Power of the Raven
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“Grit has problems,” he said, nodding. “So far, I’m the only one who can ride him. Grit’s an old rodeo horse that was about to be sold to a slaughterhouse when my foster father found him. Hosteen Silver never had a problem with Grit, but the horse wouldn’t accept any other rider, not without a showdown.”
“You’re good with horses, I take it?”
“For the most part, yeah,” he said without any false modesty. “Horses, like people, have different temperaments. Each one requires individual attention. Grit enjoys hassling my brothers and me,” he said. “It’s like a game for him.”
“I love animals. I don’t know where my life’s going to eventually lead me, but I’m sure of one thing. Animals are going to be part of the picture.” She wanted the conversation to continue forever. She liked hearing him talk and didn’t want him to go.
As they stood by his truck, Lori noticed Gene’s own reluctance to say good-night. Looking into his eyes, she realized that he was worried about her. The knowledge sent a pleasant rush of warmth through her.
“It’s really getting late. You better call it a day. I’ll be fine,” she said at last. “Sergeant Chavez promised extra patrols in the area.”
“Stay away from the windows and keep my phone number handy. I’m just a call and probably fifteen minutes away.”
Lori went back inside and made sure the door was locked and bolted. Still scared, she went into the kitchen, and taking an armful of pots and pans, stacked them near the windows and the doors. If anyone tried to break in, the pans would fall and make a dreadful racket. That would buy her time to run, or hide and call the police.
Lastly, she took her large butcher knife out of the silverware drawer. She’d be sleeping with that, her flashlight and the cell phone beside her pillow tonight.
As she went into the bedroom, her thoughts drifted back to Gene. Would it have killed her to invite him to spend the night? A man like that would not only have kept the intruder away, he would have made each hour an adventure to remember.
Yet even as the thought formed, she laughed. Casual intimacy just wasn’t her style. Her heart’s needs required more than a few hours of passion. For her, it would have to be all or nothing.
Her mother and father had gone from the perfect marriage to divorce—from love to hate. The shock of learning they were splitting up, and the painful aftermath, had left its scars. She’d never settle for the kind of love that came with requirements, boundaries or time limits.
She wanted it all and was willing to wait however long it took to find it.
GENE DROVE AWAY FROM THE house slowly. There was something about Lori Baker that had definitely gotten under his skin. Though she was afraid, she’d still managed to reach down into herself and find the courage not to back down. That alone was worthy of his respect, but there was a lot more to Lori than just that. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been drawn to her. She was a beauty, and the way she looked at him made him want to take on an army to keep her safe.
He’d spent a lot of years as the underdog and knew the pain and frustration it brought. The fact that he’d been the skinniest runt in the foster home had made him fair game to the bullies, and he’d been on the losing end of a lot of fights growing up.
Time had changed all that. Now he was over six feet tall, as strong as a bull and could stack seventy-pound bales of hay all day, if that’s what he had to do. Work had built up his muscles and he could hold his own in any fight.
Tonight he’d equalized the odds against her, but something continued to nag at him. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, something rare for him, he pulled over to the curb and called his brother Paul. “So what do you think?” he asked after updating him.
“The incidents could be related, bro, but what the heck are you doing getting involved in all that? No, wait—let me guess. She’s hot?”
“Man, you’ve got a one-track mind. Why can’t she be an ordinary lady who happened to ask for help?”
“Because you’re still worried about her. Face it, bro. Up till now, the only females you’ve been interested in have had manes and tails,” Paul said. “So she must be something special. What’s the lady’s name?”
“Planning on doing a background check?”
“Hey, you called me for advice, so let me do what I do,” he said. “Tell me everything you know about her.”
As Gene spoke, he could hear Paul typing away at his keyboard.
“Okay, I’ve got a description and address on that Bud Harrington guy. He’s five foot eleven, one hundred sixty-five pounds,” he said, then read off the address. “Drive by his house and see if anything in particular catches your eye, like a familiar vehicle. Just don’t go poking inside private property or I may have to bail your butt out of jail.”
Gene drove up the well-lit neighborhood street twenty minutes later. Bud Harrington’s house appeared to be an unremarkable, middle-class split-level home. The front had a well-tended lawn and several mature trees. For a home in town, it wasn’t half-bad.
