Falcon's Run

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Letters? What the hell you talking about now?”

  “The person who wrote these letters knew Carl’s nickname—Shadowman.”

  “Dude, everyone in the pen knows each other by their nicknames, and it wasn’t just me and him in there.” He turned to Abby. “Do I look like the letter-writing type? When I have something to say, I get in your face.”

  Abby looked at him, then expelled her breath in a soft hiss. “Preston, let him go. He didn’t actually hit me and I’m not going to press charges.”

  “You should,” Preston said firmly.

  “No. He wouldn’t have lost his job if we hadn’t led the reporter to him,” she said and looked at Ed. “I’m going to ask Tim Barton to take you back.”

  “If he doesn’t, can I work here? I’ll do whatever you need. I know animals. Carl and I worked on the same program.”

  Abby shook his head. “I can’t hire you, at least not now. This ranch is under siege. I’m fighting just to keep the animals and pay my bills,” she said, “but give me a chance to talk to Tim. I think I can convince him if you agree not to lose your temper again—with anyone.”

  Seeing him nod, she stepped into the next room while Preston remained with Ed.

  “She’s not going to press charges. How about you?” Ed asked.

  Preston pushed him against the wall and held him there. “If you ever lay a hand on her, it will be the last thing you ever do. You get me?”

  “I didn’t actually do—” Seeing the lethal glare Preston gave him, he stopped speaking and just nodded.

  Ten minutes later Abby came back to the room. “Okay, you have your job back but if you give Tim any trouble—being late to work, not doing what you’re told, arguing with a customer—you’re out.”

  “I won’t give him a reason,” he said.

  “Remember what I said.” Preston’s voice was barely a whisper as he removed the man’s handcuffs.

  Once Ed left, Preston glanced back at Abby. She was looking out the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

  He’d never been impulsive, but this time something snapped inside him and he pulled her into his arms. “You’re not in this alone, Abby. Your fight is my fight, too.”

  “No one’s ever jumped in for me like that. I should have said thanks....”

  The gentleness in her gaze, and the fear that lay beyond that, were too much for him. She needed tenderness, but when he lowered his mouth to hers and her lips flowered open, heat shot through him. His heart began to thunder and heat poured into his veins. She was sweet and soft, the very qualities that were missing from his world of cold, hard facts and logic.

  He was demanding and rough, but she surrendered to him easily, giving as much as he wanted to take. Fire coursed through him as he ravaged her mouth. He’d never felt this greed—this overpowering need for someone else.

  Yet what raged inside him was more than passion. The proof was there when he moved away from her. “Abby....”

  Those big, beautiful hazel eyes stayed on him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I have to go work on the case. I’ll be in touch later.”

  He strode outside to his SUV, his body aching, his blood on fire. Cursing himself, he got behind the wheel. To help Abby, he’d have to keep his priorities straight and focus on the investigation.

  As he tried to get the memory of their kiss out of his mind, he remembered the way she’d looked at him. The longing in her eyes would haunt his dreams long after tonight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Preston loved police work. It was at the heart of everything he was and had ever wanted to be. Yet sometimes it was necessary to cut a few corners.

  “Call Daniel,” he said to the cell phone resting beside him on the seat of his SUV.

  “Hey, bro,” Daniel greeted over the speaker. “What’s going on?”

  “I’d like you to get me everything you can on Ilse Sheridan, Stanley Cooper, Michelle Okerman and Monroe Jenkins, my boss’s son,” he said. Due to his government security contracts Daniel had high-level clearance and could get into databases that would take him a folder of paperwork to access. “I need you to keep it off the record, too.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “One more thing. I want you to see what you can get me on a ward of the state, a child named Robert or Bobby Neskahi. I want to find out about his parents.”

  “That’s a lot tougher. Most of those files are sealed by the Office of Children, Youth and Families or the courts. Are you stopping by later?”

  “Yeah. I’m hoping together we can find some answers. Someone’s working real hard to close down Sitting Tall Ranch, and I need to find out how it all connects to the murder.”

  “What are your instincts telling you, bro?”

  “That there’s way more to this case than I’m seeing, and Sitting Tall Ranch is right in the middle of everything.”

  * * *

  PRESTON DROVE TO Stan Cooper’s office next. He’d wanted to talk to the accountant away from the ranch. In his own office, the man would be more relaxed and focused, something that would work to Preston’s advantage.

  He found the place quickly and went inside. While Stan finished a conference call, his leggy blonde assistant offered him a cup of coffee. She was easy on the eyes and flashy but not his type. More like Rick’s or Kyle’s. Of course, any female was Kyle’s type. He smiled at the thought.

  Several moments later, he was ushered into the small but well-appointed office. Several black-and-white charcoal sketches hung on the wall, all depicting southwest landscapes and animals. Old black-and-white panoramic photos of Navajo Dam dating back to the sixties were there, too.

  “I like the photos,” Preston said.

  “I spent a lot of my time up in that area as a kid,” Stan said, shaking Preston’s hand. “So what brings you here, Detective?” he asked, a worried frown on his face.

