Everything had gone off without a hitch.
Jeffers had no doubt Maddy would be furious to know he’d deceived her. Because he had involved her, she was in as much danger as he was, from both the law and the Mob should anything go wrong. She was making a bit of extra money, enough to help care for her sad excuse of a father, but Jeffers stood to make hundreds of times more. Maybe after he’d succeeded in breaking and bedding her, he’d be willing to give her a bigger cut of the money. Unlike Jack Rucker, maybe he’d even take her along when he left this piece-of-shit town forever.
He was going to be rich and powerful, and there was nothing that could stand in his way.
No sooner had Jeffers locked up the storeroom and turned back toward the speakeasy when he saw something that made his blood run cold. Everyone else had noticed it, too; the whole tavern had fallen dead silent, save for Seth Pettigrew, cackling away on his stool. There, calmly walking toward the makeshift bar, a wry smile on his face, was Jim Utley, Colton’s sheriff.
Furious, Jeffers’s eyes snapped toward the entrance. Sumner stood in the open door, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. He looked up the cellar steps, then at the sheriff, and then over at Jeffers. Jeffers knew the boy couldn’t have kept Utley from entering, but he should’ve done something, shouted out or caused a ruckus; if he had, maybe things could’ve been settled at the door, out of sight of the customers.
But now it was too late.
Jeffers had lied to Maddy about a lot of things, and one of them had been his lack of concern over Jim Utley. He’d told Maddy the sheriff was a pushover, nothing for them to be worried about, but the truth was he really didn’t know. It could go either way…
Slowly, Jeffers ran his fingers over the knife in his belt.
Seth Pettigrew laughed on as if the party hadn’t been interrupted. He was drunk enough not to know or care about what was happening. It wasn’t until the sheriff slapped him warmly on the back that he stopped, startling so badly that his voice screeched like a phonograph needle being yanked off a record. When his bleary eyes told him who stood beside him, he looked as if he might vomit, the color falling from his face.
“Evenin’, Maddy,” the sheriff said, leaning his ample belly against the bar and taking off his hat. Patiently, he dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Good evening, Jim,” Maddy answered calmly.
“You know, darlin’,” he began with a small, knowing grin, “a man doesn’t spend goin’ on twenty years as sheriff in a town small as Colton without hearin’ ’bout every scheme goin’ on, day or night.” He paused, folding the handkerchief and putting it away before continuing. “So when I caught a whisper ’bout someone openin’ up a speakeasy in town, well, I figured it best I go nosin’ round, see if I couldn’t find out where it was. You all might as well have had a sign hangin’ out front, it was so easy.”
Jeffers inched closer to the bar. He was the only person in the cellar moving; everyone else was frozen in place, watching.
“When word first came down ’bout this Prohibition business,” the sheriff said, “I figured it was only a matter of time ’fore someone got it in their head to start sellin’ illegally, but there’s one thing ’bout this that surprises me.”
“What’s that?” Maddy asked.
“That you’re a part of it,” he said, nodding at her.
For an instant, Maddy’s calm exterior wavered, a look of unease suddenly flashing in her eyes, and she glanced away.
Jeffers chose that moment to step out of the shadows and approach the bar. The sheriff nodded when he saw him.
“I should’ve known you’d be involved in this.”
Jim Utley was no stranger to Jeffers’s family; the sheriff had a long history dealing with the Grimm men. He’d put Jeffers’s father in jail more times than he’d likely remember and had been around so long that he’d even had a few run-ins with Jeffers’s grandfather. Every time he had something going, it seemed the sheriff lurked close by, waiting for him to slip up.
But this time was different. Jeffers wasn’t getting caught; no matter what it took, even if he had to gut the son of a bitch right here in front of the whole speakeasy, he wasn’t going to lose what he’d gained. He and Sumner could load the truck as best they could, call Jimmy and tell him what happened and he’d leave this godforsaken town forever. But he wouldn’t go to jail.
