Official Duty

by Doreen Roberts

  She hurried to help him, flinching at the sight of pieces of jagged glass in the trash basket. “I’m glad you were with me. I wouldn’t want the manager to think I did this. He might have had me locked up for vandalism.”

  “He would’ve had to get past me first.”

  She tugged on the bedspread to straighten it. “Of course. I keep forgetting you’re the sheriff.”

  His face puckered in a wry grimace. “You wouldn’t if you were around Lyla enough. She never lets me forget it.”

  She managed a smile. “Doesn’t she ever use your first name?”

  “Nope. It’s always Sheriff, or if she’s talking to someone else, Sheriff Black. Doesn’t matter what I say, she won’t change it.”

  “She’s probably proud of the fact that she takes care of a sheriff. It’s a prestige thing with her.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Prestige. Sure seems to mean a lot to you.”

  She felt her cheeks flush. “It used to.” She finished straightening the bedspread then looked around the room. “Thanks for cleaning up in here.”

  “My pleasure.” He sat down on the bed then shifted his hips, bringing one knee up on the bed. “We need to talk. There’s a few things I need to ask you, then I’ll get out of here and let you get some sleep.”

  She knew, without question, that sleep would be difficult, if not impossible in that room again. She sank down opposite him. “I can’t believe this. I’ve never been robbed before.”

  “This doesn’t look like a regular robbery.” He gestured at the broken television set. “Whoever did this was pretty angry about something. A common thief would have taken that TV, not put his foot through it.”

  His words gave her an uneasy spasm under her ribs. She pulled her feet up on the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I don’t understand.”

  He took off his hat and laid it on the bed, then ran his hand through his hair. The gesture left little spikes standing up. For a moment she was distracted by the urge to reach out her hand to smooth them down.

  “I think he was looking for something,” Cully said quietly. “Something he didn’t find in the Corbetts’ house.”

  Cold fingers of fear touched her spine. “You think it was the same person?”

  “It sure looks like it. The way the room’s vandalized but nothing seems to have been stolen. If we can find fingerprints here that match some of those in the Corbett house, then we might have a better idea.”

  Now she was truly frightened. “What was he looking for?”

  “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.” His gaze seemed to sear her mind. “Did you take anything out of the Corbett house yesterday?”

  “No, nothing. I was going to bring the things Mabel had mentioned in her will, as I told you. When I got spooked by those noises I ran from the house. The bag I put the stuff into is still there.”

  “Did Jim or Mabel send you anything recently? A letter, a gift, something that might be unusual?”

  “Nothing. They couldn’t. They didn’t know where I lived.”

  “Did Jim say anything about meeting someone new, or having a visitor?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She concentrated, trying to remember the conversations she’d had with Jim over the past few weeks. “The most unusual thing he told me was about the call from Brandon’s lawyer. But that was three months ago.”

  Cully frowned. “Did your husband ever meet the Corbetts? Did he visit them, or talk to them on the phone?”

  “Not until after I left him. We were going to come back and visit them but then…” She hesitated, reluctant to finish.

  “Then what?” Cully prompted gently.

  She stared hard at her hands. “The first time Brandon…hit me, I called Mabel. I was hysterical. Jim wanted me to come home, and he got really angry with me when I wouldn’t go. I tried to tell him Brandon would follow me and I was afraid of what he might do to me, but Jim wouldn’t listen. He kept saying he’d take a shotgun to him if he ever showed his face. I made them both swear on the bible that they wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “And they didn’t,” Cully said, so fiercely she looked up at him.

  “I didn’t want anyone to know what a terrible mistake I’d made,” she said, wondering why she was trying to defend herself.

  “Right. The prestige thing again.”

  That hurt. She pressed her lips together to stop the fiery words of resentment. This wasn’t the time for that particular argument.

  “So he called them after you left him to find out where you were?”

  “Yes, he did. Several times. That’s why I didn’t tell them I was in Philadelphia, or that I’d changed my name. They couldn’t tell him what they didn’t know, no matter what he threatened to do. I don’t think he ever visited them, though. Jim would have told me if he had.”

  An uneasy silence settled in the room. “I have a hunch there’s a connection here somewhere.” After long seconds ticked by, he lifted his head. “Who investigated the crash that killed your husband?”

  Taken aback by the abrupt question, she had to think for a moment. “I don’t know. The FAA I guess. Why?”

  “Was there ever any indication that it might not have been an accident?”

  She sat facing him now, her knees under her chin. Eyes wide, she stared at him. “Are you saying that someone sabotaged Brandon’s plane?”

  “I don’t know what I’m saying, except that I don’t believe in coincidences when it comes to murder. First your husband dies, then your foster parents and now someone trashed your room.”

  “But the Corbetts had never met Brandon. What possible connection could they have with him?”

  He gave her a long, intent look. “You.”

  “Dear God.” She buried her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled when she spoke again. “Could I be responsible for the deaths of Mabel and Jim?”

  “Ginny, you know full well that whoever killed them is responsible, not you.”

  “Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” She dropped her hands. “But why, Cully? What on earth could I have that someone wants badly enough to kill for it?”

