The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy

by Pauline Baird Jones

  “Phone’s dead,” she said, her lips against his ear.

  “I’ve got a cell phone.”

  “Let’s find some better cover first.”

  She was right, behind the bar was the first place anyone would look for them.

  “We could use another gun.”

  “As much fun as it would be in a shoot-out at JR’s bar with you, I think we can do this with less mess.”

  “They’ll have the exits covered.”

  “Not this one.” She shifted closer, until he could feel her body against his. “You said you can climb?”

  His eyes were adjusting to the pitch black. Now he could see her outline against the reflection from a row of bottles. He nodded, wondering if she could see the movement.

  She could. She’d always been able to see like a cat in the dark. Despite this useful skill, Phagan had refused to let her participate in their real heists—until now.

  She touched his arm, then followed it down until she found his hand, their fingers meshing like yin and yang. It touched her that he didn’t hesitate to follow where she led. Not many men would have, particularly when it became apparent she was leading him into a corner.

  It was too dark to see her but he felt the warmth from her body when she stopped.

  Behind them, the search was heating up. Flashlights flickered in the back rooms, coming closer. She took Jake’s hand and placed it against the log wall, urging him forward until he could feel the junction of the logs. “We can climb up to the support beams and get out the roof access panel.”

  Jake started climbing. She was glad he didn’t waste time with any ladies-first crap. The guy knew his stuff, knew he’d be in a better position to provide cover above her than below. As soon as he was higher than her head, Phoebe started up, too, the path a familiar one for her. She’d raced the guys up every corner in this room. Most of the time she’d won. She made the beam before two flashlights stabbed white light into the main room. The intruders found the bar. Footsteps moved that way, separating to cover both ends.

  She tapped Jake’s arm and pointed toward the center of the ceiling where all the beams came together. It wasn’t a perfect path—they’d be moving toward danger and if they were heard, they’d be exposed and vulnerable—but it was better than the inevitable shoot-out. Jake nodded, gesturing for her to go first.

  Phoebe had walked this beam at least a hundred times, but never without light. She wished she’d had time to take off her boots. She did better when she could feel the surface with her feet. It was slow going, trying to place her boots squarely without making a sound. She sensed, more than heard, Jake following her.

  They were halfway to the center when the hunters below went quiet. Phoebe and Jake froze, too. Phoebe halted her breath, then let it out slow and easy. Time for a distraction. She patted down her pockets. Empty.

  “Where the hell did they go?” a male I’m-in-charge voice asked.

  “Dunno. Thought they’d be behind the bar. Only cover in the whole room.”

  “Maybe they slipped past us in the dark,” a third voice spoke.

  All three voices came from the same general area—almost directly under them. That helped the odds a bit. Jake tried to recall how far the drop was, estimated how far they’d climbed and came up with something definitely in the leg-breaking range.

  “I wonder…” the in-charge guy said.

  One of the lights started to track toward the rafters. Jake sighted his gun along the light, but before he could shoot, he heard a soft ping in the direction of the doorway. All three figures did a stampede in that direction, making just enough noise for Phoebe to say softly, “Button.”

  Jake chuckled.

  “Farley, you go out the back. Harley, you take the front. Do a circuit of the outside and check their vehicles. I’ll check the office again. If we come up empty, head for the car and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

  They sounded as if they knew they’d lost, but Phoebe didn’t start moving again until they were well out of range. Careful and clever.

  In short order they were beneath the panel. Phoebe popped it open, Jake helped her push it up, then gave her boost up onto the roof. She lowered the panel quietly and soon he was beside her on the sharply peaked roof. They lowered the panel back into place.

  “You come up here often?” Jake whispered. It felt good to be out in the fresh air. The towering pines cast a long shadow on their position, so there was little fear their silhouettes would be visible against the waning moon. He followed her to the peak and peered over, careful to keep low as normal night noises got lost in the sounds of the search. Finally they heard a motor start and tires spinning against gravel.

