Читать книгу Texas Grit - Barb Han - Страница 11

Chapter Two

All the words Dade had wanted to say to Carrie since high school died on his tongue. Too many years had passed and, his own guilt aside, she might not want to think about what had happened anymore. Besides, she’d escaped an assault tonight and he could clearly see how rattled she was. This wasn’t a good time to bring up more pain.

“I completely forgot to ask what you were doing in the alley,” Carrie said, stretching her legs in his truck as she fastened her seat belt.

“Trying to stay away from the media while I picked up the bronze statue my family donates to the festival.” He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine hummed to life.

“Oh, right. The cattle run kicks the festival off.” Her shoulders were still tense, her posture defensive.

“And is part of the closing ceremony, which is why I’m here carrying on the family tradition,” he added. Being a Butler came with a price.

“I heard you left town for a few days after news of your father broke.” Carrie gave him the most sincere look of compassion. “I’m sorry for your loss, Dade.”

Those words spoken with such sincerity threatened to crack the casing in his chest. Dade couldn’t afford to go there, so he focused on Carrie instead. Her lime-green shorts and cream-colored halter highlighted soft-looking pale skin. Taupe ankle boots—at least that’s what they’d called that same color of paint when he’d had his house redone—showed off her calf muscles, and Dade reminded himself that he shouldn’t be noticing any of those things about his friend.

“The Mav and I weren’t the closest, but his being gone leaves a huge hole at the ranch.” Dade thanked her for her sympathy. He gripped the steering wheel and navigated his truck away from the back street and onto Main. For the first time it struck him at how odd it must seem that he called his father Mav instead of Dad or Father like everyone else. But then, nothing about being a Butler made his life normal.

“When did you get back?” She pushed a few curling tendrils of hair from her face as she crossed those long legs.

“A few days ago,” he said, adding, “Seemed like I was needed here with the attempt on my older sister’s life and then finding out about having a sister we never knew existed.”

“I read about what’s been happening with your family. Finding out you have another sister must’ve been a shock. And then her life was in jeopardy. Right?” she asked.

“Madelyn had an ex-boyfriend with a violent streak who tracked her down and attempted to kill her,” he said. “We’re damn grateful the criminals in both cases have been caught.”

“Neither was connected to your father’s murder?” Carrie asked.

“We thought Ella’s might have been at first. Now, we know different. The Mav’s killer is still at large. Every new threat against the family has more reporters descending on Cattle Barge.”

“How’s everyone doing?” Carrie asked.

“It’s been rough.”

“I can imagine.” The note of compassion in her voice struck him, threatening to shed light in a dark place hidden behind layers of anger, frustration and regret.

“But we’re finding a new normal. Everyone’s looking out for each other.” Dade needed to armor up, and the best way to do that was to redirect the conversation. “The sheriff will need a description and the name of the guy from the alley.”

“That’s not a problem. Unless... Actually, I don’t know his last name. He introduced himself as Nash, and I never asked for his last name.” Her voice was still shaky. “He gave me the creeps every time he came into the shop.”

“A first name and description will go a long way toward helping the sheriff find him. If memory serves, the workers usually leave town early in the morning. Sheriff Sawmill or one of his deputies should have no problem locating this guy tonight.” How many men by the name of Nash could be employed by the festival?

Carrie’s cell buzzed inside her purse, and the unexpected noise caused her to jump.

“Sorry.” She stuck her hand inside the bag and came up with her phone. After checking the screen, she refused to take the call.

“Does Nash have your number?” Dade doubted it, but the question had to be asked.

“I wouldn’t give personal information to a stranger.” Her indignant tone said he’d offended her.

“He might’ve gotten it from someone else or the internet,” he offered by way of explanation.

“The phone call was my ex-boyfriend,” she stated with the kind of emphasis on the ex that said there was a story there.

Dade hadn’t thought to ask if there was someone special in her life. It made sense there would be, with her looks. A burst of light zapped his chest at the thought that she was single.

“We broke up recently, and he didn’t take it well.” Her cheeks flushed, and he wondered if he was making her feel uncomfortable talking about her relationships. He tried not to think about his, although the wounds were still fresh.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

“He said things I know he didn’t mean. He just needs time to cool off.” She shrugged it off, like it didn’t bother her, but he could tell by her tone that it did.

