Loving the Texas Lawman_A Texas Lawman Romantic Suspense

by Mary Connealy

  “He came to see me today.

  “What?” Ben’s jaw clenched until he thought his teeth might crack. “You’ve spent all this time telling me about firing Ethel and you didn’t mention Watson?”

  “I knew I had to tell you, but I’ve been dreading it. You’ve been doing so well with your temper and this is going to make you mad.”

  Ben forced his whitened knuckles to remain in control of his vehicle on the multi-lane rush hour traffic. He glanced at her and saw her rigid muscles and the deep lines at the corners of her eyes that told him she was exhausted. He laid the insomnia at Watson’s feet. Of course, it sounded like she’d suffered from that forever, but Watson made it worse.

  “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.” He looked back at the road and was surprised that someone wound so tight could manage a weak laugh. “What’s funny about any of this?”

  “If your therapy was a class, I’d say that last sentence would earn you an ‘F’.”

  Ben exited and headed for Tru’s posh neighborhood. “Tell me what he said.”

  “Only if you’ll promise to react with love.”

  “To Watson?”

  Tru held up one hand. “Yes, to Watson. At least while he’s miles away and we’re alone in this pick-up. Just do it for practice.”

  Ben took the exit to Tru’s house and once on the surface streets he slowed to a stop at a light and looked at her. Beneath the tired, dark-circled eyes was a glimmer of what made Trudy Jennings so special. She believed all the stuff she spouted. She tried to love the world into being a better place. The least he could do was behave during what amounted to an acting lesson.

  With a sigh that made it sound like he was exhausted too, Ben said, “Okay. Now what did the little creep…?”

  “Ben!”

  He grinned at her. “I mean,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes in his best girly-man fashion. “Tell me about it, and let’s figure out how we can help this poor lost soul.”

  Tru rolled her eyes. “Nicely done. Since you’re in character, I’ll tell you.”

  “And that’s when you fired Ethel?”

  Trudy noticed Watson wasn’t across the street. She reached for the door handle, wondering if there was a chance in a thousand she could head right for bed and get some sleep. “Yes, I fired her. Heads are rolling around me like I’m Madame Dufarge. I’m telling you, Ben, it’s a wonder I didn’t phone Eleanor and fire her. And I love Eleanor.”

  Trudy jerked the door open and slid down to the pavement. Why did men always have to buy vehicles that floated ten feet off the ground?

  “She is a little bossy.”

  Trudy whirled around. “Don’t you dare say a single hurtful thing about Eleanor. I won’t stand for it.”

  “Gotcha.” Ben laughed. “I love Eleanor, too. She’s safe from me.”

  “I knew that.” Trudy grumbled, “How can you laugh?”

  “Because this is a great day.”

  “A great day? It’s one of the worst days of my life.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. But Watson violated the restraining order. I’ll run him in as soon as I can get my hands on him.”

  “He’ll just get right back out.” Trudy admitted she was scared to death of Watson and so tired, her synapses fired like popcorn.

  “Not this time.” Ben skirted the pick-up and walked beside her toward the house. “Violating the order is a misdemeanor, but grabbing you when you tried to make a call is assault. holding you against your will, if we push it to the limit, that’s kidnapping. And I’m picking the judge this time. I wonder if Mom could fill in here in Long Pine for a day this week? We’ll get an arrest warrant and this time, it’ll stick.”

  “You know, you don’t have to come in.”

  “You know, I do.”

  Trudy knew he did. “You’re right. We haven’t worked much on your therapy. We’ve spent most of the time with me telling you my troubles.”

  “But I didn’t go nuts and rave about your troubles, did I?”

  “Well, you did call him a…”

  “I mean for the most part. So that was my therapy for today.”

  Trudy was too tired to argue with him. As an experienced insomniac, she could sense that her body had had enough. Maybe she would sleep tonight.

  She laughed when Eleanor met them at the front door with her skillet and a can of mace.

  Ben kissed the housekeeper good-bye.

  And Trudy was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Her last thought as she fell asleep was, Oklahoma City should have been the capitol of Oklahoma, not Tulsa.

