The Sheriff of Silverhill

by Ericson, Carol

  She sighed, her lower lip trembling, and Rafe had to dig his heels into the floor to keep from going to her and wrapping her up in his arms.

  “I suppose I did try to block it. I felt Holly’s fear and panic. I didn’t want to feel that anymore.”

  He reached out and rubbed her upper arm. Feeling the tremble ripple through her body, Rafe clasped her hand and her fingers curled around his.

  “Are you two finished in here?”

  Rafe jumped back from Dana like a teenaged boy caught in his girlfriend’s bedroom after school. His gaze darted to Dana’s face before shifting back to Mrs. Thompson leaning against the doorjamb, glass in hand.

  He didn’t want Dana to tell Mrs. Thompson about the vision. He didn’t want her to tell anyone.

  “She has a lot of stuff on her laptop.” Rafe jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Can we take it and turn it over to the FBI? They can retrieve her e-mails and review any Web sites she visited.”

  Mrs. Thompson’s bloodshot eyes drifted from Rafe’s face to the back of Dana’s head as she bent over the nightstand drawer to drop the brush back inside.

  “Sure. Take it. I got that list on the coffee table.” She pointed to the papers scattered on the floor. “Don’t leave a mess in here.”

  “I’d like to take those photos with me if you don’t mind.” He crouched on the floor to gather up the papers and pictures.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. I’ll pack up the laptop too, and we’ll get out of your way.”

  Mrs. Thompson pushed away from the doorway, and Dana looked up. She whispered, “Do you think she heard us before?”

  “I don’t know. She’s getting drunker and drunker by the minute. This room’s in the back of the house, and we weren’t exactly shouting.” He walked to the laptop and snapped the lid shut. “You realize the importance of keeping this incident to yourself, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. Why do you think I buried my head in the nightstand drawer? But maybe Mrs. Thompson already knows, or at least she was hoping I’d have a vision of her daughter’s murder.”

  “Why do you say that?” Rafe cocked his head while he slipped Holly’s laptop into the case he’d found beneath her desk.

  “The tea. She offered me some of Auntie Mary’s special blend of tea. Auntie Mary swears that tea relaxes her, making her susceptible to visions.”

  “And you think Mrs. Thompson gave you the tea to kick start your special powers?”

  Dana shot a glance at the doorway. “Didn’t she have an expectant look in her eyes when she walked in here?”

  “How would you know? You never even looked at her.”

  “Maybe it was her tone of voice. I was afraid she’d see something strange about me.”

  “There’s nothing strange about you, and I don’t think she suspected a thing.”

  Dana nibbled on her bottom lip. “Maybe I do owe it to Mrs. Thompson and all the other families to give it a try, Rafe.”

  Rafe trained his eyes away from her lips while he massaged her shoulders, her hair tickling the backs of his hands. “I don’t think you should be putting yourself in any more danger than you already are investigating this case. Leave it. If the visions come, they come, but don’t go seeking trouble.”

  She briefly laid her cheek against his hand, her touch igniting a fire in his belly. “I guess you’re right. The gift never brought anything but trouble to my mom.”

  He ran his thumb along her jaw. He remembered Dana hated comparisons to her mother. Her mother had died before Rafe met Dana, but he’d heard stories, mostly from Pam, that Ronnie Croft had slept around and couldn’t even identify Dana’s biological father. Not that Rafe cared.

  Dana’s refusal to acknowledge she had the gift puzzled Rafe initially. She’d never pushed away her Southern Ute culture before. Now he understood that her reluctance to explore her gift stemmed from the fact that she shared it with her mother. She wanted to distance herself more from her mother than her culture.

  Not that he wanted Dana to immerse herself in visions of a serial killer. He’d rather use old-fashioned police work to solve this case than put Dana’s life in danger.

  She slipped out of his grasp and bent over to smooth the wrinkles from the bedspread with her palms. Her hair hid her expression as it slid across her face. “Grab the laptop and I’ll turn it over to Steve. Maybe Holly has something on there that can help us out.”

