by Rita Herron
Bates mumbled a pained yeah. “I knew the minute I opened the door and didn’t smell anything cooking in the chow hall that something was wrong.”
“Joleen’s a great cook.” Henry’s eyes clouded over. “Well, she was.”
“Made the best country fried steak in Texas.” Bates patted his belly. “I gained twenty pounds the first month she started cooking for us.”
“When was that?” Alex asked.
The two men exchanged sad looks. “About five years ago,” Henry answered. “Her husband used to work for me, but she lost him to cancer. Joleen and Joy have been friends for years. Joy thought Joleen needed something to do with her time. She loved cooking, so we asked her if she wanted the job.”
Bates rubbed his chin. “Before we had her, this old guy named Wilbert used to cook. Everything tasted the same. Burned the fried chicken ever damn time.”
“Did Joleen have any enemies?” Alex asked.
Both men shook their hands. “She was sixty-two-years old, a grandmother, cook, friend,” Henry said.
“Everyone here loved her.” Bates’s voice cracked. “The young guys talked about her like she was their mama.”
Alex grimaced. “Show me where she is.”
Henry grimaced but led Alex through the dining hall then through a set of double doors to a small suite built in the back.
Alex immediately scanned the room, noting details. “Call the sheriff and tell him to bring a crime unit out here. We need to sweep for forensics.”
Henry nodded and stood back while Alex slowly entered the room. Joleen was sprawled on the wood floor, her eyes wide in death, her jaw slack.
Blood coated the front of her blouse, soaking her shirt and lap. She must have tried to stop the bleeding with her hands, because they were covered in blood, and more blood streaked the wall where it appeared she’d tried to drag herself up from the floor to call for help. The phone lay off the cradle, a busy signal echoing in the silence.
He inched closer, knelt and felt her arm. Cold. Stiff. Rigor was setting in.
But her murder didn’t make sense.
If Geoff had killed her, what was his motive? Joleen had posed no threat to him.
Had he held her hostage long enough to force her to tell him where Mia’s cabin was then shot her to keep her from warning Mia he was coming?
“I know Geoff is dangerous,” Mia said to Joy. “But I don’t understand why he’d shoot Joleen.”
Joy yanked more tissue from the box and wiped her eyes. “He must be a desperate man.”
Mia nodded. She’d seen the news, knew some guards had been murdered, but for some reason, had assumed the other men committed the murders.
When they’d been together, Geoff had only vented his rage against her.
Prison had obviously changed him.
Mia paced the living room. “When Alex returns, I’ll leave the Crossties.”
“No, you won’t. Besides, we don’t know for certain your ex did this,” Joy said, although her voice warbled.
“He was at my cabin,” Mia said. “He left me flowers and a note.” She refused to tell Joy about the underwear. It was too humiliating.
“I’ve heard about men stalking women,” Joy said. “I suppose I was lucky all those years ago to find Henry.”
“You were lucky and smart,” Mia said, emphasizing the last word. “Geoff was my mistake. No one else should have to suffer for it.” Maybe she should go on TV, make a plea for Geoff to meet her. Trade her life so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.
A siren wailed, and she looked out the window and saw the sheriff’s car and a crime van pulling up.
Joy pushed to her feet. “I’ll point them in the direction of the dining hall.”
“No.” Mia squeezed her shoulder. “Stay here and drink your tea. I’ll tell them where to go.”
Mia didn’t wait for an argument. She stepped onto the front porch and waited until the men approached.
“Sheriff Leonard, Ma’am.” He tipped his hat. ”Mr. McCauley called about a murder.”
“Yes,” Mia said. “He and Sgt. Townsend are at the dining hall.” She gestured toward the turn a few feet away. “The cook Joleen Perry was shot.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I think I know who did it.”
The sheriff squinted through the fading sun. “Who would that be, Ma’am?”
“My ex-husband Geoff Jones. He’s one of the escaped prisoners. He came here looking for me.”
Alex snapped photos of the crime scene with his cell phone. The gunshot wound, the way Joleen’s body was lying on the floor, her hand reaching out for help…
Help that hadn’t come in time.
There were no signs of a struggle though. Everything seemed neat and tidy as if the shooter had surprised her. The small suite was filled with kitty cat knick-knacks and Afghans she’d probably knitted herself. Pictures of three children along with a woman and man in their thirties sat on the kitchen counter.
A pang hit him. Her family would have to be called.
He walked around the body, then noticed a bullet casing beneath the table and snapped a photo of it. It looked like a slug from a .38.
The sound of an engine puttering echoed from outside, and he walked to the front to see the sheriff’s car and crime unit roll up. Some of Henry’s ranch hands had already arrived for dinner and their meeting, and Alex had asked Henry to keep the men outside and not to let anyone leave. He didn’t want the crime scene contaminated, and all the men on the ranch had to be questioned.
Alex needed solid evidence to prove that Jones had murdered Joleen, too. Then he could add a homicide charge to his other charges. Combined with his previous sentence, Geoff wouldn’t see daylight for a long damn time.
And any chance of his haughty parents denying that Geoff was a criminal would be lost forever.
They made quick introductions as the sheriff and crime team met him at the door.
