by Kylie Brant
Eldon had. “Comes from havin’ a mama with too strong a tongue and a daddy with biggety notions of his own. Never did think Richie was the man for the job, but no one else ran against him. Tomorrow we’ll go downtown and talk sense into him.”
“Why don’t you let me speak to him again?” Ria had suggested. “He’s thinking things over tonight. I’ll check back with him first thing tomorrow morning. If he needs further convincing, I’ll let you know.”
It had taken most of another hour, but finally the two men had agreed to try it her way. She’d left the diner later than she’d wanted, but certain that, one way or another, Richmond Davis wouldn’t be offering a plea bargain to the drug dealer who’d filed suit.
Darkness had long since fallen. Ria parked the cruiser next to the house. The full moon would make the flashlight almost unnecessary for her perimeter check. She swung the door open and got out. At the last minute, she ducked back inside for the flashlight. It didn’t pay to lower defenses, no matter what….
There was a loud popping sound next to her ear, and in the next moment the driver-side window shattered into a spiderweb of tiny cracks. Instinct had her diving into the car before comprehension even registered. Another noise swiftly followed, and a hole appeared in the windshield.
Someone was shooting at her.
She rolled to the floor and angled her way back toward the steering column. If she could manage to turn the car on and put it in gear, she might have a chance at getting the vehicle around the house and out of the line of fire. From the direction of the shots, the gunman had to be behind her, probably across the road. There was no cover on her property. She’d had all the bushes and underbrush cleared away when she’d bought the place.
Awkwardly, she reached up and turned on the ignition, pressing the heel of her hand against the accelerator. The engine roared to life. Shifting it into gear, she attempted to keep the wheel straight as she gave it gas. It lunged forward.
The shots were coming more rapidly. She could hear the metallic ping as they hit the back of the car. Alarm sliced through her. The shooter was attempting to hit the gas tank. If he succeeded, she might be trapped inside an inferno.
Pressing more firmly on the gas pedal, she did a mental count to five, then yanked hard on the wheel, hoping she’d clear the house. Twisting her head to the side, she was relieved to see the back of the structure.
Grabbing the radio transmitter, she spoke urgently into it. “This is Sheriff Kingsley calling base. Send all free units to my place on Old Highway Road. There’s a shooter in the area. Use caution in approaching. Repeat, use caution in your approach.”
The radio came to life with the responses of deputies and the dispatcher. Ria dropped the transmitter and crawled to the passenger door, eased it open.
It was the eerie silence she noticed first. No more shots sounded, and there were none of the night noises she’d come to expect in the area. Ears straining, she listened, but heard nothing.
In a crouch she ran to the house, unsnapping her holster and withdrawing her gun. Thumbing off the safety, she peered carefully around the side of the building, searching the darkness in vain for any sign of the shooter.
She was at a disadvantage. The sniper likely was equipped with night vision goggles. Scanning the sparse line of box elders across the road, she saw no sign of motion. Would he have had time to cross the street to her property while she was still in the car? She tried to remember how long it had been since she’d heard the sound of bullets hitting the vehicle, but the minutes blurred together.
Staying close to the house, she crawled along its side until she was at the front corner. Ria had a clear view of the other side of the road now, but still saw nothing. Sirens sounded in the distance. She glanced behind her, almost looked away again until she caught the sight of motion from the corner of her eye. Staring hard, she saw it again. A shadow at the back corner of the house. Inching slowly forward.
She scrambled to her feet and dodged around the house, flattening herself against the siding. Carefully, she angled herself so that she had a clear look at the still-moving shadow. A second ticked by. Two. The shadow loomed larger.
Then she wheeled around the house and squeezed off three shots in rapid succession. Something stung her cheek, and she dived back around the corner for cover. The wailing of the sirens grew closer. She peered around the house again, and saw nothing. No shadow. No movement.
The first deputy’s car wheeled into her lane, quickly followed by a second. Ria stood and waved an arm at the men, knowing they’d be able to identify her in the spear of their headlights.
“Vinton, you and Simpson drive your car across the lawn on the opposite side of the house. We’ll take this side. Be careful. He was around back a few seconds ago.” Without a word, both men climbed back into their vehicle. Ria got in with Cook. He pulled the car into the backyard as she scanned the area.
The yard was empty. Her cruiser sat motionless, looking as if it’d been through a war, but there was no sign of the shooter. Frustration gnawed at her. He could have disappeared in any of three directions, and with every passing second, he was farther away.
“Want us to do a foot search?”
Resignedly, she nodded. “Get your flashlights and rifles, and take the right of the property. I’ll organize the rest of the men as they arrive. We’ll surround the area and maybe we can trap him that way.”
But as she headed back to the front to greet the approaching department cars, she already had a sense of foreboding that their search would be in vain.
Three hours later, Ria’s suspicion had proved true. Despite the efforts of a dozen deputies and another ten reserves, the shooter hadn’t been apprehended. A couple of investigators took her car back to town to the department garage to examine it. Any evidence would then be turned over to the lab. She didn’t hold out much hope that it would yield anything valuable, unless a bullet happened to have gotten lodged in a seat.
