Lone Ranger

by VK Powell

  Carter’s reaction to her investigation seemed over the top. Cass and Theodore Thompson had been married, and while she appreciated Carter’s desire to protect Ann from any potential fallout, her response had gone beyond protectiveness to something more personal and immediate. Before she’d had a chance to find out why, Carter had stormed off.

  The warm surge of attraction between them had turned to cold splinters. She’d struggled to speak but could only watch as the anger on Carter’s face transformed into pain and settled in deepening lines that creased her forehead. Emma wanted—no, she desperately needed Thompson’s disappearance and Ann and Cass’s story to remain separate. One could help her resolve old issues about her father’s disappearance and earn enough money to live for a while, and the other held the key to the possibility of a love she’d only imagined. But as Carter headed toward the door, she felt the latter being stripped from her.

  Carter’s overreaction and her protectiveness of Ann only fueled Emma’s fear that Ann’s relationship with Cass Calloway was connected to Theodore Thompson’s murder. How connected remained to be seen. What was Carter hiding? For now, Emma was forced to push her feelings aside, get on with the task of finding a killer, and hope that somewhere along the line it would all make sense and leave those she cared about unscathed.

  When she entered the sheriff’s office, Echols glanced from his guest to her and shook his head. His furrowed brow and pink cheeks left little doubt to his state of mind. The attractive government-suited blonde seated beside his desk didn’t acknowledge Emma and continued her conversation in whispered tones, leaning into the sheriff’s body space. Emma stepped close enough to hear.

  “Based on this information, Sheriff, we have no choice but to open a new investigation into the disappearance of Theodore Wayne Thompson. BCI Supervisor Hardy has sent me here to do that. I hope I can depend on your cooperation.” She punctuated her final comment by placing a manicured hand on the sheriff’s arm and flashing a surprisingly sincere smile.

  Turning his attention to Emma, the sheriff stated, “And here is the person we have to thank for all this. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, Ms. Ferguson?”

  The BCI agent turned to Emma and offered her hand, along with another devastatingly charming smile.

  “Emma Ferguson, I’m Billie Donovan, Virginia Bureau of Criminal Investigation.”

  “Agent Donovan. So you’re officially reopening the Thompson case?”

  She nodded. “Agent Hardy’s told me a lot about you.”

  I bet he has, Emma thought, but he didn’t tell me anything about you. But maybe that’s because you’re just his type—petite, blonde, gorgeous, and oozing sex appeal.

  “And I’ve been instructed to give you an exclusive,” she emphasized the word, “when the case is closed.”

  Donovan’s green eyes scanned Emma’s body with an intensity that felt intrusive. Was it the law-enforcement appraisal or the one-woman-sizing-up-another that bothered her? “We might be able to help each other. I’ve been looking into this for a while.”

  Sheriff Echols rose from his desk. “Well, the two of you have a wonderful time tearing open old wounds. Folks around here would much rather handle their own dirty laundry.” Casting a disapproving glance at Emma, he concluded their conversation. “If you need anything from me, Agent Donovan, I’ll be around.” He handed Donovan a business card and pretended to busy himself with a stack of unfiled papers.

  Donovan aimed her practiced smile back on Emma. “Why don’t we go over to the diner and compare notes?”

  As they walked the short distance to the Stuart Diner, Emma contrasted Agent Donovan’s feminine sway and demeanor to Carter’s swagger and androgynous appeal. Carter’s body moved with a confidence Donovan seemed to force. Her breasts seemed way too perky for a fiftyish woman. Implants maybe? Would Carter be attracted to Billie Donovan? She winced at the thought and pushed the image from her mind. Whatever had gone wrong between her and Carter couldn’t be handled now, though the pain and uncertainty of it persisted.

  When they’d settled into a back booth and ordered coffee, Donovan laced her fingers together around the cup and leaned across the table toward Emma. “It seems like you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest, Ferguson. Do you always create this much excitement?”

