This Cowboy of Mine--Includes a Bonus Novella Page 21

  She couldn’t bear the thought.

  Lifting her chin for courage, she reached out, gripping the edge of the door as she said, in her most imperious tone, “How do I make you understand? I want you to go, Casey. Right now.”

  For an instant his eyes widened, and she thought she saw something like a glimmer of knowledge in them. Then his eyes narrowed, and she was certain she’d only imagined it.

  “Yeah. Sorry to be a bother. See you.” He turned away and stormed down the steps to his truck.

  Kirby watched his retreat with naked hunger. It took all her willpower to keep from calling out to him. But the only way she could save his life was to hold her silence and let him go free.

  Free. Right now, that mattered more to her than her own fate.

  Without a backward glance Casey drove away, leaving a trail of snowflakes blowing in his wake.

  When he was gone Keller swore loudly, his hand shaking with such frenzied violence, she thought he would surely pull the trigger on her. She could feel the raw fury radiating from him in waves.

  He pointed the gun at her temple, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion. “I’ve always hated guys like that. So smooth, so sure of themselves. Do you know how much I wanted to waste that cowboy?” A shudder passed through him, and he visibly shook it off before dragging her across the room.

  As he bound her wrists and ankles once again, he muttered, “I wanted to watch his eyes when he realized I was standing behind you. I’d have given anything to put the gun right up to his forehead and pull the trigger.”

  He shoved her to the floor with such force she cried out. She flinched when he snarled in her direction, “Listen girly, nothing gets me higher than the thrill of a kill. And I’m in the mood for a killing. Lucky for your cowboy, I had to play it smart and get rid of him. But I’ll get my kicks in a couple of hours when I get to watch you die.”

  While he moved about the room Kirby laid there filled with dread, feeling the violence building, priming him for what was to come.

  As the minutes ticked by, she began going over and over the hateful words she’d hurled at Casey. It no longer mattered that she’d been forced to say them in order to save his life. It mattered only that these would be the last things he would ever remember about her. Words that had cut deeply, leaving scars on his heart forever.

  She would give anything to be able to call them back. To explain just why she’d said them. But it wasn’t to be. Instead, Casey would always remember that she’d coldly, heartlessly cut him out of her life for good, just before she went missing forever.

  Casey plucked his phone from his pocket as he drove like a madman. Once the dirt road curved out of sight of the Regan ranch, he brought the truck to a lurching halt and dialed a number, waiting anxiously as it rang once, twice, three times. Finally, the call connected.

  “Chief Noble Crain.”

  “Noble, it’s Casey Merrick. I just left the old Regan ranch.”

  “You don’t say? How’s it looking, Casey?”

  “I don’t have time for that. Listen to me. Kirby is in the house, and when I arrived, she acted funny.”

  “Can’t blame her for that, Casey. I just heard the news here in town that her uncle’s ranch is now owned by Des Dempsey’s bank. She’s got to be feeling pretty let down that she didn’t get a chance to buy it the way she’d planned.”

  “You don’t understand. This isn’t about feeling sad. She was determined to make me leave. As though someone was coaching her. And there’s more. She wouldn’t open the door more than a crack, but just for a second I spotted blood dripping from her wrist.”

  “Did you ask her about it?”

  “There was no time. She was closing the door in my face.”

  “Maybe she cut herself. Look, son, I don’t see what I can—”

  “Listen to me, Noble. Something’s all wrong here. I’m asking you to come out and investigate. But whether you do or not, I’m going back.”

  There was a long silence, and Casey knew Noble was trying to process what he just told him. Finally he said, “If you really believe something’s wrong, you need to stay away until I can get there.”

  “Something’s very wrong. And I’m not waiting around for you or anyone else. I’m not leaving until I find out what’s going on. If Kirby is in trouble as I suspect, I intend to be there for her.” Casey disconnected, before dialing his family ranch.

  When Billy answered, Casey asked if the family was around. Hearing that they were having lunch, he said, “Put me on speaker, Billy. Everyone needs to hear this.”

  As quickly as possible he described the brief meeting with Kirby. After listening in silence, Bo spoke for them.

  “What do you think, son?”

  “I feel in my gut that she’s being held against her will, Pop.”

  “Then you call Noble Crain and ask for police protection.”

  “I’ve already called him. Noble’s in town. An hour away. I intend to go back there and see for myself. But this time I’m not going to drive up and announce my intentions.”

  Egan’s voice interrupted. “Is there another way to get there?”

  “I didn’t get much time to study the lay of the land, Gramps. But there’s a barn not far from the house. I plan on leaving my truck here, at the end of the road, and walking back. I’ll use the barn for cover until I can manage to get closer to the house. I need to see why Kirby was being so secretive.”

  Ham’s gravelly voice broke in. “You listen to me, boy. We’re heading over there right now. I know you can’t wait for us, but you be smart. If that girl’s in trouble, you could make things worse.”

  “That might be true, Ham. Or I could make it bad for whoever is threatening her. All I know is this. I have to be there for Kirby.”