Spotlights had been brought in so the scene in her yard could be worked. More had been set up across the road, where she’d assumed the shooter had been hiding behind the stand of trees. No casings had been found there, although indentations in the grass indicated it probably was the spot the shots had originated from.
One of the deputies did suffer a sprained ankle when he tripped over the wire she had stretched around the perimeter of her home. She could only hope that the shooter had suffered the same fate.
Finally, she called the men together and halted the search until daylight. “We’ll continue canvassing the neighbors and alert Crime Stoppers that we’re looking for anyone with information.” She scanned the weary faces of the men surrounding her. “Thank you for your help. We’ll start up again tomorrow.”
“Might want to take a look at your face, Sheriff,” Cook suggested. “Blood looks dry now. You didn’t get hit, did you?”
She shook her head, even as her hand went to her cheek. Remembering how it had stung earlier, she said, “Probably nicked by a piece of siding. Worley dug a bullet out of the house there.”
He nodded and headed toward his car. Some men were already driving away, others had collected in small groups to talk.
“Sheriff? Sheriff?”
With a sinking heart, Ria looked up to see Vera Wainwright bearing down on her. As the Tripolo Tribune’s owner, primary reporter, editorialist and photographer, she had her eyes and ears everywhere. Ria fervently wished they were somewhere else right now.
“I’ve been very patient, Sheriff, but you haven’t answered all of my questions.”
The woman’s brassy blond curls gleamed like molten gold in the moonlight, painting her with a surreal halo. Ria had dealt with her enough to know that the affect was undeserved. The woman was tenacious about a story, and not always overly concerned with the facts. Ria had learned to be careful about what she disclosed to her.
“Sorry, Vera, but we won’t know more until forensics has a chance to analyze the evidence.”
&nb
sp; The reporter looked unconvinced. “Do you have any idea who was shooting at you or why?”
“We don’t know that anyone was. It could have been a poacher who got disoriented in the dark.” Even to her own ears the suggestion sounded weak. From the look on Vera’s face, she thought so, too.
“Don’t know why a hunter would be ’round these parts.” Duane Ralston’s voice sounded behind her, and Ria ground her teeth. The man had been off duty this evening, so he hadn’t been in one of the cars responding to the call. She sure hadn’t missed him.
“Most hunters stick to the woods on the southeastern side of the county,” he continued.
“Unless they were tracking deer or rabbit in that field across the road,” Ria countered firmly. To Vera she said, “Stop by my office in the morning for an update. I’ll give you all the details I can then.”
She and Ralston watched the woman move away. His voice, when he spoke again, was insincere. “I hope you didn’t bring trouble to this county by moving here, Sheriff.”
There were only a couple of cars left in the yard. Adrenaline had long since faded, leaving Ria exhausted. She strove to keep her weariness from her voice. It wouldn’t do to show weakness before this man. “Why don’t you say what you mean, Ralston?”
He scratched at his thinning brown hair. “I read your press. Big city cop like you, all those cases of yours, seems like you might have made some enemies along the way. Just hope none of them saw fit to follow you here to settle up some old scores.”
Old scores. The phrase had her flesh prickling. Ralston had effortlessly plucked out her greatest fear and voiced it. It wasn’t a Denver gangbanger looking to get even that had her instincts on alert, however. It was someone much more deadly.
Had her identity been discovered somehow? Had yet another assassin found her, meaning to silence her forever?
Ignoring the very real possibility for the moment, she said, “We haven’t been making friends in certain circles with the drug busts. If I was the target, we should look closely at some of our recent arrests. Any one of them has reason to want to get even.”
“Or maybe we should look at someone we didn’t arrest. Someone like Jake Tarrance.”
Ice abruptly formed in her veins. It took every ounce of effort she could summon to meet Ralston’s gaze squarely. “Why would Jake Tarrance be shooting at me?”
“You tell me, Sheriff.” The deputy folded his arms across his chest and rocked back on his heels. “You’re the one that called in his plates the other night. What do you think he was doing in the county?”
Sensing a trap, Ria opted for the truth. “He was waiting for me.” From the look on the man’s face, she knew that she’d guessed correctly. Ralston already knew Tarrance had been here, or he’d guessed as much. Without a qualm, she lied, “He was looking to strike a deal for Boster. I told him it wasn’t going to happen. He left unhappy, but hardly homicidal.”
The story was plausible and there was no reason for Ralston to doubt it. But her mind kept flipping back to Jake’s words before he’d left.
If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll be back.
We’re not finished with each other, Ria.
Unease snaked down her spine. The shooting couldn’t be Jake’s doing. What would be his motive? She had nothing to do with Alvarez, and the man seemed to consume Jake’s attention.
“I say we take a look at him.” Ralston’s voice seemed to come from a distance. “He’s got a better reason than most to want you out of the way.”
“You’ve got a reason to want me gone, too. I took the position you think should have been yours. Should we take a look at your whereabouts tonight?” At the expression of shock on his face, Ria mentally cursed her lack of diplomacy. It was late. She was tired. And she really didn’t want to be having this conversation.
