Paradise Ranch (Jack and Ashley detective series Book 2) Read online

  Ashley timidly lowered her sleep shorts, revealing a bright red mark atop her right buttocks.

  “It got you good,” Jack said, inspecting the wound that was already beginning to form a ring around its center. “We got to get you to a doctor. Throw on some-thing. I’ll get us a ride.”

  Jack gave the room one last glance to make sure no other scorpions were lingering in the shadows.

  “Meet me at the front desk,” Jack said as he dashed out the door.

  He sprinted through the parking lot to the office and immediately laid down on the bell.

  “I was hoping you’d come back,” Jessica said as she emerged from the back, dressed in a sexy nightie. “I went ahead and slipped into something more comfortable – for bed of course. What do you think? You like?”

  She stopped in mid-model, noticing the look on Jack’s face. “You don’t like?”

  “You’ve got bugs!” Jack declared while at the same time allowing his eyes to drink in the sexy outfit, obviously meant for him. “And, yes. I do like.”

  “Bugs?” Jessica repeated, confused by Jack’s declaration.

  “Ashley got stung by a scorpion!” Jack revealed. “They were all over her room just now!”

  “A scorpion!” Jessica barked. “They’re poisonous. We need to get her to a doctor right now!”

  “Duh,” Jack agreed as Ashley rushed in behind him, still clutching the sting.

  “Come on,” Jessica said as she threw a coat on over her flimsy nighty.

  Her outfit prompted a weary look from Ashley de-spite her injury, who then laid an accusing eye on Jack.

  “Don’t ask me,” Jack shrugged to Ashley as Jessica rushed past them with her keys in hand.

  “It’s the Hummer,” Jessica said, pointing to the nicest vehicle in the parking lot as she pulled out her cell-phone.

  “You have a signal?” Ashley asked, wincing as her bottom hit the seat.

  “Yeah,” she responded as she waited for an answer on the other end. “You can get one on this side of town.”

  The trio raced through the dark streets of New Hope, arriving at the hospital within a couple of minutes. A nurse was waiting outside the door when they pulled up, alerted by Jessica’s call. The doctor arrived five minutes later and swept Ashley into a treatment room.

  “How could that have happened?” Jack snapped, taking Jessica by the arm, leading her into the lobby. “They were all over the place.”

  “My motel does not have scorpions!” Jessica lifted her chin. “Or bed bugs for that matter. I run a clean place.”

  “I beg to differ,” Jack shot back. “I just killed six or seven in your motel.”

  Their back and forth continued until they were interrupted by Doctor Vance.

  “You two sure have had an exciting day,” the doctor began as he approached the arguing couple.

  “How is she, doc?” Jack turned from his conversation.

  “I’d say she’ll be fine,” the doctor revealed. “But, with that being said, I’ll go ahead and keep her over-night for observation. It appears your partner …”

  “Employee,” Jack interjected.

  “Is allergic to just about everything one can be allergic to,” the doctor continued. “For that reason, and out of an abundance of caution, I’m going to keep her here. We have an RN working around the clock so she can keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t have an allergic reaction. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Understood,” Jack agreed as he followed the doctor into the room where Ashley had already been placed in bed.

  “Put this under your pillow,” Jack ordered Ashley, handing her his forty-caliber.

  “Now I don’t know about …” the doctor began.

  “Someone has been trying to send us a message to-day, doc,” Jack interrupted. “I want her to be ready in case they try again.”

  “I’m sure I’ll sleep better,” Ashley twisted her lips, wincing when she rolled onto the spot where she had been stung. “Go on back and get some sleep. I’ll be fi-ne.”

  The nurse confirmed she would keep Ashley under direct observation until morning and would report any-thing unusual.

  “We also have an alarm system,” the doctor offered. “Anyone entering without permission would send out an alarm so the hospital facility is secure overnight. We do store drugs here so we can’t just have people wandering in and out.”

  Convinced of Ashley’s safety, Jack bid goodnight.

