“The other kids were scared,” Shane offered. “I know I would have been.” Judging by the way her gaze immediately locked on his, he realized she’d come to another conclusion, one that was probably not favorable.
“That’s right! You were nearly as old as my brother, weren’t you? You can tell me who he hung out with and who I should talk to now.”
“I didn’t run in the same circles,” Shane countered. “I was only fourteen when my dad died. Three years makes a big difference to teenagers. R.J. and his buddies probably didn’t even notice me back then.”
“Agreed. But as the younger kid you’d have paid attention to what high school seniors were doing. That’s only natural. And with a father in law enforcement, I imagine it was tough to decide whether or not to tell on them for infractions like drinking or smoking weed.”
“I did what I thought was right. Still do,” Shane said flatly.
“Fine. In that case, you’ll be interested in helping us dig up the truth,” Jamie concluded.
He noted that the two women had joined hands above the files and were clearly demonstrating solidarity. Their minds were made up.
“Looks like I’m outnumbered,” Shane said with a huff. “I guess you can count me in.”
“That’s not good enough,” Jamie told him. “I’m not asking you to overlook my brother’s possible guilt, but unless you’re totally committed to uncovering the details surrounding Sheriff Sam’s killing, you may as well forget it. Marsha and I will figure it out without you.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Poor choice of words,” Jamie snapped. “I didn’t come here to get myself hurt—or anybody else.”
Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Shane did his best to appear commanding and in charge without browbeating her. “But you may anyway. You do understand that, don’t you? These encounters you’ve been having can turn ugly in a heartbeat. Your narrow escapes may have been nothing more than God’s providential protection.”
“You don’t believe in luck?”
He clasped his fingers. “No. I don’t. I’ve seen too many instances where it’s clear that the Lord intervened.”
“Then what about your father? And my brother?” She scooted to the edge of her chair and the files almost slid off her lap. “Or my mom and dad? Tessie said that Mom believed Dad had been killed and his body disposed of. What about her, and women like her, who are so afraid? Why hasn’t God rescued all of them?”
“I don’t know. I’m not all-knowing the way my God is, but I do know I trust Him to do what’s best for believers, at least in the long run. The problem is that our minds are finite. We can’t look ahead and see why things happen the way they do. Half the time, we can’t even look back after everything is resolved and tell much. That’s where faith and trust come in.”
Jamie pulled a face. “Yeah, sure. Even if I could learn to trust God again, the way you say you do, how do I know He’d step in and keep me safe?”
Sifting through memories, Shane recalled something she’d said when she’d had shards of glass glittering in her hair. “Remember dodging the bullet in front of the old police station?”
“Sure.”
“Didn’t you tell me you just happened to bend over at exactly the right time?”
“Only because of the dog. I didn’t see any danger.”
“That makes it even better,” Shane insisted. “You might have reacted too slowly if the Lord had left you to your own devices, so he caused you to duck early.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Why not?” He shrugged as he sat back in his chair. “I happen to believe that I arrived just in time to rescue you from the house fire, and that it was no accident you were way across the park when somebody started beating on your truck. Dodging a bullet you didn’t see coming isn’t any more far-fetched than that.”
“Oh, sure. Then what about the guy who grabbed me outside my motel room?”
“You had your feisty dog in your arms to bite him, and I was standing by. The only thing better would have been having a cop stationed right at your door.”
He saw awareness alter her mood a moment before she said, “That’s right. The drop of blood. Did the lab get any results?”
“Nothing they could match,” Shane told her. “However, it gives us a base to build on if we’re able to ID a suspect.”
“Do you think we ever will?” Jamie asked soberly.
Shane hated to see her enthusiasm fading. “They’ll do their best at the state lab. We can’t do DNA testing on this whole town but I think there will come a time when we’ve narrowed our suspects enough to know who to ask for a sample.”
Jamie reached for her pencil and pad of paper. “We have to start somewhere. Even if you can’t remember the full names of my brother’s friends, can you give me a few hints on where to begin? Who to ask?”
Better that than approaching the judge or attorneys, Shane reasoned. Although anybody could have been involved in fixing the trial, those two were now his prime suspects. Them, and the defense attorney, Max Williford, who had left town shortly after the trial.
Locating that missing man would be his first goal. With the internet providing information on just about everybody, it shouldn’t prove difficult.
And when I find him, then what? Shane asked himself. He would cross that bridge of confusion when he came to it. Yes, he would help the women. But, no, he would not consider their safety secondary.
It was his fondest wish that Jamie Lynn would separate herself from his mother and son as often as possible. The times when they were together, he planned to be on scene, as well. And when they were apart, Harlan had promised covert protection. That was a perk Marsha had earned by virtue of being married to Sam. Shane’s most fervent prayer was that she would never need it.
That none of them would.
TEN
Something had subtly shifted in Jamie Lynn’s mind while she’d scanned Sam’s files, and she wasn’t at all pleased. Anger, self-reliance and determination had become overshadowed by a growing sense of uneasiness, bordering on mindless fear.
