Cold Case at Cobra Creek

by Rita Herron

  “That he was murdered,” Delores said in a low voice as if she thought someone might be listening.

  “He was shot,” Sage said.

  “Do they know who did it?”

  “No, but Dugan Graystone is investigating.”

  Delores thumbed her auburn hair over her shoulder. “That’s why he’s here?”

  “Yes,” Sage said. “He’s also helping me look for Benji.”

  “Yes, that’s what they said on the news.” Delores sighed. “You don’t think...?” She cut herself off as she realized the ugly implications. “I’m sorry, Sage. I know this must be horrible for you.”

  “It has been,” Sade admitted. “That’s why I want to talk to you. Ron Lewis wasn’t really who he said he was. He was a fraud who conned people out of their land. Ron said that he worked for this developer by the name of Woodsman. Do you know anything about that company?”

  Delores wrinkled her nose. “No. Although that name sounds familiar.” She turned and tapped some keys on the computer, her frown deepening. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but that name does show up on an account here.”

  Sage leaned forward. “Do you have any more information about the person who opened the account?”

  Delores tapped a few more keys, a look of frustration tightening the lines around her eyes. “Hmm.”

  “What is it?”

  “Let me look into something.”

  Sage drummed her fingers on her leg as she waited while Delores worked her magic. Her friend had confided once that she was somewhat of a hacker.

  Delores sighed, long and meaningful, into the silence. “Oh, this is interesting.”

  “What?”

  “I think Woodsman might be a dummy corporation.”

  “One Ron Lewis set up so he could personally hide money he was stealing from landowners.”

  Delores nodded, although her face paled as she looked at Sage. “That’s not all. There’s one other person who has access to the money in that account.”

  Sage’s mind raced. It had to be someone at the bank who’d figured out what was going on. “You mean Mr. Bates?”

  Delores shook her head no. “Sheriff Gandt.”

  * * *

  DUGAN’S PHONE BUZZED as he left Bates’s office. “Graystone.”

  “It’s Jaxon. Meet me at the motel outside Cobra Creek.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The cleaning staff found a body in one of the rooms.”

  “I’ll be there ASAP.”

  He waited outside Delores’s office for Sage. Her complexion looked a pasty-gray as she exited the office.

  “Sage?”

  She motioned for him to walk with her, and they left the bank. She didn’t speak until they’d settled into his SUV.

  “What did your friend say?”

  Sage heaved a wary breath. “Delores looked up the account for Woodsman.”

  “And?”

  “There was another person attached to the account.” She turned to him, her expression etched in turmoil. “You won’t believe who it was.”

  Dugan’s patience was stretched thin. “Who?”

  “The sheriff.”

  Dugan muttered a curse. “So Gandt was working with Lewis?”

  Sage shrugged. “It looks like that. I guess the question is whether or not Gandt knew Ron was running a con, and if he was in on it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dugan should have been shocked at the fact that Gandt’s name was associated with the account, but he’d never liked the bastard, so shock wasn’t a factor.

  But he drove to the motel, furious at the idea that the man who was supposed to be protecting and taking care of the town might be dirty. And that he might have taken advantage of the very people who’d trusted him and voted him into office.

  “Do you think the sheriff knew what Ron was up to?” Sage asked, almost as if she was struggling to face the fact that Gandt might have lied to her.

  “That arrogant SOB thinks he owns this town. I wouldn’t put it past him to join in on a scheme that would garner him a bigger part of the pie.”

  Dugan spotted Jaxon’s car in front of the motel room at the far end, room eight, swung his SUV into the lot and parked.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “Jaxon called. A body was found here.”

  Sage’s mouth twitched downward. “Oh, God. Who is it?”

  “We’ll find out.” Dugan reached for the door and opened it, then walked around to Sage’s door, but she was already out. He was amazed at the strength she emanated.

  When they reached the motel room, a uniformed officer met them where he stood guard. Dugan identified himself, and Jaxon walked up.

