Zeph Undercover

by Jenny Andersen

  She closed her eyes and brightness pinwheeled behind her eyelids. Fire lit her blood, shooting her higher and higher until everything exploded in a blue-white dazzle that left her limp and clinging to Zeph as the only stable point in the sea of sensation.

  “Gee-zus,” he croaked some time later.

  “I can’t believe we did that.” Allie didn’t move. She couldn’t move.

  “I can. Facing death does that to people. I guess it’s an affirmation of life or something.” His shaky voice belied the flippant words and his arms cradled her close. He rubbed his cheek against her hair.

  It felt like tenderness. She wanted to stay like this forever. “We probably should move,” she said reluctantly.

  “Probably. Are you expecting anyone?”

  “No. I need to make another stable call, though.”

  “Want me to come?”

  Yes. “You wouldn’t like it,” she said with a grin.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s another bull. The rancher needs a semen sample.”

  His quick look said he thought she was joking.

  “Not joking.”

  “You’re going somewhere to jerk off a bull? How the hell do you do that? And why can’t this rancher do it himself?”

  “You really don’t want to know. And it takes two people.”

  “I’m coming along.” He made it a flat statement that brooked no argument, and her heart swelled. She knew about post-stress sex, the need for validation of life after a potentially lethal event, but this had to mean he cared. Maybe she dared hope. She untangled herself and climbed out of the truck, leaning against it to pull her jeans and boots on.

  Zeph followed, taking her hand when she’d dressed and leading her to the corral.

  The mare trotted over to him and he rubbed her head. “I figure I need to name this horse,” he said. “You got any ideas?”

  She shook her head. “She’s certainly lucky, but that’s a hackneyed name. She deserves something better.”

  “I guess she doesn’t get one of those fancy names, like Mentrine was throwing around. Too bad. We could call her something like Wentworth Acres Queen Shining Darling.”

  Allie laughed. “Just an everyday name, Zeph. She’s not a purebred anything. That’s why Mentrine sold her.”

  “Too bad.” He climbed through the fence and stood close to her. “What about Promise? I guess I promised her a better life when I bought her.”

  “That’s good. I like it.”

  Promise. Allie looked up at Zeph. His soft expression when he looked at the mare lifted her heart. If he could make a promise like that to a horse, surely, surely she dared hope.

  Didn’t she?

  ****

  That afternoon, Zeph walked into the sheriff’s station hoping like hell Wentworth couldn’t tell what he’d been doing with Wentworth’s daughter. At least saving her from the bull ought to wipe out some of the hard feelings about previous endangerments.

  He slammed the doors on all memories of the bull and the aftermath and settled into an uncomfortable metal chair across the dented metal table from Wentworth. “Damned shame we can’t do this in your nice comfortable office,” he grumbled. “Monty’s interrogation room leaves something to be desired.”

  “We have to make the copies here. Might as well work here,” Lincoln said. “I’ve spent all morning at the copy machine. Just what were you doing?”

  Heat burned up Zeph’s cheekbones and he looked away before Lincoln noticed. “Making love to your daughter” wouldn’t exactly fly. “Putting Allie in deadly danger again” would be worse. “Went with Allie on one of her calls. How about I read entries from these ledgers and see if they match your records?”

  “Fine.” Lincoln booted up his laptop. “It’s going to be damned tedious no matter how we do it.”

  “Appreciate the help. Frank could put his staff on it, but I want results on this while I’m still in town.”

  “And that means you and me,” Lincoln said with a sigh. He set a legal pad and pen on the table. “We’d better get started. I suppose there’s no easy way through this. We’ll need to cross check entry by entry. It’s going to take days.”

  Days before he had to leave Allie. Days before he tried to convince her to come with him. Zeph forced a grin. “Just one more exciting job in the world of the private detective.”

  Monty came in with coffee.

  “I thought you were on our side,” Zeph said. “Now you’re trying to poison us.”

  “Best we’ve got, boy. I’ve been drinking this stuff for thirty years. Hasn’t hurt me yet.”

