Sometimes it sucked that his personal writing space had to double as the law enforcement command center. But then he could often slog through notifications here and forego having to make a lengthy trip into Santa Cruz.
Because of that he relied on technology that kept him connected to the sheriff’s office and took up a stingy corner of his desk to keep in touch with his superiors in an official capacity.
So when his fax machine began spitting out a paperfest, he didn’t pay much attention. After all, Thursdays could be just as busy as Fridays, which easily produced a certain number of routine BOLOs, or Be On the Lookouts. At any given time BOLOs might pertain to teenage runaways, missing or endangered persons, stolen vehicles, escaped cons, or any armed robberies that had occurred within a hundred-mile radius.
But as Ethan shuffled through the papers and the lists, a familiar name jumped off the page. Robby Mack Stevens had escaped from his comfy digs at some Virginia state mental hospital.
Three days ago Robby Mack had flown the coop. And now it seemed a hospital worker was missing from Sandhurst. A woman by the name of Terri Lynn Cranston hadn’t been seen for three days. To Ethan Cody’s mind, Robby Stevens should never have seen the inside of a mental facility with such lax security.
Despite the three-thousand-mile distance, Ethan couldn’t help it. He got that weird vibe in his gut that spelled trouble. Could Stevens be headed his way and to Pelican Pointe?
He needed to find out everything Cord knew about the man. Grabbing his keys off the counter, he headed out the door to tell Bennett.
Given such a head start, Ethan knew Robby Stevens could be anywhere in the country by now. But his gut told him the man might have unfinished business with the town’s newest resident.
Not only that, his second sense told him there was no chance Terri Lynn Cranston would ever be found alive.
Robby Stevens had himself a brand-new ID. His driver’s license now read John Gold. He also sported a trendy new appearance, what he called his California look. He’d bleached his black hair a white blond, like a surfer dude, he thought now, sparing a glance at himself in the mirrored wall behind the counter.
He’d gotten himself a new pair of contact lenses which turned his baby blues a dazzling shade of green. And thanks to the credit card he’d stolen from Terri Lynn’s purse, as well as the tidy sum he’d cleaned out of her savings account, he had a brand-new ride.
He took a bite out of his eggs-over-easy and stared out the window of the greasy dive just off I-80 near Walcott, Iowa, where he’d stopped to grab a quick breakfast. The sleek Mustang sitting in the parking lot went a long way to convey his persona. He’d paid cash for the sporty, blue convertible in Morgantown, West Virginia, before he’d ever made the turn to head west.
He crammed in another bite of hash browns and decided it was a damned shame he’d had to get rid of hefty Terri. He hadn’t counted on the bitch having such a skillful mouth. Who would’ve guessed the mousy woman had been capable of giving him the best head he’d ever had? Certainly he hadn’t. That had been a nice surprise, a very sweet surprise. But then he’d been locked up for a year and half. That had to count for his overreaction to Terri’s services. If he’d known the woman could work that luscious mouth of hers, he would’ve made a move in her direction two months earlier right after she’d started to work at Camp Sandhurst.
As it was, he had rushed his technique. His charm had been a little rusty. It had taken longer than he thought to wine and dine Terri in a confined environment. At one time, it wouldn’t have taken so long to bend her to his will. Ah, well, he thought. He doubted anyone would ever find her body. Knowing her final resting place though, there was something comforting in that.
Cord stood in the cherry orchard enjoying the late afternoon sun, the way it angled through the branches, and wondered why he hadn’t noticed before how beautiful the farm could be in the spring. From where he stood he could smell the ocean. He inhaled the scent of the blossoms, tilted his head up to look at the crystal blue sky. He felt a joy he hadn’t known in almost two years.
He did his best to get his mind back on the subject at hand. They were having a meeting of sorts as Silas went over his plans to hire more pickers to harvest the springtime crops.
At the sound of a car though, Cord spied Ethan in the distance crawling out of his cruiser. For some reason, all the pleasure drained from his body. His gut tightened. He continued to watch as Ethan made his way across the landscape. The deputy looked all business, his walk brisk, his face official.
