The drive to her hotel was short but sufficient for a drunk girl to fall asleep.
* * *
Wolf put the vehicle in park and killed the ignition, then sat staring at the female who’d crashed, not drifted, into sleep. She was sure a looker but she was just as big a mess. He tried to rouse her with little success but then he hadn’t expected much, a major reason he was parked at the back entrance. The last thing he needed was to be seen carrying an unconscious female into a hotel. He tucked her room key into his shirt pocket, then stepped out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side.
He opened the door and stood for a moment looking down at her. It’d be hell of a lot better if she could walk under her own steam but he didn’t hold out much hope of that happening. “Kylah.”
“Hmmm.”
“Kylah, wake up.”
When her response was to snuggle deeper into the soft leather seat, he sighed and unhooked her seatbelt to lift her. Her weight took him by surprise given the slenderness of her form until he recalled the strength she’d displayed with her unwelcome admirers on the dance floor. Turning, he shoved the passenger door with his shoulder to close it then nearly dropped the girl in his arms as a flash of black fur leapt from the back seat, landing on the sidewalk at his feet. He stifled a curse as he and the cat stared at each other. This was a night of surprises.
The cat followed him up the walk and to the glass door where he didn’t even attempt to keep the feline from entering. Luck was with him and the hallway was empty. Rather than pushing that luck, he took the stairs, the cat a silent partner in the climb to the third floor. By the time they reached the door that matched the number on the hotel cardkey, Wolf had reason to be grateful he lived a life that kept him physically fit.
With a secure hold on the sleeping beauty in his arms, he fished the room key from his pocket. It took some maneuvering to get the door open while the light flashed green but he managed. And the cat sauntered into the room with him.
The room proved to be a suite with a tiny kitchenette and sitting area. Moving past that, he walked into a bedroom neat as a pin. Somehow, he hadn’t expected that. Whoever she was and whatever she was doing in town, her stay didn’t appear to be a short one. Stacks of jeans and tee shirts lined the top of the long, low dresser. No less than three pair of riding boots stood side by side under the desk.
Not that any of this was his business. He placed her as far to the center of the bed as possible and watched as she turned on her side and curled into a ball. Morning wasn’t likely to be kind to her.
When Wolf turned to leave the room, the cat stood in his path. He was sleek and black and with green eyes that gleamed in the low hotel lighting. “What?”
The cat, of course, did not answer. Though not a cat enthusiast, Wolf couldn’t help but admire the fact that the creature had managed to remain with his owner undetected. If the cat were a dog, Wolf could have believed he had her protection in mind. That thought led to him remembering that the cat’s owner was now here without a vehicle. With a little luck, she might remember where she left hers when she woke up.
He picked up the pen and pad left on every hotel nightstand, wrote his number and a brief note and signed his name. That was the best he could do for now. Ignoring her cat, who still watched his every move with suspicion, he walked out. As he heard the lock click when he closed the door behind him, he realized he didn’t even know her last name.
* * *
Kylah bolted to an upright position as her phone alarm jangled. Her heart and her head pounded with equal unpleasantness as she took stock of her surroundings and struggled with the fact that her phone seemed to be attached to her chest. No, not attached, ensconced in the tiny clutch with a strap she wore over her neck and one shoulder when she didn’t want to keep up with anything heavier. She managed to unwind it from around her upper body, retrieve the phone, and hit stop on the alarm.
Eight a.m. She’d reset it two hours past normal before leaving the hotel room last night, not honestly believing she’d sleep in but hopeful anyway. Time to shower, eat - if she could - and drive to the county’s fairground barn. The shower was a must but she suspected breakfast wasn’t going to be very high on her list. The pounding in her chest had eased but not the pounding in her head and when she rolled over her heart did too.
Her shriek startled the cat as much as the sight of him had startled her but he was altogether more stoic. He ducked his head and his ears flattened but that green gaze was unwavering and he never changed body position. He sat regally on the hotel dresser beside the television she had yet to turn on and doubted she ever would though she’d be here at least two weeks. She leaned her head into her hands and closed her eyes. She was never, ever drinking again, so help her, but when she looked again, the cat was still there.
Moving to the edge of the bed, she slid to her feet and muttered, “If you’re gonna be dumb, you’ve gotta be tough.” She hoped she’d had fun. She wished she could remember it. Particularly since that was going to be her last attempt at being a party animal. Even at the wry thought, the familiar, faint sorrow swept through her. It was time to let go. She knew that.
The hotel bathroom was standard size and adequate. She turned the shower to the hottest setting, then stripped and stepped in, leaning her head against the tile as the steam rose up around her. She didn’t turn off the water until it began to cool.
It wasn’t until after she’d showered that she found the note on the nightstand and realized she had no idea how she spent her evening, where she left her truck, or how she got in her room. And she was beholden to someone named Wolf.
The cat seemed the least of her troubles.
She sank to the edge of the bed with her phone and entered the number on the note with a rare-for-her reluctance. She either did things or she didn’t do them. She didn’t do them hesitantly. Until now. To her relief, she got a recorded message. The strong, masculine voice caused her eyes to close again. Mother Mary, what had she done?
