Official Duty

by Doreen Roberts

  “Hi Mabel,” she said, feeling a little self-conscious. “I’m back. I’m having a problem with a decision, and I need to talk to you about it.” As she talked, her confidence grew and before long, the answer came to her, so clearly she couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

  “I knew you’d help me,” she said, as she got to her feet. “Thank you both.”

  When a voice answered her, she froze.

  “It’s really too bad they’re not here to help you now.”

  She hadn’t heard footsteps on the grass behind her. She hadn’t been aware of his presence until he’d spoken. It wasn’t the fact that he’d snuck up on her that horrified her, though that was shocking enough. It was his voice that struck stark, cold terror in her heart.

  Slowly she turned to face him, her mind totally unable to accept what she’d heard. In an ice-cold daze she stared at the familiar face, all coherent thought blasted from her mind.

  “Good morning, Virginia,” he said pleasantly. “It’s so good to see you.”

  As the ground tilted away from her, she grappled with the impossible. The man who stood in front of her, his mouth stretched in a ghastly grin, was the one man on earth she had expected never to set eyes on again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cully dragged himself out of a pleasant dream, where he was wandering down a deserted beach, hand in hand with Ginny, while the dogs dashed ahead, barking and leaping into the waves.

  Squinting through half-closed lids, he realized three things at once. He was in the wrong room, the daylight was much brighter than it should be and the dogs were barking downstairs.

  In the next instant he remembered something else. He twisted his head, his excitement vanishing at the sight of the empty space next to him. Last night he’d looked forward to waking up with her this morning and making love with her all over again. To find her gone was a shattering disappointment.

  He wondered where she was. In the bathroom maybe? Though by the sound of the frantic barking going on downstairs, she was probably down there playing with them. Maybe she’d gone down to make coffee. He sniffed the air but could detect no pleasant aroma drifting up the stairs.

  Anxious to see her again he leaped from the bed, pulled on his pants and headed out the door. Halfway down the stairs, he frowned. The dogs barking sounded muffled, as if they were still shut up in the kitchen.

  He tried to ignore the niggling uneasiness in the pit of his stomach as he ran down the rest of the stairs and threw open the kitchen door.

  Rags almost knocked him over in his haste to get out. Puddles bounced along behind him, uttering little yaps of annoyance. A quick look around the kitchen confirmed what he’d already suspected. Ginny wasn’t in there.

  For the first time he got a good look at the clock and winced. He’d overslept. It was almost eight-thirty. Where in heck was Ginny?

  Rags sat at the front door, whining. Cully opened it and let both dogs out then went into the living room. He spotted the note right away, lying on the coffee table. His stomach took a nosedive. She’d gone. The least she could have done was said goodbye in person.

  He couldn’t bring himself to read the note. He could imagine what it said. This isn’t going to work. I’m going back where I belong, to my life in the city. Or words that meant the same thing. By now she was probably at the airport, on her way back to the east coast.

  He tried to tell himself she was safer there, where no one knew how to find her. It didn’t help the aching emptiness in his stomach. He filled the coffee machine and plugged it in. Then he went upstairs and took a long shower. By the time he stepped out of it, he was more or less resigned. It hurt, yes. It hurt like hell. But he’d more or less expected it.

  He’d known, ever since she’d come home, that she wasn’t going to stay. How could she? The town had been too small for her when she was just a kid. Now that she was used to living in the big, bad city, it would be that much harder for her to break away and come back to Gold Peak. She was right. Her job was there. Her life was there. And he had no right to try to take that away from her.

  He dressed quickly, then realized he’d left his shoes and his watch in her bedroom. No, the blue room. He had to stop thinking about it as her room.

  Stepping into that room was a painful move. He saw his crumpled clothes on the floor and flinched as if someone had hit him in the stomach. Then he saw something else. The T-shirt Ginny had taken off in front of him last night.

  Frowning, he lunged across the bed, looked over the side and saw what he’d missed earlier. Her canvas bag and the torn garment bag were lying on the floor. She hadn’t left him after all.

  His relief and hope were so intense that for a moment he forgot what else that might mean. When the cold reality dawned on him he jumped up from the bed and bounded down the stairs. He could hear the dogs scratching to come in but he was intent on one thing.

  He snatched up the note and read it. Cursing loud and lustily, he went to let the dogs in then headed for the phone. He called the Red Steer, his office, the three beauty shops in town, Neil Baumann and his two deputies, leaving orders that if they should see Ginny, to keep her there until he got there. Jed was still at the hospital. Ben Wetherby was holding his own, he told Cully, but was still in a coma.

  It was his fault, Cully told himself as he drove like a maniac into town. He should have ordered Ginny to stay with him. He’d played down the danger of her being out alone for fear of frightening her too much. Now she was out there somewhere, with a dangerous killer looking for her.

  Anxiously he scanned the highway as he headed into town, hoping against hope to see her car. When he got to his office and found no messages waiting for him, he started worrying in earnest. She’d gone for a drive, she said. Where?

  He glanced up at the clock then called the ranch.

  Lyla answered, sounding breathless. “I just got here,” she said, when he asked her if Ginny was there. “Let me look.”

