Nobody could.
Shaw Bennett peeked his head into the room and then pushed his way inside. “What happened?”
He had trained his eagle eye on Chelsea but obviously addressed his question to Grayson. That was okay. She had no words to give him at the moment. All of her emotions had lodged in her throat and stuck there.
“When I came up the drive, I saw a man in the woods firing at the cabin.”
Shaw grunted. “Might have been Jake Richards.”
Grayson stopped his jerky movements long enough to process what Shaw had just said. “Why did you let him out?”
Bennett’s jaw muscle tightened. “It’s not like I had a choice. The judge set bail. His mother went to a bondsman. What could I do? I had a deputy follow him, but the guy is new on the job and lost him.”
She shivered at the thought Jake Richards might be loose and hunting for her. If he could find her once, Jake could find her again. “How did he know where to look for me?”
Grayson lifted his hands. “Don’t look at me. The shooter was already here when I got here. Maybe he followed Duncan up here.”
Chelsea wrapped her arms over her chest. These guys were getting a bit intense. Their comments seemed to snarl out of their mouths. Grayson had minimized it when he suggested the two men weren’t the best of friends.
“How long has Brett been gone?”
She tried to answer Bennett’s question. “He left right before…” She pressed the fleshy part of her hand against her mouth. Had the shooter been aiming at her or at Jordan?
Bennett slid his arm across her shoulders, and until then, she didn’t realize she’d been trembling. “Hey, you’re okay now. Courtney and I are going back to Shaw’s Landing. You can come stay with us.”
She didn’t want to stay with them.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Grayson’s question exploded from his mouth. “You know what happened last time you stayed there? I don’t think Courtney has recuperated from that yet.”
“I think it’s safe now. Jeremy’s bones were cremated this morning.”
She didn’t give a rip what they were talking about. Her mind dwelled on what had just happened. She wasn’t convinced the shooter was Jake Richards. She’d caught just a glimpse of the man before Jordan shoved her to the ground. Something about the stance seemed familiar. Nothing about the man reminded her of Jake Richards.
The urgency to get away from the cabin hit her in the gut. The need to move pushed her to push them. “When can I get out of here?” She’d never been to Shaw’s Landing, and anything was better than waiting around to find out if someone was going to make another attempt to kill her.
Bennett removed his arm from around her shoulders. “As soon as Jordan is on his way to the hospital.” The sympathy in his response surprised her.
“Can you get me there without someone following us?” Her sarcasm was lethal.
Grayson answered for them. “It’s what we’re trained to do.”
Bennett leaned one hand on the rail of the top bunk before his mouth set into a smirk. “I think I’m better at it than he is.”
Grayson snapped back at him. “That’s your opinion.”
Bennett’s amusement faded. “Maybe we should take a little detour.”
Grayson started to object, but Bennett held up one hand. “I’d like to ask that old mountain woman if she knows what Jake Richards is up to, and maybe she can tell us how much Haskins knows about Cherish Duncan.”
Chelsea busted into their conversation. “I thought Cherish Duncan is supposed to be dead.”
That was a weird thing to say.
Grayson laughed. “Most people will believe it, but Timna will know better.” He pointed at Chelsea. “You might as well take her with you when you go. Maybe Timna will tell you more if she’s there.”
Bennett nodded in agreement. “Have you ever met Timna?” Anticipation glittered in his eyes.
Chelsea wanted to punch him. Nothing about her situation was enjoyable. “No, but I’ve heard of her. She’s got some crazy weird powers. Brett says the spirits talk to her.”
Grayson’s amused countenance changed to serious in a heartbeat. “I’ve always suspected that’s where she gets her information.”
“Brett says her place is sitting right on top of an old cemetery.”
A shiver seemed to start in Bennett’s extremities and travel through his whole body. “A cemetery, huh? No wonder she’s so…creepy.”
“Brett always said to stay away from her. He said she’d put a hex on you.” That wasn’t so, but she enjoyed Bennett’s reaction to her comment. He jerked as if bitten.
