Diamond in the Rough (Diamond J #2) (5 page)

CHAPTER TEN

The Truck Stop

Fluffs of clouds here and there dotted the blue sky. Heat radiated off the blacktopped parking lot, and the big trucks parked at the back side of the lot looked like they were shimmering. A couple of bob-tailed trucks broke up the monotony of the regular semi loads. The livestock hauler she'd followed into the lot slanted into a space next to another 18 wheeler.

The driver’s side door swung open and a slight woman climbed down. Gina sat up straight, gripped the wheel and leaned forward. The woman wore bright red leggings, with a flowered skirt over them. Her tie-dyed t-shirt contained all the colors of the rainbow. But the kicker was her hair.

Pigtails.

Gina chewed her bottom lip as the woman slammed her truck door shut, then sashayed across the parking lot toward the convenience store section of the truck stop. The woman walked lightly, hands swinging as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Gina glanced around the parking lot, but didn’t see Steve’s black Ford F-150. The older truck would've been easy to spot, with lots of chrome and a few dents and dings.

Gina watched through the big plate glass window as the woman with the pigtails walked through the convenience store. She paused just inside the door, facing the window. Gina hadn’t been in the convenience store for ages – she usually got gas at the Casey's or the Break Time in town – so she had no idea what the woman was looking at, but whatever it was caught the woman’s attention. The woman bent down to get a closer look, her frizzy hair disappearing from sight for a moment, then bobbing back up. The pigtails turned to the side and bobbed along toward the heart of the truck stop.

Gina hesitated, keys in one hand and the door handle in the other. She gazed at the truck stop. It couldn’t hurt to go inside and have a cup of coffee.

She pushed the car door open, then walked casually across the parking lot. She hoped that she didn’t run into anyone she knew. How would she – how could she? – explain what she was doing? She tugged the glass door open and stepped into the artificially cooled air of the truck stop, then looked around. She spotted the odd woman as she slid into a booth in the restaurant. A tired looking waitress refilled the bacon bits on the salad bar.

Gina caught the waitress’s eye and pointed to the first booth beyond the trucker section. The waitress nodded and Gina hurried through the trucker section, avoiding eye contact with the subject of her surveillance, and slid into the booth, facing the door. She watched the back of the odd woman. Gray streaked her frizzy red hair.

As Gina expected, the diner was busy. Truckers sat in booths, some alone, some paired off. Behind her, tables and booths were full.

The waitress dropped a stained menu in front of Gina. “Get ya somethin’ to drink?”

Gina turned her coffee cup upright in the saucer. “Just coffee, please. Decaf.”

“Be right back with it, hon.” The waitress walked away from Gina and stopped at the other woman’s booth. The waitress hurried past Gina toward the kitchen. Less than a minute later, she returned with a coffee pot in each hand, and poured Gina’s from the one with the green lid. She gestured at the cream and sugar, then bustled off and poured coffee out of the regular pot for the crazy lady.

The two women sat alone in their respective booths, surrounded by other people involved in conversations. Gina slowly stirred a sugar packet and two creamers into her coffee.

Gina hadn’t been planning to get anything, but she when she saw the chicken fingers on the menu, she changed her mind. Toby loved chicken fingers and that would give her an excuse to be at the truck stop. She ordered a one-trip salad bar for herself and chicken fingers with white cream gravy to go. After the waitress moved on to the crazy lady, Gina walked to the salad bar and filled her plate. She passed the waitress at the end of the salad bar.

Gina caught her by the arm, “Excuse me.”

The harried waitress smiled, after the briefest hint of a frown appeared on her brow. “Whatcha need?”

Gina leaned forward and whispered, “That woman with the pig tails? She looks familiar, but I can’t place her. Do you know her name?”

The waitress shook her head no, but added, “Drives one of them bull haulers. Comes in fairly regular.”

Gina thanked the woman for her time and walked back to her booth. She had no sooner sat down than her ex walked through the front doors of the truck stop. He exuded that bad boy aura, with a black leather jacket and dark jeans. He pulled off his mirrored sunglasses and tucked them in his chest pocket as he strolled into the restaurant and slid into the booth across from the pig tailed woman.

Gina slumped in her seat as her mind raced. What business could Steve possibly have with that woman trucker?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Ex

Gina cautiously raised her eyes. Steve looked over his shoulder, and glanced at the other truckers sitting nearby. His eyes never slid her way, though. She stirred her salad a bit to distribute the dressing evenly, then forked a piece of lettuce and stuck it in her mouth. She couldn’t leave before Steve, so she chewed slowly.

