Читать книгу What She Saw - Rachel Lee - Страница 8

Buck watched Haley walk away, feeling something between frustration and genuine concern. He couldn’t blame her for her response. It did sound like something out of as movie, and something for which he was willing to bet life in this town hadn’t prepared her.

On the other hand, his life experience had taught him to be suspicious by nature. If things didn’t fit, if things weren’t orderly, then something was going on. Sometimes it wasn’t a big deal. All too frequently it had been. And noticing those out-of-kilter things had often been his biggest guide to solving a crime.

He’d come on this trip expecting to find out absolutely nothing at all. He’d figured it would be a while before he learned something about what was happening with those shipments, if he heard anything at all. Instead it had practically landed in his lap because of an observant waitress. Follow that with a dead driver who’d been seen doing something squirrelly with another truck, and his internal klaxon had become deafening.

But how did he explain that to someone else? Especially someone like Haley, who had no idea that long-haul trucks shouldn’t be trading loads in a truck stop in Nowhere, Wyoming, or that a driver might be killed because of it. Who wouldn’t even begin to understand the dimensions of shipments disappearing and reappearing.

It was an alien world to her.

Then, of course, he must seem like the next best thing to a drifter to her. Rootless, wandering, a total unknown who had just approached her with the wildest story imaginable. She was just being smart, by her lights.

Maybe she was right. Maybe nothing threatened her at all. Maybe he looked like a bigger threat than having half seen something through the window of the diner.

He’d certainly come on pretty strong and from somewhere out in the stratosphere, given the world she knew.

He sighed and rose, heading back to the motel. So, okay. He couldn’t ignore his instincts. He couldn’t be sure that Haley was at risk, but he couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t. That didn’t leave him any really good options, except to do his best to keep an eye on her from a distance without worrying her.

In the meantime, he had to wait a few days before he went to the local cops to get the result of their accident investigation. He wanted autopsy results. He wanted toxicology results. Those took time.

For now he just had to remain on alert for anything that seemed odd.

Like a very expensive funeral, paid for by an anonymous donor, for a guy who’d been bragging that he was about to come into some money.

As he was walking along quiet, darkening streets, he thought about that funeral. A large donation struck him as a bit obvious for someone who wanted a quiet operation.

But maybe it had bought some silence. Maybe the Listons were up to their necks in this.

If they were, he had to find out.

He realized as he strode the quiet, tree-lined streets that he’d resumed more than the mantle of his old job; he’d resumed its habits. As if he’d never let go of them, his vigilance heightened, his eyes scouring every shadow and cranny, his ears listening for anything unusual.

Tension ran along his nerve endings, more out of habit than real necessity at this point. No one other than his bosses had any idea why he was hanging out here, and to the casual observer it must appear he had his eye on Haley.

Well, hell, he did. Not that that was going anywhere, but he was an ordinary man and like any other guy he couldn’t avoid being attracted to a woman like her. He’d seen enough other truckers noticing her in the same way.

He wondered if he should have just kept his mouth shut, left Haley out of his suspicions, made himself a bit obnoxious by seeming to be interested in her without telling her why. It would have been an easy enough role to play.

But he didn’t want to scare her by acting like a stalker, although maybe that’s what he had done anyway.

Losing his touch, he thought. Or maybe it was one he’d never really had. Dealing with soldiers was a whole different ball game, requiring a very different approach. His touch with women hadn’t won him any high marks, either.

As he neared the motel, though, he knew the game was about to change, for good or ill. There was a squad car parked near his unit, lights off, motor off, and occupied by a large deputy.

He took care to make some noise, make his approach overt. He’d never taken kindly himself to someone coming upon him without warning.

As he neared the car, the big deputy he’d seen the night before last climbed out. “Got a minute?” the big man asked as Buck neared.

“Sure. Want to come inside or talk out here?”

“Inside. A little privacy is a good thing.”

“That seems to be a major concern around here.” Buck pulled out his key and threw the door open, flipping on the lights. He was careful to step inside, keeping his hands in the open, then stand away from any possible weapon and wait.

The deputy looked around, taking in the duffel, the freshly made bed, the absence of any other personal belongings.

