Читать книгу Her Texas Lawman - Stella Bagwell - Страница 9

Long before daylight the next morning, Ripp was sitting at his kitchen table wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and sipping his first cup of coffee. Outside, down the dirt road that ran past his property, a rooster was crowing and somewhere nearby he could hear Chester, his black Labrador, barking, probably at an armadillo that was determined to dig up the last of the potatoes in the vegetable garden.

Ripp had moved into the small, shotgun-style house five years ago, after his father, Owen McCleod, had lost a long battle with lung disease. The family farm, where Ripp and his older brother, Mac, had once helped their father raise corn and cotton, had held too many painful memories for both men. They’d sold the place and used most of the money to settle up the enormous medical bills that had piled up while their father fought to stay alive. As for their mother, Frankie, she’d left the family farm long ago, when her sons had been mere children of eight and ten years old. Neither Ripp nor his brother ever heard from the woman and both of them preferred it that way. She’d chosen another man over her husband and sons and neither of them had any use for her.

As for what money remained from the estate sale, Ripp had used his small amount to buy this two-acre spot on the outskirts of Goliad. The house was old and had needed lots of work when he’d purchased the property, but Ripp was handy with carpentry and he’d managed to do all the refurbishing himself. And even though the house was far from fancy, the results of his hard work never ceased to leave him with a sense of proud accomplishment. At night, when he walked through the door, he liked knowing that his home, his land, belonged to him rather than some downtown banker.

Across the small kitchen, atop a refrigerator so ancient it had rounded edges, a radio was spewing the local news and weather. However, Ripp was paying little attention to the information. Last night he’d gone to sleep with Lucita Sanchez on his mind and this morning when he’d opened his eyes she was right there again.

Lijah’s discovery of the second set of tire marks had turned out to be correct, which meant that Lucita had been telling the truth. Someone had deliberately harassed her, then driven away from the scene after she’d crashed. The idea was more than disturbing to a man whose job was to keep the peace and ensure the safety of the citizens of the county.

Who did he think he was kidding? Ripp asked, as he left the table to drop two pieces of bread into a chrome toaster. This wasn’t about the citizens of Goliad County. This was something far more personal. Something about Matt’s sister haunted him, riled him and even stirred his libido. For the first time since Pamela had broken their engagement four years ago, Ripp actually caught himself thinking of a woman in a sexual way and the realization shocked him.

The browned bread popped up with a loud snap. Ripp retrieved a container of butter and a jar of jelly from the refrigerator, spreading thick layers on both pieces before tossing them onto a saucer and eating both pieces while standing at the cabinet counter.

Okay, so he was still a red-blooded man after all, he thought as he dumped the crumbs into a waste basket. Looking at a woman and finding her attractive wasn’t anything to get worried over. It only meant he’d returned to the land of the living. It didn’t mean he was going to get involved with the woman. Hell’s bells, that was a laughable notion anyway. Lucita Sanchez was as far away from his social circle as a woman could get.

Still, he couldn’t let her continue to wonder if her recollection of the accident had been completely accurate. She had a right to know what had happened—and to know to be on her guard. But before Ripp let her know anything, he wanted to personally make an inspection of her car.

Glancing at the clock hanging on the opposite wall, he figured he had time to feed Chester, then jump into the shower and shave before he headed off to work. Hopefully, he’d have a few extra minutes to stop at Santee’s before Sheriff Travers sent him off on a different matter.

An hour later, Ripp stood inside the chain-link fence surrounding Santee’s salvage yard. Junior, the owner, had a special spot where he kept vehicles for the sheriff’s department. The small area was locked away from the slew of public autos that found their way to his garage and salvage, so Ripp was quite certain that no one had tampered with Lucita’s small red coupe since the accident.

That made his finding even more sinister as he squatted on his heels and stared at the busted area on the back bumper. Near the fracture were several streaks and residual chips of black paint.

Lucita had described the threatening vehicle behind her as black or dark-colored. She’d insisted the car had rammed her from behind and this damage confirmed that she’d been right.

His thoughts grim, Ripp walked back to his waiting truck. Once inside, he reached for the radio.

“Send Lijah over to Santee’s with a crime scene kit. I’ll be waiting here for him.”

