Deep in the Heart (19 page)

“Well, a short time back, a man pulled into the station in a foreign job. One of them Jaguars.”

John Thomas grinned at Pete’s pronunciation of the automobile. It came out sounding like
Jag-you-war
.

“Anyway, it was damn near blowed up and the driver was mad as hell, especially after I told him yesterday that it will be another week before the rest of the parts get in.” He ducked his head and spit before continuing. “Just between you and me, I’ll be lucky if I can get that blasted thing running again at all. He was driving it without engine oil. How come all the people who can afford nice rides don’t have the faintest idea of what it takes to run ’em?”

“I don’t know,” John Thomas said. “Let’s get back to this stranger. What did you say his name was, and where is he staying? I think I’d like to check out his reasons for being in Cotton.”

Pete nodded importantly. “That’s just what I thought you’d say. His name is Aaron Reuben, and he’s staying at the Texas Pig Motel.”

“Thanks for the information, Pete,” John Thomas said.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, as he started to walk away. And then he slapped his leg and stopped. “Dang! I plumb near forgot. That Reuben fellow…”

John Thomas waited.

“He’s from California.”

Pete walked away and missed seeing the blood drain from the sheriff’s face. And even if he had, he probably would have chalked it up to the intense noonday heat rather than shock.

“Damn,” John Thomas said, and ran back into the headquarters.

“Carol Ann, where’s Lawler?”

“He’s out on a call. And Willis just called in. He’s on the west side of the county with a flat tire and no jack. Someone from the garage forgot to put it back when they did the overhaul. He’s mad as a wet hen.”

“Who’s not busy?” he asked, wanting someone with him when he went on this call, just in case he got lucky. If this was really the stalker and he saw a lawman at the door, he might run. And John Thomas didn’t want to risk losing him. He needed backup, just in case.

“Deputy Turner comes on duty in a few—”

“I’m right here,” Monty said, as he walked up behind them.

John Thomas turned, then forgot what he’d been going to say. The devastation on the young man’s face was too painful to miss. A long silence passed as the two men stared at each other. Somehow, during the time since he’d last seen Montgomery Turner, a deep, abiding sorrow had taken root in the younger man. But the warning in his eyes was as unmistakable as the pain. Whatever had happened, the deputy wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.

“You up to going with me to interrogate a man who just might be our stalker?”

Monty’s eyes lit up. Not much, but enough to tell the sheriff that his deputy was ready to do his job.

“Lead the way,” he said. “Right now, there’s nothing I’d like better.”

“Carol Ann, if you need me, I’ll be in Cotton at the Texas Pig Motel.”

“Yes sir,” she said, and made a note of the time they’d departed the office on her log sheet before reading the bulletin coming in over the fax. As the sheriff and his deputy left town, she was posting the report on an armed robbery suspect who’d escaped out of Dallas.

Aaron Reuben couldn’t believe his ears. Someone was actually knocking on the door to his motel room. He punched the mute button on the TV remote so that the
Beverly Hillbillies
rerun would continue without sound.

When he opened the door, the last thing he expected to see was two policemen, and armed with regulation pistols strapped to their hips. In an area like this, he would have expected horses and six-guns.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he said. “I didn’t hear you ride up.” Then he laughed at the insult he’d just dealt.

Being stuck in this backwater part of Texas had long since used up his allotment of social manners. As far as he was concerned, propriety belonged back in L.A., along with nouvelle cuisine, designer water, and beautiful blondes.

John Thomas held his tongue. He’d been insulted by bigger, badder men than this little fellow. He had a job to do, and if this man had any connection to the hell Sam had been going through, he was going to regret it for the rest of his life.

He lowered his voice to somewhere near the decibel level of a clap of thunder. “Are you Aaron Reuben?”

The laugh died on Reuben’s face. The rough, angry tone of the big lawman’s voice made him nervous. He didn’t think he liked the look in the lawman’s eyes and was pretty sure that the big lawman didn’t like him either.

“So I’m Aaron Reuben. Who might you be? Wyatt Earp?”

Monty took instant offense and John Thomas knew it. But he’d seen this man’s kind before, and knew that the best way to deal with it was to ignore it.

“I’m John Thomas Knight, sheriff of Cherokee County, and this is my deputy, Montgomery Turner. We have a few questions we’d like you to answer.”

