Speed Trap (11 page)

She lost the trail once, but picked it up again where he'd slid down the bank into the water and scrambled up the other side. Mandy followed. The water was only ankle deep; it didn't slow her down but pulling herself up the far bank did.

She holstered her gun. Grabbing a pair of protruding roots, she hauled herself up, scrambling for toeholds with her boots. She finally gained enough purchase to hoist herself up and over.

He was waiting for her.

She had a split second to throw herself to the side as he swung a hefty club. It thudded into the dirt beside her head.

Latching on to the wood with one arm to keep him from swinging again, Mandy kicked out hard, catching him in the knee. He grunted in pain but didn't go down. Twisting the club out of her grasp, he raised it again. Mandy rolled away and surged to her feet, her hand going to her holster. It was empty.

Startled, she looked down. The gun had fallen out and lay between them in the leaves.

Her attacker grinned as he advanced a step. Mandy judged the distance to her firearm, calculating her chances of getting to it before he struck. She took a step to the left. He raised the limb overhead and rushed at her.

Ducking low, she threw herself into his midsection in a flying tackle. They both went down. Scrambling away from him, she reached for her gun, but he gabbed her leg and pulled her back.

Rolling over, Mandy kicked his face with her free foot. His head snapped back and his grip loosened. She launched herself at her weapon and felt her fingers close over the familiar grip.

Surging to her feet, she leveled her gun at him. “Hold it right there.”

He had regained his feet, but there was blood pouring from his nose. Rage filled his eyes. Raising the barrel a fraction so he could look into it, she said, “Think you're faster than a speeding bullet? Go ahead and try.”

Slowly the fight drained out of him. He raised his hands.

“Good choice. Turn around and start walking toward the highway.”

Staying a few steps behind him, Mandy followed, her gun trained on his back. After they'd covered a hundred yards, Mandy heard Benny calling her name. She answered and in another minute he appeared through the trees.

He grinned from ear to ear when he caught sight of her. “I see you found your stray. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Highway Patrol just arrived.”

“Better late than never.”

Pulling her suspect's hands behind his back, Benny
slapped on his pair of handcuffs. Eyeing the suspect's bloody face, Benny said, “Looks like he gave you some trouble.”

“He tried to walk softly and carry a big stick, but I followed my dad's advice.”

“What was that?”

“Forget the stick. Use a gun.”

After her prisoner had been Mirandized, Mandy guided him to Benny's squad car. Depositing him with his buddy, she closed the door, then leaned against the rear fender as the draining adrenaline left her feeling weak-kneed and shaken.

Benny, hands on his hips, still had a smile on his face. Some guys just liked the rush.

The highway patrol officer, who had been searching the inside of the truck cab, came over to Mandy. He held up a large thermos. “Nice work, Sheriff. This is quite a haul.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You want to bust them for bad coffee?”

The trooper didn't even crack a smile. Unscrewing the lid, he shook some of the contents into it and held it toward her.

Stepping closer, Mandy saw a dozen small plastic bags filled with pink crystals. “Meth!”

“There are six more of these inside the cab. You're looking at a street value of close to twenty thousand dollars here.”

“Wow.” Benny strode toward the cab.

Mandy glanced toward the prisoners in the back of the squad car. “That explains why they tried to run, but it doesn't explain why they tried to kill me.”

The officer replaced the cap of the thermos. “According to your first suspect, it was an accident. When they realized they'd hit a police car, they panicked.”

Mandy shook her head. “I don't buy it.”

“The truck belongs to a firm in Oklahoma City. We're running your suspects' licenses now. From their log, it appears
they were on their way to pick up a load of cattle from a ranch near Kansas City.”

Mandy raked her hands through her hair, pulling out several clinging twigs. “The real question is, where did they stop for coffee?”

A big score of meth had been on its way to Kansas City via her county. Her instincts said it was no coincidence, but she needed proof.

She walked toward the cab. “Benny, I want the whole cab dusted for prints. See if you can track where this rig has traveled in the past twenty-four hours. Look for receipts, fast food trash, anything that will tell us where they've been. I'm not trusting their log books.”

Benny, sitting in the driver's seat, bent forward and pulled a clipboard full of papers toward him. Looking down at her, he said, “I can tell you one place they stopped.”

“Where?”

He handed the clipboard to her. “They fueled up in Timber Wells less than an hour ago.”

G
arrett stood inside the convenience area of Turner's as he waited for Mike to finish welding a bigger hitch on the back of his pickup. The rank odors of old coffee, pine cleaner and the occasional whiff of gasoline from the pumps outside made him wish Mike would hurry up.

Once his truck was finished, he'd be able to pick up the larger, secondhand stock trailer he had purchased the week before. Currently, he had to split his commission with another hauler when his orders were too big for the small trailer he owned. This way, he could haul more cattle and keep more of his profits in his own pockets.

He shifted from one foot to the other as he waited and watched through the window. Mike, in a welding helmet and gloves, worked at the back of Garrett's truck amid a shower of sparks. Two big rigs sat idling in a parking area behind the building. There was nothing unusual in the sight. The truck stop always did a booming business.

