Starlight Dunes (13 page)

Listening to Brent’s part of the conversation,
River couldn’t help it. Drawn to his intense eyes, she felt that familiar tug in the belly she hadn’t experienced in years. How long had it been since she’d acted on that kind of urge anyway? But this wasn’t the time for lustful thoughts. She didn’t need to get tangled up with anyone. It was a bad idea. Too much on her plate to consider a quick roll in the hay. But those take-charge eyes of his made her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t.

Make sure my
crew is okay,” she told him when she stepped back outside where he stood. Looking into his dark soulful face, she tiptoed to reach his ear and acted on instinct. Whispering, she said, “When this is all over, I want a dance, sheriff. Make sure I get it. Understand?”

Despite the situation, Brent almost smiled.
“I can arrange that. While I’m waiting for my ride, hand me your cell phone for a second.”

River reached in her jeans pocket
, pulled out her iPhone, handed it off. She watched as Brent punched the keypad in rapid succession before giving it back.

She reached out her hand for hi
s to do the same. When he complied, she entered her number, handing it back with a grin. “I’ll say one thing for this town, you do an interesting lunch.”

At that moment t
he first patrol car screeched to a stop driven by sheriff’s deputy Dan Garver. Brent took a step toward the cruiser and said, “Go on back inside, River. Stay there.”

“Stay safe, Brent.”
She watched as he climbed into the passenger seat and took off down Ocean Street—and toward the shooter. A panicked feeling took over until she glanced down at her phone. It dinged with a text message. And it wasn’t from Julian. It read:

When you get mad I love the fire in your eyes.

“Dispatch lit up
like Christmas with several different calls, not only yours, reporting gunfire,” Garver relayed with an excitement only adrenalin produced. “The radio’s been on overload. You sure you’re up to this?”

“
Just drive the car, Garver,” Brent snapped. “Our first order of business is to evacuate those people below on the beach.” He picked up the mic to radio central, gave instructions to get it done. With the directive out of the way, Brent turned to Garver. “What about injuries?”

“None
so far. Just those scared people trapped on the beach near that dig site. Then there are the workers up at the keeper’s cottage on the hill. Shooter opened up on them, too. Luckily he missed.”

Even sitting in
the cruiser, both men heard more popping sounds coming from the direction of the cliffs.

“
You ever shot anyone, Garver?” Brent asked, eyeing the twenty-five-year-old cop. When the man swallowed hard, Brent had his answer. “Will you be able to do it? I need to know now if the situation calls for it.”

Garver nodded. “
Sure, I can do it if I have to.”

“Good
to know,” Brent muttered as the cruiser continued along the road up to the bluff.

“I’ve only shot at paper targets before though,” Garver
added, feeling the need to confess his inexperience.

“That’s fine. Were you any good?”

“Good enough to get a badge. I’m a decent shot.”

By this
time they were passing through the main entrance to the lighthouse where chaos reigned.

The Smuggler’s Bay Lighthouse and its keeper’s cottage were on the left
hand side of the car. To their right, some fifty yards away, a thick forest of cypress, scrub oak, and California pine dotted the coast line to the north. Brent noted the trees made for an excellent place to hide if you wanted to avoid detection for any length of time, a shooter’s paradise. Locating the precise location of the gunman would be best done by air.

Logan Donnelly, the owner and sculptor renovating the place,
met them at the entrance. He ducked behind the car to lean one arm on the driver’s side door. In the other hand, he gripped a Ruger bolt-action rifle. Logan peered into the vehicle and used the barrel of the weapon to point to the thicket of trees. “The shots came from the woods. You don’t want to charge in there though, Brent. Troy and I tried that. We had to back off when whatever nut is in there turned his cannon on us. We were pinned down for a few minutes until I made it to Paul Bonner’s truck to get his deer rifle.”

Brent stared at the artist with the waist-length hair. “With a baby on the way, I’d rather you
got yourself and your crew, all of them, out of here and evacuate. I don’t want them in the line of fire any longer than they have to be. By any chance did you get a look at this guy?”