Then he regarded Buck from head to foot, as if measuring him. Buck returned the look. Some things were second nature. The deputy might have a few pounds on him, and an inch or two in height, but at thirty-four he had at least a couple of decades on the deputy. He noted, though, that the man hadn’t felt the need to unsnap the holster on the nine-millimeter pistol hanging from his utility belt. For the moment, this was a friendly visit.

The big man stuck out his head. “Micah Parish.”

Buck shook it. “Buck Devlin.”

“Mind if I sit?”

“Help yourself.” Since there was only one chair, Parish took it and Buck settled on the edge of the bed.

“We’re a friendly town, Mr. Devlin,” Parish said.

“I get that feeling.”

“Not many folks around. We kinda keep an eye on each other.”

Buck figured he knew where this was leading, but he didn’t try to head it off. Let the man have his say.

“Someone said you seemed to be having a bit of a disagreement with Haley Martin outside the funeral home.”

“It probably looked that way.”

Micah’s eyebrow lifted. “So what way was it?”

“I was trying to explain something to her.”

“Is that what she would tell me?”

“I honestly don’t know what she would tell you at this point. I’m fairly certain she thinks I’m a nut or a liar right now.”

One corner of Micah’s mouth hitched up, but it wasn’t with humor. “Would she be right?”

“By her lights.”

Micah’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “Quit fencing with me unless you want to be escorted out of town in the next hour.”

Buck hesitated. It went against the grain to let anybody in on his investigations before he was ready, but he decided to let the cat out and see where it went.

“Wallet,” he said, so Micah wouldn’t think he was reaching for a weapon, then dug into his pocket. He drew out both his IDs and turned them over.

Micah scanned them. “So you’re a truck driver and disabled vet. Neither one is necessarily a recommendation.”

“No. But maybe Army Third Military Police Group, Tenth Battalion will help.”

Micah’s brow furrowed, his dark eyes searching Buck’s face. “Tenth Battalion. Criminal investigation division. I know what you guys do. The only question is what you’re doing here. This card says you’re medically retired.”

“I am. My boss asked me to look into something for him. My misfortune to be the only former MP he has working for him.”

Micah tapped the two laminated cards against his knee. “Mind if I keep these for a few hours? I want to run a background.”

“Help yourself.”

Micah slipped the IDs into his breast pocket. “Tell me what you think is going on in my town and just how Haley fits in. That girl’s had enough trouble in her life. You bringing her more?”

“Actually, I’m suffering from a white-knight complex. I’m hoping to keep her from getting into more trouble.”

“That’s not helpful, Mr. Devlin. Is there some reason you don’t want to talk to me?”

“How about that I don’t know who is involved?”

Micah stiffened at that. “Maybe you should come to the office with me. I think our sheriff might want to talk to you, too.”

Buck rose to his feet. “Let’s go. I’d like to meet your sheriff. Then maybe you two can tell me enough about yourselves that I know I can trust you.”

Micah’s frown deepened. “You’ll ride in the cage,” he said flatly.

“Fine by me. I’d rather look like a criminal than your cohort right now.”

Micah wasn’t exactly gentle as he put Buck in the back of his vehicle. Which was fine by Buck.

If anybody was paying attention, and they might be since his hanging out here was apparently suspicious enough to garner legal attention, they’d think he was in trouble.

Right then, that’s just how he wanted it.

Miles away, in a living room that looked ancient in every way, Mr. and Mrs. Liston sat in their usual chairs, hands linked, still wearing their best clothes. Mrs. Liston was crying quietly, but her husband looked almost empty.

Across from them sat their eldest son, Jim. He had arrived only a few hours ago from Los Angeles. Until just a few months ago, he’d pretty much disappeared from their lives, much as Ray had, and they couldn’t understand it. But at least he was coming home again. For the past half year or so they’d seen him every few weeks. In a way they were grateful to him, because he’d helped Ray find that trucking job.

But now Ray was dead.

“I’m so sorry,” he said yet again. He sat there looking fine in his expensive clothes, and the corners of his mouth drooped.

“We’re all sorry, son,” Mrs. Liston finally said. “You know your brother was a good boy.”

“I know. We kept in touch, obviously. But you say the cops are asking about drugs?”

Both the elder Listons nodded.

“It was just a terrible accident,” Jim said soothingly. “Ray hadn’t been driving that long. I’m sure that’s what they’ll find out.”

