Desperado Lawman Read online

  Guarding the gate, Tess thought now as she let her glance wander casually around the room, taking in the dark-stained wood of the bookcases, the heavy oak table the four of them were sitting at. Del had told her that this was where his teenage charges did their correspondence school assignments during their time at the ranch. Her gaze passed over Connor.

  It didn’t take a Freudian to see a double meaning in his hasty excuse to leave last night. She had no doubt he’d promised to relieve Joseph Tahe for a while from the young Dineh’s sentry duty at the perimeter of the Double B property, but she had the impression that Connor had found it equally imperative to close himself off after his openness with her.

  One moment he’d been touching her lips. The next he’d been striding down the drive to where the pickup was parked. He’d been fine with the physical closeness, Tess thought, annoyance flickering through her. If she’d suddenly grabbed the worn leather of his shoulder holster and pulled him down to her mouth, if she’d wrapped one bare leg around his and snugged herself up against the hard length of his body, if she’d let him carry her to the spare bedroom and—

  She cut the fantasy off abruptly. The point was that Virgil had been more than comfortable with the physical closeness between them, she thought repressively, wondering if the heat she could feel in her cheeks was visible. But any emotional closeness scared the hell out of him.

  Which I already knew, she told herself. Resolutely she focused her attention on Paula as the female agent spoke.

  “If Quayle went into that alleyway with the intention of killing MacLeish he must have had a good reason to have wanted to eliminate him. The only one I can think of is the murder of MacLeish’s wife ten years ago. Let’s say Quayle had some connection with the case back then, never believed in the suicide theory, and thought Mac had gotten away with murder. One day, completely by chance, he sees him alive and well and decides to take it upon himself to dispense the justice MacLeish escaped ten—”

  Paula pursed her lips. “Nah, you could drive a truck through that, it’s got so many holes in it.”

  “Maybe a small imported car,” Del said with a wry grin. “The way I see it, if Quayle was dirty enough to contemplate murder, he wouldn’t have been the type to have been outraged by what he saw as an unpunished crime. And if we’re going on the assumption that MacLeish didn’t kill his wife in the first place, then that eliminates it as a motive for Quayle.”

  His gaze rested briefly on Connor. “We are going on that assumption, right? That if Mac’s innocent of Quayle’s murder he’s innocent of Huong’s?”

  “For now.” Connor’s voice was steady. “But that leads us to the one question nobody’s asked yet. If your old buddy was framed for the murder of his wife, why hasn’t he come forward with the truth during the intervening ten years? Hell, if you’re right and the suicide scenario was a setup, too—a setup that obviously failed, since MacLeish didn’t die in the Rio Grande as everyone thought—why didn’t he go to the authorities as soon as he’d escaped whoever was trying to kill him?”

  “Dammit, Connor, I just can’t answer that.” Del slumped back in his seat. “It couldn’t have been that he was too scared to come forward, because the John MacLeish I knew didn’t scare easy. That’s why he would have been a good senator if he’d had the chance to run for office. He made no bones about the fact that he approved of taking a tough stand against organized crime, and he didn’t flinch from naming the mobsters he intended to go up against. One of them, Jack Vincenzi, actually threatened legal action. Vincenzi’s as crooked as they come,” he added in disgust, “but he’s always protested he’s just a legitimate businessman.”

  “Ah, yes, our Jackie,” Paula said, her tone sour. She looked at Connor. “He’s stayed below the Bureau radar for the past few years, but before you joined the Albuquerque unit we used to keep a couple of agents permanently assigned to him. We never even busted him for a moving violation, although about six years ago we thought we almost had him. The case fell through,” she said with a grimace. “I wasn’t involved, but I remember being told that the witness refused to testify, or something along those lines.”

  Connor frowned. “If MacLeish was shooting off his mouth about taking Vincenzi on, then we should be looking for a possible link between Quayle and Vincenzi. Between Quayle and Vincenzi and Jansen,” he amended. “Forget Rick Leroy for the time being. He’s a follower, not a leader, and my guess is he’s taking orders from Jansen.”