  Rafe hitched the laptop case over his shoulder and shoved open the door, gesturing Dana through first. They walked into the living room together where Mrs. Thompson slumped on the sofa, her head tilted back, eyes closed.

  A dull pain throbbed at the base of Rafe’s skull. He didn’t have children, but he couldn’t imagine losing a child, especially to murder. When his niece was kidnapped, his brother, Ryder, was almost deranged until he got her back.

  Rafe kept his voice low, soothing. “Mrs. Thompson.”

  Rolling her head to the side, she peeled open one bloodshot eye. “Huh?”

  “We’re leaving.” He patted the side of the laptop case. “Maybe this can tell us something.”

  She pushed to her feet, swaying slightly. “I’ll see you out.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll see ourselves out.” Dana cupped Mrs. Thompson’s elbow.

  “I may be drunk, but I haven’t lost all my manners.” She scooted around the coffee table, banging her shin.

  Dana winced, but Mrs. Thompson didn’t seem to notice. She shuffled toward the front door and opened it. Standing with her back against the dilapidated screen door, she peered into Dana’s face. “Give my best to Mary Redbird. M-maybe she can figure out who’s doing this. Maybe she can see who murdered my Holly.”

  Gasping, Dana drew back. “Auntie Mary doesn’t have visions like that, Mrs. Thompson. She’s more of a healer.”

  Mrs. Thompson’s hand shot out and grabbed Dana’s forearm. “Your mama, Ronnie, had that power. I knew my husband was cheating on me, and Ronnie gave me her name and the name of the hotel where they were meeting. Claimed she saw them there together.” Mrs. Thompson tapped her temple. “Up here in her head.”

  “My mother’s dead.”

  Rafe placed a steadying hand on the curve of Dana’s back, feeling a shiver snake through her body. Damn. Maybe Dana nailed it. Maybe Mrs. Thompson suspected some of what went on in Holly’s bedroom.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Thompson. We’ll get this guy.” Rafe stepped between her and Dana and shoved open the screen door. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

  Dana practically flew down the front steps and banged through the flimsy gate. Nothing like acting guilty. If Mrs. Thompson hadn’t suspected anything before, Dana’s hasty escape might have planted a seed of a notion.

  Rafe gave Mrs. Thompson a weak smile and followed Dana out with measured steps. No sense in both of them scrambling from the house.

  As Rafe adjusted the broken gate latch, an old Grand Prix lurched to a stop at the curb. A tall, lean man with hard-living lines etched on his face slid from the car and tipped his black cowboy hat in Rafe’s direction.

  “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

  Rafe cursed softly and stole a glance at Dana, now frozen beside his squad car. If the vision in Holly’s bedroom hadn’t already done a number on her nerves, this man with his shifty eyes and sly grin would just about finish her off.

  The man flashed that grin at Dana and said, “Well if it isn’t my FBI agent stepdaughter. Welcome home, honey.”

  Dana clenched her hands, her nails digging half circles into her palms. When Auntie Mary told her Lenny had slithered back into town, she knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. But this had to be the worst possible time to confront him. Her head still felt foggy from that vision and her knees wobbly from her close encounter with Rafe.

  She straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest. “Lenny.”

  Tucking a paper bag beneath his arm, Lenny shifted the toothpick in hi
s mouth from one side to the other. “Is that any way to greet your stepfather after all these years? Come on over here and give me a hug, girl. Damn, you’re pretty. Just like your mother.”

  If one more person drew a parallel between her and Mom today, she’d scream. She’d spent a lot of time and effort distancing herself from her mother’s haphazard existence, and except for her illegitimate child, she’d been successful. The sooner they solved this case allowing her to get the hell off the reservation, the better.

  And what about Rafe?

  She shook her head, ridding herself of the whispered words echoing in her head, and then gripped her upper arms. One crisis at a time. She had no intention of giving Lenny Driscoll a hug…now or ever.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t Auntie Mary tell you I was in town? I know you haven’t been back for a while, but I’ve been missing in action too. I looked you up once when I was in Denver. Tracked you down and found you at a park, but you were in the middle of some kid’s birthday party.” His slate gray eyes slid from Dana to Rafe, who had moved to her side and hovered in a protective manner. “I didn’t want to bust in on the fun.”

