Speed Trap (3 page)

The quaint two-story Victorian house with its wraparound porch had been remodeled into a duplex. It had turned out to
be the perfect place for them. Living next door to her mother gave Mandy peace of mind and her mother a sense of independence.

Mandy stopped in the kitchen to check her phone messages. The machine showed a red 0. She'd left clear instruction that she was to be called if any new leads or new information on Judy Bowen's case became available. Apparently, none had.

Feeling unusually restless, Mandy turned around, snatched her car keys off the hook and walked out of the house.

The drive across town was short. Timber Wells boasted only four thousand residents and a total of four traffic lights.

Pulling into a large parking lot, Mandy stopped and stared at the front entrance of the town's hospital. She could have called to check on the baby, but what she really needed was to see him—to make sure he was doing all right.

Inside the building, the nurse on duty gave her a room number. Mandy found the pediatric ward and quietly opened the door to room 222. An elderly woman sat in a wooden rocker, holding Colin. The baby was whimpering softly.

“How is he?” Mandy crossed the room for a better look.

“Fussy, but I would be, too, if I had a broken collarbone.”

Mandy took note of the small sling that held one arm pinned to his sleeper. “I'm Sheriff Scott. I just wanted to check on him before I called it a night.”

“I know who you are. I understand this little man owes you his life.”

“I was in the right place at the right time, that's all.”

“It was by the grace of God you were there, and it was a brave thing to do, young lady. Would you like to hold him awhile? I really need to get back to my other duties, but he cries whenever I lay him down.”

Taken aback, Mandy shook her head. “Oh, I don't know. I'm not much good with kids.”

“Nonsense. Anyone can rock a baby. Sit here.” The woman rose to her feet, leaving Mandy little choice but to do as she was told.

Taking the baby carefully, she held his small, warm body close. He whimpered again. Mandy looked up in concern. “I'm afraid I'll hurt him.”

“Be careful not to jar his arm, and he'll be fine. The nurse gave him something for pain in his last bottle. It should take effect soon. Once he's asleep, you can put him to bed.” With a smile of encouragement, she left the room.

Slowly, Mandy relaxed and as she did, the baby's whimpering stopped. Before long, he drifted off to sleep. Instead of laying him down, she continued to rock him gently.

He was a beautiful child. His long eyelashes lay in blond crescents against his chubby cheeks. His tiny bow mouth made sucking motions as if he were dreaming about his next bottle.

Mandy smiled. The warmth of the emotions he evoked in her heart nearly took her breath away. She stared at his delicate face. It felt so right and natural to hold him in her arms. She began to hum a soft lullaby.

Perhaps one day she would have a child of her own. She'd thought there would be time to settle down after the academy and after getting her career started, but then her father had been killed and her mother had needed so much of her time.

Time was exactly what had slipped away. Now, Mandy was stuck in a small town where even the bravest of men hesitated to ask the sheriff out on a date.

“I shouldn't whine when my life is so full of blessings,” she whispered to the little boy who slept in her arms.

She shouldn't, but sometimes it was hard always being the one in charge. Always looking to right the wrongs in other people's lives. It was harder still when she
couldn't
right that wrong.

She'd never be able to give this little boy his mother back, but she would do her best to see that justice was done.

An hour later—long after her young charge and her arm had fallen asleep—Mandy managed to tear herself away. Laying him down, she stood for a moment rubbing away the pins and needles until feeling returned to her hand.

Kissing the tip of her fingers, she gently touched them to his forehead. “Sleep tight. I'll see you tomorrow night.”

Smiling, she realized she'd just made a date with the cutest guy in Timber Wells. Too bad he was only four months old. Somehow, she was sure this wasn't what her mother had in mind.

Someone had tried to kill that beautiful baby. Someone had succeeded in killing his mother.

Mandy vowed she wouldn't let him or her get away with it.

 

Garrett turned his truck into a parking space in front of the county courthouse just after ten o'clock in the morning. It had been two days since he'd learned of Judy's death.

