The Bodyguard's Return Part 15

As she backed out of the driveway, she thought about calling Joshua but decided to wait and call him after she heard what Sheila had to say. She knew if she called Joshua and let him know what was going on, he'd insist on coming with her and Sheila had made it clear she wasn't going to talk if Savannah wasn't alone.

Driving out of Cotter Creek, she kept a careful eye on her rearview mirror, making sure that she wasn't followed. She'd told Joshua she knew how to take care of herself, but there was a little part of her that was uneasy meeting Sheila alone.

Still, the important thing was that she suspected Sheila was going to tell her something that would break the investigation wide open. She couldn't risk not agreeing to Sheila's terms.

Besides, she felt somewhat confident in meeting Sheila away from Cotter Creek and any prying eyes that might see them together for this secret meeting. Big K's was a busy truck stop. There would be plenty of people around.

When she got to Big K's, if she didn't like what she saw, she wouldn't even get out of her car. She wasn't stupid and wasn't about to walk into any kind of a trap.

As she drove she couldn't help the fact that her thoughts returned to Joshua. She'd been right to tell him that she didn't want him guarding her anymore. Her heart couldn't stand the thought of spending each and every day with him by her side.

She didn't want to fall deeper and deeper in love with him, knowing that there was no future for the two of them. Whatever his personal demons, he didn't seem inclined to have any kind of meaningful relationship with any woman.

She still was surprised that in such a short span of time a man could get so into her heart. But Joshua had managed to burrow deep inside her soul, and the length of time she'd known him had nothing to do with the strength of her feelings for him.

She consciously willed thoughts of him away as she drew closer and closer to Big K's. Old Highway 10 was nothing more than a dark two-lane road that was little traveled going from Cotter Creek south. Most of the traffic the truck stop saw came from the north, off a freeway exit.

Adrenaline filled her as she antic.i.p.ated the meeting with Sheila. Maybe finally she was going to get some answers. Maybe finally she'd know the truth about Charlie's death. "I'm going to get to the bottom of things, Charlie," she said aloud. At least his death had sparked a real investigation.

Big K's Truck Stop sported a huge neon sign announcing hot showers and other amenities for truckers. The parking lot was full of eighteen-wheelers, along with several cars parked in front of the large structure.

Savannah was comforted by the fact that there were plenty of other people around. What she didn't see as she parked in front of the building was Sheila's luxury car. She shut off her engine, then checked her watch. Nine forty-five. Unless Sheila had changed her mind, then she should be arriving at any minute.

As she waited, she tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel and stared inside the windows to make sure she saw n.o.body from Cotter Creek seated inside.

She saw n.o.body familiar and that made her relax slightly. If she'd seen anyone from Cotter Creek inside, she would have had second thoughts about going in. Instead she would have turned her car around and headed back to Cotter Creek.

What was Sheila going to tell her? How many questions could Sheila answer about what had been happening? She checked her watch again, hoping that Sheila hadn't chickened out.

Ten long minutes later she saw Sheila's big shiny car pulling into a parking s.p.a.ce two slots over from where she was parked. Sheila was alone and didn't appear to notice Savannah as she got out of her car.

Savannah remained in her car and watched as Sheila went inside. She walked with her head down, her steps short and hurried. Once inside she was seated at a booth, then looked at her watch.

Savannah waited several long minutes, watching the people who came and went, checking out the general area for anything or anyone who looked suspicious.

Only then, when Savannah was certain that Sheila was truly alone and nothing looked dangerous, did she get out of her car and go inside.

The place smelled like fried onions and strong coffee and had an underlying scent of motor oil. Most of the occupants were men with tired eyes and stiff shoulders who barely glanced her way as she walked toward the back where Sheila was seated.

"I'm glad you came," Sheila said as Savannah slid into the seat across from her. "I was beginning to think you might not come."

"I wanted to make sure you weren't followed," Savannah said honestly. "What's going on, Sheila?" She pulled her notepad from her purse.

"No, no notes," Sheila protested, her eyes dark and worried. "Please, I just want to talk...off the record or whatever. I need to talk to somebody and I don't know who else to go to."

Savannah put her notepad back in her purse. "All right, off the record," she agreed.

At that moment a waitress arrived at their table. They both ordered coffee, then waited until they were served before continuing.

Sheila wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and for a long moment stared out the nearby window. When she finally looked back at Savannah her eyes were filled with stark fear. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she said softly. "It wasn't supposed to be like this at all. People weren't supposed to die."

Savannah didn't say anything. She sensed that Sheila needed to tell her whatever was on her mind without prompting. Patience, she told herself. Patience was always a virtue when conducting an interview.

Sheila raised her cup to her lips, her hand trembling slightly. She took a sip, then carefully placed the cup back on the table.

"I'm scared, Savannah."

"Tell me," she urged. "Talk to me, Sheila. We can get through this together." Savannah felt electrified by the fear that wafted from Sheila.

Sheila released a deep sigh. "It started almost two years ago. I got a phone call from a man named Joe Black. He said he and his partner, Harold Willington were part of a corporation that was looking to buy some land in the area."

Joe Black and Harold Willington were the two names listed as owners of the property. "MoTwin," Savannah said.

