“She’s part of this community as much as anyone,” he snapped. “Agent Lambert’s working with me on the sheriff’s office investigations. She’s the best there is.”
Olivia’s mouth screwed up in disdain. “She may have found your sister, but what’s she going to do for my family?”
Thayne fought to keep his temper in check. She was worried about her father, and he could understand the fear that ran rampant behind her anger. “We’ve known each other for years, Olivia. Our fathers are friends. Let me do my job. I don’t want your father hurt, either. Trust me.”
His words seemed to deflate Olivia’s anger. Cautiously, she nodded.
With the tension ratcheted down somewhat, Thayne focused on Riley. “Agent Lambert is going to interview you. She’ll put all your concerns in writing, and then we’ll make some decisions. Okay?”
“As long as Dad’s safe. If he’s not, I won’t cooperate.” Olivia crossed her arms, her entire posture challenging.
He met Riley’s you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me gaze. Well, he had his reasons. He needed to keep Olivia busy so he could get Dan’s and Kate’s sides of the story. The older woman had backed herself against the wall, clearly exhausted from the conflict.
He turned to Dan’s wife. “Mrs. Peterson, please wait here in Cheyenne’s office.” He glanced over at Cheyenne. “I need to speak with Dan first.”
Kate shuffled her feet, staring at them. “Sheriff, Dan doesn’t remember things quite right. You can’t believe everything he says.”
Thayne quirked his brow. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Don’t believe her,” Olivia shouted as Riley led her to an exam room. “She wants his money. That’s why she married him in the first place.”
Cheyenne followed her brother out of her office, and he closed the door. “Riley, take Olivia’s statement, then join me in the other exam room.” He pinned Olivia with an intense stare. “We’ll get to the bottom of this situation, but I expect everyone to remain calm.”
Olivia sniffed at him and flounced into a chair before Riley closed the door. Thayne followed Cheyenne across the clinic into a small spillover exam room where his dad and Dan waited. With a frown of concern lacing his features, Carson sat in a chair next to the exam table, where Dan Peterson perched, swinging his legs. Shirtless and shoeless, the old man sat with only his socks and underwear on, his too-big boxer shorts engulfing him. Thayne winced at the extent of the mottled blue-and-green bruises on Dan’s chest.
His gaze traveled to the older man’s legs. The discolorations on his shins obviously were older. He rounded the table. A large bruise on his lower back appeared to be recent.
Most people Thayne knew who were Dan’s age would be laid up in bed with those kinds of injuries. Dan was a tough old geezer.
He squirmed on the table. “Well, everyone just come in and enjoy the show. Can I get dressed?” He glared at Cheyenne.
“Of course,” she said and handed him his clothes. “Why don’t you tell the sheriff what you told me.”
The man slipped on his shirt and slowly buttoned it. “I said it a thousand times already—Kate’s been hitting me. She drinks at night. She gets angry, and I end up bruised. End of story.” He paused for a moment, then unfolded his pants. He slipped them on, leaving them unzipped before tugging on his worn boots. “Like I told the doc. I’m not going home. Ever.”
“Does she hit you with her fists, Dan? Or did you get some of them when your truck went off the road?” Thayne asked. Mr. Peterson seemed sincere, but Thayne couldn’t help but be skeptical as to how such a tiny thing as Kate could hurt a burly guy like Dan. She’d have to hit him with something hard. A pipe or a bat. It didn’t make sense.
“Someone tried to kill me.”
“Someone besides Kate?” Thayne pressed several more times to have Dan describe exactly what had happened. Finally, the old man threw up his hands. “Why does it matter how she hurt me? She just did.” Dan glared at Thayne. “I’m not going home with her anymore, and that’s final.”
“Where do you want to stay?” Cheyenne asked in a soothing voice.
Dan paused for a moment. His brow furrowed before his face broke into a smile of relief. “Olivia will take me in. She’s a good daughter.”
