REUNION
A Kat Derringer Adventure
By J.R. Francisco
Sheriff Kat Derringer sat curled up in the living room couch of her house. She had showered and wore her terry cloth robe, which soothed and caressed her sore body. After spending more than six hours bound and gagged her limbs still ached. She had made herself a cup of tea but had barely touched it. She stared straight ahead, still preoccupied with the humiliating experience of being found helpless and exposed. Not exactly a shining moment in her life.
It was six in the morning but Kat had been unable to sleep. Each time she closed her eyes she imagined the faces of the two thugs. She could literally feel the rough hands of the man on her legs. . . inside her. Her anger rose as she thought about being touched so intimately by a stranger. Then there were the leering eyes of Bayless and that store manager. Kat shuddered and ran her hand through her hair.
"Kat, you in here?"
Kat turned toward the living room entrance. She had been too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice her sister, Lindy, walk into the house. At twenty-five, Lindy was four years younger than Kat. Even dressed in the tan and brown sheriff's deputy uniform, Lindy Derringer still had an appealing innocence about her. Straight brown hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail, framed an oval-shaped face with large hazel eyes, a delicate nose, and a luscious mouth. At five-foot eight Lindy stood taller than Kat and had inherited the same lean but shapely body as her older sister. Though less endowed in the breast department than her older sister, Lindy made up for that with a perfectly shaped backside.
Kat composed herself quickly. "Lindy? What are you doing here?"
Lindy stared at Kat with sisterly concern. "Detective Graham told me what happened and I came home right away. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," Kat replied. "Considering I've just spent six hours bound and gagged." Despite herself, she couldn't help but chuckle. "Not exactly very sheriff-like is it?"
Lindy switched on the lamp next to the couch and sat next to her sister. "It could have happened to anybody. I'm just glad you weren't hurt."
"Just my pride," Kat said bitterly.
Not knowing what to say to that, Lindy changed the subject. "Have you ever seen those two guys before?"
Kat shook her head. "I doubt they're local. Otherwise, they would have worn masks."
Lindy nodded. "Good point." Her voice hardened. "Don't worry. We're gonna catch those punks. You can count on it."
Kat smiled inwardly as she stared at her sister. Though sweet-looking, Lindy had a sassy side that reasserted itself during a crisis or trouble. Unfortunately, Lindy's bravado sometimes outreached her ability. The fact that she once tried to break up a fight between six drunks all by herself was a perfect example of that.
"Thanks for coming home," Kat told her sister, "but you really didn't have to do that. I'm all right."
Lindy smiled warmly. "That's what sisters are for. If we don't watch out for each other, who will?"
Kat looked away, realizing how true her sister's statement was. It had been almost five years since their father had died of a heart attack, leaving Kat and Lindy on their own. Their mother had walked out on them with another man when they were kids and now they barely saw her. Not that Kat or Lindy minded.
Lindy stood from the couch. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
"I'm not really hungry," Kat replied. "Besides, don't you have to get back to work? Your shift doesn't end until eight."
"Oh, don't be a party pooper, sheriff," Lindy said, making her way toward the kitchen. "How does french toast sound?"
Kat sighed. "You're gonna get me in trouble you know."
"How's that?" Lindy called out from the kitchen.
"The other deputies are going to say I'm giving you special treatment because you're my sister."
"So what's your point?"
Kat shook her head and found herself smiling. "Never mind."
****
"Where are those two idiots?" Radford asked as he glanced in the direction of the café door.
It was nearing eight o'clock and there was still no sign of Long and Montoya, the other two members of the gang. Radford and Stiles sat across from each other in a booth at Rosalba's Café. They were having coffee and had placed a breakfast order in effort to "blend in." The café was gradually filling up with locals who kept giving the two well-dressed men curious glances.
"You should've let me take care of them last night," Kresser said. "Especially after that stupid stunt they pulled."
"We might need their muscle," Radford said, glancing at his watch. He sighed and glanced around the café. "What a godforsaken place. If I had to live here I would shoot myself."
Instead of dwelling on the bleak location, Radford thought about the events that had brought him here. The heist had gone down perfectly. A year ago on Valentine's Day, Radford, Stiles, Long, and Montoya had burst into a jewelry store in Palm City, held the store employees and costumers at gunpoint, and stolen five million dollars worth of diamonds. A store employee, Jack Kresser, had been their inside source and tipped them off to the arrival of the diamonds. During the robbery, Kresser was taken "hostage."
