Dark Horse & the Mystery Man of Whitehorse

by B. J Daniels

  Carter leaned back in his chair, trying to make sense of this. If Emma Shane was alive and she’d killed Glen to keep her secret—

  Laci. Laci had been doing her own investigating. Who knew what she might have turned up by now? Was it possible she’d found out that Emma Shane was alive and doing...what?

  Carter sucked in a breath as an answer came to him.

  Killing people.

  He grabbed his hat and keys and drove over to Duvall’s restaurant, only to find the place empty. Laci’s car was there, but no sign of Duvall’s pickup—or Duvall.

  What worried him was that the restaurant door was unlocked, the lights still on. It looked as if they’d left in a hurry.

  As Carter was leaving, he noticed that something sticky had been spilled on the kitchen floor.

  His concern increased measurably. Getting on his radio in his patrol car, he put out a call to all law enforcement to pull Duvall over if sighted. Also Laci Cavanaugh.

  The radio squawked the moment he put it down.

  “It’s Bridger Duvall.”

  “Patch him through,” the sheriff said, already fearing what he was going to hear.

  “Laci’s missing. I have Spencer and we’re headed for Old Town. He swears he had nothing to do with this—”

  “Bridger, we found Glen Whitaker murdered behind the barn on the old McAllister place. It looks as if Emma Shane killed him.”

  Bridger swore. “I’m on my way to Laci’s house. I have a bad feeling—”

  “I’m right behind you,” the sheriff said as he turned on his siren and sped toward Old Town Whitehorse.

  * * *

  BRIDGER DROVE TOO fast, his mind racing, his heart lodged in his throat. He tried not to think about how much of a head start Emma had on them. Or that he might be wrong about where Laci had been taken. That Emma had another plan for Laci, something even more diabolical.

  Spencer sat in the passenger seat of his pickup looking shell-shocked. He hadn’t said a word since Bridger had told him what the sheriff had said.

  Emma Shane was alive.

  Outside the pickup, the night blew past. The road south ran through open country, the sky as starless as the land was treeless.

  As he came over a hill, his headlights caught on the old Whitehorse city-limits sign. It was so weathered and worn he could barely make out the lettering. The sign listed to the right, its base surrounded by tumbleweeds.

  Bridger blew through Old Town, taking the curve by the old Cherry house hard. Just a little farther. He raced toward the dark horizon and Laci’s house just over the next few hills, praying he wouldn’t be too late.

  As he came over the last rise, he stared in the direction of Laci’s house, holding his breath. No orange glow. No flames shooting upward in the sky. He felt weak with relief.

  He remembered the day he’d followed the smell of the smoke to Emma’s house. He’d been several blocks away when he’d heard the crackle of the flames devouring the dry wooden structure. He’d never forgotten that sound mingled with the shriek of sirens and, closer, the cries of neighbors.

  Spencer said he’d seen Emma standing at a second-floor window, backlit by flames, when the propane tank next door had exploded and the house had disintegrated before their eyes.

  “How is it possible Emma is alive?” Spencer said next to him.

  Bridger glanced over at him, seeing the terror in his eyes. For twenty years Spencer had lived with Emma’s ghost. He must have thought himself insane. Even now he didn’t want to believe she was alive. Neither did Bridger, because he was certain she had Laci.

  Bridger turned down the road to Laci’s house, careening into the yard and jumping out of the pickup.

  He ran up the steps of the porch, realizing that there was no car in the yard. No one was here. Behind him, he heard Spencer get out of the pickup.

  There was a small light burning at the back of the house. As he ran into the living room, he noticed that nothing seemed out of place—not like the time he’d found Laci here and the place ransacked.

  In fact, the house looked so normal his heart sank. He had guessed wrong about where Laci had been taken. It didn’t appear that a criminally insane woman had kidnapped her and brought her here.

  But as he raced into the kitchen, he caught the glint of chrome through the back window. There was a car parked out behind the house.

  He turned and ran for the stairs, remembering what Spencer had said about seeing Emma standing in the upstairs window of her house just before the explosion.

