Speed Trap

“What’s this about, Sheriff?”

“I asked how well do you know her?”

Something was wrong, but he sensed he wouldn’t get answers from Sheriff Scott until she was ready to give them.

He forced his tense muscles to relax. “She’s my ex-wife, but I figure you already know that.”

Only the slightest lift of her eyebrows acknowledged his assumption. “When did you see her last?”

He clamped his teeth together. He didn’t like sharing details of his personal life. “Judy split about a year ago. I haven’t seen her since.”

“I heard she was here today. What time did she leave?”

How did the sheriff know Judy was coming to visit? “She hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Care to tell me why she was here?”

“I told you, I haven’t seen her yet.” He kept his face carefully blank. He’d learned as a child not to show fear or anger or anything that would trigger his father’s rage. Still, it was hard to hold back his growing concern.

“Is that so?” She clearly didn’t believe him. Her eyes locked with his, seeking something. Weakness?

Never let ’em see you’re scared. He could hear his mother’s cautiously whispered advice.

Garrett raised his chin a notch. “I’m not answering your questions until you tell me why you’re asking. What’s wrong?”

Mandy’s eyes widened. “Why would something be wrong?”

“Because you’re out here, grilling me.”

She folded her arms and leaned back slightly. “Your ex-wife is dead. What do you know about that?”

TWO

Mandy scrutinized Garrett Bowen’s face, paying close attention to every detail.

“Judy’s dead?” The disbelief in his voice was the first crack in his armor that she’d seen.

His gaze dropped to his boots. The dog came over. Whining, the mutt rose and braced his front paws against Garrett’s knee. After a long moment, Garrett asked, “How?”

A flash of sympathy darted through her, but she suppressed it. Her job was finding Judy Bowen’s killer. Mandy pulled her notebook from her pocket and flipped it open. “Her car was deliberately run off the road. Where were you at seven o’clock this morning?”

He looked up sharply. “Here.”

“Who can verify that?”

“Wiley.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And who is that?”

He nodded toward his feet. “The dog. I don’t get a lot of company.”

Not much of an alibi, yet his words had a vague ring of truth. If he wanted to cover up his involvement in a murder he could certainly do better than make a dog his only witness.

“Care to tell me what Judy wanted to see you about?”

“I don’t know,” he stated quietly.

Once more her suspicions were aroused. “Your ex-wife was coming to see you after a year and you had no idea why?”

“That’s right. I got a call from Judy a week ago. She said she had to see me—to tell me something she couldn’t put in a letter or talk about over the phone.”

“Didn’t that seem strange?”

“It did, but I didn’t pry.” He stared at his boots again. “Were drugs involved in her death?”

“That’s an odd question. Why do you ask?” She hoped pretending ignorance of his record would put him off guard. If she could, she wanted to catch him in a lie. It would help her decide if she believed anything else he’d told her.

“Judy—had a drug problem.”

“Really. When was this?”

He waited for a long moment, then said, “While we were married, and before I met her.”

“I see. What about you?”

Glancing up suddenly, he said, “I was arrested once for possession as I’m sure you already know. You think I had something to do with her death.”

She arched one eyebrow. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Did you kill her?”

“No.”

Again, she heard a ring of truth in his voice, but she wasn’t willing to accept his word. She’d been wrong before.

Let me get this one right, Lord. Help me find justice for that little boy.

Deciding to press Garrett, she stepped closer. “I can see how things might have gotten out of hand. You had a fight. She took off. You followed. Maybe all you wanted to do was stop her. You never meant to send her car off the road.”

“No.” His stood absolutely still. He didn’t so much as flinch at her accusations. The wall he kept his emotions hidden behind was thick and well-crafted.

Mandy swept a hand toward his pickup. “I’d like to collect a paint sample from your vehicle.”

“Don’t you need a warrant for that?”

“I can get one.” It wasn’t an empty threat. She knew Judge Bailey would grant her request, but she also knew he was gone on a fishing trip until the end of the week. She didn’t intend to wait that long.