Grayson shook with renewed laughter. “She doesn’t hex anyone. She’s just an old woman who loves Baby Ruth bars.”
A knock interrupted them. The EMT stuck his head through the door. “We’re air-vacing him to Washington in Fayetteville. They have a better trauma center.” The whoomp whoomp of rotors could be heard in the distance. The chopper had probably landed on the most level patch of ground near the highway at the bottom of the drive.
Grayson, Bennett, and Chelsea moved into the living area as the gurney was almost out the door.
“Wait. Is he awake?”
The nearest EMT shook his head. “No ma’am. He’s out of it. Too much blood loss. It’s all we can do to keep him from going into shock. We gotta move.”
Jordan was out the door before she could reach him. Not that she could have said goodbye even if he had been able to hear her.
Bennett’s voice punctured her despair. “Maybe we should take Timna two candy bars.”
Chelsea knew better than that. “You’re not from around here.”
Grayson snickered. “Everyone knows it doesn’t work that way.” He planted his hands on his hips. “You can take her up the mountain. I have a trail of blood to follow.”
Chapter Fourteen
Just as Grayson had said, it had done no good whatsoever to bring Timna two candy bars. As soon as her eyes latched onto the candy, she’d stuck the extra bar into a box next to her chair. She stared at Shaw Bennett as if daring him to protest her unwillingness to cooperate with his attempt to bend the rules of engagement.
The other Baby Ruth lay on the table next to a Bible whose leather binding had become so worn that the stitching shown through the spine in places.
She motioned toward the candy. “Me and Mitchell, we’ve done business for many years. I’ve always told him what he wanted to know.”
Shaw smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what he said.”
She returned his smile, and Chelsea wondered how anyone could eat with so few teeth in their head. The few that remained were coffee stained and seemed to be hanging on by a single thread of fleshy gum. Chelsea had no desire to get close enough to smell the woman’s breath. Probably smelled like rank chocolate and stale peanuts.
“This time I’m gonna tell you what you need to know. Not for you or for Mitchell, but for the girl.” She pointed at Chelsea.
Timna’s pronouncement appeared to shock a coherent response out of Bennett. He stuttered a few meaningless words, shifted from one foot to the other, leaned against the doorframe, and finally settled on what he must have deemed a proper answer. “Yes, ma’am.”
Just what a southern gentleman would say…if his momma had raised him right. Chelsea wanted to clap for him. Timna beamed, indicating that he’d answered well. Chelsea gave him credit for reading the woman so well. The dude must have had some magnificent cop interrogation skills.
As far as Chelsea had ever heard, no one had ever been so privileged as to get Timna’s advice without proper compensation. It made Chelsea feel kind of special.
Then she wondered why she was so special. Did that mean her situation was more screwed up than most?
Beyond the screen door behind Shaw, the sun had risen to mid-day. The birds sang. The butterflies cavorted. Life continued in the never-ending cycle. Chelsea would have given anything to be outside in the fresh air. With
out a doubt, Timna was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. The sympathy that flowed her way from the old woman made her want to jump and run.
Timna glanced toward Shaw. “You wanna ask me about that good-for-nothing son of Josephine Richards’s, don’t you? He jumped bail, and his momma sent him packing. Someone wants him dead. You’re wasting your time looking for him.” She spit a wad of chewing tobacco into a tin can. “He ain’t no better than his cousin was.”
The sound of the mushy chew hitting the brown liquid made Chelsea’s stomach churn.
Shaw placed his hand on the screen door latch. “Okay, then. Thanks for the information—”
“Sit down. I ain’t finished.”
Shaw flinched a couple of times as if she’d given him a spanking. He lowered himself onto the worn sofa, grinned like he was enjoying himself, and then wiped the smirk off his face when Chelsea caught his eye and nailed him with a mean glare, the meanest she could manage.
