by Dana Mentink
That’s behind me now. But was it really? Was there some other enemy waiting to drop the next bombshell in addition to Kenny? Again he wondered if he would always be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next explosion. It was not what Laney deserved, not that it mattered. Nothing had changed in that regard. He would forever be seen as a murderer, and he could not trap her in that same net.
He rolled the window farther down, hoping the rush of air would blow away his pain.
Beatty was a small Nevada town, snuggled at the end of Oasis Valley and near the head of the Amargosa River. With a population barely over 1,000, it was still larger than Furnace Falls. Beatty boasted a few shops, a small hotel, trailer parks and a minuscule post office, but it grandly proclaimed itself as the gateway to Death Valley National Park. He could make the drive to Beatty and into the park itself with his eyes closed, having done it countless times to shuttle hotel visitors. That notion pricked at him as he remembered the snake in Laney’s van.
A reptilian stowaway? He didn’t believe it for a moment. Kenny was behind that stunt. What would have happened to Laney and the baby if she’d been bitten? Jaw clamped tight, he made a mental note as soon as he returned to be sure Laney had no intentions of taking any more groups into the park. He wasn’t sure how he would handle that job while keeping a firm eye on Laney, but somehow he’d manage. He wished his cousin Austin was not off on his latest climbing trip, no doubt in one of those places he could only access via his small plane. Austin had always been the first to help and the last to quit.
They rattled through the Boulder Peak Mobile Home Park entrance. The forty trailer units were permanently settled on both sides of the wide dirt streets. Some had rocky landscaping and neatly tended shrubbery. Others sat on bare patches of gravel. Most had sturdy porch structures to provide precious shade. Since it was only just dawn, there were no kids outside playing with the numerous bicycles parked under porch awnings.
One truck rumbled by, the older female driver waving to Jude in his official car. She shot Beckett a friendly look that immediately turned sour once she determined who he was. He didn’t remember ever meeting her, but she obviously knew him, maybe from the papers and newscasts that splashed his picture everywhere after the arrest. He kept his eyes fixed on Jude’s bumper. They found the trailer belonging to Leonard Sanderson, Kenny’s uncle. Beckett parked across the street and pulled the ball cap down over his brow in case any of the residents were peering from behind their blinds.
“Stay out of the way,” Jude cautioned to Beckett. With a hand on his sidearm, he and his officer stationed themselves on either side of the peeling front door.
Jude knocked. “This is the Inyo County police. We need to talk to Kenny Sanderson.”
There was no answer. Beckett judged from the cops’ rigid postures that they were feeling the same tension he was.
“Police,” Jude bellowed. “Open the door.”
Beckett got out, nerves taut, but he stayed by his truck, willing his feet to stay put. Jude rapped again at the door, repeating his command. A harrowing three minutes went by and he saw Jude tense as the door creaked open.
A man with greasy brown hair and an unkempt beard looked out. Beckett edged closer so he could hear the conversation.
“Leonard Sanderson?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m Sheriff Jude Duke. Where’s your nephew?”
“What’s it to you?”
“We’re executing a search on behalf of his parole officer.”
He threw up his hands. “What now? I don’t know why you guys gotta hassle him night and day. He ain’t done nothing.”
“We’re here to take a quick look. If there are no violations of his parole, we’ll leave you in peace,” Jude said.
“You all should leave him in peace anyway. Don’t you have any real criminals to go after?” Uncle Leonard spit.
“Is Kenny home now?”
“Nah. Left an hour or so ago.”
“To go where?”
“The supermarket,” Leonard sneered. “Check his parole officer’s paperwork. He’s cleared to grocery shop. Guy’s not in prison anymore.”
“We’ll search the premises, then, and talk to him later.”
Leonard glared. “You aren’t going to search anything.”
Jude grew a few inches taller. “Sir, I am not asking your permission. Please step aside. We’ll make this as quick and painless as we can.”
