Читать книгу Killer Cowboy - Carla Cassidy - Страница 9
ОглавлениеCassie made a fresh pot of coffee and then stood by the back door peering outside for what seemed like an eternity. She saw several more of Dillon’s men arrive and then Ted Lymon pulled up in his black vehicle. Her heart ached as eventually Ted left with Sam’s body.
Anger, heartbreak and a hint of fear all rolled around in her head and it felt as if it had been a hundred years ago that she’d awakened with her only concern being a hangover headache.
Her heart beat too quickly as she saw Dillon leave the barn and head toward the house. The man definitely stirred something inside her. At the moment she would love to lean into his broad chest and have his strong arms around her.
But of course that wouldn’t happen. His strides were long and determined, and his mouth was a grim slash on his handsome face as he reached the back door.
His dark blue uniform shirt fit tight across his broad shoulders and the slacks fit perfectly on his long legs. Instead of an official hat, he wore a black cowboy hat.
Her head knew what he was going to tell her, but her heart wanted to deny it. She desperately wanted Sam’s death to be a tragic accident, but the evidence said otherwise.
She opened the door for him. Despite the distress of the situation, she couldn’t help that the familiar scent of his spicy cologne shot a hint of pleasant warmth through her.
“I made a fresh pot of coffee,” she said. “Would you like a cup?”
“That sounds great,” he agreed and sat at the table. He swept off his hat and placed it in the chair next to him.
She was acutely aware of his gaze on her as she poured them each a cup of coffee and then joined him at the table. She wrapped her fingers around her mug, suddenly cold again when she gazed into his troubled gray eyes.
“It’s a murder case,” he said.
His words didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t help the small gasp that fell from her lips. “We’ll know more after the autopsy,” he continued. “Initially Teddy has declared the cause of death to be a sharp weapon slammed into the back of Sam’s head.”
“A sharp weapon?” Cassie licked her dry lips.
Dillon nodded, his dark, slightly shaggy hair gleaming brightly in the sunshine that danced through the nearby window. “Probably an ax.”
“Like the others.”
He paused to take a sip of the coffee then put his cup down slowly. “We can’t be absolutely certain, but there’s no way to dismiss the similarities.” His gaze held hers intently. “Cassie, you need to face the fact that one of your cowboys might be guilty.”
A rise of anger usurped the coldness inside her. “That’s ridiculous. I know my men and my aunt Cass knew them. They’re all good people who would never do something like this.”
“I intend to question each of them as potential suspects.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “You questioned them all when the seven skeletons were first found and nothing came of it. Maybe you should ask Humes’s men what they were up to last night. They crashed the party and you know they’ve always been trouble.”
There was no question that she lusted a bit after Dillon Bowie, but at the moment that emotion wasn’t anywhere in her heart.
It was so much easier to embrace anger rather than to entertain her physical attraction to the chief of police, or give in to the tears that had threatened to fall since the moment she’d seen Sam’s body.
She glared at him. “Why don’t you leave my men alone? They’ve done nothing to make anyone believe that one of them is capable of murder.”
“Calm down, Cassie.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Has nobody in your entire life ever told you that telling a woman to calm down is like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull?”
His cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m not the enemy here, Cassie,” he said softly. “Everyone who attended the barn dance last night is a potential suspect. In fact, what I need from you is a list of all the people who came to the party last night.”
She frowned and leaned back in her chair, her momentary burst of anger gone. “You were here along with more than half the town.” She sighed. “Okay, I’ll do the best I can to come up with a complete list of names.”
“I appreciate it. Now, tell me how Sam was working out here. I know he was a fairly new hire.”
“I hired him on two weeks ago, along with Donnie Brighton and Jeff Hagerty. According to all the men Sam was fitting in just fine. Every time I saw him he had a cheerful smile on his face.” She bit her bottom lip to keep her grief at bay.
“And nobody mentioned having a problem with him?”
She shook her head. “Nobody on this ranch. I don’t know if he might have had issues with somebody in town.”
“He’d moved in here when you hired him?”
“Yes, he moved into Tony Nakni’s room after Tony moved in with Mary Redwing.”
“Can you open his room for me?”
“Of course.” Cassie got up and moved to the small built-in desk and opened the top drawer. “All of the men allow me to keep an extra key to their rooms for them in case of an emergency.” She pulled out a key ring with an oversize charm of a huge pair of gemstone-red high heels. “I’ll go with you.”
She was grateful he didn’t protest her presence as they walked out the back door. She was unsettled and didn’t want to just sit inside the house with only her dark thoughts as company.