  The car moved out from the cover of the trees, but when Phoebe had thrown the breaker, she shut off the big parking lot lights, too, so there was no way to see the color or a plate.

  “I couldn’t tell,” Jake said softly. “Did they all leave?”

  “I think so,” Phoebe said. “Saw at least two for sure.”

  “How—” Jake began.

  She rolled onto her back, tucked her hands behind her head and gave him her toe-curling smile. She looked as relaxed as if she were on her own bed instead of the steeply peaked roof. “Ate a lot of carrots as a kid.”

  Jake laughed, even as he fought back the urge to just kiss the girl. He rolled over, careful not to make contact, and stared up at the night sky, where the moon was fading as fast as his self-control. Maybe if he didn’t look at her, he could do this.

  “Another story?”

  Her chuckle was husky and bedroom soft. “No stories tonight, Curious Jake. I’m too tired, and—”

  She stopped, but her mind finished the thought. She was too curious about what would happen if she just rolled toward him. But if she breached the wall, broke the rules, she’d be breaking faith with herself and Kerry Anne, not to mention Phagan, who had loved Kerry, too. Kerry Anne had sacrificed more than her life for her little sister, more than any sister should have to sacrifice for anyone.

  She hated bringing the poison of the past into this moment, but she needed it to keep her from making that roll Jake’s way. It was almost Harding’s moment of reckoning, and she couldn’t sell that for a roll on a roof, no matter how enticing the guy.

  She was an outlaw, he was a lawman, and even Pathphinder couldn’t find a way between them.

  Jake sighed, but not so she could hear him. Not good for a suspect to know her pursuer was in coyote position, howling for the impossible moon. Her breathing was soft but even, almost contented. Maybe she was just glad to be alive. Maybe it was his ego telling him she was glad to be with him. Maybe.

  He didn’t know how long he’d have stayed there, staring at the stars and listening to her breathe, if his cell phone hadn’t rung. Her sigh matched his almost perfectly. He turned his head to look at her and found she’d done the same. Her smile was wry now, her eyes sad.

  “Guess you should call the cops when you’re done.”

  Jake nodded, then sat up and pushed the button to take the call.

  * * * *

  Bryn felt almost cheerful as she came out of the dingy motel bathroom trying to dry her hair with a towel that was too small and too wet. She gave it up as a bad job and tossed the towel back into the bathroom. She could let her hair air-dry while she watched a little TV or did some work on her laptop. She was too restless to sleep.

  She was trying to decide between television and work when she saw two roses wrapped in green paper and ribbon lying on her bed next to a box.

  The thought of Phagan’s being in the room while she was naked in shower sent her adrenalin soaring. She wanted to scream and kick things, since he was no longer here to kick. Because she was a grownup and a professional, she opened the box instead. Inside she found a virtual reality headset and gloves, as well as a note with an internet address on it.

  She examined the gear, which, though obviously homemade, was better even than the last set Phagan had given her.
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  “Damn,” she said, sinking down on the bed, “the guy is good.”

  Though her trust surprised and dismayed her, she tried on the gear. It was a perfect fit. She went to her laptop. It was easy to connect. She logged on to the internet and then typed in the address Phagan had given her. She opened and prepped her online search program so she could run it when Phagan appeared, then put on the head set.

  After a moment in the dark, she found herself in a pleasant little park around a gushing fountain with a statue of Venus, the goddess of love in the center. She almost turned around and left then, but curiosity and her desire to get Phagan kept her there. She walked around the fountain and found a bench with a single rose lying on it. When she picked up the flower, a mariachi band appeared out of the park’s greenery, playing and singing a Spanish love song.

  Bryn chuckled. At least this time he’d let her keep her shoes and stay out of the kitchen. She sat down to enjoy the music until Phagan showed his virtual face. When he did, she’d track his ass back to his hiding place, kick it up over his ears and throw it into jail.

