Читать книгу: «The Sheriff of Horseshoe, Texas», страница 2

Chapter Two

Wyatt’s office and the jail were next to the courthouse. A covered walkway connected the two buildings, which had been built in the late 1800s. While there had been updates, basically the two structures stood as they had for years.

He parked the car and got out to open the back door. For a moment he thought Ms. Ross wasn’t going to budge. Then without a word, she scooted out and he guided her into his office. The fight seemed to have gone out of her. He hoped that meant she realized the seriousness of her situation.

They went through the room and down the hall to the jail. The tap-tap of her high heels on the concrete floor echoed through the quiet space. After removing the cuffs, he opened the cell door and she walked in, the soft rustle of her gown annoying him for some reason. As the steel bars clanged shut, she jumped, and her eyes brimmed with fire.

“You bastard. My mother will have your hide.”

“So you keep telling me.”

Her cheeks reddened. “I want my phone.”

“Hey, fancy lady,” Zeke called from the next cell, his bearded face pressed between the bars to get a closer look. “Ya got a fella?”

“Cool it, Zeke,” Wyatt said. “And leave the woman alone. She’s not interested in you or marriage.”

Zeke was in for “drunk and disorderly”. He lived alone in the woods along the Brazos River. Every now and then, he came into town, looking for a wife. Zeke wasn’t known for his bathing habits and he probably didn’t even own a toothbrush. When women saw him, they ran the other way. Then Zeke would drink and become violent, accosting women, and Wyatt always had to lock him up to give the people of Horseshoe some peace.

The Wilson brothers were in the next cell, and they were a rough lot. The two families with eight kids lived in a three-bedroom trailer deep in the woods. Honest work wasn’t for them. They’d run a chop shop until Wyatt closed it down, and now they were into growing and selling marijuana. Wyatt had a feeling the judge was going to throw the book at them this time.

“Wyatt, that’s not fair,” Leonard complained. “We can’t see her.”

“Yeah, Sheriff, that’s discriminatin’ or somethin’.” Leroy had to make his views known.

“I’ll inform your wives of your complaints when they come to make your bail.”

“Ah, c’mon, Sheriff. You know Velma’s as mean as a wasp.”

“Maybe you should remember that, Leroy, before you go gawking at other women,” Wyatt replied. “Now settle down.” He walked out before he lost all his patience.

Stuart stared at him, bug-eyed. “Sheriff—” he nodded toward the cell “—that’s a woman.”

“Notice that, did you?” Wyatt sat at his desk, trying to ignore the astonishment on Stuart’s face.

“But we don’t have facilities for women.”

“We do now.” He reached for a pen. “What did you find out about the license number?

“It’s on your desk.” Stuart pointed to the papers. “I was going to call, but I heard you drive up.”

Wyatt scanned the information. The car was registered to Peyton Laine Ross from Austin, Texas. It wasn’t stolen and Ms. Ross had no outstanding tickets, warrants or prior convictions. So what had happened today to make Ms. Ross break the law?

Stuart jerked his thumb toward the cell. “Is that Peyton Ross?” His voice was a whisper, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him.

“Yes.”

“What did she do?”

As Wyatt filled out the paperwork, he told his deputy what had happened on the highway.

“She tried to bribe you?” Stuart’s eyes opened even wider.

“That’s about it.” Wyatt pulled the hundred-dollar bill from his pocket.

“Gosh darn, that’s a lot of money. The last time I saw one of those was when I graduated from high school. My grandpa gave it to me.”

As Wyatt fingered the bill, a slight whiff of gardenias lingered. With a frown, he handed the bill to Stu. “Label it for evidence. The judge will be back from his vacation on Wednesday to decide her fate. In the meantime, I’ll set her bail.”

Since the population of Horseshoe was under two thousand, Wyatt took over setting bail when the judge was out of town.

Stuart slanted his head toward the jail. “But, Sheriff, we have some rough characters back there.”

“I know.” He studied his pen. He didn’t feel right leaving Peyton Ross locked up with Zeke and the Wilson brothers, but what was he to do? She’d broken the law and he couldn’t cut her any slack just because she was a woman. But he needed to do something.

“Get some blankets and see if you can hang them from the bars to give her some privacy. That will keep the guys from gawking at her. But first, please get her case and purse out of my car.” Wyatt leaned back and reached into his pocket for his keys, pulling out Ms. Ross’s keys, too. He threw the squad car keys to Stuart.

