Security Blanket (8 page)

Ahead of him, with the truck at a dead stop in between them, Marin ducked into the barn. Thank God. She might be safer there.

Lucky raced forward, keeping his eye on the driver and looking out for any weapon the guy might have.

Lucky slowed when he neared the truck and kept his gun ready. “Step out of the vehicle,” Lucky warned.

He needed the guy out in the open because he could be just sitting there waiting for his best opportunity to kill Lucky so he could go after Marin.

Nothing.

No reaction. No sound.

Not even any movement.

Lucky inched forward. And with each step he prayed he wouldn’t look inside that vehicle and see his sister. If she’d been the one on that train, if she’d set those explosives, then she might want him dead. Why, he didn’t know. And he didn’t want to have to find out.

He took another step, then another—aware that between the pulse hammering in his ears and the drone of the engine, he couldn’t hear much. But he didn’t need to hear well to realize that the driver was about to do something that Lucky was certain he wouldn’t like.

The brake lights went off. In the same second, the driver jammed the accelerator again.

“No!” Lucky yelled.

He added another prayer that Marin had found some safe place in the barn.

To his right, he heard voices. Someone shouting their names. Two of the ranch hands were making their way across the pasture. Neither was armed, but because they were closer to the barn, Lucky figured they would stand a better chance of getting to Marin in time.

The driver must have thought so, as well. Because he didn’t head for the barn.

Instead, he made a beeline for the back of the pasture, obviously trying get away.

“Take care of Marin,” Lucky shouted to the ranch hands as he started sprinting after the truck.

Marin glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. It was less than a minute since the last time she’d checked. It felt like an eternity, but it had only been a little over an hour that Sheriff Whitley and Lucky had been searching for the driver of that truck.

Maybe Lucky and the sheriff had already caught the man. Maybe he was already on his way to the jail, ready to tell the sheriff why he wanted her dead.

“Maybe,”
she mumbled.

She hugged Noah to her chest and rocked him. After nearly being killed in the pasture, she needed to hold her son and try to deal with the adrenaline shock and the aftermath.

“He’s asleep,” her grandmother whispered. “Want me to put him in his crib?”

Marin was about to decline, to say she wanted another minute or two to hold Noah, but then she heard footsteps. Because the overwhelming sense of danger was still with her, she bolted from the bed, ready to run so that she could protect her baby. But running wasn’t necessary.

Lucky appeared in the doorway.

“The driver got away,” he announced.

So much for her wish. “But the truck left tracks. The sheriff will be able to follow him.”

Lucky shook his head. “The truck drove through a fence in the back of the pasture, and Sheriff Whitley thinks he escaped using an old ranch trail.”

So, he was gone. Gone! And that meant Lucky, Noah and she weren’t safe. There could be another attack.

Her grandmother came and took Noah, gently removing him from her arms, and carried him into the sitting room. Since Marin didn’t want to wake him and they obviously had to talk, she grabbed on to his arm and led him into her walk-in closet.

“I’m sorry,” Lucky mumbled. “I should have caught that SOB while he was still in the pasture.”

His frustration and anger were so strong they were palatable. Marin knew how he felt. “He was in a truck. You were on foot. Catching him was a long shot at best.”

She hoped her words comforted her as much as she was trying to comfort Lucky. This wasn’t his fault. In fact, he’d done everything in his power to stop her from being hurt. He had literally put himself in harm’s way to protect her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He leaned away from her and checked her over from head to toe.

“I’m fine.” Marin checked him, as well, and wasn’t pleased to see grass and mud on his jacket and jeans. But then, he’d had to hit the ground several times to dodge the truck. “Were you hurt?”

“No.” There was a thin veneer of bravado covering all the emotion that lay just beneath the surface. Lucky held on to his composure for several seconds before he cursed. “First the explosion. Now, this. I brought all of this to your doorstep.”

“I doubt it.” She touched his arm and rubbed gently. “Since this particular doorstep at the ranch is also Dexter’s, the danger might have happened whether you were here or not.”

She saw the flash of realization in his eyes, and he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the sitting room, where her son was sleeping. When Lucky’s gaze came back to hers, there was a different emotion. One she understood because she was a parent.

Lucky cursed again and pulled her to him. His grip was too tight. His breath, hot and fast. She felt his heartbeat hammer against her chest.

He mumbled something she didn’t understand. The words came out as mere breath brushing against her hair.

“I didn’t get a good a look at the driver of that truck,” he said. “Did you?”

“No. But I don’t think it was Dexter.” Marin immediately reexamined the images racing through her head. “Still, I can’t be sure, especially since I didn’t see the driver’s face.” She paused. “First there was that e-mail from Dexter. And then you see Kinley on the surveillance video. Two of the people we thought were dead might not be.”

