SHATTERED (11 page)

Sarah tried to hug her, but her mother stood abruptly. “Did he give it to you?” she hissed.

“Sort of,” Sarah said, knowing the
he
her mother referred to was her father.

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’? Where is it?”

“I handed it over to the men in room eight,” Sarah said, furrowing her brow. What else would she have done?

“All of it?”

“Of course.”

“We could have bargained them down,” her mother said.

Sarah felt sure her jaw dropped open. “Bargained with them? Look at you. They’ve...they’ve beaten you up and your fingers are broken and untreated.”

“Right. And how will I afford to fix them now when you gave away all my money? What will I use to get back on my feet?”

“It’s Dad’s money,” Sarah said softly, glancing away from her mother’s swollen face. “And if you’re talking start-up money for more gambling—”

“Of course I’m talking seed money, but it all belongs to snaggletooth now!” Her mother turned abruptly, staggered as though weak or dizzy, but she caught herself and left the room. By the time Sarah gathered her wits and followed, her mother was opening the door to room eight and disappearing inside.

* * *

S
TARTLED
, N
ATE
WATCHED
Diana Donovan storm into room number eight, take a good look around and march on over to Bellows and Benny, who were still counting out their money around a tiny, scarred table. She stood over them and started poking and grabbing, swearing like a sailor and acting about as scared as a bulldog confronting a mouse.

This was Sarah’s mother? She was a good six inches shorter, rounder, softer-looking with very pink skin stretched tight over her cheekbones, as though she was no stranger to plastic surgery. Even taking into consideration the woman’s running makeup, bleached hair and the black eye, the differences were so striking they seemed impossible to reconcile.

A second later, Sarah erupted through the door, as beautiful as ever, but somehow changed. She lunged for her mother, who shook her off as she grabbed a fistful of dollars. The bigger of the two thugs grabbed Diana’s right hand to make her release the dough, and that must have compressed her horribly mangled fingers. The scream that leaped from her throat could curdle milk. The big man slugged her, but it was like fuel to the older woman’s rage. She yelled louder.

Nate couldn’t just stand there. Using reflexes honed by years of hands-on experience at keeping the peace, he jumped into the fray and wrangled both men to the ground, delivering and receiving a fair number of punches in the process. Fists flew; screams flew; cash flew. He subdued the smaller of the men and was in the process of getting to his feet when the larger man grabbed him from behind with a stranglehold around his throat. He heard a deep thud, and the pressure lessened as the man’s hands slid away. With a thump, the guy ended up facedown on the floor.

Nate looked up to find Sarah standing there with a metal waste can in her hands.

“Did you—”

“—whack him over the head?” she said. “I sure did.”

Nate brushed his hair from his face and scooped his hat off the floor where it had fallen. His shoulder throbbed again, but that discomfort was mitigated by the sight of Sarah’s smile as she surveyed the results of her handiwork. “Thanks,” he said.

“Anytime.”

Benny’s eyes seemed to spin in opposite directions as he came around, while Bellows held his head and groaned. Nate relieved Benny of his gun and patted down the other one for a weapon. “He’s clean,” he said.

Diana started to scoop up more of the money, but Nate caught her hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking what should be mine,” she said. “There’s enough here for a fresh start.”

“They’ll come after you,” Sarah said as she set aside the trash can.

Diana kept cramming money in her pockets. “I’ll go far away.”

Nate shook his head. “You do that and they’ll go after your daughter. Sarah will continue to be in danger.”

“No, they won’t. She’ll be fine.”

Nate pointed Benny’s gun at her. “Put every penny back on that table.”

She looked at him as though he was nuts. “Who the hell died and made you boss?” she demanded.

“Do it,” Sarah said. She glanced up at Nate and added, “He’s already killed one person today. I wouldn’t push your luck.”

Diana looked from one of them to the other, shoved her tangled, bleached hair away from her round face and sighed. She dug the money out of her pocket and threw it at the two men on the floor.

“Ladies? Time to go,” Nate said, still holding the gun. Benny and Bellows were beginning to sit up and take notice of their surroundings.