  Zeph tasted the coffee and shuddered. “It’ll keep us awake or kill us. Thanks.” He set the cup aside, picked up the first page, and began reading.

  An hour later, Lincoln looked at Zeph over the top of his half-glasses. “I’ve never seen a crook who made it so easy to catch him.”

  “Not one of the great brains of the Western world, that’s for sure. I guess he never expected anyone else to see this set of books. If he had, he’d at least have hidden the crooked transactions in a bunch of legit ones. But everything he put in those ledgers is off.”

  “There’s only one problem,” Lincoln said slowly.

  “Yeah, I see it too. He never mentions who might be working with him. No names, no initials, no nothing.” Zeph slapped the papers down. “Damn.”

  “We can get through the rest of this faster now that we know.”

  “Might as well.”

  Finally Zeph slapped down the last paper. “That’s it. Plenty of evidence here that Blanton’s a double-dyed crook. Nothing says Rodriguez was involved.”

  “No. I searched the office carefully when we were there for the current accounts.”

  “Nothing points to another player.”

  Lincoln busied himself shutting down the laptop. “No. Very disappointing.”

  Monty poked his head in the room. “You about done in here?”

  Zeph’s phone rang, and he stepped out of the room to answer, leaving Monty and Lincoln to talk. “Hey, Dave. What have you got for me?”

  “Not much. Looks like someone tried to wipe prints off the pages, but there were a few left. They all belong to one Derek Blanton, currently incarcerated as a criminally insane murderer. That any help?”

  “Yeah, that confirms what I thought. Thanks again, Dave.” He closed the phone and went slowly back to Lincoln and Monty. “We need to search Rodriguez’s place.”

  Monty laughed. “We can do that after dinner. Got a judge right here to sign the warrant.”

  ****

  Allie coaxed Harley Hammersmith’s nervous gelding into Harley’s new, deluxe trailer and shut the tailgate. “There you are, Harley. He’s good to go.”

  “Thanks, Allie. Sure is nice having a vet right here in Stone’s Crossing.” Harley vaulted into the matching truck and eased his precious cargo down the driveway.

  With a sigh of relief, Allie rotated her shoulders and turned toward the clinic. That took care of the last of her afternoon patients. Time for a shower and then she’d head to her dad’s. And Zeph. She couldn’t wait to see Zeph.

  His mare nickered a request for company as Allie walked past the corral, and Allie smiled as she strolled over to the fence. “I think you’re getting spoiled, Promise.” She fished a carrot out of her pocket and offered it.

  The mare took it gently. Allie rubbed her nose and rambled on in a soft voice. “Wonder if I’ll ever get any promises from him? I think I will, baby. He couldn’t leave, not after this morning. And he won’t want to leave you, will he?”

  When the mare finished the carrot and wandered off to check her feed box, Allie turned away and went back to the house for a shower. Her father would tease her unmercifully if she got all fancied up in a dress, but she could wear her tightest jeans and the shirt with lace. Something about Zeph made her want to do all the girly things...maybe even mascara.

  When she let herself through the front door, only silence
greeted her. “Dad?” she called.

  Zeph’s mother came out of the kitchen. “Oh, Allie. Your father and Zeph haven’t come home yet. And Martha’s at the store. We’ve been having a wonderful time trading recipes.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay here, Mrs. Granger.”

  “I certainly am. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I just grabbed the bull by the horns and insisted on coming to see Zeph. And it was so kind of your father to ask me to stay here, I never expected such hospitality and…”

  Allie took a convulsive breath as Mrs. Granger babbled on.

  “It was such an imposition, dropping in as I did, plus Zeph staying here, but your father just makes me feel so welcome and—well, enough of that. The most important thing is that it’s so marvelous to meet you. And just imagine, Zeph hadn’t said a word to me. I just can’t imagine…”

  No reason he should have said anything to his mother about her. Allie shoved the stab of pain aside and tried to time the flow of words. Didn’t the woman ever have to breathe?

  She jolted to attention when Mrs. Granger said, “Actually, my dear, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.”

  Allie braced herself.

