Seek And Find

Five

It was after lunchtime when James finally got himself settled at the Desert Pines campground. Hawk had to do a complete inspection of the tiny cabin, and James kept a close eye to be sure he did not start to chomp on anything. James meandered outside and allowed himself a moment to drink in the hues of the silver-green saltbush and the massive ironwood trees. He heard the soft burble of water from a creek that would soon be dry. His parents and brother had booked a trailer, purportedly to come visit him the week before, since he had not been able to fly home to Wyoming since the previous Christmas. He knew his brother, Sterling, would be fishing, his only solace since their ranch land had been sold and the horses he’d loved, too. He now rented a room from an elderly couple in Wyoming, ten miles from the beloved ranch that no longer belonged to the Harrisons. James fought down the familiar sting of pain.

They’d had to sell the land and animals to pay his brother’s legal fees to defend him against the rape charge ten years before. Sterling Harrison, age eighteen, had become the object of sixteen-year-old Paige Berg’s unhealthy obsession, and when he’d spurned her, she’d gotten revenge in the worst way, ruining his brother and the reputation of the ranch. The bad press had finally begun to die away, but not without exacting a terrible cost. James blamed himself. He’d brought Paige to the ranch as his girlfriend. She was the one, his teenage heart had insisted. Disastrous judgment, horrific consequences.

Let that go for now, James. You’re forgiven. Act like it. Maybe he’d find some time to go fishing with his brother, or at least beat him at hoops.

Madison was safely installed in her cabin, probably still fuming about having landed him as her constant shadow. The feeling was mutual. He decided to take Hawk to the lake to say hello to his parents and burn off some of the dog’s energy. Bloodhounds that weren’t exercised regularly would find a way to release their great store of energy at the expense of furniture and belongings. Even with a great deal of stimulation, Hawk still did his share of damage. Recently, James had found himself wondering where his hiking boots had gotten to.

They walked up the wooded slope and reached the lake, which sparkled in the sunlight. His parent’s trailer was scratched and bulky, and it sprawled like an old hound dog on a shady spot of ground under the pines. How small it looked. How they must miss their acres of ranch land.

He swallowed and saw his brother approach with a rod in his hand. Sterling’s head was bowed. He lacked the brash confidence that had marked him in his youth. James missed their carefree days, the hard and fast horseback riding they used to do, tearing up the trails in the evenings when the guests were enjoying their time around the campfire. He could practically smell the wood smoke curling up to the endless expanse of starlit Wyoming sky.

New life now, James. Sterling could start over again with a good woman, if he was ever able to find one, and James was now a canine cop, a profession he loved. Still, there were times he’d trade it all to sit on the back of a horse again, and return to the time before he’d fallen stupendously and blindly in love. His job was satisfying, but he knew at heart he’d always be a ranch kid. Someday he intended to buy the ranch back, even if it took him the rest of his life to do it. Jobs for K-9 officers were scarce in rural Wyoming, and he’d heard through a recruiting program about the Arizona job. He liked Arizona, but his heart had remained in Wyoming.

Hawk’s impatient ear flap roused James, and they made their way to the trailer. Hawk lumbered in first through the open door.

His mother flashed a smile at them from the tiny stove in the kitchen. She walked over and gave him a tight squeeze.

“Hey, J.J. You must have smelled my pulled pork.”

He inhaled deeply of the concoction and identified the ingredients: garlic, rosemary, bay leaf, chili powder. “No, but Hawk can smell it from five counties away.”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss her son. Betty Harrison was all of four feet eleven, a slight woman with enormous energy who never slowed down, except when her eldest son had been overwhelmed by the rape charge and his jail time. Only her faith had gotten their family through it. Barely. Her smile cheered him, but he missed seeing her in the sprawling old ranch kitchen with the checked curtains and her arsenal of pans.

His father rose from the cramped bench seat and greeted James with a strong hug, stooping to give Hawk an ear rub. Had he lost more weight? The man who’d been strong and robust was now rail thin in spite of his wife’s mouthwatering cooking. He had the ever-present notebook and pencil in his pocket, where he used to write a stream of reminders to himself of ranch tasks that needed doing. James wondered what he wrote in it these days.

“Good to see you, son. Gonna join us for lunch?”

Sterling came in and clasped his brother in a hug. “James always turns up when the food’s ready.” Sterling took an oatmeal-raisin cookie from the platter and earned a poke from their mother. “Did I hear you got yourself a cabin here?”

