Lone Ranger

by VK Powell

  Donovan’s eyes grew wide. “Carter, I didn—”

  “Don’t bother denying it. I heard everything.”

  Emma glanced up at Carter. “That was you I heard behind the boxes earlier?”

  “Yep. Sorry for the delay. I got a call from the sheriff. Guess Harriett slipped by me in this maze of a place.”

  Donovan squinted and her mouth hardened into a thin line. “Fine, go with your little storyteller. You’ll never have sex like we had.”

  “I certainly hope not.” Carter took Emma’s hand and led her from the warehouse. When she opened the outside door, she pulled Emma close. “When you left the cabin earlier, I wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to me again.”

  “I told you I loved you, but you said you’d spent the night with Donovan. And that you liked me.”

  “I said everything wrong, Emma, but the words wouldn’t come. I almost lost you in there. Can we try again?”

  Emma stroked the side of Carter’s face, her brown eyes so sorrowful and pleading. “I’d like that very much, but after this case is finished. You and Ann need to be at the sheriff’s office in the morning. She deserves to hear the whole story too.”

  “I thought I’d never get to tell you that I lo—”

  “Shhh.” Emma placed her fingers over Carter’s lips. She wanted to hear those words more than she wanted to breathe, but not like this. “Be careful what you say. I won’t be your consolation prize.” Emma wanted to believe they had a future, but her heart still ached. Carter had spent the night with Donovan, and Emma didn’t understand why. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Emma turned toward her car, but Carter caught her arm and pulled her back. “You could never be a consolation prize.” Carter traced Emma’s lips with the tip of her tongue. “I need you.”

  Emma’s breath hitched, her body instantly afire. She opened for Carter to explore her lips, her mouth, and her soul. She moaned and pressed harder against Carter, pleading for more. Carter kissed and held her until every inch of Emma’s body was fully aroused, and then she pulled away.

  Carter stared into her eyes, gasping for breath. “Please don’t give up on me, on us.”

  She reluctantly released Carter and stepped back. “Give me a reason not to.”

  “I will. The last thing I want to do is let you go home alone,” Carter admitted.

  “I need to think, but I’ll see you in the morning.” When she walked away from Carter, she immediately missed her. She wanted to hold Carter and never let go, but what did Carter want? Was she ready for a commitment?

  As Emma settled into bed, her near-fatal encounter with a killer finally sank in. When she considered what could’ve happened, her whole body shook. But even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles and danger, she’d risen to the challenges. She’d finally help Fannie Buffkin find closure, clear Ann, bring a killer to justice, and write a story any investigative journalist would be proud to claim.

  Most important, she’d trusted her instincts and taken a chance on love. Her last memory before falling asleep was Carter’s smiling face.

  I love you, but what happens now?

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The next morning, Emma sat in front of the sheriff’s office at exactly nine o’clock. She was anxious and jittery, about the case and seeing Carter. What happened today would determine the direction of her life both professionally and personally. Was she ready?

  She scanned the crowded parking lot for Carter’s Jeep, didn’t see it, and went inside. The small office was packed with deputies and townspeople, shoulder to shoulder. Everybody was talking about the case and straining for a glimpse of Harriett Smoltz behind bars. When Emma closed the door behind her, the focus of interest shifted, and everyone surged toward her with a barrage of questions.

  “How did you find Clem Stevens?”

  “When did you figure out the killer was really Harriett Smoltz?”

  “How did you overpower her when she had a gun?”

  “Where is Agent Donovan? Why isn’t she here?”

  As Emma glanced from one questioner to the next, Sheriff Echols reached through the crowd and pulled her aside. He waved his hands and yelled, “Everybody out. This is official police business, not a sideshow. Everything will come out soon enough. Move along.”

  A couple of deputies escorted folks outside and stood guard in front of the door. The room became suddenly very quiet.

