“And Nancy Wilks.” Lindsey’s voice sounded strained. “I heard the news, of course. And that you found her. I was going to call you later to make sure you were all right.”
Cara leaned back in her car seat, swallowing hard as she recalled the sight of Nancy the night before. “I’m okay.”
“Of course you are,” Lindsey said. “Cara, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to come back to town to be with you? Or you could come to the ranch.”
And become the third person on a near honeymoon? “Thanks, anyway, but I’ll stay here. I’m working on the story. Lindsey, I was there because Nancy called me. She said she had something to show me. Do you have any idea what it might be?”
Cara trusted Lindsey with this information, for though the former associate at the Lambert firm was a relative newcomer to town, Lindsey had quickly become a close friend of Cara’s and her other dearest friend, Kelly McGovern. Kelly, who’d helped to solve the murder of her brother, Andrew, was now off on her own honeymoon with Wade Lansing, of all people. She’d recently married Wade, who’d been Andrew’s best friend and the owner of the wildest tavern in Mustang Valley.
Cara figured that a shared goal, fraught with mystery and danger, was a powerful aphrodisiac, for she’d never imagined Kelly and Wade as a couple. But now she realized they were perfect for each other.
“I wish I knew what Nancy had in mind,” Lindsey replied to Cara’s question. “Shotgun Sally always said things happen in threes, and now I believe it.”
That was one thing Cara, Lindsey and Kelly had in common: all were fascinated by the many stories of the celebrated Shotgun Sally. Her legend was filled with escapades that were sometimes contradictory but always amazing and enthralling. Cara figured that the inconsistencies were, in fact, consistent. Sally was, after all, an early investigative reporter. She took on many different guises to get her stories, as Cara was willing to do.
“First Andrew McGovern, then Jeb Rawlins and now Nancy.”
Lindsey continued. “All dead. Do they know who killed Nancy?”
“No, but I intend to figure out not only who did it, but how the three murders are related.”
“You think they are?” Lindsey asked. “I mean, I know about the law firm connection, and that Ranger Corporation’s name cropped up in both of the first cases, but the killers can’t be the same. The mayor and Paul Lambert are dead, so neither could have had anything to do with Nancy’s death. And there’s no question that they were the respective murderers.”
“On the surface, I don’t see the firm’s connection, either.” Cara agreed with the assessment previously jumped on by Mitch, too. “But if there’s something hidden, I intend to find out.”
“Just be careful,” Lindsey cautioned. “And let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“There is one thing,” Cara said.
“What?”
“Go back to Bart. Give him a great big kiss and…whatever.”
Lindsey laughed and hung up.
As Cara turned on her engine and pulled out of the parking lot, she noticed that the pickup truck left at the same time.
Strange. She hadn’t seen anyone exit the inn.
“I’M GLAD TO MEET YOU, Ms. Hamilton,” said Roger Rosales, Manager of Regional Development for Ranger Corporation.
Cara smiled as they shook hands. His grip was firm, his return smile practiced. Except for his tan summer-weight business suit and beige tie, Roger wasn’t what Cara expected. He looked even younger than Cara’s twenty-seven years, with beaming brown eyes and hair the shade of café au lait.
He looked like someone’s younger brother, playing at being in charge. But Cara knew better than to underestimate anyone.
Just like she had no intention of misconstruing her uneasy alliance with the sexy Deputy Steele.
“Please sit down.” Roger motioned toward a wooden chair upholstered in a soft plaid that matched the heavy draperies in his richly appointed office. The Ranger Corporation’s presence in Mustang Valley wasn’t very large, but Mustang Valley wasn’t very large, either. The compact office suite, composed of this room and the reception area, was located in the most prestigious building in downtown—an old, stately edifice, whose granite exterior had been well maintained for over a century.
It had probably even been there in Shotgun Sally’s time.
