The Texas Ranger held out his hand. She shook it quickly and tried to ignore the way his touch caused her skin to tingle.
“Sheriff, it’s good to see you again.”
Yeah, right. Like working together on the rustling case had been a picnic.
“Glad the Rangers sent you, Wyatt.” Chet faced Wyatt with all the self-importance of a bantam roster. “I have a witness that puts Talon Blackwell at the scene around the time of death. I think he should be brought in for questioning.”
Wyatt glanced at her, but she ignored him to glare at Chet and said through gritted teeth, “Deputy Hendricks, you are dismissed.”
With a glower at her, he didn’t say more. He stormed out of the office, then shut the door with a bang behind him. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I almost need my hunting knife to cut the tension in here. What was that all about?”
She met his blue gaze. “You know you can’t trust us Injuns. Maybe I’ll ride on over to his place later and scalp him in his sleep and hang his mangy pelt on the totem pole in front of my teepee.”
Wyatt chuckled and sat in the chair in front of her desk. He laid his black Resistol hat on the edge. “See, that’s why you’ll make a great sheriff.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Better share that with the rest of the town. Chet has them convinced he’d be the best choice for sheriff.”
He shrugged and grinned a one-sided smile, making him look like a sexy cross between a young Harrison Ford and Clint Eastwood all rolled up in one. “He won’t win, and Hendricks will either come around, or else once you’re elected sheriff, he’ll quit. At least it won’t be like when your dad was elected. Over half of his deputies up and walked out in protest.”
She remembered the day her father won the election. “Yeah, and Dad wouldn’t have gotten elected if the Cartwrights and your dad hadn’t pulled every string out there. When I win this election, it will be because I earned it, not because someone bought it for me.”
Had she imagined the shadow over his eyes as he lowered his gaze to his hands?
“You’re still just as driven as you’ve always been.”
“When someone thinks killing kids on my watch for drugs is okay, damned right I’m driven.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I just hope the people in Forest County realize the fallout if they put a bigot like Chet Hendricks in the sheriff’s office.”
Wyatt leaned back in his chair. “I told you he won’t win. Give the folks of this town some credit.”
“I’ll be happy when the election is finally over.” She stood and headed for the coffee in the corner.
“So, what was he yapping about concerning Talon?”
She dumped fake creamer into her cup and handed Wyatt a cup of black. “Someone supposedly saw him near the murder scene.”
“We’ll have to question him.”
She sat behind her desk again and sipped the strong, hot coffee. “Yeah, I know.”
“I thought he was living out on the M bar C. How’s he doing these days?”
“Yeah, he’s living there.” She set her favorite bright green mug on the desk and shrugged. Would he recognize it as the one he’d given to her on her thirtieth birthday? She wasn’t sure if she was happy or disappointed when he glanced at it, and his face showed no signs of recognition. “You know Talon. He’s always been a loner. He’s more so since coming home.”
“Prison will do that to a person.”
Talon’s life had never been easy. Their mother married Dawn’s father when Talon was only a baby. Her dad had wanted to adopt him, but Talon’s biological father wouldn’t allow it. Jock Blackwell had insisted Talon carry his name, but he never was a father to Talon, or his other three illegitimate sons for that matter. Her dad had tried his best with Talon, but he’d rebelled early and gotten himself into trouble on a regular basis. Her father always got him out of the misdemeanor stuff--except he hadn’t been able to get him out of the bogus drug charges he’d racked up two years ago in Amarillo.
The day Talon graduated high school, he’d left home to ride the rodeo circuit, until he was thrown from a bull and nearly killed six years ago. He’d moved home to recover, and this time his father wanted to spend time with him. Dawn suspected Jock had wanted to gage his youngest son’s intentions. Of all his sons, Talon was the only one who hadn’t ever cared about getting his hands on Blackwell Ranch. After a few months, Talon and Jock seemed to form some sort of relationship. Then one day, Talon had ridden out over the pasture of his father’s ranch and discovered Jock dead. Her bother never talked of the sight, but it had to have been gruesome. Jock had died from a head injury and lain in the July heat and elements for three days.
