“Take a break. Get away from the computer. Go for a ride. Dad would go with you. Maybe that’ll help clear your head.”
“I can’t. You know that. As long as Kim is missing, I can’t rest.”
“Clearing your head isn’t resting. It’s giving you a better perspective on what’s going on. That could help Kim.”
“I might if I get back from the hospital before it gets dark. See you later.”
Tossing his cellphone on the passenger seat, Brody climbed behind the wheel and grasped the warm plastic, tightening his grip on it until his hands ached. Lord, help me. Please give me a way to bring Kim home. I can’t stand to see Rebecca like this. I feel helpless. And You know how much I don’t like that. Anything is possible with You. That even means ending this ordeal.
“Don’t call me Tory. I hate that name!” J. R.’s sister screamed at Kim.
The girl stepped back, nearly falling into the tub. But Sissy latched onto the child’s arm again and pulled her from the bathroom and down the hallway. In the living room, she shoved Kim onto the couch.
“Don’t move.” With a savage twist to her mouth, Sissy hovered over the girl, daring her to disobey.
Kim shrank back, bringing her legs up against her and hugging them as though trying to make herself as small as possible.
Satisfied the child was subdued, Sissy whirled on J. R. “This ends today. If you won’t do it, I will.” She strode around the couch and grabbed Kim’s shoulders to hold her still. “Go get your gun.”
The color drained from Kim’s face. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“No. Hurt Rebecca Morgan in a different way. Didn’t you say she was getting close to that Texas Ranger? Go after him.”
Sissy’s cackle frosted him. “Oh, I will. I’m going to hire someone to take him out since you failed the last time. Some of the problems we’re having wouldn’t be happening if you had managed to blow him up. He’s like a starved dog with a steak. He isn’t giving her up.” Her fingers dug into the child’s flesh until Kim cried out, trying to wiggle away. Sissy hit the girl across the head. “Sit still.” Then she drilled him with her razor-sharp look, cutting, burning through his defenses. “You know how much I hate failure. Failure one time I might be able to excuse, but not a second time.”
He stood still, his arms at his side as he clasped his hands closed and then opened them again. “I guess I’ll be a disappointment to you. I can’t do it.”
“Then I will. Where is your gun?”
He pressed his lips together.
She yanked Kim off the couch and pulled the girl after her. Moving from one area to the next, searching for the weapon, she shot him a look that unnerved him more than he had ever been. She was intent on killing Kim. At least he wouldn’t have to pull the trigger.
As Sissy dragged Kim behind her, he trailed after his sister. He’d hidden it in a good place so that the girl couldn’t find it. Although he had planned to tie her to the bed to sleep at night, he had to get some shuteye, too. But now it was a moot point. If he knew his sister, she wouldn’t stop searching until she found the weapon.
Finally, in frustration after working her way through the kitchen, Sissy withdrew a butcher knife from the drawer and pulled the girl tight against her. “I don’t particularly want to get blood all over me, but I’ll slice her to death slowly if you don’t give me the gun. How do you want it—quick and easy or hard and painful?”
J. R. ground his teeth. She knew his answer or she wouldn’t have asked. He plodded to the fridge and rolled it out, then retrieved his .38 from behind it. Sissy threw Kim to the floor and hurried over to him. After snatching the gun away from him, she faced the child, who was struggling to stand and get away.
Sissy followed the child’s movements with the weapon. “If you don’t stop and hold still, this will hurt worse. I promise you, brat.” Exploding anger caused her voice to be shrill.
Kim froze. No, he thought, the girl. He should never have begun thinking of her as Kim. He had to remember that. She was no one to him. But when he connected with her eyes, so filled with fear, he couldn’t look away. Then she turned her full attention to him, a silent plea in her pale blue eyes.
Help me. You’re my hero.
No, he couldn’t.
Sissy steadied the gun with both hands and aimed it at Kim.
