Dead Point (Maggie Blackthorne Book 1)

by LaVonne Griffin-Valade

  “Yeah. He’s kind of a nervous guy for a tow truck driver. Nice old bird, though.”

  I listened to Larkin’s voicemail. It contained a strange mix of outrage over how I’d managed to confiscate his Kel-Tec 9 and concern for his son. His own attorney had advised him that our county sheriff recognizes conceal carry permits from another county or state and that my seizure of his pistol was done illegally and under false pretenses. Plus he’d learned that we’d interviewed Brady at the high school yesterday morning and without a lawyer present. So he planned to sue the State of Oregon and me. He left out the part about his handgun being a murder weapon.

  I listened to the recording several times. “Well,” I said to Hollis, “Larkin is pissed and threatening to take legal action.”

  “Being angry and litigious might be the least of his worries,” Hollis said.

  “But that’s not even the most interesting part.” I turned on the speaker and played the message. “Does that voice sound familiar?”

  “Play it again.” He listened more intently. “Sounds like Larkin.”

  “Exactly. And it sounds like Mr. Anonymous from the poacher tip line report on Dan and Joseph.”

  “I’ll pull up the MPEG file.”

  We listened to the poacher tip line message and this morning’s voicemail.

  “I think you’re right, Maggie. In the tip line call, he sounds a little nervous, and in today’s message, he just sounds irritated.”

  “I’m not sure it’s worth knowing whether or not he was the tipster. But if he was, I’d like to know why he was out there and so far from the paved roadway.”

  “Maybe he spotted that red truck and decided to tail the Nodines. Then called the poacher hotline and turned them in.”

  “Could have happened, just not in that fancy Prius.”

  “No, not in the Prius. But he could have been driving the green Bronco. That would explain how he could off-road and follow them.”

  “And witness them kill and butcher that doe. Holy shit, Holly. Here I was about to bump Asa Larkin’s name further down on the list of murder suspects.”

  Taylor’s phone interrupted the silence that had settled in, the three of us working quietly at our desks.

  “That was the court clerk. Larkin made bail,” he announced.

  “Not surprising, I guess. By the way, Mark, I meant to tell you earlier I appreciate you delivering the water glasses and jeep keys to Harry Bratton.”

  Taylor was dumfounded, but it wasn’t like I never thanked the dude. “Sure, you’re welcome. Harry says it’s harder to lift a print from a metal key, but he thinks—”

  An infant’s loud cries interrupted his prattle. Lillian and Hank had arrived for a surprise visit. We left our desks and joined the kerfuffle at the front counter.

  Taylor took the baby and held him like a professional dad. When it was my turn, I cooed and cradled Hank like an amateur, and like most inexperienced cooers and cradlers, I made the whole thing worse. Finally, Hollis lifted his agitated child from my arms.

  “I’m just dropping him off for an hour or two,” Lil said. “You don’t mind, do you, Maggie?”

  “Sure. A gal has to get her mani-pedi on schedule, right?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, moving in close to Hollis and her infant son.

  “That’s a beautiful baby, you two,” Taylor said.

  I brushed my fingertips along his tiny arm. “His skin is amazingly soft.”

  My desk phone rang.

  “You should get that. It could be Detective Bach,” Hollis said quietly.

  I raced to my desk, where Al’s name flashed across caller ID. “Detective.”

  “Maggie. Just checking in. Things in Paisley are squared away, and I’m on my way back to Bend.”

  I spent ten minutes or so updating him—the information from the Prairie Maid owner, Wayne Smith and his silver Pathfinder, Sylvester being a collector of Remington art, and possibly establishing Larkin as the anonymous poacher-hotline tipster.

  “Well, I see why you’re anxious to interview Larkin again, and his hired men.”

  “Search the ranch property too.”

  “I agree. But more than ever, I need to be there when you do that. For your benefit as well as the efficacy of the investigation.”

  Efficacy? I was getting used to Bach’s occasional patronizing slip. I suspected that was his way of mentoring.