“This isn’t doing either of us any good. I’m going to get some rest.” She strode away, heading toward the front door, stopping to deactivate the alarm.
Deputy Duane Ralston watched her go, fists clenched at his sides. Uppity bitch. She had the brass to taunt him about not making sheriff? That job should have been his, damn her. He’d put in the time on the force. He had the seniority and experience to be named as Winston’s replacement. Give him a couple years to show the people of Fenton County what he could do, and come election time, he’d have been a shoo-in.
But, no. He spat on the ground, to rid his mouth of the vile taste filling it. Croat had convinced the other commissioners to bring in someone from the outside. And if that hadn’t been slap enough, they’d had to hire a woman. It was too damn bad that one of those bullets hadn’t taken care of her tonight, for good.
But just because she was still here didn’t mean she had to stay.
The sly thought crept across his mind, lingered. No matter what she said about Tarrance’s reason for coming here, she had knowingly dealt with the biggest crime boss in these parts. Who knew what the two had really been discussing? Could be something illegal. Ralston didn’t have to prove that, of course. ’Round these parts, it only took the appearance of impropriety to get folks’ tongues wagging. One way or another, the bitch would be gone.
The more he thought about it, the more he figured that Sheriff Ria Kingsley would bear some watching. If there were some deal in the making between her and Tarrance, he’d get to the bottom of it. Once he did, she’d be out of this county quicker than she’d come. And this time Croat and the others would see who the best candidate for the job was.
An uncustomary smile creased his face at the thought. Sheriff Duane P. Ralston. Yep. He sure did like the sound of that.
Chapter 5
Alabama State Senator Jerry Grimm accepted a refill of Kentucky bourbon and sat back in his chair, swirling the amber liquor in his glass appreciatively. “You always have the best booze, Tarrance, I’ll give you that.”
“Nothing but the best for my friends, Jerry.” Jake lifted his own glass, tipped it toward the other man in a mock toast. “I hope I can continue to count on your friendship, anyway.”
Grimm sipped from the glass. “What you’re asking this time goes way beyond our past business. If anyone gets wind of our association, you can count this bill dead in the water. And my political career with it.”
“I trust your discretion,” he said cynically. What he trusted was the man’s single-minded sense of self-preservation. Since his greed was equally great, Jake was certain Grimm would find some way to earn the substantial bribe he was offering, while keeping their connection under wraps.
“I still don’t see how this is going to help you. Just because I propose the bill legalizing privately owned casinos doesn’t mean it’s going to get passed. The last time we started a real gambling discussion in this state, we had all sorts of conservatives coming out of the woodwork.”
“Let me worry about getting it passed.” Jake already had a rough idea just how many in the state legislature could be counted to vote for such a bill. And there were plenty of others who could be approached for support. Human nature never changed. Everyone had a price. And he was quite good at figuring out what that was for each individual.
“I must be crazy to even consider this.” Grimm took another swallow of the bourbon. “Political suicide is what it is.”
“Not if you follow my instructions. Remember what happened to our former governor when he refused to support a lottery that would have proceeds going to education?”
The other man nodded. “He was defeated in his reelection bid. But still…”
“These are tough economic times.” Jake repeated the lines he needed the man to memorize. “Every state has to do what it can for our children’s future. Under your proposal, ten percent of all casino profits will go directly to public education. That’s a hell of a lot of money, Jerry. You’ll be considered a damn saint.”
And Jake Tarrance would be first in line with a casino license. He’d spent years grooming contacts in the governor’s office and in the gaming commis
sion. As soon as this bill passed—and he’d see that it did—he was positioned to take immediate advantage. Even after the ten percent and taxes, he still stood to make more profit off one month’s take at a legally operated casino than he did in six months on his illegal gaming ventures.
“If word ever got out about our association, we’ll be in cells side by side.”
“I don’t think prison would suit me,” Jake drawled. “That’s why I’ve always made a point to avoid it.” He’d come as close as he ever wanted to when he was fifteen and spent three years in a juvenile detention center. What he’d learned from that experience was that patience paid off. With foresight and planning, prison could be avoided. He’d never forgotten that particular lesson.
“A little fear is good. It’ll make you careful.” Because Jake sensed the senator was wavering, he added, “Should I wire the money to the same account as usual?”
The mention of the money wiped the concern from the man’s face. Senator Jerry Grimm had expenses. A new young trophy wife, a second family and heavy-duty alimony for his ex. There was never a doubt in Jake’s mind what the man’s ultimate answer would be.
“That’s right. The same account.”
A broad smile on his face, Jake rose, stuck out his hand. “A pleasure doing business with you, Senator.”
Their handshake was brief. Now that he was committed, Grimm seemed in a hurry to leave. “I’ll let you know when the bill is ready to be presented.”
“I’ll want a look at the first draft so I can give you feedback.” Jake wasn’t about to leave the wording in Grimm’s hands. He had two of the finest lawyers in the state on retainer. With their help, the proposal would sound like a suggestion from Mother Teresa.
