Deep in the Heart (21 page)

All the buildings of downtown Rusk that lined the street were occupied, but at this moment, they felt vacant and Samantha felt exposed. It was impossible to see beyond the hundreds of windows or beyond the doorways. He could be anywhere right now with the rifle aimed. She should have been afraid. But she was tired, sick and tired. One way or the other she was ready for it to be over.

Her step faltered in fear as she heard someone running up behind her, but anger stayed her momentum. If it was the stalker, then so be it. She was sick—
so sick!
—of being afraid. Refusing to look back, she continued to walk. And then she heard his voice.

“Sam, darlin’, wait for me.”

His plea threaded through her pain.

Johnny! I should have known!

And when his fingers slipped through hers, a fresh set of tears clouded her vision. This time, without his support she would have fallen.

John Thomas grabbed her and then held her fast as she staggered and fell into his arms. When she buried her face against his chest he wanted to cry along with her.

“Ah, Johnny, what in the world am I going to do?”

“For now, just come with me, darlin’. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

He had no answers, and he had no plan. But as long as they had each other, he figured they might just get through this. With his arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the department. There was no need to worry about the next step that needed to be taken. She’d publicly thrown down the gauntlet. The rest would be up to the stalker. Samantha Carlyle had stopped running.

Days later, Montgomery Turner leaned his forehead against the hot glass of the phone booth at the corner and closed his eyes as he listened to the man at the other end of the line. Bile rolled up the back of his throat as the words kept pounding in his ear. In a fit of angry frustration, he doubled up his fist and hit the glass, unaware of the startled glance of the woman in the street who was walking past.

“I don’t care how many times you say it, it doesn’t change a thing!” Monty yelled. “Yes, I know I came here for a reason! And yes, it’s not been easy trying to do my job and that too, but I am doing it, dammit. The last thing I need from you is advice, okay?”

He sighed as his legs went weak. He hadn’t meant to shout. It never accomplished anything with this man. He was as hardheaded as they came.

“Look. It won’t be long and then it’ll all be over. That much is obvious. I’m not stupid, just in love…and denial. Remember, don’t call me at work. It’ll only arouse suspicion and ruin my credibility. That’s the last thing I need. Sheriff Knight is just starting to trust me. I’ve worked too long and too hard to get here just to have you mess things up. Please, for once, let me do things my way!”

Samantha stepped back and gasped. Everything the deputy was saying sounded suspicious, and yet she knew there had to be another explanation for what he’d said besides the one that sprang to mind.

Lost in thought, she didn’t realize that he’d disconnected, or that he was about to exit the booth until she looked up. Their gazes locked, and it was hard to say who was more surprised.

Monty could tell from the shocked expression on her face that she’d heard everything he’d said. The uncertainty lay in what she intended to do with the information.

He tried to glare at her, but another face kept superimposing itself over hers. The long, black hair was the same. Even the clear blue of their eyes. He shook his head and wiped a hand across his face to clear his vision.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know anyone was waiting for the phone.”

Without further explanation, he jumped into his car and drove away, leaving Samantha to do as she chose with what she’d heard.

When she tried to walk, she staggered. Monty had looked as if he hated her when he came out of the phone booth. But that made no sense. She’d never seen him before he came to work for John Thomas. Or had she? All of a sudden she lost complete trust in her own judgment and panicked.

Fright came without warning, and she found herself running all the way back to the apartment. When she turned the last block and saw the old Earl place come into view, she increased her speed. With one long leap, she was up the step and into the house. Taking the stairs two at a time, she found herself stumbling on the next-to-the-last stair from the top, and began scrambling for a hold to keep from tumbling back down the steep stairwell. It didn’t happen, and she realized that she couldn’t stop her backward momentum. She was really going to fall!