I’ll kill this bastard first…
“Maddy and I are runnin’ this together,” Jeffers explained.
For the first time, the sheriff looked taken aback. “Is that true?” he asked Maddy.
She nodded.
“What do you suppose Silas would say ’bout this?”
“I don’t believe he’d think too highly of it,” she answered truthfully, “so that should tell you I didn’t come to this decision easily. But times being what they are, I think we all need a little something to brighten our day, whether it’s a few extra coins in our pocket or a drink once the sun goes down.”
“Only problem is that sellin’ liquor’s now illegal.”
“Then I reckon you need to do your job.”
Jeffers stiffened. This was the moment everything hinged on. Though he desperately wanted to bed Maddy Aldridge, he didn’t give a damn if she ended up in jail as long as he went free. Slowly, he began to unsheathe his knife.
“My job is more than just enforcin’ the law,” Sheriff Utley explained. “It’s also makin’ sure that the folks in this town are taken care of. Now, just ’cause some politician in Washington thinks it’s a good idea to make sellin’ liquor illegal, I don’t know if what’s happenin’ here is the same thing they had in mind. Wettin’ your whistle in the company of friends doesn’t strike me as much of a crime.”
“You…you mean this…is acceptable…?” Seth asked.
“Long as no one gets drunk,” the sheriff said, looking straight at the former lawyer, “and it don’t go any further than this, no makin’ it or distributin’ it, then I’ll allow it to go on. We got a deal?”
“Yes,” Maddy happily agreed as Jeffers nodded.
“Now don’t go thinkin’ I won’t be watchin’,” Sheriff Utley added, “or that I won’t throw you all in jail if you break our agreement.”
“We won’t,” Maddy promised.
Fishing a shiny coin out of his pocket, the sheriff slapped it down on the bar. “Then how ’bout we seal it with a drink, huh?”
As Maddy went about pouring a whiskey, Jeffers stared silently. When the sheriff had given his warning, he’d looked in Jeffers’s direction. Does he know about what’s hidden in the storeroom? He’d seemed surprised that Maddy was involved, but was it genuine? Does he know about my deal with Capone? The only other person who knew the truth was Sumner; he’d already let the sheriff into the speakeasy…was he the one who told Utley about the place?
Jeffers suddenly had a lot of questions. Maybe he was going to have to use that knife after all.
Chapter Six
HOW IN THE HELL is a fella supposed to get any sleep bouncin’ around in this goddamn seat? It’s torture! They better have a decent hotel in that town of yours or I swear—”
Jack struggled to control his temper as he steered the black Plymouth through the forested hills of Montana. The sun had just begun to peek above the eastern horizon, painting the clouds that hung in the morning sky in brilliant brushstrokes of red and orange. The car bounced and swayed as it drove the dirt road, making a symphony of creaks and groans. For the last couple of hours, things had been peacefully quiet for Jack, driving under the moon and stars. However, with his nagging companion awake, things had already begun to change.
If there was one thing Ross Hooper was good at, it was complaining.
“Ain’t it just like the Bureau to be too cheap to put us in a train? A sleeper car wouldn’t ruin my back! Chaps my hide, I tell ya!”
Jack considered explaining, for the third time since they’d set out from Seattle, that the reason they we
re driving to Colton was so that they’d have a means of escaping should things become too dangerous, but he knew his words would be wasted. Ross heard only what he wanted to hear.
As if he were trying to further annoy Jack, the man belched loudly. “Like it ain’t bad enough already, now my belly’s givin’ me grief!”
From the moment Lieutenant Pluggett had told him who would be accompanying him on his next assignment, Jack had dreaded the thought of being in the other man’s company. As soon as they’d set out, it had been one grumble after another, a seemingly endless litany; he’d fussed about the food, the weather, the time Jack had told him to be ready to travel, the task the Bureau had given them, the car they were to drive, and especially the partner he’d been saddled with, everything under the sun.
