Dangerous Refuge

chapter Three



California plates, Shaye thought, looking at the Ford Crown Victoria. Someone didn’t just stop by like me to check on Dingo and the animals. We’re close to the border here, but not that close.

She took another step from her Bronco and whistled. Or tried to. Her throat was dry. She didn’t like remembering the last time she had been here, the vultures and body that was both Lorne and not Lorne.

No single bark of greeting from Dingo. No lights coming on to welcome her.

Yet there was a car here, its engine still radiating heat into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

She called loud enough to disturb the cows at the close end of the pasture. They rustled and lowed in response. Motionless, she strained to make out a more human sound. All she heard was her pounding heartbeat, blood rushing through her ears like waves on the shore. Fear slid coolly down her spine.

Don’t be ridiculous. Whoever is here is probably asleep.

Swallowing hard, she walked up to the door. She didn’t want to poke around the barn checking the horses and get shot as an intruder. She rapped hard on the wooden door.

Silently, it opened into darkness.

She made a startled sound. A black shape loomed just beyond the door.

The room light snapped on, backlighting the shape. A man. Taller than she was and then some. Not skinny, not fat. Strong and at ease, yet somehow . . . dangerous.

“You’re Shaye,” he said.

The sound was barely above a growl.

“Yes,” she said. “Who are you?”

“Tanner Davis, Lorne’s nephew.”

“He never mentioned any relations,” she said warily. She wished he would back up into the light so she could see him better. Or back up, period.

“He wasn’t a talkative man,” Tanner said.

“It must run in the family.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Look, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said. “I just wanted to check on Dingo and the other animals.”

“Very neighborly of you.”

“You make it sound like an accusation,” she said, not bothering to hide her irritation. If he just weren’t so damn big. “Since you’re here, I won’t worry about the livestock. You do know how to take care of the animals, right?”

“Yes.”

The man shifted, turning just enough that she could see some of the angles of his face. His eyes were still shadowed. He looked as tired as she felt.

“Ms. Townsend. Or is it Mrs.?”

“Ms.”

“I’ve had a hell of a day getting up here from L.A.”

She made a face at the mention of the city. “Los Angeles? I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Beats a one-horse town like Refuge.”

“You should meet my mother,” she muttered. Then, more clearly, “I happen to love Refuge.”

“That’s nice.” His voice was rough. “Anything else on your mind?”

“I just wanted to help out.”

“I’m sure if Lorne was here, he’d appreciate it,” Tanner said. “I’m here for as long as it takes to settle his estate. Today sucked and tomorrow doesn’t look much better. Go home. You look like you could use the sleep.”

“I’m sure you’ll be free to go back to your chosen hell real soon,” she said before she could think better of it. “Lorne was in the middle of a deal with the Conservancy I work for. We were going to hold the land in trust while he worked it until he—”

“Died,” Tanner cut in. “The old buzzard has punched that particular button. Game over.”

She gritted her teeth. “I won’t bother telling you I’m sorry for your loss. Obviously you didn’t lose anything but gas for the trip here.”

Though Tanner didn’t move, he seemed to get bigger. “Lady, I’m a homicide cop. In a homicide capital. I spend too much time talking to people about how they coulda, woulda, shoulda done something to or for their loved one who recently died. Guess how much good the hand-wringing does?”

Shaye turned her back and headed for her car. Tanner was worse than Lorne had ever been.

But the land was still incredible. Somehow, she had to save it, despite Lorne’s looming, abrupt nephew.

She stopped, turned back, and asked, “What are your plans for the ranch?”

“When I decide what business it is of yours, I’ll let you know.”

“Did you train to be rude or is it a special gift?”

“I deal with corpses and bureaucrats all day. The dead don’t care if you push them around and desk jockeys expect it.” He raked a hand through his short hair. “Come back some other time when I haven’t had back-to-back shifts and an eight-hour drive. Then we can have a discussion like civilized human beings.”

She started to say that she doubted that, but he was still talking.

“Dingo is at the vet. They don’t know if he’ll make it.”

“The vet? What happened?”

“Rat poison, likely.”

“That doesn’t sound like Dingo,” she said. “And Lorne didn’t keep rat poison around here. He lectured me on it when I brought a box over because the cats weren’t keeping up with the mice.”

