Soul Deep

by Pamela Clare

  “A living eye witness is direct evidence,” Taylor said. “You said Kip and Luke never met. The fact that Luke identified Kip from a lineup will seem pretty powerful to a jury. Combine that with motive and opportunity, and it’s clear why the DA is pushing Kip to plead guilty. He believes he can avoid the expense of a trial.”

  “Do you mind if I look through your file?” Janet asked.

  Taylor pushed the folder across the table toward her. “Go ahead.”

  Jack watched as she glanced quickly through the file, looking at photos of Chinook’s wound, Luke’s bleeding shoulder, the crime scene. He could see the wheels of her sharp mind turning. Although he appreciated her desire to help and knew that she was doing this partly out of concern for him, he didn’t want her to have nightmares again.

  Taylor turned to Jack. “Besides Kip Henderson, are there any other current or former employees who might feel they have a score to settle with you?”

  Jack shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know. I suppose there could be, but nothing comes to mind. I haven’t gotten any threats.”

  “Is there anyone here at the ranch who might have a grudge against Kip?”

  The question took Jack by surprise. He gave the answer some thought.

  “He did win some pretty big money off a few of the men in a string of poker games. A couple of the men—Burt, Liam, and Joe—accused him of cheating, and some pretty strong words were exchanged. But no one threatened him, and no one got hurt. I put an end to it.”

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “You wanted to see me?” Luke stepped in, cowboy hat in his hands. The powder burns on his face and neck were healing and almost matched his freckles now.

  Janet closed the file and handed it back to Taylor.

  Taylor stood, shook Luke’s hand. “How’s the arm?”

  “It’s better, I guess.”

  “I just wanted to fill in a few blanks and make certain I have the whole picture.”

  “Have a seat, son.” Jack gestured to the other wingback chair.

  Taylor waited for him to sit, opened his notes. “So, when the door opened, were you asleep or awake?”

  “I’d been asleep, but I woke up right away.”

  “Did Kip leave the door open behind him, or did he close it?”

  “I don’t really remember. I think he left it open.”

  “Were the lights on or off?”

  Luke seemed to consider it. “They were off because it was night and I was trying to sleep, but he turned them on. I guess he needed to see to shoot.”

  “Did he tell you who he was, or did you ask?”

  “I asked who he was and what he was doing there.”

  “Did he try to shoot the stallion? Did he point his weapon that direction?”

  Luke shook his head. “I think he saw me going for my gun.”

  “So you reached for your weapon before he fired?”

  “Yeah, I did. I saw the gun in his hand. I had to defend myself and Chinook.”

  “Where was your weapon?”

  “I had it with me under my pillow—just in case.”

  “How far away from you was he standing when he pulled the trigger?”

  Luke looked angry, flustered. “Why do you keep asking me the same things I already answered?”

  “Don’t let it upset you,” Jack reassured him. “It’s standard procedure.”

  Luke nodded, grew calmer. “I don’t remember. Close. It happened so fast.”

  “How many shots did you fire?”

  “Two, I think. I really can’t remember.”

  Taylor nodded, wrote that down. “How close was he when you fired?”

  “Not far at all. I can’t believe I missed.”

  “Adrenaline will screw up your aim like nothing else,” Jack said.

  Taylor pressed on. “Had he turned to go, or was he facing you when you fired?”

  Luke shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

  Taylor closed his notebook. “I think I’ve got everything I need.”

  “Can I go now?”

  Taylor nodded to Jack.

  “Yes, you may.” Jack got to his feet, walked Luke to the door. “Thank you for your help, son.”

  “Luke, one last thing.” This time it was Janet who asked the question. “Can you describe the weapon Kip was holding or tell us anything about it?”

  Luke nodded. “It was a semi-auto with a fancy camo pattern on the grips.”

  Custom camo grips.

  Janet gave him a warm smile. “Thanks, Luke.”

  # # #

  “What’s on your mind, angel? You’ve been a million miles away all evening.”

