Chapter Twelve
Rawley threaded his Silverado through the late-afternoon traffic, the roar of engines and relentless honking rattling against the cab. He kept a steady grip on the wheel as he pressed the steering wheel button to call Skylar.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi, baby. Are we getting together tomorrow night?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I love staying in with you. I just hate leaving Cosmo every weekend.” She sounded like she was torn between love and guilt.
Rawley watched a semi thunder past, its wake rattling the pickup’s frame, but it wasn’t a Peterbilt. “I know, but I don’t want my dogs alone. They’ll think I abandoned them.”
“Bring your dogs here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes. I’m sure they’ll chase Cosmo for a while, but I bet they’ll become friends.”
He chuckled, imagining his two dogs circling her cat. “Or they’ll eat him.”
“What?” Her voice sharpened, alarmed.
“Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I’ll swing by home first. Should be there by six.” He watched the sun sink lower, painting the sky blood-orange.
“Could you get some burgers?”
“Sure. Your usual?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay. Talk soon. Sleep well.”
“You too.”
He tapped the button, ending the call. The Silverado rolled into his driveway, crunching over gravel.
He stopped so he could get his mail. He killed the engine, stepped out into cold, early-evening air.
The sun hung low as he crossed the deserted road, boots clicking on the smooth asphalt, and swung open the old metal mailbox door.
Inside lay only a lonely spider web strung between the hinges.
A low rumble startled him. From behind, a red Ford F-150 pickup with oversized mud-caked tires that lifted it nearly half a foot off the ground slowed to a crawl.
The tinted passenger window dropped with a lazy electric whir, and a familiar face emerged, thin-lipped smile twitching, eyes as cold as winter steel.
“Well, if it isn’t Agent Bowman,” the man said, voice steady. The man’s gaze drifted over the empty fields. “Nice area out this way. Quiet. I bet no one hears much if something goes on out here.”
Rawley placed his hand over his weapon. “Move along before I make you,” he snarled through clenched teeth.
The man’s laugh cut through the air. He touched the brim of his hat gunned the engine and drove off. The sedan behind him stopped and waved Rawley across. He bolted to his truck, slammed the door, and tore up the driveway, gravel exploding behind him like shrapnel.
“Fuck!” he roared, smashing his fist into the steering wheel and white-hot pain lanced up his arm. Now the bastard knew exactly where to find him.
Rawley sat hunched at his desk and clicked through file after file, waiting for the program to confirm what tires matched those treads, when abruptly the display froze on an image of pickup truck tire treads.
A low hum rose from the printer as he tapped ‘Print’.
Leaning back, he pushed his chair away, rose to his feet, and stalked toward the whirring machine.
“I’ve got you now, you son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenched. He folded his arms and impatiently watched the paper slide into the tray.
Just then, Agent Saunders strolled in through the door, removing his cowboy hat and hanging it on the coat rack. He hauled out the chair from under his desk and dropped into it.
Rawley returned to his desk, paper in hand. “Rough night, Laramie?” he asked.
Laramie ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “I didn’t get much sleep. This case is kicking my ass.”
Rawley flicked the printout at him. “Not just yours. But I finally got information on what those tire tracks fit. Now I need to trace where those tires were bought. They’re for Ford F-150 trucks.
Exactly what those men drive. It’s red, sets high and that would get them through mud or anything else. ”
Laramie nodded. “There probably aren’t a lot of those around here.” He toyed with a paperclip.
“I was pulling into my driveway, walked across the road to get the mail, and that prick rolled up beside me. He must’ve been heading back to town but coming from where, I have no idea. There are a lot of cattle ranches out that way.”
“Shit, Rawley,” Laramie warned, folding his arms. “They know where you live. Be damn careful. They could have been out scouting for their next victim.”
“I thought the same thing. I’ll be as careful as I can be.” He headed to Dave’s office, rapped on the glass door, and waited.
Dave waved him in from behind a towering stack of case files. “What’s up, Rawley?”
He laid the paper on Dave’s desk. “Those tire tracks in the pasture, they match these exactly.” He explained about the red pickup.
Dave leaned back. “We still have to follow protocol. We can’t pull that truck over unless he actually breaks the law.”
“I know, damn it, Dave. But now he knows where I live.” Rawley’s voice dropped to a whisper as he explained the confrontation.
Dave’s eyes flicked with concern. “Be damn careful. Especially since they know something’s up.”
“Yes, sir. I will.” Rawley looked at his watch. “Hey, I’m heading out for lunch.”
