SHATTERED (10 page)

Before he did this, he studied the guy’s profile one more time, and again, there was something about him that looked a little familiar. Something about the cheekbones and the jaw. Something—but nothing definite.

Once he climbed on Skipjack’s back, he realized he wasn’t sure the quickest way to anywhere—he was totally turned around—but there was a road up there somewhere. If he could find that, he could find people, help, a phone.

And then he could face the music for killing a man and try to explain what had happened at Mike’s house yesterday.

Would he ever see Sarah again? Nate had a gut feeling that the guy he’d just killed had not been the same one he’d shot the day before. Like he’d told Sarah, it was possible there were two agendas at work, possible that Sarah was walking into a death trap and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

Or could he?

* * *

S
ARAH
HADN
’
T
KNOWN
exactly what to expect at the ranch. Firemen, probably, maybe the police. It was a long shot that she could sneak in there and steal her own coins out from under them, so she approached warily, parking the snowmobile by Skipjack’s stall and entering the barn as quietly as she could.

To her great relief, the stall looked just as she’d left it. She took a detour to the front of the barn, where she found the door wide open and the cold, thin wind tunneling inside. Moving in the shadows to avoid being seen from outside, she made her way to a vantage point from which she could see the house. It took her a second to believe her eyes.

There wasn’t a soul around or any sign that anyone had been. With the exception of partially burned wood siding, nothing looked any different than it had hours before. Had the gunman extinguished it himself or had the house refused to burn? She blinked a couple of times but in the end decided to accept it as a stroke of luck and hurried back to the stall.

She quickly moved the straw bedding and then shoveled up the dirt in the corner. The cans were right where they were supposed to be, and as she hooked the first one with her fingers, she glanced at her watch. She had four hours to get the coins and herself to Reno. She couldn’t drive her car, she couldn’t take the snowmobile all that way and she couldn’t rent a car. As she moved the coins from the cans into the saddlebags, she found herself close to giggling.
Heck, I could buy a car.
She could buy a fleet of cars as long as no one needed to see a license or any identification.

She did the math in her head to come up with what her mother needed. The value of the coins far exceeded their actual weight because of their mint condition—she wasn’t sure how to figure it all out, but at this point, she would be happy to fork over too much if it meant ending this nightmare.

Which begged the question, how did she assure her mother didn’t get herself back into the same old mess a week or a month or a year from now? She would find out that Sarah had inherited everything from Mike, and as soon as she did, little by little she would eat it all up in her wild gambling sprees. Sooner or later, the money would end up in the pockets of Poulter or Bellows or others of their ilk, and it galled Sarah to death. Her father had sat on most of the coins his entire adult life; he hadn’t kept up the ranch or bought himself new cars, nothing, just let the coins sit in their cans and then left them to Sarah, who would now need to figure out a way to assure they did some actual good in the world.

Talk about problems for another day. Right now she had to get into Shatterhorn and beg, steal or borrow a car. Three and a half hours...

Because there were still several cans of coins in the underground vault, she had to take the time to put the stall back together again, working up a sweat despite the cold temperature. A weak sun came out as she rode off, and she squinted at the brilliance as the light reflected off the snow. A pair of goggles hung from the handlebars, but they had to have belonged to the man Nate killed and Sarah didn’t want them touching her face. As it was, her face was soon so cold she couldn’t feel her lips or her nose.

She looked back once as she crossed the pasture, then concentrated on driving, trying in the back of her mind to figure out how she should go about the next step, her hands half-frozen, her hair whipping about her shoulders.

She still had friends from high school living in Shatterhorn; maybe one of them could loan her a car. But how did she show up on their doorstep after eleven years’ absence and ask without delivering a long explanation she didn’t have the time for? For that matter, where did they currently live and how did she get to their houses while lugging around almost a hundred pounds of silver coins?

Nor, Sarah admitted, did she want any of them knowing her mother still gambled. Diana Donovan’s antics had been the talk of the town once, and once was enough.

Sarah had been driving beside the highway for the past mile or so. The road itself had been plowed and traffic was light. A short time later, the snowmobile belched its first sputter. She was still a half a mile from Shatterhorn. A couple of hundred feet more and it became clear the machine was about out of gas. She managed to guide it behind a spur of old fence before its last gasping moment, hoping to hide it from sight, but what did she do now?

Caught in a web of indecision and rising panic, she started stuffing the rolled coins into her pockets, knowing it was hopeless, not knowing what else she could do. Her watch kept catching the reflection of the sun, twinkling at her, taunting her.

She heard the sound of a car approaching and ducked her head, unsure if Nate had had time to coax the police into starting their investigation, only knowing she didn’t want to get involved in any part of that until there was no other choice. She caught the blurred shape of a dark blue truck passing her by, then looked over her shoulder to witness it make a screeching U-turn before stopping several feet away. Nate leaned across the front seat and opened the passenger door. “Need a ride?”

