No Justice; Cold Justice; Deadly Touch

by J K Ellem

  Clare went wide-eyed. “Why? What did he do for you to punch him?”

  Shaw never regretted what he did. He stayed true to himself and that was important to him. “He was doing a fourteen-year-old girl. That’s what he was doing, in his hotel room.”

  7

  Shaw didn’t want to say too much more and Clare respected that. So he asked her, “So where is your deputy? It can’t just be you policing the whole town?”

  “I’m waiting for a replacement,” Clare said, her mind still digesting the revelation that Shaw had punched the vice-president of the United States of America. She didn’t like the current VP anyway and in a way she was glad Shaw had socked him one. It had been reported in the press that he had stumbled and fell during a recent hiking trip with his wife and three young children, hence the bruised jaw. Now Clare knew the real reason.

  Clare looked at Shaw questioningly.

  “I can’t tell you anymore. I’m bound,” he replied.

  Clare nodded, her eyes scanning the room, looking for any potential problems, but the crowd in the bar were behaving.

  “So what happened to your last deputy?” Shaw asked.

  “We found child porn on his computer. He was too stupid to realise all that gets monitored and logged. He was just a kid, a first year rookie. He knew no better.”

  “With something like that everyone should know better,” Shaw replied.

  She watched Shaw as he gazed across the bar, checking faces, watching people. A spilt drink that could turn into a shove then into a fight, a lingering look at someone else’s girlfriend that turns into a punch thrown. It was comforting to see the same traits she displayed herself in him as well. She was glad he was here.

  “I’m getting a replacement next week. Someone more experienced. It’s not supposed to be a twenty-four-hour-a-day operation. The help comes from Boulder or Denver, if needed.”

  “And the older woman in your office?” Shaw asked. “She was very polite.”

  “That’s Alice, she’s been here since time began. She looks after the office, but we just keep regular hours. I don’t usually get called out in the middle of the night. Nothing too exciting happens around here.” Clare thought about the hand in the basement refrigerator. While she sat here in the warmth, drinking beer, there was the body of someone out in the forest somewhere.

  Clare finished her beer. It would be the only one she would allow herself. The office phone would redirect after hours to Boulder PD. If it was an emergency, then her cell phone would ring.

  “So what’s going to happen with the woman in the store and the three guys?” Shaw asked. The background noise had gone up a notch, the place was filling up.

  “Her name is Molly Malone. She was a world-class snowboarder until she busted her knee a few years back in Vail. So she set up a small store here selling snow gear and does a lot by mail-order. She gave a detailed statement. She said she owes you a lot. Has you to thank that things didn’t get a lot worse.”

  Shaw smiled, but inside he could feel his anger simmering, remembering the faces of the thugs in her store.

  “I think she wants to have your children,” Clare added, feeling the pain of regret.

  “I just hope she’s OK. She has nothing to thank me for. No woman should feel threatened by anyone.”

  If he was just five years older and maybe I was ten years younger, Clare thought as she looked at him. It’s always the way, meet a nice guy and he’s either married, not interested or is young enough to be your own son.

  “So married? Any kids?”

  Clare shook her head. “No to both. Was married, but he took off five years ago with a younger woman.”

  “His loss,” Shaw replied.

  “She was twenty-five years old.”

  Shaw nodded. “So she was ten years younger than you?”

  It had been so long since Clare had been paid a compliment by anyone, let alone a man, that she almost didn’t catch it.

  Shaw leaned forward. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but how old are you? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”

  Clare cocked her head. “Are you shitting me?” But the look on his face was genuine.

  Shaw shrugged. “No. Why? I really think that’s how old you are.”

  Clare smiled, slightly embarrassed. “You know it’s an offence to lie to an officer of the law.”

  “I’m not,” Shaw replied, his eyes fixed on her.