Thayne couldn’t deny she’d defended Dan with enthusiasm, but he wasn’t so sure taking her father into her own home was quite what Olivia had in mind. He glanced at his father. “Dad, can you wait with Mr. Peterson?”
His father nodded, his worried gaze landing on his friend.
Once the exam room door had closed, Thayne faced Cheyenne. “Well, sis? What’s going on with him? Where’d the bruises come from? Did Kate really beat the hell out of him?”
Cheyenne motioned him back across the clinic and let out a slow sigh. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s adamant. And he hasn’t changed his story.”
“It would take a lot for someone her size and build to do that kind of damage.” Thayne kneaded the back of his neck. “Is it even possible?”
“You’ve driven your body past the point you thought you could bear during your training. Human beings are capable of more—and worse—than we think sometimes.”
“But Kate . . .” He stroked his chin and glanced at Cheyenne’s closed office door, behind which Dan Peterson’s wife waited for them. “Once she quit drinking, she became so passive.”
“Dan claims she started drinking again. Of course, he also denies drinking or taking any medication, and Kate could be hiding the truth.”
“If she’ll let us, I’ll search her house for proof.” Thayne still didn’t like the inconsistencies in Dan’s story. “What about the severity of the injuries?”
“As we get older, our skin becomes thinner. It loses the protective fatty layer that helps cushion blood vessels from impact, but Kate’s not very strong, so my professional opinion is that she couldn’t do that amount of damage unless she used a weapon.”
“He can’t—or won’t—tell us specifically how she hurt him. He evades any details.”
Cheyenne’s forehead furrowed in concentration. “I don’t want to believe it happened, but I can’t deny his symptoms. It’s the most logical explanation.”
“What else could be going on?”
Cheyenne flipped a sheet of paper in Dan’s chart. “I ran some preliminary labs to see if there was a contributing cause to his bruising, but they came back normal. Kate claims Dan gets confused sometimes. Olivia denies there’s anything wrong with her father, and I don’t think he’s lying. He believes Kate is hurting him.”
At that moment Riley exited the room where she’d been interviewing Olivia. She joined them and let out a low whistle. “That is one ticked-off daughter.”
“What’s your takeaway?” Thayne asked.
“She believes her father’s claims, but she also has a long-standing resentment toward Kate. She never wanted her father to remarry, and she thinks Kate married Dan to get his money. Evidently, he tucked away a nice amount from an auto-accident settlement twenty years ago, and it’s been building interest since then.” Riley handed over her notes to Thayne. “She encouraged her father to file a report. She won’t back off until Kate is safely away from Dan.”
“I can’t force him to do anything. He can live where he wants to.” Thayne rubbed his temple. “For now, I have to take Kate into custody for Dan’s protection. Even if I have my doubts, his injuries are real.”
“It’s all you can do.”
Thayne pushed open the door of the exam room. When he entered, Dan’s daughter stood up, her stance still angry and defiant.
Thayne wasn’t happy about any of this, but he had no choice. “We’re arresting Kate.”
“It’s about time.” Olivia gave a sharp nod. “I’ve been telling Dad for months he should report her. I’ll make sure he calls an attorney so he can file for divorce.” She clutched her purse. “I have to get back to work.”
She scooted past him and strode down the hallway toward the
exit.
“Hold on, Olivia.” Thayne’s voice yanked her to a halt. “What about your father?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What about him? He’ll be fine now that you’re taking her to jail.”
Thayne crossed his arms. “Dan doesn’t feel safe. He wants to go home with you.”
Utter shock froze Olivia’s features. “That’s impossible. I don’t have room for him. He can be safe at his place now. She won’t be there.”
Thayne had figured she’d say as much. “You need to work that out with your father before you leave so we know where to drop him off,” he advised.
Olivia glanced at her watch and groused. “I’m late for my next customer.” She stalked across the clinic to where Dan waited. “Dad, Kate’s going to jail. You can go home now. I’ll stop by tomorrow after I take the kids to school.”
Over her shoulder Thayne studied Dan’s reaction.