  22

  Trudy didn’t quit her job. Watson didn’t get arrested.

  “He’s dropped out of sight. He’s on the run.” Ben grumbled about it every day on their rides to and from work.

  When Trudy and Eleanor moved back to the pink monstrosity, Trudy felt Watson’s presence, even though he was no longer at the parking lot. Florida and an elderly great aunt sounded like heaven on earth.

  She was still determined to quit and put some real space between herself, and Watson and more than that, her own failure. But it was mid-December, finals week was coming and so was her eviction date. She was just too busy to quit and move away.

  She’d imposed on Eleanor for a while and the temporary situation suited Trudy. Abandoning the house and losing all her clothing and most of her personal possessions to Watson’s vandalism had left her feeling lighter. Except for the weight of fear.

  Now, with no house to make payments on and most of her possessions fitting in the suitcases she’d taken to Garrison’s Thanksgiving, she had the option of picking up and running anytime she wanted.

  Trudy had ruthlessly sold things in preparation for her move. Top quality used furniture was surprisingly valuable. It helped put Trudy on a good enough financial footing to pay her share of Eleanor’s rent.

  Trudy considered accepting some offers to go on the paid speaker circuit over the Christmas break. But she was too demoralized to believe her advice was worthy of air time.

  When she’d moved home, Ben had given her the sweet, sentimental gift of mace, with orders to keep it right at hand, day and night. With her house stripped of almost everything, and Eleanor asleep to rest up for Trudy’s moving day tomorrow, Trudy spent her last night in her home lying awake. She felt relatively safe with Watson on the run, Eleanor in the next room, chemical weapons at hand, and the security system in place.

  With no hope for sleep anytime time soon, Trudy got up and paced, careful to keep her lights off, to stay away from the windows and to keep quiet…no reason Eleanor had to stay awake with her.

  Trudy heard a sound she couldn’t identity. And she was a woman used to the sounds of her house in the night.

  It didn’t repeat itself but she thought it might’ve come from Eleanor’s room. Trudy’s old room had been farther away from Eleanor. Was it possible her faithful housekeeper had nightmares and Trudy had never known?

  She went to the door and opened it. Looking across the hall to Eleanor’s bedroom, she saw the door just barely ajar.

  Another sound came from that room.

  Maybe.

  It was too faint to be sure.

  Trudy took an uncertain step, not liking the idea of invading Eleanor’s privacy by looking in on her while she slept. But if she was having a nightmare bad enough to disrupt her sleep, maybe Trudy could help.

  She reached for the knob and swung the door open. A light was on in the bathroom connected to Eleanor’s bedroom and it cast enough light for Trudy to see Eleanor’s eyes wide open, glazed with fear.

  And then she saw the gag. Eleanor shook her head and struggled. Her hands were bound by ropes.

  “Don’t move Dr. Jennings.” Ralph Watson stepped out of the darkness of Eleanor’s room, a gun in hand.

  The gun pointed at Trudy first, then it slowly swung toward Eleanor.

  “No, don’t hurt her.”

  A cold smile appeared on Watson’s grizzled face
. “If you go with me quietly, she won’t be hurt.” Watson’s eyes rabbited around the room. He panted like a trapped animal, his head moving from side to side as if he hunted for…her.

  He looked up and Trudy’s heart stopped. She thought of her mace, and her cell phone, left on her nightstand.

  His eyes locked on her and the wildness faded, replaced by a hungry look that terrified Trudy.

  “Give me what I want, or I’ll take it.” He lunged at her and grabbed her arm.

  She screamed and jerked away. She turned and ran. If she could get outside, he’d come after her and leave Eleanor alone and someone would hear her scream.

  She neared the top of the stairs as Watson hit her from behind. “Give me what I want!”

  He shoved her onto the carpeted stairs. Her arms flew up and broke her fall.

  With a quick twist and a loud grunt, Trudy knocked Watson aside and scrambled to her feet. She practically dove down the stairs and was nearly down when Watson grabbed her arm and yanked. She whipped around, knocked into him and he tumbled toward her, they both rolled to the base of the stairs.

