Lock, Stock and McCullen. Rita Herron
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around to the driver’s seat.
Anxiety vibrated between them as he veered onto the highway and drove through Pistol Whip, which was situated in a flat stretch between the mountains. Land spread out before them, miles and miles that were untamed, where antelope, deer, elk and other wildlife thrived.
Tourists wanting a frontier town and trail riding, or a layover on their way to Laramie or Cheyenne, often stopped in Pistol Whip. Hikers, mountain climbers and fishermen especially took advantage of the proximity to the majestic mountains and river.
Locals had created a small museum showcasing the area’s history. Apparently in the late 1800s, a famous gunslinger had ridden through the hills in search of a hideout. When three local vigilantes discovered his identity, they strung him up in town and pistol-whipped him to death.
The town council at the time dubbed the town with the name Pistol Whip to remind people that they couldn’t take the law into their own hands.
“Tell me about your fiancé,” Maddox finally said. Any background information on their relationship would be helpful.
Rose toyed with a string on the bottom of her T-shirt. “We met in Cheyenne,” she said. “I was there for an antiques show, and he was on business.”
“What kind of business?”
“He worked...works for an energy company.”
“Did he mention the name of it?”
Rose rubbed at her temple just as he’d seen her do at her house. Obviously a nervous gesture. As she pushed her hair back, he noticed a scar at her hairline, a jagged one that disappeared into the hair on the crown of her head.
It looked as if it ran deep and went across her skull. He wondered what had happened.
“I don’t think he ever said the name of it. Or if he did, I forgot.”
Because she’d been snowed by his charm.
“Did he mention anyone he worked with? Business clients or friends?”
Rose chewed her bottom lip for a minute. “No. Wait...I heard him talking to someone named Carl once.”
“Do you remember his last name?”
She shook her head. “He just said he’d fax him the information he needed. But I didn’t hear what the conversation was about.”
Had he been vague because he was hiding something?
“Do you have one of Thad’s business cards?”
“I might have one at the house.”
“Good. When we go back, get it for me.”
Cacti and scrub brush dotted the land as he left the small town and drove through the countryside. Winter had set in, the ground dry and barren-looking.
“How long did you date?”
“About six months.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Obviously he had no intention of ever marrying me. He...was probably lying to me the entire time. But why would he kill me over a photo or think I was that girl?”
“Good question.” Maddox grimaced. This guy had targeted Rose. “The fact that he was talking to someone on the phone about you means he was either working for this other person or he had an accomplice.”
Rose turned to look out the window, her face drawn as if she was lost in the horror of the evening.
“What about his family? You said earlier that you were eloping.”
Rose nodded. “He said he lost his parents a few years ago, but he’d inherited family money.”
Could have been more lies. Hell, Thoreau might not even be his real name. “What about yours?”
“My parents...well, we haven’t spoken in a while.” She lapsed into a sullen silence. Obviously the subject was painful for her and she didn’t want to elaborate.
He wouldn’t probe for now. Not unless he discovered her family had something to do with Thoreau.
But if Thoreau was dead...hell, he’d have to dig into every aspect of her life. Because Rose would need a defense.
If the flyer of that picture on the milk carton was there as she said, that would be a place to start.
* * *
ROSE WANTED NOTHING more than to forget what had happened earlier this evening. But she had to find out if Thad was dead.
Fear clenched her stomach at the thought that she’d killed a man, even if it was in self-defense. But she’d never been the kind of woman to run from a problem and live in naive bliss.
Just as she’d faced the fact that her parents hadn’t wanted her, that she’d been a mistake. Well, they had taken care of her, but there had always been an awkwardness between them, a distance, as if the woman and man, Ramona and Syd, didn’t want to get too close.
As if they couldn’t really love her.
She’d been a difficult child, they’d said. Sullen, angry, withdrawn at times...
A crooked tree with several broken branches caught her eye, and recognition dawned. She remembered the tree because it had made her think of herself. She’d felt broken and alone so many times.
“Down that road,” she said, her voice rough with emotion.
Maddox swung the car onto the side road. “You’re sure?”
She nodded and rubbed at her arms as a chill swept over her. “When Thad veered onto the road, I remember wondering if he’d made a wrong turn. It looked like we were going nowhere. But he promised me a night I’d never forget.” A sarcastic laugh rumbled from her. “That’s certainly true.”
Maddox didn’t comment. He didn’t need to.
Winning her trust had been part of Thad’s charm. He’d intentionally driven off the grid, far away from other houses and people so no one would hear her scream for help when he killed her.
The barren land and ridges of the nearby mountain range sent another chill through her. If he’d succeeded, he would have dumped her body in a ravine or thrown her over a cliff and left her for the animals to ravage.
And no one would have looked for her or even realized she was dead.
* * *
MADDOX HOPED TO HELL Rose was telling him the truth. The whole truth and not a fabricated version she’d invented to cover some dark secret.
The idea of locking her in a cell held no appeal. But he was a man of the law and he’d do whatever necessary to see that justice was served.
He made a quick call to his deputy, Roan Whitefeather, and asked him to make the rounds in the town because he was busy, but he didn’t explain. He’d check things out himself first.
The car bounced over the ruts in the dirt road, desolate land passing, the sliver of moonlight barely illuminating the trees and landscape. An animal darted into the wooded area to the left, and Rose pointed to a narrow side road.
“There. The cabin is that way.”
Night noises surrounded them, the deserted area eerie with the sound of a coyote howling, a reminder that the state was on an alert for coyotes with rabies. And that it was the perfect place to dispose of a body.
But what motive did Thoreau have? And who else wanted to find Rose?
“The cabin is in that hollow by the creek,” Rose said.
Maddox’s instincts went on alert as he scanned the area for a car or another person waiting to ambush them.
But there was no car and he didn’t see movement. Not even a light on in the cabin nestled in the copse of pines.
“Did you