by R. C. Ryan
Ben made a slow turn around the town, grateful for the quiet evening. He’d had plenty of time to clean out the accumulated clutter from the back room. Another couple of hours in there and he’d be able to use it as a retreat, if he managed to find some downtime.
Jeanette Moak, on night shift at the dispatch desk in a small office across the street shared by both the sheriff and the volunteer fire department, had relayed the gossip being spread about the previous night’s shooting.
“Who’d believe crime right here in Haller Creek? And especially involving Rebecca Henderson and Reverend Will Theisen? My Charley says you can’t tell about a person. He has me wondering if one of them has a dark secret in their past that’s come back to haunt them.”
Charley was her rancher husband, who was laid up with a bad back.
Ben chuckled. “Maybe Charley’s been reading too many mystery novels, Jeanette.”
“I don’t know, Ben. They say life imitates art.” There was a spate of static over the line before she added, “Or is it art imitates life? Anyway, it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened around here in ages.”
“Except for the two who got shot at. They’re probably more scared than excited.”
“Yes. There’s that, of course.”
“I’m heading out, Jeanette. Think I’ll take a cruise around town.”
“Okay. I’ll relay any calls I get.”
Ben turned the sheriff’s squad car onto Maple, driving slowly toward Rebecca’s house. As he drew closer, he recognized Rebecca on the front porch, head bent in conversation with Will.
The two looked up and waved.
Ben returned the salute and continued driving.
An hour later he made another tour of the town and again drove past Rebecca’s house. He could make out her silhouette against the drawn shade in the living room. His first inclination was to stop. He really wanted to see her. To see how she was feeling, now that there’d been time to process what had happened.
Though he slowed down, the thought of coming up with an excuse for stopping by had him feeling like a fool. Besides, once there, he might be tempted to do what he’d wanted to do last night. No sense putting himself in that position again.
He drove on by and returned to the office before checking in. “Hey, Jeanette.”
“Ben. Quiet night.”
“Yeah. Think I’ll just go in the back room and…”
He was just stepping through the doorway when Jeanette’s voice came through the intercom. “Emergency call from 313 Maple. Rebecca Henderson says somebody is at the back of her house.”
“Thanks, Jeanette.” He was in the squad car and at Rebecca’s house in record time.
As he rounded the house, he heard a crash and squeals that were almost human.
The strong, steady beam of his flashlight picked up the crime scene. An overturned trash can and a pair of masked critters waddling away.
With a laugh he righted the can and scooped up the litter scattered on the ground.
A few minutes later he knocked on the front door.
Rebecca’s face, pinched and worried, peered out before the door was opened.
“Ben.” His name came out in a whoosh of air.
“Everything’s fine. Two masked bandits were attacking your garbage.”
“My garbage? Oh. Raccoons?” She gave a weak laugh and laid a hand on his arm. “You’ll never know the damage they just did to my heart.”
At her simple touch, his own heart took a quick, hard bounce.
She stood aside. “Can you come in?”
“Sure.” He removed his hat and stepped past her.
Again, he absorbed the quick tingle as their bodies brushed.
“I have coffee. Would you like some?”
“Thanks.” He held up his hands. “I’d better wash up first. I cleaned the mess your critters left behind.”
“You didn’t have to do that. It’s enough that you investigated and put my mind at ease.” She led the way to the kitchen and pointed to the soap dispenser alongside the sink. “You can wash there.”
When he was finished, she handed him a towel. As their fingers brushed, he absorbed a rush of heat.
She turned away and filled two mugs with coffee.
He took a seat at the small table and glanced at the plate of cookies. “You bake?”
She flushed. “I picked them up at the store after work.”
He nibbled one. “You have good taste.”
She laughed and put a hand over his. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I feel like such a fool.”
He struggled not to react, though her touch had him sweating. “What you did was smart. People could avoid a lot of tragedies if they would only call the authorities the minute they feel threatened.”
“You’ll never know all the horrible things I imagined.”
He closed his other hand over hers. Squeezed. “I’m glad I could ease your fears.”
“That seems to be what you do best.” At his questioning look, she related Will’s childhood story. “And now my parents know the truth. Not only about how you got that shiner, but also about other heroic things you did when we were kids.”
“They weren’t heroic.”
“What would you call the things you did?”
He shrugged. “Stepping in when I’m needed. I just have a problem with bullies.”
When she withdrew her hands, he finished his coffee before looking around and quickly changing the subject. “I like your house, Becca. It suits you.”
A softness came into her eyes. “Thanks. I’m really enjoying having my very own place.”
He stood and carried his cup to the sink. “Thanks for the coffee.”
When he turned, she was directly behind him. “You’re welcome. I hope…” She drew in a quick breath. “I hope you’ll come by another time, not out of any sense of duty, but just to visit.”
He lifted a hand to lightly touch her shoulder. “I’d like that, Becca.”
Her smile bloomed. A smile that aimed a dart straight to his heart.
