Confessing to the Cowboy

by Carla Cassidy

Denver’s eyes darkened slightly. “I raise a few cattle and have some crops. I get by okay.”

  “Rumor has it you get by with the help of Maddy Billings’s wallet.”

  Denver’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I won’t lie, Maddy has helped me out now and then financially, but I’m done with her and I’m done with her money. I’ve finally discovered my pride.” He tilted his chin upward.

  “Then talk to me about your new truck, about the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit in your bank account,” Cameron said.

  Once again Denver appeared shocked. “You’ve checked my bank account?”

  “I’d check your underwear if I thought it would lead me to the killer,” Cameron replied drily. “Now, talk to me about that money.”

  “It was an inheritance from my grandfather. I’ve got all the papers at my place. You can check it out. It’s all legit,” Denver exclaimed, rising half out of his chair. He eased back down and looked Cameron straight in the eyes. “It’s what gave me the courage, the freedom, to finally break away from Maddy, the freedom to find out who I am as a man, but one thing I know for sure is that I had nothing to do with those women’s deaths. I cared about those women.”

  There was a truth that rang in his words and shone from his eyes, a truth that Cameron reluctantly found himself believing. “Bring me the paperwork all about your inheritance,” he said, disappointed that he was fairly certain Denver Walton had just slid off the top of his suspect list, leaving him few people left to investigate and a murderer to catch before he killed again.

  * * *

  For the first time in years Mary got up, got dressed and then laid back on the sofa to rest her feet before beginning the day. Matt awakened her when he came in to tell her he was leaving for school and asked if she were sick.

  She jumped up from the sofa, stunned by the relative lateness of the hour and assured her son she wasn’t sick, but just a sleepyhead who had fallen back asleep after getting up and dressed.

  It was almost eight-thirty by the time she hurried from her back rooms and into the café kitchen, where things were already in full swing.

  Rusty manned the grill like an old pro while waitresses turned in orders at a pace that let her know the café was unusually busy.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said as Rusty raised an eyebrow in her direction. “I got up and then fell back asleep on the sofa. Thankfully Matt woke me before he left for school.”

  “Sleeping in...that’s a first.”

  “I guess I stayed up too late last night.” After thinking she saw somebody around the cabins, she’d had trouble going to sleep and knew it had been after two before she finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s going,” Rusty replied. “Junior didn’t show up for work, I figure he got his schedule screwed up again.”

  Mary nodded. It wasn’t unusual for Junior to occasionally not show up for a shift because he’d gotten confused about what shift he was supposed to work. “He’ll probably show up around two for the evening shift. You need help with prepping or anything? I can take over Junior’s jobs if you need me.”

  “Nah, hope you don’t mind but when it became obvious that Junior wasn’t going to show up I called in James to bus tables through the lunch hour.” James Waldron was a high school graduate who worked for Mary whenever possible.

  “Sounds like you have everything under control.”

  Rusty flashed her a quick smile. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

  Mary laughed as she left the kitchen and moved into the café dining area where the breakfast rush was winding down. George Wilton was at the cash register, paying for “the worst breakfast he’d ever had in his life,” Marianne and Bob Unger lingered over coffee. The middle-aged married couple came in every Monday for breakfast and after all their years of marriage it was still obvious that they only had eyes for each other.

  John and Jeff Taylor, the twins who had recently moved to the area from someplace back east, were chatting to the couple seated at the table next to them. Brandon Williams sat alone at a table for two, a chair pulled aside to accommodate his motorized wheelchair.

  She felt sorry for the vet, who had lost the use of his legs in a bomb explosion that had also left his face scarred. Once when visiting with him for a moment she’d noticed what appeared to be makeup on his forehead and realized he’d apparently made some sort of an attempt to hide the worst of his facial scarring.

  Still, it was hard to feel too sorry for him as he was a gregarious man who didn’t appear to suffer any self-pity because of his situation. He was a favorite among the waitresses, not only because he tipped well, but also because he had a terrific sense of humor.

  Everyone looked happy and cared for, and Mary was pleased to see the three waitresses bustling between tables to make sure all the guests stayed that way.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee and sank down at the stool behind the long wooden counter, where at the moment nobody sat to eat.

  She wished Cameron was here, seated on the other side of the counter, gazing at her with his beautiful hazel eyes. But it was a foolish thought. The less she had to do with Cameron, the less danger she felt she placed him in.

  If their theory was right and Jason or one of his paid minions was killing people close to Mary, then the last thing she wanted was for anyone to know the true depth of her feelings for Cameron.

  For some reason she wasn’t afraid for Matt. Even as evil as she believed Jason to be, she didn’t think he’d want to kill Matt. He would simply want to own him. He’d want Mary to die knowing that Matt would be with him for the rest of Matt’s youth.

  She shoved these troubling thoughts out of her head. She didn’t want to think about Jason or the killings, although she was acutely aware that it had been one week ago today that Dorothy’s body had been found in her bed.

  As always when she thought of the three victims her heart crunched with the pain of loss. She didn’t want any more victims, not in this town that she loved, not from the café that was her life.