  Dana’s heart flip-flopped. Did Lenny suspect she had a child? He’d store that piece of information and use it when it suited him, when he could gain the most from it.

  She ignored his attempts at filial devotion and flicked her hand toward Louella Thompson’s house. “I mean what are you doing here, at this particular house?”

  As Lenny’s eyelids dropped half-mast over his eyes, the lines on his face deepened. “Me and Louella are friends. I’m here to pay my respects.”

  The screen door banged and Louella propped it open with her shoulder, hugging a sweater to her body. “Hey, Lenny. The sheriff and Dana are done here, come on up.”

  Lenny drew the paper bag from beneath his arm, clutching the neck of the bottle wrapped inside. He waved it at Louella. “The good stuff.”

  A hiss escaped between Dana’s lips and she pressed them together. Lenny Driscoll—still doing his best to help women realize their hopes and dreams.

  Dana took one staggering step forward, but Rafe grabbed her hand and murmured, “Leave it alone.”

  Rafe raised his other hand. “Take care of yourself, Mrs. Thompson. We’ll be in touch.”

  She waved and then slammed the door, shutting herself inside the house with Lenny and a bottle of the good stuff.

  Dana sighed while she slumped against Rafe’s car. Whenever she saw Lenny, pinpricks of fury needled her skin. Nothing had changed after ten years.

  Rafe, his fingers still entwined with hers, tugged her hand. “Are you okay?

  “I’m fine.” But she still clung to him, wanting to feel his strength. Rafe had always been the uncomplicated, happy-go-lucky type in high school—no teenage angst for him. That’s why Pam’s threat had been so successful. Dana hadn’t wanted to muck up Rafe’s life.

  He opened her door and hung on the edge. “If you want, I can take the laptop to Agent Lubeck on my own and you can get some rest.”

  “Rest?” She snapped on her seat belt. “I don’t need to rest after an encounter with my slimy stepfather, although I might need a shower.”

  “I’m not just talking about Lenny. You sensed Holly’s killer today. You felt his hands around your throat. A few more minutes in the trance and you could’ve looked him in the eyes.”

  Dana shivered. “But I didn’t see him…not this time.”

  “Will there be a next time?”

  Did she detect judgment in Rafe’s voice? Did he expect her to make herself susceptible to a killer’s mind? To feel the terror of his victims?

  And what did she expect from herself?

  She had the power to unmask this killer. Her sensitivity exceeded that of her mother and even Auntie Mary. Auntie Mary was the one who taught her how to control and suppress the visions. She’d feared if Lenny discovered Dana’s gift, he’d use the child as well as the mother in his quest for money.

  Dana had gotten so good at stamping out her clairvoyant abilities, she’d never had to worry about them…until now.

  “I’m not suggesting there should be a next time, Dana.” Rafe dropped his hand to her shoulder. “I’d be happier if you left it alone.”

  Could she leave it alone? Being back on the reservation had heightened her senses, and seeing Rafe only made the situation worse. Her proximity to him scrambled her thoughts, weakened her resolve.

  Like now. She should be knocking his hand from her shoulder. Shrugging him off. Assuring him she could handle anything.

  Instead, she’d tilted her head, brushing the back of his hand with her hair, allowing the warmth of his touch to spread through her body like a salve to her frayed nerves.

  She breathed out a soft sigh. “Maybe I don’t have a choice, Rafe. Maybe something’s headed my way whether I like it or not. And this time I can’t stop it, can’t run away.”

  He wedged a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head back. The gaze from his blue eyes burned into hers. “Whatever comes at you, Dana, I’ll be right beside you to take it on.”

  He brushed the whisper of a kiss across her lips before slamming the car door and stalking to the trunk to load Holly’s laptop case.

  Placing a fingertip on her burning lips, Dana wondered if Rafe realized he posed as great a threat to her as this serial killer.