  “Wait outside, Sage,” Dugan told her.

  He followed Jaxon across the room where Sheriff Gandt stood by the body of a woman on the bed. The M.E. was stooped beside her, conducting an exam.

  “Have you identified her?” Dugan asked Jaxon.

  Jaxon nodded. “Found a wallet in her car outside, with her license. Her name is Carol Sue Tinsley. That’s why I thought you’d be interested.”

  “Damn.” He’d halfway hoped they would find her and Benji together.

  Sheriff Gandt glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I phoned him,” Jaxon said. “This woman had a prior relationship with the man you knew as Ron Lewis.”

  Gandt’s thick eyebrows shot up. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m a Texas Ranger,” Jaxon said, a sharp bite to his tone. “It’s my job to investigate murders and kidnappings.”

  Dugan almost grinned. He knew Jaxon well enough to understand the implied message, that it was his job to step in when incompetence reigned.

  “What was cause of death?” Dugan asked.

  The M.E. was conducting a liver temp test. “The petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes suggests asphyxiation.” He used his fingers to lift her eyelids, one at a time.

  Dugan glanced at the pillow on the floor by the bed. Probably the murder weapon.

  No bullet this time.

  Was she murdered by the same perp who’d shot Lewis? If so, why a different MO?

  To throw off the police?

  “Have you found any forensics evidence?” Dugan asked.

  Gandt shook his head. “I searched the room, but no signs of who did this.”

  “Any sexual assault?” Dugan asked.

  Dr. Longmire shook his head. “None.” He pulled the sheet back to reveal that she was still clothed in flannel pajamas. “My guess is she was sleeping when she was attacked.”

  “Was anyone with her when she checked in?” Dugan asked.

  “No.” Jaxon rubbed his chin. “Her car was registered to the name on her driver’s license. But at the registration desk, she signed in as Camilla Anthony.”

  “So she was hiding from someone.”

  “Or meeting a lover,” Sheriff Gandt said.

  Dugan scoffed. “Most women don’t wear flannel pj’s to a romantic rendezvous.”

  Jaxon murmured agreement. “I’m going to canvass the other rooms in case another guest saw something.”

  The M.E. lifted one of her hands, indicating a broken nail. “It looks like she put up a fight. I’ll see if I can get DNA.”

  “Even a thread of her attacker’s clothing could help,” Dugan added.

  The sheriff shifted, walked over and bent to study the body. “I still think she was probably running from an ex-boyfriend. Maybe he followed her here, waited till she went to bed, then slipped in and choked her.”

  “What about the lock?” Dugan asked.

  “It was picked,” Jaxon said. “So far, no prints.”

  “And her belongings?” Dugan asked.

  “We found a suitcase,” Jaxon said. “Clothing, shoes, toiletries. I searched her purse, but no indication where she was headed. No map or papers with any kind of address on it.”

  “Money?”

  “She did have a stash of cash, nearly
a thousand dollars,” Jaxon said.

  “So robbery was not a motive.” Dugan chewed over that information, then turned to Gandt. “Did you know this woman, Sheriff?”

  Gandt hitched up his pants. “No, why would I?”

  Dugan studied the way the man’s mouth twitched. “Because she was Lewis’s girlfriend when he went by the name of Mike Martin.”

  “That so?”

  “Yes,” Dugan said. “He had a string of names he used for his other scams.”

  Gandt crossed his beefy arms. “What else have you found out about Lewis?”

  “He has a rap sheet for arrests under three different names for fraud and embezzlement. And he conned some local ranchers in Cobra Creek.” Dugan glanced at Jaxon. “Did you find a cell phone in her purse or car?”

  Jaxon shook his head no. “If she had one, the killer must have taken it.”

  To cover his tracks.

  Dugan turned and scrutinized the room. The neon lights of a dive bar flickered against the night sky. “While you sweep the room for forensics, I may take a walk over there.” Dugan turned to the sheriff. “Like you said, if the killer was watching her, he might have gone inside to wait until he thought she was asleep.”