Slowing down to look things over carefully, Gene noted that the porch light and a front room lamp were both on. He could also see at least three newspapers thrown on the porch, and letters and flyers sticking out of the mailbox. A late-model blue pickup was parked in the driveway, but judging from the leaves atop the cab and a tumbleweed jammed under the rear axle, it probably hadn’t been driven recently.
It was time to call it a day. He’d avoided going to his brother Preston’s apartment long enough. He hated downtime whenever he was away from the ranch because that’s when he’d start thinking of all the chores that needed doing back home.
Tonight was different. He’d have other things to occupy his thoughts. Lori Baker remained at the edges of his mind, tantalizingly out of his reach. He shook his head. The real problem was that he hadn’t had a woman in his life for far too long. That, all by itself, could scramble a man’s thinking. His life lacked balance.
GENE AWOKE TO SUNLIGHT playing on his face. He stretched, working the kinks out. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa, his legs on the coffee table, watching TV. He must have been more tired than he’d thought. As he got up, ready to undress and shower, his phone rang. He reached over and lifted it off the coffee table
“Hey, you awake, farm boy?” Paul said. “I’ve got some interesting information for you. Why don’t you come over to my place?”
Twenty minutes later Gene picked up four breakfast burritos from the Hen House up on Twentieth Street, then drove over to Paul’s.
They emptied the sack of food on the kitchen counter, loaded up their plates, then stepped over to the small dining table. A laptop lay open on one side and Paul took the seat by it.
“Are you sure Lori Baker’s worth all this trouble? There are a lot of unattached ladies out there, bro.”
“She needs a little backup right now. She’s getting picked on by someone who doesn’t fight fair, and I’ve never had a lot of patience with bullies,” Gene said.
“Okay, let’s see what I can do for you.” He went into the next room, then came back with a small leather case. “Here. It’s a photo ID I made up for you. Take it. It may come in handy.”
“Grayhorse Investigations,” he said, opening it. “So I’m a consultant for your P.I. firm?”
“Anytime you decide to give up ranching, you can come work for me.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” he said.
Paul sat down by his computer and typed for a moment before looking up. “Harrington’s bad news when it comes to women. Last month the police broke up a fight between him and the very protective father of a twenty-year-old college cheerleader he kept hounding for a date. Though Harrington could have pressed for assault, he apparently wasn’t big on making it an issue, either.”
“He definitely sounds like the stalker type, but I drove by his house and it looks like he hasn’t been there for several days. His pickup hasn’t moved for at least that long. Of course it’s possible he has a car or another home here in town, or maybe a girlfriend.”
“Nothing I could find,” Paul said. “I’ll tell you what. Bring the ID I gave you and let’s go have a chat with his neighbors, see what else we can find out about him.”
Gene hesitated. “You shouldn’t be out in the field yet, not with that gimpy shoulder of yours. If we run into a problem…”
“You can handle it,” Paul said with a wide grin. “I’ll stand back and keep score.”
Gene choked on his coffee. “Like you could actually stay out of any street fight.”
“We’ll find out. Let’s go. You drive.”
Chapter Five
Lori went to work early the following morning, hoping that if Bud Harrington was around, he’d show up too late to follow her.
Her supervisor, Jerry Esteban, would probably be thrilled to see her come in early instead of right under the wire. Punching in the entry code on the keypad lock, Lori let herself into the building using the back door and went straight to the break room. Her best friend, Miranda Hoff, was already there, sitting at the table eating a glazed doughnut.
Seeing Lori, she smiled. “Busted. I came in early so I could eat my doughnuts in peace.”
Lori laughed. “Charlie’s still after you to stay on that health food diet?”
She patted her huge belly. “The baby will be here in six weeks, and since he knows how much I love junk food he’s watched over me like a hawk.” She made a face. “If I see one more fruit smoothie or those green health food shakes of his, I may scream and traumatize our offspring.”
Lori laughed.
“But why on earth are you here so early?” Miranda asked, eyes narrowed.
Lori filled her in, and then ended the story by telling her about Gene. “He really stood up for me when it mattered.”
“Are we talking the tall Indian man with the cowboy hat who was at your window late yesterday afternoon?”
“You noticed?”
