Death on Heels (41 page)

Lacey nudged Ben. “I’m not pressing charges.”

“That’s good to know,” Tucker said to Lacey. “And you won’t hold that horseback ride against me, Chantilly Lace?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Our firm would be happy to represent you,” Ben announced. “Pro bono. To see justice done.”

Tucker stroked his chin. “Well, my last attorney most likely quit. And I reckon T-Rex will still want my hide.”

“Oh, he definitely will,” Ben agreed enthusiastically. “I guarantee you are going to want Barton, Barton and Barton on your side.”

Tucker laughed, and stared at Ben’s shiner. “You look like a lawyer who’s not afraid to take a punch. Think you can make this whole mess go away?”

“
Make it go away
is my middle name. Deal?”

“Deal.” They shook on it.

Vic pulled Lacey aside. “So tell me, darlin’. What is all this ‘Chantilly Lace’ business?”

“Later, honey.” She snuggled against him and smiled. A little touch of jealousy, she decided, could be a good thing.

A sound had been growing in the distance as they talked, and now it was filling the sky above them and echoing off the mountainside. Everyone looked up. It was the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the air.

The cavalry had arrived.

The chopper’s propeller blades kicked up clouds of dirt and snow, giving Mitch Stanford something else to complain about, but Lacey couldn’t hear him above the roar.

Relief left her feeling exhausted and giddy at the same time. She felt Vic steady her, and she held on to him. Trujillo was photographing the helicopter landing, Mitchell Stanford, the cabin, Emily, Tucker, everything he could get his camera lens on.

Virgil Avery and Grady Rush sat tied up together in front of the cabin. They were not happy about it. Homer Avery sat placidly handcuffed next to his brother, while Mac stood with his ski pole at the ready, making sure no one got any ideas to run. It looked like everyone was present and accounted for. Except Emily. Lacey started to run toward the cabin.

She ran past Virgil Avery and Rush and slipped between Mac and Homer into the single dim room, which by now was a little warmer. Mac had started a fire going in the woodstove.

“Emily? How are you doing?”

Emily was slumped in one of the chairs, hugging her broken ribs with both arms. “I saw what you did,” Emily said, every word taking some effort. “With the rope. That was the coolest thing ever. I want to learn how to do that. I want to be a cowgirl.”

Vic strode into the cabin, followed by Tucker, who left Ricochet by the door with Mac holding the reins. Lacey made introductions.

“Howdy, Emily.” Tucker tipped his hat to her. She held out her hand and he took it.

“You all saved my life.” Emily turned her baby blue eyes on Tucker. “Thank you, Mr. Tucker. I know who you are. Do you think you could show me how to do that thing with the rope someday? When I’m all healed up?”

Tucker flashed his cowboy grin. “Sure, Miss Emily. When you’re ready to rock and roll, I’d be pleased to show you. Are you doing all right?”

“I’m feeling lots better.” Emily smiled and closed her eyes against the pain.

“The helicopter is landing,” Vic announced. “Medical team from the hospital.”

A fresh wave of ATVs rolled up to the cabin. Sheriff T. Rexford jumped off one, Agent Rico Firestone another, and the CBI team was behind them. Firestone spared a curious smile for the trussed-up Mitch Stanford. T-Rex glared at everyone in his way, stopping for a moment to take in the bloodstained mud and snow.

“How do, Sheriff,” Homer said. “My brother Virgil got his. Butt shot. That’s what the blood’s from. Can’t die from a butt shot though. I think.” Homer seemed sanguine about his predicament. “We’re under. Arrest.”

“There’s been a big mistake, Sheriff,” Virgil whined, but the sheriff cut him off.

“Save it.” The sheriff glared down at his erstwhile deputy, Grady Rush, who hung his head and said not a word. T-Rex marched into the cabin. “Where is Emily Ogden?” He stared at Emily, still slumped in the chair, her eyes closed, her bruises bright against her pale skin. “Mercy, God in Heaven, girl. What did those animals do to you?” She just shook her head, and tears rolled down her face.

T-Rex looked over the cabin, side to side and up and down. His mouth dropped open as he eyed the rack of antlers on the wall, festooned with cowboy boots and a hanging noose.

“Cowboy boots! Damnation.” He seemed mesmerized. He shook his head in amazement. He wasn’t about to give Lacey the satisfaction of admitting she was right,
not just yet. “What about Emily’s boots? She’s wearing boots. Well, one boot.”

