Undercover Cowboy Read online

  He heard Matt giving orders to his men to search the ranch.

  “Searching a ranch the size of the Bar R will take too long,” he told Matt. “I’ll use your computer to try to pinpoint the most logical area.”

  “Call me when you find something. I’m going with my men.”

  Nick ran back inside to the den and sat down at Matt’s computer. Within seconds, he had the Honey Killer’s file before him on the monitor. His gaze flew through reams of data, hoping to find something that would predict where the killer would take Sara Jane. The pattern in previous murders was always the same. The killer chose quiet, isolated places where he could take his time to set the stage for his grisly acts. Nick dialed Matt’s cell phone. When he answered, Nick blurted, “Is there any remote place on the ranch that resembles a stage?”

  “I’m drawing a blank,” Matt said in a clipped voice. “But hold on. One of our hands thinks of himself as an actor. Maybe he can come up with something.”

  Nick knew who he was talking about. Van Verdugo, the lecher who had cornered Sara Jane when she was thirteen.

  Two minutes later, Matt came back on the line. “Verdugo says that there are two possibilities. Lustre Plateau and Half-Moon Bowl. Half-Moon Bowl is the closest and the most likely. It’s where the early Mexican settlers held their fiestas. Weddings and religious ceremonies are still held there. It’s near the back entrance to Endless Cave. Verdugo can take you there.”

  “I don’t trust that lech as far as I can throw him. How could the Honey Killer find out about that place?”

  “Did you forget the reporters that came sniffing around? Kitty’s murder was headlined in the newspapers all over the country. Reporters speculated, as we did, that it might be the work of the Honey Killer. This had to get that nut case’s attention. If he got curious and talked to the gossips around here, especially in Stampede Junction, he could learn all sorts of things.”

  Nick remembered how he’d let everyone think that he and Sara Jane were sweethearts to cover his real purpose for coming to the ranch. And Matt was right; people gossiped. That could be how the killer found out about Sara Jane, but it didn’t explain how he knew about a remote place on the ranch. “I still can’t see how he’d know about Half-Moon Bowl.”

  “Here, I’ll let you talk to Verdugo. He can tell you more about that.”

  Verdugo came on the line. “Last week a city fella staying at the dude ranch asked one of Lady Leila’s girls about a place to hold a summer concert. Since I’m the show biz expert in these parts, Babbling Brook referred him to me. The guy wanted a place with a stage and good acoustics. I told him about Half-Moon Bowl.”

  Nick had more questions, but with the clock ticking, he waited until he and Verdugo met face to face and had mounted their horses before asking them. “What did this so-called promoter look like?”

  “Tall city dude. Over six foot and weighed about two hundred pounds. His pecs and flat gut made me think he worked out every day. Looked like a young version of that actor fella Van Johnson, with his carrot red hair, freckles, and silvery blue eyes.”

  Nick had seen the actor in old movies. “Get a name?” He probably wouldn’t use his real one, but what if he did?

  “Called himself Carl Davis, but it might’ve been a stage moniker—he didn’t look like a Carl to me.”

  “Do cell phones work at the Bowl?” Nick remembered the reception was poor outside Endless Cave, and his map indicated their destination was roughly parallel to it.

  “There are good pockets, but mostly it’s poor.”

  “I’d better update the Bureau and the sheriff now before I lose contact.” He flipped open his cell and called the Bureau first. “We need to seal off two areas ASAP to prevent the killer from escaping again,” he told the dispatcher. “The most likely is a place called the Bowl and I’m on my way there now. Matt and his men are checking out the other area. The SWAT teams will need to land their helicopters nearby and slip in on foot. Don’t want to alert this guy and set him off.” Nick referred dispatch to the marked maps he had faxed to the Bureau before leaving the ranch. Then called the sheriff. Bemis knew the place, so Nick didn’t have to go into a long explanation. The catch was the sheriff and his men had to come from all the way from Stampede Junction and Bureau’s rescue team had to fly out from San Antonio. Therefore, probably neither group could get in position in time to be of any help in the actual rescue. They could, however, close off both areas and hopefully prevent the killer’s escape. Nick spurred Jazgirl into a faster pace. He was on his own to save Sara Jane.

