Sinister

by Nancy Bush

  Ricki had thanked him for the information, but with Brook in the car and in a race to find out if Delilah was all right, she’d shoved the information aside for the moment, then had had all night to ruminate on it. Now, she was convinced it might lead her to their killer, but Sam was infuriatingly calm and deliberate.

  “I want to get this guy before something else happens to my family,” she said determinedly.

  “Thought you were zeroing in on one of the Kincaids.”

  “Only because of Georgina. This guy could be a Kincaid.”

  “Hunter … or Blair … ?” Sam looked at her dubiously.

  “There’s some kind of connection with the Kincaids. I don’t know what it is,” she growled. “We just need to find those boots. Black Hat killed Mia and Amber and burned the Pioneer Church down. Maybe he didn’t do the other fires. I don’t know.”

  “He could have left Prairie Creek.”

  “No.” Ricki was positive. “He’s around. And he’s got something against us Dillingers.” She looked at him. “You think I’m grasping at straws.”

  “The boots are somewhere to start. If he’s like most of us around here, he’s probably wearing ’em every day. We don’t change ’em much.”

  “Then I should go through the list again.”

  “Maybe you should take a day off.”

  “What does that mean?” she demanded.

  He held up his hands. “A helluva lot’s happened, Ricki. To your family. Besides the fires and Amber Barstow and Mia Collins, we’re looking for whoever killed Pilar, and the truck with a bashed-up front end that ran your sister off the road. Just thought you might want to go home and circle the wagons.”

  “This your way of trying to get rid of me?”

  “You really think I’m trying to get rid of you?” he tossed right back at her.

  Ricki felt a small smile steal across her lips. There was a reason she’d fallen in love with Sam Featherstone. “Then let me keep going on this. I’ll split the list with Katrina. I don’t care if they all think I’m bugging them.”

  “Maybe you should try it from the other end. See if you can find out who wears boots like that.”

  “Could be a lot of people.”

  “Could be just one,” Sam rejoined.

  She exhaled heavily, thinking hard. “What does this guy do when he’s not setting fires and killing people … skinning them?”

  “He goes to bars. He was at the Buffalo Lounge.”

  “You’re right,” Ricki said with renewed energy. “So, maybe he’s been to the Prairie Dog, too. And maybe someone there saw him in a pair of black alligator boots.”

  Hunter’s cell phone rang and he ignored it as he turned up the drive to his parents’ ranch for the second time in two days—a new record since he’d moved out when he was a teen.

  He circled the house and parked in the back, climbing out of the cab into a crisp morning that was growing colder as gray clouds moved in. As he walked to the kitchen door, he glanced at caller ID and saw that it was Davis who’d called. That was odd enough to get his pulse thumping. Maybe the man had remembered something.

  Punching the number into his cell, he said, “Davis, it’s Hunter. You called me?” when the Dillinger foreman answered. Hunter held his breath, waiting for some big reveal, but Featherstone just asked him to tell his mother that Kit Dillinger was finding errant Dillinger cattle and Kincaid sheep and moving them back to their respective properties. He wanted to make sure no one mistook her for a trespasser.

  “I’ll tell her,” Hunter assured him. He hung up, disappointed. He’d wanted something to break.

  Someone was after the Dillingers, but it wasn’t him. And it wasn’t the psychotic monster who’d filleted Amber Barstow and Mia Collins, either. There were two distinct crime patterns. Were they working together? Setting fires and killing people?

  “Mom?” he called as he stepped inside the unlocked door. Normally he would have walked right in, but Georgina had been so testy the last time he’d shown up, he waited for a few moments before he stepped farther inside. His family had never felt the need to lock their doors, but in the quiet kitchen he felt a whisper of fear. So silent. He strode urgently through the kitchen and down the hall to the TV room.

  The Major was in his chair, his eyes closed. Hunter walked in front of him, noting the white, wisping hair, the sunken cheeks. “Dad?” he asked, his pulse accelerating again. He reached forward to touch his father, make sure he was alive, when the Major pulled in a slow, labored breath.

