In a Killer’s Sights (8 page)

The terror she had experienced in the forest next to that creek wasn’t something she could wash away so easily. In her mind she could still hear the bullets striking the trees and the ground around them, and the voice that had taunted her. Who was he, and why did he want to use Emmett and her to hurt Dean?

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the sink. After a few minutes she shook her head and straightened her spine. She couldn’t hide in the restroom all night like a scared little girl. The sheriff should be here anytime now, and she needed to tell him what had happened.

She took a shaky breath and pulled another paper towel from the dispenser. When she’d wet it, she washed her face in an effort to soothe her red-streaked eyes and to rinse away the smudges on her cheeks, then pulled Dean’s cell phone from her pocket and cleaned it. She glanced down at her jeans and shirt and swallowed the bile that flowed into her mouth at the bloodstains she saw.

There was nothing she could do about that now. She opened the door and walked back out to the waiting room. Dean leaned on the wall opposite the bathroom door, and he straightened when he spotted her.

“Here’s your cell phone,” she said and held it toward him.

He reached for it, then let his gaze rake her bloodstained clothes. The muscle in his jaw flexed as he slipped the device in his jeans pocket. He took a step closer. “You’re all right, aren’t you? You didn’t get nicked by a bullet?”

His voice vibrated with concern, and her pulse quickened. For a moment all she wanted was to have him put his arm around her and kiss her hair as he had at Rattlesnake Creek. But she couldn’t allow that to happen again.

“I’m not injured, Dean. I guess I’m not over my scare yet. I thought we were going to die. And we would have if you and your employees hadn’t arrived.”

He reached for her hand and held it between both of his. She didn’t want to look down, but couldn’t resist the urge. She’d been shocked yesterday when she saw that he still wore his wedding ring. She laid her free hand on top of his and rubbed the gold band that she had picked out before their wedding. Suddenly she felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her at the feeling of tremendous loss that swept through her.

She’d had the feeling many times in the past few years, but being here with Dean now made her aware of what they had once had and how it had come to a sad end. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked.

“Gwen,” he whispered, “if anything had happened to you...”

“Dean!” a voice called out, and they turned to see Ben Whitman coming toward them.

Gwen pulled her hand free and Dean sucked in a big gulp of air before he glanced at his friend. “Ben, thanks for coming. We’ve had some trouble out at the ranch, and I think it’s related to what happened yesterday.”

Ben nodded and pointed along the hallway. “There’s a room down there that the hospital staff lets us use when we need to talk with someone in private. Let’s go.”

“Let me tell the receptionist where we will be. I want to know what the doctor says about Emmett’s condition as soon as he knows anything.”

Dean had no sooner finished speaking than the doors to the treatment area opened and a young man in scrubs walked toward them. He stopped beside Dean. “Mr. Harwell, I’m Dr. Owens. Your friend is doing fine. He’s lost a lot of blood from the wound in his shoulder, but his vital signs are strong right now. We’re on our way to surgery with him to remove the bullet. He’s awake and talking, but he won’t be for long. He wanted me to tell you not to worry.” The doctor turned to Gwen. “And he wanted me to thank you for saving his life. In fact, he said he thought he might call you Annie from now on, after the famous Annie Oakley.”

Gwen and Dean both laughed, but she sobered quickly. “He’s really going to be all right, Dr. Owens?”

“He should be fine. I’ll let you know as soon as he’s out of surgery.”

“We’ll be in the conference room down the hall, Doc,” Ben said.

“Good. I’ll come there when I know anything.”

They watched as he reentered the treatment area, and then they walked down the hallway to the conference room. When they were settled around the long mahogany table, Ben pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket and looked at Dean. “Now tell me what happened today.”

“I only know the ending of the attack. Gwen was the one there from the start.”

The sheriff shifted his attention to her. “All right, Miss Anderson. Suppose you tell me what happened out there.”

Gwen took a calming breath. “Well, it started out as a simple trail ride. Emmett and I left the barn around ten this morning to head up to Crystal Falls. I wanted to scout out some locations for the TV documentary I’m doing.”

For the next few minutes she related the events that had unfolded on their journey. When she got to the part about how she’d been running low on bullets, and the way the shooter had jeered at her from the creek, her breath hitched in her chest.

She shuddered and crossed her arms over her stomach. “His voice sounded so evil. And his words were those of a madman set on vengeance.”

Ben quit writing for a moment and frowned. “Vengeance? What did he say?”

