by Brenda Novak
Red taillights up ahead told her she was closing in on the vehicle she’d spotted. But if the driver knew she was behind him, he didn’t seem concerned. He appeared to be going too fast, and she was pretty sure he’d just run a red light.
Hoping this was merely a random DUI, she flipped on her flashers and checked for oncoming traffic before charging through the same intersection.
Whoever it was, it wasn’t Stuart. The truck was too old and dented. The Dunlaps prided themselves on having money and made a point of showing it. And the person behind the wheel was wearing a cowboy hat. If Stuart ever wore a hat, it was a baseball cap.
Thanks to the driver’s speed, she didn’t catch up with him until the town’s buildings had fallen away to desert. Even then, he didn’t pull over.
Once she drew close enough to see the license plate, she put the number in her computer to get the DMV information and found that the truck was registered to a Dwight Smith.
It wasn’t a name she recognized….
In case Dwight was too drunk to notice the red and blue lights behind him, she turned on her siren and came right up on his bumper.
Finally the driver slowed and pulled onto the shoulder.
They were so far from Bordertown, Sophia couldn’t see anything that wasn’t in the direct beam of her headlights, which made her uneasy. But she had a job to do. Grabbing her flashlight with her left hand, she kept her right on the handle of her gun as she cautiously approached the truck.
“Step out of the car and put your hands up,” she called out.
“Somethin’ wrong, Chief?”
Sophia had yet to see the driver’s face, but she knew that voice. This wasn’t Dwight Smith. It was Leonard Taylor. He’d lowered his window, but he wasn’t getting out, as she’d asked.
“I said to step out of the vehicle.”
The door still didn’t open. “Have I done somethin’ wrong?”
“Get out!”
Making sure she heard his exaggerated sigh, he opened a door rusty enough to squeal on its hinges. “Is this really necessary?”
She ignored his irritation—and his question. “Where’d you get this truck?”
The salt-and-pepper goatee he’d grown since quitting the force strengthened his resemblance to Kenny Rogers. They had the same build, were probably about the same size and had similar blue eyes and tanned faces. Leonard wasn’t unattractive; it was what he harbored inside that Sophia didn’t like.
“This is a company vehicle, provided by my employer. Name’s Dwight Smith. But you already know that, don’t you? You had plenty of time to look it up. Standard procedure and all.”
“He doesn’t mind if you drive it for personal use?”
“He knows I don’t have a choice. Lorna took the car when she left.”
The accusation in those words suggested he blamed her for his wife’s actions. But that came as no surprise. Sophia already knew he blamed her for everything.
“You abused your power and cheated on your wife, Leonard.” Which, rumor had it, wasn’t the first time he’d stepped out. He liked the attention the uniform brought him. He’d even hit on her once or twice when they’d started working together. “Why not do the right thing and take responsibility for your actions?”
“That’s easy for you to say. It’s not as if you’d ever be tempted to have sex with anyone. You’re the ice queen.” He lowered his voice. “You’re probably so frigid you wouldn’t know what to do with a cock if—”
“That’s enough,” she snapped. But he didn’t back off. He moved closer.
“No, it’s not. It’s not nearly enough. You think you’re such a ballbuster. That you don’t have to worry about your own secrets getting out. But I’m here to tell you that no one’s secrets are safe in Bordertown, not even yours.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the reason you hate men.”
“You know nothing about me!”
“I know your stepdaddy spent more time diddling you than he did your mother. That’s something, isn’t it?”
Sophia opened her mouth to deny it but nothing came out. It felt as if he’d been doing more than following her and watching her; it felt as if he’d been listening to every word she said.
“Your mother came to me once,” he explained with a victorious smile. “Crying.” So Anne had heard when Sophia tried to tell her what was happening. And, on some level, she’d believed it. But if that was the case, why hadn’t she done anything?
Her mother’s refusal to protect her hurt more than the memory of the instances, before Sophia had turned to Starkey, when her stepfather had pressed her to let him touch her. She’d always resisted, but his attempt alone made her feel dirty.
“You expect me to believe my mother sought you out?” she said.
“It’s true.”
But if Leonard was as sure of that as he pretended, he wouldn’t be telling her. He’d be spreading it all over town, twisting key parts of the story to make it appear that she’d seduced Gary, or at least actively participated in an inappropriate relationship. If he was following her around, heckling her, he suspected but didn’t know. Which meant that whatever her mother had told him left room for doubt.
Acting as indifferent as she could, she slipped her gun back in its holster. “That’s crazy. Even if my mother believed I was sleeping with her husband, she’d never turn to you.”
“She actually came to talk to Chief Bernstein, but I happened to be the only one at the station. And she was in desperate need of advice. She wanted me to tell her, given my extensive background in police work, whether I’d ever encountered a situation where a teenage girl had falsely accused a stepfather of molestation. She thought you might be lying to get attention or to get rid of Gary.” He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “But you weren’t lying, were you?”
How could her mother have betrayed her in this way as well as all the others? How could she have been that selfish?
It would be foolish to react to the throbbing ache inside her. At least, right now. Straightening her spine, she poured every ounce of energy into a performance she hoped would put an end to this.