J. R.’s gut twisted into knots, and he couldn’t get enough air to breathe. Suffocating. As if someone held him down with a pillow over his head. He sucked in air, but nothing relieved the tightness in his chest.
His gaze glued to Kim’s, as though his sister didn’t exist and it was just the girl and him. J. R. needed to do something. Her plea drew him toward her.
Help me.
Brody left Gill’s Steakhouse, disappointed that they didn’t have any security tapes from a month before. Some places kept them a month before destroying them. This place wasn’t one of them. The manager had taken pride in stating that they respected the privacy of their customers. Even when Brody talked with some of the employees on duty, no one could remember the couple that Susan had described to him.
Another dead end.
He’d known it was a long shot, but he’d prayed it would pan out. The only other thing he could do is go by the apartment Linda Watson used to live in up until a year ago. Maybe one of the neighbors had a forwarding address.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to the office of the apartment complex and made a call to Charlie before going inside to talk to the manager. “I need you to pull a picture of Linda Watson, hopefully from her driver’s license. Also one for J. R. Watson.” Then he gave Charlie the only address he had for Linda. “When you get it, please e-mail it to me.”
“Will do. Shouldn’t take too long.”
He hung up and made his way into the office of the apartment complex. A young woman sat at a desk talking on the phone. She held up her hand for him to wait. He walked the few feet to the window and scanned the three buildings for number 145.
“Can I help you? Is there a problem?” the lady at the desk said.
“Yes, I wanted to ask you about a tenant you used to have in apartment 145. Linda Watson.”
“No, I’m afraid there wasn’t anyone by that name in 145.”
“But her cousin said it was 145. Maybe she got the wrong apartment number. Was there a Linda Watson who lived in the complex about fifteen months ago?”
The young woman shrugged. “I’m new. I’ve only been here nine months.”
“Then check your records.” His impatience leaked into his voice. The sense of time running out bombarded him from all sides.
J. R. was tired of doing what others told him to do. They needed to respect his decisions. He zeroed in on the .38 his sister held and lunged toward it. “No,” he yelled, releasing all his pent-up frustration and rage.
His fingers closed around the metal of the barrel, and he pushed it downward. “Get out of here, Kim.” He positioned himself between the girl and Sissy.
“You idiot. What are you doing?”
“What I want.”
“She’s getting away.” Her hand still around the handle, his sister charged him as though to plow through him to get to the child.
He kept his hold on the gun and stood his ground. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s innocent.”
Sissy pounded a fist into his arm and back. Bringing her foot down on his, she shouted, “Let go. I’m finishing what Mama wanted us to do.”
Anger infused Sissy with extra strength as they wrestled for the weapon. Determined to get his .38 back, he poured everything into their battle, pushing her back against the counter behind her. Using his body, he pinned her.
The action caused his sister to let out a fierce scream, her efforts increasing to get the gun away from him.
Suddenly a blast sounded. Pain ripped through his gut.
His sister’s eyes widened. Her body went slack as her hand fell away from the weapon.
Piercing, white-hot sensations flood
ed his belly. He wavered. All his energy drained from him.
As he sank to the floor, Sissy cried out, “No, I didn’t mean to shoot you. Just the girl.”
Laying his hand on his stomach, he felt the warmth of his blood oozing through his fingers. His life forces spilling from his body.
Sissy knelt next to him. Through the haze that clouded his vision, he glimpsed her face, emotions flittering across her features so fast he wasn’t sure what he was seeing—regret, sorrow, anger, disbelief. It didn’t matter now. He rolled his head to the side and looked for Kim.
She’s gone. Good.
He closed his eyes. As he surrendered to the darkness, his sister sobbed. Her cries faded . . .
“You don’t mind taking me to the hospital?” Rebecca closed her laptop and looked up at Sean, sitting across the kitchen table from her.
“No, not at all. It’ll be good to get out for a few hours. The officers in the other room are finishing up their preliminary searches of everyone you’ve come up with from your files.” He sat back in his chair, shutting down his computer. “There isn’t much else you or I can do.”
