Maggie waited for him to comment—hoped that he’d leap to his feet and agree with her. But when another long moment passed in silence, she sighed in frustration. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Ross lifted the brim of his hat long enough to pierce her with cold blue eyes. “Yeah. Goodbye.”
The tears stung a little more. “Okay,” she murmured, “if you’re determined not to understand, fine. But you do have to listen. Ross, I... you’re important to me. And whether I get your cooperation on this or not, I won’t let you pay for a crime you didn’t commit.”
Mike was at her desk when she came back into the room, his face showing a mixture of sympathy and—curiosity? Rising and walking around the desk, he handed her several tissues; for the first time, Maggie realized that she needed them. She wiped her eyes and forced a grin. “Sorry.”
“You okay?”
“No, but I will be.” She wanted to tell Mike to see that Ross was permitted to take a shower—to make sure that he got some medication for pain if he needed it. But she couldn’t do that without appearing to care for him. “When’s the arraignment?”
“Earliest we can get him before a judge is Monday at three.”
“Who’s representing him?”
“Mark Walker. He was in here ten minutes after Ross phoned Jess.”
Thank God for Jess. But Ross would have to remain in custody until Monday. After his innocent plea at the arraignment, he would almost certainly be released on bail, but sitting in a cell tonight and all day Sunday would be incredibly frustrating for him. The knot in Maggie’s chest tightened. “I’d better get going. See you.”
“You, too. And if you need a shoulder...”
Maggie stared in surprise, and a momentary flush stained Mike’s cheeks. “No, not me—although I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.” His expression sobered again, and something inscrutable moved across his eyes. “I was talking about Trent. He and Ben were here earlier. When they left Cy’s office, Trent asked how you were holding up. He’s interested.”
The prospect of touching any part of Trent Campion’s anatomy—even a shoulder—made Maggie ill. Because for the past three hours, she’d been trying to tie up all she knew about Ben, Trent and Cy. The strange things she’d seen and heard in the past month and a half were connected; she was sure of it. And she was convinced that clearing up the mystery of Ben’s bewildering association with Cy was the key to Ross’s freedom.
Any law enforcement official with a brain could see the frame. No criminal—not even a novice—would steal something, put it in his own vehicle with the doors unlocked, then go back inside the rodeo arena to wait for someone to realize that it was missing. So why wasn’t Cy looking for another suspect?
“Maggie? Something else bothering you?”
Maggie pulled her thoughts back to the here and now, and shook her head. “No, just tired. It’s been a crummy day. See you tomorrow.”
Between worrying about Ross, feeling sick about his attitude toward her, and trying to come up with a plan to free him, Maggie slept fitfully that night. There was also the added guilt of staying away from him all day on Sunday. She wasn’t scheduled to work, and any interest on her part might be perceived as support. She couldn’t take a chance on Farrell or Mike realizing that she still cared for Ross. Although, it was possible that Mike had his suspicions; that might explain those skeptical looks of his.
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Maggie had an elaborate list of queries in her purse that might just persuade Ross that she was on his side. If she could convince him of that, he might be able to help her by filling in some of the blanks in her reasoning. She’d lived elsewhere for the past eleven years, but Ross had never left Comfort. He had memories that could be useful.
When Cy and Mike were both called out of the office just after lunch, Maggie moved quickly to the lockup. Ross didn’t react when she entered, and Maggie didn’t speak to him. She simply slipped her notes through the bars and left again.
She’d posed several questions, and had included her own views and answers. The first one was, why would Trent want to frame Ross?
Her answer had expanded on the reason she’d mentioned two days earlier: jealousy. For whatever reason, Trent seemed to want her. Maybe a relationship with a minister’s daughter was another ingredient in his calculated march to the legislature.
Another question: Why was Ben so eager to hush up the horse-beating incident? Pride? Or his grand plan for Trent?