Garrett slipped his hands in his hip pockets. “Take anything you want if it will help find who killed Judy.”

His cooperation added weight to her feeling that he might be telling the truth, but didn’t completely sway her. He wasn’t what she would call eager and willing to help.

Keeping one eye on him, she set about collecting the paint scraping, sealing it in an evidence envelope and tucking it in her shirt pocket.

When she was finished, she turned and walked back to her vehicle. With one hand on the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t leave the area, Mr. Bowen. I’m going to have more questions for you.”

Kathryn Scott opened the oven door and extracted a meat loaf with a pair of blue flowered oven mitts. “A murdered woman, an ex-husband with no alibi and a baby. This case sounds a lot like the one you worked in Kansas City just before your father died.”

Mandy didn’t need to be reminded of that fact. It had been rolling around in her mind all day. “It is similar to the Wallace case.”

“Whatever happened to him?” Kathryn placed the pan on an iron trivet on the table.

Mandy, standing at the counter in her mother’s cheery white-and-yellow old-fashioned kitchen, continued filling two glasses with iced tea. “He’s serving life in prison for smothering his baby daughter. I—We were never able to prove he killed his wife.”

“Life can be so terribly sad. Sometimes, it seems as if evil is winning.”

“Sometimes it does,” Mandy agreed softly.

She’d only been a homicide detective in Kansas City for a few short months when she caught the Wallace case. In spite of the fact that her partner thought the husband was guilty of his ex-wife’s murder, Mandy believed the man’s story and released him after questioning him only briefly.

If she’d been less trusting, less gullible. If she’d dug a little deeper, tried harder to break him, maybe his daughter would still be alive.

“Do you think Garrett did it?” Kathryn asked.

Mandy considered the question as she carried the glasses to the table. She’d sensed Garrett’s unease, but he seemed genuinely shaken when he heard his ex-wife was dead.

Her conscience pricked her for the way she’d delivered the news, but gauging his reaction was part of her job.

She still didn’t know what to believe. His shock was the only bit of emotion she’d seen in the man. Something wasn’t right about that.

But he hadn’t asked about the baby. That as much as anything made her think he hadn’t seen his ex-wife that day.

“I’m not ruling him out.”

Mandy sat down and waited as her mother dished up slices of meat loaf. The mouth-watering smells of cooked onions, spices and barbecue sauce filled the kitchen.

Mandy had sent paint samples from Garrett’s truck along with scraping of the paint transfer from Judy’s car to the crime lab in Topeka. It would be a few days before she had the results.

“What’s he like?” her mother asked suddenly.

Mandy thought about it before answering. He was a tense and disturbing man, but there was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

He seemed so alone. As if holding still could hold him separate from what was going on around him. He seemed incredibly lonely.

She shook off the fanciful notion. She wasn’t about to share that image with her mother. Instead, Mandy said, “He’s not what you’d call the friendly sort.”

Her mother paused in the act of passing a bowl of green beans. Alarm widened her eyes. “And you went there alone?”

Mandy sought to reassure her mother. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle myself.”

“That’s what your father used to say.”

Mandy watched as a sad faraway look filled her mother’s eyes. Kathryn Scott had been devastated by her husband’s death. A decorated police officer with nearly thirty years on the force, he’d been shot and killed during a drug raid two years ago.

For months afterward, Mandy had worried that her mother’s frail health would fail and she would lose another parent. When the job of undersheriff in Timber Wells became available, it seemed like a gift from heaven.

The move back to her mother’s hometown had been a good idea. With the help of old friends and caring members from the community’s tight-knit church, Kathryn had slowly regained her health and her interest in life.

Less than a month after accepting the job, Mandy found herself promoted from undersheriff to sheriff when her predecessor died of a sudden heart attack.

Kathryn leaned forward to squeeze her daughter’s arm. “I pray the Lord will look after you, and I know your father’s giving Him a hand with that.”

After saying grace, Kathryn began a monologue of her day. Mandy listened with only half an ear. Garrett’s face kept intruding into her thoughts.