Garrett glanced toward the four red vinyl booths at the back of the room. A pair of rough-looking characters occupied the last booth. Sporting black ball caps and black T-shirts with grinning skulls, both men were red-eyed, hollow-cheeked and unshaven.

Garrett recognized the tall one as Spike Carver. Judy and Spike had moved in the same unsavory circles when she was doing drugs. Garrett didn't know the smaller man.

Spike's buddy shook a pill into his palm from a small vial and popped it in his mouth. He offered the vial to Spike, but Spike pushed his hand aside. “Cool it, J. J.”

Spike had noticed Garrett watching them. J. J. followed his gaze. The pit bull glare he leveled at Garrett was pure malice. It was clear J. J. was amped up on speed and spoiling for a fight.

Spike, on the other hand, was nervous as a cat, glancing about frequently in a paranoid fashion.

Garrett turned his back on them. He didn't want trouble with a couple of junkies. Picking up a copy of
Kansas Ranch,
he began to leaf through it.

The bell over the door jangled. Garrett glanced that way just as Mandy walked in. She was dressed in her uniform, but it was grimy and stained.

Pulling off her sunglasses, she hooked one earpiece in her shirt pocket and surveyed the room. Her eyes settled on Garrett for a long second, then moved to the man behind the counter. She looked like a woman on a mission.

Aaron Turner frowned and leaned his forearms on the countertop. “Sheriff Scott, what happened to you?”

“A minor scuffle. You should see the other guy. I need to ask you a few questions about a cattle hauler that was here this morning.”

From the corner of his eye, Garrett saw the men in the booth tense. They exchanged pointed, wide-eyed glances. J. J. leaned down and slipped something from his boot. Garrett caught the glint of a knife blade as the man transferred it to his pants pocket.

At the counter, Aaron said, “A lot of cattle trucks stop here. Could you be more specific?”

“Yellow Weaver cab, potbelly trailer, Oklahoma tags.”
Mandy, intent on describing the vehicle, appeared not to notice as Spike and J. J. slid out of their booth.

Aaron straightened and spread his hands wide. “I don't recall it. Sorry.”

“They have a receipt for diesel fuel from your pump time-stamped eleven thirty-five today.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction. “They do? Then they must have been here. Are they in some kind of trouble? Has there been an accident?”

“I need to know if they spoke to anyone or met with anyone while they were here.”

Aaron rubbed his jaw. “Let me get Mike. I think he was manning the counter then. Maybe he can be more helpful.”

Spike and his buddy moved past Garrett as they headed for the front door where Mandy stood with her back to them. Both men pulled their hats low and kept their heads down.

Garrett's breath froze in his lungs. The need to protect Mandy rushed in, blocking any other thought from his mind.

Rolling his magazine into a tight cylinder, Garrett brushed past them deliberately bumping into J. J. as he put himself between the men and Mandy.

“Watch where you're going,” J. J. snarled.

Aaron said loudly. “Sheriff, why don't we look through our receipts and see if there were other sales made around the same time. It might jog my memory.”

In the curved mirror on the wall, Garrett could see Mandy moving in their direction.

Spike pulled on his buddy's arm. “Let's get out of here.”

“Not until this clodhopper says he's sorry.”

“Is there a problem?” Mandy stood at the end of the aisle watching them with narrowed eyes.

Spike rubbed one hand over the stubble on his chin. “No problem, Sheriff.”

She took a step closer. “Hello, Spike. Hello, J. J. You two been here long?”

“All morning,” J. J. answered quickly, then looked down as he shifted from one foot to the other.

Garrett tensed as J. J. slipped his hand into the pocket of his baggy pants.

“Be cool, J. J.,” Spike cautioned in a harsh whisper.

Mandy took a step closer. “In that case, I've got some questions for you. What do you know about a shipment of meth that left here an hour ago?”

J. J.'s eyes went wide. He pulled his knife, but Garrett brought the rolled magazine down hard on his wrist. The four-inch blade clattered to the floor.

Mandy advanced with her gun drawn. “Hands up, all of you!”

J. J. clutched his wrist, muttering curses under his breath.

Spike raised his hands quickly. “I'm not armed. I had no idea he was.”

Mandy motioned to Garrett with a jerk of her head. “Step away from the knife.”

He backed up a pace. In retrospect, it had been a really stupid move on his part. She was armed with a gun and trained to take care of herself in dangerous situations. He had a rolled-up copy of
Kansas Ranch.
All he would have needed to do was to call out a warning.

Only none of that occurred to him when he saw she was in danger. He'd been driven to protect her.

Because he cared about her.

The thought caught him broadside with its intensity. She was the last woman he should be interested in. She thought he'd murdered his ex-wife. She could prevent him from keeping custody of his son.

He was a no-account cowboy eking a living out of a run
down spread. She was one of the most respected women in the county. She hadn't looked at him twice until he became a suspect in Judy's murder.

They had nothing in common.

So they'd spent a few minutes talking politely over a stroller that morning. It was hardly a sign she'd welcome his attention. Even dreaming about something between them was as foolhardy as facing a man with a knife.

Spike, his hands still raised, said, “I didn't do nothing. I didn't know he had a knife.”