Mr. Liston spoke. “He didn’t do no drugs. I know that much. And that Martin girl said the same thing.”

“What Martin girl?”

“Haley Martin. Works at the truck stop. She saw Ray just before…she said he was fine. Just fine. She don’t believe it was no drugs, either.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Jim said firmly. “I’m positive. Ray wouldn’t do that.”

“No,” Mr. Liston agreed. “No. Not my boy.”

Mrs. Liston wiped away her tears. “I’m gonna go get in my nightclothes. Then I’ll make us all some Ovaltine.” It had always been her soothing solution to everything. No one disagreed with her. Her husband went with her to change clothes.

Jim sat where he was, then as soon as he heard them reach their bedroom, he stepped outside and pulled out his cell phone. The signal was almost nonexistent, but he got through. The call was brief; he said very little.

But he did mention Haley Martin.

The sheriff’s office was located in a storefront on a corner across the street from the courthouse square, a bit of eastern charm transplanted to the West. Inside, the dispatcher’s desk was surrounded by other desks apparently for use by deputies. Each desk boasted a relatively new computer, all of which looked out of place on desks that were at least thirty years old, maybe older. Wooden floors creaked with every step.

A young deputy sat at the dispatcher’s desk, sipping coffee and looking bored behind a console that would have done a big-city operation proud.

Micah pointed Buck to a chair next to one of the desks. “Wait there.” Then he crossed to the dispatcher.

“Get Gage in here. I need him. Then run these IDs.” He pulled out Buck’s IDs and tossed them on the dispatcher’s desk. “I want everything you can find, and then you’re going to forget all of this unless I say otherwise.”

Evidently, Buck thought with mild amusement, gossip could be a problem in this office, too.

“Who made the coffee?” Micah asked.

“I did,” answered the young deputy, whose name tag said he was Rankin. “It’s not lethal.”

Micah glanced at Buck. “Coffee?”

“Black, please.” Evidently they hadn’t gotten past being courteous, always a good sign.

Micah brought two mugs over to the desk, handing one to Buck. “Getting decent coffee around here is a trial. Our day dispatcher, Velma, turns it into battery acid. Nobody has the heart to tell her to stop making it.”

“I’m used to stuff you can stand a spoon in.”

“Then you might like Velma’s brew.”

Silence fell. A call had been put out, but then the radio grew quiet. The only sound was Rankin tapping busily away, looking into Buck’s background.

“Do you really need a night shift around here?” Buck asked eventually. Not that he was opposed to silence, but a little friendly conversation seemed in order. He wanted these guys to cooperate, if possible, but at the very least not to get into his way. Unless they turned out to be part of the problem.

“We have roadhouses,” Micah said, as if that explained it all. It probably did. “You must have broken up a few drunken brawls in your day.”

“Plenty.”

“Cowboys coming in off the range are pretty much like soldiers on a pass. These days, cowboys aren’t often on the range.”

“Times are bad everywhere.”

Micah nodded. “Not getting any better, either. Too many folks trying to drown their sorrows.”

The sheriff arrived in about fifteen minutes. A man who appeared to be somewhere in his late fifties, with a burn-scarred face and visible limp, entered the office wearing a light jacket, jeans and his badge clipped to his belt.

He paused, looked at Buck. “What’s up?”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to find out,” Micah said. “Got a complaint from someone that this guy seemed to be bothering Haley Martin. According to him he wasn’t bothering her.”

“Have you talked to Haley?”

“Not until I figure out what’s going on here. Rankin’s pulling his background right now.”

“And you needed me for?”

“Well, I thought you and me together in a quiet office might get a little further. I get the feeling there’s something we need to know.”

There were a couple of ways to take that, but Buck decided to take it favorably until he had reason to think otherwise.

That was when Rankin looked up. “Holy cow,” he said.

“What?” the sheriff asked.

“This guy’s for real. I mean, really real.”

“Would you like to explain that?”

“You want the list of medals or the job description?”

The sheriff took a printout from Rankin and led the way to an office in the back. Buck followed with his coffee, waiting to see how this played out. Every muscle in his body was coiled and ready. He’d seen corruption in local law enforcement before, and trust wasn’t his strong suit.

