Remembering Red Thunder

by Sylvie Kurtz

  By the end of this exercise, she was exhausted. After washing herself as best she could with a cloth, she dressed in fresh clothes.

  In the hot and sticky childhood bedroom that had once been Chance’s, she sank into one of the twin beds. She tried not to think of Chance caged like an animal, but her thoughts kept straying to him. Would anyone bother to feed him? Was he able to sleep at all? Was he all right or were the nightmares turning his imprisonment into hell?

  Staring into the endless womb of darkness, she came to the conclusion that she didn’t have the skills or the knowledge to penetrate the depth of deceit found in Ashbrook. If she was to get Chance out of jail, she would have to ask for help.

  Cradling her purse to her chest, she picked up her cell phone and punched in a series of numbers. Her throat was dry. Her heart pounded. Her fingers shook as she held the phone to her ear.

  She was not going to let Chance go. Not without a fight. Not without exhausting every possibility.

  “Angus,” she said, eyes closed, tears clinging to her lashes, heart in her throat. “I need help.”

  Holding back her grief, she explained the situation.

  “I’m going to make some calls,” Angus said. “I’ll be there first thing in the morning. Don’t you worry, sweetheart, we’ll get him home.”

  How could she do anything but worry?

  THE WALLS WERE CLOSING IN around Chance. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been here. They’d taken his watch away. There were no clocks, no windows that would offer him a clue.

  He paced the floor, trying to halt the slow narrowing of the cell. All he needed was a squeak and he’d feel just like Peanuts, the first-grade guinea pig when it jogged on its exercise wheel. He was going nowhere fast. And his thinking, endlessly looping from nightmare to nightmare, didn’t offer any solutions.

  “Stop your pacin’. You’re drivin’ me crazy,” said the guard sitting at the desk outside Chance’s cell.

  But if he stopped, Chance feared getting mired in the dark soup of his mind. He needed to think, and to think, he needed to move.

  “I said, stop your pacin’.”

  Chance ignored the command. Taryn would be home by now, in her grandmother’s care. That was the one positive of this situation. To endure what was to come, he needed to know she was safe.

  In the morning, he’d be arraigned. The plea wouldn’t matter. His chance of getting an impartial judge and an appointed lawyer who’d fight fairly for him were slim to none. At least in this town. The worst-case scenario would be the death penalty; the best, voluntary manslaughter. Either way, the future looked grim.

  “I said stop your friggin’ pacin’.”

  Before Chance could turn around to answer, a bucket of cold water splashed over him.

  A powerful claustrophobic feeling seized him. Something tight wrapped around his shoulders. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Panic tore through him, making him shake. Help me! Help me! The voice, small and far, echoed inside his head. Pain scraped along his side as if someone were skinning him alive. A piercing scream split his skull. Everything went black.

  AS GARTH REACHED the sheriff’s office, Carter Paxton battered through the front door.

  “Come on,” Carter said, charging down the stone stairway. “I gotta go down to the courthouse.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Not sure. Blanchard wasn’t making any sense. All I know is Makepeace is down.”

  “Escape attempt?”

  “He’s never been one to face the consequences of his actions.” Carter snorted. “He ain’t gettin’ away this time.”

  “Might save us all the trouble of a trial if he did meet up with an accident.”

  Carter snorted and wrestled open the door of his cruiser. “Not this time, Garth. I want this one to go through. For Ellen’s sake, I want him to be found guilty and sentenced to die. After that, I don’t care what happens to him.”

  Garth settled himself in the passenger’s side. Carter snapped on the lights and sirens and streaked his way across town.

  Delays in dealing with the situation placed Garth in jeopardy. The trick to success was to take charge. He scowled at the sheriff. “How fast can you move this case along?”

  He’d come to Ashbrook to claim Joely’s body and do right by her as her next of kin, but he wanted to make his stay as short as possible. Even though half the buildings in town, including the courthouse, bore his name, he couldn’t stand spending more time than he had to in this dot on the map. Coming here never failed to bring back memories of being the runt everyone was only too ready to kick.