  Hunter relaxed slightly. His father wasn’t gone yet, though it didn’t look like death’s door was far away. He glanced at the table beside his father, noting the bottle of oxycodone.

  Georgina came from somewhere down the hall and followed his gaze to the bottle of pills, her mouth tightening. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice slightly hushed.

  “My father’s sick.”

  She ignored his tone and brushed past him, heading toward the kitchen.

  The Major’s eyes fluttered open and his breath caught. “Hunter?”

  “Right here.” He clasped the older man’s hand.

  His tongue slowly swept his dry lips, then he asked, “Did you talk to Price?”

  “You said to call him if something happened to you.”

  “Call him …” With a sigh, he sank back into the chair.

  Hunter stared at him for a few moments, watching the shallow, irregular rise and fall of his chest. Then he left the room in search of his mother.

  Georgina was in the kitchen, gazing out the back windows toward the fields that stretched toward the horizon and the distant mountains beyond. He’d seen her stand in just that position a lot of times, he realized. “Kit Dillinger is looking for Dillinger cattle on our land. Davis Featherstone wanted you to know in case you thought she was a trespasser.”

  “That’s what you came for? To tell me that?”

  “How many pills is Dad taking?”

  She turned on him. “You’re going to criticize how I’m taking care of your father!”

  “He’s dying,” Hunter said bluntly. “I was going to say it doesn’t matter. Just give him enough so he’s not in pain.”

  “Don’t think you can tell me what to do.”

  Hunter felt his temper rise. “Is the rumor true about you and Ira Dillinger?”

  “What?” He’d shocked her.

  “Did you have an affair with him? Is that why you’re doing this oil deal with him?”

  “Your father’s dying and you think you suddenly have the right to say that to me?”

  “You’re the one who hinted about some other rumor,” he reminded her.

  “You’ve been talking to the Dillingers.”

  Not really, but if that would get him answers, so be it. “Yes.”

  “Delilah.” Georgina said her name as if it tasted bad. “She came by yesterday.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here. She didn’t find you? I thought she’d run right to you. She was looking for you and I told her that she couldn’t have you.”

  Hunter stared at his mother in disbelief. He’d never been close to her, but more and more she was a stranger. “Didn’t you just tell me I had no right to tell you what to do?”

  “This is different.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Georgina lifted her chin. “You want to know about me and Ira? Yeah. We loved each other once.”

  Hunter stayed silent. Whatever had been between his mother and Ira, he doubted it was love.

  “Judd wasn’t the only Dillinger catting around. Ira was worse. I was beautiful in those days and he had to have me.”

  “Musta been a while ago.”

  “A long while.” There was the faintest quirk of her lips. “About thirty-seven years ago.”

  Hunter stared at her hard, wondering if she really believed what she was saying or if this was some sick Georgina trick. “Ira Dillinger’s not my father,” he said.

  “Yes, he
is. And Delilah Dillinger’s your half sister,” she reminded him with a bit of triumph in her voice.

  It wasn’t true. He was too much like the Major. There was no way Ira Dillinger could be his father. He couldn’t believe the lengths she would go to. “Delilah is not my half sister,” he said through his teeth.

  “What do you think started the feud? The Major and I didn’t have any problem with Ira and Rachel before Ira seduced me. And when your father found out, all hell broke loose.”

  “I thought you were in love.”

  “You just don’t want to believe it because you want to fuck your precious Delilah!”

  “You’re lying. The feud was over land rights, and it started before you married the Major.”

  “Who are you to tell me?” Twin spots of color rose in her cheeks.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he grated out. “But it’s a lie.”

  “Better keep your dick in your pants when you’re around your sister,” she snarled.

  “I’m going to call her right now. Tell her what you’ve been saying. Get a DNA test. Prove you wrong.” He yanked his phone from his pocket and placed the call.

  A flicker of fear crossed Georgina’s face, replacing her rage. “Leave her alone,” she muttered.