“We spoke to Ms. Matthews,” Sheriff Leonard said. “She thinks her ex-husband killed this woman.”
Alex gritted his teeth. “It’s possible. Jones is obsessed with Mia. We believe he came after her for revenge.”
“I remember that trial. Don’t have any use for wife beaters myself,” Sheriff Leonard muttered sourly.
“Me neither,” Alex said. “Jones has been on the ranch. He left flowers and a note on Mia’s doorstep and messed with her clothing inside the house.”
The sheriff studied Joleen’s body where it lay on the floor in a pool of blood. “Why did he kill Joleen?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Maybe he came here looking for Mia. Joleen could have recognized him from the news and tried to call the police.”
The sheriff hooked his thumbs in his belt. “That makes sense.”
Alex gestured toward the crime techs. “Sweep this place good, especially this room. The dining hall will have dozens of prints from the ranch hands.” He looked up at the sheriff. “Maybe you can help me question the employees. We’ll need their prints for comparison as well.”
“Sure thing.” Sheriff Leonard went to his car to retrieve his fingerprinting kit while the techs began combing the room for forensics.
Alex divided the list of employees between himself and the sheriff, then stepped outside to address the ranch hands. “Listen, guys, I know you’re all wondering what’s going on. Your cook Joleen was murdered. The sheriff and I need to talk to each of you. If you know anything about Joleen’s murder, please tell us up front.” He paused. “We’ll also need your fingerprints for elimination purposes.”
Several of the men shifted, looking nervous, and a rumble of low voices echoed protests. He sensed a couple of the men were illegal immigrants, and one or two had records.
“Listen, the sheriff and I are not interested in your papers if you’re working on obtaining legal status. What we want is to find Joleen’s killer.”
Alex set up station on the right side of the dining hall while the sheriff took the left. Henry and Bates were put in cha
rge of watching the door and keeping the men calm and under control.
The first three men Alex questioned had worked with Henry for over ten years, seemed completely devoted to Henry, boasted about what a great employer and friend he was. They all adored Joleen to the point of being visibly shaken and distraught. None of them argued about being fingerprinted either and all denied ever having been in Joleen’s suite.
Dammit, he wished he’d had time to run background checks on all of them and look at their financials. If one of the hands needed money, Geoff could easily have used that weakness in his favor.
He carefully worded his questions to probe the subject.
“Listen to me,” Barry Ernest said. “We don’t make a fortune here, but it’s steady money, enough to support our families.”
“And we get housing,” another hand told him.
Alex dismissed those three, then asked Truitt Wilson to join him alone at the table. Wilson seemed apprehensive and drummed his fist on the table.
“This is awful,” he said “Ms. Joleen reminded me of my grandma.”
“Do you own a gun?” Alex asked.
Wilson fidgeted. “A shot gun. But you know, Sergeant, we need it when we’re out working the cattle. Snakes and all.”
True. “Hang on a minute.” He put in a call to his chief and asked him to obtain a warrant to allow them to search the men’s bunks and their personal belongings. If one of them had a .38, they’d have it tested to see if it was the murder weapon.
Alex consulted Wilson’s file. “It says here that you’re from Austin.”
Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you know a man named Geoff Jones?”
His fist tightened on the table. “I heard of him. He was that lawyer who went to jail for beating his wife.”
“That’s right,” Alex said. “He almost killed her. Did you know him?”
“No,” Wilson, said his tone becoming defensive. “Why? You think he murdered Ms. Joleen?”
Alex leaned forward, using his size and cold stare to intimidate the young man. “He escaped prison and came here looking for Mia. She’s his ex-wife.”
Wilson coughed, a panicked look twisting his face.
“We also believe that Jones hired someone to find her. How did you find out about the job here?”
Realization dawned, Truitt’s eyes widening with fear. “I heard about it in town,” he said. “But I’m not working for Jones if that’s what you’re implying.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw something moving. A man.
He zeroed in on the man’s face. His flat nose, wide jaw, the scar above his eyebrow. Emmett Ross. He recognized him from the employee file.
Emmett was sneaking out the back door.
“Stay here, I’m not done with you,” Alex warned.
Alex raced after Emmett, but Emmett spotted him, darted out the back door and made a run for the woods.
Mia jumped at the sound of her cell phone ringing. Assuming it was Alex with news about Joleen, she snatched it from her purse without bothering to look at the caller ID screen.
“Hello, Alex –“
“No, it’s me, Mia.”
Nausea rose to her throat at the husky sound of Geoff’s voice.
“No one will ever love you like I do.”
A chill skated up Mia’s spine.
“You don’t know what love means,” Mia snapped. “You’re a monster.”
“And you’re my wife. A very naughty disobedient one, but you’ll learn.”
“I will never obey you,” Mia whispered.
“You’d better.” His voice turned low, more menacing. “If you don’t, everyone around you will die.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alex jogged outside. “Wait a minute, Royce.”
Instead of stopping, the man picked up his pace, running toward the woods. Alex cursed and sprinted after him, grateful for his training as he caught the man and tackled him.
“Let go of me,” Royce shouted. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Alex jerked his arm behind him, twisting it to a painful level. “Then why the hell were you running?”
