The Sheriff of Sage Bend

by Brenda Mott

  “What’d he look like?”

  Again, Jack gave his sketchy description.

  “He didn’t go outside?” Lucas asked.

  Jack shook his head. “He started to, then he ducked back in and went back to the bar, I guess. I didn’t see him anymore after that.”

  Lucas took a business card from his wallet. “Jack, you need to come see me tomorrow when you’re sober.” He slipped the card into the band of Jack’s cowboy hat. “That’s your reminder.” Then he pointed a stern finger. “Don’t let me see you out on the road driving tonight.”

  “No, sir,” Jack said, clamping his palm against his chest in a gesture of innocence. “I’m the designated drunk.” He chuckled. “And ole Darren here, he’s driving.”

  “What’ve you had to drink, Darren?” Lucas asked.

  “Just one beer, Sheriff. I swear. And that was earlier. I been suckin’ down Cokes ever since. Ask Tina.”

  Tina had been off working the other end of the bar, but she’d come back in time to hear the tail end of the conversation. “What are you trying to do, Lucas, run off my customers?”

  “Nope. Just trying to make sure they’re alive to come back another day.”

  He turned to Tori and Miranda. “Might I have a word with you ladies? Someplace more quiet?”

  “Sure,” Tori said, sliding off her stool.

  Miranda followed reluctantly. What now?

  Lucas led them to a far corner near the restrooms. “What do you girls think you’re doing?”

  “What do you mean?” Miranda asked, crossing her ankles as she folded her arms and leaned against the wall.

  “You know good and well what I mean.” He stared her down, then glared at Tori. “Do you think this is a game?”

  His words infuriated Miranda. “Not hardly, since it’s my sister who is missing.”

  He winced. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just don’t want anything to happen to you, too. Or you either, Tori. You can’t go around playing Nancy Drew.”

  “We weren’t,” Tori said. “We were only trying to—”

  “What did Jack say?”

  “Just what he told you,” Miranda replied. “He’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

  Lucas grunted. “If you’re sure that’s it…”

  “I’m sure.”

  “All right, then.” He hesitated. “I hate seeing either of you hanging out here at night.”

  “I work here,” Tori said with a dry laugh.

  “I realize that. If you want, I can escort you home.”

  “You’re not serious.” Miranda gaped at him. “Lucas, I appreciate your concern, but we’re not children. I think we can take care of ourselves.”

  “I’m sure Jo Ella and Shannon thought the same thing,” he said. “Keep your cell phones handy.” With that, he turned and left.

  “What was he doing here, anyway?” Miranda asked.

  “He comes here on a regular basis, just looking things over,” Tori said. “So do his deputies, especially after what happened.”

  Miranda pushed off from the wall with an angry bounce. “For Pete’s sake, I feel like I’ve lost everything. My sister, my right to go where I please. How dare somebody do this to us?” She fought back tears. “How dare someone take my sister?”

  Tori gave her a one-armed hug. “Hey, take it easy, kiddo. It’ll be all right. Now what do you say we get out of here, and go have some pie and cof fee? Aunt Fae made pecan, and coconut cream from scratch.”

  Miranda rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “You’re trying to make me too heavy to ride my horse, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, whatever,” Tori said with a grin. “Now come on.”

  Miranda made sure she had her cell in her hand as they left the Spur.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LUCAS CRUISED THE STREETS of Sage Bend, then drove past the Silver Spur, satisfied to see that Miranda’s truck was no longer in the parking lot. He’d been keeping a close watch over the place ever since Jo Ella had been abducted, even though his deputies did regular patrol duty. He was one to do things himself.

  By eleven o’clock, he could no longer resist the urge to drive by Miranda’s place. From the end of the driveway he could see her truck beneath the yard light, and breathed a sigh of relief to know she’d gotten home safely. A shadow moved across the driveway—one of her dogs, the blue merle. The red one soon followed on its heels, and Lucas saw why.

