Twelve-Gauge Guardian

by B. J Daniels

  Cordell stepped back into the gym and began to push his way through the crowd in the direction Raine had gone. “You think he’s the one who got Raine up here.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “He couldn’t have done it alone. The van that tried to run her over, the tickets for this dance, the map. Raine is positive it’s the woman—”

  “Don’t you get it? Raine needs to believe that. I’m catching the next plane out of here—”

  “No, she needs you there in case she gets any more messages and there is nothing you can do here,” Cordell said as he hurried down the hallway, the restroom door in sight. “I’ll have Raine call you.”

  He reached the door, slammed it open. Several women at the sinks jumped, startled by his abrupt entrance—and the fact that a man had just burst into the women’s restroom.

  “Raine?” No answer. “Raine?” He bent to check under the stalls. Only one pair of heels, the wrong ones.

  He turned and rushed out, his gaze frantically searching the crowd. No Raine. Cordell told himself not to panic. She was here somewhere. The dance had begun to thin out as the band wound down for the last song.

  Raine, where the hell are you?

  He bumped into a man, registering the man’s conversation as he did.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Adele,” the man was saying.

  Cordell’s gaze went to the woman as he mumbled, “Excuse me,” to the man. The man had backed her into a corner. She had tears in her eyes, her lipstick was smudged as if he’d just kissed her hard on the mouth.

  The crowd didn’t move and for a moment Cordell was unable to move, either. Next to him the man took the drink the woman was holding. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Adele?” He tilted his face toward her, moving in closer, dropping his voice as he gripped her jaw in his large hand. “Do you really think that will keep me home tonight?”

  Cordell heard the anger in the man’s words and saw fear in the woman’s face—or was that open defiance? The crowd moved but Cordell stood rooted to the floor. What had stopped him cold was the hand gripping the woman’s jaw—and the scar on the man’s hand.

  The bite mark was a perfect child-size half moon.

  Chapter Twelve

  “When was the last time you saw her?” Sheriff McCall Winchester asked.

  Cordell rubbed a hand over his face. “No more than thirty minutes ago. I called you as soon as I found her pin out on the steps by one of the open doors.”

  They were sitting across from the school and had been watching everyone who came out of the building. No sign of Raine.

  McCall picked up the tiny silver plated horse pin. “You think she dropped this on purpose?”

  He nodded. “I knew the moment I saw it on the outside step glittering in the moonlight.”

  The sheriff eyed him. “Sorry, what is the significance of the pin?”

  “She was wearing it when she was abducted here sixteen years ago.”

  “Abducted?” McCall sighed. “I think you’d better start at the beginning.” She listened, taking notes only when necessary, as he told her about Emily Frank.

  It was only after he’d finished that she demanded to know why he hadn’t come to her the moment he’d heard about Lara English being abducted.

  “Raine said he would kill Lara if we did.”

  “Raine?” So that was the way it was, McCall thought, hearing the way he said the woman’s name revealed just how involved his cousin was with her.

  “But you called me now.”

  He gave her a tortured look. “I didn’t know what else to do, especially since Orville Cline has escaped.”

  McCall nodded. “So we don’t know who has Lara or Raine.”

  “But I do know who took Raine sixteen years ago.” He told her about the bite scar. “I followed him to his car and got his license plate number.” He handed her the gala napkin he’d written it down on. “I would have followed him and his wife home but I had to find Raine.”

  “And when you didn’t, you found the pin and called me.” She looked at the local license plate number. It wouldn’t take long to run it. “You realize a scar on the man’s hand isn’t enough proof to arrest him.”

  “No, you need Raine to identify him. That’s why we have to be careful. If Raine is right and his wife is the one who got her here…”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “If this man took Lara English, then he will lead us to her.”

  “Us?” McCall said.

  “I know you don’t have the law enforcement officers to watch his house 24/7.”

  It was true.

  “But I’m going to be watching him. I’ll let you know the moment he makes a move.”

  McCall chewed on her cheek for a moment. “If you saw the man with the bite scar after Raine vanished…”

  “He could have hidden her somewhere and returned to the dance. Or Orville might have her.”

  McCall didn’t like the sound of that. “But why take Raine?”

  “She was the only one who got away,” Cordell said.

  “I suppose it could be that simple.” She ran the plate number and felt her pulse take off like a wild stallion.

  The name Bill and Adele Beaumont came up on the screen.

  “Do you know them?” Cordell asked, glancing over at the screen.

  “Yeah,” McCall said. “They own half the town.”

  “Raine said they would be above suspicion.”

  “So far the only thing you have against them is that they were at the dance tonight, they are prominent citizens and Bill has a scar which could be from a human bite—but may not be,” McCall said.

  “I also know that he’s rough with his wife,” Cordell said. “What about matching the bite scar with Raine’s teeth prints? I realize she isn’t ten anymore but I thought bite marks were like fingerprints, no two exactly alike?”

  “Even if the crime lab could match Raine’s bite with that of the marks on Bill Beaumont’s scar, that doesn’t prove that he abducted her. It would be hard to even prove that Raine is Emily Frank.”