In his mid-fifties, Ross looked like a man well on his way to sitting on a porch, enjoying his retirement. With narrow, watery eyes that peered out from a particularly dull, jowly face, he was plump enough to rest his hands on the paunch of his stomach. His clothing was a mess; food and sweat stains dotted both his trousers and shirt, while his suit had been wrinkled well before he’d slept in it.
“Wonder if it was somethin’ I ate,” he said as he rested his head against the car window. “Just had to have been…”
Ross Hooper had been employed by one form of law enforcement or another since well before Jack had been born. Most of Ross’s years had been spent with the Pinkerton agency, but he’d left under unknown circumstances; everyone just assumed he’d been fired. He wasn’t very good at his job; Jack wasn’t the only agent who didn’t want to work with him. He was the type of cop who dealt with trouble by using his fists instead of his head, the sort who would rather knock a guy unconscious than let him make a confession.
Jack had to wonder if Ross was capable of pulling off their ruse. Pluggett had instructed them to pose as advance men looking to buy up land for a speculator with deep pockets back in Seattle. The thinking had been that if the townspeople of Colton figured they stood to make a windfall of money, it might loosen their tongues to talk about all the goings-on, including any rumors about someone running illegal Canadian booze. While Jack could be as silver-tongued as the devil himself when he wanted to be, Ross Hooper was the type of man who’d have trouble coaxing a starving horse to a bag of feed. If Ross wasn’t good enough, if they failed at their task, Jack could forget any chance of a promotion.
And now, as if things hadn’t been bad enough, he had to listen to his fellow agent prattle on about his indigestion.
Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that this was exactly what he deserved.
The faded red windmill at Roland Gambill’s farm was the first thing Jack saw that told him how close he was to his old home. Ever since the dawn broke, he’d watched out the window for something to slide by, some sign of the life left years ago, the life he’d never planned on returning to. Now there it was, whipping past, almost close enough to touch.
He was heading back to Maddy Aldridge.
In the seven years since he’d left Colton, Jack had done his best to forget all about his old life. Since joining the Bureau, he’d buried himself in his work, spending countless hours pursuing criminals, eating, breathing, and sleeping the job. From the outside, he imagined it looked as if he never gave Maddy a thought. But the truth was something quite different. She was still there, not lurking in the shadows of the past, a musty memory that occasionally floated to the surface, but one he kept returning to again and again. It didn’t take much: a whiff of a woman’s perfume, a voice shouted across a busy street, a song drifting over the radio; even while he slept, she visited his dreams.
Memories of Maddy filled his days and nights.
Ever since he found out he was being sent to Colton, Jack had been wondering what she was doing. Had she met another man, married, raised a couple of children, and taken over her father’s business? Or was she alone and bitterly angry, unable or unwilling to so much as speak to a potential suitor? Was it somewhere between the two? He even wondered if she’d followed his example, leaving town for somewhere different and now living in Denver, San Francisco, or some other faraway city. Maybe she was long gone and his growing apprehension about seeing her again was for nothing.
But there was another possibility Jack truly feared, one thing Maddy could have done that would pierce his heart.
Maybe she’d forgotten all about him.
Jack knew he deserved no less for what he’d done to her, but it bothered him anyway. If he were to see her now, would she just walk on past without recognizing him, or worse, would she chat for a moment, a word for an old acquaintance returned from a life she’d long since outgrown? They’d been so young, little more than children, but that didn’t mean it was meaningless or any less real. Jack knew he was being selfish, but he wanted their past to still mean something to Maddy, for her to still have a bit of him in her heart. He wanted her to be happy, but he didn’t want to be a discarded memory, either. That would’ve been too painful. He would have preferred being slugged in the face to being ignored, hated instead of forgotten.
But even so, I know I’ve earned the worst.
