As they neared their neighbor’s property, the odor of damp charcoal grew stronger, and she wondered how the fire had started. She wanted to check it out, but she knew her uncle wouldn’t be pleased if he caught her there. Something bad must have happened because he hadn’t come home. Shivering, she couldn’t imagine anything worse than being trapped in a burning house. It was so scary. Then, without meaning to, her thoughts rushed back to the brutality of her mother’s attack and melancholy engulfed her once again.
Lost in the resurgence of unwanted memories, she failed to notice Granite’s ears twitch back and forth. His exceptional hearing had detected the tinny rattle of a dirt bike racing through the woods. It wasn’t until he threw his head up in warning that she heard it, too, but she couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from, only that it was getting closer at a frightening speed. In an attempt to locate the direction, Abbey twisted around in the saddle with such force that it further unsettled Granite. The bike was so close now, it sounded as if a dozen chainsaws were bearing down on them.
On the right side of the trail, a motorcycle burst out of the trees, heading straight for them.
Granite shied to the left and stumbled.
Unprepared, she started to fall.
The powerful horse strained beneath her, struggling to keep them both upright, but with the momentum of her falling body, he couldn’t manage it. He whinnied his distress as the horse and rider crashed to the ground.
Chapter Nine
Granite’s valiant effort to remain on four legs had given Abbey just enough time to kick her feet free from the stirrups and push away as they fell, but she’d hit the earth with a thud. Her head, although protected by the riding helmet, had slammed down with enough force to daze her.
Stunned, she lay there staring up at the leaves and sky as she tried to figure out what had just happened. Granite’s squeal of fear brought it all back. Terrified at what she would see, Abbey scrambled to her feet. Pain shot up her arm, but she didn’t think she’d broken it.
The first thing she noticed was a motorcycle on its side. The engine sputtered and died. The rider lay in a heap near a tree. He wasn’t moving.
Granite squealed again. A shiver ran up her spine, and she had to force herself to turn around to look at him. He was on his side. His eyes were wild with fear. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she rushed over to him. He thrashed at the air with his legs and strained his head as he lunged clumsily to his feet. Once up, he bared his teeth and pinned back his ears, making his intent clear to the bike on the ground that he was ready for battle.
Abbey whispered to the terrified horse and slowly reached out to him. His muscles twitched, but he allowed her to walk up to him. Checking for injuries, she ran a hand over his body and down his legs. When she found nothing physically wrong, tears of relief welled up in her eyes.
The man on the ground started to moan. Granite snorted and stomped.
Abbey turned to the rider and watched as he pushed himself up to his knees. Using the tree for balance, he managed to stand, but it took some effort. He was tall and wore a black leather jacket and pants, black motocross boots and a black helmet. A darkened visor hid his face. He looked like an intimidating cross between a 70s metal band singer and Darth Vader.
It didn’t stop Abbey from snapping at him, “You idiot. Didn’t you see me? You could have killed us.”
The man didn’t answer.
“What are you doing here?”
Without speaking, the stranger took a step toward her. Instinctively, she backed up, tugging on Granite’s reins as she did. The horse threw his head up and pawed the ground in warning.
The motorcyclist hesitated.
Abbey had never seen him before. Whoever he was, he didn’t belong there. Added to that, his silence was beginning to creep her out. Hiking up the edge of her faded shirt, she pulled out her father’s handgun and pointed it at him.
He held up his hands and took a step back. “Easy there,” he said.
“Back off then. You’re scaring my horse.” She couldn’t see his face behind the blackened visor, and she didn’t like it.
“Is that loaded?” he asked.
“What do you think?” It wasn’t. She didn’t have cartridges for it. She’d only taken it with her to feel closer to her father, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“This isn’t the Wild West, you know.”
His voice was unfamiliar, but she felt better now she had the gun in her hand, even if it wasn’t loaded. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly in Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” she said.
He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s real original.” He had long arms and slim hips.
Even though her pounding head attested to the severity of her fall, she held the gun steady. Her finger rested alongside the trigger, just as her dad had taught her. “If I were a stand-up comedian, and you’d bought a ticket to my show, maybe I’d give a damn. Seeing as how that’s not the case, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”
He said nothing for a couple of beats. Then the disembodied voice from behind the visor warned, “You better watch it. If the gun goes off, you’ll be in a whole world of trouble.”
“Yeah. But you’ll be in a whole world of pain.”
The helmeted head bobbed. “New Hampshire may be the ‘Live Free or Die’ state, but they still have plenty of laws, and I’m pretty sure shooting an unarmed man is breaking at least one of them.”
“Not when he’s trespassing,” Abbey snapped.
His response was fast and confident. “This isn’t your land.”
His tone really pissed her off. “You’re way too sure about that considering I know for a fact you’re trespassing on my property.”
He said nothing, just fumbled with the helmet’s buckle. When he removed it, Abbey was surprised. He appeared to be around sixteen. A year older than her. He just looked older with the helmet on. His blond, tousled hair brushed the shoulder of his jacket. She didn’t recognize him.
