SHATTERED

by Alice Sharpe

  At last he made another U-turn and they took off.

  She stared at him for several seconds before finally speaking. “Why aren’t you spilling your guts to the cops?”

  He spared her a quick glance as he merged onto a major highway leading west toward Reno. “What’s the rush?” he asked.

  She studied his strong profile for a moment before shaking her head. “Well, let’s see. A, there are two dead men, and B, you’re a deputy sheriff who has, until this minute, seemed hell-bent on following the rules.”

  “I believe I told you I knew how to think outside the box,” he said, but there was something else in his voice that caught her attention. Exactly what it was, she wasn’t sure.

  “Yeah, but, Nate, think about it. This could get you in a heap of trouble,” she added.

  “You, too,” he said.

  “I’m used to trouble. I get the feeling you’re not.”

  The look he flashed her this time was more intense. “Mike is dead and can’t be brought back to life no matter when law enforcement gets into the act. The same goes for our visitor this morning. But your situation is immediate and dangerous and I don’t want you doing it alone.”

  “You keep forgetting someone showed up this morning intent on killing you. Not me—you,” she said.

  “I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I finally figured out who it was.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  He flashed her a grim smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Ten

  “It’s Peter Jacks,” Nate said.

  Sarah felt like slapping her forehead. “I didn’t really recognize him. I should have, but I didn’t.”

  “People look different when they’re dead. Besides, it’s been several years since you saw him, right?”

  “Over ten. He was just a kid I babysat occasionally. He gave no indication he recognized me, either. How did you figure out who he was?”

  “He looked familiar to me. I talked myself into a few minutes of internet use while I was renting the truck. I found a photograph taken of Thomas’s family leaving his funeral, and there, front and center, was his older brother, Peter.”

  “So he wanted to kill you for, what, revenge? Because you were at the mall when his brother went berserk? But you didn’t kill Thomas. He killed himself. Why go after you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Nate admitted. He hadn’t thought it all the way through yet.

  “Does this mean he killed my father, too?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How would Peter Jacks know you were in Nevada unless my father told him?”

  “He wouldn’t.”

  “No, and my father looked as though he was caught coming home or leaving his house, not like he’d been in the middle of a heart-to-heart chat with Peter.” She gestured at the road ahead and added, “Can’t you go any faster?”

  “Sure I can,” he said and sped up. The nervous energy emanating from Sarah permeated the cab.

  “Did you find a gunshot wound on Peter’s body?” she asked.

  “No,” Nate said. “But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. I could hardly strip him.” The truth was, Nate had been happy to have an explanation for the morning’s disaster, but now he saw that Sarah made some valid points. “After we talk to the Shatterhorn police, I want to arrange to see a couple of other people. Your dad’s notebook mentioned conversations but didn’t really specify content. Maybe the people he spoke with will remember what it was about. And maybe one of them will know if there was contact between your dad and the Jacks family.”

  “You may not be able to arrest anyone in Nevada, but you still approach things as the cop you are,” she said. “Do you think they’re involved with Dad’s murder?”

  Nate kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Impossible to say. Until we know for sure, we have to assume the people who have your mother were at your father’s house yesterday, busily trying to kill us. We’d better concentrate on keeping a few steps ahead of this guy when we get to Reno. How are you supposed to deliver the money?”

  “He gave me a phone number to call before three o’clock. He said he’ll tell me where he stashed my mother and we’ll make an exchange.”

  Nate glanced at the dashboard clock. They were about twenty miles from Reno and it was after one. “We have to make time to hit a coin dealer first. You can’t just shovel out silver coins in front of Bellows.”

  “I’ll have to call him first and make sure I know exactly how much Mom owes him. Then I’ll sell enough coins to meet that debt. I wonder if one dealer will have enough cash?”

  “I guess we’ll find out. I sure hate the idea of these thugs getting away with it.”

  “I know you do,” she said with a swift glance Nate caught out of the corner of his eye. “But that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I thought you were okay with this.”

  “I can agree with you but still not like it,” he said.

  She laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  A half hour later, they pulled into the almost empty parking lot of the first coin dealer they found. Nate was delighted, when they entered, to see the place was also a vendor for other merchandise, including prepaid cell phones. While Sarah talked with the dealer, he bought and activated a new phone, which would serve him fine until he could go back to his original carrier and replace the unit that had been shot out of his hand.

  When he joined Sarah, he found her deep in negotiations with a balding Asian man who wore a jeweler’s loupe and emitted a fierce aura of concentration. As the dealer carefully unpeeled the wrapper of a roll of silver dollars, Sarah looked up at Nate. “Where have you been?”

  “I bought a phone. Why don’t you go call Bellows and I’ll stay here and watch over things.”

  Sarah took the phone, and as she walked away, Nate watched her dig in her hip pocket and withdraw a slip of paper that he assumed held the number she had to call. He had to force his gaze from her lithe figure, and when he did, he found the dealer looking at him with a speculative expression.

