Baited (9 page)

“Probably not, but JC did use Rich’s knife to hack up my baby. I’d planned on putting the rest of JC’s pieces in Rich’s garage freezer as punishment. See, I figured Rich inheriting the boat was the perfect motive for him to kill JC. The guilt over dicing up his buddy caused him to off himself. He’d be dead, blamed and I’d be scot-free.” A baffled laugh bubbled out. “But I couldn’t find the padlock key in Rich’s pigsty of a house. So here I am, dropping my chum, JC, across the lake he loved so much.”
 

“No one is going to buy your lame-assed story, Cindy Jo.”

“Sure they will. You shot at me, but missed and hit the boat, sinking it.” Her eyes gleamed as she built her demented tale. “Fearing for my life, I jumped into the water. I used every ounce of strength to climb into Rich’s boat, where we wrestled for the gun. You were caught in the crossfire. It’ll be quick, I promise, because I like you. You’ve got bigger balls than most men.” She grinned, leaning closer to the edge. “Still think I’m clever?”

“No.”

A wave hit her boat. The gun wobbled and so did she. Before Cindy Jo tried to reclaim her footing, I reached down and scooped up the fishing bow.

Instinctively I settled it at my shoulder, aimed for her chest, pulled back and let the arrow fly. But I hadn’t compensated for the drag ratio of the heavier fishing line and the shot veered low, hitting her in the sternum.
 

The wind masked the sound of metal tearing through flesh, but her shriek of pain echoed loud and clear.
 

Her arm jerked and the gun dropped overboard with a small splash. She staggered back against the steering column.

I gave one, quick tug on the line and the barbs opened.
 

Cindy Jo screamed so loud I knew they’d heard it at the docks.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” I pulled on the line eliciting another scream from her. “I can keep doing this until the paramedics get here.”
 

The barbs held. No matter how much she squirmed or flopped around, she wasn’t going to be my fish tale—the one that got away.

While keeping a firm grip on the bow, I hunkered down, grabbed my water-logged cell phone. Yes! A clear signal. I dialed 911.

****

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of fear, anger and shock.

The Ranger patrol boat arrived first with three Rangers onboard. I handed over the bow attached to Cindy Jo to Ranger #1. Ranger #2 took control of JC’s boat and raced to the docks to meet the paramedics. Ranger #3 was stuck with me.
 

It didn’t escape my notice that he was armed. I told him to make note of our location because Cindy Jo’s gun was at the bottom of the lake. He said nothing besides telling me to return to the docks. It took a while with the gutless wonder that was Rich’s boat.

The ambulance was still there when I pulled into Rich’s slip at the dock. Uniforms had swarmed JC’s boat. I had a welcoming party waiting for me too: four deputies from the Fall River County Sheriff’s Office. After asking my name, they confiscated my phone and my keys. Then they handcuffed me. Out of a sheer case of nerves I made a crack about the cuffs not being the velvet-lined variety I was used to.

No one laughed. They just shoved me in the back of the nearest patrol vehicle.

Shoot one little arrow into a person in self-defense and you’re automatically treated like a criminal. How fair was that?

The back of the cop car didn’t smell like ass. Probably because the crime rate was so low in this sparsely populated county that the backseat rarely got used. I closed my eyes, but the gruesome images of the day just looped over and over again in my brain, replaying every horrible second. In vivid detail. I allowed myself the tiny bit of comfort knowing that I hadn’t been forced to look inside the blue cooler.

The deputy driving me didn’t say a word. I didn’t ask what would happen to me once we got to the station because I knew. They’d toss me in jail first; ask questions later.

I barely remembered the walk of shame from the cop car to the courthouse, which shared space with the Fall River County jail.

An older woman with an iron grip processed me. I only had to remove my shoes. No hideous prison orange for me.

Still in handcuffs, I shuffled in front of my jailer wearing the disposable slippers they’d issued. I shuddered at hearing the heavy clang of the cell door closing behind me.

On the outside I looked calm, even bored. My response would’ve shocked the people who knew me. They would’ve expected me to go in kicking and screaming.

But on the inside? Inside I was curled up in a little ball in the corner, rocking back and forth, scared out of my fucking mind.
 

Do not shed a single fucking tear.

Do not cause a fucking scene.

Do not threaten to call your fucking lawyer.

Wait it the fuck out.

Since I had the cell to myself, I had all the time in the world to think about what an idiotic thing I’d done—leaving a murder scene to confront a murderer. I’d been so focused on my need for justice that I’d nearly gotten myself killed. To what end? It was only a matter of time before the Rapid City cops would’ve picked up Cindy Jo.

But she’d almost pitched the last bit of evidence overboard. I stopped her. Who knows if the cops would’ve gotten to her in time?
 

Cold comfort as I sat in a jail cell, berating myself over what could’ve been a much uglier, deadlier situation.
 

No doubt about it; I’d fucked up.

Hours, days, years seemed to drag on as I waited. After working in the Bear Butte County Sheriff’s Office for over three years, I knew the drill. Once they let me out of the containing cell, they’d squirrel me away in an interview room and grill me.

Two hours passed.

Idly, I wondered if they were keeping me this long because they were waiting to see if Cindy Jo died. If that happened this mess would get a whole lot messier.

Finally Sheriff Jim Erickson meandered toward me with a ring of keys. No newfangled keycards for this jail. They were old school all the way.

“Looks like you’ve had a hell of an interesting day, Julie Collins. You’re a long way from Bear Butte County.”

I stood. “You remember me?”

“Of course. Sheriff Richards kept hoping you’d apply for a deputy’s position up there.”