Gina strained to hear what was said over the clanking silverware and music emanating from the overhead speakers, but couldn’t make out the words. These two obviously weren’t going to do anything illegal sitting in the restaurant of the local truck stop.

Spending Friday night sitting at a truck stop spying on her ex-husband was not her idea of a good time. She should be home with her little boy.

Or getting ready for a night out on the town with the ruggedly handsome cowboy from the Diamond J. He was the first man she'd met in ages that she felt a spark of attraction for. Wilder was full of young men straining at the leash, anxious to escape as soon as they graduated high school and, at the other end of the spectrum, devoted husbands and fathers who were already taken.

Her chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh.

Too bad she'd chosen wrong when she was younger. She wondered what she'd ever seen in Steve. His bad boy image had been so intriguing, so tempting, for an honor student like her. He pushed the limit, smoked Marlboros, drank Busch beer, drove too fast and stayed out too late. Their romance was fueled by teenaged rebellion, pure and simple. They’d both been immature. She could see that now.

Again, her thoughts turned to Aidan Brackston. He was gainfully employed, polite . . . and he had the most amazing blue eyes. The chemistry between them had been palpable.

And, boy, did she need some chemistry in her life.

She was being ridiculous though. She'd met the man once. He probably had no interest in her at all.

She sighed and stabbed a chunk of hardboiled egg with her fork.

Though she often told people she didn’t need a man, that was a lie. Even though Steve had been immature and foolish, she missed being married. The need for a man, a partner, was like an ache buried deep within her chest. She wanted someone to go out to eat with, someone to go to Toby’s football games with, someone to warm her at night.

Wilder wasn't exactly a hotbed of action for a single woman like herself. She didn't go to bars, she didn't want to do the online dating thing. That left her with very few options.

Maybe that was why Aidan Brackston made such an impression on her. He was mature and responsible, if how he completed assignments for his boss was any indication. He had walked into a scrapbook store, generally considered women's territory, asked her opinion and listened to her suggestions. Even though he was totally out of his element, he had been charming and pleasant and carried on an intelligent conversation.

She wondered how he treated his girlfriend. More importantly, she wondered if he
had
a girlfriend. For whatever reason, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Maybe because he was a cowboy. She’d always had a thing for a man in a cowboy hat and boots.

She sighed heavily. Dreaming did no good. Aidan was good looking, and probably had a beautiful girlfriend. Probably one of those barrel racers, with long dark hair pulled back in a braid, skin tight jeans and cowboy boots. Besides, why would he want to have a relationship with a single mother? She had given up on having a life of her own when she decided to file for divorce and raise her son alone.

Though she didn't regret the decision, it was hard to live with sometimes. After all, she wasn’t dead. She still had desires. She still felt a stirring deep within her.

She still hoped for a fairy tale ending, wanted to be swept off her feet by a knight in shining armor.

And, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even Midge, she still wanted a man in her bed.

No, it was more than want.

It was a primal need.

“Refill?” The waitress looked at her expectantly, holding the coffee pot out.

She peeked at the booth she’d been spying on, just as Steve and the pig tailed woman scooted out of their seats and strolled toward the cash register.

Gina shook her head. “No. Just the bill please.”

The woman ripped the ticket off her pad and laid it on the scarred table, then bustled on her way, dodging from table to table, refilling off-white coffee cups at tables and booths as she went. Steve and his companion paid separately, then walked toward the door together, still talking.

Gina slipped her hand into her purse, pulled her billfold out and opened it. A twenty and two singles. She pressed her lips together, pulled the twenty out with a sigh and slid out of the booth. Just as she did so, she looked up to see which direction Steve and his friend went, and saw Steve walking toward her.

Damn it!

She pivoted and hurried toward the restrooms, hoping and praying he hadn’t seen her. When she reached the door to the restroom, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. He stood in the middle section of the truck stop, looking at a display of radio headsets. She debated. Go into the restroom and be safe, or hurry out of the restaurant and follow them?

If she lost sight of them, there were three ways they could go. To the left out the front door to the parking lot, straight ahead to the convenience store, or right to the trucker restrooms and back lot.

No, she had come this far. She wasn’t turning back now. She turned and headed for the cashier. As she paid her tab, she saw her ex and the pig-tailed woman stride through the convenience store. Gina broke her twenty, hesitated for a moment, then returned to the table to drop a single bill for the waitress.