She shook her head at the thoughts. “You don’t honestly believe Talon would do or sell drugs, do you?”
Wyatt sipped his black coffee from the Styrofoam cup as if considering his response. “All I know is no one truly decides to be an addict. You know that.”
She stared at the coffee in the mug clutched between her hands. “Talon swore in his trial the coke had been planted on him to keep him from competing in the rodeo. I believe my brother, Wyatt. Talon has always been a hothead and a roughneck, but he has never been an addict, dealer--or a murderer.”
“We still have to talk to him.”
She let out a long breath, sagging with the exhale, and nodded. Wanting to change the subject, she asked about his younger sister. “How’s Rachel? I heard she came home the other day.”
“Rachel’s home, but having a tough time.”
“I’ll have to come over and visit her.” She and Rachel McPherson had been friends in school. But they’d grown apart as high school friends do. Dawn went off to the police academy in Austin, while Rachel went to the University of Texas, graduating as a registered nurse. She ended up joining the Army, being commissioned, and was deployed to Afghanistan. This last deployment had been her third time over there, and it would also be her last. She’d been shot multiple times and had lost her lower leg.
The damned war. Post traumatic stress disorder had screwed up Zack in a big way. He’d all but been an alcoholic, and she believed if it hadn’t been for his little girl, he would’ve put a bullet in his own head after his wife died. His depression, and her fear that he’d go off the deep end, had been what convinced her to talk him into running for sheriff after her father retired, instead of running for the office herself.
“I just wish there was something I could do.” He sipped his coffee and shook his head. “Yesterday, after I brought her home from the Waco VA hospital, Audrey showed up. I love my twin, but I wish she would stay away for a little while. Rachel seemed more depressed after Audrey left, and of course, that upset Mom.”
“Was Lance there too?” What a mess. Lance Cartwright was the last person Rachel needed to see right now.
She understood Rachel’s pain. Nothing worse than being thrown away by a man you loved. Dawn had taken a bullet for Wyatt, costing her their baby’s life. He left her the moment he discovered she’d been pregnant. Like she’d always feared he would, which had been exactly why she hadn’t told him.
“No, he had the good sense to stay away.” Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck. “But my mother thinks everything will be fine and dandy if they all make up. She’s planning a huge dinner Sunday and invited Lance and Audrey over.”
Dawn let out a breath and hugged her mug between her hands, hoping the warmth would take away her sudden chill. “Damn. I mean… This has to be brutal for Rachel. Doesn’t your mom realize how she must feel?”
Not only was Rachel now sterile after being shot in the gut, but there was a time she loved Lance before her sister stole him away by seducing him.
“I think Mom’s in denial. She wants all of us to get along.”
When he looked up, the love for his sister shining in his eyes twisted her heart. He’d always been there for his sisters, but he hadn’t stuck by her when she ne
eded him.
“My baby sister can’t take much more, and without her friends, I’m afraid for her.”
She nodded, but her friend’s welfare wasn’t what had her reeling; it was the man she had once loved.
Chapter 2
Dawn paced the length of the conference room. The tapping of her boots echoing through the room only served to grate on her nerves as much as the kooky bird sounds emitting from Wyatt’s phone. The familiar scents of burnt coffee and lemon furniture polish made the oppressive air somewhat tolerable.
She stopped only to start up in her restless movement again as she and Wyatt waited for Chet and his brother-in-law to show up. Wyatt leaned against the large wall map of Texas at the end of the room and stared down at his iPhone.
She ignored him, or at least tried to. But ignoring him was as easy as pretending the conference room wasn’t about a hundred degrees. Sweat gathered in her hair and between her breasts causing her skin to itch and feel over-exposed.
