Moonglow, Texas

by Mary McBride

  “No,” he said. “I’m here. With you.” Dan grinned. “And he’s not.”

  She burst out laughing. He’d caught her right in the middle of delicately sipping her wine, and she proceeded to splutter it all over herself and the table, as well. Dan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, cocking his head, still grinning.

  It was all he could do not to say I love you. Certainly a hell of a lot more than that jerk back in New York.

  After dinner, Molly stood at the kitchen sink, enjoying the warmth of the soapy dishwater, but wishing Dan hadn’t closed the curtains on the window. She much preferred gazing out into the backyard to staring at a bunch of gathered blue gingham.

  Her scheme to get her errant knight back on his charger hadn’t gone as planned. She’d had such a good time during dinner telling the truth about her past that she hadn’t wanted to ruin it with a lie about some suspicious character she’d seen in town. The fact that Dan had called Ethan a jerk didn’t even bother her. Maybe her fiancé was a jerk. Molly hadn’t really thought about him much in the past year.

  She rinsed a plate under the stream of hot water, glad that Ethan wasn’t here and that Dan was, oddly happy that she herself was here, in a crummy little house in a backwater town where she couldn’t even buy canned clams or a decent pinot noir, doing dishes in a rust-stained sink, and loving Dan Shackelford with all her heart.

  The back door squeaked as Dan came in from taking out the trash, and the next thing Molly knew his arms were around her and his lips were tantalizing her neck. When his warm breath covered her ear and he whispered sexily, “I’ll dry. Where’s the dishtowel?” he might as well have been whispering erotica for the sensual effect it had on her. Her heart drummed an extra beat and her bloodstream heated up a few degrees.

  “No, don’t let go,” she said, putting the rinsed plate down in order to clasp his arms more tightly around her. “This is so nice. So sweet. So…I don’t know. So domestic.”

  From his silence, Molly immediately knew she’d chosen the wrong word—domestic—to describe her bliss. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She could practically hear the workings of Dan’s mind—Domestic? Marriage? Me?—and especially the squeal of the mental brakes as he applied them.

  His embrace loosened perceptibly. “Molly, honey, my life’s pretty messed up right now. I…”

  “Silly. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she said quickly and brightly, cutting him off, reaching for another plate to scrub and rinse. “All I meant was that it’s nice to finally feel comfortable here after hating this place for a year. That’s all. The dish towel’s right over there, by the way.”

  She angled her head toward the metal bar near the refrigerator at the same time she cursed herself for spoiling the moment. It only made sense that a man who considered himself on the skids would be reluctant to deepen a relationship, no matter how much he cared about a woman. He cared. She knew he did. It was time, Molly decided, to pull her little scheming rabbit out of the hat.

  “Here.” She handed him a plate. “Something really odd happened today while I was at the Pick ’n Pay. I forgot to tell you.”

  He frowned. “What was that?”

  “Well, for just a split second, I thought I saw Jorgen Metz passing by, out on the street. You know who I mean, right? That eerie-looking albino with the—”

  “I know who you mean,” he said gruffly. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t exactly forget, I guess. I just didn’t want to spoil our dinner by having you get all bent out of shape.”

  “Dammit, Molly.” He took a last swipe at the plate and put it down on the counter. “We’re not kinder-gartners playing hide and seek, here. This is serious.”

  “See! You are all bent out of shape. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. Here.” She handed him a wineglass. “Dry this.”

  When he glared at her, she added, “It was probably just my imagination. I mean, he’s such a creepy guy, it certainly would have registered more if I’d really seen him.”

  “Well, just what did you see?”

  She gave a thoughtful pause, as if searching her memory when what she was actually doing was trying to invent a plausible story. “I can’t say that I saw him, exactly. It was more of an impression. Fleeting. There he was, and then there he wasn’t. Like that.” She snapped her fingers, but because they were slippery with soap, it wasn’t quite the cavalier gesture she’d intended.

  “But you saw enough to believe it was Metz?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Okay.” He put the dry wineglass down, then handed Molly the dish towel. “Dry your hands. Pack a quick bag. We’re going to Houston.”