  “Of course you do, boy. Just don’t go getting yourself killed.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Casey rammed his cell phone in his pocket and reached for his rifle before stepping out of the truck and sprinting in the direction of the ranch.

  As he ran, he prayed that what he feared was all wrong. Maybe Noble was right, and Kirby had simply cut herself. But there had been too much blood. And it had encircled her wrist like a ribbon…or a rope.

  A rope that had rubbed her flesh raw.

  He nearly dropped to his knees as the thought took hold and gripped him like icy shards.

  She’d been tied up.

  There was suddenly no more doubt. He knew, deep in his heart that someone was holding Kirby against her will. And she’d sent him away rather than have him share her fate.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Casey followed a circuitous route back to the Regan barn, taking care to remain well hidden from view from the house.

  It took him some time to navigate the dips and hollows. For some time, he managed to keep to the dense woods, but once he was in the clear, he made a dash to the rear of the barn for cover.

  Just as he was about to slip around to the front, he heard the sound of an engine. Peering around the corner of the building he saw the ranch truck his father had loaned Kirby rolling toward the entrance of the barn. In the driver seat was a man.

  Casey ducked back, hoping the driver hadn’t spotted him.

  While the truck was being driven inside the barn, Casey moved quickly along the rear of the building looking for any cracks in the wood that might allow him to see the stranger when he exited the truck. Though the barn was ancient, the paint faded and peeling, and much of the wood old and scarred, Casey realized with rising frustration that there were no cracks or holes big enough to let him peer inside.

  Hearing the squeaking protest as the great door was being closed, he crept to the side of the building and was able to catch a glimpse of a tall, heavyset man with long, dark hair striding toward the house.

  Something vaguely familiar about the man triggered the thought that Casey had seen him before. But he couldn’t think of anyone from town who looked like that. Further
more, no one he knew would be a threat to Kirby.

  He waited until the front door slammed shut before creeping closer to the house. Once there he ducked below a window, listening for voices.

  Hearing none, he slowly straightened, and decided to risk looking through the glass.

  What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Kirby was lying on the floor, her ankles and wrists bound with rope.

  It gave him no satisfaction to see the proof of his suspicion. Instead, he felt a terrible, simmering fury building inside him.

  The man from the barn was standing across the room, with only his back visible. Beside him on the kitchen counter was a gun.

  Though Casey’s first instinct was to kick in the door and confront the man holding Kirby hostage, he struggled to remain calm, cool, and collected. He needed to look at this from every angle. He wasn’t concerned for his own safety, but he couldn’t risk putting Kirby in further danger by getting her caught in the crossfire if he came in with guns blazing. Especially since that pistol was just inches away from her captor.

  When Kirby had heard the back door slam, she’d been puzzled. Had Keller left? Why? For how long?

  It didn’t matter. Knowing she was alone, if only for a minute, had her looking around frantically for anything that could be used to cut through the ropes.

  She rolled across the floor until she bumped into the cupboard. Like a contortionist she lay facedown and pressed her forehead to the hard floor until she gained enough leverage to get to her knees. She knelt a moment to get her bearings, then with a supreme effort, jumped up and managed a wobbly stance that had her weaving like a drunk.

  Out the window she could see Keller getting into the Merrick truck and heading toward the barn. Now she understood. He’d heard Casey say he knew she was here because he’d seen the truck parked outside. It was obvious that Keller had no intention of allowing that to happen again.

  Aware that she had only a few minutes, she turned, and with her hands bound behind her, began feeling around in the drawer for a knife. At last finding one, she nudged the drawer closed with her hip and began sawing at the ropes.

  She saw Keller stepping out of the barn and began sawing harder, faster.

  Nerves had the knife slipping from her fingers. She gave a cry of distress as it clattered to the floor. She looked up to see Keller approaching the porch with his head down.

  Desperate, she fell down and began fumbling around for the knife.

  She could hear his heavy footsteps on the porch, and then the door opening.

  At last she felt the cold press of the knife and gripped it between her fingers, rolling across the floor and hoping she was close enough to wherever she’d been when he left that he wouldn’t notice she’d moved.

  Keller didn’t even glance her way as he kicked the door closed and flopped down at the kitchen table.

  “Cold.” With a muttered oath he picked up the half-eaten pan of stew and dumped it into a bowl before setting it in the microwave.

  Minutes later he carried it back to the table and finished eating. When he was done, he sat back and tilted the chair on its two back legs, propping his feet on another chair. He helped himself to one of her uncle’s cigars and held a match to the tip.

  As smoke curled over his head, he crossed one foot over the other in a lazy pose and gave a smile of contentment. “This is as good a place as any to hide out until the heat’s off.”

  He took another puff. “The old geezer who lived here had good taste.”

  At the contemptuous way he dismissed her uncle, Kirby felt tears well up and spill over. “The man who lived here had a name. Frank Regan. And he was like a father to me.”

  Keller took another drag on the cigar and gave her a chilling smile. “No sense crying over a dead man. You’ll be joining him soon enough.”

  After fielding Casey’s call, Noble Crain got ready to head out to the Regan ranch. Before leaving he sorted through the pile of emails and messages. As always, those from the state police garnered the most attention.

