Bitter Rain (Kate Fox Book 3)

by Shannon Baker

  Right after I’d been sworn in last winter, Milo advised me to trust my instincts. Right now, those puppies told me Shelly was here, or had been here. She needed me. Kyle needed me to find her.

  I pulled my gun, and with my stomach flipping, sweat dripping down my sides, and a dry mouth, I stepped out of my cruiser. No gunshots or laser missiles. I walked around their pickup.

  The peephole in Marty’s front door dropped, and a gun barrel poked out. I nearly dove for the ground but stopped myself. No one was going to shoot the Grand County sheriff. They’d never get away with it. Marty and Rhonda wouldn’t risk it.

  Rhonda’s harsh voice vibrated through a hole in the shutters of the front window. “We told you if you ever set foot out here without a warrant, we’d shoot your ass. We weren’t joking.”

  My palm sweated where I clutched my gun. “Tell me where Shelly is.”

  Rhonda shouted back, “Drop your gun.”

  The slipshod repairs, cistern cast off like a broken Christmas toy, the locks continually being replaced. Chickens with blackout curtains. Why did I think I could count on Marty and Rhonda’s rationality when it came to shooting me? “I can’t leave until I find Shelly.”

  “We warned you.” Rhonda’s tone was like a fist in my gut.

  I heard the clack of metal on metal, maybe a lock opening, a gun engaging, something or anything from my imagination. I twisted and dove behind their pickup. Dirt puffed and a whizz of a bullet split the air where I’d been standing. I lunged from the ground where I’d landed under the pickup, opened the door, and threw myself inside, a coon’s hair before a bullet thunked on the ground close to where my foot had been.

  Shots zinged and whipped through the air. The barricaded doors of the house muffled the sound of firing, so the bullets made about as much noise as a bumblebee. But that didn’t mean they weren’t deadly.

  I knew the pickup’s frame wouldn’t protect me from the bullets. If they wanted to kill me, they’d have to damage their vehicle, though. Maybe that kept them from shooting me. Marty and Rhonda probably didn’t mean to kill me, just scare me off. Small comfort.

  Their house was fortified. No sense in me firing off a round. Ted was bound to show up soon, so at least I’d have backup. He had a phone, and in an hour or two we could have us a regular Ruby Ridge situation.

  A commotion started from the barn behind me. Shouting, a girl. Max’s cracking voice. Banging and knocking. I snaked my head out of the pickup, with the scant protection of the door.

  A girl with black hair struggled to break free from Max’s grip. It had to be Shelly. They both yelled. With one giant yank, she tore from Max and ran toward my car.

  “Get down!” I jumped from the pickup, my gun up, poised to shoot if Max attacked.

  She ran straight at me, arms raised. Still shouting, but I couldn’t make out what she said. I raced to meet her, not sure whether to throw myself between her and Max or her and the house.

  I reached for her, but she swerved away from me, hands waving overhead. “Stop it! Stop!”

  I tackled her, and she struggled beneath me. “Get off of me!”

  The door to the house flew open and Rhonda ran out, Marty close on her heels. “What the hell are you doing?” she screamed. I didn’t know if she addressed me, Shelly, or Max.

  I scrambled to my knees, and the girl squiggled away from me. Confused, I held my gun on Rhonda, since she seemed the biggest threat.

  Tears streaked down the girl’s red face, and her mouth contorted. “Quit shooting. Stop.”

  Rhonda glared at her, the Glock in her hand pointed to the ground. “I’m trying to protect you.”

  Marty’s mole-like face pinched tight in rage. “I told you we shoulda turned her over that first morning.”

  Rhonda flashed irate eyes his way and swiped her hand out to swat his rifle’s barrel to the ground. “Be careful with that thing.”

  I decided against holstering my gun. “Shelly?”

  She nodded, sucking back sobs. Max rocketed behind us and put an arm around Shelly, helping her up. I pushed myself to stand, and we all took stock, eyeing each other warily.

  “What’s going on here?” I finally asked. “Did they kidnap you? Are you okay?”