Logan shook his head but added,
“This may sound crazy but I think it might be Sam Turley. I had to let him go two days ago because he showed up drunk at seven in the morning. He was pretty pissed about losing his job. That isn’t all. Ever since his brother Sal got locked up, he’s been spiraling down into deeper depression, getting more angry and hostile by the day. Before his drinking binge, he’d show up and spend eight hours in rant-mode. When I fired him it might’ve pushed him over the edge.”

About that time a bullet pinged off the
hood of the car. “Damn it!” Brent shouted. “Logan, get in the backseat. Get us out of the line of fire, Garver. Back that way.” He pointed behind them.

The minute
Logan climbed in, the deputy put the car in reverse and skidded all the way back to the main gate.

“If it
is Turley and he wanted to hit you, he could and would,” Logan pointed out.

“You’re right
about that,” Brent agreed. “Sam’s hunted his entire life. He and Sal are both sharpshooters. Not only that, Sam knows those woods like the back of his hand.”

“
Whoever’s out there shot out every damn window in the keeper’s cottage. He tried to take out the new beacon we installed last week. He did all that without putting a bullet in anyone. That’s why my guess is, it’s Sam Turley trying to make a point.”

“So
his frame of mind’s been even worse than it usually is? Great,” Brent mumbled. “In your opinion could we open up a dialogue with him, get Sam talking before he kills someone?” Brent suggested.

“
I don’t know. He’s a stubborn cuss. Maybe talk to him about his little girl. Sam just recently discovered he has a daughter over in San Sebastian. That also contributed to his anger. Talking about the little girl might get his attention enough to surrender.”

Just as
vans with the SWAT team inside began to pull up alongside the cruiser, another shot rang out. This time it hit the dirt six inches away from the front tire. “If he keeps shooting at us like this he’s gonna end up dead,” Brent said as he opened the passenger door to make a dash to set up the command post.

He wasn’t fast but he made it there in one piece. R
eaching the head of the tactical unit, Brent dropped down behind the truck and told the sergeant in charge, “From what I’ve been able to determine the shooter’s location is at approximately eleven o’clock. That’s where I want you to put the Nightsun. Light that place up. He’s had this site pinned down now for nearly thirty minutes with no signs of letting up.”

At that moment
, Brent caught the unmistakable wap wap wap sound of four incoming Puma choppers. Two remained offshore while two circled the woods overhead.

From
his position, Brent kept up a line of communication with the team in the lead chopper. But when he found out the marksman couldn’t get a bead on the sniper, he turned to Garver who had eventually sprinted over to the command post. “Give me the bullhorn,” Brent groused. And with that, he began his first attempt at getting the shooter to talk to him.

Six hours later
and a little after nine that night, a tired and hungry Sam Turley finally walked out of the woods sans weapon to give himself up.

D
ropping to the ground, Sam began spouting a list of reasons why he’d gone on his shooting spree. “Brent, I didn’t hurt nobody. I just wanted to show that damned hippie freak Logan a lesson after he fired me.”

“Yeah, you taught him a lesson all right. Never hire a drunken idiot and expect anything more
out of him. And to think at one time I believed you were the lesser of two evils. I thought Sal was mean. But this…”

“But
…but…I didn’t hurt a single person, Brent. I could have but I didn’t.”

“No,
just scared the crap out of everyone in the process. Look around you, Sam. This stunt of yours set the taxpayers back a pretty penny with your stupidity.” Brent turned to Garver. “Read him his rights and get him the hell outta my sight,” Brent demanded.

Brent
was about to text River to tell her the situation was over, when he looked up and saw her standing outside the entrance among the throng of news vans.

“What are you doing here?”

“You never got to finish your burger. You have to be hungry. According to locals, the only places still open to eat are The Pointe or McCready’s.”

“Those two choices are about as extreme
as you can get it. One’s pricey with atmosphere, piano music. The other serves basic bar food and noisy. But then you know about the pub. There’s a third choice and I’m starving.”

“What did you have in mind?” River asked.

