Texas Tall

by Janet Dailey

“Well, I want you to know, Drummond, that I plan to do my job. And I expect you to do yours. Those Tylers have always thought themselves a cut above everybody else. It does a body good to see one of ’em go down and face justice like us ordinary folks.” Abner took a tissue from a box on the desk and blew his nose. “Do you think we can get Will for murder?”

  Abner was like an attack dog straining at the leash. Earlier, Clay had wondered whether Stella was pulling the sheriff’s strings, as well as his own. Now he was convinced of it.

  “Murder?” Clay shook his head. “Not likely. We’d have to prove malice, and there’s no evidence of that. The inquest will be looking at self-defense versus manslaughter, which carries a sentence of two to twenty years in Texas.”

  Abner smirked. “Even the minimum would take Will Tyler down a peg. What’ve we got to prove?”

  Clay leaned back in his chair. “Tomescu had already surrendered his gun when Will shot him. As I see it, the case hinges on the knife, and whether a reasonable man would see it as a threat. If so, that would argue for self-defense.”

  “It wasn’t much of a knife,” Abner said. “Just a little switchblade. Even if Tomescu had thrown it, it wouldn’t have done much damage.”

  “But throwing it could’ve wounded Will or maybe distracted him long enough for Tomescu to grab his gun back and use it. That’s what the defense will argue if this goes to trial. Like I say, it’s a fine line.”

  Abner’s face lit. “What if Tomescu hadn’t tried to throw the knife at all? What if Will put it in his hand after the man was shot dead?”

  “Wouldn’t the knife have Will’s prints on it if he’d done that?”

  “Not if he’d wiped it clean and used a handkerchief or something to put it in the dead man’s hand.”

  Clay frowned. Evidence tampering was a crime, but if Abner was willing to try, it was no skin off his nose. “Could have happened,” he said. “What else can you think of?”

  “Will’s a cool-headed shot. He could’ve wounded the man instead of blasting him through the chest. Ever see what a thirty-eight can do to a body at point-blank range?” Abner stood. “Will Tyler deserves to pay for what he done. And it’s up to us to see that he does.”

  With that parting line, the sheriff marched out of Clay’s office and closed the door with a click. Clay opened his desk drawer, took out a bottle of Lortab, and gulped one down with the last of his morning coffee. Abner Sweeney was a jackass, but at least they were on the same side. And discussing Will Tyler’s case with him had clarified Clay’s own concerns about the upcoming inquest. Will Tyler was one of Blanco County’s leading citizens. He was respected, even liked by most of the people who knew him. Given the evidence, and the mitigating circumstances, there was a good chance the judge would rule against pressing charges.

  Will would walk free, and Stella Rawlins would be out for blood.

  Clay liked being county attorney, especially with the prospect of moving on to something bigger. He liked being a respected member of the community and having the kind of family life people admired. If Stella released that security footage, everything he’d worked for would be gone—his job, his marriage, his children, and his future. He’d be lucky to stay out of jail. One way or another, he needed to get that tape and destroy it. Until then, he’d have no choice but to do what she wanted.

  And what she wanted was for Will Tyler to go to prison.

  The physical evidence alone wouldn’t be enough to send the case to trial. Neither would the coroner’s findings nor even the testimony of the witnesses. That left the judge.

  Apart from the juvenile court, there were just three judges in Blanco County. Clay knew them all—decent men, but human, with human failings. They had their weaknesses, and Clay knew how to use them—a small favor with implied repayment, a concession in some unrelated matter, or just a damned good argument. It was something he did well.

  And it wasn’t as if an inquest was a life-or-death matter. Any room for doubt would be enough to justify sending a case to trial—a trial that could be delayed by weeks, even months, buying him more time to deal with Stella.

  Feeling better, Clay picked up the phone and buzzed the receptionist at the front desk. “Glenda, could you find out which judge is on the Tyler inquest and get him on the phone for me? Thanks.”

