Alex was in a deep slumber, which was why she didn't
associate the knocking on her door with reality. Subconsciously,
she thought the racket was an extension of her
dream. A voice finally roused her.
"Get up and open the door."
Groggily, she sat up and reached for the switch to the
bedside lamp, which always seemed to elude her. When the
lamp came on, she blinked against the sudden light.
"Alex, dammit! Get op!"
The door was vibrating with each fall of his fist. "Reede?"
she croaked.
"If you're not up in ten seconds ..."
She checked the digital clock on the nightstand. It was
almost two in the morning. The sheriff was either drunk
or crazy. Either way, she wasn't about to open her door
to him in his present frame of mind. "What do you
want?"
Alex couldn't account for the change in the sound of the
thumping until the wood began to splinter, then shatter. Reede
kicked the door open and let himself in.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she
shouted, gathering the covers against her as she sat bolt upright.
"Coming to get you."
He grabbed her, covers and all, plucked her off the bed
and stood her on her feet, then ripped the covers away from
her grasping hands. She stood shivering in front of him,
wearing only panties and a T-shirt, her usual sleeping en
semble. It would be difficult to say which of them was the
more furious or riveted.
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."