Eventually, that question had led her to the possibility that Trent had been involved in other wrongdoings, and that Ben had concealed those as well. As for Cy—if the sheriff had covered up crimes in return for payment or favors from Ben, that could be what Cy held over Ben’s head. Exposure could mean the death of Trent’s political ambitions.
Except that exposing Trent would ruin Cy as well. Falsifying evidence was a serious offense.
The question she’d written at the bottom of her notes was one that had made her heart pound: Had Trent ever left the association office? She’d lost track of him in her concern for Ross. What if he had stayed behind when everyone else left?
Maggie gave Ross several minutes, then walked nervously to the lockup and peeked through the small mesh-and-glass window. To her relief, he was reading. She waited until he’d finished, then stepped inside, leaving the door to the office ajar so that she could monitor the front door. If Cy or Mike returned unexpectedly, she could always say that Ross had called her in to request a visit from his lawyer.
“So, do you have any thoughts?” she asked quietly.
Ross glanced up from his seat on his cot, but his look wasn’t friendly. Maggie understood. She’d hurt him twice, and it would take some time to regain his trust.
“You think Trent ducked inside the rest room in the office while everyone was distracted, then took the cash box after you locked up.”
Maggie nodded. Ross had thought of the rest room, too. There’d been no other place to hide in such a small room. “There was no sign of forced entry, other than the drawer where the cash box was kept. Whoever took the money either had a key, or was inside when I left.”
After a thoughtful pause, Ross spoke grimly with reference to another question on her list. “There was a rumor circulating about Trent a while back, but it died out quickly. If it was true, and Cy covered up the incident, that might make Ben grateful enough to hand over some money, do a few favors.”
Maggie’s heartbeat picked up speed. “Tell me.”
Ross rose from his cot to brace his hips against the small porcelain sink in his cell. He’d showered, shaved and been given clean clothes for his upcoming arraignment; the black jeans and gray, black and white plaid Western shirt looked good on him.
“When Trent was in college, he was a partier—used to get all rummed-up on weekends. No one ever admitted there’d been an accident, but he used to have this flashy red sports car that really tore up the roads. Then one day...he didn’t. I remember some bruises on his face and arms that he claimed came from bedding a coed with a boyfriend. But rumor had it that he’d hit another car—and hurt someone pretty badly.”
A drunk driving offense? An injured party? Trying to temper her excitement, Maggie walked to the cell. “Do you remember the month and the year?”
Ross handed Maggie’s notes through the bars. “It was in the spring. June, maybe, but I don’t know the year.”
“Could it have been five years ago? I overheard Ben browbeating Trent at the rodeo preliminaries. He said something about pulling Trent’s fanny out of the fire five years ago.”
“It’s been at least that long. Aunt Ruby’d know if anyone would. But if you’re thinking about checking the files, you’re wasting your time. Farrell would’ve either made the accident go away altogether, or turned it into an innocent fender bender.”
“But if he did turn it into a fender bender, the victim’s name would be in the file. I could contact him. Or her.”
He
sent her a cynical look. “And this will help me how?”
“If we can prove that Farrell falsified evidence, we can use that as leverage to get you out of here.”
“Blackmailing the blackmailers, Maggie?”
After a night without sleep, his caustic remark irritated her. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Hell, yes! I want the bastard who set me up to—”
Maggie spun around as the door suddenly opened and Mike Halston’s lanky frame filled the doorway. “Mike, I—I didn’t realize you were back. I was just seeing if the prisoner needed—”
“No, you weren’t,” he said gravely. “I know exactly what you were doing.” He paused. “Give me the papers, Maggie.”
Chapter 14
Maggie was afraid to breathe. “The papers?”
“Yes. Let me see them.”
“Why?”
The deputy sighed. “Because if I’m going to help the two of you, I have to know where you’re headed with this.”
Maggie exchanged a wary look with Ross. “What do you mean—if you’re going to help us?”
