To Protect Their Child

by Sheryl Lynn

  “Good old Gil Vance,” Elaine muttered, relieved her uncle had an airtight alibi from his under-sheriff. To Ric’s questioning look, she added, “Gil thinks King is a blow-hard, and King thinks Gil is after his job. Gil wouldn’t lie for my uncle. So, what about Axton? Does he have an alibi?”

  “Don’t jump the flag,” Tate said. “There are more handguns than mice in this valley. Unless we can put the gun and the bullet together, we’ve got squat.”

  “Can you get a warrant to search Axton’s house?” Ric asked.

  “Based on what?” Tate tapped the note. “No offense, Elaine, but all we have is your word that you found it in Bobby’s pocket. This is a very small piece in a very big puzzle.”

  “What do we do then?” Ric asked.

  “We’ve got some serious problems,” Tate said. “At the top of the heap is the sheriff.”

  “He’ll reopen the investigation.” Elaine spoke with more confidence than she felt. King had made it clear that he wasn’t about to take any chances that Del would be exposed as a murderer. “I’ll tell him I found the bullets. I’ll show him the note, too. He’ll have to do the right thing.”

  Tate cocked an eyebrow. His twisted grin struck her as unnecessarily patronizing. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen the sheriff out of uniform. I’ve known a lot of cops like him. They live for the job.”

  “I know how he is.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for. His reputation is on the line. Folks are already squawking about corruption. Tom Greene could slap a lawsuit on him. The sheriff won’t like lawyers lining up for a chance to dip into his pockets.”

  “If he realizes he made a mistake…”

  “I know a D.A. who pushed through a capital murder case knowing damn good and well that his witnesses were tainted. He put a man on death row rather than admit making a mistake. I’ve known cops who planted guns after bad shootings. Others who ignored contradictory evidence. It happens all the time.”

  “So, you’re saying we’re stuck?” Ric asked. A most unpleasant glitter made his eyes look like glass.

  “We have to handle this real careful. I’ve got a plan.”

  Ric and Elaine were all ears.

  “I sent the fingerprints we lifted to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. Their techs are backed up. We have to wait until they get around to running them. Good news is, being a licensed Realtor means Axton’s fingerprints are on file. So if we get a match, then we’ll take the sheriff up to the lodge. I’ll lay out the photos, the measurements we made, show him the bullets.”

  “What if we don’t have Axton’s fingerprints?”

  “Then we’ll figure out another way to get the sheriff up to the lodge.”

  Ric swung his head side to side. “It could blow up in your face, man.”

  “A risk I’m willing to take. What about you two?”

  “I’m in,” Ric said.

  Elaine swallowed hard. “What if Uncle King tries to turn this back on Ric?”

  “If he does trump up a charge against me, then he has to reopen the investigation, right?” Ric grinned at her.

  She imagined he’d rather enjoy going head-to-head with her uncle. As long as both of them were on equal footing.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” she muttered. “If he knows Axton killed Bobby, and he’s covering it up, then what?”

  Tate waggled his eyebrows. “Then we’re in trouble.”

  Ric patted her hand. “We have to do this, Laney.”

  She hoped like crazy that her uncle wasn’t involved in her husband’s murder. “You’re right. I’m in.”

  Elaine insisted on driving Ric back to the wood shop. He didn’t protest too strenuously. The rain had turned into snow. It was sticking to roofs and vehicles. When he climbed into the Jeep he grunted and winced. Taking care to avoid potholes, she parked as close to the wood shop door as possible.

  “Scared?” Ric asked.

  “I can’t believe Uncle King is a criminal, but he sure is acting like one. And what about Jodi? We have to tell her.”

  “I know,” he grumbled, looking none too happy about it. “One way or another, it’s going to come out. Damn it.”

  “She’s a tough kid. Smart. She can handle the truth.”

  He waved a hand at nothing and everything. “What about this town? Can they handle it?”

