by B. J Daniels
From outside came the distinct sound of Mariah’s motorcycle.
CHAPTER TWELVE
VICKI WELCH STOOD looking in the floor-length mirror at her naked body. Skinny white girl, she thought, was the best way to describe herself. Her breasts were small, nipples a dark pink against her pale skin. When she was in her teens, her father had called her boobs goose bumps and laughed, saying a boy wouldn’t be able to find them.
But Harp had never complained. Her friends thought it was cool that she was dating a deputy. No one argued that he wasn’t good-looking, even if a bit smug and condescending at times.
“Does he read you your rights first?” her friend Emma joked.
“Or has he used his stun gun on you?” Emma’s boyfriend had wanted to know. “Imagine that right as you’re about to—” Emma had elbowed him hard and told him to knock it off.
“Well, at least you shouldn’t have to pay for any speeding or parking tickets,” her boss, Sue Pence, had said. Sue was in her forties, a widow with teenager and the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’d opened the diner with her husband’s insurance money.
Vicki could tell that Sue didn’t think much of Harp.
“Spoiled brat son of the mayor,” she’d heard one of the older customers say once when Harp had stopped by for his usual—coffee, pie and flirting with her. Sometimes he would lower his voice and motion her close so he could tell her what he was going to do to her when they both got off work. Then he’d have to sit there for a while before he left so he didn’t embarrass himself.
Harp definitely liked sex, anytime, anywhere and she was always accommodating even when she was dead on her feet from a long day at the diner.
She sighed and turned her attention to her body again. She didn’t have much of a waist above her jutting narrow hips. With a critical eye, she decided her legs weren’t bad, but she thought she looked strange without her reddish-blond pubic hair. Harp had talked her into shaving it all off. Said models did it. Said it was sexy.
Vicki didn’t feel sexy as she turned sideways to consider her butt. It was small and fairly flat. Nothing to write home about. She glanced at the time, trying not to be overly nervous.
Turning back she stared into the mirror. Her eyes were her best asset, she thought, feeling a little kinder to herself. They were big and round and blue, and they went with her button nose. Still, she looked like a kid. No wonder she got carded every time she stepped into a bar.
Harp thought it was cute. He liked that she was quite a bit younger than him. He also liked that she’d let him do anything he wanted to her body, even if it hurt her sometimes because he was so much bigger than she.
The timer on her phone went off, making her jump. She took a final look in the mirror at her naked body before grabbing her robe and heading into the bathroom where she’d left the pregnancy test.
* * *
DARBY WAS SURPRISED and relieved when he’d heard Mariah’s motorcycle. But she was too early for work. Maybe she’d just come by for her check. And her bracelet.
He left Flint and Lillie discussing what to do about Kendall and went downstairs. Mariah was in the kitchen, apparently busy helping Billie Dee.
“Aren’t you a little early for your shift?” he asked Mariah, seeing the two of them with their heads together at the stove.
“Billie Dee is teaching me how to make tamales,” she said over her shoulder.
“That should come in handy on your motorcycle,” he muttered under his breath. They both turned to give him questioning looks. “It’s just that I’m surprised to see you take an interest in learning to cook.”
Mariah laughed and turned to look at him. Her smile faded, her gaze intent. “Just shows how much you know about me. My grandmother taught me to cook. Every woman in our family had to learn because we were valued for our...culinary skills.” With that she turned back to the stove and Billie Dee.
At the sound of his brothers Hawk and Cyrus arguing, he turned to see them come in the back door. His questioning look made them both stop.
“Flint called a family meeting before the saloon opens to talk about Dad,” Cyrus said. “I hope you have a pot of coffee on.”
“Or something stronger,” Hawk joked. “This could get ugly.”
Darby had forgotten about the family meeting. He’d had other things on his mind, he thought as he glanced over at Mariah.
Last night, he hadn’t gotten any sleep. He’d lain in bed listening for the sound of her motorcycle. He had been so afraid that this time she really was gone. He couldn’t get her response to his touch out of his mind. How was it possible that a woman her age hadn’t—
He reminded himself how little he knew about Mariah—as she’d just pointed out—as Flint and Lillie came downstairs.
“Is everyone here?” Flint asked.
Darby motioned toward the bar. “Hawk and Cyrus just arrived.” He watched Lillie and Flint go on into the bar. He wasn’t in the mood for this, but didn’t see any way out. Flint had suggested a family meeting—after he’d done his best to talk their father into staying with him for a while at his house.
But Ely was having none of that so, giving up, Flint had dropped Ely off at his cabin near the mountains and called to ask his siblings to all meet at the Stagecoach Saloon before it opened.
As Darby walked into the bar, he heard his sister cry, “You’re seeing Maggie again?” Lillie gave Flint a hug. “You must have taken my advice. It’s about time.”
“We aren’t here to discuss my love life,” his brother said quickly, no doubt hoping the others wouldn’t join in. The man was kidding himself.
“He has a love life?” their brother Hawk asked and laughed.
“More than you do,” Lillie shot back.
“Does Celeste know?” Cyrus asked. Cyrus and Hawk both worked the family ranch, living like two old bachelors.
