Rita Herron - Lock, Stock and McCullen

She massaged the scar at the base of her temple, a nervous habit she’d had since she was young. “I went to take a bubble bath while he was supposedly setting up a picnic for us. But when I got out of the tub, I heard him talking on his cell phone.”

“Who was he talking to?”

“I don’t know.” The conversation echoed in her head, making her blood run cold. “I heard him say that I was the one... At first, I thought he meant it romantically. That I was the one he loved, the one he was meant to be with.”

The irony of that statement seemed to hit both of them. “Then what happened?”

“He held up this flyer. It had a picture of a little girl on a milk carton on it.”

Maddox’s brows drew together in a deep frown. “A little girl?”

“She was about five years old.” She fidgeted, still trying to make sense of it. “Then he said I was the one they’d been looking for, and that I’d be dead by morning.”

A heartbeat passed. “He meant that you were the girl on the milk carton?”

“Yes,” Rose whispered, her agitation mounting. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

“He didn’t elaborate?”

“No.” She shivered. “Instead, he pulled a gun from his briefcase.”

“Did you know he carried a weapon?”

“No, I’d never seen it.” She twisted her hands together. “But it scared me, and I stumbled. Then he saw me and came after me.” Her breath came out in spurts as fear once again seized her. “He shot at me and missed, and we fought. I tried to get away but the gun went off again.”

Maddox covered her hand with his. “Go on.”

“I shot him, Maddox. I didn’t mean to, but the bullet hit him.” She blinked back more tears, her heart pounding. “Blood soaked his shirt, and I was terrified, so I ran to the car. He staggered to the door and fired at me again.”

Another tense silence. “Did he follow you?”

“I don’t know, he collapsed on the ground,” she cried. “I think I might have killed him.”

Chapter Three

Tears filled Rose’s eyes again, the terror returning. She could still see the sinister look in Thad’s eyes, see him lunging for her with that gun.

“You didn’t call an ambulance or the police?”

Rose tensed. “No, I tried my cell as I was leaving and there was no service. Then all I could think about was escaping.”

He lifted her wrists, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he noted the bruises. “He grabbed you here?”

“Yes,” she said, remembering the horror of his fingers clenching her as Maddox gently stroked the tender area.

“Can you tell me where this cabin is?” Maddox said.

“I don’t know the name of the road we turned off on. But...I could probably find it.”

He stood. “I have to go out there and see if he’s still alive.”

Nerves fluttered in Rose’s stomach. What if Thad was dead? Would she be arrested for murder?

* * *

MADDOX CONSIDERED CALLING the Cheyenne Police Department, but figured he’d assess the situation first and find out if Thoreau was dead or alive.

He texted Mama Mary to let her know that he might not be home tonight, and to call him if his father’s condition changed.

“I understand it may be difficult for you, Rose, but do you mind riding with me and guiding me to the cabin?”

Wariness darkened her eyes, but she squared her shoulders as if to gather her courage. “No, I’ll take you there.”

He led the way outside, giving her time to lock the door. She still seemed wobbly as they walked to his car, and he opened the passenger door and waited until she settled inside before he circled around to the driver’s seat.

Anxiety vibrated between them as he veered onto the highway and drove through Pistol Whip, which was situated in a flat stretch between the mountains. Land spread out before them, miles and miles that were untamed, where antelope, deer, elk and other wildlife thrived.

Tourists wanting a frontier town and trail riding, or a layover on their way to Laramie or Cheyenne, often stopped in Pistol Whip. Hikers, mountain climbers and fishermen especially took advantage of the proximity to the majestic mountains and river.

Locals had created a small museum showcasing the area’s history. Apparently in the late 1800s, a famous gunslinger had ridden through the hills in search of a hideout. When three local vigilantes discovered his identity, they strung him up in town and pistol-whipped him to death.

The town council at the time dubbed the town with the name Pistol Whip to remind people that they couldn’t take the law into their own hands.

“Tell me about your fiancé,” Maddox finally said. Any background information on their relationship would be helpful.

Rose toyed with a string on the bottom of her T-shirt. “We met in Cheyenne,” she said. “I was there for an antiques show, and he was on business.”

“What kind of business?”

“He worked...works for an energy company.”

“Did he mention the name of it?”

Rose rubbed at her temple just as he’d seen her do at her house. Obviously a nervous gesture. As she pushed her hair back, he noticed a scar at her hairline, a jagged one that disappeared into the hair on the crown of her head.

It looked as if it ran deep and went across her skull. He wondered what had happened.

“I don’t think he ever said the name of it. Or if he did, I forgot.”

Because she’d been snowed by his charm.

“Did he mention anyone he worked with? Business clients or friends?”

Rose chewed her bottom lip for a minute. “No. Wait...I heard him talking to someone named Carl once.”

“Do you remember his last name?”

She shook her head. “He just said he’d fax him the information he needed. But I didn’t hear what the conversation was about.”

Had he been vague because he was hiding something?

“Do you have one of Thad’s business cards?”

“I might have one at the house.”

“Good. When we go back, get it for me.”

Cacti and scrub brush dotted the land as he left the small town and drove through the countryside. Winter had set in, the ground dry and barren-looking.

“How long did you date?”

“About six months.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Obviously he had no intention of ever marrying me. He...was probably lying to me the entire time. But why would he kill me over a photo or think I was that girl?”

“Good question.” Maddox grimaced. This guy had targeted Rose. “The fact that he was talking to someone on the phone about you means he was either working for this other person or he had an accomplice.”

Rose turned to look out the window, her face drawn as if she was lost in the horror of the evening.

“What about his family? You said earlier that you were eloping.”

Rose nodded. “He said he lost his parents a few years ago, but he’d inherited family money.”

Could have been more lies. Hell, Thoreau might not even be his real name. “What about yours?”

“My parents...well, we haven’t spoken in a while.” She lapsed into a sullen silence. Obviously the subject was painful for her and she didn’t want to elaborate.

He wouldn’t probe for now. Not unless he discovered her family had something to do with Thoreau.

But if Thoreau was dead...hell, he’d have to dig into every aspect of her life. Because Rose would need a defense.

If the flyer of that picture on the milk carton was there as she said, that would be a place to start.

* * *

ROSE WANTED NOTHING more than to forget what had happened earlier this evening. But she had to find out if Thad was dead.

Fear clenched her stomach at the thought that she’d killed a man, even if it was in self-defense. But she’d never been the kind of woman to run from a problem and live in naive bliss.