  She liked how he looked at her, like she was the only person in the entire room. His eyes didn’t wander like most men’s eyes did in bars, checking out everything in a skirt or tight pair of jeans that happened to walk by. It had been a long time since Clare felt like how she did right now. Her chest tingled and she felt the wave of a hot flush that for once wasn’t from menopause. But he looked genuine, grounded, like he would always do the right thing. She could tell when someone was lying or talking crap. But the young man who was looking at her intently now seemed honest and truthful.

  Shaw changed the topic, seeing Clare blush. “So what can you tell me about Lacy, or Echo Mountain?”

  “I’ve been here for five years. It’s a quiet town and that’s how we like it. Mainly tourists and skiers passing through to the snow fields in winter, and in summer the place is dead.”

  “What about the logging camp? Do you get much trouble like you had today?”

  Clare shook her head. “No, that was an exception. We’ve had a few minor scuffles and the odd parking lot fight, but they usually keep to themselves. The logging company came in about three years back. Made a huge difference to the town.”

  “I bet it did,” Shaw replied.

  “The town was dying. Local businesses were going broke. The deal was that the company was granted logging permits provided they built on-site worker accommodation. They work here, they live here.”

  “To make sure the workers spend their money here in Lacy rather than in Boulder or Denver,” Shaw said. He knew that dependency came at a price.

  Clare nodded. “They employ about thirty or so locals, which is good. They go home after their shift, but they have barracks that house around fifty outside workers and contractors, so we get the benefits of them too. Keeps the money in the town.”

  Shaw could sense Clare wanted to say more.

  “But that can produce complications?” Shaw said, as though reading Clare’s mind.

  Clare smiled, not looking forward to her trip tomorrow to the logging camp.

  Shaw continued. “It gives the logging company a lot of power, I can imagine. Over the town, that is.”

  “They’re the single biggest employer, plus they use a lot of the local suppliers as well. We need them here,” Clare said, but she knew where he was going.

  “I know, but it still gives them some control, maybe more influence than usual.”

  Shaw was right. When a town was dependant on a major plant or company that was the largest employer in the town and putting food on the table for a lot of families, it meant the company, its management and employees were granted certain liberties.

  Clare sat up straighter. “Breaking the law is still breaking the law.” Her voice switched back to her sheriff’s tone.

  Shaw held up both hands in mock defence. “Hey, I agree. All I’m saying is that I can understand that sometimes it can be hard. I mean the position it places you in. You’ve got to keep law and order while not wanting to ruffle any feathers.”

  Clare was silent for a moment, thinking about what Shaw had said. He was observant. Too observant. He had been in Lacy for less than a day, had incapacitated three company employees and spent some time in her jail cell, revealed to her that he used to work for the US Secret Service and she was now having dinner with him. Still, in just a few hours he had worked out what she had to contend with for the last three years. She didn’t turn a blind eye, but she subconsciously had granted the company workers a little more leeway, let them blow off a little more steam than maybe what she would have done for the locals.

  “T
hey stepped across the line today,” she said. “It was wrong what they did to Molly.”

  “I imagine you will have to go and take statements from them. Get their side of the story,” Shaw said.

  Clare knew she was going to get ganged-up on when she went to the logging company. She thought back to the irate phone call from Ray Taggart. Then she had an idea. It was going to be divisive, but she didn’t care.

  “That’s my problem to deal with,” she replied.

  “So what else can you tell me about the town?” Shaw asked.

  “That’s about it. There’s a religious commune up in the hills, about two miles out of town.”

  “A commune? What, like a cult?”

  Clare laughed. “No, not a cult. They’re nice people. They keep to themselves. Sometimes they come into town to buy groceries, but usually we hardly see them. Not sure how many followers they have up there. They’re pretty self-sufficient. You may see one or two of them in town now and then. They wear different-colored clothing, like some type of ranking system. Maybe you should take a look, you might join up.”

  “I’m not a religious person. I can’t be converted. I run a mile when I see people in robes walking down the street handing out brochures about finding god and the like.”