About that time several reporters rushed up to Brent and shoved microphones in his face to get his take on the situation. He instinctively drew River to his side in protective mode. While cameras flashed, as video rolled, and everyone threw questions at him all at once, he stood with his arm wrapped around River’s waist.

Fifty miles away down the
Pacific Coast Highway behind the orange door of a seedy motel room, the live feed and image flashed on the television screen. While the news anchor rehashed the story, while a reporter gave a play-by-play of the last several hours, the headline ran across the bottom of the screen as breaking news. The shooter had been apprehended, some redneck hick who obviously couldn’t hit the broad side of a red barn.

Why couldn’t the gunman have been more accurate? Why couldn’t he have taken out Brent Cody when he had the chance?

R
age built.

Brent Cody needed to die.

It was a heavy burden. But if success did come, bringing it about would be the challenge.

Looking around the four
drab walls there were indicators of a determined mind. Various supplies scattered around the room told a story. Gun powder, batteries, a cell phone, an alarm clock, an egg timer, nails, ball bearings and other ordinary items littered the bed, the dresser, the floor. There was so much stuff, there was barely enough room to make the walk to the bathroom.

The clutter meant
victory would surely come at a price, a price that would have to be paid no matter what.

B
rent dragged River back to his place for frozen pizza.

As t
hey cleaned up their mess from lunch, which they’d left out on the table, River studied her host. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you’re up for this? I sorta invited myself along.”

After s
liding the frozen pie into the oven, he turned to look at her. “We both know you didn’t. Besides we have to eat. I saw the RV and the camper utilizing the lot across the street from the rescue center. Are you and your team settling in okay?” 

She sent him a sheepish grin. “They are. Julian and Laura are in the RV. Walker and Sandra share the camper. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it but I’m still
staying out at the B & B.”

“There are perks to being the boss.”

“Sure there are, but that’s not why I decided to bunk somewhere else. In case you haven’t noticed Julian and Laura are a couple, have been now for quite some time. On the last dig it got…awkward, to say the least, with me in the Winnebago.”

“I imagine so.”

“Exactly. That’s when I started sleeping in the travel trailer most nights. But taking on brand-new interns here, I have to turn that over to them.”

“
So Walker and Sandra aren’t a couple?”

“God no.
I’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other in their sleep. Anyway, I’ve decided I’m not pitching a tent on the beach to make things work this time.” Her lips bowed. “I’m treating myself to the B & B on my own dime. Well, I get a per diem so I’m paying the difference out of my own pocket.”

“Makes sense.
Want a beer?”

“I’d love one.
” She dropped into one of the chairs at the table. “I should probably mention you were the main topic of conversation this afternoon.”

“
Gossip is a prerequisite in a small town, especially when one of its residents goes off the deep end like Turley. Pelican Pointe ranks pretty high on the buzz-o-meter in the gossip department.”

River
found that amusing enough to needle him. “I learned quite a lot about you.” Noting the wrinkle on his brow at that, she smiled and added, “It was a long afternoon spent waiting for word you nabbed the sniper. Anyway, once my crew made it off the beach we settled in at McCready’s. Half the town wandered over before it was done. Flynn served sodas and snacks until four o’clock then started cutting the price of suds on tap. Like everyone else there, I’m afraid my crew and I went a little wild with the brewskis. And during our time together with everything half-price we had to talk about something.”

“Or someone,” Brent
prompted.

“You were
voted most popular.”

“
Lucky me. What did you learn?”

“That you’re a
good guy, a little aloof at times, but a rock solid citizen otherwise. Of course, this guy with a mane of white hair, chimed in. I think his name was Hawkins. He got everyone talking about your wild side when you were younger. Something about the time you disappeared with Donna Sullivan, the veterinarian’s daughter. When no one could find either one of you, Donna’s father, Bran, along with your grandmother, had to send out a search party. There were two schools of thought. Either the two of you were abducted or you eloped.”

Brent rolled his eyes.
“Christ. We were fourteen. I remember that day though. We’d gone off looking for sea shells, went a little farther down the beach than we’d planned. We lost track of time is all. When Donna and I finally made our way back home—the way everyone acted—you’d have thought we had stripped naked and had sex right there in the church parking lot.”