  Miranda was walking just ahead of them. He hadn’t spotted her at first in the shadows cast from the barn. She was still wearing the clothes she’d had on at the Spur. The black jeans with a red blouse—her color. She wore her hair loose, and it fell down her back nearly to her waist. And she was going through the gate toward the creek.

  Impulsively, Lucas pulled into the driveway, moving slowly to give her time to reach their spot.

  It’s not your spot anymore.

  He parked, then walked as quietly as he could, knowing he risked being bitten—at the very least nipped—by those dang dogs. But she saw him before he got halfway across the yard, and she spoke to the dogs, commanding them to stay put.

  He let out a breath and picked up his pace. “Long time no see.”

  “Lucas, what are you doing?”

  He shrugged. “Just keeping an eye on your place.”

  “Trespassing?”

  His face heated. “I’m only trying to make sure you’re safe. Especially after the stunt you pulled tonight.”

  “I didn’t pull a ‘stunt.’” She put her hands on her hips as he slipped cautiously through the gate, keeping an eye on the dogs. They growled at him, but remained at Miranda’s feet. “Do you realize you make my heart jump every time I see you like this?”

  “Be still mine,” he said with a grin, clamping both his hands over the left side of his chest.

  Now it was her turn to blush. “I always think you’ve got news about Shannon.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry, Miranda. I didn’t mean to do that.” He just couldn’t stop wanting to see her. Pretending he wasn’t leery of the dogs, he walked by them and sat on the grass beside the creek.

  He waited, holding his breath.

  “You’re starting to make a habit of this,” she said, moving closer, but still standing.

  “Am I?” Lucas rested his elbows on his knees. Thunder rumbled, and he noticed for the first time that clouds had blown in to cover the moon.

  “At what exact point did you decide you were your brother and your dad all rolled into one? An hour before the wedding? How convenient.”

  He cast a sideways glance at her. “What did you want me to do, Miranda? Take the kids to visit Grandpa in the state pen? Explain to them why he lives behind bars?”

  “Kids? You didn’t give us a chance to get that far.”

  He stood. “You’re right. Let’s just leave the past in the past.”

  “I’m not the one who keeps coming onto your property.”

  Formally, he touched the brim of his hat. “’Scuse me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to trespass.” With that, he turned and walked away, hoping those damn dogs didn’t heel him.

  “Go on. Walk away,” Miranda said. “You’re real good at that.”

  He wanted to turn back and take her into his arms, kiss her senseless and tell her he loved her.

  Instead, he went back to the Blazer and drove away.

  HE WAS IN THE PERFECT mood to visit his brother. Even though Clint had done his share in helping to look for Shannon, Lucas heard rumors around town that his drinking had gone from bad to worse—so much for being on the wagon—and that he and Dena had been fighting a lot more lately. Would his brother ever learn?

  The lights were on in most of the rooms of the house. Turning off his headlights, Lucas glided quietly down the gravel driveway and shut off the engine. He eased the SUV door shut and walked as carefully as he could around the side of the place. Already he could hear raised voices above the country music. He felt unexpectedly disappointed.

  Lucas peered throug
h the kitchen window, careful to stay back enough to not be seen.

  He was just in time to see Clint backhand Dena.

  That was it. Lucas’s first instinct was to burst through the door and arrest his worthless brother. But common sense and law enforcement training told him he needed to follow procedure and call for backup.

  In the Blazer, he radioed in. Garrett answered and promised he and Frank would be there right away. Lucas knew he should wait. But he couldn’t leave Dena to get hit again. Lord knew, he was probably already too late for that. He went back and hammered on the door with his fist.

  “Open up, Clint, or I swear I’ll kick the door in!” It only took a heartbeat for Clint to yank it open.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t my big brother, come a callin’.” He gave Lucas a smirking grin. Clint held the door wide. “Come on in, Lukie.” Holding his temper in check, Lucas stepped inside.

  Dena sat at the table, unmoving. “Hi, Lucas. What brings you out this way?”

  “Thought I’d stop by and say hello,” he told them. “And here I am, just in time to witness that backhand you gave your wife, Clint. What is wrong with you?”