  “I think you’d better call me Elena, dear. It will be just too confusing to have two Mrs. Grangers in the family.”

  “Two—but—what—?”

  “My Zeph is crazy about you. You can’t tell me he’s not going to propose.”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t even hinted…”

  “He’s not one to blab about everything he does, or plans to do. But I know my boy, and I’ve never seen him so interested in a woman before. And I think you return his feelings.” Mrs. Granger’s words held just the barest hint of a question.

  “Well, yes, of course I do,” Allie stammered, taken aback at her directness.

  “I must say, I’m surprised. He usually dates such...superficial...women. I’m so delighted that he’s come to his senses and...”

  Allie tuned out, trying not to think about Zeph and his myriad superficial women. Before she’d succeeded, Elena’s words caught her attention.

  “…but of course he’d never be happy living in a place like this. It’s very nice, and so beautiful, and I’d be very happy here—but not Zeph. He does so love the excitement of the city. I’ve been expecting him to give up Los Angeles for New York or Paris. Those are places that he’s really...”

  Breathe through the pain. Deep breaths. You can deal with this. Allie pressed one hand to her chest and concentrated on breathing.

  “…no idea when I came here or I would have brought my grandmother’s wedding veil. But I’m sure there will time to get it. It’s antique Spanish lace, and...”

  Hope and despair. She’d tried to squash the hope, but it couldn’t be contained. Zeph loved her. His mother was so sure he wanted to marry her.

  The despair told her he’d never be happy in Stone’s Crossing.

  What could she believe?

  Chapter 15

  After a strained dinner that night, Zeph drove to Monty’s office with Allie’s father. Something had been bothering Allie and he couldn’t figure out what. As soon they finished the search, he’d ask her.

  “Nice ride,” Wentworth said. “We don’t see many Porsches here in Stone’s Crossing.”

  “I believe that. It’s not designed for some of your so-called roads,” Zeph said absently, his attention focused on the upcoming search. Nice of Monty to let him and Lincoln take part.

  Monty and a deputy waited for them at the sheriff’s station. “Bring my crime scene kit, Hawkins,” Monty said as he checked his gun. “I don’t reckon we’ll have any problems. Rodriguez is normally pretty cooperative.”

  “Never hurts to be prepared,” Zeph said. His own Sig Sauer nestled comfortably in its holster. He followed Monty outside and settled in the front seat of the sheriff’s SUV while Wentworth and the deputy got in back. “He might not feel quite so helpful about having his home searched.”

  Adrenaline simmered through Zeph all the way to Rodriguez’s house on the outskirts of town. Searches could be trouble free—or do a lightning about-face to complete shit.

  As Monty turned into Rodriguez’s driveway, the crack of a large-caliber gun split the night. A truck peeled out of the driveway, skidding and bouncing off the front fender of Monty’s vehicle. It careened across the road, recovered, and belted out of sight toward town.

  “That was the Johnson brothers,” Zeph said over the dread filling him. Who had been on the receiving end of that shot? “Is the car still—”

  Even as he asked, Monty had the SUV in gear and moving toward the house. “Those sleazy friends of Seldon’s? I thought they’d left town.” He stopped at the front steps of Rodriguez’s small frame house. The front door stood ajar and he pulled his gun. “Stay behind me,” he ordered Zeph and Wentworth, and went through the door shouting “Police.”

  Zeph followed, his own gun at the ready. He almost ran into Monty when the sheriff stopped short just inside the living room.

  Rodriguez sprawled prone on the floor, blood spreading around him.

  “Shit. Call an ambulance, Wentworth,” Zeph snapped.

  Monty and his deputy hurried through the room to check the rest of the house and Zeph knelt at Rodriguez’s side to assess the damage. Rodriguez moaned when Zeph turned him gently, revealing the bloody mess of a bullet hole. Zeph pulled a small cushion from a chair to and pressed it over the wound, applying enough pressure to slow the bleeding.

  Monty returned. “No one in the house. Ambulance on the way?”

  Wentworth nodded.

  “I’ll get an APB out on those guys. Either of you get their license?”

  “Sorry,” Wentworth said.

