“Fine. I get it, sir. I’m just the dispatcher, sir,” Kimberly added nastily.
Ouch! So much for young love, Caro thought.
Wyatt turned away from Kimberly. “I’m grateful for your offer, Dr. Hartlan. I’ll look forward to working with you.”
Caro had to give Bodine points. She would have been embarrassed as all get out if the situation had been reversed, yet he’d admitted his error, then corrected it by hiring her and putting Kimberly in her place. Too bad he couldn’t smile just once—to ease the tension. He had a gorgeous smile. But she decided to keep that thought to herself.
“Do you need to send for anything?” Bodine asked her.
“No. Since I just finished my workshop at the university, everything I need is in my car—including my laptop and microscope.”
“Where are you staying?” Kimberly wondered, still sounding sulky.
Care paused. That was a problem. “I checked out of my Tucson hotel first thing this morning.” Tucson was about seventy miles northwest of Tombstone, and it would take the better part of a day to complete a forensic investigation. “I’d planned on driving home this afternoon, but if you’ll just point me toward the nearest motel…”
“There’s only two, and they’re always full in the summer.”
“She can stay with me at the Bar E,” Kimberly quickly chimed in. For the first time, she smiled warmly at Caro.
Before Caro could think of a polite way to say, You couldn’t pay me, Bodine spoke.
“No. Dr. Hartlan will be staying at the Silver Dollar.”
“Your ranch, Wyatt?”
Caro was struck by Kimberly’s dismay—and by her own undeniable excitement. She would get a chance to know Wyatt Bodine, up close and personal. She wondered if Wyatt and his Girl Friday were an item, then decided they weren’t. Kimberly was too obvious and Bodine too stand-offish for them to be lovers. It was also pretty clear that Kimberly wasn’t thrilled with Wyatt’s suggestion. This looked like a one-sided affair of the heart to Caro. Which meant Wyatt Bodine might still be unattached. That fact made her more cheerful than she usually felt on a case.
These were the 1990s, and she was a 90s woman. She might not have Kimberly’s voluptuous femininity, but in Phoenix she didn’t lack for male companionship. Hmm. If Bodine’s character was as appealing as his presence, maybe she’d buy him dinner when this case was over.
Heck, maybe I’ll buy him breakfast, too.
Kimberly was still arguing with Wyatt’s decision. “My house has much more room than yours.”
“But you have an invalid at home. Your grandfather needs quiet.” Bodine’s face softened with concern. Caro was surprised at the difference it made. They might not be lovers, but there’s warm affection on both sides.
“Kimberly’s grandfather is very ill,” he explained to Caro. “The doctors are extremely worried.”
“And so am I. Wyatt, you’re right, and I apologize. It’s just that, well, I want to learn more from Dr. Hartlan myself. I’d rather be your partner—your deputy—than your dispatcher.”
About-face there, Caro observed, watching the interplay between the two. First Kimberly didn’t want to learn forensics, then she did. She waited for Wyatt’s next move, interested to see how the man reacted under pressure. That was always a good thing to know.
“Our spreads are adjacent and you’re only a few minutes away, Kimberly. You know my door is always open.”
“But you have duties to attend to, Wyatt! Plus running your ranch. You don’t need extra work entertaining guests.”
Caro didn’t care for the other woman’s tone of voice. “I’m not here to be entertained, Ms. Ellis. I’m here to work. If you want to learn anything about forensics, I’d be happy to teach you—but it’s a harsh subject. It doesn’t belong around invalids. If you don’t know that, let me be the first to tell you.”
And let me tell you I’d sleep in my car before I’d bunk down in the same house with you. It was a strong reaction, but instinctively she knew Kimberly wasn’t a woman she preferred to be around.
There was a strained silence as both waited for Wyatt to speak. When he finally did, his question was odd, even surprising, and it caught her unawares.
“Why did you choose forensics as a career, Dr. Hartlan?”
“Huh?” What in the world does that have to do with my credentials?
“Why forensics?” he repeated. “If I’m going to be taking a stranger into my home, I want to know something about her.”
“I don’t snore, steal or swear. Well… I swear occasionally, but never in public. And rarely out loud.”
