Читать книгу Her Colton Lawman - Carla Cassidy - Страница 10
ОглавлениеChief of Police Flint Colton jammed on the brakes of his patrol car and with a quick flip of the steering wheel, squealed to a halt along the side of the gravel road.
He slapped his black cowboy hat more firmly on his head and jumped out of the car, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. He pulled his gun and headed into the woods that formed a perimeter on one side of the small town of Dead River, Wyoming.
He entered the heavily wooded area with his adrenaline pulsing through him. He’d seen something moving among the nearly bare trees...not just something, but rather someone on two legs, someone who definitely didn’t belong there.
It could be either one of two people, a cold-blooded killer who was on the loose or the stupid kid who had left Flint’s cousin, Molly, at the altar, but not before he’d cleaned out her bank accounts and stolen Flint’s grandmother’s heirloom ring.
Right now he didn’t much care which man it might be; he only knew he’d seen the flash of a red jacket running through the woods that might mean an arrest, and he was desperate for something positive to happen.
He’d lost sight of his prey, but raced in the direction he’d last seen the person running. All of his senses were acutely alive. The scent of November surrounded him with smells of withering leaves and the pleasant odor of a wood-burning fireplace coming from somewhere in the distance.
He not only heard the snap and crackle of dead tree limbs and the crunching of leaves ahead of him, but he also heard the nearby scurry of wildlife disturbed by his presence in their home.
A desperate need drove Flint forward. The town needed something good to happen after the past month of nothing but bad news and abject fear. He hoped the man he chased was Hank Bittard, a murderer who had nearly killed a deputy when he’d escaped from custody last week. Getting that man back behind bars would at least ease some of the worries of the people of the small town.
He muttered a curse as he tripped over an exposed root, nearly going down on one knee. He straightened up and then paused and listened.
Nothing. He didn’t hear the noise of somebody crashing over dried brush or the snapping of twigs as anyone ran away. He heard nothing to indicate that he wasn’t completely alone in the woods.
Had Flint only imagined the flash of red, the motion of a person running in the woods? Or was the person he pursued also standing perfectly still now as well, waiting for Flint to make a move and give away his position?
He tightened his grip on his gun, hearing his own heartbeat echoing in his head. Bittard wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet through Flint’s heart. He was a ruthless killer who had initially been arrested for the murder of his boss. Flint would love to get him back into custody. But Flint also didn’t know for sure if the man had a weapon or not.
He moved forward once again, a dose of reality taking the edge off the initial adrenaline rush that had gripped him. He had to admit that whoever he might have been chasing was gone now, and he had no idea in what direction to proceed.
He continued walking and veered slightly to his left, attempting to move as quietly as possible. His breath caught in his chest as he came gun to gun with a man in a white HAZMAT suit.
Flint instantly raised his hands and slowly backed away, grateful that he was clad in his black police uniform and that the sun caught and glinted off his badge.
Flint knew there was only one reason the man in the HAZMAT suit would shoot him and that was if Flint tried to get by him and step out of the perimeters the CDC had set up. Whoever Flint had been chasing wouldn’t have a way out of town, not with the quarantine in place.
“Did anyone come this way before me?” Flint asked.
The man in the suit shook his head.
Discouraged, he slowly continued to back away from the man and then turned and headed to his car. The opportunity to catch the person in the woods had been lost this time.
It was just after noon. He’d check in with his men at the station and then head to the diner for some lunch. He still believed that Hank was hiding out in the woods, a place where he’d often go with his buddies for target shooting. The woods would continue to be a focal point for Flint to hunt for Hank.
As he drove onto Main Street and into the center of town, he was disheartened by the lack of people on the streets, the eerily deserted air of what had been a thriving little town until the mysterious disease had struck.
He clenched his hands around the steering wheel, acknowledging that at the moment there was nothing that could be done about the quarantine preventing people from entering or leaving the town.
The entire town of Dead River was trapped by a deadly disease with no cure so far and shut in with a desperate killer who had no place to run and had yet to be apprehended.