  “In my notebook,” Zeph said. A noise from outside caught his attention. “What—?” He choked off the question to listen to the purr of a car starting. It shot onto the driveway from in back of the house and roared toward the road.

  Monty and Hawkins hurled themselves out the door, colliding and stumbling. By the time Monty got outside, the car had gone. “Damn,” he snarled.

  Hawkins took a step back. “I’ll get the crime scene kit out of the vehicle,” he said, and escaped.

  “Could you see anything?” Wentworth asked.

  “Just caught a glimpse of something long and low and black. If you weren’t here, Granger, I’d think it was you.” The whup-whup of a helicopter cut off Zeph’s reply. Monty bolted back out the door, running his SUV back to the barn and spotlighting a clear spot for them to land.

  Zeph ran after him. “You called for airlift?” he asked incredulously.

  “Do you have any idea how long it would take an ambulance to get here over these roads?” Wentworth asked. “This isn’t the big city.”

  Yet another problem of small-town life. One he hadn’t even thought of yet. Within a few minutes, Zeph relinquished his position to the EMTs and stepped back to join Monty and Wentworth.

  “I called in the black car,” Monty said. “There aren’t that many cars like that out here, so maybe… Give me the Johnson’s license and we can start looking for them.

  Zeph pulled out his notebook and read the number.

  “Thanks.” Monty spoke into his shoulder mike. “All right, Hawkins. Let’s go.”

  Two more deputies arrived in a squad car to help with the crime scene.

  “Don’t forget the search,” Zeph reminded Monty.

  “Teach your grandmother to suck eggs,” Monty growled. “Relax, Granger. If your evidence is here, we’ll find it. Now get out of here.”

  Well, it made sense. No lawman wanted extra people messing up a crime scene. “It’s a long walk,” he observed.

  Monty handed him keys to the squad car. “Leave it outside the station with the keys under the floor mat. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  Zeph drove to the sheriff’s station, mulling over the problem of the Johnsons.

  Echoing his thoughts,
Wentworth said, “I thought those two were out of this.”

  “Yeah, me too. I had them pegged as low-level errand boys, not hired guns. This does not compute.”

  At the station, he parked the squad car, climbed into the Carrera with relief, and drove to Wentworth’s house. “It’s not late,” he said to Lincoln. “I think I’ll go by the clinic and tell Allie what happened.”

  Wentworth got out of the car, his expression a mix of irritation and eagerness.

  Zeph saw his mother peek out the living room window, and eagerness triumphed on Wentworth’s face. He bounded up the steps to the porch without even saying goodnight. Zeph grinned as he backed out of the driveway and drove to Allie’s.

  Fat snowflakes drifted down, powdering the trees and giving the landscape a holiday feel. The windows of Allie’s rooms were dark, but lights blazed in the clinic. He headed through the deserted waiting room back to the treatment rooms. No Allie. Nor was she in the operating room. He walked into the recovery room, sure she’d be there. Wrong. The cages gaped empty and the room was deserted.

  A shrill whinny from the direction of the barn caught his attention. Of course. She must have gone to the barn. Maybe to give Promise a carrot. Good idea. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table as he hurried out the back door.

  Damn. He’d left his flashlight in the Carrera and the yard was dark as the inside of a sock. He heard Promise trot to the pasture fence and nicker, so he headed that way. No Allie, so she must be in the barn. But the building loomed dark and somehow threatening in the silence of the night. He frowned and started around the side of the barn, easing the Sig out of its holster as he went.

  The Johnson’s truck crouched behind the barn, its multicolor paint job identifying it even in the dark. Zeph snapped into stealth mode, slipping through the night toward it, crouching in the shadow as something moved ahead of him.

  Someone—two someones—shoved their way through the door at the back of the barn. In the faint starlight, Zeph couldn’t identify them until one snapped on a flashlight. Lem and Pete Johnson, for sure. To his horror, a third person walked between them. Allie. Lem waved a gun more or less in her direction, and she walked awkwardly. Pete tugged on her arm to direct her toward the truck, and Zeph realized her hands had been tied behind her back.