Dropping the Hammer Page 7

  The tailgate of Esther’s four-wheel-drive pickup truck was down, making a nice serving area for the thermoses of coffee and hot chocolate that were waiting for them. Within minutes everyone had a steaming mug in hand or at least within easy reach.

  The women started unpacking and arranging the food from two huge picnic baskets. Luke went with Riley to gather wood for a stone fire pit that had clearly seen its share of use.

  Once they had the fire going, Pierce filled a black cast-iron skillet with a spicy egg and chorizo mixture, and the marvelous odors filled the air. If Luke hadn’t already been starving, the smells alone would have had him drooling.

  Nothing like cooking real food in the outdoors. It beat those tasteless MREs he’d choked down in the Afghanistan wilderness by a county mile.

  Everything seemed under control, so he stepped back from the fire and checked out the scenery. His gaze got no further than Rachel. She might be a city girl at heart, but she looked completely at home in this setting.

  She was natural beauty. If she had on any makeup at all, he couldn’t tell, and yet she was stunning.

  “My sister-in-law is always an attention grabber,” Tucker said, startling him.

  Luke had been so lost in his appreciation of Rachel’s beauty, he hadn’t seen or heard Tucker approach from behind. No use to deny he’d been ogling. “She is striking.”

  “My wife thinks there’s some chemistry firing between you and Rachel.”

  “I can’t speak for Rachel, but I admit I find her fascinating. Is that a problem?”

  “It could be.”

  “She’s not married, is she?”

  “No, and ordinarily I’d be the first to say she’s tough enough to take care of herself. But she’s had a traumatic few months—none of it her doing. I just wouldn’t want to see her get hurt. That’s all.”

  “I barely know her. I’m not planning to push myself on her, so you can relax if that’s what you’re worried about. Did Sydney ask you to talk to me?”

  “No way. She thinks you and Rachel might be good for each other. I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to mention that she’s awfully vulnerable.”

  “I appreciate that. Is there more I should know?”

  “Probably, but I’ll leave that to Rachel. If I were you, I wouldn’t push for more than she wants to say.”

  “I won’t. Thanks for the update.”

  There it was again, innuendos that seemed to slide around straight facts. Luke usually liked a good mystery, but not this time. Mainly because he sensed it was troubling Rachel.

  Tucker went back to the fire to relieve Pierce and take over the job of warming the tortillas in a black iron skillet.

  Rachel was helping Esther set out plates of sliced avocados, jalapeños and pico de gallo. Luke started to walk over and join them, but quickly reconsidered as a new idea came to mind.

  He walked away from the group, pulled his phone from his pocket and did a Google search on Rachel Maxwell. Her image quickly stared back at him as well as a full page of offerings.

  He started reading, his rage building with each sentence.

  Rachel Maxwell had every reason to be vulnerable. She’d been through hell.

  Chapter Eight

  Roy Sales was walking by the TV in the community room when he heard the announcer say his name. He stopped and stared at his picture on the screen.

  “Rachel Maxwell, one of the victims of the Lone Star Snatcher, will defend Hayden Covey against murder charges.”

  Damn. Had he heard that right?

  “Shut up,” Roy yelled at the old man who sat a few feet from him, chanting gibberish so loud Roy could barely hear what the pretty blonde TV announcer was saying.

  Rachel’s picture flashed on the screen. That was her, all right. She looked exactly as she had that first day he saw her—before he’d beaten the hell out of her and left her so bruised and bloody he could barely recognize her.

  He strained to hear what the reporter was saying. The smart-mouthed attendants controlled the volume on the TV the way they controlled everything else in this stinking place.

  He caught enough of the morning report to get the gist of the breaking news. His blood boiled. How dare she defend that rich son of a bitch after the way she’d talked about him after his arrest?

  Rachel’s words bellowed inside his head. “Mentally unhinged.” “A monster.” “Crazy.” “Psychopath.”

  She was the reason he was locked up in this loony bin. But he had news for her. This wasn’t over. He was smarter than every doctor in this horrible place.

  He didn’t swallow those mind-numbing pills they gave him every morning. He only played the game.

  He’d be out of here soon. He had a plan. And then he’d get to finally watch Rachel Maxwell die.

  Slow. Tortured. Begging for mercy as she gasped for her last breaths. He’d be every bit as evil as the monster she’d made him out to be.

  “You just watch, Mommy. You’ll be so proud of me.”

  Chapter Nine

  As much as Rachel had enjoyed the first half of the trail ride, she was glad to get back to the horse barn. She had recognized the change in Luke even before they left the canyon.

  He had come and sat down beside her while she finished her taco, but the conversation was strained. More telling was the fact that he didn’t ride near her on the way back down the trail.

  She’d seen him looking at something on his phone. Possibly another breaking news item. She and Hayden would take over the news cycle for a few days.

  If they’d mentioned her, they would have talked about her abduction by Roy Sales. It was her horrifying claim to fame.

