Lifeline Echoes (16 page)

In her eyes he saw what he feared most,
unmistakable traces of doubt. His hatred for Bull deepened.

"I'm sorry, too, Ryan," she whispered. "I
feel like I should just trust you—that I shouldn't need to know—"
She took a step back and he let her go. "If you don't want to tell
me about you and Bull, it’s okay."

"Sandy, listen. Just don’t—underestimate
Bull MacKay." Ryan looped a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving
his hand against her neck. "He's not pathetic, he's dangerous. He
gets off on hurting people. And obviously associating with me has
painted a huge target on your back."

She shuddered. "I just never saw that side
of him before."

"It's there," Ryan assured her. "It's been
there." He leaned in for one more quick kiss before releasing her
with obvious reluctance. "Don’t go anywhere, and make sure you
aren't here alone. When I get back, we'll talk."

"Where are you going?"

"I have some ranch business," he answered.
"I came in to report the downed cow and arrange for removal. After
that I'm all yours."

"You're not—you won't—?"

Ryan tipped Sandy's face
upward. "I won't lie to you, Chicory. I want to hurt Bull MacKay
right now."
For even thinking about
touching her.
"But I won't go looking for
him."

He made no promise, however, of what the
outcome would be should Bull find him.

****

Sandy watched the door close behind Ryan.
He'd left without telling her anything, with only a vague promise
of talking later. That left her feeling a little unsettled and out
of sorts. What was wrong with her? She barely knew him and she had
managed to come on to him, nearly have sex with him—three times.
And now she was feeling sorry for herself because he hadn’t made
any promises.

"I'm a freaking head case," she told the
empty chair across the table.

Mel's head popped through the kitchen doors.
"Sandy, that pipe under the main sink just blew out."

She sighed. "I'll call Parsen's
Plumbing."

"I already did. Glenn's out on a call, not
expected back until after five."

"Of course he is," muttered Sandy.

****

"I've told you a lot about
me. Tell me what
you
do for fun," suggested Sandy.

"Well, Angel, I like fixing things."

"Things like. . .?"

"Cars, houses."

"Okay, the cars I get. But houses? Whole
houses?"

"A few of the guys and I got together and
bought a house. We lived there during our off-time and fixed it up.
Then we flipped it and sold it for twice what we paid."

"So you flip houses?"

He chuckled. "Not so much these days. But we
still get together and help out on some of the community
projects."

"And what part of the fixing up do you
do?"

"You name it, I've done it. A little
carpentry, a little electrical."

"And plumbing?"

"It just so happens plumbing is one of my
specialties."

****

Lying flat on her back beneath the sink,
Sandy applied the wrench to the slip nut on the blown trap,
twisting the handle with a grunt. Nothing happened. This was
getting her nowhere.

She dropped her arm to allow circulation to
return. "Sure could have used you here, Mick."

"Did you say something?" asked Mel.

"Just talking to a ghost." Sandy lifted the
wrench again.

****

For the second time that day, Ryan's
Corvette hit the tiny parking lot of the Orson's Folly Sheriff's
Department, spewing gravel from beneath wide tires. DC's brown
patrol car pulled in from the opposite direction before Ry's dust
had settled.

"Some folks around here would just love it
if I had to give you a ticket for reckless driving in your fancy
little sports car." DC exited the cruiser, a clipboard in his
hand.

Ryan ignored the sheriff, rounding his car
with angry strides. "Bull MacKay went after Sandy."

"Okay, slow down. I know he tried to start
something at her place but I thought it was you in his sights."

"He was knocking on her door late last
night." Anger added an edge to his voice. "Probably less than ten
minutes after I dropped her off. Would've been fairly close to
ten-thirty or eleven." Ryan filled the sheriff in on the events as
Sandy had related them.

DC swept a look of speculation over his old
friend. "You and Sandy Wheaton, huh? I thought I picked something
up back at Valentine's. You two sure you know what you're
doing?"

"Are you getting at something, DC?" Ryan's
voice chilled. "Because I'd sure like you to get around to it if
you are."