  “I got the ball rolling,” Carter said. “Judge Frasier’ll be waiting for him when he gets to the courthouse in Lufkin, ready to deny bail. Milton’ll act as his court-appointed lawyer. He hasn’t got a chance to beat the charges.”

  The gleam in Carter’s eyes looked maniacal. He leaned forward against the steering wheel as if it would make the car move faster. The way he huffed every couple of breaths made him look like a bull in a rodeo chute. Almost made Garth feel sorry for the short trip Kyle would have through the justice system.

  Almost, but not enough to stop the ball once it was rolling, or to pass on arranging a convenient accident once Kyle reached the detention center waiting for his trial. No one would be surprised when he was found beaten or bludgeoned to death after a brawl. Happened all the time to cons with short tempers.

  Garth had too much invested in Ellen to risk a return of Kyle’s memories at an inopportune time. Dead men don’t talk. Too bad Kyle hadn’t been able to realize how far Garth had come up in the world. But then Garth was never one for sentimentality. Concrete results, that’s what counted in the end.

  Carter squealed to a stop by the courthouse steps and cleared the stairs by twos.

  “Where is he?” Carter asked the front-desk clerk.

  “Out back.”

  Carter sprinted down the halls painted puke green. Garth followed at a more sedate pace. Dignity had to be maintained. Impatiently Carter buzzed at the door leading to the holding cells. The heavy door clanked as the guard let them through.

  “What happened?” Carter asked.

  The guard raked a hand through his hair. “I dunno. He was pacin’, drivin’ me crazy. I told him to stop. When he wouldn’t, I pitched a bucket of water at him.” Blanchard shook his head, scrunched his forehead. “He started gaggin’, then he fell. That’s when I called you.”

  Carter nodded toward the cell door. “Open it.”

  Crouching by Kyle’s side, Carter took a pulse. “He’s alive. Let’s get him out of this wet uniform. Get a blanket and call Doc Macmillan.”

  Once the guard had left, Garth peered into the cell. An expression of pure terror was etched onto Kyle’s face. What had brought it on? The glimpse of a memory? “Might serve us all better if he didn’t wake up from his little seizure.”

  “I told you. I need for him to be convicted and sentenced.”

  Carter ripped the orange shirt off Kyle’s back, exposing a scarred back. Garth’s mouth opened and he took a step back.

  “Did the prints come in yet?” Garth asked, tabbing through options. Makepeace couldn’t see tomorrow. Carter would have to be satisfied with this man’s death as his revenge.

  “Still waiting for the hospital to fax ’em over. Should be here any minute.”

  “Where’s his wife?”

  “On her way home. Escorted her out of town myself last night.”

  No, Garth thought. Someone as fiercely loyal as this woman wouldn’t simply up and quit. She’d stick around, planning, waiting for the opportunity to launch a rescue. A woman like her would be ready to die for what she wanted. On one level, Garth admired that quality—especially in a woman. On another, this could spell trouble. She wouldn’t give up.

  “I got an errand to run,” Garth said. “Buzz me when you’re ready to transport.”

  Time was running short. But he’d faced a stacked deck before and still drawn a pat
hand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Is he all right?” Taryn asked Angus, holding on to the cell phone with both hands.

  Sunlight eked through the cabin’s dirty kitchen window, giving the room a rusty, forgotten look. The nausea wasn’t so bad this morning. For the baby’s sake, she’d drunk a container of orange juice and forced some cold oatmeal down her throat. Then she’d waited endlessly for the sound of Angus’s car down the driveway, for the phone to ring. Yet, when the phone had rung, the sound had caught her daydreaming, making her jump on the stool where she sat next to the counter.

  “Chance is fine, sweetheart,” Angus said. “They’re transporting him to Lufkin for arraignment, so I’m going to follow. I’ve got a lawyer meeting us there.”