“If she really said that, she was just being paranoid. There was a period when she didn’t feel she was getting enough of Gary’s attention. But there was nothing going on between us. Nothing at all.”
For the most part, that statement was true, despite her stepfather’s advances. And she suspected her mother knew the truth on some level and had been jealous, which was why she hadn’t fought to keep Sophia at home when Sophia moved out.
But this explanation didn’t seem to sway Leonard. He remained as smug as ever.
“Maybe I’d believe you if not for what your stepfather carries in his wallet.”
Sophia had the terrible feeling that this encounter was about to go from bad to worse. “How do you know what my stepfather carries in his wallet?”
“Gus happened to be at the Firelight tonight.”
Gus was one of the men who worked at her stepfather’s feed store. He ran tractor rentals.
“And what does Gus know?”
“Just what he’s seen with his own eyes.”
“Which is…”
“Your stepfather carries your picture.”
She could hardly breathe. “A lot of people carry pictures of their children.”
“In this one—” he smiled, relishing the moment “—you’re naked.”
Sophia wished she could rally with a quick denial. But he’d succeeded in leveling her. When, if ever, could her stepfather have taken that picture? She’d never undressed for him. He used to come into her room after her mother was asleep and sit on the edge of her bed. He’d talk to her about life, school, her father—always her father, as if he was trying to differentiate between himself and her real dad. And sometimes he’d touch her in ways that would, at first, seem harmless. He’d smooth the hair off her forehead or tuck her in, actions designed to win her trust.
Then he’d “accidentally” brush her breasts or even try to lie down with her.
But, to her knowledge, he’d never seen her naked. She’d made sure of it. She’d become ultramodest, wouldn’t even shower unless he was out of the house.
“That can’t be true,” she said decisively.
“Gus swore on a stack of Bibles. Said you have the most amazing tits he’s ever seen.”
Of course Leonard would have to add that. He couldn’t miss an opportunity to embarrass her. But she didn’t react to the “tits” comment. The past—the divorce, the new marriage, her brother’s absence at college, Starkey, her real father’s decline and subsequent death when she was only twenty-five—it all came rushing back. She’d felt so vulnerable in those days. She’d promised herself she’d never be that vulnerable again.
Yet here she was, feeling completely exposed. Not that she’d let him know it. Whether or not she could defuse the situation depended on this very moment. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to take a Breathalyzer test, Leonard.”
“What?” He seemed shocked that he hadn’t set her back the way he’d intended.
“You’re not making sense. My stepfather couldn’t have any such picture, because I’ve never been naked in front of him. You must be drunk.”
“I’m not drunk!”
“Then you shouldn’t mind proving it.”
His eyes glittered in the darkness. “God, I hate you. You are such a bitch!”
“Hating me doesn’t change anything.”
“Leave me the hell alone.” He turned to get in his truck, but she grabbed his door when he tried to close it and drew her gun.
“If you won’t submit to a Breathalyzer, I’ll arrest you,” she said. “I can’t let you back on the road until I know the rest of us are safe.”
He laughed loud and long at that. “Fine, I’ll prove I’m not drunk. But don’t think you’ll ever be safe.”
“Are you threatening me?” she murmured.
“Just making sure you know not to count me among your friends.”
“I’d never make that mistake.” She went to the car to retrieve the Breathalyzer.
She’d almost cost him this job, too. Leonard couldn’t believe it. For a few minutes last night, he’d had the upper hand. He’d enjoyed wielding some power. And then Sophia had nearly hauled him off to jail. If he hadn’t passed the Breathalyzer, she would’ve locked him up and impounded his car. As it was, she’d given him two tickets he couldn’t afford, one for running a red light and one for speeding.
Although things could’ve been worse—if she’d impounded his truck and found the receiver he used to eavesdrop on her—he’d been so angry by the time he got home he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t until dawn that he’d finally dozed off, and then he’d overslept.
He’d called ahead to tell Dwight he’d be late, said it was because he woke up feeling ill. He couldn’t admit to getting pulled over in the middle of the night for breaking traffic laws while driving his employer’s truck. But it was obvious that Dwight wasn’t happy to hear another excuse. Since Leonard had returned to animal husbandry, which was what he’d done before his uncle had encouraged him to try his hand at law enforcement, he’d had one problem after another. He couldn’t seem to climb out of the mire he’d fallen into the day Sophia had heard about the Mexican girl who’d ratted him out to her loser brother.
Frowning, Leonard watched a tumbleweed roll across the flat desert landscape. He felt just as dead, just as disconnected, as that wind-tossed weed. And it stemmed from one mistake. That was all it took to destroy his life—one mistake and a vengeful, power-hungry fellow officer who’d never liked him to begin with.
“¿Qué quieres que hagamos?”
Saul, one of the migrant workers who helped out at the ranch, approached him.
Lowering the brim of his hat to protect his skin from the broiling sun, Leonard replied in Spanish because none of the men who worked with him could understand English. “Move all the birds from house number one to house number two,” he told him. “It’s time to rake out the droppings.” Which they would sell to a fertilizer company, but the laborers didn’t need to know that. They just needed to do the raking and leave anything that required a brain to him.