He hurried both women to his truck, which had a double cab. He expected Sarah to slide in back with Diana, but instead she got into the front. Nate glanced at her face as he closed her door, taking in her huge blue eyes and mussed hair, her sweet lips and long throat, all absorbed into his brain and recorded for future reference in the time it took to blink. It felt like the end of the road for them—he had things he had to do, and from what he’d seen in that motel room, Sarah’s hands were going to be full for a long time.

As he walked around behind the truck, he fought off a wave of melancholy. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Sarah Donovan but he should have seen it coming.

Shots came out of nowhere, or so it seemed in the instant it took Nate to dive to the pavement. He still carried Benny’s gun. Another shot alerted him to the direction from which the gunfire originated and he got off a round of his own before leaping to his feet. Someone was shooting from the abandoned building next door.

Sarah pushed open his door, then hunkered down low as he climbed inside. He jammed the key in the ignition and shifted into Reverse, sitting up fully as he steered away from the building and the shooter. His last sight was of Bellows and Benny standing at the motel door.

They looked as confused as Nate felt and he had the profound feeling they had nothing to do with the ambush.

So now who was gunning for him?

Chapter Eleven

“They’re still shooting!” Diana Donovan screamed, and sure enough, Nate heard a bullet hit the rear of the truck. He glanced back to see the gunman had come out of hiding and was now standing out in the open wielding what appeared to be a rifle. Nate could make out nothing of the man’s features and another bullet hitting the back window took care of him trying to.

“Get your head down,” Nate shouted. “You, too, Sarah.”

Both women ducked as yet another bullet hit what sounded like the bumper. Undoubtedly, the gunman was aiming for the tires. Another shot was followed by the tinkle of breaking glass and a scream from Diana. A quick glance at the rearview mirror revealed part of the sliding back window was now gone.

If Nate hadn’t had passengers, he might have doubled back and headed right for the jerk. Instead he took a hard turn to the right. The small truck skidded a bit but kept to the road, and Nate immediately took a left turn and, at the next corner, another sharp right. There was no sign of pursuit, but he kept up the evasive maneuvers until they cleared Carson City and hit the road back to Reno.

“I think it’s safe to sit up,” Nate said, glancing at Sarah, whose expression looked terrified, all in all a logical reaction to the past few minutes.

“No, thanks,” Diana Donovan called from the backseat. “I’m staying down.”

Sarah, however, did sit up and twisted around in her seat. “Are you okay?” she asked her mother.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m covered with glass. What the hell is going on?”

“Good question,” Sarah muttered as she turned her attention to Nate. “Did you notice the shots didn’t start until you were walking around out there alone?” she asked.

Nate nodded. He’d noticed. It was pretty clear whom the intended target had been.

“Better head to the emergency room,” she added with a nod toward the backseat.

“What’s the point?” Diana grumbled. “I can’t pay for anything.”

“I’ll cover it,” Sarah said.

Diana sat forward, resting her hands on the back of Sarah’s seat. “Did your father give you more money?”

“Yes,” Sarah said.

“How much more?”

“Everything.”

Nate kind of wished she hadn’t said anything to her mother about the money, but talk about something not being his business.

“Is there a lot?” Diana asked, her voice anxious.

Sarah turned to face her mother. “Don’t you want to know why he gave me everything?”

“Not particularly. Not after he turned his back on me.”

“It’s because he’s dead, Mom. Murdered. I thought maybe you told the killers that I’d gone to Dad’s house to get the money to rescue you, but now I’m beginning to think that’s not the case.”

“Of course I didn’t tell anyone where you were going,” Diana said. “How did Mike die?”

“He was shot.”

“By this man you’ve taken up with?”

Nate cast his gaze into the rearview mirror, but he couldn’t see the older woman.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“So, how many of the coins do you still have?”

“Enough, but that’s not how I’ll cover your expenses. I have a little of my own money left after buying the plane ticket to come here. What I have is yours so you can get back on your feet. I’m hoping you’ll give that gambling-addiction program another chance to help you.”

“I’m not addicted!” Diana insisted. “I just like to have a good time.”

“Think about the past few days,” Sarah said, her voice soft and in vibrant contrast to her mother’s nasal whine. “Do you really think the people who gamble for fun end up dealing with loan sharks and thugs, getting beaten up and held against their will?”

“I’m not other people,” Diana said. “Things got a little crazy this time, but with your father’s money...”

“No, Mom. You’re not going to burn up Dad’s money.”

