Power of the Raven

She wanted it all and was willing to wait however long it took to find it.

GENE DROVE AWAY FROM THE house slowly. There was something about Lori Baker that had definitely gotten under his skin. Though she was afraid, she’d still managed to reach down into herself and find the courage not to back down. That alone was worthy of his respect, but there was a lot more to Lori than just that. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been drawn to her. She was a beauty, and the way she looked at him made him want to take on an army to keep her safe.

He’d spent a lot of years as the underdog and knew the pain and frustration it brought. The fact that he’d been the skinniest runt in the foster home had made him fair game to the bullies, and he’d been on the losing end of a lot of fights growing up.

Time had changed all that. Now he was over six feet tall, as strong as a bull and could stack seventy-pound bales of hay all day, if that’s what he had to do. Work had built up his muscles and he could hold his own in any fight.

Tonight he’d equalized the odds against her, but something continued to nag at him. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, something rare for him, he pulled over to the curb and called his brother Paul. “So what do you think?” he asked after updating him.

“The incidents could be related, bro, but what the heck are you doing getting involved in all that? No, wait—let me guess. She’s hot?”

“Man, you’ve got a one-track mind. Why can’t she be an ordinary lady who happened to ask for help?”

“Because you’re still worried about her. Face it, bro. Up till now, the only females you’ve been interested in have had manes and tails,” Paul said. “So she must be something special. What’s the lady’s name?”

“Planning on doing a background check?”

“Hey, you called me for advice, so let me do what I do,” he said. “Tell me everything you know about her.”

As Gene spoke, he could hear Paul typing away at his keyboard.

“Okay, I’ve got a description and address on that Bud Harrington guy. He’s five foot eleven, one hundred sixty-five pounds,” he said, then read off the address. “Drive by his house and see if anything in particular catches your eye, like a familiar vehicle. Just don’t go poking inside private property or I may have to bail your butt out of jail.”

Gene drove up the well-lit neighborhood street twenty minutes later. Bud Harrington’s house appeared to be an unremarkable, middle-class split-level home. The front had a well-tended lawn and several mature trees. For a home in town, it wasn’t half-bad.

Slowing down to look things over carefully, Gene noted that the porch light and a front room lamp were both on. He could also see at least three newspapers thrown on the porch, and letters and flyers sticking out of the mailbox. A late-model blue pickup was parked in the driveway, but judging from the leaves atop the cab and a tumbleweed jammed under the rear axle, it probably hadn’t been driven recently.

It was time to call it a day. He’d avoided going to his brother Preston’s apartment long enough. He hated downtime whenever he was away from the ranch because that’s when he’d start thinking of all the chores that needed doing back home.

Tonight was different. He’d have other things to occupy his thoughts. Lori Baker remained at the edges of his mind, tantalizingly out of his reach. He shook his head. The real problem was that he hadn’t had a woman in his life for far too long. That, all by itself, could scramble a man’s thinking. His life lacked balance.

GENE AWOKE TO SUNLIGHT playing on his face. He stretched, working the kinks out. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa, his legs on the coffee table, watching TV. He must have been more tired than he’d thought. As he got up, ready to undress and shower, his phone rang. He reached over and lifted it off the coffee table

“Hey, you awake, farm boy?” Paul said. “I’ve got some interesting information for you. Why don’t you come over to my place?”

Twenty minutes later Gene picked up four breakfast burritos from the Hen House up on Twentieth Street, then drove over to Paul’s.

They emptied the sack of food on the kitchen counter, loaded up their plates, then stepped over to the small dining table. A laptop lay open on one side and Paul took the seat by it.

“Are you sure Lori Baker’s worth all this trouble? There are a lot of unattached ladies out there, bro.”

“She needs a little backup right now. She’s getting picked on by someone who doesn’t fight fair, and I’ve never had a lot of patience with bullies,” Gene said.

“Okay, let’s see what I can do for you.” He went into the next room, then came back with a small leather case. “Here. It’s a photo ID I made up for you. Take it. It may come in handy.”

“Grayhorse Investigations,” he said, opening it. “So I’m a consultant for your P.I. firm?”

“Anytime you decide to give up ranching, you can come work for me.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he said.

Paul sat down by his computer and typed for a moment before looking up. “Harrington’s bad news when it comes to women. Last month the police broke up a fight between him and the very protective father of a twenty-year-old college cheerleader he kept hounding for a date. Though Harrington could have pressed for assault, he apparently wasn’t big on making it an issue, either.”

“He definitely sounds like the stalker type, but I drove by his house and it looks like he hasn’t been there for several days. His pickup hasn’t moved for at least that long. Of course it’s possible he has a car or another home here in town, or maybe a girlfriend.”

“Nothing I could find,” Paul said. “I’ll tell you what. Bring the ID I gave you and let’s go have a chat with his neighbors, see what else we can find out about him.”

Gene hesitated. “You shouldn’t be out in the field yet, not with that gimpy shoulder of yours. If we run into a problem…”

“You can handle it,” Paul said with a wide grin. “I’ll stand back and keep score.”

Gene choked on his coffee. “Like you could actually stay out of any street fight.”

“We’ll find out. Let’s go. You drive.”

Chapter Five

Lori went to work early the following morning, hoping that if Bud Harrington was around, he’d show up too late to follow her.

Her supervisor, Jerry Esteban, would probably be thrilled to see her come in early instead of right under the wire. Punching in the entry code on the keypad lock, Lori let herself into the building using the back door and went straight to the break room. Her best friend, Miranda Hoff, was already there, sitting at the table eating a glazed doughnut.

Seeing Lori, she smiled. “Busted. I came in early so I could eat my doughnuts in peace.”

Lori laughed. “Charlie’s still after you to stay on that health food diet?”

She patted her huge belly. “The baby will be here in six weeks, and since he knows how much I love junk food he’s watched over me like a hawk.” She made a face. “If I see one more fruit smoothie or those green health food shakes of his, I may scream and traumatize our offspring.”

Lori laughed.

“But why on earth are you here so early?” Miranda asked, eyes narrowed.

Lori filled her in, and then ended the story by telling her about Gene. “He really stood up for me when it mattered.”

“Are we talking the tall Indian man with the cowboy hat who was at your window late yesterday afternoon?”

“You noticed?”

“I’m pregnant, not dead,” she said with a sly smile. “It’s like I’ve always said, the bad things in life often lead to something good.”

“You’re the eternal optimist,” Lori said.

Miranda looked at the clock. “Time to get out there. I wanted to clean up my workstation before we open.”

Lori watched her friend walk away. She envied Miranda. Charlie adored her, and Miranda was crazy about him in return. Now they were expecting their first baby.

She wondered if she’d ever find the focused, purpose-driven life she craved. Time marched on, and with each day that came, her hopes seemed to vanish under the glare of the morning sun.

Lori walked out into the main office and saw Steve Farmer, her coworker, and Harvey Bishop, their security man, sipping cups of coffee and watching people already gathering by the entrance. In five minutes Harvey would be opening the doors.