  “Got it, Al. Should I contact Lieutenant Lake and let him know we plan to interrogate the four men and search the cattle company tomorrow?”

  “No. He won’t be of any help up in La Grande. And I’ve about had it with his interference.”

  “How about Sheriff Rhinehart?”

  “Heavens, no. But we will need a warrant to search all out buildings, residences, and vehicles.”

  “I’ll put Mark Taylor on that right away.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning before leaving from Bend.”

  I was home earlier than I’d been in more than a week. The welcome warmth of the day had carried into evening, allowing Louie a weather-free exploration of Dorie’s side yard and the tan hillock at the back of the building. His short illness days ago had left him less spry but seemingly more grateful for his time padding across the bright new grass of late winter.

  Off to the east, dark, sullen clouds had begun to gather against the twilight, pinned in by the Strawberry range and precursors to a new storm. If it had been summer, the air might have taken on the thick scent of dank clay and pine pitch.

  Louie, possibly sensing the damp to come, signaled it was time to go back inside. I carried him up the stairs, changed out his food and water, and tossed in a kitty treat.

  After my shower, I opened the closet and surveyed my meager collection of regular citizen wear. Besides the funeral suit and the silk blouse I’d worn to dinner with Ray Gattis last week, I owned a red V-neck sweater, a wool plaid Pendleton shirt, and a couple of tees and sweatshirts. No dresses, but plenty of jeans. While I stood in front of the open closet gauging the best option for my dinner date with Duncan, he texted.

  “Ready whenever you are”

  “There in 20”

  I slipped on the V-neck sweater and some jeans. I didn’t own a pair of Frye’s or other sexy boots, so it had to be my ten-year-old Jack Purcells. Rarely did I bother with makeup, but I dabbed on some mascara and a spot of lipstick and scrounged around for something besides my mother’s pearl post earrings. I found the few baubles Morgan had given me, put on the dangling silver hoops he’d picked up during a trip to Santa Fe, and called it good.

  Duncan opened the front door before I even made it to his porch. “I like your nice police uniform okay, but I have to say, that red sweater’s a good look.”

  “Thanks. You look pretty snazzy yourself.”

  He’d traded in his Feed and Tack shirt for an aqua-blue button-down that intensified the green of his eyes and all but melted me before I had even stepped through the door. I longed for dinner and small talk to be over, for the dishes and the jokes to be put away.

  He took my hand and led me to the dining area. “Supper’s on the table, except for the pot roast.”

  “What happened to tacos and beer?”

  “Couldn’t find any damn fresh tortillas at Chester’s Market, but they did have a nice roast. Speaking of which, have a seat and I’ll serve it up.”

  He doled out slices onto each plate, which were already affixed with a baked and buttered russet. I tonged the salad into our salad bowls.

  “Jesus, we’re like an old married couple,” I said.

  “Ha!” Duncan turned pink at the neck and squeezed my hand. “On the other hand, my folks just heat up Hungry Man dinners and sit in front of the TV.”

  “I haven’t seen them around town for a while. Are they doing all right?”

  “Pretty good, I think. Traveling some in the little RV they bought. Dad’s arthritis acts up a lot, so Mom does most of the driving.”

  “Is that why you moved ba
ck, to be around to help take care of them?”

  “Mostly. Plus they needed someone to take over running the business. Also, I wanted to be around for Rain.” He took a masculine bite of beef, chewed, and swallowed. “And you? Why’d you decide to come back?”

  I shrugged. “I think I wanted to make some kind of peace with my childhood, if that makes sense. I’ve always been haunted by it.”

  His look was solemn. “I don’t understand, I guess.”

  “Poverty. My mother’s suicide. My father’s long tumble into the bottle.”

  “I’m an idiot, or I didn’t pay attention. As a kid, I never realized any of that was going on.”

  I almost attributed that to privilege, yet I knew my shame as a girl had taught me to hide behind a mask, the pretense of Zoey and Tate’s deep devotion to their one and only child.

  “Well, you were just a kid,” I said.

  “And have you made peace with all of it?”

