Читать книгу The Missing Mccullen - Rita Herron - Страница 13
ОглавлениеBJ texted Maddox and asked him to meet her at the dining hall.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Spillman.” She handed him a business card. “If you think of anything that can shed light on Sondra Elmore’s death, please call me.”
He tapped the card against his hand. “You be careful, Miss Alexander. I’d hate to see the same thing that happened to Sondra happen to you.”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Was that a threat? Or a warning about Cash?
Maddox pulled up with a grim-looking Cash in the back.
“Did you find anything?” she asked when he rolled down his window.
“Jasper already thoroughly searched the place. If there was anything there, he confiscated it.”
“If he says he found something, he planted it,” Cash said in a voice laced with anger. “I told you I didn’t kill Sondra.”
“I’ll call Jasper.” BJ entered the sheriff’s number into her phone, her own temper close to the surface. “This is BJ Alexander. I need to know everything you found when you searched Cash Koker’s bunkhouse.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Sheriff Jasper barked.
“Yes, you do. Before the trial, you’re required to disclose all evidence to the defense attorney. That’s me. So why don’t you make both our lives easier and do it now?”
Jasper cursed. “All right, lady. We found pictures of Mr. Koker and Sondra. Looks like they were all lovey-dovey.”
She twisted to look at Cash, her pulse clamoring. “Explain.”
“They were wrapped up in each other’s arms.”
Cash had denied being romantically involved with Sondra. “Text me a copy. I need to see them myself. What else?”
“Ask him about my business plan,” Cash said from the backseat. “And my guns.”
BJ gripped the phone tighter. “Did you find a business plan?”
“Sure did,” Jasper said. “Koker needed finances to make that happen. My guess is he hated Elmore for firing him and decided to use that kid for blackmail money to buy his own spread.”
BJ bit her bottom lip. She and Cash had discussed a blackmail accusation back at the jail, but he hadn’t disclosed his plans to start his own business. Unfortunately, jurors might see that as a motive.
“What about Koker’s guns?”
“Took them for analysis,” Jasper said. “Besides, a dangerous man like him doesn’t need firearms in his possession.”
BJ gritted her teeth. “What about other suspects?”
“Listen, Ms. Alexander, we have motive and physical evidence. We got the right man.”
“We’ll see.” BJ ended the call, irritated.
Jasper did have a case. No doubt he’d twist the fact that Cash claimed he had amnesia to suggest he was lying. The ranch hand’s testimony about that phone call between Cash and Sondra would also be incriminating.
Damn. With motive and physical evidence, Jasper might get a conviction.
* * *
CASH WAS SHOCKED that Sheriff McCullen went by the impound lot and allowed him to retrieve his pickup truck.
“Just follow me to the ranch,” Sheriff McCullen said. “You can stay at Horseshoe Creek until the case is over. Miss Alexander is already staying in a cabin on the ranch.”
Suspicion once again flared inside Cash. Nobody helped a stranger for nothing. He’d just have to bide his time until he figured out what the sheriff wanted.
Questions nagged at him as he followed the police SUV. Farm and ranch lands spread for miles and miles, the open space beckoning.
He could not give up his freedom. He’d rather die than be locked away for the rest of his life.
All the more reason he find out who’d framed him and killed Sondra. Poor little Tyler—he must be scared out of his mind.
Sweat beaded on Cash’s neck. The cards were stacked against him, though. How hard would BJ Alexander fight to get him acquitted?
And what the hell did any of this have to do with the McCullens?
A sign for Horseshoe Creek Ranch mocked him as the sheriff veered down a long drive. The lawyer lady followed in her fancy car.
Cattle grazed in a pasture to the north and barns and horses were scattered throughout the beautiful farmland. An article a few months ago had featured Brett McCullen, former rodeo star, and his awards. He’d also expanded the ranch to include horse training and breeding. His popularity and skills definitely drew customers, and his contacts across the states aided in him securing the best horses.
Elmore had an impressive spread, but he’d talked about Joe McCullen with both admiration and resentment. McCullen had built a legacy for his sons—a fact Elmore envied. Sondra hadn’t cared about the ranch business, and Elmore had never had a son.
The sheriff drove toward the main ranch house, an impressive farmhouse with wraparound porches that sat on a hill overlooking the massive acreage. He bypassed the house, though, and veered onto a lane that weaved through the property. A half mile from the house, several smaller cabins had been built for employees or guests. Sheriff McCullen pulled in front of one and parked. Cash swung his truck in beside him, then the lawyer parked on the other side.
“This is where you’ll be staying, Cash,” Sheriff McCullen said.
Cash straightened. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Sheriff.”
The sheriff and lawyer exchanged a look. “Get cleaned up, then we’ll meet in the main house to discuss the situation.”
“You mean you trust me to stay here alone, or do you have a guard dog on me?” Cash asked.
The sheriff folded his arms. “Are you going to jump bail?”
Cash bit the inside of his cheek. His flight reflex was strong. How many times had he moved when things became sticky or uncomfortable where he was?
Too many to count.
But if he ran from this, the law would hunt him down. And he needed help finding Tyler.
“No.” He swallowed hard. “I intend to clear my name.” It was the only way he’d be free. “Tyler needs me, too. That kid has to be scared.”
The sheriff’s gaze met his, some kind of emotion flickering in his eyes that Cash couldn’t read. “All right then.” He gestured toward Miss Alexander. “Let’s meet in half an hour at the house.”
She agreed and Cash nodded. Then maybe he’d finally learn what the McCullens wanted with him.
* * *
BJ BATTLED HER uneasiness at sleeping in a cabin in close proximity to Cash. He thought she was afraid of him because she believed him guilty of murder.
But that wasn’t the problem. Cash Koker was too sexy.
