Guardian Angel

by Lise Fuller

  Quite a busy place, the diner, Slim thought as he grabbed his 9mm Beretta and stuffed it in his shoulder holster. He donned his jacket and hurried. Once out of the room, he jumped into his pickup truck then rolled onto the highway. Up ahead, Slim spied Marie’s car as it turned onto the dirt road that led to the Colder ranch. He grimaced. He didn’t like taking risks. He hoped the sheriff wouldn’t be home. The big man wasn’t someone he wanted to tangle with.

  Slim eased the truck onto the lane and drove through the dust Miss Taylor’s tires had kicked up. Someone might see him on the lonely road again but he couldn’t afford not to follow her. His gut told him she had the information he needed. The stuff the Back to America Movement was so hot to get.

  Slim doffed his cowboy hat and cruised onto the flat land that belonged to the Bar A, his employer for now. It was a good thing. The spread adjoined the Colder ranch and gave him an excuse to be on the property.

  He pulled onto a bypass trail that skirted the sheriff’s place and stopped the truck within sight of the house. He rolled the window down part way and listened for any sounds that could mean trouble. The wind gusted and blew into the truck. The breeze ruffled his flannel collar and rattled the paper he kept in his front pocket. The frigid air carried the scent of cows, fresh hay and a hint of snow. Slim took a deep whiff. The smell let him reminisce over the days of his youth, days spent herding doggies without a worry. He looked up at the sky and remembered he hadn’t watched the daily weather report. It looked like a front coming in.

  He inhaled a deep breath and took the folded paper from his pocket. He glared at the picture of Marie.

  Missing—Marie Taylor Martin, wife. Five Thousand dollars reward for news of her whereabouts.

  The practically buff figure was curvy and soft yet he wondered if the breasts were real or some doctor’s dream. Slim snorted, questioned whether the sheriff had an opinion based on closer observation.

  He inspected the house. The police cruiser was gone. Noting his good luck, he creaked opened the truck door and hopped onto the grassy field.

  Time to make his next move.

  —

  Marie rushed into Jake’s home and went straight to the computer. “The Internet, you idiot. Why haven’t you checked your business through it?” Any movement she hadn’t made in the accounts would mean Bill was alive. Besides, surely someone would have discovered her missing by now, unless…

  It took a few moments to log on to the company website. Quickly, she entered the codes that allowed her access to the managed accounts. “Come on, baby,” she mumbled as she hit the final key then waited while the data processed.

 

  She stared at the monitor. Her heart leapt with hope. Her fingers flew over the keyboard again.

 

  Someone had changed the codes. Only one person could modify them besides herself.

  “Bill, you sonofab—” She typed the code that back-doored the system.

 

  Sweat beaded her brow. Bill had to be alive and if he was…

  She carefully typed the keys again.

 

  “Damn.” She slapped the keyboard. Her heart pumped with fear. Leaning back, she closed her eyes for an instant and rubbed them with the back of her hands as she worked to calm herself. When she opened them again, the crude instant messaging system Bill had created opened up.

  >Marie, my darling, I’ve finally found you. I’ve missed you. Come home. I promise to make things right.

  She froze. Her stomach lurched to her throat. When they started the business, Bill had set up the system on their website. It worked somehow through their company’s host but she didn’t know exactly how. He’d set it up so he could access her as long as she was logged onto their site. They’d used the secure connection to communicate to each other when they couldn’t meet or when there was an immediate need to invest or reallocate money—she just didn’t know he’d used her computer IDs to kite the investments her clients made. He must have been monitoring the site. It would be the only way he knew she was on the damn thing.

  Another message popped up.

  >You know you must. You have something we both need.

  >The others aren’t as forgiving as I am.

  She shivered as goose bumps tingled on her arms.

  The doorbell rang and caused her to jump.

  She broke out of her panic and backed out of the website. Marie rubbed her hands over her damp face and neck to check her unease. She had to keep her wits about her. She licked her lips and tasted the cold salty sweat that had gathered there. The bell sounded again. Marie’s hands still shook as she got up to answer the door.