“Everyone in town knows,” Darby said as he stepped behind the bar. “I heard about the kiss at the drive-through.” He could hear Mariah and Billie Dee’s muted voices in the kitchen. He desperately wanted to talk to her. “Did everyone get something to drink?” He saw that Hawk and Cyrus had helped themselves to a beer, but Flint and Lillie hadn’t gotten anything yet.
“What is this family meeting about anyway?” Hawk asked as if he didn’t know.
“Dad,” Flint said. “We need to decide what to do.”
“I’m sorry, but at what point do we have the right to take over another person’s life?” Hawk demanded. “That is what you’re suggesting, isn’t it?”
Flint sighed as he pulled up a bar stool next to his sister. “When that person is our father and he’s in danger, yes, we should consider how we can help him.”
Cyrus was shaking his head. “I don’t see that much has changed. He is always in danger up there in the mountains by himself. It’s what he lives for. You want to take that away from him?”
“No, but it’s different now,” Flint argued. “You didn’t see him unconscious. Harp said he was disoriented, could barely stand and, stone-cold sober, he drove his Jeep onto the sidewalk, crashing into a trash can. He could have killed someone.”
Everyone grew quiet for a few minutes.
“What do you suggest we do?” Lillie asked.
“I’m going to have to pull his license and make sure he doesn’t drive anymore,” Flint said. “He can’t keep the Jeep.”
They all shared a look as if debating who was going to take it away from him. Their gazes settled on Flint. No surprise there, Darby thought.
“I’ll do it,” he said and saw that everyone was relieved, including Flint.
“He doesn’t hardly drive it anyway,” Hawk said. “I’ll volunteer to take him anywhere he needs to go.”
They fell silent for a few long minutes until Lillie broke it.
“Now every time he goes into the mountains, I’ll wonder if it’s the last time I’m going to see him.” She sounded close to tears.
“He’s promised to stay around until the wedding,” Darby pointed out.
“Yeah, that will keep him in town for a while so he can recuperate. Let’s not—” Cyrus was interrupted by the sound of Flint’s cell phone.
Flint checked the screen. “I’m going to have to go,” he said getting to his feet. “Stop looking like you’re all at a funeral. If Dad sees you like that...”
“Flint’s right,” Lillie said. “I’m sure Dad’s scared after this. If he hadn’t realized he was getting old before, he has now.”
“I agree. The thought of not being able to do what he wants has to have sent him into a tailspin,” Hawk said.
“Don’t kid yourself,” Flint said as he pocketed his phone. “The old man is going to do exactly what he wants come hell or high water. Harp just texted me. He picked up Dad after a disturbance at the Old Town Bar.”
“You have to be kidding,” Cyrus said.
Hawk laughed. “Good for him.”
Flint shook his head as he looked at his sister. Lillie was the one who always came to get their father out of jail after one of his rowdy nights had ended there. “See you in the morning, little sis.”
“You aren’t going to lock him up!” she cried.
“Like hell, I’m not. It’s the safest place for him.”
“I can’t believe he’d pull this after just getting out of the hospital,” Cyrus was saying.
They all turned to look at him in disbelief. “Have you ever met our father?” Flint demanded.
* * *
AFTER FLINT SAW that his father was safely behind bars, he realized he was late for his interview with Tori Clark and her mother.
“I don’t understand why you want to talk to my daughter,” Annette Clark said. She had been cordial enough, ushering him into their pristine expensively furnished living room and offering him a seat.
Tori had joined her mother on the couch, while Flint had taken a chair across from them. Mrs. Clark smoothed down her skirt and waited. Clearly she was a woman used to demanding and receiving answers.
Flint glanced at Tori. The girl didn’t look concerned. Nor did she appear confused as to what this was about. She was waiting, ready to pretend to be surprised, hurt and upset at being falsely accused.
“Several young people have been breaking into local houses in town,” Flint said. He was convinced he had his thieves. Now he just had to prove it.
“I saw that in the newspaper, but what does that have to do with Tori?” her mother demanded.
“The teens left footprints at some of the houses they burglarized,” he said, watching Tori. She didn’t look quite so smug. “We have been able to track down the shoes that made those prints.”
Tori shifted a little.
“I’m going to need the tennis shoes your daughter is wearing to take to our lab, Mrs. Clark.”
“What? You can’t possibly think—”
“We need to run tests on them to confirm our suspicions,” he said, figuring they wouldn’t ask what tests. A forensic lab might be able to match dirt samples to select yards, but he wouldn’t tie up the lab for underage criminals.
Annette Clark was sputtering. “I need to speak with my husband and he’s at a business conference in Chicago—”
“I can get a warrant, but I thought the best way to rule out your daughter would be to keep this between us. The fewer people involved, you know.”
“You aren’t going to let him take my tennis shoes,” Tori cried and jumped to her feet.
“Or I can take her down to the station and run the tests with them on her feet,” Flint said also rising.
Tori looked as if she wanted to make a run for it. He was sure she did.
“It’s the only way I can rule out your daughter since she was one of several people who bought this particular shoe locally.”
