Jake (35 page)

Using Jake’s hunting knife, Cory made one quick slash at the ropes.

His confidence restored, Blain gave a chilling smile. “Don’t worry about the pretty counselor or the brat, cowboy. I intend to take real good care of—”

Jake watched as Blain slowly squeezed the trigger. The roar of an explosion followed, and Jake waited to feel the pain of dying.

Instead, he saw Blain turn to Meg with a look of complete astonishment, before clutching his chest and falling forward.

Jake managed to scramble out of the way, his arm dangling uselessly at his side as he slumped to the ground.

Meg and Cory fell on him, tears streaming from their faces.

“Please don’t die, Jake,” Cory was saying over and over. “I was trying so hard to cut through Meg’s ropes, but I wasn’t fast enough. It took me too long.”

Jake wanted to reassure the boy that he’d done just fine, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. He could feel himself fading, and struggled to hold on.

Meg, the ropes still dangling from her wrists, was wiping the blood from his face, and kissing him over and over, while Cory just clung to him and cried.

“Hey, city girl,” Jake managed. “At least you didn’t shoot yourself in the foot.”

Meg began laughing through her tears. And all Jake could do was lie there, somewhere between extreme pain and wild relief, while an army of people began milling around.

Someone jabbed a needle into Jake’s arm and shouted for a gurney.

Everett Fletcher’s voice could be heard above the din. “Turner’s alive. I want him kept alive. He has a lot to answer for. Get me a stretcher. We need a medevac for this creep.”

In all the chaos Cole and Big Jim were barking orders. Quinn, Josh, Cheyenne, and Sierra kept asking questions that nobody bothered to answer.

Jake caught glimpses of a whole host of strangers. Police bagging evidence. Police photographers snapping pictures. Raven and his people talking frantically into phones. Yancy and his wranglers moving through the crowd, like extras in a movie.

Overhead helicopters hovered.

Nearby horses whinnied.

None of it mattered.

Meg was safe.

Cory was safe.

His upside-down world had righted itself.

Life didn’t get much better.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Cole brought his face close to Jake’s. “Meg said you’ve been shot. How bad is the pain?”

Jake gave his father a lopsided grin. “You ever been shot, Pa?”

His father nodded. “Once.”

“You remember how it hurt?”

“Real bad, as I recall.”

“That’s about it.”

“Okay. The state police have already alerted Doc Walton at the clinic. You can take their copter, or Big Jim and I will fly you there.”

Jake turned to Cory, who hadn’t let go of him since he’d dropped to the ground. “How would you like to fly to town with me?”

“You mean it? In a real airplane?”

“Yeah.”

The boy’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Can Meg come, too?”

Jake turned to Meg, who was busy snapping Sierra’s denim jacket over her torn shirt.

When she returned to kneel beside him his eyes narrowed. “Did that bastard…hurt you?”

“There wasn’t time. Thanks to you.”

“Thank heaven.” Jake gave her a long, appraising look before his lips split into a teasing grin. “I sort of liked the way you looked before. But I guess, with all these guys milling about, modesty is called for.”

“Jake Conway.” She closed a hand over his. “How can you keep making jokes at a time like this?”

“Just my nature, I guess. Besides, I’m floating. Must be that shot they gave me.” He looked at their joined hands. “How’re you holding up?”

“Fine.” She took in a deep breath and gave a quick shake of her head. “And isn’t that amazing? I mean, considering what we’ve been through, it’s a miracle that we can smile.”

“It beats crying.” He nodded toward Cory. “You going to ask Meg if she’d like to go flying?”

She looked from Jake to Cory and back. “What’s this about?”

“Pa’s going to fly me to Dr. Walton’s clinic in Paintbrush. I was hoping you and Cory would go along.”

She could see the pleading look in Cory’s eyes, though he didn’t say a word.

She squeezed Jake’s hand. “Let’s see. We’re miles from civilization. We’ve created more excitement than this sleepy place has probably seen in a while. We’ve got nothing better to do. I’d say it’s the perfect time for a plane ride.”

The familiar comfort of the Conway ranch was a soothing balm after the chaos of the crime scene, and the frantic activity in the clinic. Dr. Walton had sedated her patient before removing the bullet from his shoulder and stitching his wounds. She’d sent him home with a warning to take it easy, though she doubted Jake Conway knew the meaning of the phrase.