  Rather than focus on the trauma of the last week, she walked around the café, greeting her diners and visiting with each for just a minute. It was what everyone called the “Mary” touch, the personal attention she tried to give everyone who entered her establishment.

  “Good morning, Brandon,” she greeted the scarred, bald war veteran. “Hope you’re finding your breakfast to your liking.”

  Brandon patted his bulging stomach. “I’m afraid I find all your food to my liking. If I keep eating here I’ll need two scooters to get myself around town.” He winked one of his blue eyes. “Unfortunately I’m a man who hates to cook and this place makes it far too easy to eat well despite my inadequacies.”

  “We’re always glad to see you here,” she replied and then moved on to visit with the twins for a few minutes.

  Even as she put on her pleasant face and went about her usual business, she couldn’t help but think about Jason. Surely he’d stick out in this rough-and-tumble town with his elegant features and slick dark hair. Even in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, he’d poke out like a sore thumb. But if he’d hired somebody to do his dirty work, then he’d never have to make a personal appearance here in Grady Gulch.

  It was between the lunch and dinner rush, when the café was fairly empty that Mary thought about that moment the night before when she thought she’d seen somebody skulking around the cottages.

  She hadn’t been inside any of them since Candy’s death. Maybe it was time to check them out and make sure no vandals had done any damage and no squatters had taken up residency without her knowledge.

  “Rusty, have you ever seen anyone around the other cottages out back?” she asked as the burly cook sat on a stool drinking a cup of coffee and eating a thick ham sandwich.

  He shook his head. “Never. It’s definitely deserted out there. It’s just me and the raccoons and deer. Why?”

  “I was just thinking that I haven’t bee
n out there to check on the other cottages for a while and maybe it’s time I did.” She grabbed her coat from a hook on the back door.

  “You going now?” Rusty asked, around a mouthful of ham and cheese.

  “Now is as good a time as any,” she replied. “I can get out there and check things before the snow moves in.”

  “Want me to come along?”

  Mary looked out the back door in the direction of the cabins. It was the middle of the day and Rusty had just told her he never saw anyone around. She felt perfectly safe just peeking in the windows to make sure that inside the cabins were in the same condition they’d been when she’d last seen them.

  “No thanks, I’ll be fine. But if I’m not back in fifteen or twenty minutes, call the Sheriff,” she said jokingly.

  As she stepped out into the frigid air she could smell the snow and thought she felt a couple of flakes on her face. The forecasters all indicated an early, harsh winter, which was bad for business. When the snow fell and travel was difficult, people stayed home to eat rather than venturing out.

  She’d weathered many tough winters before and, God willing, she’d live to survive another. Hopefully Cameron and his team would keep everyone in town safe through the long, hard season. At least they’d had a busy breakfast and lunch so far that day because if the weathermen got it right, and the snow moved in for real, their dinner crowd wouldn’t amount to anything.

  The cabins weren’t far from the back of the café and she had no creepy-crawling feeling that she was being watched or shadowed.

  The cabins were set up like studio apartments, with a small kitchenette and a bathroom and one medium-sized room that served as both living room and bedroom.

  Although each had its own key, Mary had never kept the empty cabins locked. There was nothing in there to steal, and while she didn’t mind somebody in need squatting there for a night or two, she needed to know if that was the case.

  As she approached the first one the only thing she felt was sadness, for the first cabin was where Candy had been killed.

  She peered through the window and saw the remnants of the crime-scene investigation that had taken place. Fingerprint dust still lingered on the few pieces of furniture that had been moved out of place as the deputies had sought clues. The bed was missing the top mattress and the whole cabin interior spoke of loss.

  Candy’s family had come and picked up her personal items, so nothing of the young girl remained, only the scene of the crime.

  Mary tried to tell herself that she wasn’t responsible for Candy’s death, that even if it was Jason behind the murders they could have happened to anybody in any town where Jason might have found her. But that didn’t stop Mary’s heart from filling with sadness.

  In order to keep Jason from torturing her by hurting those she loved, she would have had to stay on the road, moving from place to place for the rest of her life, and that wouldn’t have been possible with Matt in tow.

  Matt had needed a town, a place to call home. He’d needed stability and normalcy and he’d had that for the past eight years. She hoped he continued to have that and she prayed that nobody else would have to die, that Cameron and his deputies would find the guilty party and put him away for the rest of his life.

  As she walked the short distance to the second cabin, the sky gave up more of its moisture and snowflakes began to fall in earnest, fat flakes from the steel sky.

  She figured she’d take a quick peek into the windows of the other two empty cabins and then get back into the warmth and comfort of the café. With the snow band already moving in, the dinner rush would definitely be small.

  When she got back inside she’d call Lynette and Ginger and tell them they could have the night off. There was no point running at full staff capacity if the crowd was going to be unusually small and by the look of the sky overhead things were only going to quickly deteriorate.

  According to the weathermen they were expecting three to six inches of the white stuff between this afternoon and morning. If the forecast came true then tomorrow would be a slow day, as well. Hopefully with it being such an early snowfall it wouldn’t stick around too long and there would still be some nice days left in the month.

