Ryker’s Justice

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  “They will if they can, baby. But it’s my assignment and always has been. I’ve got a few new ideas, though, about where to look. That reminds me, you wanna go to church with me tomorrow?”

  Her smile vanished. “Church? Oh, I don’t know, Jude.”

  Disappointment soured his mood a little but he shrugged both shoulders. “It’s okay if you’d rather not. I know it’s a pain in the ass.”

  She shook her head. “It isn’t that, Jude. Simon, my ex-husband, made me go to church and warm a pew for years. His sanctimonious bullshit wore thin and I about gave up on the whole God thing. Maybe I should face my feelings and go. It’d be different with you. You just surprised me because I didn’t know you went.”

  Relief tempered his view. “I don’t, not anymore, but Adam wants me to go. He says church folk gossip and besides, Josh will be there. I might get the chance to talk to him and see what he knows about moonshine, so I’m going.”

  A variety of emotions played across her face and her expression shifted with each one. “Then I’ll go with you,” she told him. “I don’t know what I’ll wear, though. I have a few pairs of slacks and a dress at the inn, though.”

  He laughed. “Unless they’ve changed a bunch, a nice pair of clean blue jeans and a pretty blouse will be good enough. They’re not fancy at Grace Chapel.”

  “Okay. How was fishing?”

  Jude waggled his hand back and forth. “I prefer the river over the lake. The river’s natural, the lake is man-made, but it was all right. We caught a few but I gave mine to Adam to take home. I didn’t know you’d be here and I didn’t feel much like messing with them. I enjoyed it but they stayed a hell of a lot longer than I would on my own. I’m sun- and wind-burned, plus tired.”

  “You look it,” she said. Nicole handed him the butter for the cornbread. “Are you all right, otherwise?”

  Her concern touched him. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said with a sigh. “It’s been a rough week or so and it’s not improving anytime soon. My director’s on my ass to get the information to wrap the case and it’s moving too slow to suit him.”

  “Let him wait.” Sometimes her inner steel amazed him, hidden behind her pretty package and soft voice.

  Until now, he hadn’t told anyone about March’s phone call he had received the previous day. “Get the goods so you can get them and get back,” his boss had said. “If you don’t, I’m going to pull you and send someone else. I think I made an error to send you in the first place. You’re too close, too involved.”

  Despite Jude’s protests, Mark March refused to relent. “Get me something definitive by next weekend or you’re out.”

  Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t—his director’s ultimatum put him between a rock and a hard place. Just the kind of cliché the man hated with fervor. Either way, if March prevailed, Jude would be headed back to Washington in a week, two at most. Talk about pressure. He could nail the case but he needed time, which he no longer had.

  Jude told Nicole none of his concerns. He also failed to mention Mitch Cole had offered him a deputy position should he ever choose to stay back in the hills. The idea appealed but he possessed an old fashioned superstition, worried he might jinx the possibility if he talked about it.

  “I don’t know how long he will,” he said. Jude swallowed a spoonful of beans and let the warmth slide down to his stomach with pleasure. “But I’ll try, honey. If I could get some rest, maybe I could think straight and come up with some strategy.”

  Nicole cut another wedge of cornbread and handed it to him. “Why don’t you just enjoy supper, then relax this evening? Maybe if you don’t try so hard, you’ll be able to figure something out.”

  Her calm suggestion soothed his soul the way the beans sated his hunger. “You’re right,” he said. “This food’s good, better than anything I’d had in ages, better than anything at the inn.”

  “Thanks.” Her smile sparkled. “I figured you could use some comfort food. I even made a crumb cake for dessert. How’s David, did anyone say?”

  Jude settled down, shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t realized how taut he had been sitting. “He’s improved enough that he’s cranky,” he said. “He’s more than ready to go home and heal but the doctors said he’ll be there through Monday anyway, maybe longer. After church, I thought we might swing by and visit him.”

  “That’s a good idea. We could bring a malt or ice cream or something.”

  “He’d love it,” he said. “Good idea, honey.”

