SHATTERED (6 page)

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “I just fell asleep. It had been a horrible forty-eight hours leading up to that point. I’d closed the door to the stall and it was relatively warm and there was fresh straw.... Dad must have done that earlier. The horse kind of snuffled around and I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, Skipjack was blowing hot air on my face and it was darker inside the barn. I got up and peeked outside. The weather had really deteriorated since I’d last looked. A couple of hours or more must have passed.... The silver car was gone and Dad’s truck was still where he’d parked it. I didn’t know if Dad had left with the other guy or not, but I knew I needed to check.”

“Why did you need to check all of a sudden?” Nate asked. “You’d been content to stay hidden up to that point.”

“I had a dream,” she said, amazed with herself for sharing this. “In my dream someone...well, someone I feel responsible for was drowning and I couldn’t help. I was frozen in place. Powerless. When I woke up, I admitted to myself that I needed Dad’s help, and if he was still here, I had to go ask for it.” She didn’t tack on the word
again,
but it played in her mind.

“Why would he have refused to help you?” Nate asked gently.

She equivocated just a little. “You have to understand that we parted on a really sour note last fall. We both said things— Well, it’s too late for regrets, but I still have them. Lately, we’d been talking by phone and he just started to get odder and odder.”

“Like how?”

She took a deep breath. “He talked about Pearl Harbor a lot. He was way too young to have ever been in World War II and I know he’s never been to Hawaii, so I didn’t get what he was going on about. Maybe he wanted to move. I don’t know. Then he started going on about Washington. I explained I had moved from there to Virginia, but he passed that off as though I hadn’t even spoken. He was impatient and scattered—I mean, he was all over the map. Talking about the newspaper articles written after the shooting and the mayor of Shatterhorn and how you and he and that other guy had been called patriots for what you did. I really began to think the shootings had unhinged him.”

“I know what you mean,” Nate said softly. “His emails were getting bizarre.”

“Exactly. He was obsessed with reading about terrorist groups and civilian militia movements and a whole bunch of other stuff. Like I said, I know he’d been hounding everybody. Then he went off on a group called People’s Liberation. He was sure they were behind some incident—”

“The shooting in Hawaii last December,” Nate interjected. “Maybe that’s why he was talking about Pearl Harbor. The victims were off-duty sailors.”

“Then you know about this group’s involvement?”

“I’ve read things. Some believe their claims, some don’t. The Hawaiian shooter was an out-of-work malcontent who had been rejected by the navy. No one ever heard about any motive he might have had. But what did Mike think the newspaper editor of a small Nevada town could do about any of this?”

“I don’t know, Nate. I have to admit I tuned him out after a while.”

Nate nodded. The look in his eyes made her think that he, too, had occasionally tuned out her father’s ranting.

“Okay, so you were going to go talk to him. Then what?”

“I walked across the yard and found Dad’s front door open. That seemed really ominous because it was cold and snowing.” She paused again, catching her breath. “Dad was right where you found him. I’d never seen any dead person before, let alone someone I...I was close to, so I felt for a pulse, but I think I knew he was already gone. I also knew there was nothing I could do for him and that time was running out for me to save my— So, I...I started searching the house, you know, to see if he’d been robbed.”

Nate cocked an eyebrow. “That’s why you searched the house?”

She looked away and didn’t respond directly. “I found his computer was gone along with a notebook he used to jot things down. I looked to see if there was anything else missing, thought of the safe, and that’s where I was when I heard you arrive. You know the rest.”

Nate shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact, I don’t know the rest. What are you looking for and why? Who are you trying to protect? Why are you lying about owning the car? What difference does it make?”

Sarah leaned toward him, fighting the desire to lay her troubles before this near stranger.

“You have to know how this is going to look to the cops when they’re finally notified,” he continued. “Your unwillingness to be up front concerning your father’s murder makes it look like you were in cahoots with someone and that someone killed your father and now you’re protecting him or her. Can’t you see that?”

She stood up, the gun at the ready. The back of her nose ached with building pressure; her hands trembled. Of course she knew all this, and when he said how it would look to the cops, he meant how it looked to him because he was a cop. He didn’t believe her at all; he was just trying to get her to talk.