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before answering. “It seems you got me back to my room last night. I appreciate that and the offer of help but I can find my truck. And you left your cat. I’m not much of a cat person so – ah – you’ll need to come get him. Or her.”
She ended the call then voiced a series of curses that even the cat seemed to understand as he uncoiled from his comfortable position on one of the pillows and sat upright giving her an indignant stare. Most of the words she’d never said in public or even aloud in private, but sometimes …
“May as well get this show on the road.” She glanced at the cat. “You included, but you’ll have to walk and keep up.” She could imagine the uproar if the housekeeping staff found a cat in her room.
Getting dressed in jeans and tee shirt took little time. Her hair would have to air dry and she could care less about makeup when she’d be covered in dust within the first few hours of her day.
With a frustrated glance at the time, she made another phone call, setting it to hands-free while she tugged on socks and boots. She started talking as soon as he answered. “Jake, I’m running late but we’ll get started as soon as I get there.”
Jake was her right hand, on the road and on the job. Not for anyone else would she give up the comfortable living quarters of her trailer for a hotel room. She despised hotel rooms. And not for anyone but Kylah would Jake leave his comfortable bunk room attached to her barn back home.
“No, problem,” Jake answered, “but you might want to get here sooner rather than later if you can.”
“Why? Is something wrong?” There was. She could hear it in his voice. But it wasn’t the horses or he would have called her before she could call him.
“I’m not sure what’s going on but there’s a dozen or so blue light specials here and a uniform around every corner.”
“I’m on my way.”
As soon as she figured out where the hell she’d left her truck.
* * *
Chapter Two
Wolf propped his elbows on the hood of his truck, ignoring the fact that it needed washing, which meant his dark shirt would soon be some shade of dust. He was off-duty. He was tired. But he’d been called so he was here. For the past half hour or so, he’d been watching sheriff’s deputies milling around the trucks and trailers and RV’s cluttering the fairgrounds that had been reserved for the next couple of weeks. The upcoming first annual reenactment of The Battle of Albrecht Creek was generating as much excitement as the groundbreaking for their first casino had done years back.
“Stockton.”
Wolf turned at the sound of his name. He and Sheriff Mitchell weren’t enemies but they damned sure weren’t friends, either. They had a history and it hadn’t always been a good one. Which was one of several reasons he’d made it a point to come when asked. The request had been made in polite terms which was an oddity all by itself.
“Les.” Wolf offered the greeting without moving a muscle more than necessary. “What’ve you got?”
After a moment, the sheriff sighed then removed his sunglasses. Wolf stifled a faint smile and did the same. He knew it was juvenile powerplay but, all things considered, it still gave him a small measure of satisfaction. It hadn’t been easy being a teen under Les Mitchell’s thirty-year reign in law enforcement. Sheriff Mitchell wasn’t a big or blustery man but he was a strong one and the worn adage walk softly but carry a big stick had been created for men like him.
Les rubbed a calloused hand over his trim mustache before answering the question. “A dead body.”
Wolf straightened, pushing away from the hood of his truck. “On the Boundary?” The Qualla Boundary was a land trust comprised of properties held by the Eastern Band of the Cherokee, not all of whom were happy with the idea of troupes of reenactors invading the land adjacent to theirs.
“Off. About halfway between the fairgrounds and there.”
Nothing but sparse woods out there, Wolf thought.
“And?” As in why had the sheriff called him? Why was he here and not still sprawled across his bed where he’d toppled after taking a drunk girl to her hotel and leaving her alone in safety when he’d have preferred stripping her down to what he suspected might be some very sexy underwear. But that’s not what he did with drunk girls. Not since he’d been – oh –nineteen years stupid and equally drunk. Not anymore, no matter how willing the girl.
“You aren’t here officially, of course.”
Of course. Wolf waited without expression. He was a master of the skill.
“See, the problem is that the dead body is a woman. And one of your kids says he found her, called it in.”
Wolf’s gut clenched. “Who?” He worked with several at-risk teens in an afterschool program. Some of them were more at risk than the others.
“Case.”
“Where is he now?”
“Back of my squad car.”
Crap, he had to be terrified. “Come on, Les. You know damned well that kid didn’t kill anyone.” He hadn’t missed the way Les had phrased it. Not found her but says he found her.
“I’m not looking at him real hard, but I won’t rule it out yet. Thing is, Wolf, he’s holding something back or flat out lying. I’m hoping he’ll tell you what he won’t tell me.”
Wolf rubbed the back of his neck. This was a helluva way to start his day. “You call his folks?”
“Talked with his dad who said I could keep him, one less mouth to feed.” Les shook his head and added, “His mom took off again a couple of days ago. Not answering her phone.”
Damn it. “I’ll talk to him.”
He started toward the squad car, turning back when Les said his name.
“There’s one other problem.” Les looked even more pained than he had a moment earlier.
Of course, there was. Wolf waited for the other shoe to drop without comment.
“The deceased is one of the reenactors.”
Well, hell. “Does Rita know yet?”