  “I’m digging hard into the case. Since you play a big part at the ranch as accountant, advisor and volunteer, I thought you’d be able to answer a few questions for me.”

  “That’ll depend on the questions,” he said. “I can’t give you current specifics of Abby’s financial situation, but the ranch is a nonprofit so some of those records are public.”

  Preston took a seat and leaned back in the chair. It was soft leather and probably cost a small fortune, but it was definitely comfortable. “My primary interest is Carl Sinclair’s murder.”

  “Terrible business,” Stan said, sitting behind his desk. “Is there a chance it was a random thing? Someone got caught trespassing and Carl stepped in?”

  “It’s too soon for me to come to any conclusions,” Preston said. “I came looking for your take on the people who work and volunteer at the ranch. I’d ask Abby, but she tends to see the best in everyone...”

  “And that clouds reality,” he said, finishing Preston’s unspoken thought. “Don’t think I haven’t spoken to her about that, but Abby’s...well, Abby. She does things her way, and her idealism sometimes trumps her common sense.”

  “You see things more objectively, so keeping that in mind, let’s start with Ilse Sheridan and Monroe Jenkins.”

  He barked a laugh. “You heard about that, did you?” He shrugged dismissively. “Ilse’s only playing with him. In my opinion she enjoys the attention of a man fifteen years younger than she is. The fact the kid’s the police chief’s son just adds spice to the mix. There’s nothing serious going on there, but you might not want to tell that to Monroe.”

  “I understand Ilse and Monroe were both close to Carl.” He knew no such thing, but sometimes it helped to intimate that he knew more than he did. People tended to speak more freely then.

  Stan looked puzzled for a minute, then smiled. “Wait—you’re talking about the nights Monroe and Carl got toget
her to play chess? Ilse wasn’t involved in that. Carl had been depressed about something and Monroe picked up on it. Since he knew Carl liked chess, he decided to bring a board and talk him into playing a few games.”

  “Did it help?”

  “I don’t know. Carl was hard to read. The guy was a mass of contradictions, too. He never had much to say and he never asked anyone for help, but if you needed his, he was always there to lend a hand. Let me give you an example. Monroe was having problems at school, and his dad was all over his case. When Carl found out, he helped Monroe study for his tests, and the kid passed with flying colors. Carl also helped me.” He rolled up his sleeve to show Preston his silver-and-turquoise watch. “I love this thing. It was given to me by my father. One day at the ranch, I lost it. We searched everywhere. Nada. Zip. I figured it was gone for good.”

  “You wear that to the ranch?” Preston asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Not usually, no, but that day I was in a hurry and forgot. The catch must have caught on something, and it came off. I was really pissed at myself and tried not to think about it,” he said. “The next morning, Carl called. He’d found it down between two bales of hay where I’d been working. I offered Carl a reward, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “He could have easily sold that watch and no one would have been the wiser,” Preston said, thinking out loud.

  “Yeah, which is why I wanted you to hear about that. Carl was a complicated man. I can’t say I trusted him completely, but I think he really appreciated the chance Abby gave him. In my opinion, he wouldn’t have willingly messed that up for the world.”

  Preston took notes, then looked up. “As a businessman, what’s your opinion about the ranch’s financial situation? Can Sitting Tall Ranch weather the hard times ahead?”

  Stan leaned back in his leather chair, a grim look on his face. “It’s going to be hard for Abby to keep things running considering her current cash flow problems, but she has an option. If she wants out, I can always make some things happen for her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m part of an area investment group and we’ve made her a good offer for the ranch. She stands to make a profit and though it won’t be substantial, she’d have enough to relocate to another, smaller ranch.”

  “What did she say about that?” Preston asked.

  “She refused to even consider the deal. She doesn’t want to start over. To her, Sitting Tall Ranch is in the perfect location and she’s determined to stay and fight, though I’ve warned her that she could end up losing everything. There’s more working against her than the current criminal investigation.”

  “Like what?”

  “My investment group is small but well connected, and although this is nothing but rumor at this point, word reached us that there’s a large corporation interested in the land next to her ranch.”

  “What kind of corporation?” Preston asked.

  “J&R Sports Paradise. Attorneys connected to them have been checking zoning requirements, asking for copies of traffic studies and checking utility services. I understand that they want to build one of their full-scale franchises here. That’ll include an indoor and outdoor gun range, archery and even a motocross. All that activity next door to the ranch is bound to make the animals less stable and the parents of high-risk kids extremely nervous.”

  “So what was your investment group planning to do with Abby’s land?”

  “We’ve studied that company and know how it works. Once it buys the primary property, it’ll target adjacent ones. Then the company will acquire allies in the local government and business community with the promise of more jobs and tax revenues, then move to rezone and even devalue adjacent properties. Our investment group can make sure we’re in position to sell at the best possible price before politics force our hand.”

  “Abby can do the same.”

  “No, she doesn’t have the resources to play that game. Closing this ranch and opening a new one is an expensive proposition. First, she’ll have to find a suitable property, then there’s the logistics of zoning, obtaining exotic animal permits and finding new donors. She’d also have the cost of housing the animals until she finds a new place. She could sell them, but it took her years to find the right ones. They’re all temperament tested and were donations from patrons who wouldn’t necessarily be there next time.”

