The police had run the victim’s DNA through the database and, according to their report, the name Rodney Harris was the latest in a string of aliases. The name on the deceased’s original birth certificate was that of escaped felon Harold Park from Colorado, who’d disappeared eight years ago.
Park was on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. After serving only two years of a sixty-year sentence for murder, embezzlement, armed robbery and grand larceny, he and another prisoner, convicted killer Alonzo Morales, had escaped during a transfer from the ADX Federal Penitentiary in Florence, Colorado, to Canaan Federal Prison in Pennsylvania. Since that time both fugitives had gone by many false names that prevented the Feds from recapturing them.
The preliminary report from the detective here in Travis County suggested the gunshot wound was self-inflicted, but nothing would be official until all the forensic evidence had been reviewed. Something didn’t add up in Kit’s mind. It didn’t make sense that the felon would kill himself. A clever killer could have set it up to look like suicide.
A search of Harold-alias-Rod’s bank records revealed that $400,000 had been deposited into his checking account one day and withdrawn the next. The day after that, he’d been found dead in his hotel room. The size and date of the large deposit were inconsistent with his earnings from the pharmaceutical company, and the abrupt withdrawal was just plain suspicious. Normally that kind of money would have been put in a money market or the stock market at least.
Since Harold-alias-Rod had crossed state lines and had been an armed, dangerous killer, the police had asked for the Texas Rangers to take over. These were early days in the case. The police report also stated that Mrs. Harris had hired an attorney who’d attempted to serve him with divorce papers on the day he was shot. Since they weren’t yet divorced and he’d absconded with money she had half rights to under property laws, it appeared she could have a motive to see him dead.
But if Harris had still been living a life of crime and the money was stolen, then there may have been accomplices involved—maybe even other ex-felons from his past life—who might be potential culprits. If the widow was innocent of any wrongdoing, then she herself might be a target for interested parties still looking for the missing money.
Kit hadn’t met Natalie Harris. The only information he had on her so far was that she was a twenty-eight-year-old pharmacist and had a sixteen-month-old daughter named Amy. There was no sign of the toddler at the graveside.
He was going to have to build this case from scratch. Knowing of the service today, he’d decided to study the people who showed up and take pictures with a long-range lens. Oftentimes a murderer appeared at the funeral to gloat. Of the seven people present, two were females, but he didn’t sense they were family. He had the rap sheet on Alonzo Morales with a mug shot and would know if he saw that face again.
Before long the people assembled at the burial turned to leave and go their separate ways. Kit’s first frontal view of Mrs. Harris being helped by the mortuary staff came as a shock to his senses. She was a true beauty; maybe five foot six. He took a picture of her. The classy, tailored black suit couldn’t disguise the mold of her shapely body and legs. Everything about her appealed to him, which came as a shock. It had been a long time since he had reacted this way to a total stranger.
Kit didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe to find a widow in tears? But from a distance he got the impression she hadn’t given in to whatever emotion she was feeling. Her lovely classic bone structure was undermined by features that showed no animation. Shock could do that to a person in mourning.
But since she’d filed for divorce, maybe she’d passed through her period of grief long before the papers had been served. Whether elated he was dead at her hands, relieved he was gone by another person’s doing, or sad or even haunted by the way he’d died, the frozen mask he saw in front of him revealed no secrets.
Was he staring at a killer? If he was close enough to look into her eyes, he might be able to get a feel for what was going on in her psyche.
His gaze followed her to a silver Toyota parked on the roadside. The clergyman helped her in before walking to the car ahead of hers. Little by little everyone drove away from the cemetery, leaving the workers to finish their jobs.
Kit would give her a half hour before he phoned to set up a time to meet, preferably before the day was out. He needed to know her background. Was she a home-grown Texan? How long had she known the man she’d married? What about her parents or siblings? The police report didn’t have many details about her background and a dozen questions filled his mind.
Tonight he planned to drive to Marble Falls to watch his younger brother, Brandon, compete in the steer wrestling event at the Charley Taylor Rodeo Arena. Brandon was headed for a world championship competition in Las Vegas this coming December and Kit was excited for him. Until he’d made the decision to go into law enforcement, Kit had competed big-time in the same sport. But when he’d made up his mind to follow in his father’s footsteps, he’d given up the rodeo and ended up losing his girlfriend Janie at the same time. She knew that the Saunders brothers had suffered over the loss of their Texas Ranger father in a shootout when they were fifteen and seventeen. Fearing the same thing would happen to Kit, she’d broken it off with him, not wanting any part of a career that could end his life right in the middle of it, leaving a grieving wife and children.
Five years ago Janie had fallen in love with Brandon’s hazer, Scott Turner, and they’d married. As of today they had one child. He was happy for her. Any residual pain from their breakup had disappeared a long time ago. When all was said and done, he was content enough with his bachelor existence. His mother and brother needed support and he could be there for them.
Kit would be thirty-one next month. He liked being single and free of emotional baggage. Out of his three best friends in the Rangers, two of them, Cy and Vic, were now married and incredibly happy. That left him and Luckey, who’d been married for a short time before his wife had decided she hated what he did for a living. Their divorce had pretty well scarred him.
