by Jane Graves
No. He had to get a grip. Everything was cool. Glenda had danced with him last night. He hadn’t stepped on her feet or said anything really dumb. And when he walked her back to the table where she’d been sitting, she’d invited him to join her.
Of course, then Tony and Roy Jr. and all their friends had started setting off pop-bottle rockets a little too close to the pavilion. He’d had to leave the table to handle that situation, and then Harold, who’d had about three beers too many, tried to take a swing at Odell for no apparent reason except that the two of them hated each other. By the time he got finished clearing all that up, Glenda had gone home and he hadn’t gotten to talk to her again.
But he could talk to her now.
All he had to do was make a little small talk. Shoot the breeze. Then, when he was all loosened up and relaxed, he could try asking her out again. They’d gotten along pretty well last night. Maybe this time she’d say yes.
He fiddled around putting cream and sugar in his coffee until the customer left, then brought the cup to the counter. “Morning, Glenda.”
“Morning, Stanley. Nice celebration last night, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Real nice.” He handed her a five-dollar bill. “I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer.”
“I didn’t realize I’d stayed as long as I had. I had to get home to see about my grandmother.”
“Uh-huh.”
She punched the register, then put the five in the drawer and handed him his change. And all at once, his mind went totally blank.
Say something. Say anything.
He couldn’t think of a damned thing.
He just stood there staring at her as several long, excruciating seconds ticked past, until he was absolutely sure that he looked like a total dimwit.
“Stanley? Is there something else you need?”
“Need?”
“Yes.”
“Uh, no. Nothing. Just the coffee. Thanks.”
He backed away from the counter. Then he turned and left the store, kicking himself all the way back down the street to the sheriff’s office.
Before coming into the store, he’d rehearsed a hundred things in his mind that he could say to Glenda, but when the chips were down, he hadn’t been able to remember a single one of them.
Hot outside, isn’t it? Gonna be another scorcher.
I see you’re getting more kinds of potato chips in now than you ever were. Why is that?
That’s sure a pretty blouse you have on today.
Look at that. Y’all got some new bumper stickers. “Keep honking, I’m reloading.” That’s a good one, isn’t it?
Now, how hard would that have been?
Plenty hard, when he looked like a geek and acted like one, too.
Stanley went into the sheriff’s office, set his coffee on the desk, and collapsed in the chair. He was crazy about Glenda. Absolutely crazy about her. He couldn’t sit still for two minutes without an image of her pretty face popping into his head. Yet even after she’d danced with him last night, still he could barely talk to her, and if he couldn’t talk to her, then he’d never be able to ask her out again, and if he couldn’t ask her out again …
Well, somewhere at the end of all that was marriage and happily ever after, but for a guy like him, taking those steps in the middle would be like climbing Mount Everest.
He glanced into the tray of the fax machine and was surprised to see a document laying there. That was rare. Sheriff Dangerfield had gotten the machine because he thought it was time that they moved into the twenty-first century, but it didn’t do much but sit there and collect dust.
He picked up the piece of paper, and a word leaped out at him like a big neon sign.
WANTED.
Stanley came to attention, wheeling around in his chair and sitting up straight. According to the fax, a man named Alex DeMarco had jumped bail and was wanted on a bizarre sex murder charge in Tolosa. Six feet four inches tall, two hundred twenty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. And, of all things, he was a police officer.
Then Stanley looked at the photo, and if he hadn’t been sitting down, he was sure he’d have fainted dead away.
It looked exactly like Dan Roberts.
Stanley blinked. Then blinked again. But there was no mistaking the face. None at all. Dan Roberts was actually Alex DeMarco. And he was a murderer. And a rogue cop on top of that.
The fax went on to say that he was thought to be traveling with a woman, and it gave her description. The description fit Sarah Roberts perfectly. Only her name was really Valerie Parker.
Oh God, oh God, oh God …
A hot tingle inched its way through Stanley’s body, and his hands began to shake. He laid the fax down on the desk and clasped his hands together, but still they quivered like Jell-O. He took a long, deep breath.
Fugitives. Real live fugitives right here in Tinsdale. He knew who they were. But they didn’t know he knew.
He could bring them in.
The moment that thought entered his mind, dread shuddered through him. He’d never be able to pull off something like that. Not with a guy DeMarco’s size, and a cop at that. Never.
But if he did …
They’d talk about him from now on. The man who kept Tinsdale safe from the bad guys. Tell us the story again, Stan. About how you brought those fugitives in.
And then they’d buy him a beer and hang on his every word. They’d slap him on the back and ask him how things were going—had he apprehended any more dangerous criminals lately?
His picture would be in the paper. Maybe Glenda herself would put it there, and when she stopped to look at it she’d think about what a brave man he was.
This town needs a man like you running things, everybody would say. Of course you’ll be our new sheriff, won’t you?
But this was scary. Really scary. He knew he should ask for help.
No. Damn it, if he asked for help, then those guys from Ruston and Wendover would take over everything, and everyone would forget that he was the one who’d spotted them in the first place.