  * * *

  Lauren had never been an early riser. But sharing a bed with Sky was changing that. When he spent nights with her in town, he was usually gone by first light. If she wanted any morning time with him, she had to get up, too. Now that she was getting used to it, she’d come to enjoy the peace of early dawn and the beauty of the sunrise that came with it. But waking to full alertness at such an ungodly hour was still a challenge.

  This morning, ten days after the terrible ice storm, she woke to the aromas of bacon and fresh coffee. Flinging aside the covers, she pulled on her quilted silk robe and pattered into her apartment-sized kitchen. Sky, dressed and ready for the day, was standing at the stove, scrambling eggs. He glanced around with a heart-melting grin. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

  “You’re fixing me breakfast?”

  “I’m fixing us breakfast. Sit down.”

  She sank onto a chair, blinking herself awake as he passed her a cup of steaming coffee, bitter and black, the way he liked it. Lauren added cream and sugar before tasting hers. Through the kitchen window she could see the barest glint of morning. The weather had cleared and warmed in the past week, but the autumn colors were gone, the grass brown, the trees bare and broken.

  “How can I learn to be a good ranch wife if you spoil me like this?” she joked.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that.” He set two loaded plates on the table and popped two slices of bread out of the toaster. “Eat up,” he said.

  “If I eat all this, I’ll get fat.”

  “All the more for me to love.”

  Laughing, she filled her fork. This was the Sky Fletcher few people knew—laughing, teasing, affectionate, and happy. Opening himself to her as he did was the best gift she could have asked for.

  “Aren’t you going to work this morning?” she asked.

  “Soon. There’s plenty to do, and I want to be there for Will, in case he needs anything. The inquest is scheduled for this morning. He’s putting on a brave face, but if the decision is to charge him, he’s going to take it hard.”

  “How soon will he know?”

  “Tori will be at the inquest. She’ll call him as soon as it’s over. Lord, I hope it’s good news. The ranch has enough trouble as it is. We don’t need a trial. We need Will.”

  “How’s Erin taking all this?”

  “She’s one brave kid—doesn’t want her dad to know how scared she is. But I think Will’s even more worried for her than he is for himself.”

  “He would be.” Lauren sipped her coffee. “Lately I’ve been thinking about that piece of canyon land Will wants to buy from me. I know it would please him to get it back. It might even take his mind off his troubles for a little while.”

  “You’d sell it to him for that reason? It’s a nice idea, Lauren, but I thought you wanted time to explore the place while it’s yours.”

  “I do,” Lauren said. “So why not do it soon? The weather’s supposed to be mild for the next couple of weeks. You and I could take Erin with us and spend some time exploring. Or if you can’t get off work, I could just take Erin. We could pack a picnic lunch, make it fun for her. When we’ve explored to our heart’s content, then I’ll sell the land to Will for a dollar, as I promised I would. That land has been a sore spot between our families since before you were born. It’s time we put an end to it and made peace.”

  Sky reached across the table and clasped her hand. “That’s a great idea, and I love you for thinking of it. Do you want me to bring it up to Will, or would you rather wait and do it yourself?”

  “Let me do it,” Lauren said. “I could use a few points with the ranch family—especially with Jasper.”

/>   Finished with his breakfast, Sky rose. “Don’t worry about Jasper. He’s a prickly old bird, but he’ll come around. Nobody could resist you for long.”

  “Don’t count on his coming around anytime soon. Not as long as my last name’s Prescott.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan to fix that.” He strode to her side of the table, lifted her to her feet, and gathered her close for a lingering kiss. As her body molded to his through the silk robe, Lauren felt the warm stirrings of desire. It would be tempting to coax him back to bed and make him late for work. But Sky wasn’t a man to be coaxed into shirking his duties, not even by a warm and willing woman. Maybe that was one of the reasons she loved him so much.

  “I’ll call you when I know about the inquest,” he said.

  “Thanks. I’ll be waiting to hear.”

  She kissed him at the door; then she walked to the window to watch his truck drive away. She was far luckier than she deserved to be, Lauren thought. She had her health, her career as an accountant, all the money she needed, and the love of a wonderful man. It didn’t seem right that someone as fair, honest, and good as Will Tyler should be surrounded by problems—a ranch that was sinking into a financial quagmire, a possible prison sentence, and a failed marriage to a woman he clearly still loved.

