Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) (14 page)

Jamey’s fist whipped out and caught McHugh’s jaw.

The man staggered back, his face mirroring shock. The two guys behind him backed up a pace.

The pimply-faced ice cream scooper’s voice called out. “You guys take it someplace else, or I’m calling the cops.”

He wasn’t going anywhere until the slimeballs in this town got the message—Esme Morales was off-limits. Anyone who messed with her was going to get his ass kicked by Jamey Brenner. “Get b-back to the truck, Esme. Drive on home.”

She whimpered but held her ground.

Jamey’s fist shot out again, pushing deep into McHugh’s soft, fatty midsection. That should get the bastard on his knees. It did. McHugh crumpled like a condemned building on demolition day. He crouched on all fours, coughing and sputtering. His companions melted into the night like cowardly dogs.

In the distance, a police siren began to wail. Flirty’s other customers drew closer to the drama. Jamey pushed McHugh’s head up. “Miss Esme is off-limits unless you want to d-deal with me again.”

“Jamey, it’s fine.” Esme whispered the words.

“No, Esme, it’s not fine.”

“You gonna follow her around all the time?” McHugh spat out the words along with some blood.

“Guess you haven’t learned to mind your manners yet, McHugh. Come on then.” Jamey put up his fists.

McHugh roared and staggered to his feet. As he straightened, he delivered a roundhouse that glanced off Jamey’s nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils. Esme screamed. Jamey swiped at the blood.

“I’m fine.”

The siren was close now.

He went for McHugh’s beer gut again, aiming for the solar plexus this time and finding his target. As he doubled over, Jamey drove his fist into McHugh’s chin. The man landed on his ass with a piggish grunt.

With squealing rubber and the flash of red lights, a squad car bore down on Flirty’s, bouncing over the curb and halting inches from McHugh’s slumped body.

“Don’t mess with Miss Esme,” said Jamey as he backed away.

McHugh spit more blood from his mouth. “No need to get all riled up, Brenner. We didn’t think Miss Esme minded a little fun.”

“I mind.”

Swope emerged from the cruiser. His eyes took in Jamey’s bloody nose and disheveled clothes, slid over to Esme, then back to Jamey again. His mouth widened into a yellow grin. “I’ll be damned. You defending the womanfolk, Brenner? I think we got ourselves our own Lone Ranger right here in El Royo.”

The adrenaline rush that sustained Jamey during the fight drained away. His nose throbbed and his fist burned. But the fight seemed to have invigorated Esme.

“This man was harassing me.” She nodded her head at McHugh.

“That so?”

McHugh looked up at Swope, but he didn’t stand. “Just having a little laugh with the boys.”

“You approached me and touched your genitals and tried to solicit sex from me.” Esme raised her chin and met Swope’s eyes. “Who are you going to believe?”

The knot of onlookers in the parking lot murmured in agreement. “I saw him like sort of grabbing himself,” said a girl. “It was so gross.” “Eww,” her friend added. A man called out, “I heard what he said to the lady. I wanted to pop him, too.”

Swope sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to take you in again for drunk and disorderly, McHugh. Can’t even stay out of trouble at the ice cream parlor, can you?”

Chapter Nineteen

When he could see the cabin clearly, Rafe stowed the Jeep behind a boulder and hiked in. He looked back just once. Daisy’s head poked from the half-open passenger window, and she was crying softly. But he couldn’t risk bringing her.

Scrub and rubble blanketed the ground between the Jeep and the cabin. Rafe made full use of the cover, darting from object to object until he was just steps from the cabin. The windows had been covered with butcher paper, and the sliver of light he’d seen glowed from a small gap in a window. There was one door, which led out to a gravel-covered yard and a thin thread of dirt road heading east toward the main highway.

Oddly, there was no car. He scanned the desolate terrain running off in every direction clear to the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, a lone coyote barked. Had the kidnappers hiked in, dragging their hostage with them? Unlikely. He jogged out to the road and stooped down to study it. A ribbon of fresh tire marks led to the cabin, then back out again.