He stared at her, sizing her up. She found his piercing blue eyes more unsettling than the helmet’s impenetrable visor.
“This may be your daddy’s land,” he told her, cocksure and amused. “But this definitely isn’t your land.”
She clenched her jaw at his words. His smirk told her that he knew the “daddy” comment had hit home. She scrambled for a witty comeback but failed, knowing sometime later that night, long after he was gone, she’d come up with a real zinger. And that royally bugged her.
He was still smirking when he asked, “So where is your daddy? I bet he’d be interested to hear how his baby girl is running around with his gun.”
Abbey longed to fire a round at his feet to frighten that grin right off his face, but that wasn’t possible. Instead, she did something she’d never done before. She told a complete stranger exactly where her father was. “He’s in prison.”
That threw him. She saw the surprise register on his face. He hesitated before giving her a slow smile and drawling, “Sure he is.”
Her face flushed at how she’d just used her father in a game of one-upmanship. His imprisonment was something she didn’t talk about with anyone. “What are you doing out here?”
“Riding, the same as you,” he replied.
She frowned. “I haven’t seen you on the trails before. Were you over at the fire?”
He didn’t respond. He just stared at her.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
He said nothing for a moment. Then he repeated her question but placed a hard emphasis on the “you.”
His sarcastic tone irked Abbey. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“What makes you think that?” he asked.
“If you were, you’d know who I was.”
His eyes opened wide. “I’m amazed your horse is strong enough to heft both you and your colossal ego around.”
She frowned. She wasn’t going to tell him that just about everyone in town knew who the
Raines girls were after what had happened to their parents. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What did you mean?”
“You don’t go to my school.”
“So what?” He sounded defensive like he had something to hide.
“Did you graduate already?”
“What’s this, the North Caxton Inquisition?”
She scrunched up her face in an attempt to appear tougher. “What’s your name?”
He smiled. It was a knowing smile as though he had her all summed up and found her completely unthreatening, even with the gun aimed at him. She longed to hit him over the head with something heavy. His eyes seemed to sparkle with the promise of something yet to come, and her stomach fluttered in a weird way she’d never felt before. She didn’t like it. Not one little bit.
“Jesse.” He said it softly. “My name is Jesse Keegan.”
“Jesse?” she said not liking the effect he had on her. “Isn’t that short for Jessica?”
A look of disappointment replaced his smile.
The snarky comment was mean, but she wasn’t about to apologize. After all, he was the one trespassing.
Squinting at him, she no longer felt he posed a threat, so she returned the gun to its holster. As she lifted her shirt, she caught him glancing at her bare stomach. Quickly yanking the shirt back down, she gave him what she hoped was her best stink eye.
The smile returned to his face. “You’re going to shoot yourself if you’re not careful,” he warned. “What do you need a gun for anyway?”
“A girl needs to protect herself in this town.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s way more deadly than the mean streets of New York up here,” he said, as he waved his hand around at the trees and mountain range in the distance. “Real dangerous, especially those killer bears armed with Uzis.”
She raised her chin. “What would you know?”
Plenty,” he shot back.
His vehemence surprised her. She stared him down for a few seconds, but his eyes never wavered from hers.
Granite nudged her shoulder, obviously bored. She turned her back on Jesse and mounted her horse in one fluid arc. It pleased her that now he had to look up at her. “You better get off this land. The cops round here don’t care for trespassers, Jesse.” She let the “e” on his name roll on for a bit. With that as her parting shot, she gathered the reins and effortlessly turned Granite. For some reason unfathomable to her, she wanted to make a grand exit and race off down the trail. Concern for her horse after his fall, though, forced her to depart at a graceful walk. Although she didn’t turn around to see if he was watching her, she sensed his eyes on her back.
Chapter Ten
At seven thirty on Saturday morning, it didn’t take Raines long to track down Scotty Pepper. He found him in the beat-up Airstream Scotty used as an office.
When Raines pulled into the driveway, Scotty opened the door of the trailer and leaned against the doorframe. Dressed in faded jeans with an open flannel shirt over a faded Metallica t-shirt, he hooked a thumb into the pocket of his jeans. He gave the impression that he was laid-back, but Raines knew he was about as relaxed as a rattlesnake sunning itself on a hot day. Scotty could strike at a moment’s notice, without hesitation, without any sign of fear. Although he hadn’t been the biggest kid on the high school football team, he never backed down, and he never gave up. This attitude gave him the edge on the playing field and probably facilitated his fast climb through the military’s elite.
“Hey, Pep. It’s been a while,” Raines said.
Scotty extended a scarred hand.
Raines shook it, noticing how the ragged scar appeared to run up under his sleeve all the way to his neck. At Nate’s trial, Scotty had been called to testify for the prosecution where they revealed that he’d served in the Special Forces.
If he was surprised to see Raines, his expression gave nothing away. “The girls okay?” He asked. There was a hint of concern in his voice.
His nieces were far from okay, but Raines said, “They’re doing the best they can.”