Sexy men were dangerous.
She stepped onto the porch of the cabin where she’d been staying, phoned her father and left a message updating him. A breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees, bringing her the scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass. Rays of sunshine slanted across the ranch, the sky so beautiful that it nearly robbed her breath.
And reminded her of Aaron’s rainbows.
She allowed herself a second to imagine him running across the field, then forced the image at bay. Work always helped take her mind off her grief.
Work was all she had.
The McCullens had lived here for decades, but they’d suffered their share of loss, both with the murder of their mother, and then the loss of their father to questionable circumstances. Yet they’d found a way to stay together as a family.
She wasn’t sure she could say the same about her own father. All her life, she’d craved his love. She’d tried to please him and make him proud, but nothing she did brought them any closer.
Sometimes, she thought he blamed her for her mother’s death, that he wished she’d never been born.
And although he hadn’t said much about her mistake with the Davis case, she had disappointed him.
She slipped into the cabin and surveyed the interior, admiring the space for its hominess. Painted wood-paneled walls. A kitchen and an adjoining living area with a stone fireplace. Bathroom and bedroom complete with a queen four-poster bed draped in a country blue quilt.
Feeling overdressed, she considered a change of clothes.
But she hadn’t brought anything casual enough to wear on a ranch. No jeans or flannel shirts or cowboy boots.
She went to freshen up and stared at herself in the mirror. It didn’t matter if she had ranch clothes. Or if she wore her hair pulled back in a tight bun.
Or if Cash Koker thought she was a stuffy bitch.
She was here to do a job and nothing more.
Her phone dinged, alerting her that she had a text, and she rushed to see it. Anger hit her as a photo of Cash and Sondra hugging appeared on her screen.
Sheriff Jasper was right. The two of them looked close in the picture, a lot closer than Cash had led her to believe.
But pictures could be deceiving.
Still, she was more confused than ever by the man in the cabin next to her.
* * *
CASH THREW THE prison clothes into the trash and strode naked to the shower, anxious to rid himself of the scent of Sondra’s blood.
How in the hell could he have gotten her blood on his clothes and hands and not remember it?
He closed his eyes as he scrubbed his body and hair, trying to force the memory to return, but his mind was a big black hole.
So was his heart. Sondra had been his friend, Innocent. Young. Vibrant. In love with life. She had a bright future ahead of her.
And she’d loved Tyler so much.
He would miss her smile and chatter.
An image of little Tyler laughing as he pushed him in the tire swing Cash had made for him taunted him.
Emotions churned through him. He’d kill anyone who hurt that kid.
Heart hammering, he dried off and dressed in clean jeans and a denim shirt.
Anxious to hear the sheriff’s explanation, he snatched his wallet and stepped outside.
The fresh air and scents of summer hit him, then the door to the cabin where the lawyer was staying opened. Sun slanted off her pale skin, giving her a radiant glow.
She was still wearing that tight-assed suit, but even though it was modest, it didn’t disguise her curves. Nice sized breasts, a thin waist, hips a man could hold on to.
Dammit, his body twitched with desire.
Not a good thing.
She held the key to his freedom. He couldn’t screw it up by screwing her.
Squaring his shoulders, he strode toward her.
Her eyes flickered with wariness as she met him on the path between their cabins. “Ready?”
He nodded, willing his libido under control. If he made a wrong move toward her, she might drop his case.
At the moment, he needed her brains more than he needed her body.
But could he trust that she wasn’t working for the enemy?
“We can take my car,” she offered.
“I’d just as soon walk.” He needed the fresh air.
“Sure.”
She fell into step beside him although she was wearing heels, which slowed her pace, so he slowed his own so she could keep up.
He’d like to see her in a pair of tight jeans, but he refrained from comment.
An awkward silence stretched between them as they followed the drive to the main house. By the time they reached it, she was wobbly on those heels. She stumbled, and he caught her arm. She felt small and delicate next to him, and she smelled so damn feminine, like jasmine, that it stirred images of making love to her in a bed of wildflowers.
Her gaze met his, a warning in those eyes, and he dropped his hand.
Idiot. A woman like her wouldn’t be caught dead in his bed, much less naked in a field of wildflowers with him.
The thought made his anger rise again. “Sorry, Miss Alexander. I was just trying to help.”
She paused, lips forming a thin line as she stared him down. “It’s BJ.”
“BJ?”
“Yes, that’s my name,” she said, with a bite to her voice. “If we’re going to work together, you can’t keep calling me Miss Alexander like it’s a dirty word.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “All right, BJ.” He liked the way it rolled off his tongue. “So why the initials? What does BJ stand for?”
“None of your business.” She tossed him a withering smile, dispelling any semblance that she planned to get friendly, then walked ahead and climbed the porch steps. He followed like a damn dog in heat.
A chubby lady with a warm smile greeted them, and introduced herself as Mama Mary, the housekeeper and cook. She studied Cash for a moment as if she was dissecting him, then her eyes twinkled. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cash. Y’all come on in and make yourselves at home.” She shook the lawyer’s hand, then Cash’s, her gaze lingering on him, welcoming. Friendly.
An odd reaction, since she must be aware he’d been arrested for murder.
Remembering his manners, he tipped his Stetson. He’d felt naked without it in jail.
She directed them toward a closed door. “I’ll get some coffee for everyone and sandwiches, and I just made a cobbler.”
Cash didn’t think his arrest warranted cobbler, but he was starving so he kept his mouth shut.
Voices from inside the room echoed through the wall. “You think he’s innocent?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.” That voice belonged to the sheriff.
“I don’t think we should tell him who we are, not yet,” a third man said.
Anger gripped Cash, and he stormed through the door. He didn’t intend to be in the dark another minute.