Kit was thankful he’d avoided that problem before vows had been said. Janie had done both of them a huge favor. From time to time since then he’d gone out with various women, but no one female after Janie had made a lasting impression.
He made his way back to his truck and started up the engine, driving out of the cemetery to the main road and heading for his town house at Chimney Corners in Northwest Austin. Oddly enough Mrs. Harris lived in the same part of the city; no great distance from his condo. That would cut down his driving time. He’d grab a bite to eat and then make the call. If he could interview her soon, he’d leave for Marble Falls and pick up his mom en route to the arena. It would be good to spend some time with family.
*
NATALIE PULLED HER Toyota Corolla into the driveway and pressed the remote. She was still getting used to entering the garage devoid of Rod’s white Sentra. The police had impounded it when they’d investigated the crime scene at the hotel a week ago.
But the second the garage door lifted, she realized someone had been there since she’d left for the graveside service. The lawn mower and equipment for the yard had been moved around. Items from the shelf, including a Christmas tree stand, had been thrown on the cement floor, preventing her from driving in. What on earth?
Frightened that a burglar had broken into her house, she backed out to the street and parked along the curb a few houses away to call Detective Carr. He’d been the one who’d come to see her following Rod’s shooting in the hotel where he’d been living temporarily. The detective had told her to call him if she needed anything.
Her hand shook as she waited for him to answer. “Mrs. Harris?”
“Yes. I’m so glad you’re there. I just got home from the service to find my garage in disarray. I think someone has broken into my house. He could still be inside.”
“Where are you?”
“In my car, parked down the stre
et.”
“What make and color?”
“A silver Corolla.”
“Stay right there. Officers will be at your home within minutes.”
“Thank y-you,” she stammered and hung up. There’d been too many shocks already and now this…
She sat there trembling as she stared at her house, watching to see if someone would come out. Before long, two police cars arrived. Three officers got out and started casing the place, and the fourth walked toward her car. She rolled down the window.
“Mrs. Harris?”
“Yes. Thank you for coming.”
“If I could have a key to your home, we’ll check inside.”
She pulled her keys out of the ignition and gave him the one that would unlock the front door. “There’s a crawlspace under the house. You have to get to it through the laundry room. Someone could be hiding in there.”
“We’ll check. Stay right where you are.”
Natalie nodded and waited. There were several cars parked on each side of the street. Any one of them could be the intruder’s. After several minutes the same officer came back outside.
“Whoever ransacked your house is gone.” He handed back her key. “Please pull into your driveway, but stay in the car until you hear from Detective Carr. He’ll follow up and give you instructions.”
“Okay. Thanks for coming so quickly.”
*
NO SOONER DID she watch the police drive away than her phone rang. She clicked it on. “Detective Carr?”
“Mrs. Harris?”
The deep, attractive male voice didn’t sound like anyone she knew. “Yes?”
“This is Miles Saunders with the Texas Rangers.” Natalie’s heart skipped a beat. Why was a Texas Ranger phoning her? She thought they only worked on big federal cases. “Detective Carr contacted me. I hear you’ve been burglarized while you were attending your husband’s graveside service.”
“Yes.”
“I’m about six minutes away. Leave your car in the driveway and go into the house through your garage. I’ll park on the next street over and walk through a few neighbors’ yards to knock on your back door. Use a hand towel to open it. Don’t touch anything. A forensics team will arrive right away to go through everything. They’ll come to your front door.”
“A-all right.”
She heard the click as he disconnected, still unable to believe what was happening. She knew there were unscrupulous people who read through the obituaries and chose to break into people’s homes on the day of a funeral.
Taking a deep breath, she started her car and pulled into her driveway. She got out and entered the house through the garage as instructed, passing through the small laundry room into the kitchen. Cupboards were open and foodstuffs were on the floor.
Natalie had only been gone two hours, but it looked as though a wrecking ball had been at work. As she walked through her two-bedroom rambler, she saw that drawers and closets had been ransacked. Her bedding had been thrown on the floor and her mattress lay halfway off the box spring. Numerous items lay strewed on the floor of both bathrooms. She checked the nursery and found it in shambles. Some intruder had gone through every room, causing total upheaval.
She was wild with anger. Last evening after returning from her work at the pharmacy, she’d thoroughly cleaned the rambler in case someone dropped by after the graveside service. The house would be neat, clean and filled with flowers.
She’d inherited this house from her deceased mother, and she and Rod had made it into their home. But their marriage had started to fall apart soon after Amy was born, and now he was dead and her family home was a disaster.
Half a dozen floral arrangements had arrived during the week, but several of them had been knocked over. Water had spilled on the carpet. The fireplace screen had been knocked over. Cushions were piled on the floor in the living room and den. The drawers of her computer desk had been pulled out, the contents dumped on the floor. Several framed prints had been taken off the walls and the backings torn. Whoever had gone through her house had been desperately looking for something.