  Rhonda’s lips curled back like a growling terrier. “Kidnap? What kind of crazy are you? She’s been nothing but trouble since she set foot out here.”

  Shelly sniffed and struggled to get control. “Why didn’t you and Kyle let it go?” She stood with her jet-black hair tossing in the breeze, her skin a deeper bronze than Kyle’s, but the same fire flashed in her eyes as in Alex’s and Kyle’s eyes.

  “He can’t.” Any more than I could let Carly go. “He loves you.”

  She swiped at tears.

  Rhonda looked from me to Shelly. She pointed a finger at Max. “You did this. You brought all this to our doorstep. We wanted to be left alone.”

  Max hugged Shelly to him in a protective way. “They were after her. We had to take care of her.”

  With a roar of a powerful engine, Ted popped over the hill and careened down the gravel road toward us in his ranch pickup.

  As if someone had hit pause, we stopped and waited for him to race into the yard and slide to a halt. He jumped out, gun pointed toward us.

  I gave a curt nod in his direction. “Glad you’re here. Put these two yahoos in my car and take them back to the courthouse.”

  Marty raised his barrel a couple of inches.

  Ted shouted, “Drop the gun!”

  I was surprised to see my arm up, gun pointed in Marty’s direction. Since two guns were trained on him, he took the path of least resistance and dropped his rifle.

  Ted kept his eyes on Marty and Rhonda, but he spoke to me, softening his voice like he spoke to a puppy. “Good decision to call for backup. Glad I could be here for you.”

  With effort, I kept from turning my gun on him.

  Rhonda had the good sense to let her gun fall to the ground. “You can’t take us in. You’ve got nothing.”

  I shuffled behind Rhonda and, while Ted held his gun, pulled her arms back and cuffed her. “Shooting at a police officer is enough for me. Then we’ll see about money laundering, extortion, and stolen goods.”

  She didn’t fight me with her body, but words flew fast, most of them the kind Dad would find offensive. Marty didn’t have much to add, but his expression made it plain he wished he’d shot me when he had the chance.

  Ted did that tough lawman scowl he’d honed from old spaghetti Westerns. “You speak to your mother with that mouth?”

  Rhonda spewed a particularly foul expletive at him, and I pretended it was from me, too.

  We loaded them into the back of my cruiser, and I handed Ted the keys. “I’ll talk to Shelly and Max, get what I can, then we can make a plan about Barnett.”

  Rhonda shouted something about intimate relations between Barney Fife and Sheriff Andy.

  Marty raised his voice above hers. “Sheriff. Hey, I got to talk to you.”

  I leaned down, making sure to stay clear of the door or their reach in case one of them had escaped the cuffs.

  Marty spoke quietly. “We weren’t going to hurt you. Just wanted our privacy, right? So, look. How about we call it a truce, huh? Rhonda and me, we’ve got some means.”

  I must have looked surprised.

  He rushed on. “You got kids? On the sheriff salary, college can be tough to pay for, right? So, we help you out, start a nice account, take care of you, huh?”

  Rhonda jumped on board. For the first time, I saw real fear in her eyes. “We don’t want trouble. You help us, we help you, everybody wins.”

  I stepped back and swung the door closed. “All yours,” I said to Ted.

  Ted went to the driver’s door and stopped. “I still think you’re wrong about Lee. Don’t go getting all hot-headed until I can get these two processed in Ogallala.”

  I didn’t say it, but I bet he figured it out. I’d darned well do what I felt needed doing
, and I didn’t need his permission.

  He bent to get in my cruiser, straightened, and backed out. He leaned into the car, adjusted the seat back all the way, and slid inside, giving me the stink-eye. Some nitpicks hang on, even after a divorce.

  I turned back to Max and Shelly, who stood side by side watching Ted take Rhonda and Marty away.

  I started with Max. “You said they were after her. Who?”

  Shelly lowered her head. “No.”

  Max bent to her. “She’s a friend of Kyle’s. I think we can trust her.”

  Shelly pleaded with me. “If you’re Kyle’s friend, get him out of here. Fire him. Make him leave.”

  I softened my voice. “Kyle was attacked last night. He’s in a coma in Broken Butte.”