Leonard’s gaze swept to the curb and found Beckett. It took him a moment, but then his eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Beckett Duke? That’s the guy who should be in prison, right there. He killed my niece and he got off without paying his dues. Why don’t you go drag him back to jail, where he belongs?”
Jude’s tone was placating. “All we want to do is make sure Kenny doesn’t have a weapon in the home. Then we’ll head on over to the grocery store to find him. If he gets back here first, have him call me.” Jude pulled a business card from his pocket. Leonard made no move to take it, so Jude wedged it behind the mailbox that was affixed to the wall of the trailer.
Leonard reached out and snatched up the card and then threw it on the ground. Both cops were on high alert as he began to rant again. Beckett’s gaze drifted to a movement from the rear of the trailer. Someone was exiting through a window, someone long and lean, his blond hair grown out unevenly from a prison buzz cut. Kenny Sanderson.
Beckett’s nerves kicked like a mule. “Stop, Kenny,” he yelled.
Kenny dropped to the gravel below, knees bent and primed to run. A knife in a sheath was fastened to his belt. Beckett was already in motion, hollering to Jude and tearing after Kenny.
Kenny sprinted away from the trailer, toward the small fence that separated two yards. He leaped over it easily. Beckett pursued him, not nearly as deftly, but urgency fueled his big body up and over. Kenny raced through the yard, around a half-empty kids’ wading pool, and ran full tilt through the open side gate. Beckett was closing the gap when Kenny jagged right. He flew between two trailers and out into the gravel parking area designated for visitors. Boots slipping on the rocky surface, Beckett did the same. Pushing hard, Beckett edged closer until his outstretched hand grazed the hood of Kenny’s sweatshirt.
One more spurt of speed and he reached out again, snagging the cloth. Before he could reel Kenny to a stop, Beckett’s foot dipped down into a hollow where the gravel had sunk into a crack in the parched ground. He went down and cartwheeled head over heels until he landed flat on his back, the breath forced out of him. Before he could clear the stars from his eyes, Kenny was on him, the knife pressed to his throat.
Kenny’s pale eyes glittered, his breath hot in Beckett’s face.
“Why, Beckett Duke, as I live and breathe. You decided to come to me so I could kill you easier? So thoughtful.” Spittle formed on the edge of Kenny’s lips.
“I came to watch you get taken back to prison,” Beckett said between gasps.
“That’s not gonna happen.” He spoke through gritted teeth, the knife pressed into Beckett’s throat. He felt a warm trickle of blood. “I’m the one who’s laying down the law now and I’ve already told you how you’re gonna pay for what you did to Pauline.”
“I didn’t kill your sister,” Beckett grunted.
“Yes, you did.” His mouth quivered. “Pauline didn’t deserve what you did to her. She was a nurse. She took care of people, only one in my family who ever made something of herself. She tried so hard to straighten me out.”
Beckett’s body screamed at him to move, but he did not dare risk the knife digging any farther into his windpipe. “Pauline was dead when I found her.”
“Shut your mouth. You don’t even get to say her name. Only thing I can do for my sister now is make you pay.”
“Leave my family alone.”
Kenny’s fingers pressed the knife harder. “I’
m going to kill you, just like I promised.” He leaned closer. His grin showed irregular front teeth. “But you’re going to watch your wife die first.” He laughed. “Hey, you know what? I heard someone in town blabbing away. So Mrs. Duke is expecting, huh?”
Beckett froze.
Kenny moved his face close to Beckett’s until they were practically nose to nose. “My sister always wanted to have kids. As soon as I have a baby, you can be Uncle Kenny, she would tell me, but she never got the chance, and your wife isn’t gonna get that chance either.”
“Don’t…” Beckett began, but Kenny cut him off.
“Congratulations, Daddy. Guess that’s two people you’ll be burying before you die.”
Fury ignited Beckett’s senses. He grabbed up a handful of gravel and flung it.
