He was listening, but his expression betrayed no opinion. “People can be cruel. In my life, it’s been the women—the pretty, sweet and meek women—who were the sick ones.” His lips pressed together. “A girl did me that way—led me on and then threw me away like I was yesterday’s trash.”
He took a gulp from his bottle of beer and the vein at the side of his temple protruded. My story had gotten to him and now his own angst was fueling the fire.
The muffled sound of an argument at the pool tables reached my ears and I fought the desire to look over and see what was going on.
Brent placed his hand over mine and I froze. It took everything I had not to slam his face onto the counter.
He put his hand on my shoulder and the smell of alcohol wafted from his breath. I tilted my head.
“I have one word that will make you feel better. Revenge,” he whispered.
My heart pounded in my chest as he started to say more. But the tap on my other shoulder turned me around.
The guy who had ogled me earlier hung over me. His eyes were bloodshot and some foam of his last sip of beer was bubbling on his mustache.
“You’ve been monopolizing this…pretty lady for way too long. Why don’t you give…someone else a go?” The man’s words were slurred and my gaze narrowed on him.
Brent leaned back and chuckled. “It’s up to the woman to decide who she wants to talk to with. You’re too drunk to have any manners.”
I stared challengingly at the man who’d interrupted my suspect at the moment he seemed to be about to say something useful. I said with a low, threatening voice, “I’m not interested.” I jerked my gaze away and faced Brent.
“Hey, girlie, there’s no reason to be a bitch,” the man growled into my ear.
I would’ve been fine if he hadn’t placed his hand on my thigh when he’d leaned in. Instincts took over. I swiveled and slid off the stool and brought my knee up into the man’s groin. He gasped and bent over, clutching his balls.
A crash sounded behind me and I looked over my shoulder. I ducked in time to avoid the splinter of a chair streaking just a few inches over my head. A redheaded woman screamed, drawing my eye in her direction. A burly man, bare chested beneath a black leather vest, had pulled the young woman into a chokehold. Her makeup was smeared from tears as she tried to punch her captor. Another man of equal statue, with a long, gaunt face, had a handgun pointed at the struggling pair.
The words What the hell? flashed through my mind as I bent down to free my own 9 MM from its calf holster beneath my jeans. The game plan had changed. A woman’s life and everyone else’s in the bar, were in jeopardy. I had no choice but to reveal myself.
But before I pulled my pant leg up, I heard someone shout out, “Freeze, U.S. Marshal!”
Without me even noticing, Toby had left his stool and was only five or so yards from the commotion. His Glock was steady in his hands and aimed at the man holding the gun.
“Drop your weapon!” Toby called out, stepping closer.
People closest to the door ran for it and several others dropped beneath their tables. The bartender was nowhere to be seen and I imagined he was hiding behind the counter.
Two men stood to either side of the gunman and my eyes flicked between them. They each had a hand inside their jacket and I said a silent, Oh, shit, this isn’t good.
“No one invited a lawman in here—you’re out of your jurisdiction, cowboy,” the gunman said in a surprisingly level tone for the situation.
“Drop the gun and no one gets hurt. We can talk all about whatever problem you’re having when you lower your weapon,” Toby said in an equally calm voice. With his cowboy hat and his firearm held out in front of him, he looked like a character from an old western movie.
The gunman laughed and I saw the look pass between him and the man to his left. “I don’t think so,” he said.
The other man brought his hand out of his jacket and I saw the flash of steel. He lifted his arm, aiming at Toby, but didn’t get a shot off. Toby’s bullet hit him in the head an instant before the man gripping the woman shoved her aside and pulled his out own pistol. Several shots exploded, pop pop pop pop. The men crumpled to the floor. Toby was still standing.
My own Glock was in my hand, but I didn’t remember drawing it. The freed woman scurried across the floor to the side of the man Toby had shot. She held his bloody head in her hands. With his gun still out, Toby stepped lightly until he reached the men who’d shot each other. His gun was trained on the only man not shot in the group who stood to the side with his hands up. Toby’s eyes flicked between the men and he didn’t see the redhead grab up the pistol off the floor.
“You done killed him!” she screamed.
Toby didn’t have enough time to reposition to make the shot.
But I did. My vision tunneled on the woman and the familiar black void formed, leading straight into her chest. I fired and the woman fell over on top of the man she had just been holding.
Blood spread out beneath the bodies on the floor.
“What the hell is going on in here?” John shouted from the doorway. His firearm was drawn and his eyes darted around the room.
A woman was crying and a man cursed. Patrons began standing and inching away from the bodies. Sirens wailed outside the bar.
“Everyone, hands up, over to the wall,” Toby shouted.
I didn’t lower my gun until the police arrived, and then I finally turned back around. Brent was gone.
Toby moved to my side. “Where’s Brent Prowes?”
I rubbed my temple, and then pointed at the door behind the bar that was flung open.
“Dammit,” Toby muttered.
“So much for being discreet.” John frowned at the bodies on the floor.