  “You’re a good man, Ben. You stepped in today when a lot of people around here would have kept walking. That’s good enough for me.”

  The check came and Clare reached for it. “My treat, like I said.”

  “I won’t leave town, just yet,” Shaw said as they got up from the booth. He didn’t want to commit and he had deliberately avoided answering Clare’s question earlier when she asked him for his help.

  “Good,” Clare replied putting on her jacket.

  “So those motels you mentioned, just give me the directions and I’ll walk. But first I need to make a pit-stop.” Shaw excused himself and went to the bathroom.

  Motel?

  Clare had a better idea. She slipped out her cell phone and hit speed-dial.

  8

  The sign next to the letterbox said Room to Let. It was a neat and tidy two-story house. There was a small dull brown patch of front lawn in hibernation for the winter, dead plants lined the brick path that led up to three timber steps and the front porch with two wicker chairs and a table, casement windows at the front, and a shingle roof. Light snow was falling as Shaw stood on the sidewalk looking at the house. The place had an overall well-maintained look about it.

  It was the last house at the end of the wide street. It was hemmed in on the left by a larger house and on the right side was an empty block of low scrub. The rear of the house backed onto a wide expanse of open land that gradually sloped up to a forest of pine trees framed by the cold dark sky.

  A gravel driveway ran down the side where there was a detached garage with a set of stairs that led to a room on top. He guessed that was the room to let.

  He walked up the stairs, rucksack over his shoulder. The front door looked solid with a sturdy triple-locking outer security door and commercial-quality security mesh, and both front windows had heavy swivel locks. There was no security alarm signage, but a sticker on a window meant nothing. The best security system was the unannounced kind, and Shaw appreciated the fact that this homeowner took their safety seriously. There were no safe sanctuaries anymore, just layers of defence. If someone wanted to get in, they would find a way.

  There was a tasteful brass door bell. Shaw pressed it then waited.

  Footsteps, bare feet on flooring, came towards him from the other side of the door, then heavy locks being turned. Shaw counted three. The front door opened and a woman stood behind the screen, her face shaded in black cross-check.

  “Miss Bell?” Shaw asked.

  The woman on the other side looked at him cautiously, her eyes taking in his details, then looking behind him to the street to see if he was alone.

  “Yes,” Emily replied. She looked at him expectantly. No smile, no movement to unlock the door, a cold and calculating gaze. He was the guy from Annabel’s, the one who made the few women in the café look up from their gossip magazines or tear their eyes away for a brief moment from their smart-phones. Inside she was relieved to see him, but she didn’t show it. She had just gotten off the phone from Clare Decker letting her know about an impending visitor.

  “Trust me Emily, I’ve done a thorough background check on this guy. Believe me, he’s the guy you want to have around. Let him rent the room, it’s just for a couple of days then he’ll be gone,” Clare had told her. “He’s helping me with enquires. He’s low-maintenance and is a bit of a loner, like you. And don’t ask him too many questions.”

  Clare’s words were both reassuring and perplexing. Emily was only earning a schoolteachers wage, the room above the garage was empty and she could certainly use the extra money. She would have paid the money and done her own background check on him, but there was no need now. He came with Clare’s endorsement.

  Emily smiled. “Hi, I’m Emily. Clare called ahead and told me you were coming.” She produced a bunch of keys and unlocked the heavy screen door. “Come in, please.”

  Shaw found himself in a small, well-lit hallway “Thanks.” Shaw watched as she went through the reverse process, locking the screen door then the three heavy locks on the front door. Good quality deadlocks, triple bolts, deep tamper-proof screws.

  “I’ve just put some coffee on, please come through.” Her face was fine porcelain, with a faint tinge of honey. She had intense blue eyes and platinum blonde hair cut in a short bob with a razor fringe. Not a style that could be done on the mountain.