“You stick to that story, Romeo
,” River cracked as she took a sip of her beer. “Flynn said for two weeks afterward he expected Bran to get out his shotgun.”

Brent rolled his eyes.
“Donna and I shared a first kiss. That’s it. And what is this aloof thing? I’m as down-to-earth as home canning.”

A laugh snuck out of her throat.
“That sounds like something my grandmother would’ve said.”

“
Mine always used that expression when she referred to people she considered were the salt of the earth. I take it your grandmother’s gone.”

“
She is, died about six years back. I miss her quick wit.”

“I have a feeling you inherited that.”
Brent leaned back on the counter, studied River’s face. At the mention of family, it seemed as though she’d closed off right in front of him. His cop instincts kicked in, he prodded. “What about the rest of your folks?”

He saw her wince at the question then remembered how she’d acted
on the dunes the first day he’d met her. She hadn’t wanted to talk about anything personal then either, particularly, Santa Fe.

“What about them?”
she shot back.

“
Since you travel so much, don’t you miss them?”

How in the world could she begin to answer such a simple question?
Was Scott right? Was this someone she could confide in? He did have such trusting eyes. Instead of giving in to divulging secrets though, she countered, “You seem close to your family.”

“Family can be a pain. But yeah,
I’d say we’re close. Sometimes too close.”

“Your mother tries to set you up because she loves you. She wants to see you happy. It’s kinda sweet.”

“Then Lindeen Cody must be rolling in sugar.”

T
he timer dinged about that time signaling the pizza was ready. No one was more relieved than River. She stood up to help. “You slice and dice. I’ll get the plates if you’ll point me to the right cabinet.”

“Second from the right.”

“Got it.”

They twisted open
two more beers, piled plates high with slices of the pie before taking their bounty into the living room.

As they dug in, she asked,
“Did you ever have to shoot anyone, Sheriff? I know today ended peacefully but…it doesn’t always end like that, does it?”

“You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?”

“I guess not. That’s an answer in itself. Flynn mentioned you were in Iraq. Three tours. That’s quite a lot experiencing confrontation firsthand.” She noticed him bristle and close off his emotions. When he remained silent, she added, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“
I might point out you aren’t exactly an open book either. You and my dad made peace yet?”

“
Headed there. I don’t trust easy so I understand the way he feels and that I have to show him I won’t screw the tribe over with the relics we find. Your father wants to make sure the Southwest Tribal Foundation is solid in that regard. I’m here to show him we are.”

“Why do you have trust issues?”

She’d opened her big mouth on that one. “The truth? I was married to the lowest of the low. It ended badly.”

“
Is that all? Who doesn’t have an ex like that?”

“Not you, too
? I’m sorry. I guess there are way too many assholes in the world, both male and female.”

“I’m not.
Sorry, that is. I’m well rid of her.” Brent wasn’t sure why but he felt he needed to pry further. “What was his name?”

“Wes
Patton. Turns out the lying bastard couldn’t keep his pants zipped up around a female, any female for longer than five minutes. He wasn’t picky about them being legal or twenty years older either. If they could somehow further his ego, he was all over them.”

“You’re lucky to get out of that kind of marriage. I hope he served time.”

“Ah. Well. He got locked up all right. Trouble is it wasn’t long enough. That’s how I ended up with—” Her voice trailed off realizing she’d almost tipped the scale.

Brent understood
she didn’t intend to elaborate so he decided to commiserate instead. “I hear ya. I was married to a lying piranha. I knew even before I left to head overseas she was unfaithful.”

“Wes was a serial cheater
. I’m not sure how he found the time for all his girlfriends but somehow he did.”

“You aren’t still hung up on him, are you?”

“Hell no. He was a sleazebag of the worst variety,” River said, guzzling her beer. She eyed Brent. “You still pining for the faithless two-timer who got away?”