The police station was in the middle of town, a one-story brick building with two small jail cells in the basement and a larger general holding cell. The two cells had seemed adequate for such a small town when Flint had been voted in as chief of police, but he wondered now if, because of the quarantine, they’d have to figure out a way to cobble together more cells as tensions rose and tempers flared. Already occupying the general holding cell was Doug Gasper, a stalker who’d recently been apprehended at his brother Theo’s ranch.
The pair of cells in the basement were reserved for the likes of of Hank Bittard and Jimmy Johnson, the young man who had taken advantage of sweet Molly, and it was anyone’s guess who might go around the bend and become a danger to others due to the stress and anxiety of the quarantine.
He parked his car and got out, hoping that one of his deputies might have some news about the two missing men, or perhaps an update about the mystery illness that had struck and forced the CDC to quarantine the town.
Kendra Walker greeted him from behind her desk in the small reception area. She worked during the day as both receptionist and dispatcher.
“Hey, Chief,” she said and then the phone rang, taking her attention away from him.
He gave her a wave and pushed through the doors that led into the area where the officers had their desks. His private office was at the back of the room, along with a single room that was used for interrogations or staff meetings.
Flint was thirty-two years old but at the moment he felt closer to sixty. The weight of the events of the past month sat heavily on his shoulders, and even heavier in his heart.
“Have you been rolling around in the woods?” Officer Patrick Carter stepped in front of Flint and picked out a twig that had been trapped beneath his collar. He tossed it in a nearby trash can and then turned back and looked at Flint expectantly.
“I was patrolling near the woods on the west side of town, and I thought I saw somebody running. I got out and gave chase, but I didn’t manage to catch whoever it was,” Flint said, unable to help the frustration that edged into his voice.
“Hmm. That squares with a report we got earlier this morning. Walt Jennings called in to say that somebody broke into his shed overnight. Whoever it was, they stole some rope, a fillet knife and some canned goods that Walt had stored in there. Mike and Larry went out to talk to Walt and check out the shed to see if maybe they could pull some prints.”
“Sounds like one of our fugitives is getting desperate,” Flint replied thoughtfully. “This makes three break-ins in homes around the perimeter of those woods. It was a gun and food that was taken last week. I’d like to know if it’s Bittard or Johnson who now has a gun and a knife.”
“Let’s hope it’s Jimmy. He might be able to charm a young woman right out of her life savings and break her heart, but I don’t think he has it in him to shoot or stab anyone,” Patrick replied.
“Let’s hope,” Flint said. “I’m going to head over to the diner for some lunch. You want to join me?”
“Nah, I grabbed a burger earlier. I’ll stick around here and hold down the fort.”
“If you need me just give me a call, and let me know if Mike and Larry discover anything useful at Walt’s place,” Flint said and with Patrick’s nod of assent, Flint left the building.
The diner was two blocks from the sheriff’s station, and he decided to walk it. The November sun was warm on his back although there was a definite bite to the air that portended winter’s imminent appearance.
Winter in Wyoming could be rough, but this winter would be particularly tough on the town if they had to spend Christmas still under quarantine, if a desperate killer was still trapped in the town and not in custody and if more people got sick and died.
The Dead River Diner was like diners and cafés in hundreds of small towns across the country, with red booths lining the walls, square tables in the center and a long counter where Flint usually sat whenever he came into the place. There was even an old working jukebox that played ancient country songs for a quarter, and it was played a lot.
As he walked the sidewalk, he passed the post office, a dress boutique and the grocery store. Across the street was the Blue Bear Restaurant, popular for special-occasion dining. There was also the Dead River Café and a hardware store.
He waved at the old man who sat on a bench in front of the hardware store. Eighty-five-year-old Harvey Watters had lost his wife three years ago.
Since Harvey’s wife’s death, the old man ate breakfast each day at the café and then sat on the bench until lunchtime. He’d return to the café for lunch and then resume his seat on the bench until just before dark, when he finally headed home. The only days Harvey wasn’t on the bench was when it rained.
Harvey lived two houses down from Flint’s house in the center of town. The two men had struck up an unlikely friendship, and it wasn’t unusual for Flint to stop in at Harvey’s house for a quick game of chess or a couple of beers on an occasional evening. Unfortunately, over the past month there had been little time for that kind of pleasant socializing.