“Does it make you wish you hadn’t retired?”
He bent forward and lowered his voice, “Don’t tell my son, but, no, I don’t regret retiring. I don’t have the energy to do this nonstop like he does. When a case like this one comes along, you have to keep going until it’s solved, if possible. I’m glad I was able to do what little I could.”
“Me, too. When we get back, I’m going through the files again. Maybe I missed something.” She rubbed her eyes, which stung from exhaustion and from staring at the computer screen for hours with no real result. “I’ll get Aubrey and Hattie. They want to go, too. I thought I would go in and talk with Thomas first while Hattie and Aubrey go to the gift shop to find something for Thomas. Aubrey wants to brighten her daddy’s room.”
“So Hattie is going, too.” Sean put his palms on the table, then pushed himself to his feet.
“Yes, the deputy is driving us while Ranger Parker stays back here and coordinates the information coming in.”
Sean checked the weapon at his side. “I’m ready. One of the things I can still do is shoot. Haven’t lost that ability yet. I won’t let anything happen to you, Aubrey, or Hattie.”
“Now I know where your son gets his determination.” Rebecca left the kitchen and found Aubrey in the den—drawing and coloring a picture for her father. “You ready to go see your daddy?”
Aubrey jumped up. “Yes. Maybe he can help bring Kim back.”
“We’re working hard to bring her home.”
Aubrey ran to her and hugged her. “I miss Kim. I promised God last night I wouldn’t fight with my sister if He would bring her home.” She leaned back and looked up at Rebecca. “I think He heard me.”
“Of course He heard you. He’s always with you.”
“And Kim?”
“Yes, always. He’s making her brave. Just like you are.”
Aubrey rushed back to the table and grabbed her drawing of the ranch. “Let’s go. Daddy is gonna love this.” Tugging on Rebecca’s hand, Aubrey dragged her toward the kitchen. “Then when I get back home, I’m gonna draw a picture for Kim. Of her horse. She’ll like that.”
Aubrey knew what had happened to Kim, having been a witness to the kidnapping, but she really didn’t understand what was going on. Rebecca and Hattie tried to keep Aubrey isolated from any discussion about her sister, but that was becoming harder to do.
At the door into the kitchen, Aubrey dropped her hand and hurried over to Sean. “Look what I did for Daddy. I got to use some glitter and new scented markers.” She held it up for Sean to smell. “The barn is strawberry. See?”
Sean laughed, brought the picture to his nose, and took a deep breath. “I love strawberries. Maybe I should eat this picture. What do you think?”
Aubrey went still for a second, then snatched the paper back. “Silly. You can’t eat the paper.” She whirled toward Hattie, cradling the paper to her chest. “Do we have any strawberries for him?”
“I think we do.” Hattie’s eyes twinkled. “If he behaves, I might fix some strawberry shortcake for dessert tonight.” With mock exasperation, she settled her fists on her waist. “Think you can keep your hands off Miss Aubrey’s masterpiece?”
“Hey, she gave it to me to look at.”
“Exactly. Not to eat.” Merriment danced in Hattie’s eyes.
Aubrey swung her attention between Hattie and Sean, who were having a staring contest with each other and then burst out giggling.
For a few seconds Rebecca forgot what was happening in the real world as she listened to laughter fill the kitchen. Soon enough real life would intrude.
“These records show that there hasn’t been a Linda Watson here in the past two years. Maybe you got the wrong apartment complex. There are some others around here,” the young manager said as she closed down the program on the computer.
Brody stood behind her, watching the screen saver pop up, bright colors swirling to form varied shapes. “That’s an actual list of your past and present tenants?”
“Yes. You might want to check with some of the other places around here.”
“No, the person said it was the Silver Chase Apartments.”
“Then sorry. That person is wrong.”
“Can you print off a copy of your tenants for the last two years?”
“Don’t you need a search warrant?”