  With an effort, Jude thrust away all thoughts of moonshiners, hospitals, and anything complicated. He enjoyed the simple meal and saved space for a slice of cake. Afterward, he remained at the table while Nicole cleaned up with brisk efficiency. She kept the conversation lively, sharing tidbits about books she had recently read and places she wanted to see in the area. With his belly full and body warm, his mind became sluggish but he listened as much as he could. He enjoyed the sound of her voice even if he missed some of what she said.

  “Grand Lake sounds pretty,” she said. With the water running in the sink and her back facing him, Jude strained to hear. “I’d like to drive down and see it someday. I don’t think I’d want to go fishing for hours but I would enjoy the view.”

  “I imagine you would,” Jude said. “Did I tell you there are seagulls?”

  “No, but that’s awesome. I loved the ocean, the few times I visited. It sounds almost like it.”

  He laughed. “Well there’s no salt smell to the air and it’s not nearly as huge, but it might remind you of the sea, a little. There’s an old time village on the shores of the lake at Grove, Oklahoma. It’s a museum but it has a schoolhouse, church, log cabins, and all kinds of exhibits...I think you’d like it.”

  “I would! It sounds amazing.”

  “Maybe I can take you sometime.” Even as he said it, an inner voice warned not to make promises he might not be able to keep. “There’s another place I’d like to show you—War Eagle Mill, down in Arkansas. It’s a real old time working water grist mill. They still grind flour and it’s a pretty place.”

  “I read about that,” she cried. Nicole placed the last dish in the drainer and turned around, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Mary has a few brochures and travel pamphlets at the inn. It’s on my list.”

  Her enthusiasm infected him. “Oh, yeah? What else is on it?”

  Nicole pulled out a chair and sat. “There’s the Coleman Theater over in Miami, Oklahoma,” she said. “And I’d love to spend an entire day at the Crystal Bridges Art Gallery in Arkansas, too. Those are both at the top of my list. I’d like to see at least one of the Civil War battlefields in the area and it may sound odd but I’d like to do a cave tour, too. The Ozarks has many, don’t they? I was reading about some of them…”

  His mind hit on the single word ‘cave’ with the force of a snapping turtle. Jude’s attention wandered, following the idea. Caves. Lots of caves in the Ozarks. He thought about the caves he’d crawled into as a boy, larger ones he’d visited, and caves he had read about. Often in remote locations, the caverns could be sizeable. Something about a cave niggled at his consciousness and prickled his memory. I’m missing something important. What the hell am I dancing around?

  Frame by frame, Jude recalled caves he had known. In his childhood, one of his best pals, Parker Mahurin, lived with a huge one literally in his backyard. One of his Ryker cousins over toward Smackout way once owned and operated a cave as a back road tourist attraction. He had been through it, for free, many times. If memory served, there had been a cave on the Wetzel property too. Then he made the leap to what eluded him—Granite Springs Caverns.

  “Damn!” he shouted. Jude came to his feet with the revelation and knocked over his chair in the process. It hit the floor hard as Nicole gasped. “Damn it, I’ve been fuckin’ blind.”

  “Jude, what is it? What’s the matter?”

  Breathing hard, almost panting, he shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I just thought of someplac
e that would be perfect for a moonshine operation.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s a huge series of caves, called Granite Springs Caverns. It used to be a tourist attraction back in the old days, then it was used as a leather works for a long time. They made saddles, belts, key chains, wallets, and coin purses for about ten years or so. I applied for a job there one summer in high school but didn’t get hired. I’ll have to ask one of my brothers but I’m pretty sure it’s been empty for a long time.”

  Nicole opened her mouth but he never found out if she had a question or comment.

  Headlights flashed through the room, reflecting back in the glass half of the back door. “Someone’s coming,” Jude said. His ears picked up on the sound of an approaching motor. “Nicole, go upstairs until I see if they’re friendly.”

  As he spoke, Jude reached into a kitchen drawer and pulled out a pistol. Her expression blanched but she turned around to head up the back steps. He flipped on the yard light and stepped onto the back porch, peering outside. Junior Wetzel climbed out of his truck, more beat up than ever since the accident, and approached.