Stuart deftly caught them and glanced over his shoulder. “She sure is a looker, isn’t she?” The deputy, like Bubba, had an avid curiosity, and Wyatt wasn’t going to stoke it.

He laid Ms. Ross’s keys aside and continued to fill out the papers.

There was a slight pause, then Stuart asked, “What’s she wearing? It looks like a ball gown or something.”

“Get the items out of my car, please,” Wyatt repeated without looking up.

Stuart was Horseshoe-born and raised, just like Wyatt. At five foot ten, Stuart was thin and wiry and strong, thanks to his workouts every morning at the school gym. He took his job seriously, but he tended to be a gossip and Wyatt tried to discourage that every way he could. In a small town, it was typical, though. There were very few secrets.

Stuart charged toward the front door and soon returned with Ms. Ross’s things. He stood there, fidgeting.

“Blankets, Stu,” Wyatt prompted.

“Oh, sure.” The deputy hurried to the back room.

Wyatt opened Ms. Ross’s case to make sure she didn’t have a weapon. Silky, feminine things beckoned. A daring, tantalizing scent filled his nostrils and he wanted to slam the case shut. It reminded him of Lori. Not the scent, but the clothes. Undergarments that he’d enjoyed removing…He closed his eyes tight to block the memory.

It didn’t help. Lori’s memory was in his heart. And it ached. Ached for her. Ached for them.

Quickly he searched Ms. Ross’s bag and wondered why the woman needed so many cosmetics. Finally, satisfied, he picked up her things and walked to her cell. The other prisoners were lying on their cots. Using his key, he opened the steel bars and stepped in.

She sat on the edge of a cot, her face flushed, her eyes mutinous.

He placed her case and purse beside her. “You can use your cell phone to call whomever you wish. Or you can use our phone.”

“Am I supposed to say thank you?”

His eyes caught the blue fire of hers. “An ‘I’m sorry’ would be nice.”

“For what?”

“Do you not comprehend what happened this afternoon?”

She folded her arms across her breasts. “I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

He sucked in a breath. “For the record, you were speeding and almost struck a pedestrian. You did not acknowledge the siren or stop when I motioned you over. And you tried to bribe a sheriff. We may be country bumpkins around here, but most of us know how to obey the law. Most of us respect it, too.”

She bent her head and was silent. That shocked him. He expected fireworks. Her demeanor prompted him to ask, “Do you want to tell me why you did those things?”

Her head shot up, her features a mask of seething fury. “Go to hell.”

Now he had the fireworks. This lady did not want help. At least he’d tried. “My deputy is going to put up some blankets so you can have some privacy, in case you want to change your clothes. When you need to use the bathroom, a deputy will escort you to the one down the hall. The judge will be here on Wednesday for your hearing. I’ve set your bail.”

“Wednesday!” Alarm bracketed her eyes. Finally he was getting through to her.

Before he realized it, she’d leaped from the cot and grabbed his arm. “Wednesday! You have to be kidding! You can’t leave me in this hellhole until then. That’s insane. You’re insane!”

Her fingers pressed into his skin and a forgotten longing shot up his arm and through his system. He had to get away from her.

“You bastard. You country-bumpkin bastard. You’ll pay for this. You’ll—”

He opened the cell door, stepped out and slammed it shut, the sound resonating in the confines of the concrete walls like a gunshot. He felt a moment of remorse at the terror in her eyes, a terror shrouded in anger and fear. But he’d tried to talk to her and it hadn’t worked.

She’d broken the law. Now she had to pay.

PEYTON GRABBED her phone and punched her brother’s number. She’d show the high-and-mighty sheriff. He’d regret the day he ever put her in handcuffs.

The weird guy in the cell across the aisle leered at her, his face pressed between the bars. A cold chill scooted across her skin. He reminded her of a bum searching through trash cans on skid road. He licked his lips with a smacking sound. Good grief. She turned away, willing Quinn to pick up.

Pick up, pick up, she silently chanted.

Finally she heard his voice. “Where the hell are you?”

Evidently he’d seen her name on his caller ID. “I need your help.”

“You’re calling the wrong person, Peyton. Since you skipped out on Mom’s wedding, I’m not doing anything for you. Mom was terribly worried and blaming herself for your selfish behavior.”

A twinge of hope pierced her chest. “She didn’t marry him?”

“Oh, so that’s what this little ploy was all about.” She could almost see him nodding his head, the way he did in the courtroom. He was a brilliant defense attorney, and if anyone could get her out of this mess, he could. “You thought Mom would be so distraught over your disappearance that she’d cancel the wedding?”

