by Dana Mentink
He knew the truth behind what he imagined was supposed to be a kidding tone. Ray was right. Owen knew his faults; he was stubborn, prideful, a guy who could talk to horses easier than people, and was probably a fool more than he would ever admit, a man with anger, a man with a broken body.
Most of all, he was the kind of man that didn’t stick around. Ella deserved a partner who would stay, one who was willing to make her priority number one. She’d been left behind enough, by him, by Ray, by her father.
Ella stirred and sighed. He moved closer and before he fully understood his own actions, he’d touched his mouth to hers, one gentle kiss that filled him with a profound sadness for what he knew he could not have.
Her eyes opened and he realized there was no color more beautiful in all God’s creation than the soft green tint of Ella Cahill’s eyes. She swam back to consciousness.
“How are you feeling?” he said.
She cleared her throat. “Like a horse kicked me in the head.”
“That’s the carbon monoxide. Doc said it will dissipate soon.”
“I wonder what he considers soon.” She rubbed her forehead. “Can I go home now?”
“Soon.”
She frowned. “There’s that word again. Have they caught Linda Ferron?”
“No, but they will...”
“If you say soon again I’ll deck you.”
He smiled at her sass. “I was going to say ‘keep us posted.’”
“Oh, right.” She bit her lip. “I feel sorry for Linda.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Linda almost killed us.”
“I know, but Bruce ruined her financially and emotionally. I’m worried if we don’t stop him he’ll do the same to Candy. He’s already cost her her nephew and she still won’t believe anything bad about Reed.”
“The cops will find Linda.” He refrained from adding soon. “In the meantime, we can see how Team Thorn is doing tracking down Reed’s wife. Maybe she will be more helpful.”
“Right.” Her phone buzzed and he handed it to her. Her frown deepened as she read the message. “It’s my lawyer. I have to schedule a meeting to go over my defense, if I can think of one.” She looked so burdened with worry that he reached over and tousled her hair.
“Hey, kiddo. We’re going to find evidence to clear you. We’re getting close.”
“We were close with the thermos and then with Linda. One step forward, one colossal leap backward.”
“That’s not the attitude that wins battles.”
“It’s hard to be positive when my head is pounding and I smell like a barbecue.”
“I wasn’t going to bring it up, but you do kinda smell a little on the well-done side.”
“Come closer so I can deck you now.” She quirked a pained smile and his soul rejoiced while at the same time his gut quivered with worry. She was right—they hadn’t turned up anything to incriminate Bruce Reed, but they’d nearly been killed. That had to indicate they were getting close, didn’t it?
It was as if he could hear the moments ticking down on the clock, closer and closer. To victory? Or to her imprisonment?
Speed it up, Owen. You’re running out of time.
* * *
Ella insisted that Owen stop at a thrift store before they drove back to Gold Bar. “I am not spending one more moment in smoky clothes and neither are you.”
“You go ahead. It’s only an hour drive,” he said. “I can wait.”
“With you driving, it’s more like two.”
He ignored the jibe. “I don’t like clothes shopping. I’m very hard to please.”
“Then I’ll pick for you.” She opened the passenger door and he tried to hand her some money.
Her face went red and he realized he’d hurt her pride. “I can afford some used clothing, Owen.” Slamming the door behind her, she strode into the thrift shop, head high.
How would she feel about the order he’d placed just before they left to meet Linda for Betsy’s new wheelchair cushion? It was a battle for another day. In fifteen minutes, she returned with a large paper sack and they stopped at a café, ordered coffee to go and she used the bathroom to change. She emerged with baggy sweatpants and a long-sleeved green knit shirt that made her eyes sparkle like gems. She held out a shirt to him.
He clutched the shirt. “I can’t wear this,” he said, holding up the garment emblazoned with a white cartoonish unicorn. The I Break for Unicorns shirt was at least in a manly gray color.
She began to giggle, eventually laughing so hard she almost dropped the bag. “I think it suits you, and besides, it was the only thing big enough to fit.”
“I can’t...”
“Change,” she ordered. “I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.”
“But...”
“Tick tock, Owen.”
Grumbling, he took the clothes and found the restroom. She’d done all right with the jeans, though they were not the style he preferred and would be transferred to the bottom of the closet the moment he got home. When he rejoined her, she started laughing all over again.
“I’m putting my own shirt back on,” he said, turning.
She grabbed his wrist. “No way. I finally got the smoke out of my lungs, Owen. Don’t mess up the air in the car again.”
“If anybody sees me in this, my life is over.”
“You can tell them you’re in disguise.”
“Disguises are meant for you to blend in. No one wears disguises with unicorns on them.”
“Trendsetter,” she teased.
On impulse he ducked behind the truck, emerging a few seconds later with a triumphant grin and the shirt worn inside out. “There.”
“Now you look like you can’t dress yourself.”
“Better than people thinking I wear unicorn shirts.” Muttering, he got into the truck and accepted the cup of coffee. She handed over a foil-wrapped hot dog. “There was a stand next to the thrift store. Here’s one with your favorite condiment,” she said. “Maybe it will make up for the shirt.”