When the Lancaster sheriff approached us, we flashed our badges. “You three have a lot of explaining to do,” he said.
Toby rolled his eyes my way. “It’s going to be a long night.”
When I glanced back at the empty stool where Brent had sat, goosebumps rose along my arms. I had the sinking feeling in my gut that the worst part about the night was that he’d slipped away into the night.
18
Sunlight streamed in the window, warming the side of my face. Murmurs of quiet conversation and the clinking of silverware on ceramic filled the dining room. I glanced around at the other guests, an English couple and two Amish families, envious of their carefree morning.
John stirred his cup of coffee and looked up. “We caught a lucky break last night.”
I brought my cup to my mouth, savoring the warm coffee aroma before I took a sip. I raised a brow and peered over the cup at the marshal. “How so?”
“You two stumbled into a drug turf war. Early this morning the feds called me about the deceased.” He nodded his head at Toby, who was paying more attention to his scrambled eggs and pancakes than listening to his partner. “We found out from his fingerprints that the man Toby shot was a fugitive our Los Angeles office has been hunting since 2012. He was involved in another drug deal out west that left three people dead. One of them was an undercover cop.” He poured more cream into his cup and stirred. “So you can only imagine how ecstatic law officers from several agencies are that we finally got our man.”
I glanced back out the window. A line of colorful Amish dresses hung on the clothes line and flapped gently in the breeze. There had been a steady sound of clip clopping hooves on pavement outside. It was a busy morning in the Amish town.
I set my cup down. “What are the chances that a random, last minute idea to go undercover to talk to Brent Prowes would turn into a shootout where one of America’s most wanted was shot dead?”
“Not very.” Toby finally joined the conversation. “Maybe we should buy a lottery ticket today.”
I ignored his comment and turned to John. “Did you have any
problems explaining my involvement in the case?”
Toby’s fork paused in front of his face as he looked at his partner.
John blinked and sipped from his cup. “I didn’t tell them everything—yet. We have an interview with the feds this morning and another one with the locals this afternoon. It won’t be a problem. No one was too concerned with the reason you were in there—they were too busy reveling in the outcome.”
“What about the woman I shot? Any news about her?” I asked.
“She had a rap sheet a mile long. Drug charges involving a meth lab in her kitchen and resisting arrest to name a couple. Her kids were taken away from her a year ago when social workers intervened.” He offered a small, encouraging smile. “She wasn’t a nice lady. The world won’t miss her.”
“You’d think that would make me feel better.” I toyed with the eggs on my plate. “It doesn’t.”
“You had no choice. She would’ve shot me dead,” Toby spoke up.
I waved my fork in the air. “I have no remorse for killing the woman. She brought it on herself.” I shook my head. “It feels like I’m a crime magnet or something. I can’t even go into a bar on what should have been a little easy undercover work without having to shoot someone.” I pushed my plate away and exhaled. “And Brent Prowes got away.”
John crossed his arms over the burgundy table cloth. “With all the hoopla, I never got a chance to ask you if you got any information out of him before all hell broke loose.”
I glanced at Toby, who had finally finished eating and put his fork down, his fingers laced in front of him. His eyes darted around the room before they settled on me again.
“I managed to hit a nerve with my made up story. He related with it and even gave me some advice.”
“What advice?” John asked.
I flipped my hair back. “Basically that revenge would make me feel better.”
“Are you serious?” Toby scooted his chair closer and dropped his voice. “That kind of attitude clearly shows the guy’s penchant for violent behavior.”
“And that he’s not the forgiving type,” John added.
I kneaded the back of my neck and frowned. A pair of Amish teens in matching light blue dresses walked by and I paused until they were out of earshot. “Knowing the guy holds a grudge doesn’t incriminate him in Buddy’s murder. He was about to say more, but didn’t get the chance.”
“We also have to see what we can find out about Danny Bach. His name has come up twice now and we still don’t know a thing about him,” Toby said, not realizing his words had made my heart skip a beat.
“That will have to wait.” John drank the rest of the contents of his cup and set it down. “I think we should focus on Brent Prowes for the time being.” He stared at me. “Toby and I will question him later. It’s not safe for you if he finds out you’re a sheriff who was playing him. We’ll take it over from here.”
Daniel’s face sprang to life in my mind and I glared at John. “I’m too invested in this case to walk away now. I think we’re close to a breakthrough.”
“It’s going to have to wait until all the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed regarding the bar shooting. It’ll be a few days before we get all the paperwork done,” John said.
“I see how it is. You guys got another fugitive and now you’re satisfied.” I snorted.
Toby’s eyes widened as he shot a hard look at John.
“Stand down, Sheriff. I never said I’m done with Buddy’s case, just that it’s temporarily on hold,” John said stiffly.
“While you’re taking care of federal business, I can continue the Buddy Prowes investigation on my own,” I suggested.
John shook his head and his mouth thinned into a tight line. “Absolutely not. If the perps last night were only two-bit criminals, we would have all been in serious trouble. It’s a warning to step back and take deep breath before we proceed. It’s a cold case after all. I only took it up because it was important to Jim, and we had some time on our hands.”