“Yeah. Gonna stay a while.”

“Finally a vacation for my hard-working son?”

“Not really. I’m assigned to keep watch over a woman, and she rented a cabin here.”

“The lady who was attacked at the bridal salon?” His mother added salt to her enormous simmering pot. He wasn’t surprised at her information. She’d made it a habit to listen to the police radio since James became a cop. “It helps me understand what your job is like,” she’d say. She tuned in wherever they happened to be. “That poor girl. Will she be okay?”

“Yes. We’re just making sure.”

Hawk snaked a tongue up towards the platter of cookies, but James caught him before he snatched one. “Leave it, Hawk.”

Hawk’s droopy face looked repentant, but James wasn’t fooled. The dog never regretted anything where food was concerned. He’d snatched an entire ham off the table at a church picnic they’d attended and never had the decency to look the least bit contrite about it. They’d done some additional training after the ham incident, but James still wasn’t completely convinced about Hawk’s trustworthiness around pork products.

Sterling folded his arms, staring at James. James waited until Sterling unloaded what was on his mind. It did no good to rush things with his brother. He’d talk when he felt like it. Period.

“Madison Coles, the girl who got hurt—she’s a reporter isn’t she?” Sterling asked.

“How did you find that out?”

Sterling shrugged. “I was getting coffee this morning at the café. When the ambulance rolled in at the bridal salon, I talked to her sister. She’s a waitress at the café. I met her a few days ago when she was job hunting.”

“Yes, Madison’s a reporter.”

His father’s mouth tightened, and he looked at the worn tile floor.

“She’s doing a story, and then she’ll leave town,” James said.

“And you’re helping her?” Sterling asked. “Seemed like you were offering quite a bit of comfort when she was loaded into the ambulance.”

“She is the victim of a crime. I’m investigating. That’s called doing my job.”

“Your job? What about your family?” Sterling fisted his hand on his hips.

“It’s not a choice between the two.”

“Isn’t it? If you let a reporter into your life, you let her into ours, too.” Sterling glared at his brother before turning on his heel and stalking out of the kitchen.

James felt the unsaid. Like you let Paige in...

His mother’s eyes were round with surprise and shock. “He doesn’t mean it. I’m sure you were doing your best in the circumstances. We just don’t want any reporters around us anymore. You understand, don’t you?”

His father looped an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Of course he does. He loves his brother, and he knows what we’ve been through. He’s got enough loyalty to stay away from people who dig up headlines for a living. We’ve been the subject of enough of those to last a lifetime.”

James nodded, heart full at the memory of seeing his brother jailed, learning of the hate mail sent to his family’s ranch from those who believed Sterling was a rapist. Fed by malicious newspaper reports, many would never believe he was innocent, even after it had finally been proven that Paige’s accusation was a lie.

The reporter’s actions were bad enough, but what about his? He’d invited Paige into the family, spent every moment with her and loved her with all his soul, or so he’d believed, enough that he’d actually doubted his brother. James Harrison and his flawless taste in women. He kissed his mother and gripped his father’s forearm. “I’m going to protect this family,” he said, throat thick with emotion.

His mother kissed him again. “We know that, J.J.” She looked deep into his eyes. “You didn’t intend for anything bad to happen when you started dating Paige. When you realized the truth, you tried to make it right. God’s clear on that, and so are we.”

His head knew it, but his heart kept tossing up his shame like tumbleweeds tossed up by the desert wind. Sorry, God. Sorry.

Hawk was reluctant to leave the simmering pot of meat, but James insisted. Madison would not waste a moment returning to the story she was sniffing out, and he wouldn’t put it past her to sneak away when his back was turned. That’s right, he decided. He’d treat her like he would a suspect. He would stay wary and play things close to the vest.

He believed God forgave him for his blind devotion to the girl who ruined his family, but he’d never forgive himself if he trusted the wrong woman again.

Just do your job, James.

He’d dig to the bottom of what had happened to Madison Coles and get her safely out of his town and his life.

Case closed.

* * *

Madison was just finishing up a list of questions for the local shop owners when she saw James returning along the narrow path with Hawk. She’d meant to call herself a cab or catch a ride into town with one of the locals, because she sure wasn’t going to ask James for a lift. He might be her reluctant bodyguard, but she didn’t have to let him be her personal chauffeur. A girl had to draw the line somewhere. All well and good, but she was mad at herself for pulling her hair into a smooth ponytail and swiping on a coat of pink lip gloss earlier. Her vanity annoyed her. Why should she care what James thought of her?