  Hunter had called her bluff and now she was backpedaling. He could have throttled her!

  Delilah answered on the third ring. “I’m sorry. I was separated from my cell phone and just got it back. It was … in the Jeep …”

  “Can I see you?” he asked urgently, ignoring Georgina’s growl of frustration behind him.

  “Sure. When?”

  “Right now. Are you at the lodge?”

  “Let’s meet somewhere else,” she said. “Your house?”

  “Okay. I—”

  A loud, rasping gasp came from down the hall, a death rattle. Georgina’s head snapped around as did Hunter’s. His father. His body went cold. He knew, without being told, that the Major had just taken his last breath.

  “I’ll have to call you back,” he told Delilah tersely.

  “Should I go to your house?” Delilah asked.

  “Let me call you back.”

  He hung up and strode after his mother, who’d scurried around the corner and into the TV room.

  The Major looked much as Hunter had left him except his eyes were half-closed and his mouth hung open further. His mother was leaning over him, grabbing his arm, checking his pulse.

  “He’s gone,” she said.

  In disbelief, Hunter looked from his father back down at the cell phone still in his hand. He touched the button for Delilah’s number again and when she answered, said, “The Major’s gone. We’ll have to meet later. I’ll call you when I can …”

  Delilah hung up in shock. She’d been striding toward the garage, ready to head out and meet Hunter at his house, but now she retraced her steps to the kitchen. She’d spent the night in the room Jen had vacated and had gotten up early, prowling around, anxious to get her cell phone back. When Tyler came down she asked him to take her to the auto body shop and sure enough, there was her phone, but it was dead.

  She’d just gotten home, plugged the cell into its charger on the kitchen counter, and had just seen Hunter’s message when he’d called. She was so glad to hear the phone ring, she’d damn near dropped the thing while sweeping it into her hand.

  It had been a hellish twenty-four hours, starting with the lodge fire and Pilar’s death, then being run off the road by persons unknown, and now the Major was gone … Gone. She hardly knew how to feel.

  Delilah walked into the foyer and glanced toward the den door. After Colton had gone back to the bunkhouse to be with Sabrina and Rourke, Ira had barricaded himself in his den. Nell had finally given up playing nursemaid and had left Delilah alone. All yesterday she’d had to push thoughts of Hunter’s and her lovemaking aside. Too many terrible events had gotten in the way. But finally she’d been able to sit down in the great room by herself. She’d settled into Ira’s deep chair, and then she’d run Hunter’s and her lovemaking over in her mind again and again and again. It was the one good thing that had happened.

  But then Ricki and Brook had burst in, riling everyone up again. Ricki was wound up and pacing, but it was Brook who got Delilah’s attention when she declared, “Mom, tell her about Mrs. Kincaid.”

  Ricki seemed at a loss of what to say, so Delilah prompted, “What about her?”

  “Nothing.” Ricki shot Brook a speaking look, then said to Delilah, “I just want to know who ran you down. Purposely ran you down.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what kind of vehicle was it?” Ricki asked.

  “A truck.”

  “What make and model? What color?”

  “I didn’t get that good a look at it.” Delilah turned away, afraid her sister would see something in her face.

  Brook wasn’t about to be put off. “I ran into Mrs. Kincaid outside of the dress shop. She dropped her purse and she looked at me like she hated me and then she grabbed up her purse but it was full of pill bottles and a gun. Mom told me it was for her husband, but she doesn’t think so anymore.”

  “That’s not quite what I said,” Ricki disagreed.

  Nell, who’d been watching the back-and-forth exchange, asked, “What kind of pills?”

  “Like what killed Pilar, probably,” Brook said.

  “Brook,” Ricki said, long-suffering.

  “So, it was an overdose that killed her,” Delilah said.

  “Looks that way, but I don’t want to sit here and theorize. I want to know what happened to you, Delilah. Did you see anything? Was it a man at the wheel? How many were in the truck?”

  “Just one … man.”

  “Mom …” Brook had been annoyed with what she apparently saw as Ricki putting her off. “That old lady is out to get us. She set our house on fire because she wanted to kill me because I saw the drugs and the gun.”