  “You might not have anything. Maybe our killer just thinks that you do.”

  “It just doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

  “Look, at this point I’m shooting in the dark. I may be way off track. Maybe I’m wrong and what happened here tonight had nothing to do with the murders. Maybe your husband’s crash was an accident, and it’s all just a coincidence. In any case, I’d feel a whole lot better if you moved to another room for tonight, this time up on the second floor. Get your things packed and we’ll go see the manager again.”

  It felt good to be doing something and she managed to stuff everything into the garment bag. Although it wouldn’t zip up, Cully fastened it with his belt, then offered to carry it to her new room on the second floor. Now she couldn’t wait to get out of that room with its shattered television and broken lamp. She still didn’t think she could sleep but at least she’d feel better knowing that if the intruder came back, he wouldn’t find her in that room.

  The manager was obviously annoyed at being disturbed again, though he did his best to hide it. “Never had a break-in until tonight,” he told Cully, as he entered the new room number into his computer. “I always thought this was a peaceful, law-abiding little town. Now, what with a double murder and this here break-in tonight, I’m beginning to think it’s time to move on.”

  “I’m sure we’ll catch whoever did this,” Cully said, as he held the office door open for Ginny. “Then we’ll put him in jail so he can’t bother anyone again.”

  The manager looked skeptical. “Yeah? Well, what about the guy who killed those two people on the mountain? When are you gonna find him?”

  “We’ll find him, too,” Cully said harshly. “That I can promise you. And he’ll pay for what he did.”

  The manager nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer.

 
Ginny’s new room was on the second floor at the very end of the building. Conscious of Cully’s footsteps ringing out beside her as she trudged the length of the balcony, Ginny wished he would say something, anything, that would make her feel this wasn’t just another case he was working on but that he had some personal feelings toward her.

  She wasn’t sure what she had expected from this evening. On the ride home she’d been conscious of a vague feeling of disappointment, as if the visit to his ranch hadn’t lived up to expectations. Yet if someone had asked her, she couldn’t have said why.

  All she knew was that Cully had changed. He’d grown a tough, hard shell that she couldn’t seem to get through. There had been a moment or two when she’d seen flashes of the sweet, affectionate boy she’d once known but the brief instances had vanished before she could acknowledge them. He was doing his best but somehow she knew that the past would always be a point of contention between them, something that might never be resolved.

  Maybe if they’d had time, they could have hashed it all out and come to some kind of understanding. But in a few days she would be flying back to Philadelphia, with no reason ever to come back, and the gulf between them would be wider than ever.

  She was a fool to ever think it could be otherwise. If he’d had any feelings for her at all, he would never have let her go so easily in the first place. What made her think that it could be different now? She couldn’t answer that. All she knew was that she wanted it to be different. That ever since she’d boarded the plane to fly home, she’d hoped that they’d both grown up enough to overcome their differences.

  Maybe she’d hoped for more. If so, she was a bigger fool than she’d thought.

  “You’d tell me if you knew anything, right?”

  His deep voice startled her and she realized they had reached the door to her room. Confused by the question, she frowned at him. “About what?”

  “About what this guy might have been looking for.” He regarded her with a shrewd expression that made her squirm. “Are you sure you’re telling me everything? Ginny, if you know something, anything that might help with this case, you have to tell me.”

  Inexplicably, her temper flared. “Dammit, Cully, if I knew don’t you think I’d tell you? If someone’s looking for something, whatever it is, I certainly haven’t got it. I don’t know what it could be. I don’t have anything that belongs to Brandon, or the Corbetts, either.”

  “It could be something you know. Some kind of information that could be vitally important to someone.”

  Exasperated, she raised her voice. “Listen to me. I don’t know anything. I wish to hell I did. I want to know what this is all about every bit as badly as you do. Probably more.”

  Apparently unmoved by her violent reaction, he shrugged. “Okay. I had to ask.”

  He waited until she had the door open and the lamps switched on, then carried her bag into the room, where he deposited it on the bed.

  “Thank you.” She felt awkward, angry at him without really knowing why.

  She watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a notebook. “I’ll give you my number at home. Call me if you need me.”

  “I’ll code it into my cell phone.”

  He gave her a disparaging glance. “This isn’t the city, Ginny. Cell phones don’t have much coverage out here.”

  She tightened her lips, resisting the urge to lash out at him. He just couldn’t let it go. He had to keep digging.

  “Sleep well.” He moved to the door and looked back at her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She didn’t know if she wanted to see him tomorrow. Or ever. It was painful and she’d been through enough pain lately to last her a lifetime. Nevertheless, she needed to see this thing through now. If Cully was right, she had become personally involved in the murders now and she wasn’t about to leave until they got to the bottom of it.

  “Thank you for the ride home. And for everything you did tonight.”

  He didn’t answer her but touched the brim of his hat with his fingers in a mock salute then strode away from her down the balcony to the steps.

  Left alone, she stepped inside the room and closed the door. It was too quiet, too lonely. She switched on the clock radio that sat by the bed and left it on, as well as the lamp beside it while she tried to fall asleep.