He had to do this all by himself.
He’d told the two of them that he’d pick them up this morning at Cletus’s station to take them back out to their van. That was when he could make his move.
He sat back in his chair and formulated a plan, thinking that if he could only keep from throwing up, it just might work.
chapter sixteen
“Gotcha all fixed up,” Cletus said. “I called Stanley and told him you’re ready to go, and he’s coming right over to take you back out to your car.”
“Thanks, Cletus,” Alex said. “Appreciate it.”
“Anytime. The next time you folks are passing through, you be sure to drop by.”
Alex picked up the tire and took it outside, where he saw Val coming across the parking lot from their motel room, her backpack tossed over one shoulder. He turned his gaze away as she approached.
“I paid the bill,” he told her. “Stanley will be here any minute to take us back to the van.”
She nodded silently.
Damn. He hated this. He hated that they’d barely spoken this morning. He hated that he couldn’t even look at her because of what had happened between them last night. He’d wanted so much to make love to her, to spend the long hours of the night trying to make up in some small way for what had happened between them years ago. And then somehow it had gotten all twisted around. And then he’d lost it. Completely lost it. Damn it, he’d pushed her so hard that she’d had to shout at him to get him to stop. Not once in his life could he remember being that angry and that out of control.
And once again, Val had been the cause of it.
Not that he hadn’t been justified in his anger. But the way he’d chosen to take it out on her had been completely out of line. Maybe it was time he learned his lesson. He never should have danced with her, never should have kissed her, never should have done anything that would lead to the two of them naked in bed.
&nbs
p; Keep your distance from now on. No matter what.
Stanley pulled into the parking lot and brought his car to a halt a few feet away from them. He got out of the car and gave them a smile. “Morning, folks. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “We’re ready.”
The deputy unlocked the trunk. Alex tossed the tire inside it and slammed the lid.
“Oh, sorry about that stuff in the front seat,” Stanley said. “My aunt talked me into going down to the fruit market this morning and picking up a few things. I didn’t have a chance to drop them by her house.”
Alex looked in the front seat, and the skin prickled on the back of his neck. It was piled almost to the ceiling with crates of fruit, with no room for a passenger. Anyone who rode in this car with Stanley would be riding in the backseat.
Something was up.
“It’s not far out to your van,” Stanley went on. “I thought you wouldn’t mind riding in the back with your wife.”
He was staring at Alex with a funny little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were widened just a little bit more than they should have been. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but the man was sweating as if it were already the hottest hour of the day.
Alex didn’t know how, but Stanley was on to them. And Alex knew if he got in the backseat, he was a dead man. But the last thing he needed was a confrontation right here on the main drag of Tinsdale.
“Now, Stanley, I know it’s a company car and all, but you really should have put that fruit in the back. Those crates are going to mess up that upholstery something awful. Here,” he said, opening up the car door. “I’ll take care of it.”
He grabbed the crates, one by one, and transferred them to the backseat. The deputy just stood there, frozen to the pavement, his eyes shifting back and forth nervously.
“There you go,” Alex said, brushing his hands off. “Shall we get on the road?”
“Uh … sure,” Stanley said. “But, hey, Dan. Why don’t you hop into the backseat this time and let that pretty wife of yours ride up front?”
“He can’t do that,” Val said.
They both turned around to look at her.
“See, he’s always had this claustrophobia problem. He can’t stand small, closed-in places.” She turned to Alex with a look that said she knew what was going on with Stanley as well as he did. “You go ahead and get in the front seat, honey. I’ll ride in the back.”
She opened the back door and got into the car. Alex closed the door, then waited to see if the deputy was going to get into the driver’s seat before he got into the car himself.
Now that his initial plan had failed, Stanley had three choices. Confront Alex now, confront him later, or don’t confront him at all. By the way the man was starting to tremble, Alex was betting on number three.
When the deputy got into the car, his hands were shaking so much that it took him three stabs to get the key into the ignition, which told Alex that the odds of his still trying to apprehend them were slim. He was probably just going to take them back out to the van, let them go, then put some real law enforcement on their trail, but still Alex had to be on his guard.
He slid into the seat next to Stanley, and they drove in silence. Stanley didn’t know it, but he should have been thanking his lucky stars that it wasn’t a real murderer he was dealing with, or he probably would have been dead by the side of the road by now.
A few minutes later, the deputy pulled up behind the van where they’d left it on the shoulder of the road. Alex got out of the car, then opened the back door for Val to get out. Her expression was tense.
“Don’t do a thing,” he whispered. “Let me take care of this.”
The deputy came around the car and unlocked the trunk. Alex reached in and grabbed the tire. When he stood back up, he was looking down the barrel of Stanley’s gun.
Well, shit.
He had to hand it to the guy. He’d actually found that one nerve that allowed him to take his gun out of his holster. But pull the trigger? Alex didn’t think there was any way that was going to happen, but he had to watch it just the same. He looked at Stanley with an even gaze, holding his voice steady.
“Something wrong here, Stanley?”
