by R. C. Ryan
Rebecca spent the day working harder than she’d ever worked before. Not only did she handle orders and returns with careful attention to every detail, but she also managed to straighten dozens of shelves, and whenever there was time, she went out to the loading dock to lend a hand helping Eli load supplies onto ranchers’ trucks.
She’d once again sold almost everything in her fenced area, including at least a hundred extra pumpkins that hadn’t been promised to the town for the Autumn Festival.
By early evening all she wanted was a long, hot bath and some quiet time. But her hopes were quickly dashed when her mother called to insist she come to dinner.
“Your father assured me you’ll be leaving work with him. I’m going to have your favorite fried chicken and mashed potatoes.”
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble, Mom.”
“Too late, honey. I’ve already shopped and baked. Now I expect you and your father to humor me and eat every bite.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll be there.”
She hung up and glanced to where her father stood across the room. His smile told her he was well aware of Susan’s plans. And approved of them. In fact, he’d probably been the one to arrange all this. There was nothing to do now but go along with the plan.
She slipped into a jacket and bid good night to the few remaining employees before stepping outside and walking beside her father.
Hank looked up at the sky. “It’s getting dark a little earlier each week. Pretty soon it’ll be dark before we leave work.”
Rebecca knew he was trying to avoid saying anything personal. Grateful, she played along. “I like watching the lights coming on in houses as I walk past them.”
He turned to her. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe I like wondering about the people living there. Are they gathering for a meal? Is it a widow, eating alone and trying to hold back the darkness? Are there little kids fighting over the last cupcake?”
He shook his head. “I never knew you were…” He struggled for the words. “Such a dreamer.”
“I guess I’ve always been. I used to wonder what it would be like to have a big brother who would fight anyone who offended me. Or a little sister I could dress up like a doll. Or a pet I could sneak into my bed after you and Mom fell asleep.”
He chuckled. “Much more than a dreamer. You were given to wild flights of fancy. I guess that would explain your attraction to the hell-raiser.”
“Why do you do that, Dad?”
“Do what?”
“Spoil things by calling Ben by that name, knowing how much I dislike the word.”
“It suits him. Oh, he may be wearing a badge now, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is, was, and always will be a hell-raiser, and all wrong for you.”
The mood shattered, Rebecca dug her hands in her pockets and walked the rest of the way in silence.
Why, she wondered, did she even bother to keep trying to find some connection with her father? Since returning to Haller Creek, she’d been forced to watch as the chasm between them grew wider with each day. No matter how hard she tried to communicate her feelings, he refused to listen.
It hurt. Oh, how it hurt to have her own father treat her feelings with such disdain.
“Rebecca.” The minute the front door opened, Susan rushed forward to wrap her daughter in a hard hug. “Oh, your father and I were so worried last night when we heard about another gunshot.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I was hoping you wouldn’t hear about it until today, so it wouldn’t ruin your sleep.”
“Sleep? What’s that?” Susan gave a dry laugh. “When Hank told me you weren’t home, we were both convinced you’d gone home with Will. But when we phoned him and he couldn’t say where you were, we were frantic. We were up all night, pacing the floor.”
“She spent the night at the Monroe ranch with that bunch of…” Hank’s words fell off when he spotted the sparks shooting out of his daughter’s eyes.
“Yes. Well…” Susan patted Rebecca’s arm. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” She turned away, calling over her shoulder, “Go ahead and hang your jacket while I get our supper.”
Rebecca shed her jacket and hurried to the kitchen to lend a hand.
A short time later they sat in the dining room, talking about anything except the thing uppermost in their minds.
Susan’s smile was forced. “How is your little business going, Rebecca?”
Rebecca decided not to make an issue of the term little business. “It’s showing a small profit.”
“Enough to pay the rent?” Hank broke open a biscuit.
“Are you worried about your payment, Dad?”
“Of course not. Just pointing out that you can’t really consider your profit until you pay off your debt. There’s not only rent, but also the price of buying the products from the manufacturer, shipping cost, which includes maintaining the equipment needed to transport your product, and paying the wages of the employees who lend a hand in the sale or transportation.”
“I’ll pay Eli and Rodney for the day they spent with me. And I filled your truck with gas before returning it to the hardware store.”
Hank gave a hiss of annoyance. “I’m not asking you to pay all that. I’m just saying, after years in the business, it’s important that I give you my expert opinion so you remember to weigh all the costs before counting your profit.”
“More chicken, Hank?” Susan held the platter in front of him and gave him a pointed stare.
“Thank you.” He took the platter and helped himself before passing it to Rebecca.
She set it aside.
Susan pouted. “You’ve hardly eaten a thing, Rebecca.”
“It’s really good, Mom. But I’m just not hungry tonight.”
Susan brightened. “That’s all right. I’m glad you’re saving room for my special dessert.”
A little while later Susan left the room and returned with a chocolate layer cake.