  Shelly gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth. She shook her head in denial.

  With a gentleness at war with urgency, I said, “Your mother and Alex are safe now, but I found Alex locked in a cellar at Barnett’s house.”

  One sob escaped from her.

  Now I pushed. “What’s going on?”

  Max waited a moment. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

  I kept my eyes on Shelly. She looked healthy, no bruises, clean clothes. “Are you okay?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes but didn’t fall. “I’m good. It’s safe here.”

  Shelly wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders. A bit of Kyle’s determination sparked in her. “You can’t help Kyle. Or me. We come from a different world.”

  I’d had about enough of that. “Bullshit.”

  Max nudged Shelly. “You need to tell her.”

  Her hand lifted to her belly, and she massaged it as if her stomach ached. She raised dark eyes to mine. “Okay. But I need to sit down.”

  Max leaned into her. “Are you going to be sick?”

  She paled and her throat worked. “It’s the—” She bent over and puked.

  I jumped back, barely avoiding the splash, then stepped forward, helping Max half carry Shelly into the shade at the side of the barn.

  “Not here.” She waved at the chickens. “The smell—” Off she went again, bending over and letting a stream hit the dirt.

  Max and I took Shelly into the barn, leaving the door open for the sunlight and fresh air. Unlike my shop at Frog Creek and the barn where I’d kept the stalls lined with sweet-smelling hay, Marty and Rhonda’s barn smelled of grease and the tools lay in heaps. We settled Shelly onto a tall shop stool. Max held her hand and stood close enough for her to lean against.

  “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”

  With one long silent exchange with Max, Shelly began. “My brother, Darrel, was killed two years ago.”

  I nodded. “A hit-and-run.”

  She swallowed as if fighting another bout of nausea. “That’s what they said.”

  “You don’t believe that?”

  “I did. But then…” She gripped Max’s hand and paused.

  While I waited for her to upchuck again, I kept the thread going. “What changed your mind?”

  The wave must have passed. “Ma. She told me something.”

  Shelly leaned against Max and closed her eyes, her skin the green tint of spoiled ham. “When I t-t-told her I was pregnant and what we were going to do, she went off. She said my life would end up like hers because the white people use us and leave us.”

  Her revelation of pregnancy only confirmed my suspicion.

  Max hugged her tight, bending to kiss her. True love wasn’t thwarted by vomit breath. “I won’t leave you.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “Then she said all this stuff about the white man killing Darrel and it should have been Kyle. And, God, I don’t know. Ma’s brain doesn’t always work right. But what I came up with is that Darrel found out who Kyle’s dad was and decided to get some money from him. And the sheriff killed him.”

  A bomb exploded behind my eyes. “The sheriff? Barnett?”

  She swallowed and waited a beat. “I think so.”

  As much as I disliked Barnett, enough that it could fill Husker’s Memorial Stadium, my brain stalled out on this one. “You think Barnett killed Darrel to keep him from telling everyone Barnett is Kyle’s father?”

  Shelly gave Max a look that said she’d been right not to tell me. “Everyone knows how much Barnett hates Indians. How would it look to his white world if he admitted to being Kyle’s dad?”

  I needed to think that one over. Murder was a big thing, and if Shelly was right, Barnett had not only killed Darrel, he’d tried to kill his own son.

  I changed the subject, hoping I might get a feel for the reliability of Shelly’s assessment. “How did you two meet?”

  Shelly leaned on Max. “A few months before Darrel was killed, he started spending money. He bought that car. When I asked him where he got the money, he wouldn’t tell me.”

  She paused for a deep breath. I inhaled with her.

  “I kept bugging him, and he told me he got a job with some new white ranchers and they paid him cash. He was laughing about how they wanted his Indian knowledge. Like that he was supposed to be so connected to the land and all that.”

  “He was working for Rhonda and Marty?”

  “No. Max’s parents.” She smiled for the first time, showing her youthful beauty. “Newt and Earl Johnson. They told me about this place out here. I thought if they hired Darrel, they might hire me, too.”

  Max took over again. “I was the only one here because everyone else was fixing a windmill.”

