Zeph Undercover (31 page)

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay here, Mrs. Granger.”

“I certainly am. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I just grabbed the bull by the horns and insisted on coming to see Zeph. And it was so kind of your father to ask me to stay here, I never expected such hospitality and…”

Allie took a convulsive breath as Mrs. Granger babbled on.

“It was such an imposition, dropping in as I did, plus Zeph staying here, but your father just makes me feel so welcome and—well, enough of that. The most important thing is that it’s so marvelous to meet you. And just imagine, Zeph hadn’t said a word to me. I just can’t imagine…”

No reason he should have said anything to his mother about her. Allie shoved the stab of pain aside and tried to time the flow of words. Didn’t the woman ever have to breathe?

She jolted to attention when Mrs. Granger said, “Actually, my dear, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.”

Allie braced herself.

“I think you’d better call me Elena, dear. It will be just too confusing to have two Mrs. Grangers in the family.”

“Two—but—what—?”

“My Zeph is crazy about you. You can’t tell me he’s not going to propose.”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t even hinted…”

“He’s not one to blab about everything he does, or plans to do. But I know my boy, and I’ve never seen him so interested in a woman before. And I think you return his feelings.” Mrs. Granger’s words held just the barest hint of a question.

“Well, yes, of course I do,” Allie stammered, taken aback at her directness.

“I must say, I’m surprised. He usually dates such...superficial...women. I’m so delighted that he’s come to his senses and...”

Allie tuned out, trying not to think about Zeph and his myriad superficial women. Before she’d succeeded, Elena’s words caught her attention.

“…but of course he’d never be happy living in a place like this. It’s very nice, and so beautiful, and I’d be very happy here—but not Zeph. He does so love the excitement of the city. I’ve been expecting him to give up Los Angeles for New York or Paris. Those are places that he’s really...”

Breathe through the pain. Deep breaths. You can deal with this. Allie pressed one hand to her chest and concentrated on breathing.

“…no idea when I came here or I would have brought my grandmother’s wedding veil. But I’m sure there will time to get it. It’s antique Spanish lace, and...”

Hope and despair. She’d tried to squash the hope, but it couldn’t be contained. Zeph loved her. His mother was so sure he wanted to marry her.

The despair told her he’d never be happy in Stone’s Crossing.

What could she believe?

Chapter 15

After a strained dinner that night, Zeph drove to Monty’s office with Allie’s father. Something had been bothering Allie and he couldn’t figure out what. As soon they finished the search, he’d ask her.

“Nice ride,” Wentworth said. “We don’t see many Porsches here in Stone’s Crossing.”

“I believe that. It’s not designed for some of your so-called roads,” Zeph said absently, his attention focused on the upcoming search. Nice of Monty to let him and Lincoln take part.

Monty and a deputy waited for them at the sheriff’s station. “Bring my crime scene kit, Hawkins,” Monty said as he checked his gun. “I don’t reckon we’ll have any problems. Rodriguez is normally pretty cooperative.”

“Never hurts to be prepared,” Zeph said. His own Sig Sauer nestled comfortably in its holster. He followed Monty outside and settled in the front seat of the sheriff’s SUV while Wentworth and the deputy got in back. “He might not feel quite so helpful about having his home searched.”

Adrenaline simmered through Zeph all the way to Rodriguez’s house on the outskirts of town. Searches could be trouble free—or do a lightning about-face to complete shit.

As Monty turned into Rodriguez’s driveway, the crack of a large-caliber gun split the night. A truck peeled out of the driveway, skidding and bouncing off the front fender of Monty’s vehicle. It careened across the road, recovered, and belted out of sight toward town.

“That was the Johnson brothers,” Zeph said over the dread filling him. Who had been on the receiving end of that shot? “Is the car still—”

Even as he asked, Monty had the SUV in gear and moving toward the house. “Those sleazy friends of Seldon’s? I thought they’d left town.” He stopped at the front steps of Rodriguez’s small frame house. The front door stood ajar and he pulled his gun. “Stay behind me,” he ordered Zeph and Wentworth, and went through the door shouting “Police.”