  “She won’t tell me where she got these coins,” he said, nodding at the stack of rolls they’d deposited atop the cabinet.

  “They’re hers,” Nate responded.

  “You expect me to take your word for it?”

  Nate wished he could open his wallet and show the guy his badge. “Have a little faith,” he said instead.

  “The deal is, there are a lot of coins here, and if they’re all of this quality, we’re talking a small fortune. You know I can’t buy them without filing a CTR, right?”

  “What’s a CTR?”

  “A currency transfer report. You know, the government’s attempt to try to control money laundering.” He rubbed his bald head. “I hope I have enough cash in the safe to purchase the whole lot. If not, I’ll have to call my banker and arrange a transfer.”

  Nate propped his hands atop the cabinet and leaned forward. “We’re in a bit of a hurry. How about you purchase all that you can and help us figure out how many more it’ll take to come to a certain figure?”

  “What figure?”

  “We’ll know when the lady returns. Just keep examining the ones you can afford to buy outright. We need to be out of here in fifteen minutes.”

  The man rubbed his head again. “Let me see what I can do.”

  As the dealer took out a pocket calculator, Nate went in search of Sarah. He found her standing outside with her back against the brick building, and as he approached, she clicked off the phone and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes and Nate closed the distance between them as fast as possible.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Bellows put my mother on the phone. She was crying so hard I couldn’t understand much of what she said. I guess this
maniac has been passing the time by detailing the ways he’s going to torture her to teach us both a lesson if I don’t show up.”

  “Were you able to ask her if she told them you were going up to see your father to ask for the money?”

  “She was in no shape to think clearly. I didn’t ask her much of anything.” She hastily wiped a teardrop from her cheek and added, “We have an hour to get to the Silver Dollar Motel right outside of Carson City. We have to hurry.”

  “Are you kidding me? The Silver Dollar?”

  “I know. Appropriate, isn’t it?”

  “Damn right poetic,” he said. “How much money do we need?”

  “Two hundred and twenty-eight thousand dollars.”

  “Let’s go make this happen,” Nate said and took her hand.

  The dealer came up with all the money they needed to ransom Sarah’s mother and asked that they sell him the rest of the coins, though he wouldn’t be able to cash them out right that second. As Sarah had no desire to tote a bunch of silver coins around, she agreed to his deal. The dealer supplied a canvas tote for the money and even threw in a black Stetson that Nate had been eyeing. As Nate was mostly dressed in Sarah’s father’s clothes from the waist up, the hat went a long way toward making him feel a little more like the man he usually was.

  “Did this guy say how you’re supposed to go about the exchange?” Nate asked as they drove away.

  “Yeah. I’m to go to room eight and knock three times.”

  “He’s going to be there?”

  “I guess so. He isn’t exactly forthcoming.”

  “She’s just quietly sitting in a motel room? That doesn’t sound very plausible.”

  “You have to remember that they’re threatening her with my safety. She acts up, they take it out on me.”

  Nate narrowed his eyes but kept his gaze straight ahead. He didn’t know Sarah’s mother, but from what Sarah had said about her, he had doubts she was able to think much further ahead than her own welfare. He’d have to trust Sarah’s faith in the woman, but it went against all common sense to meet someone like this on their terms.

  Options? He couldn’t think of any. Not only was he currently not in law enforcement, but even if he was, he would be powerless to act in a different state. Putting aside the ethics of paying off a goon, you had to remember it was only money—and Sarah’s money, at that—and perhaps down the line, justice would be served.

  He would play his part just as he’d promised. What else could he do?

  * * *

  SARAH STRAINED AGAINST her shoulder seat belt as though willing the truck to move faster. Reno traffic was unexpectedly heavy, but it petered out as they headed south. It took half an hour to get to Carson City and then they had to stop at a service station to ask directions to the Silver Dollar Motel.

  The motel itself turned out to be in an almost deserted industrial area of town, bracketed by an old warehouse with its windows shot out and a fenced yard full of old vehicles.

  The motel itself might have been cute at one time in its dim past. Now it was surrounded by weeds and didn’t even appear to be in business. The sign out front included a huge neon figure of a cowboy lounging with his back against the marquee, his arms folded across his chest, his face set in a permanent smirk. Most of the bulbs surrounding his figure were broken. A smaller sign announced there were no vacancies. The parking lot was covered with dust and the chill February wind blew a few tumbleweeds along the snow-dusted pavement. The one visible car was pulled up in front of unit eight.

  “Except for that car, this place looks like a ghost town,” Nate said.

  Sarah nodded, her mouth too dry to actually make words. How was this all going to go down? As they rolled across the parking lot, she saw Nate reach under his seat. When he caught her watching him, he admitted he didn’t want to take his wallet into this situation and she was glad he’d thought to leave it behind.

  As Nate locked the rental truck, Sarah slowly approached the door of room number eight, her skin prickling with the sensation of being watched, the duffel bag heavy in her hand. She knocked the prescribed three times as Nate joined her on the step.