She took a deep breath. “Quinn, I really tried, but I couldn’t watch her marry another man.”

“Mom has a right to a life. Dad’s been dead five years and it’s time for us all to move on, especially you.”

Peyton bit her lip. Quinn didn’t understand. No one did. Her father had been her hero, her best friend, and losing him had shattered everything she’d believed about love and life. She didn’t understand how Quinn and her mother could move on so easily.

But she did need to apologize to her mother. “I’d like to talk to Mom.”

“No can do.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not letting you upset her, Peyton. She’s happy and getting ready to go on her honeymoon. I will tell her you’re fine, so she won’t worry. And do not, I repeat, do not call her on her cell. Let her be happy.”

Peyton started to argue like she usually would, but she turned and saw that guy leering at her again. It brought her dire situation to the smack-dab middle of her messed-up life. She had to get out of here.

“Quinn, I need your help.”

“You said that before. What’s going on?”

“I’m…I’m in jail.” Remembering how she’d gotten here warmed her cheeks again. Damn that straitlaced sheriff.

“For what?”

“Speeding.”

Her brother sighed. “Peyton, they don’t lock people up for speeding.”

“Well…” She squeezed her eyes closed, hating to admit the next part and not sure how to explain it to her brother. But Quinn knew her better than anyone.

“You know I’ve been upset since Mom started dating Garland Wingate six months ago,” she said.

“That’s no big secret.”

“I couldn’t believe she was serious.” Peyton’s voice wavered and she hoped Quinn understood she didn’t mean to hurt her mother.

“How many times did I tell you she was?”

“I know. I was in denial. No one can take Dad’s place. No one.”

“Then, damn it, why did you agree to be a part of the wedding?”

“I didn’t want to lose my mother but…but I couldn’t go through with it. I sat in my bedroom, decked out in my bridesmaid dress, staring at Dad’s picture. In that moment I knew I couldn’t be a part of the wedding. It would be a dishonor to him, so I bolted for the garage, fresh air and freedom.”

“Very mature, Peyton.”

“I had planned to call Mom.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She winced, knowing what she had to say was going to sound awful. She said it, anyway. “I called Giselle, instead, and she said the sorority sisters were having a big party in Dallas and what I needed was some fun, liquor and sexy guys. It sounded good to me at the time. That way I could forget what Mom was doing.”

“Again, a very mature move.”

“Stop being so sarcastic.” She took a quick breath. “It wasn’t easy. As I drove, the tears started and I couldn’t seem to stop them. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn’t stop that, either. So I put an earbud in my ear to tune out my conscience.”

“I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Please, Quinn.”

“So what happened?”

She rolled the scene around in her head, searching for the right words. The sheriff of this stop-in-the-road town certainly wasn’t in her plans. She honestly hadn’t heard the siren and when he’d motioned her over, she thought he was after the truck and wanted her out of the way. She’d never realized she was driving so fast, and then his big bad attitude had rubbed her the wrong way.

“Peyton, are you there?”

“Yes,” she mumbled, not believing she’d been so stupid.

“What did you do?”

She dredged up her last morsel of courage. “I tried to give the cop, sheriff or whatever he is, money to let me go.”

“You did what?” Astonishment shot through the phone. She could almost hear the reprimand that was about to erupt.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Giselle told me she never gets tickets because she flirts with the cop and shows some cleavage. If that failed, then money always did the trick. Cops barely make minimum wage and need extra cash.”

Oh, why had she even thought of Giselle’s ploys? The sheriff hadn’t even noticed her cleavage. And the sheriff of Nowhere, Texas, turned out to be honest.

“And you listened to that airhead? She’s always getting you in trouble.”

“Stop being so judgmental and get me out of here.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know, somewhere between Austin and Dallas.” What had that snotty sheriff called it?

“I need a name, Peyton.” His astonishment turned to irritation. “Weren’t you paying attention? Or do you even care? You just expect me to drop everything and figure out where you are and solve your little problem. Typical Peyton.”

He made her sound selfish and spoiled. Someday soon she might have to admit the truth of that, but not now. “Horse something. Yes, that’s it.”

There was a long pause on the line. “You know what, Peyton, why don’t you get comfy? After what you did to Mom, I’m not running to your rescue. It’s time for you to grow up and start thinking about someone besides yourself for a change. Give me a call when that happens. And you might check out the name of the town in the process.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

The sudden dead silence on the line told her he would. She had the urge to throw the phone. With restraint, she sank onto the lumpy cot and slowly started to count.

