Cold Case at Cobra Creek (21 page)

Sage struggled against the ropes as the fire began to eat the floor and rippled up the walls. The smoke was thick, curling through the air and clogging her lungs.

She was going to die.

And then she’d never know where her son was.

No...she couldn’t leave him behind. He needed her.

She kicked the chair over, searching blindly for a sliver of wood to use as a knife. She managed to grab a rough piece that had splintered from one of the rails and clutched it between her fingers. Then she angled and twisted her wrists and hands to get a better stab at the ropes.

Heat seared her body and scalded her back, and she used her feet to push herself away from the burning floor to a clear
patch
.
Her eyes stung from the smoke, and each breath took a mountain of effort. She curled her chin into her chest, breathing out through her mouth and focusing on sawing away at the ropes.

Wood crackled around her, the stall next to her collapsing. Sparks flew as the flames climbed the walls toward the ceiling. The building was so old, places were rotting, and it was going to be engulfed in seconds.

The sliver of wood jabbed her palm, and she winced and dropped it. Panicked, she fumbled to retrieve it and felt heat burn her fingers.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as pain rippled through her, then a piece of the barn loft suddenly crackled and popped, debris flying down to the floor around her.

* * *

D
UGAN RACED THROUGH
the flames to the inside, where the fire blazed in patches across the barn. The raw scent of burning wood and leather swirled in an acrid haze around him. He scrutinized the interior, searching as best he could with the limited visibility.

Tack room to the left, completely engulfed in flames.

Three stalls to the right. Two were ablaze.

Flames inched toward the third.

Smoke clogged the air like a thick gray curtain, forcing him to cover his nose with a handkerchief.

“Sage! Sage, where are you?” Maybe he was wrong, and she wasn’t here.

He hoped to hell he
was
wrong.

Wood splintered and crashed from the back. He dodged another patch as he ran toward the last stall. Fire sizzled and licked at the stall door.

“Sage!”

He touched the wooden latch. It was hot. Using the blanket to protect his hand, he pushed it open.

Sage was lying on the floor, her hands and feet tied to a chair. She wasn’t moving.

Terror gripped him, and he beat at the flames creeping toward her, slapping out the fire nipping at his boots. His feet were growing hot, but he ripped his knife from his back pocket, sliced through the ropes, then quickly picked Sage up in his arms.

She was so still and limp that fear chased at his calm. But he had to get them out.

“Sage, baby, I’ve got you.” She didn’t make a sound, but he thought he detected a breath. Slow and shallow, but she was alive.

He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, tucked her close to him and covered her with it, then darted from the stall. The front of the barn was sizzling and totally engulfed.

He scanned the interior, searching for a way out. An opening near the back door. Just enough to escape.

He clutched Sage to him, securing her head against his chest and tugging the blanket over her face as he ran through the patches of burning debris and out the back door. Flames crawled up his legs, but he continued running until he was a safe distance away. Then he dropped to the ground, still holding Sage as he beat the flames out with the blanket.

A siren wailed and lights twirled in the night sky as the fire engine raced down the dirt road toward them. They were too late to save the barn.

He hoped to hell they weren’t too late to save the woman in his arms.

* * *

S
AGE STIRRED FROM UNCONSCIOUSNESS
, disoriented and choking for a breath.

“Here, miss, you need oxygen.” A blurry-looking young woman pushed a mask over her face, and someone squeezed her hand.

“You’re okay, Sage. Just relax.”

Exhaustion and fatigue claimed her, and she closed her eyes, giving in to it. But her mind refused to shut down. Questions screamed in her head.

What had happened? Where was she? Where was Dugan?

Then reality seeped in, crashing against her, and she jerked and tried to sit up.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Dugan murmured.

She rasped the sheriff’s name, then looked through the haze and saw Dugan looking down at her, his forehead furrowed with worry.

“I called Jaxon. I’ll find Gandt, Sage, I promise.”

She wanted to believe him, to trust him, but Gandt had gotten away. And...he didn’t know where Benji was.

Tears clogged her eyes. If that was true, finding the sheriff didn’t matter. She still wouldn’t have her son.

She clawed at Dugan’s hand, silently begging him to move closer. A strangled sound came from her throat as she tried to say his name.

