Official Duty

by Doreen Roberts

  “You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” he reminded her. He lifted the beer glass to his lips.

  “Neither should you.”

  His wry grimace softened her haunted features. “I didn’t say do as I do, I said do as I say.”

  She nodded. “Just like a man.”

  Relieved that she seemed calmer, he kept the conversation light, all the time scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary.

  Fifteen minutes went by before Sally finally scurried over. Ginny had just left to visit the ladies’ room, giving him the chance to question Sally alone.

  “I don’t have time to sit,” she said when Cully gestured to the empty chair. “What is it you wanted?”

  He got straight to the point. “I was wondering where you got that van you’re driving.”

  Sally scowled. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. That scumbag of a salesman stole my car. He was supposed to have left town this morning, but he was still in the house when I got home this afternoon.”

  Cully raised his eyebrows in mute question and Sally made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Boyfriend. Or so I thought. Name’s David Petersen, works for some fitness company selling exercise machines. Anyway, he was in the motel last night when it got burned out, so he spent the rest of the night at my place. He was supposed to leave this morning, but when I got home he was still there. He must have stolen the keys to my car out of my purse while I was in the bathroom. Next thing I knew he’d gone and so was my Mazda. Good thing for me he left the keys to that old clunker in the ignition, or I wouldn’t have gotten here tonight.”

  She paused for breath as Cully pulled his notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. He scribbled down the few bits of information Sally had given him then looked up at her. “I’ll put out an APB for the car. What’s the license number?”

  She told him, adding a few curses for good measure.

  “Anything else you can tell me about him? What does he look like?”

  She held a hand up above her head. “This tall, good-looking, real thick light brown hair, brown eyes, kind of thin.”

  “Any distinguishing marks?”

  “Not that I can think of.” Sally swore again. “Should’ve known he was too good to be true. What a damn fool I was.”

  “Did he say where he lived?”

  “Somewhere in Nevada. Near Reno, I think. Never talked much about himself.” Her face darkened. “Bet he was freaking married.”

  “Did he say anything about himself that might help track him down?”

  She screwed up her face in an effort to concentrate. “Can’t think of anything.” A shout from the bar turned her head. “If I do I’ll sure as heck let you know.” She glanced up as Ginny appeared at her side. “You two want something to eat?”

  Ginny shook her head but Cully said firmly, “Bring us a couple of steak dinners. Medium rare.”

  “You got it.” Sally rushed off and Cully tucked the notebook back in his pocket.

  Ginny sat down opposite him, her eyes full of apprehension. “Well, what did she say?”

  Cully filled her in on Sally’s story. “Looks like Sally’s boyfriend is the man we’re looking for,” he added when he’d finished.

  Ginny looked at him, bewilderment plain on her face. “Sally told me about him just this morning. She was so excited about him. But who is he? Why does he want to hurt me?”

  “You’ve never heard of a David Petersen?”

  She shook her head.

  Cully sighed. “I wasn’t going to tell you this until later, but I got the report back on the plane crash that killed your husband.”

  Her eyes widened. “And?”

  Hesitating, he drummed his fingers on the table, then said abruptly, “Brandon Pierce filed a flight plan, stating he was flying solo. But someone at the airport swore he saw another man climb into the plane with him before he took off from Phoenix.”

  Ginny frowned. “I don’t understand. When they found the plane…”

  “They found the remains of only one person. Your husband.”

  “Then who was the other man? Why didn’t they find him?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Cully leaned back in his chair. “But I’d take an even bet it’s David Petersen.”

  Ginny’s fingers curled around her glass. “You think he killed Brandon.”

  “I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be that hard to land a small plane in a field somewhere remote, kill your passenger and set fire to the plane, making it look like it crashed, then hike out of there back to town.”

  “But Brandon always flew his own plane. He’d never let anyone take over the controls.”

  “He could have been forced down at gunpoint.”

  “But why? Why go to all that trouble?”

  “It’s a good way to cover up a murder. The killer was most likely figuring on the plane never being found. If it hadn’t been for a surveillance pilot looking for drug dealers on the Canadian border, your husband’s body might have been there for years before someone spotted the wreckage.”

  Ginny’s face registered her surprise. “Canada? What was Brandon doing that far north? I assumed he’d crashed in Idaho.”

  “Not according to the report I got. He went down in Montana.” He paused, studying her face. “Are you absolutely certain you haven’t heard the name before? Someone your husband might have known?”

  “Brandon didn’t have many friends. He had two business partners, and an assistant, but no one by the name of David Petersen.”

  “Look.” He leaned forward, willing her to work with him. “Supposing Brandon Pierce was mixed up in something. He was an engineer, flew his plane all over the country. Traveled extensively abroad, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Wait a minute. Hear me out. Just suppose he was involved in something big. Drug dealing, for instance. That’s big time and there’s some pretty mean players out there. Maybe Brandon got greedy, wanted some of the profits himself and upset the big guys. So they got rid of him. Probably figuring that by the time someone found his body, there’d be nothing left to tie him in to them.”