One. Quinn would come.

Two. Quinn wouldn’t leave her in this backwater town, whatever it was called.

Three. She slammed the phone onto the cot.

Pride wouldn’t let her ask the sheriff the name of the town. From her position, she had a very narrow view of the sparse office, but she could see him sitting at his desk writing something. He’d removed his Stetson hat. A wayward lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead. His khaki shirt stretched across broad shoulders. The sun coming through a window caught his badge and it winked at her like a caution light.

She noticed all that a little too late. He was a no-nonsense, straightforward lawman, a mix between Clint Eastwood and Jimmy Stewart. Some women might find that attractive, but she found him a bore and a bully.

As she scooted back to sit on the bottom of the bunk beds, she wondered if the sheet was clean. The steel bed had a lumpy mattress, pillow and a dirty brown blanket. A roach skittered across the grimy concrete floor. She jerked up her legs, shuddering. She had to get out of here. Fast.

She’d show that cocky sheriff.

He wasn’t keeping her a prisoner.

Quinn would come. He always did.

Chapter Three

Wyatt wasn’t sure what to do with Ms. Ross. She’d made her phone call, so why wasn’t someone calling to arrange her bail? His plans were to release her if she promised to return on Wednesday for the hearing. But so far he’d heard nothing from her family.

And it was getting late. He had to call Jody.

Before he could punch out the number, his daughter bounded in with Dolittle, her yellow Lab, trotting behind her. She was dressed in her customary jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt, her short blond hair clinging to her head like a frilly cap. She looked so much like Lori that it squeezed another drop of sadness from his heart. Her eyes were like his, though, dark brown with flecks of green.

“Hey, Daddy, what’s taking so long?” She rested her elbows on his desk and cupped her face, those big eyes sparkling like the rarest of gems. He’d never thought it possible to love someone so much, so deeply, but he did—the same way he had loved her mother. There was nothing on this earth he wouldn’t do for his daughter. He’d give his life for her in a heartbeat. She was everything to him and would be until the day he died.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have a situation here at the jail.” Glancing outside, he saw her bicycle. “Does Grandma know where you are?” Usually his mother called when Jody was on her way to his office.

Jody shrugged. “Grandma doesn’t know where I’m at half the time.”

“Really?” He leaned back in his chair.

“Shoot.” Jody snapped her fingers. “Ramrod says I’m the sharpest knife in the drawer and sometimes I cut my own self.”

Everyone in town knew Jody and she wasn’t in any danger. But it was against the rules for Jody to leave the house without permission. His daughter spent too much time at the local barbershop owned by Virgil and Ramrod Crebbs. They were old cowboys who had grown tired of the long hours in the saddle and had moved to town. They opened the one and only barbershop. Jody loved to hear their tales and she’d picked up their lingo.

Disciplining his daughter was hard. She had him wrapped so tight around her little finger that he let her get away with just about everything. He had to be stronger where Jody was concerned.

How many times had he told himself that? Just last week he had been called to the school because Jody had punched a boy in her class. The boy had told her she was a pretty girl. Apparently, those were fighting words. Jody was a tomboy and refused to admit she was a girl. Although the two of them has talked about this often Jody stuck to her stance that she was just Jody, not a girl.

He sucked in the fatherhood department.

Jody was a loner and that bothered him. She didn’t have friends her own age—all her friends were adults. He had to address that problem soon, too.

Dolittle came around the desk and nuzzled Wyatt’s leg. Wyatt scratched the dog’s head. “So you left the house without telling Grandma?”

“Well, Daddy, it was like this.” Her brown eyes grew serious and he just wanted to kiss her sweet, pixie face. “Grandma was having her Sunday poker game and she was telling Gladys that she needed to get her cataracts removed because she couldn’t see squat. You know how Gladys hates it when Grandma tells her what to do. They were having a loud argument about mind-your-own business types of things when I shouted that I was going to see what was keeping you so long.”

“I see.” Wyatt realized he had no control over any of the women in his life. His mother played the organ in church on Sunday mornings and then played poker with her friends in the afternoon.

Gambling was illegal in Texas, so he’d told them they couldn’t play for money. But the winner bowled free on Tuesdays and also got a free lunch; the others paid, at least that was what his mother told him. Half the time he didn’t know what the ladies were up to, and most of the time he’d rather not know. He’d prefer not to have to lock up his own mother.