For now, though, everything seemed on the up-and-up. The sheriff’s office was small. The nameplate on his desk, identifying him as Gage Dalton, Sheriff, looked as if it had taken more than one tumble to the floor. A computer filled one corner of the desk and a stack of papers the other.

Gage sat behind it, and Micah and Buck took up the two chairs facing it, while Gage scanned the printout. A moment later he handed Buck’s IDs back to him.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re former CID. Plenty of commendations. Plenty of blanks, too.”

Buck said nothing.

“Being former DEA myself, I know about those blanks. They don’t worry me much. So maybe you’d like to explain to Micah and me why someone would think you’re harassing Haley Martin and what you’re doing hanging around in my town.”

Buck hesitated a moment longer, glancing toward Micah.

“SF,” Micah said, referring to Special Forces. “Retired.”

“I wanted to scope things out a bit more before I came to you,” Buck said frankly. “I don’t know much about what’s going on right now, but something is, and I wanted to have some feel for who might be involved before I go shooting off my mouth.”

“It looks like the time for that is past,” Gage said bluntly. “You’re the stranger here, and you just got some unwanted attention. We can make your life easy or hard. Your choice.”

“I’m worried about Haley,” Buck said. “Among other things.”

“Why would you be worrying about somebody you hardly know?”

“Good question. I asked myself that same thing. It remains, I’m worried anyway. Old instincts die hard.”

“So explain,” Gage said.

Buck explained. He gave them his boss Bill’s name, he told them about the shipment problem, he pointed out that Haley had seen something unusual in the parking lot, that Ray shouldn’t be dead, and that he was seriously concerned that something was happening here that could endanger her if someone thought she knew too much.

“You could have just told us to keep an eye on her,” Micah pointed out.

“Sure. And then everyone would know the cops smelled something wrong and I might never find out what’s happening with those shipments.”

“Are you sure you’re not just dragging her in deeper?”

“Nobody knows I’m investigating except my bosses. Everyone would think I was just hanging around because of Haley. At least that was the plan. A lot of guys would hang around because of her.”

“So she’s your cover.”

“Yes. And I tried to reassure her about it, but that didn’t seem to work. Which I can understand. But I tried. I didn’t want her to think I was actually stalking her.”

“Backfire,” Micah remarked.

“Clearly,” Buck agreed.

Gage drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Apart from this being totally unconventional, was your master plan to follow Haley around until you figure something out?”

“Well, I need an excuse to hang around until the next irregularity occurs. Then I’ll follow the second truck to see where it’s going. If I can. At the very least, I have to confirm that shipments are being switched here. That’s my official task. What happens after that…” He shrugged. “Let’s just say I might want to know where the other truck is going.”

At that Gage leaned forward. “If you find out, you’re going to let us know. Right? You’re not going to take the law into your own hands. Not here.”

“I’m not allowed to anymore. I get it. But as everyone keeps pointing out to me, this is a small, tight-knit community. How many people around here don’t know every single one of your deputies by sight?”

Gage and Micah exchanged looks.

“He’s got a point,” Micah remarked.

“He damn well does.” Gage leaned back, grimacing faintly. “I’ll agree on one point, Mr. Devlin—”

“Buck.”

“Buck. Okay. I’m Gage. I agree with you on one thing. This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to unless something illicit is being shipped in some of those containers. Illicit and worth considerable money. There’s no point in it otherwise. And maybe you’re right about Ray talking a little too much about coming into some money. Around here that would get attention.”

“So did his anonymously-paid-for funeral.”

Gage disagreed. “That doesn’t fit with the rest of the story.”

“Unless the Listons are in on this somehow.”

“It’s possible,” Gage said after brief reflection. “That family has been dirt poor forever. They might be willing to do almost anything to make ends meet.” Then he shook his head. “Only one problem. In all their lives, they’ve never done one thing wrong.”

“Except for that scrape Ray got in right after he graduated,” Micah said.

“Alcohol and tough words don’t mix well,” Gage remarked. “I’ve seen worse sins in my day. He paid for it.”

From Buck’s perspective, it was interesting to hear how well these lawmen knew the people of this area. He’d almost never had that advantage in the army. “So,” he asked slowly, “who might be up to something?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Gage regarded him thoughtfully. “All right. When can I call your boss?”

