Tracking Game

by Margaret Mizushima

  “So he was at the dance last evening?”

  “As far as I know.”

  From JD’s frown of concern, Mattie could tell he was worried that Flint might have strayed from the straight and narrow, too, but then Flint himself came out of the house. The years hadn’t changed him much; he looked older, but he was as tall and lean as he’d ever been. He had dark hair and eyes like JD, but unlike his father’s, his handshake was hesitant and soft. He looked nervous, and his eyes bounced from his dad to Mattie and Stella during the introductions, then settled on the K-9 unit and Robo for a few seconds as he apparently took in the situation.

  JD Thornton leaned against the front of the Explorer, arms crossed over his chest, and Mattie worried that he planned to stay for their interview with his son. No one liked to confess or share critical information in front of an audience, and as an adult, Flint had the right to privacy. But she needn’t have worried, because she and Stella were evidently on the same wavelength.

  “Mr. Thornton, we appreciate your time and help this morning, but we need to talk to Flint privately,” Stella said. “Would you please give us a moment?”

  JD squinted, his gazing moving from Stella to Flint, who stood with his head lowered as he studied the ground.

  “All right,” JD said, dropping his arms from his chest and stepping away from the Explorer. And then to his son: “I’ll be in the house if you need me.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Stella said. “This is just routine, and I have only a few questions.”

  After JD went inside, Mattie wondered if he would linger at the door to try to listen.

  Stella opened the interview. “Flint, your dad said that Tyler called this morning to tell you Nate was shot last night. How much do you know about it?”

  Flint looked up from the ground to meet Stella’s gaze. “Tyler said Nate was killed and his van was burned. That’s all I know.”

  Mattie watched as Stella nodded encouragement, working at getting him to open up. “We heard that Nate went to Nebraska for the weekend. Is that true?” Stella asked.

  “Yeah, as far as I know.”

  “When did you expect him back?”

  “I thought he was coming home today. We have a fishing trip scheduled for tomorrow.”

  “Why do you think he came home early?”

  “I have no idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Mattie thought he looked defensive, and evidently Stella did too, because she changed the subject.

  “I’m unfamiliar with the outfitting business,” Stella said, her body language open and friendly. “What do you do as Nate’s employee?”

  “I’m mostly just a gofer. I handle supplies, take care of the horses and the tack, help set up camp and cook meals.”

  “Sounds like a lot.”

  Flint nodded, releasing his crossed arms to let them hang at his sides. “Between trips, I repair equipment, trim the horses’ hooves, and replace shoes if they’ve lost them.”

  Since he appeared more relaxed, Mattie decided it was safe to interject with a question, as long as it was about Nate’s business. “How does Nate get his customers?”

  Flint shifted his gaze to Mattie. “From his website. He also advertises in hunting and outdoor magazines, and there’s a certain amount of referral from satisfied customers.”

  This led perfectly into what Mattie had been wondering about—she hoped it would give them a lead. “Were there any dissatisfied customers that you’re aware of? Someone who might’ve wanted to hurt Nate?”

  Flint appeared to give the question some thought before he answered. “Nothing like that. Sometimes people get cranky because they didn’t get a deer or didn’t catch the number of fish they wanted, but Nate can usually talk them out of it, and he shows them a good time.”

  Mattie thought of the cocaine in the van. A party drug. “How does he do that?”

  Flint’s attention seemed to turn inward before he responded with a sad smile, the first real emotion he’d shown other than apprehension. “Nate was a great guy. He liked to party, and we always had plenty of booze to cheer up the customers. People had a great time when they were with him.”

  “Just booze? Any marijuana?”

  Flint shook his head. “Nah. Nate said pot was illegal on federal land. He didn’t want anything to do with drugs. We provided beer, wine, tequila, and whiskey—enough to fill one pannier.”

  Mattie thought he looked sincere. “Did Nate use drugs himself?”