Grief for the young cowboy she was just getting to know weighed heavy in her heart, along with the uneasiness of knowing that last night a murderer had paid a visit to the Holiday ranch...to her ranch.
She had to double-step to keep up with the tall, long-legged man next to her. It had been months since the skeletons had been found on the property, and Dillon had been a familiar sight around the ranch and yet she really didn’t know him very well.
All she knew for sure was there were times when his gaze lingered on her a bit too long, when wild butterflies shot off in the pit of her stomach. However, there were no butterflies right now as she glanced at his stern features.
They reached the cowboy motel where several of her men stood in a group outside their rooms. “Hey, boss, are you doing okay?” Sawyer Quincy’s copper-colored eyes held welcomed warmth as he gazed at her.
“Thanks, Sawyer. I’m okay,” she replied.
“Hell of a way to end a party,” Brody Booth said darkly. “Anyone tries to bash me in the back of the head with an ax, he’ll get a bullet in his gut before he can even get close to me.”
Cassie turned to Dillon in alarm. “Do you think the rest of my men are in danger?”
“There’s no reason for me to believe that at the moment, but we’ve barely started this investigation,” Dillon replied.
“You don’t have to worry about us, Cassie. We all know how to take care of ourselves,” Flint McCay assured her.
Cassie wanted to believe that, but yesterday she had believed that Sam Kelly could have taken care of himself. “I just want all of you to watch your backs,” she said.
Aware that Dillon was waiting on her, she fumbled with the keys until she found the one that would unlock Sam’s room. When the door was unlocked, she pushed it open.
Dillon stepped inside and she followed on his heels. The room was small, with just a twin bed against one wall and a chest of drawers on another. The closet door was open and the bathroom door was closed.
The sight of the pictures of his dead parents that Sam had hung on the wall made Cassie’s heart cringe. The room was neat and clean and there appeared to be nothing out of place.
She remained just inside the door as Dillon pulled out drawers and examined each one. He then went into the bathroom and reappeared only a moment later.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything here that will help me get to the bottom of things,” he said and then heaved a deep sigh. “He had his phone with him when he was killed. Hopefully it will yield some sort of clue.”
“He’s with his parents now,” Cassie said softly and then a sob escaped her.
Dillon turned to her, his gaze suddenly soft. “Go back to the house, Cassie.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got interviews to do here and I’ll check in with you later.”
For a moment she wanted to lean into him and bury her face into the crook of his neck. She wanted him to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
However, before she could follow through on the impulse, he removed his hand from her shoulder and stepped back. “I’d appreciate it if you could start on that list of people who were here at the party last night.”
Cassie straightened her back and drew in a deep breath for strength. “I’ll get right on it,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.”
Heading back to the house, she wondered why Sam’s death had hit her so hard. She hadn’t known him that well. Certainly it was always a tragedy when a person was murdered, but that didn’t explain the utter devastation she felt.
An arctic chill swirled around inside her as she entered the house. She climbed the stairs and went down the hallway to her bedroom. What she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed.
Like a small child she wanted to fall into bed and pull the covers over her head and hide from all the evil she feared was coming her way. But she couldn’t go back to bed. Instead she reached up to the shelf in the closet and tugged on the edge of a purple fuzzy throw blanket she’d put there when she’d first arrived at the ranch.
It came down along with several shoe boxes, framed photos and a handful of her aunt’s clothes that Cassie had thrown on the shelf months ago.
“Damn, damn!” She rubbed her head where one of the picture frames had struck. She’d been telling herself she needed to clean out the closet shelf for months, but it wasn’t going to happen right now.
She threw everything back on the shelf and then wrapped the throw around her shoulders and headed back downstairs. Instead of going to the kitchen table to start the list for Dillon, she collapsed on the sofa and pulled the throw more closely around her as the sobs she’d been holding back all morning released from her.
She cried for Sam Kelly, who had only been twenty-nine years old, and she cried because she didn’t know what the future held. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was afraid.
* * *
The cowboy dining room was large. It not only held tables and chairs where the men ate their meals, but it also had an area with a television, sofa and several easy chairs where they relaxed on their time off in the evenings.
Dillon sat at one of the tables, waiting for another one of Cassie’s cowboys to come in and be interviewed. His men were processing the barn and he’d already spoken to Sawyer Quincy and Mac McBride. Neither man had been able to shed any light on Sam’s murder.
He didn’t expect any of the men to give him something concrete, but he was hoping that if one of them lied to him then he’d pick up on the subtle signs.
