Cowboy Conspiracy

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Cowboy Conspiracy Page 8

by Joanna Wayne


  “For six months?” Wyatt knew detectives whose marriages hadn’t lasted that long. “That must be some honeymoon.”

  Dakota grinned. “Viviana is some woman.”

  “She must be to have tamed you.”

  “I’m sure you’ll meet her and Briana before the day is over.”

  Dakota, who’d ridden the rodeo circuit with wild abandon, gathering silver buckles like they were coins, had nabbed the biggest honor of all a couple of years back when he’d won the Bull Riding World Championship.

  Now he had a wife and a baby and the responsibility didn’t seem to worry him at all. Evidently marriage and family were right for him. Wyatt couldn’t see that in his own game plan.

  “How long are you here for?” Dakota asked.

  Now they were getting down to the nitty-gritty. “I’m not sure,” Wyatt admitted.

  “When do you have to be back on the job?”

  “I don’t.” There was no reason to lie to Dakota. “I handed in my resignation before I left Atlanta.”

  “By choice?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you loved what you were doing.”

  “I did, but I have another interest to pursue.”

  “Like what?”

  “Finding Mother’s killer.”

  Dakota groaned. “You still think it’s Dad, don’t you?”

  “The evidence says that. I’m keeping an open mind.”

  “He’s innocent, Wyatt. I was right there where you are until about six months ago. But once you spend some time with him, you’ll see how much he loved Mom and how determined he is to find her killer.”

  “Good. Now I’ll be here to help him.”

  “Have you told him that?”

  “Not directly, but he asked me to look over the information he’s collected and I agreed to give him my opinion.”

  “I hope you do find the real killer, Wyatt. Mother deserves justice and Dad deserves some peace of mind. But don’t heap more pain on an innocent man. He’s the first to admit he made mistakes with us, but he didn’t kill Mom.”

  “I’m a homicide detective, not a witch hunter.”

  Jaci’s voice and the sound of little feet skipping down the hall wafted through the crack beneath Wyatt’s bedroom door. With her daughter awake and going strong, Kelly was likely pacing the floor waiting on Wyatt to drive her and Jaci into town—unless she’d already talked Troy into doing that.

  “The natives are probably getting restless,” Wyatt said. “I’d best get moving.”

  “Me, too. Bob will be wondering what happened to me. But I’ll check with my friend about removing the branch before I leave.”

  “Thanks. It would be great if he could get to it today so that Kelly can get some kind of tarp over the hole.”

  Dakota opened the door and stepped into the hall. Wyatt was already rummaging through his duffel for a clean shirt when Dakota stuck his head back into the room.

  “Welcome home, Wyatt. And may I be the first to say it’s about damn time?”

  THE CHATTER COMING FROM THE KITCHEN was several decibels louder than a rock concert by the time Wyatt was showered, dressed and striding in that direction. Troy’s husky voice seemed almost a growl compared to Jaci’s high-pitched one. Kelly was laughing. And a lyrical voice with a slight Southern drawl was tangled in the mix.

  He stepped inside the door and studied the unfamiliar, familial scene. Dakota was standing near the back door with a finger in one ear and his cell phone at the other. Troy was setting the table.

  A shapely blonde with a dancing ponytail was pulling a pan of golden biscuits from the oven. Jaci was perched on a tall kitchen stool, swinging her legs and watching her mother whip a bowl of eggs.

  Kelly was in jeans, presumably the ones she was wearing last night since she’d had no luggage. But he’d never seen the nubby, emerald-green sweater she’d paired with them. It looked great on her, but he couldn’t imagine what hat she’d pulled that out of.

  Wyatt paused in the doorway, suddenly struck with a sensation of déjà vu so intense he grew dizzy. A song he hadn’t heard in years echoed inside his brain. A song his mother had sung countless times while she was preparing breakfast, often accompanying the tune with a dance step or two.