  Before Rachel could dismount, Luke showed up and offered a hand to help her. “Ready to cool your saddle?”

  “If that means am I ready to dismount, the answer is yes.”

  “That’s what it means. Need some help?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

  Still holding the reins, she took hold of the saddle horn and threw her right foot back over the saddle. Moonbeam knew the procedure well, standing still until both of Rachel’s feet were on solid ground.

  She stretched, brushed off her tired bottom and then ran her fingers through Moonbeam’s long, thick mane.

  “How was your ride?” Luke asked.

  “Enjoyable. What about you?”

  “Great, and just what I needed to get me back in the fun part of the cowboy groove. So glad you and the rest of your crew invited me to intrude on your family fun.”

  He was trying to keep things light. Rachel would give him that, but she still sensed a difference in him.

  He reached for the reins. “I’ll take care of Moonbeam for you and see that she’s put away properly.”

  “Thanks.”

  She started to walk away. Luke reached for her wrist with his left hand and held her back. “Any way we can talk privately after the horses are taken care of?”

  She shrugged. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest that it was, but if you’d rather not, I understand.”

  Because he felt the need to say something about what he’d learned, yet had to protect her tender feelings. Perhaps the worst was that there was some truth to the way her emotions could crater without warning.

  “How did you find out?” she asked.

  “I looked you up on the internet,” he said, obviously knowing what she was referring to. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

  “I know. I’m infamous. If you’d been in the country, especially in Texas, you’d already know all the gory details.”

  “I don’t need the gory details. I just have one question.”

  “That’s a shocker. Most people have a hundred.”

  “Where is Roy Sales now? Please tell me he’s in prison.”
<
br />   “No. It’s been just over four months, but unfortunately, he hasn’t been deemed mentally competent to stand trial yet. He’s being cared for in a maximum-security forensic mental hospital between here and Houston. It’s supposedly state-of-the-art in treatment options.”

  “Probably a good place for him. Look, I know you’re here to visit with your family this weekend, but it would be great if you had some time to fit me into your schedule.”

  “I smell like horseflesh.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. But it doesn’t have to be now and I promise this has zero to do with the kidnapping, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  “Then what is it you want to talk about?”

  “Us.”

  “There is no us, Luke. We just met. I live in Houston. You have a father with health concerns to take care of in Winding Creek.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I kind of got the idea we have a little attraction going here.”

  “The kiss. I can explain that. Well, actually, I can’t, but we shouldn’t try to make more of that than it was. I think I got carried away in the moment.”

  “Why not check it out and see where it goes? I’m not necessarily talking sex. Talk is good. A beer or two. A long walk. Dinner in town or dancing at the roadhouse. I guess that’s still going strong.”

  He made this sound so natural, but nothing in her life had been natural since Sales had held her in captivity. Seeing where this could go might be dangerous. She should just send him away.

  Yet she couldn’t deny how desperately she wanted to see him again.

  “I’d invite you to Arrowhead Hills for lunch,” Luke said, “but I think the whole house needs to be fumigated or at the very least scrubbed with bleach and a generous application of elbow grease. I don’t know if my dad’s eyesight is failing and he can’t see the built-up crud and mildew or if he’s so used to it he doesn’t notice or possibly care.”

  “Scrubbing away crud and grime. Cleansing. Physical activity that requires no brain cells. Call me crazy,” Rachel said, “but I find that extremely alluring today.”

  “I wouldn’t think a highfalutin attorney like you ever stooped to such mundane tasks.”

  “I’ll have you know there is nothing highfalutin about me, though it has been many a moon since I’ve gotten on my hands and knees to scrub a floor.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” he teased. “Forget the cleaning, but I am serious about wanting to spend some time with you this afternoon.”

  “I can’t make any promises until I see what Sydney has planned. I get to see my sister so seldom, but I still have to share her with her bull-rider hubby. I can give you a call later.”

  “Whenever you can get away is fine. Just give me enough warning to grab a shower. I’ll likely be checking out the livestock. Dad’s record keeping is like deciphering a secret code.”

  “Ugh. Does Esther have your phone number?”

  “Yes, and so does Pierce. He’s going to give me a cram course on modern ranching one afternoon this week. I’d write the number down for you, but I don’t have a pen on me.”

  Moonbeam tossed her head and pawed the dirt.

  “That’s horse talk for ‘I’ve had enough of this,’” Luke said. He tipped his hat and grinned. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  Amazing how he could start her heart spinning with just a smile.

  He thought her talk of scrubbing was facetious, but something physically demanding might be exactly what she needed. At least she’d be doing something useful.

  But she had to admit that getting rid of grease and grime would be the weirdest first date ever.

  Except this wouldn’t be a date. They couldn’t take this too far, but it was possible they could be friends.

  * * *

  SYDNEY HAD STOPPED to wait on Rachel about halfway down the worn path from the horse barn to the big house. Rachel hurried to catch up.

