Mate’s Harvest: Bear Sheriff III

by Becca Fanning

  It all changed when one of his hands came down between her legs, fingers pressing against her clit, and it was too much to bear. She felt the beginnings of her orgasm building deep within her, spreading like wildfire between her legs, spreading to everywhere in her body. Her legs went number, down to her toes, and then up to her navel and her chest and her entire body until she was warm, hot, pleasure everywhere in her body.

  She came, then, with a scream and a tightening between her legs. She bucked forward in pleasure, mind almost going completely blank, nipples hard against the wood table.

  Marcus moaned and he was cumming, too, grabbing her by her waist and holding her in place as he thrust deeper into her than he had ever been before. She felt his cock jump inside of her, felt his hot seed go deep into her, felt him and her become one.

  She didn’t know how long they came for. Hours seemed to pass, but slowly, they faded and Marcus’s length shrunk and he pulled out of her wetly.

  And then he was next to her on the table, the big table holding their weight, both of them catching their breath and just lying there, enjoying each other’s company. For a few moments, everything that was bad had seemed to fade.

  No matter what, Angie and Marcus had each other.

  Is that enough?

  Angie rolled over and put one leg over Marcus’s midsection and another across his chest. He kissed her on the forehead and they laid there in silence, just being with each other.

  It has to be enough. Because if it’s not, we have nothing.

  Somehow, both Angie and Marcus fell into sleep, laying on the kitchen table, wrapped in each other’s arms. Things were tough, dangerous, and everything seemed hopeless. Angie didn’t know how they would get through it.

  But she knew they would. Hoped they would. Because she had Marcus at her side.

  Chapter 14

  Marcus woke up and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 5:00 in the morning. Sometime during the night, they’d made their way to the bedroom. Angie was curled up next to him, smiling slightly as she slept. He envied her; he had no idea how she could smile at a time like this.

  He eased out of bed and started to pull on his clothes. He was quiet – what he was about to do, he didn’t want Angie involved in. He grabbed one of his rifles from the closet and set it next to the bed, leaning up against the nightstand. Marcus didn’t want to leave Angie, yet he didn’t want her involved in what he was about to do.

  He’d been a sheriff for so long that it had become a part of him. Sometimes he couldn’t distinguish Marcus the person from Marcus the Sheriff. But all of that had gone away.

  Months ago – weeks ago, maybe – he would have never even considered what he’d done and what he was planning to do. He would have never attacked another police officer no matter what the circumstances. He certainly wouldn’t have destroyed a cop car, possibly injuring the officers in it. Those thoughts would have been foreign to him.

  He would never have considered not immediately calling others in on a murder. He would have cared about what happened to others. He would have felt pain and remorse that he couldn’t save Branson. He would have been absolutely broken up about Joanna’s death.

  And now? He wasn’t sure what he was.

  He was sad. He was disappointed they were gone. He did feel guilty that he hadn’t been able to stop the killer. It was all there – but it was far below the surface, barely touching his conscious.

  Marcus wanted revenge. He wanted to tear the killer limb from limb. He wanted to make him pay for what he’d done to others. But most of all, he wanted to make the man pay for what he’d done to Angie. He’d made her live by herself for months, always in fear that something bad could happen to her. She’d had to worry about him being locked in jail. And now she was worried about her friends dying and knowing that Marcus could be next.

  He made his way outside into the somewhat cool night air and walked towards the Bronco. He drove into town, then out towards Joanna’s house. He made sure to take back roads that would lead him to the other side of her property, where he could cross her massive pastureland and the pond where he’d once been.

  He parked the vehicle and glanced at the clock. He still had a little bit of time before the sun came up and he didn’t expect to take long. He ran, then, crossed the pasture like a blur. He’d considered shifting, yet didn’t want to rummage through her house naked; something about that made him feel wrong, so he didn’t consider it.

  The house looked huge even in the darkness. He crept around the back of the house, inhaling deeply. He picked up all sorts of scents – police officers, uncertainty, fear, and death. But he didn’t detect anyone else.

  Slowly, Marcus tried a few windows until he found one on the ground floor that was unlocked. He slid in through the kitchen window, big shoulders barely fitting through. He climbed over the sink and the counter, sliding down onto the floor almost silently. He turned around and closed the door – just in case – and adjusted to his surroundings.

  The house was dark but silent. Marcus partially remembered the layout from when he’d been there previously, so he walked out of the kitchen and made his way up the stairs to Joanna’s room. His feet were silent on the stairs. He moved down the hallway and tested the door handle, which opened underneath his grip.

  The room was the same as he’d seen it before, minus Joanna’s body. The smell of death still hung in the room. The bed was neatly folded, the dresser drawers all closed. Everything looked in place. If he hadn’t known what had happened here, he never would have guessed.

  Marcus went to the desk that sat close to the bed. He pulled open the drawers, ruffling through the paper and other supplies in there. He risked flipping on the desk lamp, tossing papers onto the desk and scanning them for something. Joanna had been killed for a reason and Marcus suspected it wasn’t just because they were acquaintances. She’d been killed for a reason and Marcus wanted to figure out why.

