Behind the Pines (The Gass County Series Book 3) Page 2

  “Listen to this,” she told him without breaking her stride. “You probably hear this all the time, so let me be the one to reassure you that it’s true: You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. With that, have a most wonderful day.”

  She folded the note back in the envelope and placed it inside her pocket. “So, I guess I’m cute, Brutus. Is the sender right?” Brutus barked and returned to the big cage Sunshine had built next to the trailer at the end of the circular grassy spot they called home. She watched Brutus joyfully slop over a bone she’d given him earlier and felt content over the peace in which they were then living. “This is great, love,” she said, watching him close his eyes in satisfaction. “You and me and the end of a road, nothing but nature and freedom.” She sighed and went in the cage for the work they’d both procrastinated about for the entire week, Brutus’s bath.

  Sunshine stood in front of the dog cage, surrounded by wild flowers, soaked in water droplets Brutus tossed in the air, shaking his fur after a not too successful bath, and tried not to second-guess her decision to leave a less manual job in California and reinvent her life, farm-style, for the thousandth time since she’s set foot in Primrose Valley, in the middle of fucking nowhere Midwest, less than seven months earlier.

  She missed her friends from the commune, and her Toyota she’d traded in for a train ticket east. She also missed things like hearing the ocean waves crash upon rocks along the beach, the daily dresses thanks to the never-ending warm sun, and the lazy days she could spend strolling around doing nothing.

  She did not, however, miss Anthony Haines, and ever since the Sundown Festival less than a year before, she’d regretted ever opening her mouth to say hello. A greeting had turned into a conversation that turned into smiles and late-night kissing on a vacant bench behind where a local band had set up stage. He hadn’t stopped when she’d asked him to, his hand had pried hers away, getting under her shirt and grabbing her bare breast before she’d bent the pinkie on his other hand in hope it would break. And it had.

  Sunshine shook away the awful memory and, with a towel hanging on a knob inside the cage, she wiped herself dry. For all the challenges, for all the doubt she’d given Primrose Valley, Sunshine knew she’d made the right decision moving away from her previous life and starting fresh. The employment given to her by Farmer Gert had been life altering and for the first time she felt like every other hardworking American—she had a full-time job and an income no one else would demand she split. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever had that.

  “Brutus, you know I don’t want to keep you in here, but since your talent of cattle herding is less than successful, you have to become accustomed to this cage. I’m sorry.” Sunshine closed the wood-framed door supported by two sheets of chicken wire which she had “borrowed” from down the road, where too many deer had torn an opening in the barricade intended to save drivers from wild animals.

  “On the bright side, you get to listen to birds and watch other animals from within your captivity without getting either of us into trouble. I think that’s as good as it gets, Mr. B.” Sunshine turned and walked across the driveway, the mixture of gravel and pine needles crunching with each step of her boots, bringing her farther away from the whining of her beloved Malamute. She couldn’t blame him or his adventurous nature when their surroundings were as breathtaking as a Swedish midsummer night, filled with wildflowers and green grass basking in the lazy sun at the end of a warm day. Her feet froze at the sound of tires on the narrow road to her trailer. The telltale signs of “flee and run” fueled her muscles, but her body refused to maneuver into “cover and hide.” The driver put his white cruiser into park and with a hand on his handgun he stood tall on the driver’s side of the vehicle. “Is he locked up?” He nodded at the hairy beast growling inside the large cage pushing its nose through one of the wider slots of the chicken wire.

  “What does it look like?” Sunshine’s voice came out harsher than intended.

  The sound of gravel crunching under his heavy boots echoed between them, birds chirping the only distraction.

  “Officer Brody Jensen, Primrose Valley Sheriff.” With his pen, he tapped the shiny name tag above an even shinier star decorating the left side of his chest. “I take it that’s your dog over there?”

  “You’re obviously Officer Smarty-pants of the bunch.”