“That’s nothing to take lightly.” Considering one of his siblings had just been targeted by a murderous ex-boyfriend, Dade figured he owed Carrie a warning. “What happened?”

“Brett said a few things he didn’t mean. He was hurt and it came out as anger,” she defended. “He’s most likely trying to apologize. Things got a little heated.”

“It’s none of my business, but I wasn’t kidding. Take his threats seriously.” He pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office and found a good spot. There was a flurry of activity. A news reporter spotted them and made a beeline toward his truck. Damn. He hadn’t anticipated this, but he should’ve. Seeing Carrie again threw him off-balance. “We could drive around the block a few times until the swarm calms down.”

“It’ll be fine.” Her voice sounded anything but.

Flashes started going off through the truck windows, blinding Dade.

Carrie’s arm came up to shield her eyes.

“I’d understand if you didn’t want to be seen with me right now,” he offered.

She touched his hand, and the contact sent electricity rocketing through him, searching for an outlet. “This is awful.”

“Yep,” he agreed. “They’re camped out everywhere. I take a breath and it’s on the news with some shrink or expert analyzing it.”

“I’ve seen some of the coverage. No one should have to go through this.” Carrie took in the kind of breath meant to fortify someone. Dade should know. It was a little too familiar. He’d done the same countless times since this whole ordeal began.

From the outside, their family probably did look perfect. No one knew the real truth. And it was too late to change the past.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she stated with a squeeze.

“Keep your face down and feet moving. I’ll meet you around the back of the truck.” He shoved his door open, pushing back the swarm, and then hopped out. Making his way to the back of the truck proved a challenge with all the cameras in his face, but he took his own advice. The brim of his Stetson blocked out some of the shocking blasts of lights that had the effect of fireworks being lit inches from his face.

A sense of calm settled over him when he looked up and saw Carrie moving toward him. Something felt very right in that moment. He chalked it up to nostalgia. Losing his father had him wishing he could go back. Change the past. He couldn’t. So, it wouldn’t do any good to make useless wishes.

Dade ignored the stirring in his chest that tried to convince him being around her again was a good idea.

“Take my arm.” He held it out, and she took it. More of those frustrating zings of electricity coursed through him. Way to keep the hormones in check around a beautiful woman, Butler.

Reporters tried to follow him and Carrie inside the lobby, but a deputy quickly reacted, forcing them outside.

In the next minute, he and Carrie were being ushered into a hallway. He recognized the building all too well. He’d been there countless times since his father’s murder. Always with the same result—no solid leads. A conference room had been converted into a makeshift command center where volunteers took shifts answering phones, jotting down leads. At least a dozen intake spots were set up around the long mahogany conference table. The room sounded like a Jerry Lewis telethon with the constantly ringing phones, hushed voices and volunteers with their heads hunkered down, speaking quietly into receivers.

The sheriff’s office was large, simple. There was a huge desk, also mahogany, with an executive chair and two flags on poles standing sentinel on either side. A picture of the governor was centered in between the poles. Two smaller-scale leather chairs nestled near the desk. A sofa and table with a bronze statue of a bull with rider sitting astride it—commissioned by Dade’s father—sat to one side of the room. Dade had been surprised to see the statue in the sheriff’s office. But then, Mike Butler always had a few cards up his sleeve, and he’d been a complicated man.

Dade’s oldest sibling, his sister Ella, kept talking about how she felt like their father was still watching over the family. She’d gotten closure from a note their father had given her days before his death. Dade was happy for his sister—finality and peace were two very good things—but his relationship with the old man couldn’t have been more different. And he’d known the minute his father snatched a toy away from him at age seven and told him to quit wasting time and get to work that his father didn’t look at him in the same light.

Expectations for Mike Butler’s sons took on a whole new level. Dade and his twin brother, Dalton, had endured, not enjoyed, childhood. Both had been forced to grow up fast. And neither could really wrap his mind around the fact that the big presence that was their father was gone. A pang of regret hit Dade. He wished he could go back and have the conversation he’d needed to have with his father. Now it was too late.

“I wish I had news for you,” the sheriff started as he took his seat in his executive swivel.

More useless wishes, Dade thought.