There was something perplexing about the man. For one thing, what right-minded cowboy kept a roving dust mop as a ranch dog? The little black-and-white ball of fur might make a coyote fall over laughing, but it sure wouldn’t be able to chase one away from the livestock.

Kathryn began to butter a roll. “Have you had any luck solving the farm supply store robbery?”

Mandy forced her mind away from the puzzle that was Garrett Bowen. “Not yet.”

Mandy might not miss the hectic pace of the Kansas City Police Department, but she did miss the crime lab people. It normally took days, even weeks to get reports on prints and evidence she had to send to the Kansas Bureau of Investigation labs for processing. The turnaround time on evidence was one of her biggest frustrations.

“Why would anyone steal so much camping fuel?” Kathryn asked.

Mandy knew and it sickened her. “To make meth. Illegal methamphetamine labs are a major drug problem. It’s easy to make, easy to transport and so addictive that a person has to use it only once or twice to become hooked. Yet, the stuff they make it with is poison. I don’t know why people don’t get that.”

Just thinking about the havoc the drug caused was enough to stifle Mandy’s appetite. Last month, she had arrested a couple so high on speed that they were lying on a railroad track screaming in paranoid terror while their two young children watched. The kids hadn’t been fed in days. They’d been living on scraps while their parents spent every dime they could beg, borrow or steal on the drug that was destroying them.

Unless Mandy could stop the flow of meth into her county, she was afraid she was seeing only the tip of the iceberg. Rural crime was on the rise, and her department had seen a sharp increase in drug-related arrests in the town. Far too many of those crimes involved teenagers.

Kathryn took a sip of her tea, then said, “I thought the number of meth labs dropped off once the state passed stricter controls on over-the-counter cold medications.”

“They did—for a while. Instead of stealing the pseudo-ephedrine or ephedrine from the local drugstores, they’re getting it off the Internet from Canada or Mexico.”

Reports from narcotic units in both Kansas City and Wichita pointed to the fact that large shipments of meth were coming out of Mandy’s area. She knew she had a major drug ring operating almost under her nose. She just couldn’t pin them down. Yet.

Mandy ate in silence as she tried to figure out what she had missed. After a few minutes, she felt her mother’s gaze on her and looked up. “What?”

“I said Candice Willow’s daughter is expecting again.”

“What will that be, her fourth?” Mandy forked a piece of meat loaf into her mouth and braced herself for another round of why-don’t-you-settle-down-and-raise-a-family hints from her mother.

“Candice’s daughter is the same age as you are.”

“Really? She’s been busy.” Mandy tried to hold back her sarcasm but failed.

“Grandchildren are such a blessing.” A heavy sigh followed Kathryn’s comment.

Mandy studied her mother’s carefully blank face without comment.

Kathryn took another sip of tea, then said, “Did I mention Candice’s oldest son is coming for a visit. He’s a doctor. A radiologist.”

So that’s where this was going. Mandy laid down her fork and laced her fingers together on the table. “I’m guessing he’s single.”

Kathryn brightened. “As a matter of fact, he is.”

“Don’t you dare try and fix us up.”

“I never suggested such a thing.”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Grandchildren are a blessing. He’s a doctor. Come on, Mom, I can read you like a rap sheet.”

“Grandchildren are a blessing, and I’d like to have some of my own before I die. It wouldn’t hurt you to go out on a date once in a while.”

“Fine. I’ll go out with the next guy who asks me. In case you haven’t noticed, they’re not exactly lined up around the block.”

Mandy rose from the table and carried her dish to the sink. “If and when the right guy comes along, it will happen. If not, then that’s okay, too.”

“Candice’s son could be the right one. How will you know if you don’t meet him?”

As soon as he hears I’m a sheriff, he’ll run the other way. They all do.

“Just meet him. That’s all I’m asking,” her mother continued with a slight pout, then changed the subject.

After clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, Mandy bid her mother goodbye and left. Walking down the porch to the next doorway, she unlocked her side of the duplex and went in.

