Cover Of Night (Page 45)

From his observation point, Teague watched the SUV slow as it approached the bridge, then pick up speed. The lights from the dashboard showed a middle-aged woman behind the wheel. The passenger seat was empty.

The logical supposition was that, leaving this early, the woman had a flight to catch. He couldn’t imagine why a lone woman would come to the middle of nowhere for a solitary vacation, but maybe she was some high-powered executive who just wanted to get away from everything, and Trail Stop was certainly a good place to do that.

During the wee hours he’d reconnoitered the community. Two rental vehicles had been parked on the far side of the B and B meaning just one was left now. He’d watch for it. Slipping among the houses, he’d looked at angles, deciding the best positions his men could take for the most effective lines of lire. A couple of dogs had barked, but he was very good at clandestine movement and neither of them had taken real alarm; no lights had come on, so he guessed the inhabitants were accustomed to the occasional bark.

These people wouldn’t roll over and play dead. They would fight back as well as they could, and probably every house had some sort of weapon in it. Out here, with bears and snakes and other wildlife, it paid to keep at least a pistol handy. He wasn’t worried about the pistols; they wouldn’t have the distance. Ditto the shotguns. It was the rifles that would give him problems, and it was a sure thing that some of the men would hunt deer, so they’d have powerful weapons that shot powerful rounds.

He marked the buildings from which the locals would be able to effectively return fire, which, if he positioned his men right, would be few. The houses were too spread out, with a lot of open ground that they couldn’t safely cross. There were maybe thirty, thirty-five buildings total. The road angled to the left side of the roughly comma-shaped area, putting most of the houses on the river side, on the right, which was good because it clustered people on the side where they had literally nowhere to go. Not only was there a seventy-foot bluff on that side, but the river itself was an effective barrier.

Any escape attempts would necessarily come from the left, where there were fewer houses for cover. The mountains on that side were mostly impassable, but before he started this dance, he intended to explore them himself, looking for possible escape routes. These people would know their own backyard; there might be an abandoned mine that cut all the way through a fold of the mountain. If there was, he wanted to know about it.

Then the next step would be to locate Joshua Creed.

Chapter 13

When Teague opened the porch door into the B and B’s dining room, the delicious aroma of fresh baking assailed him. He paused, inhaling deeply. The room was big but filled with small tables and with people, some of whom stood around with a cup of coffee in one hand and a muffin in the other, instead of taking a seat – not that there were many vacant seats.

He took a good look around, marking one or two faces that looked familiar. He could put a name to one face, that of Walter Earl, who owned the little hardware store here. In all likelihood, that meant Earl could put a name to Teague’s face, which in turn meant he had to be extra careful not to do or say anything suspicious, and when the plan actually came down, he couldn’t let any of the locals see him.

The buzz of conversation died down as his presence was registered and everyone got a good look at him, not being shy about it, either. Some even turned around in their chairs to eye him. Probably whatever dustup the two city boys had caused made the locals a little antsy, not that they would ever have been shy about looking over an outsider.

Their interest died fairly fast. The city boys would have stood out like sharks in a pool of guppies – though they’d found out pretty quick that these guppies had teeth. Teague, on the other hand, looked like one of them, because he was one of them. He was wearing old boots, jeans worn white from years of use, and a faded flannel shirt against the sudden chill the weather had taken. On his head was a green John Deere cap, definitely not new. He could have been any one of them.

A woman came into the dining room, bearing a tray containing muffins and butter that she unloaded on one of the tables, deftly placing a muffin-filled plate in front of each person while the butler went in the middle. Each table already bore an assortment of jams and jellies. She smiled at Teague in passing, saying, "I’ll be right with you."

From Goss’s description, he knew this was the owner. Funny how Toxtel and Goss had given such different descriptions. Toxtel had shrugged and said, "She’s nothing extra. Brown hair, brown eyes. Average." Goss, on the other hand, had smiled and said, "She’s got a great ass, like an athlete. Round and muscular. Small tits. Lanky build, except for that ass. Like a runner, maybe. Long, wavy hair, and this funny-looking, kissable mouth." Toxtel had snorted at that, but Goss had ignored him. The difference told Teague as much about each man as it did about the B and B owner.

Her name was Cate Nightingale. Dumb name, Nightingale. What kind of a name was that? He’d done some checking, so he knew she wasn’t a local. How had she ended up at Trail Stop? If you weren’t born here, why would anyone come to Trail Stop? The few little businesses had to be barely hanging on, providing service to the community and the neighboring ranches, but God knows, they couldn’t be making much. Still, for the folks born here, this was home and a few of them had stayed when common sense said they should have moved on years ago.

Having finished delivering the tray full of muffins, she came back to him. "What can I get you? A muffin, or just a cup of coffee?"

She had a nice voice. She didn’t look like someone who would take what didn’t belong to her, but that wasn’t his problem.

As if suddenly remembering his manners, he grabbed the cap off his head and stuck it in his back pocket. "Uh – I’m looking for Joshua Creed, but those muffins do look good. One, please, and a cup of coffee."