The thunderstorm cleared as quickly as it had come on, typical of early autumn storms near the mountains. Beau’s backup officer arrived about ten minutes later. As the ambulance made its way back toward town with Carolyn Hildebrandt strapped to a gurney inside, Sam went into Cantone’s house and found some old towels. Blotting much of the residual wetness from her own hair and clothing, she offered another towel to Beau.
“How did you know I was in trouble?” she asked.
He pulled a blanket from his cruiser and draped it over Bart Killington’s shoulders. Handcuffs bound Bart’s hands. He sat with his back to the wall of the house, white-faced and shaking, unmoving since Beau had read him his rights and placed him under arrest for grand theft, conspiracy to commit murder, and fraud.
Beau stared hard at the prisoner. “I didn’t. I just happened to look out the window after I’d questioned this jerk. Saw him rush out to his car. Something about the look on his face. During the interview he’d begun raging about how much trouble all this had caused him. I got a bad feeling. I planned on following him to the south end of Taos, just to make sure he left town, but when he headed this direction and I knew you were here . . .”
“But—Carolyn?”
“I never saw her. Got hung up with a fender-bender in town, had to radio Taos police to handle it.” He pulled Sam into his embrace. “I was pretty worried that I’d gotten too far behind him.”
Sam leaned against his chest. His timing couldn’t have been better.
“I’m going to have about a week’s worth of paperwork to do,” Beau murmured, keeping an eye on his prisoner. “But I want to see you this evening. If you’re up to some kind of take-out dinner and a few drinks.”
She was more than up for it. A quiet evening at home seemed like nirvana at that moment. She watched as Beau led Killington to the cruiser and secured him in the back seat. The backup officer continued to photograph the places where Carolyn’s bullets left their mark, and to bag the gun and the smashed bullet from the carport post.
The late-afternoon sun was already doing its work at drying the road and droplets of water clinging to the newly clipped grass provided only a small reminder of the ferocity of the storm. In the flowerbeds beside the house a few late roses shed beaten petals, their final act before winter. The head of one deathcamas, however, bloomed as heartily as ever, protected by an overhanging rosebush.
Sam locked the front door and watched Beau drive away. A few minutes later, the other officer finished and went on his way. Sam surveyed the property that had been under her care for the past two weeks. It seemed lonelier than ever.
Chapter 30
Sweet Masterpiece - The First Sweet’s Sweets Bakery Mystery Page 34