by Debra Webb
Audrey nodded. “I do. I was at her house last night but I didn’t have the opportunity to speak with her. I was hoping you could help me set the story straight for Sarah. No one hates inaccurate news more than me.”
Wariness slipped into the other woman’s eyes. “How do you mean set the story straight?”
“You know, when things like this happen, there are always folks who want to make the real victim the bad guy. Sarah and I were never friends, but my father and her father were. My father thought very highly of Melvin Yoder. I’m certain he didn’t raise a murderer. Sarah did what she had to do to protect her children and herself. I want people to know that before the rumors and gossip muddy the waters.”
Audrey said this with as much righteous indignation as she could muster. And every word was true. Capturing the right story was immensely important to her.
“Of course she did,” Nikki muttered. “Anyone who says different is a fool and a liar. Sarah is the gentlest, sweetest person I know. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less kill a man, unless there was no other choice.”
Audrey leaned forward. “That’s exactly what I said. But you know those hotline calls come in, and since they’re anonymous, people think they can say the most hurtful and ridiculous things.” This, too, was true. Though it hadn’t happened yet, it would. It always did. “We need to set the record straight.”
“I’m sure Sarah told the police someone had been hanging around her place. A stranger sitting out by the road in his black car just watching day in and day out.” Nikki’s lips formed a grim line. “She said Wesley was out of town and she was nervous. I don’t blame her for shooting him after he broke in.”
“She probably told her brothers how he was watching her place.” The missing brothers were another detail that didn’t sit right with Audrey. Where were those three strapping Yoder men when their sister needed help? Not a single one had shown up last night. Something was wrong with that picture, too.
“She couldn’t.” Nikki leaned across the counter. “Jacob’s wife was having a baby. Aaron was at home with their father. Mr. Yoder can’t be left alone now. He’s very sick and his wife passed away last year.”
Audrey nodded her understanding. “What about Benjamin?”
“Benjamin and Sarah aren’t on speaking terms.” Nikki shook her head. “I guess he’s still upset that Wesley—Sarah’s husband—sort of took the spot he’d expected to hold as the oldest son.”
Good point. “I didn’t think of that,” Audrey admitted. “I’m sure Benjamin was disappointed at not stepping into his father’s shoes.”
“The decision created quite the divide. I can’t say that I blame Benjamin, but Sarah loves her husband. She supports him over her brother. It’s what God intended. Her daddy’s decision was his decision, not hers.”
“Speaking of brothers.” Audrey smiled. “How’s your brother? I hear the kids around town love him.” Charlie Wells was the sweetest guy. He and Audrey had worked together on the school paper. Why couldn’t she have fallen for him?
How come she asked herself that same question about every nice guy she had ever known?
Nikki grinned. “Charlie loves being a doctor. He’s the first one in the family to even attend college. I can’t believe he took it all the way.” She laughed, her fondness for her brother clear in her voice. “Who would’ve thought that my goofy baby brother would end up a pediatrician?”
“Look at you,” Audrey countered. “You’re running this place all on your own. The renovations you did last year are amazing. You’ve done pretty well yourself, Nikki.”
She blushed, ducked her head. “Thank you. Coming from a big-city girl like you, that’s a real compliment.”
Audrey waved her off. “If I can take care of the Gazette as well as you have the diner, I’ll be happy.”
Nikki looked around as if confirming no one was paying attention to their private conversation. “You should talk to Aaron. You didn’t hear this from me, but I hear there was some sort of disagreement between Mr. Yoder and Wesley a few months back. By then Mr. Yoder was already bedridden and he’d single-handedly convinced the whole community to look to Sauder for guidance. Whatever happened, the two men don’t speak anymore. Sarah won’t talk about it but I get the feeling it’s related to something the old man believes about his son-in-law. Some part of his past that he learned from visiting family who came down from Illinois last year.”
“Something from Sauder’s past?”
Nikki shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Sarah wouldn’t talk about it, but something changed between Mr. Yoder and Wesley. Her brothers are upset with him as well. With that rift going on, I doubt she shared her worries with any of them. Now this man shows up breaking into their home and Sarah shoots him. Whatever’s going on, it’s not right. I’m worried that Sarah’s in trouble.”
Audrey was ecstatic to learn all these details but why would Nikki spill her guts like this? They had never really been friends, only acquaintances. She’d expected to have to wrangle information from her. And if Nikki really was worried about her friend, why not tell the sheriff? This didn’t feel right.
“I’m grateful you’ve shared your feelings,” Audrey confessed. “But to tell the truth, I’m surprised you’ve been so forthcoming.”
Nikki looked around again. “I know you’ve been gone a long time, Audrey. Maybe you’ve forgotten that in small towns people take sides. They form opinions based on what they think they know without ever looking at the facts. No offense to Sheriff Tanner and his deputies, but they’re not going to look beyond the idea that a stranger showed up in town and broke into a home and ended up dead. End of story. They won’t dig around beneath the surface. Why should they? But something’s wrong and I think Sarah is scared. She won’t even talk to me anymore. Brian told me that no one knows how to dig up the truth better than you. Help my friend, that’s all I ask.”