  “You can’t just turn supposition into fact,” Ricki told her tautly.

  “You think she did it, too!” her daughter charged.

  Delilah hadn’t wanted to think about any of it and had pretty much shoved it to the back of her mind. Georgina? That was preposterous, wasn’t it?

  Ricki clearly had wanted to derail Brook and had again tried to change the subject back to the truck that had run Delilah off the road, but Delilah hadn’t wanted to go into that, either. In the end she’d admitted that she thought it was dirty white or gray, and luckily no one had jumped on the fact that Hunter’s truck was gray, too.

  Finally satisfied, Ricki had called it a night. Just before she headed upstairs, she’d added that the department’s suspect, the man at the bar the night Amber Barstow was kidnapped, had worn black alligator boots and that if Delilah or Nell knew any man who wore that type of boots to tell Ricki immediately and steer clear of said boot-wearer.

  Delilah’s mind’s eye had instantly recalled the brown supple leather of Hunter’s boots as he’d yanked them off in the tack room, the hard plop, plop they’d made as they’d hit the floor. Once more she’d run through their lovemaking and after a late meal of leftover pizza, she’d taken herself to bed.

  Then this morning, after Hunter’s first call, Delilah had felt huge relief. She couldn’t wait to see him. Her mind had been bubbling with all the things she wanted to talk with him about.

  Then he’d called back to say the Major was dead.

  Now, Mrs. Mac looked up from where she’d been putting sandwiches together for lunch as Delilah came into the kitchen. “You all right?”

  “That was Hunter Kincaid. The Major’s dead.”

  “Oh, no …”

  “I think … I don’t know.” She sank into a chair, stunned. Then a moment later she got back to her feet. “I’m going to leave for a while. Dad said I could take his truck.”

  “Honey, your father already took it. Said he was meeting with someone whose company will repair the fire damage.”
/>   “Oh. Thanks.” He must’ve left when she and Tyler were picking up her phone.

  She walked outside into a biting wind and stared across the windswept plains in the direction of the Kincaid house. She wanted to be with Hunter, even if Georgina would have a fit if she showed up. The closest way to the Kincaid house was straight across the fields as the lodge, the old homestead and the Kincaid ranch house were set back from the road that wound around the edge of the properties. Still, it was a ways and the Major had just died.

  Chafing, she went back inside. She would think about it before making the trek and just barging in. She wished Hunter would call her again.

  The trickle of arriving vehicles grew to a steady stream as Hunter stayed to help his mother deal with the aftereffects of death. When Emma arrived he let her take over, not that there was that much to do besides collect the food and cards and condolences from sympathizers who apparently went into high gear as soon as the word got out. Luckily, most of them had come after the Major’s body was taken away to the morgue.

  The day wore on slowly, but throughout it, his mother acted pretty much like nothing had happened. Her attitude was so cavalier, in fact, that it pierced the daze of grief surrounding him and made him wonder what the hell was going on with her.

  Emma noticed, too, and pulled him aside. “What’s with Mom?”

  “I’d say she’s glad he’s gone,” Hunter said.

  “You mean the burden of taking care of him?” His sister gazed at their mother with concern.

  “That’s one way to look at it.”

  Actually, he was thinking about her remarks about Ira Dillinger, and though he was certain she’d been lying about his paternity, he believed her feelings for Ira were intense, something she’d actually played down in their conversation. She’d said she loved him, but it seemed more like she was obsessed with him … then and now …

  After the last well-wisher departed and Georgina, Emma and Hunter were alone again, Hunter half expected to talk to his mother about what she wanted to do next. But almost immediately Georgina went down the hall to her bedroom, leaving him and Emma in the kitchen. Then she came out a few moments later dressed in a black dress and boots. Her hair was pulled into a dark chignon and she had on more makeup than she’d worn in years. “I’m not sitting here and crying,” she said to their surprised faces. “I’m going into town and raise a glass to the Major.”