  Janet said what she was thinking. “Something about this just doesn’t feel right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Call it a hunch. The way the case came together—it’s too perfect, too … textbook. I know Taylor feels the same way. That’s why he was here this afternoon. That’s why he asked you those questions.”

  “You’re saying you think Kip is innocent?”

  She shrugged. “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “What brought this on?”

  She wasn’t sure how to quantify or explain her gut feeling. “I looked through the photos in Taylor’s file. I was thinking how lucky we were that Kip didn’t hit his target. Both times, he grazed his intended victim, then ran off and disappeared, even though he was standing no more than a few feet away.”

  Jack could understand this. “He was probably drunk and ratcheted up on adrenaline. I once watched a soldier unload his pistol at a VC at almost point-blank range. Seven shots—and not one of them hit the guy. He had to run the bastard through with his bayonet.”

  She knew how adrenaline worked. “That’s not what I meant. Why, after coming all the way up here in the bad weather, did he fire only once each time? Why not keep firing until he accomplished his goal? He was standing right there. It’s like he was afraid he might succeed. You say Kip was a crack shot?”

  Jack nodded. “When he was sober.”

  “If he was so drunk he could barely hit the broadside of your barn, how did he manage to drive all the way up here, sneak onto your property, shoot like a drunk, then escape and get back to Denver without being seen or ending up in a car accident?”

  Jack frowned. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

  But Janet was just getting warmed up. “Here’s another thing. Luke can’t remember a host of details, but he does remember that the weapon Kip aimed at him had custom camo grips like the weapon the hunters reported stolen, even though the grips would have largely been concealed in Kip’s hand.”

  “You think he’s lying?”

  “I think there’s more to this than we know.” She got to her feet. “Let’s go to the stables. I want to do a walk-through.”

  “This is really important to you, isn’t it?”

  She looked into his eyes, saw that he was worried about her. “Yes, it is.”

  “Then it’s important to me, too. I’ll meet you in the mudroom in five.”

  She got to her feet, the facts of the case running through her mind, the images in the crime scene photos like a slideshow in her brain. She put on her boots, slipped into her parka, and was sliding her hands into her gloves when Jack appeared wearing his Colt in a shoulder holster, sat phone in his hand.

  He tucked the phone into the pocket of his coat. “If there’s any chance that the shooter is still out there...”

  He didn’t need to explain further.

  They stepped out into the cold, and Janet stopped in her tracks. For a moment, all she could do was stare. “Look at the sky. God, that’s beautiful.”

  The sun had long since set, and the sky was clear, a million stars glittering like diamonds. She could even see the Milky Way.

  Jack chuckled, gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s a good thing every now and again to look up at the sky.”

  She let herself look for a few
more seconds, then moved on. “Let’s pretend we’re the shooter. Let’s enter there.”

  “Whatever you say, SA Killeen.” There was a teasing tone to his voice. “We need to go around to the other side.”

  They reached the door, which was both locked and cordoned off with yellow crime-scene tape.

  “Are you trying to get me arrested?” He tore through the tape, then took out a ring of keys, unlocked the bolt, and slid the door open.

  Inside, the stables were almost pitch black.

  “How could anyone even see to find the light switch?”

  “Kip knows where it is.” As if to prove the point, Jack walked inside and flicked on the lights.

  The switch was on the south wall next to Chinook’s stall.

  “So the shooter had to step in, walk a few feet inside in the dark, and flip the lights on.” She followed in Jack’s footsteps, processing this in her mind. “That puts him out of sight of Luke and his cot for a moment, doesn’t it?”

  Thanks to the walls of Chinook’s stall, the shooter couldn’t see Luke from this position, and Luke couldn’t see the shooter.

  But Kip would have been able to see the stallion.

  “Why didn’t he just shoot Chinook from here? He couldn’t have known Luke was there until he stepped around the corner.”

  “Luke probably gave himself away when he challenged Kip.”