  What had happened to drive Will and Tori apart? Will had never talked about it in Lauren’s hearing. Tori, although she was Lauren’s friend, had never shared the story of her marriage and how it had ended. Lauren told herself that it was a private matter—as such things should be.

  Still, she couldn’t help wanting to know—in part because she wanted to avoid similar mistakes, but mostly because she cared deeply about these two people and their lovely young daughter. They’d become part of her life—her future family. She wanted to understand them.

  Lauren turned away from the window and began clearing away the breakfast dishes. She would give anything to help Sky’s half brother and his loved ones through their troubles. But for now, there was nothing she could do but hope and wait.

  * * *

  Beau found Will in the stallion barn, cleaning out stalls with a shovel and a broom. He was going at it with a fury that Beau understood all too well. Last spring, Beau had been the one facing trial. Things had turned out all right, but he knew how his brother must be feeling.

  “Hey.” Beau leaned against a partition, trying to look casual. “We pay teenage boys to do that job. You’re the boss, not a stable hand.”

  Will gave him a glance, then went back to shoveling. “What am I supposed to do, sit on the porch with Jasper and wait for the call? Hell, I might as well make myself useful.”

  “You’ll get through this, Will,” Beau said. “I know that sounds like a stupid thing to say, but I’ve been in your shoes. You’re a tough man—even tougher than you think you are.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that.” Will straightened, bracing the point of the shovel blade on the floor of the barn. “Wait till you have your own child. Then you’ll understand. I’m not afraid of prison. I could survive a few years if it came to that. And I know you’d take care of the ranch. But the idea of leaving Erin, having her grow up without me, with the shame of a father behind bars—that’s the worst. And if her mother marries that prissy school principal, knowing he’d be raising Erin in my place . . . Lord, that’s what I can’t even stand to think about.”

  “But that’s not going to happen,” Beau said. “You’re innocent. The bastard had a knife up to throw at you. You killed him in self-defense.”

  Will muttered a curse. “Didn’t you learn anything in the DEA? It’s not about guilt or innocence, damn it, it’s about politics! Both Abner and Clay Drummond are counting on a lot of press from this case. Throw Stella into the mix, and anything could happen. They’d see me hang if they could get away with it!”

  The jangle of a cell phone startled both men into silence. Mouth tightening, Will reached for the phone in his vest pocket.

  “Relax, it’s not yours. It’s mine.” Beau pulled out his phone and took the call. Will tensed, like a man about to receive a blow, as his brother answered, then turned away.

  “Yes,” Beau was saying. “He’s right here, Tori. Yes, I’ll tell him.” He ended the call.

  “She called you?” Will faced him, bristling.

  “She thought it might be easier for me to tell you face-to-face,” Beau said. “The case is going to trial. Abner’s on his way out here to arrest you.”

  “Call Abner.” Will was stone-faced. “Tell him I’ll be driving into town. I won’t have my daughter seeing me led away in handcuffs.”

  “I’ll call him,” Beau said. “But I’ll be driving you.”

  “No need for that,” Will said. “This is my problem, not yours.”

  Beau put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s our family’s problem. And you’re not going through it alone.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Tori waited in the rear entryway to the county building, which housed the sheriff ’s department and the jail. Flanked by an armed deputy, Abner Sweeney stood beside her. His freckled face wore a self-satisfied smirk. A set of handcuffs dangled from his plump fist. He swung them back and forth, humming under his breath, a maddening sound.

  “I can’t imagine you’re going to need those cuffs,” Tori said. “Will’s coming in on his own. He’s not going to run away or attack you. You’d be safer putting them on me.”

  She was only half joking. Right now, it was all she could do to keep from punching the obnoxious little man in the mouth.

  He chuckled. “I always did like your sense of humor, Tori. But the cuffs are part of the arrest process. They let the suspect know who’s in charge.”