  “What the hell do you want?” Jude asked. Then he cocked the pistol, one of his daddy’s old guns, and the sound could be heard in the quiet night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Junior halted and stared at Jude. “I come over to be neighborly,” he said. His voice whined worse than worn brake pads. “There ain’t any reason to pull a gun on me. You Rykers are a paranoid bunch. That’s not very friendly.”

  “Coming to my house after dark isn’t what I’d call chummy.” Jude lowered the pistol but he didn’t move. “What do you want, and don’t give me any bullshit about good neighbors.”

  The man paused to dig out a cigarette from a crumpled package in his pocket and then lit it. “I know you’re pissed off about the wreck and all so I come to tell you I’m sorry. I never meant to run the kids off the road. I just lost control for a moment. Truth is, your nephew was going a little too fast, too.”

  “I heard you’d been drinking.” Jude tossed the accusation between them after he gained control of his temper. His first instinct was to deck Junior hard enough to render him unconscious.

  “You know damn well I was,” Junior said. “Hell, you took a swig out of the jar I was passing around at the game. I wasn’t drunk, though.”

  Jude snorted. “Yeah? Well, I’m not in a mood to argue. You’ve said your piece, so go on home.”

  “I thought we might share a snort, just to show we’ve made our peace,” Junior replied.

  Until now, Jude hadn’t noticed the man had been drinking, if not drunk. This was the last person he cared to see tonight, on the heels of his revelation, but he now realized he might be able to use the event to his advantage. “I don’t know, man,” he said. “Depends on what you’re drinking.”

  “Moonshine,” Wetzel proclaimed. “It’s one of the best batches ever, Jude, I’m tellin’ you. This is prime stuff, even better than what I had at the football game. Let me grab a jar from outta the truck and I’ll come in.”

  No way would he sully his home with Junior’s loathsome presence. “I’ll come out there,” Jude said. “I’ll have one drink and call it good, though.”

  He hated to pour the potent liquor on top of Nicole’s fine meal but he had little choice. A confrontation wouldn’t help his investigation and if he did it, Junior would go on his way. He put the pistol on the porch rail and walked across the grass. Evening mists swirled around him as he walked, making the scene more surreal than it already seemed. Junior met him in front of the pickup and unscrewed the lid from a quart Mason jar. “Go ahead, you go first,” he said as he handed it over.

  After a brief silent prayer, Jude thought look out stomach! Then he put the jar against his lips and drank. The strong brew seared his tongue and made his mouth explode in fire. It burned down his throat and into his stomach where it erupted in a momentary fireball. Jude willed his gut not to reject it and handed it over to Junior who downed a sizeable portion. “Good stuff,” he grunted.

  Jude snorted. “Yeah, so if I develop a taste for this shit, where can I get some?”

  Since he’d risked his stomach, he might as well ask. Junior brayed and drank again.

  “Damn, I knew you’d get a taste for it, Jude. You always were the fuckin’ black sheep of the family. I can get you all you want. Want to buy a jar now? I’ve got more in the truck.”

  He didn’t but if he had some, it could be used as evidence. Or if the pain in his gut didn’t recede soon, they could test it at the Emergency Room to find an antidote. “Yeah, I’ll take a jar. How much do I owe you?”

  Junior waved one hand. “Shit, this one’s free. Just let me know when you need more and I’ll bring it over.”

  When pigs fly with butterfly wings and the Devil’s ice skating in hell. “What if I can’t track you down? Is there somebody else who has it, too?”

  A wary look crept over Wetzel’s face and his eyes narrowed to snakelike slits. “You know where to find me, Ryker.”

  “With shit this good, I don’t want to take any chances,” he said. Maybe an appeal to Junior’s vanity would help. “I suppose you made this yourself, right?”

  “I wish,” the man said. “Mine never turned out half as good. Well, if you can’t track me down, Elliot over at the feed store east of town can hook you up with some. So can Billy at the garage on the old highway.”

  “Awesome,” Jude said. He made a mental note of both names. “I hate to ask but when I was out in the wide world, I got a little taste for some meth once in a while. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find some if I get the craving?”

