Texas Grit

by Barb Han

  Ed hesitated. “There’s been a security violation at the ranch and Ella has asked me to stay here.”

  “What does that mean?” Dade dug his heels in and looked out the window. “What kind of violation?”

  “It’s under control now but a gentleman sprinted across the lawn and was then subdued by Terrell.” Ed’s words were reassuring. He had been the Mav’s best friend and would want to make sure the family was safe. “Since the sheriff seems to view Ms. Palmer as a witness instead of a suspect, it’s safe to say she’s above suspicion for now. Will you escort her and let Terrell, Dalton and me take care of things here?”

  “What happens on the ranch is my business.” Guilt for neglecting his duties at home was a sucker punch to Dade’s gut. None of his family would tell him that’s what he’d been doing. He’d been working odd hours to keep up his part of family business. But Dade’s guilt wouldn’t allow the cop-out. He could be doing more.

  “Understood.” Ed’s voice was calm.

  The problem was that being home made Dade think about his relationship with the Mav.

  * * *

  THE SHERIFF TOOK his usual spot across the expansive desk after ushering Carrie and Dade into his office. The ride over had been quiet, and Carrie wondered what was going on in Dade’s mind. She could tell based on his expression that he was still stewing over the situation at the ranch. Ed had reassured him that everything was fine—no one had been hurt when a mentally challenged middle-aged man sprinted across the lawn with a knife in his hand. But right now her attention was on the sheriff.

  “I sent the stuffed animal and the flower to the forensics lab. Mr. Staples apprised me of the situation, and I assure you that we’re doing everything we can to find out who’s targeting you,” Sawmill began. His hands were folded on top of his desk. It sounded like his standard line, but at least Carrie didn’t feel like a suspect anymore.

  “Could someone want it to look like I murdered Brett?” she asked. “To throw your office off the trail?”

  The sheriff paused thoughtfully. “That’s an angle we’re taking under consideration.”

  “But you don’t think it’s plausible,” Dade interjected.

  “Of course this is just my personal opinion—”

  “Backed by twenty-five years of investigative experience,” Dade added.

  Sawmill nodded with a look of appreciation for the compliment.

  “The person who committed this crime didn’t come at it straightforward. Whoever it was wanted to avoid a personal confrontation, which is why he or she—” he glanced at Carrie with an apologetic look “—surprised the victim in the shower.”

  “Which means this person isn’t strong enough to take Brett on,” Dade said. “So, you’re possibly looking at someone small in stature.”

  “That’s the thinking. The initial reason Ms. Palmer fell under suspicion was because of her familiarity with the dog and her general size. Female perpetrators often don’t attack a someone directly because of their weight and strength disadvantage.”

  Carrie was beginning to see a picture emerge. There were three women in Brett’s life—her, his mother and his sister. None of them would do any harm to him, but at least she understood why she’d been questioned.

  “The first thing we look for is motive,” Sawmill supplied. His demeanor was softer this time, more cooperative.

  “An argument in front of my store could hurt my business, and I’ve worked hard to be a success,” she admitted.

  Again, Sawmill nodded. “But those types of crimes usually occur in the heat of the moment, which didn’t exactly add up, considering the victim in this case was murdered hours later.”

  “And one public disagreement wouldn’t likely be enough to ruin what I have going,” she added with a nod toward the sheriff.

  “Right. So, we interviewed a few witnesses who stated that you were the one to end the relationship and that the victim didn’t take it well.” Another apologetic look in her direction, and she assumed it was for the invasion to her privacy.

  “That’s true. But what does that have to do with anything?” For the sake of finding Brett’s actual killer, she could look past the intrusion, no matter how icky it felt to realize her life felt on display.

  “In those cases, the person murdered is generally the one who broke off the relationship,” Sawmill supplied.

  Carrie didn’t follow. “Why’s that?”

  “The jilted person can’t stand the thought of the person he or she loves being with another man or woman, whichever being the case.” Sheriff Sawmill leaned forward. “That’s usually when things turn sour.”

  “Brett didn’t want to break up. That was causing a lot of friction between us,” she supplied. But Sawmill would already know that based on the texts.

  “I apologize for the question, but what happened? What was the reason you ended the relationship?” Sawmill asked.

  “Honestly, the whole thing was a huge mistake on my part to begin with, and it didn’t take long to realize. I’d been working too many hours at the ice cream shop and it was paying off professionally. Personally, not as much. My life had become nothing but work, and I decided to put myself back out there. Brett seemed nice enough in the beginning. I guess I liked the fact that he rode a motorcycle. It made him seem dangerous in a way. Reckless. He would come into the store and must’ve asked me out a dozen times before I finally agreed. Guess I knew all along that nothing would ever come of us.” Admitting this in front of Dade made her uncomfortable, but she would do what it took to help the sheriff get on track to find the person who’d killed Brett.

  “Was there an event that was the final straw? I’m curious as to what made you finally decide your relationship was over,” the sheriff said.

