The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1) (7 page)

“Can’t say I got that close to notice. Once I caught sight of Petilune in the car, I worried about what was going to happen to her.” He paused to consider if there was anything else that struck him. “Mostly they struck me as city types, scrappy, with chips on their shoulders.”

Josh sucked air above him. “Reason I’m asking is I didn’t have time to pay attention to him. I wanted to get the other two off Will before they did any more damage.”

“That was a nice toss, cowboy. That kid’s gonna be sore for a few days.”

“Tough. He was the one going for the kidney shot with his shitkickers.” He swore under his breath. “I been away from the job so long I’m losing my touch. Not so long ago I’d have had enough to make a sketch artist’s job a piece of cake. Now I’m struggling to pull up even the most obvious stuff.”

Marcus held his hand out for Josh to pull him up, both of them grunting with the effort. They grinned at each other ruefully. As Marcus stretched his legs pacing the short length of dock, he did some thinking out loud.

“Seems to me they can’t be complete strangers to the area. I know I haven’t seen them, but that don’t mean much considering I’m mostly in the store six days a week. Only time I get out is for church, like today, or if I get a hankering for Polly’s cooking on a Sunday afternoon. Question is, why are they here, and what the hell were they doing taking on a big kid like Will Barnes practically in view of the whole damn town?”

“You think they wanted to be seen?” Josh was staring at Marcus intently.

“I think they wanted to make a statement. What I’m not sure about is who that statement was for.”

“So we got us some troublemakers, maybe up from Laramie or Rawlins. They’re Caucasian, mid-teens, all of ’em five-nine to five-eleven, short hair.”

With Josh prodding him, details he’d never think to notice under normal circumstances came flooding back. “All three wore jeans. Baggy like the kind you see pictures of in the cities, with the stupid big side pockets and hems rolled at the ankles. Gangsta shit. Tee shirts. No logos.”

The style of jeans might be significant. Any guy worth his salt wore Wranglers that fit but left room for sitting a horse comfortably. Anything too tight was asking for trouble, and too loose was equally risky. To sport baggy jeans in ranch country pinned the wearer as an outsider, and a foolish one at that.

Josh asked, “How about jewelry? Earrings. The one I tossed had a stud in his right ear. Looked like an animal head, maybe stainless steel or nickel. The other one had a tat on his bicep but the tee-shirt kinda covered all but the edge.”

Marcus shut his eyes again, visualizing how he’d seen the girl in the passenger seat, her hands covering her eyes, screaming bloody murder. He’d registered a body hurtling past to land with a solid thunk on the hard-packed sandy surface. The rest of the action unreeled behind his eyes in slow motion.

Will was on the ground, curled into a ball, protecting himself as best he could. He’d crouched to check on the boy, keeping an eye on the one who was moving toward Josh. He’d tried to find enough spit to shout a warning to Josh that the leader had a knife. The asshole reached up as Josh’s elbow made contact under the kid’s chin, the sound of teeth and jaw crunching together loud as a gunshot. He wondered if the ex-MP had connected hard enough to break the kid’s jaw or to loosen some teeth.

Then it was over and the entire town seemed to converge on that spot. He’d grabbed Petilune and carried her to safety. Now, here he was, with Josh, pawing through vague recollections but no closer to an explanation for who, let alone why.

Marcus wondered aloud, “I’ve been mulling over if there was a reason for them to be at the reverend’s vehicle. And how the hell did Petilune get inside?” Even in a town like Centurion, where everybody knew everybody, you still locked your car doors. He slapped his thigh. “Why the hell was she even there with Will? He’s got a steady girl. It’s not like him...”

Josh interrupted. “I don’t think she was with Will.”

“How so?”

“That date, last night. Remember that? She said it wasn’t anybody we’d know. What if it was one of those assholes?”

Marcus thought there was merit in that. “You might be right. Just before the service, Pet was clingy, made a big deal about me sitting with her and the family.”

“She usually do that?”

“Nope. First time.”

Marcus chewed his lower lip, trying to recall if the girl had said anything at all about her first date. The
y’all don’t know him
date. If she said anything at all, he’d been too distracted by the reverend, then by Josh, to pay much attention. His cheeks flared.

