by Linda Conrad
Macy gave him a weak smile, her eyes taking on a fuzzy quality. “Ellen Chance was my best friend. She was like the sister I never had from the time we were small. I still think of her every day. Why do you want to know about that terrible time now?”
Lacie was the first to answer. “Colt has never believed his father killed his mother. I tend to agree with him and we want to know who did.”
“Oh, I never believed it either,” Macy claimed as she turned to Colt. “Jake may have had his faults but he would never have hurt Ellen or you kids. Never.”
“Then help us,” Colt implored. “Doesn’t it bother you that a murderer has been free for all these years?”
Macy hung her head. “Sometimes it’s better to let old secrets stay buried.”
Colt drew away and folded his arms on top of the chair back. “Not this one. I have to know the truth. And someone has to pay.”
Macy flicked a glance toward Lacie. “Not all truths are created equal. Are you sure you want to be involved with this?”
Lacie’s stomach turned queasy. She’d known all along that the answer they sought would probably involve her stepfather—right up to his neck. She braced herself for the worst. He was a terrible man, that much she knew. But a murderer, too?
And would uncovering his involvement in the murder also uncover some other truths, more personal ones, she would rather stay buried for good?
“I’m positive this is the right thing.” She tried a brave smile for Macy’s sake. “If my stepfather was involved, we need to know.”
Macy took a long, deep breath and rolled her shoulders. “Well, you probably know that Jake Chance hired your stepfather and brought him here to keep the peace in Chance County before either of you was born.”
Her expression changed, became wistful. “I was young and single and thought seriously about dating Austin McCord. But Jake’s older sister June got to him first. Those two were quite the item for a while, but then Austin started running around on her—making passes at anything female—behind her back of course. Including me—and your mother, too, Colt. June got wind of it and left town. Went to take a job in Boston as far away from the embarrassment as she could get.”
Lacie noted Colt fisting his hands and setting his jaw. She knew this must be hard for him to hear. But all this, all the ugly truths, were necessary to prove motive.
“Right afterward, Lacie, was when Austin brought you and your mother to town. I tried to stay away from him, but it didn’t take long to see that your mother needed a friend. You remember why, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she murmured when she found her voice. “My mother wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but she didn’t deserve the beatings he gave. Still, I didn’t think anyone else knew. I just assumed she’d never complained or asked anyone for help.”
“She didn’t,” Macy agreed. “I went to Jake Chance and told him what I suspected. He and Ellen and I had several conversations about what to do if your mother refused to ask for help. But unless someone saw him doing it or if your mom ended up in the hospital over a particularly bad episode, we thought our hands were tied.”
“I saw him.” Lacie couldn’t believe how her voice all of a sudden sounded like the little girl she’d been in those years. “I saw him hit her lots of times.”
Macy’s gaze grew softer. “Yes, we figured you had. But you were underage and couldn’t testify. Jake went to talk to Austin but got nowhere. And then suddenly my best friend was dead and her husband sent to prison for the crime. It all seemed to happen so fast.”
“Wait a second,” Colt injected. “Are you saying you think Sheriff McCord may have killed my mother and sent my father to prison for the crime just to stop you three from turning him in for domestic violence? That seems extreme. And…weren’t you afraid you’d be next?”
“I was, actually.” Macy turned to Lacie and her expression begged for forgiveness. “Without my best friend, I was a coward. I stayed in the house all the time and prayed I would be safe.
“Then six months after Colt’s father was convicted,” Macy went on quietly, “my old high school boyfriend came home to Chance after a long hitch in the marines. He’d been injured in the line of duty and badly needed me. I’m afraid I used him and his condition as an excuse to ignore you and your parents, Lacie. And then later we married and opened the café and got busy—and it was just so easy not to think about you and your mom.”
Colt stood up abruptly but held the back of the chair for support. “You didn’t think of us either. Your best friend’s children. We went through pure hell.”
Macy’s whole face sagged. “I’m so sorry. Really. But remember, Austin was—is—the sheriff. Who would I have told? Besides, I didn’t have any proof. And when June came back to help with you and your brothers, I didn’t think there was anything I could do.”
“And you were still terrified,” Colt spit out.
Macy stood, too, but Lacie noticed her hands trembling. “Yes, that, too. Terrified for all of us. Lacie especially. I was afraid she would get the brunt of anything I tried to do. I still don’t think it’s a good idea to cross him. You two may be picking open a scab that should stay closed. It’s dangerous.”
Lacie rose to her feet, swearing she could almost see steam coming from Colt’s expression. But he kept his mouth shut. She was glad, because she couldn’t bear any more trouble to come between the two people in the world who meant the most to her.
“I’m a cop now, Macy,” she told the other woman with as gentle a tone as possible. “I can take care of myself. And Colt, too. It’s past time all this came out. I doubt we could stop it even if we wanted to.”
Macy reached out and pulled her close. “Oh, sweetheart, I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you. The guilt in my heart over not helping you as a child is already sometimes more than I can bear.”
