Conard County Protector Page 2

  “Hamburger? Fries?”

  The man grinned. “You’re in my ballpark. Want any pastry, let me know.” He snorted. “At least I don’t have to cook that. I’m Hasty, by the way. You grab a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

  Jax did so, laying his suit bag over one brown vinyl-covered bench and putting his laptop beside him on the other.

  By the time Hasty brought Jax his meal and a mug of coffee, others had started to trail in.

  Hasty spoke, jabbing a finger at the parking lot full of trucks. “We’re not usually too busy at this time of night, so I let my whole staff take off for the wedding. That’s why I’m the only one here, and from the looks of it, I’m in for it. Bad snowstorm in the mountains out west. Too many switchbacks coming down the other side, so they’re all waiting.”

  Jax nodded.

  “You that Stone guy everybody’s talking about?”

  Jax felt momentarily taken aback. He glanced toward the growling trucks, wondering how the drivers could have heard.

  Hasty chuckled. “Might surprise you, but some of my customers are locals. They like my food. Anyway, a few came in for a midnight breakfast and mentioned you. If it is you.”

  “It is.” Jax held out his hand. “Jackson Stone.”

  Hasty shook his hand with a firm grip. “Pleased to meet you. But a sad way to do it.” Then he walked away to deal with the steadily growing crowd at the counter, the fire on everyone’s tongue. Because Hasty was alone, the truckers carried their own meals to tables.

  Jackson figured he was going to spend the night here before deciding what to do in the morning. A diner wasn’t the best place to sleep, but as he recalled, the La-Z-Rest was the only motel for many miles. Right then he didn’t know if his rental car had survived. He doubted it. Sure as hell, most of his clothes hadn’t.

  Then he laughed at himself. He’d survived worse conditions, conditions that came without a hot meal or a roof.

  He got a second meal at the counter, and Hasty heaped on a larger order of fries.

  Back at his table, he ruminated over the day. It had been good to see Adam so happy. The last time they’d met it hadn’t been pretty. A bunch of insurgents had been firing from a clifftop at an allied convoy, and Jax’s unit had taken them out. Once they’d secured the area, he and his squad had slip-slided their way down to the convoy, where bodies lay about, some of them badly burned in the raging fire that had taken a troop transport and a Humvee. They offered as much aid as they could while waiting for choppers.

  Then he’d turned one man over and recognized the face of Adam Ryder, his lifelong friend. Badly shot up, close to death. For the first time on the battlefield, Jax had felt tears wet his cheeks. My God, Adam.

  Jax dragged his thoughts away from a memory best forgotten, instead rambling over the wedding, a pleasant affair. More than pleasant, actually. When he’d learned that neighbors and friends had gone over-the-top with food and decorations, he’d been surprised and then realized he shouldn’t be. Even in his shy youth, he’d known that people here took care of one another. Besides, a big party was probably the best entertainment around.

  And those two women. That Madge had been pushy, really pushy, and he was quite sure he’d never given her any cause to think they were an item. He hadn’t been an item with anyone back then, hadn’t wanted to be. All he had wanted was to be out of this place.

  But Lynn Macy had been very different, jumping in to silence Madge before he was forced to say something rude. And then walking away casually, pressing him not at all. Just friendly. And quite beautiful. His gaze had wandered over her, taking in a compact figure that a gray slack suit couldn’t fully conceal. Much more attractive to him than Madge.

  Through the window beside him, he could see only the truck parking lot. He wondered if the fire was out, then wondered why it should matter to him. He’d lost only some clothes. Others had lost a whole lot more and he couldn’t help.

  Full of good food and strong, hot coffee, he finally turned his head to look around the diner. The truckers were happy enough to wait at the counter and carry their own food to their tables, but not as quick to clean up. Even paper napkins had been left crumpled on tables and plates, although there were plenty of trash cans around. Too many new arrivals were simply shoving dirty dishes to one side to make a space for themselves.