Sheila nodded. "All he wanted from me was to compile a list of properties that were owned either by men who lived alone or who might be interested in selling out for a decent price. He promised that along with my usual Realtor cut, I'd receive an additional twenty-five thousand dollars for each piece of property the corporation obtained. He told me to go ahead and approach the people I thought might sell, and I did. I talked to Nesmith and Wainfield and most of the others, but none of them were interested in selling despite the fact that ranch life was a struggle."

"So, what happened next?"

"When Joe Black contacted me again I told him the ranchers weren't interested. He told me to keep trying and he gave me a cell phone number to call. He said I should give the list of names to the person who answered the cell phone."

Savannah's head whirled with the information. "So, you called the cell phone?"

Sheila nodded her head. "I just figured maybe they were going to try a little high-pressure effort. But, soon after that was when they started to die."

Once again Sheila's eyes were filled with fear and she reached for her coffee cup, as if needing the warmth to erase a bone chill. "When George Townsend's place blew up with him in it, I thought it was just what it was reported to be, a tragic accident with a kerosene heater. Then Roy Nesmith supposedly fell to his death from his hay loft, and that's when I started to get a bad feeling."

Once again she raised the cup to her mouth and took a sip. "Then more accidents happened, and I knew something bad was happening, something real bad and that somehow I had become a part of it."

"Why do they want the land?" Savannah asked. "What do they plan to do with it?"

"Build a community of luxury condos and homes. According to what Joe Black told me, it's a multimillion-dollar deal. They already have a waiting list of people from both coasts who want to buy when construction begins."

"And who shows up for closing on these deals?"

"Both Joe Black and Harold have shown up for the closings. They fly in, close the deal, then leave town." Sheila replied.

"Do you think he's doing the killing?"

Sheila shook her head. "No. I think there is somebody else working in Cotter Creek. A local, somebody who knew those men, somebody those men trusted and that's the person who has committed the killings."

Savannah leaned back in the booth, her head working overtime to process everything Sheila was telling her. "Do you have any idea who that person might be?"

Once again Sheila shook her head. "I have no idea. I will tell you this, not only is there a cold-blooded killer somewhere in Cotter Creek, there's also people who know what's been going on, people who are in on this whole deal and hoping to cash in big-time. Joe Black was courted by somebody here in town. He didn't just pull the town of Cotter Creek, Oklahoma, out of a hat."

For a long moment the two were silent. Sheila stared back out the window, her features sagging and looking older than she had when Savannah had first arrived.

A sense of euphoria filled Savannah as she realized she had the answers she'd sought. She'd been right about a conspiracy. She'd been right about the deaths not being accidents. But, the euphoria was tempered by the knowledge that good men had died in the name of turning a profit.

"You know you need to go to the sheriff," Savannah said.

Sheila looked back at her once again, her gaze filled with torment. "What if he's part of it?"

Savannah frowned. Sheila was right. There was no way of knowing if Ramsey might be part of the conspiracy or not. She leaned forward. "I'll tell you what, I'll talk to Joshua and maybe he'll know who you need to talk to, who would be safe to talk to."

Sheila worried a paper napkin between her fingers, tearing it into tiny pieces that littered the top of the table. "I'm going to jail, aren't I?"

"I don't know," Savannah answered truthfully. "Maybe you can cut some sort of deal and avoid any real jail time."

"I swear to G.o.d, I never knew this was what would happen. When I realized the men were dying, I didn't know who to tell. I didn't know who I could trust. I was afraid to talk to anyone."

"Joshua will know," Savannah replied.

Sheila nodded. "I've got to get home. I need to talk to my husband about what I've done." She motioned for the waitress to bring them their tab.

"I'll take care of it," Savannah said. "And I'll call you as soon as I speak with Joshua. We'll figure it out, Sheila. You did the right thing, coming to me."

"I should have told somebody after George Townsend died." Sheila stood and grabbed her purse from the booth next to her. "You can't tell anyone except Joshua that we talked. These people are ruthless, and I don't want to be the victim of a fatal accident."

"I'll call you as soon as I have a plan," Savannah said, then watched as Sheila left.

Savannah remained seated after Sheila had gone. She grabbed her notepad from her purse and made notes about what Sheila had told her.

She'd keep her promise to Sheila and wouldn't write a story, but the notes were for herself, to make sure she forgot nothing. This was huge, bigger than she'd even suspected. So many deaths for luxury condos. It made her sick to think that this might be why Charlie had died.

It was just after eleven when she got back into her car to return to Cotter Creek. She'd been so eager to arrive to meet Sheila she hadn't noticed how little traveled old Highway 10 was. She met no cars as she drove the two-lane road.

Joe Black and Harold Willington. The two names went around and around in her head. Had those two businessmen known that they were acquiring their property through death, through murder? Or had they been ignorant of how their contact in Cotter Creek was getting results?

One thing was sure. If Sheriff Ramsey wasn't in on it, it was far too big for him to handle. They were going to have to get outside help. Joshua would know where to go from here, who needed to be brought in to get the guilty people behind bars.