“What are you going to do with it?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, but I’m not going to hand it over to criminals. You need help. I’m begging you to get it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Diana said, and Nate could tell from her tone of voice that she was placating Sarah. It was probably part of her pattern, a little olive branch of hope extended with no heart behind the words, intended to end an unwinnable conversation without making a commitment.

But Sarah seemed content with the response. “Good. That’s a start.”

“As soon as I get my hand fixed up properly, I’m going to need my car,” Diana added. “Where is it?”

“It’s in Dad’s barn. You’ll have to wait until the police release it.”

“Why would the police care about my car?”

“Dad was killed at his house, Mom. There were also other troubles. You don’t need to hear about them right now, but I imagine the whole ranch will be a crime scene. Don’t worry. I’ll help you figure something out.”

“I’m sorry I was so short with you earlier,” Diana said, her voice suddenly softer. “No matter, we’ll have lots of time to talk and get to know each other again. Days and days. Months. Years.”

“Well, a little while, anyway. I do have a life I have to return to,” Sarah said.

“Where?”

“In Virginia. I work for a great veterinarian there. I told you about it. I love working with the animals.”

“Oh. Well, what’s more important, people or critters? Besides, thanks to your father, you won’t need to work anymore. You can move out here and be closer to me. Won’t that be fun? I can show you around. Reno is a great town after dark.”

Nate kept his thoughts to himself, but even without looking at Sarah, he could sense the deep sinking of her spirits. Was she wondering if she would ever be free of this woman’s emotional grip? There was no way on earth he could help her, and so he concentrated on driving and thought nice thoughts about his own parents, bless their independent souls.

Diana gave him instructions, and within a few minutes, he pulled up next to the emergency-room entrance. Without a word to Nate, the older woman was out of the car in a flash, pausing by Sarah’s door. Cubes of safety glass glittered on her shoulders and from her hair.

Sarah glanced at Nate, then opened her door and turned her attention to her mother. “Go get out of the cold, Mom. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

As Diana walked inside the building, Sarah turned back to face Nate. “Aren’t you coming in to have your arm looked at?”

“I’ll wait until I get to Shatterhorn,” he said. “I don’t want to answer questions about a gunshot wound more than once. You should take your father’s notebook.” He opened the console compartment between them, but she closed it before he could withdraw the battered notebook.

“No, you keep it.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry about my mother,” she added.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Yes, I do. She’s a little on the self-centered side. She’s used to having somebody look after her. After Dad there was a string of guys. She must be between men now. That may have been what triggered the latest gambling episode. I don’t know....”

“It’s okay,” he said. “She’s your mother.”

Sarah nodded, but still she lingered until at last she reached across the console and touched his arm. He put his hand over hers and leaned toward her. Their kiss was short and circumspect, but as always, there was the pulsating awareness of her that burned beneath Nate’s skin.

“I’m scared about you going off alone after what just happened in the parking lot,” she said softly, her lips moving against his. “And then there was that guy this morning.... Can you believe that was only a few hours ago?”

“I’ve known you a little less than twenty-four hours,” Nate said, running his fingers along her curved jaw.

“But they’ve been a very intense twenty-four hours,” Sarah said. She closed her eyes and leaned her face against his palm. He could feel a wisp of dampness, as though a stray tear had hidden in her lashes. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“Come with me,” he said, brushing his lips along her temple.

“I can’t.”

“You’re going to have to explain your part in all this sooner or later, you know.”

“I know.” She pulled away a little and squared her shoulders. “You saw my mother. I have to stay with her at least through tomorrow, help her get settled, then I’ll rent a car or something and drive up to Shatterhorn. Will you still be there?”

“That depends,” Nate said, not going into detail. It depended on whether he survived the rest of the day, whether he was charged with murder or whether he was free to go back to Arizona, which was the option his gut told him to take if possible. Sarah was buried in issues with her family and he was still half-dead inside and on the heels of a breakup. Twenty-four hours of living on the edge with Sarah had meant a lot to him. She meant a lot to him, but she was unavailable, and perhaps he was, too.

Maybe that was just the story of his life.

“I programmed my cell-phone number into your phone while we drove,” she said. “Call me.”

“Sure,” he said, knowing he wouldn’t put himself through any more goodbyes.

“I had such big plans for us, you know, for tonight. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly about reality,” she said.