  “You think the lawyer can get him bail?” She held her breath.

  “Even if he can, sweetheart, if the charge is murder, it’ll be at least half a million dollars.”

  “Half a million? Where am I supposed to find that much money?”

  Angus huffed a frustrated breath. “Don’t give up yet, sweetheart. You said you took pictures of the crime scene.”

  “Seventy-two exposures of everything from every angle.”

  “Good. I want you to go out and have two sets made. Mail one to Chance’s office in Gabenburg and bring the other to the courthouse in Lufkin. It’s off Frank Avenue.”

  “I’ll make a copy of my notes, too, and include them in the packages.” She spoke a note into the memo-minder on her key chain. “Okay, I’ve got a map. I’ll meet you there.”

  “You drive safely, now, you hear. I don’t want you or that baby of yours to come to no harm.”

  Taryn gasped. “How did you know?”

  He laughed. “I could say it’s my highly intuitive mind, but it’s more your grandy’s doing. Seems she found a pregnancy kit in your bathroom and she’s blabbing the news she’s gonna be a great-grandma all over town. Her chest is all puffed with pride every time she mentions that baby.”

  Taryn groaned. So much for keeping a secret. “What was she doing in my bathroom?”

  “Laundry.”

  “Laundry?”

  “She wanted the house all spiffed up for when you got back.”

  So much for Grandy’s threat that she’d never acknowledge her granddaughter again. Not that Taryn had believed her for a second. Well, maybe a second, but not longer. Grandy had lost too much to throw away her last living relative. “Is Grandy driving you and Lucille crazy?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly?”

  His belly laugh shook over the phone. “She’s holding court at the Bread and Butter.”

  Why didn’t that surprise Taryn? And Grandy was probably driving half her clientele away with her gossip. How many times would Maud Rankin be willing to gush over Grandy’s baby news before taking her sweet tooth elsewhere? Especially since, much to Maud’s chagrin, her own son and daughter were in no hurry to get married, let alone provide her with grandkids.

  Angus continued, “Hired the MacKay girl to do some of the baking and she’s running the storefront herself. You’ll be glad to know, you’re now offering a soup of the day to match your bread of the day.”

  Soup in the middle of June? Was Grandy crazy? “Is it selling?”

  “Amazingly enough, there’s a line every day at lunchtime. Your grandy was always a great cook.”

  “Well.” Taryn didn’t know what to say. Grandy’s reaction to her pregnancy and her enthusiasm at running the shop were both unexpected.

  “You may have a fight on your hands to take back control of the bakery when you get home.”

  When she got home. But first she had to free Chance. “Don’t tell Chance about the baby. With the accident and everything else—” she blew out a breath “—I haven’t had a chance to tell him.”

  “Then I won’t take away your pleasure.” There was a commotion in the background, shouts and the clink of chains. “They’re leaving now. I gotta go.”

  “Okay, I’ll get the pictures developed and meet you at the courthouse.”

  Trying not to think of Chance chained and dressed in prisoner-orange garb, Taryn launched into a flurry of activity. She packed the disposable cameras, her notes and a snack into her purse. Grabbing a bottle of ginger ale, she headed for the front door. She was startled to find Garth Ramsey on the other side, fist raised as if he’d been about to knock. She hadn’t heard him drive up, yet there was a shiny white Cadillac gleaming in the sunshine.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and flashed her a smile so brilliant as to be blinding. The sun glinted off his blond hair, adding to the impression of dazzle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I’m on my way out.” She hugged her purse closer to her side.

  “Kyle—I mean, Chance—is in trouble.”

  “I know, they’re transferring him to Lufkin right now.”

  She tried to squeeze past Garth, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Before you head off after him, I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

  “I really need to go.”

  “Won’t take but a minute.” This close, she could smell his expensive cologne. The scent reminded her of rich leather, fine cognac and aromatic cigars. Any other day, she might have found the aroma pleasant, but today it only managed to stir her stomach into upheaval.

