Читать книгу The Sheriff Of Sage Bend - Brenda Mott - Страница 9

MIRANDA RODE UNTIL SHE felt as if she’d drop from the saddle. The volunteers had met back at the Rocking W as planned. A few people offered to comb the ranch and surrounding area again for anything they might’ve missed, while the majority—including Miranda, Paige and Lucas—had trailered their horses to a spot where they could ride to the lake from a different direction, ending up in the area where Shannon’s scrunchie had been found. Garrett and another deputy were meticulously going over both sides of the stream bank.

But they didn’t find anything.

It was almost dark by the time Miranda hauled Ranger home to Brush Creek. She rubbed him down, fed and watered him along with the other horses, then took care of the dogs and barn cats. She should go inside and take a hot shower, then grab something to eat, she knew. But she wasn’t hungry, and even though she was bone weary, the idea of lying in bed thinking about Shannon was more than she could bear.

Or thinking about Lucas.

He’d been so kind to her mother that he’d seemed to wear down Paige’s resistance. Miranda reminded herself not to let her own defenses down. Yes, she was grateful to Lucas for all he was doing to find her sister, but that didn’t erase what he’d done to her before.

With Tuck and Smudge following along, Miranda walked the path from the barn’s rear exit and on through the gate. Not far away, a small stream ran past the trees, a natural, year-round source of water for her horses. She found the sound of water gurgling over the rocks soothing, unlike the roar of the big stream they’d ridden around all day.

She sat on the bank while the dogs drank from the clear water. This had always been her favorite spot to sit and think, or occasionally, to read. Long before she’d owned the ranch, when she and Lucas were teenagers, they used to sneak over here, slipping through the barbed wire fence to sit under the giant cottonwoods, where the water formed a pool there.

She and Lucas had made love here on more than one occasion at night, under the wide, starry Montana sky.

Miranda closed her eyes. She shouldn’t come here anymore. Shouldn’t torment herself like this. Her limbs felt heavy, her head cluttered with a jumble of thoughts. Lucas…Shannon…

She woke up to the sound of Smudge growling, followed quickly by warning barks from both dogs. Miranda sat up just in time to see Lucas—his police-issue flashlight in hand—dodge the Australian shepherds as they double-teamed him, nipping at his heels and his pant legs.

“Smudge! Tuck! Here!” Miranda whistled, and both dogs begrudgingly returned to her. She stood up, her mind still unclear. Was she dreaming?

“Damned dogs,” Lucas said. He scowled at her. “What are you doing out here in the dark by yourself? For a minute, I thought you were dead.” He let loose with another expletive. “You scared me half to death.”

“And you scared the hell out of me.” She put her hand up to shield her eyes. “Wanna turn that thing off?”

He did, and it took a minute for her eyes to readjust to the moonlight.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“This is my property,” Miranda pointed out. “Why should you care where I sit?”

“You were asleep…. Anyone could’ve snuck up on you—like I did. Damn, woman. Isn’t it enough that your sister is missing?”

She winced. “I didn’t fall asleep intentionally, and besides, I’ve got my dogs.” She smirked, even if he probably couldn’t tell in the dark. “They were ready to take you on.”

“What if the someone hadn’t been me, but did have a gun?”

Miranda brushed grass and twigs from the seat of her pants. “What are you doing out here?”

“I thought I’d check on you on my way home.” He shifted, and she could hear the leather of his belt creak. “When I saw your house was dark, I figured you were asleep. So I thought…”

“Thought what? How’d you know I was out here?”

“I didn’t.” His tone told her he’d painted himself into a corner. “I guess I just wanted to come sit here by the creek for a few minutes.”

“For old times’ sake?” Miranda knew she sounded snarky, but it was the only defense she could come up with. He still remembered, too. It was unbearable.

“Something like that,” Lucas mumbled.

“Well, you sit here as long as you want. I’m going to bed.” She turned to walk away, and he grabbed her lightly by the elbow.

“Miranda, you know I never meant to hurt you.”

A dry laugh escaped her lips. “Really? And yet you left me in the church, feeling like a fool.”

“Why can’t you understand that I did what was best?”

“Best for who, Lucas? For me? I don’t think so.” She jerked her elbow out of his grasp and flounced toward the house with him following.

She slammed the door in his face, so that he wouldn’t see the tears that welled in her eyes.

“Come on, Miranda. Open up.” He rapped on the screen, setting off the dogs again.

“Go away, Lucas!” Miranda wiped her hands across her cheeks. Everything finally caught up with her. The long day, the search for her sister and now…

“Are you crying? Miranda, I’m sorry. Please, just let me have a minute.”

She took a deep breath, then opened the door, peering at him through the screen. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

“No. Lucas, go home. It’s been a long day.”

He sighed. “I know it has. And I’m sorry. For everything.” He turned and left.

Miranda watched the taillights of his Blazer disappear down the road.

Then she climbed into the shower and let the water wash away the trail dust along with her tears.

LUCAS DIDN’T WASTE ANY time. He drove to the jail in neighboring Cameron County early the next morning and turned his gun and gun belt over to the deputy. Sheriff Runyon himself walked Lucas to the jailhouse and buzzed him through to the visitors’ area. Lucas sat on one side of a Plexiglas partition as Lonnie Masterson, his hair buzzed short, was brought handcuffed into the small room on the other side.