Damn. I am so pathetic.

Josh asked, “Did you notice a kid hanging around, dark hair and eyes? Wore a braid hung halfway down his back. We don’t usually get anyone coming this far south from the rez, but now and then...”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I saw him just when we sat down before the service started. He was staring at Petilune. I don’t think she saw him, though.”

“I spied him just before the cops arrived. He was on the porch. Just watching. I have no idea where he got to after that. He certainly wasn’t one of the group being questioned.”

Marcus noticed the back door was open. He must have forgotten to shut it when he came out to await Josh’s arrival. He said, “I don’t know about you, but all I’ve got is a boatload of more questions.”

“I agree. How about we wake Petilune up and see if she can fill in some of the blanks.” He went through the door first, then stopped in his tracks. “You always leave the emergency exit door wide open?”

“Shit, no.”

Marcus barged past the bigger man and flicked on the overhead lights in the store. They sizzled and zigged, buzzing into a brightness that was harsh and disorienting after being in near darkness for so long. Rushing up and down the narrow aisles, Marcus gave the shelves and standing stock the once over, but nothing seemed out of place or disturbed from the usual chaotic mess.

The cash register would be locked and devoid of cash. He made sure of that when he closed up. That left his office. Sensing Josh pacing quietly behind him, he made way for the man to approach the closed door first. Josh mouthed
is it locked?
Marcus shook his head no and watched his friend carefully press down on the latch. The door swung open, its ancient hinges creaking like gunshots. Marcus nearly peed his pants, but Josh simply oozed around the door jamb, a hammer in his right fist.

The office was empty.

Marcus moaned, “Fuck,” and had to brace himself against the frame to stay upright.

Josh suggested, “Maybe you just forgot and left the door open?”

It was possible, but not likely. He’d been living on site for nearly three years, ever since Tommy passed away. He had a routine. It wasn’t that he was obsessive-compulsive, but he did like to do things in a neat and orderly fashion. He’d schooled himself into small habits that made it easier for him to worry less about the small things like whether or not he’d locked this door or that one. He couldn’t afford to have an alarm system. Besides, there was no central service to monitor an alarm even if he wanted one. There wasn’t even a fire hall in town. Worst case, if you had a fire, you yelled for help and everyone who was within range came running.

Josh walked into the main store and stood, hands on hips, considering the options. Finally he said, “Go on up and check on the girl. I’ll go out front and look around.”

Marcus grunted agreement and pointed to the counter. “There’s one of those torchlights in the bottom shelf,” then raced toward the rear of the building and the wobbly set of stairs leading to the loft.

The door was still closed, just as he’d left it. But in his gut he knew he wasn’t going to find Petilune still sacked out on his couch. After a quick tour that included him pulling the shower curtain that was the only thing affording some privacy in his primitive bath quarters, there was no sign of the girl.

Looking around, he muttered, “Just how much did you overhear, Pet?”

If she’d come downstairs looking for him, it would have been easy enough to skulk by the open door and listen in on everything he and Josh had been saying. Not that there’d been anything particularly damning. They’d mostly rehashed everything she already knew. But the one observation that might have set her off was them talking about the dark-haired teen with the braid who was coming on like a stalker. But even then, they hadn’t indicated they were ready to call the cops and start a manhunt to find the damn boy.

All they wanted was to ask her some questions. So why run... though the more pertinent question was where would she run to? He doubted she’d have bolted for home unless given good reason. The fact her no good brothers and alky mother were MIA at the picnic indicated she might have given them the slip to go to the parking area to meet with someone. Under normal circumstances not a one of them would care, but this was far from a normal situation.

Petilune wasn’t bright enough, or a good enough actress, to hide her involvement from her mother. Janice might be a conniving bitch, but she knew when she had a good thing going. The woman wouldn’t take kindly to having Petilune find a boyfriend who might put ideas into the impressionable girl’s head, nor would she tolerate her daughter risking her marketability to men who were in a position to provide supplementary income. Marcus cringed to think he was part of that ugly demographic.