  He waited in a fever of impatience until he heard the housekeeper’s voice again. “No, Sheriff, she’s not here. I’ve looked all over the house. Her things are still here, though. Will she be staying tonight?”

  “I hope so.” He swallowed down the fear. “Look, Lyla, if she comes back there, tell her to call me right away.”

  “Of course.” Lyla sounded worried. “There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

  He forced a light note in his voice. “No, don’t worry. She’s just gone for a drive. I’m sure she’ll be back there soon.”

  “I sure hope so. What with all these dreadful things going on in town lately, I don’t know if anyone is safe out there.”

  He hung up, forcing himself to calm down. He’d specifically warned her about going to the Corbett house alone. He couldn’t imagine her going up there without him, especially after what had happened to Ben Wetherby. He looked at the clock. Maybe he should send Cory up there to look.

  He was about to call him when the phone rang, making him jump. Praying it was Ginny, he said sharply, “Sheriff Black.”

  An unfamiliar voice greeted him. “This is Collins, NDI.”

  His brain was scrambled. He couldn’t think straight. He had no idea what the initials stood for. “Huh?”

  “Nevada Division of Investigations,” the voice explained with exaggerated patience. “You were enquiring yesterday about David Petersen?”

  Cully’s mind cleared at once. “Yeah, I was. I understand he’s a missing person.”

  “Well, not anymore. His body was discovered early this morning in a ditch. Rural road, been there for a few days. Looks like the victim of a hit-and-run.”

  Cully’s fingers tapped hard on his desk. “What did this guy look like?”

  “A mess,” Collins said dryly.

  “No, I mean, his physical appearance.”

  “Oh, I thought you knew him.”

  “Only by name.”

  “Well, he’s late-thirties, dark-blond hair, though he’s lost most of it
, blue eyes, big gut, weighs around two hundred pounds. That your guy?”

  Cully let out his breath. “No, I guess not. But thanks for the information.”

  “Sure. If you need anything else, you can get in touch with me at this number.”

  Cully wrote the number down and hung up. Another possible death to hang on this guy. There was no point in telling Nevada that until he was sure. One thing he could be sure of was that this guy meant business.

  He shoved his chair back, grabbed his hat and headed for the door. Every minute that Ginny was out there put her in more danger. How long ago had she left the house that morning? Two hours? Three? Four? Whatever it was, it was long enough for her to be in real trouble.

  GINNY SAT with her shoulder blades pressed against the wall of the basement, her mind still frozen in shock. Not for one moment had she considered the possibility that Brandon was still alive.

  She still found it impossible to believe that the man she’d married and believed she’d loved, the man with whom she’d danced, slept and traveled half the world had murdered her beloved foster parents in cold blood.

  She closed her mind against the ugly accusations he’d flung at her as he’d gagged her, then bound her hands and feet before throwing her in the dark blue car that he’d stolen from Sally.

  She hadn’t been all that surprised when he’d brought her back to the Corbetts’ house. She’d half hoped that at least one of Cully’s deputies would be still conducting an investigation but Brandon was too smart to walk into a trap like that. He must have known the investigation was wrapped up last night.

  From what he’d told her, he’d gone to a lot of trouble to find her. He’d staged his own death, killing the unsuspecting passenger he’d picked up at the last minute, a young man applying for a job as his assistant. He’d hiked out of the area and hitched a ride with David Petersen.

  He hadn’t meant to kill the salesman, he’d told Ginny, as if that exonerated him from the rest of the deaths. Apparently Petersen had stood in front of him, trying to stop him from stealing the van and all his ID. Brandon had expected him to jump out of the way at the last minute but either he was too stubborn or hadn’t been quite fast enough. Brandon had driven right over him.

  He’d gone back to see if he was dead, then had shoved him in a ditch. He’d called the Corbetts, expecting them to give him his wife’s address. When they couldn’t, he’d driven to Gold Peak, intending to beat it out of them.

  Ginny closed her eyes. Four people dead and another lying in a hospital bed. And, if he managed to carry out the threat he’d snarled at her just before leaving, there’d be two more deaths on his hands.

  Brandon had been following her movements, both physically and through Sally, ever since she’d arrived in Gold Peak. He knew that she’d spent last night at the ranch. He was mad with jealousy. Apparently he had been ever since he’d seen her with Cully in the Red Steer that first night.

  She’d made the mistake of telling Brandon all about Cully and her life in Gold Peak. That’s why he’d befriended Sally. Knowing they had been best friends, he’d relied on Sally to keep him informed.

  But in the end he hadn’t needed her. Gold Peak was a small town. All he’d had to do was keep his ears open. Thank God he hadn’t hurt Sally. She’d had a lucky escape.

  Ginny stared down at her bound feet, fighting the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her. Her hands, bound behind her, were beginning to lose all sensation. He’d outlined, in lurid detail, everything he planned to do to her before he killed her. If she hadn’t had a scarf stuffed in her mouth, she would have thrown up all over him.

  He’d left, saying he wanted to give her time to think about what he had in store for her. The suffocating gag was so tight she wondered if she’d choke to death before he returned. Where had he gone, anyway? The devastating fear that he’d gone to kill Cully and was coming back to gloat about it almost destroyed her. If only she could get free, get out of there, get help and warn him.