  ****

  Sara Jane awoke slowly, coming out of a nightmare into a sickening, galloping reality that made no sense. It was dark…wind whipped her face and body…she was slung over the rump of a horse, her hands tied behind her back, her ankles lashed together. The blood rushing to her brain, added to her disorientation. Her hair fluttered in the jet of air as the stallion flew along a path lined with thick underbrush. The wide gait of the galloping steed hammered her stomach painfully against its hard hindquarters.

  She turned her head and got a glimpse of a huge dark form in a cowboy hat straddling the saddle. Cold panic tightened in her chest as it all came back: the cylinder of honey on her nightstand, the big, sweaty hand clamped over her mouth, the fat, salty fingers, the rag saturated with chloroform. Dear God, she’d been kidnapped by the serial killer who had murdered twenty-three women.

  He reined the horse to a stop, dismounted, then moved out of sight. She tried to cry out, but the gag in her mouth muffled the sound. With mounting fury and fear, she worked at the ropes on her wrists. The coarse hemp bit into her flesh, abrading her skin as she twisted, but she kept trying. She had to escape, or she would die.

  She heard liquid hitting the ground and knew he was relieving himself. After a few seconds, she felt his gaze on her. He stroked her butt with hot, vile hands. Her skin crawled. Oh, God, don’t let him rape me!

  Humming “It Had To Be You,” he unbuckled the straps that bound her to the horse’s rump. Untie my hands and ankles, too, sicko. All she needed was a chance.

  ****

  When Nick and Verdugo passed the back entrance of Endless Cave, Nick asked, “How much farther?”

  “About a mile, I’d say.”

  Their horses galloped along a darkened trail illuminated only by a moon that played hide and seek behind black clouds. When they came to a clump of trees, Nick reined Jazgirl to a stop. “We better go the rest of the way on foot. We have to catch this guy off guard.”

  “What if we’ve hit the wrong mark? We’ll have to hike back out on foot with nothing to show for it. That’ll be a plumb waste of time.”

  “Instinct tells me that your lead is right.”

  Verdugo slowed and dropped back a little. “I’ll catch up. I need to use my cell phone while I still can.”

  “Make it quick!”

  Nick dismounted and dropped his reins to the ground. The Bowl had to be the right place. The killer’s profile pointed almost directly to it. It was quiet, isolated, and the ideal spot to set the stage for his hideous act. What Verdugo said about that Davis guy looking for such a site made Nick even more certain. He tightened his jaw. But what if he was wrong?

  ****

  The killer hoisted Sara Jane onto his shoulders. Ignoring the pain of his fingers digging into her flesh, she lifted her head. Cold moonlight shone over rows of stone benches fronting a stone stage. It was the Bowl, carved by prehistoric glaciers, where the padres had held religious ceremonies when the Mexicans first settled in the area. She shuddered. Would she be the first virgin sacrificed here?

  The killer’s spurs jingled, and his boot steps thudded against the hard surface of the walkway between the benches. He climbed three steps and dumped her onto the smooth stone stage. The back of her head hit hard, and she winced as spikes of pain shot through her skull. Through the haze of throbbing, she looked up at his shadowy form with blurry eyes. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Then he
paced and waved his arms violently.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” he said, his voice ragged, tormented. “Things are out of sync.” Abruptly, he turned away and headed back toward the horses.

  Was he going to leave her here, bound and helpless? Imagining the horrible things he might have done to other women—that he might do to her—made abandonment good news.

  She squirmed and scraped her wrists along the smooth surface, trying to find a rough spot to cut her ropes. It was as slick as polished onyx. Exhausted, she rested a moment, trying to catch her breath. Although she might matters worse, she couldn’t just lie here. She writhed and snaked her body away from the center of the stage, cold sweat sliding over her skin. Her goal was to reach the edge, drop off into the bushes and find a rock or a branch with sharp edges.