  One in particular, with the heading ESCAPED CONVICT in bold letters, caught his eye. Killer Keller had been loose way too long. Every day authorities across the country held their breath, expecting to be alerted to a string of murders left in his wake. So far, there had been none. No news of any sort.

  Noble scanned the message, which stated that the trail had gone cold. Not a single lead had panned out. It was as if Ray Keller had vanished into thin air.

  He tapped a pen against his desktop. Nobody vanishes. As a trained lawman, he knew that every criminal left clues. A good police officer followed his instincts to spot those clues in time to prevent further crimes.

  Distracted, he thought about Kirby Regan. For a while, at least, he’d thought her truck would lead them to Keller.

  No such luck.

  He tossed aside the paper and shoved away from his desk. Time to get out to the Regan ranch and see what had Casey Merrick so riled up.

  He was halfway to the ranch when he got a call from Bo Merrick.

  “Hey, Bo. I was just—”

  Bo’s voice was a low growl of nerves. “Noble, I just heard from Casey.”

  “Yeah, he called me a while ago—”

  “We’re on the way to the Regan ranch.”

  “‘We’?”

  “My family. Casey wanted me to tell you he saw Kirby bound hand and foot in the kitchen.”

  The chief felt a wave of remorse for not taking Casey’s call as seriously as he should have. His voice lowered with anger. “Does he know who did this?”

  “He couldn’t see the guy. Said he’s big, broad shouldered. Long, dark hair. But he only saw his back.”

  “That could be anybody.”

  Bo swore. “I don’t care who he is. He’s holding Kirby captive, and my son says he’s going to confront the guy. And we’re hell-bent to back him up.”

  “Now you listen, Bo—”

  “No, Noble. You listen. Get up here as fast as you can. And if I were you, I’d call the state police to lend a hand.”

  “But—”

  Before the chief could respond, the line went dead.

  Big, broad-shouldered, long dark hair.

  His thoughts flashed back to the notice on his desk. Could it be…?

  He punched in the direct line to the state police and reported what he knew, and what he suspected, before requesting backup. After giving general directions, he was assured they would have a helicopter in the air within minutes.

  He hung up and floored the accelerator. Since he was on country roads, he decided to forego the siren. He wasn’t likely to run into any other vehicles way out here. And he could avoid alerting the guy holding Kirby hostage that the law was coming.

  He tried dialing Bo Merrick’s number, to warn the family of his suspicions, but he didn’t answer. He let loose with a string of oaths. The Merrick men might consider themselves tough guys, but they were amateurs against an escaped lifer with nothing to lose by killing anybody who got in his way.

  Kirby watched in silence as Ray Keller smoked the cigar down to a nub before stubbing it in an ashtray. When he stood and picked up the gun from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t swallow the fear clogging her throat.

  She held her breath as he walked toward her. A glance at the window told her it was still daylight. Had Casey’s visit changed his mind? Had he decided not to wait until dark?

  Without a word he stepped over her and dropped into her uncle’s favorite rocker set in a little alcove between the kitchen and parlor, where he could see both the television and his captive. He picked up the TV control and scrolled through the channels until he found one to his satisfaction.

  As the true crime show profiled a teen who had killed his parents, grandparents, and little sisters, Keller started chuckling.

  “See that?” He pointed with the control. “That could’ve been me. Except I didn’t have grandparents or a sister. No relatives at all that I knew of. Just two parents who were the mea
nest drunks in the world. They spent my childhood ignoring me, unless one of them wanted a punching bag. No matter how bad things got, I had nobody to turn to for help. But then one day I was all grown up. One night, when they came home drunk and mean, I didn’t shoot them. I waited until they wore themselves out beating me black-and-blue. And while they slept it off, I hacked them to death with a knife and a hatchet.” He gave a small, chilling laugh. “And I enjoyed every minute of it.”

  Kirby felt icy fingers of dread crawling along her spine. Everything about this man repulsed her. Was he deliberately trying to ramp up the terror, just to add to her misery? If so, he was accomplishing his goal. She couldn’t control the sick terror that had her in its paralyzing grip.

  She closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe. She wasn’t dead yet. And now, though it was slim, there was hope.

  She waited. And watched. And hoped desperately that he would become distracted enough to ignore her.

  As soon as she saw that he was once more caught up in the drama, she began working the blade of the knife against her ropes. Though it was slow and painful, she could feel a few of the rope strands beginning to unravel. As she worked, she prayed she didn’t drop the knife again. Despite the television being on, Keller was bound to hear if it hit the floor.

  He chuckled, and she used that moment of distraction to work faster until, though she couldn’t believe it, she felt the rope begin to fall away from her wrists. She caught it between her fingers, hoping that if he should check her bindings he wouldn’t see that her hands were free. Then she lay as still as her uneven breathing would permit.

  Now to find a way to work at the rope at her ankles. She risked a glance at Keller, wishing he would doze. Instead, he seemed more alert and excited than ever as he watched the show like a rabid fan. The smile on his ugly face told her that he was enjoying this portrayal of a juvenile killer. Instead of being repulsed by the very real violence, he was probably envisioning himself in the starring role.