Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) (10 page)

He skimmed the articles, most of them about local events and people. As he folded the paper in half, an ad caught his eye. Well, well. Smith and Sanders were looking for new clients.

We will protect your money and make it grow. Stop in and see us today!

His bank account was quite healthy, he could afford to put a little bit of money into play at Smith and Sanders to see what they were up to. Once he finished his breakfast, he might take a little stroll to the offices at—he checked the address—407 Tremont Street. He smiled brightly when the waitress placed his food in front of him.

Galveston, Texas was a busy, bustling town. Profitable businesses lined the downtown area. Shoppers strolled from store to store, enjoying the sunshine and cool ocean breeze. Young mothers had little ones in tow, and the streets were congested with a mix of automobiles, horses, and carriages. Neither mode of transportation displayed much patience with the other.

The beauty of the day called for a leisurely stroll. He tipped his hat to ladies and nodded at the gentlemen. A short trip into the pharmacy resulted in a pocket full of lemon drops.

When he’d escorted Emily back to the dressmaker’s shop yesterday, he immediately drove his horse and carriage to the front of the building. He breathed a sigh of relief when Emily appeared and climbed into the Ford Model K. The relief had soon turned to anger when he thought about what she faced when she returned home.

He’d immediately headed to his room at the boardinghouse and wrote the letters. Jeremy was a top notch investigator, and they’d worked together for years. If anyone could get information that would put Louis Smith behind bars, it was Jeremy.

The letter to Jesse was more difficult to write. The questions he had about the stock market and investment firms were easy, but he could almost see the raised eyebrows when he got to the word
divorce
. Nevertheless, his uncle was the man who could help them with that part of the problem.

Hunter stopped and glanced at the sign hanging over 407 Tremont Street.
Smith and Sanders, Investors
. He pushed open the door and climbed the wooden stairs to the second level. It was an older building, needing some maintenance. The stairs creaked, and the carpet in the hallway leading to the offices was threadbare.

He opened the wooden door with the
Smith and Sanders
logo painted in black and gold ink on the glass. A young woman sat at a desk, her hair in the Gibson Girl style, her high necked blouse with no adornments except for a timepiece pinned to her chest.

If the building was in poor shape, Smith had spared no expense on his office. A thick carpet covered the floor, and striped green and rose silk wallpaper gave the area more of a parlor feel than a business office. All the furniture appeared to be brand new and imported.

“May I help you?” The secretary looked up from her Underwood typewriter, her spectacles resting low on her nose.

“Yes. I would like to speak with one of the partners about investing money. Mr. Smith, actually, if he is available. An acquaintance referred me to him.”

“Your name?”

He hesitated. “Hunter Henderson.” No point in using a fictitious name. Things were easier when you didn’t have to remember a lot of lies.

“I think Mr. Smith is in. If you will take a seat, I will check for you.”

Hunter grinned to himself, since the office was very small and there were only two other doors. Perhaps Mr. Smith would have to be awakened from his nap, or maybe he wanted to give the impression of a man busy with manipulating investments. He picked up a recent copy of
Life
magazine, and flipped through the pages.

The woman returned to her desk. “He will be right with you.”

After a few minutes, the office door opened and a man strode through. “Mr. Henderson?”

Hunter had twisted to place the magazine back on the table. With a smile, he turned back and stuck out his hand. “Yes.”

His heart immediately slammed into his ribs and his breath caught. When black dots danced in front of his eyes, he actually thought he would pass out.

For the first time in eighteen years he stared into the face of his father’s killer.

Chapter 10

Austin, Texas

Texas Ranger, Jeremy Steele blinked several times as he peered at the white envelope with the
Galveston, Texas
postmark. He slid his finger under the flap, then pulled the letter out. He yawned and wiped his nose on his sleeve, finding it hard to focus on the words. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but unable to concentrate, dropped the letter on the small rickety table covered with dirty dishes and grabbed his jacket. The druggist had promised him a new shipment of morphine would arrive this morning.

He had to get his hands on some before his brain exploded.

Jeremy barreled down the stairs, wincing as the daylight hit him square in the face when he yanked the door open. He pulled the collar of his jacket up to cover his ears and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. His palms sweated and he gripped his stomach as the cramps started.

The three-block trek seemed interminable. Not raising his eyes as he walked, he had a couple of close calls almost running into people.
Idiots.
They should be home or at work.

At last he reached his destination, stretching out a shaky hand to pull open the door to the pharmacy with
McGirk’s Drug Emporium
painted on it. He nodded to Lenny, the druggist, and headed toward the back of the store. Within minutes, the pharmacist shoved aside the curtain separating the pharmacy from the storage area and almost ran into a pacing Jeremy.

“You’re developing a problem here, Steele.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my problem, not yours. Just give me the drug.”

“I’ve been reading reports, and someday soon the government’s going to regulate this stuff.” He handed a needle to Jeremy. “You should try to get off it. It’s ruining your health.”

Jeremy snorted and fumbled as he tried to manipulate the needle. “Help me out here.”

Lenny shook his head, then took the implement from Jeremy’s hand and injected the drug. “You know just last year the American Medical Association said heroin was a good replacement for morphine. You should think about switching.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. What do I owe you?”

