Suspicious Circumstances
Page 21
Could someone have come through the back door? Renee ran there, too. She hadn’t heard anything else. Of course, it would be next to impossible to hear anything over Abby’s wails, the sound of which nearly broke Renee’s heart.
She called 911 even though she doubted the dispatcher could hear her. At least the person on the other end of the line would know Renee needed help.
The minute someone answered, she immediately rattled off her name and address. “I’m new in town and someone just broke into my house and tried to kidnap my daughter. Please send someone immediately. He’s out of the house but he could come back at any moment and bring friends.” The thought made her shudder.
Renee listened for a response. If one came, she couldn’t hear it. Abby was so worked up she was starting to choke.
The new life that was supposed to feel like a fresh start seemed to be collapsing around Renee. And she was hanging on by a thread.
* * *
US MARSHAL CASH O’CONNOR had had a night for the books. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he navigated his rental onto the highway heading northbound, home. The felony warrant he’d forced himself out of bed at two o’clock in the morning after a whopping hour and a half of sleep to serve had gone downhill faster than an out-of-control skier on his last run.
Not only had the scumbag arms dealer Cash was trying to pick up in Houston gotten away, but the jerk had shot up Cash’s service vehicle and nearly shot Cash. Traffic was bad on the I-45, making the drive back to Katy Gulch take twice as long as it should. Traffic on Texas highways was becoming as unreliable as spring thunderstorms. He never knew when they’d occur or how bad they’d get until the exact moment one struck.
It was late. Cash’s stomach growled for the third time. He was in no mood to stop off for a bite. All he wanted was to get home to his log cabin–style house on the O’Connor family ranch, heat up some brisket to make a sandwich and have a cold beer. He’d skip the alcohol because he was on call, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he could have one.
Instead, he’d made a pit stop for coffee. He took a sip. The cup of black coffee from the gas station that he desperately needed to keep him awake and alert tasted old and burned and a bit like what he imagined a sweaty foot might taste like. Cash figured he had no choice but to work with what he had, so he took another sip, willing the caffeine to kick in and boost his mood. To say he’d had a bad day was a lot like saying rattlesnake venom was poisonous.
A few more sips of coffee made it evident the caffeine would do little to combat his exhaustion.
It was early spring. The busiest season on the cattle ranch that his family owned and had operated for decades now. Four generations of O’Connors had worked or were working the Katy Bull Ranch, otherwise known as the KBR. And even though he and four of his brothers had other jobs, most of which were in law enforcement, everyone pitched in this time of year. Sleep was as rare as a unicorn sighting.
Finn O’Connor, the family’s patriarch, had always been the epitome of strength and honor and everything good about ranching life. He was a staple in the community of Katy Gulch and used the considerable fortune the family had amassed to benefit others through charitable work mostly headed up by Cash’s mother. Folks couldn’t help but admire the man’s generosity even if they did envy his life.
From an outsider’s view, the O’Connors had it easy—easy meaning they were wealthy. But no amount of money could bring back the daughter Margaret O’Connor hadn’t seen since the baby last slept in her crib at five months old. The heartache and loss Margaret and Finn endured had shaped the O’Connor family. Tragedy had a way of doing that. It wrote a different history for those affected. One of his brothers, Riggs, worked the ranch full-time. Each brother had a home on the property in a location of his choosing. Each was expected to take his rightful place on the land at some point in the future. For now, their father and Riggs kept business under control. But Pops hadn’t been himself lately. There’d been mention of him being ill but he’d reassured the family it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Finn O’Connor was made of tough stock. He was a good man and the kind of father most wished they’d had. He’d been married to Cash’s mother, Margaret Ann O’Connor, for the last forty-two years. Both sat on top of the O’Connor dynasty because of hard work, honesty and generosity.
Cash had noticed that Pops seemed more tired than usual. Cash chalked it up to springtime on a cattle ranch. He thought about the home that had been built for him as a gift for his twenty-first birthday that he had yet to claim. Most of his five brothers were in the same boat. Six boys. Six future inheritors of one of the largest fortunes in Texas. Not one who wanted either of their parents to die in order to fill a bank account. The O’Connor boys had all done fine in their own right. None were strangers to hard work.