“Cord.”
“Ethan. What’s up?”
Ethan eyed Silas. “I need to talk to Cord. Could you give us a minute?”
“Sure,” Silas said. “I’ll catch up with you later, Cord. We need to go over setting up the roadside stand soon anyway.”
After Silas walked off, Ethan turned to face Cord. “I guess there’s no good way to say this so I’ll just pull off the Band-Aid in one fast yank. Robby Mack Stevens escaped from Sandhurst Mental Hospital Monday night. Three days ago, Cord. And there’s a female, a member of the staff, gone missing right along with him.”
“Son of a bitch,” Cord snapped. “I knew giving that bastard a cozy hospital room instead of prison was a huge mistake. I told them so, but no one listened.” He stormed off a couple of steps before storming right back. “They believed he was sick in the head. It was an act. I told them that, too.”
“Preaching to the choir here,” Ethan said agreeably. “He has a three-day head start though. May try to leave the country somehow, maybe head to Canada or Mexico, or maybe pick a country with no extradition.” He tried to make the theory sound convincing.
Cord studied Ethan’s face. “But you don’t think so?”
“I’m here to officially warn you to be on the lookout, that’s it. But you of all people know what this man is capable of doing. Plus, you are the one person he wanted to kill that day but survived. That fact may not sit well with him right about now. If it comes down to making sure you’re gone for good—he might decide to head this way—with the intent of finishing you off.”
“Okay, what exactly do you want me to do about it if he finds me? Stand behind a cow for protection and throw a rock in his direction. You confiscated my damned gun, even a peashooter would do some damage if aimed in the right place.”
Ethan shook his head. “Yeah I did, and you don’t get to throw that up to me. I’m not even going to address your state of mind at the time. To get the gun back you’d have to petition the court, go through the judge.”
“Goddamn it!”
“But she won’t give it to you, Cord. Not until you’ve completed your mandatory sessions with the shrink. I know that for a fact.”
Cord raked both hands through his hair. “Okay. Okay. But if Robby Mack is out there looking for me, I’ll be more than happy to give the son of a bitch a second chance. I’ll even be the bait. You just make sure you cover my back in the process.”
“And what about Keegan? Where exactly does she fit into your being the carrot at the end of the stick?”
“Shit.”
“That’s what I thought. Are you two—? None of my business but under the circumstances—”
Cord eyed him with a certain amount of derision before interrupting him. “There’s only so much I’m willing to share—even with the law—even with you. I’m not getting Keegan mixed up in all of this crap. Robby Mack doesn’t even know she exists and that’s the way I intend to keep it.”
“Good luck with that,” Ethan retorted. “Last time I tried to tell a woman what to do with her heart, I got married. Look, I know what you’re going through. You seem to forget that piece of shit Dochenko sent a hit man after Hayden not six months ago.”
Cord had heard all about what had happened last fall when Luka Radovan had shown up to kill Emile Reed aka Hayden Ryan now Hayden Cody.
Because he’d already taken a plea deal for a long list of offenses, Luka was serving time somewhere out of sta
te in a maximum-security federal facility. It hadn’t taken long in custody for Jeremy Dochenko’s head lackey to agree to testify against his former boss.
Cord’s jaw tightened. “Keegan deserves someone who doesn’t have my long list of problems and Robby adds one more.”
Ethan nodded. “Like I said before, good luck with that since Keegan Fanning is every bit as hardheaded and stubborn as my wife. Look, I printed up flyers with Robby Mack’s face on them. I’m distributing them all over town. Everyone will get a good look at him and be aware he’s on the run.”
Ethan offered one to Cord. “This is his last known mug shot the night Leesburg PD booked him.”
Cord snatched the paper out of Ethan’s hand and stared long and hard at the man who had single-handedly ripped his world in two.
“Yeah, I’m familiar with what he looks like,” Cord muttered. Hadn’t he spent too long reliving that scene at the church, seeing the man fire his weapon over and over again in his dreams?