  “That’ll never be completely possible. But I’m turning forty soon, and I understand I’ll suddenly gain great insight and find tranquility.”

  “Oh, sure. Happened to me when I hit forty a few years ago. I was immediately calm and composed, not to mention wise.”

  “Wiseass, maybe.”

  “Yeah, that too,” he chuckled. “When do you turn forty?”

  I looked into his great green eyes. “March first.”

  “What? That’s tomorrow. Doesn’t give me much time to shop.”

  I reached across and traced his jawline with the tips of my fingers. “You’ve already given me the best gift of all.”

  Duncan smiled and waited for an explanation.

  “A bit of normalcy in the midst of the chaos of these last many days.”

  “I hoped you were going to say something about my skills in the bedroom.”

  “That’s been a bonus for sure.”

  He stood and scooped up his plate, salad bowl, and utensils. “Let’s put the leftovers in the fridge and dump the dishes in the sink. Then we’ll wander upstairs, okay?”

  “Shouldn’t we load the dishwasher?”

  “Hell no.”

  I woke in Duncan’s bed. His back toward me, he rose and fell, rose and fell in the soft sigh of breathing. I slowly lifted the covers and sat up, placing my bare feet on the cold floor. I pulled my bra from the pile of clothing next to the bed and slipped it on.

  “Hey,” he said. “Don’t leave.”

  I leaned across the bed and kissed his forehead. “I have to go.”

  He pulled me back under the sheet and against his nakedness. “No, you have to come.”

  He slid his large, warm hand over my soft belly. With his other hand, he unhooked the bra. A surge of heat arced through me, and I tore off the garment.

  Light from the crescent moon beamed through the window. In the stillness, skin to skin, our explorations and murmurs. Charged and urgent, we rocked and cried out, alone and together, alone and together.

  Later, I drifted back toward sleep, aware some threshold of intimacy had been crossed. In the aftermath, I was euphoric but apprehensive. It stood to reason. I liked the man. I knew I could come to love him. Maybe I already had. And so, the unease. Yet, wrapped in Duncan’s arms, I let the tricky feelings go. Soon enough, tomorrow would arrive.

  At first light, I drove to my apartment. Louie was at the door, ready to be let out. We trod outside under a clear sky. The high desert breeze was fresh on my warm skin, despite the chilly temperature. It felt good to be alive. I carried my old tabby back into the apartment, where we sat in my mother’s rocker.

  “Well, Louie, what are your plans for the day?”

  His left ear, the one he’d injured in a long-ago catfight, flitted at the sound of my voice.

  “More of the same, huh? Me too, I’m afraid.”

  Hollis was engaged in a serious phone call when I pulled up to my desk across from his. He listened intently to whoever was on the other end, repeating, “Yes, sir, I understand. I will, sir.”

  Christ, I thought, was that Corporal Macintyre letting Holly know he’d been promoted? I fired up my desktop and prepared myself for the news.

  Hollis finally hung up. “Hey, Maggie. Guess what?”

  I smiled that fake smile I’d learned from Zoey. “Got no clue.”

  “Harry’s identified a print from the jeep key. One that doesn’t belong to either Nodine.” He tossed me a wide smile.

  Occasionally Holly’s convoluted setups were tedious. “Okay, I’ll bite. Whose fingerprint?”

  “Ruben Vickers.”

  “Holy fuck.”

  Whatever corruption was festering out at Bear Valley Cattle Company, I deemed it an unfit place for Brady Wakefield to return to. Finding a safe house for him had occurred to me yesterday sitting in Zan Wilson’s office, the boy crying on the other side of the desk. I wished I’d done then what my instincts told me. There was no question about it now that we planned to confront Larkin and his hired men.

  Where, though, and with so little time to make it happen? Not with Dorie, bless her heart, and for sure not any of the church ladies. He could use some time with an openhearted guy, but Zan Wilson was a holy roller, and Brady seemed fed up with that ilk. The world could use more men like Duncan, the way he cared for Rain. No preaching but a gentle nudge when necessary, stepping back when it was called for.