While she waited for the Ranger, she reached again for her cell and placed a call to Jillian.
Her good friend lived just across the street and had been looking after Amy since Natalie had gone back to work. The little girl was good company for Jillian’s eighteen-month-old daughter, Susie, and the arrangement allowed Jillian to earn a little extra money while her husband, Bart, served another tour of duty overseas with the marines.
“Jillian? You’re not going to believe this,” Natalie said when her friend answered. “I just got home from the service and found that my house has been broken into”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I were. Life has been a nightmare since I got that call from the police about Rod. Can you keep Amy a little longer? I have to wait for some Ranger to come over.”
“What? Why?”
“I have no idea. And a forensics team. As soon as they’re gone, I’ll be over to get her.”
“Don’t you worry about anything. There’s no hurry.”
“Yes, there is. You’ve gone beyond the call of duty to watch her on a Saturday afternoon. That wasn’t our arrangement. I plan to pay you double.”
“Natalie—don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been through a horrible experience. What are friends for?”
“You’re the best, Jillian. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
The second she hung up, Natalie’s landline rang, startling her. She moved to the kitchen to answer it but checked the caller ID first. It was blank. Would it be one of those hang-up calls she’d gotten twice this week already?
Natalie hated to answer without knowing who was on the other end, especially after this breakin, although it could be one of many important calls she was expecting—the police, the bank, the attorney, the mortuary, her boss at work, her coworkers, church friends, her insurance agent. But right now she was in no state to talk to anyone and let it ring until the person on the other end gave up or left a message.
She looked around but couldn’t tell if anything was missing. She’d developed a bad headache and needed a pain pill.
One look in the bathroom mirror made her realize she needed to freshen up before the Ranger arrived and she washed her face, remembering too late that she wasn’t supposed to touch anything. The burial plot in the newer section of the cemetery hadn’t been planted with shade trees yet. The heat had caused her to break out in perspiration, but she didn’t have time to change out of her lightweight linen suit.
After drying her face, Natalie refreshed her lipstick and gave her tousled, collarbone-length hair a good brushing. When she heard the knock on the back door, her brush fell to the floor. Her nerves were that bad.
She walked down the hall, past the nursery and into the kitchen. She used a dish towel to open the door leading to the backyard. Whatever picture of the Ranger she’d had in her mind didn’t come close to the sight of the tall, thirtyish, hard-muscled male in a Western shirt, jeans and cowboy boots.
Her gaze flitted over his dark brown hair only to collide with his beautiful hazel eyes appraising her through a dark fringe of lashes.
“Mrs. Harris? Miles Saunders.” She felt the stranger’s probing look pierce her before he displayed his credentials. That’s when she noticed the star on his shirt pocket.
This man is the real thing. The stuff that made the Texas Rangers legendary. She had the strange feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before, but shrugged it off. This was definitely the first time she’d ever met a Ranger.
“Come in.” Her voice faltered, mystified by this unexpected visit. She was pretty sure the Rangers didn’t investigate a home breakin.
“Thank you.” He took a few steps on those long, powerful legs. His presence dominated the kitchen. She invited him to follow her into the living room.
“Please sit down.” She indicated the upholstered chair on the other side of the coffee table while she t
ook the matching chair. There was no place else to sit until the room was put back together.
He did as she asked. “I understand you have a daughter. Is she here?”
The man already knew quite a bit about her, she realized. “No. I left her with my sitter who lives across the street.”
He studied one of the framed photos that hadn’t been knocked off the end table, even though a drawer had been pulled out. “She looks a lot like you, especially the eyes. She’s a little beauty.”
Natalie looked quickly at the floor, stunned by the personal comment. He’d sounded sincere. So far everything about him surprised her so much she couldn’t think clearly.
He turned to focus his attention on Natalie. “You’re very composed for someone who’s been through so much. Your husband’s funeral was just this afternoon, wasn’t it?”
“I’m trying to hold it together. If you’d taken any longer to get here, you might have found a screaming lunatic on your hands.” She was nervous and talking too fast, but she couldn’t help it. “Why would the Texas Rangers want to talk to me? I already answered the detective’s questions after they found my husband’s body at the hotel. It’s hard for me to believe he took his own life, but even more difficult to believe anyone would have wanted to kill him.”
“Why do you think it wasn’t a suicide?”
Averting her eyes she said, “In my opinion he was too selfish to do it. That’s what I told the police. Now I’ve probably shocked you.”
“Not at all. Tell me something. Was your husband right-or left-handed?”
“Left.”
“The report said the gun was found in his left hand, but the angle of the bullet raises some questions. Your answer convinces me the gunshot wasn’t self-inflicted.”
She sat back in the chair. “So someone killed him? Am I a suspect?”
“If this weren’t crucial, I wouldn’t have insisted on talking to you today. I’ll explain, but we’re going to need some time, unless you want me to come back this evening.”
“No, no.” Might as well get this over with. “I’ll call my sitter and prepare her for a longer wait. Excuse me.” Natalie got up from the chair and hurried into the kitchen to call her friend on her cell phone.
A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3) Page 20