“How much you taking with you?”

“I’m leaving town, I’ll take whatever you have.”

Lenny let out a low whistle and rattled off a figure as he handed Jeremy a box. “You must be spending every dime you earn with them Rangers on this.”

Jeremy threw a wad of bills on the table and grabbed the box from Lenny’s hands. “It’s my money.” He shoved the curtain aside and left the store.

By two o’clock that afternoon, he’d cleaned up, forced some food down, and packed the few belongings he had scattered around his rented room. Henderson’s letter had been puzzling, but indicated he needed Jeremy to do some investigation.

His assignments with the Rangers had been fewer and fewer as word spread that he liked his morphine. His savings just about depleted, an offer of work from Henderson came at the right time. As a friend, he’d have liked to help him without charge, but a man needed money to live, so he would have to take Henderson up on his offer to pay him for his work.

Jeremy took one last glance around the room and lifted his satchel. Patting the bag to make sure the box he’d bought from the pharmacy was tucked inside, he closed the door and jogged down the stairs and out onto the street. He glanced at the gloomy sky, glad to be leaving Austin and heading to Galveston’s fresh sea air. Things would be better there. He probably wouldn’t need the drugs as much.

Galveston, Texas

Hunter never remembered what he’d said to Louis Smith or how he’d gotten out of the man’s office and all the way back to his boardinghouse. As he’d stood staring at the murderer, the blood pounding in his head had blocked his hearing. Only his well-honed sense of survival had kept him from reaching for the man’s throat and squeezing until he dropped to the floor like a rock.

They must have chatted because Hunter had returned with papers that Smith had given him to sign, with instructions on how to transfer his money to Smith and Sanders. He remembered wiping his hand on his pants as he’d left the office, the feel of the criminal’s touch on his skin like a plague.

Ten years he’d spent looking into the face of every man he’d ever arrested, always hoping to see the black dead-fish eyes of the man who’d gunned down the teller and his father while Hunter crouched under the desk.

He closed the door to his room and sat on the bed, his arms tightly crossed against his chest. Sweat beaded his forehead as he had tried desperately to swallow the bile rising at the back of his throat. He began to shake, his teeth chattering as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped. Whipping the blanket off the bed, he wrapped himself in its warmth, but nothing helped. He closed his eyes and remembered.

Once the man fled the bank, Hunter sat, unable to think, unable to move. His father lay in a pool of blood, the bright red stream seeping into the wooden boards of the floor. His eyes were open, staring at nothing. Hunter felt a scream starting deep inside, but he held on, rocking back and forth—numb. After a period of time, he crawled from his hiding place, and stumbled out the back door.

He started to run, the tears spilling from his eyes to his chin, to be swept away with the wind. He ran until he had no breath left, then stopped, bent over, and emptied his stomach onto the dirt.

It was dark when he’d returned home. Michael, Rachel, and Ellie sat at the kitchen table, their eyes swollen. “Where have you been?” Rachel’s accusatory tone hit him like a hammer.

“Out.”

“Papa’s dead.” Ellie’s chin quivered.

Hunter turned on his heel and walked away. He climbed the stairs to his room and lay on his bed, where he stayed until the morning they buried his father.

Hunter sat up with a jolt, disoriented. He ran his palm down his face, trying to adjust to the darkness in his room. He patted his chest, noting that he’d fallen asleep in his clothes without even removing his boots. Still confused, he pulled his boots off, then stood and unbuttoned his shirt.

He stopped in mid-motion as his memory rushed back like water bursting from a slight crack in a dam. The monster Emily was married to was the man who’d put a gun to his father’s head and pulled the trigger.

He almost laughed at the irony. Ten years of looking at one criminal after another, and all that time Smith was here in Galveston, pretending to be an upstanding businessman.

And beating his wife.

He stripped off the rest of his clothes and climbed back into bed, naked. He flipped onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head, linking his fingers. Careful consideration of his next move would be the best way to bring Louis Smith down. He was a liar, a cheat, a wife-beater, a thief, and a murderer.

If Jeremy was able to come to Galveston, he would have more than just shady business practices to investigate. Between the two of them, they needed to see that Smith was charged with murder and hanged for his crime.

Before Hunter killed the man himself.

“Dressmaker again?” Louis glanced up from his morning newspaper, his usual scowl firmly in place.

Emily fiddled with her tea cup. “I go every Tuesday. It’s a standing appointment.”

“Perhaps you are spending too much of my money.”

She quelled the anger that arose. Once Louis had gotten his hands on the vast amount of money her parents had left her, she’d never seen a dime that she hadn’t had to beg for. And account for. There was no such thing as ‘pin money’ for Mrs. Smith. All items, no matter how small, were charged and the bills sent to Mr. Smith.

The sale of some of her mother’s jewelry and burying the money she’d received had given her the cache to flee to Guthrie. There were still some pieces to sell, but for now she would hold onto them. She would love more than anything to be able to keep a few of them as it was all she had left of her parents. Louis had even sold the lovely home she’d grown up in, furnishings and all, and kept the money.