Zeph followed, his own gun at the ready. He almost ran into Monty when the sheriff stopped short just inside the living room.

Rodriguez sprawled prone on the floor, blood spreading around him.

“Shit. Call an ambulance, Wentworth,” Zeph snapped.

Monty and his deputy hurried through the room to check the rest of the house and Zeph knelt at Rodriguez’s side to assess the damage. Rodriguez moaned when Zeph turned him gently, revealing the bloody mess of a bullet hole. Zeph pulled a small cushion from a chair to and pressed it over the wound, applying enough pressure to slow the bleeding.

Monty returned. “No one in the house. Ambulance on the way?”

Wentworth nodded.

“I’ll get an APB out on those guys. Either of you get their license?”

“Sorry,” Wentworth said.

“In my notebook,” Zeph said. A noise from outside caught his attention. “What—?” He choked off the question to listen to the purr of a car starting. It shot onto the driveway from in back of the house and roared toward the road.

Monty and Hawkins hurled themselves out the door, colliding and stumbling. By the time Monty got outside, the car had gone. “Damn,” he snarled.

Hawkins took a step back. “I’ll get the crime scene kit out of the vehicle,” he said, and escaped.

“Could you see anything?” Wentworth asked.

“Just caught a glimpse of something long and low and black. If you weren’t here, Granger, I’d think it was you.” The whup-whup of a helicopter cut off Zeph’s reply. Monty bolted back out the door, running his SUV back to the barn and spotlighting a clear spot for them to land.

Zeph ran after him. “You called for airlift?” he asked incredulously.

“Do you have any idea how long it would take an ambulance to get here over these roads?” Wentworth asked. “This isn’t the big city.”

Yet another problem of small-town life. One he hadn’t even thought of yet. Within a few minutes, Zeph relinquished his position to the EMTs and stepped back to join Monty and Wentworth.

“I called in the black car,” Monty said. “There aren’t that many cars like that out here, so maybe… Give me the Johnson’s license and we can start looking for them.

Zeph pulled out his notebook and read the number.

“Thanks.” Monty spoke into his shoulder mike. “All right, Hawkins. Let’s go.”

Two more deputies arrived in a squad car to help with the crime scene.

“Don’t forget the search,” Zeph reminded Monty.

“Teach your grandmother to suck eggs,” Monty growled. “Relax, Granger. If your evidence is here, we’ll find it. Now get out of here.”

Well, it made sense. No lawman wanted extra people messing up a crime scene. “It’s a long walk,” he observed.

Monty handed him keys to the squad car. “Leave it outside the station with the keys under the floor mat. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Zeph drove to the sheriff’s station, mulling over the problem of the Johnsons.

Echoing his thoughts, Wentworth said, “I thought those two were out of this.”

“Yeah, me too. I had them pegged as low-level errand boys, not hired guns. This does not compute.”

At the station, he parked the squad car, climbed into the Carrera with relief, and drove to Wentworth’s house. “It’s not late,” he said to Lincoln. “I think I’ll go by the clinic and tell Allie what happened.”

Wentworth got out of the car, his expression a mix of irritation and eagerness.

Zeph saw his mother peek out the living room window, and eagerness triumphed on Wentworth’s face. He bounded up the steps to the porch without even saying goodnight. Zeph grinned as he backed out of the driveway and drove to Allie’s.

Fat snowflakes drifted down, powdering the trees and giving the landscape a holiday feel. The windows of Allie’s rooms were dark, but lights blazed in the clinic. He headed through the deserted waiting room back to the treatment rooms. No Allie. Nor was she in the operating room. He walked into the recovery room, sure she’d be there. Wrong. The cages gaped empty and the room was deserted.

A shrill whinny from the direction of the barn caught his attention. Of course. She must have gone to the barn. Maybe to give Promise a carrot. Good idea. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table as he hurried out the back door.