A man’s voice, muffled and indistinct, seeped through a window drawing Rafe back to the cabin. A woman cried out, “I’m telling the truth! You’ll see.”

Dinah.

The cabin door opened, spilling light into the gravel yard, and a man emerged. He was tall and thin, and he leaned on a cane. He carried a hunting knife, the blade curved for slicing, the tip narrow for gutting prey. The man turned his head in Rafe’s direction, and the light from inside caught his features.

Gerry Sutton. Rafe jumped back.

“Is someone there?” Sutton called.

Jesus, Maria, y José.
Rafe held his breath until the scrape of Sutton’s cane faded. The ear-splitting sound of metal on stone filled the air. Was Sutton sharpening his knife?
Puta madre
, he wished the money would turn up before anyone else was killed.

Rafe slid around the corner and crept to the open door.

For a house of horrors, the cabin was welcoming, with a ring of over-stuffed couches and chairs and bright red Navaho rugs. The walls were covered with Native American artifacts—a shadow box of arrowheads, bows, an elaborate headdress, and hatchets of stone, hung at threatening angles. A small kitchenette held a refrigerator and gas stove. Two mugs sat atop a café table. Very cozy.

Rafe snatched a hatchet from the wall and crept across the cabin. Faint scrapping sounds vibrated from behind a door. He turned the knob quietly and steadied himself to face resistance. Then he pushed in.

The small room held a bed, a dresser, a side table and Dinah. She was lashed to a chair, a black cloth bag pulled over her head.

“Dinah? Are you okay?”

“Rafe?”

“Yeah.”

“What took you so long? I’m about to get myself carved up into bite-size pieces and fed to the vultures.”

He began to breathe again. She was okay. “You were supposed to keep your cell phone on your person. I’ve been driving around in circles for the past hour looking for you.” He left the door open a crack so he’d hear Sutton coming and turned his attention to Dinah.

She blinked up at him when he pulled the sack off her head, and a sour taste filled his mouth. A livid bruise—black and purple and gold—circled her eye.

“I didn’t plan on getting kidnapped,” she said.

“Did Sutton hit you?”

“He tried to get me to drink some of that vile tea we found at Lonnie’s. I spit it in his face. I guess he didn’t like that much.” She grinned at him.

His heart swelled. No matter how hard he fought it, he had a thing for tough women.

She wiggled in the chair. “Mr. Gerry will be coming back soon. Better get me untied.”

“You saw him?”

“Recognized his voice. I guess his leg is better than he’s been letting on.”

“Guess so.”

“Do you have a knife for these ropes?” she asked him. “They’ll take forever to unknot.”

Outside, the grinding stopped. “No.”

“I suppose it would be too much to expect you to be carrying.”

“Got one.” He surveyed Dinah and the chair and the rope. “But it’s not loaded. Lean forward as far as you can.”

“Why.”

“Do it.” The scrape of uneven footsteps grew louder.

“Hell.” She bent her head.

He pressed a hand against the back of her head to protect her, then swung the hatchet against the chair. The spindles cracked. Dinah jerked.

“Steady, Di.” He dropped the hatchet and tore the back in half. “Okay, hon, lean back.”

She did, putting enough slack in the rope to pull it over the broken spindles. The loosened bonds slipped off her arms.

“Thanks. That feels so good.” She stretched her arms over her head and flexed her fingers.

The brush of shoes on the outside steps echoed through the cabin.

He gazed down at her feet, still tied to the chair. “I should have packed a knife.”

“No problem.” She pulled her knees up and her feet slipped out of their bonds. “I wasn’t going down without a fight.”

He picked up the hatchet. “Good girl. Stay behind me.”

She nodded.

“As soon as I have Sutton distracted, you get out of here. Run east, toward Osito, but stay away from the dirt road. Keep the cabin in sight. When you’re about a hundred yards out, get down and wait for me. Okay?”

She frowned. “What about Hollyn?”

“Hollyn?”

“She was there when I got kidnapped.”

“She’s not in the main room, and I didn’t see her outside.”

Her eyes grew round and fearful.