The quaint two-story Victorian house with its wraparound porch had been remodeled into a duplex. It had turned out to be the perfect place for them. Living next door to her mother gave Mandy peace of mind and her mother a sense of independence.

Mandy stopped in the kitchen to check her phone messages. The machine showed a red 0. She’d left clear instruction that she was to be called if any new leads or new information on Judy Bowen’s case became available. Apparently, none had.

Feeling unusually restless, Mandy turned around, snatched her car keys off the hook and walked out of the house.

The drive across town was short. Timber Wells boasted only four thousand residents and a total of four traffic lights.

Pulling into a large parking lot, Mandy stopped and stared at the front entrance of the town’s hospital. She could have called to check on the baby, but what she really needed was to see him—to make sure he was doing all right.

Inside the building, the nurse on duty gave her a room number. Mandy found the pediatric ward and quietly opened the door to room 222. An elderly woman sat in a wooden rocker, holding Colin. The baby was whimpering softly.

“How is he?” Mandy crossed the room for a better look.

“Fussy, but I would be, too, if I had a broken collarbone.”

Mandy took note of the small sling that held one arm pinned to his sleeper. “I’m Sheriff Scott. I just wanted to check on him before I called it a night.”

“I know who you are. I understand this little man owes you his life.”

“I was in the right place at the right time, that’s all.”

“It was by the grace of God you were there, and it was a brave thing to do, young lady. Would you like to hold him awhile? I really need to get back to my other duties, but he cries whenever I lay him down.”

Taken aback, Mandy shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not much good with kids.”

“Nonsense. Anyone can rock a baby. Sit here.” The woman rose to her feet, leaving Mandy little choice but to do as she was told.

Taking the baby carefully, she held his small, warm body close. He whimpered again. Mandy looked up in concern. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt him.”

“Be careful not to jar his arm, and he’ll be fine. The nurse gave him something for pain in his last bottle. It should take effect soon. Once he’s asleep, you can put him to bed.” With a smile of encouragement, she left the room.

Slowly, Mandy relaxed and as she did, the baby’s whimpering stopped. Before long, he drifted off to sleep. Instead of laying him down, she continued to rock him gently.

He was a beautiful child. His long eyelashes lay in blond crescents against his chubby cheeks. His tiny bow mouth made sucking motions as if he were dreaming about his next bottle.

Mandy smiled. The warmth of the emotions he evoked in her heart nearly took her breath away. She stared at his delicate face. It felt so right and natural to hold him in her arms. She began to hum a soft lullaby.

Perhaps one day she would have a child of her own. She’d thought there would be time to settle down after the academy and after getting her career started, but then her father had been killed and her mother had needed so much of her time.

Time was exactly what had slipped away. Now, Mandy was stuck in a small town where even the bravest of men hesitated to ask the sheriff out on a date.

“I shouldn’t whine when my life is so full of blessings,” she whispered to the little boy who slept in her arms.

She shouldn’t, but sometimes it was hard always being the one in charge. Always looking to right the wrongs in other people’s lives. It was harder still when she couldn’t right that wrong.

She’d never be able to give this little boy his mother back, but she would do her best to see that justice was done.

An hour later—long after her young charge and her arm had fallen asleep—Mandy managed to tear herself away. Laying him down, she stood for a moment rubbing away the pins and needles until feeling returned to her hand.

Kissing the tip of her fingers, she gently touched them to his forehead. “Sleep tight. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Smiling, she realized she’d just made a date with the cutest guy in Timber Wells. Too bad he was only four months old. Somehow, she was sure this wasn’t what her mother had in mind.

Someone had tried to kill that beautiful baby. Someone had succeeded in killing his mother.

Mandy vowed she wouldn’t let him or her get away with it.

Garrett turned his truck into a parking space in front of the county courthouse just after ten o’clock in the morning. It had been two days since he’d learned of Judy’s death.

He sat for a long time staring at the modern one-story brick structure and the immaculate green lawn that surrounded it. Flags fluttered in the breeze from a pair of flagpoles to the right of the low broad steps. Wiley, his paws parked on the armrest of the passenger’s side door, barked excitedly.