“She’ll be okay,” Colt grumbled as he started for the door. “I’ll see to it. And we will get the proof we need to put that bastard where he belongs.”
Lacie tenderly pulled away from the older woman. “It’ll be all right. Really. And when it’s over we’ll have another nice long talk. I promise.”
Macy nodded and swiped a palm under her eye. “Be careful. Please.”
Colt held the door open and Lacie followed him out into the crisp night air. The neighborhood seemed especially quiet. No dogs barking. No televisions blaring. A few lights blinked through the shrubs and trees, but without benefit of a moon it was tough to make their way to her cottage and the light over her door.
“That’s enough for one night.” She was exhausted. The stress of that last conversation had taken its toll.
Colt touched her elbow. “Go pack an overnight bag. We have some talking to do. You’re coming home with me.”
She started to tell him no but then realized protecting her heart was not nearly as important as protecting his life. “Okay. It’ll only take me a second.”
“I’m coming in with you.” The two of them went inside after she unlocked the door.
But he didn’t fit in her little place. He seemed bigger than life and her cottage felt like a dollhouse with him in it. She hurried and in less than ten minutes was ready to go.
Taking the keys from her hand, he locked up while she stood waiting on her tiny stoop. He had just finished when shots rang out. Automatically reaching for her weapon, she belatedly remembered it was in her purse. She shoved him aside just as a bullet struck the door’s wooden threshold above his head and splintered it into shrapnel.
No!
Chapter 7
“Take cover!” With gun in hand, Lacie hunkered down then started out into the night. “Stay here.”
She’d shoved him off balance or else he might’ve been hit. “Not a chance. Wait for me.” As Colt regained his feet, he was determined not to let her out of his sight.
Just then the sound of a truck engine turning over echoed through the darkness. Lacie took off at a run toward the rumbling noise and d
isappeared. He managed to make the dash to his pickup, pitch her bag behind the seat and rip the shotgun out of its rack in the back window all in record time.
As he turned to follow, he spotted her jogging back toward him.
“Get in,” she yelled while jumping into the passenger seat. “I need to get a better look at that truck.”
Despite the ache in his thigh, Colt climbed easily into the driver’s seat and handed her the shotgun. “What direction did they go?”
“North. Toward the main highway.”
After his pickup groaned to life, he muttered, “They’ll be long gone by now. But I know from the sound their engine made that the truck had to be a big dual cab. Did you get any other description at all?”
“Too dark to see a color and too far away to catch the make. Darn it.” Belting in as he drove off, she turned to him. “Are you okay? You weren’t hit?”
“Not a scratch. Thanks to you. But the next time worry more about yourself.”
“Colt, protecting people is my job. I’m the one with training, who carries a weapon. I can’t just stand by and not do anything.”
He fought back the angry, pure-male retort that wanted out of his mouth and pushed his old pickup to go faster. But by the time they reached the ranch-to-market road, the highway was empty in both directions.
“Now what?”
She sighed and sat back. “Now nothing. Our only choice is giving up for now and driving to your place. But we should keep our eyes open.”
“If they were aiming at us, that was danged good shooting for such a dark night, don’t you think?” He turned on to the highway and carefully maintained the speed limit.
“Yes, it was. Someone must’ve had a nightscope on that rifle. And not just everyone in the county would have access to such a thing.”
“The sheriff’s department does.”
When she stayed quiet too long, he turned to check on her.
She looked uncomfortable for a second, but then nodded. “That’s true. But a gun cartel might also use that kind of equipment. Maybe we got caught in the middle of someone else’s fight.”
“Not a chance. And you know it. That attack was aimed at us and there can only be one reason. We’re asking too many nosy questions.”
Another long silence made him think over more carefully what he’d said. “But how would anyone know we’ve been asking questions?”
“Please don’t suggest that Macy would’ve said anything.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“All right, I won’t. But there’s also Mrs. Murphy. You said yourself she was a major gossip. I’ll bet she was on the phone before we were out of her yard.”
“I guess so.” She didn’t sound happy about agreeing with him.
He knew how she was feeling. None of this sat well. To think of their neighbors and friends working against them, willing to let them be killed, was extremely difficult.
The miles ticked by in silence and they never spotted as much as a single truck on the road as they neared the Bar-C.
Turning on to ranch property, Colt thought back to the things Lacie and Macy James had been talking about. “Why didn’t I know about your mother being beaten?”
Lacie sat a little straighter in her seat. “The worst of it tapered off as my mother’s mind began to go when we went to high school. And the troubles you experienced after your mother died seemed so much more important than mine.”
He’d thought he’d known everything about her back then. Thought they’d been as close as two friends could get. But this one important thing she’d failed to mention. His feelings were hurt, he decided. What else hadn’t she told him?
“Did he ever hit you?” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, as he expected his worst fears to be confirmed.
“No.”
“Please don’t lie to me.” It would kill him to think she would.
“I’m not. Mother stayed at home, but I was going to school. I think he may have been afraid someone would notice the bruises on me.”
He released the breath he’d been holding. “How can you work for the man, knowing what you know about him?”