She slowed and pulled her cell phone from her purse, eager to speak to Joshua about what she'd learned. She punched in his cell number and listened as it rang once then went directly to voice mail.

"Joshua, it's me, Savannah. I just met with Sheila Wadsworth at Big K's Truck Stop off old Highway 10. She told me everything. They want the land for luxury condos. I just left the truck stop and am now headed back to Cotter Creek. Call me as soon as you get this message."

She clicked off and threw the phone on the seat next to her, hoping he'd call back soon. Glancing up to her rearview mirror she saw in the distance the headlights of a car coming up behind her.

The car was approaching fast and she moved over to the right shoulder to give the driver plenty of room to pa.s.s her. She frowned and squinted against the glare of bright lights reflected in her mirror.

Her phone rang and she grabbed it from the seat.

"Savannah, what in the h.e.l.l are you doing?" Joshua's voice rang harshly in her ear. "You should have never gone to meet Sheila without me. What were you thinking?"

"It's okay. I'm fine. I'm on my way home now." She squinted into her rearview mirror. "Dammit," she muttered.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Some jerk is behind me with his brights on," she replied. The words were barely out of her mouth when the vehicle slammed into the back of hers, the force of the impact wrenching the steering wheel out of her hand.

She screamed and dropped the cell phone, then grabbed the wheel with both hands in an attempt to keep her car on the road. But, once again she was struck from behind with tremendous force.

The steering wheel spun wildly and her car left the road. In horror she had a flash of trees just ahead and knew she was going to hit them.

The last thing she heard before impact was Joshua screaming her name over the cell phone.

Then nothing.

Joshua heard the splintering sound of an impact. He shouted her name several more times and when she didn't answer he hung up and called Sheriff Ramsey.

As he quickly told Ramsey where Savannah was and that she was in trouble, he raced to his truck. Within moments he roared away from the West property and headed for Big K's Truck Stop.

His heart beat so hard, so fast it felt as if it might explode from his chest at any moment. He'd heard the sound of crunching metal, the sound of breaking gla.s.s and he knew she'd hit something.

Right now she could be bleeding to death on the side of a road where it might be minutes, or an hour before another car pa.s.sed her. Fear sizzled through him, making him feel sick with impotence, sick with torment.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, a cold chill seeping through him. She'd seen headlights behind her. Some jerk with his bright lights on. That's what she'd said.

He tromped his foot on the gas pedal, wishing he had wings to fly to her. d.a.m.n her for going off on her own to meet Sheila, but double d.a.m.n whoever might have caused her harm.

As he drove he punched in her cell phone number, hoping, praying she'd answer, but it went directly to her voice mail. The fact that she wouldn't or couldn't answer sent a new chill coursing through him.

When he reached old Highway 10 he slowed down, his gaze shooting left and right of the two-lane road, seeking any sign of her car.

It was about a twenty-mile stretch between where he was now and Big K's Truck Stop. He had no idea where Savannah had been on this road when she'd made the phone call to him.

Emotion clawed up his throat, tasting like grief, but he told himself there was nothing to grieve about. She was okay. She had to be okay. Somehow she'd had a fender bender and now her phone wasn't working. He just had to find her and she'd be all right.

The stretch of highway was so dark, with no streetlights, no light of the moon cascading down from the cloudy night sky. "Where are you, Savannah?" he muttered, his gaze flying first to the left, then to the right of the road.

He felt ill, more ill than he'd ever felt in his life. As he tried to find her along the dark, lonely road his mind filled with visions of her.

Her charming freckles, her beautiful smile, the warmth of her curves in his arms, each was a haunting memory that ripped at his heart.

As he gazed into his rearview mirror he saw a flash of cherry red lights illuminating the dark and knew that Ramsey was coming up fast behind him. Ramsey must have jumped in his car the moment Joshua had called. Thank G.o.d for that. Surely with two of them searching they'd find her more quickly.

When he looked back at the road he saw her car. It was on the right side, about a hundred feet off the road. The front end was smashed against a tree trunk, the interior light on as the driver door hung open.

Joshua yanked his truck to the side of the road, slammed it into Park and left the cab at a run. He was vaguely conscious of Ramsey pulling to a stop just behind his truck as he raced to the wrecked vehicle.

"Savannah!" Her name tore from his throat as he reached her car. It took only a moment's glance to realize she wasn't in the driver's seat. The windshield had shattered, raining gla.s.s on the dash, and the airbag had deployed, but there was no sign of Savannah in the car.

"She's not here," Joshua said to Ramsey as the sheriff hurried toward him. The fear that had sizzled through him before now exploded into unmitigated terror.

"Maybe she tried to walk to get help?" Ramsey suggested.

Joshua looked around wildly. "Savannah!" He yelled her name with all the power in his lungs. Was she wandering around in the dark? Stunned or injured?

His chest tightened as a frantic sob threatened to erupt. Headlights in the distance appproached at a quick pace, but Joshua paid little attention as he yelled her name again and again. The gra.s.s beside the driver door was matted down, as if something had either fallen or been dragged.

The car that had approached pulled up behind the Sheriff's, and Bill Cleaver, a rancher from nearby stalked over to where Ramsey stood next to the wrecked car.