The dispatcher quickly advised Ripp that she understood the order and the radio went quiet as he hung the mike back on the dashboard.

Even though the morning was still early, he figured if Lucita felt well enough to work today, she was probably already on her way to St. Francis High School in Victoria.

Ripp hadn’t taken down her telephone number. That wasn’t normal procedure. Acquiring the offender’s mailing address was the limit. And in spite of her being the sister of a close friend, he wasn’t a man to break the rules. But now he had pertinent information regarding her accident.

Quickly, he picked up the cell phone lying on the console next to his seat and searched for the number for the Sanchez house. It rang twice before Juan, the family cook, answered.

“This is Deputy McCleod,” he told the older man. “I need to speak to Matt. Has he left for work yet?”

“Wait. He might be gone. I’ll go see.”

Ripp could hear the clatter of the phone as the cook laid it down, then the noise of doors being opened and closed. Finally, after a couple of long minutes, faint voices sounded in the background, then boot steps grew closer and closer to the receiver.

“Matt here.”

“Matt, I’m glad I caught you,” Ripp told him. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Ripp! Sure I can talk. Is anything wrong?”

Of course he would think something was wrong, Ripp thought wryly. It was six in the morning. Not the usual time for a social call. “There could be,” he admitted. “How is Lucita this morning?”

“I talked to her earlier this morning right after I got up. She’s stiff and sore and has a little headache, but other than that she’s fine. She was determined to go into school this morning. She just signed a new contract with St. Joseph back in June and classes started at the first of this month. She doesn’t want to start missing days this soon on a new job. Are you calling to check on her or is this something about the accident?”

Since Ripp had driven Lucita home to the ranch, Matt must have assumed he’d taken a personal interest in his sister. The idea was a bit embarrassing, yet he couldn’t deny that Lucita had sparked him with something more than official law business.

Feeling awkward now, Ripp said, “Uh—well, I’m glad to hear she’s okay. But I have some news about her accident and I thought—I wanted to run it by you before I talked with her.”

Matt was suddenly wary. “Why? What is it?”

“Last night after I left the ranch, Lijah and I scoured the whole scene from the point where Lucita’s vehicle got into trouble to the spot where it actually left the highway. Your sister was right about someone following on her bumper, Matt. We discovered another set of skid marks.”

There was a long pause as though he was trying to digest Ripp’s revelation. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. And now I have something else to corroborate that evidence. I’m here at Santee’s right now. I’ve just finished inspecting Lucita’s car and I found damage on the back bumper. Black paint was left behind from contact with another vehicle.”

Matt muttered harshly. “Damn. Damn. I figured Lucita was right about the whole thing. She’s pretty levelheaded. So you haven’t said anything to her about this yet?”

“Not yet.” He paused as the memory of Lucita’s face swam to the forefront of his mind. On the ride to the Sandbur, she’d been mostly quiet, her pretty features set in grim determination. He’d sensed there were all sorts of dark fears swimming around in her head and he’d desperately wanted to reassure her, to promise her that she had nothing to fear. But he couldn’t make anyone those sorts of promises and he’d been left feeling frustrated and helpless. “Uh—last night I got the impression that your sister was a woman with a strong constitution, but this sort of news would shake anyone. I thought it might be better if this news came from you, Matt.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing—this shakes the hell out of me, Ripp. And it’ll do worse to Lucita. I don’t want her to know.”

Ripp was so stunned he pulled the receiver away from his ear and stared at it as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard his friend correctly.

“Matt! She has to know that someone was trying to harm her. The sheriff’s department has to investigate this matter. In fact, Lijah is already on his way over here to gather evidence to send to the crime lab.”

“Investigate all you need, Ripp. But why worry Lucita any more than she already is?” Matt countered. “There’s not much we can do about it. Not unless you catch whoever it is. And I can’t see that happening. Not unless he shows his face.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, ole buddy,” Ripp said tersely. “Guess you think all the sheriff’s department does around here is sleep or pick up kids for throwing soda cans on the sidewalk.”