  Flint frowned, meeting her gaze as he shook his head. “Not whenever we were together. He drank only beer, not even the hard stuff. That was for the clients.”

  Mattie nodded. His answer might have given her a dead end, but she would pursue the lead elsewhere.

  Stella spoke up. “Flint, do you have any idea who might have wanted to shoot Nate?”

  Flint looked down at his feet. “I’ve been wondering about that since I heard about it. I haven’t come up with anybody.”

  “If you do think of someone or something, it’s important that you call us. We need to know anything at all, even if it seems minor,” Stella said, handing Flint her card. “Will you do that?”

  “Yeah.” Flint took the card and studied it.

  Mattie figured that Stella would ask Flint about his own alibi before they left, but she wanted to know more about Nate’s business first. “Tyler plans to carry on with the fishing trip Nate had scheduled for tomorrow. Does he usually participate in the outfitting business?”

  “No, this is a first.” Flint’s chest puffed slightly. “That’s why he called to make sure I could be in charge.”

  “Does Kasey go on the trips?”

  “She used to. She used to be a lot of fun at the campfire, too.” Flint shook his head slowly, and his face took on sadness again. “She hasn’t been able to help out since Mr. Doyle’s stroke.”

  Even though Flint’s irregular eye contact appeared deceptive, the respectful way he said Mr. Doyle made Mattie think maybe they were dealing with a big kid who hadn’t yet grown out of the awkward stage. She couldn’t think of any other questions, so she glanced at Stella to see if she wanted to wrap up.

  “Flint, I have one more routine bit of information that we’re getting from everyone,” Stella said. “Tell us where you were last night around eleven o’clock.”

  “I went to the dance last night.”

  Mattie noticed a flush was beginning to color the skin at his neck. “Were you there when the siren went off to signal the volunteer firefighters?” she asked.

  “Uh-uh.” He blushed as he shook his head. “I left before then.”

  Mattie wondered what had caused the flushing. “Where did you go?”

  He shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “Just for a drive.”

  “By yourself?”

  “I went with a girl, someone I met at the dance.”

  Maybe he was embarrassed. Or maybe he was lying. “We’ll need her name, Flint.”

  He glanced at Mattie before looking away. “Sadie. I don’t know her last name.”

  “Did she give you a phone number?” Stella asked.

  “Nah.” He was shaking his head as his arms crossed over his chest again.

  Stella evidently decided that was all they were going to get. “It’s important that we identify where you were last night, Flint, so we can cross you off our list and move on to other people. If you get back in touch with Sadie, please get her name and number so we can follow up and confirm your alibi.”

  Flint looked toward his house as if searching for escape, or maybe to see if his dad was listening, and he mumbled that he would call if he talked to Sadie. Stella’s hint that he was a suspect had hit home.

  Mattie had one more question before they left. “The kind of work you do requires a good pair of work gloves. Can you show us yours?”

  Looking puzzled, Flint reached for his back pocket. “You mean these?”

  He pulled out a pair of light leather gloves, typical of those worn by ra
nchers for outdoor work. Although they looked similar to the one left in the ditch, they were smaller and of a different style. “What size are these?” Mattie asked, rolling back the open ends of each glove to see if there was a tag.

  “Medium.”

  “Thanks for your time, Flint,” Mattie said as she handed him back his gloves. Wanting to offer another line of communication, she gave him one of her own cards before saying goodbye.

  While she drove away, she checked the rearview mirror, having to look over Robo as he stood staring out the back window. Sure enough, JD came out of the house to stand beside his son, indicating he’d been keeping tabs on what was going on outside his front door.

  Stella pulled her seat belt across herself and fastened it. “Was everyone at that dance last night except me?”

  “Just about.”

  “Did you see Flint there?”

  “I can’t say I did. But the place was packed, and we were dancing most of the time before the explosion. I wasn’t really looking for him.”

  Stella shot her a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. “So the handsome Dr. Walker was taking up most of your attention, huh?”