  She must have drifted off, as she awoke with a start to find the radio buzzing softly. The station must have gone off the air. Yet she could still hear voices somewhere. Someone in the next room must have the television on. She could hear screams, shouts. The shrill bleeps of an alarm.

  Heart thumping, she sat up in bed. Light, brighter than the soft lamplight, flickered on the walls. Now she could smell it. Pungent, acrid, stinging her throat. Smoke.

  She lunged out of bed and dashed to the window. The drapes squeaked in protest as she dragged them back and peered outside. She hadn’t imagined it. Thick gray smoke billowed up from the floor below and now she could see flames licking at the steps at the end of the balcony.

  Sick with fear she dragged the door open, choking as the smoke wreathed around her. Behind her the smoke alarm shrieked a warning, its strident bleeps ringing in her ears.

  Farther down the balcony a door opened and an elderly couple wrapped in robes stepped out. They were coughing and looking around in confusion.

  In the distance a siren wailed, while from somewhere in the parking lot a hoarse voice shouted over and over, “Fire! Fire! Get the hell out of there…now!”

  Shaking so hard she could hardly stand, Ginny raced back inside the room and pulled on her pants and the sweater she’d taken off earlier. Luckily she hadn’t unpacked more than her toothbrush. She knew that seconds were vital if she wanted to escape the fire. She grabbed her purse and the garment bag and hauled them out of the room.

  The other couple were coming toward her when she emerged on the smoky landing. The woman coughed and wailed pitifully, while her male companion wrapped his arm around her in his attempt to reassure her.

  “Can’t go down the steps,” he told Ginny when they drew close. “They’re on fire.”

  Ginny raised her voice above the woman’s wailing. “What about the fire escape?”

  He shook his head. “No good. It’s at the other end of the building. Can’t get to it.”

  Just then the siren howled louder as a black car slid into the parking lot and came to a screeching halt. The siren mercifully died, while red and blue lights cut through the darkness in a wide swathe.

  Ginny recognized Cory and Jed as they leaped from the car. She wondered if they’d notified Cully. It would take him at least half an hour to get out here. She thought about calling him herself but just then a muffled explosion sounded from below and the woman screamed. “We have to get down, Marty. We’re going to die!” She started running toward the flames.

  Marty chased after her and caught up with her. In spite of her flailing arms, somehow he managed to hold on to her.

  “Look,” Ginny called out, “we’ll be alright. Someone’s got a ladder.” She pointed to the manager, who was dragging the ladder over to the balcony.

  The elderly man looked over the railing and shook his head. “It’s not big enough,” he called out hoarsely. “It won’t reach.”

  Watching him struggle with his terrified companion, Ginny felt a sudden calm, as if she were witnessing the scene from a great distance, completely detached from her body.

  She threw her purse and garment bag over the railing and raced up to the couple.

  Marty was still fighting to hold on to the woman. The poor woman offered little resistance when Ginny grabbed her arm. The fit of coughing that racked her body with deep, rasping convulsions had taken all the fight out of her. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe.

  “Look, we don’t have much choice.” Ginny put an arm around the woman to support her. “Your wife is on the point of passing out.”

  “We’re not married,” the man said shortly. “But if
we get out of this, I’m going to make her my wife.” He shook the frail woman, forcing her eyes to open. “You hear that, sweetheart? Rosie? We’re going to get married.”

  Rosie stared at him as if he were out of his mind, then promptly fainted.

  The ladder clanged against the railing, the top rung below the level of the floor. The side supports trembled precariously with the weight of someone climbing up.

  Cory’s face appeared over the edge of the floor. “We have to hurry. There’s not much time.”

  Ginny took hold of the fallen woman’s arm again. “Help me get her over the railing.”

  Luckily the unconscious woman’s thin frame carried little weight. Cory hauled himself over the railing and together the three of them struggled to balance her on his broad shoulders. “Fire engine’s on the way,” he said, as he started back down with his heavy load. “Should be here in a few minutes.”

  By then it would be too late, Ginny thought, sending a nervous glance to the other end of the building which now seemed engulfed in flames. She prayed the rest of the guests had escaped and that no one was trapped in that deadly heat.

  Just before Cory’s face disappeared beneath the level of the floor he looked up at them. “Can you two make it down by yourselves?”

  “We’ll manage,” Ginny assured him, speaking for both of them.

  Marty weakly agreed.

  “Just wait until I’m near the bottom. I don’t know how this ladder’s going to hold up with the weight.”

  Ginny nodded and Cory disappeared from view.

  Leaning over the railing with her elderly companion, Ginny waited until the deputy was two thirds of the way down then turned to Marty. “You next. I’ll help you over the railing.”

  “Women and children first,” Marty insisted. “I won’t—” the rest of his words were lost in a fit of coughing and wheezing. Alarmed, Ginny gave him a little push. “You go. I’ll never get you over the railing if you pass out.”

  He started to argue again but Cory yelled up from the parking lot. “Get down here! That roof’s gonna cave in any minute.”