  “Are you okay today?” Sheriff Echols placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a chair. “The shock of a deadly situation hits you after the fact, not when you’re forced to take action. I guess you figured that out last night when you got home.”

  Emma nodded and accepted the cup of coffee he offered. “I have to admit I was beyond scared.” But the danger was past and now she needed answers. “Have you interviewed Harriett yet?” Only one of the questions she wanted to ask, but she’d start there.

  “I talked to her last night and confronted her with the recording you made. She admitted everything, filled in all the blanks.”

  Before Emma could ask any more questions, Ann and Carter walked in. Ann wore a pair of blue jeans, white shirt, and blue-jean jacket with pink trim and pink cowboy hat and boots, festive for the occasion, Emma surmised.

  Emma rushed over and was sandwiched between them in a group hug.

  “I knew you’d do it, Emma. I had faith.” Ann kissed her on both cheeks. “Carter told me all about it last night. We didn’t sleep a wink. Girl, you’re a pistol. You showed that BCI agent a thing or two.” She looked around the office. “Where is the Charlie’s Devil anyway?”

  “She left town early this morning. Didn’t even thank us for our help,” Echols said. “But I made a call to her supervisor about some of her questionable tactics. She’ll have some explaining to do back in Richmond.” He set an industrial-sized coffee pot on a side table, took a seat, and motioned for the others to join him in chairs he’d placed around his desk. “I was about to fill Emma in on the details.”

  Carter filled Styrofoam cups with coffee for her and Ann before joining them. “What happened to you last night, Sheriff?”

  “I rerouted to the Gentle Breeze Nursing Home on an emergency call—a reported kidnapping. That’s what I was just getting ready to tell Emma.”

  “How did Carter know where we were?” Emma had wondered all night how Carter got involved in the warehouse incident.

  “I called and asked her to swing by and listen to Clem’s statement. My deputies were away on a training course, and she’s the only other sworn officer close by. I had no idea I was sending her into a firefight.” The sheriff shook his head. “Sorry, Carter.”

  “And what does a kidnapping have to do with this case?” Ann wanted to know.

  “You won’t believe it when I tell you,” Echols said.

  “Then get on with it, man.” Ann rolled her hand at him. “Daylight’s burning.”

  “The reporting party at the nursing home was Hannah Smoltz. She told me she’d been drugged and involuntarily committed to keep her quiet.”

  “That’s a scenario I hadn’t considered,” Emma said.

  “She knows the whole story about the Thompson murder,” the sheriff said.

  “How did she find out? Did Harriett admit it, or was she in on it?” Carter scooted her chair closer to the desk.

  “She put it together after the fact. The night of the murder, Harriett was the switchboard operator and connected the call from Cass to Ann arranging their meeting at the factory. Harriett left work early and went there as well. She planned to confront Cass, tell her about the affair with Thompson and force her to give him a divorce, but she was too late. Cass and Ann had gone.

  “The rest of the story happened just like Clem said. After Harriett killed Thompson, she went back to the phone company, but Hannah had already arrived for her shift. Harriett told Hannah she’d gotten sick and walked to the drugstore for medicine. She asked Hannah to lie for her so she wouldn’t lose her job for le
aving the phone lines uncovered for thirty minutes.”

  “That accounts for Mr. Livengood not being able to get through to the funeral home,” Emma said. Timothy Black’s statement made perfect sense now.

  “And I couldn’t get through to the ambulance on the pay phone. They might’ve been able to save the baby.” Ann’s eyes flashed with rekindled grief. “My Cass could’ve died too.”

  Sheriff Echols nodded.

  Emma’s cell phone rang, disrupting the flow of the story. She glanced at the unidentified number, pushed the mute button, and added, “That also means Sylvie Martinez really did see Harriett going toward the factory. It wasn’t Hannah going to work at all.”