  “Excuse me?” His eyes slowly turned from the black beast, who had gone from trying to lick his way out of the cage with what looked like a very sizeable tongue, to finding a better use for it by cleaning between his toes.

  “What do you want?” she asked, hands on her hips, shaking her loose strands of blonde hair back from her face.

  “Aren’t you . . .” He squinted back in the dog’s direction then back at her. “. . . the two villains who ran me over earlier this afternoon? Making me think I had met my last seconds on earth?”

  Sunshine sighed and rolled her eyes. “Wow! Smarty-pants and drama queen. It keeps getting better, Officer. And yes, we met earlier, but no, no one attempted to kill you. Can you please cut to the case, I’m kinda on my way somewhere.”

  Brody caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth and chewed hard, attempting to push away the anger and irritation boiling like a pressure cooker inside him.

  “Absolutely, ma’am. You’ve got not one, not two, but three complaints about your beast over in that cage. I can easily make it four, remembering how we met earlier today. I’ve got to file a report of disturbance and I need your information.” He sat the tip of the pen to his paper-covered clipboard resting in his hand.

  “Name, please,” he said, his voice stern as he noticed the woman’s eye rolling yet again. Women must have a talent for rolling their eye, he thought, and took another big bite of the inside of his cheek, tasting the slight flavor of blood.

  “Sunshine,” she said as a matter of fact. His pen halted above the paper.

  “Pardon me?” he said, his voice tired of tricks and runarounds with criminals. Fucking hippies with their lunatic names and offspring. Probably sucked too hard on that pipe and blacked out.

  His eyes framed her from underneath the wide brim of his Stetson. “Are you serious?”

  “Are you mocking me, Officer? Because I could record this conversation in a heartbeat and countersue you for harassment and trespassing!” She stood with her feet wide and her knuckles pushed hard at her hips.

  Furious was the first thing that came to mind when he looked at her. And pretty. Long strands of blonde hair, conveniently pulled back in a messy ponytail, dark-blue eyes, and light-brown freckles dusting a slim nose. Furious and pretty. A deadly combination he knew well to stay away from. Instead he sighed and repeated himself.

  “So, Sunshine you said?” He peeked up from his paper again, watching her. “Last name, please.”

  “Stevens.”

  He handed her the form. “Please sign with your initials on the dotted line at the bottom—S.S. right there.” He pointed at the line with his pen.

  “Oh, I’d rather not. I don’t like to refer to my initials. They remind me too much of Nazi Germany. But I can sign with a fingerprint, or maybe draw something to make my mark.” She smiled just, like the rays of the sun, up at him and wiped her fingers on the side of her T-shirt. His first bad move was to notice how pretty she was under all the pent-up hostility, his second mistake was to follow the slow movement of her fingers trailing up the side of her shirt. He instantly wondered just how sensitive her skin was under the fabric.

  “I’m sorry but, what?”

  “You know, S.S., as in the secret service police in wartime Germany? No, it doesn’t ring a bell for you, Officer? Shouldn’t you be well educated on social issues and policies in your profession?”

  “Watch it, lady.”

  “What am I? Seventy? You will address me as Sunshine and nothing else.”

  The flavor of blood had spread in his mouth and coated his tongue. The pressure cooker inside him would soon launc
h his hat off and blow steam from his ears. This woman, she was something else.

  He took a deep breath and once more held the paper out to her as she stared angrily back at him.

  “Sign.” His tone was low and pissed off.

  “Or else?”

  A mocking laugh escaped him and he placed both his hands on his hips, mirroring her, in disbelief of her less-than-coy question.

  “Or else I’ll cuff you and we’ll have the same conversation down at the station. Your choice.”

  Why was she contemplating signing the stupid paper? he thought. It was just a damn signature and he’d be out of her way in no time.

  After a few long, quiet seconds where Brody actually thought she might choose the latter and join him in his cruiser, she looked up at him with soft eyes.

  “Who sees that?” She pointed at the paper dangling from the clipboard.