  The sheriff tugged at his pants. “I’ll do that,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m the law around here, Graystone, and don’t you forget it.”

  He was the law. But Dugan didn’t trust him worth a damn, especially now that he knew Gandt’s name was associated with the account related to the land deals.

  Could Gandt have killed Lewis so he could gain access to the property and money for himself? So he really could own Cobra Creek?

  And what about Carol Sue? Maybe she’d traced Lewis to Cobra Creek and come looking for Lewis or her share of whatever money she thought he owed her.

  * * *

  SAGE PACED OUTSIDE the motel room, anxious to know what was going on inside.

  Finally Dugan stepped out with a tall muscular man in a Stetson wearing a Texas Ranger badge on his shirt. Dugan introduced him as his friend Jaxon, and Sage thanked him for his help.

  “Who was the woman?” Sage asked.

  “Carol Sue,” Dugan said with an apologetic look.

  Disappointment ripped through Sage. If Carol Sue had any information about Benji, she couldn’t tell them now.

  “She was smothered,” Dugan continued. “She put up a fight, though, so hopefully the M.E. can extract DNA from underneath her fingernails.”

  “I’m going to talk to the other guests at the motel,” Jaxon said. “Maybe we’ll find a witness.”

  “Let’s divide up and it’ll go faster.” Dugan touched Sage’s elbow. “Will you be okay here?”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  Jaxon headed to the first unit while Dugan took the one next to the room where the woman lay dead.

  Sheriff Gandt stepped outside. “Did you know the woman in there, Ms. Freeport?”

  “No,” Sage said. “Did you?”

  The sheriff’s eyebrows drew together, creating frown lines across his forehead. “No. She’s not from Cobra Creek.”

  “What do you think she was doing here?” Sage asked.

  Sheriff Gandt shrugged and made a noncommittal sound. “Looks like she was probably meeting a lover. They had a quarrel and he killed her.”

  “Still, it seems odd that she was in Cobra Creek,” Sage countered. “Especially so soon after Ron Lewis’s body was found.”

  “You think she came here looking for his killer?” Gandt asked in a skeptical tone. “Hell, it’s been two years since he disappeared.”

  “She probably saw the news of his death and wanted to talk to you about it,” Sage suggested.

  The sheriff’s mouth twitched. “I guess that’s possible.”

  “You also had connections to the land deal Ron had put together.”

  Shock widened Gandt’s eyes. “Who the hell told you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter who told me,” Sage said curtly. “What matters is that you were in cahoots with Ron to buy up the land around Cobra Creek. You were swindling your own people.”

  A dark rage flashed in the sheriff’s eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Freeport.”

  “I know that you never really tried to find my son.” Sage was spitting mad. “And that your name is associated with the developer Ron was working with.” She planted her hands on her hips. “And that you could have killed him so you’d get all the money and land yourself.”

  “I’d be really careful about making accusations, Ms. Freeport,” he said with a growl. “I’d hate to see you end up like that woman in there.”

  Sage’s heart hammered in her chest. Was he threatening her?

  * * *

  THE MOTEL HELD twelve rooms, but only half of them were occupied.

  The first door Dugan knocked on held an elderly couple who claimed they hadn’t seen or heard anything because they’d retreated to bed as soon as it got dark. Apparently they’d both grown up on a farm, and they rose with the roosters and went to bed with the sun.

  He moved to the next room and knocked on the door. A minute later, a young man in jeans and a cowboy hat opened the door. He pulled off headphones from his ears. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but there was a woman murdered in room eight. We’re asking everyone in the motel if they saw or heard anything.”

  The guy gestured toward his guitar, which was propped against the bed. Two young guys in their twenties also sat in a circle with a banjo and fiddle, and a brunette was strumming chords on her own guitar.

  “Afraid not. We were jamming, working on some new material.”

  “Are you guys from around here?”

  “North Texas. We’re on our way to Nashville for a gig.”