  Dade was studying the tile floor intently, and she couldn’t get a feel for his reaction to what he was hearing. It seemed odd to be talking about her past relationship with him sitting next to her, but there was no reason it should. It wasn’t like she and Dade were in a relationship. He was helping her sort out the mess that had become her life. He was being a good friend. And even though chemistry pinged between them, they both seemed to know acting on it would be a mistake. She would hurt him or vice versa.

  “The writing was on the wall from the first date. We were too different. I mean, I thought we’d have something in common because we both grew up in tough circumstances,” she said thoughtfully. “But I guess our reactions to that upbringing were totally off-kilter. He used his as an excuse to drink too much, to be a little too rude to people who were just trying to be nice. It was pretty obvious that we didn’t look at the world in the same way.”

  “How long did the two of you go out?” The sheriff’s gaze darted back and forth between Carrie and Dade.

  “Longer than we should’ve. At first, it was nice to have someone to catch a movie with or eat dinner. We’d grab a drink after work. That lasted a few weeks before he surprised me by taking me to his family get-together. He said he wanted to go to the lake but he didn’t tell me his mother and sister would be there. I freaked out and said I was sick and that I needed to leave. Then I started making excuses about having too much work. I let it drag out longer than I should’ve because I didn’t want to hurt him. He was so into the relationship that I wanted to let him down softly.” And she had a little guilt for letting the so-called relationship go on because she was tired of spending Friday nights alone.

  “But he didn’t agree.” Sawmill picked up the Zantac packet but then tossed it down again, seeming to think better of taking one.

  “No. He became even more convinced we should be together. Said he wanted to show me that we were meant to be and that I should give him a chance.” Carrie crossed her legs and bounced her foot back and forth.

  “And did you see things his way?”

  “I told him that I needed a break in order to dis
tract him and give him enough space to think clearly. My plan didn’t work. He started trying to win me back. He texted almost constantly, which you’ve already seen, and left gifts at my business. He’d drive by to see if my car was in the parking lot when I said I was at work.” Admitting how bad the relationship had become made her even more nervous about how it had ended. “I didn’t mind parking in the back so he wouldn’t know when I was there.”

  “And that’s where Nash Gilpin found you the night you came in to file the complaint against him,” the sheriff supplied.

  Reality dawned. “I’ve considered that before, but the two of them couldn’t have known each other, could they?”

  “It’s a connection we have to consider.” The sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he needed to stem a headache. He picked up the Zantac packet and ripped it open. “Which brings me back to the stuffed animal.”

  Reality hit with a hard smack. She felt like she might not be able to breathe if the sheriff was confirming her fear that Brett had been killed because of her. She couldn’t help but think the dark cloud was extending to those she touched.

  “Your ex keeps showing up, trying to win you back at the same time someone else is vying for your attention.” The sheriff popped a Zantac in his mouth and took a swallow from the water bottle on his desk. “Nash had motive if he believed it was possible you’d get back together with Brett. Was Nash ever in your shop at the same time as Brett?”

  “I’m not sure. I never really paid attention. Business was good before...all this started happening. The days would fly by.” Carrie thought long and hard. How many times had Nash been in? Every day for two weeks. What times? He’d pop in throughout the day when he was on a break. “It’s a definite possibility. In fact, I’m pretty sure he was there at least once at the same time as Brett, and it was a couple of days before the murder.”

  Dade turned to the sheriff. “Have you gotten any closer to locating Nash?”

  Sawmill shook his head. “His employer gave us a couple of names of his next of kin, who we’re currently trying to track down now. They’re distant relatives so we’re not hopeful. He doesn’t exactly come from a stable family background, and it’s most likely that he quit his job and moved on. The two events aren’t necessarily related. The waterslide operator said Nash had been talking about making enough money to relocate to Florida. And that very well might be where he is. Until we locate him and have a conversation, he’s at the top of our suspect list.”

  “From what you know about him already, does he fit the profile of a stalker?” Carrie asked.

  “A guy who moves from town to town. Doesn’t have many friends to speak of. It’s possible. If this crime is romantically linked, a love-obsessed stalker is someone who would develop a fixation on a person he has no real personal relationship with. He would display some form of delusional behavior. Most of them suffer from a mental disorder.”

  Carrie’s foot was making double time. “The guy did seem out of touch with reality, but I don’t know about being delusional.” She was no expert, but something had seemed off about him during the few times she’d interacted with him. She’d blamed it on alcohol but it could be more.

  “One of his coworkers said he spent a lot of time alone, babbling about nothing in particular. Most of the people we spoke to knew about his drinking problem,” the sheriff stated.

  “What did his employer have to say about it?” Dade asked.

  “The festival said they don’t have funds to dig too deeply into every worker’s background, because it’s not uncommon to employ people who hop from job to job. He might have given them a fake Social Security number. Judge Watson subpoenaed the parent company’s records first thing this morning. Funtimes Inc. has been ordered to give my office access to their files.”

  “And how did they respond?” Dade asked.

  “We hope to know more in a few days when files arrive,” the sheriff responded truthfully. “These things take time.”

  “Have you spoken to Samuel recently?” she asked.

