He looked at her, his gaze ravaged. Part of her, the foolish part that insisted on still loving him, on praying for an explanation that would make her forgive him one more time, wanted to reach out and touch his face, soothe away the desperation pulling the skin tight against his bones.
“Come inside. We’ll talk.” He walked up the stairs past her and pushed the door open for her.
A small scream escaped. Was that her? Then Hunter rushed past her and the nightmare took on a new dimension and hurtled her down a dark abyss.
Chapter Nineteen
Meredith’s scream echoed off the walls of the dark office. The only light filtered in from the open door and cast a murky shadow over the prone body laid out on the floor.
“Dammit!”
Hunter raced inside and skidded to a stop on his knees next to Jenkins, grabbing the young man. Somewhere behind him Meredith lit a lamp and the weak light edged over the body of his deputy.
“Jenkins!” He turned him over. A deep gash cut into his forehead and left his blond hair crusted with blood. A small pool had soaked into the pine slats beneath him.
“Jenkins, wake up.” He gave him a shake. A low moan seeped out and his eyes flickered before closing again. Relief swept through Hunter. He was alive.
“Yucton,” Jenkins mumbled, his head falling to one side. An unmoving lump filled the prisoner’s bed.
Hunter leaped to his feet and ran to the middle cell but Meredith had beaten him there. The door swung open on its hinges. A quiet creaking noise filled the room. He tried to stop her from pulling the blanket back, but she ignored him.
She staggered back. It wasn’t Bill Yucton beneath the blanket.
Even in the pale light, he could see the sickly pallor of her ivory skin as she stared in horror at Wallace Platt’s lifeless body, a surprised expression forever locked in his dead eyes.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the cell and into his arms, but she fought against him, pushing him away. She didn’t want his comfort. She didn’t want him. He’d destroyed any trust he’d rebuilt in one fell swoop and this time, there would be no pardon, no second chance.
“Where’s Bill?” Her voice cracked and her eyes shot daggers into his as if somehow he would know. “Where is he? What have they done with him?”
He held out a hand to calm her, knowing it was useless. “I don’t know.”
“We have to find him!”
“We will.” That was a promise he intended to keep.
Whether Bill would be alive, however, was a different thing altogether. He didn’t make any promise in that regard. He’d lied to her enough for one day.
Meredith shook off the paralysis wrought by seeing Mr. Platt’s dead eyes staring into hers and rushed over to Rory Jenkins. The deputy had taken a nasty hit to the head but he was alive. She issued a swift prayer of thanks, then gently tapped the deputy’s face.
“Rory? It’s Meredith. Can you wake up?” He opened his eyes again.
“Head hurts.”
“I know. We’ll take care of you.” She tried to keep the urgency and fear out of her voice with mixed results. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Rory closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his head to probe the injured area. Meredith stopped him. She didn’t need him doing further damage or making the area bleed again. Based on the pool of blood on the floor, he’d lost enough.
“Don’t know. Was sittin’ in front of Bill’s cell. He was tryin’ to teach me how to play chess. Heard a shot and was gonna investigate, but he told me to stay put. I told him I could make my own decisions, then the door burst open. ’Fore I could draw, they got the drop on me. Bill okay?”
Hunter knelt down on the opposite side of Rory. “Did you see who it was?”
“They wore masks, but I swear one of ’em sounded just like Roddy Lewis.”
Meredith glanced over at Hunter. Roddy Lewis worked on Vernon’s ranch.
“Anything else?”
The deputy shook his head then winced, regretting the motion. “Is Bill okay?”
Meredith took the handkerchief from her reticule and pressed it against Rory’s wound. “He’s missing. But we’ll find him, don’t you worry. For now, though, we need to get you looked after.” Fear clawed at her insides. What if it was already too late? What if Bill had met the same fate as Wallace Platt?
No. She couldn’t think like that. If they had wanted Bill dead, it would be him in the middle cell with a bullet through his head instead of Mr. Platt. If they took him alive, they must need him. Maybe they believed he knew the whereabouts of the evidence Pa had hidden. It might buy them some time.
“C’mon, let’s get you over to Doc’s,” Hunter said, interrupting the thoughts racing through her head. He bent and helped Rory to his feet. The young deputy wobbled, his balance shot from the knock to the head. Hunter staggered under the bigger man’s weight as he readjusted his stance to keep them both upright. His foot knocked against the turned-over table, scattering chess pieces across the floor. The chessboard, which had been teetering on its edge wobbled, then toppled over with a bang.