She walked through the convenience store, pausing for a moment on her way to the door to act as if she was browsing. She didn’t want to get to the door too quickly.

"Ma'am! Excuse me, ma'am!"

Gina’s heart jumped up to her throat. She swiveled toward the voice and saw the harried waitress hurrying toward her. The woman held up a white Styrofoam container.

Toby’s chicken fingers.

Gina returned for them, then was on her way out when she realized she was about where the odd woman had been when she stopped to look at something. She glanced down at the metal boxes that contained newspapers – the USA Today, the Kansas City Star, but the most prominent was the local paper with a headline that blared, “Rustlers Strike Again” over a bleak photo of a farmer with a tear rolling down his cheek. Gina leaned down and squinted at the caption under the photo. She recognized the man. His wife was one of her croppers. He occasionally came in with her, sometimes helped carry her supplies into the store, and bought Christmas gifts for her from the store.

She blinked, stunned at how close the crime hit to home.

She’d heard some of her customers talking about the recent spate of cattle rustling. It sounded almost funny to her at first, like something out of an old western, but it seriously affected people’s livelihood. Cattle were a major economic endeavor in Missouri and Kansas. Even worse, a farmer in a neighboring county had been shot dead when he tried to stop the crooks in the middle of their crime. The thieves were getting bolder and more dangerous with each passing day.

She’d imagined outlaws on horseback riding away with a herd of cattle like the old westerns on MeTV, but as she looked out the window, she saw Steve and his new friend standing between two cattle haulers.

She pointed her little car home and drove, wondering how on earth her ex managed to get involved with cattle rustlers.

Was he really, or was her imagination running away with her?

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cats & Dogs

Beau swung the truck around so that it was pointed out toward the road, then shifted into park. They both climbed out, slamming their doors with a double bang that sounded sharp in the relative quiet of the night. A pair of bats swooped through the air, catching bugs drawn by the dusk to dawn light attached to the front of the pole barn. A set of headlights swept across the front of the house. The two turned to watch as another pickup rolled down the driveway and swung around in the gravel to point out to the road, just as they had. A short block of a man hopped down from the driver’s seat and landed with a soft puff of gravel dust.

“Hey, there, Stump!” Beau called. Aidan raised a hand in greeting. They waited for the short man to catch up with them, then they all three strode up the steps to the front porch. A border collie raised up slowly from his spot on the porch and woofed a greeting.

Aidan reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears. The dog wiggled happily at the attention. Before they could knock on the door, it swung open and Bert greeted them with a booming, “Howdy, boys! Hope you brought your wallets with ya, tonight!”

The dog stayed at Aidan’s side until he reached the threshold. Once there, the dog turned to the porch and returned to his post, his tail thumping on the ground. The others went ahead. Bert looked outside, his eyes swept from left to right, then he closed the door and bolted the dead bolt closed with a solid thunk.

Aidan commented, “Shelby’s lookin’ good.”

Bert nodded and said, “Yeah, she’s a good dog. Your old boss did a heck of a job raising those dogs. Always said he could have done just as well with that as with the horses and cattle.”

Aidan nodded in agreement and asked, “I thought she came inside with you at night?”

Bert shrugged. “Used to, but after those rustlers took my entire herd of cattle last summer, I figure it’s better that she be outside. Maybe she’ll bark if she hears something.”

Aidan certainly understood the man’s fear, but he was also concerned about his safety. “We got another litter of puppies that will be ready to go soon. You want another one so you can have one inside, too?”

Bert laughed and said, “No, one’s enough. I got Sam, the Newfie, outside to keep Shelby company, and I got Martha inside to keep me company.”

Aidan smiled at that. “OK, Bert. Two things now. Sam is so old, he wouldn’t hear a freight train running thru the barn lot and I don’t think your wife would take too kindly to being compared to a dog!”

Bert nodded his acknowledgement of that and they all walked toward the dining room. Bert had the best location of all of them for these poker nights. He and Martha had a six-sided dining room table and Martha had given him a folding poker table top for Christmas this past year. The chairs rolled easily on the linoleum, and they were padded, upholstered in red vinyl. Martha had decorated the room with Bert’s poker nights in mind. The light hanging over the table was surrounded by glass, like the ones that usually hung over pool tables, with each of the four sides featuring a different suit, all done in red and black. There were plaques on the walls of the various suits from cards, and the highlight of the room was a large print of dogs playing poker, displayed prominently on the large wall with sconces on either side of it to light it and draw attention to it.