“Thanks for seeing me, Roger,” Cara said. “I’m working on an article about big companies headquartered elsewhere that do business in Mustang County. There are a surprising number and—”
“I read in your paper, heard on the news, that you were the one who found poor Nancy Wilks last night,” he said, interrupting, his smile sympathetic now as he leaned toward her over a desk that appeared to be highly polished mahogany.
Good thing Cara had already determined not to underestimate this sweet-appearing young man. A polecat who’d painted his white stripe black. That’s what Shotgun Sally would call him.
“That’s right,” Cara said with a shiver. “I did find Nancy.”
“Terrible thing.” He shook his head. “There’ve been a lot of killings lately in this area. That’s made Ranger Corporation start rethinking whether or not to locate a development here.”
“Really? What kind of development is Ranger considering, Roger?” Cara was determined to take control of the interview. She enjoyed verbal sparring, but on her own terms.
“Oh, that’s confidential,” he said. “Especially since we’ve been treated so badly in the media. If anyone learned what we hoped to accomplish here, it might get trashed even before we could show how much it would help this area’s economy.”
Cara was beginning to loathe the boyish grin that hid this man’s cunning depths. He was turning her interview into his own lobbying effort.
“Did Mayor Daniels know Ranger’s plans?” she asked.
“If so, the information did not come from me.”
“So you weren’t aware that Mayor Daniels’s investment in Ranger Corporation could be considered a conflict of interest?”
Roger shrugged. “Stock in Ranger Corporation is not traded on the major markets, but it’s not that closely held. We don’t teach ethics to the people who own shares.”
“And the fact that your attorney, Paul Lambert, murdered a rancher to try to make his land available for Ranger Corporation—you weren’t involved in his ethics, either?”
For the first time, Roger’s eyes narrowed. He no longer looked so young or guileless. In fact, he appeared ticked. Good! Cara thought.
“Look, Cara. I know you’re a good reporter. I’ve read some of your stuff. I assume you could prove your allegations. But don’t imagine you can pin anything on Ranger. We had nothing to do with what Mayor Daniels did in Andrew McGovern’s murder. Nor did we solicit the Jeb Rawlins’s murder, whether or not it was committed by Paul Lambert—who, by the way, was innocent until proven guilty, so now we’ll never know, since he took his own life. And if you decide to print an article with allegations against Ranger, the company will take any steps necessary to protect its reputation, including suing for defamation.”
Cara’s ire was raised. The man was threatening her—or at least her paper. And that meant her career could suffer. And her career was everything to her.
She might not be easily cowed by the likes of Roger Rosales, but her boss Beau Jennings would be.
“Did I say I intended to make false claims?” she demanded. “I believe truth is always a defense in that kind of lawsuit.”
Roger put his smile back on his face. This time it looked more like a sneer. “Prove Ranger’s involvement. I’ll bet you came here hoping I’d admit a connection not only to those ugly crimes, but to poor Ms. Wilks’s murder, too.”
The thought had crossed Cara’s mind. “Is there a connection, Roger?” she asked sweetly.
“This meeting is over.” He rose. “Thank you for coming.”
“You’re very welcome,” she said sardonically, also standing. She took a few steps toward the d
oor, then turned back. “Oh, and don’t get too comfortable thinking we’ve resolved anything. I’m interested in anything that affects Mustang Valley, and my research on Ranger Corporation is nowhere near complete. If I find evidence to tie Ranger to anything shady—well, keep reading the papers, Roger. You might see something enlightening.”
The menace in his glare seared her. Though she’d refused to feel intimidated by his promise to sue the Gazette, she again resolved not to take this man too lightly.
He had something to hide. She was sure of it.
This was a conversation she would share with Mitch, including the threats, explicit and implicit. He’d probably find them interesting. Maybe they’d give him extra impetus to seek a link between Nancy’s murder and Ranger Corporation.
Head high, she strode out to the reception area.
BY LATE AFTERNOON, Mitch could hardly keep his eyes open.
To remain alert, he rose and stretched, his arms spanning into the next guy’s allotted space in the cramped deputy administration room. He was senior enough that he’d been assigned a corner, and it was crowded with boxes of paperwork. Glancing at his watch, he realized he’d spent the past two hours on his barely comfortable chair at his gouged wooden desk.