  Mattie felt her own face begin to flush, like Flint’s. “I was off duty, Detective.”

  “Right.” Stella took out a small notebook she carried with her and started recording notes. “What did you think of Flint?”

  “I’m not sure. I was about to give him the benefit of the doubt until he lit up when you asked him for an alibi. But that blush could’ve been embarrassment over hooking up with a girl he barely knew.”

  “Possibly.” Stella paused her writing and looked out the window. “But we can’t eliminate him yet.”

  Mattie thought they shouldn’t underestimate the influence this kid’s dad had on him. “I saw JD step outside to join him when we left. Let’s let him have some time with Flint. Maybe he can get him to come forward with more information before we need to give it another go.”

  “In the meantime, it’s good to know that the gloves Flint wears are a smaller size than the one we found. Did you think it was odd that he had them in his pocket?”

  Mattie remembered seeing gloves shoved into the back pockets of many a rancher as they went about their business. “Not really. He was getting ready to leave for work, and it’s common enough to keep work gloves handy.”

  “Okay.” Stella yawned, making Mattie suppress one, too. “Let’s head for home and try to get some sleep before that ten o’clock meeting at the station.”

  Sorry they hadn’t turned up any new leads, Mattie set a course for Timber Creek. She wished they’d come up with something more solid, but she consoled herself that it had been less than twelve hours since Nate’s death.

  Her mind jumped to Cole as she drove in silence, and she hoped she could find a way to see him before this day ended. She still felt pressed to share the most traumatic part of her childhood with him and she wanted to get it over with, but not on the phone. It would have to wait till later.

  EIGHT

  Mattie pulled into the parking lot at the station shortly before ten, noticing that Brody and Stella hadn’t yet arrived. She’d slept hard for three hours and without dreams, a welcome change from her usual pattern of insomnia. Total exhaustion might be the key.

  The burn on her arm still tingled when she changed the dressing, but the lidocaine in the ointment had soothed it. Many of the blisters had broken or resorbed with the treatment, and there was no sign of infection. She’d worn another long-sleeved uniform shirt to protect it.

  Robo hopped down from the back of the Explorer, and with a waving tail, he trotted ahead to the front door. Ever conscious of alpha training, Mattie made him wait for her to enter first and then gave him permission to cross the threshold after her. It was a small thing, but Robo was the type of high-drive dog who would decide to take charge if you let him, and it was always good to remind him who was boss.

  Once inside she told him he was free to go, and he hustled over to the dispatcher’s desk to greet Rainbow, who received him with open arms. Literally. After Mattie clocked in, she joined them.

  Her dog was having a love fest, leaning against Rainbow as she scratched his ears, his mouth open in a toothy grin.

  “You spoil him,” Mattie said, giving her friend a smile behind the words.

  “He’s just a big baby, that’s what he is.” Rainbow ruffled the fur at his neck as he stretched upward to lick her face.

  Mattie had to correct him, even though he was fresh from a nap and hadn’t had a run yet to dispense all that energy. “That’s enough, Robo. You know better. Come. Sit.”

  He obeyed, though he eyed Rainbow lovingly.

  “Sorry, Mattie. I’ll try not to get him so riled up. He’s just so cute, I can’t help myself.”

  Mattie knew Rainbow would get her dog worked up again another time—that’s the way the two of them rolled. But she had to look at it as a good training opportunity; Robo needed to learn to behave himself when he was at work, even when he was tempted not to. “Am I the first one here?”

  “You are. This is an awful situation about Nate Fletcher. Poor Kasey.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “Some. She was a few years ahead of me in school, but I remember she was a cheerleader. She seemed to be active in all the sports, too.”

  Since Rainbow had been born and raised in Timber Creek, Mattie considered her a good source of information about the community. “Did you know Nate?”

  “Not really. I mean, I know who he was and all that. Called himself Mustang Fletcher. Liked to flirt with all the girls at the Watering Hole.”