  The new cowhand from the Bar A stood in front of her. The man made her antsy. What did he want?

  “Ma’am.” The cowboy nodded and took off his hat. “We haven’t officially met. I’m James Hancock but my friends call me Slim.”

  Marie didn’t move.

  “Uh, I stopped by a while back and talked to your husband.”

  “My husband?” Marie shook her head to clear her dazed mind. “The sheriff isn’t my husband. He’s…” She frowned. “He’s my employer. I’m the housekeeper.”

  “I see.” The man ran the brim of his hat through his fingers. “Well, I’m sorry to bother you but I wondered if I could use the phone. You see, I was in the middle of making my rounds and forgot to call in. Left my cell phone at the motel. You mind?” He nodded toward the inside of the house.

  Marie questioned if what he said was true. He’d been to the diner several times since she first saw him and although Katie flirted with him outrageously, he appeared to stick to himself. Jake thought him a good hand yet she couldn’t help but consider her initial misgivings. Something told her to keep him away.

  Still, that was her big city way of dealing with a stranger. In this valley, she’d come to realize people didn’t act that way. In the end, her conscience got to her. She opened the door wider. “I guess not. The phone’s in the kitchen.”

  He followed her in. He glanced warily around the room as she turned and walked part way down the hall. “It’s this way.” Marie pointed toward the kitchen and wondered why he seemed so uneasy. When she heard him pick up the receiver and dial, she walked to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Perhaps she imagined the man’s guarded nature. She’d done that a lot lately. Imagine things. But after her miscalculation with Bill, she questioned many of her judgments. She frowned. Bill’s resurrection had unnerved her. Perhaps she’d overreacted to this man.

  She leaned against the wooden doorjamb, tried to settle her thoughts. She took in a slow breath. Bill was alive. He had found her, sort of. She walked to the closet and grabbed her pack to check it and reassure herself that the documents were still there.

  The papers covered the bottom. She fumbled through the statements and copies of transactions then heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow she would get out of this. She wouldn’t let Bill drag her in any deeper. Thank God she wasn’t responsible for murder.

  Marie glanced at the mailing receipt she’d stuffed with the list of strange codes and offshore bank account numbers.

  Federal Bureau of Investigations

  Washington, D.C.

  She’d anonymously mailed copies of the documents to them, hoping that someone who wasn’t connected with the organization would receive them and do something. Obviously that hadn’t happened. Still, that piece of paper was even more important than the others to save her skin. It proved to the authorities that she’d tried to help.

  She shoved the documents into the bag and gathered a few remaining items she’d had in the bathroom then zipped the duffle shut. She had to decide on her next move. Had Bill really found her?

  She calmed a little. The computer didn’t reveal where she physically lived. At least, she didn’t think it did, but knowing Bill, with his connections, he could track her down.

  She shook her head. She needed to think straig
ht. Right now, he couldn’t know where she was. If he had, he wouldn’t have asked. But she wasn’t a computer geek. There were ways to track messages. Could he find her?

  Yes, she decided. The question was how soon. She ran her hand through her hair. She needed to leave. But where to?

  Her heart broke at the thought of leaving. She looked around the room, let her fingers run over the rich wood of the antique spindle bed. This would be her last time in this room, this house, Jake’s arms. Her eyes swelled with moisture as her hand caressed the soft homespun quilt that lay on top of the high-set mattress. She’d had dreams in this bed, dreams of better days and warmer nights.

  A drop trickled down her cheek. She’d finally found love, only to lose it. She would miss Jake, miss being part of his family. And very soon, she knew, it would be time to leave the valley for good.

  Reluctantly, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out, oblivious to the fact she’d let a stranger in the house. As she stepped in the hallway, she heard the screen door slam. When she walked into the living room, the main door stood ajar and Mr. Hancock was gone. She turned to the computer monitor. She remembered she hadn’t turned it off.