  Chapter Five

  “So what happened at Louella’s place?” Auntie Mary leaned heavily on her cane and gripped Dana’s arm as she hobbled up the two steps to the front of the new Southern Ute Cultural Center.

  The smells of freshly cut wood and paint emanated from the front door of the building, and Dana pushed open the door and called, “Ben?” Then she turned to look at her aunt. “I already told you, Auntie Mary. Nothing happened at the Thompsons’ house. And really, even if Rafe and I had discovered something, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of this case with you.” She wagged a finger under her great-aunt’s nose. “So stop asking.”

  Dana hadn’t yet decided whether or not to allow her gift to take control of her mind and this investigation, and she didn’t want to worry Auntie Mary one way or the other.

  She peered into the expansive front room of the cultural center and called Ben’s name again. Ben Whitecotton, the curator and driving force behind the center, had invited Auntie Mary to preview it before the grand opening later in the week.

  Golden shafts of light beamed through the skylights, creating a warm glow in the room and glinting off glass cases containing artifacts from the Ute tribe. Dana breathed, “It’s beautiful.”

  But Auntie Mary wasn’t taking in any of it. Her dark eyes drilled into Dana, and the myriad lines on her face deepened. “Something happened out there. You’ve been agitated ever since Rafe dropped you off. Or maybe it’s just being with Rafe again that has you on edge.”

  “You just don’t give up, do you?” Dana dug her fists into her hips. She had to throw Auntie Mary a bone or she’d harass her the rest of the night. “I didn’t want to upset you, but I saw Lenny at Louella’s house. He arrived just as Rafe and I were leaving.”

  Auntie Mary’s lips tightened for a moment. “He started visiting Louella when he first got back to Silverhill. It took him just a few days to figure out who had oil money and who didn’t have a man to share it with.”

  “Do you mean Lenny’s been dating Louella?” Dana raised her brows. “And now she has even fewer people with claims on her oil money.”

  Auntie Mary drew in a quick breath. “Are you suggesting Lenny had something to do with Holly’s murder to lay his hands on Louella’s money?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past that man, but come to think of it, we haven’t even looked at oil money as a motive in these killings.”

  “Well, I know Lenny and he’s capable of evil, but murder’s not his style.” Auntie Mary shook her head and pulled her shawl around her shoulders.

  Dana opened her mouth to protest,
but Auntie Mary raised her gnarled hands. “I know you think he had a hand in killing your mother, but you’re talking about cold-blooded murder here.”

  “There’s more. He looked me up in Denver and spotted me at a child’s birthday party in the park. That was Kelsey’s party.”

  “Do you think he suspects anything?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You need to tell Rafe about Kelsey before someone else does.”

  “Welcome, ladies.” Ben Whitecotton had emerged from a doorway in the corner of the room. The heels of his silver-tipped boots tapped against the hardwood floor as he approached them. He spread his arms. “What do you think?”

  Gliding toward him, hands outstretched, Dana said, “It’s a beautiful space, Ben. The skylights are a wonderful touch.”

  Ben grabbed her hands and pulled her close for a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Dana. I missed you the last time you were here, and you don’t come around very often.”

  She smiled as she shrugged. “My job keeps me busy. It’s easier to fly Auntie Mary up to Denver to visit, and my cousin, Jennifer, lives up there too. So she can visit both of us at the same time.”

  And both of their daughters. Her cousin Jennifer and her husband had a sixteen-year-old daughter, whom Kelsey worshipped, and they were looking after Kelsey while Dana worked this case. But Ben didn’t need to know all the details.

  “I’m sorry it took a killer to bring you back this time.” He flipped his long black ponytail over his shoulder as his lips twisted into a grimace. “You need to stop this guy. I’ve been working on this beautiful homage to our heritage and just when we’re about to open, somebody’s running around murdering Ute women.”

  “We’ll stop him. The FBI Indian Country Crimes unit, Emmett and his reservation police department and Sheriff McClintock and the San Juan County sheriff’s department are all on the job.”

  “Have a lot of faith in Rafe, huh?” He elbowed her gently in the ribs.

  Her cheeks warmed, but she pasted a smile on her face. “That was a long time ago.”