There may have been six O’Connor boys but there’d been seven houses built. A lone home had been built for Cash’s only sister, Caroline, a sister he’d never met. Caroline had been kidnapped at five months old and the case had long since gone cold. Even so, their mother had started planning the house on what would have been Caroline’s birthday. Just like the others that would follow, the keys had been ready to be handed over exactly one year later. His mother had overseen every last detail, fretting over whether she’d picked out the right color rug for the main room or the perfect pillow sham for the bedroom. Hell, Cash wouldn’t even know what a pillow sham was if his mother hadn’t spoken about everything during the decorating process. The detailed planning for each home had commenced on each sibling’s twentieth birthday. The keys were delivered exactly one year to the day later.
Cash’s cell buzzed. With the way his day had gone he couldn’t help but wonder what now?
As soon as he glanced at his phone and saw his brother’s name, Cash pulled off the road and into a convenience store parking lot.
“What’s up, bro?” Cash answered before the call rolled into voice mail.
“Where are you?” Colton asked after a perfunctory greeting. Colton was the county’s sheriff. A call from him most likely didn’t signal good news.
“Getting close to my exit on the highway. Why?” Cash didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
“My office just got a call from our town’s newest resident on Cherry Street. Seems there was an attempted kidnapping involving her six-month-old daughter. Sounds like you’re closer to her street whereas I’m forty minutes away. There are no deputies in the area, either. Any chance you’d be willing to stop off and take the report?” Colton had no idea the day Cash had had.
“This bad guy still in the area?” Cash asked.
“It’s a possibility. Dispatch said they could barely make out what Ms. Smith said for a baby’s cries,” Colton said.
“I got your back.” Duty called and duty had always taken a front seat to Cash’s personal life. Besides, how much worse could his day get?
There was also something in Colton’s voice that didn’t sit right. Cash put the phone on Speaker and navigated back onto the highway.
“Everything good with you?” he asked Colton.
“It’s Mother. She’s probably worrying over nothing.” Colton paused a beat. “Pops isn’t answering his cell.”
“Is he out on the property?”
“I keep reminding her about the dead spots on the property and he’d last been around Hunter’s Rock,” Colton supplied.
“That place is the worst. I never get service out there.” The O’Connor ranch was vast and there were plenty of dead zones when it came to cell service. “Have you noticed that she’s been acting weird ever since Pops’s checkup last year?”
“I have.” Static came through the line, making it sound like Colton was on the move. “She’s been keeping Pops on what he jokes is a short leash.”
“I had the same thought.” Even so, Cash figured their father had gotten winded somewhere out on the p
roperty and was taking a minute to rest. It wasn’t too surprising that their father hadn’t answered any calls, considering all the patches of land with no cell service.
“This time, she’s not letting it go. She begged me to put together a team to go out and search for him. That’s the real reason for the call. She’s worked herself into a panic and I don’t think it’s a good idea that I leave her alone right now even though she practically tried to shove me out the door.”
“Did you call Gayle?” Their neighbor and Mother had been best friends for decades.
“She’s on her way now,” Colton admitted. “But if there is a kidnapper and he’s in the vicinity, you know better than anyone that time is always the enemy when it comes to criminal cases.”
“True,” Cash agreed. “You stay put. I’ll take the call. I’m almost there already. Keep me posted on Pops.”
“I will,” Colton promised. He supplied the basic details of the complaint.
The two ended the call as Cash pulled in front of 724 Cherry Street.
Cash walked up to the two-story farmhouse, surveying the quiet street for signs of anything out of the ordinary. The suspect might still be lurking, waiting for an opportunity for round two.
No two crime scenes were alike. No two calls the same. Variety was part of the reason Cash loved his job. But attempted kidnappings always made him think of his sister, Caroline.
He white-knuckled his cell phone as he cleared the porch steps, thinking about the impact the crime had had on his parents. It was strange how a ripple could affect so many lives after it was felt.
At least in this case, the kidnapper had failed. Even so, Cash knew firsthand just how much crime changed people, how much it had changed him.
Copyright © 2020 by Barb Han
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ISBN-13: 9781488067631
Suspicious Circumstances
Copyright © 2020 by Rita B. Herron
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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