The family gathered in the great room after a fabulous dinner of slow-roasted beef swimming in rich gravy, whipped potatoes, fresh garden vegetables, and homemade bread. Three strawberry pies sat cooling on the counter, along with a bowl of fresh whipped cream, which they would enjoy soon with their coffee.

It was obvious that Phoebe and Ela had spent the day cooking and baking, in order to calm their nerves.

“You two fine ladies outdid yourselves.” Big Jim patted his middle as he settled into his favorite chair.

Jake, swathed in dressings at his head and shoulder, reclined on the sofa in front of the fire, surrounded by pillows to cushion his injury. He’d been content to sip some chicken soup.

Cole tucked his cell phone away to announce, “Chief Fletcher and Raven are here with the report from the state police.”

He walked from the room and returned minutes later with the police chief and the private detective.

Within minutes both men were given steaming cups of coffee and made comfortable before Phoebe and Ela began passing out plates of pie and whipped cream.

Cole received a sliver of pie with a mound of fresh strawberries. He opened his mouth to complain, then quickly closed it when he saw the look in Phoebe’s eyes.

“Okay, Everett.” Cole sat back and sipped his hated decaf. “What have you found out?”

“Our guy’s going to live. And believe me, he’ll do hard time, because we found the truck he’d intended to use to make his escape, about a mile from the crime scene, along a dirt road. The truck belonged to old Mule Bremmer over in Caseville. Shot dead for a measly truck.”

“Mule Bremmer.” Big Jim shook his head sadly. “I’ve known him for fifty years. A hard-working rancher.”

“With no family. That’s why Blain Turner targeted him. He figured he’d be in Canada before anybody noticed the old guy missing.”

“Has Turner said what this is all about?” Cole asked.

The chief turned to the detective. “I think Raven can fill you in better than I can. All I have are the things our state boys have been able to uncover. But Raven’s file is a lot more detailed.”

Raven set aside his coffee. “As you know, Turner was in the foster-care system in Michigan at the same time as Hazel Godfrey, who later changed her name to Arabella.” He glanced at Cory, who had lowered his head to avoid looking at anyone.

Old Ela crossed over to where Cory was sitting and took hold of his hand. He looked up and she smiled. “Come with me. I have a special dessert for you.”

He glanced around, then allowed her to lead him to the kitchen. Once the boy was gone, the others breathed a sigh of relief.

Raven said, “Hazel Godfrey was eager to get away from an abusive foster father, and Turner was her means of escape. She gave him the keys to the foster father’s car, and they drove across the country in a crime spree. As far as my operatives can determine, Hazel didn’t commit the crimes. She just went along. I’m not even sure she knew just how vicious Turner could be. At least until much later.”

He opened a file folder. “At that time Turner was eighteen and Hazel was fifteen. Once they got to Wyoming they did odd jobs to pay for a cheap motel room. But Turner had a problem.” Raven looked up. “Drugs. And that gets to be expensive. So when he learned that a rich rancher had lost his wife, he suggested that Hazel apply for a job cleaning his house. Turner figured she could steal enough from Stanford to take care of his needs.

“But once she got the job, their relationship changed. Porter Stanford had two weaknesses. Women and folks who were down on their luck, as he’d once been. Hazel played into both his weaknesses. Seeing how thin she was, he started asking her to stay and eat dinner with him. When winter came he bought her a warm parka.

“And then one night she didn’t come back to the motel room she shared with Turner. That’s when Turner decided he was losing her. So he suggested that she marry Porter, so she would have access to his bank account. That worked for a while, but it all went south when she found out she was having a baby. Porter was ecstatic, and Hazel found out what it felt like to be really treasured. That’s when Turner became desperate. He’d lost his access to money.

“So he came up with a new scam. He threatened to go to Porter and tell him that Hazel had only married him for his money. Then he ‘persuaded’ her that she’d better go along, or that abusive foster father she’d escaped would look like heaven next to what Turner had in mind for her.”

Meg, who had been silent until now, gasped. “He beat her?”