She scrambled to climb inside. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m driving you to Reno if you managed to get the coins. Did you?”

“Yes. Whoever started the fire must have put it out. The house shows where it burned and the barn door was open as though someone looked around in there, too, but that’s it. Maybe they didn’t want authorities snooping around prematurely. Now that you’ve gone to the police—”

“I haven’t talked to them yet,” he said. “I was on my way out to the ranch when I caught a glimpse of you behind that fence.”

“That’s where the snowmobile is. I ran out of gas. Where’s my horse?”

“At the vet. They said they’ll board him until you come for him.” As he told her this, he positioned the truck as close to the side of the road as he could, and together, they transferred the coins from the attached saddlebags and Sarah’s pockets, piling the rolls in a cardboard box in the backseat. Sarah could see Nate was favoring his arm and wondered how much it still hurt.

At last he made another U-turn and they took off.

She stared at him for several seconds before finally speaking. “Why aren’t you spilling your guts to the cops?”

He spared her a quick glance as he merged onto a major highway leading west toward Reno. “What’s the rush?” he asked.

She studied his strong profile for a moment before shaking her head. “Well, let’s see. A, there are two dead men, and B, you’re a deputy sheriff who has, until this minute, seemed hell-bent on following the rules.”

“I believe I told you I knew how to think outside the box,” he said, but there was something else in his voice that caught her attention. Exactly what it was, she wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, but, Nate, think about it. This could get you in a heap of trouble,” she added.

“You, too,” he said.

“I’m used to trouble. I get the feeling you’re not.”

The look he flashed her this time was more intense. “Mike is dead and can’t be brought back to life no matter when law enforcement gets into the act. The same goes for our visitor this morning. But your situation is immediate and dangerous and I don’t want you doing it alone.”

“You keep forgetting someone showed up this morning intent on killing you. Not me—you,” she said.

“I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I finally figured out who it was.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

He flashed her a grim smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Ten

“It’s Peter Jacks,” Nate said.

Sarah felt like slapping her forehead. “I didn’t really recognize him. I should have, but I didn’t.”

“People look different when they’re dead. Besides, it’s been several years since you saw him, right?”

“Over ten. He was just a kid I babysat occasionally. He gave no indication he recognized me, either. How did you figure out who he was?”

“He looked familiar to me. I talked myself into a few minutes of internet use while I was renting the truck. I found a photograph taken of Thomas’s family leaving his funeral, and there, front and center, was his older brother, Peter.”

“So he wanted to kill you for, what, revenge? Because you were at the mall when his brother went berserk? But you didn’t kill Thomas. He killed himself. Why go after you?”

“I’m not sure,” Nate admitted. He hadn’t thought it all the way through yet.

“Does this mean he killed my father, too?”

“I don’t know.”

“How would Peter Jacks know you were in Nevada unless my father told him?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“No, and my father looked as though he was caught coming home or leaving his house, not like he’d been in the middle of a heart-to-heart chat with Peter.” She gestured at the road ahead and added, “Can’t you go any faster?”

“Sure I can,” he said and sped up. The nervous energy emanating from Sarah permeated the cab.

“Did you find a gunshot wound on Peter’s body?” she asked.

“No,” Nate said. “But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. I could hardly strip him.” The truth was, Nate had been happy to have an explanation for the morning’s disaster, but now he saw that Sarah made some valid points. “After we talk to the Shatterhorn police, I want to arrange to see a couple of other people. Your dad’s notebook mentioned conversations but didn’t really specify content. Maybe the people he spoke with will remember what it was about. And maybe one of them will know if there was contact between your dad and the Jacks family.”

“You may not be able to arrest anyone in Nevada, but you still approach things as the cop you are,” she said. “Do you think they’re involved with Dad’s murder?”

Nate kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Impossible to say. Until we know for sure, we have to assume the people who have your mother were at your father’s house yesterday, busily trying to kill us. We’d better concentrate on keeping a few steps ahead of this guy when we get to Reno. How are you supposed to deliver the money?”

“He gave me a phone number to call before three o’clock. He said he’ll tell me where he stashed my mother and we’ll make an exchange.”

Nate glanced at the dashboard clock. They were about twenty miles from Reno and it was after one. “We have to make time to hit a coin dealer first. You can’t just shovel out silver coins in front of Bellows.”

“I’ll have to call him first and make sure I know exactly how much Mom owes him. Then I’ll sell enough coins to meet that debt. I wonder if one dealer will have enough cash?”

“I guess we’ll find out. I sure hate the idea of these thugs getting away with it.”

“I know you do,” she said with a swift glance Nate caught out of the corner of his eye. “But that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I thought you were okay with this.”