Tanner waited, still blocking the door with his big body. He seemed to expect something from her. She didn’t have a clue as to what and she was too tired to play games. Like him, she had been up for the last twenty-four hours.

She turned back toward her car, then remembered. “The mineral lick for the cattle is low.”

Silence answered.

“And you don’t care about it, either. Gotcha,” she said.

Tanner stood without moving as she climbed into the old Bronco and drove off without looking back or waving.

No wonder my captain wants me to go to charm school, Tanner thought, yawning wide enough to put his fist in his mouth. Too bad. I’m a cop, not a politician. Civilization is always backed by force. The rest is just hot air.

But coming out of Shaye’s mouth, words sound damn good. Bet Lorne loved to have her hanging on his every word.

Were some of those words about gold coins?

Tanner turned and focused on the small black hollow in the fireplace.

The coins were still gone.

And his cop instincts still hummed.

He replaced the stone before he went outside, locking the door behind him. As he got to his car, he pulled out his cell phone. Still no signal. He opened the door, sat behind the wheel, and felt every day of his thirty-six years. Tossing the cell phone onto the passenger seat, he drove until he got a signal. Then he stopped in the middle of the dirt road and called one of the few people he really liked.

The phone rang only once before it was picked up.

“Brothers,” the voice said.

In his mind, Tanner could see the other man crammed behind a desk too small for his NBA-size frame.

“Kinda late for you to be at work, isn’t it?” Tanner asked.

The chuckle that came back over the line reminded him that there was more to his job than body bags and death. Some people were good. Dave Brothers was one of them.

“Hey, T-Bone. Bureaucracy never sleeps. You too much in the doghouse to make a personal appearance?” Brothers asked.

“Speaks the dude who gets promoted for breathing,” Tanner shot back.

“It’s my pretty face. It looks so fine behind a desk.”

Tanner laughed. Brothers was the only desk jockey he actually liked.

“You’re just pissy because I get to go home when it’s five o’clock,” Brothers said. “Well. Usually. At least I don’t have to spend midnights on a nasty crime scene wondering why this mook shot that one. So what do you need that has you calling at this ungodly hour?”

“You saying I only call when I want something?”

“I like a man who knows himself.”

“That’s because I’m the only one who can stand me.”

Brothers laughed richly. “Maybe you’ll grow on the new captain.”

“I’m trying.” Tanner stared at the darkness in the rearview mirror. His childhood was locked up back there, but he didn’t live there anymore. “Look, I’ll be straight. Thanks to union intervention, I’m on ‘paid personal leave for an indefinite time not to exceed twenty days,’ which just happens to be the amount of vacation time I have.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Assumed it was window dressing for you pitching a fit about your extended morgue tour.”

“Not this time. My uncle died.”

“Whoa. That didn’t get passed around with the doughnuts. What can I do for you, my man?”

“I need some coins traced—twenty-dollar gold pieces. Specifically, 1932 Saint-Gaudens. I don’t know how many there were. I never had the chance to count them. They were in a roll, along with an unknown number of loose Gaudens. Probably less than thirty, total. Since you have more connections than the power grid, I hoped you could tell me if they’re as rare as I think they are, or if I’m looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Sounds unusual to me. Liquidating the estate?”

“No. The coins are missing from my uncle’s stuff. He could have sold them, but I want to be sure. You know how I am about loose ends.”

“Spelled G-a-u-d-e-n-s?” Brothers asked.

“I guess. 1932. I’m certain on the date.”

“I’ll run pawnshops and coin dealers and let you know.”

“Thanks, D.”

“You and your loose-ends fetish saved my ass when we were on patrol together. You got a lifetime of favors coming. If I find anything, I’ll call or text you.”

Brothers hung up before Tanner could thank him again.

He put the phone on the seat beside him and drove toward Refuge. Nothing to do now but find a motel and wait for tomorrow morning, when Lorne’s lawyer opened up shop.

Wonder what the tall blonde with the haunted brown eyes is doing now, and who she’s doing it with.

He shrugged. Shaye was none of his business.

If that changed, he would care. Until then, she would remain just one more question mark in a world that already had too many unanswered questions.

And deaths.