  “Right again.” Sheriff Echols refilled everyone’s coffee cups. “Hannah suspected Harriett was involved in the murder and confronted her. When Harriett admitted it, she blackmailed Hannah and told her if she came forward, Harriett would swear she was an accomplice. Hannah went into a depression, and Harriett seized the opportunity to have her committed for three months. After that episode, Hannah was pretty much doomed to do whatever Harriett said. She was counting on no one believing the ramblings of a mental patient.”

  “So, Hannah hasn’t been on vacation,” Emma stated.

  “Nope. When you came to town and started digging up this story again, Hannah begged Harriett to come forward. Harriett drugged her instead and eventually had her confined to the nursing home. Harriett went by every morning and evening and gave Hannah drugs to make her appear psychotic. We’re having her blood tested to determine what Harriett used.”

  Carter shook her head. “How did Hannah become lucid enough to figure this out?”

  “The nursing-home staff was getting suspicious. Hannah seemed more coherent first thing in the morning and late in the day, always before her sister visited. They felt confident none of their staff was involved, and Harriett was the only other person who had contact with Hannah. They posted a nurse in the room with her when Harriett came to visit so she couldn’t administer the drugs. On the second day, Hannah woke up, ready to tell her story.”

  Ann tossed her empty cup in the trash. “I knew something was off with Harriett Smoltz. She was always too nosy for my liking.”

  Emma’s cell phone rang again and she answered. “Yes, I’m Emma Ferguson.” She waited for the caller to state their business. “I’d like to talk to you about it, but I’ll have to call you back. I’m in the middle of something.”

  Emma hung up and turned back to the sheriff. “Sorry. Did Harriett tell you who helped her with the stalking, slashed tires, the attack at the cabin, and running me off the road?”

  “She took full responsibility for everything. She’s also the one who told Agent Donovan about Ann and Cass’s relationship. She’s been watching Emma since she came to town, staying close to keep tabs on her investigation. She slashed your tires and went after you with a tree limb. I have to tell you, that one surprised me.”

  “Yeah. I thought the attacker was a man.” Carter shook her head. “I was even watching that construction guy who’d rented the cabin next to Emma.”

  “You were?”

  Carter placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I wasn’t about to let anything happen to you…whether we were…talking or not.”

  “Thank you.” Emma turned back to the sheriff. “The woman I fought last night definitely could’ve been the person who attacked me, but she didn’t seem like the same Harriett Smoltz I’d been talking to at the library.”

  “Harriett admitted she attacked you at the cabin. She’s been working out in her basement for the past five years, twice a day. Nobody could tell because she wore those awful sack dresses. She knew this day would come.”

  “What about running Emma off the road?” Ann asked. “That wasn’t Harriett’s pink Cadillac.”

  “She used Hannah’s old heap that’s usually in Harriett’s garage. I’ve got a search warrant for her property. We might find some trace evidence from Emma’s car.”

  The cell phone in Emma’s bag rang again, and she muted it without looking. “Where were we? Oh yeah, I have one more question, Sheriff. Was the gun she had last night the same one she used to kill Thompson? Not that we could ever prove it.”

  “She said it’s the same weapon, an old Ruger .22 semi-automatic blue-steel her grandfather gave her years ago. But you’re right. We’ll never be able to prove that’s the murder weapon because neither a shell casing nor a slug was ever recovered.” The sheriff closed the file on his desk. “I think that wraps it up. I can’t think of anything else to tell you, except thanks for your help, Emma and Carter. And my apologies to you, Ann.” He stood and offered his hand.

  Emma started to thank him when her cell phone rang again. “Sorry, better get this.”

  Carter and Ann said their good-byes to the sheriff and started toward the door.

  “I can come by right now if that’s okay with you.” Emma closed the phone and shook hands with Sheriff Echols. “I really appreciate all you’ve done. You’ll get an honorable mention in my story.”

  “That’s not necessary. All in a day’s work for a small-town sheriff.”

  When Emma joined Ann and Carter outside, Ann grabbed her arms and spun her around on the sidewalk. “Let’s go to the cabin and celebrate. My treat. Girl, this is big. I’m not even sure I’ve got enough liquor to do it justice.”