The sheriff’s reaction didn’t match her offhand remarks. His manner was watchful, waiting, serious, and he evidently expected her to be serious, as well. It was the manner of a patient and stubborn man, Caro realized.
She sighed. Obviously she was going to have to tell her story before she got any dinner or a place to sleep tonight. “I made my choice years ago when I proved that my girlfriend’s pet turtle had been poisoned by a jealous classmate.”
“Oh, please,” Kimberly grumbled. “Spare me.”
Wyatt ignored her. “Go on, Doctor.”
“Well…” Suddenly Caro was back in middle school. Her best friend, Emma, had proudly brought her turtle to class for a science project. Then that same turtle had suddenly turned up dead. Emma was heartbroken and blamed herself for not feeding the pet enough.
“I didn’t believe her, of course,” Caro explained. “Emma always took good care of her pets. She was just crazy about animals—she even walked around ants, for heaven’s sake. So I was determined to prove her turtle hadn’t died on its own. I remember how…”
She’d sniffed the chemical the class had used to euthanize locusts for dissection, the same squirming locusts her classmates had been afraid to touch. Caro hadn’t minded the insects or the chemicals. She lived for science class. Plus, she’d rather have dead bugs to study than live ones. Bugs weren’t puppies or kittens or horses. They were boring bugs—until you opened them up. Then they were interesting. She’d been one of the few class members to kill her own locust, instead of waiting for the teacher to do it.
So when Caro had smelled that same chemical odor around the aquarium, her keen senses and even keener mind had put together the pieces. She’d told Emma, then the science teacher, her suspicions. The teacher had taken care of the rest.
The guilty classmate had been sent to the school counselor, the turtle replaced by the boy’s parents, and Caro had experienced her first triumph in seeing the truth exposed, all uncovered by her very own self. She was smarter than the killer, smarter than her teacher, smarter than everyone. And the disturbed boy was suspended to enter hospital therapy. That would be the last animal he killed, the last child he would ever torment.
Justice had been served.
It had been a heady rush of power for the young, intelligent child she’d been, a rush she’d never tired of feeling. Nor ever would, she suspected.
A slight smile crossed Caro’s lips. “The other kids thought I was a freak, but I didn’t care. Emma thanked me over and over for finding out the truth. She said…”
Thanks, Caro. I’m sad Shelly’s dead, but it wasn’t my fault. That makes me feel better…
Caro’s eyes refocused, and she was back in the present, a bit embarrassed. But it had been her first case, and the sheriff had asked.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what Emma said. It was a long time ago. Suffice to say that was when I decided forensics was for me.”
Kim rolled her eyes with a “How touching” expression. Caro couldn’t really blame her. It was a terribly sappy story. But Bodine didn’t ridicule her; in fact, he’d sat quietly attentive throughout the whole thing.
“How old were you?” he asked.
“It was seventh grade. Twelve and a half, I guess.”
Wyatt nodded. “I started becoming interested in law enforcement about then myself,” he revealed.
“You’ll
have to tell me about it sometime. I’d really like to know,” Caro replied, grateful for his understanding. She rarely revealed personal things to just anyone. In fact, she’d never told anyone outside of family about her experience with poor Shelly. For some reason, she knew she’d have been very disappointed if he’d rolled his eyes the way Kimberly had.
“There you go, my early career history in a nutshell,” she said, trying to make light of the matter and cover her embarrassment. She glanced at her watch. Nearly five. “Now if I haven’t put you both to sleep, I really do need to find a place for the night.”
Wyatt’s answer was instantaneous. “Kimberly, please drive your Jeep to my ranch so that Dr. Hartlan can follow you.”
“But…”
“It’s decided.” His words were curt and full of authority as he turned from Kimberly back to Caro. “Doctor, I’m going to arrange for some backup to guard the crime scene until tomorrow. I’ll see you both later.” Bodine’s words were a firm dismissal.
Caro watched as he untied his horse’s reins and swung himself into the saddle. The Arabian came to life at the motion, hooves prancing eagerly in place. Then Bodine was off, riding out of the cemetery and down the hill to the desert floor.