“You go ahead and plaster this up and down Pelican Pointe for all the good it will do.” It wouldn’t matter, Cord thought. Nothing did. Because he’d learned the hard way, he could count on no one but himself when it came to stopping Robby Mack Stevens.
But once Ethan took off, Cord wandered around the orchard, stalking his past. Just when things had started to look somewhat promising, Robby Mack had decided to resurface. Why did his life have to be so complicated right now? There was no way he would involve Keegan in this. He kicked a clod of dirt with the toe of his Danner work boot and sulked.
“Seriously. You’re thinking of cutting things off with her now?”
Cord whirled around at the sound of Scott’s voice. “Fuck you. I’m in no mood to have a conversation with a dead guy right now, okay?” Cord stared down Scott’s ghost who was every bit as much a solid form as he himself was. Despite his tough persona, seeing Scott always gave him a jolt, one he would admit to no one. But right now he had other more pressing matters to focus on than a ghostly apparition.
“You think I want to break it off? Hell, I want her more than I want my next breath of air. But I’m not putting her in the line of fire if that son of a bitch comes looking for me. I’m not taking the chance. Robby Mack is crazy.”
“He will, he’ll come for you.”
That stopped Cord in mid-mad. He narrowed his eyes. “You know this for a fact? What? Are you psychic now, too?”
“He’s headed to California.”
Cord ran shaky fingers through his long, loose locks. “Fine. I need to go talk to Keegan. The sooner I get this over with the better.”
And with that, he stormed off to find an available truck.
But before Cord reached the vehicle, Marty came running up to him. “There’s a man waiting for you inside the office, says it’s important he talk to you.”
Because Robby Mack’s face popped into Cord’s head, he pulled out the flyer, showed it to Marty. “By any chance is this the guy?”
Marty shook his head. “No way. This guy is almost as tall as you are, maybe a couple of inches shorter, graying sandy blond hair, not as long as yours. He looks like he’s about fifty or so. Says for me to tell you he’s your father.”
Chapter Sixteen
By the time Cord reached the executive offices, he’d worked up an already serious head of steam. Storming inside, he took two steps and stopped dead in his tracks. Even from ten feet away—he gaped at what could only be described as an older version of—himself.
Marty’s description was spot on. The man stood at least six-two with the same streaky blondish-brown hair as Cord. The only difference was that the stranger had fringes along his temples edging toward gray. He wore jeans and a simple plaid shirt. His boots were worn and scuffed and the big-ass belt buckle at his trim waist told Cord he considered himself a cowboy.
The guy seemed nervous as he stood in front of the desk waiting, and clutching a tan Stetson in his hand.
Fidgeting, the stranger turned at the sound of Cord coming into the room. Cord saw him tuck his hands in his pockets, a gesture that seemed oddly familiar.
Cord saw the man swallow hard. Their eyes met. The same gold-flecked brown stared back at him. Cord finally managed to speak. “What the hell is this? Who are you?”
The man stretched out his right hand. “Douglas Gabriel Bennett’s the name. Most people just call me Gabe, though. I’ve been looking for you close to ten years now.”
Cord glared at the outstretched hand. “Why?”
“Didn’t the guy tell you? I’m your father. Your name is Cord Douglas Bennett. You were born February 22 at Mercy Hospital in San Diego. You weighed eight pounds two ounces. You have a purple birthmark on your left shoulder shaped like the state of California. I sure had me a big baby boy—once upon a time,” Gabe finished in a husky voice with tears in his eyes.
The jolt of surprise and unease turned to resentment. Cord hardened his heart. “Yeah? Well, these days anyone with access to the Internet can look up basic statistics which brings me to the next question. Where the hell have you been the last thirty-four years?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Ain’t they all?” Cord replied with a sneer. “Look, I don’t know what your game is or who sent you but now is not a good time to play me. If it’s money you’re looking for—”
“I just want to talk. I came down from Fresno for the day, took off from work as soon as I got the word where you were. I hired one of those private investigators some time back to locate you. You’ve been a tough man to find.”