“Let’s get you out of here first,” he said. “After I arrest Sutton, we’ll get answers about Hollyn. Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

He surveyed the sliver of main room through the crack in the door. Nothing stirred, but Sutton had to be close by. He looked back at Dinah and pressed a finger to his lips. She nodded and mouthed, “Good luck.”

One, two, three, go.
He slammed the bedroom door open and burst into the main cabin, holding the hatchet high. Sutton was standing by the front door with a rifle aimed right at Rafe’s head. Rafe pulled up short. Dinah thudded against him. He lowered the hatchet. Reaching back with one hand, he pressed her tightly against his spine with his arm. A futile gesture since a shotgun blast, especially at this range, would slice through him and her at the same time.

“I heard you were sweet on Miss Dinah. Guess the story is true.”

Sutton held the rifle with clenched fists, his arms tense, his mouth a thin line of concentration. The scent of fear rose from Sutton’s body and stung Rafe’s eyes. Not a man accustomed to holding people at gunpoint.

“Put the axe down.” Sutton wagged the rifle butt at Rafe.

Rafe bent slowly. “Okay, Mr. Sutton.”

Sutton shifted his weight, and his injured leg quivered. He was physically spent, too. Hard to believe this guy pushed Teke over a bridge and dragged Lonnie out to the garage. Must have been the boy.

“I’m a police officer, Mr. Sutton. Drop your weapon before someone gets hurt.”

Sutton glowered at him.

Rafe released Dinah and offered Sutton his hands, palms up. “I came here in peace, Mr. Sutton. I want to help you.” Sutton didn’t move, but he was listening. “Do you know what the State of Texas does to cop killers?”

“You’re not on duty. You’re here because of her.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Rafe took a step forward. “Give me the gun, and we’ll sit down and talk about this situation you got yourself into. See if we can’t figure something out.”

Sweat was dripping down Sutton’s face, and his bright red hair had turned dark and damp. He waved the barrel of his rifle at Rafe. “I give the orders around here.”

“Sure, Mr. Sutton.” Rafe held Sutton’s gaze as he inched closer to the barrel. “What would you like us to do?” Cool air touched the back of his neck. Dinah had drawn away from him.
Good girl. Get ready to run.

Something moved near the door. Rafe broke his gaze from Sutton. Daisy stood on the threshold, ears up, teeth barred, tail high.
How did she squeeze through the window?
When Sutton twisted his head to follow Rafe’s eyes, Rafe grabbed the rifle barrel and yanked it. The rifle flew out of Sutton’s hands, throwing Rafe off balance. He staggered backward, struggling to find his footing with the barrel of a loaded and cocked rifle in his hands.

“Go, Di.”

He breathed the words at her, and her feet sprang into motion. The slap of her flip-flops passed him, then stopped.

Mierda. Keep going.

Rafe righted himself. Sutton held Dinah hard against his chest, the sharpened buck knife glinted at her throat.

“Think I’m some kind of cripple, Morales?” Sutton’s face was flushed. His pale eyes blazed with fury.

“Of course not, Mr. Sutton.” Rafe’s heart was pounding so hard, his throat vibrated.

“Then why’d you try that?”

Rafe set the gun on the floor and kicked it away. “I’m sworn to protect the public. That includes Miss Dinah, here. She’s an innocent victim.”

“She has the money.”

Dinah’s eyes narrowed. “No—”

“Shut your mouth.” Sutton nicked the base of her throat. A thin, red line wept blood.

Rafe caught her eyes.
Just relax and stay calm.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod of her head. Most women would be hysterical by now, but not his Dinah. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hug her. But first, he had to get them both out of hell.

Daisy growled and snapped at Sutton.

“Better control that dog, Morales.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Sutton. Daisy Mae’s just a little nervous is all.” He snapped his fingers at the dog. “Come.”

The dog came to Rafe, yipping at Sutton as she passed him and giving Dinah’s leg a nudge.

