Indigo Lake

by Jodi Thomas

  He was honest. Straightforward. Dakota didn’t seem to appreciate that. The ground under him when she was near was about as solid as the chocolate on that ice cream. It would settle after they made love a few times. If they made love. Hell, he didn’t even think she liked him.

  “Forget her,” he mumbled to himself. “I don’t need complicated right now.” He had a house to get rid of and a life to get back to. He’d fix the place up good enough to sell while helping a competent sheriff collect evidence, and then leave.

  Blade walked into the sheriff’s office, fighting down a grin. Man, she tasted great with chocolate on her lip. It would take a long time to forget Dakota Davis.

  Sheriff Dan Brigman glanced up from his desk and handed Blade a stack of papers. “You ready to get to work? Not near as exciting as being a special agent, but I could really use the help.”

  “I’m ready, but until we solve this crime, how about you call me deputy. I’m working for the county while I’m on vacation.”

  The sheriff nodded. “Glad to have you around. We need to start asking questions. I’ve had three people from the ranch who didn’t know the second barn door had a lock.”

  The sheriff stood and began to pace. “I know it’s a little point. One lock on one barn, but it doesn’t fit. The Bar W has six barns total. The two with hay burn. The four with expensive equipment don’t burn. Dice said Reid Collins planned to put cars in the barn that was locked but who buys the locks six months before he buys even one car.”

  Blade moved into the puzzle. He loved puzzles. “What did Reid say when you woke him up and told him about the barn fires?”

  Dan stopped pacing and said slowly. “He had a hangover, a bad one. He didn’t look surprised when I told him. It was more anger, like he was losing control of something or someone.”

  Lowering his voice, Dan added, “After he threw a bottle of brandy across the room, his shoulders relaxed and he turned to face me again. For a moment I saw fear in his eyes. He backed away, looking around as if he thought someone else might be behind me, watching, listening. If I was guessing, I’d say he was far more afraid of who set the fires than he was about the barns burning.”

  “Our one clue,” Blade said. “If we find the answer to that question, it might solve both the question of who set the fires and why one body was trapped inside.”

  “Not much of a lead to go on so far.” The sheriff rubbed his forehead. “With your help we might find another during the interviews. I’m glad you’re here, Blade. I’ve got folks lining up to talk about Reid Collins, but I want to start with people who were on the ranch when the fires flared.”

  At least that made one person in Crossroads who wanted him here, Blade thought. “I’ll start with the guys out front on the bench waiting, unless you think the cowboys will open up more to you?”

  Brigman shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll open up to either of us. It’s not their way. But they will give us the facts if we ask the right questions, and then maybe we can piece everything together.”

  “What’s your gut feeling, Sheriff?”

  “A man was killed in that second fire, and the lock on that back door to the barn suggests it might not have been an accident. Maybe he was put in there already dead, or trapped in the back. Either way, we’re dealing with murder. Right now I’m thinking our most likely suspect is one of three men, and I wouldn’t want to arrest any of them.”

  Blade waited. He might not know this sheriff, but he knew lawmen. If Dan was going to talk to anyone it would be him. They might wear different badges, but they were brothers in this fight.

  The sheriff lowered his voice. “First, there is Dice, the old cowboy you met, who admitted he was out in the area last night. And he’d just been let go from a job he probably had for fifty years. Then, there’s Lucas Reyes, who doesn’t have an alibi, and he grew up on the ranch. And he was the first one there after the firemen arrived. Then there is the owner, Reid Collins. The housekeeper said he was drunk, but was he sober enough to light a match? All three men know the land well enough to stay out of sight.”

  “Add the dozen other cowboys who were on the ranch packing up gear when the barns went up in smoke.” Blade had a list of names he’d asked to stop by the station. He’d question every one of them. “Also, it was late, so pretty well anyone could have driven onto the land and started the fires just for the fun of it. I’ve seen men who will light up a forest just to watch the burn.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “Whoever did this wanted to make a point.”

  “Was there anyone on the land who didn’t belong?”

  Brigman nodded. “The new ranch manager Reid hired. Simon Rarrie. A few of the men he brought in to close the ranch have records. I had Pearly run their names. From their employment records I’d guess they are not used to working cattle, either. One of the day workers said they planned to use four-wheelers to round up the last few strays, but from the looks of them, I’d say they were there to make sure everyone left without any trouble.”

  Blade nodded once. “I asked the new ranch manager to come in for a talk and he said he didn’t have time.”

  “What’s the big hurry on closing? I’d think closing a ranch would take at least a few weeks.” Dan frowned. “Dice said up until two days ago the closing was mostly rumor. Then, he said, something happened and it was in full swing. You think the barns burning was the turning point?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. There were still half a dozen cowhands around the place.”

  “When we find out why the ranch has to be closed so quickly, maybe we’ll find out who wanted to do so much damage to kick it off.” Sheriff Brigman smiled. “I’ll tell the new manager he can drive in today or I’ll come out to get him tomorrow morning and he’ll be riding in the back seat with cuffs on. He’ll be spitting nails to keep from cussing me out.”