  Pride lit Junior’s face with an unholy delight. “I can get that too, yes sir, I can. I don’t make it either, you understand, but I got connections. Want some?”

  “I’ll let you know if I do,” Jude said. He held up the jar. “This is enough for now.”

  “All right, then, I’ll get out of here. I’m glad we’re friendly. I think you could be a right good customer, Ryker, although it’s a surprise.”

  “You just never know,” he replied.

  Wetzel cackled as he climbed into his truck and drove away. Watching, Jude shook his head. “Stupid bastard.”

  When he picked up his gun and came into the kitchen, he almost collided with Nicole as she careened down the back stairs. “Whoa, honey, take it easy,” he said. He put the pistol and the jar on the counter.

  “What happened?” she cried. Her gaze fell on the liquor. “What’s that?”

  “Evidence, I hope. It’s moonshine. I’ve got it and a couple more names. Plus, I asked Junior about meth and he assured me he can get me all I want. Which, of course, I don’t but I got some needed information. Things are looking up.”

  His adrenalin shot high during the encounter but now it faded fast, leaving fatigue behind. He had been tired earlier but his energy drained away. If he kept notes, he would jot down what names he had learned but he didn’t operate that way. Jude committed them to memory and with one arm around his woman, headed for his recliner to unwind.

  Once planted, his bones all but melted as he relaxed. Nicole settled into the matching chair beside him and although he didn’t speak, he appreciated her presence. After a long time, on the verge of dozing, he roused to hear what she said.

  “Jude, sweetheart, are you all right? You’re awfully quiet.”

  He opened his eyes and managed a smile. “I’m fine, honey, just tired. The rotgut whiskey I took a sip of riled my guts, but it’s over now.”

  When she frowned, a line appeared between her eyebrows. “I didn’t know you drank any, Jude, but I can make you a cup of tea if you’d like. I brought some chamomile today. It’ll help you sleep and soothe your stomach, too.”

  His earlier contentment surged back. “Sounds good, Nicole, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t or I wouldn’t offer.”

  The tea tasted pleasant and he savored it. Afterward, he s
quinted at the clock on the mantle. “I ought to bank the fire and go to bed,” he told her. “I meant to make love with you but I’m almost too sleepy.”

  Nicole bent over to kiss his mouth lightly. “I already took care of the fire and we’ve got forever for that. Let’s go upstairs and get some sleep. I hear we’re going to church in the morning.”

  Most women he had known would fuss at his sleepiness or bitch about his preoccupation with the case. She’s a rare one, he thought, a keeper. His last memory before sleep claimed his consciousness had been Nicole’s hand resting against his back.

  Grace Chapel hadn’t changed since the last time Jude walked through the doors five years ago for his daddy’s funeral. The large frame building dated back to 1905, according to the cornerstone, and hadn’t changed in all the years Jude could remember. He parked on one side of the grassy parking area and they walked hand in hand to the steps.

  “Hey!” He turned at the sound of Adam’s voice and grinned. Adam’s family approached and joined them. They entered the small vestibule together, then moved down the aisle between the two sets of pews to take a place midway toward the front. Noah’s bunch filed in on their heels and filled the pew behind. Elijah and Tania sat near the front, Nora and Cody between them.

  His weariness had been gone when he woke beside Nicole so when the first hymn began, Jude stood with the rest of the congregation and belted out the familiar words with gusto.

  “There is power, power, wonder working power,” he sang.

  “In the blood of the Lamb.”

  Nicole joined him, her voice as rich and true as he recalled.

  The music uplifted him, the praise songs bridging past and present but the sermon disappointed. It reminded Jude of why he seldom warmed a pew these days, and he allowed his thoughts to roam rather than pay close attention. He knew the basics of salvation and didn’t need to hear dire predictions of hellfire for anyone who failed to walk a narrow path. Instead of listening, he watched faces, Josh’s most of all. The teen wore an uneasy expression and each time he noted Jude’s gaze, he flushed. After the service ended, no one hurried to leave the pews but began greeting one another with zeal. Knots of twos and threes gathered, tongues moving with speed as stories were told, gossip passed onward, and nosy questions asked.