  “Nobody is going to blame Jodi for what we did.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  She caressed his shoulder, leisurely examining the powerful round of muscle and heavy bone. She ached for the boy he’d been, suffering for the sins of a careless mother and absent father. “The first real fight Bobby and I ever had was about you.”

  He peered at her from the corner of his eye.

  “It was after Jodi was born. I felt so guilty about not telling you. Bobby kept insisting no, no, he couldn’t hurt you worse than he had. It wasn’t that he convinced me he was right, but that I was so ashamed of myself. All those years I avoided you. When you visited Bobby would say, come on, let’s go have a drink with Ric. But I couldn’t face you.”

  “I understand.”

  Her chest hitched. “I think I’m finally beginning to understand. We go around saying we don’t want to hurt people’s feelings. We’re really trying to protect ourselves.”

  “I’m not ashamed of Jodi. Or you. I loved you, Laney. I really did.”

  It stung a bit to hear him speaking in past tense. “Jodi needs to know. Especially if you and I are to have any kind of future. To keep the truth from her is merely protecting ourselves from shame. That’s not fair.” She paused in order to gather her emotions. “If I hadn’t been such a coward, Bobby might still be alive.”

  He clunked his head against the window glass. “Don’t go there, Laney.”

  “Well, it’s true! I always thought if a person had good intentions, then everything would be okay. But I hurt you, I hurt Bobby. I could hurt Jodi.”

  “Stop. Just stop.”

  His fierceness made her freeze. Her throat was growing tight with impending tears. She swallowed hard to keep them at bay. She was so darned sick of crying.

  “We’re not saints. Not me, not you, not Bobby. We muddle along trying to make the best of things, and sometimes we mess up. Do I feel responsible for Bobby’s death? In some ways, yeah, I do. He was the best friend I ever had. I miss him.”

  She dug through her pockets for a tissue. Whenever she began to believe she’d gotten past her grief, it sneaked up on her again. It felt as if an anvil weighted her chest.

  His expression softened. The corners of his mouth turned in a hint of a smile. “When we were about sixteen, Bobby told me he’d discovered the meaning of life.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He said, if you can figure out what’s worth dying for, then you’ll always know what’s worth living for. You and Jodi were it for him, Laney.”

  “I didn’t want him dying for me.”

  “He did anyway. If he were here right now, he’d do it again. You know it’s true. So get off the guilt-trip. Let’s get on with what we have to do. Okay?”

  He slid a hand behind her neck and drew her forehead-to-forehead with him. She kept her eyes closed, afraid if she looked at him she’d burst into tears. He smelled of rain and wet wool. His hand was hot against her skin.

  “Are we still on for Friday night?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good. Now get out of here before I forget you’re a lady.”

  Chapter Eleven

  On Friday afternoon, Elaine drove Jodi over to the Greene’s ranch. The storm had blown itself out. Late day sun warmed the earth, leaving patches of dirty snow. Brave little purple crocuses poked out of the wet dirt. Gwen had promised to give Jodi a lesson in how to quilt. Elaine suspected much of the girl’s excitement about the lesson had less to do with learning sewing techniques than that her daughter was delighted about Elaine’s date with Ric.

  Elaine w
as delighted, too. Going to a movie and sharing a bag of popcorn with a sexy man offered much needed respite from stress. For a little while she’d be able to feel normal. She might even be able to stop worrying, for an hour or two, about murder and loss and suspicious characters.

  After she’d opened the door, but before she left the Jeep, Jodi gave her mother a hard looking over. “You aren’t going to wear that shirt, are you?”

  Elaine looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with this shirt?”

  Jodi rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “It’s a guy shirt, Mom. You should wear the pink sweater. The cashmere with pearl embroidery. And don’t wear jeans either.”

  Exactly what she needed, Elaine thought with amusement. Fashion tips from a teenybopper. “We’re just going to a movie. What’s wrong with jeans?”

  Again with the big sigh. “Mah-ahm. Jeans are only okay if they’re designer jeans. Otherwise you look like a hick.”

  Elaine crossed her heart. “I promise not to embarrass you with my hickness. Okay?”