The hot dog was just the way he liked, plain except for one narrow ribbon of mustard, perfectly applied. It didn’t quite negate the unicorn shirt, but his stomach appreciated the effort. She only ate half of her own hot dog, slathered with ketchup and sweet relish.
“Not hungry?”
She shook her head. “I guess it’s all catching up with me. I just want to be home in time to watch Jeopardy! with Betsy and put this awful day behind me.”
“Don’t worry. Even with my snail-pace driving, as you put it, we’ll be home in plenty of time.”
A light rain spattered on the front windshield as predicted by the hourly Doppler he’d checked before they took off. The wipers kept time to his thoughts. If the cops found Linda Ferron, would her word be enough to implicate Bruce Reed? What about Reed’s wife? How could the man with such a pattern of evil be so hard to pin with a crime? He was careful to cover his tracks, Owen had to give him that.
He thought Ella had drifted off to sleep, until she squirmed and fished for her phone.
“Hello?” Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she hit the speaker button. “Where are you?”
He heard sniffling, the sound of traffic.
“I’m scared,” Linda said.
Then it was his turn to gape in surprise. Linda was on the phone? Took him a minute to remember Ella had given her a business card.
“Where are you?” Ella repeated. “We’ll come and get you.”
“He’ll find me. I didn’t want to lock you in the shed, but he was watching, he knew I talked to you.” More crying. “I’m scared, I’m scared. He’ll kill me.” Linda’s voice rose to a wail.
“We won’t let him hurt you. Tell us where you are and we’ll send the police. They’ll keep you safe.”
There was a long pause. “I told the truth. I k
now I did bad things, terrible things, but in the end I told the truth, didn’t I?”
“You’re not making sense, Linda. Just take a breath. It’s going to be okay. Tell me where you are, please.”
“A coffee shop on Route Five, The Morning Joe.”
Owen frantically punched in a search on his phone to locate the shop. “Ten minutes,” he whispered to Ella.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Ella said. “Linda, you go back inside and stay there. Nothing bad will happen, okay? Stay inside, do you hear me?”
With a sob, Linda disconnected.
Ella stared at him. “I’ll call the police.”
“And I’ll head for Route Five.” Ten minutes. As he pressed the accelerator, the clock began ticking down.
* * *
Ella sat on the edge of her seat. Linda was clearly distraught, and if Ella didn’t know the police were on the way, she might have suspected the woman of luring them into another trap on behalf of Bruce Reed. But there had been something so pleading in Linda’s voice, so desperate to be forgiven.
You are forgiven, as far as I’m concerned, Linda, just like I am. Uncharacteristically, Owen was driving at a good clip, and he covered the distance quickly.
“You’re not getting out of this truck until the cops arrive,” he said. “This could be another trap.”
“I’m aware, Owen, so you don’t need to go into commander mode.”
“Okay,” he said, slowing as they approached the main drag.
She craned her neck. “Did you hear a siren?”
“Yeah, coming from up the street a few blocks.”
“Good.” She huffed out a breath. “The police got there first.”
He almost didn’t want to say it. “Ella, that’s an ambulance siren.”
She pressed her hand to her mouth, fear clawing at her throat. “No, no,” she breathed.
The road ahead was blocked by the ambulance. As they stopped at a light, a police car shot by them, coming to a stop ahead. Owen found a spot on the curb a block away from the café and turned to talk to Ella but she was already leaping out.
“Wait,” he said, but he could not prevent her from running toward the coffee shop.
He had a terrible feeling that he knew what she was going to find when she got there.
NINETEEN
Ella’s overworked lungs screamed in protest, but she ran anyway, coming to a hard stop next to the paramedic. She fell to her knees. Linda was lying on her back, eyes open only the tiniest slit, blood on the corner of her mouth, her breathing labored.
“It’s okay, Linda,” Ella said. “I’m here.”
Linda’s glasses were broken, lying shattered on the cement. Ella gently touched her forehead. “We’ll get you to a hospital and you’ll be okay.”
Linda’s lips moved and Ella bent closer to hear.
“Tell her...” she whispered.
“Tell who?”
“Tell my sister. Tell her I told the truth.”
Ella could barely see through her tears. “I will tell her and she’ll forgive you. God forgives you for everything, all of it.”
Linda sighed and the crease eased from between her brows. “I told the truth.” Her voice was no bigger than a murmur, and then her eyes closed.
“Linda...” Ella whispered, but there was no answer.
The medic gently steered Ella aside and she found herself in the circle of Owen’s arms.
“I’m so sorry, Ella Jo.”
She could not answer.
Another medic joined him and they worked on Linda for what seemed like a lifetime before they stepped back and covered her with a blanket.
Her brain refused to believe it. Linda could not be dead, not another victim like Luke. Her knees might have buckled were it not for Owen’s arm supporting her.
The medic stood. “So you know this woman?”
Ella tried to speak but nothing would come out.