Kenny reared up. Beckett scrambled to his feet, but his balance was off and he staggered. He shook off the dizziness in time to see Kenny almost to the tree line, and three police cars approaching, lights and sirens clearing the way. Two officers peeled off, and Beckett knew they were heading for the opposite sides of the thicket where Kenny might be able to hitch a ride out of town. Jude stopped his vehicle and got out, talking urgently into his radio as he inspected Beckett.
Beckett stared at the woods, trying to rein in his surging emotions.
“You hurt?” Jude said.
“No.”
Jude pulled a first-aid kit from his car and handed Beckett a gauze pad. “Blood usually indicates injury, but since you’re standing and argumentative, I’ll assume it’s minor. I’m going to assist my officers.”
Beckett swiped at his bloody neck. “He’s got a knife, all right. I can confirm that.”
Sliding behind the wheel, Jude said, “Good news is we can arrest him now, soon as we catch him, for a couple of violations now that he’s attacked you.”
“He reminded me of his promise to kill Laney before he finishes me off. He knows about the baby too.”
Jude studied Beckett for a moment, his expression unreadable. “We’ll get him.” The radio crackled, indicating his partners had not yet located their quarry.
“So now you believe me that Kenny is a threat?” Beckett was three parts angry and one part relieved.
“Kenny’s actions just bore out your story, so it’s clear that he is hot on your trail. Chasing him didn’t help your case, though. A lot of folks around here feel as though Kenny might be justified in his revenge on you.”
Beckett felt the adrenaline that had swamped his body give way to a bone-deep weariness. “You too, Jude? You still think I killed his sister?”
“At first, I didn’t have any doubts. We had evidence. Cousin or not, we had you for it. You admitted going to meet her. You had her sweater in your truck. Fibers from her clothes were under your fingernails.”
“Like I said, I tried CPR.” Beckett waited for the rest of whatever Jude had to say.
“Lately, though…” Jude shrugged. “I’ve been turning things over in my mind.”
“And?”
“And I think it’s possible you didn’t mean to hurt her, something happened, things got out of control, might have been manslaughter, not murder.”
Beckett could read the rest of Jude’s thoughts. Things got out of hand…like they did when you blinded Dan in the wrestling match. The sense of defeat settled deeper into his soul. “Why would I do that, Jude? I hardly knew Pauline.”
“You dated in high school your senior year. As I recall, she thought you were pretty hot stuff. She wanted to be your steady girlfriend, but you weren’t interested in anything long-term. Had your sights on a sports scholarship. You brushed her off.”
“That was a lifetime ago. I was arrogant, probably even an insensitive jerk about her feelings. I own all that, but that doesn’t make me a killer.”
Jude shrugged. “We had plenty of evidence to take you into custody.”
“You never made a mistake before? Arrested someone who was innocent?”
Jude’s badge shone in the sunlight, a blinding sheen. “No, Beckett. I haven’t.”
Whether it had been murder or involuntary manslaughter, his cousin still believed he’d killed Pauline, just like Kenny did. He would never change Jude’s opinion. So be it. He wouldn’t waste any more breath on it. There were more important issues at stake. “He’s gonna hurt Laney. Aren’t we on the same side here?”
“I’m on Laney’s side.”
“If you don’t catch him quickly, he’ll go after her.”
Jude opened his door. “Wait here and I’ll call someone to drive you to the clinic or your truck.”
“I’ll walk to my truck,” Beckett said. “You’ve got a fugitive to catch.” He didn’t wait for Jude’s answer. The cut on his throat stung, but that was the least of his concerns as he circled back around to his vehicle. Jude may have been confident that the police would capture Kenny, but Beckett did not share his rosy view. Kenny had a network of friends on both sides of the jail fence who would no doubt be happy to assist. He was so deep in his thoughts, he’d yanked open his driver’s door before he noticed all four tires were flat, neatly slashed.
He scanned the street. Good old Uncle Leonard pulled back the shades of his house. He flashed Beckett a hateful grin and raked an index finger across his throat. No confusion about the meaning.