  I retrieved my hat and coat. “I’ll be back shortly, Hollis.”

  Duncan looked up from his laptop as the Feed and Tack’s electronic cowbell sounded.

  “Hey.” He moved from behind the service counter and kissed me. “Happy birthday.”

  I checked the aisles for customers, but we were alone. “Are you hungry?”

  He placed his hands on my back, moved them lower, and pressed his body to mine. “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

  “For breakfast, guy,” I said. “And that’s the second time you’ve used that joke.”

  He smiled. “Sergeant Maggie Blackthorne, enforcing the law and policing my sense of humor.”

  Still holding me, we swayed together a few beats. God, the lilt of my heart. I had to snap out of it.

  Taking a small step backward, I inched out of his arms. “I was thinking we could try the waffles at Erna’s Café.”

  “Sounds great, but can I take a rain check? I’m here all by my lonesome this morning.”

  I took his hands in mine. “I’ve also come to ask a favor.”

  He led me to the storage room behind the counter. “We can have some privacy in here.”

  The large open room contained rows of shelves, which held meticulously labeled and organized stock.

  “I need your help with something really important,” I said.

  “Here, take a seat on that crate of horse blankets.” He pointed to a nearby wooden box stored on the floor against the wall.

  He sat down beside me. “What’s up?”

  “It’s a strange request. And I’m afraid I can’t give you many details.”

  “Okay?”

  “It has to do with Brady Wakefield. He needs a safe place to stay tonight while we take care of a police matter.”

  “What kind of police matter?”

  “I can’t say any more than that.”

  “Will you be safe?”

  “As safe as I ever am.”

  “Well, Sergeant Blackthorne, that fucking answer is not very reassuring.” He wasn’t joking.

  “Dammit, Duncan. This is my job.”

  “Yes, I know. And I want you to be safe.” We heard the electronic cowbell. “I’ll be right back.”

  Maybe it had been a mistake to ask Duncan for this favor. But I knew that wasn’t the real problem. It was the risk that came with police work. If he couldn’t handle that now, he might never be able to.

  “Maggie. I apologize for getting pissed. I have no right.” He sat beside me and extended a long, muscular arm around my shoulders. “I’m falling pretty hard for you. And I know, it’s too soon. There’s plenty we don’t
know about one another. Blah, blah, blah. But all that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

  I kissed him and tucked a stray strand of his thick, sandy hair behind his ear. “I feel the same way.”

  He drew me back into his arms. “I need you to be safe, all right? And yes, Brady can stay at my place. I really like the kid. But even if I didn’t, he’d be welcome to stay.”

  “Thank you. I actually thought of you because of how good you are with Rain.”

  “Speaking of Rain. Brady spending the night at my place could be complicated.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “This is confidential, okay. Rain and Brady are in a relationship.”

  “They’re intimate?”

  He smiled. “That’s an old-fashioned way to put it, but yes, they’re intimate. Like we’re intimate.”

  “Please tell me Rain is eighteen.”

  “Rain is eighteen. And when he learns Brady is staying with me, he’ll want to spend the night too.”

  “Kat?”

  Duncan shrugged. “Rain hasn’t told her, as far as I know. But she’s not an idiot.”

  “Well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his basketball scholarship, she’ll probably be fine.”

  He nudged my shoulder. “Aren’t we catty?”

  “I’ll stop at the high school, let Brady know I’ve arranged for him to stay at your place tonight.” In this instance, I decided I could afford to ignore Al’s instruction to bring Hollis or Taylor along every step of the way from now on. Inventing my authority again.

  “Have him meet me here at the store after basketball practice.”

  The electronic cowbell signaled another customer.

  “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  He stood, pulled me up from the crate. We kissed and held one other.

  “Oh, excuse me.” Jen Wilson stood in the entrance to the storage room in her veterinarian smock. “I was hoping you might have some Bar-Guard-99 syringes in stock.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yep. Follow me, Jen.”

  I trailed him out of the storage room and caught her eye.