  It could have just been to send a message, he reminded himself, but he didn’t think that was completely it. Angie had been working closely with Joanna Rivers and other members of the community to try to get to the bottom of this – because unfortunately, the Sheriff wasn’t cut out for it.

  But none of the papers he found seemed to have anything to do with what he needed. Frustrated, he threw the papers back into the desk drawers. He turned and looked around the room. There was a bookshelf on the far wall.

  Marcus crossed the room and started scanning books. There were yearbooks that Marcus noted years long past to more recent. Some romance novels were stacked up on one shelf, obviously well read. A dictionary sat by itself on the bottom shelf. The rest of the novels, books, and textbooks had nothing that could help him. He leafed through a few, hoping some note would fall out like in the movies – but they were empty except for their words.

  He went to the closet. Racks of expensive clothes hung there, never to be worn again. He searched up above them through some boxes but there was nothing there. He pushed the clothes to the side, but again, nothing.

  Then he saw it, buried among shoe boxes, a small safe in the corner of the closet. He knelt down next to it. There was a dial and a handle on it. Marcus grabbed the handle and twisted, hoping that somehow it hadn’t been locked – but of course, it had.

  He twisted the dial a few times then tried to open it again. Then, he tried to lift it but it was bolted to the floor and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t lift it.

  He slammed a fist against it and sat back, thinking hard.

  What would the combination be? A date? What kind of date? A birthday? But Marcus didn’t know any birthdays that would get him any closer. Hell, he didn’t even know Joanna’s birthday, and he was sure she used to celebrate it as a night out on the town every year. He’d had to haul away Jimmy Rivers one year.

  He turned back towards the bookshelf, inspiration striking him. He grabbed a few yearbooks, guessing when Joanna Rivers had graduated. He found it on his fourth book. He crossed th
e room, entering the date she graduated, certain that he’d cracked the code – and the safe remained lock. Defeat flooded through him.

  It could be anything.

  But he wasn’t going to give up. He paced the room for a few moments, thinking about what was important to Joanna before her untimely demise. Who had mattered most?

  And it hit him: her father. Everything she had done had been to take over his legacy and expand it. She’d loved him when he was alive and she’d loved him after he had passed away. She’d done everything he’d ever wanted of her.

  He remembered something he’d seen in the desk. He crossed quickly over to it, grabbing handfuls of papers, searching for what he had seen previously. There! An old newspaper clipping he’d tossed to the side. It was a clipping of her father’s obituary, listing the dates he’d been born and the dates he’d died. His heart was beating in his chest. This had to be it.

  Newspaper clipping in hand, he crossed the room, knelt down next to the safe, and entered 04-16-59. He took a deep breath, grabbed the handle on the safe, and twisted –

  And it opened in his hand.

  Marcus wasted no time in reaching inside and grabbing everything that he could. Laden down with a thick stack of manila envelopes, Marcus dropped them on the desk. He started to open the first one – and froze. He’d heard something, maybe a footstep in the house. He listened intently. There was nothing.

  I heard something, I know it.

  He was silent for a few moments longer. He decided it must have been nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him. He went to open the first folder again when he unmistakably heard the sound of a footstep coming up the stairs.

  I’m not alone.

  He looked behind him where the door to Joanna’s room was wide open. The safe door too. Books and papers lay everywhere in the room. He looked over to the window. If he was quick, he could make it out of the window – but could he do it silently, with all of the paperwork? And someone would undoubtedly know that someone had been there, and people would start asking questions. He had the sinking feeling that it would come back to him sooner rather than later.

  His mind was made up for him when two people walked into the room and looked at Marcus, eyes wide. He knew his eyes were the same way: golden, blazing in the darkness – until the light hit them and illuminated himself. He threw up a hand to block his eyes.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” a woman’s voice asked. Marcus recognized the voice – he lowered his hands and glared. He saw the familiar – and altogether unwanted – face of Julie Busch, flanked by her lackey, Jacob. Jacob had a camera pointed directly at Marcus’s face. He could hear it rolling. He knew he was being recorded.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Marcus growled.

  “You’re breaking and entering.”

  “So are you.”

  “They’ll forgive us,” Julie said, a large smile on her face. “We’re reporters, after all. You, on the other hand, you’re just another story. Keep it rolling, Jacob.”

  And Marcus wasn’t sure what came over him. He lunged forward, pushing Julie out of the way – she screamed in alarm, though he hadn’t pushed her hard at all – and he grabbed the cameraman. He lifted Jacob up with one arm, sliding him high against the wall and squeezing. Marcus didn’t want to let go, but he loosened his grip. With the other hand, he grabbed the large camera and plucked it from Jacob. Then he dropped him, coughing to the floor where he slid down and came to a rest sitting down, clutching his throat.

  Marcus ripped apart the camera, tearing it into small pieces of plastic and scattering them around the room. He reached in and grabbed the SD card and turned to Julie Busch, who looked alarmed. He snapped it in two right in front of her.

  “I hear you mention any of this and I promise that it’ll be a mistake,” Marcus warned. “I’m not afraid of going back.”

  The look of alarm on both of their faces told them that they absolutely believed him.