He sat for a long time staring at the modern one-story brick structure and the immaculate green lawn that surrounded it. Flags fluttered in the breeze from a pair of flagpoles to the right of the low broad steps. Wiley, his paws parked on the armrest of the passenger's side door, barked excitedly.

Garrett rubbed his palms on the top of the steering wheel. He didn't like confrontations, but the news of Judy's death followed by what he'd learned this morning left him reeling. Sheriff Scott had a lot of explaining to do.

Judy had a son.

A child who would grow up without a mother because she had been coming to see Garrett—and he still didn't know
why. A heavy sense of responsibility settled in his chest. Try as he might, he couldn't dislodge it.

He knew what it was like to be motherless.

Why hadn't the sheriff told him about the baby? Could the child be his? According to Judy's pastor, the baby's age made it possible, but surely Judy would have told him she was pregnant with his child.

Like Garrett, Judy had lived a hard life. When they first met at a truck stop in Overland Park, she'd been nursing a cup of coffee and a black eye from her latest in a long line of boyfriends who used their fists on her face.

She'd looked so alone, so lost. Garrett knew exactly how that felt. When she turned her heartrending smile in his direction and poured out her sad story, Garrett found himself determined to save her.

And she let him. They'd married within a month.

His dreams of a family to love and cherish the way he'd never been loved soon evaporated. Judy had a serious drug problem. She stayed with him a couple of years, but not out of love.

Garrett had simply been her free ride until she found something better. One day, she was gone.

Like everyone he cared about.

Getting out of his truck and closing the door, Garrett faced the courthouse again. He didn't relish the idea of setting foot inside a police station. There were cells inside where men were locked away. Just the thought made his skin crawl. If he had a lick of sense, he'd go home and finish his corral.

Except he couldn't. He needed answers, and Sheriff Scott had them. Facing his fears, he walked up the steps.

Inside the building, he found the door marked with the sheriff's seal. He stepped into the room and saw a plump woman in her midfifties behind the counter.

Two deputies were seated at desks behind her. Garrett recognized Fred Lindholm, and his hands balled into fists.

The last time Garrett's mother had called for help, Lindholm had been the one to respond. His help amounted to telling Garrett's father to sober up and take it easy on his old lady. Less than a week later, Garrett's mother left for good.

Maybe if Lindholm had done his job and arrested Garrett's father, things might have turned out differently. The coil of anger and fear inside Garrett wound tighter, but he knew better than to let it loose.

At the desk next to Lindholm sat a younger man with short red hair and wide serious eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His name tag said Ken Holt. Garrett didn't know him, but if he was anything like Lindholm, he'd be a good man to avoid.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

Garrett shifted his attention back to the receptionist. “I'd like to talk to Sheriff Scott.”

“She isn't in right now. Can I take a message?” The woman smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She lifted a large pink leather purse to her desktop and began searching for something.

“When do you expect her back?” Garrett asked.

She pulled a stick of gum from her purse, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. “That's hard to say.”

Behind him, he heard the door open and a cool voice he recognized said, “Mr. Bowen, what are you doing here?”

He turned around to see Mandy framed in the doorway. Once again he was surprised by how pretty she was. The very air around her seemed charged with rare energy. The nameless fear that squeezed Garrett's throat eased.

He breathed in the scent of her freshly starched shirt. Beneath the smell of ironed cotton, he caught a subtle sweetness. Honeysuckle?

A tenacious vine with delicate flowers and a heady perfume that belied its tough nature. The description certainly fit the good sheriff.

Why did he find her so attractive? The answer eluded him.

He pushed the thought aside and got back to the reason he was here. “Why didn't you tell me about Judy's baby?”

Mandy walked past him and entered a nearby office. He followed her, determined to get a response.

A cluttered, heavy wooden desk occupied the center of the room. On the walls hung certificates and wanted posters and a large framed picture of a man in a police uniform with Mandy's slender build and square chin.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood in front of her desk and regarded Garrett with a steady stare. He had the feeling she was stalling for time, searching for a way to respond.

“Where did you hear that she had a child?” Her tone was cold enough to frost the windows.

“Today when I called the minister she worked for to see about funeral arrangements, he asked about her son. Why didn't you mention she had a kid?”

