He could hardly wait to quit that dusty egg ranch, to tell Dwight to take his job and shove it….
His heart raced as he poked his head into the room. He didn’t see Sophia, but the light in the master bath was also on.
Come out, come out, wherever you are, he chanted silently and slipped through the open doorway. The floor squeaked ever so slightly with each step, but he wasn’t worried about the noise. He’d seen her shadow in the bathroom. She was trapped.
Keeping his finger on the trigger, he led with his gun. But that shadow didn’t belong to Sophia or anyone else. It was merely the reflection of the dark blue towel he’d hung on a nail that had once held a picture his wife had taken when she left him.
Frustrated to think he didn’t know his own home anymore, he was about to swing toward the bedroom when Sophia came up behind him and pressed a cold, hard object into the base of his skull—an object he recognized even before she spoke.
“Drop the gun, or I’ll blow your head off.”
19
Leonard froze but didn’t lower his weapon. He couldn’t believe Sophia would fire. She didn’t have the nerve. That was partially why he was so upset that the town had been stupid enough to give her his job. The mayor, the council members, they were all pretending she had the balls, but she couldn’t compete with him, not when it came to the rough stuff. And police work was full of rough stuff.
Political correctness disgusted him. But Sophia’s supporters would pay a high price. He was watching that happen, was showing them their mistake. “You fire, and you’ll go to prison. Is that really what you want?” he asked.
“I won’t go to prison. I called my cell phone from your number fifteen minutes ago.”
She didn’t have to explain why. He knew. She’d say that call came from him. That once she arrived, he attacked her. And it wouldn’t be a hard lie to sell. He’d made it very clear how he felt about her—to just about everyone in town. He couldn’t imagine there’d be many people who’d have difficulty believing that scenario. To make matters worse, he’d left his cell at home so no one could use it to place him in a particular area if he was ever caught doing what he was doing.
“How’d you know when I got here?” He’d been so damn careful, so sure he had the upper hand. “Did you hear me coming down the hall?”
“I heard everything from the moment you opened the door. I was waiting, listening. I figured you had to come home sooner or later.” She jammed the gun into his head. “Drop your weapon.” Maybe she would fire. She didn’t like him any more than he liked her. She certainly hadn’t hesitated to destroy his marriage, his reputation or his career.
Whether she’d act on her threat or not, this situation had grown too risky. There was no need to get into a shoot-out with her. His original plan was working; all he had to do was stick to it.
Slowly, he bent to put his gun on the floor, and she kicked it into the bathroom, out of reach.
“Where’ve you been tonight, Leonard?”
If only she knew what he’d been doing for the past twenty-four hours. Too bad the listening devices he’d planted in her car, home and office only worked if he was close by. Eager to catch up since he’d last “tuned in,” he’d tried to find her after he left the bar, but he hadn’t succeeded. She’d deviated from her usual home, station and patrol routines; she’d been in his trailer.
“None of your damn business,” he said.
“It will become my business if you’ve been out in the desert shooting illegal immigrants.”
He laughed softly. “Sorry, Sophia. I’m not the one who’s killing wetbacks. But if you want my opinion, I think the guy who’s doing it deserves a medal.”
“Then you’re as twisted as he is,” she said. “But that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You’re so sure it’s me that you’re missing the obvious.”
“Which is…”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to work that one out for yourself. I’m the last person who’d ever help you.”
She lowered the gun so it wasn’t pointing directly at him, but she didn’t put it away. “I don’t need your help, Leonard. That’s not why I’m here.”
Easing himself onto the bed, he stretched out his legs. “No?”
“I’m here for the picture.”
He smiled. “Oh, that. Of course.”
“Where is it?”
Eager to witness her reaction, he shifted to one side so he could pull it from his back pocket. Then he turned it face out but held it far enough away that he could snatch it back if she grabbed for it. News of her having an affair with her stepfather would be all over town by tomorrow. The picture had already served its purpose, but he couldn’t relinquish it to her or anyone else. He’d had to do a lot of work in Photoshop to get that picture to look as real as it did. The image seemed authentic in the dim light of a bar, even here in the bedroom if viewed from a distance, but he had no illusions that it could withstand a close inspection, especially by the subject herself.
To his gratification, the sight of what he’d created made the color drain from Sophia’s face. “Where did you get that?”
“Where do you think?”
“Not from Gary. There’s no way he could’ve taken that photo. For one, it’s recent.”
When he hadn’t been able to find any pictures of Sophia except those snapped at Lake Powell during a trip they’d taken at the invitation of the former chief of police, Leonard had had to adjust his story. But gossip about a current affair would do more damage to Sophia, anyway. Councilwoman Torres definitely hadn’t liked what she’d seen. She’d stiffened the moment she took hold of the picture and recognized who it was. Then she’d assumed an air of superiority that told him exactly what she thought of Sophia St. Claire. And she’d been one of Sophia’s most ardent supporters!
“I guess I misunderstood,” he said. “I was sure Gus was talking about an old affair, but when he brought this to the bar tonight I realized it was taken within the past couple of years.”
“Gus didn’t bring that to the bar,” she said. “Gus isn’t even in town. He’s in Flagstaff.”
Leonard hadn’t been aware of that when he’d used Gus’s name. Other than running into him at the Firelight occasionally, they had little or no contact. But it didn’t matter. Leonard was only trying to torment Sophia; making her scramble to suppress the rumors he’d started would certainly do that. Especially because those rumors were founded on a kernel of truth—a kernel that was already painful for her.