The Last Goodnight

by Kat Martin

  “When did he quit?”

  “Not sure he ever actually did. From his employment records, it looks like he worked whenever the company needed him. He was contract labor. Sometimes he went months between jobs.”

  “You said Mountain Ore is family-owned.”

  “Mose Egan is head of the clan. He’s CEO. Other family members have jobs there, all VPs of something or other, his daughter, Jane, and her husband, Phillip Smithson, and Mose’s son, Richard. International headquarters are in Denver.”

  “Anything pop up that explains why Keller was looking for work in Coffee Springs?”

  “Frank was born in Denver, but he’s got a second cousin in Phippsburg, so he’s familiar with the area. His cousin’s name is Earl Dunstan. No address, just a post office box.”

  “Maybe Phippsburg’s where Frank’s hiding out. That’s great work, Zoe. I’ll make sure the sheriff knows.”

  “And speaking of Sheriff Carver . . .”

  “Yes . . . ?”

  “The guy has a solid reputation, but I found old photos of him and Heather posted on one of his friend’s Facebook pages. At the time the pictures were taken, the two of them looked very hot and heavy. The date was a month before she disappeared.”

  “So Carver’s still a suspect.”

  “Looks that way,” Zoe said.

  “Send me the photos.”

  “Soon as I get off the phone. Oh, there is one more thing.” An excited note rose in Zoe’s voice. “I quit my job.”

  “Wow, really? I know you said it was just a way to earn a living until something more interesting came along, but—”

  “Something more interesting came along. Conner Delaney offered me a job doing digital forensics for Nighthawk Security.”

  Silence fell. “Are you sure you want to do that? My boss can be, well, he isn’t exactly a rule follower.”

  Zoe laughed. “And you think I am?”

  Ellie smiled. “Point taken, and when you put it that way, I think you’ll really enjoy the challenge.”

  “The good news is, from now on you don’t have to feel guilty when you ask me for help. I’ll be getting paid for it.”

  Ellie chuckled. “I remember introducing the two of you, but I didn’t realize Conn knew how talented you were.”

  “Apparently all the bragging you did about me worked. Plus, he gave me a couple of test problems, and I solved them.”

  “No surprise there. Will you be working in the office?”

  “Conn’s setting up a space for me, but I’ll also be working at home. No set hours. I’m really excited about it.”

  “So am I.”

  “Listen, I gotta run. Now that I’ve got a new job—”

  “Now that you’re on the payroll, there’s something else I need.”

  Zoe laughed. “What is it?”

  “Any chance you can get into Heather Logan’s medical records, see if there’s any sign of abuse?”

  “Wait a minute. You’re thinking your guy, Kade, was a wife beater? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “I can’t imagine Kade ever hurting a woman, but it’s my job to be sure.”

  “I’ll check it out.”

  “Also, there’s a bartender named Rance Sullivan. Works at the Elkhorn Bar and Grill in Coffee Springs. He’s one of Heather’s conquests. I didn’t see anything suspicious, but you might.”

  “I’ll take a look.”

  “Thanks, Zoe. Can’t wait for a girlfriend lunch.”

  “Me either. Talk soon.” Zoe hung up the phone.

  * * *

  Working at the computer on his big, dark oak desk, Kade looked up as Ellie walked through the open study door.

  He rose from his chair and walked toward her. “I’m sorry about this morning . . . about Grace, I mean. Like I said, I haven’t seen her in months.”

  A burnished eyebrow went up. “Any other female surprises in store for me?”

  The back of Kade’s neck went warm. “No.” Not unless one of the females he had slept with in Vail a few months back showed up. The sex had been hot, the release satisfying, but he didn’t remember either of their names.

  “Good to know,” Ellie said.

  Kade’s mouth edged up. “Anything else I need to confess?”

  She smiled. “Actually I came in to tell you I got a lead on Frank Keller.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a slip of paper and handed it over. “Keller has a cousin in Phippsburg. His name is Earl Dunstan. No address. That’s his post office box number.”

  Kade looked at the note and felt a rush of excitement, followed by a sweep of anger. “You call the sheriff?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to let you know first.”