  This was the first she’d heard about Nate flirting at the local bar. “Before or after he was married?”

  “Well, he moved here after they married, but it didn’t seem to slow him down with women. I tended bar before I started working here, and I remember he loved to party.”

  “Huh. Do you think he could’ve been cheating on Kasey?”

  “I have no idea, but his flirting in those days seemed harmless and directed at everyone. He often brought groups in from out of town for hunting. They would all stop at the bar, and the drinks flowed.”

  Nate must have been quite the party animal. “Drugs?”

  “Gosh, no. You know I’d let you know if I ever suspected anyone of drug use.”

  Rainbow might be a good source of information, but Mattie would never want the community to associate her with being a narc for the department. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.”

  “Why not? Folks know we take a hard stand against drugs here.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Mattie remembered the man she’d seen Rainbow with at the dance. “By the way, who was that cowboy you were dancing with last night?”

  Rainbow giggled. “Ben Underwood from California.”

  Mattie’s brother Willie had come from California. Even mention of the state brought the events surrounding his death back to her, and she had to push them out of her mind. “What brought him to town?”

  “Fishing trip. With Nate Fletcher, actually.”

  Mattie frowned in surprise. So Rainbow’s cowboy was one of Nate’s customers.

  Rainbow continued to chat. “I haven’t talked to him today, so I don’t know what he’s going to do now. They might have to go home.”

  “They?”

  “He’s with a friend, I guess, although Ben’s the only one who came to the dance.”

  Mattie couldn’t help but wonder if they were involved somehow in Nate’s death. “When did they come into town?”

  “They got here yesterday.”

  Mattie put the pieces together, and they fell into place easily. She needed to find out more about these out-of-town visitors. “Do you happen to know his buddy’s name?”

  “No, but I could call Ben.”

  Just in case these fishermen from California were involved with a homicide, Mattie didn’t want Rainbow drawn into it. “No, don’t mention it to him,
okay? Since they’re hooked in with Nate’s business, Stella and I need to interview them. Let us take care of it. I don’t even want them to know that you and I had this conversation. And I want you to stay away from Ben until we can clear him.”

  Rainbow frowned. “I’m sure they had nothing to do with Nate.”

  “Probably not, but I don’t want them to connect you with the investigation, okay?”

  “So serious, Mattie.” Rainbow shrugged as if dismissing her concern. “Ben is just a normal guy, but I don’t really know his friend, so I’ll let you handle it your way. Police business and all that.”

  “Good.”

  Stella entered the front door, and Mattie lifted her hand in greeting. After checking in, the detective headed for her office. “Meet you in the briefing room in five minutes, Mattie. Let me grab a cup of coffee and my laptop.”

  Mattie wrapped up her conversation with Rainbow and went to the staff office, a large room with four desks lining the walls. Hers sat in the corner with a bright-red dog cushion beside it, which Robo leapt on before going shoulders-down in a play pose, his way of saying he wanted a treat.

  She couldn’t resist his request, although she decided to make him work for it. She called him over to her and told him to sit and then lie down. She asked him to do the more difficult task of standing up from a down, which he performed within a split second. She gave him two treats.

  “You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?” She stroked his head and gave him a kiss on the broad place between his ears. “Go lie down and wait.”

  Robo pounced on the cushion, looking at her expectantly as if hoping the work-and-reward game had not yet ended. When she didn’t respond, he circled and lay down.

  She signed on to the Internet and Googled Nate’s business, Mustang Outfitters. It popped up immediately, the screen displaying a full spread of beautiful photos of the Rocky Mountains around Timber Creek. There was a posed shot of Nate dressed in fringed chaps and a leather vest, sitting astride a black horse as he casually leaned toward the camera, his arms crossed over the saddle horn. He’d been a handsome guy, dark eyes, cocky smile, and he looked about her age—around thirty.