  The website was open again. Across the IM program were typed words.

  >I’ll get you, Marie. TRUST ME.

  >AND WHEN I FIND YOU, YOU’LL PAY.

  Chapter Nine

  Moisture beaded on Bill’s face as he stared at the screen. Hot rage boiled in him. He’d almost had her. He hammered a new command into the computer. The woman had gotten the better of him once. She wouldn’t do it again.

  The rhythmic staccato sounded from the buttons as his fingers deftly moved over them. Marie operated a computer out there somewhere. He would find her. He hit the enter key and sat back to analyze the series of electronic commands that crossed the screen.

  He couldn’t afford to waste time. He’d already traveled from Canada to Mexico to look for her. Before he left again, he needed proof. BAM, his pet name for Back to America, hadn’t turned on him—yet. If he got the series of codes he needed to complete the arms deal, they wouldn’t.

  His eyes narrowed as the computer jargon flew across the screen. Fear-driven adrenalin pumped through him. The transaction had been the biggest arms deal they’d had so far and he’d been the one to engineer it. He’d conceived the idea. He’d worked the plan. He’d even gone so far as to seduce Marie away from the established investment firm, convincing her she could go it alone.

  Bill fingered the framed picture of Marie’s computer-generated nude body with a small amount of regret. Yes, he’d used her and the money she’d made to finance his exchanges, but it was all for the good. He’d hoped to convince her to join the Movement, but she’d discovered he’d pilfered from the accounts before he could convert her. Then she’d hit him. For that miscalculation, she would pay.

  He hit another key and glared at the screen. More calm now, he realized Marie hadn’t been properly prepared for what she’d found. He’d tried to educate her, told her of the misdeeds of the degenerate whores the Movement wanted to terminate. It was part of the dirty work needed to cleanse the land of riffraff. He hadn’t minded. Those fiends deserved what they got but he hadn’t the time to show Marie the evil of her clients’ complacency, their willingness to make money on the backs of the patriots of this country.

  Bill leaned into the padded cowhide chair and put the picture in his lap. He’d moved over a quarter-billion dollars before she stopped him and ran out with the series of codes given to him by the dealers. Without those encrypted numbers, the arms deal would be finished.

  He ground his teeth with impatience. Setups for the deal were transmitted via computer. Without the right number sequence, he didn’t know how to get started. One false signal and the digitally coded avenue would permanently close. He’d have to work through months of personal contacts again and hope those same friends still trusted him.

  Of course, if Marie tried to use the codes, he wouldn’t have to worry about trust. He’d be dead.

  Sweat glistened on his upper lip as the processing stopped. The hit would come when he wasn’t looking.

  The monitor lit up and Bill punched another key. The upper crust at BAM had discovered his faux pas. Right now, BAM kept him at arm’s length, supposedly to keep him out of trouble. Others searched instead, using the underground network to find the codes. The management thought his hands were tied. The screen flashed again and he hovered over the keyboard. A lot they knew.

  He hammered out a few additional commands and a sequence of codes rolled across the screen. The monitor flashed. He allowed himself to relax. Leaning back in the leather chair, he folded his hands behind his head and let a smirk crawl across his face. He felt like the cat that’d caught the canary. The cunt.

  It wouldn’t take long now. The tracing stopped. The words copied themselves on the screen. It was a Wyoming server. He picked up his glossy print of Marie and leered. “Now, darling, where did you put those codes?”

  —

  Slim Jim Douglas watched Marie fly out of the house and into her car. “Damn.” He hit the redial button on his cellular phone and started the engine. A brusque feminine voice answered on the other end.

  “Party in flight. Advise,” said Jim.

  A moment of silence ensued before the voice responded. “Does she have the documents?”

  “Unknown.” The airwaves crackled. He switched channels and waited for his orders. Then it came.

  “…man says to stick to her, handsome. If she hits the Interstate, bring her in. Quietly.”

  “Copy.”