  A big brute of a man with two silver eyeteeth opened the door. Bellows looked much the same as he had at the airport the only other time she’d seen him. A smaller man with thick curly gray hair and dressed in a golf shirt stood to the side. With a grunt from Bellows, the smaller guy patted Sarah and Nate down. All they found were Nate’s truck keys, which he snapped back.

  “Where’s my mother?” Sarah said after a quick glance around the room, which seemed predominantly green from the carpet to the bedspread to the wall paint and was achingly absent of another person.

  “Where’s my money?” Bellows said, then, staring Nate in the eye, added, “And who the hell are you?”

  Nate crossed his arms, and for a second, he looked like the human version of the cowboy out front. “My name is Nate,” he said in a Western accent new to Sarah. “I’m a friend of the family. Can’t expect her to run around on her own, now can you?”

  Bellows grunted and turned his back on Nate to address Sarah. “Your mom is close by. We got tired of her caterwauling. This place is empty, so she can yell all she wants as long as we don’t have to listen to it. Two days was enough. Woman’s got quite a mouth on her. Now, hand over the money.”

  “I want to see her first,” Sarah said.

  “You’ll see her when I say you see her.”

  “No dice,” Sarah said. “How do I know you’ll keep your part of the deal?”

  “Here’s a—what do you call it?—a gesture of goodwill,” the big man said and handed Sarah her handbag. She opened it to see her belongings as she’d left them: the phone in a side pocket, her house keys and hairbrush, her wallet with a few green bills showing. Was she supposed to be impressed by his honesty?

  She shouldered her bag. “Let me see my mother, then you can see the cash.”

  The big guy looked at Nate. “Are you as stupid as she is? Has it completely slipped your mind who has a gun and who doesn’t? Show them your gun, Benny, and don’t be shy about using it if either one of them forgets the facts of life again.”

  Benny pulled out a lethal-looking gun and then tucked it back in his waistband.

  “Just tell me where she is,” Sarah pleaded.

  “She’s here in the motel. Now open that bag.”

  Sarah zipped open the bag and the two thugs fell on it like pirates on a keg of rum.

  “Where is Diana Donovan?” Nate asked.

  “Room twelve,” Benny said. He was stacking up hundred-dollar bills like an accountant.

  Nate reached for the door, but Bellows threw out an arm to stop him. “Not so fast, slick. The girl can go get her mother. You’re staying where I can keep my eye on you.”

  “Is the door of her room locked?” Sarah asked.

  “No.”

  Sarah left the room after exchanging meaningful glances with Nate. She hurried along the cold sidewalk to unit twelve and threw open the door.

  Her mother lay straddled on the bed with hands and feet each tied to a bedpost. The gag in her mouth looked torturous, and her eyes, as they landed on Sarah, went from terrified to relieved in a blink. She pulled against the knots to the point that Sarah’s fingers hurt trying to untie them.

  “Calm down,” Sarah kept saying. “You’re safe now. Just relax so we can get you out of here.” As she struggled with the knots on her mom’s right hand, she saw the busted, bruised and swollen fingers and couldn’t imagine how much they hurt, though her mother seemed oblivious to the pain.

  Eventually Sarah managed to free all the knots and helped her mother sit on the side of the bed. Her jeans and pink T-shirt were studded with rhinestones that looked glaringly out of place in the shabbiness of the room.

&nb
sp; For some reason, Sarah had left removing the gag for last, and as that came off, Diana Donovan licked her lips and rubbed her face with a jittery hand.

  “Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

  “I could have died!” Rivers of mascara had run down her face until her eyes looked like dark smudges. This impression was enhanced by the shiner, which Bellows had probably given her and which was now turning her left cheekbone shades of blue and purple.

  Sarah tried to hug her, but her mother stood abruptly. “Did he give it to you?” she hissed.

  “Sort of,” Sarah said, knowing the he her mother referred to was her father.

  “What do you mean, ‘sort of’? Where is it?”

  “I handed it over to the men in room eight,” Sarah said, furrowing her brow. What else would she have done?

  “All of it?”

  “Of course.”

  “We could have bargained them down,” her mother said.

  Sarah felt sure her jaw dropped open. “Bargained with them? Look at you. They’ve...they’ve beaten you up and your fingers are broken and untreated.”

  “Right. And how will I afford to fix them now when you gave away all my money? What will I use to get back on my feet?”

  “It’s Dad’s money,” Sarah said softly, glancing away from her mother’s swollen face. “And if you’re talking start-up money for more gambling—”

  “Of course I’m talking seed money, but it all belongs to snaggletooth now!” Her mother turned abruptly, staggered as though weak or dizzy, but she caught herself and left the room. By the time Sarah gathered her wits and followed, her mother was opening the door to room eight and disappearing inside.

  * * *

  STARTLED, NATE WATCHED Diana Donovan storm into room number eight, take a good look around and march on over to Bellows and Benny, who were still counting out their money around a tiny, scarred table. She stood over them and started poking and grabbing, swearing like a sailor and acting about as scared as a bulldog confronting a mouse.