  “I do. But if specifically searched for,” he continued, “the entire nation’s police force.”

  He noticed how she stared at the clipboard with wary eyes, her lower lip between her teeth. Obviously a nervous tick, just like his.

  “Fine,” she said suddenly and grabbed the clipboard out of his hand, jotted her initials on the assigned line, and handed it back.

  “Thanks to you, too, for your service and protection,” Sunshine said tersely, and looked at the dog cage. Brutus looked from Sunshine to Brody with the casual interest of a spectator at a slow tennis match.

  “Any time, ma’am,” Brody said before watching Sunshine turn and walk into her trailer and disappear behind the door. The force with which she closed it made dried pine needles fall like snowflakes from the roof and land gently on the ground.

  Brody looked down at the paper and was happy she’d come to her senses and signed it, then looked over at the dog cage that had turned quiet during their conversation, for obvious reasons. The dog was on his back, a hairy tummy enjoying the soft breeze, and deep asleep. Brody couldn’t lie to himself—that looked damn nice right about now.

  Officer Jensen was just plain irritating. No correct that, impossible and arrogant, Sunshine thought, watching from inside the trailer as he walked to his cruiser. Unfortunately, he was also a perfect example of hunky manliness with the ability to wake up all the senses she’d long before let die. Fascinated she watched his backside retreat—broad shoulders, narrow waist, lean hips perfectly accentuated by an excessively bulky gun, big boots going thunk thunk on the ground back to the car. Officer Jensen gave an amazing view, both going and coming, and biting her lower lip, she bet he’d look just as amazing coming in other aspects.

  Chapter Four

  “You’ve already succeeded, Brody. You can’t possibly get any fitter,” Jefferson Daily yelled into the opening of Brody’s garage, taking Brody by surprise from where he was hanging. Upside down, knees bent, crunching the hell out of his abdominal muscles that seemed to have faded in strength since he hit the big four-o. He hated being over forty, he hated growing old. Period.

  “Damn it, Jefferson,” Brody panted, holding a hand over his pounding chest. “You’re the third one attempting to give me a heart attack today. At least let me turn fifty and then I’ll let you go at it.” He unhooked his legs from above the metal bar and, with sweat dripping from his buzz cut and down the back of his neck, drenching his T-shirt, he walked over to drink from his water bottle.

  Jefferson sat back in one of the lounge chairs along the wall and crossed his ankles, sighing heavily. “You got any beer?”

  “Nope, haven’t been to the store, plus I’m trying to stay off those calorie punchers for a while.”

  “Give in to it, Brody. Beer and women are things to enjoy in life. And if you think a sudden shout of hello will give you a heart attack, you better hurry up and fill your house with both.”

  “So, you’re here because . . . ?” Brody ignored his friend’s philosophical drivel and leaned back against the workbench, downing more than half the bottle of water in seconds.

  Jefferson rolled his eyes and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly.

  “You’ve probably already heard the news that just went out at one end of the trailer that Ringmond Penitentiary has had the misfortune of an inmate escaping. Only fifty miles are between us and them.”

  “Didn’t know you were concerned about those things, Jeff. You have a gun, you can shoot.” Brody swallowed some more of the water.

  “Raylyn sent me.” Jefferson scuffled his shoes. “Not only do we have two small children at home, but with Raylyn taking the long-term sub job at the preschool, we’re both wondering what precautions we should take. Or, more so, what you are doing to prevent anything from happening.”

  “We don’t even know if the inmate has decided to make a run north, with the possibility of coming through here. I haven’t been notified except with an email statement. If anything, lock your doors and add another teacher at the preschool for extra guard when children are out.”

  “Do you know what he was convicted for?” Jefferson stood and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets.

  “Not important, Jeff. Just know there are probably a large number of people searching for him as we speak.” Brody turned quickly and picked up another set of weights, avoiding his friend’s worried eyes.

  “Conviction, Brody. Or I’ll just look it up myself. You’ll just save me some time if you’d tell me.”

