by Jenna Night
“We were discussing the possibility of the shooters coming to the ranch,” Leon said.
“Oh. So are we all staying here tonight then?” Martin, the youngest of the bounty hunters, asked. “I’ll have Daisy come out here, too. The more, the merrier.”
Cassie shook her head at Martin. “Go home. Have a nice dinner with your wife.” She turned to Harry. “You, too. Spend the evening like you normally would with Ramona. And get some rest. Because I expect you both to be at work tomorrow morning just like normal.”
“We’re planning to keep a patrol car going back and forth on the road between town and the ranch tonight, anyway,” Bergman said. “To keep an eye out for the shooters as well as to have a unit nearby in case there’s trouble and you put in a 9-1-1 call.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said. That sounded reasonable. Rearranging everyone’s lives when they didn’t know for certain that the shooters were heading for the ranch seemed like too much. Exercising caution was helpful. Overreacting in fear was not.
Bergman got to his feet and glanced toward Cassie and Leon. “Is there anything either of you can think of to tell me that I didn’t already ask you about?”
Both answered that there was not. They’d already given statements while sitting in Bergman’s unmarked cop car at the crime scene. Then they’d addressed his follow-up questions here. Cassie felt like they’d covered everything.
“If some new detail comes to mind once your thoughts settle down, like maybe you realize you do remember seeing part of a vehicle or something about the shooters’ appearance, let me know,” the sergeant said just before he turned to leave.
Adam stood to walk Bergman to the door. “We keep all the security equipment here in good repair,” he said to the sergeant. “But tonight I’ll make sure someone is awake all night. Just to be certain.”
“Not a bad idea,” Bergman said before offering a general good-night to the room and walking out the door.
“You should go home, too,” Cassie said to Leon.
He looked at her and shook his head. “I smell lasagna. I’m staying for some of that.”
From the dining area, Sherry laughed. “Leon’s right. I think it is time to dish up some food.”
Adam invited Harry and Martin to stay for dinner, but each man was anxious to get home to his wife.
“How bad is the damage to your SUV?” Adam asked Cassie as he came back into the living room after seeing Harry and Martin out.
Her dad’s favorite technique for dealing with stressful situations was to divert the topic to something more mundane. He’d done it when she was an adolescent fretting about mean kids at school. And also when she was a grown woman, in the months after her husband had died and she’d fallen into a tangle of dark emotions. She’d used it herself on many occasions when things were tense at the office or turned edgy while she and her team were on a stakeout.
“I had the cops radio Rusty to pick the SUV up,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll get a text from him sometime tomorrow with details on the repairs.”
“Body work is expensive,” Adam noted as he headed for the dining area to help set the table.
Cassie stood and went with him. Leon followed.
“You could stay home and work out of the office here tomorrow,” Adam said once they were all seated at the table, ready to dig in.
Cassie breathed in the rich scents of lasagna and garlic bread and realized she was ravenous. “Dad, I’ve got to go into town. I don’t know if the attack tonight had anything to do with Bryan Rogan’s trial, but I am still determined to testify.”
“I’ll make sure she’s not alone,” Leon added.
They all joined hands. Cassie’s dad was to her right. Leon to her left.
Adam spoke a blessing over the meal and, as everyone joined in at the final Amen, he squeezed her hand and seemed hesitant to let go. When Cassie lifted her bowed head to look at her dad, he still had hold of her hand and his eyes looked especially shiny.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she said, squeezing his hand and offering him a smile. “I’m safe.” She’d been checked out by EMTs. The bullet that had struck her had creased her skin, but the injury, while painful, hadn’t been deep enough to warrant stitches. The rollover had been jolting, but she hadn’t felt that X-rays were necessary. “I’m sure I’ll be a little sore tomorrow,” she said, “but that’s all. I’m fine.”
He nodded and finally let go of her hand. But then he set his attention to the open laptop on a side table in the dining area. The split-screen images showed live feed from the security cameras at various locations on the property. At North Star Ranch, they were always security conscious.
“Sure you’re fine,” Adam said, turning to her and nodding. But while his words sounded confident, his eyes were filled with worry.
* * *
“Have you been awake all night?” Cassie asked Leon as she walked into the home office well before sunup the next morning.
“Things have been quiet,” he answered, deflecting her question. Yes, he had been there all night. He’d watched the security monitors on the laptop then gone outside to walk around the house and the nearby stables and barn every hour or so, just to make sure everything was as it should be and that all the motion-sensor lights were functioning properly.
Adam’s dogs, a Great Dane mixed breed named Duke and a fluffy little creature that might be part Yorkie named Tinker, were lying by Leon’s feet. Both opened their eyes and rose at the sound of Cassie’s voice to sleepily walk to her. She obligingly bent to give them head scratches. The hounds looked ridiculous side by side because they were so different in size. Neither had a killer instinct, but each would bark if a stranger came around the house. Leon had kept an eye on their behavior throughout the night, considering them one more layer of protection.