Buck looked at his watch. “Right now if you want. He’s on until midnight Pacific time. Ask for Bill Grayson.” He recited the phone number and Gage scribbled it down.

Gage called, waited a few minutes, then started speaking to Bill. From Buck’s perspective, it was interesting.

“Your employee didn’t have much choice, Mr. Grayson. Strangers around here get a lot of attention. We’re a small town. We wanted to know why a truck driver was hanging around. This isn’t exactly a vacation destination. He’s sitting in my office right now. Yes. No, we’re not getting directly involved in what he’s doing. It might create more problems. Yes. I’ll tell him.”

Gage hung up. “That’s one upset man.”

“He wants this quiet so the company doesn’t lose business. It hardly looks good for a trucking company to keep messing up its manifests.”

“Doesn’t look good at all.” Gage sighed. “Okay, you’re legit. I see two problems here. First, you stick out like a sore thumb. Second, you’re right, if we start doing anything different, half the county will be wondering what’s going on within a day or two. So I’m going to give you free rein. Within the law, that is. As for Haley…”

Buck waited while Gage frowned. “Why couldn’t you have picked someone else?”

“Like I said, it’s Haley I’m worried about. Micah knows she reported that something was going on in that parking lot that night. So two deputies and at least two other people know what she thought she saw—the guy everyone calls Hasty, and the other waitress. I gather folks around here talk about nearly everything.”

“The downside of a small town,” Gage remarked. “If you want to know what you’re doing, ask a neighbor.”

That surprised a laugh from Buck. “That bad?”

“Damn near. On the other hand, nosiness doesn’t keep people from hiding things they want to hide. It just makes them a damn sight more cautious.” He looked at Micah. “If Buck here is right, these folks are willing to kill.”

“We won’t know that until the reports are back.”

“No, but can we afford to take the chance? So I guess we’d better let Haley know Buck is okay. She can decide how much she wants to trust him or help him.” Then his gaze returned to Buck, as strong as laser beams. “You be careful of that girl, hear? She’s strong, but there’s a part of her that’s fragile. No hanky-panky with her. No leading her on. You’re here for a few days or weeks, and I don’t want to see any broken hearts.”

“That’s not on my agenda. At all.”

Gage continued to study him. “Why do I get the feeling you like to give people a hard time?”

“I’ve heard that before.” And damned if he was going to apologize for it.

“I bet you have.” A lopsided smile appeared on Gage’s scarred face. “You know you’re at a disadvantage. Being an outsider, nobody around here is going to tell you much.”

“I’m used to that.”

“I’ll bet,” said Micah. He looked at Gage. “If you think a stranger investigating around here is going to be tough, watch an MP looking into a unit of Rangers. You’d think they all became instantly deaf, dumb and blind.”

At that Gage cracked a laugh. “Okay. I’ll call Haley and tell her you check out. But that’s all I’m going to tell her. I want her to sleep easy. Other than that, it’s all her decision. If I hear you pushed her even a little, you’re on your way out.”

Buck could live with that. He just hoped he hadn’t tipped his hand to the wrong people. Given the way these cops seemed to know about every little thing around here, he had to wonder how they could be unaware of whatever was happening at the truck stop.

It didn’t leave him feeling easy at all as he walked back to the motel.

Haley didn’t exactly feel nervous when she got home. Buck hadn’t tried to follow her, and she was still torn between believing him and thinking he was some kind of nut. What he said made a certain sense, and in her heart of hearts she found it hard to believe that Ray had rolled his truck on that stretch of road unless something major had happened. Then there was that shadowy exchange in the parking lot, which might or might not be weird. What did she know about the trucking business, after all? Maybe it had been a delivery for some place near here. That struck her as far more likely than that someone was doing something wrong.

But then there was Buck’s story of mixed-up shipments. That sounded even stranger, but she had to admit it had an element of plausibility to it. The things he’d said about money…

She sighed after she finished brushing her teeth, then climbed into sweats for sleeping. Summer nights sometimes turned cool around here, and this one was cooling a lot. She didn’t want to turn on the heat because she needed to save money.

Padding around in slipper socks, she went to get her nightly glass of milk. She didn’t care for it warm, so despite the night’s chill she drank it cold.