He nodded. “Now the question is, are they responsible for what’s happening to us?” Lucky also paused. “But just like you can’t believe Dexter would do this, I can’t believe Kinley would, either.”

Neither of them could be objective about the situation. Marin knew that. But it didn’t mean they were wrong. Maybe both of their siblings were alive.

And innocent.

There was a sharp knock at the bedroom door, and Lucky drew his gun from his shoulder holster. He headed out of the closet. Fast. He obviously wasn’t taking any chances. But the vigilance was unnecessary because the person on the other side of the door was Sheriff Jack Whitley.

Marin had known Jack most of her life, and he hadn’t changed much. A real cowboy cop. Tall and lanky with dark hair and gray eyes, Jack had on jeans and a white shirt with his badge clipped onto a leather belt.

Since Jack obviously wanted to talk to them, Marin thought of the bug, and her parents who were probably trying to hear every word. “We’ll have some privacy out here,” she told him, and Jack didn’t say anything until they walked into the enclosed patio.

“My deputy wasn’t able to find the truck or the driver,” Jack announced, causing Lucky to groan. The sheriff volleyed glances at them and kept his voice low. “You’re sure this guy tried to kill you?”

“Dead sure,” Lucky insisted.

Jack nodded and seemed to accept that as gospel truth. “The ranch hands said the truck wasn’t used very often and was put in the barn for the winter. Keys were almost certainly in the ignition, and the barn wasn’t locked, either. They didn’t see anyone around that part of the pasture.”

“I guess that means no one saw the driver?” she asked.

“No one,” Jack Whitley verified. “But there were footprints in the barn, and there’s a Texas Ranger coming out from the crime lab. He’ll take impressions and try to see if that’ll tell us anything.” His attention landed on Marin. “I spoke to your dad. He says this has nothing to do with Dexter.”

It took Marin several long moments to figure out how to answer that. “I want to believe that.”

Jack didn’t answer right away, either. “Yeah. I understand. But since I have a job to do and since I’m sure you don’t want to dodge any more trucks, I have to say that the circumstantial evidence is pointing to Dexter.”

“Why do you say that?” Lucky wanted to know.

The sheriff took out the envelope he had tucked beneath his arm. “A visitor who just arrived and this.” He extracted a photo from the envelope and handed it to Lucky.

Marin leaned in so she could see the photograph, as well. It was a grainy shot, taken from what appeared to be the surveillance camera outside the bank on Main Street. But even with the grainy shot, it wasn’t hard to make out the woman’s face.

“That’s Brenna Martel,” Lucky confirmed. “She’s someone else I thought was dead.”

Jack made a sound of agreement. “While I was looking around for that truck driver, I had the Justice Department give me a case update.” Now, his attention turned to Lucky. “I know who you really are. And it seems your sister and now this woman might both be alive. Dexter, too.”

Three people, all presumed dead. Now, all alive. Innocent people didn’t usually let their friends and families believe they were dead unless something bad, very bad, was going on.

“You said something about a visitor?” Lucky prompted.

Marin held her breath. God, had one of those three come to the ranch?

“The visitor is the other player in the case,” Jack explained. “Grady Duran.”

“He’s here?” And Lucky didn’t sound any happier about it than Marin was.

“Duran’s here,” the sheriff verified. “And he’s demanding to speak to both of you now.”

L
UCKY WOULD HAVE
preferred to delay this meeting.

After all, Marin was just coming down from a horrible ordeal. The last thing he wanted was to add any more tension to her already stress-filled day. But this chat with Duran might give them answers, and right now, answers were in very short supply.

“I’d rather you waited in the bedroom,” Lucky repeated to Marin. But like the other two times he’d said it, she didn’t budge. She walked side by side with him toward the front of the ranch house where the sheriff had said Grady Duran was waiting to see them. Sheriff Whitley was right behind them.

“If Duran’s the one who just tried to kill us, then I want the chance to confront him,” Marin insisted.

That’s what Lucky was afraid of. That Duran had indeed been behind the wheel of the truck. And that Duran would try to kill them again.

But why?

Lucky kept going back to that critical question. If Duran was on the up and up and simply wanted answers as to Dexter’s whereabouts, then he wouldn’t want Marin and him dead. He’d follow them, demand to talk to them. But it would serve no purpose for Duran to kill them.

Well, at least no purpose that Lucky could think of.

Still, he couldn’t take any more risks when it came to Marin. As they approached the great room of the ranch house, Lucky drew his weapon. He checked over his shoulder and saw that the sheriff had placed his hand over the butt on his own service revolver. Good. They were both ready in case something went wrong.