  Wearing a long, navy flannel nightgown, her legs got twisted in the fabric and she fought her way to her feet.

  Watson’s heavy, fumbling hands clawed at her legs. “You’re coming with me. Give me what I want.”

  She tripped, rolled to her back and kicked wildly as Watson rose above her. She nailed him in the face with her heel. Watson snarled like a wounded animal.

  Another kick landed lower. He collapsed backward as Trudy screamed with everything in her.

  She shoved herself up. Watson lay between her and the front door so she raced for the kitchen door.

  “Give me what I want!” Watson’s voice, breathless, grew stronger as Trudy ran.

  Dashing past her kitchen phone, she grabbed its cordless receiver. She could call 911 as soon as she put enough space between her and Watson.

  The sturdy latch on the kitchen door fought her hands. Watson shouted, “I’ll take it. I’ll take it. Give me what I want.” His voice came nearer.

  The lock released and she jerked the door open and darted onto her patio. Running across her yard to get away from the light that spilled outside through the doorway, she fell over one of the many decorative rocks landscaping the edge of her beach. The rock scraped the skin off her toes and grated across her ankles. She landed face down, eating a mouth full of sand. Crawling for a few seconds on her hands and knees, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Watson’s form appeared, dark and menacing, in her doorway. Trudy froze. Stifling her gasping breath, her chest screamed out in pain.

  Watson grabbed the door frame and looked around the dark beach. She realized in her dark pajamas and half concealed by the stone, he couldn’t see her. She waited, afraid to use the phone, afraid to even breathe as he scanned the beach.

  “Give me what I want,” he howled above the pounding waves. The dull gleam of the gray metal gun caught Trudy’s eyes.

  Her stomach twisted. The thought of Watson’s brutal hands on her terrified her, but she realized she’d never gone so far in her daydreams as to wind up dead.

  She looked at his savage face, the tattered clothes and the filth that came out of a disturbed mind. Trudy knew he was fully capable of pulling the trigger.

  Watson caressed the gun like he was holding a kitten in his hand. As he stared out into the night, he stopped screaming at her and crooned, “Give me what I want. Or I’ll take it. I’ll take it. I’ll take it.”

  The words continued, barely audible over the crashing surf. A litany of madness.

  Looking carefully left and right, he stepped outside. Did she dare stay where she was? If he turned away, even for a few seconds, she’d risk dialing the phone. She could keep the phone behind the rock, but the phone beeped when she dialed. Even over the rush of the pounding surf, she didn’t know how far the sound carried. She didn’t dare risk it right now. He was too alert. Despite his obsessive repetition of his demand, he held the gun with icy steadiness. And her position was only hidden by her stillness.

  “Watson, turn around.”

  Trudy jumped at the deep voice coming from inside her house. Ben!

  He appeared behind Watson on the far side of the kitchen island. It was the middle of the night. How had Ben known she needed him?

  A thrill raced through her as she lay motionless on her belly on the sand. Ben was here. Everything would be all right. The intensity of the relief and joy sent a shudder through her that wracked her from head to toe.

  Watson turned to the voice. As he moved, with his right side away from Ben, Watson slipped the gun back into the pocket of his tattered black trench coat. Did Ben know Watson was armed? Had he seen the gun?

  Her joy turned to a terror more intense than when she’d confronted a lunatic in her home.

  Trudy quickly dialed 911 while she watched Watson face Ben. Watson stepped back into the kitchen.

  She heard Ben say, in a soft voice, “Let’s talk about this, Mr. Watson. Let me help you.”

  Watson’s hand went slowly to his pocket.

  Without waiting for anyone to answer it, Trudy laid the phone aside, hoping the 911 operator would figure out there was trouble and send help.

  Ben had come to save her. Now she cowered here in the dirt while he risked his life rather than just shoot this lunatic. Ben was trying to be the man Trudy had pressured him to be.

  She studied Watson for seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity. All her life, she’d made it her personal crusade to return good for evil. She’d gained whatever self-respect she possessed by believing herself to be a Christian who loved first, last and always.