“And here I am, a nosy PI, behind bars.”

“Not for long.” He inserted the key and the door creaked open. “You ready to answer some questions?”

“I guess.” We walked side by side down the hallway. “I take it you’ve spoken to Detective Jones at the Rapid City PD?”

“Yep.” Sheriff Erickson opened the door to a conference room. Two plainclothes cops sat at the table. He unlocked my cuffs and said, “Have a seat.” Then he handed me a bottle of water.

“Thanks.”

“Start whenever you’re ready,” he told me.

I needed a cigarette. I’d been in such a hurry to find Cindy Jo that I’d left my smokes in the car. It’d been five hours since my last smoke and my nicotine fit was reaching critical proportions. That’s when I noticed one of the detectives had a pack of cigarettes in his front pocket. I leaned forward. “Can I bum a smoke? I won’t light up in here, I just need...”

The guy didn’t hesitate to feed my addiction since he suffered from the same one.

Feeling the familiarity of the butt between my fingers, and the whiff of tobacco, I calmed down inside. I leaned back and began to speak. “This whole thing started because of a fishing boat.”

****

Two hours later, my voice was hoarse from answering a nonstop barrage of questions. As far as I could tell, they didn’t plan to charge me with skewering Cindy Jo Cracken. I’d done what I had to do in self-defense. I suspected finding bloody chunks of her missing husband in the cooler had helped my case more than anything else.

Finally I was free to go. After receiving my personal belongings from the iron lady—who was much nicer on discharge—I wasn’t surprised to discover my cell phone was completely dead. I hated to ask Sheriff Erickson if someone could give me a ride back to my car, but I didn’t have a choice.

I turned and faced the sheriff before I walked out into the reception area.

“Something you need, Collins?”

“Yeah. Could someone give me a ride back to the marina? My car is still there.”

He frowned at me. “Can’t one of your friends give you a lift?”

“Friends?”

He made a shooing motion.

Confused, I waited, facing the door, as the guard buzzed me out of the lockdown area.

As soon as I stepped into the next room, that’s when I realized what Sheriff Erickson had meant. I saw Kevin first, then Jimmer, standing near the door.

I remembered Martinez’ words from last night.
You have friends, Julie. Maybe they won’t go shoe shopping with you, but they’d kill for you and bleed for you. But more than that, they’ll be there for you without question. Without you even having to ask.

Kevin strode forward and wrapped his arms around me.

I sagged into him, knowing he’d hold me up. That was the best part of a decades long friendship; having someone to count on, no matter what.

He sensed I was hanging on by a thread, so he kept our embrace brief and didn’t ask me if I was all right. He tilted my head back and gazed into my eyes, concern brimming in his own. “Jules. What can I do?”

“You’re doing it by being here.” I squeezed him. “I’ve missed you, partner.”

“Same here. I’ll have to stick around the office more often just to keep you from getting into trouble.”

“Sorry I didn’t—”
 

“Hey. At least you sent me a text. We can talk about the rest of it later, okay?”

“Okay.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so casual and familiar I felt tears welling up.

Focus, dammit. No crying now.

I cleared my throat. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Sheriff Richards called and asked if I knew anything about you being involved in a shooting at the lake. Evidently Sheriff Erickson called him. Not two minutes after that Jimmer called. We drove down here together.”

“Thanks for being here.”

“Always.”

The fierceness in his tone reminded me Kevin never had been—or never would be—a fair weather friend.

“Quit hoggin’ her,” Jimmer complained. Then he enveloped me in a bear hug. “You get yourself into the damndest situations, little missy.”

“I know.” I whispered, “But like you said, there really wasn’t much of a case, was there?”

He smacked me on the ass.

After he set me down, I noticed Big Mike sitting in the waiting room. I scanned the area but didn’t see Tony and fought a pang of disappointment. I crossed the room and stood in front of him.

Big Mike smiled but it didn’t quite reach his worried eyes. “I won’t hug you because bossman might break my arms, but I’m relieved to see you’re okay, Julie. Really relieved.”

“How did you know I was down here? Did Jimmer or Kevin call Martinez?”

“They were already here when we pulled into the parking lot,” Kevin said.

“They?” I repeated to Big Mike.

He pushed to his feet. His big body nearly cast me in shadow. “Do you really think he could stay away when he knew you were in trouble?”

I didn’t ask how Martinez knew. The man
always
knew. “Where is he?”

“Waiting outside in the Escalade. You know cop shops ain’t his thing.”

Kevin snorted and Jimmer elbowed him.

They called after me, but I was already heading out the door.

I had to stop myself from running when I saw him step out of the SUV.

Martinez didn’t meet me halfway; he waited for me, his hands closed into angry fists at his sides, those fierce eyes of his cataloguing every inch of me, searching for body trauma that wasn’t there—at least not externally.
 

It hit me all at once. I’d shot someone. While I had no regrets because it had been either her or me, that didn’t alter the fact she could die. I’d been in this situation before, not for a while, but it hadn’t gotten any easier. And I never wanted it to get easier, either. I never wanted this to happen again, even knowing the odds were high that it would, given the life I led.

I felt the cracks in my fortress of control start to widen and I knew I was in danger of crumbling completely.
 

That’s when Tony strode forward and crushed me against him, staying rock steady, bolstering me before I fell apart.

“It’s okay, blondie,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m here.”

I nodded and found a measure of control. My tears surfaced but never fell, but even if I had started bawling like a baby, Tony wouldn’t leave me.

He knew the instant I gathered myself back together. He kissed my forehead. “Now what?”