  Emma disliked Billie Donovan more each time she spoke. The gorgeous smile that lit her face with simultaneous concern and curiosity grated on Emma’s nerves. Donovan’s investigations were probably exact and personally satisfying, which irritated Emma because of the seemingly perfect package it represented of Agent Billie Donovan. Nobody was that flawless. But maybe she was just being petty.

  Whatever her reasons, she wasn’t entrusting this case to Donovan, especially since it involved Ann and maybe even Carter. She wanted to be the one to clear Ann, if that became necessary, and to reassure Carter, not this BCI bombshell.

  Best stay on track and keep it professional. “What else did Rick send from the lab? I already know the bones have been identified as Thompson’s and he was shot. Is there more?”

  “Not at this time. Anything new on your end?”

  Donovan was slick, sidestepping Emma’s question and turning it around on her. “No.”

  “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be smart to withhold relevant information.” Donovan swiped a drip of coffee from the side of her cup and licked it off her finger. Emma hated to admit she found the act sexy as hell. Billie Donovan was everything Emma wasn’t: confident, model thin, blond with emerald eyes, and she radiated sex appeal. Carter would be a fool not to be attracted to this woman.

  “Hell—o.” Donovan waved her hand in front of Emma’s face.

  “Sorry.”

  “I asked where you’re staying. I need a place to set up shop and sleep occasionally.”

  Emma took a sip of coffee while she decided how to answer. She didn’t want Donovan anywhere near Carter, but they’d meet eventually. “I’m at the Fairy Stone State Park.”

  Donovan chuckled. “You don’t seem like the outdoor type.” She looked off in the distance, and her practiced grin turned to a genuine smile. “Fairy Stone Park. That’s the one run by Ann West. Her niece, Carter, is a ranger there.” Donovan’s eyebrow shot up almost imperceptibly as she mentioned Carter’s name.

  Emma nodded, afraid to speak in case she revealed her feelings for Carter.

  “I could stay out there, probably free, but woodsy and I don’t get along.”

  Emma exhaled deeply and placed her hand over her queasy stomach. “There’s a relatively nice hotel in the town center that’s convenient to everything.”

  “Sounds perfect. Thanks.” Donovan swiped a hand through her long, blond hair and brushed it away from her face. “You’ve been here for a week. Any leads on possible suspects?”

  “I’ve just found out it’s a murder case. Compiling suspects without all the facts seemed a bit premature. But most folks in town didn’t care that Theodore Thompson was gone. A suspect list could be pretty extensive.”

  “Sounds like I’m going to have my work cut out for me. Why don’t you fill me in on the rest of the gossip you’ve gotten from these fine townsfolk?”

  As much as Emma disliked revealing her sources and intelligence, she didn’t want to appear uncooperative. She filled Donovan in on the information from her interviews that seemed significant, carefully avoiding Ann’s connection to Theodore Thompson. Repeating it all, she realized she hadn’t uncovered any substantial leads in the case.

  “Sounds like we’re a little shy on suspects. Why did you dig all this up in the first place? Why not just leave it alone, do your little history piece, and go back to civilization?”

  Fannie’s tearful plea replayed in Emma’s mind, and her eyes clouded. “It’s just something I have to do. Something unfinished.”

  “Sort of like Carter West and me.”

  Emma clasped her hands together in her lap to keep from going after Donovan.

  “That woman is absolutely g
orgeous…and delicious, if you don’t mind me being so bold. We’ve been having a little fling for a while up in Charlottesville. This might be the perfect time to take the relationship further. I’ve relocated to Richmond now, more convenient and available.”

  Emma felt her coffee clawing its way back up her throat. The image of Carter with Donovan—touching her, making love to her—made Emma want to vault over the table and…what was happening to her? She wasn’t a violent or jealous person, but she’d never felt so strongly about another woman. She had to leave before she embarrassed herself by defending a relationship that didn’t exist. Emma rose and grabbed her messenger bag, in the process spinning her cup across the table and sloshing coffee onto Donovan’s pristine pale-blue blouse. “Sorry. I’m clumsy.” Excellent addition, Emma thought as she tossed her a napkin.