Dave rubbed his temples. “Alright. Grab me a burger while you’re at it? I’m here until quitting time.”
“Sure.”
“Just tell Connie my usual.”
Rawley left the office, collected his hat, and crossed to the elevator. When the doors slid open, he froze, his father stood inside in a charcoal suit, arms folded.
“In or out, Agent Bowman?” his father asked, stern yet calm.
Rawley stepped in. “Heading to lunch, Your Honor?”
His father’s gaze softened for a moment. “Not quite. I need to speak with Judge Carlton.”
“Carlton?” Rawley frowned. “That man is far from my favorite.”
J.B. sighed as the elevator descended, fluorescent lights gliding overhead. “I know you don’t like him, Rawley, but he’s fair.”
“I disagree,” Rawley said, leaning against the polished wall. “He’s stubborn. If he thinks someone’s guilty, no argument will change his mind. He’s handed down harsh sentences, like for those two kids last month.”
“How are they supposed to learn it’s wrong, if they don’t face consequences?” his father asked.
Rawley crossed his arms, remembering Gibbs and Tillman ordered community service instead of jail.
“Some of them do learn. Case and I knew those two we arrested had made a mistake, got in too deep. They’re genuinely sorry and they won’t do it again.
Good people can do terrible things, but they can change. ”
His father stared at him as the elevator chimed as the doors slid open. Rawley waited for his father to step out into the bright hallway, then he folded his arms, leaned against the wall, and grinned.
“Have a good day, Your Honor,” Rawley said while touching the brim of his hat, then chuckled when his father laughed and shook his head.
“You’re just like your mother,” the judge said as he walked down the hallway.
“I see nothing wrong with that,” Rawley called out.
“I don’t either, son. Have a good day.”
Rawley grinned as the doors slid closed, then the elevator descended one more floor. After the doors opened, he stepped into the lobby, walked to the doors, pushed one open, and stepped out into the frigid air.
Pulling on the door of the diner, he entered and the locals waved or called out to him.
He gave them a quick nod, then sat at the counter.
After placing his and Dave’s order, he spun around on the stool, put his elbows on the bar behind him and glanced around.
He could see a few people in the back booth but only the tops of their hats.
He turned back around when he heard Connie pour him a cup of coffee.
“Thank you, Connie. It’s cold today.”
“Yes, hon, it is. It’ll be Christmas before we know it.”
“I know, and I bet you already have some gifts bought, don’t you?” Rawley cocked an eyebrow.
Connie laughed. “Honey, I’m done.”
“Damn, Connie. I don’t even know where to start.”
She leaned her hip against the counter. “Are you buying Skylar something?”
“Yes, but please don’t ask me what because I have no clue.”
She laughed again. “I’m sure anything you give her; she will love it. Ask someone who knows her well.”
“Yeah, I could do that,” he murmured.
Connie patted his hand. “Poor Rawley. In love and no clue. That’s most men.” She walked off.
Rawley watched her enter the kitchen. Love? He wasn’t in love. Was he? Well, hell. Now what?
****
Skylar and Ryan walked along the sidewalk, stopping to look in windows. Tomorrow was finally Friday, and she was anxious to see Rawley. She just wanted to be with him.
“Where are you?” Ryan said as she elbowed her.
“Just thinking.”
“About Rawley?”
“What else?” She stopped walking and Ryan did too but tilted her head. “I’m so in love with him. I don’t know what to do.”
“Do? What do you mean what to do?”
“Do I tell him—”
“No. Absolutely not. You’ll make him panic if he doesn’t feel the same way.”
“You told Seth first.”
“Because he was so damn frustrating. This is different. You and Rawley are just getting started in your relationship and it’s going well, so just wait a while.” Ryan shrugged. “Personally, I think he is in love with you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you at the cookout.”
“He can turn me on with just a look.” Skylar shook her head. “No man ever did that to me before.”
“Trust me, I know how you feel. Even when Seth and I were at each other’s throats, he was so friggin’ hot.” Ryan laughed.
“I haven’t seen Rawley angry yet. I mean, he was pissed about those men following us, but he was so calm about it.”
“That’s the law enforcement training.”
“Yes, I think so too.” Skylar stopped. “Oh, we have to go in here. You have got to see the dollhouses.” She pulled the door open and stepped inside the store, Timeless Treasures.
“Oh, my. Look at this place,” Ryan said as she glanced around.
“Hi, Skylar.”
“Maggie, hi. This is my best friend, Ryan Carroll. Ryan, this is Maggie Lancaster.”