  The front doors of the county offices opened and Blade heard several men’s voices. “Sounds like the stampede is here.”

  Blade gave a quick salute with the corner of his stack of papers. “It’s time to go to work.”

  Pearly showed Blade the way to an empty courtroom on the second floor and he sat up at one of the long mahogany tables. One by one she sent in every hired hand who’d been on the ranch last night. Cowboys, cooks and the new men sent in to close the ranch.

  The cowboys were tanned and polite. The new men acted bothered that they had to answer questions. None of them wanted to talk to Blade, but that didn’t stop the questions from coming.

  He jotted down their answers, detail after detail, but it was their body language he studied.

  Despite their politeness, Blade could tell that the cowboys were angry and tired. None seemed to know much. The fires had started. There was no way of saving the two barns. The fire department did a great job keeping them from spreading. Yes, they’d miss the job. No, they didn’t care much for the boss.

  The new men were not as friendly. Less interested in talking. They all seemed in a hurry. Not one met Blade’s eyes. Most didn’t seem too bright. Two claimed they were hired for security and none could name the directions of the barns from the headquarters.

  Three hours later he’d taken statements from a dozen people, and as near as he could guess, half of them were lying.

  Only why? And which half?

  Pearly opened the door as formally as if she were the butler at the White House. “Deputy Hamilton,” she whispered in a voice anyone on the second floor could have heard. “You’ve got one more person who was there last night. He’s been waiting to talk to you.”

  “Who?” No one was left on his list.

  Pearly straightened. “Lucas Reyes.”

  “Great.” Blade was tired. It had been a long day and he still didn’t know where he’d sleep tonight. Dakota wouldn’t welcome him back and, unless he wanted to relive a hor
ror film, he didn’t plan on sleeping at Hamilton Acres. He might as well work late.

  “Send him in. It’s already dark, I’ll take one more statement.” The thought of sleeping in his rented truck or staying in a cheap hotel didn’t really appeal to him. Maybe he’d just spread out on one of the court benches.

  The man who stepped through the door wasn’t a cowboy but a polished professional in a thousand-dollar suit. He walked straight to Blade and offered his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Agent Hamilton. I admire your service to our country, both in the army and in your current position with the federal government.”

  Blade stood. Finally, someone who didn’t look like he wanted to start a fight. “You were at the Collins ranch last night, Mr. Reyes?” Somehow this guy didn’t fit with either group.

  “I was. I grew up on that ranch. My father was the foreman until two days ago.”

  Blade decided this guy must be running for office. Lucas Reyes looked so open and honest Blade would vote for him, and he wasn’t even registered in this county.

  “You are aware that you are considered a suspect?” Blade couldn’t believe he was saying the words to the man before him. Everything about his body language said the guy was honest, even the way he looked directly at Blade.

  “I’m aware that Reid Collins said I was probably the one who set the fires. I was one of the first people on the scene of the first fire. I have no alibi.”

  Blade felt like he was playing chess with an opponent who just moved his king into checkmate position. “I think I should read you your rights and tell you to find a lawyer, Mr. Reyes.”

  “I am a lawyer. Read me my rights and lock me up. I’m prepared to stay in jail tonight.”

  “Are you confessing to setting the fires last night?”

  “I’m not saying another word.” Lucas didn’t move. Didn’t blink. If they were playing poker, Blade had no idea who was bluffing.

  The sheriff broke the silence in the room when he entered. “I’ll lock him up, Deputy Hamilton. It might just be the safest place for him tonight.” Dan didn’t glance at Lucas. His stare remained on Blade. “Why don’t you go across the street and order both of you the special for supper? Then, if you’re willing, I’d like you to take the first shift watching our new prisoner. I’ve got to get a few hours’ sleep, then I’ll relieve you about two.”

  When Blade turned to Lucas, the lawyer was smiling as if he’d just been invited to stay over.

  Blade followed Lucas and the sheriff up the third flight of stairs. The entire third floor consisted of two rooms. The first ten-by-ten room was empty, looking like it served as only a pass-through for a small two-celled jail behind the next door. A wide aisle in the middle separated the two cells. Two old desks formed a table in the center.

  Brigman used the table in the aisle space to ask Lucas to empty his pockets. While he patted down the lawyer, Dan said to Blade, “You’ll be more comfortable in the empty cell than sitting outside the door at the top of the stairs. There are only two sets of keys for the cells and the two doors leading to the stairs. I’ll take one set and you take the other. No one will come inside the building, much less step in here unless either you or I open the doors. Once you throw the dead bolts on both room doors, no one enters until you unlock those doors.”

  Glancing at the thin mattress in the open cell, Blade shrugged. It looked clean, as did the pillow and white blanket. The rest of the cell was empty except for a metal chair and a toilet with a sink on top. The bare quarters right now looked far more inviting than the truck. “Reminds me of a few hotels I’ve slept in.” Blade nodded once. “I’ll be fine here. And, Sheriff, don’t worry about coming back until morning. I’ve got no bed waiting for me at Hamilton Acres and no bridge to get across the stream even if I did. I’ll be fine here till morning.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll be back to relieve you at seven. After you get back from the café, I’ll say good-night. You’ll have my number. If you need me, I can be back here in less than five minutes.”