Each of the men grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, except Beau who took the token Coke, then took a seat at their regular spots. Bert dealt the cards. Martha appeared briefly to get a snack from the kitchen, then disappeared. Almost immediately, the sound of her sewing machine drifted down the hall.

They talked briefly, in bits and pieces, between making their bets and studying their cards. As usual, talk turned to business. Ranching business depended on livestock, and livestock success depended on everything falling into alignment with weather, the market, health and feed fitting together like puzzle pieces.

The market was always a popular discussion, with everyone complaining that prices were high in the grocery stores, but low when they sold their animals at the sale barn. Weather could make or break a rancher, and it had been horribly dry lately.

Stump added his two cents. “We need one like that night your new boss lady wrecked her car going out to the Diamond J last year.”

Bert agreed, and then a dark cloud moved across his features. “We need a soaking rain like that one last summer, the night that my cattle were stolen.” His voice broke, then he continued in a voice thick with emotion, “The night that poor heifer was mutilated.”

Aidan could feel his blood begin to boil at the memory of that poor animal. “That was horrible. There’s been an awful lot of thefts in the tri-state area for the past year. Any leads?”

Bert nodded and said, “Actually, yes, but it’s not much of a lead. Ran into the Sheriff at the feed store earlier this week. He said there’s talk the cattle rustlers in the area have connections to organized crime.” He riffled the cards together.

Beau choked on his Coke and said, “As in the mob?” He cut the deck when Bert tapped it.

Stump answered, “I’ve always heard that there were low level mobsters in this area, sort of an outlier of the crime families in Kansas City. My sister’s friend in college up at Warrensburg got caught up with that crowd. Somebody approached her while she was down on Pine Street one Saturday night and asked her if she’d be an escort for someone to a party. Offered her a thousand bucks for the night.”

Aidan let out a low whistle. “That’s not chump change.” He held his hand on the table to catch the cards aimed at him as Bert dealt them.

Beau asked, “Did she do it?” His jaw muscles clenched and unclenched.

Stump nodded and continued his story, “At first she thought it was a joke, but a sorority girl friend of hers told her it was the real deal. Sort of like dating a celebrity. So, yeah, she did. Wasn’t going to at first, but heck, for one night? Got to go pick out a fancy dress with a bodyguard type.”

Bert broke in, “Did she get to keep the dress?” He fanned the cards in his hand and frowned at them.

Beau snorted. “Good grief, Bert, that’s such a girl thing to ask. Who cares if she got to keep the dress?”

“That’d be important to a girl, especially a broke college kid.” Bert defended himself. “Ante up.”

Stump said, “Yeah, she got to keep the dress. My sister said the girl told her it was kind of a fairy tale night, where they went to this big fancy house over on the Kansas side. They had a fancy Italian dinner, with all sorts of pastas and lots of wine flowing. Apparently, she was just supposed to sit beside him and look pretty, and then she went one direction with the other women while the men lit up cigars and went out on the patio.”

Aidan considered that scenario for a moment, then said, “I bet they were all paid escorts or girlfriends. The mobsters probably left their wives at home while they went to that dinner party to conduct business.” His own father disappeared often, to attend business dinners in Dago Hill.

Stump said, “That’s what my sister thought, too.”

Bert asked, “Did she ever do it again?”

“Nope,” Stump answered. “There was another friend of theirs that ran errands for the mob. One night he left to run a van of stolen goods for them to St. Louis. He never came back. After that, her friend was afraid to get involved, so the next time the guy called and asked her to escort, she told him she couldn’t do it.”

Aidan asked, “So, was that the end of it? They didn’t push it or anything?”

“Guess not,” Stump said with a shrug.

Beau said, “That’d be scary getting involved with the mob. People think it’s glamorous, or think they’ll be different.”

Bert asked, “What do you mean, different?”

Beau answered with fire in his voice. “Alive. Dealing with the mob is dangerous, and some of those low level people running stuff for them think they’re invincible. They’re not. You play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.”

The other three men stopped what they were doing and looked at him, hands forgotten for a moment.

Bert broke the silence. “Sounds like you’re taking this a little personally. The cattle rustlers will pay, regardless of whether they’re mob or not.”

Beau laughed uneasily, then scowled at his cards, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Bert straightened in his chair, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?” Anger sharpened his words.