A pained expression crossed DC's face. In a
deceptively relaxed move, he leaned against the back of his patrol
car, crossing his arms across his chest. "You know, Ry, no one ever
expected you to come back to Orson's Folly. Now you're here, about
fifty percent of folks don't think you'll hang around, and
forty-nine percent are afraid you will."

"Where do you stand?" Ryan asked his old
friend softly.

"I'm the one percent
willing to wait and see how things go," DC retorted. "Thing is, you
and Sandy hooking up, well that's going to upset the balance a bit.
Town's still pretty well divided about her, too. Used to be no one
wanted her here at all. But she's proven herself part of this town
by bits and pieces and things are balancing out. Now she's the
darlin' of most of the men here, excepting Brother Bobby, of
course. The teenage boys follow her like bees to clover. The
teenage girls all want to
be
her, and most of the women wish their men would
stay home with them on a Friday night, but they've come to trust
Sandy doesn’t have designs in that direction." He paused for a
beat. "Add a black sheep into the mix, things are gonna get
complicated."

Ryan's mouth pulled up into a smile to
accompany his sarcastic response. "Is this the part where you warn
me to leave the saloonkeeper alone or get out of town?"

DC's sharp laugh echoed off the front of the
building. "As if I had that power." He leaned back onto his elbows
and drew a deep breath. "Seriously, Ry, you had to know you'd be
watching your back when you came home. I don't guess you plan to
stop seeing her?"

Ryan assessed his friend for a long silent
moment. "Snowball's chance."

DC nodded. "Thought you'd say that. Then
watch out for her. Don't go looking for Bull. In fact, stay out of
his way as much as you can. Just take care of your woman and . . .
enjoy being together." The sheriff stood, began heading for the
office, then stopped, turning back with a thoughtful expression.
"What was it you wanted to show me?"

"Did Sean talk to you about the cattle on
our open range?"

"He did. That why you're back?"

Ryan parked his hat further back on his
head. "It's one reason."

"The state police took over the
investigation," DC said with a nod. "Your brother should have the
contact information."

"Such an attack could be considered
personal." Ryan kept his voice even against the rage that boiled
just under the surface.

"You know, I'd agree with you but you
weren't here at the time. And things have been pretty easy between
your family and Mac's these days." The sheriff shrugged. "The state
police are looking real hard at a coal mining company out of West
Virginia. There's been some interest in purchasing land along the
Green River vein."

"Why would anyone do that? Green River's old
news. It's unreachable."

DC shrugged. "It
was
unreachable.
Technology gets developed all the time and with the energy crunch,
rich veins of coal like that are gonna get a second, even a third
look-see."

"Someone's been up at the cabin since my
brother brought his cattle off the mountain," Ryan said. "Fairly
recently. It's clean. Too clean for a two-month stretch. The grass
outside's been trampled a fair bit."

DC shrugged again. "Hikers. Rangers
maybe."

"And they what? Got a sudden urge to clean?
You could eat off the floor once you got past the smell of pine
cleaner and bleach."

DC turned to fully face Ryan. "I can pass
the information on," he said coolly. "But on the surface it just
doesn't sound like it means anything." He turned and started
walking again.

"Another cow was shot up there," Ryan said
quietly.

DC stopped, his hand on the door to the
office, but he didn't turn around. "When?"

"Found her yesterday. She was alive but
down. I had to finish her off. Flank shot, within a day, maybe day
and a half of me finding her. She had a calf and probably took care
of her as long as she could." Ryan pulled a piece of his ruined
shirt from his pocket and unfolded it, revealing the recovered
slug. "Dug this out of her."

DC eyed the object in Ryan's hand with
obvious frustration. "Flat point .44 Magnum. This is consistent
with findings in the state police investigation." With a sigh, he
held the door open for Ryan. "You'd best come inside and make a
statement."

Ryan tried to lose the scowl as he followed
the sheriff inside.