Royce struggled slightly and Alex tightened his hold. “Why. Were. You. Running?”
“Let me go and I’ll talk.”
Alex jerked him sideways and slammed him up against a tree. “Talk and then I might let you go.”
A frustrated heave came from the wiry man, his nostrils flaring as he stared up at Alex. “Because I have a record. And I knew the minute you found out, you’d look at me as a suspect.”
“Right now everyone is a suspect,” Alex said. “What was your prior for?”
Royce’s lips thinned into a snarl. “Assault and battery.”
Alex arched a brow. “Who did you assault?”
“A friend of mine. At least he used to be before he screwed my wife.”
Alex studied him, then gave a nod of understanding. “Where did you do time?”
“The state pen,” Royce said.
The hair on the back of Alex’s neck prickled. “Do you know a man named Geoff Jones?”
Royce cut his eyes sideways. That hesitation gave Alex his answer.
“Let me rephrase that. Did he pay you to track down his ex-wife?”
Royce jerked his gaze back to him. “What the hell are you talking about? And what’s this got to do with Ms. Joleen being murdered?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Alex growled low in his throat. “Now, answer the damn question. Did he hire you to find his ex wife?”
Royce shook his head, a vein pulsing in his neck. “No. Why would he?”
“Because he’s obsessed with her and broke out of jail,” Alex snapped. “And he’s here on the ranch.”
Royce’s eyes widened, a seed of worry flickering in his expression. “His wife is here?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Have you spoken to Jones or seen him lately?”
Royce looked down at Alex’s hands where he was gripping Royce by the shirt. “No. I met him in the prison, but only because my cell mate knew him. I didn’t like the bastard. The feeling was mutual.” He angled his cheek so Alex could see his puckered scar. “He gave me that just because I dared challenge him.”
“If you’re lying, I’ll find out,” Alex said gruffly.
“I’m telling you the truth.” Royce clenched his jaw. “You think he killed Ms. Joleen?”
Alex hesitated. “He’s top on my suspect list.”
“Then I hope you find the asshole,” Royce muttered. “Ms. Joleen was like a mama to us guys here on the ranch.”
The sincerity in the man’s voice made Alex loosen his grip.
“Don’t leave town,” Alex said.
“I can’t,” Royce said bitterly. “I’m on parole.”
Maybe the guy was trying to get back on his feet and telling the truth. Alex relaxed, but Royce arched his brows.
“You said you thought he paid someone to find his wife. Why would you think she’s at the Crossties?”
“Because she is here,” Alex said. “Mia Matthews used to be married to him.”
Royce dropped his hands to his sides. “That explains a lot.”
“What does that mean?”
“Why she’s so stand offish to all the men here. Two or three of the hands asked her out, but she turned them down flat.”
Alex’s pulse hammered. “Were you one of them?”
Royce gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah. But hell, now I’m glad she did. I heard Jones say he’d kill anyone who touched her.”
Mia’s instinct was to run as far away as she could.
Not only to protect herself but to protect those around her who she cared about.
If Joleen had died because of her, she would never forgive herself for coming to the Crossties.
“We’re going to have to let Joleen’s family know about her death,” Joy said, her voi
ce strained with emotions.
Mia’s stomach clenched. “She has a daughter?”
“Yes, she lives in Houston with her husband and three children. She’ll be devastated.”
More guilt heaped onto the pile.
“I’m so sorry, Joy. Sorry for Joleen and her family and…sorry for coming here.”
Joy brushed her hands down her apron then pulled Mia into a hug. “This is absolutely not your fault,” Joy said firmly.
Mia hugged the woman, but Joy’s reassuring words fell on deaf ears.
How could it not be her fault if Geoff had killed Joleen because of her?
A noise sounded outside, and Joy looked up, stricken. “What was that?”
Dusk had set, the sun already faded so night shadows plagued the land as Mia glanced out the window. A dozen different scenarios taunted her.
Geoff had called her only a few minutes ago. Was he in the woods watching now?
Perhaps sneaking up to the house to trap her while Alex and the other men were at the dining hall?
Had he killed Joleen to lure Alex away from her so he could gain easier access to her?
She grabbed the rifle and braced it by her side. “Stay here, Joy, I’ll be right back.”
If Geoff showed up, she’d be ready.
Suddenly a window crashed in the living room.
Mia raced to the hallway and screamed at Joy to run out the back just as smoke began to fill the room.
By the time Alex went back inside the dining hall, the ME was there.
“What happened?” Sheriff Leonard asked.
“Emmett Royce tried to run. I caught him.”
Henry rubbed at his chin. “Did Royce hurt Joleen?”
“I don’t think so,” Alex said. “But he was in prison with Geoff Jones. He claims he hated the man though and has a scar to prove they weren’t friends.”
“Do you believe him?” Sheriff Leonard asked.
Alex shrugged. “I think so. Did you learn anything from the other hands?”
Sheriff Leonard gestured toward a thin, dirty-blond haired guy dusty from working the ranch. “Troy Durgin over there said he thought he saw someone in the woods behind the dining hall earlier. Fits with the time of death.”