“On a pretty regular basis, from what I could gather.” Raven turned the page of documents. “When Hazel died, that should have been the end of it. But by then Blain Turner was deeply into drugs, and he had no credit with his drug dealers. Desperate, he showed up at Porter’s house and demanded money.”

“I hope my father threw him out,” Meg said softly.

Raven looked at her. “That appears to have been his intention. But Blain must have said something that persuaded Porter to give him money. Porter withdrew a thousand dollars from the bank and gave it to Turner. That same day, Porter had his heart attack, and once again Turner was cheated out of a scam because of death. By the same token, we’re cheated out of knowing what Turner had on Porter to get him to pay in the first place.”

Cole leaned forward. “Is that why Blain broke into Porter’s house the night Meg arrived? Was he looking for more money?”

Raven shook his head. “That’s where it gets confusing. He had apparently targeted Meg. But why? What could he possibly have on her that would make her susceptible to his blackmail scam? Whatever he had on Porter couldn’t possibly matter to his daughter.” He closed his document file. “I have my people working on it. We hope to have more in the next day or two. And the state police are still interviewing Turner. We’re hoping he might tell us—”

They all looked over when the door to the kitchen was shoved open and Cory paused in the doorway. Old Ela stood behind him, looking perplexed.

“Ela said I should stay in the other room and eat my cookies, but I heard what you said, and I have to tell you something.” Cory looked at Jake, and then at Big Jim. “Before my mom died, Blain used to come to our house sometimes and talk to her. He had her cell phone number, and when he asked for mine, I gave it to him. I thought he was my mom’s friend. After she died, I didn’t see him again for a long time.”

The little boy looked at Big Jim. “Do you remember when you said women have to be taken care of? No matter how strong they are?”

Big Jim nodded. “I remember, boyo.”

Cory took a deep breath. “The night Blain Turner broke into the house and tossed my dad’s files all over the office, he texted me to say that was how easy it would be to hurt Meg. So if I didn’t want to see her hurt, I had to do what he said. But I…I didn’t. And so he did it again. Once we came here, I figured he wouldn’t be able to hurt Meg. But then she moved back home and I…” He forced himself to go on. “I was a coward and stayed here where I wouldn’t have to see what Blain was doing.”

“You’re not a coward, Cory.” Meg rushed to his defense. “You’re just a little boy. How could you—?”

“He said I could stop him any time if I would just meet him. But I was afraid he’d take me away, ’cause that’s what he’d told my dad the night he came asking for money. But then, after Big Jim said women had to be taken care of, I decided that I had to do the right thing, even though I was scared.”

“You went because of me?” Meg was staring at him with a look of confusion. “I don’t understand, Cory. What could he do to me?”

“He said he’d kill you, and then he’d ruin the good names of my dad and mom and you. And all because—” he sucked in a big breath before saying the words in a rush so they wouldn’t hurt too much “—because I’m not Dad’s son. I’m Blain’s.”

Everyone in the room had gone deathly silent. So silent, they could hear the ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantel.

Meg and Jake reacted at the same moment. Meg was at the boy’s side, gathering him into her arms. “Hush now, Cory. You don’t know that.”

She led him to the sofa and Jake held out his good arm, drawing him close. Meg sat beside him, holding the boy’s hand in hers.

Jake kept his tone gentle. “You already know that Blain is a liar, Cory. What makes you think he was telling the truth this time?”

The little boy swallowed hard. “I saw Blain Turner the night he came to see my dad. I was supposed to be upstairs in my room, but I was scared, because they were talking loud, and I hid in the hallway. He told my dad that if he didn’t pay him a lot of money, he’d take me away and my dad wouldn’t be able to stop him because…” The boy’s lips began to quiver and he looked from Jake to Meg before saying, “…because I wasn’t really Dad’s son. My dad got real quiet, and then he agreed to pay him a lot of money, but only if he’d go away and never bother us again. Blain said he would, but he lied.”

“Yes, he lied,” Jake said firmly. “He’s a habitual liar. And there’s no reason to believe he was telling the truth about you, either.”

“None of it matters now. What he told my dad hurt him so much he died.” Cory turned to Meg. “I saw him give Blain Turner the money, and right after Blain drove away, Dad sat down in his chair and died.” It was the first time he’d talked about it, and the memories were so painful, the little boy burst into tears.