“That happens under duress,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

He cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, putting an end to words that didn’t mean as much as the touch of her lips. This time he didn’t care who saw or even if the gunman lurked nearby. Her lips tasted just as good as they had the night before; his longing for her hadn’t diminished. She would now join his personal string of opportunities lost and regrets to ponder.

When they came up for air, he released his grip on her. “Your mom is waiting for you,” he said. “Take care, Sarah.”

“You, too,” she whispered as she slipped out of his truck and out of his life.

* * *

S
HERIFF
A
LAN
G
ALLANT
greeted Nate with a hearty handshake. “It’s been a while since we saw you,” Gallant said, peering into Nate’s eyes. “After what happened the last time you were here, I guess you haven’t felt much like visiting us. How’s your pal Detective Foster?”

“Alex is fine,” Nate said. “He would have been here with me, but he couldn’t land because of the weather. I’m not here for a visit, though. I have a story I have to tell you and I’m afraid it includes a couple of dead men.”

“Cripes,” Gallant said with a grimace as he forced his ample frame into a protesting wooden chair. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Larry, bring coffee. Patty, you better get this on tape.” After the coffee was delivered and the equipment switched on, Gallant looked straight into Nate’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Nate said. “First I should ask you if anyone called in a fire at the Donovan horse ranch or reported a body.”

“What? Hell no. You mean Mike Donovan? What did he do now?”

“Nothing that I know of. He’s dead, Sheriff.”

“He finally pissed someone off bad enough to get himself killed?” Gallant immediately shook his head and looked contrite. “Sorry, I know he was a friend of yours. That wasn’t a nice thing for me to say. Tell me what you know.”

Nate launched into an account of what turned out to be a multilayered story. It took him an hour to tell it, and by that time, Nate had handed over the film he’d used to record the original condition of Mike’s body, crime-scene units had been sent out to both the river cabin and the ranch house and investigations had been launched. Once they were alone, Gallant swiveled to face Nate and lowered his voice. “Tell me again about Peter Jacks.”

Nate once again repeated the morning’s events. He downplayed Sarah’s role, but there was no way to leave her out of everything, as her fingerprints would be all over the cabin and the abandoned snowmobile, so he also explained about her family trouble and how she would be here the day after tomorrow to clear up her part in the proceedings. As promised, he left out any mention of the coins.

And that made explaining the origins of Benny’s gun, which he handed over at once, a little tricky. He couldn’t keep the weapon nor did he want to—who knew what crimes it had been used to commit—so in the end he gave a good description of Benny and Bellows and told a watered-down version of the situation in Carson City. Finally, he kind of threw up his hands. “Sarah will clear it up when she gets here.”

This lame statement caused the sheriff’s thick brows to furl, but he bagged the gun and let it go—for now.

Nate also admitted that yet someone else had taken shots at him. He really had no choice in the matter as the rental company was sure to notice all the damage and report it. The sheriff asked if he wanted protection and he waved the offer away. Protection from whom? Unfortunately, he could provide precious few facts and Gallant informed him he would take care of alerting Carson City police. He seemed to be under the impression the shooting was related to the ransom and Nate let that assumption stand.

“Which brings us back to Peter Jacks,” the sheriff said with a shake of his big head. “I knew the boy was having trouble. Him and Stew’s boy both.”

“You mean Stewart Netters, the editor of the paper? So we’re talking about Jason?”

“Yeah. The kid hasn’t been right since the shooting. Having both those girls gunned down right in front of him, to say nothing of the other two dead kids— I don’t know. Maybe it’s survivor’s guilt.”

“Yeah,” Nate muttered. He’d thought a lot about survivor’s guilt. Unfortunately, he hadn’t come up with a way to turn it off.

“Not that people haven’t tried to help,” Gallant continued. “There’s a relatively new organization around, started by a man named Morris Denton. He calls it B-Strong. It concentrates on building character and self-esteem. Some of the local kids have attended summer programs and weekend workshops, things like that. The hope is positive reinforcement will empower them. It certainly seems to have empowered Thomas Jacks.”

“Thomas had been part of this camp?”

“Yeah. Of course, after the shooting we interviewed anyone who had ever talked to the kid. No one up there had a thing to offer.”

“Did you meet Denton?”