He picked up his pen and tapped the end of it on the table as his head filled with thoughts of Cassie. She’d appeared so achingly fragile. She’d had nothing but drama since she’d taken over the ranch. As if unearthing the seven skeletons wasn’t enough, her place had become a haven for people in trouble. Just last month a band of drug dealers had roared onto her land and shot up the place.
And now this.
He’d heard through the grapevine that she was considering selling out and heading back to New York City. How could anyone really blame her? The big city would probably feel like a safe haven after everything that had happened here.
He looked up as Brody Booth walked in. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man wore an obvious chip on his shoulder as he threw himself into the chair opposite Dillon.
Bitterroot, Oklahoma, was a typical small town where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business, and gossip was as common as horseflies. But Dillon had never heard any gossip concerning the tall, well-built man facing him. Even the other cowboys who had grown up with Brody would admit that he was something of a dark enigma.
“I stayed at the party last night until around midnight and then I went to my room. I liked Sam okay, although I didn’t really know him very well. He was a hard worker and I don’t have any idea who might have killed him.”
It was more words than Dillon had ever heard Brody speak. “Do you know if any of the other men had some sort of issue with Sam?” he asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I keep to myself mostly. Are you going to interview Zeke Osmond, Ace Sanders and Lloyd Green? They weren’t even invited to the barn dance, yet they showed up anyway.”
“I’ll be talking to everyone who was at the party last night,” Dillon replied. “I didn’t see Humes’s men starting any trouble while they were here.”
Brody narrowed his eyes slightly. “Nobody ever seems to actually see them doing anything wrong, but we both know they’ve been causing trouble for years, especially here on the Holiday ranch.”
Dillon didn’t reply. He knew Brody was right. “So, there’s nothing you can add to help me solve Sam’s murder.”
“Nothing.”
It was the same story with the six men he spoke to. Nobody knew of a reason anyone would want to kill Sam Kelly. The last time any of them had seen him was around midnight when he and Amanda Wright had bobbed for apples.
By the time Dillon finished with the interviews the dining room smelled of fried hamburger and onions. A glance at his watch let him know it was probably past time for the men to come in for their evening meal.
He got up from the table and walked around the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Cord Cully, aka Cookie, frowned at his appearance.
The stocky man stood in front of the huge stovetop with a pancake turner in his hand. “I didn’t go to the shindig last night so I got nothing to say to you.” He flipped a burger over.
“If you weren’t at the party, then where were you?”
He flipped another patty and then turned to gaze at Dillon. “I was in my house alone. I don’t like parties. I prefer my own company to anyone else’s. Is that it? I have a meal to get to the table and you’ve already made it run late by almost an hour.”
Cookie lived in a small cottage on the property. It was far enough away from the barn that nobody would have been able to tell if he’d been home last night or not.
“That’s it for now,” Dillon replied. Frustration burned in his belly as he left the dining room and headed back to the house.
Cookie was another dark horse that Dillon knew little about. He’d investigated the man when the skeletons had first been found. He knew that Cass had hired the man around the same time she’d taken in her runaway boys to work for her.
All Dillon knew for sure was the cook was originally from Texas and had no criminal background.
Dillon hadn’t thought he’d solve the crime this afternoon, but he’d hoped for a smoking gun or at least a lead to follow up on, but so far he had nothing.
If he hadn’t spent most of his time last night watching Cassie maybe he would have seen or heard something that might have led to a clue.
But he’d been captivated by the sight of the tight-jean-clad woman in the royal blue blouse that exactly matched her sparkling eyes.
She’d been the perfect hostess, making everyone feel welcome and checking to make sure the food table remained filled. Big Cass Holiday would have been proud of the niece who had inherited her ranch.
He knocked on the back door and Cassie’s faint voice drifted out to him. He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. It was a cheerful room with sunshine-yellow curtains at the window and a bright red and yellow rooster sitting in the center of the round oak table.
“In here, Dillon.” Her voice came from the great room.
She was curled up in the corner of the large, overstuffed sofa and wrapped in a purple blanket. Her eyes appeared to take on the hue of the blanket and instead of their normal sparkling bright blue they were the color of shadowed twilight.
A piece of paper and a pen rested on the coffee table, along with what appeared to be the last of a cup of hot tea.
She sat up and motioned for him to take a seat at the opposite end of the sofa.
“Did you solve everything?” She offered him a tired, sad smile that sliced directly through his heart.
“I wish,” he replied. He eased down and immediately caught the scent of her. It was a hint of vanilla mingling with lilacs and as always it stirred something deep inside him.
He didn’t want to talk to her about murder. Instead he’d rather have a conversation with her about her favorite song or color. He’d much rather hear her tell him about her dreams, or hear her musical laughter when he said something funny.