  The sheriff nodded.

  “Is he okay?” She paused a beat. “He seemed really upset the night Nash cornered me. And then the next morning he stopped by the shop but Brett showed and I haven’t seen Samuel since. Or Mrs. Hardin for that matter. Of course, I’ve been preoccupied so they could walk right past me and I might not realize it.”

  “He stopped by yesterday to find out if there were any leads in the case,” the sheriff said.

  Carrie leaned forward, unsure if she really wanted the answer to the question burning in the back of her mind about the investigation into Nash.

  Did she have time to give?

  Chapter Twelve

  “What else can you tell us about a love-obsessed stalker?” Carrie wanted to know what she was up against.

  “One of the key points to think about with a love-obsessed stalker is that he believes he can make the object of his affection love him, and that’s where we believe the courtship is coming in with the stuffed animal and flowers.” Sawmill flashed his eyes at Carrie. “Did Nash say anything to you that could give the impression he was obsessed?”

  “He said I’d learn to love him a couple of times when he stopped by the shop.” Carrie felt the blood rushing in her ears.

  “This type of person would be desperate to develop a positive relationship with you,” he added.

  “I’m not so sure about that. He didn’t seem to care if I wanted him around or not. In fact, he didn’t seem to mind forcing himself on me.”

  Sawmill jotted down a couple of notes on the file in front of him. “He would most likely have built an entire fantasy life of relationships with people he hardly knew.”

  “How far does this fantasy life go?” Carrie felt nauseous at the thought someone like that could be stalking her. All those times it had felt like eyes were watching her brought a chill to her spine.

  “To the extent that he’d begin trying to act out his fictional plots in the real world,” Sawmill supplied.

  “Sounds like a crazy person,” she shot back, rubbing the chill from her arms.

  “A person like this is usually calculating. Deranged, yes. Crazy, no. The latter tends to be apprehended before any real crime has been committed based on a smaller offense,” he supplied. “If we’re dealing with what we think, in his mind, it’s your fault that he has to do what he does.”

  “Is that because in his twisted mind I’m somehow responsible for his feelings toward me?” More chills assaulted her as the sheriff nodded.

  “Which also tells me that he believes I’m asking for the attention in some way.” Carrie swallowed the bile burning the back of her throat. “How far would this scenario be carried out? Say, for example, would this person kill his intended for her affection?”

  “It’s within reason,” Sawmill said, and she could see that this wasn’t any easier for him. He still hadn’t solved the first high profile murder case on his desk, and crime had been multiplying in his county ever since. His reputation was on the line, and people were antsy. Her frustration at being treated like a suspect earlier dissolved a little bit more. All she could think about was bringing Brett’s killer to justice and helping the sheriff catch the person who was obsessed with her.

  “And at any point none of this seems wrong to the person?”

  “Again, the person transfers that to the object of their obsession.” Right. The sheriff had said that a few moments ago. “And what if Nash isn’t responsible for Brett’s death?” she asked. “Surely he can’t be the only suspect. Did you check the couple of names I gave your deputy the other night?”

  Sawmill said he had. “My deputies are dotting every i and crossing every t, interviewing everyone who might be connected. So far, we’ve gotten nothing on any of those leads. In the process, we’ve uncovered a few names to add to the list during our investigation,
and we’re hoping that you might be able to help us out by telling us if you’ve heard of any of these people.”

  Thinking about Brett had her also thinking about his dog, Tyson. Her heart fisted.

  “Before we get into it, can I ask what’s going to happen to Tyson?” she asked before the sheriff could continue. He must be scared now that his master was gone.

  “Ms. Strawn didn’t want him, so he’s at the animal shelter.” The sheriff shook his head.

  “I’ll take him,” Dade said before Carrie could offer.

  “From what I can see, he’s not a very well-adjusted animal.” Sawmill looked at Dade apologetically.

  “Doesn’t matter. We’ll find a job for him on the ranch and train him. He’ll be right as rain in no time.” Carrie shouldn’t allow her heart to swell at the gesture.

  “I wish I could take him, but he’s aggressive with other dogs and I have Coco,” she offered.

  “You can visit him any time you want, and within a couple of months Coco will be able to, as well.” Dade’s confidence in his ability to work with the animal was sexy, and Carrie’s stomach gave a little flip. But then, he did own a ranch, or would when his father’s will was read and had grown up around every kind of animal imaginable.

  She smiled at Dade. A simple gesture, but it felt so right to be looking at him and smiling, even in the midst of all the craziness. It was probably just residual feelings from their childhoods, from a time when life was no more complicated than chasing each other around the playground in a game of tag. Just like it had felt right to kiss him, a little voice said, but she shut that down immediately. First of all, the thought couldn’t be more inappropriate under the circumstances. And secondly...well...secondly didn’t matter. The thought was inappropriate. Period.

  “Sheriff, you said that you usually look at people close to the victim. Is there any chance his mother or sister could’ve been involved?” Although she couldn’t imagine they would be. At this point she was throwing anything at the wall to see if it would stick.