  She reached the second cabin and frowned as she realized black curtains were drawn tightly closed across the windows. The cabins didn’t come with curtains...so who would have hung them here and drawn them completely shut?

  Leaning close to the front door she placed her ear against the wood, but heard no movement inside, nothing to indicate that anyone was there. She remained that way for several minutes, but discerned no sound...nothing beyond the door.

  Heart suddenly pounding, she placed her hand on the doorknob. It turned easily beneath her hand. So, whoever had hung the curtains hadn’t locked the door. But why the curtains, other than to keep prying eyes out?

  What was it that might be inside that somebody wouldn’t want anyone else to see?

  Once again she pressed her ear against the door, but heard nothing at all. She drew in a deep breath and opened the door. The room was in darkness and she immediately flipped on the switch that turned on the overhead light...and then let out a gasp.

  An old gray sleeping bag was open on the threadbare sofa and a colorful throw rug decorated the beige linoleum floor. A table lamp sat at an odd angle on an upended orange crate, the shade broken. Cans of food were lined up on the counter next to a small microwave, but none of this was what made her heart nearly stop.

  It was what was on the wall that made her gasp in horror. Tacked to the beige paint on one of the room’s wall were news clippings about the murders and pictures of all the victims.

  Had she found Jason’s secret lair?

  Was this where he’d been hiding out? In her very own backyard?

  Her heart crashed the beat of horror as she backed up and hit the broad chest of somebody standing just behind her.

  She whirled around and horror turned to shock. “Junior,” she exclaimed as she stared at the man she’d trusted as much as she’d trusted her own son.

  Junior’s features screwed up as if he were about to cry. “Ah, Mary, now you’ve ruined everything,” he said in dismay.

  Chapter 11

  After Denver’s interview, Cameron had every intention of bringing in Thomas Manning for a chat, but he’d discovered that Manning was out of town, back in Oklahoma City to attend a conference at the college where he’d once been a professor. He’d sent Ben Temple to follow the good professor and keep an eye on him while he was out of town.

  Cameron had grabbed a quick lunch from a fast-food place at his desk, brought in by Larry Brooks, and then had decided to check in on Mary, afraid that if the snow came as predicted he wouldn’t be able to stop by to see her at closing time that night.

  It was just after three when he left his office and headed for the café. As he drove, fat snowflakes splatted across his windshield, forcing him to turn on his wipers to see the road clearly.

  He met little traffic on the way to the café. Hopefully most of the folks knew to stay at home when the weather turned bad, but he knew from experience that there were always some yahoos who decided snow and ice were the perfect time to test their driving skills.

  When he reached the café, the parking lot was nearly empty and despite the fact that he was wishing Mary’s business ill, he hoped the lot stayed empty until the snowstorm passed and some of what had been forecasted had melted away. At least by morning the streets would be plowed by both city vehicles and ranchers with the appropriate tractors.

  He parked in front and got out of his car, hurrying toward the door through the snowflakes. As he entered, he automatically hung his hat on a hook and looked toward the counter.

  His favorite blonde wasn’t there. In fact, he didn’t see her anywhere in the café. Nobody was seated at any of the tables and he could hear Rusty’s voice as well as several female ones coming from the kitchen area.

  He followed the voices to find Ru
sty and two waitresses chatting. “Hey, Sheriff,” Rusty greeted him.

  Cameron nodded in return. “Where’s Mary?” he asked, not seeing her anywhere in the kitchen.

  “She just went out back to the cottages to take a quick look around and make sure no vandals or squatters have moved in,” Rusty said. He gazed down at his wristwatch. “She’s only been gone a few minutes.”

  “She went by herself?” Cameron asked, a tiny alarm sounding in the back of his head. He didn’t want her going off anywhere all alone.

  He didn’t wait for a reply but instead stepped out the back door and sucked in his breath at the frigid snowy air that slapped him in the face. The snow was falling in earnest now, quickly covering the ground and obscuring visibility.

  As he drew closer he immediately saw that the door to the second cabin was open and it was there he headed, his heart beating an unexpected rhythm of anxiety.

  He should have thought about the cabins. Damn it, he should have thought that one of them might be a potential den for a madman. But with Rusty staying out here, he’d just assumed the others were vacant. Now he cursed that assumption.

  When he got nearer he saw that dark curtains hung at the window and his heart beat a little quicker. He pulled his gun, an automatic habit when approaching an unknown situation.

  He moved to make a sideways approach, not wanting to alert whoever was inside that he was there. He leaned against the building just outside the door, drew a deep breath and then whirled inside to see Mary standing in the middle of the room and Junior Lempke standing before her as if to block her exit.

  Junior turned around, his eyes wide as his hands shot straight up in the air. “Don’t shoot me, Sheriff Cam, I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  Cameron met Mary’s gaze. She shrugged as if she didn’t have a clue what was going on. A quick sweep of the room chilled Cameron’s blood like the falling snow outside couldn’t possibly do.

  The news clippings about the murders tacked to the wall stunned him. Junior? Junior Lempke? He hadn’t even been on the list of suspects.