“Hell, Ripp. You know that isn’t what I mean!” Frustration was threaded through Matt’s voice. “It’s just that—this is my sister. And I can’t see how paint on a bumper can tell you anything! If you ask me, it’s got to be her ex. He always drove black, expensive sports cars. But if the Corpus police can’t find him, I hardly think the Goliad County Sheriff’s Department can!”

If anyone else had said these things to Ripp, he would be seeing red. But Matt was his friend. Probably his best friend. And he understood the man was frustrated and even frightened for his sister’s safety.

Ripp looked over at Lucita’s little red coupe. The front of the car was nothing more than crumpled fiberglass. He figured the only reasons she was still alive were the grace of God and the car’s air bag. Just the thought of someone out there plotting to do harm to such a lovely slip of a woman burned Ripp with anger.

“So you believe it was her ex-husband who tried to run her down last night?” Ripp asked. “Why? What motive would he have for harming Lucita?”

“Who the hell knows? Derek Campbell is crazy. That’s enough to worry me,” Matt blurted hotly, then added more calmly, “I’m sorry if I sound unappreciative, Ripp. I know you’ll do your best to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime I’ll talk with Lucita. I’m sure she won’t go along with the idea, but I’m going to try to talk her into letting the family hire a bodyguard for her. Or at least, in letting one of the wranglers drive her to and from work.”

Ripp realized that trying to find the maniac who tried to run Lucita down would be like searching for one fire ant on an acre of pasture. Pretty nigh impossible. But he was a man who liked to beat the odds.

“That might not be a bad idea. In the meantime I’ll ask around. Maybe somebody else was on the highway last night around the time of the incident. But that’s unlikely. At that time of the evening, hardly anyone travels that stretch of highway.” He reached for a pen. “You say Lucita’s ex’s name is Derek Campbell?”

“Right.” Matt went on to give him the exact spelling before asking, “What are you going to do?”

“Search for any information I can gather about the man,” he answered. The sound of an approaching vehicle had Ripp looking around just in time to see Lijah pulling into the salvage yard. “I gotta go, Matt. When you talk to Lucita you can also let her know that I’m dropping the reckless driving charges so she’ll only have to deal with the speeding ticket.”

“Well, I guess that’s something positive, at least.”

Remorse twisted Ripp’s lips. Last night the man in him had simply wanted to take Lucita’s statement as one hundred percent accurate, especially when she’d looked at him with those big brown eyes. But he was Sheriff Travers’s chief deputy and he’d been forced to follow the rules.

“I’ll let you know if I make any headway, Matt. And if Lucita encounters anything strange on the highway or receives any sort of threat, call me. Day or night. Hear?”

“God forbid, but if something else happens, you’ll be the first to hear it, Ripp.”

A week later, Lucita was in her classroom at St. Francis High School, cramming the last of her geometry papers to be graded into a nylon tote bag. The bell announcing the end of the last class had rung more than thirty minutes ago and she’d finally gotten her desk straightened and everything packed that she needed to take home.

The past week had been a trying one, with sporadic headaches and a slew of extracurricular activities after classes. Somehow she’d made it through without missing a day of work, but now she was totally exhausted. The only thing keeping her upright was the fact that it was Friday and she could hopefully catch up on sleep over the weekend.

Pausing at the open door of the principal’s office, she waved a hand at the woman sitting behind the wide desk. “Have a good weekend, Maud.”

The blond-haired principal gave her a weary smile. “You, too, Luci. And be sure and take care of that head.”

Lucita absently touched a hand to the spot that her cousin Nicci had stitched together. The gash was healing, but still terribly sore.

Her family had all been very upset about her accident. Matt had even been threatening to hire a private investigator and a bodyguard to watch over her. But she’d stood her ground. She didn’t want anyone following her around as if she was some sort of celebrity or politician who needed to be guarded from the public. And she certainly didn’t want a P.I. snooping into her privacy. She wanted to live like a normal person. Besides, she’d told them, it had probably been an angry student who’d simply been trying to scare her before the incident snowballed into an accident. Lucita wasn’t sure she’d convinced any of them. After all, she wasn’t entirely convinced, herself.