After the heist, Kresser kept the diamonds, which he planned to sell to a foreign buyer. The five men then split up and went their separate ways with the intention of laying low until the heat died down. Before they separated, they agreed to meet in Kresser's hometown of Dorado City in exactly one year on Valentine's Day. There they would split the five-million dollars Kresser had gotten for the diamonds (a million for each man) and everyone would live happily ever after.
"What the hell . . ."
Stiles followed Kresser's gaze toward the café door. Two completely baldheaded men dressed in black and sporting long black dusters walked into the café, attracting the attention of everyone in the place. They sported sunglasses and well-trimmed goatees.
"No way," Stiles muttered in disbelief when he recognized Long and Montoya.
Montoya and Long located the booth where Radford and Stiles sat. Radford looked on, slack-jawed as the two "disguised" men sat on each side of the booth. Montoya sidled up next to Radford while Long sat next to Stiles.
"Well, what do you think?" Montoya asked.
"Are you out of your minds?" Radford asked, still not believing what he was seeing. "Oh, wait, I forgot, you don't have any!"
"What are you talking about?" Long asked. "There's no way we'll match our descriptions now."
"No," Radford said sharply, "Now you just stand out like . . . like . . . like two baldheaded idiots dressed like vampires. Are you two morons serious? Look at yourselves for Pete's sake."
Long frowned. "You know I'm getting tired of you putting us down all the time. Just remember that we were also at that store two years ago, risking our necks!"
Radford gazed downward. "Shut up before someone hears you!"
"Apologize," Long said.
Radford looked up. "What?"
"You heard me," Long said. "Apologize to me and Montoya for insulting us."
Radford's eyes narrowed. "Go screw yourself."
"You son of a . . ." Long made a fist and began to rise the booth.
Radford recoiled back.
Stiles pulled Long back down to his seat. "Easy, Long, don't go too far."
Long brushed aside Stiles' arm. "Don't touch me!"
Stiles and Long stared each other down.
Montoya chuckled. "Come one, guys, can't we all just get along? I mean, after today, we won't have to see each other again. Quit screwing around and let's take care of business."
That seemed to calm things down. Long exhaled and sat back down. Radford looked about discreetly, making sure they were not being watched. He glanced at his watch again. Ten till eight. Where the hell was Kresser?
The four men finished eating breakfast at eight fifteen. There was still no sign of Kresser, who--according to the plan--had agreed to meet them at the café at exactly eight o'clock sharp. Everyone was now on edge as the first crack appeared in the plan.
"That son of bitch isn't coming," Stiles said. "He probably took the money and split."
"I'll kill the bastard!" Long added.
Radford glared at Long. He thought about warning him to keep his voice down but changed his mind. "Let's wait a little longer," he said. "Maybe he's running late."
That was wishful thinking. Kresser did not show up at the café at eight thirty or eight forty or eight fifty. By nine o'clock the four men were in full panic mode. It was clear that Kresser was not going to show up at the café that morning. Time for plan B.
"All right," Radford finally said. "Let's pay this bastard a house call."
****
Joanna Kresser stopped typing and stared at the computer screen. She read the last sentence of the last paragraph and sighed. The words were clear and straight forward but lacked . . . style. After fifteen years of being a newspaper reporter she still adhered to the keep-it-simple and less-is-more rules of writing. That was fine for a newspaper story but not for a novel.
She sighed and sipped her coffee. She winced when she tasted the cold liquid. She studied the mug and flashed a tight-lipped smile. It had been a birthday present from her daughter, Jenny. The word reporter was written in black letters on the mug and then crossed out with a single line. Below that, the word author was inscribed in type-like letters.
It had taken two years and plenty of hard work but Joanna was finally on the verge of living up to that inscription. She had finally sold her first book, a thriller, and was in the midst of yet another rewrite. At this point, it seemed like Steel Courage would never be finished. Her love of the written word and storytelling kept her going and fueled her determination to realize her dream of becoming a fiction writer.
But time was running out. She had quit her day job as a reporter for the Dorado City Prowler six months earlier and her savings would not last forever. Not to mention Jenny's private school tuition, which took a big chunk out of her resources. It was a good thing her husband's insurance policy . . .
Joanna heard the chime of the doorbell coming from the living room. She stared at the clock. Ten fifteen. Not expecting anyone, she had not bothered to dress. Under her opened knee-length robe she sported her usual sleeping attire consisting of a purple satin camisole with matching shorts, which were a tad too short for public display.