  “You may want to get us something to drive tomorrow,” Ashley offered as Jack turned to leave. “That might be easier said than done after what happened to-day.”

  “Don’t worry, if all else fails – commandeer,” Jack winked.

  Jack was true to his word. He secured a vehicle be-fore he arrived at the hospital to pick up Ashley the following morning.

  “Let me guess,” Ashley said as she stepped outside the hospital door to find Jack leaning against the vehicle, a smug look on his face. “Your name is Roscoe and you stole this from the Dukes of Hazzard Museum.”

  “She’s a classic,” Jack bragged of the black-and-white cruiser he had been loaned by the sheriff. “She has been a fixture at the sheriff’s office since the late eighties.”

  “Oh, she looks like a classic alright,” Ashley said, giving the old-school cruiser a close look. “I’m surprised she even started.”

  “We had to jump her off, actually,” Jack admitted as he opened the door for Ashley. “But, once I ran the gunk out of her, she’s been purring like a kitten. I mean, who needs some fancy, new car when you’ve got a classic piece of machinery like this? This is a genuine 1978 Plymouth Fury. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

  “This is all he would give you after we wrecked his other cruiser, huh?” Ashley said, taking a seat on the cracked and weathered black vinyl, yelping as her backside hit the unyielding upholstery.

  “Yep,” Jack said as he ground the starter, the engine sputtering and spitting before coming to life. “See. Smooth.”

  Jack grabbed the shifter on the steering wheel and pulled it into drive, the transmission engaging with a clang.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Jack said, reaching around to the back seat. “I got you something.”

  “What’s that?” Ashley asked as Jack held up a round object, reminiscent of a toilet seat.

  “You know, it’s one of those soft things you put un-der your butt,” Jack smiled. “It pads your backside when you have hemorrhoids or stuff like that. I think it’s also good for scorpion stings.”

  “Thanks,” Ashley crinkled her nose, taking the gift and summarily tossing it over her shoulder, back into the rear seat. “How thoughtful. Oh, I’ll be fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

  The pair headed to the downtown square, agreeing to canvas New Hope and talk to some of its citizens. At the top of the list was to find out what the people of the town knew about their friends over the hill. Taking a close second was to find out what they knew about Le-land Whitaker.

  Their first visit was the general mercantile, located in the historic downtown section of New Hope. Like many of the buildings in the old southwestern town, the store looked to be over a century old, maybe even having its roots in the late 1800s. A neon sign reading “Frank’s” hung in the window.

  The spring in the weathered screen door squeaked, announcing their arrival to several people who were sitting along the main counter, the layout of the store reminiscent of an old-time soda fountain. Ashley jumped as the door slammed shut behind them, her re-action getting a snicker from the man behind the counter.

  “I’ve been meaning to get that oiled,” said the friendly-faced man.

  “You’ve been saying that for ten years, Frank,” re-marked an older man sitting at the counter before turning up his soda.

  “But I’ll do it one of these days, Charlie,” he replied.

  “I wouldn’t change a thing,” Jack spoke up. “It gives the place character.”

  “Oh, Frank’s place has charac
ter alright,” Charlie said.

  “You must be the federal agents here working on the murder over the hill,” Frank said as he motioned for them to have a seat at the counter. “I’m Frank Williams, by the way. Owner and operator.”

  “News does travel fast, don’t it?” Jack said as he took a seat.

  “I think what Frank is trying to say,” Charlie began. “Is we don’t have many folks walk in here wearing a dark suit and tie.”

  “And from what I understand, you don’t have too many killings around here either,” Jack segued as he and Ashley took a seat next to Charlie.

  “That, we don’t,” Frank agreed as he served up so-das to the pair. “Amazing given what’s just down the road.”

  Jack took a drink of his soda and glanced toward Charlie and the other four people sitting further down the counter. “I guess folks around here don’t have a high opinion of Paradise Ranch, huh?”

  “They’re all nuts,” the heavyset woman sitting next to Charlie volunteered.

  “Ah, but if it wasn’t for those nuts, we’d all be broke,” the man on the end spoke up. “They spend more money in our town than we do.”

