by J. D. Allen
Jay walked away again. Filled several glass mugs. Washed a few more. She glanced at him more than once. She knew something.
He finished the burger, leaving most of the fries on the plate. It was close to one a.m. when she slid him his third shot. His water glass stood full.
The place was still hopping, but the busiest part of the night was over.
“His mom’s sick?”
“Alzheimer’s.”
“Damn.” She huffed and then downed his shot. “You’ll find him eventually, I suppose. We’re a small town. He’s out at Ruby’s.”
Jim raised his brows. As much for her taking his drink as for wanting more info on Ruby’s.
“Ruby’s Horse Adventures. It’s north of here. He’s the barn manager or head wrangler or something like that. Keeps to himself mostly. When he comes in, he’s never as drunk as the rest of the bunch. Polite guy.” She refilled the shot glass. “You better not be here to cause any trouble or you’ll answer to me.”
13
This puzzle was not coming together, and not for missing pieces. To Jim, the mystery had a couple wrong pieces in the mix. Like a puzzle of a cat with random pieces from an Eiffel Tower picture thrown in just to mess with your head. None of Dan’s acquaintances had any knowledge of the guy ever using drugs. His existence was so far off the grid he was close to impossible to find. Took a lot of work to have an electronic footprint so light. No Facebook. No cell that could be traced to his name. No job on record. And yet, here he was, a head wrangler or something at a resort in Utah.
Jay had made it sound as though he’d been around long enough for her to judge his character. Bartenders were good at that. And his experience in Vegas had told him female bartenders were particularly talented at it. Jim had been tossed out of some pretty low places by some pretty tough ladies.
He drove the quiet road north the next morning, following a bus from the Broken Spur Inn. It pulled up to the opening of a huge barn. Jim parked at the far end of the lot and watched as hotel guests filed off the aging blue shuttle bus.
He mingled into the back of the group as they made their way to be checked in by a couple of smiling young girls in tight jeans and dirty cowboy hats. He lingered as parts of the group were led off in different directions. Older and less-mobile to the wagon rides, younger and more-agile to the horseback rides. To the left side of the barn was a sign: No Guests Beyond this Point. Looked like the path led to the main house and the back of a snack bar/gift shop building. No doubt the buggy rides let off directly in front of that building when finished. Like how theme parks now guide guests through gift shops after they get off the rollercoaster. Sales. Sales. Sales.
Farther along were cabins. Plain. Not for vacationers. Living quarters. Eight doors. If they all had two bunks, at least sixteen of these hands lived on site. Would explain why there were no real estate or rental records for Dan Hodge. Beyond those were wide open spaces, fenced paddocks with horses milling about, and another big barn. The closest was rugged, less painted than the one customers came through. Likely for working rather than impressing guests. A lot of people around in the Ruby’s T-shirts but none were his guy.
He eased his way to the edge of the barn. Two horses were tied in the aisle between rows of stalls that lined each side of the building. Both were resting with one back leg relaxed and seemed content to be tethered and left alone. Better than pulling a wagon. Jim moved along the outside of the barn. It smelled like a horse ranch back here. He peeked around the corner. A tall, thin guy was giving instructions to a young kid with a clipboard. Jim’s gut told him the tall cowboy was Dan. His jeans were clean and pressed, his shirt only wrinkled from where he’d sat down, nice crease still down the sleeve. The thing that confirmed what his gut knew was the name Kent stamped on his leather belt.
The horse tied closest to Jim snorted his displeasure at being ignored. Both men turned to look. Jim backed around the corner, but they’d spotted him. His choices were few—turn and run or face the music. They were close and knew this area. Nowhere to go out there but the parking lot or the wilderness. His instinct told him to stay put. Cynthia would just have to get over it; he was gonna talk to Dan first. Besides, this guy was no junkie. Jim’s gut was talking to him, he just had to figure out what it had to say.
“Can we help you, mister?” Dan and the much younger man stuck their heads around the corner. Dan tilted his head a bit. “Insurance company says you can’t be back here, sir.”
They’d given him an out. He could leave and follow Cynthia’s orders. “Sorry.”
He felt that tingle on his neck again right before he was going to turn and walk away, following her orders. His feet stayed put.
“Are you the boss round here?” he asked, looking at Dan.
“Of the horses, yeah. That’s ’bout it.”
“I have a couple questions about running a barn, you have a minute?”
Dan looked at the other guy. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the meds from Doc Milton.” With that the kid rushed off toward the main building and the parking lots. “I need to get these two out in the paddock. Can you walk and talk?”
“No problem.” Ah, the needs of a workingman. This workingman was clearly not on drugs. Possibly never had been on drugs. What was Cynthia’s motive for saying so? Jim would have found Dan for the money. He didn’t need to be convinced to hunt someone down. Why the misdirection? And why did it matter to him now? He should back away, call the client, and get his money. Job done.
The guy unhooked the horse and spun it toward Jim. “Hold her.” He handed Jim a rope attached to the animal’s head. The beast had to weigh a ton, maybe more. She was sniffing his arm, her lips nibbling at his sleeve.
“Is she a biter?”