He took off his hat and shoved open the door to the diner and was greeted by the scents of burgers frying and sauces simmering, an olfactory assault that was pure pleasure.
Even more pleasurable was the sight of Nina Owens, the diner’s owner, behind the counter. He’d been attracted to Nina since the moment he’d moved back to town, but with his brother Theo’s health issues and the fact that he’d suddenly found himself chief of police, there had been little time to pursue anything resembling a romance.
And now, with the additional pressures of a murderer loose and the virus that had people afraid of their own shadows, this definitely wasn’t the time for him to think about a relationship.
In any case, he was fairly certain Nina wasn’t particularly attracted to him. Although she was always friendly when she served him, she rarely stuck around to chitchat, and he’d always felt a distance, a wall rising up whenever she interacted with him.
She stood at the far end of the counter, her pretty face lit with a warm smile as she poured more coffee into a cup for Jeff Cambridge, a muscular, dark-haired man who worked as a teller at the bank.
Her thick and wavy auburn hair was captured with a red tie at the nape of her neck, but he knew that when it was loose, it was a glorious mane of burnished reds and gold that fell to just below her shoulders.
The black slacks that were part of the diner uniform fit perfectly on her slender legs, and the white blouse showcased a slender waist and full breasts.
She finished pouring the coffee, put the pot back on the burner and then turned and saw him. He wasn’t sure if he imagined the slight narrowing of her hazel eyes, but by the time she reached him, she smiled at him in friendliness.
“Good afternoon, Flint,” she said. “What can I get for you?”
“A burger and fries and a cup of coffee,” he replied. Before she turned to place the order, he quickly spoke again. “How’s business these days?”
“Not great, but I suppose I can’t complain. At least we still have customers coming in.” She looked around the diner, which on a Saturday afternoon would usually be packed but now only held a handful of people. “I almost feel as if I’m on vacation since we’re opening at 9:00 a.m. now instead of five-thirty, but business has dropped off enough that I couldn’t justify the early hours anymore. I’m planning a big Thanksgiving feast for everyone in town, a free traditional turkey dinner. I’m hoping to have a big crowd that day. I think we could all use a day of community and mutual support.”
“That sounds great. It’s a generous gesture.” He knew through the grapevine that Nina was known as a positive force in town. She was a Search and Rescue volunteer and had a reputation for being cheerful and optimistic no matter what the circumstances.
He frowned thoughtfully. “Aren’t you afraid of getting sick? You work here with the public every day, and if you’re inviting the whole town to a feast, there’s really no way to know who might be sick with the virus and who isn’t.”
Her eyes sparkled, and her lips curved into a smile that fired a hint of heat in the pit of his stomach. “If I was going to get the Dead River virus, it probably would have already happened by now. Besides, I refuse to live my life being afraid of friends and neighbors.”
She didn’t wait for him to reply, but instead twirled on her feet, placed his order with the kitchen and then wandered back down to the opposite side of the counter.
Flint drew a weary sigh. It was obvious she didn’t feel any spark of interest in him. It was probably a good thing because with a killer to catch and his own grandmother suffering from the mysterious illness that had the town quarantined, the last thing he needed to entertain was any idea of a romance with the hot owner of the local diner.
* * *
Nina Owens was acutely aware of Chief of Police Flint Colton at the opposite end of the counter. As she’d served him his meal, she’d tried not to notice the richness of his dark brown hair or the almost electric green of his eyes. She tried to ignore his handsome, chiseled features and the commanding aura that radiated from him.
His shoulders were broad, his legs long and his waist slender. She’d been physically drawn to him since the very first time he’d walked into her diner around a year ago, but at the same time she’d been faintly repelled by the uniform he wore and the job that he did.
She knew her distaste for any officer of the law was irrational and that she should have grown out of her belief that all police were bad, but it was a vague uneasiness that she’d never been able to overcome when encountering any law-enforcement person.
She knew Flint was a highly respected man, known for his sharp intelligence, his sense of fairness and the seriousness with which he took his job.
She remained overly conscious of his presence at the counter until he’d eaten his lunch and left. Only then did she fully relax. She’d been in Dead River for the past three years, and it was a cruel fate that had made the first man she felt any attraction toward a law-enforcement official.