Rita was Wolf’s ex-wife and the sheriff’s baby sister. Of greater importance, she chaired the history department at the College of the Carolinas Albrecht Campus and was the driving force behind the First Annual Reenactment of the Battle of Albrecht Creek. Any negative publicity was going to make her unhappy. A murder was going to send her over the wall.
“Nope. I thought you could drive out to see her after you talk with the kid and give her a heads up.”
“In return for which?” If Les wanted to dump the unpleasant chore on him, negotiations were in order.
“I keep you in the loop on the investigation. Maybe bring you in on an official basis.”
It was a deal made in hell and one Les knew Wolf wouldn’t turn down. The fact that Wolf was cross-deputized with the sheriff’s department didn’t mean Les had to keep him informed or allow him to take part. It meant he could if he wanted. “I don’t suppose that’s all you’re going to want for that favor.”
“Well, I hope this was one outsider killing off another and that I don’t have to look toward the Boundary.”
There was a big, silent but at the end of that sentence. If the investigation turned its ugly head in that direction, the fact that Wolf was a Deputy of the Cherokee Nation Marshal Service would be as crucial as the fact that he was a trusted member of the Nation’s Emergency Management team. And just plain trusted. Wolf decided to push back a little.
“I’ll talk with Rita but I’m on the case. Officially.”
Les hesitated, then nodded without any sign of rancor. “I’ll make that call today.”
Because the sheriff wasn’t irritated at the demand, Wolf knew he’d planned to do that anyway.
“Any chance it was an accident?”
Les shook his head. “Nope. Not unless she shot herself through the heart with what I suspect was a vintage rifle.”
“Last night?”
“Not likely. Animals hadn’t got to her yet. Coroner will have to place time of death but my guess is sometime around daylight.”
Wolf grunted, thinking hard. “You said halfway between here and the Boundary. Any idea what she was doing in the middle of those woods that time of morning?”
“Looks as if that’s where she chose to set up camp.”
“Alone?”
Les nodded. “Appears that way for now. Damned lunatic reenactors. I told Rita this was a bad idea.”
Wolf slid his sunglasses back in place. “Well, if I were you, I sure as hell wouldn’t say I told you so.”
Les gave a humorless snort of laughter. “Give me a call after you talk to her. And get a damned haircut, why don’t you.”
“Sure. And I’ll tell Rita you sent best wishes.”
The telling response Wolf got for his verbal jab was a flip of a middle finger as the sheriff spun on one heel and stalked toward the two deputies heading his way.
* * *
Wolf opened the back door of the sheriff’s car and leaned in. The teen was huddled into his light camo jacket, hands in his lap, which meant Wolf wouldn’t have to blast Les for handcuffing the kid. Case glanced up at Wolf before fixing his gaze down at his hands once more. But Wolf had seen the lack of welcome in those dark brown eyes. Still, the boy scooted over when Wolf slid in, leaving the door open to the sunlight beyond.
“Talk,” Wolf said. He was firm, but he kept his voice quiet.
“Ain’t much to say. I told Sheriff Mitchell I found that woman.” Wolf watched Case’s hands clench and unclench. “I didn’t touch her. Didn’t need to. She was already dead.”
Wolf knew the sixteen-year-old wouldn’t lie to him so he didn’t question what was said. But he agreed with Les, Case was leaving something out, something he thought was important or even potentially damning.
“What were you doing in those woods.” He kept his tone light and non-threatening.
“Walking.”
“Kinda early for a morning stroll. Best I recall mornings aren’t your thing.” That was Case’s excuse any time Wolf suggested a sunrise fishing trip. A few of the others would go but Case wasn’t one to roll out of bed unless it was a school day. He never missed class.
Case cut him a quick look but didn’t say anything to that.
“Were you running away, again.”
“No, sir.”
Wolf decided to cut to the chase. He could sit here all day playing twenty questions but he suspected the kid could outlast him. On a good day, Case might even outwit him. He was like his mama, smart as a whip, one of the many reasons his father, who wasn’t half as smart, couldn’t manage him. And the man resented it to hell and gone, using his fists when words failed.
“What are you hiding, Case? And don’t tell me ‘nothing’. Tell me the truth.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he sharpened it to the no-nonsense tone he sometimes had to use with each and every one of the teens he worked with on a regular basis. They weren’t his kids but he treated them as if they were, as he hoped he would have his own.
Case met him look for look then shook his head.
“If you don’t give me something to help you, the sheriff’s going to keep looking your way until the killer is found.”
“Reckon he’ll have to keep looking then.”
Wolf sighed. Whatever Case was hiding was important to him, important enough he wasn’t going to open up to anyone about it. But Wolf could see the fear behind his determination. That meant Wolf had to make sure the sheriff solved this case fast, before Case ran off again, before he ran so far no one could find him this time. Wolf’s greatest concern, greater even than Case’s flight risk, was what had frightened him. Who or what had he seen?
He stepped back out of the car, his action followed by Case’s worried gaze. As aggravated as he was at the boy’s stubbornness, he wasn’t going to leave him fearful and feeling alone. Wouldn’t risk making him desperate.
The Trouble with Horses Page 41