She sighed, spun her executive chair away from the desk, and stood. She secured her robe tight around her body, hoping to quickly dispatch whoever was outside her door. As she stepped into the living room she caught her reflection on a wall mirror. She had placed her thick blonde hair up and loose strands cascaded around her face and neck, giving her a disheveled look. She also had not applied any make up or lipstick. Though her friends said otherwise, Joanna couldn't help noticing that she looked every bit like the thirty-eight-year-old woman that she was.
Joanna stood before the front door and peered through the peephole. She was surprised to find two well-dressed men standing on her porch. One was rather tall and brawny while the other one was smaller and a few years older. She had never seen the men before. As she contemplated who they were the doorbell rang again.
Joanna exhaled and opened the door far enough to reveal her robe clad form. "Yes?" she asked pleasantly.
The two men immediately seized up Joanna, which made her feel self-conscious and exposed. The smaller man flashed a phony-looking smile.
"Good morning," he said. "I'm looking for Mr. Jack Kresser. I'm . . ." The man paused and glanced at his burly companion. " . . . we're friends of his."
Joanna lowered her eyes and swallowed. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "but Jack Kresser, my husband, passed away three months ago."
The bigger of the two men stared at Joanna. "What?" His face hardened and he stepped toward her, making her flinch. "What do you mean he passed . . ."
The smaller man glared at his friend and cut him off. He turned toward Joanna and said, "I"m sorry, Mrs. Kresser. We didn't know. What happened?"
Joanna's eyes shifted back and forth between the two men. "A car accident. If you're friends of his, why haven't you heard about his death?"
The smaller man shrugged innocently. "We've been. . . away. We're old business friends if his. From way back."
Joanna glanced behind the men. Something did not feel right. She did not see any type of vehicle parked anywhere on the street. "What kind of business were you and my husband in?" she asked. "Mr. . . ."
The smaller man ignored her question. "If we could come in we could discuss it in more detail."
Joanna was not about to allow two complete strangers inside her house--not while she was alone. "I'm sorry, but I'm really busy," Joanna replied. "Perhaps some other time."
As she closed the door, the bigger man lunged forward. He jammed his foot between the door and the frame and pushed his way inside the house.
Joanna staggered back into the living room. Her stomach contracted and she shrieked. She turned to flee but did not get far. She took only a few steps before she ran into a third man! He was dressed completely in black and baldheaded. Joanna squealed and spun, realizing she was trapped.
The big man who had entered through the front door wrapped his arms around Joanna and wrestled her to the floor. He quickly forced down on her stomach and jammed her face against the rough carpet of the living room. Joanna screamed again, a high pitch screech filled with abject terror.
She suddenly spotted a square-shaped gun barrel pressed against her face. "Shut up!" the big man ordered. "Scream again and shut you up for good."
Joanna stifled another scream. She froze and gazed at the gun. She was on the verge of hyperventilating and struggled to catch her breath. She swallowed several times and managed not to vomit.
"That's better," the big man said. He looked up at the small and older man who seemed to be in charge. "I think we better make sure she stays nice and quiet."
"Do what you have to do," the older man said.
Joanna's heart dropped when she spotted a fourth man entering from the kitchen. He appeared to be Hispanic and also dressed entirely in black and baldheaded. He carried a steaming mug of coffee--one of her mugs.
The man straddling Joanna glared at the Hispanic man. "What the hell are you doing? Get the rope!"
The Hispanic frowned. "Can't a man enjoy a nice homemade cup of coffee?" He turned and walked back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.
****
Deputy Brianna Lockwood had just finished her coffee break. As she drove along the tranquil Dorado City Park road she spotted something odd across the narrow river. She could swear she saw a young girl dressed in a school girl uniform duck into the bushes. Brianna slowed down her patrol car.
After what had happened to Sheriff Derringer all deputies had been ordered to be on the look out for anything suspicious. This definitely fit that mold. Brianna stopped her patrol car near the wooden bridge that provided the only access across the river. The newly hired twenty-three year-old deputy exited her patrol car and made her way along the narrow bridge to the other side of the river.
Once she was across, she strolled along a narrow pathway through the bushes. The area was a popular fishing spot on the weekends. On week days, however, the place should have been practically deserted. At least it was supposed to be.
The shapely deputy came upon the clearing overlooking the river. A young couple sat near the river bank. They did not hear Brianna approaching. Two kids playing hookie from school, she quickly deduced. Brianna stood behind the couple. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat.
