“Just what I was thinking.” He smiled at her. “Now don’t worry. It’s going to work out.”
“Yes, it is,” Cash agreed. “Rick Marquez is going to make sure every cop in San Antonio has a personal description of Frank Bartlett, and he’s talked to a reporter he knows at one of the news stations. Your nemesis Frank is going to be so famous that if he walks into a convenience store, ten people are going to tackle him and yell for the police.”
“Really? But why?”
“Did I mention that there’s a reward for his capture?” Cash added. “We took up a little collection.”
“How kind!”
“You should stay here,” Cash said seriously. “It’s a good town. Good people.”
Her face closed up. “I’m not living in any town that also houses Dr. Rydel.”
Cash and Kell exchanged a long look.
“But Kell might like to stay,” she added.
Kell wondered what was going on. Cappie had been crazy about her boss until today. “I think we need to have a talk about why you’re down on your boss,” he told her.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “First thing.”
“I’ll probably be in surgery tomorrow, first thing,” Kell replied.
She smiled wanly. “Then I’ll tell you while you’re unconscious. When do we leave?” she added.
Kell wanted to argue, but they’d given him something for pain, and he was already drooping. “As soon as the helicopter gets here. Need anything from the house? I’m sure Cash would run you over there.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got my purse and my phone. Oh, here’s the house key,” she added, pulling it off her key ring and handing it to Cash. “I know you gave Kell’s to Keely, but you may need mine. Thanks a lot.”
“If you need anything, you can call Keely. She’ll run it up to you, or her husband or her sister-in-law will.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And try not to worry,” Cash added, moving away from the window. “Things always seem darkest before the dawn. Believe me, I should know,” he added with a smile. “I’ve seen my share of darkness.”
“You’re a wonderful police chief,” she told him.
“Another good reason to stay in Jacobs County,” he advised.
“We can agree to disagree on that point,” she replied. “I might reconsider if you’d lock Dr. Rydel up and throw away the key.”
“Can’t do that. He’s the best veterinarian around.”
“I guess he is, at that.”
Cash wisely didn’t add to his former statement.
The trip in the helicopter was fascinating to Cappie, who’d never flown in one, despite Kell’s years in the military. She’d had the opportunity, but she was afraid of the machines. Now, knowing that it was helping to save Kell’s legs, she changed her opinion of them.
She sat quietly in her seat, smiling at the med techs, but not talking to them. She’d had just about all she could stand of men, she decided, for at least the next twenty years. She only hoped and prayed that Kell would be able to walk again. And that somebody would find Frank Bartlett before he came back to finish what he’d started.
Bentley Rydel walked into his office three days later, out of sorts and even more irritable than he’d been when he left. His stepfather had suffered a stroke. It hadn’t killed him, but he was temporarily paralyzed on one side and in a nursing home for the foreseeable future. Bentley had tracked down the man’s younger brother and made arrangements to fly him to Denver to look after his sibling. All that had taken time. He didn’t begrudge giving help, but he was still upset about Cappie. Why had he been stupid enough to get involved with her? Hadn’t he learned his lesson about women by now?
The office hadn’t officially opened for business; it was ten minutes until it did. He found every employee in the place standing behind the counter glaring at him as if he’d invented disease.
His eyebrows arched. “What’s going on?” His face tautened. “Cappie’s suing me for asking her to quit, is she?” he asked with cold sarcasm.
Dr. King glared back. “Cappie’s in San Antonio with her brother,” she said. “Her ex-boyfriend and two of his friends beat Kell within an inch of his life.”
He felt the blood drain out of his face. “What?”
“They’ve got Cappie surrounded by police and volunteers, trying to keep the same thing from happening to her,” Keely added curtly. “Sheriff Carson checked into Frank Bartlett’s background and found several priors for battery against women, but nobody was willing to press charges until Cappie did. She wasn’t exactly willing at that—her brother forced her to, when she got out of the hospital. Bartlett beat her bloody and broke her arm. She said that she’d probably be dead if Kell hadn’t managed to knock out Bartlett in time.”
He felt as if his throat had been cut. He’d believed the man. How could he have done that to Cappie? How could he have suspected her of such deceit? She’d been the victim. Bentley had believed the lying ex-boyfriend and fired Cappie. Now she was in danger and it was his fault.
“Where is she?” he asked heavily.
“She told us not to tell you,” Dr. King said quietly. “She doesn’t want to see you again. In fact, she’s got her old job back in San Antonio and she’s going to live there.”
He felt sick all over. No, she wouldn’t want to stay in Jacobs County now. Not after the job Bentley had done on her self-esteem. It had probably been hard for her to trust a man again, having been physically assaulted. She’d trusted Bentley. She’d been kind and sweet and trusting. And he’d kicked her in the teeth.
He didn’t answer Dr. King. He looked at his watch. “Get to work, people,” he said in a subdued tone.
Nobody answered him. They went to work. He went into his office, closed the door and picked up the telephone.
“Yes?” Cy Parks answered.
“Where’s Cappie?” he asked quietly.
“If I tell you, I’ll have to change my name and move to a foreign country,” Cy replied dryly.
“Tell me anyway. I’ll buy you a fake mustache.”
Cy chuckled. “Okay. But you can’t tell her I sold her out.”
“Fair enough.”
Cappie was worn-out. She’d been in the waiting room around the clock until Kell was through surgery, and it had taken a long time. The chairs must have been selected for their comfort level, she decided, to make sure nobody wanted to stay in them longer than a few minutes. It was impossible to sleep in one, or even to doze. Her back was killing her. She needed sleep, but she couldn’t leave the hospital until she knew Kell was out of the recovery room.
Beside her, two tall, somber men sat waiting also. One of them was dark-eyed and dark-headed, and he never seemed to smile. The other one had long blond hair in a ponytail and one pale brown eye and an eye-patch on the other. He was good-natured about his disability and referred to himself as Dead-Eye. He chuckled as he said it. She didn’t know their names.
Detective Sergeant Rick Marquez had dropped by earlier in the day to talk to her about Frank Bartlett’s family and friends. She did know about Frank’s sister, but she hadn’t met any of his friends. Detective Marquez was, she thought, really good-looking. She wondered why he didn’t have a steady girlfriend.
Marquez had assured her that he was doing everything possible to