  “By ‘they’ he means their shoppers who come to town and buy supplies,” Frank clarified. ”The folks at Paradise Ranch, stay at Paradise Ranch. Ain’t never seen any of them actually come to town.”

  “That’s because they aren’t allowed outside the gates,” another man at the counter spoke up. “They’re all prisoners out there.”

  “None of them come here?” Jack clarified.

  “Ever,” Charlie confirmed. “The only time you see them is when they first ship them out there in those unmarked white vans. They don’t even slow down when they pass through.”

  “Probably afraid they’ll have second thoughts and jump out,” the heavyset woman laughed. “It’s a one way trip. You don’t see any of them ever leaving.”

  It was apparent that Paradise Ranch was a favorite point of gossip at the general mercantile as the patrons were all quick to offer their opinions, all of which were negative when it came to the camp over the hill. They engaged in voicing their opinions as well as offering their conspiracy theories about the murder for ten minutes before Jack decided to change gears.

  “So, what about Leland Whitaker?” Jack posed.

  A hush fell upon the talkative group at the counter. The people who could not shut up just moments earlier were now quiet as a mouse.

  “What?” Jack asked, feeling the coolness envelope the room. “Did I ask something wrong?”

  “Just don’t have nothing to say about that,” Charlie sullenly took a drink from his soda as the rest of the people at the counter slipped Jack’s gaze.

  “If you don’t mind me saying, it seems like people around here clam up anytime I bring up that name,” Jack declared. “What did the guy do?”

  “He rocked the boat,” Charlie said as he stood up and gave Frank a nod. “You don’t rock the boat in New Hope. Nice meeting you agents. Best of luck on solving that murder.”

  The squeaking and loud bang of the door announced Charlie’s leaving. He was followed by the other people at the counter, one by one, giving their excuses for having to leave.

  “Sorry if I hurt your business,” Jack said as he stood up. “I didn’t realize …”

  “It’s not your fault,” Frank waved as he cleaned the soda bottles off the bar. “Leland Whitaker, or the mention of that name, makes people a bit nervous around here.”

  “Why is that?” Jack asked.

  “Because they don’t want to end up like him,” Frank replied.

  “And how is that?” Jack wondered.

  “Dead,” Frank shot back.

  Frank’s comment prompted Jack and Ashley both to sit back down.

  “Suppose you tell us about Leland Whitaker,” Jack said as he looked around the store. “It’s just us.”

  Frank strolled over to the door and looked out, making sure no one was coming.

  “If you tell anyone where you heard it, I’ll deny it. Understand?” Frank said with a serious look.

  “You have our word,” Jack eagerly agreed.

  “Leland was a lawman from out east,” Frank began in a hushed tone as he leaned across the counter. “He moved here when he retired and got him a place just on the outskirts of town.”

  “Out east where?” Jack asked.

  “Don’t know exactly where,” Frank replied. “Any-way, if you were from here you’d know that Sheriff Tubbs isn’t exactly the most popular person in New Hope.”

  “No,” Jack feigned surprise. “You don’t say.”

  “He runs the place like he owns it,” Frank clarified. “And, if the truth be known, he doesn’t really do much. Liberty County is a big place, land-wise, but all he and his deputies do is patrol around New Hope. They never set foot over the hill toward the ranch and then they let the tribal police take care of the reservation down south.”

  “So, Leland Whitaker thought he could do better, huh?” Jack assumed.

  “Something like that,” Frank confirmed. “He declared to run for sheriff and things got ugly.”

  “Ugly?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah. Ugly,” Frank said. “Lots of mudslinging and such. Sheriff Tubbs wasn’t used to someone standing up to him. He didn’t take to it well.”

  “What did the people here think?” Ashley weighed in to the conversation.

  “They were split,” Frank admitted. “It was going to be a close race but there were enough old timers in New Hope that it looked like Tubbs would have the votes to get reelected, but just barely. That is, until Leland came up with an idea.