Seeing it, he felt again that itch to just gather her close and kiss her breathless. Maybe it was a moment of weakness, or madness, but instead of turning away as he’d planned, he drew her close.
Seeing the smoldering look in his eyes, she leaned in, offering her lips.
“Becca…” The words he’d been about to say were forgotten. All his thoughts scrambled and fled the instant his mouth was on hers.
With a little moan of pleasure, she returned his kiss as her hands tangled in the front of his shirt.
The sound of the doorbell ringing had two heads coming up sharply.
Rebecca looked slightly disoriented before she stepped to the front door. Peering out, she hurriedly unlocked the door and threw it open. “Dad. I—”
Seeing Ben, he pushed past her and stood scowling. “More trouble?”
“No. Well, yes. I heard something and called nine-one-one, but it turned out to be raccoons in my trash.”
“And you didn’t think to call me?”
“Dad, I called—”
“I know who you called.” He looked Ben up and down before glaring at his daughter. “Just like last night. You called him. And you didn’t even bother to tell me. I had to hear it just now from a customer. When I get home and tell your mother, she’s going to be so hurt to learn that you wouldn’t even come home to be with us at such a terrible, horrible time. Are we such monsters that you can’t even come to us with your troubles? You have to hide away in this…” He looked around with a visible shudder. “You need to move back home. To be with your parents. To let us keep you safe.”
“Oh, Dad.” She took in a deep breath, fighting to control the denial that sprang to her lips. “This is exactly why I didn’t confide in you. I knew this was how you’d react to the news.”
“And if the shooter hadn’t missed? How would I have reacted to the news that my only child was dead? Would this…hothead be the one to tell me? W
ould that satisfy you?”
Ben stepped between father and daughter, hoping to give them both a moment to cool down.
Turning his back on Hank, he took Rebecca’s hand in his. “I’m glad this was nothing more than a false alarm tonight.”
He turned to Hank Henderson. “I’m sorry you had to hear the news of the shooting from a customer. Since both your daughter and Will are of legal age, the sheriff isn’t permitted by law to share the details unless both of them agree in writing.”
He stepped out the door.
As he started down the steps, he could hear Hank’s voice, angry, accusing. “No doubt Reverend Will would be more than happy to confide in me. But my own daughter…”
He slid into the squad car and closed the door, shutting out the words.
For the longest time he merely sat in the silence, struggling with the wide range of emotions playing through his mind.
Elation at the fact that Becca had returned his kiss with one of her own. He was trying not to read too much into it, since she’d just been through another scare. But still, she hadn’t pulled away. He couldn’t help wondering what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by her father.
Her father.
It was, Ben thought, just one more reason to be grateful for Mac Monroe in his life. Here he was, doing his best to repay Mac for all he’d done for Ben and his brothers, and Mac’s only concern was to cut him loose to chase his dreams.
As for Rebecca, though she was doing her best to break free, her father was smothering her with his own version of love.
Poor, sweet Rebecca. Damned if she did; damned if she didn’t.
And poor Hank. The tighter he held on, the more she was bound to push back, in order to be free to live her life.
Chapter Eight
Sheriff Kerr looked up when Ben walked into the office. “According to Jeanette’s report, you had a quiet night.”
Ben nodded and removed his hat, shaking it against his leg before setting it aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. A drunken cowboy over at the Hitching Post who thought he was Superman.”
Virgil grinned. “I hear you took him down without a scratch.”
Ben touched a finger to his eye. The swelling had gone down, and there was just a hint of a bruise. “Lesson learned.”
The sheriff laughed out loud. “Hell of a way to learn, son.” He looked down at the documents atop his desk. “The state boys sent me a preliminary report on Reverend Will and Rebecca. In the coming days they’ll do a lot more digging.”
“That sounds like they have more questions than answers.”
“You might say that.”
Ben settled into a chair across from the sheriff’s desk. “Are these questions about Will or about Rebecca?”
“Both.” The sheriff handed over a sheaf of papers. “Take a look.”
Ben read quickly, then took his time rereading certain pages before looking up. “According to this, the investigators have found some troubling things in Will’s immediate past.” Ben gave a shake of his head. “Will’s immediate past was spent in divinity school. What could be troubling about that?”
“I can’t imagine. But I have faith in the dedication of our state police detectives. If Will had a problem, even one he tried to bury, I have no doubt they’ll uncover it.”
Ben held out a second page. “And this. They claim that Rebecca had a serious relationship with a medical student, then abruptly broke it off. That’s no crime. And the guy, Daryl Hollender, seemed angry and bitter.” He arched a brow. “A bruised ego isn’t a crime either.”
“Unless he shows up in Haller Creek with a gun.”
The sheriff pointed to the document in Ben’s hands. “Rebecca’s been gone for years now, Ben. Some young people can’t handle the freedom that comes with college life, and then a career far from home. We know a lot of them get caught up in sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”
Ben’s smile was quick. “I think that was your generation, Sheriff.”
