Chapter Fourteen
The following morning, Jack pulled open the glass door of the department and slowed abruptly when his eyes caught sight of Betty Lou behind the counter. Her laugh immediately filled the room as their eyes met.
“Retirement isn’t my style. I talked Sam into letting me work a few hours a day, three days a week,” she declared.
“Well, it’s good to see you back. We missed you,” Jack replied.
“You all better have,” she teased.
Jack chuckled before adding, “I’ll be in my office.”
As he turned to leave, Betty Lou’s voice trailed after him, “Jack? How’s it going for you?”
A sincere smile lifted his lips. “I’m glad to be home, and the job is great, Betty Lou.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
“Have a good day. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said.
“Alright, honey,” she replied.
Jack strolled down the hallway toward his office, every step echoing softly against the polished floor. As he neared the doorway to Sam’s office, he paused, raising an eyebrow when Sam’s eyes met his from behind a cluttered desk.
“Don’t even think about saying anything,” Sam muttered, his tone dry enough to spark a laugh from Jack.
“Somehow, I didn’t think she’d ever really retire,” Jack replied, his amusement evident.
Sam leaned back in his creaking chair, crossing his arms. “She only wanted to work part-time, and to be fair, she does a good job. Still, I’m going to have to hire someone else for the other two days and hours she’s not here. We never have anyone here on the weekends. If something comes up, people call me.”
“Then you call one of us,” Jack said with a grin.
“Exactly.”
Curiosity laced Jack’s voice as he asked, “How did she talk you into it?”
A sly smirk tugged at Sam’s lips as he shook his head. “She called my mother.”
Jack laughed. “She knows exactly how to get around you.”
“No shit,” Sam replied with a resigned chuckle.
“She is good at her job, Sam. You know that,” Jack remarked.
Sam exhaled slowly. “Yeah, she is. And since we haven’t found anyone else yet, I decided to let her come back.”
“I see. Well, I’m off to my office. I want to dig a little deeper and see what else I can find out about Colin Phillips,” Jack said, determination igniting his tone.
“Alright, Jack. Let me know if you uncover anything,” Sam replied.
“Yes, sir.” With that, Jack continued to his office. Once inside, he circled around the desk, pulled out his chair, sat down, and powered up his computer. The screen sprang to life as he keyed in the name Colin Phillips into the database. The details unfolded before him: Colin hailed from a very wealthy family, his father had passed away a year earlier, and his biological mother died when he was only ten years old, but it also listed a stepmother, who died three months ago. Jack’s brow furrowed. What connection did any of this have to do with Randi?
He dove deeper into the background of Phillips’ parents. As he scrolled through the files, he sat up straighter in his chair when he discovered that the stepmother’s maiden name was… Guthrie . Could it be that she was Randi’s mother?
Jack quickly pushed his chair back, stood up, and headed back to Sam’s office. He knocked lightly on the door frame, and, when Sam looked up, Jack stepped into the office and settled into the chair across from him.
“I think Colin Phillips could be Randi’s stepbrother,” he stated quietly, the gravity of the realization hanging in the air.
“Seriously?” Sam asked, his tone a mixture of surprise and intrigue.
“Yes. I know there are many people with the last name Guthrie, but doesn’t it seem odd that Phillips is bothering her now that his parents and stepmother are gone?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possibility. “Yes, and I don’t believe in coincidences. Find him, Jack. I don’t care if you have to stake out his motel room around the clock. This could be the link we need.”
“Alright, Sam. I’ll go check it out. I’ll see if he’s still there. If not, I’ll track him down,” Jack promised.
“I’ve put a BOLO out on him, but only to keep an eye on his movements. There’s no reason to bring him in just yet.”
“Okay, I’ll head to the motel and let you know if I find anything,” Jack replied, and Sam nodded in agreement.
Jack left the office and returned to his own, pausing to remove his hat from the peg as he passed. When he reached the lobby, he spotted Betty Lou engaged on the phone. He gave her a nod, then walked out of the department.
Stepping outside, he inhaled deeply, the air thick with the oppressive heat of early September. The stifling heat enveloped him as he jogged down a flight of steps toward his cruiser, cursing softly as he had to lower the windows while waiting for the air conditioning to cool down the vehicle.
Driving into the motel’s parking lot, he scanned his surroundings carefully. Despite his thorough look, Phillips’ vehicle remained absent. Jack parked near the main entrance, stepped out of his cruiser, and walked through the lobby. At the counter stood a young man, his expression focused behind the reception desk.
“May I help you, sir?” the man asked courteously.
“I hope so. I’m Deputy Jack Lawrence with the Clifton County Sheriff’s office. Has Colin Phillips checked out?” Jack inquired; his voice low.
“Let me check for you. Give me a minute, please,” the clerk responded with rapid keystrokes on his keyboard.