  He hadn’t gone far up the stairs when he smelled the nostril-burning reek of gasoline and heard a sickening thud overhead.

  * * *

  LACI’S EYES FLUTTERED as she hit the floor and came to. She looked up, trying to focus not only her eyes but also her brain.

  Where was she? Her bedroom? That made no sense. How had she gotten here? She couldn’t remember anything but feeling sick.

  Her eyes focused on a point over her. A woman’s face came into view. The woman looked vaguely familiar.

  But what was the woman doing here? And what was that smell? Laci wrinkled her nose and tried to sit up. The woman had a smile on her face, but something definitely wasn’t right.

  Laci couldn’t remember anything for a moment except getting ready for opening night at the restaurant. But now she was home, in her bedroom?

  Suddenly a chunk of memory dropped into place. Spencer! He’d grabbed her from behind at the restaurant and dragged her out.

  “Where is he?” Laci asked, her voice scratchy. What had he covered her mouth with? Something that had left her tongue cottony. Her arm was sore. She had a vague memory of someone giving her a shot, but it was all jumbled in her aching head. “Where is Spencer?”

  “Don’t worry about Spencer,” she said. “You don’t have to concern yourself with him anymore.”

  Was it possible this woman had saved her? It’s the only thing that made sense. “Have we met before?”

  “We’ve seen each other around. We spoke at the wedding.”

  The brunette who’d been standing by the back door of the community center as Laci had run out. She remembered her now.

  “How did I get here?” Laci asked, feeling as if her head was full of cobwebs. She remembered being grabbed at the restaurant, but everything else was a jumble.

  “You don’t remember the drive out?”

  Laci shook her head and stopped at once, feeling nauseous.

  “I brought you up here.” The woman was looking at her strangely, studying her appraisingly. “I had to take care of you.”

  “After Spencer kidnapped me at the restaurant.”

  The woman smiled. “Yes, Spencer. It’s a good thing I’ve been watching out for you.”

  A ripple of worry washed over Laci. “You’ve been watching me?” She remembered feeling as if she was being watched down in Roundup, but that couldn’t be what the woman was talking about.

  She reached up to rub her hand over her face and saw her wrists were chafed from being taped together. She frowned, trying to remember Spencer doing that.

  “I always watch out for the women Spencer gets involved with,” the woman said, making Laci look up in surprise.

  “I’m not involved with Spencer,” Laci said with a frown.

  “Aren’t you? Has a day gone by that you haven’t thought about him? That you haven’t tried to find out things about him?” The woman’s voice became strident. “That you haven’t kept digging and digging, even when he’d left town?”

  Her chest constricted. “How do you know Spencer?”

  “Spencer and I go way back.” The brunette smiled as she picked up a red can from the floor that Laci hadn’t noticed before. Laci caught the strong odor of gasoline. “I’m the woman he killed twent
y years ago.”

  Laci stared at the woman, comprehension coming slowly.

  “That’s right,” the woman said with a laugh as she read Laci’s expression. “I’m Emma Shane.” With that, she poured the contents of the can onto Laci.

  Laci let out a shriek as the cold, foul-smelling fuel soaked her to the skin. She tried to get away but couldn’t, her muscles refusing to work.

  “Why are you doing this?” Laci cried as the gas fumes burned her eyes.

  “Making sure Spencer suffers as much as I have,” the woman said, putting down the fuel can and pulling a large box of wooden matches from her jacket pocket. She cocked her heard as she heard what Laci did. Footfalls on the stairs.

  “Help!” Laci called. “Help!”

  The woman smiled as she took out a cigarette and struck a match, the flame glowing brightly.

  * * *

  BRIDGER RACED UP the stairs, the .357 Magnum clutched in his hand, the stench of gasoline growing stronger and stronger.

  He was almost to the top when he heard Laci call for help.

  “We’re up here. In Laci’s room,” a female voice said. “You’re just in time.”

  Behind him, Bridger heard Spencer coming up the stairs.