“Damn it, where are they?” She looked out the glass window of the conference room door.
“It’s only been a half hour. Gene probably had to find someone to cover at the Quick Fill.” Wyatt pushed away from the wall and sat on one of the chairs at the square table in the center of the room, but continued to play his game.
She couldn’t help but smile. When they were kids, he and her brother had been addicted to video games. They’d spend hours during the winter sitting on her family’s couch, hogging the only TV to play on Talon’s old Nintendo.
A cackling sounded from his phone, and he hissed a curse.
She took a few steps toward him and chuckled. “The pigs won?”
“This round.” He glanced up, his blue eyes bright with amusement as his lips quirked in a one-sided grin. “I love this damned game as much as I hate it.”
She sat beside him and folded her hands in her lap. They’d spent a lot of time together on stakeouts, playing card games and doing crosswords. “I refuse to play games on my phone. I’d be addicted in a minute and never get any work done.”
“I’m not addicted.” He glanced down at his phone with a pucker on his lips.
God, he looked so damn kissable.
She shifted in her seat and stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “Right. When did you start playing it?”
He set his phone on the table. “Two weeks ago. One of the guys in the Rangers got me started.”
There was a knock on the door and it opened. She turned toward Chet and his brother-in-law as they entered the room.
After the greetings and formalities, Gene Murphy sat in the seat across from her and Wyatt with a tape recorder in the middle.
She pulled a notepad from her folder and smiled. “Tell us exactly what you remember from yesterday morning between four and five AM.”
Gene shifted his broad shoulders and glanced at Chet, who’d taken the seat beside Wyatt; then he rubbed his hand over his dark beard. “I’d just opened up when I saw Talon Blackwell walk by in front of the Longhorn. I thought it was real odd that he’d be around at that time. The saloon had closed two hours before, and there’s nothing else in that part of town other than the downtown bank branch, old lady Pratt’s boarding house, and the daycare center her daughter runs two blocks down.”
Wyatt leaned forward over his arms. “What was he doing when you saw him?”
“Just walking.” Gene scrunched up his brows as if that would help him to remember better. “He was looking at a piece of paper or something, and he looked a little out of it. You know, like he was dazed or something. And he wiped his face on a rag.”
“Do you know what time this was?” Wyatt asked.
Gene folded his hands on the table. For someone who worked in a gas station, he had extremely clean hands.
“It was exactly four twenty-five.” Gene pulled his hands from the table and hid them in his lap as if Dawn’s scrutiny made him nervous. “I know because I glanced at the clock.”
Dawn’s heart thundered in her chest. How could Talon be involved with murdering a kid? When she’d lost her baby, her brother had been one of the few people who knew about it and had been there for her. “Did you see him either go into the ally to the parking lot behind the bar or come out of it?”
She held her breath as Gene glanced at Chet and shook his head. “I didn’t see him come from behind the bar, but I know he did.”
“What happened that you didn’t see him?” Wyatt’s voice held an edge of warning. She’d heard it more than once when they’d been in vice and questioned bystanders. He never liked when a witness made conclusions that might not be true and could color their perceptions.
Gene frowned and glanced at Chet, then met her and Wyatt straight on. “I got a costumer then. A truck driver pulled up and came in for a burrito and coffee.”
Sweat trickled down Dawn’s neck into her collar. She wasn’t sure if the heat of the room caused it or the memories of her and Wyatt. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Do you know this driver?”
“Nope. Never seen him before. A lot of them use Highway Six through town to get west of the interstate mess around Dallas and Fort Worth.”
“He may have seen something.” Wyatt put voice to her thoughts.
She glanced at him, and for a beat, she went back in time, before she’d lost the baby, before he’d left her. They broke the spell at the same time when they turned away. She shifted in her seat to lean over her arms, and in the process, brushed his arm. “Do you have surveillance video?”
“Yeah.” Murphy leaned back in his chair.