  “That could be.” Janet moved on, filing all of this away. “According to Luke, the shooter stepped through the door, flipped on the lights. Luke woke up, asked him who he was, and he answered, ‘Kip.’”

  “Not very bright of him,” Jack said.

  Janet couldn’t help but laugh. “Most criminals aren’t all that smart.”

  She followed what she assumed had been the shooter’s footsteps and walked out toward the center of the room. Luke’s cot was still sitting where it had been that night. She walked to the place Luke said the shooter had stood. “Luke said the shooter came close to him, weapon drawn, saw him go for his gun and then shot him.”

  She stood there, looked down at the cot, thought of the many photos she’d seen—Luke’s shoulder wound, the stippling on his skin. “Where did they find the slug?”

  Jack walked toward the eastern wall, pointed to a white chalk circle at about chest height. “It’s right here.”

  Janet held up her hands as if she had a gun and sighted on an imaginary Luke, her gaze shifting from where Luke had sat to the hole in the wall.

  Chills ran down her spine.

  “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If Kip was standing and Luke was sitting on the cot, the bullet would have had a downward trajectory. Instead, it’s lodged four feet off the ground. That round ought to have ended up somewhere closer to the floor.”

  Jack frowned, looked from the cot to the wall. “You’re right. It doesn’t line up.”

  “Also, Luke was shot in his right shoulder. That slug is to your left when it ought to be farther to your right. Whoever pulled the trigger had to be lower to the ground.”

  Or sitting on the cot.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “You’re saying Luke shot himself?” Jack wanted to respect Janet’s opinion, but this seemed completely off the deep end. “Why on God’s green earth would he do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Janet glanced around, as if the answers could be found somewhere in the scattered straw. “Maybe he wanted to cover for himself, put the blame on someone else for Chinook’s shooting.”

  “Why would he shoot Chinook? The kid loves horses.”

  She seemed to consider this. “You said he doesn’t like doing anything that doesn’t involve the horses. He’s gotten a lot of attention and praise from you and the other men since the night Chinook was shot. Maybe he was trying to prove himself. He created a crisis, then he helped you resolve it. He was even wounded.”

  Jack wasn’t convinced. “He’d have to be awfully damned cool-headed. The smallest error, and he’d have broken Chinook’s leg or killed himself.”

  But Janet wasn’t listening. “Where’s the weapon? He wouldn’t have had time to run and hide it somewhere else before the other men responded to the gunfire. He was bleeding pretty heavily, and that would have left a trail. That means he must have hidden it somewhere in here.”

  “The sheriff’s investigators turned this place inside out.”

  “You looking for this?”

  Jack heard Luke’s voice, heard Janet gasp, and stepped forward to see Luke standing just inside the doorway, a bag of oats spilled at his feet, a Kimber 1911 with what looked like camo grips in his hand, its barrel pointed at Janet.

  Before Jack could clear his weapon, Luke had her, his arm around her neck, her body shielding his, the Kimber pressed against her temple. “I guess the sheriff’s men didn’t think to look through Chinook’s feed.”

  Janet met Jack’s gaze, and he saw determination in her eyes, not fear.

  “Toss your piece over here.” Luke’s gaze was on Jack’s Colt. “Nice and easy.”

  Jack kept his aim steady, sighting on Luke’s forehead. “If you think I’m going to hand over my weapon just because you’re pointing a gun at Ms. Killeen, you’ve been watching too much television.”

  Luke glared at him. “You don’t understand. All I have to do is pull this trigger—”

  “Harm the woman I love, and there will be no escape for you anywhere on this earth. Do you understand me?” Jack waited for an answer, then repeated his question, this time shouting. “Do you understand me?”

  Luke jumped, but didn’t lower the pistol. “It didn’t have to be like this, you know. You were starting to trust me, and then she had to get involved.”

  Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You shot Chinook, my champion stallion, to make me trust you?”

  Goddamn.

  Janet had been right.