  The suspect? Will? Tori was still struggling to accept the unthinkable. The judge’s decision had left her reeling, her confidence shaken to the core. How could this be happening?

  She steeled herself as Beau’s Jeep pulled up to the curb. Inside, she might be falling apart, but she couldn’t let Abner know that—or Will. Especially Will.

  The inquest had raised her hopes at first. As the evidence was presented, she’d felt sure that the conclusion would be self-defense. But at the last moment, the judge, a man Tori had known and trusted for years, had expressed his doubts and called for a trial. Stunned, Tori had looked around for Clay as the room emptied, hoping he might give her some explanation. But the county prosecutor had already left.

  Will climbed out of the Jeep. Without waiting for Beau, who’d driven him, he strode up to the jail entrance and through the automatic doorway. Head high, face expressionless, he appeared proud and unafraid. But Tori knew what he must be feeling. His eyes didn’t even flicker toward her as the sheriff cuffed his wrists and read him his rights. That done, the deputy led him back to booking, to be searched, fingerprinted, photographed, and humiliated. The sheriff followed, leaving Tori in the entryway.

  Beau had come in through the outside door. As Tori turned and saw him—the friend who’d been there since her childhood—something broke inside her. A sob caught in her throat. She began to shake, as if the earth were breaking apart under her feet.

  Beau reached her in two long strides and gathered her close. Holding her gently but firmly, he spoke. “It’ll be all right. We can get him out tomorrow, after his bail hearing.”

  “I’m his lawyer. I know that.” Her voice wavered. “But I’m scared, Beau. What if I can’t do this? What if I let him down and he goes to prison? Maybe Will should hire somebody else.”

  “You won’t let him down.” He eased her away, holding her at arm’s length. “When it comes to protecting people you care about, you’re a tigress, Tori. Will may not be your husband any longer, but he’s Erin’s father. You won’t just be fighting for him—you’ll be fighting for her, for our whole family!”

  “But what if I fail? What if I lose? The judge in there had every reason to rule in Will’s favor. But in the end he went the other way. Something like that could happen again, a
nd it would kill Will. It would kill Erin.”

  “That’s why we have juries,” he said. “Will shot that man in the belief that he was saving himself and Erin. Your job is to help those jurors see the truth.” His grip tightened on her shoulders. “I’ve known you most of my life, Tori. You always had your eye on the prize. I’ve never known you to doubt yourself.”

  He was getting to her, as only Beau knew how. But the uncertainty was still there. “I’ve never had so much depending on me—or so much to lose,” she said.

  “You still love him, don’t you?”

  Beau’s question caught Tori off guard, but she managed a quick recovery. “That’s a low blow if I ever heard one,” she said.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Do you still love him?”

  The night of the storm flashed through her mind—Will’s crushing arms, his kisses, their bodies seeking each other in desperate need. But that hadn’t been love. It hadn’t even been close.

  “I care for him, of course,” she said. “He’s Erin’s father, after all. But right now, that can’t be allowed to matter. Will is my client. That’s how I need to think of him.”

  He let her go with a quick hug. “You’ll do us all proud, lady,” he said. “And when Will’s cleared, we’ll have a big celebration. For now, let’s both get back to the ranch. This’ll be a tough day for Erin. She’s going to need us.”

  Leaving her, he headed out to his Jeep. Tori watched him drive away. Beau had given her a good pep talk. But she’d known him since kindergarten and she’d recognized the look in his eyes.

  Beau was as scared as she was.

  * * *

  Abner strolled down the hall to the row of holding cells, where Will Tyler had been taken after the booking procedure. He’d phoned Stella right after the inquest. She’d been pleased as punch. Abner was pleased, too. Putting a Tyler behind bars was no small accomplishment.

  Abner and Will Tyler went back a long way. In school Will had been everything Abner wasn’t—popular, smart, admired, and rich, at least by Blanco standards. He’d held class offices, gotten the best grades, and dated the prettiest girls, while Abner, a pudgy nobody, had been ignored. Will had never been unkind to the lonely boy. Like the other popular students, he’d simply treated Abner as if he didn’t exist.