The girl and boy turned. They spotted the deputy and immediately stood. The girl was blonde with a cute oval-shaped face and long shapely legs. She sported a typical private school girl uniform consisting of a white shirt, navy blue sweater, matching pleated skirt, and white ankle length socks. The boy appeared to be a bit older and wore faded jeans and a blue T-shirt. He was muscular and broad-shouldered with a handsome face. They were certainly the perfect couple . . . as far as looks were concerned.
"Good morning," Brianna said, "Beautiful day isn't it?"
"What's the problem, officer?" the boy asked.
Brianna flashed a tight-lipped smile. "Correct me if I'm wrong but aren't you two supposed to be in school right now?"
The boy shrugged innocently. "Like you said, it's a beautiful day. Why spoil it by going to school? Besides, it's Valentine's Day."
The girl frowned and sighed. "Darren," she warned.
Brianna's smile faded. "Let's start with your names. Then you can tell me why you aren't in school today?"
After a short pause the girl spoke. "My name's Jennifer Kresser. He's my boyfriend, Darren Taylor. We weren't doing anything wrong. We were just talking." The girl looked pleadingly at Brianna. "Can't you just let us off with a warning or something?"
Brianna shook her head. "I'd be neglecting my duty. What if I let you go and something happened to either of you? I'll have to take you both back to school."
The boy frowned and looked away. "Shit," he muttered.
****
Joanna Kresser could not believe this was happening. A few minutes ago she had been in her home on a quiet Friday morning, working on her book and drinking cold coffee. Now she was tightly bound and gagged to her office chair inside her den. The four intruders were, at the moment, in the living room, having an animated discussion. At first Joanna had tried listeneng to what they were saying but the closed door of the den made it difficult to pick up on anything intelligible. She still had no idea who the men were or what they wanted. That only added to her desperation and fear.
Joanna stared at the phone on her desk in front of her. If she could reach it . . . Considering her current status, that was going to be a rather tough task. Her arms were bound behind the back of the chair with several tight loops of cris-crossing cord. Her bound wrists were anchored to the bar connecting the back of the chair to the seat. Several loops of rope were lashed around her waist and lap, securing her to the chair. Her legs were bound at the knees and ankles and then pulled back and tied to the base of the chair. Though she could turn (and probably spin) in the chair, she could not stand or use her feet to make her way toward the phone.
Even if she could work her way to the phone, she had another problem. A red handkerchief, which was folded into a tight band, was stuffed between her teeth. The gag was pulled extra tight and tied behind her head. Joanna wondered why she had been gagged? If she screamed, the men would no doubt hear her. She suspected the gag was intended to make her feel even more helpless--which it did.
If that wasn't bad enough, Joanna's robe had been removed. She had screamed in terror when one of the baldheaded men had stripped off the robe. Fearing rape, she had fought like crazy until the leader of the group, the small man with glasses, reassured her that was not the case. At first, Joanna had more pressing problems than worrying about her modesty but now, tied to an office chair and wearing only her revealing satin camisole and skimpy shorts, she felt completely exposed and embarrassed.
Joanna's thoughts then switched to her daughter, Jenny. What if the men were still here when she got home this afternoon? That sobering and disturbing thought sent Joanna into full panic mode. She had to free herself and call for help. She bit down hard on the gag and thrashed in the office chair. She pulled, heaved, and squirmed like a woman possessed, but the cords did not budge. She grunted dejectedly as she fought back tears. Why was this happening to her? This wasn't supposed to happen in a small town like Dorado City.
In the living room of Joanna Kresser's house, Radford, Stiles, Long, and Montoya were still involved in a heated discussion regarding Jack Kresser's untimely demise. That had thrown their once solid plan into a flux and the gang had to figure out a new course of action.
"I still say she's lying!" Long said, gesturing toward the closed door of the den. "This has to be a set-up! Kresser is probably hiding out somewhere, spending our money. We show up here. The wife says, 'Sorry, but my husband is dead.' So what do we do? We say, 'Oh, sorry. We didn't know.' And we disappear . . . empty handed. The end. Come on!"
Radford rolled his eyes and sighed. "Are you finished?"
"Not yet," Long said, eyeing the door of the den. "Give me fifteen minutes with her. I'll make her talk and get the truth."
Radford shook his head. "Hold back on the rough stuff for now. Let's get her to take us to Kresser's grave."
"What is that gonna prove?" Long demanded. "They could have faked his death! Maybe even paid off someone! It's not like they didn't have the money to do it!"
"What are we gonna do, Radford?" Montoya asked. "I say we make the woman talk. She has to know something."