Well, if she had anything to be grateful for, it was that Buck hadn’t dumped his story on her earlier in the day. At least she had finished studying for the exam tomorrow morning. She looked at her nutrition books, piled on her cheap little desk beside a lamp, and decided enough was enough. She needed to get some sleep, needed to calm her mind down.

She paused to look at a framed photo of her mother, one taken before illness had robbed her beauty, and found herself thinking about the costs of funerals. How had the Listons afforded all of that? Even if the entire county had chipped in a dollar per family, it wouldn’t have covered that coffin.

There she went again, pondering matters that had no answers. It occurred to her to be sorry she had ever talked to Buck Devlin at all. Before he had entered her life, things had seemed so generally uncomplicated. At least since her mother’s passing. She needed some calm and stability after those long years of riding the cancer roller coaster with her mother. She wanted her life to be calm and even dull. For a while.

She knew life had been bound to knock her out of her quiet little pond at some point. She might be young in some respects, but she figured she was pretty old in others. Old enough to know that smooth sailing was the exception rather than the rule.

Sitting in her mother’s old armchair, she sipped her milk and tried to absorb all her conflicting feelings about Buck Devlin. At some point, she realized she wanted to believe him, but was afraid to.

Interesting. She wanted to believe there was some illegal activity going on in the parking lot at Hasty’s and that Buck was seriously investigating it? That she might be in danger because she had glimpsed something she could barely make out through a window that had acted more like a mirror?

That Ray had been murdered?

That wasn’t a world she wanted to live in. But much of her life had been a world she hadn’t wanted, and that was probably true for most people.

She sighed, finished her milk and headed to the kitchen to rinse the glass, wondering if her attraction to Buck Devlin wasn’t screwing up her thinking. Claire’s warning drifted back to her. Yeah, he was a rolling stone, here today and gone tomorrow. That alone should make her wary.

Then the phone rang. It startled her because she wasn’t used to having late-night calls. There’d been a time when such calls meant that her mother had taken a bad turn in the hospital.

It was over now, but the dread of late-night phone calls remained. Her heart started hammering as she reached for the receiver as if it were a poisonous snake.

“Hello?”

“Haley, this is Gage Dalton.”

That made her stomach lurch. Immediately her mind started scrambling for ideas of what might have gone wrong to make the sheriff call her at such an hour.

“I just wanted you to know,” he said, “we had a complaint tonight that a truck driver, Buck Devlin, was harassing you at the funeral home.”

Haley felt her stomach sink. She hadn’t wanted this, no matter what. He might be what he said he was, or he might be a nut, but he hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t even scared her enough to get the police involved. “Not really,” she managed to say.

“I’m not saying he did. I’m just letting you know we had a report so we checked into him.”

She caught her breath. “And?”

“He’s exactly what he says he is and is doing exactly what he told you he’s doing. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether to get involved with him. But I don’t think you need to fear him.”

That slight emphasis on him left her wondering if Gage thought she had something else to fear, but if he had, wouldn’t he have said so?

All of a sudden she didn’t want to be alone. All of a sudden, despite the milk, she felt wide awake. Great. That was going to help on her test in the morning.

Regardless, she pulled on a bra under her sweat suit, tugged on her jogging shoes, grabbed her purse and headed for the truck stop.

She needed bright light, the swirl of people around her and some carbs to calm her down. At that moment nothing sounded better than a piece of Hasty’s cobbler and a bit of sensible talk with Claire.

As it happened, the place was pretty busy when she arrived. Claire and another waitress, Meg, were busy enough they could have used some help. Haley considered clocking in and digging a spare uniform out of her locker, but Hasty stopped her.

“You’re supposed to be resting, what with that test tomorrow and the play the next two nights. What in the world are you doing here?”

“I was called by your cobbler.”

He unleashed one of his rolling laughs and promptly dished her up a serving big enough for two. “Coffee?”

“Milk, please.”

She would have settled at the counter except that a table near the window emptied. She headed straight for it and closed her eyes for a few moments as she savored the first mouthful of peach perfection.

She opened her eyes again and studied the lot. The window really did act almost like a mirror. She could choose either to see what was going on around her in the restaurant, or to pick out the shadowy movements in the lot. And they were