  “Dan!” Good grief. She’d wanted to get him back in the saddle, for heaven’s sake. No way was she going to Houston. No way would she let him foist her off on another agent there.

  “I can’t leave,” she said. “I told you that before.”

  “You’re leaving. With or without a bag. It’s up to you.”

  “No, Dan, I…”

  His hands clamped her upper arms like two vises. His eyes were practically shooting sparks when he said, “And you can ride in the front seat with me, or in the trunk. That’s up to you, too. But, Molly, you are leaving.”

  “All right. All right,” she said, pulling out of his grasp. “I’ll go toss a few things in a suitcase and get my laptop. But I think you’re overreacting, Dan. I really do.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what I get paid for,” he grumbled as she left the kitchen. Then, as she made her way down the hall, he yelled, “And close the curtains in the bedroom while you’re in there.”

  “Fine,” Molly shouted back. And after she closed the curtains, if she even bothered with the stupid things, she’d have to find a different rabbit to pull out of a hat. The albino one obviously hadn’t worked.

  While Molly packed, Dan sat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers on its top. He had his car keys in his pocket and his gun was still nestled in the small of his back so there was no reason to go out to the trailer. The minute Molly was ready, they’d get in the car and go.

  He’d wait to call Bobby from someplace down the road, just in case there was a bug on Molly’s phone. In a little over three hours, he’d have her in Houston and out of danger. Assuming she was in danger. At this point, Dan didn’t care if he wound up looking like a hysterical, overreacting idiot, or turned into the butt of deputies’ jokes for the next ten years. All that mattered was Molly’s safety. And he wouldn’t be around to hear the jokes, anyway.

  “Molly,” he called. “Are you almost ready?”

  “Just about.”

  “Well, hurry the hell up.”

  Just then he heard a car pull into the driveway, followed immediately by the slamming of two doors. He was already reaching for his gun when he heard Raylene’s unmistakable voice.

  “You get your sorry butt in there, young man, and you apologize for all you’re worth. Do you hear me?”

  Dan was already at the door when he heard Buddy Jr. whimper “Yes, ma’am. Ouch!” to the woman who was pulling him along by one ear. Dan glanced at the car they’d just parked behind his, blocking his exit, and decided to get rid of them quick. Whatever the kid was supposed to apologize for, Dan was ready to graciously and promptly accept, then send them on their way.

  “Hey, Raylene. What’s up?” he asked, pushing open the screen door.

  “Tell him, Buddy. Go on.” She cuffed the boy and sent him stumbling across the threshold into the kitchen before coming inside herself. “My Lord, Danny. I’m so ashamed of this child of mine, I could just curl up and die.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” Dan said.

  “That’s what you think,” the beautician said while she was rummaging around in her oversize handbag. “What about this?” She pulled a .357 Magnum from the depths of her bag. There was a silencer screwed to its muzzle.

  Dan took the revolver from her before she blew his head
off. “Where did you get this, Raylene?” he asked, making sure the safety was on.

  “It’s Buddy Sr.’s,” she said, then turned to her son, who looked as if he was about to cry. “Go ahead. Start talking, mister. Nice and loud. Danny’s waiting.” She tapped a high-heeled sandal on the floor. “We’re all waiting.”

  Buddy Jr. dragged in a breath. “I’m sorry I fired those shots the other night. I only meant to scare her.”

  “Whoa. Wait a minute,” Dan said. “You fired those six slugs into the wall?”

  “Yessir.”

  Dan stared at the gun a moment. “Where’d you get the silencer, kid? These are illegal, you know.”

  “Yessir. I know.”

  “Tell him, Buddy,” Raylene said. “You tell him every bit of it, or I’ll…”

  Dan held up a hand, cutting her off. “This is important, Buddy. You need to tell me everything. Now.”

  The boy’s eyes, already red, brimmed with tears. “I was only trying to get enough money to buy Henry Young’s old Harley. That’s why I was working here, for Ms. Hansen. You know. Only I still needed more. Seven hundred bucks. So I met this man…”

  “What man?” Dan asked, believing he already knew the answer. “What did he look like?”