She closed her eyes, and it was as if she was back in that forest with a killer coming closer and closer. She had to force herself to answer. “He said, ‘You got away yesterday, but you won’t today. Won’t Dean be surprised when he finds the bodies of his foreman and wife?’”

Ben’s eyebrows arched. “Wife? How did he know that you were Dean’s wife?”

“I don’t know. I wondered the same thing. Then I realized he’d killed Dean’s grandfather, and now he wants to kill his foreman and ex-wife. The only thing that makes sense is that the killer is really after...”

“Me!” Dean exclaimed. He jumped to his feet and kicked his chair backward, then strode to the far end of the room and stood for a moment, his hands propped on his hips as he stared at the wall. Finally, he turned back to Gwen.

“This is all my fault. Someone hates me and is taking it out on those I care about. First my grandfather and now you and Emmett.”

Gwen pushed herself up from her chair and hurried over to Dean. She wrapped her fingers around his upper arms and gripped him tightly. “No, Dean. This is not your fault. You can’t help it if some crazy person wants to kill innocent people.”

Ben stood in turn and cleared his throat. “Now hold on, you two. We don’t need to go jumping to any conclusions just yet about what this killer is after. It could be that he has some reason to want to hurt you, Dean, but then, our shooter might be someone who followed Gwen here. Maybe your grandfather happened on him yesterday on that mountain trail and something happened that caused the guy to kill him.”

Dean cast a skeptical glance at his friend. “That’s a far-out theory, Ben.”

“Well, I’ve done this job long enough to know that you can’t rule out anything. Now think, Gwen. Is there anyone who could have followed you here?”

She shook her head. “No. There’s no one.”

“Yes, there is,” Dean said. “Mark Dyson.”

Ben jerked his attention to Dean. “Who’s Mark Dyson?”

“A lawyer from Knoxville. He bumped into Gwen at her motel and has been going out of his way to be friendly since then. I discovered this morning that he’s lead counsel for a company that Gwen’s documentary is about to expose for endangering the environment.”

“Mark Dyson,” Ben murmured as he wrote the name down. “Where can we find him?”

Gwen started to protest, but something told her not to. They needed to let Ben follow every lead if they were to catch this killer. “He’s staying at the Mountain View Motel.”

Ben pulled his phone from his pocket, turned his back to them and punched in a number. “Martha,” he said. “This is Ben. Tell Deputy Bridges to go to the Mountain View Motel and check out a guy named Mark Dyson. I want to know where he was all day and what he was doing. I want Bridges on this now, top priority, and he’s to call me as soon as he knows anything.”

Ben disconnected the call and turned back to them. “He’ll check this out right away.”

“So what shall we do while we wait?” Gwen asked.

The sheriff turned to Dean. “I need to know the rest of the story. What happened after you arrived at the creek?”

Dean nodded and began to relate how hard he and his ranch hands had ridden to get to Gwen and Emmett, how he’d exchanged fire with the shooter before he disappeared into the forest, and how they’d got Emmett back to the barn as quickly as possible.

“Then we loaded him up and brought him here,” Dean stated.

As Gwen listened, she could hear Dean’s respect and affection for Emmett in his words, and she knew he was deeply worried about his friend. She studied his handsome profile as he spoke and began to realize that he was not only the best-looking man she’d ever known, but he was also once again the good, kind man she had married.

Somewhere during their time together they had lost each other. She’d become obsessed with succeeding in her job, and he’d turned to alcohol to drown the torment his own job had caused. Maybe there was something she could have done to help him. Had she been so focused on her own needs that she had let those of her husband go unnoticed?

As she sat here listening to him, she realized he was happy now. He was free of the addiction that had once ruled his life and seemed fully determined that it would never consume him again. That thought made her happier than anything had in years, and she found herself wishing there was some way that she, Dean and Maggie could be a family. But she didn’t think that would ever be possible. Just telling him about Maggie would be enough to alienate him forever.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of Ben’s cell phone. “Hello?” he said.

She and Dean both scooted to the edge of their chairs and waited as he nodded and listened to what the caller was saying. After a few minutes he exhaled. “Okay. Thanks for checking this out. I’ll see you at the station later.”

“What did he say?” Dean asked the minute Ben completed the call.

“Bridges said that he talked with Mark Dyson. The man teed off at the Hurricane Mills Golf Club at ten o’clock this morning and was there until midafternoon. He provided the names of three men he was with. My deputy has talked to all three, and they have corroborated his alibi. So it looks like he’s not our shooter.”