As she cut it and began passing around the slices, topped with vanilla ice cream, she babbled about the book she was reading, the silly thing her neighbor Lorie Reardon said, and a medical tip she’d gleaned from a television show.
Taking pity on her mother, Rebecca paid careful attention, asked pointed questions, and laughed at all the right places.
Susan relaxed and sipped her tea.
By the time the table had been cleared and the dishes stacked in the dishwasher, Susan felt mellow enough to ask her daughter if she’d be willing to spend the night.
“Just so you don’t have to be alone, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate the offer. But I need to face my fears and learn to deal with the reality of my life.”
Hank looked up from the evening news on TV. “And just what is the reality of your life?”
Rebecca took her time slipping her arms into the sleeves of her jacket and zipping it before answering.
“I’m young and healthy. I have a house that I intend to turn into a comfortable home, parents who love me, and a job I’m enjoying, along with”—she stared pointedly at her mother—“a little business that seems to have caught the eye of some people in this town. For now, I’ll concentrate on these things.”
“You do that.” Hank’s voice was low with a combination of anger and fear. “Meanwhile, there’s the little matter of a monster shooting at you.”
“I can’t control that, Dad. But what I can do is trust the sheriff and the state police to resolve the issue.”
“You forgot to mention your precious deputy, Ben Monroe.”
Susan’s mouth opened, but before she could say a word, Rebecca put in, “I know how much you resent him, Dad. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But know this. Ben is a good man. Nothing you say will change that. But each time you say something against him, you’ll only make me want to defend him more.”
She bent and kissed his cheek, then walked with her mother to the door befo
re enveloping her in a warm embrace. “Thank you for that lovely dinner, Mom. I never get tired of your cooking. I just wish you’d taught me all your cooking and baking tips when I was growing up so I could come close to duplicating your skill. Good night.”
As she stepped out the door, she called, “I love you both.”
“We love you more.” Susan’s words carried on the breeze as Rebecca walked down the porch steps and into the night.
When the door closed, Susan remained, peering through the narrow side window as Rebecca’s figure blended into the darkness.
“You should have offered to walk her home, Hank. She shouldn’t be walking out there alone.”
“You heard her. She doesn’t want our help.”
“That isn’t what she said.”
“It’s what I heard.”
Susan crossed the room and sat on the arm of her husband’s chair before taking his hand. “All my friends used to say how hard it was to watch their children grow up and leave the nest. So many of that generation rejected all the fine ideals their parents held in such high regard.”
“And now our own daughter is doing that very thing. Rejecting out of hand all we taught her. Defending that hell-raiser. Spending the night with his crazy family of misfits.”
Susan squeezed his hand. “No, Hank. She’s testing her wings. Seeing if she can fly. And as painful as that is to watch, we have to stand by and let her try.”
He swore. “While you’re spouting all those warm fuzzies, what if this madman kills our daughter? Are we supposed to just shrug it off and say she was trying to fly?”
Tears pooled in his wife’s eyes, but she managed to say, “I’m so proud of Rebecca for trying to function normally while her world has turned upside down. I’m not sure I’d have her courage. But for now, I’m going to trust that we’ve raised a fine young woman who will do the right thing.”
At his hiss of anger she leaned close and pressed a kiss to his temple before going off to their bedroom alone.
Chapter Twenty-one
Take a seat, Ben.” Virgil was at his desk, sorting through a stack of official documents. “Did you enjoy your weekend?”
“The time flew while I tried to catch up on all the ranch chores.” He looked away. And the nights dragged on for hours, while he thought about Becca in town. In the line of fire.
The sheriff held out a clutch of papers. “The state boys concluded their in-depth reports after interviewing a list of students who knew Rebecca Henderson in college.”
Ben’s head came up sharply. “You really think that was necessary?”
“It’s not for me to say. The state boys are the professionals. They wouldn’t do it if they didn’t think it was necessary.” Virgil pointed to the papers in Ben’s hand. “When you read those, you’ll see why they’re concerned about one student in particular.”
Ben didn’t bother to look at them. Instead he glowered at the sheriff. “Are they suggesting that she’s responsible for bringing a shooter to our town?”
“Not at all. In fact, until the state detectives conclude their interviews with the people who worked with Will Theisen for the past couple of years, they don’t want to speculate on which of them is the intended victim of this shooter’s rage. But since Rebecca and Will were together whenever these incidents occurred, the state police have to do all they can to look into the backgrounds of both Rebecca and Will.”
Ben held up the fistful of papers. “What do you want me to do with these?”
“You’ll need to familiarize yourself with the details. Take them with you.”
“With me? Where?”
“That’s what I was getting at. A detective with the state police is on his way to talk to Rebecca, to corroborate what information they have so far, and to conclude their investigation into her activities over the past couple of years. Since I’m busy here, I want you to meet him at her place and act as my liaison.”
Ben was shaking his head. “There’s no way. I don’t want to have any part in this interview. Do you know how humiliating this will be for her, to be forced to talk about her personal life in Bozeman in front of…” He stopped, then continued lamely, “Somebody like me from town who knows her?”