  At the end of the hallway, Bridger aimed the weapon into the room as he came around the open doorway.

  He froze at the sight of Laci huddled on the floor, soaking wet, the room reeking of gasoline and a woman with long, dark hair standing over her, holding a lit match to the end of her cigarette.

  He took in the scene, his heart in his throat.

  Emma Shane. He could see that she’d had reconstructive surgery. But the eyes were the same, and enough of her facial features were intact that there was no doubt who he was looking at.

  “Hello, Bridger,” she said, smiling as she blew out the match and took a puff on her cigarette, sounding as if they were meeting over cocktails at a party. “It’s been a long time.”

  Not nearly long enough, he thought.

  He shifted his gaze to Laci, wanting desperately to tell her not to worry, everything was going to be all right.

  But he knew better. All Emma had to do was drop that cigarette and this room would explode, going up in a flash of flames. Bridger knew he would never be able to get to Laci in time.

  He looked into her wide blue eyes. “It’s okay, Laci.”

  Her gaze said she knew better, but she wasn’t going to argue the point. He saw her try to move her limbs and wondered what Emma had done to her.

  “Emma.”

  Bridger turned at the sound of Spencer’s voice next to him.

  Spencer stepped past him and into the room. Bridger reached for him but couldn’t stop him.

  Emma’s smile slipped at the sight of Spencer. “Don’t come any closer,” she said, holding the cigarette over Laci. “You wouldn’t want another woman to suffer because of you, now would you, Spencer?”

  Spencer stopped and Bridger stepped up beside him, afraid of what Spencer might do. He wasn’t himself. But then, Bridger suspected he hadn’t been for some time.

  “What’s going on, Emma?” Bridger tried to keep the panic out of his voice.

  “It has to end here tonight,” she said, sounding tired. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Don’t do it now,” Bridger said. “Spencer isn’t worth it.”

  Emma smiled ruefully. “So you finally figured that out. All these years he let you think he jumped into that creek to save you. But I saw the whole thing. Spencer fell in. He didn’t mean to save you. He was only trying to save himself.”

  Bridger glanced over at Spencer. He looked like a sleepwalker, dazed, disconnected.

  “Did he tell you that I was pregnant?” Emma asked. “That was why Spencer broke up with me. My father would have killed me if he’d found out, not to mention the disgrace in a small town like Roundup. Spencer used me, then discarded me. He ruined my life—and I’ve spent the last twenty years ruining his.”

  * * *

  LACI SHIFTED ON the floor. She could feel her limbs again but feared her muscles would fail her if she tried anything. But she couldn’t just sit here.

  She could hear the desperation and desolation in Emma Shane’s voice. This was where it would end—and end badly. She tried to move her body a little more, working not to draw attention to the movement. Emma was focused on Spencer and Bridger, but as the cigarette burned down, Laci knew time was also running out.

  And if Bridger tried to get to her before Emma dropped the cigarette, he would be caught in the flames, as well.

  “You should leave,” Laci said from the floor. “Both of you just get out of here.”

  “No,” Emma snapped. “They have to stay. I want them to see this. I planned this ending. That’s why I took the matches and left the cupboard open. If you hadn’t figured out where I’d taken Laci, I would have called to tell you. I want Spencer to suffer the way he made me suffer.”

  Spencer looked as if he was suffering. “You killed them.”

  Emma laughed. “Did you think you just had bad luck when it came to women? You always were a fool.”

  The words fell over Laci. Even with her mind still foggy, she understood. Emma had killed the women in Spencer’s life. Emma had killed Alyson.

  She felt a bolt of adrenaline shoot through her. She pressed her palms to the floor as she slipped her feet back. Her legs felt too weak, but in her fury she forced her feet under her. Emma must have heard her as Laci shoved herself to her feet. She slammed into Emma, driving her forward toward Spencer and Bridger.

  Spencer seemed to come out of his trance as Laci suddenly shot to her feet. He lunged for the gun in Bridger’s hand. A shot boomed as Bridger shoved him aside and grabbed for Emma and the glowing cigarette.