  On the way out, the same construction worker who’d questioned her before stepped into her path, his shaved head and face red with obvious irritation. “So there’s two of you trying to stall our work now. When are you going to give up and let us get on with our business?”

  Emma jerked her thumb in Donovan’s direction. “Ask the BCI agent.”

  The walk to Fannie Buffkin’s house was not one Emma wanted to make, but the time had come. Fannie didn’t deserve to hear about her brother’s murder from some gossipmonger. The news would be devastating, but it would be better than the continued agony of not knowing.

  After the third knock, Fannie answered the door. Her eyes sparkled when she saw Emma, and she ushered her inside. “Emma, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. You have news, don’t you? The gossip vine has been particularly active the past few days, but no one will tell me what’s going on. Even Harriett Smoltz is dodging my calls. It’s about Theodore, isn’t it?”

  “Fannie, can we sit down please?”

  When they were seated in the drawing room, Emma struggled for the right words. The expectation on Fannie’s face tugged at her heart. She’d seen that expression on her mother’s face so many times over the years, and each time Emma had disappointed her.

  “My brother was killed, wasn’t he? I knew I was right but didn’t really want to be.”

  “Yes, you were.” Emma understood. Her instincts that Theodore Thompson had been murdered had also been right, and Fannie Buffkin wasn’t loony. But from what she’d seen so far, few people cared, thirty-seven years ago or now. His sister cared and so did Emma.

  “I’m so very sorry.” Emma took Fannie’s wrinkled hands and held them gently in her own. “You don’t know how much I wish I had better news.”

  Fannie lowered her head, and tears dropped onto her pale-green apron. “I remember when those bones were found at the factory in 1985. I told the sheriff it was Theo. Why did it take so long to identify him? Couldn’t something have been done before now?”

  “The technology for a positive DNA analysis is a relatively recent development. The sheriff was right not to get your hopes up. When I discovered his remains were still in the state lab, I asked for a test against the hair sample you provided, and it was a match.” She paused, not wanting to cause unnecessary pain and uncertain how much detail Fannie needed or wanted.

  “What else? Tell me all of it.”

  “There was trauma to the skull, which indicates a violent death. The BCI has reopened his case. I’m sure you’ll get a visit from Agent Donovan sooner or later.” Emma took a deep breath and waited for one of the two questions to which she did not have an answer.

  “But why? Why would anyone want to kill my brother?”

  Emma chose not to divulge Theodore’s questionable reputation around town. Fannie probably already knew what kind of man her brother had become but colored his life with a rosier brush for the sake of the family legacy. No matter what he’d done, his sister didn’t deserve to suffer any further for it. Emma patted Fannie’s hands and whispered, “I really don’t know.” And she sincerely hoped she didn’t.

  She sat with Fannie, offering whatever comfort she could until the older woman took a deep breath and rose from her chair.

  “I really appreciate you telling me in person.” As she walked Emma to the door, her frail hands held on tight. “Thank you for taking the time to care about Theodore. I know most people didn’t, but he was family. You will see this through, won’t you?”

  She thought about the pained look on Carter’s face and her plea for Emma to abandon the story, but she felt compelled to honor her promise to Fannie and now to keep Ann out of the investigation. “Of course.”

  “I mean, the BCI is probably very thorough, but I want you on Theodore’s case.”

  She hugged Fannie and left her alone with her memories and whatever peace her news had provided.

  Before heading back to the park, Emma stopped by the county historian’s office to talk with Hannah Smoltz. The woman who greeted her held no resemblance to Harriett. “I’m looking for Ms. Hannah Smoltz.”

  “On vacation. Not sure when she’ll be back.” The young woman was the first person Emma had encountered in Stuart who seemed unfriendly, almost hostile.

  “You mean she just told you she was going on vacation and didn’t say how long she’d be gone?” Emma arched her eyebrows at the woman for effect.