  “But even if that were true, and I find that very hard to believe, what does that have to do with me? I left Brandon six months before he died. I had no contact with him after that.”

  “But you were still a strong connection. Maybe you can identify the bad guys. Or maybe they’re just covering all their tracks. The Corbetts were the one connection left between you and your husband. If someone, say David Petersen, wanted to track you down, the Corbetts would be the logical place to start.”

  “But why did he have to kill them?”

  “Same reason he’s after you. Because they could identify him. If something happened to you, they’d know who was trying to find you. Once he was sure they couldn’t tell him where you were, they’d no longer be useful to him.”

  When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, and he had to lean in close to hear her. “So he killed them, then he sat and waited for me to turn up.”

  “Probably figuring on you coming home for the funeral.” She was silent for a long moment, apparently turning everything over in her mind. Then she said sadly, “And now poor Old Man Wetherby.”

  “Yeah.” Cully felt a surge of anger. “He must have seen Petersen skulking around the Corbett house. I reckon Petersen thought he’d killed the old man, though I’m kind of surprised he just left him there instead of hiding the body. Might have been in too much of a hurry to do anything else with it.”

  “So now what do we do?”

  Her fear was palpable. He could see it in her eyes, in the slight tremor of her hand as she lifted her glass and drank deeply from it.

  “We track down Petersen. We have the license number of the van, though it’s probably stolen. We know he’s driving Sally’s Mazda. Or at least, he was. He could have stolen something else by now.” He peered at his watch. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night.” />
  Sally chose that moment to return with the steaks and he was pleased to see Ginny eat, even if she did leave half the meal on her plate. Deliberately he changed the subject, asking her about her job, her life in Philadelphia, anything to keep her distracted.

  When they were finished eating he asked for a doggie bag and Ginny actually smiled as she piled the remains of her steak into it.

  “Rags and Puddles are gonna be your friends for life,” he told her, as they walked out to the Jeep. Seeing her nervously glance around the parking lot, he put an arm about her and pulled her close. The craving was still there, eating at his gut. Once this was over, he promised himself and everything calmed down again, he would do something about it and to hell with the consequences. Right now he had work to do.

  Back at the office once more, he switched on the desk lamps, softening the harsh atmosphere of the room. He offered Ginny a sports magazine to read but she shook her head.

  “I’ll just sit here and watch.” She settled herself on the hard chair and tried to look comfortable.

  His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” Seating himself in front of the computer, he switched it on and waited impatiently for it to warm up.

  Ten minutes later, he had what he wanted. The van did belong to a David Petersen, salesman for Softline Sports, Incorporated, and he lived in Carson City, Nevada. A few minutes later, Cully was calling the man’s house.

  The woman who answered him sounded weary, as if she’d been woken up from a deep sleep. He glanced at the clock. It was only a little after nine. “My name is Sheriff Cully Black,” he told her, “McKewen County, Oregon.” Before he could ask for Petersen, she interrupted him with a cry. “You’ve found him? Where is he? Is he all right?”

  Cully frowned. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  The voice faltered. “Oh, I’m sorry… I thought…” her voice trailed off.

  “I wanted to speak to David Petersen. Is he there?”

  “No.” Now the voice sounded resigned. “He’s not. I’m Madeline Petersen. His wife.”

  Cully was getting a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Ma’am, can you tell me where he is?”

  There was a pause, then the woman said shortly, “I’ve answered all these questions, before, Sheriff. I don’t know where my husband is. He’s been missing for over a week now. No one seems to know where he is. If you’re not calling to tell me you found him, why did you call?”

  “This is the David Petersen who works for Softline Sports?”

  “For the past fifteen years. Yes. And if you’re suggesting that he just up and left me, well I can tell you, you’re wrong. I know what they say about traveling salesmen, but David was different. As I told the other officers, we were happy. We were planning on celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary next month…” She paused, apparently struggling to control her voice “…in Hawaii.”

  Cully tapped his fingers on the desk. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m sure everyone is doing his best to find your husband.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

  The click in his ear effectively put an end to the conversation. Cully hung up and sat frowning at the phone.

  “Well?”

  For a moment he’d forgotten Ginny was there. He gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, he’s not in Nevada.”

  She didn’t return his smile. “I gathered that much. So he’s married. Poor Sally.”

  Cully swung his chair around to face her. “David Petersen, traveling salesman for the same company for fifteen years. Married happily for ten and about to celebrate with his wife in Hawaii. Does that sound like a cold-blooded murderer?”

  Her eyes widened. “No, it doesn’t. But—”

  He lifted his hand. “Wait. Let me make some calls.” He spent the next few minutes on the phone, aware of Ginny’s gaze fixed on his face as he talked. Finally he hung up and turned to her. “According to the police report in Nevada, Madeline Petersen reported her husband missing five days ago. He always calls her every evening when he’s on the road. She had an itinerary of his route. When he didn’t call the third evening, she started calling the motels. He never made any of them.”

  “Except the Sagebrush.”