  “Forget Jansen, too.” Paula shook her head. “Arne Jansen’s in the running to head up that national organized crime task force, remember? You can bet if he’s ever even stopped Vincenzi in the street to ask him the time he’s erased any record of the encounter. We’re not going to find—”

  “That’s it. That’s our motive. Jansen and Vincenzi are erasing records.” Tess heard the hoarse croak in her voice, but normal speech was beyond her. She slid her shaking hands from the table and clenched them tightly in her lap. “Somehow MacLeish can connect the two of them, and they need him dead so Jansen gets the task force position you just mentioned. That’s how Jack Vincenzi silences witnesses, Paula—not by paying them to recant or persuading them not to show up at trial, but by killing them. He killed Joy Gaynor.”

  Her throat tightened even more. “Or maybe I did.”

  Across the table Paula sucked in her breath with an audible hiss. “There was a reporter involved,” she said slowly. “How could I have forgotten? Joy spilled her story about overhearing Vincenzi order a hit on a judge to an investigative reporter for the Albuquerque Times. The reporter convinced her to go to the Feds with the information, even said she’d wait in her own car in the parking lot where the meet was supposed to take place, so Gaynor wouldn’t feel so nervous.”

  “Joy wasn’t nervous,” Tess said dully, “she was terrified. If it hadn’t been for me she never would have been in a warehouse parking lot that night, and she never would have been shot behind the wheel of her car.”

  Beside Paula, Connor’s gaze widened momentarily. Tess shook her head. “This isn’t an Eye-Opener exclusive, Connor. I saw it happen and I recognized the hit man as one of Vincenzi’s men. But when I decided that the only way I could make Joy’s death less meaningless would be if I wrote the whole story just as she’d told it to me and got my editor to run it on the front page, I was told that the paper had checked out a few vital facts, and my story didn’t hold up. Heck, my career didn’t hold up after that.”

  “A few vital facts like what?” Del growled.

  “Like the hit man had a cast-iron alibi for his whereabouts that night. Like Vincenzi could prove he hadn’t been in the city on the day Joy had told me she’d overheard him give the order to kill the judge. Like the judge himself said the whole notion that an upstanding citizen like Mr. Vincenzi would have reason to want him dead was ridiculous. That same judge took an early retirement later that year. Some stocks he’d owned had done exceptionally well, apparently.”

  “He was bought off.” Angrily Del shoved his chair back. “Seems to me we’ve got enough to make some kind of a case, Connor. Why can’t Paula contact Jansen’s superiors and tell them what we’ve come up with?”

  “Because we don’t know how high up the tree the rot goes,” Connor replied sharply. “Dammit, Del, less than an hour after I made that call to Jansen from the motel, a couple of hired killers showed up to eliminate not only me but Tess and Joey, as well. There’s every possibility that if Paula calls the Bureau from here, we’ll be signing the death warrants of everyone on the Double B.”

  He took a deep breath. When he spoke again his voice was emotionless. “You’re our ace in the hole, Paula. Can you get a look at the Albuquerque police file on the investigation into Huong MacLeish’s murder without tipping Jansen off?”

  “I’m no rookie, Virge,” his partner replied. “In fact, I’ve got a tad more seniority than Arne does. I think I can manage to sneak out a file or two without him learning of it. I’ll check into Quayle, too.�
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  She looked at Hawkins, her normally easy manner returning. “Thanks for the hospitality, Del. Connor tells me you got hitched less than a month ago. If I hadn’t heard that, I might have made a play for you myself—and not just because you make the best chili I’ve ever eaten, although that’s definitely a point in your favor.”

  She grinned and got to her feet. “But I guess your Greta beat me to the post. Story of my life, darn it.”

  Paula Geddes was potentially in more danger than any of them, Tess thought a few minutes later, watching from the verandah as Connor and Del saw the agent to her car. And yet she hadn’t allowed that to shadow the good humor and warmth she’d shown during her brief sojourn at the Double B.

  “I figured she was dead.”

  Startled, she whirled around. Joey was standing beside her, one of Daisy’s pups tucked like a football under his arm. He squinted at the dust cloud behind Paula’s departing sedan.