Mandy's gun didn't waver. “Back up against the wall and sit down with your legs straight out in front of you and your hands on your head. You, too, Garrett.”

So much for her being grateful for his help. He and Spike did as she instructed. Within moments, she had J. J. in handcuffs, had called for backup, read him his rights and then began searching him.

When she pulled the brown vial from his pocket, she smiled. “Look what I found.”

“That's not mine.” J. J.'s gaze darted to Spike.

“No? Who does it belong to?” she asked.

J. J. nodded toward Garrett. “That cowboy must have slipped it in my pocket.”

“That's right.” Spike spoke up quickly. “He bumped in to J. J. as soon as he saw you come in. He was getting rid of the evidence.”

Garrett tensed. Would she believe them? Or would he be arrested again for something he hadn't done?

Had his desire to protect Mandy just cost him his son and his freedom?

 

Mandy watched as a shuttered look dropped over Garrett's face. Until that moment, she didn't think he'd been involved,
but now she wasn't so sure. Reading Garrett was like trying to navigate by the stars on an overcast night. Not easy.

She clapped a hand on J. J.'s the shoulder. “If that's the case, then you won't mind taking a drug test, will you?”

He seemed to shrink before her eyes. He was going to test positive and he knew it.

The bell of the door jangled and Mike walked inside. He glanced from Mandy to his partner who was still behind the counter. “What's going on?”

Aaron shrugged. “I think it's a simple misunderstanding.”

“Not so simple,” Mandy replied. “One of your tow truck drivers pulled a knife on me.”

Mike slapped his welding gloves against his thigh. “Then he's fired. Bowen, your truck is done.”

“What?” J. J. squawked. “Bowen gets away with murdering his ex-wife and you're gonna fire me for having a pocket knife? Where's the justice in that?”

J. J. continued whining until the backup Mandy had called for walked in the door. She turned her prisoner and the evidence over to her deputy, then came back to stand in front of Spike and Garrett.

She made each of them stand in turn and face the wall while she searched them. Finding nothing, she stepped back and said, “I could hold both of you as material witnesses and maybe as accessories, but I'm not in the mood for more paperwork today.”

Garrett relaxed when he realized she wasn't going to lock him up.

“Let me make this clear,” she continued. “I won't tolerate meth in my town. If you're involved, you'll find yourself behind bars. Do I make myself clear?”

Spike settled his cap on his head. “Clear as a bell, Sheriff.”

As he left the building, Mandy looked at Garrett. “You can go, too.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He started toward the door, but she called after him.

“Garrett, I know you meant well, but next time don't interfere like that. You could have gotten hurt. I can take care of myself.”

He stopped, but he didn't look back or answer her. After a long moment, he walked out the door.

 

An odd sense of loss came over Mandy as she stared after him. She couldn't decide if Garrett was foolish, brave, a criminal—or all three.

After finishing her interview with Aaron and his tight-lipped partner, she didn't find much that was useful.

While she didn't care for either of the station owners, Aaron had at least been helpful. The receipts had jogged his memory into putting her suspects in conversation with an out-of-town customer who bought gas, a soda and some chips when the men she'd arrested had also been in the store. They could have met outside without being seen.

Aaron's description of the man had been vague to the point of being almost useless. A white male, thirty to forty years old, wearing a dark cowboy hat. Mandy's hopes that the video surveillance would yield better information had been dashed when she learned the cameras were only for show. They'd never been hooked up. The partners thought their presence was enough to deter people from driving away without paying.

Mike couldn't recall anything about the truck or the other customers. Mandy wasn't sure if he honestly paid that little attention or if he just didn't like talking to a cop.

Despite coming up empty-handed at the gas station, Mandy had the satisfaction of knowing her office had taken a large shipment of meth out of circulation. Her hopes of un
covering a connection between her suspects and the drug manufacturer were now riding on the men in jail. She would ask Tom Wick to offer them a deal in exchange for information.

It wasn't the best solution, but it might be the only way to catch bigger fish.

When she was done at Turner's, she drove back to the office. Her plan was to let J. J. and the truck drivers stew for a while. She was sure there was a connection between the three men. It was just a little too coincidental that J. J., a known user, had been at the truck stop at the same time.

J. J. was a small-time crook. He'd been arrested for petty crimes a couple of times in the past year. She didn't believe for a minute that he was the brains behind the operation she was battling, but he could well be a cook or distributor.

If she could get the county attorney to agree to cut J. J. a deal on his possession and weapons charges today, he just might roll over and give her the names she needed.

Fred was at his desk when she walked in. She didn't pause as she headed toward her office. “Have J. J. Fields taken to the interrogation room. I want to have a word with him.”

“It won't do you any good.”

Mandy spun around. “What do you mean?”

“All three of your prisoners have lawyered up and are refusing to talk.”

“Are you serious? How did their lawyers get here so fast?”

“Both attorneys were already at the courthouse on other cases this morning.”

Pressing her fingertips to her suddenly throbbing temples, Mandy sighed. She would go ahead with the plan to offer the men deals, but she had hoped to be able to question them first. “We can't catch a break.”