“I’m pregnant, not dead,” she said with a sly smile. “It’s like I’ve always said, the bad things in life often lead to something good.”
“You’re the eternal optimist,” Lori said.
Miranda looked at the clock. “Time to get out there. I wanted to clean up my workstation before we open.”
Lori watched her friend walk away. She envied Miranda. Charlie adored her, and Miranda was crazy about him in return. Now they were expecting their first baby.
She wondered if she’d ever find the focused, purpose-driven life she craved. Time marched on, and with each day that came, her hopes seemed to vanish under the glare of the morning sun.
Lori walked out into the main office and saw Steve Farmer, her coworker, and Harvey Bishop, their security man, sipping cups of coffee and watching people already gathering by the entrance. In five minutes Harvey would be opening the doors.
A man in a cowboy hat was standing just outside, and Lori thought about Gene, wondering when she’d see him again. On impulse, she decided to call his cell and invite him out to lunch today. She wasn’t the kind to sit idly by a silent phone wishing and hoping. The direct approach was more her style.
GENE AND PAUL WALKED DOWN the sidewalk toward Gene’s truck after talking to the last resident on Harrington’s block. “You really should consider a career as a P.I., bro. People open up to you without even thinking about it,” Paul said.
“No, that wasn’t it. Harrington’s neighbors don’t like him very much, and they’re hoping someone will drive him out of town.”
As he slipped behind the wheel of his truck, Gene’s phone rang. He picked it up and smiled as he heard Lori’s voice. “Where and when?” he asked seconds later.
When he hung up, Gene noticed the odd way Paul was looking at him. “Let me guess,” Paul said. “That was Lori?”
“Yeah, she wants to meet for lunch. She’s buying.”
“You’ve got it bad, bro. I hate to break it to you, but you’re going down,” Paul said, shaking his head.
LORI DROVE TO SIMPLE Pleasures, looking forward to lunch with Gene at her favorite Hartley restaurant. Though it was across town, the drive was well worth it.
Realizing she was early, Lori asked to be seated at a booth by the front window. She could watch for Gene from there.
As she glanced up and down the street looking for Gene’s pickup, she spotted a maroon van parked on the south side of the restaurant.
The driver got out and Lori held her breath. He was wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses and a Scorpions windbreaker. Absolutely certain that it was Harrington again, she reached for her cell phone and called the police.
“Has he made any threatening moves or tried to approach you?” the dispatcher asked.
“No, Harrington’s just standing there by his van, probably waiting for me to come back outside.”
“Stay inside the restaurant. You should be safe there. We’ll have an officer on the scene in twenty minutes. If anything changes, call back immediately.”
Frustrated, Lori closed the phone and leaned closer to the window, trying to get a better look at the man outside. It had to be Bud Harrington, but she couldn’t figure out why he was doing this to her.
Trying to follow the dispatcher’s instructions, she fought the urge to go outside and confront him once and for all. Yet it was such a busy street. What could he possibly do to her out in the open?
She started to get out of her seat, then sat back down. She’d need to warn Gene to stay away. Afterward, she’d go. Lori reached for her cell phone, called and told Gene what was happening. “Don’t come over. I’ll buy you lunch some other time. I’ve already been in touch with the police and there might be trouble.”
“Is he still out there?”
“Yeah, and I’m going to go have it out with him. He’s not going to attack me right beside a crowded street and I’m tired of this nonsense.”
“Stay where you are. Busy street or not, you can’t be sure what he’s going to do,” Gene said. “What did the police say their response time would be?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“I’m less than five minutes away. Let me handle this. I can hold him there for the police.”
GENE HAD JUST BEEN ABOUT to leave Paul’s apartment when Lori’s call came in. Placing the phone back in his jacket pocket, he gave his brother a quick update.
“Give me a chance to call my client and reschedule my morning meeting,” Paul said. “Then I’ll go with you.”
“It’s not necessary. If it’s the same guy I saw last night, I won’t have a problem.”
Paul, already on the phone, muttered a curse when he got put on hold. “All right, go. I’m going to need my own vehicle, so I’ll head your way in a few minutes.”
Gene ran to his pickup and drove away, mentally planning the quickest route to Simple Pleasures.