Beckett stared him down until Leonard disappeared from the window. He kept his appearance calm as he took out his phone and called for a tow truck before he dialed Herm.
“Yello, Hotsprings Hotel,” he said. “Help ya?”
“It’s Beck. Is Laney okay?”
There was a brief pause and he heard the phone being handed off. “Yes, I am,” she said. “Where are you?”
He tried to keep his relief silent. “I’m still in Beatty.” He told her about the encounter with Uncle Leonard and Kenny’s escape, leaving out the part about the knife at his throat. He heard her sharp intake of breath. “So stay in, okay?”
“I have to take the Timmons family and Rita into the park today at four. Levi’s leading a trail ride and Willow’s joining in at sundown on the nighttime photo tour if the sky is clear.”
A long drive through one of the world’s most desolate landscapes. Death Valley was a deadly place in the best of circumstances. “I’ll take them.”
“We’ll talk about it later. I have to help serve breakfast.” She paused. “Don’t… I mean, you should be careful too, you know.”
She still cared? He wished. “Right. I’ll be back as soon as I get the tires replaced.” He resisted the urge to order her to stay put again. Laney was not one to put up with badgering. You said your piece.
Still, the minutes passed in excruciating slowness until the tow driver arrived and hauled his truck to the local garage. The driver was new in town and wise enough not to inquire how Beckett had earned himself four slashed tires. He listened to his earbuds, ignoring Beckett in the passenger seat, which suited them both fine. Beckett had pulled on a windbreaker to hide the knife wound before the tow arrived, even though it was too hot for it.
At the garage, Beckett found fire captain Trent Clouder waiting by his staff vehicle for some paperwork. He was slender, belt buckled around a trim waist, hair neatly cut, boots polished to a sheen. Trent was probably close to sixty, but his commitment to working out and perhaps even tinting his hair made him appear younger. He’d been married and divorced twice.
The captain went slack jawed for a moment when he saw Beckett and then extended a hand. They shook.
“We miss you,” Trent said. “You were the best volunteer this department’s ever had.”
They were the kindest words he’d heard in a long time. He sincerely hoped the captain wasn’t just being patronizing. Trent had a golden tongue, as he’d heard Irene comment one time.
“I want to come back.” Beckett hadn’t meant to say it, but th
e longing to return to his duties, to regain the position that had provided him such satisfaction, overwhelmed his common sense. He’d dearly loved his days in the firehouse, tending to the machinery, cooking for the crew, riding on every imaginable type of call from car accidents to heat exhaustion.
Trent shifted, dark eyes wandering from Beckett’s face. “You know I’d like to do that,” he said softly, “but it’s a matter for the fire board. I’d put in a good word for you, of course.”
And they would never approve his rehire, not unless he was completely vindicated of the crime. Perhaps not even then. “I understand.”
“You’ve been on my mind, actually. I was at the library last week doing a talk for the teen group and there was someone there asking Mrs. Shick about you.”
Someone was asking the librarian about him? “Who?”
“Don’t know her.”
Her? “Can you tell me what she looked like?”
“Tall, dark hair pulled into a braid. Familiar description?”
He nodded. “Her name’s Rita Brown. She’s staying at the Hotsprings. What did Mrs. Shick tell her?”
Clouder laughed. “You know Mrs. Shick. She didn’t get to be a captain in the army without having a spine made of steel. She told her she’d be delighted to help her find books, but for gossip she’d have to go elsewhere. The gal was nosy. Not nearly as warm and friendly as Pauline.”
“I didn’t know you and Pauline were close.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Not really. I mean, I talked to her some, when she first came to town. She was in the coffee shop one time and I joined her. Just to be welcoming, you know.”
Pauline was a striking woman. She’d been vivacious and popular in high school, active in dozens of clubs and an attendee at every dance. Some twenty-five years later when she’d checked in at the hotel, she’d been wary, reserved, a certain hesitation in her manner, but she was still a lovely woman and would have been noticed by a man like Trent.