After the dogs were petted and happy, Cassie tightened the belt on her bathrobe, walked over to the chair at her desk and sat. The dogs followed her. She and her dad each had a desk in the large room. The two other desks were for use by whomever needed one.
“Did you get any sleep?” Leon asked her.
Cassie was not known to be an early riser and it was now just after four in the morning. Her hair stuck up in different directions and she’d taken out her contact lenses and put on her black-rimmed glasses, which made her look like a cute nerd.
“You know how it is after somebody takes a shot at you. Or the day after you’ve been in a car wreck. As soon as you close your eyes, you start to see everything that happened play out in your mind again. Each time that mental replay started, I found myself trying to analyze what was flittering through my thoughts. I tried to look for any small detail my brain was dredging up.” She tapped her hands on the desktop. “I’m not sure how much of the time I was asleep and dreaming or how much of the time I was actually awake, thinking and remembering.”
“You want to have your say in court today,” Leon said, “and I respect that. But afterward, maybe you could take a day or two off, catch up on your rest, and give the police time to catch a lead on whoever tried to kill us.”
That would also give Leon time to check around to see what he could learn about who might have launched the attack. He understood there were lines not to be crossed and actions that only the police should take. And he would not overstep his bounds. But he would not just sit on the sidelines, either.
“I need coffee,” Cassie grumbled. “Did you make any?”
“Yeah. But I already drank it all.”
She stood. “I’ll make a pot.” She headed for the door and the dogs went with her. On her way out, she passed by a bookcase and stopped to pick up the framed photo of her late husband.
Leon watched her study the picture of the man she had been married to for three years before his life had been tragically cut short by a still unknown killer.
Idaho State Trooper Jake Hollister had be
en everything Leon Bragg was not. A handsome man from a good family with a squeaky-clean background and a college education, Jake had played on his university’s football team. He’d grown up south of Stone River, down in Boise. After becoming a state trooper, he’d been transferred to the regional office that serviced Stone River. He’d only been in town a couple of months when he’d met Cassie. They’d been married just before he’d become a detective.
Leon watched Cassie put the picture down and walk out. Soon after, he heard the sounds of cabinet doors being opened and water running as she made coffee.
From the desk where he was sitting, Leon gazed at the framed photo of Cassie’s husband.
Leon came from a family of hard-drinking bar brawlers, thieves and drug addicts. He knew how to track down and deal with thugs because he’d been one. After bottoming out, he finally had a moment of mental clarity that had helped him realize his life didn’t have to keep going in the same direction. Working his way to a cleaner, happier life had not been easy. He’d had his failures and relapses. But he had not given up.
Faith hadn’t been mentioned in the household Leon had grown up in, nor among his adult friends. But he did have an uncle who was a Christian. And that uncle had been willing to extend Leon a helping hand when he’d needed it most. Leon, in turn, had found himself drawn to the faith that had made his uncle different from nearly everyone else he’d known.
Eventually, Leon had taken the life experience and knowledge of criminal activity he’d once used for bad and turned it around to use for good. But even so, he was nothing like Jake Hollister. He realized that Cassie missed her husband and most likely wanted to find someone with whom she could rebuild her life. He hoped she would find the right man. And he’d accepted the fact that the right man would never be him.
The rich aroma of brewing coffee reached him as he scanned the security feeds on his computer screen and then glanced out the window. It was not quite sunrise yet. Lights on the ranch buildings illuminated the area around them for a short distance. Beyond that, everything was still dark. Thinking like a criminal, Leon realized that if he were going to launch an attack on the ranch house, now would be the time—when people inside the house were either still asleep or thought the threat of danger had passed. With that in mind, he figured it was probably a good time to take another look outside.
He got up and walked out into the hallway. He couldn’t see the dogs in the kitchen, but he could hear their toenails tapping on the hardwood floor. Duke came around the corner to greet him first, tail wagging, a big crunchy bone-shaped treat in his mouth. Tinker skittered along behind him, his paws moving double-time to keep up with his doggie brother. He carried a much smaller treat in his mouth.
Cassie was moving toward the front door, coffee mug in hand, when Leon stepped in front of her to block her way. “I can take the dogs outside,” he said. Given the potentially dangerous wildlife in the area, like bears and mountain lions, or the possibility of a smelly encounter with a skunk, the dogs weren’t typically let out without someone keeping an eye on them.
“I’ll do it,” Cassie said. “I need some fresh air.”
“Not a good idea.” He realized that she wasn’t unaware of the potential for danger. She simply didn’t want to hide in the house and live in fear. But sometimes, for the short term, she would need to do exactly that.
“If somebody’s waiting out there, they could just as easily take a shot at you as they could at me,” Cassie said to him.
“Nobody’s specifically targeting me. They only shot at me last night because I interrupted their plan and got in their way.”
She sighed heavily. “Fine. You take the dogs out.”
Leon’s thoughts turned to her picking up the photo of her husband on her way out of the office. “Have you been doing some research into Jake’s murder again?”
