrender. “What’s got you so jumpy tonight?”

  “Damn it! Why are you sneaking up on me? Why don’t you try starting a conversation face to face for a change? Are you following me? Are you here by chance, or do you know what happened?” Emma’s jabbering was a sign of raw nerves, but the cause could’ve been any number of things—the crazy driver, Tanner’s statement, or Donovan sneaking around.

  “What are you talking about? What else happened?” Donovan actually looked concerned as she moved closer and placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder.

  “Somebody tried to run me off the road on my way over here.”

  “Are you serious? Did you call the locals? You probably didn’t even report the assault last night, did you?” Without giving Emma a chance to respond, Donovan guided her into her car. “Let’s get out of the cold while I put together an alert.” Emma relayed the details of the event while Donovan interrupted with questions.

  When she finished the story, Donovan stared at her in disbelief. “I was willing to consider the possibility the incident at the cabin might’ve been random. It would’ve been a stretch, but now I’m convinced somebody wants you off this case in a big way, and we have no leads at all. You didn’t get a look at the vehicle or the driver, so there’s nothing for an alert. There’s no damage to your car, so I can’t get any physical evidence. That settles it. I’m taking you home. We can pick up your vehicle tomorrow. Consider yourself in protective custody.”

  “I’ll consider no such thing. And I’ll drive myself home, but thanks for the offer.”

  “I can’t let you do that. I’ve been interviewing people for two days, and I’m no closer to a suspect. This person could be waiting down the road for you to come back so he can try again.”

  Hearing the words aloud convinced Emma maybe she should accept some help, but she would dictate the boundaries. “Feel free to follow me home, but I’m driving myself.”

  “Why do you have to be such a stubborn redhead?”

  “It’s in the genes.”

  “Have it your way, but I’m spending the night again, just to be on the safe side.”

  “No.” Her voice sounded weak and unconvincing. The last thing she wanted was to spend the night alone in a cabin in the woods with a killer on the loose. The next to the last thing she wanted was for Billie Donovan to spend the night with her. But her nerves were taking a beating from the threats, so she’d be grateful to have someone close by, even if it was annoyingly perfect Agent Donovan.

  By the time they reached the park, Emma was almost calm, except for the prospect of Donovan spending the night again. She’d just ignore her and go to bed. The fear of nearly dying and the ups and downs of Tanner’s recollections had been exhausting. The bright spot of tonight was Donovan didn’t know about Daniel Tanner’s statement, and Emma wasn’t going to tell her.

  When Emma saw the red convertible parked in front of her cabin, her emotions rose hard and fast, and her skin flushed hot. She considered ramming the sleek, sexy machine but couldn’t afford either repair bill. She slammed on her brakes so hard Donovan almost rear-ended her. Emma amended her earlier list. The absolute last thing she wanted tonight was to see her ex.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sheri slouched in a rocker on Emma’s porch holding a beer. Emma had admired and at times despised Sheri’s cocksure confidence, but this was a new level of brazen after what she’d done. Emma took several deep breaths and pushed the image of infidelity from her mind. She wouldn’t give Sheri the pleasure of upsetting her again.

  The slim, five-six woman rose unsteadily as Emma approached the porch. She wore her favorite low-slung jeans that hugged her narrow hips and a T-shirt under her signature jean jacket. She still looked almost edible, but Emma had never developed a taste for the fruit. From the corner of her eye, Emma saw a flash as Donovan darted in front of her. She’d completely forgotten about her police escort.

  “Stop right there!” Donovan ordered. “Emma, stay behind me.”

  “What the hell?” Sheri started down the steps, stumbled, and reconsidered when Donovan pointed her weapon at her chest.

  “I said stop. Put your hands where I can see them.”

  Emma stood back, enjoying Sheri’s stunned expression.

  “Honey, are you going to tell this storm trooper who I am, or do I have to whip her ass?”

  Sheri’s bravado was a mixture of alcohol and natural cockiness that Emma had seen too many times. She imagined the tiny hairs on Donovan’s neck bristling.

  “Bring it on, Betty Badass. Do you know this woman, Emma?” Donovan assumed a sideways stance so she could watch Emma and Sheri.