  Slim tossed the phone on the seat as he watched the BMW pull along the side of the house. The motor roared and the tires spun as the panicked woman raced the engine. “Well,” he straightened the hat on his head, “that answers one question.” He let his mouth rise into a lopsided grin. “She got Martin’s message.”

  He put the truck in gear and drove onto the dirt byway. Ms. Taylor was too keyed to see if anyone followed. Slim hung back, not worried she had pulled out of sight. Travel on the long driveway took you in only one direction—to Fort Bridger.

  Slim crested the small ridge that hid the house from the county highway and spied the Taylor woman’s car. She turned toward town. With a jaundice eye, he watched her slow as one of the deputy’s cruisers came into view. Casually, he pulled up to the end of the drive and recognized the deputy as the car passed.

  He turned onto the road and kept the BMW at a distance. As the car entered the town limits, it slowed even more and Slim sighed with relief as he watched Marie drive into the motel parking lot. He cruised by. She left the vehicle and went into the diner. Slim turned down a side road and stopped. Picking up the cell phone, he hit redial again. “Cancel flight.”

  “Copy. Report when position changes.”

  “Copy.” Slim turned off the phone and pushed the edge of the hat up his forehead. He huffed as he looked over his shoulder toward the back of the diner. If anything, the naïve woman had guts.

  He brought the truck around and pulled into the motel. He figured lunch at the greasy spoon would be especially good today.

  —

  Smoke from the bar oozed into the poster-size bathroom as Marie straightened the hem of her slinky black dress. She stared at herself in the broken, rusty mirror. What had ever made her wear this? The neckline revealed too much, the hemline was too short. Never mind that Katie’s cleavage plunged deeper and her skirt was shorter. Marie frowned. She should never have let Katie talk her into this. As soon as she’d walked into the place, Marie felt like every male had undressed her with his eyes.

  She examined her face in the wall-length mirror that hung in front of the toilet. At one time in her life, the outfit would have been simple but chic. A quiet, elegant statement against a backdrop of diamonds and pearls. Now it just clashed with the acrid smell of cigarettes, mold and cheap perfume.

  She wrinkled her nose. Most of these men she saw in the diner every
day. For the most part, they were honest and hardworking but they weren’t used to seeing her in anything but beat-up pants and a t-shirt. This dress was the only decent one she had left. She sighed. Maybe the outfit was bad luck. She’d met Bill in this garb—and she’d left him on the run in it as well.

  She flipped the toilet seat down and plopped her backside on top of it then stared in the mirror. She’d wanted to feel elegant once more. Now her feet hurt, her back ached and she smelled like a trash heap. She blinked against the tears and stared deep into her own eyes. She knew the answer to her dilemma. The man she wanted to see her dressed like this sat at home with Jesse.

  Home. Jake’s place. The place she wanted to be. She bit her lip and pulled a piece of toilet paper off the roll to dab her eyes. It was useless to resist her feelings. For whatever reason in her short time with Jake, Marie had found a life she didn’t want to give up.

  The shouting at the bar grew louder and distracted Marie from her maudlin thoughts. She straightened, set her jaw and peered toughly into her pupils. “It’s time, Marie. Time to go for good.” She whipped open her small beaded purse and took out a lipstick Katie had made her buy, the same color as the ruby red wine she’d been drinking. She stood, rubbed the color onto her lips and reminded herself she was a lady.

  The noise outside grew hostile. Marie eased opened the bathroom door and inched out. The rounded end of a bottle flew at her. With a scream, she ducked. A cold hand pushed her to the floor. She covered her head and held her breath as the bottle shattered against the wall behind her. Warm foam splashed against her bare back and a shard of glass bounced off her.

  “You idiot. You almost hit her.” Marie heard a male voice roar through her mess of tangled hair, then a crack like bone hitting bone rent the air. In seconds a thud sounded in front of her. When she opened her eyes, a bearded man, one of her regulars at the diner, lay flat on the ground and stared into her face.