Reuben’s ulcer kicked into gear as he absorbed the tone of the big man’s voice.

“You have questions, I have questions. The whole world wants answers. Hell of a deal, isn’t it, Sheriff.”

John Thomas ignored the smart-mouthed remark and continued, noting that Monty had taken out a pad and pencil and was ready to take notes.

“How long have you been in Cotton, Mr. Reuben?”

“Too damned long for my peace of mind. My car blows up and the only foreign thing this damned mechanic in Cotton had ever seen are his tools. They’re all made in Japan.”

Then he stomped outside toward the concrete armadillo and pointed. “And that is what is supposed to pass for art. Can you beat it? A goddamned, cement…whatayamacallit.”

“Armadillo. It’s called an armadillo,” Monty said quietly.

“What’s your business here, Mr. Reuben?” John Thomas continued.

“What the hell’s yours?” he countered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by this inquisition. In his opinion, it was adding insult to injury.

“Someone tried to harm a woman outside of town a few nights ago. Someone who was most likely a stranger. We are simply checking out everyone in town we don’t know, that’s all.”

“Now that just cuts it,” Aaron yelled. “Why would you assume that it has to be a stranger? Are you trying to make me believe that everyone who lives in this godforsaken, hillbilly town is a saint? It was probably just some drunk teenager out to get himself a piece, and got lost before he got off.”

“No, it has to be a stranger,” John Thomas said.

“Because the problem didn’t start here in Texas. It started in California—Los Angeles to be exact.” His voice got louder and his words shorter as he stepped closer to Aaron Reuben’s shocked and sweating face. “And now I find that the son of a bitch who ‘got off,’ as you call it, on frightening innocent women, has followed her here. That’s why I’m asking. And that’s why I’m waiting for you to give me an answer that I like, Mr. Reuben. Do we understand each other?”

All he could do was nod.

Monty knew it was time to intervene. He saw murder in his boss’s eyes, and knew if John Thomas lost control, he would be difficult to stop. “Mr. Reuben, if you’d be so kind as to give me your driver’s license?”

John Thomas recognized his deputy’s quiet warning and appreciated it. For a moment, he’d lost focus on the job at hand.

Aaron Reuben quickly obeyed.

“Here.” He handed Monty his license. “And just for the record, I work for a small film studio in Hollywood. I was sent to scout out locations for a low-budget movie. East Texas was on my list. When and if I ever get home, make no mistake, I will cross it off.”

John Thomas handed Reuben his card. “Just so we understand each other, if you plan on leaving town anytime soon, give me a call first.”

Reuben rolled his eyes. “If I could, I would already be gone. I stranded myself in a town with no access to an airport. No taxis. No rental cars. I’m lost in the goddamned twilight zone. That’s what.”

Having said all he felt brave enough to say, he walked back into his motel room and quietly closed the door.

“Well now,” Monty said, smiling for the first time today. “I thought I heard a little dissatisfaction in his voice, what do you think, boss?”

John Thomas grinned. “When we get back to the office, have Carol Ann run the s.o.b.’s information through NCIC. Also have her check and see if there are any outstanding wants or warrants.”

“Want me to drive?” Monty asked.

“Yeah, I think I do,” John Thomas said, and handed the deputy his keys.

Fifteen minutes later they were the cruising main street when John Thomas turned and looked at the pickup truck that just passed them.

“There went Sam,” he said, more to himself than to Monty. It was only later, when they drove up to the department and pulled into the parking lot, that John Thomas realized Monty hadn’t said a word since leaving Cotton.

“You okay, Turner?” he asked.

Monty shrugged. “I’ll get by.” He got out of the car, tossing the car keys to the sheriff as they entered the department.

“If you need to talk…”

The offer was left unfinished.

“I’ll just get this info to Carol Ann so she can get it on the wire,” Monty said. “Do you want me to write up the report?”

“You’d better. I think I might be too personally involved in this whole damned mess for my own good.”

“Yeah,” Monty drawled, as he walked to his desk and stuffed a piece of typing paper in his typewriter.

“That can happen to a man.”

Once again Montgomery Turner made an odd comment without elaborating on it to John Thomas’s satisfaction. He certainly was a man full of secrets.