  No way was Hasty going to be able to deal with this while grilling nonstop, and his staff shouldn’t have to face this mess when they came in the morning. Nor should he be sitting on his duff.

  Annoyed by the mess, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work clearing tables. With a bus bin full, he went to the counter.

  “Hasty, what can I do with these?”

  Hasty looked over from the grill where he had six burgers frying along with potatoes and onions. He raised his brow. Then he grinned. “I thought you guys never volunteered.”

  “Sometimes I buck the rule. So where?”

  Hasty pointed with a jerk of his head. “Dishwasher’s in back. Just shove the pan on the counter beside the dishwasher. I’ll get to it all later.”

  Jax didn’t leave it at that. He knew how to use the commercial dishwasher, even though it appeared to be as old as Hasty. He sprayed away remaining food, then put cups and plates on the rack. As each rack rolled through the hot wash and rinse, he went to clear a few more tables.

  Lead by example. That had long been drilled into him, and it seemed to work here as drivers began to clear their own tables and stack dishes at one end of the counter. Jax was amused. He hadn’t intended this, but it was good to see nonetheless.

  At last, just around dawn, the traffic tapered off. Hasty even had time to take a smoke break outside the door. Jax stepped out with him, needing some fresh air.

  “Thanks for all that help. Want another meal?” Hasty asked him. “This time on the house. I’d give you a steak if I had one.”

  Jax smiled. “Just plenty of coffee, if you don’t mind.”

  Hasty flashed a grin. “Now, why would I mind? You saved me in there. And my staff, come to that. They’d have wanted to put my head on a pike if they came to work and saw that mess.”

  “Could you blame them?”

  “Hah! Couldn’t say I would.” Hasty ground the cigarette butt beneath his heel. “Gotta get back to the grill, and you start thinking what you want to eat besides coffee. Not like you have any place to go right now.”

  It was true. Jax stood staring up at the sky, breathing the refreshing night air that was tinged with the smell of wet ash, wondering why in the hell he’d wanted to come back to this one-horse town. It wasn’t as if it held many good memories.

  Across the highway, impossible to ignore, rose the blackened skeleton of the motel. One fire truck was still there, dousing the remains to make sure embers wouldn’t start another fire.

  He saw the sheriff, Gage Dalton, approaching him just as dawn began to redden the eastern sky. Aside from meeting him briefly at the reception, Jax remembered him from his childhood before Gage took over from the old sheriff, Nate Tate. Back then he’d been called hell’s own archangel by locals because of his fire-burned face and his darkly determined isolation.

  Dalton shook his hand. “Gotta ask you some questions about last night.”

  No surprise, given that he was newly arrived. “Fire away.”

  “At my place, if you don’t mind.”

  His place. The Sheriff’s Office. Momentary uneasiness niggled Jax. “Let me get my gear.”

  * * *

  It was still early, but a few people were about, eyeing Jax curiously as he rode in the front passenger seat of the official SUV. He wondered how that would hit the grapevine, which was as effective in this town as any in the military.

  Inside, walking through a squad room in serious need of upgrades with only the computers looking like recent models, he followed Gage down a back hallway
to his office. The desk had a computer on one side and a stack of papers on the other.

  “Have a seat,” Gage said, waving him to a seat facing the desk. Gage walked around it, wincing as he settled into a chair that creaked its age.

  Gage smiled, that lopsided smile that looked as if the scar tissue on the side of his face wouldn’t allow him more. “So you’re a master gunnery sergeant now. Do I call you Master Guns?”

  Jax shook his head. “How about just Jax?”

  Gage’s smile widened just a shade. “Then call me Gage. No formalities here.” He leaned forward, wincing slightly again as he rested his forearms on the desk. “I remember you just before you left. You were so thin you looked like you’d blow away in a strong breeze.”

  “Never happened.”

  Gage laughed. “I’m looking at you, aren’t I? Listen, I didn’t want to talk to you because I suspect you of anything. I’m just collecting any information I can get about the fire. In case it was arson.”