Mike walked into the narrow aisle beside the cells, his eyes on Ross. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with that theft, and so does Cy. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Exhaling in relief, Maggie offered up a silent prayer of thanks. “We think Trent was involved. Which I’m sure you’ll think makes even less sense.”
“Trent?”
“Yes.”
It took a moment for the deputy to digest that. Then he inclined his head toward the office. “We’d better talk out there.”
“Wait!” Ross snapped. “I need to hear this. This is my life you’re talking about.”
“I realize that, and I’m sorry,” Halston returned. “But Cy’s due back in a few minutes, and we can’t risk his finding us in the middle of a discussion. Not if what I overheard the two of you saying is true.”
Maggie cringed as Ross slapped a palm against the bars, then turned away in frustration and disgust.
“Just so you know,” Mike advised Maggie, “if we try to nail Farrell and it backfires, you’re the one with the most to lose. I’m leaving anyway. But Cy has friends—not to mention the connections the Campions have. If this goes bad, you’ll never work in law enforcement again.”
The reminder didn’t deter her in the least. “Then I guess we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t go bad.”
When Mike stepped back into the office, Maggie turned to Ross again. She stilled when she met his troubled gaze. “What?”
“Don’t do it. Let Farrell alone. Someone must have seen me when I was walking around the fairgrounds cooling off. He won’t be able to make the charges stick.”
“He’s still an immoral man who thinks he can do whatever he wants because he wears a badge. Knowing that, how can I let it go?”
“Maggie, I know how much you want this deputyship.”
“Could you let it go, if you were in my place?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying,” she said quietly. Then she pressed her fingertips to the bars because he was too far away to touch, and left.
By the time Mike and Farrell returned from Ross’s arraignment, Maggie’s shoulders ached with the tension that she was trying to control. Red-faced, Cy strode past her desk and headed straight into his office, slamming the door behind him. Apparently, something hadn’t gone well. Maggie wondered if it had anything to do with Ross.
When Mike approached the desk, she kept her anxious voice low. “How’s Ross?”
“Out on bail, and royally ticked off,” he murmured with a half glance toward Cy’s office. “The last I saw him, he was heading into the café.”
Probably to question Ruby about Trent’s accident, Maggie guessed, though he probably wouldn’t get the answers he needed. She’d already phoned the café, and Ruby’s memory of the gossip surrounding the accident was sketchy. “Does Ross have anything to do with Cy’s mood?”
“Ross could be part of it, but I think something else is going on, too. I get the feeling that whatever it is, it’s coming to a head.”
Farrell’s angry seclusion worked to their advantage. It gave them time for several quick searches through the old files in the storage room at the rear of the office. There was nothing incriminating under Trent Campion’s name, but Maggie hadn’t expected there to be. Cy would more likely have misfiled the accident report under a heading that he alone knew, or have hidden it under the victim’s name. They took turns checking through the folders and manning the phones—and watching for Farrell to emerge from his office.
Just before four o’clock—shortly after a nameless caller put in an urgent personal call to Cy—Maggie found what they’d been looking for. Heart pounding, she scanned the document, memorized the phone number, and jammed the folder back into the file cabinet.
Trent Campion’s victim was Mildred Tenney, and she lived two miles off the Clearcut Road!
Maggie was reaching for the phone when Cy burst out of his office, headed straight for the hat pegs on the wall, and grabbed his Stetson.
“I have to leave for a while,” he said gruffly. “Radio me if anything major happens.” He spared Mike a brief glance, but never broke stride on his way to the door. “Can you cover for me if I’m late getting back? If not, call Joe in for a few hours.”
“I can stay.”
“Good. I should be back by seven—seven-thirty at the latest, but you never know.” Then he was out the door and shutting it tightly behind him.
Maggie waited until Cy moved past the window, got into his Jeep and backed out onto the street. Then she grabbed the phone and dialed, bringing Mike up to speed on the accident report while she waited through a half-dozen rings.