Wiping off the lip gloss, she grabbed her bag, shoving in her iPad and camera, and headed out, marching purposefully in the direction of town.

James and Hawk caught up quickly. “Going somewhere?”

“Into town, to do my job.”

“Let me drive you.”

“Why?”

“So I can do mine,” he said, mouth pinched tight. It was obvious he was stewing about something, so she decided not to push the point. She didn’t see what right he had to be upset. She was the one who’d almost been murdered. Twice. The muscles on his upper arms were well defined as he opened the front door of his police car for her and the back for Hawk, but she tried hard not to notice.

Whatever comfort she’d felt from him at the hospital was obviously a distant memory. Fine. She’d ensure her story was written quickly and get out of Desert Valley and away from James Harrison just as soon as she possibly could. They climbed into the Crown Victoria. “So your story is about how crimes have affected local business, right?”

“Yes, that’s why I was in the bridal salon.”

He didn’t respond.

“You don’t believe me?”

“The questions you were asking when I changed your flat weren’t about business.”

She blushed. “I really wanted to write a bigger story. I tried to get my editor to let me look into the deaths on the night of the police fund-raiser dance, but he wouldn’t go for it.”

She saw his jaw tighten. “Good for him.”

“There’s a story there. I’ve done some research. Mike Riverton and Brian Miller were killed on the night of the fund-raiser. And five years earlier so was Melanie Hayes, a cop’s wife. That’s a set of whopping coincidences.”

“You don’t have to tell me the details. The coroner ruled Miller and Riverton as accidental deaths.”

“I know. I read the reports. But there’s something odd about it—about this whole town, really.”

“Enough,” James snapped. “I’m a cop. It’s our job to solve crimes, not yours.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not doing a very speedy work on that, are you?” She regretted her jibe.

His sinewy arms tightened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Just write your business story and leave the crime solving to the police. That’s what we get paid to do.”

Her cheeks flushed, and her hands balled into fists on her lap. “Reporters get paid to find the truth, also, for your information.”

“No.” Anger flashed across his face. “They get paid to write stories that are biased and twisted to sell papers.”

“Sometimes,” she said, voice wobbling unexpectedly, “they save people, too.”

James shot her a startled look. “What are you talking about?”

She felt suddenly mortified that her emotions had bubbled to the surface. The head injury had scrambled up her feelings and weakened her self-control. She was not about to tell him her sad life story. “Never mind.”

He paused. “Your sister said your father was in jail.”

Madison’s heart thumped. “She told you that?”

“Yes. What happened?”

Madison felt the same sick sensation that always seized her when she thought about her father. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but she knew he could look up the whole sorry mess, and the shadow of softness in his voice somehow changed things. “My father killed my mother.”

“I’m sorry.” Another pause. “Did a reporter figure in his conviction?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mercifully, he did not push, but she knew his mind must be whirling as he mulled it over. How could she put into words what her father’s crime had cost her? Her mother, her identity, her trust.

She was relieved when they pulled up on Main Street. She got out of the car without a backward glance and hastened to the door of the bridal salon, ignoring the ripple of fear she experienced at being back there. No one is going to hurt you, Mads. James and Hawk trailed into the shop behind her.

Frances looked up from her file over the top of her reading glasses. She stiffened. “Ms. Coles. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.”

“If there’s anything I can do, any way I can make it up to you?”

“As a matter of fact, you can tell me about the salon. I’m writing a story for the Gazette about how the recent murders have affected business. That’s why I was trying to talk to you in the first place.”

Frances folded her hands on the counter, looking relieved. Had she expected another line of questioning?

“Business is slow. We struggle. Visitors are not as keen to come here with all the crime, and we weren’t a tourist destination in the first place. My sales are down since last year. The florist shop closed, which hurt my business, too. Bridal and floral go together.” She sighed, gesturing to the ivory walls. “The place needs painting, the carpets are worn and the light fixture in the sitting room doesn’t work, which discourages customers, but there’s no money to upgrade. Vicious circle.”

Madison couldn’t help herself. “Then why would that stranger, the one who hit me, come here? Surely not for robbery? You don’t have money to spare, as you’ve just said. Was there another reason he came to see you?”

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