  They squeezed each other’s hands and smiled. Teenagers.

  “Max told me that Darrel helped drywall their house. They paid him cash and swore him to keep quiet. They’ve had a bunch of Indians help out.”

  She stood up and twisted, stretching her back. “Max and I, well, it was like, that’s it. We took one look at each other and we were kind of together after that.”

  Max pulled her to him. Love was love, whether you were eighteen, thirty-five, or eighty. “So you kept your relationship secret?”

  Shelly gave a rueful laugh. “Until recently.”

  She stepped a half foot away and let Max’s arm drop. “So yeah. I got pregnant. And that’s when it all got bad.”

  “My brother Douglas told me your grades dropped and you’d been feeling lousy.”

  She offered a wry smile. “I wish that was all.”

  I bit my lips while she plopped down again. She clearly felt miserable.

  “I went to Ma when I found out. I told her about the baby and that I was going to finish school. Then Max and I planned to move in with his parents in New Jersey, and we’d figure out how to go to college and work and raise the baby.”

  Max’s face hardened with determination, older than I’d seen him.

  “Ma came apart. She started screaming about how I couldn’t have a white man’s baby. She wasn’t drunk, so the way she blew up scared me. I couldn’t get her to calm down, and what I got out of it was that Kyle’s father was some white guy.”

  She shrugged. “We always thought Kyle had a different dad. But Ma said Kyle’s father promised he’d marry her and take care of the kid and then, poof. I guess he disappeared and never gave her anything.

  “Ma was screaming about me getting an abortion. And I left. You know? I just got in my car.”

  “So was this the night you ran away?”

  Shelly shook her head. “No. This was, like, two weeks before. I was trying to figure out what to do about Darrel being killed. I tried to talk to Kyle about it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  She paused as if waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. “Then Alex started being big trouble, and I got worried about him. He started acting strange.”

  What constituted strange for that kid? “How so?”

  She shifted and arched her back. “Like a total douche asshole.”

  “That tells me nothing.”

  She reconsidered. “He bought a car from a guy and promised to pay him but had to give it back. I asked him whe
re he got the money, and he wouldn’t say.”

  My heart sank. “He planned on blackmailing Barnett about being Kyle’s father.”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t know that.”

  I told her Alex’s story.

  She closed her eyes and opened them. “That explains why Barnett showed up that night.”

  “The night of the sweat?”

  She leaned into Max. “Yeah. I heard someone pull up, and when I looked, I saw the cop Bronco. The lights weren’t on or anything. It was really dark, but the sheriff got out and you could tell he was pissed. He didn’t knock, just ripped open the front door.”

  “Your mother wasn’t home?”

  Shelly glanced at Max. “She was drunk.”

  I hated making her tell me that.

  Shelly continued her story. “He came in and started yelling at Ma. Asking her, where was Alex. But Ma, she was at that stage where she couldn’t answer.

  “I had to get us some help, so I crawled out the back window. I ran to my car and took off.”

  Max leaned into her. He whispered to her, “It’s okay.”

  She inhaled and ignored Max. “That’s when I called Kyle. I knew Alex was in trouble but didn’t know what for.”

  “Kyle’s phone was on transfer because of the sweat. I got your call.”

  She took that in but didn’t comment. “Then Barnett was following me. I kept looking at the Bronco in my mirror, and my front tire dropped off the road. The car flipped. I don’t even remember climbing out, but then I was running. I called Max and hid over the hill. He came and got me.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me when I came out here?”

  She gave me a look telling me what she thought of the question. “You’re a white sheriff. I didn’t trust you. I’m still not sure I do.”

  Max apologized to me with a geeky smile. “Sorry.” To Shelly, he said, “She’s okay.”

  Shelly focused on me and her eyes filled again. This time, the tears escaped. “He killed Darrel. And he hurt Kyle.” She trembled. “And he had Alex. It’s my fault.”

  Max rocked her. “It’s not.”

  She sniffed. “It’s because of me that Alex found out and tried to blackmail Barnett. And it’s my fault that Kyle…” She choked back a sob.