Duran was pacing in the great room. The man was just over six feet tall and solid. He wore a perfectly tailored suit. Cashmere, probably. He impatiently checked his watch at the exact moment his gaze connected with Lucky’s.

Duran wasn’t alone. On the other side of the massive room near the stone fireplace stood Lois and Howard Sheppard. They didn’t look happy about their unexpected visitor.

“He said it was important, that it’s about Dexter,” Lois volunteered. “I was hoping he’d know where my son is. That’s the only reason we let him in.” She didn’t go any closer to her daughter. Probably because both the sheriff and Lucky moved protectively in front of Marin.

However, Marin would have no part in that. She merely stepped to the side. “Were you the one who tried to kill us?” she demanded.

“No,” Duran readily answered, though the denial hadn’t come easily. The muscles in his jaw were so tight that Lucky was surprised the man could even speak. “I could ask you the same thing. Someone planted an explosive device in my rental car.”

Lucky glanced at the sheriff who confirmed that with a nod. “The device was on a timer, but failed to detonate. If it had, I would have been blown to smithereens.”

“Well, neither Lucky nor I set an explosive,” Marin grumbled. “But I’m sure you’re not short of suspects. With your caustic personality, you’ve made your share of enemies.”

Duran didn’t react to her insult. He whipped his gaze toward Lois and Howard. “What about you two? Either of you into blowing things up to protect your son?”

Lois made a slight gasp and flattened her hand over her chest. Howard hardly reacted, other than a slight narrowing of his eyes. “I think you’ve already worn out your welcome.”

Duran shook his head. “I’m not leaving yet. Not until you tell me where Dexter is.”

“We thought you knew,” Lois accused.

Lucky waited for someone to respond, but the room fell silent.

“All right. I’ll get this conversation rolling,” Duran continued a moment later, aiming his comment at Howard and Lois. “Here’s my theory. You want me out of the picture because when I find Dexter, I’m going to haul his butt off to jail. Then, I’ll figure out how to get back every penny he owes me. And by the way, that’s a lot of pennies. Your son is in debt to me for the tune of nearly six million dollars.”

Six million. Lucky had no idea it was that much. That was a big motive for murder. It also explained why Duran was desperate to find Dexter.

Howard took a menacing step forward, but Duran held out his hands. Then, he pulled an envelope from his pocket and slapped it onto the coffee table. “That’s a copy of the letter my lawyer sent to the state attorney general and the Justice Department. I haven’t had the best relationship with those two groups in the past, but I’ve decided to help them with their ongoing investigation.”

“So?” Howard challenged.

But Lucky knew what this meant, and it had just upped the stakes.

So far, Duran had tried to find Dexter on his own. He’d not only refused to assist the Justice Department, he had likely withheld critical evidence. Now, Duran’s cooperation could blow this case wide open, and it could lead them directly to Dexter or at least to the truth of what’d really happened in that research facility.

“So,”
Duran repeated, “I’d rather deal with Dexter on my own, but I’m willing to cut a deal with the Feds. I’m also willing to hang your son to get revenge for what he did to me. Understand?”

“We understand,” Lois snapped.

The corner of Duran’s mouth lifted. “I’m not going away. And I’m not backing down. I’m staying in Willow Ridge, and I plan to haunt you, your daughter and her fiancé until you lead me to Dexter.”

“Just make sure your threats stay verbal,” the sheriff warned Duran. “Because you’ll be the one arrested if you cross the line.”

Duran mumbled something and turned to leave. Lucky followed him. Marin would have no doubt done the same, but the phone rang, and several seconds later, one of the housekeepers announced that the call was for Marin.

Lucky went to the porch and caught Duran’s arm before he could head down the steps. “Talk to me about Kinley Ford. What do you know about her?”

“She’s dead.” He paused, studied Lucky’s expression and then shook off his grip with far more force than necessary. “At least the police think she is. You have any information to the contrary?”

“No,” Lucky lied.

Duran kept staring. “Kinley Ford was at the research facility the night of the explosion. I know, because I was there, too.”

“You saw her?” But Lucky already knew the answer. Or rather the answer that Duran had given the investigators when they had first interviewed him.

“I did see her. Dexter, Brenna and Kinley.” Duran glanced around the grounds. The vigilant glance of a man who was wary of his surroundings. “Something was off, but I didn’t know what. Dexter was acting even less normal than usual. I mean, he was forever pulling that prima donna genius crap where he’d say he couldn’t be interrupted. But that night, he was wound up so tight that I could see he was about to snap.”

Probably because Dexter was about to put his plan into action. “Did you ask why he was on edge?”