  Kade unsnapped the pocket on his denim shirt and shoved the note inside. “We’ll phone the sheriff from the road. Carver may need to call the Routt County sheriff, since Phippsburg’s in his jurisdiction. We’re closer than either one of them.”

  “You think we can find Dunstan?”

  “It’s a very small town.” His jaw flexed. “We’ll find Dunstan, and when we do, I got a hunch we’ll find Keller.”

  “If he’s there, he’s likely armed. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather let the cops handle this?”

  Kade walked back to his desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, and punched the code into his gun safe. Reaching inside, he picked up the holstered Colt Classic .45 that had belonged to his dad.

  He looked at Ellie. “Keller shot two of my steers, one of my men, and my dog.” He strapped the big semiauto around his waist and tied the leather thong around his thigh. “I’m damned sure.” Kade grabbed his hat and tugged it low, caught Ellie’s arm and propelled her out of the study.

  “Wait a minute.” She pulled free. “I need my purse, my jacket, and my weapon. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Kade just nodded. He wanted Frank Keller. If Keller was in Phippsburg, Kade was going to find him. He was going to end this. One way or another.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PHIPPSBURG, IN ROUTT COUNTY, COLORADO, WAS LITTLE MORE THAN a wide spot in the road about thirty miles north of Coffee Springs. A post office, a ranch supply store, a couple of boarded-up businesses, and a small settlement of houses marked the rural community. A few hundred people lived close to town; a few more made their homes in the surrounding hills.

  Because it was Saturday, the red-brick post office was closed. Instead, Kade turned the pickup into the parking lot of Flatt’s Ranch Supply and pulled into one of the diagonal spaces out front. He’d known the owner, Charlie Flatt, for more than a decade.

  Ellie walked beside him across the asphalt, and Kade pulled open the door to the long wooden building. The place was stacked high with bags of horse feed, cans of dog food, tack and tools, fuel for pellet stoves, automotive parts, tires, and farming equipment. You name it, you could find it at Flatt’s.

  Charlie stood behind the counter, a man in his sixties with iron-gray hair and a paunch over the waistband of work jeans held up by colorful striped suspenders.

  He spotted them as they walked up and smiled. “Well, Kade Logan! Long time no see.”

  Kade smiled back. “Been a while, Charlie. Though I don’t think you ever really change.”

  “Well, if you didn’t notice, I’ve put on a few extra pounds.” His hands smoothed affectionately over his belly, as if Kade might have missed it. “Who’s the pretty lady?”

  “Charlie, meet Ellie Bowman. She’s helping me out while my cook is on vacation.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ellie.”

  Ellie smiled. “You too, Charlie.”

  “So what can I do for you two?”

  “Actually, I need some information,” Kade said. “I’m hoping you can tell me where to find a guy named Earl Dunstan. He lives in Phippsburg, but I’m not sure where.”

  “No problem. I know Earl. He’s a good guy. Lives out at the end of Pine Street. Just keep going after you get to where the dirt road narrows. Earl’s place is over the hill, down on your right
.”

  “Thanks, Charlie. You drop by for supper next time you’re in Coffee Springs. I promise you Ellie’s a damn fine cook.”

  “I’ll just bet she is.” Charlie winked at Ellie, and Kade didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes. He figured Ellie and Kade were an item, and at least for the moment, they were.

  Kade shook his head. Small towns thrived on gossip, and Charlie had gotten a juicy morsel in return for his help. Kade waved at him over his shoulder as they left the store and headed back to the truck.

  The day was still sunny, the temperature on the warm side for this time of year. The road heading west out of town was narrow, with just a few scattered houses along the way. When the pickup reached the top of the hill and the lane narrowed still further, Kade pulled off and parked.

  “Let’s take a look.” He leaned over and opened the glove box, took out a pair of binoculars, and focused them on the scene below. A small white, wood-frame house with a covered front porch sat on a parcel of land away from the road. A red barn with a chicken coop on one side sat behind the house, while a swaybacked white mare and a big bay gelding meandered around the pasture.