Garrett rubbed his palms on the top of the steering wheel. He didn’t like confrontations, but the news of Judy’s death followed by what he’d learned this morning left him reeling. Sheriff Scott had a lot of explaining to do.

Judy had a son.

A child who would grow up without a mother because she had been coming to see Garrett—and he still didn’t know why. A heavy sense of responsibility settled in his chest. Try as he might, he couldn’t dislodge it.

He knew what it was like to be motherless.

Why hadn’t the sheriff told him about the baby? Could the child be his? According to Judy’s pastor, the baby’s age made it possible, but surely Judy would have told him she was pregnant with his child.

Like Garrett, Judy had lived a hard life. When they first met at a truck stop in Overland Park, she’d been nursing a cup of coffee and a black eye from her latest in a long line of boyfriends who used their fists on her face.

She’d looked so alone, so lost. Garrett knew exactly how that felt. When she turned her heartrending smile in his direction and poured out her sad story, Garrett found himself determined to save her.

And she let him. They’d married within a month.

His dreams of a family to love and cherish the way he’d never been loved soon evaporated. Judy had a serious drug problem. She stayed with him a couple of years, but not out of love.

Garrett had simply been her free ride until she found something better. One day, she was gone.

Like everyone he cared about.

Getting out of his truck and closing the door, Garrett faced the courthouse again. He didn’t relish the idea of setting foot inside a police station. There were cells inside where men were locked away. Just the thought made his skin crawl. If he had a lick of sense, he’d go home and finish his corral.

Except he couldn’t. He needed answers, and Sheriff Scott had them. Facing his fears, he walked up the steps.

Inside the building, he found the door marked with the sheriff’s seal. He stepped into the room and saw a plump woman in her midfifties behind the counter.

Two deputies were seated at desks behind her. Garrett recognized Fred Lindholm, and his hands balled into fists.

The last time Garrett’s mother had called for help, Lindholm had been the one to respond. His help amounted to telling Garrett’s father to sober up and take it easy on his old lady. Less than a week later, Garrett’s mother left for good.

Maybe if Lindholm had done his job and arrested Garrett’s father, things might have turned out differently. The coil of anger and fear inside Garrett wound tighter, but he knew better than to let it loose.

At the desk next to Lindholm sat a younger man with short red hair and wide serious eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His name tag said Ken Holt. Garrett didn’t know him, but if he was anything like Lindholm, he’d be a good man to avoid.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

Garrett shifted his attention back to the receptionist. “I’d like to talk to Sheriff Scott.”

“She isn’t in right now. Can I take a message?” The woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lifted a large pink leather purse to her desktop and began searching for something.

“When do you expect her back?” Garrett asked.

She pulled a stick of gum from her purse, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. “That’s hard to say.”

Behind him, he heard the door open and a cool voice he recognized said, “Mr. Bowen, what are you doing here?”

He turned around to see Mandy framed in the doorway. Once again he was surprised by how pretty she was. The very air around her seemed charged with rare energy. The nameless fear that squeezed Garrett’s throat eased.

He breathed in the scent of her freshly starched shirt. Beneath the smell of ironed cotton, he caught a subtle sweetness. Honeysuckle?

A tenacious vine with delicate flowers and a heady perfume that belied its tough nature. The description certainly fit the good sheriff.

Why did he find her so attractive? The answer eluded him.

He pushed the thought aside and got back to the reason he was here. “Why didn’t you tell me about Judy’s baby?”

Mandy walked past him and entered a nearby office. He followed her, determined to get a response.

A cluttered, heavy wooden desk occupied the center of the room. On the walls hung certificates and wanted posters and a large framed picture of a man in a police uniform with Mandy’s slender build and square chin.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood in front of her desk and regarded Garrett with a steady stare. He had the feeling she was stalling for time, searching for a way to respond.

“Where did you hear that she had a child?” Her tone was cold enough to frost the windows.

“Today when I called the minister she worked for to see about funeral arrangements, he asked about her son. Why didn’t you mention she had a kid?”