“Don’t try to talk,” Dugan whispered. “You need rest.”

She shook her head, frantic that he hear her, then shoved at her mask.

The medic tried to adjust it, but she pushed her hand away.

“Dugan...”

Dugan finally realized she needed to tell him something and leaned closer. “What? Do you know where he went?”

She shook her head, her eyes tearing from emotions or smoke, she didn’t know which. “Said...Benji...” She broke into a coughing spell.

Dugan clung to her hand. “Did he tell you where Benji is?”

She shook her head again, choking out the words between coughs. “Gandt killed Ron.”

“I know, and he sent Lloyd Riley to kill me.”

Sage’s face paled even more. “Said Benji not with Ron....”

“What?” Dugan sighed deeply. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, tears running down her cheeks, like a river.

He wiped them away and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Don’t give up. I will find him, Sage, I promise.”

Despair threatened to consume her, and she gave in to the fatigue and closed her eyes. She felt Dugan’s hand closing around hers, heard his voice whispering to her to hang on, and the paramedics lifted her into the ambulance.

Dugan squeezed her arm. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

She nodded. At least she thought she did. But she was too tired to tell.

Then the ambulance jerked, a siren rent the air and she bounced as the driver raced off toward the hospital and away from the burning barn.

* * *

D
UGAN HATED THE FEAR
in Sage’s eyes because it mirrored his own. If he’d been five minutes later, she would have died.

He shut out the thought. She hadn’t died, and the medics would take care of her.

He had to find Gandt.

But if Benji wasn’t with Lewis, and Gandt didn’t know his whereabouts, where was he?

He’d already phoned Jaxon while waiting on the ambulance, and Jaxon agreed to put out a statewide hunt for Gandt.

What the hell should he do now?

Gandt was missing. Lewis dead. Rankins dead. Carol Sue dead.

Who had Benji? Sandra Peyton?

He jumped in his SUV and followed the deputy to the sheriff’s office to make sure that he locked Riley up. He half expected Gandt to be cocky enough to be sitting in his office, with his feet propped up.

Did the sheriff know that Sage had survived? That Riley hadn’t killed Dugan?

Did he think he’d gotten away?

Itching to know, Dugan decided to check the man’s house. If he thought he’d gotten off scot-free, Gandt might be celebrating his good fortune. Or if he was afraid he was about to be caught, he might be packing to run.

Dugan knew where the man lived. Out on the river, by the gorge.

He whipped his SUV in that direction, eager to check it out.

Traffic was nonexistent on the country highway, the wilderness surrounding him as he veered off the main road and drove into the wooded property where Gandt lived.

The driveway was miles long, farm and ranch land sprawling for acres and acres.

Why Gandt was so greedy when he had all this, Dugan would never know.

When he neared the clearing for the house, he slowed and cut his lights.

He rolled up behind a tree and parked, pulled his gun and slipped through the bushes along the edge of the property. The sheriff’s car was parked in front of the house, one car door open.

Dugan slowly approached it, bracing for an ambush. But as he crept near the car and looked inside, he saw it was empty.

Breathing out in relief, he ducked low and walked along the fence until he reached the side of the porch, which ran the length of the front of the house.

The door screeched opened, and Gandt appeared. Dugan ducked low and watched, surprised at the sight of Gandt pushing a gray-haired woman in a wheelchair out the door.

“I don’t understand why I have to leave,” the woman said shrilly.

“Because I’m going away for a few days and can’t take care of you, Mother,” Gandt said, his tone contrite.

“Can’t you hire a nurse like you did before?”

“No, that costs a fortune. Gwen said you can come and stay with her.”

The woman laid a hand on Gandt’s arm. “But her husband doesn’t like me.”

“Mother,” Gandt said, his patience wearing thin in his voice, “just please try to get along with them. When I straighten things out, I’ll come back for you.”

He pushed her down a ramp attached to the opposite side of the porch.

“What do you have to get straightened out?” she cried.

Dugan stepped from the shadows, his gun drawn. The woman gasped, and Gandt reached for his weapon.

“Don’t,” Dugan said. “I’d hate to have to shoot you in front of your mother.”