  “You look flushed,” Sydney said.

  “Too much wind and sun.”

  “Nice try. I think it’s the Luke Dawkins effect.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The way you two look at each other could ignite a five-alarm fire.”

  “We’re practically strangers.”

  “That has nothing to do with chemistry.”

  “There is no place in my life for chemistry.”

  Sydney linked her arm with Rachel’s. “Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the company of a hunk like Luke who also happens to be a nice man.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He’s a former marine, with a couple of medals for bravery, according to Esther. He’s giving up his life temporarily to take care of an unhealthy father who basically disowned him when he was just a teenager. Esther likes him and she’s a great judge of character.”

  “You have this all figured out, Sydney, which means you’re spending too much time worrying about me.”

  “Not worried. Encouraging. Just because you spend time with a man doesn’t mean you have to hop in bed with him—although I’m not knocking that, either. But I’ll leave it up to you to know when the time is right.”

  “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” Not that she was sure she was worthy. “You know, you and Dr. Lindquist think alike on so many things. You would have made a great psychologist.”

  “Or perhaps he should have become an FBI agent. I wish your psych was here right now.”

  “To encourage me to jump Luke’s bones?”

  “No.” Her tone became strained. “But he’d do a better job of sharing more bad news than I will.”

  Rachel’s spirits plunged. “What now?”

  “It’s nothing horrible—or urgent. It’s—”

  “Don’t bother sugarcoating it,” Rachel interrupted.

  “Okay. I got a call last Wednesday from Dr. Leonard Kincaid.”

  Rachel’s stomach knotted. “What’s wrong with your health?”

  “Nothing. Dr. Kincaid is Roy Sales’s psychiatrist.”

  A shudder ripped thought Rachel. “They didn’t release him. Please tell me they didn’t say he was unfit to stand trial and just set him free.”

  “No. He’s still in the maximum-security facility. You’re safe. That I’m sure of, one of the perks you get from having a sister with the FBI.”

  “Then why would Sales’s doctor call you?”

  “He was trying to get in touch with you, but since you changed your cell phone to a secure number to avoid the constant harassment of the media, he couldn’t reach you.”

  “And I want to keep it that way. Apparently you didn’t give Dr. Kincaid my number.”

  “No, but I told him I’d give you a message.”

  “Which is?”

  “All he would say is that it’s important he talk to you. He wouldn’t give me any of the pertinent reasons why. He claimed doctor/patient privilege.”

  “You’re an FBI agent. I thought you were cleared for everything, even doctor/patient privilege.”

  “It doesn’t work quite that way. Anyway, he wanted me to tell you that he’d very much like to talk to you, preferably in person.”

  “In person, like in my going to the facility where Roy Sales is being treated? That’s not going to happen.”

  “He said he’ll travel to you.”

  “That makes zero sense. Everything I could tell him about Sales is well documented.”

  Rachel stopped walking as they approached the house. “I know you’ve had time to think about this and I trust your judgment. Can you think of any good reason I should get involved with Sales or his psychiatrist?”

  “There is one positive side to at least talking to him.”

  “Which is?”

  “
The sooner Roy Sales faces trial, the sooner you can put all this totally behind you. If you have any insight—even information you don’t think is important that could make that happen faster—it might be worth talking to Kincaid.”

  “Then you think I should call him?”

  “It’s not my decision, Rachel. I only want what’s best for you, but if you do agree to seeing him, I’d like to be with you.”

  “As a sister or as an FBI agent?”

  “Both, but mostly as a sister who doesn’t want to see Roy Sales put you though any more torment.”

  “This just seems so bizarre,” Rachel said. “Did the doctor say if he’s talked to the other kidnapping victims?”

  “I asked. He said he hadn’t and didn’t judge it to be useful at this point.”

  Rachel kicked at a small stone that was in her path and sent it flying toward Esther’s front porch. “So this is personal between Roy Sales and me? Something Kincaid thinks I know that the other victims don’t?”

  “I got that impression, but it could be that he thinks your experience as a criminal defense attorney might make you a more valuable source of information.”

  “That’s possible, I guess.”

  “You don’t have to decide this minute, especially with all that’s going on with your career. Take your time. Think about it. And remember, you can always tell him no. You aren’t required to help Roy Sales in any way.”

  “The only help I’d give is to make certain he’s never free to torture and murder again.”

  “That’s what we all want.”

  “I’ll think about calling Dr. Kincaid, but right now I’m not leaning that way. If he called you on Wednesday, why are you just now mentioning it to me?”

  “I wanted to tell you in person, but then you were dealing with the job situation and I didn’t want to lay more problems on you the minute I saw you.”

  “Which granted me a short reprieve,” Rachel said. “A day or two to adjust to one problem before the next punches me in the gut. That’s about average.”

  “You don’t have to deal with this now or ever.”

  But she’d be thinking about it, and just hearing Sales’s name cast a shadow over her world.