“I can agree with you but still not like it,” he said.

She laughed softly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

A half hour later, they pulled into the almost empty parking lot of the first coin dealer they found. Nate was delighted, when they entered, to see the place was also a vendor for other merchandise, including prepaid cell phones. While Sarah talked with the dealer, he bought and activated a new phone, which would serve him fine until he could go back to his original carrier and replace the unit that had been shot out of his hand.

When he joined Sarah, he found her deep in negotiations with a balding Asian man who wore a jeweler’s loupe and emitted a fierce aura of concentration. As the dealer carefully unpeeled the wrapper of a roll of silver dollars, Sarah looked up at Nate. “Where have you been?”

“I bought a phone. Why don’t you go call Bellows and I’ll stay here and watch over things.”

Sarah took the phone, and as she walked away, Nate watched her dig in her hip pocket and withdraw a slip of paper that he assumed held the number she had to call. He had to force his gaze from her lithe figure, and when he did, he found the dealer looking at him with a speculative expression.

“She won’t tell me where she got these coins,” he said, nodding at the stack of rolls they’d deposited atop the cabinet.

“They’re hers,” Nate responded.

“You expect me to take your word for it?”

Nate wished he could open his wallet and show the guy his badge. “Have a little faith,” he said instead.

“The deal is, there are a lot of coins here, and if they’re all of this quality, we’re talking a small fortune. You know I can’t buy them without filing a CTR, right?”

“What’s a CTR?”

“A currency transfer report. You know, the government’s attempt to try to control money laundering.” He rubbed his bald head. “I hope I have enough cash in the safe to purchase the whole lot. If not, I’ll have to call my banker and arrange a transfer.”

Nate propped his hands atop the cabinet and leaned forward. “We’re in a bit of a hurry. How about you purchase all that you can and help us figure out how many more it’ll take to come to a certain figure?”

“What figure?”

“We’ll know when the lady returns. Just keep examining the ones you can afford to buy outright. We need to be out of here in fifteen minutes.”

The man rubbed his head again. “Let me see what I can do.”

As the dealer took out a pocket calculator, Nate went in search of Sarah. He found her standing outside with her back against the brick building, and as he approached, she clicked off the phone and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes and Nate closed the distance between them as fast as possible.

“What’s wrong?”

“Bellows put my mother on the phone. She was crying so hard I couldn’t understand much of what she said. I guess this maniac has been passing the time by detailing the ways he’s going to torture her to teach us both a lesson if I don’t show up.”

“Were you able to ask her if she told them you were going up to see your father to ask for the money?”

“She was in no shape to think clearly. I didn’t ask her much of anything.” She hastily wiped a teardrop from her cheek and added, “We have an hour to get to the Silver Dollar Motel right outside of Carson City. We have to hurry.”

“Are you kidding me? The Silver Dollar?”

“I know. Appropriate, isn’t it?”

“Damn right poetic,” he said. “How much money do we need?”

“Two hundred and twenty-eight thousand dollars.”

“Let’s go make this happen,” Nate said and took her hand.

The dealer came up with all the money they needed to ransom Sarah’s mother and asked that they sell him the rest of the coins, though he wouldn’t be able to cash them out right that second. As Sarah had no desire to tote a bunch of silver coins around, she agreed to his deal. The dealer supplied a canvas tote for the money and even threw in a black Stetson that Nate had been eyeing. As Nate was mostly dressed in Sarah’s father’s clothes from the waist up, the hat went a long way toward making him feel a little more like the man he usually was.

“Did this guy say how you’re supposed to go about the exchange?” Nate asked as they drove away.

“Yeah. I’m to go to room eight and knock three times.”

“He’s going to be there?”

“I guess so. He isn’t exactly forthcoming.”

“She’s just quietly sitting in a motel room? That doesn’t sound very plausible.”

“You have to remember that they’re threatening her with my safety. She acts up, they take it out on me.”

Nate narrowed his eyes but kept his gaze straight ahead. He didn’t know Sarah’s mother, but from what Sarah had said about her, he had doubts she was able to think much further ahead than her own welfare. He’d have to trust Sarah’s faith in the woman, but it went against all common sense to meet someone like this on their terms.

Options? He couldn’t think of any. Not only was he currently not in law enforcement, but even if he was, he would be powerless to act in a different state. Putting aside the ethics of paying off a goon, you had to remember it was only money—and Sarah’s money, at that—and perhaps down the line, justice would be served.

He would play his part just as he’d promised. What else could he do?

* * *

S
ARAH
STRAINED
AGAINST
her shoulder seat belt as though willing the truck to move faster. Reno traffic was unexpectedly heavy, but it petered out as they headed south. It took half an hour to get to Carson City and then they had to stop at a service station to ask directions to the Silver Dollar Motel.