Scotty stared at him as if he were deciding something before heading back into the RV. “I have a pot of battery acid on if your stomach can handle it.”
“Should I grab the Rolaids out of the truck?”
“Sure, if you lack the cojones.”
Raines laughed and followed him inside. Scotty was leaner than he’d been in school, whittled down by training and combat. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days and the easy grin Raines remembered from their childhood was missing. Life in the desert had sandblasted away his wild, carefree attitude. He was all edge now, nothing soft or light-hearted.
While Scotty poured the coffee, Raines surveyed the RV. The Airstream had been gutted to its aluminum skin. The rear of the trailer was unfinished with a plastic sheet covering the back window, but the middle section housed a new kitchen. At the front end, a handmade oak counter that served as a desk hugged the right corner of the trailer. A wrap-around couch occupied the left corner.
Surveillance equipment that included a camera with a telescopic lens, a parabolic listening device, recording machines, binoculars and night vision glasses cluttered one side of the desk. A computer sat to the right of the window.
Raines said, “I’m having a Rockford Files flashback.”
Scotty rubbed his chin. Bristles rasped. “That was your dad’s favorite TV show, wasn’t it?”
In high school, Scotty played football with his brother and had practically lived at their house. “He’d have had one hell of a kick seeing you run a PI business out of an Airstream.”
Scotty smiled. “Remember he wore those sad polyester jackets like Rockford?”
Raines nodded. “They were cringeworthy—especially the brown plaid, but man was he proud of them.”
“Your dad was alright. Treated us neighborhood kids real good.”
The men were quiet for a moment, remembering his father, who’d been killed when Raines was a teenager.
Then Scotty said, “So, you’ve given it all up, Raines—the freedom, the women, the money, life on the road? I didn’t think you had it in you to stay put in one place this long.”
“The girls need me here.”
“Why not take them on the road with you?”
“They need stability.”
Scotty just nodded, but both of them knew Abbey and Melody needed a damn sight more than that.
Leaning back in his chair, Scotty cupped his hands behind his head and stared up at the RV’s curved ceiling. “I just never figured Nate would do something like that. He enjoyed doling out the punishment on the football field, and some with you, but I never saw him totally lose it. I just didn’t see it coming.”
“No one did,” Raines said.
Scotty shook his head. “Sherry was great. And the kids. Man. What they must be going through.” His words trailed off.
The last thing Raines wanted to do was discuss his nieces. Every day he woke with a sense of dread he was failing them, and he’d never find a way to help them. Familiar fear began to gnaw at his stomach. He didn’t have the skills to reach the girls. Perhaps if he’d had kids, he could have found the right words.
Scotty leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. He said, as if knowing it was time to change the subject, “The Silver Twinkie came courtesy of a client who couldn’t afford to pay his bill. Thought about taking it on the road for a while, but it still needs work. Makes for a good office, though. It’s a classic. A 1963 Flying Cloud. Classics seem to be something we have in common. Your ‘47 Ford is a sweet ride, but hey, you didn’t come over here to shoot the shit.”
Raines nodded. “I ran into Gabby Swinford last night.”
Scotty looked interested. “You have to love a one-on-one high school reunion.”
“She’s married with kids,” Raines responded with a shake of his head.
Scotty winked. “But she’s still hot as hell.”
Although the words were something
Scotty would say, his tone lacked his usual level of enthusiasm. It was the new Scotty attempting to play the old Scotty. “And she can still pack a punch if she doesn’t get her way,” Raines said, playing along with him. “She said you’ve been helping with the Beaupré investigation.”
The rising sun glimmered in through the small window making Scotty squint. “She called to let me know she’d told you about that.”
“So you think Beaupre’s dealing?” Raines asked.
“My hunch is he’s moving the crap over the border and handing it off, but he’s a smart bastard. Using the vacation homes he manages is a perfect cover. I’ve followed him a couple of times, but he’s too sneaky. I have all the equipment I need to nail him.” He pointed to the gadgets on his desk. “But he’s not dumb enough to get caught doing something on camera. Everything he does is behind curtains and locked doors. Short of jumping him, which Gabby talked me out of, it’s going to be tough to catch him at it.”
“What about your listening device?”
“I’ve tried, but he blasts music or has the TV on. My gut tells me he’s dirty. I just can’t prove it yet.”
Raines stretched his long legs out in front of him. The couch was inviting, and he was tired. “You’ve had experience with drug interdiction operations in the military?”
“Some.”
“Did you ever follow him to the Milbourne place?”
Although Scotty’s facial expression didn’t change, Raines detected a subtle stiffening of his body.
“No,” he said as he turned to stare out of the window directly into the sun.
Raines studied him. Although Scotty had been the class clown, his word had meant everything to him, and he’d always had a habit of looking a person right in the eye when he talked to them. Raines didn’t think Scotty was lying about following Beaupré to the Milbourne place, but there was something he wasn’t telling him. “So you know where the Milbournes live?”
Lonesome Lake Page 5