“I can’t tell you anything else,” she said. “It’s not my information to share. I’m leaving now. Don’t try to stop me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Like a striking rattlesnake, he reached up and shoved the barrel of the gun downward with his right hand before twisting it out of her grip.

He was suddenly standing in front of her, his face strained and shadowed. He set the rifle aside and clutched her upper arm with his good hand. “There’s a greater enemy than me running around, but you know that, don’t you?”

“I could have killed you!” she cried, her whole body shaking now. “What kind of madman grabs a rifle that way?”

“The kind who knows there’s no round in the chamber and bets there’s no more ammunition in the house,” he said. “The kind who is tired of whatever game you’re playing.”

“It’s not a game,” she said.

“Don’t tell me. Tell your dead father,” Nate responded.

She raised her hand to slap him and he caught it. Before she could protest, he’d taken care of quieting her by pulling her closer and covering her lips with his. She attempted to wrench free, but his grip tightened, and then it relaxed and she knew she could tear herself away now, that he’d had a chance to think about his actions and probably regret them.

But she didn’t budge.

Chapter Six

For a moment, Nate lost track of time and place. Sarah had fought to get away for about two seconds, and then she’d melted against him. By the time they’d moved into a second kiss, he was as good as lost in a blizzard. There was nothing but the silky moistness of Sarah’s mouth, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest. Gradually, her arm encircled his neck and her fingers grazed his cheek. A dizzying flood of sensations bombarded his nervous system. He forgot about Mike’s murder, about gunmen and craziness and crashes in the night and being shot and bloodied. He even forgot about evasions and secrets and lies and uncertainty, all for one glorious minute.

The next time she pulled away, he let her. She didn’t go far, and when he looked down at her, there was a speculative gleam in her eyes that wrapped itself around his heart. He’d been fighting awareness of her since the moment he’d met her and she’d made it easier by being so blasted contrary, but here it was, rushing through his blood, pounding in his veins. He kissed her again, softly, the need for her surging through his body.

Nate wasn’t sure if Sarah allowed him this intimacy because she figured that was the best way to control him or if she’d been as jolted as he by the events of the past few hours. All he was sure of was that he’d kissed his fair share of women in his life, been married to one and engaged to another, and it had never, ever happened like this.

“Do they teach you to kiss like that in police school?” she whispered, running her fingers lightly across his lips.

“Basic interrogation 101,” he said.

“I bet you aced the class.”

He smiled to himself, and not just because the conversation was silly and he knew he was acting like a moron, but because the sound of her voice did that to him. He didn’t know a whole lot about her but he did know that on some level, he
knew
her.

“I’m sorry I pointed a gun at you,” she said with a quick upsweep of her lashes. “Is it really empty?”

“Yep. That’s why I didn’t take it with me when I went outside to scout.”

“I thought you’d forgotten it.”

“Cops don’t forget their weapons,” he said, ignoring the irony of the comment. He hadn’t forgotten his gun; he’d chosen to leave it behind in some crazy mind game he was playing with himself. He let that thought go when he sensed her leaning in toward him again. He lowered his head a little and she raised hers. Electricity arced between them as his lips throbbed with anticipation.

They both heard the noise at the same time, a loud crashing and a crack coming from outside as the lights blinked out and the house plunged into silent darkness. Sarah’s gasp sent shivers down Nate’s spine. A second later, her footsteps pounded across the wood floor, away from him.

He groped his way toward her, at a loss to remember exactly where the furniture was. He sped up when he heard the door open and a shade of lighter gray appeared. Was she choosing this moment to try to run away again? If she was, he was about ready to let her go.

“Show yourself!” he heard her shout.

He switched on the flashlight he’d pocketed when coming inside and found Sarah standing out in the middle of the yard, yelling into the night. If someone was out here, she made a perfect target, as a subtle break in the weather allowed weak gray moonlight to filter down through the trees.

“Do you hear me!” she screamed again. “Are you out here? Answer me!”

Something overhead made a creaking, groaning noise that captured Nate’s attention. He shone the light overhead, where he caught a glimpse of a sagging power line. He followed it along until the raw wood of a fresh break high in an evergreen laden with fresh snow stood out like a sore thumb. The break had sent a limb the size of a shopping-mall Christmas tree crashing down on the lines below, yanking on a utility pole, which now leaned at a crazy angle.