Damn. He’d left his flashlight in the Carrera and the yard was dark as the inside of a sock. He heard Promise trot to the pasture fence and nicker, so he headed that way. No Allie, so she must be in the barn. But the building loomed dark and somehow threatening in the silence of the night. He frowned and started around the side of the barn, easing the Sig out of its holster as he went.

The Johnson’s truck crouched behind the barn, its multicolor paint job identifying it even in the dark. Zeph snapped into stealth mode, slipping through the night toward it, crouching in the shadow as something moved ahead of him.

Someone—two someones—shoved their way through the door at the back of the barn. In the faint starlight, Zeph couldn’t identify them until one snapped on a flashlight. Lem and Pete Johnson, for sure. To his horror, a third person walked between them. Allie. Lem waved a gun more or less in her direction, and she walked awkwardly. Pete tugged on her arm to direct her toward the truck, and Zeph realized her hands had been tied behind her back.

Rage turned the scene scarlet for a split second before he clamped down emotion and snapped into ice cold hunter mode. Lem and his gun had to be taken out of the equation first. If Pete carried a weapon, Zeph couldn’t see it.

“Nice you were t’home, little lady,” Pete said in his whiny voice. “Night’s gone to hell in a handbasket. But now—didn’t expect no bonus like this.”

Zeph clenched his teeth. He’d give them a bonus, all right.

“People are in and out of here all the time. You might want to leave before someone comes,” Allie said. Her voice shook a little, telling him she was afraid but had a grip on the fear.

“Maybe we ain’t ready to leave just yet.”

She jerked away from the threat in Lem’s voice. Pete slapped her. The sharp crack split the night like a pistol shot. Her head rocked back and she stumbled, knocking Lem off balance.

He let go of Allie’s arm and fired wildly at nothing. Bullets thunked into the house, whined past Zeph where he crouched, and whistled past Pete and Allie.

“You damn fool,” Pete yelled. “Cut that out.”

Zeph exploded out of the shadow of the truck, yanking the gun out of Lem’s hand and slamming it into the side of his head in one smooth motion. Even before Lem hit the ground, before Pete could think about using Allie as a shield, Zeph wheeled and plowed his fist into Pete’s belly. When the man bent, retching, Zeph jerked him off his feet and threw him at his brother.

****

Allie froze at the sight of Zeph lifting Pete and hurling him like a sack of oats. Lem grunted at the impact when Pete landed on him and the two collapsed in a tangle.

Zeph stuck Lem’s gun in his belt and held his own gun steady on the downed men.

Allie stared at him, shocked to the core. The man she’d known, the tender lover who’d held her, had disappeared. Right before her eyes he’d turned from an elegant sophisticate to something straight out of a Special Forces film clip. “You threw him,” she whispered. “Like he was a rag doll.”

“He hit you. You okay?”

She shivered at the promise of infinite violence in that flat, cold voice. “Fine,” she answered in a shaky voice. “Can you untie my hands?”

“Yeah. Come over here. Don’t get between me and them.”

“Hey. I watch cop shows,” she said with a trembling laugh. Her bravado slipped, and she added in a voice thin with shock, “They wanted a hostage in case there were road blocks.”

“There are.”

She stumbled over to him. Her eyes went wide when he pulled a knife from his boot.

“Turn around,” he said, and when she did, cut the ropes that clumsily bound her hands. “That’s my girl. Can you get the cuffs out of my car? Time to get these hunks of carrion down to the jail.”

“Good. I’d love to press charges.”

“Get in line, honey. Monty’s first with attempted murder charges.”

Murder! Blood drained from Allie’s head and she grabbed at Zeph’s arm for balance. “But—”

“They tried to kill Rodriguez tonight.”

“They—these two?” She choked out the words in a voice faint with shock. “These two?”

She looked at the pile of Johnsons. Gone. “Zeph, they’re getting aw—”

The roar of the old truck engine cut off her words as Lem and Pete barreled down the driveway into the night.

Zeph ran for his car. “Call Monty. He’s got an APB out on them, but we can tell him which way they went.”