  She brushed the rose across her mouth, inhaling deeply. Almost smelled real, but he couldn’t be that good. She had to be picking up the smell of the roses he’d left in her room.

  Unnoticed, Dewey approached from the other side of the fountain. Bryn was smiling, so he figured she must be plotting his demise. He knew he’d tried her patience, when what he wanted was to win her heart. Nothing like falling for the impossible dream. After Kerry Anne died, he’d thought he would never feel anything again. He sure hadn’t expected to feel something for a women he could never, ever have. Talk about unlucky in love. He didn’t feel guilty about his feelings for Bryn. Kerry Anne wouldn’t have expected a permanent state of mourning from him. Mostly he felt stupid. Only emotion he seemed to arouse in Bryn was rage. Of course, she was magnificent in a rage.

  He grinned, remembering the first time he’d been caught by the FBI. Maybe he shouldn’t have made a pass at her, but hell, he’d been handcuffed. Not like he’d grabbed her ass or something. He’d simply told her he’d like to kiss her. He hadn’t actually done it.

  She still hadn’t noticed him, so he took a minute more to enjoy her rare—to him—smile. It was a great smile. No matter how hard she tried to look all business and tough as nails, she stayed all woman.

  He was taking a big risk meeting her like this, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. As soon as she saw him, she’d start trying to track him, and she was good enough to do it if he wasn’t careful. Too bad he stopped being careful as soon as he got around her. As Phoebe liked to put it, he was thinking with his southern brain.

  Bryn’s smile narrowed to a scowl, and he knew he’d been spotted. He deleted the band and walked around the fountain toward her as she rose to meet him. She’d be starting her search program. He started his clock, too.

  “Phagan.” He’d come as Mr. Green Jeans this time and she wanted to chuckle, but she refused to let him see any sign of softening. If he was this bold when he thought she hated him, what would he do if realized he was making headway? Because the sad fact was, he was making headway. Not that anything could come of it, but how could she resist a man who was her intellectual equal? Who seemed to like her tough side as much as her soft side? Who wasn’t afraid of her?

  He ambled closer, carrying a rake, of all things. He realized it and looked around for a place to put it, then settled for making it disappear.

  “Evening—” He looked around and realized that in their VR it was day and changed day to night. “Hi.”

  She should be patient and let him engage in small talk. The longer she could keep him with her, the better chance she had of tracking his location, but she’d never been a patient person. “What?”

  Mr. Green Jeans grinned. “You don’t like games, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.” She turned away from him and made herself take a couple of deep breaths. On her VR screen a little timer showed her that she needed to keep him talking for three minutes to have him. She turned around. It was more than she could do to smile at him, but she did sit down. Let him think he was in control. “Nice little park, though. Does it have a real counterpart anywhere?”

  He joined her on the bench but didn’t crowd her. “It’s sort of like one I saw in New Orleans a few years ago. I liked New Orleans.”

  Liked. Past tense. But maybe she could backtrack and—

  “You’re going to miss the here and now, Bryn,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “It’s Agent Bailey—”

  “You called me by my first name,” he pointed out, giving her a smile that seemed less Mr. Green Jeans and more something—or someone—else. Had his real smile broken through VR?

  “You only have one name that you’ve shared with me,” Bryn said. The time was down to sixty seconds and falling. She rose and stepped away from him. “I don’t know why I came. I always end up talking in circles with you.”

  “You came to catch me,” he said, standing up behind her. He turned her to face him. He’d changed, but she didn’t think he was showing his true face.

  “And why did you come?” she asked.

  “To tell you I’m not your enemy. But—”

  He stopped. The clock was almost run.

  “But,” she prompted. Thirty seconds…

  “Believe me when I say, my enemy is your enemy. Be careful.”

  “You’re not the good guy, you know. If you’d just—”

  “Turn myself in? You’d cut me a deal?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “In exchange for information I’d—”

  “Could I be your partner?” He gave her such a hopeful look, she dang near nodded.