  Cordell groaned. Clearly, he hadn’t thought of that. “There has to be something we can do. Raine said the man who took Lara will keep her alive until tonight. If he thinks the sheriff is suspicious of him…”

  McCall had to agree. Moving on Bill Beaumont if he was guilty would only cause him to get rid of the girl and Raine—if he had them both and if he hadn’t already killed them.

  “Okay, I’ll put you on surveillance on the Beaumonts,” McCall said, realizing she had little choice. She couldn’t trust that if she used one of her deputies, it might get leaked to the Beaumonts. No one in this town would believe Bill was a child molester. Everyone would be ready to protect the local family against some weird-dressed California private investigator here stirring up things—and even more so against a Winchester.

  “But the minute anyone makes a move, you call me. Don’t you go playing Lone Ranger on me, cuz,” she said.

  “You got it.” He reached for the door handle. “Raine’s tough. She’s gotten through a lot.”

  McCall nodded but knew he was just trying to convince himself because the fool had fallen in love with the woman and he couldn’t bear the thought of her being with some sick monster. McCall couldn’t, either.

  If Cordell was right and Bill Beaumont had abducted Raine again, then he couldn’t have taken her far. After she left her cousin, she began to search the area around the school, looking for an old house or shed, somewhere he could stash her.

  If whoever grabbed her had seen that she got tickets to the gala, then he would have made prior arrangements.

  AS MCCALL DROVE AROUND the area behind the school, she called her mother. “What do you know about Bill and Adele Beaumont?”

  Most people when asked something like that would respond, “Why do you ask?”

  Not Ruby. Her trade was gossip, she served it up with every order she delivered at the diner. It made up for the bad tips days.
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  She heard her mother take a long drag on her cigarette, turn down the television as she exhaled and ask, “Beaumont? Are they squabblin’ again? I’m not surprised.”

  “Why do you say that?” McCall asked.

  “You ever meet Bill, talk to him for two seconds, and you can see what a chauvinist he is. He’s a jackass or worse.”

  “Worse?”

  Ruby sighed. “Look how he treats Adele.”

  McCall pictured the slight petite woman. Every time she’d seen her, Adele was dressed to the T and made up as if she lived in a metropolitan area instead of White horse, Montana.

  “He doesn’t seem to treat her too badly from what I’ve seen,” McCall said, thinking of the big new SUV Adele was driving.

  “He has his thumb firmly on that woman. He says jump. She says, ‘How high?’”

  “Are you saying she’s abused?”

  “Depends on what you call abused. She lives in the nicest house in these parts, wears the best clothes money can buy, drives the nicest car, everyone in town treats her like she’s royalty.”

  “And this is bad how?”

  “I’ll bet you this week’s paycheck that once the two of them are alone inside that big house of theirs things are a whole lot different.”

  “What are you getting at?” McCall asked.

  “Just a feeling I have,” her mother said, usually not this noncommittal. “Let me tell you this. There are a handful of men who run this town. They all have coffee in the diner mornings, sit at the same table, even sit in the same chairs. Sometimes another man or two will join them. No one ever sits in Bill Beaumont’s chair.”

  “Bill and Adele never had any kids,” McCall remarked. “He would seem like a man who would want to leave his genes behind.”

  “They couldn’t have any,” Ruby said. “Her fault,” she added before McCall could ask. “I heard he almost left her over it.”

  McCall shuddered. If Cordell was right, this could explain in some warped sick way why Adele went along with Bill’s horrible “hobby.”

  “They could have adopted,” McCall said.

  “Bill? Are you serious? Why are you so curious about the Beaumonts?”

  “I thought I saw them squabblin’ outside the dance tonight.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Cordell had seen them, even overheard them.

  “He’ll never leave her and he’ll never let her leave him,” Ruby said with authority. “He’d have to give her half his money. But I’ll bet he makes her pay dearly for what she gets out of this marriage.”

  CORDELL SAT PARKED down the street under a large weeping willow tree and watched Bill Beaumont’s house.

  He and his wife, Adele, hadn’t come home alone. Another couple had followed them from the dance and were now inside.

  He could see the lights through the sheer drapes, catch glimpses of people moving around inside the house. He glanced at his watch anxiously.

  Raine had been gone now for almost two hours. He wouldn’t let himself think about what could have happened to her in that length of time.

  She was smart and capable and stronger than any woman he’d ever met. He had to believe that she was all right and would survive this, just as she’d survived being a foster child and her abduction at ten.

  His cell phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He checked the caller ID. Marias.

  “I told you I would call you when I heard something,” he said into the phone.

  “Another message just came through from the CBA.” Marias took a breath and let it out. In that breath he heard her anger—and her fear. “This one, though, is for you. It says, ‘Unless you want to end up like your brother and your girlfriend, back off. This has nothing to do with you.’”

  “Like hell,” Cordell said under his breath and hung up.

  Just after 2:00 a.m., the couple who’d been visiting the Beaumont house walked out to their car. They appeared to be arguing, their voices carrying on the cool night air.

  Cordell whirred down his window.