  Jax nodded without surprise, having considered the possibility because Gage wanted to talk to him. The idea disturbed him. “Was it?”

  “Don’t know yet. I’m moving ahead before any memories fade or change. You know how malleable memories are?”

  “I do.” He’d had more than a little experience of that, watching how Marines’ minds could grow and change a story in the telling and retelling and then totally believe it.

  “Some welcome home,” Gage remarked. “Anyway, what do you recall?”

  “The back wall and side wall of my room flaming. Fire was creeping toward the door. Well, creeping isn’t exactly right. It was moving fast.”

  “That place was tinder, all right. And then?”

  “I jumped into my camo, grabbed my laptop, suit bag and boots. Out of there faster than a bat out of hell.”

  “I hear you didn’t hang around to gawk.”

  Jax shrugged. “Why would I? I’ve seen plenty of fires and all I could think was it was sad for the owners. Everyone got out, I hope?”

  “The guy next door to you didn’t.”

  Jazz stiffened. “Damn, if I’d known...”

  “If you’d known, we’d have more than one crispy critter.”

  Jax wasn’t offended by the black humor. A familiar survival mechanism. Dealing with ugliness had to be handled somehow for sanity’s sake.

  Gage continued. “You ought to understand as well as anyone that courage is sometimes useless.”

  It was true, but for the first time Jax let feeling emerge from his lockbox. He knew all about what fire could do to a person. Too much. It sickened him. “I still feel bad about it.”

  “Of course.” Gage nodded and leaned back. “So you didn’t hear anything, see anything?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I’ll rack my memory, but frankly I was dead asleep.”

  Gage nodded. After a moment, he asked, “What are your plans?”

  Jax heard the subtle implication in the words. He was an unknown factor in this town and therefore suspicious. Naturally. “None yet. I suppose my car is a total loss.”

  “Between the fire and the water hoses, not to mention axes, there might not be enough left for a scrapyard.”

  “The rental company is going to be thrilled.”

  Gage shrugged. “I’ll give you a police report for them. So, are you staying in town?”

  The implication was not as subtle this time. Jax spread his hands. “Has a new motel sprouted anywhere?”

  “Hardly. Listen, I know a lady who runs a rooming house. As I recall, she has a spare room or two.”

  Great, Jax thought. He was going to be stuck in this town for a while. Any plan he’d had of going to Denver to look for quarters for himself had gone up in smoke with the fire.

  Without asking, Gage riffled through an old-fashioned circular card file. “Old sheriff used this,” he remarked. “Too much trouble to move it to the computer, especially since I’ve been adding to it because I can’t mess up cards.”

  Soon Gage was speaking into the phone. “Hey, Lynn, you got a room for a guy who got burned out of the motel last night?”

  Jax could hear a woman’s voice faintly, first sounding appalled, then quieter.

  “Thanks, I’ll bring him over. Jackson Stone. Yeah, ten minutes, if that’s okay?”

  Gage hung up. “You got yourself a room. Ready?”

  * * *

  Jackson Stone? For some reason, Lynn was surprised. At some level she must have known he was staying at the motel but had been shocked nonetheless when Gage told her. She’d only just heard the news about the fire from one of her roomers, a college student named Will. Will sported a bright orange thatch of red hair, a ton of freckles and an infectious grin. He hadn’t been grinning earlier when he delivered the news.

  Dang, Lynn thought. That motel was a local landmark, having stood since the 1950s, back when long road trips had become popular. These days it survived on truckers who occasionally didn’t want to sleep in their cabs.

  She had two rooms of her own left, both reasonably ready, but unlike her students, who were given a list of items to bring for themselves, mostly bedding, Jax would have none of that. Diving into an upstairs closet, she checked to make sure she had enough spare sheets and pillows.

  Since she had two empty rooms, she decided to give him his choice.