Dean’s shoulders hunched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So that means I’m definitely the one the killer’s after, not Gwen.”

Ben shook his head. “We don’t know for sure yet, pal. Give us time to work on this.”

Dean stared into space for a moment before he turned to Gwen and sighed. “Okay, but in the meantime, there’s only one thing to do now.”

“What?” she asked.

“You have to leave. Go back home. The next time this guy may not miss.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she wrapped her hands around his upper arms. “Go home? No. I’m not going to leave you alone at a time like this.”

Dean shook her hands free and gritted his teeth. “You left me alone five years ago, and you’ve been quick to point out that nothing has changed since then. I don’t need you here to pretend to care what happens to me. So I want you on the first plane out of Knoxville bound for New York tomorrow.”

His words felt like a stinging slap, and tears pooled in her eyes as she recoiled from the anger in his. She couldn’t believe the things he was saying. “Dean, please. I don’t want to leave yet.”

“That doesn’t matter. When we get back to the ranch, I want you to pack your bags and be ready to go in the morning. This isn’t your home, Gwen. You need to get back to New York and get on with your life there.”

With that, Dean stormed through the door and into the hallway. She fought the urge to run after him, to make him explain why he was so angry with her. Ever since she’d arrived at the ranch, Dean had thrown subtle hints that he wished they could get back together. Her uncertainty over whether she could trust him again, mingled with her guilt over how she’d deceived him, had kept her from returning his interest. Maybe she’d played her part too well, and now he was through with her.

Whatever had changed his mind, she wasn’t welcome at Little Pigeon Ranch anymore. If that was the case, she’d be on that plane tomorrow and would never come back to the only place that had ever seemed like home to her.

EIGHT

A
n hour later Dean hadn’t returned, and there had been no word from the doctor. Gwen stopped pacing back and forth in the conference room and shook her head. “Why haven’t we heard anything? Do you think something could have gone wrong?”

Ben frowned. “Waiting’s hard, I know. I do it all the time with families of crime victims. The doctor said he’ll let us know, and he will. In the meantime, how about some coffee? I’ll be glad to go to the dining room and get us some.”

Gwen looked down at her watch and frowned. She hadn’t realized it had got so late. As if to remind her that she hadn’t eaten lunch, her stomach growled. “Coffee sounds great,” she said. “Could you get a snack of some kind to go with it? I don’t have any money with me, but I’ll repay you later.”

He gave a lopsided grin and waved his hand in dismissal. “No need to do that. I’ll be glad to get you something. Be back in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Sheriff Whitman.”

He grinned again. “Ben.”

Gwen studied the chiseled features of the man she’d met yesterday, and the tension she’d felt in her body ever since that first shot was fired at Rattlesnake Creek seemed to disappear at the kindness of his smile. Her rigid muscles relaxed, and she took a slow step toward him. “Do you really wait with all the crime victims’ families who are brought here, or just special ones?”

His face turned red, and he shrugged. “Maybe not all of them, but you’re different.”

She frowned. “Why am I different?”

“I met Dean the first day he came to school here, right after his grandparents brought him home with them. He’s been my friend ever since. I was away in the army when you two got married, and I never was home when you visited. But we kept up with each other. When he came back here five years ago, he wasn’t the man I remembered.”

Gwen shook her head. “No, I don’t suppose he was.”

“His grandfather had been telling me for several years how worried he was about Dean, said he was drinking too much. When I saw him after he came back, he was still fighting his alcoholism, but he
was
fighting—he wasn’t letting it take over anymore. And that was the main thing. My church had a group to help alcoholics, and I talked him into going with me.”

Her eyebrows arched. “With you? Why were you going?”

He smiled that slow smile that seemed to put her at ease. “Because I was a recovering alcoholic, too. Became one while I was in the army, but I had gotten help and was moving on with my life. I wanted Dean to get it, too. So he finally went with me, and I became his sponsor. I was there with him when he went through his worst times, and we formed a bond like nothing I’ve ever had with another person. We both know what it’s like to hit rock bottom and make the long, slow climb back to a happy life.”

Tears pooled in Gwen’s eyes, and she reached out and grasped his hand. “Thank you for being there for him, Ben. I’m so glad he had someone to hang on to during that time.”

Dean’s friend tilted his head to one side. “It wasn’t just me, you know, who helped him through it.”

“Oh? Who else helped him?”

“You.”

The single word shocked her, and she frowned. “I don’t understand. We were divorced, and I was nowhere around. How did I help him?”