“I know who you are,” Stanley said, his voice as shaky as his hands. “Both of you. And I’m taking you in.”
“I think there’s some mistake. Just who is it you think we are?”
“Alex DeMarco. Valerie Parker. You’re a cop. You killed a woman in Tolosa.”
Alex turned to Val. “Sarah? What’s he talking about?”
Val shrugged offhandedly. “Got me.”
“Cut it out,” Stanley said, his voice escalating. “I know who you are, and you’re going to jail.”
“I didn’t kill anybody, Stanley. You’ve got your facts screwed up.”
“I don’t have anything screwed up. You’re Alex DeMarco.”
The guy clearly was going to pursue this. Alex decided that further denial wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“Yes, Stanley. I’m Alex DeMarco. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
The deputy’s eyes widened. “Get in the backseat.”
“Sorry. Can’t do that.”
“You have to. I have a gun. And I’m n-not afraid to use it.”
Alex would take issue with that last statement. Clearly he was very afraid to use it.
There was only one thing Alex could do here. There was a risk involved, but a small one. Judging from the way the man’s hands were shaking, he figured it was a bigger risk that he’d accidentally pull the trigger and blow both him and Val away.
Alex took two steps forward and yanked the gun right out of his hand.
Stanley gasped, then choked a little, staring down at his hands as if Scotty had suddenly beamed his gun back up to the Enterprise. He scrambled backward until he hit the squad car with a heavy thud, holding up his palms. If he’d been shaking before, he’d hit 9.5 on the Richter scale now.
“Don’t shoot!” he said, his voice as tremulous as the rest of him. “Please don’t shoot!”
Alex shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans, shaking his head with disgust. “You sorry son of a bitch. How many boxes of Cracker Jacks did you have to go through to get that badge?”
Stanley blinked rapidly, his bland brown eyes full of fear. “W-where did I screw up?”
Alex looked at him with total disbelief. The one thing he couldn’t tolerate was incompetence, and this guy had the corner on the market. “Where did you screw up? Where didn’t you screw up?”
“What do you m-mean?”
“First of all, the fruit thing. Just how stupid do you think I am?”
“Alex,” Val said, a warning tone in her voice. “I think it’s time we got out of here.”
“And never let somebody see you sweat. Never. You’ve got to learn how to bluff. Even if you’re scared shitless, you’ve got to fake the bad guy into believing you’re not. If you don’t, you’re going to end up a dead man. Do you hear me?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“I saw it the moment you showed up at the motel,” Alex said. “You didn’t have control of the situation. I’m telling you the bad guys can smell it. And they’ll use it against you every time. You’ve got to be a man other officers can trust. Personally, Stanley, I wouldn’t trust you to take out the trash.”
“Alex,” Val said sharply. “That’s enough. Let’s get the tire changed and get out of here.”
“And another thing. The second I came at you, the second you were threatened by a known fugitive, you should have pulled the trigger. And you shouldn’t have stopped pulling it until the threat was over. Got that?”
“I should have shot you?”
“Hell, yes!”
Alex couldn’t believe it. Part of the role of a law enforcement officer was the ability to shoot to kill if the need arose. This guy wouldn’t have the guts to swat a fly.
Alex yanked open the b
ack door of the police car and motioned for Stanley to get in. He immediately complied. Alex shut the door, then pulled the jack out of the van and changed the tire. The whole time, Val stood a few feet away from him, saying nothing. He could tell she was pissed about something, but he couldn’t worry about that now.
Once the tire was on, he threw the jack into the van, then opened the back door of the patrol car.
“Get out.”
By the look on the deputy’s face as he emerged from the car, he was absolutely certain that he was about to draw his last breath. Good. That meant he probably wouldn’t try anything stupid.
“Take it easy, Stanley,” Val said. “I know what you’re thinking, but Alex has never killed anybody his life, and he’s not about to start now.”
Alex turned to Val with disbelief. “Val? You want to shut up?”
“I mean it,” Val went on. “He didn’t kill that woman. And even though he’s trying to show you what a badass he is, there’s no way he’s going to hurt you. So don’t worry, all right?”
“Wrong, Stanley,” Alex said, filling his voice with as much malice as he possibly could. “You’d better worry. You’d better worry a lot. And you’d better keep worrying the whole time I’m talking to you. Do you understand?”
Val spat out a breath of disgust and turned away.
Stanley looked back and forth between them, as if he didn’t know which one of them to believe. What the hell did Val think she was doing? Once this situation was over, he was going to have a word with her about this. A very loud, very threatening word, and for once in her life, she was going to listen.
“Is there another way back to town besides the main highway?” he asked Stanley.
“Uh … not really. Except if you cut cross-country. Across that pasture is a dirt road that heads back toward town.”
“A dirt road, huh? About how far do you figure it is on that dirt road back to town?”
“Six miles. Maybe seven.”
“Much traffic on that road?”
“Pretty much none at all.”
“So it might be kinda tough to pick up a ride.”
Stanley looked at him as if he were out of his mind, but he was way too scared to say so. “Yeah. I guess it would be.”