The motel itself turned out to be in an almost deserted industrial area of town, bracketed by an old warehouse with its windows shot out and a fenced yard full of old vehicles.

The motel itself might have been cute at one time in its dim past. Now it was surrounded by weeds and didn’t even appear to be in business. The sign out front included a huge neon figure of a cowboy lounging with his back against the marquee, his arms folded across his chest, his face set in a permanent smirk. Most of the bulbs surrounding his figure were broken. A smaller sign announced there were no vacancies. The parking lot was covered with dust and the chill February wind blew a few tumbleweeds along the snow-dusted pavement. The one visible car was pulled up in front of unit eight.

“Except for that car, this place looks like a ghost town,” Nate said.

Sarah nodded, her mouth too dry to actually make words. How was this all going to go down? As they rolled across the parking lot, she saw Nate reach under his seat. When he caught her watching him, he admitted he didn’t want to take his wallet into this situation and she was glad he’d thought to leave it behind.

As Nate locked the rental truck, Sarah slowly approached the door of room number eight, her skin prickling with the sensation of being watched, the duffel bag heavy in her hand. She knocked the prescribed three times as Nate joined her on the step.

A big brute of a man with two silver eyeteeth opened the door. Bellows looked much the same as he had at the airport the only other time she’d seen him. A smaller man with thick curly gray hair and dressed in a golf shirt stood to the side. With a grunt from Bellows, the smaller guy patted Sarah and Nate down. All they found were Nate’s truck keys, which he snapped back.

“Where’s my mother?” Sarah said after a quick glance around the room, which seemed predominantly green from the carpet to the bedspread to the wall paint and was achingly absent of another person.

“Where’s my money?” Bellows said, then, staring Nate in the eye, added, “And who the hell are you?”

Nate crossed his arms, and for a second, he looked like the human version of the cowboy out front. “My name is Nate,” he said in a Western accent new to Sarah. “I’m a friend of the family. Can’t expect her to run around on her own, now can you?”

Bellows grunted and turned his back on Nate to address Sarah. “Your mom is close by. We got tired of her caterwauling. This place is empty, so she can yell all she wants as long as we don’t have to listen to it. Two days was enough. Woman’s got quite a mouth on her. Now, hand over the money.”

“I want to see her first,” Sarah said.

“You’ll see her when I say you see her.”

“No dice,” Sarah said. “How do I know you’ll keep your part of the deal?”

“Here’s a—what do you call it?—a gesture of goodwill,” the big man said and handed Sarah her handbag. She opened it to see her belongings as she’d left them: the phone in a side pocket, her house keys and hairbrush, her wallet with a few green bills showing. Was she supposed to be impressed by his honesty?

She shouldered her bag. “Let me see my mother, then you can see the cash.”

The big guy looked at Nate. “Are you as stupid as she is? Has it completely slipped your mind who has a gun and who doesn’t? Show them your gun, Benny, and don’t be shy about using it if either one of them forgets the facts of life again.”

Benny pulled out a lethal-looking gun and then tucked it back in his waistband.

“Just tell me where she is,” Sarah pleaded.

“She’s here in the motel. Now open that bag.”

Sarah zipped open the bag and the two thugs fell on it like pirates on a keg of rum.

“Where is Diana Donovan?” Nate asked.

“Room twelve,” Benny said. He was stacking up hundred-dollar bills like an accountant.

Nate reached for the door, but Bellows threw out an arm to stop him. “Not so fast, slick. The girl can go get her mother. You’re staying where I can keep my eye on you.”

“Is the door of her room locked?” Sarah asked.

“No.”

Sarah left the room after exchanging meaningful glances with Nate. She hurried along the cold sidewalk to unit twelve and threw open the door.

Her mother lay straddled on the bed with hands and feet each tied to a bedpost. The gag in her mouth looked torturous, and her eyes, as they landed on Sarah, went from terrified to relieved in a blink. She pulled against the knots to the point that Sarah’s fingers hurt trying to untie them.

“Calm down,” Sarah kept saying. “You’re safe now. Just relax so we can get you out of here.” As she struggled with the knots on her mom’s right hand, she saw the busted, bruised and swollen fingers and couldn’t imagine how much they hurt, though her mother seemed oblivious to the pain.

Eventually Sarah managed to free all the knots and helped her mother sit on the side of the bed. Her jeans and pink T-shirt were studded with rhinestones that looked glaringly out of place in the shabbiness of the room.

For some reason, Sarah had left removing the gag for last, and as that came off, Diana Donovan licked her lips and rubbed her face with a jittery hand.

“Are you all right?” Sarah asked.

“I could have died!” Rivers of mascara had run down her face until her eyes looked like dark smudges. This impression was enhanced by the shiner, which Bellows had probably given her and which was now turning her left cheekbone shades of blue and purple.