“Mrs. Tenney?” she said breathlessly when an elderly voice answered.
“Yes?”
“My name is Maggie Bristol, and I’m with the sheriffs office in Comfort. Would it be all right if I came by this afternoon to speak with you?”
“The sheriff’s office?” Tenney repeated, something fearful creeping into her voice. “Have...have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all. I just have a few questions for you regarding an accident you were involved in several years ago. I’d be happy to explain when I get there.”
When the woman reluctantly agreed, Maggie said goodbye and hung up. “Mike?”
He understood her unspoken question. “Go ahead. Find out what you can. Just remember, according to the file the accident was nothing: minor damages, no one hurt, no booze. If Mrs. Tenney doesn’t tell you anything different, we’ll have to let it go.”
Maggie grabbed her purse. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Mildred Tenney’s home was an aging white clapboard that sat back from the road, with a dozen cats roaming the banisters and lounging on the sagging porch. But it wasn’t the number of cats that startled Maggie as she spiked her brake at the foot of the long driveway. It was the cherry-red truck roaring toward her, and the determined-looking cowboy behind the wheel.
Ross skidded to a stop in the loose gravel, then pulled Ruby’s truck up beside Maggie to speak through the open window. There was a palpable tension in him; an agitation that matched her own. “Guess we both had the same idea.”
“How did you find out it was Mrs. Tenney?”
“Aunt Ruby. She finally remembered hearing that Mrs. Tenney had been hurt a while back, and that right afterward she came into some serious money.”
Maggie glanced at the house. “Serious money?”
Ross nodded. “You can’t tell from the exterior, but everything beyond the front door is expensive and new. Apparently, she wasn’t flaunting the fact that her financial situation had improved, but the gossip got out anyway.”
Maggie’s heart hammered. “I have to speak to her.”
“You can if you want, but she’s already told me everything—implicated Trent, Ben, and Farrell.”
“Oh, Ross, that’s wonderful. B
ut she has to come in and make a statement.”
Ross handed a sheet of paper through the window. “Good enough for now? She’s not up to traveling.”
“The accident?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Quickly, Maggie scanned the page. It read like a diary. If the woman was nervous, her strong, fluid handwriting gave no indication of it.
“I have no complaints,” it began. “I was treated fairly.”
Maggie’s pulse quickened as she read about “a dreadful night, filled with fog and rain,” and the car crash that had left Mildred Tenney wheelchair-bound. There were several references to Mrs. Tenney’s appreciation for the kindness shown her by the Campions—and one brief admission that Trent had been driving drunk.
Maggie glanced up from the page. “What about Farrell?”
Ross’s jaw tensed. “It’s in there. In a nutshell, Trent called home from his cell phone, Ben relayed the message to Cy, and our illustrious sheriff took it from there. Cy convinced Mrs. Tenney she’d get better treatment in a city, and before she knew it she was in a private hospital up north.”
“Cy wasn’t concerned for her well-being,” Maggie said coldly. “Ben wanted her out of the way so Trent’s political ambitions wouldn’t be derailed.”
“You bet.” Ross inched the red truck forward. “Now Farrell and I are going to have a little talk.”
Maggie glanced toward the house, then back at Ross, vacillating between interviewing Mrs. Tenney herself and going with him. The storm in his eyes made the decision for her. If he let his temper get the best of him, things could go badly. “I’ll follow you.”
Mildred Tenney’s statement was only a stepping-stone, but it was a big one. Maggie prayed that once they confronted Cy, everything else would fall into place. And Ross would be cleared.
When Cy walked into the sheriff’s office at 9:30 that night, Maggie glanced at Ross and knew that it was a struggle for him to control his rage.
Farrell’s cool glance touched everyone seated around the dispatcher’s desk: hers, Ross’s, Mike Halston’s and attorney Mark Walker’s.
Accidental Hero Page 20