  The voices, the laughter, the heat from the oven, the activity around the gas range brought it all back as if it were yesterday. He and his brothers gathered around the table, Dakota usually the last one there, complaining that he couldn’t find his backpack.

  His father would show up at the very last minute, having already put in a few hours’ work on the ranch. He’d stamp the mud off his boots at the back door and come bounding in with news of a new foal or a cow that he’d had to pull out of a gully down by Willow Creek.

  The ranch would need more rain or less rain. The day was going to be a scorcher or it would likely be sleeting by noon. No matter if the news was good or bad, Troy would stop and give his wife a kiss. And then he’d smile and fill his plate, bragging that their mother was the best and prettiest cook in the state of Texas.

  “That was Cory calling me back,” Dakota said. “Here’s the roof scoop.”

  Dakota’s announcement yanked Troy from the reverie and grabbed the attention of the others in the room.

  “He can have one of his crews remove the branch from the roof this afternoon. In addition, he can install the type of blue roof sheeting that FEMA uses to keep the house from further damage from the elements.”

  “Great,” Kelly said. “Am I supposed to meet him there?”

  “I can meet him there for you, unless you want to help supervise the work.”

  “I’d only get in the way.”

  “No problem. I’ll let you know when the roof is cleared and covered.”

  She finally noticed Wyatt standing in the doorway and her smile lit up her face. He had that crazy stirring again, as if he’d touched a live wire and current was zinging along his nerve endings.

  “One more for breakfast?” Kelly asked.

  “Definitely,” he answered. “No red-blooded American can resist homemade biscuits—unless he’s offered pancakes.”

  Kelly blushed at the reminder of their midnight meal.

  “Biscuits with homemade gravy,” the perky blonde added, “but no guarantees on the edibility of that. I haven’t totally mastered the art of smoothing out the lumps.”

  She dried her hands on a paper towel as she maneuvered around the table and walked over to greet him. “I’m Julie, Tyler’s wife.”

  “Good to meet you, Julie. I’m Wyatt, Tyler’s brother, who hasn’t had homemade gravy in so long, I’ll enjoy the lumps.”

  He held out his hand. She ignored it and pulled him into a warm embrace.

  “Tyler talks about you all the time. He is going to be so envious that I’m getting to visit with you in person.”

  “The pleasure is all mine. Any word on when he’ll be back in the States?”

  “Nothing definite, but hopefully he’ll be fully discharged and back on the ranch for our first anniversary in March. I’m counting the days. Kelly can fill you in. I’ve bored her with nothing but talk of Tyler for the last half hour.”

  “I haven’t been bored for a second,” Kelly countered. “You have all been great help this morning. I especially love this sweater you gave me, Julie.”

  “Lent you,” Julie teasingly corrected.

  Julie was exactly as Wyatt’s brother Tyler had described her. Bubbly. Exuberant. And obviously as in love with Tyler as he was with her. They’d met on Tyler’s leave last spring and had married before he returned to his tour of duty.

  Kelly poured the eggs into a hot skillet. “I feel as if I’ve parachuted into a convention of Good Samaritans.”

  Wyatt felt as if he’d plunged into the pages of a bad science fiction novel and he was the alien—the only character who hadn’t bought into Troy’s innocence and swallowed the perfect-family pill.

  Kelly on the other hand seemed to fit right in.
She was busily scrambling eggs as if she’d cooked for the Ledger household every morning of her life.

  “I talked to Sean a few minutes ago,” Troy said. “He and Eve are driving over for the welcome home celebration tonight.”

  “So we’ll all be here,” Dakota said. “Guess I’d better tell Dylan to smoke a brisket.”

  “I’ve already got that covered,” Troy said.

  “I’ll bring chocolate pies,” Julie said. “And I’ll make a giant potato salad.”

  A celebration with the whole family—though they hadn’t really been a family in years. The Ledger sons had been separated like cattle herded into alternating branding pens. Only, they hadn’t even ended up in the same state.