  She was petite, slim and wore faded jeans, fashionably torn at the knees, and a loose oatmeal sweater that slid provocatively off one shoulder, revealing an exquisite curve of neck line and delicate collarbone. She left a lingering scent of soap and talcum powder as she pattered to the kitchen at the back of the house. She was confident, self-assured in her gait. Shaw passed open rooms tastefully furnished, soft lighting, earthy pale colors, couches with throw-overs, modern inexpensive furniture cleverly used. Nice feminine touches, but not one photo frame or picture on the furniture or walls.

  The kitchen was all clean lines with an island bench, bleached cabinetry, stainless steel appliances and bare counters except for the coffee machine which sat next to a knife block. The kitchen was spotless and smelled of lemon from a wire basket full of them on the counter. A double stainless steel pet bowl sat next to the refrigerator, water and dried pellets. There was no table, just two stools tucked under a raised counter bench.

  Shaw felt something brush his calf from behind and looked down to see a gray and white cat rub up against him. Seductive topaz eyes looked lazily up at him.

  “Oh that’s Sammy. He usually isn’t that friendly with strangers.” Emily opened an overhead cabinet and pulled down a heavy white ceramic cup and filled it with coffee.

  Shaw remained standing, and Emily placed the coffee down from the other side of the counter, the knife block within easy reach. She went to the fridge and came back with a carton of half-and-half and placed it beside the cup. She remained behind the counter, a cautious wall of defence between them.

  Shaw looked at her questioningly.

  “I saw you in the café, Annabel’s, this morning. Saw what you ordered. It’s how I drink my coffee too. Can’t stand it black.”

  Shaw smiled. “Look, I don’t want to be a burden, I just need a place to stay for a few days. The sheriff said you had a spare room. I’m helping her out.”

  Emily placed her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes against her white skin and blonde hair were a striking contrast, almost alien-looking. “It’s above the garage. I was going to use it as a studio or something, but that never happened. The room is a hundred dollars a week. If you’re just staying for a few days then—”

  Shaw took out his wallet, slipped out his driver’s licence and five twenty-dollar bills and placed them on the counter. “No problem.”

 
Shaw took off his snow jacket, then his leather jacket and sat down and drank his coffee. It was good, rich and velvety, fresh beans, not pre-ground and store packed.

  He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt underneath that hugged all the right places on his frame. She picked up the drivers licence and looked at the details. “Washington, D.C. You’re a long way from home,” she said, looking up.

  “Just travelling around. Thought I would see some of the country, take my time.”

  “Did you fly into Denver?”

  “No, took a bus. I was in Kansas. Was helping someone there with a few problems,” Shaw replied, thinking of Daisy McAlister. His ankle and ribs were almost completely healed.

  “So you’re a problem solver?”

  “Not really.”

  “So what do you do for a living? What sort of work?” Emily slid the license back across the counter, but left the money where it was.

  “Just government work, nothing too important.” It was good she was asking him questions. It meant Clare hadn’t revealed much about him and had respected his wishes.

  “What brings you to Echo Mountain, Mr Shaw?” Emily took down another cup and poured herself some of the coffee and brought it back to the counter, but remained on her side

  “Ben, please call me Ben.”

  He went onto to explain that he arrived in Denver about a week ago and had seen all there was to see. He’d had enough of the sports bars and tourist places. He liked Denver, liked the layout of the city and managed to catch a Broncos game. “I want to see some of the Rockies, so I thought I might work my way up and along the mountains, see where the road takes me. I’m not really a fan of the big cities. After a while they all look the same and the people act the same.”

  Emily smiled, starting to like him a whole lot more. She looked at the money on the counter, feeling a little guilty. She would let him stay for free. He had a warm and relaxed vibe to him, intelligent eyes, and could hold a decent conversation. And when he spoke, he spoke to her not at her, and his eyes never left her face. Unlike most men in town, especially the ones from the logging camp.