Trying to look as stern as possible, he pointed a finger at Jody. “Next time, make sure Grandma hears you.”

At the firmness of Wyatt’s voice, Dolittle became rigid, on guard. They’d had him since he was a pup, and they realized early that the dog was lazy and did very little, hence the name. But he was protective of Jody and he’d fight a lion for her.

Wyatt rubbed the dog’s head, letting him know that no one was hurting Jody.

“Sure. No problem,” Jody replied. “Are you ready to go now? Virgil says the catfish are biting today. He says he caught one this big.” She stretched out her arms as far as she could.

“Virgil tells a lot of fish stories.”

“Uh-uh, Daddy.” Jody shook her head vigorously. “Virgil doesn’t lie.”

Stuart came out of the back room with an armload of blankets. Jody ran to him. “Whatcha doing, Stuart? It’s too hot for blankets.”

Stuart leaned down and whispered, “We have a female prisoner and I’m fixing her some privacy.”

“Oh.” Before Wyatt could stop her, Jody darted down the hall to the jail. He was instantly on his feet. But Dolittle was in the way and he almost tripped over him.

Jody stared though the bars at Ms. Ross. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Stop gawking, little girl,” the woman said. “This isn’t a sideshow.”

Jody’s face puckered into a frown. “I’m not a girl. I’m Jody.”

“You look like a girl to me.”

“You’re a girl,” Jody said.

“Well, Jody-with-a-gender-issue, go away and leave me the hell alone.”

Jody put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, you said a bad word.”

“Like I care. Go away, brat.”

Jody placed her hands on her hips. “You’re not nice and I hope my daddy lets you rot in here.”

“Do you not understand the meaning of ‘go away’?”

Jody stuck out her tongue. Wyatt pulled her away and led her back into the office. “You know you’re not supposed to speak to the prisoners.”

“What did she do, Daddy?” Jody pulled free of his hold and looked up into his face.

Wyatt didn’t plan on answering that question. Jody didn’t need to know. He glanced at the clock. Almost four. Time to get in a little fishing.

“Stuart, my daughter and I are going fishing.”

“Yay!” Jody jumped up and down.

“If anyone calls about Ms. Ross, call me on my cell and I’ll come back and sort it out.”

“You gonna leave me here with her?” Stuart’s left eye twitched, which always happened when he was nervous.

Wyatt reached for his hat. “Is that a problem?”

“No…well…” Stuart held his hand over his mouth so Jody couldn’t hear. “What if she attacks me when I hang the blankets? I don’t want to hit a woman.”

Wyatt glanced at his watch. “Lamar’s shift starts at five so wait until then. Surely the two of you can handle one woman.”

Stuart nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

Wyatt pointed to the bail book. “Leroy’s and Leonard’s wives are coming in with bail money, so let them go then.”

“Sure thing, Sheriff.” Stuart winked at Jody. “Catch a big one, little bit.” Everyone in town called Jody that.

Wyatt shook his head as he walked out the door. One feisty blonde had his office turned upside down.

Hopefully her powerful mother would show up soon with a lawyer and Ms. Ross would be out of his hair.

For good.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in years, Wyatt wasn’t enjoying the fishing. He kept wondering what was going on at the office. And he wondered about Peyton Ross. Why was she so defiant and angry? She seemed to have class and beauty, but on the inside she was like rebellious teenager determined to prove something. He wondered what.

At dusk he drove Jody home and went to check on things at the jail. Jody wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let her. She spent too much time there, too. Soon he’d have to set rules for his child—and enforce them—or she was going to be the wildest kid in Horseshoe.

Lamar was at the desk when he went in. He immediately jumped to his feet. In his early twenties, Lamar was somewhat overeager. He always tried to please and at times it could be a little tiring. But Lamar was dedicated to his job, and Wyatt trusted him completely.

“How’s it going?” Wyatt asked, sinking into his chair.

“Okay, I guess. Leroy and Leonard are gone. Zeke is a pain as usual, demanding to be released.”

“And Ms. Ross?”

Lamar scratched his head. “She refused supper. Said she doesn’t eat garbage. She had a few choice words to say about you, too. That woman has a bad attitude, but she’s real easy on the eyes.”

Wyatt ignored that. “Has anyone called about her?”

“Not a soul.”