His brow furrowed in confusion and he frowned. “I don’t like it there. That’s her house. Not mine. I want to come home with you. You’re my daughter.”
“We don’t have room, Dad.”
Her father bowed his head, his expression so downcast Thayne hated to witness it.
Olivia closed her eyes. “Fine. Go home and pack a bag. I’ll figure out something.” She kissed his cheek. “See you after work.”
Olivia hurried out of the clinic without a backward glance. Dan sat in the room, fly still unzipped, and stared at his boots. “She’s busy.”
His expression growing more and more concerned by the second, Carson crossed over to Dan. “I’ll take you home, old friend. Better zip up, though.”
The older man flushed and turned his back to everyone. The sound of the zipper resonated in the room. “Kate usually cooks me an early dinner. It’s about time to eat.”
Thayne cleared his throat. “That won’t happen tonight, Mr. Peterson. I’m taking your wife to the sheriff’s office.”
“Right, right. I know that.” He glanced over at Carson. “How long will she be in jail? She doesn’t like mean people. Most kind people don’t.”
What the hell? The man was sending his wife to jail, yet in the next breath he was calling her kind? How could a man vacillate so drastically between love and hate?
Riley touched Thayne’s back. He glanced at her over his shoulder, her own discomfort written on her face.
“Did I just hear him right?”
Thayne gave a curt nod. “Yep, and unless Dan changes his story or we get new information, I have to lock Kate up. I don’t have a choice.”
Table lamps and an overhead candelabra illuminated the living area of Fannie’s B&B. Riley had showered and changed and silently climbed down the stairs. Normally, she would’ve relished booking anyone accused of abuse, but Kate’s pathetic, hurt expression when Thayne had collected her prints and her photo just hadn’t felt right.
Either Kate was lying or Dan was, and Riley believed both of them. Except their stories were mutually exclusive.
In DC, Adult Protective Services would have become involved before now, but Singing River wasn’t large enough to support a local family-services organization. According to Thayne, a two-person office that serviced all of Sublette County, nearly five thousand square miles, was their only resource. He’d placed a call, but until the other group could step in, the sheriff’s office had to do their best.
Small towns had their strengths—and their struggles, like everywhere else.
When she reached the base of the stairs, a chorus of laughter made her pause. The book club was in full swing. Riley could set her watch by the four ladies. Could she make it to the front door without the Gumshoe Grannies seeing her? What a hilarious moniker Thayne had bestowed on his grandmother’s book club when he was a teenager. He’d been a real rabble-rouser, as his father liked to say, and the family’s stories about Thayne as a troublemaker never bored Riley. In fact, that adventurous boy had charmed her. Every so often she’d catch a glimpse of him when Thayne got a mischievous glint in his eye, and her heart would melt.
His childhood had been so unlike her own. Their families couldn’t have been more polar opposites. Hers so dysfunctional and strained, while Thayne had experienced unconditional love from the day he’d been born. Riley, on the other hand . . . well, she tried not to dwell on unrealistic expectations.
Trouble was, she beat herself up more than anyone else, including her parents. She still couldn’t quite comprehend why Thayne loved her. And yet he did.
She’d disappoint him. She knew that. Truth was, she already had. She’d given up when their love story had barely begun.
Riley gave herself a good shake and shoved the uncertainty and past aside. She’d think about the future later. Right now, the Jordan case waited.
Hovering partway down the stairs, she glanced at her watch. She and Thayne had a date to share a working dinner before reviewing the evidence for the umpteenth time.
While half of her couldn’t wait to be alone with him, the other half dreaded it. Every moment with him tempted her more to stay in a place where she was afraid she’d lose herself, lose what made her the person she’d become.
In some ways she felt as if Singing River had already ripped away her edge. She normally pictured the crime the moment she walked the scene, but she’d foundered in understanding the motive of the Jordan murders, and she couldn’t even help Thayne with Dan Peterson’s odd case.
“You can’t believe you could sneak out on us, Agent Lambert,” Fannie’s voice called across the room. “Haven’t you learned anything in the last month?”