She’d seen enough dirty cops while growing up to never want to see one again for the rest of her life, not that she’d heard anything to indicate that Flint was anything close to a dirty cop.
It was just after the dinner rush that she went into the kitchen and found one of her waitresses, Flint’s cousin Molly, crying.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Nina asked as she draped an arm around the young woman’s slender shoulder. Even though Nina asked the question, she knew what probably had the pretty redhead weeping.
“I’m sorry,” Molly said as she gazed at Nina and quickly swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I know it’s stupid, but I just started thinking about what a fool I was with Jimmy. I can’t believe I let him talk me into putting his name on all my bank accounts and credit cards. I can’t believe I gave him my grandma’s ring to give to me at our wedding and most of all I can’t believe that I fell in love with him and didn’t realize he was such a slimy creep.” She drew a tremulous sigh as tears once again filled her bright blue eyes.
“Listen, honey, you aren’t the first woman in the world who fell in love with a creep,” Nina replied as she gave Molly a hug. “Just be grateful that you found out what his real character was like before the wedding actually took place.” Nina pulled a napkin from a nearby container and handed it to Molly.
“Flint says he can’t go after him for the money Jimmy stole because his name was on all the accounts, and that means he had the legal right to take it. I don’t care so much about the money, but I’m so sick that he took my grandmother’s ring.” She dabbed at her eyes with the napkin.
“And didn’t Flint tell you that once they find him, he will be arrested for the theft of the ring?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid he pawned it or something, and I’ll never get it back,” Molly replied.
Nina patted Molly’s shoulder. “If he pawned the ring here in town, then Flint will find it, and since he can’t get out of town, the odds are good that he still has the ring with him. Are you okay to work or do you need to go home?”
Molly sniffled and wiped her cheeks once again. “No, I’m fine. I just had a momentary mini-breakdown. Besides, I’m helping Helen close up tonight.”
“And I’m leaving a bit early to take dinner to Grace,” Nina said.
Molly’s blue eyes deepened in hue. “Aren’t you afraid that she has the virus?”
Nina smiled gently. “All I know for sure is that Grace went home sick yesterday. I don’t know if she has a bad cold, the common flu or the Dead River virus. I’m sure she won’t feel like cooking tonight so I’m fixing up a care package, and I’m taking it to her and Billy.”
She gave Molly a shove toward the dining area. “Now get back to work and stop beating yourself up over that jerk Jimmy, and stop worrying about me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Molly gave her a saucy salute and left the kitchen.
Nina was grateful to see Molly back to her cheerful sweetness. At twenty-one years old, Molly was probably going to kiss a lot of frogs before she finally found the man meant for her.
Nina had certainly kissed a lot of frogs in her life, but she wasn’t looking for any special man to share her life. She was perfectly content alone, always had been, always would be.
With the dinner rush finished, Nina got busy filling a large Styrofoam take-out container with slices of meat loaf and mashed potatoes, green beans and two dinner rolls. There was not only enough food to feed Grace, but also her eight-year-old son.
Grace had left work early the day before with a bad cough and complaining about a bad headache. Nina had called her this afternoon, and Grace had confessed she still didn’t feel well at all.
Nina had told her to stay in bed, drink lots of fluids and had promised she’d stop by this evening with dinner for both her and her son, Billy.
Just before she finished packing up the food, she threw into the bag a couple of her special double chocolate chip cookies, knowing that they were one of Billy’s favorites.
Billy was almost a daily visitor to the diner. Grace worked an eight-to-five schedule, and Billy would come in after school during the weekdays and take a two-top table in the corner to wait for his mom’s shift to be over.
He was a cute kid with shiny brown hair and blue eyes like his mother. He was also a good kid, who sat quietly and did his homework, never bothering anyone while he was there. Nina had taken to him immediately, as she did most of the younger diners who came in with their parents.
Darkness had already fallen when Nina finally stepped out of the back door of the diner where her car was parked. Clad in a long-sleeved white blouse and a pair of black slacks that all the waitresses wore, she wished she’d thought of bringing her coat with her that morning as the night had brought with it a nip of a wintry chill.