“It’s not always easy. And now after Macy’s story, it’ll be a lot worse. Do you think he could’ve killed your mother?”
“Don’t you?”
“I suppose. But I’m having trouble with motive. The one Macy came up with doesn’t sound plausible. Remember, your mother fought with her assailant and was hit over the head with a heavy object. That has always sounded like a rage killing to me.”
Turning down the rutted ranch road that led to his trailer, Colt agreed. “Yes, that’s what they claimed at the trial. The theory then was that my father and mother had a huge argument and my father killed her in a ferocious rage.
“But that never sounded like my old man,” he added as the pickup bounced over the first cattle guard. “I remember him as seething when he got mad, never raging. He was the kind of guy who liked to micromanage everything around him and insisted on keeping a tight rein on himself. An out-of-control murder like that would’ve been out of character.”
“But rage sounds like exactly the kind of reaction my stepfather would have,” she admitted. “Except, I just don’t see a cover-up as a good igniter for rage.”
Colt thought about it for a moment. “Is it possible he came on to my mother a little too strong and killed her when she resisted?”
Even through the low light coming from the dashboard, he saw Lacie shooting him an odd look that he couldn’t understand.
“It’s a thought,” she said after another moment. “But I’m still not sure we can prove it. We need those old files. I want to know if the forensic techs took scrapings from under your mother’s fingernails.”
“For DNA samples? Good idea. Especially if she fought with her murderer. I know they kept DNA back then but the technology was new and not used much.”
Lacie huffed out a breath. “I’m not entirely sure the files will contain the information, unfortunately. Keep in mind, it was my stepfather who conducted the investigation.”
Frustration set his nerves on end. “Dammit.”
They rode on for another mile in silence, and he figured she was as frustrated as he was. She was staring out her window into the darkness.
The range tonight seemed eerily dark without the moon’s illumination. Even the stars weren’t shining as brightly as usual. Good thing he knew his way to the mobile home by heart. He’d spent so much time coming across these fields and pastures as a teen, to talk to his dead mother and to secretly meet with Lacie, that he could’ve found the route blindfolded.
“Colt, look.” She was pointing out into the pitch-black of the night beyond her window.
A set of truck lights bounced over unpaved road about two miles in the distance. The Bar-C hands would never be using one of their small cattle paths at this time of night.
“That’s not anyone from the Bar-C, is it?”
“No,” he agreed. “Think it might be gunrunners?”
“We’d better call Travis and Barrett.” Lacie absently fingered the shotgun lying across her lap.
The headlights in the distance winked out just about then but he couldn’t be sure if the truck had dropped into a gully or stopped. “I agree but we’re almost there. Let’s do it from inside the trailer, where we’ll be safer. I don’t like the idea of cartel members being so close by.”
If Lacie hadn’t been with him, he might’ve turned and chased after those headlights. But he couldn’t take any chances with her in the truck.
He pulled across the dry wash and up the little hill to park in front of the trailer. “I’ve got your bag,” he said as he turned off the pickup. “Bring the shotgun.”
In a couple of minutes they were standing on his front porch and he was digging in his jeans’ pocket for the house key. Grateful for remembering to turn on the outdoor lights before he left, he tried to hurry but fumbled the key in his has
te to get her inside.
Lacie’s focus centered on Colt’s hand and key. Something seemed off about him. He hadn’t even suggested they go after whoever had been illegally driving across Bar-C land. Under ordinary circumstances, it was in his nature to have turned the truck around and chase over the open range trying to catch them. Instead, his hand trembled and he had trouble unlocking—
“Stop!” By sheer luck she’d spotted the tiny, twisted pair of wires attached to the doorjamb. “Run, Colt. Run!”
Placing an iron grip on his arm, she spun them both around and leaped off the front porch steps. Maybe she’d been wrong. But after she’d dragged him for a few yards across the dirt, the ground shook and the whole world behind them suddenly split apart.
One moment she had hold of his hand, the next she was flying. She remembered hitting the ground on her hands and knees, then everything went black.
When she came to, the heat and deafening snaps and crackles of fire at her back told her she’d been right. Someone had set a trip wire for a bomb under Colt’s trailer.
Colt!
“Lacie, where are you?”
She couldn’t catch her breath. Coughing and sputtering, she rolled to the sound of his voice and inched through the dark, black smoke trying to find him. Struggling to stand while searching the ground nearby, she made it to her feet just as she found him crawling toward her on all fours. Thank God.
He pushed up on muscled forearms and sat back on his knees with a heaving chest. “Let me help you,” he rasped.
His eyes were watering and she figured he’d be hard-pressed to even help himself.
“We have to get out of here.” Shouting over the noise of the fire, she pulled him to his feet. “We’re too close. The propane tanks may go next.”
The two of them managed to stagger down the hill, half carrying one another, just as a couple of more deafening explosions rained pieces of house siding and broken furniture over a hundred yards in all directions. They both ducked their heads but no debris made it to where they were standing.
“My truck,” Colt mumbled.
“Yeah, I think that’s the least of your worries.” She patted out the smoldering material at the elbow of her coat.