"He's right," Stiles chimed in. "We're wasting our time standing here and arguing."
Radford shook his head. "You don't understand. Kresser promised me he wasn't going to involve his wife or daughter. He gave me his word. Besides, they probably wouldn't approve of what he did."
Long stared at Radford. "Did you say daughter?"
"That's right."
"How old is this daughter?"
Radford shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't say. But apparently she's old enough to disapprove of her father's . . ." Radford finally caught on to what Long was suggesting. "What are you saying, Long?"
"That we find Kresser's daughter and use her as . . . leverage in order to get the mother to talk," Long said, rather cavalierly. "Motherly concern is really powerful stuff."
"What if she really doesn't know anything?" Radford asked.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Long said. He addressed Montoya and Stiles. "All right, who's with me on snatching the girl?"
Not surprisingly, Montoya agreed immediately. "I hope she's got her mother's looks."
Stiles nodded. "Sounds solid. It could work."
"Oh, it will," Long said, chuckling. "It will."
****
Kat sat in her office, staring solemly at the stack of papers on her desk. Though it was the first task she did each morning upon arriving, she didn't feel like tackling paperwork. Kat had also noticed the subtle glances she received from her staff, particularly Bayless. While everyone seemed genuinely concerned about her well-being, Bayless had acted overly dramatic. Almost patronizing. That had infuriated Kat, and she was still fuming.
After having breakfast with Lindy, Kat had managed to get some sleep. She woke up at nine and, ignoring her sister's advice, decided to come to the office for a full day's work. She wanted to reassure her staff that she was all right. Physically she was fine, but emotionally . . . well, that was another story. Bayless had, by this time, probably told everyone how he had found the sheriff all tied up and helpless. Exactly how much detail he would provide depended on how much he wanted to embarrass her. She regretted not firing Bayless after she took over as sheriff.
Kat sighed and once again stared at the stack of papers in front of her. The work was not going to do itself. She opened the top drawer on her desk to find a pen when she saw the neatly gift-wrapped rectangular-shaped box. Kat stared at the box but made no move to pick it up. Someone had obviously sent her a Valentine's Day gift. A secret admirer perhaps? She pulled out the box and placed it on her desk. She thought about asking Alison who had placed it there but changed her mind.
She pulled apart the ribbon and opened the box. Perhaps there was a card inside. She found something wrapped in pink tissue paper. This was getting more interesting by the minute. Kat stole a quick glance toward the office door before parting the tissue paper. She reached inside and pulled out . . . a pair of red lace panties. They were not the type of underwear Kat preferred. These panties where thong-style and very sheer. They also felt soft and expensive. Certainly not something found at the neighborhood department store.
Who would be bold enough or crude enough to send her such a thing? Kat placed the panties down and pulled out the remaining two articles of intimate clothing inside the box--a matching red bra and a red garter belt adored with sheer lace. This was more to her liking. Kat had always preferred old-fashioned stockings and garters to the dread pantyhose, which she could not stand.
Aside from the panties, whoever had sent her the lingerie definitely had good taste. At the same time, she found the gift a bit disturbing. Besides her sister (along two small-time criminals and Deputy Bayless), no one knew about her love of fine lingerie. As expected, she found a card at the bottom. Kat tore open the small envelope. She smiled as she read the following:
Hey, sheriff! Happy V-Day. I know and appreciate your devotion to lingerie. Accept and wear this humble offering with pride. Maybe some day some lucky guy will also enjoy it.
Love you,
Your sister and favorite deputy, Lindy.
Kat placed the note down and shook her head. She suddenly felt much better than when she had arrived at the office complex. Lindy was a sweet girl and always found a way to cheer her big sister up. Kat often lay awake at night, wondering what she would do if something ever happened to Lindy?
Her emotional high was short-lived when the phone on her desk rang. It was Alison and she informed Kat that Dorado City Prowler reporter Walter Hart wanted to speak with her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted to talk about. During the election for county sheriff Hart had written a negative story about Kat, questioning her qualifications to be sheriff. He had basically concluded that she was just a pretty face who looked good in heels and a skirt. Against her better judgment, Kat took the call and braced herself.
After exchanging greetings and expressing his concern (Yeah right, Kat thought.) about her ordeal, Hart got to the point. "I was wondering if you could clear up some of the details regarding what was probably a . . . harrowing ordeal for you. I mean you being the sheriff and all."
