Best Kept Secrets (27 page)

Alex recovered her voice first: "I hope you have a damn good reason for kicking in my door, Sheriff."

"I do." He crossed to the dresser, yanked open a drawer, and began riffling through articles of clothing.

"I'd like to hear it."

"You will." Another drawer fell victim to his searching hands. She moved beside him and pushed the drawer shut with her hip, almost slamming it on his fingers.

"What are you looking for?"

"Clothes. Unless you'd rather go out like that."

He gestured down toward the panties with their high, French-cut legs. The spot where the sheer lace panel tapered between her thighs seemed to capture his attention for several tense seconds before he dragged his eyes toward the alcove where her clothes were hanging. "Where are your jeans?"

he asked, his voice thick.

"I'm not going anywhere. Do you know what time it is?"

He jerked the jeans off the hanger. It rocked on the rod, then fell unheeded to the floor. "Yes." None too gently, he tossed the jeans at her.' 'Put those on. These, too." He threw her casual boots at her feet, then faced her, hands on hips, looking mean. "Well? Want me to do it for you?"

She couldn't imagine what she had done to provoke him.

It was obvious, however, that he was livid over something.

If he wanted to play out this caveman game, let him. She would go along, but she wouldn't do it graciously.

Turning her back on him, she stepped into her jeans and wiggled them over her hips. She took a pair of socks from one of the ravaged bureau drawers, shook them out, then pulled them on. The boots came next. Finally, she turned and glared up at him.

"There, I'm dressed. Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

"On the way."

He yanked a sweater from a hanger and moved toward her as he gathered the material up to the turtleneck. He pulled it over her head, then shoved her arms into the sleeves and tugged the hem to her hips. The narrow neck had trapped her hair. He lifted it out.

Instead of withdrawing his hands, he closed his fingers tightly around her scalp, then roughly tilted her head up and back. He was shaking with rage.

"I ought to break your neck."

He didn't. He kissed her--hard.

His lips crushed hers, bruised them against her teeth. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth with no semblance of tenderness. It was an angry kiss, spawned by angry passion.

It ended abruptly. Her coat was lying across a chair. He tossed it at her. "Here."

Alex was too shaken to think of arguing. She put it on.

He pushed her over the threshold. "What about the door?"

she asked inanely.

"I'll send someone to fix it."

"At this time of night?"

"Forget the goddamn door," he roared. Cupping her bottom in his palm, he boosted her up into the cab of the Blazer, which he'd kept running. The light bar across the roof of it was flashing a tricolor code of emergency,

"How long before I get an explanation?" she asked as the Blazer careened onto the highway. Her seat belt did little good. She was thrown against him, and had to clutch his thigh to keep from being pitched into the floorboard. "For heaven's sake, Reede, tell me what's happened."

"The Minton ranch has been set afire."

Twenty-three

"Set afire?" she repeated in a thready voice.

"Drop the innocent act, will ya?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He banged his fist on the steering wheel. "How could you sleep through it?"

She stared at him, aghast. "Are you suggesting that I had something to do with it?"

Reede turned his attention back to the road. His face was taut and rigid in the greenish light emanating from the dashboard.

The police radio discharged its scratchy static. The transmissions were loud and intrusive. There was no other traffic on the highway, so the siren wasn't necessary, but the lights overhead continued to whirl and flash, making Alex feel like she was caught in a weird kaleidoscope.

"I think you had a lot to do with it, you and your close friend and associate." Her bewilderment only seemed to infuriate him more. "Reverend Fergus Plummet," he shouted.

"The preacher's a good friend of yours, isn't he?"

"Plummet?"

" 'Plummet?' " he mimicked nastily. "When did the two of you cook up this idea, the evening he paid a visit to your motel room, or the other day, on the sidewalk in front of the B & B Cafe"?"

She took a series of quick, shallow breaths. "How'd you know?"

"I know, okay? Who called who first?"

"He and his wife showed up at my room. I'd never heard of him before that. The man's a maniac."

"That didn't stop you from enlisting him to your cause."

"I did no such thing."