  “Those are valid concerns. I can see why she’d prefer to fight it out here,” Preston said.

  “Personally, I think her reluctance goes deeper than that. To her, it’s personal, not just business. She’s put her heart into that ranch and can’t bear the thought of walking away.”

  Preston exhaled softly. He wondered what part Bobby played in that. She loved that boy, and if she moved, she’d have to leave him behind.

  “Thanks for your time, Stan,” Preston said, standing up.

  Preston left the office and drove directly to Daniel’s place. His primary job was to find the killer, and it was possible this other threat to the ranch might have played a role in what had happened. He needed more information.

  Preston arrived at Daniel’s office on Hartley’s west side forty minutes later. He stopped at the gate and seconds later was buzzed in.

  Daniel’s office was a large rectangular warehouse in the middle of a three-acre compound enclosed by a tall chain-link fence.

  Daniel greeted him at the door of the main building. “Figured you’d show up around lunch, so I bought extra. Kyle’s eyeing your plate now, so you better hurry.”

  Preston took a whiff as he stepped inside. “Mrs. Pinto’s Navajo Tacos.” As he entered the kitchen area of the big, open room, he saw Kyle lifting the lid on the only take-out dish that was still untouched. “Hands off, or I’ll have to shoot you.”

  Kyle laughed. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  As Preston sat down, he glanced over at Daniel. “Anything yet on the background search?”

  “Grab your plate and let’s get to work,” he said, leading the way to the main computer area. They pulled up chairs around the big, table-size flat monitor.

  Sweeping his fingers across the display, Daniel transferred the information onto a large, split screen, wall-mounted monitor.

  “So far they’re all coming out clean. Ilse Sheridan has an MBA from State. She started out at an Ivy League school, but transferred after disciplinary issues that weren’t specified. She’s worked for Garner for three years, ever since he retired. Near as I can figure, she has no life. She relocates every time he buys a new house—his last one was in Santa Fe. Monroe Jenkins lives at home and is going to community college. Basically he’s a B student and clean. So no dirt on the chief’s son.”

  Preston nodded and swallowed his frustration along with a big helping of cheese, meat and tortilla.

  “Since I couldn’t find much on the other names, I decided to dig deeper into Carl Sinclair’s past,” Daniel said, removing the previous images and displaying Carl’s prison photo and criminal record. “I even called in a favor or two and got one of the correction officers to give me some background. He said that at one point, the head of one of the prison gangs, a bad dude by the name of John Dietz, lost his good luck charm. He assumed someone had stolen it and ended up putting a few inmates in the prison infirmary. As it turned out Dietz had left it in his pants pocket. Carl, on laundry duty, found it and returned it to him. Carl was under Dietz’s protection after that. No one messed with him.”

  “Sounds like Carl had some survival skills,” Preston said.

  “In prison, yeah, but he lasted less than three years after his release,” Kyle said.

  “Maybe I need to focus on his career as a thief. According to the reports I’ve read, everything said to have been stolen by him was eventually recovered, but there’s another possibility I haven’t been able to check out,” Preston
said. “What if Carl took paintings that were never reported missing because the victims of those thefts didn’t have legal ownership?”

  “Unreported crimes? Black market stuff? That’s an interesting angle, but it sounds almost impossible to follow up on,” Daniel said.

  “Yeah, I know.” Preston glanced at Kyle. “So what did you get from Jade at the coffee bar? Anything?”

  “Well, I got her to talk to me, but I don’t have anything you can use. She remembers a guy who comes in early in the morning and after work to sip coffee and use the Wi-Fi, but she said that’s her busiest time of day. All she could tell me about him is that he’s my size and wears a baseball cap low on his head and shades.”

  “Inside?” Preston asked.

  “Yeah, I asked her that same question. She says that her paying customers can wear whatever they want. If they cause trouble, she takes care of it. Otherwise, as long as they place an order and mind their own business, she leaves them alone,” Kyle said. “I’m having dinner with her tonight, so I’ll let you know if she remembered anything else.”

  “You’re having dinner with Jade?” Preston asked, surprised.

  “Yeah.”

  Preston expelled his breath in a hiss, then turned his attention back to Dan. “Now I’ve got to figure out if Carl was somehow involved in the rash of burglaries we’ve been having all over town.”

  Daniel shook his head. “No chance. I’ve already checked into that for you. The nights the last two break-ins took place, Carl was at a fundraiser at the casino that showcased the camels. Celebrity and corporate bigwigs were offered a camel ride into the desert at one grand a pop. They raised twenty thousand that night, but that included a huge chunk from Rod Garner, who bought out half the rides. Getting those camels was one of the smartest things Abby ever did. They’ve allowed the ranch to stay in the black even through tough times.”

  Preston paced the room restlessly. “As Navajos we’re taught that everything is part of a larger pattern, even good and evil. Falcon lets me see what others miss, but these events are impossible to piece together.”