  “I’m telling you she didn’t want to be left alone with him,” the woman said.

  “It’s two in the damned morning, Theresa. You want to go back in there and babysit her, fine, but I’m going home and going to bed.”

  The woman looked toward the house, clearly conflicted. “She’s afraid of him.”

  The man scoffed as he opened his car door. “Yeah, Bill’s a real scary guy,” he said sarcastically.

  The woman seemed to make up her mind. She opened her car door, glanced back at the house once more, then joined her husband, closing the door behind her.

  Brake lights flashed, the engine turned over. Inside the house someone moved behind the sheer drapes as the couple drove away down the street.

  Cordell glanced at his watch again twenty minutes later. The dial glowed. He could feel the minutes ticking by. What if he was wrong? What if the real monster was with Raine right now?

  There were two vehicles parked in front of the Beaumont home. A pickup and a large SUV. When the porch light snapped off, Cordell felt his heart drop. Was it possible Bill Beaumont wasn’t going anywhere tonight?

  He couldn’t bear the thought of Raine in some horrible place any longer. He started to open his door, not sure what he planned to do, but he was going up to that house and if he had to, he would beat the truth out of Bill Beaumont.

  Through a crack in the drapes he could see movement. Someone was pacing back and forth and appeared to be having a heated argument.

  He eased his door open and climbed out. Working his way through the shadowed darkness of the trees, he neared the house. He could hear muted voices, the man’s more strident, the woman’s meek.

  Along the side of the house, he found an open window and eased it open wider. He could hear snatches of the argument.

  Bill was worked up, yelling at his wife, who seemed to be trying to console him.

  Cordell was about to go in the window when he realized everything had gone silent.

  At the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut, he rushed to the edge of the house. Bill was climbing into his pickup truck. An instant later, the engine turned over and Bill threw the truck into Reverse and roared out of the yard, the tires spitting gravel.

  Cordell waited a moment to make sure he wasn’t seen before sprinting to his brother’s pickup and following.

  For the first time all night, he felt hope that he might actually find Raine before it was too late.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the drapes part on the front window of the Beaumont house. He had only an impression of a woman watching him as he drove off.

  “SEE IF YOU CAN FIND any connection between Bill Beaumont and Orville Cline,” McCall said into the phone.

  “The child molester in Montana State Prison?”

  “There have to be phone records or even visits.” Would Beaumont be so stupid as to visit Orville Cline in prison?

  McCall hung up and glanced at the clock. She hadn’t heard from Cordell and could only assume that Bill hadn’t left his house.

  She’d known Bill since she was a kid. He was one of those do-gooders, as her mother Ruby called him.

  “A terrible tipper though,” her mother had always been quick to point out. “He and his cronies come in to the café, drink gallons of coffee for hours and leave a measly tip for one cup of coffee. His wife is worse. You’d think they were headed for the poor farm the way they pinch pennies. That’s the rich for you.”

  Ruby Bates Winchester measured everyone in town by how generous they were with her at the diner. McCall wondered if it didn’t have more to do with the service they got from her mother than how tight they were with their money.

  For a moment, she thought about her mother and how much she’d changed since she started dating Red Harper. McCall had never seen her mother truly happy before and now that she was, it was a beautiful thing. She hoped it lasted.

  Her mother had taken the news about her husband Trace Winchester’s murd
er twenty-seven years ago in her stride. At least on the surface.

  But McCall had happened to see her mother at the cemetery one evening just before dark. Ruby was sitting beside the huge ornate tombstone Trace’s mother, Pepper, had insisted on. But Ruby had won the battle about where her husband and the father of her daughter would be buried.

  “I want him in town so I can visit him,” she’d told Pepper on one of the few occasions the two women actually spoke to each other.

  Pepper had wanted Trace buried in the family plot on the ranch. It was one of the few times her grandmother have given in.

  McCall had been touched by Pepper’s generosity in letting Ruby have this small victory, especially since Pepper had tried so hard when Trace was alive to split them up.

  McCall told herself that was all water under the bridge. Her father was dead and buried. Any doubts she had about who had killed him, she’d tried to bury with her father.

  That evening, though, when she’d seen her mother sitting on Trace’s grave in the cemetery, McCall had stopped and watched Ruby gently touching the grave stone, talking to the husband she’d lost when she was pregnant with McCall.

  Maybe they would all find peace, she’d thought that night. Someday.

  It was one reason she’d agreed to have her wedding with Luke at Winchester Ranch. Even with the animosity between her mother and grandmother. She hoped the two could call a truce—at least until the wedding and reception were over.

  McCall had reluctantly accepted her grandmother’s generous offer to host the wedding at Winchester Ranch on Christmas. She knew Ruby was excited about finally setting foot on the ranch after all these years.

  McCall just hoped the wedding went off without any bloodshed. With the Winchesters, you just never knew.

  Her phone rang. She picked it up thinking it would be Cordell with an update on what was or wasn’t happening at the Beaumont house. She feared letting him run surveillance might be a mistake.

  But the call was from one of her deputies letting her know that they hadn’t found Lara English and were calling it a night. They’d begin again in the morning.