“We found them up on the antlers,” Lacey said. “There are Rae Fowler’s boots too. See the one with the broken heel? You know who the others belong to. Emily was barefoot.”

“I wanted my boots,” Emily said. “I was so cold. They took care of me. Especially her.”

“She was chained to that cot over there,” Vic said. “By the way, Sheriff, if your guys have some bolt cutters, that chain ought to pop right off.”

T-Rex nodded. The helicopter was down and the prop was idling. Paramedics came running through the door with a stretcher and went straight to Emily. Everyone got out of their way. The cabin was filling up with people. T-Rex finally noticed the man he’d been looking for. “Cole Tucker, nice of you to join us. We got a warm cell waiting for you.”

Tucker didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Benjamin Barton moved smoothly between them. “Hello, Sheriff. You remember me?” Ben’s black eye was blossoming into a beauty.

“What happened to you? All I need is a fancy-pants East Coast attorney to get in the way.”

“I’d hold off on that cell reservation for my
client
, Mr. Cole Tucker,” Ben said to T-Rex. “He assisted in the apprehension of the real killer, Mitch Stanford.”

Yeah, Cole Tucker and his wonder horse
,
Ricochet,
Lacey thought.
And the rest of us.

“Sheriff, I personally witnessed the apprehension of Mitchell Stanford and his accomplices,” Ben continued. “And I believe there are photographs. Many photographs, taken by the media, soon to be seen nationwide. I’ll be speaking with the county prosecutor immediately on our return about dropping all charges against my client.”

“Hold on a damn minute—,” T-Rex started. “He escaped from custody!”

“The way I hear it, from an
eyewitness
, your deputy let him go. But with your help, Sheriff Rexford, together we may be able to save Yampa County a great deal of
expense and embarrassment. Lawsuits for wrongful imprisonment, defamation of character, loss of reputation, I could go on and on—”

The sheriff was turning that color of red Lacey had so admired, but he was listening to every word Ben said.

“Who shot Virgil Avery in the ass?” asked Firestone.

“I did,” Vic said. “And I’d do it again. A little higher.”

“Virgil Avery was trying to kill me,” Ben said. “Vic Donovan shot him in defense of my life.”

“His ass wasn’t where I was aiming,” Vic said. “I plead moving target.”

Firestone ordered everyone but Emily and the medical team out of the warm cabin and into the frigid air, so he and T-Rex could question her while the EMTs tended to her. Homer still sat on the wet ground next to his brother, both of them slumped over with their wrists cuffed behind them.

“Does it hurt much to be shot in the. Ass, Virgil?”

“Course it hurts,” Virgil said. “Dumb-ass.”

A deputy and the EMT led Virgil around to the back of the cabin for some privacy to examine his wound. Lacey leaned down next to Homer to talk with him.

“Homer, what did you have to do with all this?”

He looked up at her with his sad brown eyes. “I don’t like to stay. Home alone,” he said, in his halting way. “Virgil said I could come along. If I stayed in the truck. Down the hill. But I didn’t like staying. In the truck. I could hear the ladies screaming. Even out in the truck. I’m big so they made me carry the ladies. Down to Mitch’s pickup.”

“Were they alive when you carried them?”

“Not anymore. I think they were. Dead.”

“What about the boots?”

“Mitch wanted to keep their boots. He liked the way those girls looked. Wearing them. He told me to do something. With the boots. So he could look at the boots. I put them up on the antlers in the. The cabin. I was making a tree full of boots. I was making art out of them.”

“You know what they were doing was wrong, don’t you, Homer?”

“But Virgil told me to. He’s my brother. He said we
couldn’t ever. Tell the sheriff. But the sheriff never asked me about it. You’re the only one who ever asked me. Virgil didn’t tell me not to tell you.”

“Thank you, Homer.”

“You’re welcome, Lacey. Can I call you Lacey?”

“Yes, you can.” She straightened up and leaned against the cabin.

Soon, Vic and Lacey watched as the EMTs carried Mitch Stanford’s last victim out of the cabin on a stretcher and loaded her into the helicopter. She waved at them.

The chain had been cut from her ankle. Emily was wearing both of her cowboy boots.

“We could have been killed out here today,” Mac said, back in the Jeep. His new cowboy hat looked battered and well broken in. “But we weren’t. And that is outstanding in my book!” He seemed extraordinarily pleased, hopped up on adrenaline, survival, and a great story. But the light in his editorial eyes could mean only one thing for Lacey and Tony.
More work
.