Dan walked past with the other horse. “Only if you bite first.”
The horse followed right on her horsey friend’s tail. Jim was along for the ride. He didn’t want to bring up anything until he was not attached to a thousand pounds of animal that could kill him with her feet. Dan opened the gate and spun the horse around and took off her head strap. He took the rope from Jim and did the same with that one. It was impressive just how hard they ran to the open pasture, kicking and farting along the way. It was amazing to see in real life. He’d been a city boy most of his life and had never been really close to horses.
“Now.” Dan latched the gate. “What can I help you with?”
“You ever ride rodeo?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “A thousand years ago. Yeah.”
“In Stephenville, Texas?”
Dan’s body stiffened. He took a step back. Boy was going to run.
“I’m not a cop. You’re not in trouble.”
“You say?”
“Didn’t see any paper on you.” No warrants, no tickets, no nothing.
“And who are you, mister?” Dan’s hip cocked. It was not a fighting stance.
“Jim Bean. I’m from Vegas. A PI. Your sister hired me to find you.”
Dan’s face twisted up and he scratched his cheek. “My sister? I talked to my sister last month. What the heck would she hire you for?”
Jim’s expression must have mirrored his confusion.
“What exactly did my sister say?” Dan’s expression changed in a heartbeat from confused teenager to frightened child.
“That you’d been missing for a while.” Jim leaned against the fence for support. His gut was screaming at him loud and clear. There was something wrong here. This boy was not a drug addict. Never had been. Cynthia had lied to him about her brother. She followed Jim to Texas, got him drunk and seduced him, probably to keep him off-guard. Keep him from thinking about her or the job too much.
If Dan was telling the truth that meant Cynthia was the puzzle piece he hadn’t expected? The odd part that didn’t fit quite right? “What … what does your sister look like, Dan?”
&nbs
p; “Blond. Short, a little thin.”
“Oh, fuck.” This was as bad as bad got if the kid wasn’t playing him.
“What did she look like when you met her?” Dan stepped a little closer trying to loom over Jim.
Jim had thought he had all his ducks in a neat quacking row and now the little bastards were scattering. The feeling of not being in control, not being sure of himself, dug in his side like a spur. That woman had followed him all the way to Texas to make sure Jim did not speak to Dan. Now he might know why. And to top it off, they’d …
“Redhead. Shapely. Green eyes.”
“Sophie. Oh my fuck. Was she in Vegas? Did she talk to my sister?”
“Who is Sophie?”
Dan started walking toward the cabins. He cursed and shook his head. Jim caught up as he hit the wood porch. A single rocking chair sat next to the upside-down bucket that worked as a table. He stopped. “Sophie was a girl I grew up with. We hung out some. I grew up, moved on. She showed up years later when I was in college. The crazy bitch couldn’t take no for an answer.” He took his hat off, then ran his hand through his hair. “The girl I was dating at the time suddenly disappeared. I was investigated. Almost accused. None of us thought of Sophie as a suspect. I had an alibi. The case was never solved. Sophie disappeared again.” He let his thin back slam against the wall. He slammed his booted foot backwards. Boards cracked.
Jim’s FUBAR meter sounded the alarm. Dread churned with the acid in his stomach. Been a while since he’d screwed up this bad.
“When Sophie showed up next, it was at a rodeo. I was hooking up with some buckle bunny at a bar. Sophie got all pissed. Said I was cheating on her. Cursed out the girl. Poor thing was no one I’d even met before that night. The next day that girl went missing too. They found her with her throat slit two days later.” He rubbed his eyes with enough force Jim heard the squeaking sound of it.
“So you’ve been living a cash-only life out here in the middle of Utah to hide from Sophie.” And Jim had led the spider right to the fly.
“I wasn’t sure what to do. I was ready to leave the rodeo circuit anyway. Not being where she’d likely be looking for me only made the idea more appealing. It’s not like I was settled down in Texas. I drank too much, played too much, whored around too much.” Dan’s gaze went out to the stunning rock formations. The view from his porch was travel-magazine perfect. “Turns out the quiet life suits me right down to my Justins. I do my job. Read. Sleep. I don’t miss the traveling or the partying at all.”
Dan let his head fall back to the wood siding. “It’s been seven years. After a couple without hearing word one from her, I was sure she’d gone off and found someone else to obsess over. Or maybe I was overreacting. Either way, Sophie needed some serious help.”
“This your place?”
He nodded.
“Let’s go inside.”
Jim looked around the barn lots before closing the door behind him. The one-room cabin reflected Dan’s words. A single worn, overstuffed chair with a thick blanket sat in front of a fireplace. A pot hung over cold coals. Small table for two and an efficient little kitchen. The couch and chair that made up the living room were made of carved logs. Reminded Jim of a lodge in Montana he once stayed in when he was trying to forget his own past. No TV. No phone. Jim understood.
What a fucking mess. The kid had to be right. And that being the case, Cynthia—no, Sophie—had had overnight to catch up to him. He eased over to the thin curtains and peeked out the edge. She was not in plain sight. The day seemed eerily quiet out there. Only a few horses milled about with their heads to the ground, chomping what little grass they could find. No breeze moving their tails, not a soul in sight. Everyone must be on the trail ride by now.