Kat winced. She could almost see the smug on Hart's face. "What sort of details? I'm sure Deputy Bayless gave you all you needed to know. I'm really busy this morning, Mr. Hart. I'm afraid I don't have time for this right now."
In typical reporter fashion, Hart ignored Kat's less-than-subtle brush-off. "Now, exactly how did you get . . . overpowered and tied up by these two men?"
Kat stiffened. "Who told you I got overpowered?" she asked sharply.
"Didn't you?"
"No!" Kat exclaimed. Despite her vow of silence she continued. "Two armed men surprised me when I entered the store. They held me at gunpoint!"
Hart remained annoyingly calm. "So you didn't resist when they tied you up?"
Kat fought her rising anger. "What would you have done?"
"I don't know," Hart replied, "but then I'm not the sheriff. What do you say to those who say this happened to you because you're a woman?"
Kat could hardly believe her ears. "What?"
"Some have suggested that women in law-enforcement are more vulnerable than men."
"Who suggested that?"
"Just what I've heard," Hart said calmly. "Now, getting back to the incident. How did you feel while you were laying there . . . helpless, hogtied, and gagged? Did you ever regret becoming sheriff?"
Kat felt a hot flash of anger sweep over her. "This interview is over, Mr. Hart. Good day."
Kat hung up the phone, a little too hard than she should have. What a jerk! She thought. She should have listened to her sister and stayed home today. Her fury then turned toward Bayless. It was time she had a talk with him and lay down the law about what he said to reporters.
****
Since Jenny Kresser attended a private school in another county, Deputy Brianna Lockwood could not take her directly to the principal. It was simply out of her jurisdiction. Instead, after dropping off Jenny's boyfriend at his school, which was within Brianna's jurisdiction, she took the sixteen-year-old girl home to her mother. Along the way the two young women, who were only seven years apart in age, had a friendly and informative talk.
It seemed that Jenny's mother did not approve of her boyfriend and forbade her to see him. According to Joanna Kresser, the boy was nothing but trouble. Though Darren Taylor had never been in trouble with the law, he wasn't exactly the type of boy Mrs. Kresser wanted for her daughter. Sure he was a little "rough around the edges" but deep down inside Jenny reassured Brianna that he was a great guy. In typical teen-aged fashion, Jenny had disobeyed her mother's orders and had been secretly meeting with Darren for the past month.
Not wanting to get in the middle of a mother-daughter dispute, Brianna tried to sound diplomatic. She stared at the sulking girl sitting in the front seat of the patrol car. "Look, Jenny, your mother loves you very much and only wants what she thinks is best for you. You can't take it personal."
"I know all that," Jenny said wearily. "But ever since . . . ever since my father died she's been totally protective of me. She wants to know where I am all the time. It's really frustrating."
Jenny's revelation about her father made Brianna even more uncomfortable. "Sorry about your father," the deputy said. "Just try to be understanding about your mother. I'm sure it's just a phase she's going through."
Jenny stared at Brianna, giving the young deputy a quick look-over. "You don't look or sound like a typical cop. Do your parents worry about you? What did they say when you told them you wanted to be a cop?"
Brianna gave the girl a side glance. "My father used to be a police detective. I was so proud that he was putting bad guys in jail and helping people that I wanted to do the same thing. I thought I'd grow out of it but it never happened. Now, here I am . . . thirteen years later, trying to do the same thing."
"What about your mother?"
Brianna flashed a tight-lipped smile. "That's another story."
The two young women shared an understanding look and laughed.
****
"What?" was all Joanna Kresser could say after the older man, who identified himself as Radford, finished telling her about the diamond heist involving her husband. Never in a million years would she have believed Jack was capable of doing such a thing. It couldn't be true. As she processed the shocking revelation, she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach.
Joanna stared at the four men who surrounded her in the den of her house. Though her gag had been removed, she was still tied to the office chair and at the mercy of the four thugs who had invaded her home. Now it was up to her to decide whether to believe them or not. Her heart sank when she remembered the diamond robbery at the store where her husband worked. He had been taken hostage and . . . Oh, God!
"We don't want to hurt anyone," Radford said, sounding reasonable. "All we want is what belongs to us. The cash or the diamonds."
Joanna swallowed the hard knot in her throat. "I don't know anything about any diamonds or money. Jack never told me anything."
"Bullshit!" Long said, startling Joanna. "I don't even believe your husband is really dead."
Radford glared at Long. "Not now, Long." He sighed and turned his attention back to Joanna. "Look, just be honest with us and tell us what you know. Jack must have said something or acted strange after the robbery."