  “I’ve got pull,” he said, “and if we can come to an agreement, maybe I can use some of that pull to free your husband.”

  She eyed him warily. “What kind of agreement?”

  He eased on inside. Taking her elbow, he guided her to the living-room cluster in a smooth move. She wanted to tug out of his grip, but the touch was light and nonthreatening, making her wonder at the sharp distaste souring her mouth. Was it just the nausea coming back? Graciously, he held her hand as she sat down on one of the chairs. Straightening the perfect creases of his tan pants, he sat across from her.

  “Kyle and Kent and I grew up together. Kyle, Chance—” He shook his head. “I just can’t get used to callin’ him Chance.”

  “It’s the name I know him by.”

  “I know, darlin’, and I’d like to help you. That’s why I came by. Like I said, Kent and Kyle and I grew up together. Ms. Makepeace used to call us the Three Musketeers. I think I spent more nights under this roof than my own till the twins’ accident. They were like brothers to me.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “I know, you’re gonna say I was hard on him when he came to see me at my office, but I had to be. Ellen is my wife. She’s my first concern. Surely, you can understand my position.”

  “Of course.” Chance was first in her life, too, and she’d do anything to make sure he was safe.

  “I’d like to help you,” Garth said.

  “I don’t see how you can.”

  “Like I said, I’ve got a bit of pull.”

  “What kind of pull?”

  “In my line of work, I meet a lot of people, wheel and deal, grant favors. I can place a phone call or two and make sure your husband is offered bail.”

  She was reluctant to trust this man, to become dependent on him for any favor. “My father-in-law brought a lawyer—”

  Garth chuffed. “A lawyer won’t do him much good against Carter’s determination. You’ve got to know someone who can put a bug in the right person’s ear.”

  “And that would be you.”

  “That would be me.” He nodded and leaned forward. “I don’t want to see Kyle behind bars. I’m willin’ to pay the bail myself.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  He chuckled. “Kyle got himself one smart lady. He always did have an eye for quality.” He straightened and slung an arm casually over the back of the sofa. “As I’m sure you understand, with Carter bein’ my father-in-law, it wouldn’t look good for me to go against him on his stand against Kyle. If I give you the bail money, no one can know where it came from.”

  “Not even Chance?�
�

  “Sorry, darlin’. This has to be our little secret.”

  She hadn’t kept anything from Chance since the day they’d met—except for her pregnancy, and he’d know about that if it weren’t for the accident. She didn’t like adding an extra barrier of caution between them.

  “And once he’s freed, I want you to make sure he goes back to Gabenburg.”

  That was too easy, too close to her own desire. She had to be missing something, but what? “Why?”

  “Because if he’s back where he belongs, he’ll be out of Carter’s reach. I don’t want him hurt any more than you do.”

  “After what you say he did to Ellen, how can you be so forgiving?”

  He reached forward and squeezed her knee. His fingers lingered too long on her skin. Although the touch was light, the fingers felt like talons. She eased her knees sideways. He took the hint and sat back, elbows at his side, fingers interlaced and tented above his lap.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “But I also remember all the times he and Kent got me out of hot water. I owe him this one.” He shrugged. “If he stays, I won’t be able to guarantee his safety.”

  Another convenient accident arranged by Sheriff Paxton? Another shot ringing out unexpectedly in the night? Another nightmare yet to be imagined? Would Chance be safer in jail or out here where they could at least see danger coming and try to get out of its way? The questions tossed and turned like the bad dream they were, miring her in indecision, until she didn’t think she could handle any more stress. She wanted to grab Chance and head home and forget any of this had ever taken place. “I want him home even more than you do.”

  He flashed her another of his bright smile. “So we’re agreed.”

  The brown eyes were clear and frank. The face appeared affable enough. Honesty seemed to pour off him like sweet milk. Why was she so ready to believe he was all hat and no cattle when he was going out of his way to help a childhood friend?