  “What goes on between me and Dena is our business,” Clint said, slurring his words.

  “Well, it’s my business now.” Hearing sirens out on the dirt road, Lucas stepped closer to his brother. “Put your hands up where I can see ’em.”

  Clint gave him a dirty look, but complied, and as Lucas patted him down, his anger suddenly vanished. He knew it was the alcohol that made his brother behave the way he did. They hadn’t really had much to do with each other in quite some time, but Lucas recalled the days when they used to go fishing together, share a six-pack. A six-pack had turned into a twelve-pack for Clint, then a case. And the gap between them had grown, until there seemed to be no closeness left.

  Lucas extracted a large, barely legal knife from Clint’s pocket. He laid it on the kitchen table amid the playing cards and poker chips, then reached for his handcuffs. “You’re under arrest for domestic violence. You have the right to remain silent—”

  “Clint, don’t arrest him,” Dena said gently. “Please.” She got up from the chair. “We were just arguing over the card game. It was nothing, really.”

  Lucas felt only pity as he stared at his sister-in-law. It was something he’d never understand—women who let men hit them. “Dena, it’s the law. It’s out of my hands.” He pushed Clint toward the open door just as Garrett and Frank walked in.

  “What’s the problem here?” Garrett asked in a gruff voice.

  “I witnessed Clint striking his wife in the face.”

  “No way,” Clint retorted. “You weren’t even here when—”

  “When what, Clint?” Frank said.

  “I can’t frickin’ believe this,” Clint stormed. “My own brother, arresting me.”

  “Put a sock in it,” Garrett said. “You brought this on yourself, Clint, same as usual.”

  “Why don’t you come with me,” Frank said to Dena. “Let’s go into the living room and you can tell me what happened.”

  “She doesn’t have anything to tell you,” Clint said. “Do you, Dena?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t let him bully you,” Frank said, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Come on. It’ll be all right.” He steered her from the room.

  Lucas marched Clint out to the Blazer. “Watch your head,” he said, thrusting him into the backseat, wishing he could bash Clint’s head against the doorjamb—knock some sense into him.

  And suddenly, he saw the irony in that. Taking a deep breath, he pinned his brother with a hard gaze. “I’ll be back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Clint grumbled.

  And he wasn’t. Normally, Lucas would’ve been worried about him bolting, even with the cuffs on. But the Blazer’s back door handles were rigged to open only from the outside, and the front and rear seats were separated by a metal, mesh divider.

  Back in the house, Frank was still questioning Dena. “So, what’s going on?” Lucas asked.

  “Apparently they got into it over a poker game,” Frank said. “They had a couple of friends over, who left about twenty minutes ago. Anyway, Clint accused Dena of cheating.”

  “It’s only because I was beating him,” Dena said. “His ego couldn’t take it. Clint thinks he’s a cardsharp.” She smirked. “Thinks he’s better than those guys on TV even.”

  Lucas heard one of his nephews crying, from a room down the hall. Probably Cody, who was just three.

  “Dena,” Lucas said, “do you want Cody and Jason to grow up thinking this is the way to treat a woman?”

  “I—” Her lip trembled. Abruptly, she turned to go to her sons, and disappeared down the hall.

  FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF days, all Miranda could think about, when she wasn’t busy worrying over Shannon, was Lucas. The Fourth of July had come and gone, and she’d sat with Paige on the barn roof of the Rocking W, watching fireworks. But her heart wasn’t in it.

  She couldn’t believe Lucas had actually left her house, only to arrest his brother. Clint had cooled his heels in a jail cell overnight. Had Lucas taken his anger at her out on Clint? Or had he simply wanted to prove to himself that he was nothing like the man? Would he ever believe it?

  By Thursday, Shannon had been missing for almost two weeks. Neither the state police nor Lucas’s team had found anything useful. The results of the fingerprints on the note Miranda had found taped to her mailbox—if there were any—were expected back soon.

  Miranda drove to her mom’s place just before supper with a bottle of wine in hand. She poured them each a glass, then dug one of Dena’s casseroles out of the freezer to thaw in the microwave.