Mandy shrugged. “I didn't think it was any of your business.
You
never mentioned she had a child.”

“I didn't know.” He kept the bitterness out of his voice with difficulty. Judy had always said she didn't want kids. Maybe she just hadn't wanted his kids.

The pain of that thought made him flinch. “Is he my son?”

Mandy's face softened for an instant, but the look was gone so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it. She shrugged. “I don't know. What do you think?”

He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Judy wasn't home much the last month she lived with me. I think she was seeing someone else, but the baby could be mine. Can I see him?”

“No. This is still an open investigation.”

“Do you have any suspects? Besides me, that is.”

“I'm not at liberty to discuss the case.”

His bottled-up anger slipped its leash. “I didn't have anything to do with Judy's death. Are you even looking for the person who did?”

“I resent the implication that I'm not doing my job.” Her eyes snapped with suppressed irritation.

He couldn't back down. Not now. “Resent away. I want answers.”

Mandy raised her chin. “Mr. Bowen, the best thing you can do is go home and let us do our job.”

Once again, the pretty sheriff was throwing up a roadblock. If she hadn't been so eager to pin Judy's death on him, he might have accepted her suggestion.

No, if he was going to get answers, he'd have to get them himself.

“I'll find out what I need to know with or without your help, Sheriff.”

Mandy took a step closer. “Don't get in my way, Mr. Bowen. If you do, you'll regret it.”

“T
hat one's gonna be trouble,” Donna said as Mandy came out of her office to watch Garrett cross the street to his truck.

Mandy wasn't happy he'd found out about the baby. It wasn't like the child could identify his mother's killer, but that didn't mean he was safe.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number for the pediatric floor. Her encounter with Garrett brought her protective instinct rushing to the forefront. She needed to make sure Colin didn't get any unauthorized visitors.

After leaving instructions with the nursing staff to notify her office if Garrett tried to see the boy, she hung up.

For the past two days. she'd spent several hours each evening with the baby, reading Mother Goose stories he couldn't yet understand, singing songs that seemed to soothe him. This morning, she'd stopped in to visit before coming to work. Somehow, she knew she needed to see his bright eyes and dimpled smile before she started her day.

Colin had become firmly wedged in her heart. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea that he might be Garrett's child.

Donna crossed her arms over her ample chest. “I don't trust Mr. Bowen any farther than I can throw him.”

Fred and Ken came to stand beside Mandy. She looked at them. “Besides his arrest, what do we actually know about him?”

“Not much,” Fred admitted. “His old man drank like a fish. He hit hard times after his wife ran out on him about fifteen years ago. He had to sell off some of the ranch. He died about ten years ago. I hear Garrett's been buying some of the land back, bit by bit.”

“He doesn't go to church,” Donna interjected.

Mandy folded her arms. “I've seen his ranch. It isn't exactly prosperous-looking. Where's he getting the money to buy land?”

Fred leaned his elbows on the counter. “We can look into his financial records.”

Ken cleared his throat. “Besides ranching he's a cattle buyer on the side. My uncle has used him a few times.”

Mandy glanced at Ken. “What does that entail?”

“If a farmer or a rancher is too busy or doesn't like traveling to the sale barns, he hires a fellow to do it for him. He'll give the buyer an order for so many feeder steers or so many heifers. Guys who do it full-time can make good money if they don't mind the travel.”

Donna interrupted again. “All that traveling sounds like a good cover for running drugs.”

Mandy held back a smile. At times, Donna could be overly dramatic. The dispatcher had moved from a small town in Missouri to Timber Wells the same time Mandy had. Her experience as a dispatcher in that state made her exactly what Mandy had been looking for, and she had worked out well in spite of her outspoken ways.

Planting her hands on her hips, Donna continued. “A man doesn't shun his own community unless he's got something to hide. I've got a bad feeling about that one.”

Unsure exactly what her own feelings for Garrett were, Mandy turned around and picked up a file from the front desk. “I'll be out of the office for the rest of the day, Donna. You can get me on my cell phone.”

Donna perked up. “Where are you going? You know how I like to keep track of my people.”