It was one thing to suspect that her brother had been railroaded into jail and quite another to see the names of his enemies on paper. So what if the sheriff’s notes were mere speculation? They were enough to convince her. There had to be a connection. And now that she knew whose backgrounds to probe, she’d either have to act or pack up and go back to Tessie’s.
Quitting was out of the question, of course. Beyond that, she hadn’t the faintest idea how to proceed. A quick glance at Shane told her little about his feelings in the matter. Marsha, however, was clearly plotting.
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” the older woman said, focusing on Jamie. “The best way for you to get a look at both the judge and attorney is to go to church with us.”
“Church?”
Shane nodded. “Yes. Unfortunately, both men are members of the congregation at Serenity Chapel.” He grimaced, and Jamie saw ire in his gaze. “When you’ve read all my dad’s notes you’ll see that others are, too.”
“People he suspected?”
“Yes. I don’t know why he didn’t take his suspicions to our pastor, Logan Malloy. Logan was a detective before he became a clergyman.”
“Perhaps he did,” Marsha offered. “Pastor Malloy would keep that kind of thing to himself.”
“Even after dad was killed? I wonder.”
Sitting ramrod straight, Jamie Lynn folded her hands atop the files still resting on her lap. “All right. I’ll go. But we need to prepare. How are you going to introduce me—as a Nolan or a Henderson?”
“It won’t really matter,” Shane replied. “Those you want to investigate probably already know who you really are. Otherwise, why would somebody keep try
ing to scare you off?”
“Good point.” She clenched her fingers together more tightly, hoping to still their trembling and mask her inner turmoil. Was she up to facing the men who had framed her brother? Suppose she was wrong about them? About everything? What if others were behind the killing of the former sheriff?
A shiver shot up her spine and prickled the hairs at the nape of her neck as her thoughts took another turn. What if R.J. was one of those others?
Shane leaned closer and slipped the remaining folders off her lap, returning them to the storage box. “I think we’ve seen enough for one night.”
Agreeing, Marsha reached to pat Jamie’s clenched hands. “This has been a rough day for everybody. I say we meet for church tomorrow, then go out to eat the way we usually do and discuss things further.”
That brought Jamie out of herself. “I don’t know if I brought proper clothes.”
“Nonsense, dear. As long as you’re wearing the best you have, nobody will think poorly of you. We may have a few rotten apples in the barrel—every church does—but the rest of us are a friendly, accepting bunch. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. And, truth to tell, everybody sins. If we had to be perfect to go to church, there isn’t a one of us who would qualify for membership.”
“I’d never thought of it that way.”
Shane chuckled. “Except maybe for me. I’m perfect.” He adeptly ducked the playful swat his mother aimed his way.
“He was a little stinker when he was a boy,” Marsha said. “But I will admit he’s always had a strong sense of right and wrong. It just didn’t keep him from choosing to get in trouble from time to time.” She gazed fondly at her sleeping grandson. “Kyle’s a chip off the old block.”
“The brightest ones tend to be like that,” Jamie said. “Plus, he’s sure to try to take advantage of any adult who feels sorry for him not having a second parent. That’s normal.”
Smiling with melancholy, Marsha sighed and said, “I hope and pray he gets over it.”
“I did,” Jamie insisted. “All he needs is plenty of love and a stable home life.”
Although the older woman was nodding as if in agreement, Shane had furrowed his brow and tilted his head. Jamie Lynn faced him. “You don’t agree?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, speaking softly. “If you were truly healed, would you still be looking for a way to rewrite your past?”
“That’s not what I’m doing. Not at all. You know exactly why your wife left and probably where she went. My family was torn apart and my parents vanished.” She gestured toward the others. “If your mom went missing, wouldn’t you sacrifice anything to find her?”
“Of course I would.”
“Then try to understand my position. I wasn’t sure before, but I am now. Everything revolves around your father’s death. I don’t believe it was an accident and neither should you.”
She reached for her paper and pencil, flipped to a fresh page and began to sketch a timeline. “Look at it this way. First, Sam is suspicious. He makes notes and starts investigating. He’s killed. There are no witnesses in spite of the fact that my brother never partied alone. He was drunk out of his mind that night so I don’t know how he could walk, let alone drive. Maybe he was in the car that hit the sheriff, maybe he wasn’t.”
“Go on.”
“R.J. keeps insisting he’s innocent until halfway through his trial when my father disappears. By this time, Mom has already sent me away. R.J. changes his plea, gets convicted, and right after that my mother runs, leaving no trace.”
“You make a convincing case,” Shane admitted, “but it all hinges on whether or not my dad’s death was an accident.”
“You’ve read his notes. What do you think?” She was holding her breath, hoping he’d see her logic.
Finally, Shane sighed and said, “I think you’re right. I’m not ready to exonerate your brother yet but I do agree that my father was murdered. Now all we have to do is prove it.”