The old woman ignored him and spoke to Chelsea. “Now that I’m done with that one…” She pointed at Shaw. “You and me can get down to business. You need to find your brother, hon. He’s about to do something stupid. Sometimes I think he ain’t got the sense the good Lord gave him. He can’t go up against Fred Haskins by hisself. Don’t he know that?”
“What’s he going to do, Miss Timna?” Shaw’s question reeked of impatience. He apparently didn’t like being dismissed.
Timna didn’t glance his way, but continued directing her comments to Chelsea. “It’s been too long since he cooked the poison. He’s gonna get killed trying…or Haskins is gonna figure out he plans to turn on him. Either way, it won’t turn out well for the boy. That bunch Haskins has working for him now? If you put their brains in a woodpecker, they’d fly backwards.”
Chelsea reached out, and the old woman took her hands.
“Where can I find him?”
Timna stared into Chelsea’s eyes as if digging out all the secrets she hid deep in the farther reaches of her soul. “Look for him at his old watering holes. That’s where he’s gonna try to find Haskins’s men.”
Chelsea loosened her hands, anxious to get on her way. “Thanks, Miss Timna. You’ve been very kind to tell me all this for free.”
Timna’s mouth stretched into a grin. “You been through enough, sweet girl. Try to stay outta trouble. That boy needs you, and you need him.”
“You mean…” She couldn’t say his name.
Timna winked. “You know who I mean.” She pointed a gnarled finger at Shaw. “Don’t let that one keep you two apart.”
Chelsea stood, and Timna pecked a quick kiss on her cheek. Chelsea pushed past Shaw and made her way toward Shaw’s car.
“Hey, wait up.” Shaw called to her from behind. He hustled to catch up with her, grabbed her elbow, and swung her around.
“We have no time to lose. My brother’s in trouble.”
“I know you want to take care of this yourself, but you need to let me handle it.” Sincerity reflected in his dark eyes. “I have the resources and the manpower. You don’t.”
She nodded. The man was right.
Shaw slipped a cell phone from his pocket. “You’ll need this.”
She turned it over and over in her hand. “Never had one of these before. Took me awhile to figure out how to call you on Jordan’s…” She choked up at the thought of Jordan and how badly he might have been wounded.
Shaw placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “He’s going to be okay.”
“He better be. He made me a promise I expect him to keep.”
A knowing smile crept across Shaw’s face. “Timna was talking about Jordan, wasn’t she?”
“Would it do any good to tell you it’s none of your business?”
Shaw pulled the driver’s door open. “We’d better get going. I have a lot to do tonight.”
The screen door squeaked behind them. “Mr. Bennett?”
Chelsea and Shaw turned toward the old woman in unison.
Timna nodded her aged head. “The man you’re looking for shot at old man Fred too. Don’t waste time searching for the wrong man.” She kept nodding her head as if that would suffice to emphasize her advice.
Chelsea searched Shaw’s expression for an explanation of Timna’s cryptic comment. A serious frown had set on his face. For the first time, the man appeared rattled. Not a response that prompted confidence in his ability to protect her.
If the man that shot at them wasn’t Jake Richards, then…
She had to be there for Jordan. Had to be there when he woke up from whatever surgery he was going to endure. She could only imagine the pain he’d suffer from a bullet wound that went straight through him. “Take me to the hospital in Fayetteville.” Did she sound demanding enough? Did she project the right amount of confidence?
Her attitude was all show, a major bit of acting. False bravado. Would he call her bluff?
Shaw opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
“I’m just as safe there as I am anywhere.” She paused for effect. “If you won’t take me there, then I’ll get there on my own somehow.”
“You realize you’re in my custody?”
She smiled as sweetly as possible. “You realize that won’t stop me?”
He studied her with a scowl on his face. “Fine. We’re heading for Fayetteville.”
His phone buzzed just as he acquiesced to her demand. “What?”
His expression changed. “They just took Jordan in to emergency surgery. He woke up enough to cause a ruckus. The last thing he said before he went under the anesthetic was your name. You two got something going on?”