“Her name is Linda Ferron,” Owen said. “She lives in a trailer park in Rock Ridge. What happened?”
“Witnesses said she took a phone call, ran out the front door and was struck by a vehicle. Hit-and-run. Driver didn’t even stop.”
Her stomach convulsed. “What type of car?” she whispered.
“Older model SUV.”
Tony’s vehicle.
A police officer drew them both aside. It was the same one who had interviewed them in the hospital.
“I can tell you what happened,” Ella said, anger lending her the strength to string the words together. “She got a call from Bruce Reed or from his thug, Tony. Tony was waiting and he ran her down.”
“How would he know where to find her?”
“My guess is Reed figured we’d be going to talk to Linda Ferron and he had Tony watching her. Tony reported we were there and Bruce called to order her to lock us in the shed. He probably followed her to the café. Tying up loose ends,” Owen said bitterly.
“We’ll analyze her phone calls,” the officer said.
Ella didn’t bother to reply. Reed wouldn’t have used a traceable phone and neither would Tony. What’s more, Reed no doubt had an ironclad alibi at the time the first phone call was made and the moment when Linda Ferron was run down. “Did anyone get a license plate number from the hit-and-run driver?”
“No. Witnesses said the rear plates were smeared with mud.”
They followed the officer back to the station to file their formal statements and finally, in the late afternoon, they were on the road home. It was a silent drive. She could feel Owen sneaking glances at her but she closed her eyes and leaned against the cold window glass. What could she say? Reed had won again and finally completed his destruction of Linda Ferron. How much longer would it be before he destroyed her too?
* * *
With just a look, Owen told his family that it was not the right time to ask Ella any questions. He helped her move Betsy to Grandad’s cabin and got them settled in.
Betsy caught his hand while Ella went to clean up. He wasn’t sure how successful she’d be in washing away the terrible death of Linda Ferron. He knelt next to Betsy and though she didn’t speak, he saw the question in her eyes.
“Your sister had a bad day today.” He smoothed his palm over her fingers. “But she’s going to be okay.”
Her mouth crimped, but whether it was in worry or sadness for Ella, he did not know. He tightened his grasp on her fingers for a moment. “Betsy, I’m going to help Ella, me and my family. We’re going to take care of her and you. Do you understand?”
She nodded and sent him a tender smile. He saw the Bible tucked under her elbow, a children’s version, and he swallowed hard. “Do you...do you want me to read to you for a while?”
Again a nod, accompanied by an even bigger smile. She offered the book and it fell open to a well-worn story, Joseph and his amazing coat, which seemed to fascinate her.
When he finished, Ella was standing there in clean clothes, staring at them. He felt the weight of her emotion, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. With more assurances that he would protect her, when she’d seen Linda Ferron die before her eyes? With another promise that he would not leave her, when he had every intention of doing exactly that?
“Uh, feel better?” Dumb thing to say, but she gave a tiny nod.
When the silence grew painful, he awkwardly filled it again. “I’ll bring you two dinner in a while if you’d rather not eat in the kitchen, okay? I mean, of course, you’re invited to eat with us, you know that.”
Tears gleamed in her eyes. “Thank you.” Her voice shook.
He fought the urge to kick something as he returned to his family and explained what had happened. His mother’s face went slack with shock. “This is terrible. He’s a monster.”
“Have you found any info on his wife?”
Nerves tightened throughout his body. There had to be something, some way to bring Reed down. He shoved the chair back and grabbed his jacket from the coatrack.
“Where are you going?” his mother called.
He could hear the fear in her voice.
“To find Reed.” He tuned out the clamor of the dissenting voices behind him. Ripping open the door, he pounded down the front steps. By the time he got to the truck, Jack was there, climbing in the passenger side.
He gunned the engine, turning to his brother. “You here to try and talk me out of it?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“To watch your back.”
Owen swallowed his answer. Even through the shimmering haze of rage, he was grateful to have his brother beside him. No matter how much he sinned, how far he’d wandered, Jack and Keegan and Barrett would always support him. He silently thanked God as he lead-footed the accelerator. Heading straight for Candy Silverton’s property, he wasted no time banging on the door.
Candy opened, wrapped in a blue terry robe. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes widened in surprised as she got a gander at his singed hair. “What happened to you? You smell like you’ve been in a fire.”
“Where’s Reed?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because he had a woman killed today. You’re probably not going to believe me, but it’s the truth. Ella and I almost died too. I want to talk to Reed. Now.”
Her startled gaze shifted from him to Jack and back again. Then she stepped aside. “Come in.” She gestured for them to take a seat in the sleek leather armchairs, but they remained standing. Scattered along the glass-topped coffee table were pictures of her nephew Luke.
“I’m trying to plan his memorial,” she said, a wobble in her voice.
Owen blew out a breath. Candy was a victim of Reed also, whether she knew it or not. She didn’t deserve Owen’s hostility. “Where is he, Miss Silverton?” he asked in a gentler tone.
“He’s away checking on my broodmares.”