  “What was that?” Jack leaned on his palm, listening to the story.

  “He went to the ranch,” Frank revealed. “He realized that a lot of the people who lived over there were citizens of Liberty County and if he got them registered, they could vote. He also reckoned that Sheriff Tubbs and Elijah weren’t on a good basis with one another.”

  “What happened?” Ashley asked, now also with her chin in her palm, leaning on the counter.

  “He went out there and they let him in,” Frank said. “And, from what I heard, they liked him over there. They were going to vote for him. All they had to do was get the people registered and set up a voting place out there since they never leave the ranch.”

  “When was this?” Jack wondered.

  “Just last year,” Frank replied. “This is fresh stuff.”

  “So, what happened?” Ashley asked.

  “Nothing,” Frank somberly replied. “Leland just … disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Ashley repeated.

  “Yes. Into thin air,” Frank confirmed. “He was sup-posed to show up for a hearing to put the voting pre-cinct out there and never showed up. After a couple of days some folks went by his place and found most of his stuff was gone.”

  “Then he just left town?” Ashley wondered.

  “Well, at first that’s what folks thought but then a couple of weeks later his truck was found out in the de-sert, not too far from the ranch. It was turned over with blood inside it.” Frank revealed, nervously looking to-ward the door. “The sheriff looked into it and said there wasn’t enough evidence to indicate foul play. Of course, that’s like leaving the fox in charge of the hen house.”

  “You think he was murdered?” Jack asked.

  “It’s according to who you talk to,” Frank said.

  “I asked what you think,” Jack shot back.

  “Me? I think Sheriff Tubbs killed him, or had him killed,” Frank said.

  “What about the people at Paradise? Elijah?” Jack queried. “He was found near there, you said.”

  “They had nothing to gain from killing him,” Frank shrugged. “The only person with anything to lose was Sheriff Tubbs. For all I know he may have done it and wanted it to look like the people at the ranch were responsible.”

  Frank’s story came to an abrupt end as the screen door squeaked.

 
“Remember, we never talked,” Frank whispered, disengaging himself from the conversation. “I have to live here.”

  Jack zippered his lips and threw away the key, giving a nod to Frank.

  “Nice meeting you,” Jack said loudly, tapping his brow as he and Ashley left the store.

  The door banged behind them as they stepped onto the street. Ashley gave her partner a long look.

  “One murder wasn’t enough?” Ashley asked.

  “We don’t know for sure that it’s a murder,” Jack replied as he looked around downtown, looking for their next stop. “But, it does kind of confirm something that I’ve been thinking all along.”

  “That Sheriff Tubbs can’t be trusted,” Ashley stole his words.

  “Exactly,” Jack confirmed.

  “Okay, Jack. Where to next?” Ashley asked as she walked toward the car, not realizing Jack had stopped in his tracks.

  “Jack?” Ashley questioned as she saw him staring into the distance. “What is it?”

  “It’s the truck!” Jack exclaimed, pointing to a truck that was around the corner at the other end of the square.

  “What truck?” Ashley asked, trying to focus in on where Jack was pointing.

  “One of the trucks that ambushed us yesterday!” Jack replied as he trotted toward their patrol car.

  “How do you know?” Ashley said as she followed.

  “Because it has my bullet holes in the side of it!” Jack said, jumping behind the wheel and cranking the engine.

  “Start, you piece of crap!” Jack yelled as the engine ground and refused to turn over.

  “I thought it was a classic?” Ashley teased as the Fu-ry fired to life, a dark cloud of exhaust spitting from its tail pipe.

  “Whatever,” Jack mumbled as he pulled the steering column shifter down into drive and hit the gas, the bald tires skidding on the tar and chip pavement.

  Jack wasted no time closing the distance between them and the non-descript white pickup truck, catching up to it about a mile outside town on a piece of deserted road. He hit the toggle switch, activating the blue lights and sounded the siren. The truck pulled over and Jack pulled in behind it.

  “Watch my back, sweetie,” Jack said as he pulled his sidearm and charged out of the car.