“Vic, please turn up the heat,” Lacey said, buckling herself into the Jeep. “I’m freezing, honey.” Vic just smiled. Lacey smiled too.
We’ll be turning up the heat later.

She and the others weren’t allowed back in the cabin of death. There was a tree of boots, and a crime scene, waiting for the authorities to process. But there were plenty of photographs for
The Eye Street Observer
.

“I blew through three camera batteries and a whole extra memory card,” Tony said with a smug look. He was in the state of bliss reporters achieve when they’ve nailed the scoop. “I got it all.”

“As I was saying,” Mac said, “we weren’t killed. Today was heroic, people. Epic.
Eye Street Observer
reporters—and editors, I might add—put their lives on the line to find this missing woman, the next intended victim of a serial killer. And his accomplices. Well, crew, we rocked it.”

“You writing the lede, Mac?” Lacey said. “That’s our job.”

“I can still rock a lede,” he said. “Now, I want you to
write up your stories as soon as possible, so we don’t lose the immediacy, the energy. I want this on the Web this afternoon, just a teaser, and we’ll hit print tomorrow morning. Front page.”

“We can write a dozen features out of this day alone,” Tony said. “We’ll be up all night! Tucker’s charges being dropped, the arraignment of the Stanford gang, trial coverage, the sentencing—”

Lacey leaned her weary head against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Why don’t you just take the rest of my blood now? Or maybe a kidney.”

Vic chuckled and kept his eyes on the jeep trail.

“We’re going to play this for all it’s worth,” Mac was saying. “‘
Eye Street Observer
Saves the Day!’”

“And what about the sheriff’s official statement, that
they
rescued Emily themselves, with some assistance from former Sagebrush Chief of Police Victor Donovan?” Lacey asked.

“Whatever. Quote the sheriff for comic relief,” Mac said. “We’ll print our story, the
real
story. And the pictures. Let the readers decide how it went down.”

“How about your old boss, Lacey?” Trujillo asked.

“Muldoon? He’ll write whatever he wants to write, no matter what the facts are,” Lacey said.

“I’m thinking we can turn this story into a book in five weeks, six tops,” Mac said. “Our publisher is going to love this.”

“That’s insane, Mac,” Lacey said in horror. “Pure lunacy.”

“Come on, Smithsonian. Or should I say Scoop? It’s not like you have to make up the plot. It’s straight reporting. And how about this for the title:
Terror at Timberline
.”

Lacey groaned. “How about
Lacey Goes On Vacation
.”

Things happened in a hurry that afternoon when they got back to Sagebrush. Vic and Lacey, along with Mac and Tony, marched into the courthouse, mud and all. There was no time to change.

They got to witness attorney Benjamin “Make It Go Away” Barton performing his magic. By late that afternoon all the charges against Cole Tucker had been dropped, and he walked out of the Yampa County courthouse a free man. A free man who just wanted to get back to his family, his ranch, and his horses.

“You’re alive.” Rose Smithsonian hugged Lacey hard, then held her daughter at arm’s length and inspected her.

“Yes, Mom. I’m alive.”

“This time. What happened to your hands?”

Rose picked up her daughter’s hands. Red rope marks scored Lacey’s palms and the back of her hands, where she had held on to the lariat. They still stung. “It’s nothing, really.”

“I have some aloe in my room. We’ll fix you up.”

She and Cherise were waiting in the lobby of the motel when an exhausted Lacey and Vic returned from the courthouse. It felt later than it was. A chilly dark night had fallen, glistening with stars over Sagebrush.

Tony and Mac, still hopped up on adrenaline, were posting stories to
The Eye
’s Web site. Somehow Tony had managed to take a photo of the takedown of Mitch Stanford, with Lacey sliding in the mud and snow on her bottom, taut rope in hand. It would be on the front page. She would have to get even somehow.

“I’m fine, really,” Lacey said.

“You don’t look fine. You look beyond exhausted. Oh, Lacey, I can’t believe you went off on this daredevil adventure without your home team, your posse,” Rose lamented. “Out in the wilderness! With another crazy killer.”

“But we had an army of people there, Mom. And I wasn’t really ever in danger. Not really.”

“Tell me another one.” Rose’s Look could humble Lacey’s Look any day of the week.

“News travels even faster at this altitude,” Lacey said, exasperated.