  “She didn’t tell me anything. Her sister told me she’d left after the fact, and I’d be in charge until she showed up again. Harriett didn’t offer any information about where Hannah had gone either, in case you were going to ask.” The woman returned to her computer without asking if she could be of any further assistance.

  “Thanks for nothing,” she muttered under her breath as she exited. She crossed the street toward her car but turned back when someone called her name. Harriett Smoltz was standing in the library doorway, waving and motioning her over.

  “Want to come in and rest a spell? From what I hear, you’ve been busy.”

  “I don’t mind if I do, Harriett. I’ve just been over to the historian’s office, but Hannah is out of town. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “She takes off a couple of times a year. Is there anything I can help you with?” She motioned Emma to her small office in the corner of the library.

  “I wanted to inquire about her whereabouts the night Theodore Thompson disappeared. It’s a general inquiry.”

  Harriett’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I can answer that one for you. She was night-shift operator at the telephone company. She relieved me about eleven o’clock. So you’ve definitely decided to investigate this case?”

  “My inquiries are strictly for my article. The investigation is with the BCI now. Theodore Thompson was shot, so they’re reopening the case as a murder. An agent is already here.”

  Harriett’s eyes flicked from side to side. “Isn’t that interesting?” Her whole body seemed to bristle to attention as she fired questions. “Who would’ve believed we’d have a real murder right here in Stuart? Do you have any leads? Are there any suspects?” She edged closer to her desk phone, and Emma imagined her dialing the gossip tree with the latest update.

  Emma provided a brief rundown of the story, omitting any classified information. “So you see, they really don’t have any clear-cut suspects at this point. I’m going to ask around, touch base with any folks who were here then. You could give me a list, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “I’d love to help,” Harriett responded, wringing her hands. “I’ll have a list ready by tomorrow.”

  *

  Carter and Ann were pulling out of the park gate when Emma drove in around dusk. Ann leaned across Carter, waved furiously, and yelled, “Hey, Emma!”

  “Can you stop that?” Carter snapped.

  “Well, excuse the hell out of me. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to get too chummy with her.”

  “Now that you’ve slept with her, it’s okay to treat her like road kill? You beat all, Carter West. You know that?”

  “It’s not about sleepin
g with her, Ann. There’s more going on than you realize.” Carter’s body heated with the memory of making love with Emma. Then her chest constricted at Emma’s refusal to let the story go. How did I let myself get so twisted up in this mess?

  “Why don’t you enlighten me then, because I sure don’t understand.”

  “Just take my word for it and stay away from her. Can you do that for me?”

  “No, Carter, I can’t. Either you tell me what’s going on, or I’ll ask Emma.”

  Carter thought about her stumbling walk to the lake last night after her confrontation with Emma. She could usually find her way blindfolded, but Emma’s betrayal had rocked her. The gravel path had been marred by groundcover, and soon she’d come to a small campsite a short distance from the lake. The grass around the fire pit had been worn away from frequent use during the season, and Carter had recalled some of her happiest and most painful memories there with Cass.

  Cass and Ann. She’d let them down. She’d allowed Emma into their life and was afraid she might destroy what was left of their love. Wasn’t it enough that the town of Stuart had surreptitiously tried to force them to leave when they discovered the nature of their relationship? Now Carter had let a stranger too close to their story. Emma was trying to connect Ann to Thompson’s murder, something her aunt would never be involved in no matter how much she loved Cass or hated Theodore. And Carter was to blame.

  Carter’s knuckles whitened as she clenched the steering wheel. “If you must know, she’s looking into the disappearance of Theo Thompson, but this time it’s a murder investigation.”

  Ann raised her palms in the air and shrugged. “And…”

  “And I want you to stay away from her. She’s been pumping you for information since she got here, with her fake interest in your life. She’s a reporter, and she’ll spin everything you say into something else if it helps her story. That’s probably why she slept with me anyway.”