  “You can borrow my khaki skirt.” She bobbed her head and snapped her fingers as if to a beat. “You’ll look really with it.”

  Elaine gave her daughter’s skinny hips a once over. “I doubt it will fit, but I’ll try it on.”

  Gwen, clutching a ragged old sweater around her thin shoulders, approached the Jeep. “Everything okay, girls?”

  “Hi, Nana!” Jodi hopped out of the Jeep. She slammed the door, making both women flinch. On her way to the house, she yelled, “Tell Mommy she has to wear something nice tonight!”

  Elaine laughed into her hand. “How is Tom doing?”

  “He’s been on the phone most of the day. Actually talking about buying some calves.” Gwen smiled while she watched Jodi run into the house. “Maybe I’ll get Jodi to roust him so he stops talking and starts doing.” Her smile faded. “How is the investigation going?”

  Elaine clasped her mother-in-law’s hand, dismayed by how thin and fragile the woman felt. Dismayed, too, by the idea of what might happen when Gwen learned the truth about Jodi. “One way or another, we’ll find justice. Tate is working really hard.” She studied Gwen’s face and saw Bobby in her features. Grief sneaked in and nipped her. “Does it bother you that I’m dating Ric?”

  “My lands, why would you say that? Life goes on, honey, whether we want it to or not. ’Sides, he’s a good boy. I’d hate to see him end up all alone like his uncle. Loneliness is a sorry state for a man.”

  Sorry state for a widow, too.

  When she returned home, her answering machine light was blinking.

  Ric, sounding tight and unhappy, said, “Laney, I’m sorry. I can’t make it tonight. I’ll call you as soon as I can. All right? I miss you. See you later.”

  She called the wood shop. When Walt answered, she said, “It’s me, Elaine. What’s the matter with Ric? Is he all right? Uncle King didn’t do anything to him, did he? Oh, I’ll skin him alive if he did.”

  The old man’s laughter warmed the telephone line. “Calm down, honey. Ric is fine. It’s just his back.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I reckon he’s in bed right about now. He’ll be laid up for a day or two. But he’s okay.”

  Foolish, stubborn man, stuck all the way out in the middle of nowhere, alone. She paced as far as the phone cord would allow. “Walt, tell me the truth. How bad is his back?”

  The old man hemmed and hawed.

  “I’m not asking you to reveal state secrets. I just want to know if it’s safe for him to be home alone. He doesn’t even have a telephone in case of emergency.”

  Walt remained silent for a few beats. He sounded grim when he spoke. “That mine he hit done broke his spine. All told, he spent fourteen months in hospitals. It pains him sometimes.”

  “I’m going over there.”

  He made a worried noise. “Best not, honey. He’s in a mood. He don’t like company when he’s in a mood.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  She stomped around the kitchen and gathered the fixings for a meal. Ric might fancy himself a loner, but nobody was that independent, or that proud. Taking care of him was the right thing to do. Whether he liked it or not.

  BY THE TIME Elaine reached Ric’s place, the trees were casting long shadows across the trailer and barn. The trailer was dark, abandoned looking. A flicker hopped on the aluminum roof. The woodpecker gave the metal an experimental tap before taking off in a flash of orange underwings.

  Elaine suffered a moment of wrenching fear that Ric hadn’t hurt himself. Instead, he’d packed up and left the valley for more peaceful surroundings.

  Buster trotted up to the Jeep. His tail wagged so furiously, his entire body wriggled. Ric wouldn’t desert his dog. He wouldn’t desert Jodi either. The valley was home for him now. She carried a bag of groceries to the trailer and knocked. No answer.

  “Is he soaking in the hot tub, Buster?”

  The dog sniffed hungrily at the grocery sack. Elaine tried the door knob. It opened easily. She called for Ric. Hearing nothing, she set the groceries and her purse inside the door. Then she used her cell phone to call the Greene ranch.

  Gwen answered. Elaine explained that her plans had changed. She’d called to make sure the cell signal was strong enough. If Gwen or Jodi needed her, they had the number.

