“What’s not to like?”
Travis’s phone buzzed and he snatched it to glance at the screen. “It’s Asher.”
“If it’s nothing private, can you put it on speaker? I want to hear his voice.”
He did. “Hi, Asher, you’re on speaker with Heather and me. What’s up?”
“I just got a strange call from Jasmine, Benny Silver’s sister.”
“Okay.”
“She wanted to know if Benny had any enemies, anyone who’d want to see him dead.”
Travis raised a brow at Heather.
She frowned and shook her head. “The only time we talked was when he was in the hospital, and he didn’t say much. I just picked up on some possible depression. Why?”
“Because the autopsy just came back and the ME said he didn’t kill himself. He was murdered.”
Heather gasped. “Murdered!”
“The ME said upon initial inspection at the scene, she couldn’t see all of the details. It wasn’t until she was doing the autopsy that she came across what looked like defensive wounds on his hands. Fortunately, it was cold in the basement where he was killed, so decomp was slowed down.”
“So, the sister called you?”
“Yeah, I told her if she needed anything, to let me know. I mean, I know there’s nothing I can do, but it just seemed like the right thing to offer. Anyway, when she called a little bit ago, she said she knew it was a long shot, but the cops were asking her for names of anyone who might have had it in for Benny. She had no idea, so she called me to see if I had any insight or if I could give her some names of other soldiers to talk to.”
“And?” Heather asked. “Do you have any insight?”
“No, none. But Jasmine said the medical examiner was going over his body very carefully looking for forensic evidence now. And a crime scene unit is heading back to his basement to see if they can find anything.”
Heather frowned. “Isn’t it too late for that? I mean, you think anything would be left?”
“You never know. I’ll keep you updated.”
She pursed her lips. “Okay, thank you, Asher. It’s good to hear you sounding so well.”
“I’m fine, Heather. Or at least very much on the way to fine. You watch your back.”
“I am. Thank you.”
The front door opened, and Ryker stepped inside. He brushed snowflakes from his hat and pulled his gloves off. “Man, it’s getting cold out there, but the horses are awesome. Your sister’s in the barn working with one of them. She said to tell you she might need your help with Herman. She didn’t say much, but I could tell he wasn’t doing too great. What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s one of the older horses and has been battling cancer. Over the past couple of weeks, he’s been going downhill fast, and Sandra’s probably going to have to put him down. They’ve already got the hole dug for his grave, but Sandra’s been hanging on to him as long as possible. I guess it’s time.”
“Aw, man. I’m sorry. That’s a tough thing to have to do.”
Travis let out a long sigh. “Thanks for letting me know. And Sandra will be glad for any help you want to give her. I know you want to keep working for the doc.”
Ryker nodded, then blew out a low breath. “Well, I don’t have to worry about it until he’s back at work and that may be a few weeks, so I’ll just play it by ear if that’s all right.”
“Perfectly all right.”
“In the meantime, I don’t mind helping with the horses.” A yawn hit him. “You okay with me taking a nap?”
“Of course,” Travis said.
Heather gave an agreeing nod. “Sounds like a good idea. You really should take it easy. You’re still healing, remember?”
He pressed a hand against his side. “Kinda hard to forget, but thanks.” He paused. “Thanks for everything.” He took one step, then stopped and turned to Travis. “If you have to go help Sandra with Herman, let me know. I want to help.”
“You don’t have—”
“I know I don’t. I want to.”
“Sure. I’ll let you know.”
Ryker jogged up the stairs as though completely healed, and Heather shook her head. “If that’s taking it easy, I’ve got to come up with a different description.”
Once he was gone, Heather dropped her head into her hands. “Murdered?” she whispered through her fingers and looked up at Travis.
“Yeah.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He paused. “I’m going to let Caden know and see if he has any thoughts on this.”
“You do that.” She chewed on her lip. “I feel like everything is circling back to something that happened in Kabul.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling, I suppose. I can’t even think of any one thing that happened that would have led to all of this. The attempt to blow up the hospital is the big one, though.” She hesitated. “I wonder how Gina’s going to take this news. She was so angry about Brad’s death, but never once did I hear her say anything against the soldiers responsible. It was just a stupid, tragic accident.”
“You want to be the one to break it to her?”
“Unless Sarah already has.” She stood and paced from one end of the room to the other. “I’ll call her and see what she says.”
“Good idea. The phone in my office is untraceable. You can use it.”
“Untraceable?”
“I work from there occasionally and I don’t want some of the people I call having my number—or the ability to track me down.”
Well, that made sense. “Also, do you have a computer I can use? I really need to check in with my boss at the hospital as well as scan my emails.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s in my office next to the phone. Also secure and untraceable. Password is the first two letters of the kids’ names from oldest to youngest, then their ages, youngest to oldest.”
She blinked. “Travis, you don’t just give out your password to your computer.”
“I wouldn’t give it to anyone, but it’s you. And I have no problem with you having the password.” He headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a soda. You want anything?”