While the men were only concerned about their money, Joanna Kresser finally realized that her husband of twenty years had betrayed her. He had, in fact, been living in a double life. And now, with his death, she would never really now the truth. She would never get an explanation from him. Not only that, but his actions had put her and possibly Jenny in danger. Jenny! She had to think of some way to get these men out of here before her daughter returned.
"Well?" Long said. "Are you gonna talk or what?"
Radford frowned. "I told you to stay out of this."
"Screw you!" Long said sharply. "This involves all of us. Not just you."
"I'm in charge here," Radford shot back. "You're just hired muscle. You're lucky to be here at all so shut up!"
Long reached out and grabbed Radford by the lapels of his sport coat.
Stiles quickly separated the two men. "Hey, we don't have time for this crap!"
Radford and Long glared at each other but backed off.
Montoya chuckled and sipped on his second cup of coffee. "Mmmmm," he said, raising the mug toward Joanna. "Great coffee, Mrs. Kresser. It's really hard to find a woman who can make decent coffee. It's a lost art."
Radford's ire turned to Montoya. "Will you cool it with the damned coffee! Talk about amateur night. "
The unexpected confrontation among the four men bought Joanna enough time to come up with a desperate idea. "Our old apartment," she blurted.
The four men all turned their attention to Joanna.
"What are you talking about?" Radford asked.
"After we moved to Dorado City last year we kept the lease on our old apartment," Joanna explained. "In case we ever wanted to move back. I remember my husband kept a secret safe there. He also made several business trips back to Palm City until he . . . he died."
The revelation left the men speechless. They gazed fixedly at Joanna, looking for any signs of deception. She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped they bought her story. It was true that she and Jack still had the lease on the empty apartment in Palm City, but there was no safe there. At the moment, all Joanna wanted was to buy time and get the men out of here before Jenny returned home this afternoon.
"So what are you saying," Long asked, suspiciously. "That he left something there? The diamonds?"
"I don't know," Joanna replied, fighting to remain calm. "Anything's possible."
Radford stared at Joanna. "It's worth a look." He turned to the four men. "All right, here's the plan. Stiles and . . ." The doorbell chime interrupted Radford. He frowned and turned toward the hallway leading to the living room. "Damn it! Now what?"
Joanna's hopes immediately soared. Someone was finally here! Perhaps one of her neighbors had spotted the men breaking into her house and called the police. Even if that wasn't the case, Joanna now, at least, had a chance to get help. Her heart raced but she remained quiet and still.
"Check it out and take care of it," Radford told Long and Montoya. "And no rough stuff unless it's absolutely necessary. You got that? In fact, don't open the door if you don't have to."
The two baldheaded men glared at Radford but didn't say anything. They exited the den and made their way down the hallway toward the living room.
Radford turned to Stiles and Joanna. "Let's not take any chances. Keep her quiet."
Stiles quickly slipped behind Joanna and clamped his large hand over her mouth. Joanna's eyes widened and she whimpered softly.
Long and Montoya stood before the living room door. Long peered though the peephole and couldn't believe what he saw. Two attractive young women were standing on the porch. One was a cute blonde dressed in school girl uniform while the other was a hot brunet dressed in a tan sheriff's deputy uniform.
"It's a girl and some chick cop," he whispered urgently. "I think the blonde girl is Kresser's daughter."
"Talk about home delivery," Montoya said. He shoved Long aside and peered through the peephole. "Holy smokes! Another hot cop. What is it with this town?"
The doorbell rang again.
"They're not going to go away," Long said, drawing his pistol from his waistband. "Let's get them in here before they get suspicious."
Outside the front door of the house, Deputy Brianna Lockwood wondered why Jenny's mother had not answered the door. Jenny had told Brianna that her mother worked at home, so she was supposed to be here now. Brianna was about to ring the doorbell for a third time when the door suddenly opened.
Brianna and Jenny were taken aback by the sight that greeted them: a baldheaded man dressed completely in black. Even more shocking was the fact that the man held a menacing looking sliver-barreled gun, trained directly at Brianna and Jenny.
"Hold it right there," the man ordered. "Don't move!"
Brianna's eyes expanded and her mouth dropped. Her heart skipped a beat and she froze where she stood. Jenny had a similar reaction. Almost instantly, the teenaged girl's faced filled with fear.
"Mom!" Jenny screamed, peering into the house.