Swearing beneath his breath, he pulled the transmitter of his radio toward his mouth and notified one of his deputies at the scene that he was only minutes away.

"Ten-four, Reede. When you get here, go to barn number two."

"How come?"

"Don't know. Somebody said to tell you that."

"Ten-four. I'm at the gate now."

They turned off the highway and took the private road.

Alex's stomach turned over when she saw a column of smoke rising from one of the horse barns. Flames were no longer visible, but the roof and those of the adjacent buildings were still being doused with fire hoses. Firemen, wearing slickers and rubber boots, were frantically trying to contain the fire.

"They got to it before it did too much damage," Reede informed her harshly.

Emergency vehicles were parked near the smoking stable and in front of the house. Nearly every downstairs window had been broken out. All exterior walls had dire warnings of Armageddon spray-painted on them.

"There were three carloads of them. Apparently they circled the premises several times, throwing rocks through the windows, but only after they'd done their real dirty work.

You can see how well K-Mart did tonight in the spray-paint department." His lip curled snidely. "They dumped shit into the drinking troughs. Fine class of friends you've got there, Counselor."

"Was anybody hurt?" It was a horrendous scene. She was unable to draw sufficient air into her lungs.

"One of the gallop boys." Alex turned toward him for elaboration. "He heard the racket, rushed outside the bunkhouse, stumbled, fell and broke his arm."

Barn number two was the one with the smoldering roof.

Reede braked the Blazer in front and left her sitting in the truck when he went inside. Alex, feeling like each limb weighed a thousand pounds, shoved open the door and followed him through the wide doors, shouldering her way through the scurrying firemen.

"What's the matter?" she heard Reede demand as he jogged down the center aisle of the stable.

A horse was screaming, obviously in pain. It was the most hideous sound Alex had ever heard. Reede picked up speed.

The Mintons were gathered in a somber, pajama-clad huddle outside one of the stalls. Sarah Jo was weeping copiously Angus was fervently, but ineffectually, patting her back. Junior was holding her hand and using his other to cover a yawn. Reede pushed them aside, but drew up short at the entrance to the stall.

"Jesus Christ." He cursed a stream of blue words, then let out a tortured roar that caused Alex to shrink back into the shadows.

A pot-bellied, bespectacled man stepped into Alex's line of vision. By all appearances, he'd come straight from his bed. His corduroy jacket had been pulled on over a pair of pajamas. Laying a hand on Reede's arm, he shook his balding head gravely. "There's nothing I can do for him, Reede.

We'll have to put him down."

Reede stared at the man blankly, wordlessly. His chest rose and fell as though he were about to heave up his supper.

Sarah Jo's sobs increased. She covered her face with her hands. "Mother, please let me take you back to the house."

Junior placed his arm around her waist and turned her away.

Angus's arm dropped to his side. Mother and son moved slowly down the center aisle.

They were almost even with Alex before they noticed her.

The instant Sarah Jo saw her, she released a high, keening sound and pointed an accusing finger. "You. You did this to us."

Alex recoiled. "I--"

"It's your fault, you meddlesome, spiteful little bitch!"

"Mother," Junior said, not in chastisement, but commiseration.

Spent by her outburst, Sarah Jo collapsed against him. He gave Alex a penetrating look, but it seemed more puzzled than accusatory. Without speaking again, he moved on with Sarah Jo, whose head was now bent in misery against her son's chest.

"What happened, Ely?" Reede asked, seemingly unaware of the other drama.

"A falling beam must've landed square on him. He went down hard and broke his shoulder," the man called Ely said quietly. Apparently, he was a veterinarian.

"Give him some painkiller, for crissake."

"I already have. It's strong, but it can't anesthetize this."

He gazed down at the suffering animal. "His femur's busted, too. I can only guess at his internal injuries. Even if I could patch him up, he'd likely be sickly from now on, and no use to you as a stud."

They stood silent a moment, listening to the pitiful sounds coming from the animal. At last Angus said, "Thank you, Ely. We know you've done all you could."

"I'm sorry, Angus, Reede," the vet said, meaning it.