  “Up to Ric’s?” Gwen sounded amused.

  “He’s hurt himself. I’m going to fix him supper.”

  “Sweet of you. You’ll be glad to hear, Tom went to look at those calves after all. He took Jodi with him.”

  Elaine smiled at the image of her daughter talking Tom’s ear off. “That’s great to hear. Tell her I’m wearing the cashmere sweater. Talk to you later.”

  She walked around back. Lights were on inside the hot tub house. Through the glass door she saw that the water didn’t merely steam, it bubbled. Sinking deeper into the water, Ric scowled at her. She ordered Buster to stay, then entered.

  “Didn’t you get my message?” Ric asked. “I told you I couldn’t make it tonight.”

  “I hate being stood up.” The chlorine smell made her eyes sting. Steamy heat made her a little dizzy. She pulled off her jacket. “I’m going to fix you some supper. How about oven-fried chicken, mashed potatoes and my world famous biscuits? Which, by the way, really are better than Walt’s.”

  He pushed a button on the control panel. The bubbling, Whirlpool action stopped. The water calmed. “I don’t need you babying me.”

  She sat and primly crossed her legs. She studied his flushed face and damp, golden hair, and drank in the shape of his skull and cut of his jaw. His grumpy tone and the fact that he didn’t attempt to coax her into the tub indicated how much his back must be hurting. “We all have crosses to bear.”

  “Right.”

  Walt had understated Ric’s mood. He was acting like a bear with a toothache. “You’re not the only one who’s suffered.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “I’m not trying to one-up you on who got the worst deal out of life. All I’m saying is, we make do with what we’ve got.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it isn’t working.”

  “Only because you don’t want to feel better. Is that why you bought land so far out of town? So you can brood in peace? The big bad lone wolf licking your wounds in private?”

  “I’ll be okay by tomorrow.”

  “You won’t, and we both know it. You might be able to stand up straight. Go to work. But you’ll still hurt. You hurt all the time, and it isn’t going to get better.”

  His expression tightened. Cords stood out on his throat. “I am not a cripple.”

  “I didn’t say you were. You’re an amazing man. I admire your strength, your determination.”

  He groaned and let his head fall back. “Now you sound like a physical therapist, or a shrink. Quit it.”

  “I will not. I don’t think any less o
f you because you have a wonky back. What bothers me is this tendency of yours to hide. You don’t even have a telephone. What if there’s an emergency?”

  “So what?”

  Incredulous, she huffed. “Fine, tough guy. You can take care of yourself. Big jerk.”

  His eyes opened wide.

  “You’re a selfish jerk. You don’t care that I worry about you. That I need to know you’re okay and properly fed and have everything you need. Only a totally inconsiderate jackass pushes away the people who care about him.”

  “I can take care of myself.” He didn’t sound so sure.

  She snatched up her jacket. “So I’m going to fix you a proper meal. If you don’t like it, haul your butt out of there and stop me.”

  “Laney…”

  Grinning to herself, she left him to soak.

  She was kneading biscuit dough when he limped into the trailer. She waited for the savory smell of baking chicken to work its magic on him. Nobody could stay in a bad mood in the midst of such a delicious aroma. He settled gingerly on a kitchen chair. She’d already set the table and had even found a candle to cast some romantic light. She could feel him watching her every move. Unable to find a biscuit cutter, she used a flour dusted water glass to cut the dough. She turned up the heat on the oven.

  Ric petted Buster. “Made yourself right at home. Bet it’s not what you’re used to cooking in.”

  “I’ve worked in worse. What can I get you? Ibuprofen? Something stronger? Do you want to lie down?” He wore gray sweatpants and a gray T-shirt with ARMY printed on the front. His feet were white and water-wrinkled. His hair stuck out every which way. She wanted to comb it with her fingers.

  “I already took something. I feel okay sitting.” He sniffed the air. “Smells good.” He lowered his gaze to his hands. “Sorry I growled at you.”

  She decided not to press her advantage. “Apology accepted. Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?”