“You know I always am.”
“Learn anything new? Maybe gotten a fresh lead you didn’t tell Bergman about last night because you want to track it down yourself, first?”
She took a deep breath and blew it out. “In a way, I have. I didn’t even think about it until I was tossing and turning in the middle of the night.” She shook her head. “It’s not related to the attack last night. I don’t see how it could be. It’s not even specific information. It’s more like a rumor, which could ultimately turn out to be nothing, like so many of the other ‘tips’ I’ve gotten.” She set her empty coffee mug on the end of the kitchen counter and then shoved her hands into the pockets of her bathrobe. “It could just be Phil Warner hustling me and trying to make a few extra dollars.”
Phil was a paid informant who was sometimes helpful and sometimes unreliable. Any information from him had to be taken with a grain of salt.
“Phil got picked up for being drunk and disorderly. He told me he was tossed into the drunk tank with someone who’d been arrested for driving under the influence. That guy told Phil he hadn’t been through Stone River in a long time. ‘Not since the cop was killed.’ And that, after that happened, he’d had to get out of town.”
“Why’d he have to get out of town?”
Cassie shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s all Phil had to tell me. Maybe it’s true. Maybe Phil just made the whole thing up because he wanted me to give him some money.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Leon asked, forcing himself not to jump to conclusions even as his heart sped up. Maybe the person who murdered Cassie’s husband would finally be brought to justice.
“Phil told me his story...” She glanced toward the living room window where there was a hint of daylight on the horizon. “Well, four days ago now. I haven’t gotten anywhere with it. Phil didn’t know the guy’s name, so I looked up the public records on arrests for the date he gave me. There were three men picked up for driving under the influence that night. I did a quick search and none of the names sounded familiar to me. I’ve asked around a little bit—some people at the city jail and at the courthouse—but none of the three names meant anything to anybody. My next step will be to get the mug shots of all three men and show them to Phil, to see if he can identify the guy.”
“Maybe your asking around about those men triggered the attack.”
Cassie shrugged. “Anything’s possible, I guess, but that wouldn’t make much sense. It takes a lot to build a murder case. Certainly more than the ramblings of a drunk in a jail cell. There’s still virtually no physical evidence for the case. So I don’t see how my asking questions could lead to the over-the-top assault we went through. Somebody’s already kept a cool head and gotten away with murder for five years. Why take a huge risk like the attack last night?”
She took her hands out of her bathrobe pockets. “But I will mention it to Sergeant Bergman. Maybe he can help me get some information on the mystery man later, after things calm down. For now, though, my priority will be to focus on the cases we’re currently working, the people who have threatened me in the past, and most especially the thugs who are angry about me testifying at Bryan Rogan’s trial.” With that, she picked up her empty coffee mug and headed back into the kitchen toward the coffeepot.
Leon walked outside, chilled by the air and by his worry for Cassie while the dogs barked and bounded around him. Last night’s attack could have been motivated by many things. He didn’t want to let himself get caught in the trap of deciding what he thought had happened and then look for evidence to prove it. He wanted to keep an open mind.
Still, the murder of an Idaho law enforcement officer was a big deal. Jake’s case had sadly run cold due to a lack of leads, not to a lack of interest. But now, because of the questions Cassie had recently been asking, maybe somebody thought she knew something. Something big. And maybe that somebody thought she needed to be silenced.
THREE
“What’s the name of your informant?” Sergeant Bergman asked.
Cassie looked at
the desk phone in the Rock Solid Bail Bonds downtown Stone River office, where the detective’s voice came through the speaker. She’d just told him the details about the possible lead to her husband’s killer after explaining that she thought the odds of it being related to the attack on her last night were relatively small.
She hesitated to answer and glanced at Leon, who was seated at his nearby desk, watching her. It was just the two of them in the office right now. Harry and Martin had already left to set up surveillance on a house where they thought a bail jumper might be hiding.
Cassie had a standing agreement with Phil that she would not tell anyone he sold her information. But based on what she’d already relayed, the detective was bound to figure out who her informant was anyway. Why draw things out and make it more difficult for him?
“His name is Phil Warner,” she said.
“All right. I’ll check around on this when I can. Right now, my priority is finding our suspects for last night’s attack.”
“Of course,” Cassie said flatly, trying not to feel deflated. When Phil had first given her the information, she’d tried not to get her hopes up that Jake’s killer would finally be found. It was a self-protective mechanism she’d developed over the years after being disappointed so many times before. And yet, maybe this person who’d been locked up with Phil really could lead them to something that would ultimately result in the capture of his killer.
She heard Bergman sigh through the speaker. “We haven’t forgotten about Jake,” he said in a firm, steady voice. “He was one of our own and we haven’t been just passively waiting for information about his murder to come our way. But sometimes it takes time for the truth to come out.”
And sometimes the truth never comes out. Cassie heard the words in her head even though he hadn’t said them aloud. She’d worked around law enforcement long enough to know it was true. Justice did not always prevail.