“I’m not here to talk about my family’s case.” Dade tried to mentally shake himself out of his reverie. Chewing on the past wouldn’t make it taste better. Reality was bitter. His father was gone and their relationship was beyond repair. Case closed.

Dade focused on the sheriff, noticing the wear and tear on his features as his office continued to be inundated with phone calls, questions and leads about the Mav’s murder. Deep lines bracketed the sheriff’s mouth, and worry grooves carved his forehead.

“Would either of you like a cup of coffee before we get started?” Sheriff Sawmill asked, gripping his own mug of still-steaming brew. There was a packet of Zantac on top of his desk. “Janis would be happy to get it for you while we talk.”

“No, thanks,” Carrie said.

“I’ll get a cup on my way out,” Dade stated, not wanting to waste time.

“What brings you to my office?” Sheriff Sawmill took a sip and set the mug down. He picked up the packet and tore the corner. He dumped the small pill onto his palm and then popped it into his mouth, chasing it with water from a bottle on his desk.

“When I was closing my store earlier, I was cornered by one of the festival workers in the alley.” Carrie crossed her legs and rocked her foot back and forth. Dade remembered her nervous tic from high school.

“Did he touch you or hurt you in any way?” The sheriff’s gaze scanned Carrie as though looking for any signs of struggle.

“Not exactly.” The admission seemed to make her uncomfortable, considering the way she started fidgeting.

“Threaten you?” Sheriff Sawmill leaned forward, making more tears in the corner of the empty Zantac packet.

“He backed me up against the wall but was interrupted be—”

The sheriff’s desk phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “Excuse me for a minute while I take this.”

Carrie nodded.

Dade could see where this was going, and regret stabbed him for dragging her here in the first place. The sheriff, his staff and the volunteers were overwhelmed. The festival worker hadn’t exactly threatened Carrie—intimidated was a better word. Her neighbor had interceded, and then Dade had arrived on the scene. The worker had left without so much as making a threat for anyone else to hear. As frustrating and scary as this whole situation was for her, nothing illegal had happened.

The sheriff ended the call and shot them an apologetic look. “It’s been a little hectic around here. Please, continue.”

“I was backed up against the wall, so I got ready to use my pepper spray when Samuel Jenkins showed up and interrupted Nash,” she said.

“I know the Jenkins boy,” Sawmill said with a nod of acknowledgment. It didn’t matter how old a man was in Cattle Barge. He would always be known by his family association. The Jenkins boy. The Butler boy. No matter how much Dade tried to distance himself in order to be his own man, he’d always be Maverick Mike’s boy. “And Nash is...?”

“The festival worker,” she clarified.

The phone rang again, and the sheriff let out a sharp sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hold on for one second.”

Dade could see this was going nowhere. He stood and Sheriff Sawmill immediately put his caller on hold.

“I’m sorry about the interruptions,” Sawmill began. “We get several dozen calls a day from citizens who think someone might be following them or their crazy uncle is hatching a plan to murder them and some of those complainants have access to my direct line considering most of us have lived in this town all of our lives. We all go way back.” His eyes flashed at Dade. “The town’s been in a tizzy for weeks and everyone’s on alert.”

“We understand. We’ll give a statement to one of the deputies out front.” Dade waved off the sheriff.

“My office will do everything in its power to ensure the safety of its citizens.” It was the line the sheriff had most likely given to every small-time complainant since his world had blown up.

When Dade really thought about their case, he couldn’t argue. No real crime had been committed, and that tied the sheriff’s hands. Normally, Sawmill would go talk to the offender and that was deterrent enough, but his plate was full and the festival was on its way out of town in the morning. Problem solved for Carrie.

“We’ll check the festival’s schedule and reach out to local law enforcement and ask to be made aware of any similar complaints.”

“Thank you,” Dade said as Carrie stood, seeming to catch on immediately to the underlying current. Anyone could see that the sheriff’s office was being inundated, so a case like Carrie’s would be swept under the rug. Not for lack of concern, but because resources were too thin and solving a high-profile murder would take precedence.

“Everyone holding up okay at the ranch?” Sawmill asked.

Dade nodded as he put his hand on the small of Carrie’s back.