“Go on now, Ben. You don’t want that sweet young lady dealing with some hard-ass detective alone, do you? She needs to know there’s somebody in the room that’s on her side. You need to be there for her.”
Ben clenched his teeth. “When you put it that way…” He got to his feet and strode to the door.
“And, Ben…”
He turned.
“After the interview, feel free to go home. The state boys will be covering us the rest of the week. They’re hoping to set a trap for this shooter. And frankly, with this leg keeping me out of commission, I’m happy to step aside. You should be glad, too. I’ve been putting way too much on your shoulders.”
“You know I don’t mind, Sheriff.”
“I know. And I’m grateful. But I’m sure you and your family will welcome the break as much as I will. You’ve been doing double-duty for way too long.”
“That’s my choice, Virgil.” He paused at the door. “I’ll take my own vehicle and leave your official car here.”
“Right.”
Outside, Ben climbed into his truck, dreading what was to come. He knew one thing. As soon as the embarrassing interview between the detective and Rebecca ended, he’d head home and bury himself in ranch chores.
He had studiously avoided seeing Becca for the last two days. It had taken a good deal of mental persuasion, but it seemed the wisest course of action. They were getting into some dangerous territory, and he was losing his objectivity.
Tonight, he would sit through the brutal, tedious interview and do everything in his power to remain neutral. But if he saw the detective crossing a line with Becca, he’d intervene. Until and unless that happened, he would just keep his mouth shut and get through it.
Yeah.
Right.
He swore, loudly. Fiercely. That was his story, and he was sticking to it. But, in truth, no matter how painful this was for Rebecca, it would be twice as painful for him.
He just wanted this business concluded as quickly as possible. At least then he could slink away and hide up at the ranch. Poor Rebecca would have to remain here in town, holding her head up high while the rumor mill went into overdrive.
“So, this medical student.” The state police detective glanced down at his notes. “Daryl Hollender. He swears he didn’t do anything that could be construed as controlling or aggressive, and yet, after a long and to his way of thinking very satisfying relationship, you broke up with him without any warning.”
They were seated in Rebecca’s living room. She had chosen an upholstered, straight-backed chair, where she perched on the edge of the cushion looking as though at any minute she’d bolt from the room.
Detective Russ Godfrey, well over six feet of muscle, his state police uniform crisp, his demeanor professional, was sitting on the comfortable sofa, a sheaf of documents spread out around him on a coffee table. Through years of training, he kept his tone low and impersonal, with almost no inflection that could be construed as casting judgment.
Ben sat in a chair by the front window, as far away from Rebecca and the detective as he could get. With every probing question, he’d had to clench his hands into fists at his sides, fighting a raging desire to tell Russ Godfrey to stop this intrusion into the victim’s privacy and shove his ugly questions where the sun wouldn’t shine. But because he knew it would do no good, he held his silence while inwardly fuming. Every rich, ripe curse he’d ever spoken hovered temptingly on his tongue.
Detective Godfrey had already gone through the names of every student with whom Rebecca had a friendship during her years in Bozeman. Young women who boasted of her kindness and ambition. Young men who admitted they’d tried to have a relationship with her but had always been held at arm’s length.
Though her face flamed an
d her eyes were often downcast, to her credit she’d answered every question the detective asked.
“Daryl was known to be intense.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “In his academic studies and in his personal life. It was only natural that he wanted our relationship to be as intense as everything else in his life. But I…just couldn’t give him what he wanted.”
“And so, without any warning, you abruptly broke off the relationship.”
She nodded.
“Did he seem angry and threatening to you?”
“Angry.” Becca nodded. “I’m sure his feelings were hurt. He was considered a big man on campus. Handsome. Driven. The guy most likely to succeed. There were plenty of women who would jump at the chance to date him. I’m sure his ego was bruised when I was the one to break off our relationship.” She chewed her lip. “But he certainly wasn’t threatening. Not at all threatening or dangerous. As far as I could determine, after our breakup he threw himself into his medical studies with a renewed passion.”
“You know he owns a gun.”
“So do dozens of students. This is Montana.”
The detective nodded. “He swears he’s never been to Haller Creek. As far as you know, is that a true statement?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never seen him here. Why wouldn’t I believe him?”
Russ Godfrey glanced at his watch. He’d been questioning the young lady for nearly two hours. He stood and offered a handshake. “I think that will do for now, Miss Henderson. If I have to do any follow-up interviews, I’ll let you know.”
After his handshake, Rebecca gripped her hands tightly at her waist. “I guess this means you know for certain I’m the target of that gunman, and you’re going to look at every facet of my life through a magnifying glass.”
“I’m sure it seems that way to you, ma’am. And I’m really sorry about this. But my job is to figure out why the little town of Haller Creek has been visited by a shooter, and who the target may be. Once we complete our examination of Reverend Will Theisen’s past years at divinity school, we hope to have a clearer picture.”