But not before he touched his fingers to his hat brim and spoke one last time to Caro.
“Welcome to Tombstone, ma’am.”
CHAPTER TWO
Wednesday evening
MORGAN BODINE jumped as the back door to the family ranch house slammed shut. He carefully put down the turquoise-laden silver piece and his rawhide hammer and listened.
The sound of stomping boots echoed in the stairway leading to the brothers’ upstairs rooms. From his downstairs jeweler’s workshop, Morgan followed the progress of the feet. He heard them progress to the bathroom upstairs, then a second door—Wyatt’s door—slammed overhead.
“Wyatt? You all right?” Morgan yelled. This part of the ranch house, like much of Tombstone, was old but had been renovated. However, renovated wooden structures still meant thin walls and floors.
“I’m changing!” came the heated response.
Morgan tilted his head toward the ceiling. “That’s not what I asked.”
“That’s all the answer you’re getting!”
Morgan pursed his lips in a silent whistle as he heard the slam of a closet door. Friends and family alike agreed that Wyatt was the sensible one out of the three Bodine brothers. Virgil, now living in Boston, was the oldest, at thirty-eight; then came Wyatt, at thirty-six; Morgan, at twenty-five, was the quick-tempered youngest—and the first to admit it. Yet here Wyatt was stomping around like a Mexican bull with a wasp on his nose.
Morgan knew why. Tombstone was a very small town. Already he’d heard about the skeleton’s discovery—and the hiring of that Phoenix forensic scientist. He’d also heard that it had been a murder and Wyatt had no leads or suspects.
“So, Wyatt,” Morgan yelled upward again, “those two shutterbugs from the Tombstone paper get an eyeful?”
No answer.
“Wish I’d been there. Would’ve come over if I’d had the time.”
Time. Even with their hired hands, that was one of the problems with working two jobs. Wyatt bred and raised Arabian horses on the family ranch, in addition to his job as sheriff. Morgan worked as a jeweler in his ranch workshop, and maintained a retail shop in town, as well. It was there, at Tombstone Turquoise, in fact, that he’d first heard the news.
“You could’ve called me if you’d needed me.” Morgan stepped in as deputy occasionally, although it wasn’t often that Wyatt needed help.
No comment. Morgan tried again.
“Kimberly making doe eyes at you again? Did you have to give her another reprimand?”
“So what else is new? You know Kimmie.”
That didn’t tell him much. Morgan decided to try one last time.
“You making doe eyes at that Phoenix gal, instead? You won’t catch any grave robbers that way.”
Crash!
Morgan knew he’d hit the bull’s-eye long before he heard the sound of boots flying down the stairs. Seconds later a shirtless Wyatt burst into the room, his face a study in rage.
“Is that what this town’s saying about me?”
Morgan picked up the silver-and-turquoise again, and reached for his hammer. “Nope. That’s just what I’m saying.”
Wyatt was silent, which didn’t surprise Morgan. Wyatt’s color was up, which did, and Morgan knew his brother well. Wyatt wasn’t one for outbursts of emotion. That was more his department. Jewelry making had a way of wearing Morgan’s iffy patience thin, but Wyatt usually had plenty to spare. His next words confirmed Morgan’s suspicion.
“You think some woman shows me up and I fall flat on my face?”
“Well, the way I hear it, the new lady showed you up— and Kimberly had a hissy fit that you invited her to stay here. So who are you more upset with? Kimberly or the Phoenix scientist?”
“Kimberly’s harmless. I was angry at myself for not figuring things out before Caro Hartlan did! I hired her because she’s good—really good. Catching the lawbreaker is what’s important. My ego isn’t.”
Morgan met his brother’s gaze. “So, what is all this about the skeleton being a victim in some old, unsolved murder?”
“It’s not officially a murder yet,” Wyatt said quickly. “And if it is, that’s the last thing we need. We’re a tourist town, Morg. If this is the bona fide thing…”
“If it’s an old killing, our business might just boom. You know the morbid fascination most people have. Anyway, they’ll probably think it’s just a publicity stunt, not a crime.”