Jack waited, listening to the soft clatter of keys, his gaze shifting from the glowing screen to the clock on the wall. Finally, the young man looked up. “Sir? He has not checked out yet. He’s down for a three-week stay.”
“And when did he check in?” Jack pressed; his interest piqued.
“Two weeks ago. He was lucky that we had a cancellation,” the clerk replied, flashing a small smile.
Jack accepted the information with a nod. He removed his card from his wallet and handed it to the clerk. “Please call me if you see him come back, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this discreet,” he instructed.
“Yes, sir. But should we be worried about Mr. Phillips?” the clerk asked, eyebrows raised in genuine concern.
“No. Just give me a heads-up when he comes back,” Jack reassured him.
“I will,” the clerk promised with a respectful nod.
“Thank you,” Jack said, nodding as well, before turning and walking out of the lobby. He walked back to his cruiser; the mission clear in his mind as he drove off.
****
Randi rode the horse through the pasture, heading back toward the barn. She was bored again and it was driving her insane. She wanted to work. She needed to open her shop. Losing business was not making her happy one bit. She wanted her vehicle and wanted to open her shop. She would be safe inside.
The oppressive heat was beginning to wear on Randi, even for someone from steamy Alabama. Despite her hardiness, the unforgiving sun left her feeling utterly miserable, each drop of sweat a reminder of the relentless warmth. With a heavy sigh, she could feel her body still echoing the aches of an hour-long ride, a testament to how infrequent her adventures on horseback had become. Determined to change that, she knew the more she rode, the easier it would be on her muscles.
After cooling the horse, she strode across the yard toward the house, an unsettling feeling seized her; a tingling at the back of her neck, as if unseen eyes were tracking her every move. She paused momentarily and glanced around, the silent expanse suddenly bristling with the possibility of being watched. Shaking off the disquiet as mere paranoia, she reminded herself that Phillips couldn’t possibly have found her, could he?
Entering the house, Randi relished the cooler air, a welcome reprieve from the blistering sun. She strolled to the living room, sat on the sofa and turned on the TV. Checking her watch, a groan of frustration escaped her; it would be hours before Jack came home. The thought of a lengthy, idle few hours pressed in on her, especially when she knew that if she had her car, the day’s plan was already determined: head to work. She despised boredom, and the looming empty hours only fueled her urgency.
Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved her phone and quickly typed a message to Jack:
I want to get my car.
Moments later, Jack’s reply buzzed onto her screen:
Why?
Because I’m going to open tomorrow. I hate the thought of losing business. I will not stay in hiding, Jack.
I’ll have another deputy follow me in your car to my house. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I know it won’t do me any good to argue with you.
A grin spread across Randi’s face as she read his words.
You know me too well already.
I know it’s boring for you, but I’m just trying to keep you safe.
I know you are, but I’m losing money. He won’t come into the shop again, and there’s no way I’d let him in my apartment.
I have some information. I’ll tell you when I get home.
Okay. Do I have to wait that long to get my car?
I’ll try to bring it out around one. I’ll have to see who’s available at that time.
Okay. I’ll see you later.
Talk soon.
After a while, she pushed herself up from the overstuffed recliner and padded toward the door. A deep, restless boredom gnawed at her, compelling her to seek solace elsewhere. With an almost absent-minded motion, she reentered the barn, her footsteps echoing on the floor as she paused beside every stall that housed a horse. She lingered with each animal for several minutes again, sharing an unspoken quiet companionship born of solitude. There was nothing else to occupy her energy; staying cooped up at home was never her style. Her heart belonged to her work, her shop; a place brimming with activity and purpose, where the pulse of life truly resonated with her.
As she turned to exit the barn, her step faltered abruptly. In the dim light of the barn’s threshold, a solitary figure of a man emerged, silhouetted against the doorway. A shiver of dread raced down her spine, as if her blood had suddenly turned to ice. He had found her! Taking a slow, deliberate deep breath as if to strengthen herself, she fixed her gaze upon him while he advanced with a measured, almost predatory pace.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly under the weight of the tension.
“I told you, we need to talk,” he replied, his tone carrying an edgy insistence that brooked no refusal.
“You were told to stay away from me,” Randi snapped, her words slicing through the heavy charged air like a finely honed blade, each syllable sharp and reeking of indignation.
“And I said, we need to talk,” he insisted, his voice a rough guttural growl that vibrated with underlying menace.
“There is nothing to talk about!” she shot back, her voice filled with finality and an unyielding resolve.
“I want you to give me what’s owed to me,” he countered abruptly, his eyes narrowing into dangerous, predatory slits that promised unspeakable harm if defied.
“Owed to you? Why would I have something owed to you? Get out of here now,” she retorted, a tremor of fear edging her words despite her determined tone, “When Jack comes home, he’ll be absolutely livid at the thought of you trespassing on his property.”