Saul passed the word to two other migrant workers who waited nearby, wearing their usual sweat-stained baseball caps and filthy work clothes. Then they all walked to house number one.
At least they were obedient. And they worked hard. Their women were well trained, too. The ones he’d met could really cook and clean. They knew how to take care of a man….
Dwight would be along shortly to see how the transfer was progressing, so Leonard needed to join the crew. But he couldn’t dredge up the energy to overcome his resistance to such lowly work. Not after his latest indignity at the hands of Sophia “the Bitch of All Bitches” St. Claire. And what was all that business his bug had picked up about Rod being in his trailer? What right did Bruce’s bastard have entering anyone’s place of residence without permission?
Lingering under the spray mister near the corrugated metal shack where two women—one Mexican, one white—made sure the eggs produced on the ranch were clean and contained no dark spots or blood, he gazed off into the distance. Here he was, overseeing the removal of chicken shit instead of driving around Bordertown in an air-conditioned cruiser, enjoying the envy of the men and the respect and admiration of the women. Lorna, his wife, was gone. His girls were gone, too. For the most part, they refused to talk to him. Lorna said it was because he couldn’t say anything nice. She claimed the children were suffering enough, that they didn’t need him making them feel guilty every time he called. But they couldn’t be hurting as badly as he was. And it wasn’t as if he was asking for the moon. He just wanted them to convince their mother to forgive him and come home so they could go back to life as it was before.
Lorna said she wanted to give their separation a while before she filed for divorce, as if there was a chance she might reconsider, but there were moments he feared those happier times were gone for good. Every day seemed harder than the one before. Staring at the trailer they’d once shared, with its missing furniture and the dog and cat the family had left with him because their new place didn’t allow pets, had changed him, hardened him.
He thought about the guns he had at the trailer. Lately, his mind returned to them constantly. Until the past six months, he’d never understood those guys who felt compelled to shoot up their workplace or school. But he understood now. He wanted to walk into Bordertown and kill Sophia, the council members who’d supported her and Bruce Dunlap, the worst of all hypocrites. Bruce had pulled his support the minute he’d learned about the Mexican girl, and then he’d coaxed his bastard half-breed home to help solve a crime Sophia couldn’t solve on her own. They even had a cigarette butt from which they were hoping to get a DNA profile. That could mess up everything.
But as much as Leonard dreamed of taking everyone out in a hail of bullets, he told himself he wouldn’t let Sophia or anyone else tempt him into acting rash. That was no way to win. If he shot up the town, he’d die, too, or he’d go to prison, and that wouldn’t fix anything.
No, he’d take her apart piece by piece, beginning with what she’d stolen from him first—her job. And he’d do it without anyone being able to prove it was him. He finally had the tools he needed to insure success. Over the past few weeks, he’d managed to bug her house, her car, even the station.
She wouldn’t make any progress on the UDA murders because he’d know everything she did and he’d stay one step ahead of her.
What he’d learned about her relationship with her stepfather while listening to her conversation with Roderick was simply a bonus….
13
It was midafternoon by the time Sophia woke up. Because of the pressure she’d been under, she hadn’t been able to sleep for several days, so she’d taken a sleeping pill, and it had definitely done its job. She’d been unconscious for eight s
olid hours. But the first thing she thought of when she opened her eyes was what she’d been thinking about when she fell asleep—her conversation with Leonard Taylor.
Was what he’d told her true? Did her stepfather have a nude picture of her in his wallet?
She couldn’t imagine how that could be the case. For one thing, she had no idea how or when he would’ve gotten it. For another, he couldn’t risk having her mother come across it. Anne preferred to live in denial, but that kind of proof would be too obvious to ignore, even for her.
And that wasn’t the only part of Leonard’s story that seemed suspect. He said Anne had gone to the police station and asked for his advice. But Anne had never particularly liked him. He’d dared to come on to her once, when they were both young and unmarried, and Anne was appalled that he thought he was good enough. Some of his cousins had money, but he didn’t. Plus, Anne’s pride meant everything to her. She’d never be able to hold her head up in Bordertown if people thought she couldn’t keep her husband’s sexual interest away from her own daughter.
So…where would Leonard have come up with that if it wasn’t true? And how ironic that he’d mention it right after she’d divulged the truth to Rod. During the past decade, she’d heard no allusion to her stepfather’s inappropriate behavior, had made no allusion to it herself. Yet the subject had come up twice in the same evening only minutes apart.
Definitely odd….
A knock at the door told her she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep even if she could forget about the sickening possibility that her stepfather might have such a revealing photograph in his wallet.
You have the most amazing tits. How many people had seen that picture? If it existed…
“Hey, you home?”
It was Rod, calling to her from outside her front door. She recognized his voice, but wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. She’d kissed him last night and had considered doing even more. Which seemed crazy in the light of day. They barely knew each other. Besides, she felt a little superstitious about what she’d told him, as if that moment of weakness might bring the world as she knew it tumbling down around her. She’d been too tired and, when it came to Rod, too influenced by guilt and attraction to maintain her usual defenses.