There’d been a reason for what he’d done to Maddy, for never writing back to any of her increasingly frantic letters, for never calling her on the telephone, for refusing to return to Colton. He’d clung to that reason tenaciously in the years since, as if it explained the way he’d treated her, as if it were perfectly understandable. Somehow, he’d managed to convince himself that it was all for the best, that he was doing it for her sake, but now that he was finally coming home, doubts began nagging at him.
Most of the memories of Jack’s youth were hazy, out-of-focus bits and pieces of childhood, but the night he and his family had driven into Colton, traveling through a relentless storm, he’d seen a redheaded girl standing in a store window, watching him, and his heart had been snatched from his chest just as surely as if she’d walked out into the rain and pulled it out with her own hand.
The courtship that followed had been brief but had opened the door to an unexpected love. There’d been long walks and kisses, but there had also been a few long nights and tears, too. On the night when they’d said their good-byes, he’d meant his promise to her, but…
And now, there was a good chance he was about to see her again.
During his time with the Bureau of Prohibition, Jack had willingly entered into some of the most dangerous situations imaginable: shady dives where, if his true identity were discovered, it could have cost him his life. But somehow, this assignment seemed even worse. The possibility of meeting Maddy played havoc with his nerves and caused his stomach to toss and turn. Because he had no alias to hide behind, he felt even more vulnerable; everyone in Colton knew him. For as much as he worried about Ross Hooper not being able to do his job, Jack wondered if his problems would interfere with his own.
Jack knew he had to stay focused. Pluggett said that if he succeeded with this operation, it might mean he’d get a chance at Capone. Jack wanted to get ahead, to get a promotion, to be someone in a city so large that all of Colton would fit in one skyscraper with plenty of room left over. He didn’t want to get sentimental about a life he’d left behind.
Outside the Plymouth’s window, he started seeing more and more sights that spoke of the Montana he knew: Samuel Chapman’s weather vane that was adorned with an iron pig instead of a rooster, the tall church spire in Faribault, and the enormous, misshapen elm tree that sat alone on an island in the middle of Mulligan’s Pond. They’d be in Colton in minutes.
Over and over, Jack thought about the job, about chasing Capone, about how distasteful it was to be stuck in a car with Ross Hooper, about how he was going to look with a medal pinned to his chest. But even then, he couldn’t prevent a familiar thought from intruding.
Maddy…
Crossing the bridge that spanned the Clark River, Jack drove the Plymouth into Colton. To Jack’s eye, at first glance, nothing seemed to have change
d. Majestic houses sat on both sides of the wide, elm-lined street that reached toward the center of town. In the early morning sun, dew glistened off the well-kept lawns and shrub rows and birds shook their wings in ornate baths. But when Jack looked a bit closer, he began to notice small things that were different from before: more automobiles were parked in driveways and along the street, with only an occasional horse buggy mixed in, a sign that Colton was slowly but surely becoming more modern; a couple of new houses had been built on the outskirts of town; and trees that had been little more than saplings when he’d left seven years earlier had reached a good deal higher toward the sky.
“So this is where you were raised?” Ross asked with a frown.
Jack nodded, still looking out the window.
“Huh,” the man grunted, rubbing his belly and wincing.
Closer to downtown, things became even more familiar. Through the barbershop window, Jack saw Thaddeus White sweeping up a pile of clippings while Carl Hough waited for his turn in the chair. Just before they reached the Wilmington Brothers Bakery, Winifred Holland, Jack’s old schoolteacher, crossed the street with a fresh loaf of bread; she was a bit more frail looking than he remembered her being, her hair a snowy white, but he would’ve recognized her anywhere; it took a good deal of self-control not to call out to her.
Turning the Plymouth off Main Street, Jack was thankful he wouldn’t have to drive past Maddy’s father’s store; the last thing he wanted was to run into her the moment he arrived in town. Jack and Ross’s first order of business was to check into the hotel and get settled before starting their ruse and getting information. Jack needed a shower, a bit of sleep, and maybe even a drink to calm his nerves.
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