  Sara Jane had inched herself halfway to the side of the stage when her captor returned, lugging a trunk that he must have had stashed in the bushes. He carried it up onto the stage and dropped it near the center. Frowning, he whipped off his hat and scratched his head. Seized by renewed panic, she froze and watched him slowly scan the edges of the platform surface until his gaze locked on her. He laughed a sinister laugh. The hollow, skin-prickling tone echoed around her.

  “Good try, bitch, but you can’t escape me.”

  She felt his darkness and a sinking awareness of his power over her. He dragged her back to the center of the stage where his rusty metal chest waited. He crouched on muscular haunches and opened it. After several seconds, he dug out a battery-operated lantern and turned it on. She squinted at the almost blinding wide circle of light. Then, her gaze adjusted to the glare, and for the first time, she could see his face clearly. He looked rather ordinary, red hair in wild disarray and freckles. If it weren’t for his hostile, silver-blue eyes, he would pass for some non-threatening neighbor from a nearby ranch who had built up his bulging muscles with hard work.

  He withdrew a canteen and took a long swig.

  “Umm!” Her muffled appeal didn’t get her point across, so she pleaded with her eyes.

  He stared at her. His silvery gaze glistened with evil. “Want some water, do you?”

  The chilling undertones sent shivers through her. With all the courage she could muster, she nodded. She was thirsty. But even more, she wanted an excuse for him to take the blasted gag out of her mouth.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her to a sitting position. “Guess I can give you that last request. Even if you yell, there’s no one out here to hear you.”

  He withdrew a bottle of lye with cross-bones on it from the trunk. She shuddered, imagining what he might do with that. Next, he withdrew a cylinder of his signature honey. The Special Heritage Label told her that it wasn’t the same bottle she’d seen in her room. The honey frightened her, but the lye totally freaked her out, and panic rose in her throat like a scream.

  “If you’re stupid enough to scream,” he warned, “instead of pouring water into your mouth, I’ll pour lye. Is that clear?”

  Her heartbeat quickened. For a moment she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. How she finally managed to nod she didn’t know. But when she did, he took off the tape and removed the rag from her mouth. Blessed air rushed in.

  He knelt and tipped the canteen to her lips. Her mouth felt like she’d swallowed a week’s worth of round-up dust, and she drank greedily. Water dribbled down her chin. Damn, tied up, she was as helpless as a hog-tied calf. Rage curled inside her. She hated him for making her feel powerless, and it was all she could do not to rake him over the coals for it. Although she preferred anger to fear, some instinct about him warned to keep her mouth shut.

  The last few days flashed before her eyes. Life was short with no guarantees. Why hadn’t she seen it before? If she ever got free, whatever time she and Nick had they should spend together, even if she had to give up other dreams.

  The killer placed the canteen on the stage floor, leaned close to her ear and whispered, “I’m glad you’re cooperating, Rachel, not like the other times.”

  “Rachel! My name is Sara Jane!”

  He gave a hysterical laugh. “You keep changing names, but you don’t fool me.” His voice broke, and he inhaled deeply as though fighting for sanity. “Why won’t you just stay dead?”

  Fear, cold and clammy, shivered over Sara Jane’s skin. Oh, God. He thought he was killing the same woman over and over. She had to keep her wits about her. The longer she could keep him talking, the longer she lived. He rolled out a velvet cloth with four gleaming knives in it. One looked like a scalpel. Shivers shook her body and she couldn’t stop trembling. “What did Rachel do to you that made you want to kill her?” Sara Jane hated the tremor in her voice.

  “You know what you did!” He backhanded her. She fell backwards onto the stone floor and for a moment saw stars. She breathed in, breathed out, fighting to stay conscious. His brutality bucked her anger up a notch. If she ever got free…God help him.

  He jerked her to a sitting position again and balled up his fist. She didn’t want him to hit her again, so she clammed up and bowed her head, trying to look meek while squelching the desire to lash out at him. Until she could trick him into untying her, she was in no position to challenge him.

  He let out a string of swear words, buried his face in his hands and rocked on his haunches. “This isn’t going right, not right at all.” His voice was ragged, agitated, strained.