But there was nothing funny about their current situation and this wasn’t a social visit.
“All the men cooperated with you?” she asked and allowed the blanket to fall off her shoulders.
“I spoke to six of them and they were all cooperative. I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to the rest of them. I just wish somebody had seen or knew something about who killed Sam. According to several of them the last time they saw Sam at the party was around midnight when he was bobbing for apples with Amanda Wright.”
“Where was her boyfriend?”
Dillon sat up straighter. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
“Butch Cooper. From the local gossip I think she’s been dating him for about a month. I do know they arrived together last night.”
Dillon frowned. Butch Cooper was a cowboy on Abe Breckenridge’s ranch. He was a big guy and seemingly easygoing. But maybe he hadn’t liked Sam and Amanda bobbing for apples together?
Cassie leaned forward. “You don’t think...” Her voice trailed off.
“I think I need to speak to Butch. Do you have a list of names for me?”
She picked up a piece of paper. “I did the best I could, but I’m sure there are people who were at the party that I don’t have down.”
He stood and took the paper from her. “I appreciate you doing this much. Walk me out?”
“Of course.” She rose to her feet and together they walked to the back door, where dusk had fallen.
She stepped out on the porch next to him. In the distance the barn was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the sky.
“I’ve got a couple of men there to guard the crime scene. Unfortunately it will be a few days before we’re finished completely processing the barn. I’m sorry if that will inconvenience you.”
“We’ll be fine without using the barn for a while,” she replied. She stared out into the distance and then shivered.
Dillon could stand it no longer. He reached out for her and she came willingly into his arms. He’d dreamed of holding Cassie many nights, but those dreams couldn’t compare to the reality.
Her petite curves pressed against him as she raised her arms around his neck and clung to him. She released a small sob and he ran a hand through the softness of her blond curls in an attempt to soothe her.
“It’s going to be all right, Cassie. I promise you I’m going to catch the person who killed Sam. You just have to stay strong.”
“I’m so tired of being strong.” Her breath was a warm caress in the crook of his neck. “I should just sell out and go back home.”
Dillon dropped his arms from around her and took a step backward. “I wouldn’t make any life-altering decisions right now, Cassie.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like this town, this land, is telling me to get out.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Get some rest and I’ll be back out here in the morning.”
Minutes later Dillon was in his car and headed to the Breckenridge ranch to talk to Butch Cooper, but his thoughts remained on Cassie.
It had been years since he’d been drawn to a woman by some magnetic pull he didn’t understand, but that was how he felt where Cassie was concerned.
Something drew him to her in spite of all the warning signals that went off in his head. He’d given away his heart once. He’d planned his future with his high school sweetheart, Stacy, and had begun to build dreams. However, life in Bitterroot—life with him—hadn’t been exciting enough to keep her happy.
Dillon had a feeling Stacy and Cassie were cut from the same cloth and the last thing he wanted or needed in his life was a new heartbreak.
He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and attempted to consciously shove thoughts of Cassie away. He had a murderer to catch and an old mystery to solve in order to finally silence the seven souls who haunted his dreams with the need for justice.
* * *
He leaned against the side of the house, his chest tight and his heart beating a hundred miles a minute. It was only natural that Dillon would give Cassie a hug under the circumstances. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything because Cassie belonged to him.
She didn’t know it yet, but she’d belonged to him since the moment she’d arrived on this ranch. She was his angel, a woman who embodied everything he’d ever dreamed about.
In the months since she’d taken over the ranch she hadn’t dated anyone. It was as if she was keeping herself pure and untouched just for him, and sooner or later he’d speak of his love for her, but not yet.
Thank God Dillon hadn’t kissed her. He didn’t know what he’d have done if the lawman’s mouth had taken what belonged to him.
His heart slowed its beat and he left the side of the house, using the night shadows to stay concealed.
He’d loved and protected Big Cass Holiday when she’d been alive. His love for Cassie was different than the maternal love he’d had for her aunt. It was the love of a man for his mate and he intended to protect Cassie from anyone who might wrong or disrespect her.
That was why Sam had to die. He’d made a crude comment about wanting to get Cassie alone and naked in the hay. Sam had gotten what he deserved, as had all the other teenagers who’d come to work on the ranch, boys whom he’d had to kill so long ago.
The only thing that bothered him now was hearing Cassie say that she should sell the place and leave. Surely she was only feeling that way because of Sam’s murder. She wouldn’t really follow through. It would be a betrayal to her dead aunt, but more important it would be a betrayal to all the men who worked for her.
He refused to believe that she would make such a decision. She belonged here and eventually she’d realize that her future was with him right here on the Holiday ranch.