A short time later, as he stood in the doorway to his office, looking out at Monty who sat typing the report, a thought occurred to John Thomas. And when it did, he realized that it wasn’t the first time he’d had it.

Aaron Reuben wasn’t the only stranger to come to town recently. Montgomery Turner had arrived on the heels of his return with Samantha, and what bothered John Thomas more than anything was the fact that Turner wasn’t the deputy he’d been expecting. Most disturbing of all, John Thomas hadn’t even questioned the switch.

Pivoting, he closed the door behind him. He had a sudden urge to make some phone calls, and maybe when he was through, he would have some answers as to why Montgomery Turner was here and not somewhere else.

It had taken all evening, and a dozen or more phone calls, to learn that Montgomery Turner was who he claimed to be.

According to state headquarters, Turner had graduated near the head of the class. To John Thomas’s surprise, Turner had asked to be assigned to him. It seemed that the rookie had a case of hero-worship where the Cherokee County sheriff was concerned.

John Thomas slumped forward in his chair, resting his face in his hands, and then rubbed his eyes wearily in near defeat. He had a feeling that the stalker was close by and laughing his head off.

The phone rang.

He grabbed it before the second ring and yelled into the receiver before he thought to mask his frustration.

“Sheriff’s office!”

Mike Pulaski winced, holding the receiver away from his ear, fearing he was about to get more of the same. Then he tilted his chair until it hit the wall, hiked his feet up on the desk, and let the back legs of the chair balance him and his excess weight.

“Sheriff Knight, Mike Pulaski here.”

John Thomas sighed. “Sorry. The call startled me. I was lost in thought.”

“Is that anywhere close to Cotton?” Pulaski asked.

“Get it? Lost in Thought. Lost in Cotton? Lost in L.A.? Oh hell, never mind,” he said with a sigh. “I never could tell a joke.”

John Thomas grinned. “I get it,” he said. “And for a California cop, it’s not half bad.”

“Sorry I’m so late in returning your call, but I was out of town. So what’s on your mind?” Pulaski asked.

For a moment, John Thomas couldn’t figure out what he meant, and then he remembered. Right after they’d moved to town, he’d called Pulaski to let him know what had happened. He’d almost forgotten that Pulaski hadn’t called back.

“Oh, I just thought you might like to know that the stalker is here.”

Pulaski sat straight up in his chair. “What the hell do you mean, here? Do you have him in custody?”

“Oh hell, no,” John Thomas said wearily. “But he has us on pins and needles. He made an attempt to get to Samantha a short time back. She was alone at my house. Luckily my dog was inside with her and, I think, helped scare him off.”

“Damn!” Pulaski said. “I’m real sorry about all this. Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. And to tell the truth, I think the stalker was just playing with her. He cut the phone lines. She was in an isolated location with no way of escape, and he did nothing but terrorize her.”

“Did she see him?”

“No, just heard his footsteps.”

“You see what I mean,” Pulaski said. “Never enough to prove a damned thing. And always just her word for corroboration.”

John Thomas instantly got mad.

“You still don’t get it, do you, Pulaski? Her word has always been enough for me. Besides, I saw footprints, and they were too big for Sam’s foot and not big enough for mine. Just in case you try to tell me she put on a pair of my boots and ran around outside for the hell of it.”

“You misunderstand me,” Pulaski said. “I know she’s telling the truth. I’ve still got a bombed-out apartment as proof. What I meant was the stalker is damned smart. That’s all.”

John Thomas sighed, then relaxed. “I know. And I understand your side of it a little better myself. I feel like one of those sitting ducks in a carnival sideshow waiting for some stranger to come up and shoot my damned head off.”

“Keep me posted,” Pulaski said. “And if I get any news, you’ll be the first to know.”

John Thomas disconnected, glanced up at the clock, and realized that it was past quitting time. With a weary step, he shoved his hat on his head and walked out the door. It was time to go home to Sam.

11

S
AMANTHA BURST INTO
the sheriff’s office and then stopped short and tried not to stare. Two elderly men sat on opposite sides of the room staring glumly at each other. Their bib overalls were covered in mud, and their shirts were spattered with blood. One had a puffy eye, the other a fat lip. Without knowing what had happened, she realized that what she’d come intending to ask was probably out of the question.