  It all happened in an instant. Bridger grabbed Emma’s hand holding the cigarette and twisted cruelly. Emma screamed in pain as he ripped it from her fingers and shoved her aside to reach for Laci.

  Everything seemed to stop as Bridger dragged Laci out, extinguishing the cigarette before wrapping her shivering body in his arms.

  As he glanced back into the room, he saw Emma’s face, the smile on her lips, as she struck a match. Spencer charged the woman in a rage. Just as he reached her, Emma dropped the lit match. It hit the floor just as Spencer barreled into her, driving her back into the gas-soaked corner of the room.

  Emma’s smile broadened as she wrapped her arms around Spencer, taking him down with her as the room exploded into a blaze of fire.

  Bridger swept Laci, still soaked in gas, down the stairs and out into the cold December night. Behind them, the whole house went up, lighting the night as sirens wailed in the distance.

  * * *

  LACI STOOD UNDER the hot spray of the shower. Bridger had stripped off her gas-soaked clothing and his own and climbed into the shower with her, holding her trembling body.

  She thought she would never be warm again. The last thing she remembered before the ride into Whitehorse to his apartment over the restaurant was looking back to see the house in flames. She’d closed her eyes at the thought of Emma and Spencer in there, their arms wrapped around each other like lovers as flames devoured them.

  “I’m so sorry,” Bridger whispered as he gently soaped the gas from her skin. “If I’d just listened to you...”

  She touched a finger to his lips and shook her head. “I was wrong about Spencer.”

  “We were both wrong about Spencer.” She heard the bitterness in his voice, the pain. “He knew about Emma, but in his fear and his guilt he did nothing.”

  “Did he know? Or was he like the rest of us, hoping that he was wrong, hoping he could find happiness?” She shook her head. “We’re all weak. We’re all afraid.”

  Bridger smiled down at her. “N
ot you Cavanaugh women,” he said. “You’re the strongest woman I know.”

  Laci wrapped her arms around Bridger, pressing her cheek against his solid chest. She cried for Alyson, for Tiff. For any others who had suffered because of Emma’s pain.

  Bridger held her, smoothing her hair as the water beat down on them. Laci wondered if anything could wash away the stench of gasoline on her skin. Or the memory of Spencer and Emma engulfed in flames.

  It would take time. The house was gone, completely destroyed. The flames had taken not just the house, but any memories of a life her mother and father had had there before her father was killed, her mother abandoning the house and her daughters.

  Laci knew her grandfather Titus would take it the hardest. He must have thought that as long as the house stood waiting there was hope that his daughter Geneva would return to it.

  Laci held out no such hope. She feared that whoever had sent the notes knew the truth: her mother had never left Whitehorse. Just as the photo album with Laci’s and Laney’s snapshots hadn’t left. Would she ever know the truth? She doubted it. Some mysteries were never solved.

  Gramma Pearl always said there was a little good hidden in the bad, something to ease the pain. Laci leaned into Bridger and let him ease the pain.

  Chapter Fourteen

  LACI LOOKED UP as a gust of wind and the sharp, sweet scent of pine filled the front door of the restaurant.

  Bridger burst in with the biggest Christmas tree she’d ever seen. “Thank the lucky stars that the ceilings in this apartment are ten-footers,” he said, laughing. “I saw this tree and knew it was The One.”

  She couldn’t help but smile as he stood the huge tree. It was magnificent.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Bridger was saying. “How will we ever be able to decorate such a large tree, right?”

  “It did cross my mind.”

  He grinned, and she heard voices coming through the kitchen. She gave Bridger a questioning look as he leaned toward her and gave her a quick kiss.

  Her heart leaped and her eyes blurred with tears as she heard her sister’s laugh just before Laney burst through the kitchen door into the restaurant, holding an armful of Christmas decorations. Behind her was Nick, her husband and Whitehorse’s newest deputy, with more decorations. They’d changed their plans and come home for Christmas, inviting all his relatives to Montana for the holidays instead.