Wyatt stood and moved to the other end of the table where he folded his arms in front of him. The meeting was over. “We’ll need to see those CDs.”
Gene nodded his head. “Sure. I’ll bring them by later today.”
* * * *
Wyatt parked his Silverado beside his mother’s Ford Focus in the gravel driveway, leaned his head back against the rest, and closed his eyes.
He should have known taking this case would bring back memories he’d long ago tried to forget. Dawn was still as driven as she’d always been. Four years ago, they’d been paired together on the Dallas PD, after his partner took a job with the DEA. Wyatt had worked in vice for about two years, and Dawn had been on patrol a little over a year.
They’d been friends since they were kids, he’d even taken her to her senior prom, but working together as police partners had required a deeper relationship. Some cops claimed it bordered on a marriage, especially among vice cops who were constantly working in dangerous situations where undying trust and strong commitment to each other were important.
Dawn had been a great undercover cop. Since she was young, and all but full-blooded Native American with a little African-American and Spanish blood mixed in, she could infiltrate gangs rather easily. He’d loved to watch her work.
Then one night while they’d been on a stakeout, they’d let their mutual attraction get away with them. The moment they were off duty, they’d gone back to his place and made love for hours.
He’d just come off a bad breakup with a local TV news anchor he’d dated off and on since college, and Dawn had dumped a loser whom she caught cheating on her. There had been no regrets after that night. If anything, they’d wondered why they hadn’t ever gotten together before then. For five months, they’d spent every moment together. She’d maintained her apartment for appearances, but had moved in with him.
He’d wanted more, but she wanted to become a detective. His dream had been to buy a ranch somewhere and raise a family with her. However, all she ever wanted had been to work her way up the ranks and eventually run for sheriff of Forest County. For her, settling down and family weren’t even on the radar.
He’d fallen in love with her, and he’d been confident she felt the same about him, but she’d never mentioned having a future with him.
He opened his eyes and straightened in the seat, shutting down the memories
before they dragged him down into the sewer of pain and betrayal. Revisiting the night his world came to an end wasn’t something he willing did.
In the distance, a car alarm went off, drawing his attention to the east and beyond the old split rail fence where the pastures used to be. Now, a bunch of Dallas and Waco middle management types and soccer moms populated the housing development that had sprung up over the past three years.
Considering Leon Ferguson was in jail for his numerable crimes, who would take over building the city-slicker cookie-cutter houses?
With an ounce of luck, no one would take over. He was glad the construction had halted. Thank God, the mall was on the other side of what used to be a five-hundred-acre ranch. He grew up on the Circle M, working with his grandfather, and his younger shithead brother, Kyle.
Kyle was also staring down a long stint as a resident of the state pen for his conspiring with Leon Ferguson against Wyatt’s cousin, Dylan Quinn, and his new wife, Charli Monroe Quinn.
What a waste, not only of Kyle’s life, but of the land, too. Would his grandfather still have sold the place to the developer if he’d known what would have come of his home? What if he had known Wyatt had come to his senses and wanted to become a rancher?
Wyatt’s father never had any interest in the ranch. So, when the time came for Granddad to hang up his branding iron, he figured it would be best to sell the place. At the time, Wyatt had been a big city vice cop, and his younger brother was about as responsible as a horsefly. While his sister Audrey already lived on a twenty-thousand-acre ranch with her fancy divorce lawyer husband, and his other sister had been working her way up the ranks in the United States Army and rarely came home.
Besides, his grandfather figured the money from the sale would be a wonderful chunk of change for all of them. Having a few million in the bank was nice, but damn, Wyatt missed the ranch.
He got out of the SUV and headed up the front porch steps to enter the home he grew up in. His parents had built the ranch-style house after their wedding. His grandparents had lived about a quarter mile down the road. Now, a bank sat where the house had been, his grandmother moved to Phoenix with her best friend, and his grandfather resided in the Ferguson family plot in the Colton cemetery.
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