  “Creepy,” the boy said. “Real pale. Like a dead fish.”

  Dan breathed a hot oath. Jorgen Metz. Molly really had seen him.

  “He knew I was working here,” Buddy continued. “He gave me the silencer and two hundred dollars. But I fired into the wall above the bed. I couldn’t hurt Ms. Hansen. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “My Lord!” Raylene exclaimed. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I can’t believe this is my own flesh and blood talking here. My baby.”

  “What happened next?” Dan asked calmly. He believed the boy was telling the truth. He’d interrogated enough suspects to know the signs. Only he wished the kid would make prolonged eye contact, just to be sure. “Look at me, Buddy. Tell me what happened next.”

  Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. The kid could hardly speak. “He got real mad at me. Then he said it was okay, to forget about the gun. He had something else. Then he told me he’d hurt my mom and my dad if I didn’t…”

  “Didn’t what?” Dan urged. He was noticing now that Buddy’s gaze kept returning to the same place. The cabinet beneath the kitchen sink. Something was wrong, but Dan couldn’t quite make the mental leap.

  “If you didn’t what?” he asked again, more urgently this time.

  “If I…if I didn’t put in that…that piece of plastic pipe he gave me.” He was staring at the spot below the sink now, crying harder. “There. That one.”

  Dan could almost feel the tumblers clicking in his brain as everything fell into place. He should have seen it before. He should have guessed. He should have known.

  “Molly,” he screamed. “Get out of the house. Now.”

  Molly wrenched the zipper closed on her suitcase and called back irritably, “I’m coming. I’m coming. Just give me a minute to—”

  “Now.” Dan came through the bedroom door, grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her into the hallway.

  “Dan! My suitcase! What are you…?”

  “There’s a bomb in the house, Molly.” He pulled her along faster, his fingers digging into her wrist. “Don’t talk. Just run.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice, but her knees had already turned to liquid and she couldn’t have moved at all if Dan hadn’t been leading her along the hall, through the living room and out the front door. Raylene and Buddy Jr. were standing in the driveway, looking confused. No, they looked terrified. What was happening? It felt to Molly as if she were suddenly caught in the dark, rushing currents of a nightmare, being swept along, unable to understand or to wake up.

  “I’m so sorry, hon,” Raylene said as Dan pulled her past the beautician.

  “What?” Molly asked, even more confused.

  “Never mind about that,” Dan said. “Raylene, you and Buddy meet us at the Sheriff’s Office. Get in the car. Now.” Then he jerked open the back door of his car and told Molly, “Get in. Get down on the floor.”

  When she started to say something, he shouted, “Do it, dammit,” and pushed her in, slamming the door behind her.

  The BMW’s engine roared to life and the tires squealed when Dan pulled out of the driveway and accelerated down the street. Then, a moment later, Molly felt the car swerve, then stop. Dan cut the engine. She heard him slap the steering wheel, ram his fist into the dashboard, then loose a string of curses that filled the interior of the car.

  “I should have known,” he said. “Dammit. I should have seen it right there in front of me.”

  Molly elbowed up from the floor, then slid onto the back seat. “Should have seen what?” she asked.

  “The bomb. Under the sink. Sitting there all that time and looking like an everyday piece of PVC. They finally did it.” He slapped the steering wheel again. “Those bastards finally did it.”

  “Who? What? Dan, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The Red Millennium,” he said. “Metz and his partners have been working for years, trying to come up with a nonmalleable plastic explosive that was stable enough to be molded into something like a pipe or a switch plate or other construction material. That explosion in New York—”

  “My explosion?” she asked. “The one I was in?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. At Van Dyne. They were getting close, but they weren’t there yet. They had the rigidity, but they couldn’t make it stable.”

  After she got out of the hospital, Molly had made a concerted effort not to read anything about the explosion. It gave her nightmares. Now she thought ignorance was probably not the best policy, especially considering that her survival seemed to be at stake.

  “Why weren’t they content just to use plain old tried-and-true bombs?” she asked, feeling even more ignorant because she didn’t even have a vocabulary that included terrorists and explosive devices.