“Seems like you got a problem, Mr. Sutton. If you hurt Miss Dinah”—he couldn’t get his tongue around the word “kill”—“there goes the goose with the golden egg. Plus, I’ll have no reason to hold back on you, and you’ll be trussed up and on your way to the state pen before you know it.”

Sutton’s eyes narrowed and shifted toward the open door.

“Stay with me here. How can I help you solve this problem so you can go back to your nice house, and Miss Dinah, here, can keep on reading those tarot cards for all the El Royo ladies, and I can close this case and make my Sarge happy?”

“Don’t bullshit me. I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to make me think if I let Miss Dinah go, I can walk out of here free and clear.”

“Maybe you can. I mean what crimes have been committed so far?”

“I know it’s too late for you to let me off. Besides, I need that money so I can start over again in South America.”

“Miss Dinah told the truth. She doesn’t know where the money is.”

“Even her daddy knew better. I’m done talking.” He pulled Dinah toward the cabin door. “You stay right where you are if you want your lady love to keep on breathing.”

Rafe’s hand knew what he was going to do even before Rafe did, and it started to shake. He kept his gaze on Dinah’s face and willed himself to pull his gun. He closed his palm around the grip and slid the unloaded Beretta from the shoulder holster. The metal burned in his hand as he raised the gun and aimed it at Sutton’s head. But his hand quivered so badly, he couldn’t even pretend to aim a freaking useless gun.
Why didn’t I bring Swope? How can I ever face myself if Sutton hurts Dinah?
He tried to curl his finger around the trigger, but it refused to bend.
Why pretend?
He wasn’t fooling anyone except maybe himself. His arm dropped heavily to his side, and the gun dangled uselessly in fingers turned to stone.

Sutton’s eyes were fixed on the gun. So were Dinah’s. They both raised their heads when his arm fell. Dinah’s face reflected horror. But Sutton smiled, and his eyes glittered with malice.

“Makes sense now. Folks were wondering why you left Dallas and came back to El Royo. You lost your nerve, didn’t you?” He jerked Dinah through the open door. “My assistant will be returning with the car any minute. Miss Dinah and I will wait out here. You best stay in the cabin if you don’t want anything to happen to your girl.”

As Sutton hauled Dinah over the threshold, she hooked a leg around the doorjamb. The sudden jerk caught Sutton off-guard, and his bad leg buckled. He fell in the doorway, knee bent beneath him, dragging Dinah down on top of him.

Before captor and hostage had fully touched down, Rafe launched himself, sailing through the air like a defensive end and landing hard on top of Dinah. Her breath whooshed out as his body crushed her, but he didn’t have time to get her out of the way. Under Dinah, Sutton’s gimpy leg, already bent in the fall, was crushed under Rafe’s weight. The sickening sound of his kneecap cracking echoed through the cabin. Sutton screamed and brought the knife up. It glinted in the cabin light, and Rafe, feeling the strength in his hand return, grabbed the wrist and stopped the knife inches from Dinah’s face. He bent Sutton’s hand back, until the knife fell harmlessly to the floor.

He rolled off Dinah and Sutton. Dinah scrambled to her feet, unscathed and spitting fire. She kicked at Sutton’s arm. “You son of a bitch. Where’s the pregnant girl?”

Sutton was curled around his twisted leg, moaning and keening. “Help me.”

She pressed a foot against his injured leg threateningly. “Tell me where she is.”

With a loud bark, Daisy bound forward and grabbed the cuff of Sutton’s pants. She shook it vigorously. Sutton screamed with pain. “Get that dog away from me!”

“Sure thing, Mr. Gerry,” said Dinah. “First you tell me where the girl is.”

It looked like Sutton was about to pass out. His face was pure white, and his eyes were glazed. Rafe tried to pull Daisy away from Sutton. “Dinah—”

But Dinah turned on him. “What if Hollyn had the baby? Or what if she’s hurt?”

Sutton moaned. “I need help. Please.”

Rafe pulled out his phone. “The hospital and all the pain medication you can handle is just a phone call away. But first you need to tell Miss Dinah where the pregnant girl is.”

Sutton closed his eyes. “She ran away. I swear.”