“Surely you don’t believe it happens only to women in the lower scale of society?” he queried. “I suspect it’s equally prevalent in the so-called privileged class, where it’s often kept as a dark secret, perhaps out of pride or shame.”
“You’re serious.” Laura digested that fact, then said, “But your sister seemed like such an intelligent and sensible woman.”
“It’s a conundrum, isn’t it?” Sebastian replied. “Fortunately she had a friend who recognized all the hallmarks of an abusive relationship and held a hand out without ever becoming judgmental.”
Laura remembered his own lack of criticism in dealing with Gail Mitchell. “I was pretty rough with Gail,” she recalled.
“But you never pulled your hand back.” There was a tenderness in the look he gave her that warmed Laura all the way through.
Suddenly all the inner turmoil was gone—the odd anger and edginess. In its place was a kind of heady calm. Sebastian drove through the east gate and turned onto the two-lane highway, heading north to Blue Moon.
An easy silence settled between them for a long run of miles. Rooftops jutted into the horizon ahead of them, their uneven angles close to the highway, making a jagged line against the sky. Standing two stories tall, close to the highway, Harry’s was easy to identify from the rest.
Prompted by its nearness, Laura remarked idly, “I hope Mitchell was too drunk to go looking for his wife and kids when he discovered they weren’t in the house. If he showed up at Harry’s, I’m not sure Weldon would try to interfere—or call the police.”
“I suspect your assumptions are accurate.” Sebastian didn’t bother to reduce the car’s speed until they were closer to town.
To Laura’s relief, the parking lot at Harry’s was empty of vehicles. With a turn of the steering wheel, Sebastian swung the car into the driveway and stopped directly in front of the entrance. As Laura stepped out of the car, she happened to glance across the highway. The vehicle parked beside the pump island sported a light bar on its roof and
a county sheriff’s insignia on its door. Her attention instantly shifted to the uniformed officer making his way to the store at an easy walk. Even though his back was to her, Laura recognized him instantly.
“There’s Logan across the way,” she said to Sebastian, comforted by the knowledge that Logan was close by if they needed him.
As Sebastian turned to look, a bell jingled, signaling the opening of the door to Harry’s. The squat owner, Jack Weldon, stepped into the open doorway.
“It’s about time you got here,” he declared, clearly agitated. “You’d better drive around back. Mitchell’s across the street at Fedderson’s.”
Surprise held Laura motionless for a split second. As she swung around to look, two short, explosive pops rang out. Ranch-raised, she recognized the sound of gunshots. Even as fear leaped within her, she saw Logan pivot drunkenly away from the door he held open, his knees buckling, a dark stain on the front of his uniform.
“No!” The scream came from her own throat when he crumpled to the ground, though Laura was unaware of it.
On legs that felt strangely wooden and slow, she ran toward her fallen uncle. Sebastian caught and held her before she ever reached the highway. As she struggled to twist loose, the whole of her attention was riveted on Logan, lying motionless. She was only vaguely aware of the man who bolted from the store and scrambled to a pickup parked near its entrance.
Not until she heard the slam of the pickup and the engine roar to life did Laura take notice of the light blue pickup. As the truck peeled onto the highway, she got a good look at the driver; it was Mitchell.
Sebastian abruptly released her and took off for Fedderson’s. Laura ran after him, her heart hammering, fear clutching at her chest. Sebastian was the first to reach Logan’s side. He lay in a limp heap, blood saturating the front of his shirt.
Sebastian took one look at him and ordered, “Call for help. Quick.”
With her own eyes confirming the need for haste, Laura hurried inside, teeth clenched against the sobs in her throat. She saw no sign of the owner, Marsha Kelly, as she ran to the counter and the telephone that sat atop it. When she reached over to pick up the receiver, Laura saw the woman lying unconscious on the floor behind the narrow counter, a trickle of blood coming from a small cut on her left temple.
Spurred by the sight, Laura climbed over the counter, scooped up the receiver and rapidly punched the emergency number. “This is Laura Calder,” she said the instant she received an answer and crouched next to Marsha Kelly, searching for and finding a strong, steady pulse. “I’m at Fedderson’s in Blue Moon. Logan”—she caught the beginnings of panic in her voice and clamped off her emotions, recognizing the need for cool, clear thinking—“Sheriff Echohawk’s been shot, at least once in the chest, and Marsha Kelly is unconscious. I saw Gary Mitchell leave here in an old Chevy pickup, light blue in color. I didn’t get the license plate number. But I’m sure he’s the one who shot Logan. Send an ambulance, fast.”
“We have one on the way.”
There were more questions to which Laura could provide few answers. Through it all she kept an eye on the glass door and the partially obstructed view it offered of Sebastian crouched over Logan. After receiving a parting caution to touch as little as possible, thus preserving any evidence at the crime scene, Laura hung up, checked again on Marsha, then made her way around the counter to the front door, using a hip to push it open.
“The ambulance is on its way,” she said as Sebastian stood and turned to meet her, the red of blood on his hands and his clothes.
For an instant, he made no reply. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. Laura didn’t have to ask what he meant; she could tell from his solemn expression and the look of deep compassion in his eyes.
Still the disbelief came. “No.” She shook her head. “He can’t be dead. Not Logan.”
Needing to confirm it for herself, she started to push past him, but Sebastian caught her by the arms. “He’s gone, Laura. You can’t bring him back. No one can.”
She stiffened, wanting to deny it, but her throat knotted up, hot and painful. When Sebastian folded her silently into his arms, Laura didn’t resist. Just for a moment, she let her head dip against his chest, accepting his attempt to comfort, but she couldn’t stop the whirl of thoughts in her mind.
One was foremost among them. “I’ve got to call home.”