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do, but I have a stop to make before the celebration begins. Can I catch up with you later?”

  “Sure you can,” Carter said. “Is that what all the phone calls were about?”

  “Sort of, but not exactly. I’ll explain when I see you. And don’t forget we have a conversation to finish.”

  The comment brought a big smile to Carter’s face. “Oh, I won’t forget.”

  Emma made the short trip across Main Street to the property overlooking downtown with a lightness of step she hadn’t experienced in years. She’d persevered on a case that at times had seemed hopeless. Her father would’ve been proud, and she was about to make an elderly woman both happy and sad with the news.

  Emma raised her hand toward the brass knocker, but the door opened and Fannie Buffkin enveloped her in a hug.

  “Come in, Emma. I’ve been waiting for this day for thirty-seven years.” Fannie led her toward the sitting room.

  The home and its occupant had obviously received a bit of attention. Emma inhaled the sweet fragrance of fresh-cut flowers instead of mothballs. The old wing chair and sofa covers had been cleaned, and the window curtains stood open to allow light to fill the rooms.

  Fannie Buffkin’s bun-coiffed hair shone as if it had been freshly washed and brushed. Lightweight rimless glasses replaced the old Coke-bottle variety she’d previously worn. She was dressed in a yellow-flowered frock, not an evening gown, fur wrap, and gloves.

  Emma’s surprise must’ve been evident because Fannie laughed out loud. “I’ve spruced up a bit.”

  “Very becoming.”

  “When you left last time, I had a premonition you’d get to the bottom of my brother’s disappearance, and it gave me hope. Neither my husband nor my brother would’ve wanted me to stop living because they’re gone. I even started going out to bingo occasionally.”

  A spark had returned to Fannie’s eyes, and Emma smiled, grateful to have helped.

  “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

  “I wanted to tell you about the case.”

  Fannie held up her hand. “I’ve heard about Harriett and why she killed Theodore. Dreadful what jealousy does to people.”

  “I’m sorry you found out through the grapevine. I should’ve been the one to tell you.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Emma. You can’t keep salacious news quiet in a town this size. Three people called me before Sheriff Echols locked the cell door behind Harriett.”

  “Are you all right? It must’ve been a shock.”

  “I’ve suspected for years that he was de
ad, and now that you’ve solved the mystery, I can rest easy. Thank you for keeping your promise. You were at considerable risk at times. Now I know why Harriett Smoltz has been so nice to me all these years. And I finally know what kind of man my brother really was. As I told you before, he wasn’t always respectful to me, but I thought it ended there. Another hard truth to swallow. But you got to the bottom of it because you’re a very talented reporter, Emma Ferguson, and I want to do something to show my appreciation.”

  “That’s not necessary, Fannie. I’m just happy I could help.”

  “You should be proud of your work. I’m sure your father would be. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of calling a few newspapers and magazines and giving them a teaser about your story. You’ll probably be getting a call or two.”

  “So, I have you to thank for blowing up my phone this morning?”

  “I thought it couldn’t hurt.” Fannie winked from behind her new glasses.

  “You have no idea, Fannie. It’s probably the best thing that’s happened to my career in years. I don’t know how to repay you.”

  “You already have…but maybe one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like you to write a series of stories about this whole sordid affair. Would you?”

  The request was unexpected, especially now. “You want me to write the truth about your brother’s life and how he died?”

  Fannie nodded.

  “You realize I’ll tell the whole story, not just the parts that make him look good.”

  “There are no parts that make him look good. I owe it to those he mistreated, myself included, to acknowledge the kind of man he really was. If anything, history should be as accurate as possible. We’ve got a lot of correcting to do.”

  Emma took Fannie’s hands. “Then I’d be honored to tell the story.”

  “Let’s have coffee and chat. You can shake my family tree and see what else falls out. Then we’ll talk money.”