“You were the reason he kept fighting his addiction. He set his mind on overcoming what he’d thought was impossible, because he wanted something much more important in his life. He wanted you. Every time he’d start to slip, he’d look down at his wedding ring, which he’d never taken off, and would find the strength to resist the urge to take a drink. I think you probably did more to help him than I did.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek. “I can’t imagine what that time must have been like for him and for you. Dean didn’t drink when we were first married. He was the most wonderful man I’d ever known, but his job destroyed him. All I could do was love him and try to make the hours he was home good for him.”

Ben exhaled a deep sigh. “Yeah, he’s told me how hard it was working undercover, infiltrating the drug scene in Oxford.”

“He would be gone for days,” Gwen murmured. “Then he’d come home, and he’d be so stressed out that all he wanted to do was drink and forget about what he’d seen and done. I tried to get him to share his feelings with me, but he refused. He said he didn’t want to upset me by telling me about the things he had to do on a daily basis. Then when the Trip King case exploded, Dean went off the deep end. He stayed drunk all the time he was at home, and he started having horrible nightmares. When I woke up one night with his hands around my throat, I thought he was going to choke me to death before I could get away. Thankfully, I was able to wake him up before he did.”

Ben was silent for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, he told me about that. It’s something he can’t put out of his mind. But he’s never told me all the details of what sent him over the edge. You said it was the Trip King case. What happened with that?”

Gwen closed her eyes for a moment and sank down in a chair. “That was a terrible time.” She crossed her arms on the conference table and tried to fight the powerless feeling that engulfed her every time she recalled the case that Dean never could forget.

Ben leaned forward. “What happened?”

She thought for a moment about where she should start, and then she swallowed. “People who live in other parts of the country don’t realize how popular rodeo is in the South. There are colleges with student teams that compete in the National Intercollegiate Rodeo Association and there’s a High School Rodeo Association for younger riders. Small towns all over the area sponsor yearly events for professional competitors. One of the most followed sports is bull riding.”

Ben grinned. “Yeah. I competed as a bronc rider when I was younger.”

“Then you know how seriously the sport is taken. Trip King was a young man who’d been a star bull rider on his college team. He was the son of a single mother, and he went to school on scholarships. Not only was he a gifted rider with movie-star good looks, but he was smart. Graduated with high honors, and he was on his way to a successful life.” Gwen paused for a moment.

“Go on,” Ben said.

“After he graduated, he went on the pro rodeo circuit and began to gain attention from promoters. Soon he had lined up some endorsements, and he was gaining points in competitions that were inching him up the ladder to take over the number one spot in the championship bull-riding standings. Then he came to Oxford for the annual rodeo there, and that’s where it happened.”

“What?”

“Dean wasn’t supposed to be working that night, but he took the shift of a fellow officer who needed to be at the hospital with his sick child. The police got a tip that there were a lot of drugs being sold around the stadium where the rodeo was being held, so Dean and another officer went to check it out. They soon discovered that Trip King was the head drug dealer. When they approached him, he panicked and tried to run. They followed, and he pulled a gun from his truck and shot the officer with Dean—a man Dean had known for years. He died instantly.”

She stopped talking for a moment and thought of that officer and the wife and two children he’d left behind. Her heart ached once again, just as it had then. “Dean did what he was trained to do. He returned fire, and Trip King was killed.” She glanced up at Ben and shook her head. “After that there was nothing I could do to help him. He was so burdened with guilt that he refused to see that he’d had no choice. Even after the official investigation into the case showed that Dean acted in accordance with police standards and he wasn’t held responsible for the shooting, he couldn’t accept it. He kept saying that Trip King was just a kid who’d been influenced by the wrong people. He was on his way to becoming a big-time star with a huge earning potential, and he even had movie agents trying to sign him. The future was his, and Dean felt like he’d taken it away from him.”

Ben pursed his lips and stared off into space for a few moments before speaking. “It’s a hard thing to take someone’s life, even in the line of duty. I can understand what Dean must have gone through. I know that he hasn’t forgotten that case, although he won’t talk to me about it.”

“The night Dean pulled the trigger and shot Trip King, he killed our marriage, too. From that time on he spiraled further and further down into alcoholism. After he almost killed me, I knew it was time to leave. I did the only thing I could. I divorced him.”

“And made him promise to never look for you.”

Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“And he never did.” Ben paused and directed a somber look at her. “He always told me that if God wanted the two of you back together, He’d work it out.”