Big and stocky, he wore an orange, short-sleeved jumpsuit that barely fit him, and tattoos lined his arms. He stared menacingly at Lucas, his black eyes piercing as he picked up the phone. Lucas did the same on his side.

“Well, Sheriff Blaylock, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Did you come to bring me some doughnuts?”

“We’ve got a missing woman in my county,” Lucas said, ignoring the remark and cutting right to the chase. “Shannon Ward. What do you know about that?”

“Ah, Shannon Ward.” Masterson smirked. “I know she’s one sweet hunk of tail, and that I danced with her at the Silver Spur awhile back.”

“Awhile back, as in the night you kidnapped and killed Jo Ella Jamison?”

Masterson’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “Now, Sheriff, that’s not a very nice thing to accuse a man of. You know I didn’t do anything to Jo Ella except take her out for a good time.”

“Yeah. Your idea of a good time, maybe.”

“Like I told you and Runyon, she was fine the last time I saw her.” He grinned. “Fine as frog’s hair.”

“Yeah, and what about Shannon Ward?”

Lonnie raised his eyebrows. “What about her? I ain’t seen her since I danced with her at the Silver Spur. Pretty little thing. You know, Sheriff, sometimes I wish I had taken her out for a good time that night instead of Jo Ella.”

Lucas gripped the phone so tight he felt it might crack. He’d rather it was Lonnie’s neck. “Maybe you wish Shannon weren’t around to testify against you. Maybe you did something to make sure of it. Which one of your buddies on the outside have you been in touch with lately?”

Lonnie guffawed. “What do I look like? One of the Sopranos?” He leaned close to the Plexiglas. “You bet, Blaylock. I hired Guido to whack her.” Then he leaned back in his chair and laughed.

“If I find out you had anything to do with Shannon’s disappearance, you won’t find your situation so amusing.” With that, Lucas slammed down the phone.

If he were a drinking man, he thought as he drove back to town, he’d be turning to a quart of whiskey about now.

Instead, he’d settle for a good, stiff cup of Fae and Mae’s coffee.

BY EIGHT-THIRTY, MIRANDA was at her computer, morning chores already behind her. From her desk, she pulled out a ream of colored paper, the pastels she used to create flyers advertising her barrel racing clinic and horse-breaking services. She’d have to rearrange her schedule and disappoint her clients, she thought numbly, as she fed pale pink sheets into her laser printer.

When she pulled up a picture of Shannon on her desktop, a lump in her throat threatened to choke her. It was a close-up shot of Shannon and Poker, standing near Paige’s barn. Miranda used her software program to zoom in on her sister, then cropped the photo so that her face was clearly seen. Then she ran off several dozen copies and drove to town. She’d arranged to meet her mom and Tori at the Truck Inn.

When she got there, the two were sitting at the counter nursing cups of coffee. Booths and tables alike were full to near capacity with hungry truck drivers and local customers. Behind the counter, Fae and Mae moved with the practice of years spent at a job they enjoyed, balancing impossible numbers of platters and calling out orders to the cook. The sound of a sizzling grill drifted from the cutout divider between the kitchen and the dining room. But the smells of waffles and bacon, which would ordinarily tempt Miranda, barely registered as she sat beside her mother on one of the tall, ladder-back stools.

“Morning, honey,” Mae said, plunking a white ceramic mug on the counter in front of Miranda. Hot, black coffee swirled into it, steam rising. “What can I get for you?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Miranda said. She laid the flyers on the counter.

“Now, you’re going to need more than coffee if you’re going to keep up your strength,” Mae scolded. “Just ask your momma. I’ll have Zane whip up some eggs and hash browns for you. It’ll only take a minute.” She bustled away.

“Are you all right, Mom?” Miranda eyeballed Paige’s plate, which contained the better part of a waffle, the maple syrup congealed around it. “You need to eat, too.”

“That’s what I told her,” Tori said. Her own plate had the leavings of biscuits and gravy. She pushed it away. “Guess I’m not all that hungry, either.”

Paige shoved a hand through her black hair. It looked as if she’d barely bothered to comb it. “I can’t eat.” She reached for one of the flyers. “You did a good job on these. I sure hope they help bring Shannon home. I saw Garrett a few minutes ago, and he said dispatch was getting quite a few calls already, but none of them have panned out.”

“What kind of calls?” Miranda asked.

“Well, one guy claimed he’d seen Shannon walking with Jesus on a lake in Minnesota.” She let out a snort. “Does that tell you what sort of tips they’re getting?”

“Maybe so, but one of them will pay off eventually. You’ll see.” Miranda spoke with a confidence she didn’t really feel.

“I’ll put up some flyers in the windows,” Mae said, as she passed by on her way to the kitchen.

“Leave us a stack of them, honey,” Fae added. “We’ll give them to some of the truckers running regular routes through the area. Maybe they can hang them up here and there—just in case.”

“Thanks,” Miranda said, dividing the flyers.

“Good morning, ladies.”

Miranda turned to see Kyle standing at her elbow. He wore faded jeans and a T-shirt, his brown hair mostly hidden beneath his ball cap.

“Hi, Kyle. How’s Blackhawk?”

“Raring to go, as usual. Have you got plans for continuing the search today?”

Miranda nodded. “I think everyone’s pretty much going to keep combing the areas we’ve partially covered.” She indicated Paige and Tori. “We’re going to post some flyers around town, then head out and look some more.”