My stomach churned and I eyed Toby. His face was frozen in a grim line and I knew I wouldn’t get any support from him.
“You’re making a mistake. If Brent really did kill his own brother, there’s a fair chance he’ll snap again. Are you comfortable taking that chance?”
“He hasn’t done anything in over fifteen years. I don’t think a few days are going to make a difference.” He stood up. “You already made your statement to the local authorities. Why don’t you go home—we’ll call you when we get everything tied up with the bar incident.”
I stared up at John. Was he really dismissing me like I was a child? My face burned, but I held my tongue.
“Good. I’ll see Jerimiah about paying for meals and the accommodations.” He turned to Toby. “Why don’t you get the files together and meet me in the car?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Toby dipped his hat.
John looked back at me. “I’m sorry it went down this way. You helped us out a great deal and I appreciate you investing so much time in our case. Have a safe trip home.”
When John rounded the corner, I grabbed my purse and began to rise, but Toby’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Hold on a minute.” He reached across the table and picked up John’s satchel and the file folders strewn out around it. He dropped the files into the leather case and stood up.
“You forgot one,” I said, staring at the lone file still on the table.
Toby held up a finger to his mouth, and with his free hand, he flicked the file, pushing it off the table. It landed on the vacant chair. A few papers stuck out.
“Oops, I must have dropped one of the files in my hurry to get back to the sheriff’s office and all the exciting paperwork awaiting me there.” His fake smile broadened. “I learned a long time ago to always follow through on my instincts. Worst thing that ever came of it was my pride being hurt. Best thing was that I saved a life or two.” He dipped his hat. “Until next time.”
My heart pounded as Toby disappeared through the door. I looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to me. A small Amish girl about three years old at the nearest table caught my eye. She stopped chewing her food and waved at me with a little hand.
I returned the wave and then she giggled and went back to eating. When no one else was paying any attention, I bent over and snatched the file off the chair. I flipped through it quickly, stopping on the page with Brent’s name on it. All his information was there, including his home address. I could have had Todd dig up what I needed to continue the case, but it might have compromised my standing with John if he found out. Toby had given me what I needed to move forward, and in a subtle way, his blessing to do so.
I tucked the folder into my bag and startled when I looked up to see Martha standing there.
“Did you enjoy your breakfast?” She picked up the dirty dishes off our table, balancing them in her outstretched arm.
“Very much. You’re a great cook, but then every Amish woman I’ve met has been,” I told her. The two Amish families rose from their chairs and began filing out of the room, chatting on the way out.
“Are you here for the wedding?” I met Martha’s gaze and my face must have shown confusion because she went on, “I mean, originally I thought you and the two men were business guests, but when you just mentioned that you’re familiar with our cooking, I thought you might be here for the wedding.” When I didn’t say anything and continued to stare at her, my mind jumping with thoughts, she added, “I’m sorry to pry. It’s none of my business.”
“The wedding’s today?” I mumbled.
“Yes, it is.” She glanced at the wall clock. “It begins in about an hour.” She thrust her chin at the doorway. “The Schrocks and the Masts are heading over there now. They have a driver with a van and they said I could ride along with them, since Jerimiah has to finish up a few things here and
will more than likely be late arriving.”
I rubbed my forehead and swallowed, trying to calm my pounding heart. “You’re right on both accounts. I came here with my partners for business, but I’m also a friend of Miriam’s. I’ve been so busy I forgot all about the wedding.”
Martha lowered her voice and puckered her lips. “Jerimiah said the two you’re with are lawmen. Did you hear about the shooting across town last night?”
I furrowed my brow. “For not having television or radio, I’m surprised you know anything about it.”
“Seth Hershberger stopped by early this morning with the news. He was on his way to deliver a couple of pups to a neighbor.” She blushed, looking embarrassed. “You’d be surprised. News travels quickly around here.” She shook her head. “Such a tragedy. The woman’s name was Daisy. She used to drive the Amish into town occasionally. But then she got into some mischief and wasn’t as dependable, so we stopped calling her. I pity her children.” She shook her head. “Some people are self-destructive—they can’t seem to help themselves. At least no innocents were hurt this time.”
She glanced at the clock again. “Do you mind letting yourself out? I don’t want to miss that ride. One of the fellows you were with paid for your room along with his. You can leave the key on the desk—” she tilted her head “—unless you’re staying another night?”
Martha’s face blurred as her words played over in my mind. Some people are self-destructive—they can’t seem to help themselves.
I blinked. “I’m not sure about another night.”
“The room isn’t booked, so if you need it, it’ll be available.” She tucked a few loose hairs up under her cap as she backed away. “You’ll want to arrive at eleven-thirty to catch the end of the service. Dinner is served just after noon.”
“I misplaced the invitation—where is the ceremony being held?” I lurched out of the chair.
“It’s at the Coblenz’s farm. Traditionally, our wedding ceremonies are held at the bride’s home. See you there.” She smiled and hurried from the room.