Even though Cord wasn’t buying the man’s story for a minute, he planted his butt on the corner of the desk and felt the need to point out, “Me? I’ve been right here in this same spot for months now.”
“Try years. I’ve been looking for you since I got out of prison.”
Great, an ex-con, thought Cord, just what he needed. Well, his luck in the family department had always sucked. Why would now be any different? “Uh-huh. What were you in for?”
“Murder. Look, I just want to get to know you, maybe take in a ballgame every once in awhile or go get a meal together. Give me ten minutes of your time.”
Cord looked at his watch on purpose, letting an air of indifference surround him. He wasn’t about to admit the man had him all kinds of curious. With the mask firmly in place, he offered, “Ten minutes and then you’re out of here. Start talking, make it quick. I was just on my way into town.”
“Social services took you from me when you were ten months old.”
“A fine testament to your parenting skills I’m sure,” Cord fired back.
“No. I was seventeen at the time. Your mother, she was sixteen when she died. Someone killed your mother, Cord, came right into the little apartment we had at the time—this little place—a hole in the wall really over on Sea Ridge Drive in Pacific Beach. Anyway, when I was at work, someone came in and stabbed her to death. You were just a baby, asleep in your crib when it happened. Walked in that morning and you were crying, looked like you had been at it for hours and hours. I found Tammy’s body lying in a pool of blood in the kitchen. I called 911. The cops immediately thought I did it.”
“Did you?” Cord asked, still skeptical about the whole thing.
“No! I would never have hurt Tammy. I loved her. We were just kids ourselves trying to raise a baby. But they arrested me anyway and put you in foster care. I never laid eyes on you again after that, not till today.”
“When did you get out of the joint?”
“Ten years this May.”
“Paroled?”
“No. They finally matched DNA from Tammy’s crime scene to some guy that used to live in the same complex. I spent over two decades locked up. But I was exonerated, Cord. Check it out if you don’t believe me.”
“Oh believe me, I intend to. I’ll make calls starting with Ethan Cody, our deputy sheriff here in town.”
But Gabe didn’t seem daunted at the idea of being checked out by law enfo
rcement. In fact, he straightened his spine a little more and claimed, “I’ve been looking for you ever since I got out. Private investigator discovered you’d never been adopted. Turns out, you were still Bennett. Found out you went into the service. But then after three tours of duty in Iraq, he never could get a bead on you…until now.”
“Yeah? Lucky me. Well, it was nice meeting you. Look, I’ve got an errand to run so if you don’t mind…” He didn’t have time for a faux family reunion especially today. Breaking it off with Keegan came first and would likely take everything out of him. But now it seemed, he had to work in some time to have a face-to-face chat with Ethan Cody…again.
Cord stood up, his big frame almost eye-to-eye with the stranger. He held out his hand for the first time and stated, “Thanks for stopping by. You be sure to drive safely heading back to Fresno.”
“You don’t believe a word I’ve said here, do you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“All right. Let’s go get us one of those DNA tests. There’s got to be a lab near here that’ll do it. I’ll even foot the bill. It’ll prove to you I am your father.”
Cord shook his head. “I’m trying to be polite here and not throw you out on your ass but, like I said before, right now is not a good time. I’ve got things to do.”
“This isn’t over.”
“Actually, it is. I’ll walk you to your car.”
To prove his point though, Gabe Bennett picked up a pen from the desk and started scribbling on a scratch piece of paper he’d pulled from his pocket. “Here is my address and phone number. You let me know when you get your head out of your ass because I am your father.”
And with that, the man clomped out of the room.
On the drive into town to see Keegan, Cord considered what the man had told him. Sure, it was a great sounding tale with all the elements of a good scam. But that didn’t mean he had to fall for it. He’d get Ethan to check out the man’s story, find out more about this Gabe Bennett. The nerve of some people, showing up out of the blue, and expecting a person to believe a wild lie like that.
Dancing Tides Page 18