  She couldn’t believe this was happening. After all this time she’d finally found the answers she’d been looking for and the thought that it could be too late, that she’d never get the chance to share them with Cully tore her apart.

  She leaned back against the wall and winced as something poked painfully into her back. It had to be a nail. She shifted to her right and turned her head as far as the scarf would allow. The tiny window above her head was at ground level outside. It was so caked with mud and dirt that little light filtered through. Even so, it was enough to reveal the large nail sticking out of the wall just below her shoulder blades.

  She leaned against it with her elbow. It was firmly embedded in the wall. The head was about half an inch across.

  Hope stirred, though she was wary of getting too excited. Even if she could reach it with her bound wrists, it would take forever to saw through the duct tape binding her.

  Leaning forward, she lifted her hands up behind her as far as they would go. It took several tries before she located the nail but finally it caught in the tape and she began moving her hands back and forth, fast and furious at first, then more slowly as her muscles cramped in protest.

  Many times she had to stop and wait for the pain to subside before she could resume the frantic sawing that was her only hope of getting free. Finally, just when she was on the point of giving up, she felt the tape rip. Her strength renewed by the hope surging in her, she sawed and sawed until, with a cry of triumph, she dragged her wrists apart.

  Agonizing pain shot up her arms and through her fingers, forcing her to cry out. She massaged her aching muscles and after a while regained enough feeling in her hands to remove the scarf and rip the tape from her ankles.

  Being able to breathe properly more than made up for the pain she endured while the blood rushed back into her feet. Her legs felt like sticks of wilted celery when she pulled herself upright and she had to stamp her feet hard to get circulation in them again. By the time the tingling finally stopped, she was seething with impatience.

  She was halfway up the basement steps when it occurred to her that Brandon could still be in the house. She froze, then reasoned that if he were there he surely would have heard her stamping around down there and would come down to investigate.

  Feeling cold at her carelessness, she warned herself to be more cautious. Quietly she turned the handle of the door at the top of the steps. Fear followed quickly on frustration when she realized it was locked.

  She dashed down the steps again, heedless of the dark and darted back to the window. Even if she could have opened it, it was far too small to squeeze through. Even as the reality hit her, she heard a door slam overhead. He was back. And she was trapped.

  CULLY HAD DRIVEN the length of town, stopping only to call in at various places to ask if anyone had seen Ginny’s car. He already had an APB out on Sally’s Mazda but so far no one had called in. Jed and Cory were cruising the side streets, though Cully couldn’t imagine why she would drive down any of them.

  What worried him was the possibility that she’d gone into Rapid City, in which case she’d be tough to find. He’d just about run out of places to look for her. Only two were left in town that he could think of. One of them was the Corbett house. He was reluctant to waste time going up there, pretty sure that it would be the last place she’d go.

  So instead, he headed out to the graveyard. As he crested the hill he had a clear view of the parking spaces outside the gate. There was only one car parked there. A blue Mazda.

  He screeched to a halt beside it. It was Sally’s car, all right. He recognized it instantly. He frowned, scanning the cemetery for any signs of life. Nothing moved, except the branches of the cottonwoods in the cool wind.

  His heart thudded with anxiety. Had the killer abandoned the car and stolen something else? But why here? It was just too much of a coincidence. There could be only one explanation. Ginny had come back here, probably to say goodbye before she left town for good. The killer must have gr
abbed her and taken her in her car.

  His heart thudded to his boots. Where would he take her? Had he already killed her? No, he wouldn’t let himself consider that. She had to be alive. She had to be. There was one possibility but he’d be taking a chance going all the way up there. If she wasn’t there, he’d have wasted precious time.

  Struggling with indecision, he knew it was his only option. The killer had been to the house before. He had to rule it out before he could concentrate on anything else.

  He flung himself back in the Jeep, radioed a message to Cory and headed for the Corbetts’ house.

  THE FOOTSTEPS echoed above Ginny’s head, drawing closer to the door. She gripped the heavy shovel that moments ago had been leaning against the wall. If she had the strength to swing it, it would make a formidable weapon.

  Her advantage would be surprise. He thought she was still tied up. She moved farther back into the shadows behind the steps. She’d get one chance and one chance only. If she missed, she’d be helpless against his strength.

  Balancing the unwieldy shovel in her hands, she waited, heart thumping, her nerves screaming with tension.

  The door opened. He’d left the lights on in the hallway and through the gaps in the steps she watched his shoes stepping down. He was halfway down when he called out to her, making her jump so violently she almost dropped the shovel.

  “Hello, Virginia. I’ve come back as I promised. The time has come to play our little game.”

  Her hands started shaking uncontrollably and she took a firmer grip on the handle. He stepped down, slowly and surely, even though his sight had to be hampered by the darkness. He hadn’t had time to adjust yet, not like her. She could see better than he could.

  The knowledge gave her courage. She waited, poised to strike, as he paused, one hand outstretched in front of him to pull the string on the light. When his fingers didn’t connect, he muttered a surprised curse.