  Blade followed orders. Collected two specials from the café across the street and his leather jacket from his rented Dodge. He took the time to swing by the truck stop for twenty dollars’ worth of snacks and a six-pack of root beer. On a whim he also bought a cheap travel chess set.

  An hour later when the sheriff finally left the building, Blade stood at the top of the stairs and listened for any sounds or movements.

  None. The place was silent.

  Stepping into the first room he locked the first door, and turned the heavy-duty dead bolt. Then he did the same to the second door, to the room with the two cells. No one, not even the sheriff with his key, would pass through the doors until Blade flipped the dead bolts.

  Someone at some time had thought out this system to not only keep the prisoner in jail, but to protect the area from anyone trying to break in. Which seemed strange. Why would people break into jail? He made a mental note to ask the sheriff about it.

  Lucas Reyes hadn’t said a word while the sheriff had talked. He’d handed over everything in his pockets—his college ring, his tie and his suit jacket, as if he were settling in for a long stay. He now stood tall as he stared out the one barred window in his cell. His take-out tray had barely been touched.

  Blade studied him. They must live very different lives, but Lucas was the same size, almost the same build as Blade. Maybe storming through a courtroom wasn’t all that much different from being dropped in the middle of a forest fire. Both of them had been tested and the steel in their backbones showed it.

  “You didn’t do it, did you?” Blade said his thoughts aloud. “But there is some other reason you’re here, isn’t there?” He stared into Lucas’s dark eyes and guessed he’d just spoken the truth.

  “I’m not talking to you or anyone else. As a lawyer, I’d advise you to keep me in jail for as long as legally possible.”

  “I don’t know what’s legal or illegal, Mr. Reyes. I only know about fires, and right now I don’t have a clue about the one on that ranch where you grew up. You must know the place. You could be a great help.”

  Lucas’s dark brown gaze stared at Blade, reminding him of frozen chocolate sauce. Hell, everything, even in the jail, reminded him of Dakota. The dark night, as black as her hair. She was crawling into his brain even when he didn’t have time to think about her.

  Maybe she really was trying to kill the last Hamilton, but first she wanted to drive him mad.

  He’d offered her a good time and she’d acted like he’d insulted her.

  He didn’t like short women. He liked tall blondes. She was going to pay for making him feel half-nuts. When he did make love to her, he’d do it so completely that she’d miss him, think of him, ache for him, for the rest of her life.

  “You all right, Officer Hamilton?” Lucas asked. “I’m the one in jail, but you’re the one who doesn’t seem to be taking it too well.”

  Blade pulled out the chess set. “How about a game? I don’t feel any more like talking than you do.”

  Lucas smiled for the first time. “I’m good at chess.”

  “I have no doubt.” Blade shoved the center table up against the bars of Lucas’s cell.

  Lucas pulled his one chair to the bars. “When I win the first game, I get the bag of Cracker Jack.” He glanced over at the snack pile Blade had accumulated.

  “Fair enough. You can have your pick, but I get the M&M’S. I’ve grown fond of chocolate lately.”

  Lucas straddled his chair. “I deduced that already, Hamilton. You’ve got chocolate spotted all over your shirt. I thought maybe your last bar fight was with a Snickers.”

  “No. With an ice cream cone, but I don’t want to talk about that, either.”

  Lucas laughed. “I can see why. You obviously lost.”

  They began to play. Two strangers learning each ot
her by the way each moved in a game so old that King Arthur’s knights might have played.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WIND BLEW HER midnight hair skyward like thin tree branches as Dakota walked the edge of Indigo Lake. Moisture whispered in the breeze, promising another storm, but she didn’t turn homeward. From this one point, she could look across the water to Hamilton’s place.

  No truck. No lights. No one home. Hamilton hadn’t come back to his place.

  Yet she felt, more than saw, something moving low over his land. Maybe a coyote hunting or a bobcat heading back to one of the caves a mile away along the canyon edges. The landscape seemed alive in the cloudy night.

  “You see it too.” A voice whispered from behind her.

  She didn’t bother turning around. “Grandmother, stop sneaking up on me.”

  The old woman laughed. “If you had more than an eighth of Apache blood, I would never be able to sneak up on you. The Irish mix weakened you, child. Then when your mother married a soldier, who said he didn’t know where his people came from, you added water into your veins. How can your father’s soul rest if he does not know his land?”

  “My father is not dead. At least not that I know of. He just left us the month after I was born, remember?”

  Dakota thought of mentioning that her grandmother’s father was Irish and she herself had married a short Irishman everyone called Hap.

  If Grandmother took the time to look, she’d see that her granddaughters were far more Irish than Apache. But arguing with Grandmother was like spitting into the wind. Grandmother would either call her Apache names or put an Irish curse on her.

  “What do you see, Grandmother, with your Apache eyes?” Dakota whispered.

  “He who moves in the trees near the old house is not an animal, but he is more wild than human I think.” She closed her eyes. “He will battle with the ghosts tonight if he does not leave soon. Perhaps the spirits will take him underground, never to be seen again.”