“God no.
I came home from deployment, found Cindy, that was her name, seven-months pregnant. I knew the baby damned sure didn’t belong to me. I hadn’t been back in California for almost a year.”

“Ouch.
” Maybe Scott was right. Maybe this man would understand her situation and be able to do something about it. For a few seconds she hesitated, but then, Scott’s words came back to her.
Confide in Brent Cody. He can help.
What good did it do to believe in spiritwalkers if she didn’t intend to listen to one? She decided to do a little end around first though. “The final straw for me was when I walked in on Wes in bed with one of his students. Did I mention Wes had been my post-grad anthropology professor at one time? That’s how we met.”

S
he shook her head at the memory. “I can’t believe I was ever so gullible. Anyway, what I didn’t know at the time was that Wes had a habit of going through his female students faster than a shark swims through water. It’s a fact Wes had plenty of pickings he could sink his teeth into right there in the classroom.” She decided the alcohol she’d consumed was loosening her tongue.

“The administration usually frowns on that sort of thing.”

“I don’t think they knew about it until…the thing is the eighteen-year-old student he was shagging at the time I caught him in the act, had a younger sister. Fifteen. Turns out, Wes had talked her into bed, too. For almost a year, every time I went out of town on a dig, the son of a bitch used our home as some sort of groupie hangout. By the time I finally figured out Wes was out to score with any skirt he could lift up, I’d wasted two years with the bastard. I have no idea why he even bothered getting married in the first place.” She took another sip of beer.

Brent wasn’t sure why
, but she made him want to talk, to tell her what he’d shared with no one else. “
He
was there that day, the day I got home and walked into the apartment. The other guy was right there. I’d left my gear in the car so I could carry in all these ridiculous flowers I’d stopped to buy. As I came through the front door with my arms full of roses, I heard two people going at it hot and heavy in the bedroom. I went to check it out. I got as far as the bedroom door. There the two of them were bouncing around on the mattress. And then Cindy spotted me, froze like a deer caught in the headlights. She crawled out of bed and that’s when I saw the belly. I dropped the bouquet and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Talk about feeling like an idiot.”

River tapped her beer bottle to his
in the way of camaraderie. “Then here’s to two idiots who finally saw the light of day and got rid of the cheating assholes disguising themselves as loyal spouses.”

Brent followed suit,
clinking his bottle to hers. “I’ve never admitted this to anyone before but Cindy never knew the definition of loyal. I caught her cheating before I left for Iraq. I should’ve filed for divorce then and there. But she begged me for a second chance and I wanted to save my marriage.”

“
Why do you suppose we do that? Why do we think people will change if given enough chances when they likely will continue down the same path? Wes showed me his selfish side plenty of times and each time I chose to ignore it.”

“I can tell you why I did it. First of all
, I wanted the same thing my parents had. Second, it’s embarrassing to know the person you gave your heart to is basically—”

“Scum,” she said, finishing his thought. She sucked in a long breath and hoped Scott knew what he was talking about. Blurting out her revelation, she stated flatly, “I have a son. He’ll be three next February. The twentieth of February to be exact.”

Brent blinked. “
You’re a mother? And yet you travel so much of the time? How do you do that? Does he stay with his father? Your mother maybe?”

So many questions.
She had to be crazy for opening up the floodgates like this. “No.”

She tipped the beer up, finished it off in one
big gulp. She pushed away the pizza that had smelled so good earlier, saw him still staring at her. Why did those piercing eyes have to hurt so much? “My mother has Stage-6 Alzheimer’s. She’s in no condition to babysit.”

“
Okay. I’m sorry. So she’s back in Santa Fe with your son?” He saw the pain flicker in her eyes.

“
Not exactly. My mother’s back in Santa Fe in a nursing home.”

“But you don’t have custody of your son?”

The disdain in his voice was
noticeable. Irritation bubbled up in her throat like bile. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. “No,” she muttered.

When she started to get to her feet, Brent grabbed her arm.
While he somehow knew there was a lot more to the story, he braced himself for the rest of it. For a mother to lose custody, it had to be bad. “You might as well tell me now.”