  Brody closed his eyes and sighed heavily, then, without turning, he stated in a low voice, “Rape and murder of two teenagers. Third girl escaped, lost eyesight on her left side from two months of severe abuse. The convict smiled when he was caught, pleased he was able to do what had been done. I saved you from a brutal search of graphic images and violent reads. Go home, Jeff.” Brody turned slowly, putting the weights down on the floor. “And if I were you, I’d lock my doors, gas up my car, and load that gun. Understood?”

  “Thanks.” Jefferson was already halfway back to his car when Brody’s cell phone buzzed on the counter. The message read, “Gass County now part of manhunt, convict has not gone south. All areas north of state prison possible hideouts.”

  “Just great,” he sighed, and from a button inside the garage, he closed its door, blocking out the view of growing dusk down the calm street and beyond.

  * * *

  Sunshine stepped out of her car parked in the alley next to Galveston’s, the best-stocked feed store for miles around. Correction: the only feed store for miles around. Brutus, aka the Beast, enjoyed the open window from the backseat and sniffed the air, the long length of his tongue dangling with saliva from his open mouth.

  “You’ll stay here, big boy, while I go inside and get you some food. Understood?” She caressed the soft blackness on his head, his ears feeling like warm flaps of silk against her palm. “I’ll be back in just a second. Enjoy the fresh air. And remember,” she added, whispering close to Brutus’s face, eye contact of utter importance, “keep your eyes open for you-know-who.” She dangled the earrings she’d received in the mail the day before, the handwriting on the package the same as on the pink envelope intruding upon her mailbox not too long before. Another reminder of her beauty. She pushed away from the car door and looked at her dog, dark eyes glued to her blue. “Pushing it a bit much sending these, don’t you think?”

  For once she had been correct, the feed store had everything in stock that she needed. The bags of dog food were not too heavy and they fit well in the truck bed, despite the white bags of flour she had to deliver to the bakery.

  Holding Brutus when going on a walk had strengthen her muscles some but had not prepared her for hard labor on a farm and transporting large, heavy bags of fresh flour back and forth between the farm and town. Yet, someone had to do it, and she was happy not only to hold a job but to keep her inexpensive housing outside the farm fields. She swung herself onto the truck bed and hunched down to separate the flour bags from the bags of dog food.

  The building next door had a facade of str
ipped and preserved brown bricks. A large window wrapped around the side to the front and revealed a busy morning for the new baker at the town’s finest bakery. The rumor was he’d taken over, as the woman who had started the business was the same woman who’d romanced the hottest bachelor in town, only to corner him in bed one evening and try to blow his brains through the pillow. He’d been lucky to get away with his life intact, even if his psyche wasn’t so lucky. She’d heard he’d taken time off from his job as a dedicated and talented EMT at the local fire station with the hope of returning with full strength and a restful mind.

  The side door to the bakery swung open, jingling the small bell at the top of the door. “Great,” she sighed, shook her head, and bent down among the bags on the bed.

  “Hey, you, what are you doing in thispart of town? And—” Brody’s feet froze to the ground as he noticed Brutus’s large head sticking out through the window, eyeing the treat Brody carried from the bakery. A guy that fit couldn’t stop by the bakery for a morning treat, could he? But the sizable treat in his hand said differently. And so did his wide chest and narrow hips.

  “You scared me there for a second, Smarty-pants.” She couldn’t help herself. She stood up tall on the truck bed, brushed her blonde hair away from her face, and retied the scrunchie at the back of her head. “You seem to always be in my face.”

  Brody shook his head and clipped his sunglasses to the top of his starched shirt before taking a big bite out of his glazed doughnut and wiping his mouth with one of the paper napkins crunched up into a ball in his other hand.

  “Why are you always so fierce, Sunny?” He looked up and for a few seconds and they studied each other. Brody took a step forward and peeked over the edge of the truck bed, quietly counting the bags around Sunshine’s feet before he stepped back.