  Her frustration surge. A red mist obscured the timer. “When hell freezes over!”

  His grin was a warning, but his hand was quicker than her eye. He vanished and the landscape turned into his version of hell. Frozen over.

  She ripped off the head set and threw it against the wall to keep from moaning long and loud. The clock on her search had stopped at one second.

  * * * *

  Phoebe’s cop friend, Honk, did a good job of securing the crime scene, but it still took an hour before she was seated beside Jake in his truck driving to town. Phoebe left her SUV there in front of the bar. She wouldn’t need it again. At first light, which was about an hour from now, Dewey would be picking her up. They were hitting TelTech tonight, and once the game was played, Phoebe Mentel would vanish, never to be reborn. Somewhere Phagan was already working on her new identity.

  She didn’t talk and Jake didn’t seem inclined to chat either, until he reached the turn to her house. He braked and looked at her.

  “Is it possible they went to your house…”

  The same thought had occurred to her. Even if there was no threat at home, she didn’t want to see the place again. It was something else she had to give up. If the weight of things and wants got too heavy, she might not be able to break free.

  “Maybe.” Dread was a dead weight on her chest that made even that one word a labor to say.

  “I’ll bet they have a free room where I’m staying.” He seemed as relieved as she was that he didn’t have to drop her off right away, but the trip to his motel kept them together only a few more minutes. Estes Park wasn’t that big.

  When the truck stopped outside the office, she turned to him. “You don’t—”

  “I’ll wait,” Jake said. All night if need be. Probably wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight anyway. She got out, moving stiffly, as if she’d aged in the last couple of hours. He knew there were things he should do, but he sat there staring through the plate glass window at her profile as she arranged for a room. Only when she came out did he get out of the truck.

  In silence they walked to her room, both of them looking everywhere but at each other. Bryn had the room next to her, and he had the one after that. The thought of Bryn stuck in the middle made him smile.

  “W
hat?” Phoebe asked.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged.

  A silence.

  “I’m just down here, if—” He stopped. “I’m sorry about the Chinese food.”

  “Tacky of them to take it.”

  “Might help your cop friend catch them. If he waits an hour and then stakes out that convenience store.”

  Phoebe chuckled. “Maybe.” She hesitated. “Thanks.”

  It sounded more like good-bye, but he just nodded. “If you need—”

  She looked at him then, regret written large in her eyes. “I—”

  Can’t. She didn’t say it, but he knew that’s what she meant. Words crowded in his throat, but all that came out was, “I know.”

  She was almost too tired to do it, but she did. She turned her back on him and opened the door. There was nothing left to say, so when she’d stepped through, she smiled, then shut the door between them.

  Jake stood there, trying to summon the energy to walk away. He was tired in a way he’d never been before. This was losing tired. And he wasn’t used to feeling it.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, then touched the closed door, spreading his fingers against the cool surface. Pretended that she was doing the same thing on the other side.

  Only she wasn’t. And he shouldn’t be.

  He sighed, turned and went back to the office. Inside, the clerk was starting to drift off to sleep again behind the counter. He showed her his badge. “The lady who just checked in? She makes any calls, you let me know immediately.”

  The clerk glanced down at the switchboard. “She’s dialing right now.” She wrote down the number and handed it to Jake. He waited until the light on the panel went out, then dialed the same number. After one ring a male voice said, “Video rentals.”

  Jake hesitated, then said, “Sorry, wrong number.”

  Jake dialed his cell phone again, as he left the office. “I got a phone number I need an address for.” At Phoebe’s door he hesitated, then moved on to Bryn’s and knocked. Before she answered, he had an address.

  “Saddle up. I think I’ve got Dewey Hyatt’s address.”

  She nodded, shut the door in his face, then, it seemed, almost immediately opened it again. Course, he could have nodded off. He was that tired. He handed her the keys to the truck.