“Anything you can do is appreciated, Sheriff,” he said, leading her toward the same hallway they’d traversed moments before with the knowledge it wouldn’t be much.

* * *

THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE boomed with activity even at this late hour. Carrie was tired. She wanted to go home, wash off the day and cuddle her dog, Coco. Giving her statement to the deputy hadn’t taken long, but it was getting late.

“He can’t help, can he?” Carrie released her words on a sigh. This seemed like a good time to be grateful Nash would be long gone in the morning and her life would return to normal as soon as the situation with Brett calmed down.

“Doesn’t appear so.” Dade seemed as frustrated as she felt.

Bright lights assaulted her the second she stepped out of the air-conditioning and into the August heat. There was so much flash and camera lighting that it seemed like the sun had come out.

The swarm followed them to Dade’s truck, and a couple of cars tailed them even when they got on the road, snapping pictures. It was a dangerous situation. She could certainly see why Dade had taken the alley in order to stay under the radar.

“I’m sorry the sheriff’s office wasn’t more help,” he said. “I should’ve realized what the place would be like.”

“There’s been a crime wave in town following your dad’s...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word murder.

“Seems most of it has been targeted toward my family.” There was an undercurrent of anger in Dade’s voice.

“Have you even had a chance to process any of this?” Carrie wished there was something she could say or do. “Here you’re helping me when you have so much on your plate already.”

“Good to think about something besides my own problems for a change.” He put on his turn signal and changed lanes. “Did you eat dinner? We could stop off.”

“I wish I could.” She started to apologize but he stopped her. “I have a dog that needs to go out. Her name’s Coco and she’s a Sharp Eagle, which is a cross between a shar-pei and a beagle. She has the beauty of a shar-pei and the sweet temperament of a beagle.” Carrie realized about halfway through her monologue that she was talking too fast. Being alone in a truck with Dade shouldn’t make her feel anxious, so she chalked her heightened feelings up to the crazy end of the day and not the electricity pinging through her body being this near him. “I’m talking too much.”

“Where am I taking you?” Dade half grinned, one side of his mouth curling in a smile that had been cute on a boy and was sexy as hell on a grown man.

Carrie felt her cheeks burn.

“Back to my car is fine. That way I’ll be able to get to work in the morning without calling in any favors.” She had no idea who she’d call. Carrie had been too busy with the sweet shop to make friends. At least, that’s the excuse she gave when she sat at home Friday nights after work instead of meeting pals for dinner. Her social calendar wasn’t exactly full, and she still felt like that gawky teenager she’d been. The truth was that ever since she’d returned to Cattle Barge in high school after being shifted to a group home in Kilburn City, she’d felt like an outsider. But then, no other place had felt like home, either. As silly as it sounded, even to her, the last time she’d felt like she belonged somewhere was primary school in Cattle Barge. Coming back had been an attempt to recover the feeling. So far, she’d supplied the town with the best ice cream she could create—at least that was something.

Thinking about the past, about her past, had a way of creating instant tension in her body. A headache threatened, so she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“The ice cream shop seems to be doing well. It’s all anyone can talk about.” The hint of pride in Dade’s voice caused ripples of hope—maybe a sense of belonging?—to bubble inside her chest.

“It’s definitely been keeping me on my toes, and I’m grateful people seem to like it.” The store made her feel part of the community, even if a counter stood between her and the rest of the world.

“I hear your employees like working for you,” he continued, more of that pride in his voice.

“One of my business professors taught me to hire for attitude. He said everything else can be learned.” She’d completed her associate degree at the community college in Kilgore while waitressing nights. Studying and working was about all she’d had time for in her early twenties. She couldn’t deny her focus was paying off now.

“Sounds like the guy knew what he was talking about,” Dade said.

“What about you?” Carrie wanted to know what had happened to Dade after high school when she’d moved away to go to college.

“I joined the service after graduation. Served my country and came home to the ranch to work the land,” he said, pulling into the alley. “Not sure how long I’ll stick around once the dust settles, though.”

Before she could ask what that meant, a strong sense of foreboding settled on her shoulders, like a heavy blanket. But it was probably nothing, right?

Until she caught a glimpse of red on the driver’s side door of her car. A single rose.

Strange. It hadn’t been there earlier.