Virgil chuckled. “You’re right. But what I’m trying to say is, people change. Maybe Rebecca’s choice of boyfriend wasn’t a good one. Let’s allow the state detectives to do their job.”
“In the meantime, how do we keep Becca and Will safe?”
At Ben’s question, Virgil shook his head. “We do the best we can, but we have to allow them to live their lives.” He pushed away from his desk. “I looked in the back room. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you brought in an army of cleaning women. It’s looking good, son.”
“I’m glad you approve. Not that I’ll be using it any time soon. I never got so much as an hour to myself last night. And it was what I’d call a quiet night.”
“Jeanette also said you got a call from Rebecca about a disturbance at her place.”
“Just a couple of pesky raccoons overturning her garbage cans and having a feast.”
“That so?”
Ben nodded. “It just shows she’s a lot more scared than she’s letting on.”
“Could be.” He ambled toward the door before turning. “Or maybe she needed an excuse to have my good-looking new deputy pay a call.” He shot Ben a look. “You might want to read that report again, son. You wouldn’t want to be the next boyfriend to get dumped without a good reason.”
“Sorry about the damage to your car, Fred.” Ben finished writing up the fender bender on Main Street, and sent the unhappy rancher and his neighbor home to deal with their insurance agencies.
He thought about heading back to the office. He could chat up Jeanette on his police radio before taking a breather in his newly cleaned back room. Or he could stop in Dolly’s Diner and catch up on all the latest gossip with the owner. Dolly Pruitt knew everyone in the town of Haller Creek by their first name, and could tell them more about themselves than their own mothers could. She was the town’s historian and knew the latest gossip long before it hit the local newspaper. She was also happy to share it with anyone who walked through her door. Some said that was what brought in more customers than her famous meat loaf.
As tempting as it was to hear what she had to say about the shooting, he decided to swing past Rebecca’s place first.
As he started along Maple, he slowed, admiring the tidy houses, the neatly trimmed yards, the small-town look of the neighborhood. Though he much preferred the sprawl of his family ranch, he could see why some folks were attracted to the area. They could visit with neighbors. They were within walking distance of church and school and all the nice shops in town. There was a sense of order and safety.
Ben frowned. Except now that sense of safety had been violated.
Rebecca’s house was in darkness, except for the porch light. While he watched, two figures separated on a nearby front porch. Rebecca turned and said something to her neighbor, before hurrying toward her own house.
He waited until she’d gone inside, flicking on a switch and flooding the interior with light. He wanted to stop by, to see for himself that she was recovered from the shock of the shooting. But Virgil’s words played through his mind.
It was true that he didn’t really know that much about her anymore. In the time she’d been away, they hadn’t once communicated.
A serious relationship with a medical student.
He frowned in the darkness and continued driving.
A coffee at Dolly’s Diner sounded good right about now.
Horton Duke, owner of the Hitching Post, had a standing request for someone from the sheriff’s office to take a turn through the parking area of his saloon every Saturday night, any time after midnight. That’s when thirsty wranglers often decided to settle their differences outside, especially if two or more had their eye on the same pretty girl. Horton liked to say most of the ladies got better-looking after midnight, or after half a dozen shots and beers. Whichever came first.
Ben drove slowly past the line of trucks, many bearing the logos of nearby ranches. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he drove along Main Str
eet, peering at the darkened shops.
Satisfied that everything looked safe and buttoned up, he turned toward the nearby neighborhoods. Eventually, he ended up on Maple. He tried to tell himself it was by accident, but his sense of honor wouldn’t accept that.
He was here because of Rebecca.
He wanted to know she was safe. Secure. Unafraid.
At least that’s all he’d admit to.
He stopped the car.
Her lights were on, the shades drawn. He watched her silhouette pacing back and forth, back and forth.
After debating the wisdom of what he was about to do, he stepped out, walked to her porch, and knocked.
The porch light came on. He saw Rebecca’s face peering through the window.
When she opened the door, the relief on her face was obvious.
“Ben. Oh, it’s so good to see you. Do you have time to come in?”
“I’ll make time.” He stepped past her, glancing around while she closed the door. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
He noted the way her hands twisted together at her waist.
“Something’s happened to have you pacing at this time of night. Want to talk about it?”
She sighed. “Do you have time for coffee?”
He shrugged. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble…”
“I made a fresh pot.” She started toward the kitchen, and he trailed behind.
He stood in the middle of the room and watched as she filled two cups and carried them to the table.
He took a seat across from her and lifted the cup to his mouth, giving her time to gather her thoughts.
“My parents called tonight. My dad put my mother on the phone, and she burst into tears, saying neither of them could sleep, they were so worried about what happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked over, meeting his gaze. “I know this sounds cold, but I can’t help questioning my father’s timing. I have the feeling he called when he knew my mother’s emotions were getting the best of her.”
Ben put a hand over hers. “Rebecca, she wouldn’t be much of a mother if she wasn’t worried about you. It’s not every day her daughter is caught up in a mysterious shooting.”