Beside him, Sarah yelled again, all but shaking her fist, twirling around every which way. He caught her shoulder and turned her to face him. Tears sparkled on her cheeks. Her eyes looked huge and manic.

“I can’t take it anymore,” she said, flicking the tears away, looking over his shoulder as though the marauders were close at hand. “Whoever he is, let him come out in the open and announce what he wants!”

“Who?” Nate asked. “Give me a name.”

“I can’t give you a name. I don’t know it. But he’s out here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“I don’t think so,” Nate said. “Look.” He shone the light and she followed its beam up to the treetops. “It’s the power line,” he added. “The sound we heard was the wood breaking. The branch got too heavy, but this may be good news. The utility company may send out a crew to fix it.”

“How can they help us?” she asked, her voice full of despair.

“I’m not sure,” he told her. “On the other hand, anyone not shooting us is better than no one. Come on, let’s go back inside. We need to find a better light source than flashlights.”

“There are lanterns in the barn,” she said.

“Great.”

The barn was darker than the outside. The horse must have been spooked by the crashing noise not far from his stall or the sound of Sarah shouting or both, because they could hear him snorting and kicking his stall walls.

“The lanterns are in that cabinet over there,” Sarah said. “I’m going to go check on Skipjack.”

Nate assumed she either knew where the lanterns were because they’d been there during her childhood or because she’d run across them when she’d searched the place hours before. He found two that seemed to have all their parts and fuel, as well. He lit one of them and it emitted a warm, yellow glow.

“I opened the door to the outside pasture,” Sarah said when she finally returned.

She looked hauntingly beautiful in the light from the lantern and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms. What in the world was happening to him and why did it have to happen now and with this woman?

“Why did you do that?” He handed her a lantern.

“Just in case. I don’t want him stuck in here if, well...”

“I’d like to reassure you that we’re going to be fine, but without knowing what’s really going on, that seems like a naive statement. And you don’t strike me as a naive woman, Sarah Donovan.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, her gaze flitting away under his scrutiny.

“How are you connected to the people you think are behind this?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “You know, maybe you could try accepting a little help.”

“The price is too high,” she said.

“There is no price.”

“There’s always a price. Besides, you’re a lawman.”

He bit back a disclaimer. “I’m also a man stuck inside an incredibly volatile situation,” he reminded her. “And believe it or not, I do know how to think outside the box.” He lit the other lantern and lifted it with his good arm. The jarring motion of stripping the gun away from her followed by everything else had set his shoulder aching anew.

“Let me think,” she said softly, turning away from him.

“Just think fast,” he warned her. “Sooner or later, someone will return to finish what he started.”

“I know.”

As they made their way toward the barn door, the light illuminated the green sedan. This time, Nate noticed the faded sticker on the rear bumper: Life Is a Casino, it said. He shook his head. “It’s kind of hard to associate what I know of you with fuzzy pink dice and gambling slogans.”

He was aware of the deep breath she drew. “It’s not my car.”

“Right. I keep forgetting that,” he said, increasingly frustrated with her.

“It belongs to my mother,” she added. “Her first name is Diana. Sarah was her mother’s name. It’s who I’m named after.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me you had your mother’s car?” Nate asked. “What’s the big secret about that, or did you take it without asking?”

“Trust me, she knows I have it. I lied about it because you’re a cop and Mom is mixed up in some pretty dicey stuff.”

“And you’re trying to help her?”

Sarah nodded.

“That’s why you came here. To look for something for her?”

“Yes,” she said and, quickening her pace, preceded him out of the barn.

“Were you followed?” he called, but she didn’t respond.

He caught up with her halfway across the yard, though she was moving fast.

“Were you followed?” he asked again.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I was really careful.”

“Then how could whoever this is wind up here, of all places?”

The answer was slow in coming, as though she had to reach deep inside to drag it up her throat and push it out of her mouth. “Maybe Mom told him this is where I was headed.”

Nate took her arm and propelled her into the house. There was no better target on a dark night than someone standing still while holding a light. Two such someones just upped the odds.

He closed and locked the door. “Sarah, you need help,” he said as he set his lantern down on top of the counter-high divider between entry and living room. “You know that, right? You were willing to risk asking your father. Can’t you extend that trust? Let me help you.”

“You promise you won’t arrest me?”