“You’re convinced she killed those girls?”
“I need to call Cynthia.” Dan pulled a cheap throwaway phone from a kitchen drawer.
“Not a good idea. I think she has Cynthia’s phone.” Jim pulled out the old photograph. He had to know. If he’d brought danger to this kid, he would never forgive himself. And if that was the case, he worried over Sophie’s current mental condition. Well, this was why.
How many times was he going to let his guard down only to have a woman blindside him?
“Is this Sophie?”
Dan sat back on the bed gripping the picture in both hands. They trembled a little. His mouth was a tight straight line and his brows drew in. “Yes, sir. That’s her.”
Crap.
Jim’s mission had just changed.
14
Sophie drove past the cluster of barns and parked in a little-used driveway to a ranch up the rocky hill from Ruby’s Horse Adventures. The overgrown grass might be a result of neglect, but it looked more like abandonment to her.
She lifted the hood on Cynthia’s car just in case someone came up the long drive. More than likely it wouldn’t be a problem, but she didn’t want to explain herself if someone stopped and questioned her.
Through her binoculars, she found Jim’s car in the middle of the lot. Just about where the GPS locator she’d attached under his bumper told her it had stopped. After Bean got so upset in Texas, his forthcomingness with information was in doubt. So this was the easiest way to keep in the loop with instant updates. Follow him. So when she’d called last night, she wasn’t far behind him.
The idea of tracking the tracker gave her a little thrill. She stretched her neck to the side. The audible pops told her it was time to relax. Bean was checking out a horseback riding business in Utah. It was a perfect place to find her Danny. She’d called around and asked at a bunch of them in Texas years ago when Danny first got lost. She’d had no luck. She would have never guessed Utah. Bean had been a good investment.
Sophie took a drink and patted her side, making sure her blade was in its place. In the event Bean called and confirmed Danny was there … She shivered. Always be prepared.
You learned the hard way, didn’t you?
She shook her head. “That was a long time ago.” When she was experimenting with the tranquilizer in the auto injectors, she didn’t think she might need more than one per outing. After stalking a woman for hours through the garish bars in Dallas, Sophie broke the needle in her skinny neck before the shit could be injected. She’d had to fight the bitch before she could kill her. It’d been much more physical than Sophie would have liked. Number Nine.
Too much contact with her germ-laden skin. Excessive physcial contact could lead to DNA transfer to your victim as she pathetically tries to scratch her way free.
Sophie took pride in her strength. Working out five days a week ensured she could hold her own enough to get the job done, but the fight-or-flight response could make even a drunk socialite stronger than one would imagine.
You’ve made a few mistakes.
“Back then,” she snapped at the voice in her head. Always critical, derogatory. But she was better now. She’d gotten exceedingly good at getting better. Of using her brains and her brawn to move ahead. She rubbed the back of her neck. She was sweating. Heart pounding. “Now I’m smarter.”
Stealth, perfect. Danny would be so impressed with what she’d done to create a place where they could live happily.
She swept the binoculars around to the opening of the barn and all the activity of the unloading bus. She saw no sign of Bean or Danny. Something moved to the side of the barn. She’d found her PI. He was watching around the corner. The barn blocked her view of what he was looking at. Jim started back toward his car at a good pace but stopped short when Danny and another man approached him.
She gripped the plastic of the binoculars. Driving hard all night had not done her nerves any favors. “No! Dumbass. What part of don’t talk to him didn’t you get? Do what you’re being paid for!”
Danny approached Bean. Her clenched jaw was so tight her grinding teeth echoed in the still
air.
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, used her inner strength to calm. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth her yogi would chant during class. It kept her calm and she desperately needed that now. Rushing down there to throttle that PI, no matter how much pleasure that would bring, would do no good. She focused on the ultimate goal. Danny in her sights.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. A moment of joy and excitement was well deserved. A scant celebration even, if only internal. There had been so much preparation, buildup, this was not the climax she’d hoped for. She’d wanted to come into his life by rushing into his arms. Bean had ruined that fantasy moment forever.
Anger is not your friend. Control is your friend. Anticipation had been growing, consuming her for the last year. And there he stood, as beautiful as he’d been ten years ago at twenty-three, still fit and looking good in those jeans and boots. He smiled for just an instant. A giddy rush of excitement washed though her. Soon they would be bound together. As it was meant to be.
Only Bean needed to walk the fuck away. She pressed the glass hard to her face and watched, not caring if there would be a round impression in her skin. The conversation looked light. Maybe it was just small talk. Why hadn’t she taken a lip-reading class? She’d taken about everything else under the sun over the last seven years. An extended conversation between these two would ruin everything. It wouldn’t take Bean long to figure out her story was a lie. Danny wasn’t a junkie.
I told you that backstory would be a risk.
“Shut up. I know. But I needed a good excuse for the cops being left out of the search for a missing person.” She shook her head and kicked a little rock at the stupid car.
Should have told him Danny was a thief.
“But then he may have insisted on police involvement. Or decided not to be involved in finding him without having him arrested after.”