The woman shrieked again. “Please don’t hurt us.” She clutched Gandt’s arm. “Who is this man?”

“My name is Dugan Graystone,” Dugan said. “I hate to tell you this, ma’am, but your son is not all you think he is.”

Her sharp, angry eyes pierced Dugan like lasers. “You have no right talking to me about my son. What are you, some criminal on the loose?”

“Mother, be quiet,” Gandt said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not the criminal here,” Dugan said. “Mrs. Gandt, your son tried to have me killed, and he tied Sage Freeport—”

“Shut up,” Gandt snarled.

“You don’t want your mother to know what kind of man her son really is?”

“My son is a wonderful man. He takes care of this town.”

“Mother—”

“He stole land from the ranchers and conned them. Then he shot Ron Lewis.” Dugan paused. “Did you kill Wilbur Rankins, too?”

The woman turned shocked, troubled eyes toward Gandt. “Son, tell him that’s not so....”

“It is true.” Dugan waved his gun toward Gandt. “Now I want to know where Sage Freeport’s little boy is.”

Gandt walked toward Dugan, his eyes oozing steam as if he refused to admit to any wrongdoing. “You have a lot of nerve coming to my house, carrying a gun and making accusations.” He handed his mother his phone. “Call my deputy and tell him to get over here right now.”

Dugan stepped forward, unrelenting. Did Gandt really think he could get away with all this? “Fine, tell him to come, Mrs. Gandt. Also tell him he’ll be arresting your son for murder.”

The older woman gasped and clutched at her chest.

Dugan dug the gun barrel into Gandt’s belly. “Now, where is Benji Freeport?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

A siren wailed, headlights lighting a path on the house as Jaxon roared up in his Texas Ranger truck.

Gandt cursed. “Let me take my mother back inside,” he said to Dugan. “Then we’ll talk.”

Dugan felt sorry for the older woman, but he shook his head. No way did he intend to let Gandt out of his sight. Not even for a minute.

Mrs. Gandt curled her arthritic hands in her lap, around the phone, fear mingling with doubt in her expression now. Had she suspected her son was helping to swindle the town? Or that he was capable of murder?

Jaxon’s car door slammed, and he strode toward them.

“Sheriff Gandt,” Jaxon said. “You are under arrest for the murder of Ron Lewis and for the attempted murder of Sage Freeport.” He read the sheriff his rights.

Gandt reared his head, shock on his face. He hadn’t known Sage had survived. “You have no evidence of any crime I’ve committed. I’m the law around here.”

“As a matter of fact, Sage Freeport is alive and she will testify that you tied her into the barn and set fire to it.”

Gandt’s mother gasped, her expression reeking of shock. “No, no...tell them, son, you didn’t do those awful things.”

“Lloyd Riley also claims that you blackmailed him into helping and ordered him to kill me,” Dugan added.

“And speaking of evidence,” Jaxon said, “I just got confirmation from ballistics that the bullet that killed Wilbur Rankins is the same caliber you use, so add on another murder charge.” Jaxon took handcuffs from inside his jacket. “Put your hands behind you, Gandt.”

Gandt shifted to the balls of his feet, jerking his hands as Jaxon grabbed his arms. “Mother, call Sherman, my lawyer,” he snarled.

“No one is going to get you off,” Dugan said. “Because you’re going to pay for what you’ve done to Sage and to the people in this town.”

Jaxon snapped the handcuffs around Gandt’s wrists, then spun him back around. “Do you know what happened to Benji Freeport? Did you kill him, too?”

Gandt shook his head. “I told that woman he wasn’t with Lewis. I have no idea where he is.”

Dugan ground his molars. Gandt was already facing murder and attempted murder charges, along with fraud charges.

Why wouldn’t he tell them where the boy was?

Because he really didn’t know. Which meant they might never find Benji.

* * *

S
AGE WOKE IN
the hospital to find Dugan sitting by her bed. He looked worn out, his face thick with beard stubble, his eyes blurry from lack of sleep, his expression grim.

She broke into another coughing spell, and Dugan handed her a glass of water and held the straw for her to drink. “What time is it?”

“About four in the morning. You okay?”

Was she? She’d nearly died. And she still didn’t have her son back. “I’ll live,” she said softly.