“I can’t arrest anyone in Nevada,” he said.
Or anywhere else.

“You can make trouble for me and I can’t afford the luxury of time to straighten things out. I have to find what I came for and return it to Reno or get back there and try to reason with someone who strikes me as really unreasonable.”

“Reason with the person who’s been taking potshots at us? Do you really think you can?”

“I don’t have any other choice. I can’t find the coins.”

There it was—the object of her search was coins. “Valuable coins?”

She turned her head, her jaw set in a stubborn line.

“For heaven’s sake, Sarah, just spit it out.”

Her next look was defiant. “Okay. Yes, coins.”

“Old coins? Doubloons? Come on, give me a break,” he pleaded.

“Silver coins my great-grandfather collected.”

“A lot of them?”

“Scads.”

He stared at her and finally took a deep breath. “I’m waiting. Define
scads.
”

“Rolls of them,” she said. “All stacked into three-gallon coffee cans. Dad told me stories about how Grandpa stood in line to buy them when they were first minted. My grandfather passed them along to my father, who refused to put them in a bank because he wanted to keep them close by. He wouldn’t even spend them, just liked knowing he had them. ‘Rainy-day coins,’ he called them, even after the ranch started going downhill and he had to sell the horses. His truck is broken-down, the house is falling apart... Exactly what kind of rainy day was he waiting for?”

“I don’t know,” Nate said uselessly.

“At any rate, each silver dollar is worth at least two or three hundred dollars. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find them.”

“And you need this silver to do what?”

She set her lantern on the fireplace hearth, then plopped down on an ottoman, landing in a heap. She raised both hands in a hopeless gesture and mumbled, “Save my mother. She’s in big trouble with some very bad people.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“She’s addicted to gambling, Nate,” Sarah said with a darted look to his face as if admitting a flaw in her own personality. “This time she got into a real mess when she burned up her credit lines with even the semireputable lenders. She had to go to this loan-shark guy.”

“I take it that’s the guy you think is shooting at us?”

“No, the loan shark is a man named Jack Poulter. He would never dirty his own hands.”

“Now I’m confused,” Nate said.

“Poulter demanded payment. When Mom admitted she didn’t have enough to repay him, he warned her that no one walked away from debts owed him. She said something like, ‘You can’t get blood out of a turnip.’ I gather he disagreed with her. Still, she thought she’d charm her way out of it.”

“Really? Loan sharks aren’t exactly famous for allowing someone to screw around with them.”

“You don’t know my mother. I think she just thought he’d view the whole thing as a big mistake and let it go.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Of course not. He disappeared from the front line, so to say, but within a day or so, a stranger showed up at my mom’s house. He said he was there to enforce Poulter’s claim for a percentage and he had no intention of walking away empty-handed.”

“Who was it?”

“He gave the name Bellows. That’s all. He’s a scary-looking guy with a couple of silver teeth. He had another guy with him.”

“I don’t understand. Why would Poulter loan your mother that much money in the first place? Did she have collateral?”

“Dad gave her one of the coffee cans when they split, on the condition she would completely relinquish any interest in this ranch. She burned up most of that money, but some was tied up in a CD. As I understand it, this time she took a loan on what she optimistically considered a ‘sure thing’ using the CD money as collateral, telling Poulter she had a whole lot more than she really did. When the money was gone and the sure thing fizzled out, she was left holding the bag. After Bellows showed up, Mom got creative and asked Dad to bail her out. I guess he agreed and then changed his mind. He told her this time she’d have to face the consequences of her actions.”

“‘This time’?”

“This has been an ongoing pattern for her as long as I can remember. She’s spent her life moving between self-made disasters. I tried to distance myself from her by moving east, but she always seems to find a way to reel me back in. I haven’t actually seen her in months.”

Nate considered his next question carefully. “You’re sure your dad still has these coins?”

“Pretty sure. He agreed to give Mom the money when she asked him, and he knew it was up to almost a quarter of a million dollars, so he must have had it.”

Nate whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Your mother couldn’t mortgage her house or—”

Sarah interrupted him with a laugh devoid of mirth. “What house? She lost that years ago. Her net worth is less than zero, way less, and she tapped me dry the last time she got in bad trouble. It wasn’t a lot, but it was all I had. I’d been working for years, saving money to go back to college. It took every penny to get her solvent.”