  “If I see you anywhere – any crime scene, eating at a restaurant, even walking down the street – I promise you that you’ll never see it coming.”

  With that, Marcus grabbed the folders and walked out of the bedroom, down the staircase, and out the front door. He looked down at his hands. One held the folders and the other was shaking almost uncontrollably.

  What have I just done?

  He felt like he’d just crossed a line he never would have thought he could cross. Yet, he’d done it. What had he become?

  I don’t know. I don’t know.

  Chapter 15

  “Where have you been?” Angie asked as Marcus came in the door. She put down the rifle on the counter and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I was worried sick about you!”

  Then she realized just how she sounded and shame walked over her. Marcus was a grown man and she was a grown woman. He could leave the house without her permission.

  “Marcus, I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. She lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table and ran her hands through her hair. “I was just worried. I don’t have any right to question you.”

  He didn’t say anything. She looked up at him. He looked a little shell-shocked, as if something bad had happened.

  “Marcus?”

  He was carrying a stack of manila folders. He dropped them onto the table with a loud thump. She looked at them apprehensively.

  “Where’d you get these?”

  He didn’t answer. She got up and grabbed him by his large shoulders and shook him, hard. The dazed look he had seemed to have faded just a little.

  “I went to Joanna Rivers’s house. I thought… I thought maybe I could find something that the police missed. Something that pointed us to the killer.”

  “Why? I’m not following.”

  He shrugged and said, “I thought maybe there was some other reason. Maybe he didn’t kill her just to get back at us. You said you and the others had been working hard to try to get to the bottom of this. And I think this is it.”

  Angie glanced down at the folders. A rush of hope filled her. Could this be the answer they were looking for?

  But by looking at Marcus, that hope faded. What had happened to him? Why was he acting so strange?

  “Marcus,” she said, taking his hand in her own. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I… I threatened that reporter and her cameraman. I grabbed him by the throat, Angie – and I didn’t want to let go. He had videotaped me inside of the house, proving that I had broken in. Do you know what would have happened if they had gotten that footage out? I would go away. Forever this time.”

  “You destroyed the evidence?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You did the right thing, Marcus. You’re the only one trying to get to the bottom of this case. You had to do it. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

  “Angie… I wanted to squeeze just a little bit tighter. Look at what I’ve done the past few days. I attacked police officers. Didn’t want to report a dead body of a friend. Angie, I hardly feel anything anymore – just anger and hatred towards whoever is doing this.

  “I’ve changed, Angie. And it scares me.”

  “You’re the same man I fell in love with, Marcus Stone,” she told him, willing him to believe it. But she knew it wasn’t enough for her to believe it – he had to believe it, too. “You can come back from this. When all of this is over with, it’ll be just like a bad dream. You’re going to make the best father the world has ever seen. You’re going to provide for our family. You’re going to keep us safe. And if keeping us safe requires you to cross some lines, then I’ll gladly have you do it. I love you, Marcus.”

  He looked at her and smiled sadly. He nodded slightly. He’d heard her words – but would it be enough?

  “I found this locked in a safe,” he said, gesturing at the envelopes. “I haven’t had a chance to look inside of it.”

  “Let’s do it together,” Angie said. “And let’s hope that Jo
anna Rivers didn’t die just to teach us a lesson.”

  Angie reached out and grabbed the first envelope. She found her hands were trembling slightly. She opened it up – and smiled.

  “It’s a list,” Marcus said from beside her.

  “Of everyone that’s moved in and out of Charming in the last five years.”

  The list was long. Angie scanned the names and dates, finding even herself listed towards the bottom. She was sickened to find that there were nearly thirty names below hers that had moved into Charming after her.

  “And that doesn’t even account for all of those moving through or staying here for work,” Angie muttered.

  “It’s a start, though,” Marcus said. “How’d she get this information?”

  “Copeland?” Angie hazarded a guess. “His father was the mayor. Maybe he still has some kind of political pull.”

  “We’ll have to ask him.”

  Angie looked at the list again. Angie Campbell, Augustus West – with a line crossed through it, Julie Busch, Jacob Hawkens, the strange boy in the R&C, Tim Finch, Janey, even their son Ricky, and more names Angie vaguely recognized and more she didn’t. She saw Nixon listed. A few other police officers. Even a few of the townspeople who had been there for years were listed. Angie couldn’t figure out why.

  “What about these names?” she asked.

  Marcus looked at them for a minute, not saying anything. Then he said, “Jeff Herrington here. He’s a traveling contractor. Travels all over the nation.”

  Angie’s stomach fell. “It could be anyone…”

  “Except West and his lackeys,” Marcus said. Angie recognized her ex-boyfriends name as well; it too was scratched out. She’d never felt pity for the man. He’d tried to kill her, after all.

  Angie put the folder to the side. She lifted up the next one. Inside was a picture of Julie Busch. She moved it to the side. Printed off was a list of all of the places she’d worked, a few links to online interviews, but not much else. The next one was her associate, Jacob Hawkens. There was a small photograph and a printed article of journalism school graduates from ten years past. Jacob Hawkens’s name was halfway through the list.