Beau glanced around the table. “Nothing. I just mean that I hope whoever it is isn’t involved with the mob. That’s all.”

Bert’s face turned florid. “To my way of thinking, it’s awful what they're doing, no matter who is calling the shots.”

Aidan added, “And there’s no call for mutilating the poor animals.” Anger burned in his belly. He hoped like hell his father wasn't involved. His dad had been rumored to have mob connections for years, though it had never been proven.

Stump cleared his throat and said, “That’s what bothered me the most about this deal. Did you hear about that ranch up north of here that was hit?”

The other three looked at him and waited expectantly. Finally, Bert prompted with an exasperated tone, “So, what happened?”

“The entire herd was taken, just like Bert’s here was, but there were two calves that were killed. They say that both calves were killed, their heads pointing north. Their eyes were missing and all their organs were removed.”

The room grew quiet and cold as Stump continued, “And they were each missing an ear. And it happened during the full moon.”

The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked off the seconds as they considered what Stump had said. Bert was the first to break the silence. “Now that I think about it, my heifer’s head was pointing north too. Think that’s significant?”

Stump nodded, “I think that means it’s some sort of Satanic cult that’s involved. Wasn’t your herd taken and your heifer killed during the full moon?”

Bert nodded, but Aidan broke in, “No, there was a crescent moon that night.”

"It's all a bunch of bull. Nothing but rumors. Half of it probably isn't even true." Beau took a drink of his pop, then added, “And a full moon doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

Aidan looked at his friend with a frown creasing his forehead. “What do you mean? Those satanic groups always do things during a full moon.”

“That’s a load of crap. It's crooks trying to throw the law off their trail.” Beau’s lip pressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed as he stared a hole through the cards in his hand. After an uncomfortable silence, he growled, “Are we here to play cards or not?”

The other three glanced at each other uneasily, then all three shrugged. Bert tossed a couple of chips into the center of the table and said, as if nothing had transpired, “OK, Beau, I’ll see your five and raise you five.”

Beau and Aidan chatted on the way home from the poker game. Aidan was more talkative than usual, his mood buoyed by the small wad of cash in his front pocket.

Something in the ditch caught his eye, flashes of fur in the light of the headlights. He shouted, “Stop! Stop the truck!”

Beau stomped on the brake and the truck slid to a stop. Aidan yanked the handle, swung the door open and jumped out. Three large dogs, two Shepherd mixes and a lab mix jumped around, snarling, darting forward, then retreating. Their jaws snapped ferociously at a small yellow bundle of fur in the ditch. They circled and growled, the fur standing up on their necks. Aidan screamed at the dogs, cursing them.

There was a general impression of Beau behind him, but Aidan didn’t know where he was or what he was saying. It was as if he had tunnel vision. His whole world narrowed down to those three big dogs attacking the poor tabby cat. The cat yowled, a harsh, hoarse sound that made his skin crawl. He waded into the dogs, swatting them with his hands, kicking with his booted feet.

The dogs backed away and the cat froze on the ground, its big yellow eyes glowing round as they reflected the glow of the headlights of Beau’s truck. It was terrified, unable to move. Its tail was wet with the dogs’ saliva, bent at an odd angle. A gash along the cat’s left shoulder bled, and the poor animal shook uncontrollably.

Aidan squatted down and spoke soothingly to the feline, asking her if she was okay. He reached out a hand, palm up, and the cat reacted by hissing and spitting. He spoke softly, trying to assure the cat that the dogs were gone and that he meant her no harm. The cat’s back arched and her ears pinned back against her head as she bared her sharp teeth.

At that moment, he heard a fierce growl behind him.

He turned slowly, pivoting on one foot. He knew he was in a very vulnerable position. The two shepherd mixes had returned, only temporarily scared away. They inched forward, fur bristling on their backs, their fangs glowing white in the darkness, and he could imagine the saliva dripping from their mouths, frothing in their killing frenzy. He prayed that the cat would stay behind him, quiet and low. The last thing he needed at that moment was for the cat to cause the dogs to charge.

He kept his eyes on the two dogs and slowly raised up. He kept his weight forward, on the balls of his feet, ready to move if either of the animals pounced. The cat panted behind him, exhausted after fighting the dogs off. His heart thudded in his chest. The dogs looked even more menacing in the light of the headlights, like something out of a horror movie. An image of Cujo pouncing at the window of the little car flashed through his mind.