Gwen rose to her feet, shook her head and walked to the other end of the room. Without turning around, she clenched her fists at her sides as she stared at the wall in front of her. “God had nothing to do with my being here,” she rasped. “It was just a coincidence that I saw his grandfather’s body being dumped in that stream. Now Dean says I have to leave, and I think he’s right. I plan to be gone first thing tomorrow. I hope you find whoever killed his grandfather and tried to kill Emmett and me. But I won’t be here to see it happen. I’m going home, where I belong, and I don’t want to ever hear from Dean again.”

She whirled around, then gasped. Dean had quietly reentered the room and stood next to Ben. A sad expression lined his face as he let his gaze travel over her. All of a sudden she felt as if she would suffocate from the heavy tension that hung in the conference room. She couldn’t speak, but only stare at him.

After a moment he pulled his eyes away and turned to Ben. “I met the doctor in the hall. Emmett came through his surgery fine and is in recovery. They’re going to move him into the critical care unit for overnight observation, and we can see him for a few minutes in another hour or so.”

The sheriff glanced at his watch. “Then I don’t think I’ll wait. I have some work to do at the office before the next shift change. I have Gwen’s statement about what happened and yours concerning what you saw after you arrived at the creek. I’ll come back in the morning to talk to Emmett. Maybe he’ll be feeling more up to remembering details then.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “No need for you to hang around here. So if you’re leaving, would you mind taking Gwen back to the ranch? She needs to get packed so she can go home in the morning.”

“Sure,” Ben said. “I’ll be glad to.”

Gwen frowned and shook her head. “Dean, I’ll stay. I want—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Please just go, Gwen. I’ll be home later, and I’ll try to see you before you leave tomorrow.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was sending her on her way as if she was some unwanted ranch guest he couldn’t wait to be rid of. She lifted her chin and glared at him. “You’ll
try
to see me in the morning? Very well. If that’s the way you want it.”

He nodded. “That’s the way I want it.”

She straightened her spine and walked toward the door. “Then let’s go, Ben. I have some packing to do.”

She didn’t look back as she walked from the conference room and out the emergency room doors toward the squad car. Neither she nor Ben spoke as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the ranch.

After a few miles, he exhaled and glanced her way. “Gwen, I’m sorry. Dean wasn’t trying to hurt you. He’s trying to protect you. He wants you gone so the killer won’t target you again. I’m sure you’ll hear from him after we catch this guy.”

“I don’t
want
to hear from him again. I’ve told him ever since I got here that I don’t want to recapture what we once had. The past is dead and gone. I have another life now, and I can’t ever have one with Dean.”

“
Can’t?
That’s a strange word to use. Do you not want to have a life with Dean, or is there some reason that you
can’t
have one with him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she murmured. “There’s no going back.”

She turned her head and stared out the window as they traveled over the winding mountain road to Little Pigeon Ranch. She tried to memorize every inch of the rolling landscape so she would have something on sleepless nights to remind her of how happy she’d once been.

Finally, she leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes.
Please, God, help me. I know I was wrong not to tell Dean about Maggie. But what do I do now? He deserves to know he has a daughter and to have a relationship with her. But he will hate me for keeping her a secret. Tell me what to do.

The car hit a bump in the road, and her head bounced back and then struck the window again. It was as if the jolt had produced the answer she’d prayed for. The only way she was ever going to gain any peace from the guilt she carried was to face up to the mistake she’d made five years ago.

Before she left, she had to tell Dean he had a daughter, and Gwen had to ask his forgiveness for keeping her from him. Then all she could do was depend on God to give her strength to face the repercussions that would surely follow her confession.

* * *

Dean sat in a chair in the corner of the critical care waiting area and sipped at a cup of coffee that had grown cold since he’d bought it an hour ago. It was after ten o’clock, and so far he’d been allowed one short visit with Emmett. That was enough to assure him that the man who’d been his grandfather’s right hand for years was going to recover from his wound.

The doctor and nurses had told him to go home, that there was nothing else he could do tonight. For some reason, though, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Emmett had no family, and Dean couldn’t stand the thought of him being alone and hurt without someone who cared close by. Maybe if Emmett was better in the morning, Dean could go home and get some sleep.

He glanced around the room and saw that most of the people keeping vigil tonight for their loved ones were beginning to settle down on the chairs and couches scattered throughout the area. Nurses’ aides had distributed pillows and blankets to everyone about thirty minutes ago, and already some soft snores drifted across the room.