  “I figured Skinwalker would go for Paula first, then Bill, then Rick. That was before I knew Rick was working with him,” he said thoughtfully. “But I knew Paula was the best shot, ’cause once she told me she won a medal for sharpshooting. So when I heard the first body fall in the apartment, I thought it was her. I’m glad it wasn’t,” he added. “Bill was nice, but Paula used to tell me jokes and bring me comic books.”

  When I heard the first body fall… What kind of world was it, Tess thought in sudden anger, that those words should ever come out of the mouth of a child? What kind of people were Jansen and Vincenzi and Leroy, that they could see children as pawns, as targets, as victims?

  But she didn’t have to ask herself that question, she thought heavily. She knew what kind of people Jansen and his cohorts were. Impulsively she dropped to her knees and gathered a surprised Joey to her in a hug, puppy and all. They would look like normal men. They would help a neighbor jump-start his car battery, barbecue hamburgers in the backyard in the summer, talk about the weather with the mailman.

  They would look like regular joes. And some of them would abuse their adopted—

  “Hey, Tess, you’re squeezing Chorrie.” Joey didn’t sound concerned, and as he wriggled out of her grasp there was a pleased little grin on his face. He replaced it with a tough-guy scowl immediately. “Connor said I got to be careful with him. Like not drop him or anything.”

  “Sorry, sorry.” Hastily Tess swallowed the lump in her throat. “I guess I got carried away there, champ.” She eyed him with delayed suspicion. “Chorrie? You’ve named him?”

  “After Chorizo, the horse that sent Connor sailing when he was here a long time ago. Connor told me only Gabe ever rode him, but that was because Gabe was part Dineh, and he could ride a dust devil if he wanted.” Joey hesitated. “Connor said I shouldn’t get too attached to Chorrie, because I might not be able to keep him. Can I keep him, Tess?”

  Joey had stoically endured far too much in his short life. If he’d fallen in love with a darn puppy, by God she would make sure he got to keep it.

  Besides, who was Virgil Connor to tell her nine-year-old nephew to put a wall up between him and his heart’s desire just to be on the safe side?

  “Yeah, sure you can keep him, if Del says you can have him.”

  This time it was Joey who squeezed her in an impulsive hug. He released her just as quickly, but she saw pure happiness shine in his eyes.

  “Thanks, Tess! I’ll walk him and train him and show him how to do tricks and…and everything,” he promised. “And he’ll be a good guard dog, too, you’ll see. I’m gonna go ask Del now.”

  “Ask me what?”

  Del was making his way up the porch steps, Connor a short distance behind him. Hawkins held the screen door open for Joey, and Tess could hear the rumble of the ex-Marine’s deeper tones mixing with the high-pitched excitement of Joey’s voice as they disappeared into the house.

  “You told him he could keep the puppy, didn’t you?” Connor reached down and gripped her hand, pulling her upright. “Don’t you live in an apartment?”

  “Apartments cost rent. Rent means money. Money comes from jobs, and I’ve probably lost mine by now,” Tess said flippantly.

  She caught his glance of concern and shrugged. “I’m exaggerating. Good tabloid journalists with a rabid following are hard to come by, and the Eye-Opener won’t pink-slip me over a couple of missed columns. Heck, the next time Del goes into town I should ask him to pick up the latest issue. I wouldn’t be surprised if its front-page story is all about their daring reporter Tess Smith’s presumed capture by aliens.”

  “I heard she was selling used cars with Elvis.” Connor’s smile seemed forced. “I feel like going for a walk. Want to come?”

  “I’d better rescue Del from Joey. This morning one of the Tahe cousins was minding him, and I don’t want Del to think I’m using him and his ranch hands as baby-sitters.” She shook her head regretfully. “Maybe later.”

  “No problem.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his manner indifferent. He descended the steps, and she stood stock-still, watching him as he headed resolutely toward the horse barn.

  “Oh…dear…God.” The exclamation came from her as slowly as if it was being pressed out. She put her hand to her head, her fingers massaging out the sudden crease in her brow.

  “You’ve gone and done it, haven’t you?” she said out loud, her tone too low to be heard by anyone but herself. She raised her head and stared disbelievingly at the man striding across the yard. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with him, for no good reason at all.”