  Wyatt would love bonding with his brothers. It was the father-led family idea that tasted so bitter on his tongue. The fact that he was the only one who saw it that way made it doubly acidic.

  “I’ve talked to the movers,” Kelly said when he walked over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. “They ran into some delays yesterday and won’t get into Mustang Run until around noon.”

  “Then what will they do with the load?”

  “Julie told me about a storage-unit facility in Mustang Run. I called and they have several climate-controlled units available. I have to meet the moving van there to pay the first month’s rent and sign the paperwork, but I can store everything until the house is ready for me to move in.

  “And on your father’s suggestion, I’ve called my bank and had them block all transactions until I can get in to close my account and open a new one. I think that covers most everything you missed while you were sleeping in.”

  She gave the eggs one last stir and then spooned them onto a serving platter.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “Jaci woke me up at seven, so I’ve had plenty of time to get organized. Now I’m just waiting for the sheriff to call and tell me that he’s recovered my car.”

  “You’re in an upbeat mood this morning.”

  “Your family has inspired me. I’m thinking positive.”

  She said it with authority as if she wanted to make sure he didn’t do or say anything to bring her down.

  “You know, Kelly, there’s a new apartment complex in town,” Julie said as they all sat down at the table. “Their sign says that every unit has its own garage and a small patio in the back. I don’t know about the cost or the lease requirement, but I can drive you in to look at the apartments after breakfast if you want.”

  “It’s none of my business,” Troy said, “but why waste the money? There’s plenty of room right here on the ranch. Jaci can have her own bedroom and acres of room to play outside on sunny days. You can even take her horseback riding.”

  Jaci’s eyes lit up. “Where are the horses?”

  “They’re still in the horse barn,” Troy said, “but later today, they’ll be in the horse pasture.”

  “What’s a passer?”

  “A pasture is a big fenced yard for horses and cows.”

  “Can I see the horses? Please, Momma. Please.”

  “We’ll see,” Kelly said. “And thanks for the offer to stay on here, Troy, but that’s taking ranch hospitality a bit too far.”

  “The offer will stay on the table, in case you change your mind. Unless that tree damaged the support beams, my sons and I can probably repair that damage in a few days and have the house ready for you to move into.”

  “I definitely can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You help your neighbor, they help you. That’s the cowboy way.”

  Wyatt stayed out of the conversation. He might consider one of those apartments for himself. He wasn’t sure how much family he could take before he started to gag. Then again, if the food was always this good, he might be tempted to stick around.

  He was on his third biscuit when his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. Sheriff McGuire. He excused himself from the table and took the call in the family room.

  “Is Kelly Burger still at the ranch?”

  “She is.”

  “Good. I tried phoning her cell number, but she didn’t answer. Can you call her to the phone?”

  “Is this good news or bad?”

  “Let’s just say it’s worrisome.”

  And when a sheriff said that, the news was always bad.

  Chapter Eight

  “We have your car.”

  Kelly took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, relieved by the news, but too wary to celebrate yet. “Was the thief still driving it?”

  “No, he’d abandoned it. The engine was cold so he’d been gone awhile before the vehicle was spotted.”

  “What condition is it in?”

  “Busted trunk and driver-side door locks are the only visible damage. There are a couple of pieces of luggage, a box of toys, and a stack of hanging clothes still in the trunk, along with the spare tire and the usual tire changing tools. We didn’t find a handbag.”

  No surprise there.

  “Did you check inside the car?”

  “The glove compartment was cleaned out, but there were a couple of sleeping bags in the backseat along with some books and toys. The cooler in the floor of the backseat still had a quart of milk in it.”

  “What about my daughter’s booster seat?”

  “Still there.”

  Good. One less thing she wouldn’t have to purchase. “What about my computer?”

  “No sign of that. I suggest you call your bank and have your account blocked—just to be on the safe side.”