  Kade panned the binoculars, fixed them on a recent-model Dodge Ram truck in the yard next to a faded brown horse trailer. He handed the glasses to Ellie.

  “Pickup and trailer could be Keller’s rig,” he said. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s around outside. Can’t tell if there’s someone in the house.”

  Ellie scanned the area, must have seen the same lack of activity he did. “Why don’t we find out?”

  Kade cranked the engine and pulled the pickup back onto the road. They dropped off the hill and turned into the long driveway leading to the house. Pulling around back, he parked in front of the barn.

  “I still don’t see anyone,” Kade said. “Stay here while I take a look.”

  “Not a chance.” Ellie cracked open her door and got out. Kade bit back a curse and followed.

  His sheepskin jacket covered the pistol on his belt. In this kind of country, walking up to a man’s house with a gun in your hand could get you killed. In this case, going in without a weapon could get you just as dead.

  As Kade neared the front porch, he pulled the Colt, and Ellie pulled her pistol, a Glock semiauto, she’d told him. She signaled that she was going around to the back and slipped off in that direction. With no way to call her back, Kade clenched his jaw, his tension ratcheting up another notch.

  He eased up onto the wooden porch, knocked on the front door, and stepped to one side, his pistol in a two-handed grip pointed upward. He wasn’t a cop, but he knew how to use a firearm, and he was a damned good shot. His tension revved higher as he knocked again. Surprise hit him when the door moved a little, creaked, and slowly swung open.

  Kade counted off the seconds. No one appeared. Careful not to make himself a target, he shoved the door with the toe of his boot. Through the windows next to the couch, sunlight poured into the living room. Catching no sign of movement, he stepped inside.

  Kade froze. Frank Keller slumped in a plush, brown, overstuffed chair next to the sofa, legs thrust out in front of him, arms limp at his sides. Keller’s head lolled on his chest, and a black semiauto lay on the floor where it must have dropped from his hand.

  Still armed, Kade eased toward the chair. Keller was dead, blood leaking down the side of his face from a bullet hole in his right temple, brain matter oozing from the exit wound on the other side. Kade looked up to see Ellie moving silently into the living room, weapon gripped in both hands. She shook her head. No one in the kitchen.

  So far, no sign of Earl Dunstan.

  Ellie spotted Keller. Her eyes flashed to Kade’s, and her face turned pale. Kade signaled toward the bedrooms, and Ellie nodded. They needed to be sure no one else was in the house.

  It was quiet as he moved along the hall, just the muffled thud of his boots on the carpet and the tick of a clock on a nightstand he could see through the open bedroom door. He checked the closets and under the bed, moved along the hall to the other bedroom, then checked the bathroom.

  “All clear,” he said, holstering the Colt as he returned to the living room. His gaze went to the body sprawled in the chair. Kade had no trouble recognizing the man who had briefly worked for him during the roundup. “Looks like Keller shot himself.”

  Her gun re-holstered, the color back in her face, Ellie examined the crime scene, studying the body from different angles and surveying the area around it. “That’s what it looks like.”

  Kade frowned at the trace of doubt in her voice. “You don’t think so?”

  “Keller didn’t strike me as the suicidal type.”

  Kade mulled that over. “Maybe he figured the cops were closing in on him. He shot one of my men and rigged an IED that blew up a guy in a mine. He was going to prison. Maybe he couldn’t handle it.”

  “Maybe. Either way, it puts an end to the trouble on the ranch.” She looked back at the body, down at the weapon on the floor. “Or maybe this isn’t what it seems.”

  Kade’s frown returned. “You think it was staged to look like he killed himself?”

  Ellie glanced around. “I don’t see a suicide note.”

  Kade’s gaze followed hers, taking in the simply furnished living room with its brown shag carpet. The place wasn’t fancy, but it was neat and clean. “Not everybody leaves a note.”

  “No, not everybody.”

  “There’s no smell, so he hasn’t been dead that long,” Kade said.

  “Maybe his cousin shot him, staged the scene, and ran.”