Riley’s lips tightened in chagrin. She should’ve known. She faced the four silver-haired women sitting around a card table. In front of each of them rested a notebook, a blue pen, a pencil, a red pen, and a novel. Off to the side, a silver tray laden with desserts made Riley’s mouth water. Not to mention the aroma of Fannie’s coffee, which she’d take intravenously if she could.
She forced a smile and crossed the room. She still hadn’t become used to everyone knowing or wanting to know not only her life’s story but also her business. Especially when it came to her relationship with Thayne. “Ladies. How goes the book club? Did you catch the killer?”
Thayne’s grandmother grinned at Riley. Helen Blackwood’s eyes were bright this afternoon. She was having a good day. “We’re starting from Agatha Christie’s very first book, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. I’ve read it fifty times. At least.”
Fannie’s gentle gaze landed on Helen. Riley knew this same group of friends—Norma, the retired sheriff’s dispatcher; Willow, who spent her retirement growing organic fruits and vegetables; and Fannie—met almost every week to read and discuss Agatha Christie novels. When Helen began showing signs of Alzheimer’s, her best friends had been the first to spot it. Now they narrowed their choices to the stories Helen remembered best.
“I guess I should read one of her stories someday.” Though Riley didn’t know when she’d have the time.
All the women gasped, and the horrified expressions on their faces made Riley cringe.
“You’ve never read an Agatha Christie?” Helen squealed.
“You don’t know about Poirot?” Norma fretted.
“Oh my dear.” Fannie shook her head in befuddlement.
Willow didn’t say a word, just opened and closed her mouth in shock.
Riley didn’t have the heart to tell them she preferred scientific articles on criminal psychology, criminal archaeology, and forensics to fiction. Human beings’ real actions shocked her a hell of a lot more than plot twists.
Fannie hurried across the living room and disappeared into her suite. Within moments she’d returned with a book and placed it in Riley’s hands. “Here you are, dearie.” She grinned. “You’ll love it.”
Riley smiled at the women and held the book close to her chest. “Thank you, ladies. I can’t wait.”
It was a lie, but she couldn’t stamp out the eager expressions of hope on their faces. She waved and
strode toward the escape of the front door.
“I need to tell you something, Riley.” Helen’s voice called out. “It’s important.”
She’d almost made it, but Riley couldn’t ignore Thayne’s grandmother. A month ago Helen’s drawing had led to the discovery of a group of missing children and their abductor. She’d also solved the mystery of how Kim got Riley’s number, so Riley returned to the living room and paused near Helen’s chair. Willow plopped what appeared to be an oatmeal cookie on a plate and handed it to her.
“Don’t eat it, Riley.” Norma relieved Riley of the plate and returned the cookie to the large tray. “Try the petits fours. I made those. Healthy dessert is an oxymoron, no matter what Willow claims.” She scowled at her friend.
Knowing she was trapped for now, Riley pulled up a chair and took the plate. “You wanted to tell me something, Helen?” she asked.
Thayne’s grandmother frowned. “It’s vital. You and Cheyenne need to help.”
“Me and Cheyenne? Is this about Dan Peterson?”
Helen shook her head and her eyes clouded. “Not about poor Dan, though the man can’t remember a thing anymore. He’s almost as bad as I am.” She pounded the side of her head with the heel of her hand. “Why can’t I remember? You need to know.”
Helen stood and paced, her movements growing more and more disjointed. She muttered to herself and wandered around the room, pausing here and there.
Riley got up and went to her. “Helen?” She gently touched her arm, but Helen jerked away.
“It’ll come to you, Helen,” Fannie said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Shall we get back to our crime? When we left off, you were arguing wolfsbane is the best poison to use in a murder if you want to get away with it, as opposed to strychnine.”
“Wolfsbane mimics a heart attack. Easy to keep it a secret. Strychnine is way too obvious.” Helen sent Fannie a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t you know the best way to keep a good secret is to be subtle and of course to never, ever tell anyone?”
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