She screamed as her arms windmilled through the air, and then suddenly a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Hold tight,” Claudia said, then tightened her grip and pulled Samantha to safety. “Wow, that was close! You must have been in a real hurry, girl. What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Samantha shuddered, more than grateful for the waitress’s opportune arrival. She sank down on the top step and buried her face in her hands as her heartbeat slowly regained a normal rhythm.

“Good lord,” she finally managed to say. “Boy, do I owe you one.”

Claudia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully before she smiled. “You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “I was just being neighborly.” And then she giggled. “I hate to catch and run, but I’m going to be late for work.”

With that, she sidestepped Samantha and hurried down the stairs, laughing at her own wit as she went out the door.

Samantha crawled to her feet, ashamed of the stupid, uncalled-for panic that had nearly caused her to break her neck.

“I overreacted, that’s all,” she muttered as she quickly unlocked their apartment and then locked the door behind her. “I’m starting to imagine things. If I don’t get myself in gear, next I’ll be blaming Johnny.”

She walked past a mirror, stuck her tongue out at herself, and headed for the bathroom. For some reason she felt dirty and had a sudden need to wash herself, all over.

Dusk was settling around the Earl house when John Thomas drove up and parked. He jammed his hat on his head and walked toward the door, hating to go up and face Samantha with his news.

The pictures she’d been sent had gone straight to state headquarters for examination by the best forensic experts Texas had to offer, and they’d learned exactly nothing.

They’d been shot with a normal 35mm camera. The film had been dropped off at one place, and developed at another in New Summerfield, a town to their north.

Because of the large bulk of work the developers did daily, there was no way to put the two incidents together to remember who dropped off and picked up what. Once again, the stalker had outsmarted them.

Reluctantly, he walked up the stairs, hoping that between here and the door he’d be struck by a revelation that would help him explain it to her. But nothing happened. No hand of God came down and blessed him with an answer. He had no alternative but to go inside and face Samantha with the truth. She deserved that much.

And then he opened the door.

She was sitting by the window in the darkening room, staring blankly past the curtains into the shadows of the yard below. She didn’t even say hello.

“How well do you know Montgomery Turner?”

Her question shocked the hell out of him.

He shut the door, then tossed his hat on the table, his mind racing as he considered what he would say. How could he tell her he’d suspected him enough to have him checked out? And why did she want to know?

Needing to put some momentary distance between himself and her question, he walked into the kitchen and drew a cool drink from the faucet at the sink.

Samantha watched as he tilted the glass and drained it. The long, thick column of his throat worked up and down as he swallowed gulp after gulp. She sensed his shock. But she had to know. What she’d overheard Monty say had been eating at her all evening. The least she deserved was an answer.

The glass hit the counter with a thump. He stared down at the empty sink, trying to find the best way to start.

“Why, Sam? What makes you ask that question?”

She balled her hands into fists, remembering Monty’s face and his anger, and what she’d overheard. But she refused to give in to the fear.

“Because something happened today that made me wonder.”

He frowned, waiting for her to continue.

Suddenly she shot out of the chair and began pacing back and forth.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she began. “I was just passing by when I heard the thump.”

“Thump?”

“Let me tell this my way,” Samantha said.

He nodded, leaned against the kitchen counter, and crossed his arms across his chest, unaware of the judgmental appearance of his stance.

It only served to make her more nervous, and as a result, the story came out in jerks and stops. When she was through, the frown on John Thomas’s face grew deeper, and his expression even darker.

Her story ended with a shaky sigh. He couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Come here, Sam. I think you need a hug.”

He was right about that. She willingly walked into his arms, and relaxed when they wrapped around her. Within his embrace was where she felt the safest, and the most loved. And yet as he began to talk, Samantha imagined she could feel his hesitation.

“It sounds strange, I’ll admit,” he said, unwilling to tell her how much her words had affected him. “But in all fairness to him, honey, it could mean a whole lot of things.”

“But what about him saying that you were just beginning to trust him? What about that?”