  “I wanted you to see how good I was with horses so you’d let me take care of Chinook and the mares on my own instead of making me work with that scar-faced son of yours. But instead of asking for my help, you made me shovel snow and do all kinds of meaningless shit. You even sent me off to make coffee like I was a woman or something. So I came up with a better way to impress you.”

  There was no doubt in Jack’s mind now.

  Luke was a sociopath.

  Fear spread like ice through Jack’s veins. “You shot yourself to make it look like you’d risked your life defending Chinook.”

  “It took a lot of guts, you have to admit. If I didn’t aim exactly right, I’d blow my own head off or shoot myself through the heart.”

  “Well, I’m impressed with your marksmanship, but you’re a gutless coward. You’re holding a gun to the head of an unarmed woman, hiding behind her.”

  “She’s not a woman, not really. She’s a fed.” Luke spat those last words with contempt. “If I let her go, you’ll just shoot me.”

  “Why don’t I give you the keys to one of my trucks? I’ll toss them over to you, and you can take whichever truck you like and go anywhere.” Jack took one hand off his pistol and reached into his coat pocket, his gaze never leaving Luke’s.

  Luke waved his weapon at Jack. “No! Get your hands out of your pocket!”

  But Jack had already dialed out on his sat phone. He didn’t remember whom he’d spoken to last, but that person was about to get a strange call. He hoped whoever it was would listen long enough to realize what was happening. He slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket, his keys in hand. “What’s the problem? You getting jumpy, son?”

  “You’ll toss those keys over, and the moment I reach for them, you’ll shoot me.”

  Jack tossed the keys onto the cot. “I’m not going to do that, but I’m glad you’re thinking about your situation. You’re in a world of trouble. We know the truth. Detective Sergeant Taylor is on to you, too. How do you think this is going to end? Do you think killing us will make your troubles disappear? It won’t.” />
  “Listen to him, Luke,” Janet said. “Right now, you’re only looking at animal abuse and false reporting. You might even get probation. If you kill us, you—”

  “Shut up!” Luke tightened his grip on Janet, choking her.

  Damn it!

  “You are one crazy son of a bitch if you think being rough with her is going to improve your situation. If you want to get out of this in one piece, you’d best let her go. And I mean now.”

  Luke’s face turned red, and he took a step toward Jack, dragging Janet with him. “You don’t give me orders anymore, old man.”

  Janet’s leg couldn’t support the sudden movement, and she slipped, leaving Luke exposed from the waist down.

  It had been more than forty years since Jack had shot a man, but when he saw his chance he took it.

  BAM! BAM!

  Luke dropped the pistol, releasing Janet as he collapsed to the ground, shrieking in pain, hands pressed against his right thigh.

  Janet fell forward, grabbed for the Kimber. But Luke lunged for it, too, throwing himself on top of her, slamming his fist into her face, the two of them struggling for it out of Jack’s view on the other side of the cot.

  He rushed in, weapon raised.

  BAM!

  A shot rang out, but it wasn’t Jack who’d pulled the trigger.

  His heart seemed to explode. “Janet!”

  Luke sat bolt upright, grinned at Jack, a strange expression on his face.

  Agony exploded in Jack’s chest, his heart shattering.

  Janet!

  His finger tightened on the trigger, black rage driving him. “You son of a bitch!”

  Then blood bubbled up from Luke’s mouth, and he toppled sideways, a hole shot clean through his chest.

  “Janet?” On a surge of relief, Jack closed the distance, grabbed the bastard’s coat, and dragged his body off her.

  Janet lay on her back, pistol in both hands, blood on her cheek, a stunned expression on her face. “Oh, Jack!”

  Jack took the pistol from her, drew her into his arms. “Jesus, are you okay?”

  Chuck appeared in the doorway, sat phone in his hand. “Holy shit!”

  “Call nine-one-one. We need an ambulance and the sheriff out here. Luke just tried to kill the two of us. Janet’s been injured.”