Damn. Where was this powerful mother? He got up and made his way to her cell. Blankets were hung haphazardly from the bars, but none over the door. He could see inside. She sat on the bottom bunk in pink capris, a sparkly tank top and sandals. She’d changed her clothes, but the expression on her face was the same—rebellious.

“Would you like to try your mother again? We haven’t heard from anyone.” He was as cordial as he knew how to be, just as his parents had taught him.

“Don’t worry, you will,” she replied with a lift of a finely arched brow. “And you can kiss that shiny badge on your chest goodbye. My mother will have you for breakfast.”

He rubbed his jaw, feeling a five-o’clock shadow. Again he wondered what had happened to make her so bitter. “Have you ever heard that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”

“Sorry, I’m not up on your little country sayings, but you might try catching some of these roaches in here. I’m sure locking me up in such a dump is breaking several laws, not to mention some health violations.”

His cordial attitude went south. Wyatt tipped his hat. “Good night, Ms. Ross.”

“Go to hell,” she shot back.

THE NIGHT WORE ON and Peyton kept glancing at her watch. Quinn will come. Quinn will come. By ten o’clock she knew he wasn’t coming. A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly slapped it away. She wouldn’t cry. That Mayberry sheriff would not make her cry.

The tiny lightbulb cast depressing shadows in the cell. This couldn’t be happening to her. She’d planned to drink and party with her sorority sisters until she could no longer see her beautiful mother with that man. Oh, how could she marry Garland Wingate!

He was so different from her scholarly, gentle father. Garland owned an oil company and wore cowboy boots. So uncouth. Much like the sheriff of this one-horse town.

What was she going to do? Quinn would probably let her stew overnight and be here in the morning. But what if he didn’t? He was angry with her and had a right to be. She needed to talk to her mother and apologize. Then this terrible nightmare would end.

She still had her phone. The sheriff had forgotten to retrieve it. Ignoring her brother’s warning, she punched in her mother’s number. It rang once and went to voice mail. Of course. Her mother was on her honeymoon.

Anger flashed through Peyton and she fought it. There was nothing she could do now. Her mother had married Garland. She started to leave a message, but what would she say? How could she excuse her behavior? She couldn’t even explain it to herself.

Good manners. Good behavior. She’d left those behind the moment she’d decided to run.

Slowly she placed the phone on the cot and glanced around at her dismal surroundings. Ohmygod! She was in jail—locked up. It suddenly hit her like a slap in the face and it stung. She had to find a way out of here. She wasn’t a criminal.

“Hey, fancy lady, ya sleep?” the man named Zeke called.

“Leave me alone,” she said.

“Ya got a fella?”

Could she be in any more of a backwater? “Shut up.”

“I got a place on the river, even got runnin’ water.”

Was this idiot for real?

“I wanna marry up and I’d be good to ya, might even put in a bathroom for ya. Whaddaya say, fancy lady?”

“The only thing I want is to get out of this jail.”

“I git ya outta here.”

That caught her attention. “How?” She immediately wanted to snatch the word back. Had she completely lost her mind?

“I got ways.”

“Just leave me alone, okay?” The last thing she wanted was to get involved with this crazy person. She felt something touch her ankle and she jumped, tucking her feet beneath her on the cot. It was probably a roach. Her skin crawled with revulsion. How was she going to survive this night?

“Hey, Lamar,” Zeke shouted. “I feel sick.”

“Go to sleep, Zeke,” The deputy shouted back.

“I’m gonna throw up. The food must a been bad.”

“You’re trying my patience tonight.”

Loud thuds echoed on the concrete. The deputy was coming to the cell.

She got to her feet and peered out to see what was going on. She had a feeling the man wasn’t sick. What was he up to?

“I got a fever, too. Feel me.”

The deputy stuck in his hand to touch Zeke’s forehead. As he did, Zeke’s thick arm snapped out and grabbed the deputy around the neck, yanking him up against the bars. The deputy jerked, coughed, sputtered and slid to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Ohmigod! What did the man do? Peyton wondered if Lamar was alive. He was so still. She swallowed back a scream.

Zeke crouched down and through the bars reached for the keys on the deputy’s belt. A sly smile crossed his bearded face as he withdrew them. Then he reached for the gun and stuffed it into the waistband of his worn, dirty jeans. Quickly he inserted the key into the lock and opened the door.

He stepped over the deputy’s body and, to her horror, unlocked her door. No! No! She took a couple of steps backward and looked for something to use as a weapon. There was nothing but her high heels. As he advanced on her, a glint in his bloodshot eyes, she bent down to pick one up.