She considered fudging the truth. But what good would that have done? “I hope so. I’m kinda counting on it.”
“Holy crap! Hasn’t the boy learned anything from my mistakes?” He wiggled his index finger at her side of the car. “Get in and hang on.” He short her a dark glance. “I’m going to regret this. I just know it.”
It took awhile to get down the mountain. There was no speeding on the twisting mountain road, but as soon as they hit the smooth asphalt of the two-lane highway heading back toward town, he popped his portable flasher on the roof of his car.
His phone was at his ear again. “Yeah, Grayson. Timna said to stop looking at Jake Richards for the shooting. She told us the shooter was the same man that shot at Fred Haskins.” He waited a moment. “Richards was still in county lock-up when you met with Haskins. We’re looking for someone else.” He glanced at his rearview mirror. “I’ll update you when I know more.”
He punched the end button and made another call. “I need an all points for Brett Duncan. Send a deputy out to his place to see if he’s there. If he is, take him in.” He gritted his teeth. “For questioning in the shooting of Jordan Clark. If he isn’t there, get a couple of patrol units to pass his house.” He hung up as soon as his last order left his lips.
“Brett didn’t shoot Jordan. You know that.”
“I know. But I also know I need to keep him from doing something stupid.”
If Shaw Bennett kept doing things to help and her brother, Chelsea decided she just might approve of him and his pushy cop ways after all.
****
Brett leaned both elbows on the bar and stared into the bourbon and branch he didn’t intend to drink. If any of his former contacts were going to find him, Jack’s Shack would be the place for them to look. The bar was on the other side of town from the Hot Spot. The dive was a favorite hang out for the guys that used to run with the Richards clan, a group of low-lifes Brett usually avoided. He’d wanted no part of anything that had to do with Zeke and Jake Richards or their cousin Sam.
When Brett wanted out, he’d had to take some serious beatings to get free of his former life. His guess was that Haskins had his decimated crew out looking for someone to brew his poison. It was only a matter of time before one of his old running buddies recognized him and tried to bring him back into the business.
As
the afternoon crawled into the evening and the evening slithered into the night, Brett had managed to nurse three drinks, managing to only sip some of all of them and discreetly sloshing most of the contents onto the floor as he changed locations inside the bar from time to time. A slight buzz energized him. The wait had been long and his patience had grown thin. He tossed the rest of his last drink back and gathered his keys off the bar.
He’d made it outside and crossed the lot, glancing around the area, trying to spot anything out of the normal without being obvious. As soon as he beeped the lock on his truck, the world went dark. He clawed at the dark bag covering his head, but the drawstring had been pulled tight around his neck, choking him. Two strong hands yanked his arms behind his back.
“Make a noise, Duncan, and it’s the last noise you’ll make.”
His mind zoomed with possible reactions. He emitted a burp, hoping to convince his abductor that he was drunk. “Riley? Man, there ain’t no need for this. I paid you all the money I owed you. Leave me alone.” He struggled a little to make it look good, but not too much to get free.
Whispered voices disturbed the night air behind him. “I thought you said he wouldn’t recognize you.”
“Shut up, Dalton.”
“You said you could disguise your voice, moron.”
Riley’s tone roughened. “I told you to shut up.” A click. Had Riley pulled a weapon on his pal Dalton?
It seemed nothing much had changed since his time on the wrong side of the law.
Hard metal pressed into his side. “Someone wants to talk to you.” Riley’s statement sounded more like a threat than an invitation to afternoon tea.
Brett smiled behind the black fabric of the hood before he blubbered his defiance. “Well, I don’t want to talk to nobody.” Burp. “Let me loose.” He allowed his big frame to stumble and then went limp. His weight would be difficult to handle.
Anyone that knew him well would know feigning drunkenness was a favorite move of his. He’d used the ploy quite frequently when the cops descended on the Hot Spot after he’d picked a fight with an off-duty deputy. In the last few years, punching cops had become a hobby of his.
Chelsea Lane (Haunted Hearts Series Book 5) Page 17