"Hey, Gloria," DC said, letting the door to
the office close after they entered. He dropped the clipboard on
her desk. "Got an arson report to be typed up here." He lowered his
voice but the room was small, and Ryan had no trouble making out
his next words. "There's no positive ID, but Henky swears one of
the boys running away had red hair."

Gloria Pratt was a plump woman with a
roadmap of wrinkles on her face. Her shoulder-length hair had once
been strawberry blond but was now heading strongly toward white. At
DC's words, she wilted in her chair and her face took on even more
wrinkles with her frown of apprehension.

"Now, there's no evidence as yet. I'm
telling you so someone can get control over the boy before he gets
hurt or hurts someone else." DC's tone was stern but his eyes
reflected concern. "If I get another report that sounds like him,
I'm going to have start looking at him real hard."

"I understand, DC," Gloria answered in a
defeated tone. "I'm not askin' for a break. I'm just worried about
Brenda. I don't think she knows what to do with the boy. Sometimes
I think she wishes—" She broke off as she caught sight of Ryan.

Removing his hat, he nodded a greeting.

"Hello, Ryan. I heard you were back in town
for a spell."

He smiled and met her stare head-on. It
didn't take a genius to realize Mrs. Gloria Pratt was among the
forty-nine percent crowd, afraid he wasn't leaving.

DC took Ryan's statement and logged the
spent round into evidence. "I know it's frustrating, not getting
answers, Ry."

Fatigue was creeping up on him. Ryan rubbed
his forehead. "Kinda feels like I keep stepping in it these days.
And all I wanted was to come home."

His old friend nodded his understanding.
"You know, if you really plan to stay, a good way to start out
might be to put those skills of yours to work with the VFD. They
can always use an extra hand, 'specially if that hand's got
experience."

Ryan stiffened, drew a deep breath and
slowly expelled it. Finally, he nodded. "I expect you're right.
I'll look into it."

"It is good to have you back," DC said
quietly.

On his way out, Ryan caught sight of a
grouping of women's pictures, all with the heading "missing." One
in particular drew his attention, a black and white picture of a
woman with dark wavy hair and pale eyes. Her hair was piled loosely
on top of her head with stray tendrils escaping. Large hoops
dangled from her ears.

He turned around. "What's this?"

Looking up from his desk, DC grunted.
"Ongoing FBI case. Some women gone missing from up around Jackson
in the past couple years."

Ryan read the specifics listed beneath the
photo. Waitress in a small diner in Jackson, lived alone, no
current boyfriend. Missing since the middle of May.

"You ever notice how much this one—Frances
Henry, looks like Sandy?"

DC frowned. "Now you mention it, I do recall
thinking something along those lines when those came in."

Thoughtfully, Ryan tapped his fingertips
against the picture. On closer inspection, the resemblance to Sandy
wasn't as apparent. Frances Henry's lips were less full, her face
slimmer, her smile more forced, nose too angular, and her eyes too
widely spaced. Pretty, though. He wondered what had happened to
her.

Tipping his hat to Mrs. Pratt again, Ryan
moved for the door. The late afternoon sun was hot when he stepped
outside. But he couldn't shake the chill at the thought of working
with the Orson's Folly Volunteer Fire Department. It wouldn't be
the same, a voice inside reminded him. This wasn't a big urban
environment filled with skyscrapers.

****

Chapter Nine

He returned to the bar, mentally shored up
for the conversation he knew he was going to have with Sandy but
the only person in evidence when Ryan walked through the door was
Mel. She was doing something with beer mugs behind the bar and he
hung in the doorway, about to ask where he might find Sandy when he
heard a streak of mild curses from beyond the double doors into the
kitchen.

Mel looked up and smiled. "If you don't know
anything about plumbing, I suggest you don't go in there."

One side of Ryan's mouth curved upward as he
sauntered through the kitchen doors.

The kitchen was new and very modern,
stainless steel everywhere. Looking up from where she was chopping
onions, Charlie Hains nodded and pointed to the other side of a
long stainless steel island in the middle of the kitchen.