"Y'all go on outta here. I need to make a quick trip to the office and get the drug, then I'll come back and give him the injection."

"No." The word came hoarsely from Reede's lips. "I'll do it."

"You oughtn't to do that, Reede. The injection is--"

"I can't let him wait that long."

"It won't take me ten minutes."

"I said, I'll do it," Reede shouted impatiently.

Angus intervened, clapping the well-meaning vet hard on the shoulder to stem any further arguments. "Go on home, Ely. Sorry to have dragged you out for this."

"I'm damned sorry. I've been treating Double Time since he was foaled."

Alex's hand flew up to cover her mouth. Double Time was Reede's adored racehorse. The vet left by another door. He didn't see Alex.

Firemen shouted back and forth to each other outside. Other horses snorted fearfully, and restlessly tramped the floors of their stalls. Those sounds seemed distant and detached from the tense silence in that one single stall.

"Reede, you gonna be all right, boy?"

"Yes. Go see to Sarah Jo. I'll take care of this."

The older man looked ready to argue, but finally turned away. He gave Alex a hard, pointed look as he passed her, but said nothing before stamping out.

She wanted to cry as she watched Reede kneel in the hay.

He rubbed the injured horse's muzzle. "You were good--

the best," he whispered softly. "You gave it all you had, and then some." The animal nickered in what sounded like a plea.

Reede slowly came to his feet and reached for the pistol in his holster. He took it out, checked the chamber, and pointed it down at the racehorse.

"No!" Alex rushed out of the shadows and grabbed his arm. "Reede, no, don't. Let someone else."

She had seen hardened criminals, after being sentenced to death, turn on their prosecutors, the judge, the jury, and vituperatively swear vengeance, even if from beyond the grave.

But she had never seen such deadly intent on a face as when Reede looked down at her. His eyes were glazed with tears and hatred. With uncanny speed, he encircled her waist and drew her backward against his chest. She struggled. He cursed and increased the pressure of his arm across her midriff.

He took her right hand in his left and forcibly wrapped her reluctant fingers around the pistol, so that she was actually holding it when he aimed the barrel between the horse's eyes and pulled the trigger.

"No!"

She screamed the instant the pistol went off in her hand.

The deadly sound seemed to ricochet off the stone walls of the stable and reverberate forever. Horses whinnied and tramped in fear. Someone outside shouted, and several of the firemen scrambled through the door to see what the shot meant.

Reede shoved Alex away from him. His voice crackling with rage, he said, "You should have done it clean like that in the first place, and spared him the agony."

"The fire's completely put out, Mr. Minton," the fire chief reported. "We checked all the wiring, insulation, everything in the roof. All the damage was superficial." He clicked his lips against his gums. "Damn shame about Reede Lambert's Thoroughbred, though."

"Thank you for all you've done. I've always said our fire department is the finest in West Texas."

Some of Angus's heartiness had been restored, though his features were heavy with fatigue. He was putting up a good front, as though he was determined not to let this be a setback.

Alex could only admire his stamina and optimism.

He was sitting at the kitchen table with Junior, looking like he might have been wrapping up an all-night poker game.

instead of holding a wake for a destroyed racehorse and his vandalized property.

"Guess we'll be taking off, then." The fireman picked up his hard hat and moved toward the back door. "Someone will be out tomorrow to look for clues. It's a definite arson.''

"We'll cooperate any way we can. I'm just glad you responded so quickly and kept the fire from spreading."

"So long." As the fireman went through the back door, he met Reede coming in. Reede ignored Alex, who was standing self-consciously against the wall, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Lupe had brewed.

"The troughs are pure again. The horses won't be poisoned by their own excrement," he said emotionlessly. "We got all the windows boarded up so you won't freeze tonight.

There's still a lot of cleanup to do."

"Well," Angus sighed, coming to his feet, "we can't start on that till daylight, so I'm going up to bed. Thanks, Reede.

You went above and beyond your duties as sheriff."

Reede bobbed his head in quick acknowledgment. "How's Sarah Jo?"