So this had been a setup. At least it was the kind Audrey appreciated. “I’ll do all I can, you have my word.”
“Keep my name out of it if at all possible,” Nikki urged. “Sarah is my friend and I don’t want to hurt her. I’m just worried and that’s the only reason I’m telling you all this.”
“Trust me,” Audrey assured her. “I have never divulged an anonymous source.” Even when she’d wanted to do so after a source let her down. She had taken the fall. Good reporters always did. A good source was priceless. Do them wrong and you lost them and your reputation. In her entire career she never betrayed one and she never lost one. She wasn’t about to start now.
The bell over the entrance jingled and Nikki drew away and called, “Morning, Sheriff. Coffee?”
Audrey placed the cash on the counter for her coffee and slid off the stool. The diner was empty save for the cowboy who had just swaggered in. As she watched, Colt lowered onto a stool midway down the counter without so much as glancing her way. He placed his hat on the stool next to him and ran a hand through his black hair. So, this was his way of avoiding any questions she might have.
She never had been put off by anyone’s ignore mode. With that in mind, she marched down to where Colt sat and leaned against the counter. “Well, good morning to you, too, Sheriff.”
He gave her a nod. “Morning, Rey.”
“Anything new on the investigation?”
His gaze glued to the menu on the wall—a menu he likely knew by heart already—he moved his head from side to side. “Nothing I can talk about, anyway.”
He would have been better served if he’d kept his response to nothing more than the shake of his head. “I take it Branch confirmed the identity of the big guy with the red hair who died on Sarah Sauder’s kitchen floor last night?”
He turned to her, his gray eyes narrowed. “Has Branch been talking to you?”
She smiled at the idea that she’d just hit a nerve. Colt had always been jealous of Branch. T
hen again, what male wouldn’t be? Branch was a good-looking single man. He’d been a big-shot football star back in high school and college, and he was still a hometown hero. But then, so was Colt.
“Branch understands the value of having a resource in the media on his side.” Not exactly a lie, merely an avoidance of the actual question.
“Anthony Marcello is trouble, Rey.”
Nikki placed a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Colt. He nodded his thanks and she moved on. The Corner Diner was a popular spot for business lunches and small gatherings. Nikki had worked there since she was a little girl. She had learned when to linger and when to give her patrons the space they needed for private conversations. Still, Audrey imagined she knew more secrets than anyone in town except maybe the stylists in the local salons.
“Maybe so, but he can hardly create any problems now—he’s dead.” She smiled at the way the lines of frustration gathered around his eyes, and his lips flattened into a grim line. Lips she had kissed about a thousand times.
Do not go there, Audrey.
“The problem is—” Colt shifted on the stool, his knee bumping her thigh and sending a zing of electricity through her “—Marcello has friends. Dangerous friends. You don’t need to go chasing down that rabbit hole, Rey. You need to stay out of this investigation or there will be trouble for you...for all of us.”
Chicago. Dangerous. Oh yeah, the dead guy was connected to a crime syndicate. It was the only logical explanation.
“Hmm. I can see you’re very concerned for my safety, Sheriff.” She cocked her head and stared at him. “But you see, I have a job to do, too, and that’s to keep the community informed. Remember? We had this discussion last night. I’m sure they’ll want to know what in the world the mob would be doing around here.”
Before he could toss a practiced answer back at her, she added, “You know how people talk. The rumors will be worse than the truth.”
Chapter Five
Colt wanted to shake the woman. The problem was if he put his hands anywhere on her body he would have an even bigger problem than keeping the citizens of his county safe and calm. The last thing he needed was for anyone to panic.
Before he could muster a proper comeback, she said, “Have a nice day, Sheriff.”
He turned on the stool and watched Audrey walk away. The gentle sway of her hips made him sigh. Why the hell couldn’t they figure this thing out and stop playing games?
“Here you go, Sheriff.”
Reluctantly he twisted around to find that Nikki had prepared his untouched coffee to go. He grabbed the cup and gave her a nod. “Thanks.”
She smiled. “You better hurry or she’s going to get away.”
He didn’t bother to mention that Rey had gotten away long ago. Instead, Colt settled his hat into place and headed out the door. Rey was already climbing into her car when he caught up with her. “Look, I didn’t mean to be so short with you, Rey.”
She stood in the vee created by the open car door. “I’m not sure what you mean, Sheriff.” She slipped on her sunglasses and waited for him to explain.
Damn, she never made things easy. He planted his free hand on his hip to prevent inadvertently touching her. “I had a rough night and I guess I sort of took it out on you.”
Her eyebrows went up in surprise. “Did you stay too late at that saloon over in Kelso? Or maybe you did your drinking at home.” She tore off the dark eyewear, leaned over the car door and put her face closer to his. “Your eyes do look a little bloodshot.”
Before he could stop himself, he leaned down, almost nose to nose. “I was at the crime scene until almost midnight and then I went home. The problem was my son came home about that same time. He was intoxicated. He could have gotten himself or someone else killed driving in that condition. So, yeah, alcohol was involved but I wasn’t the one drinking it.”