She got into her car and placed the bag of food on the passenger seat and then turned her key to start the engine. She frowned at the sound of the familiar whir-whir of her battery refusing to catch. She turned the ignition off, waited a minute and then tried again, grateful to hear the engine finally roar to a start.
Gus at Dead River Auto Body had put in a new battery for her last week, but had warned her that the problem might be her alternator.
She waited for the heater to begin to blow warmth, trying to decide when she could take the time off to get the car back in for Gus to fix. Most days and evenings she was at the diner.
She supposed she could drop it off on the way to work one morning and pick it up on the way home. She could get either one of the cooks or a waitress to drive her from the auto shop in the morning and take her back there in the evening.
As she waited, she thought of all the recent events that had changed the town she had come to love and call home.
It was hard to believe that it was just a month ago that Mimi Rand, a local socialite, had returned to town with a baby she claimed was Flint’s brother Theo’s, the result of one night the two had spent together.
She’d arrived at Theo’s house, introduced him to the three-month-old little girl and then collapsed.
Dr. Lucas Rand, the head doctor at the Dead River Clinic had worked desperately to save the woman, who was also his ex-wife, but she had died anyway. By the time of her death, another man was dead along with two children, also suffering from the same mysterious symptoms.
When Flint’s grandmother, Dottie Colton, had fallen ill along with a teenage boy, the town was shut down by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Overnight the town had transformed from a small tight-knit community to something out of a science-fiction film. CDC trailers and equipment now surrounded the Dead River Clinic, and National Guard and other security forces, who looked like space men in their HAZMAT gear and guns, formed a perimeter around the town. Nobody in...nobody out.
With warm air finally blowing out of her car’s heater vents, Nina pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Grace Willard’s small home.
She hoped her words to Molly proved true, that Grace had a simple cold or a common case of the flu and not the Dead River virus, of which the initial symptoms were very similar but then escalated quickly until the patient was deathly ill with severe respiratory issues and a high fever.
Nina wasn’t afraid for herself by going to Grace’s house. She figured she’d already been exposed to the virus day after day with the stream of people who came into the diner to eat. Of course, as a waitress, Grace would have the same kind of exposure and so would Billy.
There had also been the escape of a hardened criminal and Molly’s heartbreak, and all of these issues had changed the very heart and soul of Dead River.
Everyone regarded everyone else with suspicion, wondering who might be sick with the mysterious illness or who might be some sort of carrier. Then there were the suspicions of who might be helping the two fugitives in town, killer Hank Bittard and Molly’s jerk, Jimmy Johnson.
She desperately hoped that the Thanksgiving feast she had planned would bring people together, bring back a sense of community and remind everyone that they were all in this mess together, but the holiday was still weeks away. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem likely that a cure would be found by then.
Just before turning onto the side street where Grace lived, she frowned and slowed as she saw a couple near the streetlamp just ahead. As she drove closer, a sense of horror swept through her.
In the spill of illumination from the light, she could now see that it was a man and a woman. The man had a rope around the woman’s neck, and although Nina couldn’t hear a scream or a single indication of the woman’s terror, she felt it ripple through her blood.
Nina stopped her car, unsure what she should do but knowing she needed to do something and fast. It would take her too long to dig her cell phone out of her purse and call for help.
Still, if she didn’t do something quickly she knew that the woman would be strangled to death. She opened her car door and stepped halfway out.
“Hey,” she cried out. “Hey, you, let her go!”
At that moment the woman fell to the ground in a boneless drop that made Nina realize it was too late, the woman was definitely unconscious or possibly dead. As the man raised his head and stared at her, Nina’s heartbeat raced with a frantic rhythm.
He started toward her, and she nearly stumbled as she got back into her car and locked the doors. She had to get out of here and fast. Her heart nearly halted as she realized her car had stopped running.
“Come on, come on,” she cried as she turned the key and heard the familiar grinding noise. She glanced out the window to see that the man was getting closer...closer.
“Please,” she begged as she pumped the gas and tried to start the car again, knowing that if she didn’t get rolling she was a sitting duck for a man who had just possibly committed a murder right in front of her eyes.