  Dugan gestured toward the others. “Did any of you see someone near room eight?”

  A chorus of nos rumbled through the room. “I thought I heard some banging,” the girl said. “But I figured it was someone getting it on.”

  This group was no help. Dugan didn’t see any reason to collect their contact information, but he laid a card on the dresser. “Call me if you remember anything. Maybe a car or person lurking around.”

  He tried the door next to them, but a family with twin toddlers answered the door. “Sorry, we went to dinner and drove around to see the Christmas lights,” the father said. “By the time we returned, the sheriff’s car was already outside.”

  Dugan thanked them, then moved down the row of rooms. But it was futile. Barring the cars and trucks in the lot, which were all accounted for by guests, no one had witnessed anything.

  His phone buzzed against his hip, and he checked the number. Unknown.

  He quickly connected the call. “Dugan Graystone.”

  “I have some information about Ron Lewis.”

  Dugan clenched the phone and looked around the parking lot in case the caller was nearby. “Who is this?”

  “Meet me at Hangman’s Bridge. An hour.”

  The voice was blurred, low, hoarse. Disguised.

  “I’ll be there.” He hung up and checked his watch for the time. It could be a setup.

  But it could be the tip he needed to end the case and find Benji.

  * * *

  NERVES KNOTTED SAGE’S shoulders as she and Dugan walked across the street to the bar.

  “The canvass of the motel turned up nothing.”

  Sage sighed. “The sheriff warned me not to go around making accusations against him.”

  Dugan’s eyes flared with anger. “Bastard. He’s in this. I just need to prove it.”

  Sage still couldn’t believe it. She had turned to Sheriff Gandt two years ago and even trusted him at first. Sure, she’d been frustrated that he hadn’t found Benji, but it had never occurred to her that he might have been involved in her son’s disappearance.

  Even if he had killed Ron, why would he do something to Benji? As sheriff, he could have covered up the
murder, then returned Benji to her and looked like a hero.

  The bar was dark and smoky as they entered. Dugan had snapped a picture of Carol Sue and showed it to the hostess. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  She shook her head. “What’s going on?”

  Dugan relayed the fact that Carol Sue had been murdered in the room across the street. “Was she in here earlier?”

  “I didn’t see her,” the hostess said. She waved the bartender over. “Lou, was this woman in here earlier tonight?”

  Lou dried his hands on a towel. “Naw. She ain’t been in.”

  Dugan explained about the murder. “It’s possible that her killer came in,” Dugan said. “Did you notice anyone suspicious? Maybe someone who seemed nervous? He might have watched the door or checked the time.”

  “All that’s been in tonight is the regulars,” Lou said. “Well, ’cept for this group of young folks, said they was in a band.”

  “We talked to them.” Dugan handed them each a card. “If you think of anything, no matter how small, please give me a call.”

  Sage and Dugan walked back outside to the SUV. An ambulance had arrived to transport Carol Sue’s body back to the morgue for an autopsy. Sage looked up and saw Sheriff Gandt lift his head and pin her with his intimidating stare.

  Dugan’s expression was grim as he drove her back to the inn. Night had set in long ago and exhaustion pulled at her limbs. And it was another day closer to Christmas.

  And still no Benji.

  The memory of Dugan’s arms around her taunted her, making her yearn to have him make love to her again. To comfort her and chase her nightmarish fears away for a few more hours.

  But after he searched the inn, he paused at the door.

  “An anonymous caller phoned that he has information about Lewis,” Dugan said. “Lock the doors, Sage, and stay inside until I get back.”

  She nodded, then watched him leave. Too antsy to sleep, she combed the inn.

  A knock sounded at the door, and she rushed to answer it. The sheriff stood on the other side.

  “Sheriff?”

  “Come with me, Ms. Freeport. I may have a lead on your son.”

  Sage’s heart stuttered. After the visit at the bank, she didn’t know whether or not to trust him.

  “Let me call Dugan to go with us.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Sheriff Gandt said.