He made good time and all the lights, right up to the last intersection. When he stopped at the red light just down the block from Simple Pleasures, he saw the maroon van she’d described. A guy wearing a blue cap and a dark hooded sweatshirt with the Scorpions logo was leaning against the driver’s door.
The distinctive clatter of Gene’s big diesel engine made the man glance casually up the street. The second he spotted Gene’s truck the guy jumped into the van, and in a matter of seconds, the van had backed out of the slot and was on the move.
Pinned in by the cars ahead, beside and behind him, there was no way Gene could get through the intersection before the light changed.
Just then Paul called and Gene put the phone on speaker.
“He’s in the van now, heading toward the north end of the parking lot,” Gene said. “Where are you?”
“Coming up from behind,” Paul said. “I see you. I’ll go straight. You take the right turn and cut through the parking lot just in case he decides to turn east.”
“Gotcha.” Gene made a quick right, then a left into the front of the restaurant lot. Ahead, he could see the van cutting back left, right out into the street. Paul was now in the best position.
Gene had slowed for a stop sign when Lori suddenly rushed up and jumped onto the passenger-side running board.
“Let me in,” Lori shouted, tugging at the door handle.
He hit the button and the lock clicked open.
Lori jumped in, then scrambled for her shoulder belt.
“What is it with you and moving cars, woman? You’re an accident waiting to happen,” he snapped.
“Later. Let’s catch him before he gets away.”
Gene concentrated on his driving. He took the same route as the van, entered the next parallel street, then whipped left.
“I can’t see him anymore. There are too many cars,” Lori said, straining to see ahead.
“I’ve got him.” Paul’s voice came from the phone on the console. “He just passed through Ellison, still heading north. He’s in the center lane.”
“Great!” Lori said, looking down at the phone. “Gene, you didn’t tell me you were bringing backup.”
“No, Gene’s the backup,” Paul said over the speaker. “I’m the closest you’ve got to law enforcement here. You two are civilians, don’t forget that.”
Gene didn’t argue, focusing solely on closing the gap between him and Lori’s stalker and trying to beat the next light.
“Keep left, and I’ll take the right lane,” Paul said. “Whichever way he cuts, one of us will be in position to stay on his tail.”
“Done.” Gene raced along, sometimes throwing Lori back into the seat despite the shoulder harness and seat belt as he whipped around slower vehicles. Over the speaker, they could also hear Paul’s engine racing and tires squealing.
Gene could see the van now, as well as Paul’s Jeep. As he watched, Paul closed in.
The van ran a red light, barely missing a white utility truck. The utility truck driver, who’d spun the wheel trying to dodge a direct hit, came to a screeching stop. Gene had to stand on his brakes to keep from rear-ending a two-seater sedan not much bigger than a riding mower.
“Forget it. We’re screwed,” Paul said at last. “Traffic is snarled up here and I can’t get through.”
More vehicles entered the intersection on the cross street. All were forced to a screeching stop because the utility truck’s sudden maneuver had sent its ladder flying into the middle of the street.
“There goes Harrington,” Lori said, pointing. The van, now at the top of a low hill, disappeared to the east around a wide curve. “Can we turn right and cut him off?”
Gene looked over at her, then at the two full lanes of back-to-back vehicles on her side. “No way.”
“So he’s gone again,” she said softly, and leaned back in her seat.
“Paul, did you get a look at the plates?”
“I only got a partial, but I’m running the few numbers I’ve got against Harrington,” he said, then, after a beat, continued. “Looks like that plate might belong on his Ford pickup. Harrington doesn’t own a van.”
“Harrington had a blue pickup in his driveway,” Gene said. “But something doesn’t make sense here. Why would Harrington bother to switch the plates onto that van? The van didn’t point directly to him, but the plate does.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to me, either,” Paul said.
“I guess I might as well buy you lunch,” Lori said with a shaky smile. “You, too, Paul.”
“Not yet. We need to report this to the police. Let’s head over to the station. We’ll back up your statement, Lori,” Paul said.
“Afterward, we eat,” Lori said. “You guys have been terrific.”
“I’ll have to pass on that lunch invitation,” Paul said. “I’ve got to meet a client as soon as we’re done at the station.”
“Then it’ll be just you and me, Gene,” she said.
“Works for me,” he said, and smiled.
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