From what Matt had told her, Ripp had sent paint chips from her car’s bumper to a crime lab in San Antonio. He was also searching for Derek’s whereabouts. But since she and Matt hadn’t heard from the deputy since then, it was evident he’d not found a substantial lead. Which wasn’t surprising. For the past three years Derek had slipped off the radar. But Lucita wasn’t going to dwell on her ex. He’d already ruined too much of her life. And why would he want to harm her now? He’d already gotten what he wanted—her money. He was a thief. Not a stalker.

Smiling at the principal, she said, “Don’t worry. A couple of days of rest and I’ll be like new.”

With a final wave, Lucita moved on down the wide corridor leading to the front exit of the building. At this time of the day the halls of the Catholic high school were eerily quiet. Normally, Lucita loved being around groups of energetic teenagers. From the first day she’d entered the fourth-grade classroom where Mrs. Baldwin made learning an exciting venture for the whole class, Lucita had set her heart on being just like the feisty teacher. And that decision hadn’t wavered as she’d grown into adulthood.

Even marrying Derek at twenty-two and giving birth to Marti three years later hadn’t deterred her determination to get a degree in mathematics and her Texas teaching certificate. For the past twelve years she’d been teaching in a private school in Corpus Christi. The other teachers there had become like family to her. She’d hated to leave, but Matt had convinced her that with Derek gone and out of her life, there was no reason left for her and Marti to stay on the coast. Now she was starting over at St. Francis, trying to build new friendships and a new life and wondering if she’d done the right thing by coming home to the Sandbur.

Since her smashed car had gone to the graveyard at Santee’s Salvage she’d been driving one of the ranch’s work trucks. Matt and Cordero had tried to insist that she take one of their family cars, but she’d refused, reminding her brothers that she’d come home to the Sandbur to be with her family, not to use them. The brown Ford she’d collected from the ranch yard was several years old with ripped upholstery and a bed full of hay hooks, horse halters and fencing tools. Black decals of the S/S brand were plastered on both doors, leaving no doubt as to which teacher was driving the banged-up vehicle, but Lucita could care less about keeping up appearances. As long as she had transportation to and from work, she was content. As soon as her insurance policy settled, she’d find herself some little economical car that could make the sixty-plus-mile round-trip every day on a few dollars of gas.

This morning she’d managed to find a parking slot beneath one of the flowering pear trees growing at the edge of the school parking lot. Now as she opened the door and threw her tote bag and purse inside, she was glad for the shade. At least she could slide beneath the steering wheel without blistering her rear.

She’d started the engine and was about to jerk the floor shift into Reverse when she noticed a piece of folded notebook paper beneath her windshield wiper.

Probably a student who couldn’t face her with some sort of request, she thought, or one who needed a second chance at a flunked test.

Sighing, she thrust the floor gearshift into Neutral and left the engine running while she stepped down to retrieve the paper. Once she was back in the truck, she started to toss the note into her purse and go on her way, but curiosity got the better of her at the last second and she unfolded the square.

The typed words in front of her were so unexpected and strange that for a moment she couldn’t assimilate what she was reading. Then she began to shake.

Deposit one million dollars into this account by Wednesday noon. If you don’t comply, you’ll wish like hell you had. Derek

After the word account there was a row of numbers and the name of a nearby bank. As for the signature, since it was also typed, there was no absolute way to tell if her ex-husband had actually written it.

Oh, God. Oh, God. What was she supposed to do now?

Deputy McCleod. The tall, lanky lawman was the first image to come to Lucita’s frantically racing mind. Ripp had to know about this. Not just because he was the deputy working her case, but also because she trusted him. His solid presence would make her feel safe, something she desperately needed at the moment.

Lucita drove the twenty-six miles from Victoria to Goliad with her cell phone next to her on the seat and one eye on the rearview mirror. By the time she parked in front of the sheriff’s department, she was still shaking, but she’d managed to gather her senses together. She walked into the building with gritty determination on her face.

“Can I help you?”

The question came from a female officer sitting behind a waist-high counter. She was much younger than Lucita, on the curvy side, with pale blond hair pulled into a ponytail.

“I’d like to speak with Deputy McCleod if he’s here,” Lucita told her.

The young officer’s brows lifted marginally. “He’s here. Just a minute.”

The woman left the area behind the counter and disappeared down a corridor.