“If you don’t give me what I want, he’ll really be pissed when he comes home and finds you dead,” he threatened, his words dripping with malice and the promise of violence.
Randi felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her skin cold and ashen. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest; each beat a desperate drum of caution as she stared him down.
“Killing me will send you to prison,” she said cautiously, attempting to steady her quivering voice despite the terror simmering beneath.
Phillips laughed, a sound that was as cold and hollow as an empty grave. “Look, I don’t want to have to hurt you, but unless we come to some sort of deal, I have no problem killing you. I’ve made plans. All I need is for you to give me my money,” he said, his tone carrying the chilling certainty of a premeditated act.
“I don’t have your money! I don’t know why you’d think I would, and I don’t know why you expect me to give you any if I did,” she replied, her voice rising in frustration, her fingers curling into tight fists as she struggled against the rising tide of desperation.
“Don’t give me that shit. You have plenty of money,” he shouted, his voice echoing through the barn with dangerous authority.
“I don’t know where you’d get such an idea. I live paycheck to paycheck. Between that and having a loan on my business, I don’t have much left over,” she murmured, her tone softening into one of sincere confusion that betrayed her inner conflict.
“I don’t believe you,” he spat, his voice laden with contempt.
“I don’t care whether you do or not,” she retorted firmly, her voice regaining a measure of control as she shook her head in exasperation.
“You really should,” he said, his tone a low, menacing rumble that vibrated with lethal intent.
“I don’t have money, and I’d never give it to someone I don’t even know,” she declared with unwavering defiance.
As he stepped forward, his looming presence became almost tangible, a dark specter forcing her back with every measured step. Her eyes darted toward the barn door, tallying her slim chances of escape, while her mind raced with desperate calculations.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, his voice heavy with menace as he plunged his hand into his pocket with deliberate slowness. From within, he drew out a folded pocketknife. In one swift, fluid motion, he flicked his wrist, snapping the blade open in a display that was as sharp as it was menacing, a silent promise of imminent danger that hung in the air like a threat of doom.
“Stop,” she commanded, her voice tense with incredulity. “Just tell me why you think I’d have money to give you.”
He stared at her for a long, heavy moment, his eyes narrowing as if weighing every syllable of hers. Finally, with a deep, measured breath, he said, “Because my stepmother was your mother.”
In that instant, she felt a pain in her heart, each word settling over her like a cold shadow. She shook her head slowly, as if still unable to reconcile the revelation. “I don’t know if she had money. I never truly knew her. She abandoned me the moment I was born. Thirty-eight years ago!”
“Ah, I understand now,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm, his expression twisting into a rueful smile. “She’s trying to make up for leaving you behind.” His head shook as he fixed her with a steely glare. “But I don’t care about that. What matters is that she left almost everything to you!”
Her voice trembled with disbelief. “What could she have possibly left me?”
Phillips exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and fervor burning in his eyes. “The house, cars, jewelry, and money. Tons of money that was supposed to be mine.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion and rising anger as he continued, “My father was a man of immense wealth, coming from money himself. My real mother died when I was ten, leaving just him and me together until your mother entered the picture. He married her twenty years ago. Right before he passed, he revised his will so that she inherited everything. And when she died—”
Randi’s gasp cut through the air like glass. “She… died? When?”
“A few months ago. Anyway, in the final arrangements, she left me a mere million dollars and granted the rest to you. That money is rightfully mine!” His voice boomed with anger.
Randi’s mind reeled as she shook her head, refusing to believe the unfolding drama. “Wait. Why weren’t her parents notified of her death?”
He shrugged nonchalantly; his tone dismissive. “How would I know? We barely spoke. I despised her.”
Her eyes flashed with indignation. “Clearly, she didn’t hold you in any high regard either. I mean, leaving you a mere million dollars as an inheritance,” she stated with sarcasm.
“That’s nothing compared to what you’re set to inherit… if you even survive long enough to claim it. If you happened to die before you inherit the money, then everything would be mine.” He offered a careless shrug, as though fate had played its indiscriminate hand.
Randi’s gaze hardened as she stepped back, her voice steady amid the storm of emotions. “I never forced her to include me in her will. I have no idea why she chose to, but I don’t want anything that came from her.”
His lips curled into a smug smirk as he leaned in closer, his presence dangerously invasive. “It simply doesn’t work that way. You can’t refuse what’s already been bequeathed to you. The will clearly states that you only forfeit your share if you’re dead. The same as her parents. She left them money too.” His smirk deepened. “I’d inherit most of it, if you all were dead.”
“You’d kill my grandparents too?” Randi’s voice shook at the thought.
“No. You have more than enough.”
“Wait, you said most? Why not everything?” she demanded, her voice rising in pitch as tension filled the space between them.