“Either way, I can’t be having the dearly departed popping up like weeds all over Tombstone. And this was no coyote digging up some old grave.” Wyatt ran his fingers through his hair, something he rarely did. “I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”
“Good idea. Your reputation’s at stake. Besides, isn’t this the last of your three-year term? You gotta be thinking about reelection.”
“My reputation is not a priority. If I find the culprit, my reputation will take care of itself.”
Morgan took pity on him. “I wouldn’t worry, Wyatt. I’d say it’s the person who dug up the skeleton—not this forensics woman—who made you look foolish.”
“He’ll pay for his crime—and he’ll pay for that, too.”
The anger in Wyatt’s eyes gave Morgan pause. For a moment the man before him was a frightening stranger. Then the moment was gone, and it was only Wyatt again. Still, it took a few more passes of hammer on silver before Morgan trusted himself to speak.
“So, you hungry, bro?”
“Yeah.”
“Shame. You’re late. I ate all the dinner. And Cook—” he referred to the retired cowpoke who prepared their meals “—well, Cook threw a bit of a tantrum. You don’t show up, you don’t eat, he says.”
“Figures.” Wyatt sighed. “It’s been that kind of day.”
Morgan smiled. Yeah, Wyatt was back to normal. “Run upstairs and put on a shirt. We’ll walk over to Carla’s Cantina. It’s Tex-Mex night. I’ll order coffee and sopapillas and keep you company while you chow down.”
“Wish I could. But I’ve got to wait here for Caro.”
“Caro?”
“Dr. Hartlan—the forensics expert. I’ll give her Virgil’s old room to sleep in and we’ll let her have the spare room beside it for her lab.”
“Yeah, but Caro? You two on a first-name basis already?”
“Not yet.”
“Then let Luciano earn his pay as foreman and wait for her. He can settle her in—unless you’d rather do it yourself?” He spoke hesitatingly. “It’s not like you to appear too eager, Wyatt.”
“And it’s not like you to play matchmaker, Morg.”
“Then hurry. I’ll even buy the first beer.”
Wyatt grinned, his good humor restored. “You’re on.”
A minute later Morgan heard Wya
tt moving around overhead, then coming down the stairs again. He wore a crisp Western shirt, the sleeves rolled up.
“So, is she really as pretty as they say?” Morgan asked as he put away his tools.
“Who?”
Morgan wasn’t fooled by his brother’s casual air. “The woman who’s going to stay here.”
“She’s smart as a whip. Doesn’t miss much, that one.”
“I already heard that. But how’s she in the looks department?”
Wyatt busied himself tucking his shirttail inside his jeans. Morgan knew a delaying tactic when he saw it.
“Well?”
“She’s okay.”
“Last time you said a woman was okay, you almost married her. And Kimberly had a tantrum they heard across the border.”
Wyatt stopped abruptly. His eyes flashed a warning that Morgan had often seen directed at lawbreakers but hardly ever at him.
“Not that it’s any of my business,” he quickly added.
“You’re right. It’s not.” Wyatt headed toward Luciano’s quarters, leaving Morgan behind to secure the house.
That near-miss fiancée of Wyatt’s had had more looks than brains, Morgan recalled; needless to say, things hadn’t worked out. In the end, they’d parted amicably. Kimberly had ample supplies of beauty and brains, but there was no romantic spark there, at least on Wyatt’s part. There was for Morgan, but unfortunately he struck out with Kimberly just as Kimberly struck out with Wyatt.
It was understandable. Because their land adjoined, the Ellises and Bodines had grown up together. Kimberly looked on Morgan as a brother, while Wyatt saw Kimberly as a sister, not a love interest. But this Phoenix woman could unbalance their precarious triangle.
Morgan let out his breath in another silent whistle. Whoever Caro Hartlan is, she’s trouble. Especially for Wyatt…
THE SETTING SUN was far below the horizon, the streaks of orange and red completely gone. The furnace-blast wind was gone, too, replaced by a slight evening breeze that was cool and soothing, so soothing, in fact, that Wyatt leaned against the side of the brood mares’ pasture fence to enjoy the star-studded darkness.
Anne Marie Duquette Page 3