  “Too easily detected,” he said. “Too risky to put in place. But if they could actually build the explosive compounds into the building, in the plumbing or the electrical work, then they could just sit back and wait. Months. Even years.”

  “My God,” Molly breathed. “That’s brilliant.”

  “No kidding,” Dan said sourly.

  “But how did the bomb get under my sink?”

  “Buddy Jr.”

  Molly’s breath whistled out through her teeth.

  “You were right about Jorgen Metz, Molly.”

  Oh, no, she wasn’t, she thought as Dan continued.

  “Metz is here. In Moonglow. He paid Buddy, then threatened him. I doubt the kid even knew what the pipe was when he installed it.”

  She saw his glance cut to the rearview mirror, then realized he’d been doing that repeatedly as he spoke. It suddenly dawned on Molly that Dan wasn’t simply her friend or her lover. He was her protector, as well. And perhaps, with no help from her at all, he was truly back in the saddle again.

  “You saved my life, Dan,” she said quietly, reaching out to touch the back of his head. “Thank you.”

  He started the car, gave another glance in the rearview mirror, then fixed his eyes on Molly’s face in the mirror. “It isn’t over yet, you know,” he said, trying but failing miserably to offer her a reassuring grin. “Just keep your head down, babe.”

  After hustling Molly inside the Sheriff’s Office, Dan was relieved to see Raylene and her son already there. On the other hand, Gil Watson’s bulk ensconced behind his big desk was no relief at all. He had hoped that Gil would still be at Linda’s side, leaving him to deal with young Jess, the deputy.

  “What’s this about a bomb, Danny?” Gil said almost as soon as Dan walked in the door. “I told you you’d best keep your nose clean while you’re in town, didn’t I?”

  Dan sighed while he reached into the pocket of his jeans for his credentials. �
�How’s Linda?” he asked.

  “Better,” Gil said. “Didn’t I tell you to watch your step?”

  “Yeah, Gil. That’s what you told me.” Dan tossed his photo ID onto the desk. “Take a look at that and then we’ll start this conversation again.”

  “What the hell is this?” the sheriff asked, picking up the ID in his meaty hand, squinting at the photo. “Is this supposed to be you?”

  Molly, who had been standing just behind Dan, charged forward. “Dan’s a deputy U.S. marshal, Gil. You big—”

  Dan cut her off. “Thanks, Professor. I’ll take care of this.” As he spoke, he was clipping his badge to the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. “Before we discuss anything, I need to use your phone.”

  Gil looked from the ID in his hand to the phone and then to Dan’s face. His big Adam’s apple jerked in his throat. “Long distance?”

  “Yeah, Gil. Long distance.” It was all Dan could do not to laugh as he picked up the receiver. “But the Justice Department’s good for it. Trust me.”

  Once he got Bobby on the line, Dan turned his back on the sheriff’s desk and lowered his voice. It didn’t take him long to fill Bobby in and to detail just what he needed. Backup from the Marshals office. An ATF bomb squad. All of them on their way to Moonglow in helicopters yesterday, if possible. And a good lawyer on call to represent Buddy Jr.

  “You got a handle on it for now, amigo?” Bobby asked, his tone confidential, his meaning more than clear.

  “Hey. No problem,” Dan said, then broke the connection. No problem. Ha! That was a joke.

  He turned back to the desk and put the receiver back in its cradle. “Gil, I’m going to need you to send your deputy to pick up Buddy Earl and bring him into protective custody.”

  Gil’s lips slid into a sneer. He cocked his head toward Raylene and her son. “Buddy’s sitting right over there, Danny. Or didn’t you detect him?”

  “Buddy Sr., dammit.” Dan slammed both hands on the desk. “I need your help, Gil. If you can shove all that high school crap out of your head for a few hours, I’d appreciate it. And we can debate jurisdiction then, too, if you want. But right now, if you don’t do exactly what I tell you, somebody’s going to get killed. And if that happens, by God, I’ll see you in prison for obstructing a federal officer in the course of his duty.” Dan took a breath. “Do you understand me, mister?”