Heather was still trying to wrap her head around his words. “Um, yes, please. A water would be great.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be in your office calling Sarah and checking my email.”
And fighting her exploding feelings for the man who always seemed to say the right thing at the right time.
The door to Travis’s house burst open and Heather flinched, then relaxed when she saw it was his nephew. “Martin? Everything okay?”
“No, where’s Uncle Travis? Mom needs him in the barn.”
“He’s in the kitchen. Is it Herman?”
The boy nodded, tears in his eyes. “She’s going to have to put him down and she wants Uncle Travis there. Then they’ll have to haul him out to the pasture to bury him.”
The ranch was beautiful, but this was one example of the harsh realities that came with it.
“I’ll help too,” Ryker said from the top of the stairs.
Heather didn’t bother to protest. If he ripped the stitches open, she’d close them back up.
He descended while Martin darted for the kitchen. “I heard the door slam open and came to see what was going on.”
Because no abused kid could ignore a loud noise in the house he lived in. Loud equated to trouble in just about every instance.
Travis hurried from the kitchen, followed by Martin. Travis caught her eye. “You’ll be all right here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine, Travis. Do we need to review the security you have here?”
“No. No, we don’t. You’re right. No one’s coming on this property unless they’re invited.”
“Exactly. Go help your sister.”
“Could take a while. It’s snowing a little harder too.”
“I’m awar
e. Does she need me to help with the other children?”
“They’re with my grandma,” Martin said, inching toward the door.
Travis grabbed his Stetson with a glance back at Heather. “I’ll text you updates.”
“Perfect.”
Once they were gone, Heather made her way to his office and stopped in the doorway. She felt like an intruder in the very masculine space but shrugged off the sensation and rounded the desk. With a wiggle of the wireless mouse, she brought the screen to life.
And smiled.
His desktop held a picture of his nieces and nephews piled on top of him. “Cute.” She typed in the password and navigated to the internet browser. While her email was loading, she picked up the handset and dialed Sarah’s number.
“Hello?”
“Sarah? It’s Heather.”
“Oh, Heather. I didn’t recognize the number. Are you okay?”
“Yes, listen. Asher just told us that Benny was murdered.”
“I know. It’s awful. I’m still reeling.”
“I’m assuming Gina knows?”
“No, not yet. I’ve called her a couple of times, but she’s at work and not picking up.”
Heather frowned and rubbed her eyes. “Okay. Will you let me know when you talk to her? She’s had such a hard time with Brad’s death. This may really throw her. Bring up his death all over again. Before I left Kabul, she told me Benny had called her a few times to check up on her after his discharge.” He’d been part of the unit who fired the round of bullets that killed Brad. “I’m just worried about her.”
“I’ll keep trying her.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks, Sarah.”
Heather hung up and clicked on the web browser bar. She entered her social media information and her profile details popped up.
And she smiled. Her guilty pleasure. Her time waster. Her secret that she’d never in a million years admit to Travis Walker. But she’d missed posting over the last few days, and her fans had apparently missed her. When she’d discovered that she really enjoyed medical dramas, she also realized she hated the inaccuracies. So, she started blogging about the errors in the shows and described in detail what would actually happen in the given situation. It hadn’t taken long for her blog to explode, gaining new readers by the day. And Heather loved it.
For the next few minutes, she read the comments and then simply posted that she was dealing with some personal issues but would soon be back. “Keep posting your questions,” she muttered aloud while she typed the words. “I promise to answer them in the order listed.”
She clicked on Facebook and started scrolling, catching up on the lives of friends and coworkers.
And Brad Wicks, Gina’s husband. His mother had written a blistering post about how he just wanted to grow up and serve his country but had instead been killed by that very country. She’d put up pictures from when he was a child. Then a teen. His wedding day. Heather read one of the posts:
It’s a shame a mother has to take things into her own hands to see that justice is done and her son’s death doesn’t go unpunished.
“What in the world?” Heather whispered. She clicked on each picture. And came to the video of her in the operating room, working on Abdul.
And this one. Really? Trying to save a would-be murderer? Why does he get medical attention when he tried to kill people like my son? Shame on this doctor. Shame on you, Heather Fontaine.
The woman even had the nerve to tag her in the post?
A chill settled over Heather as she went on to the next picture. One of Benny Silver’s obituary.
At least he can’t kill anyone else’s son.
The chill turned to ice when she clicked the next picture.
And here, this horrible, horrible woman. My son’s wife. The woman who was supposed to love him and watch out for him. She encouraged him to join her in that wretched country where he died. And she gets to live. That’s just not fair—and that needs to change.
Heather noted the post had been written an hour earlier. She reached for the phone and dialed Gina’s number.
Travis inhaled the familiar scent of barn—horse manure, hay, saddle oil, leather, and more. Sadness and grief. Herman had been in the family for almost twenty-five years.