  Kade looked back at the body. “Why would his cousin shoot him? Dunstan and Keller were family. That’s why Frank came to Phippsburg, the reason he came to Dunstan for help. Family counts for something out here.”

  Ellie glanced toward the window. “The sheriff’s bound to show up soon. Why don’t we take a look around before he gets here?”

  “Good idea.” Kade headed back down the hall, into the spare bedroom, where he figured Keller would have been staying. There was a canvas duffle on the bed and clothes strewn on the floor.

  “We need to be careful not to contaminate the crime scene,” Ellie said, walking up beside him.

  But Kade was already in motion, heading for the rifle propped against the wall in the corner. “It’s .308 Winchester bolt-action. Looks like a Leupold scope. Good hunting rifle, probably the gun he used to shoot Alejandro.”

  “Don’t touch it,” Ellie warned.

  “I don’t need to. I can see the bolt from here. This gun belongs to a left-handed man.”

  Ellie’s gaze locked with his. “Frank Keller died from a bullet to his right temple. The pistol on the floor makes it look as if the gun was fired with his right hand.”

  Kade’s expression went grim. “Keller didn’t kill himself.”

  Ellie looked up at him with those big green eyes that had a way of unsettling him. “Not if that’s Keller’s rifle.”

  Ellie crossed the bedroom to the dresser and studied the items on top—a wallet, set of car keys, pen and pencil, and some loose change. She picked up the pencil and used it to open the wallet. Frank Keller’s picture on his driver’s license stared back at her.

  “The room is his,” she said. She went over to the closet. The slider stood open, revealing the clothes Frank had brought with him to Phippsburg.

  She slid the metal hanging door open a little farther, then took down a hanger that held an XL size red-flannel shirt. “Look at this.”

  Kade walked up, and Ellie pointed to a small chunk of fabric missing from the sleeve of the shirt. “What do you bet the hole matches the piece we found caught on that fence post out in the north pasture?”

  “If it does, that proves Keller was behind the shootings.”

  “There’s no chain of evidence, but it doesn’t really matter since Frank’s dead.” Ellie hung the shirt back in the closet.

  “The question now is who killed him?” Kade said.

  Ellie looked up
at him. “And why?”

  The whine of an engine sounded in the distance, followed by the noise of a second vehicle. “Looks like the law just arrived.” They went back to the living room, and Kade saw two Routt County sheriff’s SUVs pulling up to the house.

  “We need to do this right,” Kade said. He rested his weapon on the floor of the living room, and Ellie did the same. Kade opened the door, they raised their hands, and both of them walked out onto the porch.

  Neither of them wanted to get shot by the good guys.

  * * *

  The Routt County sheriff, Webb Fischer, took their statements. He was average height with a stocky build, unremarkable except for his blue eyes and leonine mane of thick gray hair. Kade made the point that if the rifle in the bedroom belonged to Frank Keller, the guy was left-handed. If so, there was a strong likelihood Keller hadn’t shot himself.

  “The medical examiner’s in Steamboat,” Sheriff Fischer said. “He’s on his way here now. It’s only about a thirty- minute drive. We’ll know more after he examines the body.”

  In the meantime, it didn’t take long for the sheriff to find out Frank Keller was the owner of a .308 Winchester registered in Denver County. The left-hand bolt said it all.

  Kade answered more of the sheriff’s questions, and so did Ellie. Then Kade asked a few questions of his own.

  “What about Earl Dunstan? He could have killed Keller, or even if he didn’t, he might know something about his death.”

  “I’ve put a BOLO out on Dunstan as a person of interest, but he’s probably just off working somewhere. Earl does handyman repairs in the area. That’s how he makes his living.”

  “You don’t think he could be Frank’s killer?”

  “At this point, Keller’s death is still a suicide. Even if the ME lists the cause of death as homicide, I know Earl. He’s harmless. No way he killed his cousin.”

  “Then who did?” Kade asked.

  Fischer drilled him with a glare. “According to Glen Carver, you think Keller is behind the trouble you’ve been having at the ranch. That gives you plenty of motive yourself.”