B.J. Daniels - Twelve-Gauge Guardian

McCall frowned. “I heard that you and your brother are private investigators, but I hope you’re not planning to take this matter into your own hands again. I’ll put out an APB on her and your brother’s pickup since she apparently didn’t have permission to take his truck and she left the scene of an accident and possible crime last night.”

“When you pick her up, I want to talk to her.”

His cousin seemed to consider that. “I think we can work something out. I take it you haven’t seen Grandmother yet.”

“No.”

“I’ll let her bring you up to speed on everything that’s been going on out there.” His cousin shook her head as if whatever it was wasn’t good.

Cordell rose from the chair, not bothering to tell her he had no intention of seeing Pepper Winchester. He had to find out who had injured his twin. He knew it was his way of dealing with Cyrus’s coma. He told himself that by the time he found the bad guys and at least saw that they were behind bars, Cyrus would be all right again.

“It was nice meeting you.” He reached into his wallet and took out his card. “My cell phone number is on there, but I’ll check back with you.”

RAINE CALLED MARIAS AGAIN. “I need your computer expertise. Can you check on a couple of private investigators out of Denver? The name is Winchester, Cordell and Cyrus Winchester of Winchester Investigations. See what you can find out.”

“Anything special you’re looking for?”

“Why they’re in Whitehorse, Montana, would be helpful.”

“I see. If you want to hang on … Do you happen to have a license plate number?” Marias asked.

“I can do better than that. I have Cyrus’s pickup registration.”

“I don’t want to know, right?”

“Right.” Raine reached over and opened the glove box. “Hold on, he’s about to move again.”

“He?”

“Cordell Winchester.” From down the street, he had just come out of the sheriff’s department. Raine leaned over out of view as she dug through the glove box, found the registration, then peered out cautiously as he climbed into his car.

Where to now? she wondered as she watched him start his car and pull away from the curb.

“What information would you like?” she asked her friend, then read what Marias asked for from the registration form as she waited for two cars to go by, then followed Cordell Winchester.

“Two brothers apparently,” Marias said into the phone. “Same birth dates?”

“Identical twins.”

“Really? Handsome?”

“As sin.”

“This is a professional request, right?”

“Strictly business,” Raine said and winced as she remembered the way her fist had connected with his nose. “No love lost between us.”

“Oh, so that means you’ve ‘met,’” her friend said with a laugh. “I hope it was romantic.”

“If romance is him holding me down in the middle of a queen-size bed.”

“Sounds good to me,” Marias quipped. “Hell, sounds damned good now that I think about it. Hmm, that’s interesting.”

“Are you going to tell me? ” Raine asked as she tried to keep Cordell’s rental car in sight.

“I just did a little familial search. Father’s name Brand. Mother a Karla Rose French. Divorced. Grandfather Call Winchester, deceased. Grandmother Pepper Winchester, still living. Got to be a nickname, wouldn’t you think?”

“That’s what you thought was interesting?”

“No, it’s the part where Pepper Winchester’s address is Whitehorse, Montana.”

Cyrus and Cordell Winchester’s grandmother lived here? Pepper Winchester. “Why does that name sound so familiar?” Raine said more to herself than Marias. Up the street, Cordell Winchester made a quick turn at the corner two blocks ahead of her. He’d tagged her. “Gotta go.”

CORDELL COULDN’T BELIEVE it. He’d glanced in his rearview mirror and seen his brother’s pickup a dozen car lengths behind him. The woman was following him?!

He made a quick turn, then another down an alley. Unfortunately, he met a delivery truck coming in and had to back up and take another street.

Around the next corner …

No sign of the pickup.

Cursing under his breath, he searched each side street. She couldn’t have gotten away that quickly. No way.

Then he got lucky. Down a side street he spotted his brother’s truck go past a few blocks away. She was headed out of town!

Unfortunately, he had a stop sign, then several cars pulled out that he had to wait for. But the second he’d gotten the chance, he’d gone after her, not surprised to see the pickup hightailing it out on one of the secondary roads south.

He had to floor the rental car to keep the pickup in sight. Cyrus would have had a heart attack if he saw the way this woman was driving his truck. The thought brought a stab of pain.

The pavement ran out. Dust boiled up behind the truck. She took a curve, throwing up gravel from the tires. Cordell backed off a little after getting the windshield of the rental car pelted, several bits of gravel pitting the glass.

He fished out his cell phone to call the sheriff’s department, but found there was no cell phone service. It was just as well. At least now he could say he’d tried to call. The truth was he wanted to talk to Raine Chandler alone. He didn’t want her pleading the Fifth and getting locked away behind bars where he couldn’t get the truth out of her.

The narrow dirt road wound south over the rolling prairie, a roller coaster ride at this speed. He just prayed they didn’t meet another vehicle coming up the road. There was barely enough room for one car. Going this fast, Raine would never be able to get far enough over to let another car pass.

At first he was convinced he would come up over a hill and find Cyrus’s pickup wrecked at the bottom. But this apparently wasn’t her first time driving on roads like these. He wondered what part of California she was from that she’d learned to drive on narrow dirt roads rutted with washboard.

He gave her a little space, confident that with all the dust she was throwing up, she wouldn’t be able to lose him.

They left Whitehorse long behind them. As the country began to get more rugged, he realized they must be nearing the Missouri Breaks. He’d driven through the Breaks on the way to Whitehorse, crossing the Missouri River as it cut a deep gorge through this desolate, isolated country.

The country was familiar, too familiar, since he’d spent his first seven years living out here in the middle of nowhere on the Winchester Ranch. Unless he was mistaken, they weren’t that far from the ranch.

Cordell was beginning to worry he’d never be able to catch her if she cut across to Highway 191. But then he saw the pickup fly over a cattle guard and come down hard, the right rear wheel hitting loose gravel on the edge of the road. He got on his brakes to keep from going airborne off the cattle guard, as well, and saw the rear of the truck fishtailing.

He could see her fighting to regain control. She almost pulled it off. Then she hit a stretch of deep washboard. The pickup tires lost traction and the next thing Cordell knew the truck was headed for the ditch adjacent to the road.

Fortunately, the ditch wasn’t deep, but it was filled with water and mud which streamed up and over the truck before the vehicle finally came to a stop bogged down in the gumbo. Raine Chandler wasn’t going anywhere.

Cordell was already out of his car and running toward the pickup before the driver’s-side door swung open. He grabbed her and dragged her out, this time not giving her chance to go for her weapon.

Taking the gun from her jacket pocket, he stuck her pistol barrel against her temple, forcing her to her knees in the dirt next to the ditch as he held both wrists behind her. “Who put my brother in the hospital?”