Mandy strongly suspected Donna's attention to details was part of her naturally nosy nature, but she did a good job even if she was prone to gossip. She'd proven to be an asset in the community, as well. She volunteered at the high school and at the Prairie View Community Church in her free time with at-risk youth.

“I'm giving a Meth Watch talk at the high school with Agent Riley of the KBI. After that I'm headed to Wichita to interview people who knew Judy.”

Mandy was dreading the talk. Public speaking wasn't her gift, but keeping kids off drugs was a cause she believed in.

“Talking to most of those teenagers is a waste of time.” Fred said with a scowl.

Donna nodded sagely. “I know you think your meth education programs can make a difference, but I'm not so sure. I sit with those kids in after-school detention three nights a week. Some of them will use drugs no matter what.”

Mandy lifted her trooper's hat from the wooden coat tree outside her office door. “But some won't, and those are the ones I'm trying to reach. Besides, we need to get a lid on these robberies. We need tips on suspicious activity. We can't do it alone. If we don't get the community involved, things are just going to get worse.”

Only Ken nodded in agreement. Donna and Fred merely exchanged skeptical glances.

Mandy knew there were kids she couldn't save. People turned to drugs for any number of reasons and no amount of
education could stop it all, but if she saved one person, it would be worth all her time and effort.

 

As it turned out, the school talk wasn't as difficult as she feared. Many of the students seemed genuinely interested in helping law enforcement keep their community drug-free. There were a couple of jokers in the crowd who snickered and shouted out wisecracks, but for the most part Mandy felt she'd gotten her message across.

With Agent Riley to help field questions and present what the KBI was doing to combat the problem, the hour passed quickly.

The high school principal, Cedric Dobbs, stood waiting for them when they left the stage. “Thank you for speaking today. I'll see that your hecklers spend a couple of hours in detention. Especially Luke Holt. You'd think having an older brother who is a deputy would deter some of his rowdy behavior.”

Cedric's voice held a ragged edge that made Mandy look more closely at him. In his early sixties, Cedric had been teaching in Timber Wells his entire life.

Today, his usually impeccable suit was rumbled. His thick white hair was mussed, as if he'd been running his hands through it. He looked like a man under a lot of stress.

Mandy smiled at him. “It wasn't as bad as I expected.”

“These kids. I don't know what's going to become of this town. For two cents I'd quit this job. I'm nothing but a glorified babysitter. Excuse me.” He left to stop escalating horseplay between two boys.

Agent Jed Riley, dressed in a dark suit and tie, offered Mandy his hand. “Nice speech, Sheriff.”

She shook it. “Thanks. Yours was better.”

“I've had more practice. What's wrong with Mr. Dobbs?
He looks like he's ready to tear out his hair. I don't remember him being so down on his students.”

“His wife has cancer.” Mandy didn't know the woman well, but had met her a few times at her mother's Bible study class before she became ill.

Sympathy filled Jed's eyes. “No wonder he looks like he's aged since I was here last year.”

“According to my mother, his wife's doctor wants her on a new experimental therapy, but their insurance won't cover it. They've used up nearly all their savings. They even had to sell their house and move into a smaller apartment. Are you on your way back to Topeka now?”

“No, I've got another talk to give in Council Grove. Any new information on your homicide?”

“I'm waiting on crime lab reports from the Highway Patrol.”

“The Kansas Highway Patrol has quite a backlog. You may be waiting a while. Did the hits we gave you on those prints at the farm supply store robbery take you anywhere?”

“What hits? I haven't gotten anything from the KBI on that case.”

“Really? I'm sure my office faxed you the report.”

“I haven't seen it.”

“We came up with prints for a couple of small-time crooks named J. J. Fields and Daniel ‘Spike' Carver.”

“I know them. They're a couple of local hoodlums. I never got the report.”

Jed drew his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. Holding it to his ear, he said, “Connie, this is Jed. I need you to do me a favor. E-mail a couple of reports for me to the sheriff in Morrison County.”

He gave her the details, then snapped his phone shut and smiled at Mandy. “You should have them in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Jed. I'll have one of my deputies bring in J. J. and Spike for questioning. It might be the break I've been looking for.”