“I can get one, but it’ll take valuable time. A little girl’s life is at stake here.”
The manager’s mouth dropped open. “The little girl that has been on the news lately?”
He nodded.
The woman turned her attention back to the computer, pulled up the list again, and hit print. “I hope this helps.”
“Maybe Linda Watson stayed with someone for a while so her name wasn’t on the lease.”
“That’s possible.”
“Is there anyone who has lived here since that time and is home most of the day and aware of the people in the complex?”
“You mean a busybody?”
“That’s another way to say it.”
She rose. “I can help you with that. Follow me. She lives in the apartment across from 145. If there is anything happening out of the ordinary, Mrs. Peabody knows about it.”
“Perfect.” Brody crossed the common area and stood to the side as the manager rang the doorbell.
When Mrs. Peabody answered, her face brightened with a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure . . .” Her gaze fell on Brody, and her mouth formed an O. “Did something happen here? I didn’t see anything. Was it about an hour ago? I took a tiny,” she indicated an inch with her forefinger and thumb, “nap. Stayed up too late last night.”
“Mrs. Peabody, this is Ranger Calhoun. He needs to talk with you.”
He moved forward, offering his hand, which the sixtysomething woman shook. “Ma’am, I sure could use your help.”
“Sure, anything to help the police. I mean, the Texas Rangers.”
“I’ll leave you two now. I hope you find her,” the manager said, then headed back to the office.
“Come in. I’ll assist you any way I can. Do you need a lookout or something? Or do you want to use my apartment to keep watch on someone?”
Brody trailed the woman as she limped into her apartment. “No, I just need information. I understand you’re aware of what goes on here at Silver Chase.”
She threw back her shoulders. “Yes, if more people kept a sharp eye out for anything unusual, there would be less crime. I’m proud to say Silver Chase has very little.”
“That’s great.”
She waved her hand at her couch. “Sit. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m on a case and don’t have a lot of time.” He settled on the edge of the cushion. “I was interested in knowing if anyone other than the tenant stayed in apartment 145 about fifteen months ago. Do you remember seeing anyone com
ing and going from 145 who wasn’t the tenant?”
Staring off into space, Mrs. Peabody stroked her chin. “You know, there was a young lady who stayed there for a while with the woman who lived here. I think she stayed about six months.”
“Do you know the young lady’s name?”
She thought some more, a frown twisting her mouth. “I think Vickie or Ricky, something like that. I don’t remember ever hearing her last name.”
“Where did the tenant move to, the one she stayed with?”
“Beats me. She left in the middle of the night. I heard she was late on her rent. I guess she couldn’t pay after her roommate left.”
“Do you remember anything about Vickie/Ricky?”
“She drove a little sports car—red. The license plate was from Kentucky. I remember, because I always wanted to have a sports car, even an old one like what she had.”
“Do you remember the license number?”
“No, sorry. She was a regular, so I didn’t think to jot it down. I wish I had more for you.”
Brody started for the door. “You were a big help.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Come back anytime.”
As Brody cut across the grass toward his SUV, he unfolded the printout the manager had given him and scanned the sheet for the tenant in 145 at that time. L. W. Larson jumped out at him. Linda Watson Larson?
Kim hid behind a clump of bushes on the side of Rob’s house, expecting Tory to come out of the house any second. The thundering of her heartbeat clanged inside her skull. Lightheaded, she sucked in air, but she couldn’t seem to fill her lungs. The green leaves spun before her eyes.
The sound of a gunshot overrode the clamor of the beating of her heart, sending chills down her body. She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut as though she was two again and that was all she had to do to hide.
What should I do? If I run, she’ll see me.
Again she saw the gun pointed at her, Tory’s face so mean-looking, and she tried to shake the picture from her mind. She began rocking back and forth, her arms hugging her chest, praying no one would find her.
Scorned Justice: The Men of Texas Rangers Series #3 (Men of the Texas Rangers) Page 27