“It’s true. I am beginning to trust him. That’s a thing that each new employee has to earn, right down to the dispatchers. I’ll admit I thought something was wrong with him for some time now, but I never associated it with what’s been happening to you.”

He ignored the thrust of guilt that pricked his conscience. That was a lie. He
had
suspected Monty. But hell, he suspected everyone new, including that stranded motorist at the Texas Pig Motel.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “First thing tomorrow morning I’ll call him into my office. He won’t leave until I’m completely satisfied that whatever he tells me is the truth.”

Samantha sighed and thumped a fist lightly upon his chest before relaxing into his open arms.

“Okay, Johnny. I trust your judgment.” She looked up, trying to smile past her fears. “Besides, I’d be silly not to when I’ve trusted you with my life.”

“My God,” he said softly, cupping her face in his hands.

She inhaled and opened her lips slightly, expecting, wanting, waiting impatiently for what she knew he could give her.

She tasted warm. And then beneath his touch, she turned hot with the need he felt coming. He obliged.

Night came without fanfare, sliding longer and darker shadows across the land until there was nothing to see but what was visible beneath the feeble streetlights hidden by the thick, tall trees surrounding the Earl house.

The windows on the second floor were dark, like glasses on the eyes of the blind. No one outside could see in, and no one inside could see out. But life was being lived to the fullest behind the apartment door on the second floor.

Lost in the moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, John Thomas was making slow, deliberate love to his lady. Fear had taken a backseat to passion.

The bedsprings squeaked intermittently as Samantha moved beneath him, certain that if she tried, this moment and this feeling would go on forever. But like all delusions, it suddenly disappeared in a burst of heat and a blinding flash.

Through the shadows she had a momentary image of the muscles in his arms bulging and straining as he struggled to keep from collapsing upon her, and the way his upper body arched away as his lower body imprinted upon her forever.

She moaned as the feeling came fast, then went to meet him. Moments later, they lay silent and shaking in each other’s arms. Samantha locked her hands around his neck and closed her eyes. But when she did, all she could see was the look on Monty’s face. It was hard—and full of pain.

Just before daylight the phone rang. John Thomas groaned and rolled over, grabbing for the receiver before the second ring could waken Samantha.

“Hello.” His speech was thick from sleep. And then he sat up in bed, fully alert as he continued to listen.

“The hell you say. When?”

Samantha came awake to the sound of his voice. Rolling over, she listened intently to his side of the conversation, trying to guess what it might mean. She didn’t have long to wonder.

“I’ll be right there,” he said. “Call Lawler. Willis is already on duty, right? Okay. Have them meet me there.”

He hung up, switched on the lamp, and jumped out of bed in one smooth motion. “Damn, darlin’.” He was grinning from ear to ear. “I think those rustlers at the Watkins ranch just outsmarted themselves.”

“How so?” she asked, and then watched with delight as he raced around the room, trying to dress and talk at the same time.

“They thought they’d be sneaky and strike twice at the same location. But I’ve had one of my men patrolling the area around the vicinity of the Watkins ranch ever since the first fifty head disappeared. The rustlers must have seen the lights on the squad car, because they tried to take a different route out of the pasture and got themselves stuck in a bog. Willis just called in. He’s got them locked inside their own trailer with fourteen more head of Watkins’s prime beef, waiting for us to come help him haul them in.”

The look on his face was priceless as he buckled his belt. Samantha couldn’t resist a chuckle.

“You mean to tell me they’re inside the trailer
with
the stolen cattle?”

“Yep,” he said, as he stomped on his last boot.

“They’re gonna smell real bad, too. At least when I fell headfirst into Lizzie Marshall’s cow lot the manure was dry. This stuff is going to be fresh and hot. You know how cattle react when you try loading them. They don’t do anything but run, bawl, and poop.”

She grinned. “Which one of you guys is going to haul them to jail?” She was imagining the condition of the squad cars after the rustlers rode in them.