The mother was wringling her hands, looking from him to Tori, clearly worried. “Tori, tell me you had nothing to do with any of this.” The teen looked aghast that her mother would even ask but didn’t deny it. “Fine, take off your tennis shoes.”
Tori started to put up another fight but her mother silenced her, snapping, “Take them off now. I don’t want to call your father, but I will.” She turned to Flint. “I will expect a receipt. Those are very expensive tennis shoes.”
“Of course,” Flint said as he took out his notebook and wrote her a receipt while painfully slowly Tori took off her tennis shoes.
“Like I said, this should eliminate your daughter’s involvement, but Tori, if you know anyone who might be responsible for these break-ins, please tell them that the first person who comes to me and confesses will get off easier than the others.”
Tori finished taking off the tennis shoes and practically threw them at him. He carefully put them in the evidence bag he’d brought along.
“Why would you think she knew anything about it?” her mother demanded hotly.
“It’s a small town. Kids hear things. Either way, we’ll find them, and when we do I’m afraid they’ll be looking at reform school. That’s if the judge doesn’t decide to treat them as adults and throw them in prison.”
“You can’t be serious?” Annette Clark cried. “They’re just children.”
“No, they’re thieves and budding criminals. Better to try to reform them now than later.”
He left Tori curled up on the couch, pouting. He figured she’d be on her phone to her accomplices the first chance she got.
* * *
DOWN THE STREET, Wendy Westbrook opened the door at Flint’s knock. “My mother isn’t here. She couldn’t cancel her luncheon and she said she wanted grandfather here.” He had figured Mrs. Westbrook would call her father the judge after Wendy had gotten Tori’s call.
“That’s all right, I was just stopping by to tell her I won’t need to talk to her after all.” He noticed right away that Wendy wasn’t wearing the tennis shoes in question and smiled to himself. Tori had definitely called to warn her.
“You won’t?” Wendy asked in surprise.
“No. I already got what I needed.” He smiled, tipped his hat and left, leaving a stunned Wendy standing in the doorway.
When he got back to the office, his undersheriff was waiting for him. He told him how it had gone, tossing the evidence bag with the tennis shoes on the desk. He would return them once he’d caught these girls in the act.
“Aren’t you worried that this will scare them off?” Mark asked. “I thought the idea was to try to catch them in the middle of a crime?”
“Since I didn’t take Wendy’s shoes or Laralee’s, I’m hoping Tori will think she’s the only one under suspicion.”
“I don’t get it.”
“My hope is that when Tori hears that we didn’t pick up Wendy’s tennis shoes or Laralee’s, she’ll rat them both out. Or at least Laralee. So we wait and see if they turn on each other.” His cell phone rang. He turned away to take it. “Maggie? What’s wrong?”
* * *
MAGGIE STOOD HUGGING HERSELF, her body vibrating with fury. Flint hadn’t said anything after she’d let him in the beauty shop and showed him what she’d found. She shot him an impatient look. “If you say you don’t know who did this—”
“We both suspect who did this,” Flint said carefully.
Maggie mugged a face. “Suspect? If you dare try to defend her—”
“I’m a lawman. I don’t get to arrest someone, even if I know damned well who did it, unless I have a boatload of evidence to back it up, okay?”
Maggie felt tears of anger and frustration burn her eyes as she looked at the words scrawled across her station mirror. The person who’d written them
in lipstick had been furious. The writing had started with the word bitch. But then the author had gotten more vulgar, the words more scrawled as the vandal lost control. Just before running out of space on the mirror the vandal had written Die you stupid bitch!
Apparently though, that hadn’t been sufficient to satisfy the writer’s crazy. The vandal had poured shampoo and conditioner all over the chair and floor before throwing the empty containers at the mirror and leaving.
Fortunately, the mirror hadn’t been broken nor any real damage done. The place was just a mess. But the words on the mirror, still made her heart pound with fear and fury.
“You’re saying you can’t arrest her,” Maggie said, without looking at Flint. “So what are you going to do about this?”
The sheriff sighed. “I’ll try to get fingerprints, I’ll look for any evidence, but we both know she’s too smart to have left any.”
Maggie hated how close she was to crying. She’d cried so much over Celeste, she didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction. “You realize that she’ll do anything to keep us apart.”
Flint grabbed her arm and turned her roughly to him. “But she won’t succeed. This is childish, a tantrum. Once she sees it isn’t going to work—”
“She’ll do something more dangerous.”
He let go of her as if he too feared she might. “I can go question her, but quite frankly, I think that’s exactly what she wants.”
“And what would be the point? Without evidence, she’ll just deny it and pretend to be hurt that you would even think she would do such an immature thing—and to that sweet Maggie.”
“You do know her, don’t you?” he said.
She nodded, still spooked by this. “Unfortunately, I’ve run into her a few times—her doing. In fact, she stopped by the other night before our burger date. She told me to stay away from you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And ruin our night?” She shook her head. “I knew she wanted me to tattle on her so you would go to her and tell her to stop. She’s never going to stop trying to control you.”