  “Which wasn’t on his itinerary.”

  The fear was back on her face. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I guess I’m saying that the man who stole Sally’s car is probably not David Petersen.”

  “Then who is he?”

  “Guess we’re back to square one on that. The point is, Sally has the real David Petersen’s minivan.”

  “Oh, no.” She stared at him, her face growing pale. “So if this man isn’t David Petersen, he must have stolen the van from him.”

  “And Petersen is missing.”

  Her eyes widened. “He killed him?”

  “It’s beginning to look that way.” He climbed to his feet, his body tense with frustration. “Right now we’re both tired. It’s been a long day. Maybe Ben Wetherby will wake up and be able to tell us more. In the meantime, I’m going to get you back to the ranch so you can get some rest.”

  He reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. “I know how you must feel.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Resting his chin on her silky hair he added softly, “We’ll find him. Don’t worry. Sooner or later he’ll make a mistake and we’ll get him.”

  Her voice was muffled but he understood her words and they chilled him as nothing else had done. “I just hope,” she said with a note of desperation, “that you get him before he gets me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Except for the glow from the porch lights, the house was in darkness when Cully parked outside it later. Ginny could hear the faint barking of the dogs inside, a sound that reassured her as she waited for Cully to unlock the heavy door.

  Even so, he made her stay on the porch with the dogs standing guard while he went inside and checked all the rooms. Nervously waiting for him to return, she fondled the animals’ ears. Their exuberant greeting lifted her spirits. For now she was safe and could put her fears behind her for the night.

  Cully returned to let her into the house and she followed him inside. As he closed the door behind her, her jitters intensified. She wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to everything she’d been through that day, or the fact that she was alone with Cully in his house.

  Last night Lyla’s presence had acted as a buffer between them. Even if things had threatened to get complicated, there wasn’t a lot they could have done about it.

  But the situation had changed drastically since then. She could still feel the demanding pressure of his mouth on hers, his hands on her body with an urgency that had her smoldering like a lit fuse. All the way back to the ranch she’d fought the images in her mind, trying to ease the tension that seemed to hover between them like a force field, humming with emotions too powerful to explore.

  They had said little to each other on the way back, each deep in their own thoughts. She would have given a month’s pay to know what he was thinking.

  The prospect of spending the night alone with him both excited and worried her. The possibility that they might end up in bed together was foremost in her mind, yet now that it seemed likely, she wasn’t sure that was what she wanted. In fact, right then, she didn’t know what she wanted.

  Confused and troubled, she followed him into the living room, enjoying again the feeling of quiet solitude that struck her the first time. It felt like coming home—a feeling she hadn’t had since she’d left the Corbetts’ house and Gold Peak behind her.

  The dogs frolicked around her until Cully ordered them to lie down. He seemed ill at ease and avoided meeting her gaze. She sat down at the end of a couch and Rags immediately threw himself down on the floor at her feet.

  Cully picked up a pile of magazines, straightened them and put them down again. “Glass of wine?” he offered without looking at her.

  “Thanks, I�
��d like that. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, thanks. I can manage.” He gestured at the dogs who were now both lolling at her feet. “Don’t let them jump up on the couches. Lyla wails like a cat in heat if she finds a dog hair on them. Just kick ’em out if they get to be a nuisance.”

  He disappeared and she let out her breath. She prayed that he’d keep his distance. That he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss her again. Because if he did, she wasn’t sure how strong she could be.

  He could still set her on fire with one meaningful look. He’d changed in so many ways but now that the tough shell was beginning to crack, it made him all the more appealing.

  His strength, the integrity and deep concern for his fellow man that had always been an inherent part of him had attracted her long ago. She had forgotten what a powerful appeal that held for her. He was a good man both in his life and in his job. She only had to watch him with others to know that. People respected his judgement and heeded his advice.

  He’d matured since she’d left, grown more confident. A man to be reckoned with. A forceful man, yet not in the way that Brandon had been.

  Cully wouldn’t control her life. He wouldn’t dictate and bully, or threaten to get his way. He would share his life with her, not try to rule hers. He wouldn’t be a master. He would be a lover. A partner. A soul mate.

  Damn! She was falling into the trap again. She saw in Cully the qualities she’d thought she’d seen in Brandon and she had been badly mistaken. What she thought had been love on her part had been nothing more than her intense need for approval. As for Brandon, he was incapable of loving. Yet she’d truly believed that he’d loved her.

  Now there was Cully, with his determination to take care of her, protect her, be there for her. And she was responding to it the same way she had all those years ago. If she’d truly loved him back then, she wouldn’t have left him to go to the city. If he’d truly loved her, he would have gone with her.

  Thoroughly confused by her thoughts, she got up and wandered over to the fireplace. The landscape hanging above it was beautiful. A setting sun, half-hidden by the mountains, coloring the sky with broad bands of gold and purple. She could imagine how Cully would miss the land if he moved to the city. How miserable he must have been as a child, confined to the dusty, crowded streets, torn from the open skies, the distant mountains, the life he loved so much.