Her breath caught and she drew away. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She slid the sleek black glasses back into place but not before he could read the concern in her eyes. “I’m certain you were very upset.” Her fingers tightened on the car door. “I’m glad he made it home safely.”
“Thanks.” He straightened, tried to figure a way to carry on a reasonable conversation with her. But every damned time they said more than a half a dozen words to each other they ended up bickering. “I meant what I said, Rey. If Branch is right about this mob connection, we could be looking at some serious trouble. I don’t want you getting yourself in the line of fire.”
She smiled but it wasn’t the friendly kind. “I know how to handle myself, Sheriff. You don’t need to worry about me.”
Before she could turn away, his right hand settled on hers, trapping it between the cool metal of the door and his palm. The feel of her skin made his gut clench with need. How many nights had he fought the covers dreaming of her? “I do worry. I worry about everyone I care about.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She tugged her hand free of his and dropped behind the wheel. He closed her door, watched her buckle up, back out of the parking slot and drive away.
Well, at least she hadn’t told him to mind his own business. Progress, he supposed. The bell at the top of the courthouse tolled the hour. He might as well head back to the office for his meeting with Branch. The sooner they figured out what Tony Marcello was doing in Winchester, the sooner he could protect the citizens of his county.
* * *
BRANCH WAS STUDYING the awards on the office walls as Colt walked through the door. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Branch extended his hand. Colt gripped it, gave it a shake.
“Not a problem,” the marshal assured him. “I was catching up on your career highlights.” He jerked his head toward the photos and plaques. “You’re doing a good job, Colt. I know your daddy would be proud.”
“Thanks. You need coffee or something?”
Branch shook his head. “I’m good.” He sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Colt’s desk. His trademark Stetson sat in the other.
Colt had always been a Resistol man. He hung his hat on the rack and took a seat behind his desk. “You have any updated information on this Tony Marcello?”
“He was a button man for the Cicero crime family. The Ciceros have been operating illegal activities in Chicago for decades. Marcello has been loosely linked to their operations for the past fifteen or so years. From what we know, he takes care of cleanups mostly. My guess is the family sent him down here to handle some unfinished business.”
Colt braced his forearms on his desk. “You think Wesley Sauder is the unfinished business.” Damned sure looked that way from where Colt was sitting. He would be the first to say coincidences were hard to ignore when they involved murder.
“I do.” Branch nodded. “We need to find Sauder before the next guy they send does. And you can take this to the bank—they will keep sending one of their hired guns until this is finished.”
“We can do this together,” Colt offered, and then qualified, “but this is my investigation.”
Branch held up his hands. “I’m here to assist you in any way you need. I’m happy to leave the investigation in your capable hands, for now,” he said, adding his own caveat.
Colt stood. “In that case, I guess we should get to it.”
Branch pushed to his feet. “I’ll keep nudging my resources.”
“I’ve got boots on the ground all over the county,” Colt said. “I will find Sauder.”
When Branch was gone, Colt went to the conference room where he’d held this morning’s briefing. He surveyed the map they’d used to pinpoint the locations where citizens who belonged to the Mennonite church resided. There were four businesses. The Yoder Bakery, a furniture shop, the ironworks and a small construction company. Sauder would be well known to every single one.
He had divided the search
areas into grids, but he’d left the businesses out. He planned to handle those himself. His deputies had been given a strict warning not to be pushy or intrusive. These were private people. If they said they hadn’t seen Sauder or refused to answer questions, the deputy was to move on and give the name to Colt. He would take care of the more sensitive situations personally.
With a shout to his office assistant that he was heading into the field, Colt picked up his hat and made his way to the door. He might as well start with the bakery. Sarah Sauder would probably be there. Maybe he’d get lucky and her husband would show up, too.
* * *
THE BAKERY, like most of the Mennonite businesses, was just outside Winchester’s town limits. Members of the community pooled their resources and purchased land whenever a desirable spot came on the market. Then the build would begin. In record time a home would be ready for occupancy or a business would be opening its doors. The Yoder Bakery was the first Mennonite business to appear in the Winchester area. Colt remembered his mother shopping there for certain cheeses. The place smelled the way his mother’s kitchen had, always of some freshly baked bread or cake rising in the oven.
She’d been gone nearly thirty years now and he still missed her. Losing his dad two years ago had been even harder. He still had his two brothers but they both lived down in Alabama and he didn’t see them nearly often enough.
Basically, it was just him and his son. Key had been mad as hell this morning. Having to ride the bus to school was bad enough but losing his cell phone had been like losing a limb. He’d raised holy hell but Colt had stuck to his guns. No driving and no cell phone for a whole month. The kid would survive, but he wasn’t going to like a minute of it. After telling Colt how he needed a life so he would stop hyper-focusing on his, Key had called his mother. Colt had been surprised when she agreed with him. He’d almost marked the calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen. Then again, he knew better than to trust her. She probably had a plan to undermine his authority. He just didn’t know about it yet.
