Salvation in the Sheriff's Kiss(81)

Maybe if she’d known the kiss Hunter gave her when he left Doc Whyte’s to find Bill was to be her last, she would have accepted it with more grace. Pulled him a little closer, kissed him a little harder.

Maybe.

Now it was too late.

Having a gun pointed at your back and no way to escape could put things into stark perspective for you. Not that Hunter didn’t have a lot to answer for, but suddenly, she realized she wanted to hear his explanation, weigh out his reasoning and balance it against the hurt it had caused. She wanted the chance to know if she could get over it, find a way to walk past the hurt and eventually leave it behind.

All the things you never think about in the moment when the hurt is happening and your only reaction is to pull away, lash out. Shut down.

She stopped walking backward. She swallowed her fear and turned around. If they were going to kill her, they could look her straight in the eye when they did it.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, I think that’s obvious, don’t you?” Laidlow walked over to the table and set his lamp on top of it, turning up the wick to spread a pool of light across the floor. She stood just outside its reach.

“What’s obvious is that you’ve broken into my home and are now holding me hostage at gunpoint. I’d like to know how you’re going to explain that one to the authorities should anything happen to me.”

Laidlow laughed causing his jowls to vibrate. “The way I see it, no one will be the wiser. Tyrone will put a bullet through your head and a gun in your hand. We’ll ride away and it will look as if you couldn’t cope with the disappointment of your family name ruined and your business proposal rejected. Quite sad, really.”

“You’ll leave a trail. People will know I wasn’t alone.”

Laidlow gestured toward the window. “It’s snowing, my dear. Our tracks will be well covered by the time anyone thinks to come looking for you.” Her gaze flitted toward the window to her left. True to his word, the snow fell in fat flakes obscuring her view of anything beyond the hill that led down to the homestead. It was as if Fate conspired against her, giving Laidlow every opportunity to pull off what he needed.

“Hunter will—”

“I wouldn’t hold out any hope your sheriff will come. I took care of that little issue.”

Fear strangled her, making it difficult to get the words out. “What do you mean?”

The judge’s mouth twisted into a sick grin. “I’m afraid dear Bill’s abduction was just a distraction. My men have instructions to lie in wait. It pains me to inform you Sheriff Donovan and Bill Yucton will not be making the return trip to town.”

Her body trembled. “Hunter will figure out what you’ve done. He won’t fall for it.”

“He will. And even if he doesn’t, my men will find him and kill him, then ride on. It will look like what it was—an ambush that your dear sheriff did not survive. One way or the other, I will have my way.” He took a step toward her, his shadow crawling over her. She shuddered as if he’d touched her. “As you may have noticed, I am not one for leaving loose ends.”

“Is that why you tried to kill Vernon?” Meredith shifted her feet, taking a small step forward, allowing herself a brief glimpse out the window. Dark forms appeared on the horizon. Her heart leaped, but she quickly tamped it down and looked away. For all she knew, it could be more of Laidlow’s men. There was no reason anyone would come looking for her here. No one knew of her plans or the information she had found.

She was alone in this. So close to proving her father’s innocence and yet now, with a gun pointed at her heart, so far away.

The judge’s expression darkened. “I did more than try, I succeeded. Vernon got sloppy. He never should have kept those ledgers. If he had dealt more efficiently with your father in the beginning, this mess would have been over and done with long ago. It’s been left to me to clean up his mistakes.”

Tyrone sneered and sniffed and Meredith would have bet her last dollar he was the one who had put the bullet through Vernon’s chest.

“So you’re the leader of the Syndicate, then?” She had to keep him talking. She needed to buy herself time, to at least try to find a way to escape.

She chanced another furtive glance out the window. The dark shadow grew closer but the snow kept it obscured.

“I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head about the particulars of our group.”

She ignored him. “Who is Reynolds?” Laidlow’s nostrils flared. She’d obviously hit on a sore spot. The pompous judge was not the one calling the shots. “I see. Perhaps it isn’t so much that you don’t like loose ends but that your boss doesn’t. Did he tell you to clean up your mess or you would end up like Vernon?” She remembered the cold look Anson Bancroft had given her at lunch that day. The man had ice in his veins.