Sandra had insisted Herman stay in the barn, his home for the last year and a half. He now lay between the rows of stalls on a massive tarp, sides heaving with his efforts.
Once he was gone, Travis would have to drag him behind the tractor to the gravesite. And the packed snow would help the tarp slide along the ground. The wind had picked up in the last thirty minutes and whistled around the building while the temperatures continued to drop.
Travis’s heart cramped as he watched his sister sit next to her beloved friend and say her final words. Tears streamed down her face, and Travis fought his own emotions.
Herman butted her knee gently with his nose and gave a low whinny.
“How do I do this, Travis?” Sandra whispered. She stroked the animal’s nose. “All of a sudden he’s having a better day. I can’t put him down while he’s like this, can I?”
The horse definitely was not having a better day. “Sandra, he has cancer.” He sat next to her and pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder. “I know it’s hard,” he said, “but he’s not going to get better. Look at him. He barely made it out of the stall before collapsing. You have to do this for him.” His eyes locked on the vet waiting quietly. Patiently.
“It’s okay, Sandra,” Ian said. “You’re my only client today. Take as long as you like.”
“Sandra,” Travis said, “look at him. He’s hurting and he’s counting on you to help him.”
Her fingers stroked Herman’s jowl, moved over his muzzle, then up to his forehead. The horse huffed and shifted as though trying to get up. And failed. Sandra drew in a shaky breath and nodded to the vet. “Okay. It’s not going to get easier by dragging it out. And Travis is right. He’s in pain. It’s time to do the right thing.”
Ryker had distracted Martin by asking the boy questions about one of the other horses. However, when the vet moved, Martin hurried back to Herman’s side and dropped to his knees next to his mother. He wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck. “Bye, Herman,” he whispered.
Sandra gripped his shoulders. “We’ll just hold him while he goes to sleep.” She settled the horse’s head against her thigh and turned her gaze to Travis. “You’ll go with us to bury him? Joe already had his grave dug out and the tractor waiting to push the dirt over him.”
“Of course.” He texted Heather a quick update while Ian efficiently placed the IV in the horse. Just as he sent the text, his father texted and asked for an update. The man and two of the ranch hands had taken a trailer to a livestock auction in Williamston early that morning in an effort to beat the snow. They’d have to wait until roads were cleared to get back home. He’d offered to postpone the appointment because of the plans to put Herman down, but Travis had told him he could handle everything at the ranch. In the middle of updating his dad, Heather’s text pinged across his phone.
She offered her sympathies. A second text from her said,
I have a lot to show you when you get back here. I think Gina’s in danger. I called her and told her to come here immediately before the roads get too bad. She said she thinks she can make it. I hope that’s all right. I’m sorry if I should have asked first, but I just thought it was urgent.
Travis frowned. Of course it was all right, but what had she found to indicate that Gina was in danger?
I’m also getting ready to call Caden and fill him in. Maybe he can send someone to escort her and make sure she’s not followed.
All right. I’m only going to be gone for another thirty minutes or so.
No worries. I’ll catch you up when you get back.
Travis finished texting his father, then notified the guards of Gina’s imminent arrival. He tucked his phone in his pocket and turned his attention back t
o the situation at hand. His heart broke for his sister and nephew. And himself. “Where’s Joe?”
“He was taking a half day to come do this, but his boss called him in to a last-minute meeting. Mandatory.”
“Of course.”
“Not everyone owns their own company, Travis.” Her eyes flashed at him. “Don’t judge him.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Okay, he was. And the man had taken care of having the grave dug. “I’m sorry.”
More tears spilled over her cheeks and she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m hurting and—” She glanced at the vet, still waiting patiently with the syringe. The IV was in, along with the meds to send Herman into a relaxing, pain-free twilight sleep. Sandra nodded. “Let’s send Herman on to that rainbow bridge so he won’t suffer any longer.”
“Is there really a rainbow bridge?” Martin asked.
Sandra smiled through her tears. “I don’t know,” she said, “but God created Herman to live his life on earth with us as a temporary arrangement.”
“Like he loaned him to us?”
“Yes. That’s a good way of looking at it. Or gifted him to us. Either way, God trusted us to take care of him, so I fully believe that God has a plan to take care of Herman once he dies. Whether that includes a rainbow bridge or not, I don’t know, but God’s got Herman in his hands regardless of what that looks like.”
Martin nodded, a single tear traveling down his little-boy cheek. He bit a trembling lip, then looked at Ian. “I think it’s time to give Herman back to God so he can make him feel better.”
Ryker choked on a sob and turned away.
Travis couldn’t stop his own tears from spilling over.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Caden sat at his desk in the office and tapped the keyboard, looking for information on Benny Silver. It wasn’t his case or even his business, but for some reason, he wanted to know more. The guy had an exemplary record and no blame had been laid at his feet in the friendly fire incident. It was just a tragic accident involving miscommunication and bullets. A deadly combination.
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