  Now she was faced with the same choice she’d had in her office, only this time what she decided about love and hate meant more than her own sin. It could mean Ben’s life. Did her faith stretch to forgiving a man intent on killing her…and Ben?

  Watson’s hand slid a fraction of an inch at a time into his trench coat pocket.

  The seagulls screamed overhead.

  ‘Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’

  That, she heard. And that’s what Ben was doing: laying down his life for her.

  Trudy climbed to her hands and knees.

  “Mr. Watson, you know you shouldn’t be here. You’re not thinking clearly.” Ben watched Watson carefully, conscious of every move, including the hand easing into the weighted down pocket.

  “She knows I need her help.” Watson’s voice was gruff and low, but as he spoke the sound grew higher pitched, fractured.

  “She promised me. She didn’t keep her promise. She needs to give me what I want. If she doesn’t, I’ll take it. I’ll take it. I have to. It’s her fault, not mine.”

  He’d been listening to Trudy all semester. He didn’t want to resort to violence with Watson, that wasn’t God’s way. But when he heard Watson’s ranting, something primal awakened in Ben that made all his usual anger pale by comparison.

  Ben fought down the hate. A soft answer. A soft answer. It was a sin to hate Watson the way he did right now. God, help. I don’t feel any love for this man at all.

  Then something miraculous happened.

  His furious, murderous heart didn’t win. God did. And Ben knew what he had to say.

  “God loves you, Ralph.”

  A mumbling Watson stepped further into the kitchen. A large island stood between them.

  Flecks of foam sprinkled the corners of Watson’s mouth. His unshaven face was haggard. His whole body sagged as if under the weight of his hatred of everything and everyone.

  With those miraculous words, sent by God, peace washed through Ben. He never took his eyes off Watson. All his cop instincts were on high alert, but he felt the power of God flowing through him. This is what was at the heart of turning the other cheek, this knowledge of the love of God. The protection of a soul through faith in Jesus Christ.

  Ben understood for the first time that Wat
son couldn’t hurt him. Even in death, God would protect Ben’s soul.

  “It’s the strangest thing, Ralph. Knowing how much God loves you fixes everything. If everyone could just tap into that love, no one would be angry. No one would hurt another human being. There wouldn’t even be hunger or poverty because we’d be sharing everything.”

  Watson’s left hand rested on the countertop of the island. Ben saw what seemed like detached madness in the man. He doubted if Watson even understood him.

  “God will forgive your sins if you just ask. He knows the anger that boils inside you. He can heal it. He can replace it with peace. How long has it been since you’ve known peace, Ralph?”

  Some of the glazed look faded from Watson’s eyes. “Peace?” The word seemed laced with scorn. “There’s no peace in this world. The strongest win. The strongest take. That’s life.”

  Ben had reached Watson’s fracturing mind enough to communicate, but he knew the man was dangerous. Even talking in ways that made sense, the fury boiled out.

  Watson’s right hand disappeared into his coat pocket. Ben let his arms hang loose at his sides, his gun tucked into a holster in the middle of his back. God stayed his hand and gave him more words.

  “I forgive you, Ralph.”

  Watson’s hand stopped moving and came into view as he gripped the counter. “Forgive me? For what? I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “You’ve made someone I care about feel terrible. You left her bleeding and terrified in a parking lot. You made her fear the phone and the mail and the dark. You harassed a sweet lady who only wants to help people. You hurt her and taught her some cruel lessons about how hard it can be to love others.”

  Ben took a step toward him. “She’s not as innocent as she was before she met you and that’s a terrible loss. Her joy in living was a great gift to the world. But, even though you’ve done all that, I still forgive you.”

  “I don’t want your forgiveness.” Watson’s voice chilled Ben with its artic hate.

  Dark greasy hair framed Watson’s eyes as they lost focus.

  “You have it anyway, Ralph.” Ben remembered Trudy advising they should call her stalker by his first name. Ben bit back a smile. Trudy had been right about that, too. She’d been right about everything.