  When the front doorbell rang, she didn’t bother to tuck her work shirt into her jeans. She had a lot to do today. Instead she got an unexpected and unwelcome surprise.

  “Mom!”

  Nancy West stood there, smiling. Behind her, her rental car blocked the end of Lynn’s driveway. “Hello, sweetie. It’s been too long.”

  The same thing her mother always said, even though it hadn’t been that long, and Lynn offered her usual response. “Why didn’t you call and let me know?”

  “This trip was a whim.”

  They always were, Lynn thought as she stepped back to allow her mother inside. The woman wore a beige business suit and low heels. Her short salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly coiffed. Nancy always presented a flawless appearance.

  She walked in, scanning her daughter with faint disapproval, then looked around the entryway. “I can see you’ve been busy. Do you still have those college kids staying with you?”

  “Three,” answered Lynn, wishing she could make this situation vanish. Her mother had objected to her taking roomers since the start. She loved her mother, but the frequent criticisms, implied or overt, were enough to make her gnash her teeth.

  “Well, I hope you have room for me! I’m your mother, after all.”

  Lynn contained a sigh. “The room you usually take. At the back of the ground floor. Make yourself at home.” As Nancy always did.

  Nancy West beamed. “My bags are in the trunk.” She handed Lynn the keys then said suddenly, “Oh, who’s that?”

  Lynn turned to see the sheriff’s car pull up. “A new roomer,” she answered.

  “In a sheriff’s car? I hope he’s not a criminal...”

  Nancy’s voice trailed off as she saw the tall, broad-shouldered man in belted camouflage climb out carrying a suit bag and a laptop case.

  “Ooh,” murmured Nancy. “A soldier.”

  “A Marine,” Lynn corrected her. Already she was starting to feel a little annoyed. Ooh?

  “They’re all the same.” Nancy laughed lightly.

  “I wouldn’t tell a Marine that.”

  Nancy eyed her. “Do you already know him?”

  “Jackson Stone. I grew up with him. Now, let it go, Mom.”

  “Funny,” Nancy mused as Jax approached. “I don’t remember him.”

  Few people honestly remembered him, Lynn thought. As he reached the foot of the porch steps, Lynn called out, “Hi, Jax. Work your way around my mother and come in.”

  He smiled
. “I appreciate this, Lynn.”

  “My pleasure. Just drop your stuff in the living room. We’ll have some coffee before I show you to your room.”

  “Coffee sounds great. I’m addicted.”

  “Tea for me,” Nancy said brightly.

  “Of course.” Knowing her mother, Lynn figured Nancy didn’t want to miss one bit of this interesting development, especially since it involved a handsome man in uniform. She offered Jax another smile. “I just need to get Mom’s bags from her car first.”

  “I’ll help,” Jax said promptly. He took his laptop and suit bag quickly into the empty living room and returned.

  “Ready.”

  Lynn walked with Jax to her mother’s car and unlocked the trunk. Before she could move, Jax hefted both large suitcases, then carried them into the house behind her.

  “Where do you want them?” he asked.

  She pointed. “The bedroom in the back, please.”

  It was all Lynn could do not to frown. She’d planned to give that room to Jax, the only room with a private bath. Trying to keep her face smooth, she walked into the kitchen.

  Nancy followed, her heels tapping. “How nice to have a man around,” she said.

  “It’s temporary and I’m in no hurry to have a man around. What kind of tea do you want?”

  “Earl Grey, please.”

  Lynn started the electric kettle, salvaged the teapot from an upper shelf, then turned to begin making coffee.

  Jax returned to the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure if I should put the suitcases on the bed, so they’re standing beside it.”

  “Thank you so much!” Nancy beamed. “That’s fine.”

  Nothing like a man to perk her mother up, Lynn thought. Instead of being annoyed, she suddenly felt amused. This might be fun to watch.

  The Earl Grey was perfectly steeped just past three minutes, the way her mother preferred it. No milk, no sugar. The coffee wasn’t far behind.