  His body shook, and she thought she heard sobs. She almost felt sorry for him. After a few moments, he circled around and sat down behind her.

  Suddenly, he grabbed her. She pressed her lips tight to keep from screaming. He hauled her backwards until her tied hands rested against his groin. A chill crawled up her spine. Had he raped the others? She curled her fingers as thoughts of trying to grab his balls flitted through her mind, but the odds of doing any real damage through his heavy jeans with her hands bound were slight. She decided that the safest thing to do was to raise her hands so they wouldn’t touch anything that might arouse, or set him off.

  He picked up the scalpel and brought it to her throat. Whoa. Silence hadn’t solved her problem. She had to say something…anything. But denying that she was Rachel had sent him into a rage before. She’d never backed down from a confrontation in the past, and the anger churning inside her was about to boil over. “I’m here to make things right with you.” Her soft, hopefully soothing voice was in direct opposition to her speeding heart. “That’s why I keep coming back.”

  He pulled her tighter against his chest, leaned forward and glared down into her face. “You won’t come back this time. Ever hear of cremation?”

  Terror seeped into her bones as she imagined the searing horror of flesh set on fire. She shoved down her fear beneath barely contained fury. She blinked as unexpected lightning flashed across the sky—she’d thought the storm had passed—and that the danger to her was over. Her attention wavered for only a moment then she recaptured his gaze once more. She had to reach his humanity. “You’ve got it all backwards,” she said softly. “Killing me won’t kill the suffering in you. But I can help you get rid of it.”

  He grazed her throat with the tip of the scalpel. “I don’t trust your soft voice and gentle tone. After the accident, you thought I’d never walk again, never be strong and virile again, so you dominated me, neglected me, and paraded your disgustingly healthy lovers through our house.”

  Sara Jane’s heart pounded. “I’d never do something like that!” In his anger, he had pressed the scalpel a fraction deeper. She felt a trickle of blood. She was too terrified to feel more than a stinging sensation, but she knew it was possible that the cut was more serious. She imagined it all ending here in the fuzzy glow of lamplight while her blood seeped away like water from a punctured canteen. “Please, you’re hurting me!” A tightened coil of fright threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Nothing like you hurt me! You stole everything: my humanity, my dignity, my money, my property, even my soul. When you aban
doned me in that gully in bear country, you told me my mind was gone, my body useless—that a cripple like me was better off dead. But rather than do the merciful thing and kill me, you poured honey over my head and told me that the bears would come soon.”

  “But you’re here, healthy and strong?” Was he just a crazed man who had imagined it all? Lightning cut through the sky again and highlighted his tortured face, and she realized that true or imagined, he believed she was Rachel and was going to make her pay with her life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nick’s heart pounded wildly. He swallowed cool night air in agonizing gulps. Verdugo better have pointed him in the right direction. The moon slipped in and out of black angry clouds. Nick kept his flashlight beam pointed down as they slipped from shadow to shadow. Behind him, he heard only Verdugo’s labored breathing and an occasional twig snap. They had covered their boots with socks and advanced like Indians, swiftly and silently.

  He paused briefly to let Verdugo catch up. Glancing at the six-shooter in the wannabe actor’s holster, he whispered, “Know how to use that?”

  “Good enough.”

  Verdugo’s cocky response didn’t reassure Nick about the chance of so called friendly fire. “Well, I’m a crack shot, so I’ll do the shooting. You keep that gun holstered unless I signal you, or the killer takes me out. Got that? I don’t want stray bullets flying around.”

  “What you want is to be the big hero in Sara Jane’s eyes,” Verdugo said under his breath.

  Nick let the dig roll off him. The less useless talk the better. Their labored breathing and twigs snapping were noisy enough. “Are we getting close?”

  “Hard to tell at night. If we didn’t ditch our horses to walk in, I reckon we’d be there by now.”

  Nick tightened his jaw. He wasn’t about to explain again that to avoid the situation from spiraling out of control, they had to sneak up on the killer. “I sense we’re close so we’re going to a silent blackout mode.”