“Because she despised me too,” he replied, shrugging as if the explanation were as trivial as a passing breeze.
“Despised you? Why?” Randi’s voice was a mix of astonishment and fury, each word punctuated by her disbelief.
His shrug was lazy, dismissive, but Randi was sure he knew all too well the dark undercurrents of their tangled past. “It hardly matters, does it? She left me nothing—”
“She left you a million dollars , and that’s not nothing,” Randi shot back, her tone sharp as broken glass.
He took a deliberate step closer, his shadow looming menacingly as she instinctively backed away in fear. “And you got millions ,” he snapped, his words echoing off the cold walls.
Randi gasped, her eyes widening. “What?”
“I told you, my father was incredibly wealthy, and I know he’d want his money to go to his own blood, not you. That was his wish,” he added, his tone both bitter and resigned.
“Then he should have left it to you, not her. I have nothing to do with that twisted inheritance,” she argued, her voice trembling with both anger and sorrow.
“I want that fucking money,” he snarled, each word laced with venom and desperation.
“And I keep telling you, I don’t have it. I haven’t had any contact with my mother since she abandoned me. She left me with her parents, the only ones who ever cared, and I’ve spent my whole life wanting nothing to do with her.” Her words trembled with the weight of old wounds.
“Fine, then when you do get it, you can hand it over,” he retorted coolly.
“I’d donate it to charity before I’d let you have it. Clearly, you did something to force her to write you out of the will.”
“I told you, we despised each other. She thought she could simply replace my mother.” He chuckled before continuing, “She didn’t want you, so what makes you think she wanted me?”
Before the conversation could descend further into bitterness, Randi’s voice cut through the charged silence. “You need to leave. Jack is on his way home.”
“No, he isn’t,” he countered, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ve been watching both of you. He works until seven this evening, so it’s just you and me here, now.”
“Why haven’t I heard from an attorney?”
“I have no clue.”
Randi frantically swept her gaze across the dimly lit barn, desperately searching for anything she could use to defend herself. The shadows offered no solace, presenting only hay bales and tools that were out of reach. Taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart, she realized her only option was to flee. She had to run, run for her life, and call Jack.
Her eyes locked onto Phillips, and she could see the cold determination etched into his features. His eyes glinted with a ruthless resolve, willing to go to any lengths, even murder, to obtain that money.
“If you kill me, you won’t get the money,” she challenged, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of fear inside her.
“I’m not going to kill you… yet. I want you to get the money first,” he replied with a chilling calmness. “But, if it comes down to it, I’ll do what I have to. No one could prove I was the one who killed you.”
“You’re not thinking clearly. If you kill me, that money will be held until my death is investigated and since the sheriff’s department knows you were here, you’d be the first suspect. Especially after they find out about the inheritance.”
“I will get that money one way or the other.”
Randi’s hands curled into fists, her anger boiling over. “Fuck you!” she spat, spinning on her heel and sprinting toward the barn’s back doors. Her feet pounded against the cement floor as she raced against time.
Behind her, she could hear him gaining ground. Panic surged as his hand seized her ponytail, yanking her backward with a force that sent her sprawling to the floor. The impact drove the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping and struggling to rise, despite the stabbing pain that gripped her chest. As he rolled her onto her back and straddled her, she unleashed a scream, a desperate cry for help that echoed through the barn, though she knew no one would come.
Phillips reached for her arms, but she fought with every ounce of strength she had. Seizing an opening, she delivered a vicious punch to his groin. His groan filled the air as he doubled over and fell off her to the floor, providing her with a precious moment to scramble to her feet. Yet as she tried to dash away, his hand clamped around her ankle. With a swift kick to his face, she broke free, his head snapping back with the impact.
She ran again, adrenaline surging through her veins. But he was relentless, and when he caught her once more, he spun her around with a brutal twist. The glint of a knife was the last thing she saw before it sliced into her stomach, tearing a gasp from her lips as agony exploded through her, and she fell to the floor.
Clutching the wound, she pulled her hand away, the sight of the dark sticky blood staining her fingers made her feel physically sick.
“Call an ambulance,” she pleaded, her voice barely more than a breath as her shirt grew damp with her blood.
“I don’t think so. I wasn’t planning to do that yet, but it’s done now,” he sneered, towering over her. “You’re bleeding out. That money will be mine. You’ll be dead by the time your deputy gets home.”
“Please,” she whispered, her strength ebbing away as blood seeped from her body. She watched him walk out of the barn, leaving her to die alone. The realization was like a cold knife in her heart; he knew she wouldn’t survive.
Despite the searing pain, she fumbled for her phone, her fingers slick with blood. She managed to bring Jack’s number up, her lifeline, but as the edges of her vision darkened, the phone slipped from her grasp as her world faded to black, swallowing her in its depths.