“I’m just following your orders, Louis. Every time we have a function to attend, you want me to have a new gown.”

He shook his newspaper and folded it, then placed it neatly alongside his empty breakfast plate. Leaning forward, he said in a soft voice, “Maybe instead of a new gown, I should think about a new wife.”

The blood left her face. Was he contemplating her murder? He’d threatened it many times before, and she’d always feared one day it would no longer be a threat. She had to get away from him, once and for all.

“May I use the automobile, then?”

Louis waved his hand. “Yes.”

Before he could change his mind, Emily pushed back from the table and fled the room. She was to meet Hunter about eleven o’clock. That would give her time to have an actual fitting before she snuck out the back door. Thank God Millie understood her predicament. The fact that the dressmaker had been the brunt of several of Louis’s insults and tirades over her bills had helped.

The late summer sunshine kept the air warm and humid as Emily patted the beads of perspiration from her forehead and entered the automobile.

“The dressmaker, Mrs. Smith?” Martin asked.

“Yes. Please.” She settled back as the vehicle rolled away from the house into the morning traffic. Her Tuesday visits to Millie’s shop had become the highlight of her week. She lived for the moment she was excused from her fitting and able to join Hunter behind the store.

He’d told her last week he was going to investigate Louis’s firm. He also had a friend who was very good at uncovering deceptive business practices that he would contact. What she clung to was his assurance that he would also find a way to free her from the clutches of the vile man she’d married. Her thoughts wandered as she stared at the people crowding the business district, with the shops all doing a lively business. For the first time in three years she had genuine hope.

Forty minutes later, she tapped her foot and took deep sighs as Millie adjusted her most recent gown and stuck her with innumerable pins.

“Mrs. Smith, if you would only stand still, I would be able to finish this fitting and you may be on your way.”

“I know, and I am sorry. But we have so little time together, I hate to waste it.”

Millie stood back and observed her, the dressmaker’s eyebrows raised. “Please remember if it wasn’t for these fittings you would have no way to see your young man at all.” She nudged Emily on her hip as a signal to turn, giving a critical eye to the hem as she turned. “I’m also nervous at the thought of your husband showing up here some day with you nowhere in sight.”

“Oh, God, I never thought of that.” Emily stepped down from the pedestal and turned so Millie could unfasten the back of the gown. “I don’t remember him ever coming here while I had a fitting, though.”

“No. I don’t remember that either. He’s only been here when he wanted to complain about his bill.”

“I’m so sorry, Millie.”

“Don’t apologize for his actions. Just be grateful you have someone who will help you.” She took Emily by her upper arms, gripping tightly. “Is he a good man?”

Emily felt the heat rise to her face. She wasn’t comfortable speaking about Hunter with Millie. Regardless of her husband’s actions, she was still legally married. To be discussing meeting another man left her with an uneasy feeling. This was not how she ever thought her life would go. “Yes. He is a good man.”

“He will take care of you?”

Emily nodded, tamping down her doubts about trusting anyone again to take care of her. “Yes. I believe he will.”

“Good. We’re finished. Go on and meet him while I’m busy working on your gown.”

Emily gave her a quick hug then shimmied into her dress, buttoned it up, and headed to the back door. She slipped out and spotted Hunter right away. He stood leaning his forearm against a rail fence, his foot resting on the bottom rung. As soon as the door closed, he straightened and turned to her. Her heart did a double thump at his smile.

He reached out and brushed the hair off her forehead. “We need to have a serious talk.”

Her stomach took a dive at his somber expression. With shaky hands she tied the ribbons of her bonnet tighter and attempted a smile, but failed. “Where shall we go?”

“More than anything I want to take you by the arm and stroll up and down the streets of this town. Then escort you into the finest restaurant Galveston has to offer.” He cupped her chin, his eyes telling her something she wasn’t quite sure she was ready for. “I promise you one day I will do that.” His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened. “Whatever it takes.”

She shivered at his mood that washed over her like a cold winter morning.

His face softened, and just like that he became the Hunter she’d grown to care so much for. “I have the carriage again, and had one of the cafés pack a lunch for us.” He took her by the hand and pulled her forward. “We’re going on a picnic.”

He’d tried to act as if everything was all right, but the darkness she’d first sensed when he stood by the fence hadn’t left. The ride to the area she liked to think of as ‘theirs’ was quiet. Not the usual comfortable silence she’d experienced with Hunter in the past, but a different type of stillness. This was not a tranquil quiet, but one of tension. She shivered again.

Her actions seemed to draw him from wherever he was today. “Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “Not really.” She studied his hands as they clenched and unclenched the reins, mesmerized by the strength there.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m very good company today.”

Trying to shake the feeling of doom, she asked, “Does your mood have something to do with what you want to discuss?”

He glanced at her sideways as he drew the carriage up to the stable they’d used before, across from the beach. “Yes. It does.”

“You’re leaving.” Her stiff lips barely moved, the words coming out a whisper, even when her insides screamed with pain.

“No, honey.” He tossed the reins over the carriage rail and grabbed both of her hands. The caring in his eyes and the warmth from his palms against hers gladdened her heart, allowing the knots in her stomach to ease.