After leaving the school, Mandy pulled into the Turner gas station and truck stop near the south edge of town to fill up before making the two-hour drive into Wichita. The sky, overcast since early morning, discharged a brief sprinkle that left the air smelling sweet and clean.

The station, operated by Aaron Turner and Mike Peters, was a hodgepodge business that had been doing well since the pair bought it six months ago. A tall rusting fence of corrugated tin enclosed a salvage yard at the back of the property. The sign out front offered auto repair and tow services, as well as free coffee and a doughnut with a fill-up.

A half-dozen clunkers sat waiting to be fixed or junked beside the large garage at the back of the property. Several eighteen-wheelers idled in front of the diesel pumps.

The majority of the place's business came from catering to the over-the-road truckers taking a break from the long and sometimes boring Kansas highway. They didn't seem to mind that the coffee was stout enough to dissolve horseshoes or that the doughnuts were stale because the station owners managed to keep their diesel fuel price at least a nickel lower than the gas station in the nearest town.

As Mandy slipped the gas nozzle off the pump, she saw a semitrailer loaded with smashed cars pull up to the salvage yard entrance. Mike came out of the building to open the gate, but stopped short at the sight of her.

She lifted her chin in acknowledgment to the small, skinny man in greasy gray overalls. He dropped his gaze and quickly went about his business.

“Don't mind Mike, he's just shy.” Aaron Turner appeared at the hood of Mandy's truck. Slightly above medium height
with dirty, dark blond hair that needed trimming, he exuded the confidence his partner seemed to lack. His red shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and tucked into tight-fitting faded jeans.

“Maybe he doesn't like cops,” Mandy suggested.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

Flabbergasted, Mandy didn't know how to respond. Aaron moved to take the pump nozzle. His hand brushed down her arm.

She drew back. “I thought this was the self-serve pump.”

He leaned toward her with a knowing smile. “We try to give law enforcement special consideration.”

Mandy doubted Fred, Ken or anyone else in her department had been treated to the man's too-familiar charm. She folded her arms over her chest. “My officers don't expect or condone special considerations.”

Aaron's smile faded. “I meant no disrespect, Sheriff. Have you caught the man responsible for running that poor woman off the road?”

Hating to admit she had almost nothing to go on, she said, “Not yet, but we will.”

“I heard her ex-husband is a suspect.”

Shooting him a sidelong glance, Mandy asked, “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, you know. People talk.”

“We're still working the case.”

“How about the farm supply store robbery? Any leads there?”

She didn't need reminding that her unsolved caseload was mounting. “We're checking into several leads.”

“A lot of the merchants in the area are getting worried. Crime is going up.”

“Do you have a point, Mr. Tucker?”

“Personally, I've got nothing against women police of
ficers, but I thought you should know that some people are saying you can't do the job.”

The smirk in his tone told her exactly how much he enjoyed repeating the gossip.

The pump dinged to signal her tank was full. Aaron replaced the handle. “Will that be cash or charge, Sheriff?”

“Cash, Mr. Tucker. And should anyone else be wondering if I can do this job, the answer is yes.”

Fuming, Mandy climbed in her truck and headed down the highway. First, Garrett accused her of not doing her job and now, if Aaron Tucker was to be believed, the whole town was wondering if she was up to the task.

God, I know I can do this job, but I need your help. Give me something to go on.

Drawing a cleansing breath, she blew it out and felt the tension in her body ease. God was on her side. She should never doubt that.

She also knew what good police work was. The logical place to start solving Judy Bowen's murder was with the victim's coworkers and neighbors. The first name on her list of people to interview was the Reverend Carl Spencer, a pastor of a small church in a poor section of the inner city where Judy Bowen had worked.

Intermittent showers gave way to clearing skies on the long drive into the city. The country music flowing out of her radio did little to distract her thoughts. The person she couldn't stop thinking about was Garrett Bowen.

She was starting to believe he wasn't involved in his ex-wife's death. A guilty man would be laying low, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself, not walking into her office and demanding she do more.