Scrubbing at his scalp, Marcus muttered, “Her date. She was sneaking off to see him again.” He wasn’t a betting man, but on that he’d lay odds he was right.

Bouncing down the stairs two at a time, he raced to the front of the store to join Josh. He found him on the porch, leaning against the railing. The lights from the window fell on Josh’s bulk, casting a long shadow that extended far into the illuminated parking area. Marcus quickly scanned for vehicles but it appeared vacant.

Marcus said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Might have.” He looked in the window, then at Marcus. “I suspect Petilune’s gone missing, right?”

“Yeah. I think she overheard us talking about all the shit that went down. My guess is she went with the boyfriend, whoever the hell he is.”

Josh puckered his lips, his expression unreadable. When he spoke, worry creased the corners of his eyes, drawing his brows in tight. “She’s not with him.”

Marcus sucked air, surprised. “And you know this how?”

“I know because he was just here. And he hasn’t seen Petilune since you took her away from the fight scene.”

Marcus sputtered, “I’m sorry. Wait... what? Why didn’t you keep him here so we could talk to him?”

Josh held up the torchlight and hissed, “Because his fucking gun was bigger than mine.”

––––––––

J
osh followed Marcus inside, winding his way around displays, then clomping up the steps to the storekeeper’s sad excuse for an apartment. Settling onto the sofa with a sigh, he readily accepted a shot of whiskey, tossing it back so fast he barely felt it slide down his throat. The pack of cigarettes and lighter landed on an overturned plastic storage box doing double duty as a coffee table. He withdrew one, lit up and inhaled deeply, holding it in until the burn threatened to choke him.

“You want something to eat?” Marcus looked rattled.

Josh mumbled, “I could eat. Whadya got?”

“Soup. Crackers. Peanut butter.”

“If you got bread and some jam, I could go for a sandwich.”

Josh had no idea how a man got by without refrigeration. Sure he’d done just fine in his military days, but after being a civilian for a few years, ice cubes and cold beer had moved to the top of his priority list.

He watched Marcus assembling a stack of PB&Js. A pot on a portable propane stove that magically appeared from under the folding table promised hot soup. It wasn’t until he noticed the man’s hands trembling as he ladled the chicken noodle soup into bowls that it occurred to him Marcus might have been fazed by the notion of someone waving a gun around on his property.

Marcus said, “Can you set up another one of those storage boxes? There’s not enough space on that one.”

Josh stubbed out the cigarette and moved to arrange a sufficient number of upturned milk crates to fill in as a table. Marcus made three trips, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was having trouble keeping control of his limbs. When he was finally satisfied they had everything they needed, he topped off the glasses with more whisky, then collapsed at the other end of the couch.

They sat quietly, staring at the steam coming off the soup. Josh’s belly grumbled but he held off eating until Marcus made the first move. It seemed important for him to set the tone—to let Marcus keep some semblance of control—though if anyone asked for an explanation why, he’d be hard-pressed to come up with one that made any sense. Seeing Marcus in a dither like that made him feel guilty for even mentioning the incident. He just as easily could have made some excuse for not detaining the guy. There hadn’t been any need to bring up the gun pressing against his temple...

With a shiver, Josh said, “Mind if we eat first? It wasn’t as bad as it sounded.” Marcus relaxed his grip on his knees, but only marginally, so Josh tried to redirect the man’s attention onto something less worrisome. “I know we thought things were complicated enough, but I think Kit’s story is gonna be key for us figuring out what the hell is going on.”

“Kit?” Marcus perked up, turning to stare at Josh.

Handing his friend a sandwich, Josh ordered him to eat first and then he would explain afterwards. When they’d finished, instead of shoving the crates out of the way, Marcus took his time clearing away the clutter and preparing a pot of coffee. Josh would have been happy enough to continue sucking down the tolerably good whiskey, but he couldn’t be sure Marcus was going to offer the use of his couch again. As it was, he’d drunk enough to be mildly tipsy.

It was possible Marcus wasn’t the only one who’d been rattled, not that he was willing to admit it.

With mugs in hand, Marcus sat next to Josh and handed him one with the admonition, “Okay, dinner’s done. Now tell me what the hell happened. And who is Kit, for God’s sake?”