  “Of course she knows me, you reckless government-issued suit. Do you really think I’d be chillaxing on her doorstep sipping a beer if I didn’t know her? I’m her girlfriend.”

  Emma’s amusement at the macho-charged standoff shattered with Sheri’s last statement. “I know her, but she’s not my girlfriend.”

  “That’s just a matter of perspective.” Sheri flashed one of her come-to-bed grins, and her white teeth sparkled in the moonlight.

  Donovan back stepped, holstered her weapon, and whispered to Emma, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Ferguson? Want me to run her off? She might not be the stalker, but she’s trouble. Nobody with that much mouth is totally harmless.”

  “I’ll be fine. You can leave. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me and my ex-girlfriend.”

  “If you say so. I’m not sure you’ll be safe, but at least you won’t be alone.”

  As Donovan turned to leave, Emma caught her arm. “Thank you, really.”

  “No problem. I need to go back to Wally’s at some point anyway. I know you weren’t there for the company.” Donovan gave her one of those cop stares designed to make her spill her guts, but she didn’t flinch. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me? Might save me a trip.”

  “Not really.” She didn’t want to tell Donovan anything about her conversation with Daniel Tanner until she’d had a chance to look into it further.

  “Even more reason to return. I think you’re hiding something from me, Ferguson, and I intend to find out what. You’ve got my number if you need help.” Donovan nodded toward Sheri as she walked away.

  As Emma turned back toward the cabin, Carter’s Jeep pulled into the driveway. She stopped alongside Donovan’s vehicle, and the two exchanged greetings. Carter got out and stood, too closely, Emma noted, talking with the BCI agent. Donovan touched Carter’s arm as she spoke before locking her car and getting into the Jeep. Maybe Emma had been right, and whatever those two had was still going on. Her insides burned as she watched the two women together. Donovan wasn’t Rick Hardy’s type at all. She was Carter’s, and Emma had known it from the moment they met.

  “Hell-o!” Sheri called from the top of the steps. “Remember me?”

  “Unfortunately,” Emma mumbled as she passed, still looking over her shoulder.

  “This place is worse than Grand Central Station. Who the hell was that pistol-packing dyke?”

  Emma practiced her most neutral expression while looking down on Sheri from the top of the steps. Sheri’s betrayal flashed through her mind in slow motion, but she maintained her composure. “She’s none of your business. What are you doing here, Sheri? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to see you again.”

  “I thought I’d give you a chance to cool off before we talked about what happened.”

  “You’ve made it perfectly clear what you want, on more than one occasion. I just wasn’t smart enough to get the hint until I saw it with my own eyes. And trust me, seeing is believing.”

  Sheri stepped up and lightly touch
ed Emma’s arm. The gesture reminded her of the kind and attentive Sheri she’d first met. They’d become friends quickly, but as their relationship changed, Emma had never felt an intimate connection with Sheri even when they’d made love. Now she knew why—Sheri wasn’t her true love. Emma needed to resolve this situation quickly.

  “Can I please come in for a few minutes, Emma? I’ve driven almost two hours. The least you can do is hear me out.”

  The smell of alcohol wafted up Emma’s nostrils, and she recalled that same foul odor when she and Sheri had sex. Why hadn’t she caught on sooner? “You could’ve had the decency to show up sober.”

  Emma pushed the door open and reluctantly motioned her inside. As she passed, Sheri purposely brushed her muscular body against Emma, but she felt not even a flicker of arousal. “You have five minutes. I’ve had a long day and am in no mood for a walk down memory lane.”

  Sheri scanned the meager cabin furnishings and settled on the sofa. She patted the seat beside her. “Please sit with me. It’s easier to talk if you’re close.”

  Against her better judgment, Emma sat down next to Sheri but looked straight ahead.

  “I know I messed up, but you have to believe it didn’t mean anything.”

  “Why do I have to believe that, Sheri, because it didn’t mean anything the three other times?” Emma tested the rumors.

  Sheri’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, but in a blink she recovered and continued her line. But Emma had seen her momentary shock and disbelief at being found out.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Emma. I want us to try again.” She took Emma’s hand and held it gently between hers before bringing it to her lips. “I’ve missed you. We’ve had our problems like everybody else, but we can get past them.”