  “I’ve taken care of that.”

  “If you don’t have one of those identity-theft policies, you might want to look into that, too. Operate on the basis that the thief has access to everything in your computer, even if it’s files or emails that you think have been deleted.”

  “Good point.” It made her uncomfortable that the laptop was in the hands of a thief, but the computer was new. She hadn’t used it for any banking or credit card purchases, so she should be safe there. “Where was the car found?”

  “This is the part that concerns me, Kelly.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Why?”

  “Brent spotted the vehicle just a few minutes past eight this morning. He was in the area, picking up donuts and coffee at the convenience store when he decided to swing by and check out the damage to your house. Your stolen car was parked in your driveway.”

  So the perverted thug had shown up at her house. A wave of dread and fear gushed through her veins. What if the tree hadn’t fallen onto her roof? What if she and Jaci had been in that house when the lunatic had been there?

  “Why would he return the car to my address?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll tell me that.”

  “How would I know…”

  The answer hit her before she finished asking the question. McGuire thought she was lying or at least holding something back. He must have had her investigated the way Wyatt had. Or maybe Wyatt had lied about keeping her secrets and shared with the sheriff what she’d confessed to him last night.

  A choking mix of fury and fear lumped in her throat. “I was just sitting out a thunderstorm in a café when my car was stolen,” she said icily. “That’s all I know to tell you.”

  “Okay, settle down, Mrs. Burger. As long as you’re leveling with me, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “Where does this case weigh in on your priority scale?” she asked, voicing concerns Wyatt had raised.

  “You needn’t worry about that. I take risks to all the citizens of this county seriously, Mrs. Burger. Your car has already been towed to the forensic center. It will be thoroughly examined for fingerprints or any other evidence. That information along with descriptions provided by you, Wyatt, and Edie should go a long way in helping us identify the perp. If he’s still in the area, he’ll be arrested.”

  That couldn’t happen too soon for her. It didn’t resolve her issues with
Wyatt. “When can I get my car back?”

  “You can pick up your belongings as soon as the evidence check is completed. I’ll have the investigating deputy call and give you a heads-up. But I need to keep the car a couple of extra days.”

  “Why?”

  “A precaution—in case we need to take a second look at it. In the meantime, you be careful and if the thief tries to make any personal contact with you, call me immediately.”

  “Believe me, I will.”

  “Just so we’re on the same page, Mrs. Burger, I don’t want to find out after the fact that you know who this guy is or that you weren’t a random victim. So if there’s anything you haven’t told me, now’s the time to come clean.”

  “I’d never seen the man who stole my car until I walked in that truck stop last night. I have no reason to suspect that he knew me.”

  “In that case, expect a call from the deputy later today as to when you can pick up your possessions.”

  The phone slipped through Kelly’s shaky hands as she broke the connection.

  Wyatt caught the phone. “What did McGuire have to say?”

  “Get your jacket, Wyatt, and I’ll get mine. We need to talk—in the backyard, out of hearing distance of Jaci and your family.”

  A BRISK WIND MADE the day seem even colder than the thirty-three-degree temperature registered on the back-porch thermometer. Kelly seemed not to notice as she stamped down the steps and started across the yard in her lightweight wrap.

  Fortunately, Wyatt had remembered her lack of luggage and retrieved an extra hunting parka from the back of his truck.

  He hurried to catch up with her. “Put this on.” He tried to hand her the jacket, but she kept her arms hugged tightly about her chest.

  “I’m not cold.”

  “Then that’s a weird shade of blue lipstick you’re wearing.” He draped the coat around her shoulders. “I take it the sheriff delivered bad news.”

  She stormed away again, this time stopping beneath a mulberry tree. Her stare could have frozen hot ashes. “Did you call the sheriff?”

  “No. He called on my phone. He said he’d been trying to reach you on yours, but you weren’t answering.”

 

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