"Shut up!" the balded man exclaimed. Then he quickly added, "Your mother's okay. Get in the house! Both of you." To reaffirm his order, the man reached out and grabbed Jenny by the wrist. He pulled the startled girl against him and jammed the gun against her head. "Let's go deputy, or the girl dies!"
Jenny whimpered and stared pleadingly at Brianna.
Something in his voice and demeanor alarmed Brianna to the seriousness of his threat. Her head spun, wondering what this was about? A wave of fear swept over her and a chill ran down her spine. Having no other choice than to obey, Brianna followed the man inside the house as he pulled Jenny Kresser into the living room.
Once inside the house, Brianna spotted a second man. He was also dressed in black, baldheaded, and holding a gun. Though she could not be sure, she guessed the man to be Hispanic. That realization quickly sent her thoughts racing. Could these be the same two men who attacked and tied up Sheriff Derringer?
"Hands in the air, deputy!" the man holding Jenny ordered.
Brianna raised her arms. "Who are you?" she asked. "What have you done with-"
"Keep your pretty mouth shut!" the Hispanic man said. He stepped toward Brianna and removed the nine millimeter from her holster. He then pulled the handcuffs from her belt and held them up. "Cool! I think we can find a use for these."
"Where's my mother!" Jenny shouted, squirming in the other man's grasp. "Mom!"
Brianna glanced at Jenny, noting how desperate and scared she looked. She thought about telling the man to let her go, but at the moment she was in no position to issue any orders. Instead, she tried to reassure the frightened girl. "It's okay, Jenny, just do what they say and everything's going to be all right."
"Yeah," the man told Jenny. "Listen to the pretty deputy with the nice tits." He released the girl and gestured toward the hallway leading away from the living room. "Let's go. Through there."
The two men followed Brianna and Jenny through the hallway and into the den where Radford, Stiles, and Joanna waited.
Joanna's eyes and face filled with shock when Jenny and Brianna entered the den. "Jenny!" she called out.
"Mom!" Jenny exclaimed, darting toward her mother.
Radford stared at Brianna. "What the hell is this?"
"She's a deputy," Long explained, staring at Brianna. "Showed up with the girl."
"Oh, shit!" Radford exclaimed. "That's all we need!"
Jenny wrapped her arms around the bound form of her mother and sobbed. The girl turned and addressed the four men. "Please don't hurt my mother. Take what you want and leave us alone."
Exactly why Jenny was home was of secondary concern for Joanna. "Let my daughter go!" she pleaded with Radford "Please . . . she has nothing to do with this."
Long turned to Radford. "What did I tell you about the mother-daughter thing?"
"Once we conduct our business we'll leave," Radford said. "Providing you all cooperate and do what you're told." He turned to Brianna. "I assume the deputy here came in a patrol car?"
"What was your first guess?" Long scoffed.
"Don't give me attitude, Long!" Radford shot back. "I'm not in the mood."
Long flinched. "Idiot! You just used my name in front of them! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Put a lid on it, Long," Radford said. "Change your name when this is over."
"You son of a bitch!" Long shot back.
"Knock this shit off!" Stiles broke in. "We got bigger problems than worrying about names."
Radford calmed down and addressed Stiles. "Go outside and move her patrol car to the back of the house." He addressed Long and Montoya. "You two take the deputy and the school girl into the bedroom and make sure they stay there. Nice and quiet."
Long stared hungrily at Brianna. "You heard the man, deputy, get moving."
Brianna's swallowed and looked away from Long's leering face. Though she was apprehensive about what was going to happen next, she remained calm.
Jenny Kresser was a different story. The girl had no intention of leaving her mother alone with the strange men.
"Come on, sweetheart," Montoya told Jenny. "We don't have all day."
"No!" Jenny exclaimed, clutching her mother tighter. "Please don't! I wanna stay with my mom!"
"It's okay, Jenny," Joanna said, sounding calm for her daughter's sake. "Just do what they say and everything's going to be all right."
Before Jenny could absorb her mother's reassuring words, Montoya lost his patience and stepped toward the girl. He pulled her away from her mother and hauled her to her feet. Jenny shrieked and kicked as he threw her over his shoulder. The sudden action lifted the girl's pleated skirt over her backside, exposing a pair of pink bikini panties.
"Hey!" Joanna screamed, squirming against her bindings. "That's not necessary! Put her down!"
Montoya laughed and carried the shrieking girl out of the den, taking the time to plant a playful swat to her wiggling panty-clad backside.
Deputy Brianna Lockwood could only look on, completely helpless, wondering what her police detective father would have done?
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