  No good reason, except that he was a man who found it hard to reach out to other people, and he’d reached out to her yesterday when he’d sensed that Paula’s question about the accident had upset her. No good reason, except he’d told her a truth last night he’d never told anyone else, not even himself.

  She didn’t need reasons, anyway. The deed, Tess thought in defeat as she caught up to Connor at the barn, was done.

  “I changed my mind,” she said by way of explanation to him as they strolled into the stall-lined enclosure, right now empty of horses. “Besides, you know me—I make a habit of pumping people for personal information. What did Del say as you two were walking back to the house that put you in such a crappy mood?”

  And when you’ve answered that one, I’ve got a few others for you. Like, how am I supposed to act around you now? Do you think this might just be temporary insanity on my part? Have you ever fallen in love yourself, and if not, do you think you ever could, and if so, do you think you could with me? Would you treat Joey as your own son? Am I going too fast for you?

  Have I said any of this out loud?

  Her last question was answered first and obliquely by his scowl. “I’m not in a crappy mood. I’m not in a great mood, but I’m not in a crappy mood.”

  “Okay, then why aren’t you in a great mood?” She shrugged. “Aside from the obvious reasons, of course.”

  “The obvious reasons being that I’ve had to hide out while my partner rides off into the sunset to try to save my ass, and with every day that passes I wonder if Jansen’s unearthed my sealed juvenile file showing my connection to the Double B and figured that I might have brought you and Joey here?”

  He exhaled. “Del contacted Jess Crawford. Jess is on his way to the ranch right now, apparently.”

  “And you wish Del hadn’t entrusted Jess with the information that we’re here,” she said hollowly. “Maybe we’d better leave before he arrives. Too many people as it is know Del took in three reclusive guests a few nights ago, and if your friend gets careless and lets slip the wrong word to—”

  “Not trust Jess?” He gave a short laugh. “Hell, I’d trust him with my life. I just don’t like him that much. I told you, he and I have always rubbed each other the wrong way.”

  “I know what you said, but I didn’t realize we were talking Hatfield and McCoy dislike,” she said dubiously. “Is he really that awful? Why did Del ask him to come, anyway?”<
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  “Because Jess Crawford is Crawford Solutions,” he grunted. “And no, he’s not awful. He’s a billionaire, a charmer, and most people think he’s an all-round nice guy. But he’s a people person.”

  She shook her head, lost. “The Crawford Solutions reference I get. He’s the Jess Crawford who’s a computer genius and whose software practically runs the Pentagon, the White House and every law agency in the country?”

  Connor nodded. “With his resources, Del’s hoping he can help us get whatever information we need on Jansen and Quayle that Paula can’t access. And he probably can,” he added grudgingly.

  “So, what I don’t get is the people person—” Tess stopped as Connor put out a warning hand. “What?”

  “See that stall?” He nodded at a seemingly unoccupied one just ahead of them. He gave her a grim smile. “That’s hell. The devil lives in that stall, or at least he’s living in it this week while a cut on his left hind leg heals up.”

  “That’s Chorizo’s stall? I’d like to see him.”

  “He doesn’t want to see you. He doesn’t want to see me. Chorizo would be happy never to see any human being again in his life, with the occasional exception of Hawkins.” Connor reached for her arm to draw her away. “Hawkins horsewhipped the man he found abusing Chorizo as a colt. Quite a feat, since at the time Del was confined to a wheelchair.”

  A snort came from the stall. It didn’t sound friendly. She stepped away from Connor’s grasp.

  “Don’t get too close.” He closed the distance between them again. “I wasn’t entirely joking about this gelding being the devil. Del says that being confined this week while the other horses are out to pasture has really set him off.”

  “I won’t get too close,” she promised. “I just want to—”

  There was a sound of hooves scrambling for purchase on the stall’s wooden floor, and then from over the top of the enclosure’s latched door a head appeared.

  She caught her breath.

  He was beautiful. Flared nostrils, the velvety-looking skin around them mottled with an irregular spotting of dark and white, twitched as he drew in the unfamiliar scent of her. His head was less mottled, but still patterned with the same dark on white, and the pale, sparse mane looked almost stubbled. A white ring encircled the liquidly large eye watching her—a characteristic, Tess knew, of a true Appaloosa.