Few viable ideas came to Jamie Lynn other than the most frightening of all. If they couldn’t prove who had plotted to kill Sam Colton, perhaps their next best option was to prove who was trying to hurt—or kill—her.
Kill? Yes, she concluded, shivering as the truth became clearer and clearer.
She’d been fooling herself by insisting that her enemies merely wanted to frighten her. They were serious. Deadly serious.
And the next time, they might not miss.
* * *
After the dire implications of their evening conversation, it didn’t surprise Jamie Lynn that Shane not only volunteered to leave Kyle with Marsha while he drove her back to the motel, but he also offered to walk her to her door.
“Would you like me to check inside for you?”
“I hardly think that’s necessary.” She paused in the doorway of 6-B and flipped on the entry light. “Thank you.”
He touched the brim of an imaginary hat. “Anytime. I’ll be by to pick you up for church at about ten thirty.”
“Okay. Good night.”
With Useless in her arms, she sidled through the door and closed it with her hip. It was good to be back where peace and quiet reigned. Where she didn’t have to think about evil every moment and could kick back and relax.
She slipped off her sandals, set the sleepy dog on the floor and smiled. “Nothing like playing with a kid to tire you out, huh, boy? Maybe, when we get home, I’ll find you a puppy playmate to keep you in shape.”
Padding across the carpet toward the bed, she was startled to hear a low growl. Useless was frozen in place, staring at the bathroom. Jamie fumbled in her purse for her cell phone.
The bathroom door was starting to move. She stared.
Through the gap between the door and the jamb she could see a sliver of the mirror over the sink. Only shadows were reflected but there was no doubt. They were shifting!
That tiny room stood between her and the only exit. Even if she called the police it would take them far too long to respond. She had only one option.
Taking the deepest breath she could while trembling like dry leaves caught in a tornado, she screamed.
The bathroom door was jerked open. A huge figure in a ski mask and black hoodie charged out. Crashed into her. Propelled her backward.
When they landed on the bed, all the air was knocked out of Jamie’s lungs. She began to kick and punch her assailant.
Only one name came to mind. Gasping, she shouted, “Shane! Shane, help!” over and over.
* * *
If he had hurried back to his truck the way he usually did, Shane would not have heard anything from Jamie Lynn’s motel room. However, as he started to turn away, he detected muffled sound. Was that a woman’s scream or had one of the guests turned on a TV with the volume too high? Pausing, he held his breath to listen. Nothing. No more screaming.
Then there was a crash. A distinct cry. Somebody was calling his name as if the person’s very life depended upon him.
“Jamie?” He began pounding on her door. “Jamie! Are you all right? Let me in.”
He grasped the knob and jiggled it.
Locked. Of course. And if she had followed his warnings she’d also have engaged the other safety measures. These commercial doors were heavier than normal so his chances of breaking in were slim. Nevertheless, he had to try.
He stepped back and took a run at it, slamming his shoulder so hard he wondered if he’d dislocated it. The door shook in its frame but stood strong.
Another piercing scream echoed, this time tinged with pain as well as fear. Shane was frantic. He cast around for a weapon other than the concealed gun he carried. If he shot at the door, there was just as good a chance of wounding Jamie as there was of stopping whoever was attacking her.
The large potted plant caught his ey
e. Without a moment’s hesitation he grabbed it, swung back and threw it at the window. Safety glass shattered, clearing the space in a heartbeat.
Shane dived through, parting the heavy drapery as he passed. He rolled once and landed in a crouch.
A dark-clad figure on the bed pushed off and stood to face him, hands fisted, body poised as if every muscle was preparing for an assault.
It came. Shane was ready. He dodged at the last instant and the attacker stumbled.
Now that he knew exactly what he was facing, he pulled his slim automatic out of its belt holster, chambered a round and ordered, “Freeze.”
The burly man sprang for the door instead, jerked it open and escaped into the night. Shane chased him as far as the exit and stopped. Not having to shoot was fine with him but he would have loved to land a punch.
A weak moan snapped him out of battle mode. He automatically set the safety as he slipped the gun back into its holster and returned to Jamie Lynn.
She had managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed and sit up. Tears streaked her face. She was gasping out ragged sobs and trying to talk.
“Sh-Shane... Oh, Shane.”
He took a step closer and held out his hand, wondering how he could best comfort her after such a frightening ordeal. Any worries he’d had about the possibility she wouldn’t want to be touched were banished in the instant it took her to throw herself into his arms.
Instinct took over. He pulled her closer, one hand on her back, the other stroking her hair, and said, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re safe. He’s gone.”
Despite those assurances, Jamie continued to cling to him, even when a crowd began to gather outside the room.
The manager pushed through. “What happened?”
“She was attacked.”
“He come in through the busted window?”
“No,” Shane said, “that was me. Apparently, he was already in the room waiting for her.”
Small Town Justice Page 9