  A short while later they sat in the living room, each balancing a plate of macaroni and hamburger, and thick slices of buttered garlic bread. One thing Paige did when she was nervous was bake, and Miranda bit into the bread with relish.

  After a couple of glasses of wine, Paige said, “I think I’m going to head to bed. Why don’t you stay?”

  “I might just do that,” Miranda replied. She’d had a little too much wine.

  “Well, good night, then. Leave the dishes and I’ll get them in the morning.”

  “All right.”

  The room seemed big and overly quiet once Paige left. Miranda wandered down the hall, but instead of going into her old room, she went into Shannon’s. She turned on the light and was immediately overwhelmed by the familiar sights and scents. The double bed beneath the window, covered by a thick, navy-blue comforter with galloping horses decorating the fabric. Shannon’s favorite stuffed animal—a ragged palomino horse—leaning against the pillows. Matching end tables with lamps made of twisted faux barbed wire.

  The massive bookshelf on the far wall beside the closet. Some of Shannon’s clothes draped on a chair; a pair of her old cowboy boots stuffed into the corner beside a wastebasket. On impulse, Miranda made her way to the trash can and looked inside, but it was empty.

  Kicking off her own boots, Miranda sat on the edge of the bed and removed her jeans. She shut off the light and slid between the sheets. The moment her head hit the pillow, she could smell Shannon’s favorite perfume. It was enough to undo her last resolve.

  Miranda bit her lips to stop the burning tears. This was all so unfair. Shannon was a good person who’d never done a thing to harm anyone else.

  Miranda stared at the ceiling until she finally fell asleep.

  LUCAS DROVE TO MIRANDA’S early Friday morning, after getting a call from Carrie Hopkins at the DA’s office. What she had told him put a new light on things.

  At any rate, Lucas wanted to smooth things over with Miranda, and was disappointed to find her truck wasn’t in the driveway. Maybe she was at her mom’s place.

  He headed out to the Rocking W and was rewarded not only with the sight of her vehicle as he pulled up the long driveway, but Tori’s car as well.

  On the porch, Lucas knocke
d, and Paige opened the door. “Sheriff. Come on in.” She held it open. “We were just sitting down to coffee. I’ll get you a cup.”

  “Much obliged,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Lucas,” Tori said.

  Miranda met his gaze, then looked away.

  “How are you ladies holding up?” he asked.

  “Hanging in,” Miranda muttered. “Thanks, Mom,” she added as Paige set a mug of steaming coffee in front of her.

  “We’re going to get through this,” the older woman said, pouring Lucas an oversize mug.

  “I’ll just be glad when that stinking trial is over and Shannon is finally home,” Tori said.

  Lucas looked sharply at her. “What’s the trial got to do with Shannon coming home?”

  Her face turned red. “Nothing. I just meant I’ll be glad when we find her, and the trial is over.”

  “That’s not what you said.” Lucas studied her, certain Tori was hiding something. “You said it as though, once the trial was over, Shannon would be home.”

  She gave a dry laugh, focusing on her coffee. “Don’t be ridiculous. The trial’s another week away, and Shannon’s going to be found any day now.”

  But her expression didn’t match her words.

  “Lucas, what are you getting at?” Miranda demanded.

  “I’ll let you know when I’m sure,” he said. “Tori, can I talk to you in the other room for a minute?”

  She set her mug down, sloshing coffee over the rim, then quickly wiping it up with a napkin. “Sure.” She made an effort to look carefree as she stood. “Whatever.”

  Lucas motioned her into the living room.

  She sat on one end of the couch, and he took the chair right next to her. “Tori, if there’s anything you know that you haven’t already told me, you need to now.” He pulled out his ace in the hole. “I had Carrie Hopkins, from the DA’s office, go through Shannon’s e-mails again. She searched through the trash can and pulled up all of the deleted files that had been dumped.”

  Tori’s eyes widened.

  “Nothing’s ever really gone from your computer, if a person has the knowledge to find it again. I think you know what I’m about to say.”