The deputy admin room smelled of the spicy Mexican lunches favored by the officers who inhabited it. By now most had abandoned their rabbit warren of desks and were out in the field on their various assignments.
Not Mitch. After briefly revisiting the Nancy Wilks murder scene earlier to check its status, he’d come in to go over reports and talk on the phone with the Dallas labs where evidence had been sent for analysis. Mustang County was too small to afford state-of-the-art equipment, and Mitch would allow for no less to be used in this investigation.
Deputy Stephanie Greglets walked in, followed by Deputy Hurley Zeller. Stephanie was a tall woman who was recruited into the Mustang County Sheriff’s Department just after Mitch joined, with little prior experience beyond police academy training. Hurley kept panting after her, but Mitch was glad to see her constantly put the crude man in his place. It helped that she practiced martial arts and was far tougher than her harasser.
“How’s the investigation going, Mitch?”
“Nothing conclusive yet,” he said, “but—” His cell phone rang. He reached into the pocket beneath his badge and extracted it. “Hello?”
“Mitch? Cara. Have a minute?”
“Yeah. Hang on.” Mitch saw Hurley studying him. Whatever Cara wanted to say, he didn’t want Zeller listening in.
“That your new girlfriend, the murder suspect?” Hurley’s guffaw followed Mitch as he headed for the stubby but brightly lit hall.
“Yes, Cara?” He leaned on the gray wall beside the building’s rear exit.
“I talked to Lindsey Wellington. No help there. And then I visited Roger Rosales. I’m sure he knows something, Mitch.”
“Like what?”
“He was playing games with me. He tried to tell me how to do my job, and—”
“How’s the redheaded babe?” Hurley Zeller stood in front of Mitch, smirking, gut stretching the khaki of his uniform above his belt. “You gettin’ any?”
“I’ll call you back.” Mitch snapped his phone shut. Damn. He hadn’t wanted to be so abrupt with Cara, especially when she’d actually called to share something—though she hadn’t gotten to the meat of it. “You want something, Zeller?”
“I wouldn’t mind a little of what you’re getting.” His wide grin showed the yellowed teeth of a frequent smoker. “How good is she?”
Mitch controlled his urge to erase Hurley’s face, invoking the serenity of his native ancestors as he did a lot recently. “If you mean Ms. Hamilton, she’s agreed to cooperate with the Sheriff’s Department in the investigation.”
“She’s got no choice. The preliminary lab report says your Ms. Hamilton’s prints were all over the Wilks murder scene.”
Mitch refused to show surprise. Not at the fingerprints, but because Hurley had seen the findings. “Of course they were. She found the body. And what were you doing with the lab report?” It was on Mitch’s desk. He’d been working on it.
“I asked the lab for extra copies of everything. That way I’ll be up to speed when you ask for my help.”
Yeah, and Mitch would do that when he took up snow-boarding in hell. “I’d better tell Ben you need something to do. Since you’re messing around in my case, you’ve obviously got too much time on your hands.” Mitch looked at the big paws resting on the sides of Hurley’s protruding waist. “You know, my car needs a good washing. Why don’t you take care of that while I work on the department matters I’m assigned?”
“Like screwing Ms. Hamilton?”
“Go—” Mitch began, then shut up as Stephanie Greglets joined them in the hallway.
“Hurley, the chief’s looking for you,” she said.
“See ya, Steele,” Hurley said, grinning again at Mitch.
Mitch sighed as he forced his anger down. No use responding to a jerk like Hurley. But he personified what so many others here expressed more by what they didn’t say than what they did say. Good thing Mitch worked best alone. He despised anyone looking over his shoulder. And the few times anyone had offered to work with him, their reasons had been obvious. They wanted the credit. Or they wanted him to take the fall if something went wrong. He was, after all, his father’s son.
“Don’t let Hurley get to you,” Stephanie said.
He looked at her. She wore her dark hair in a cap that was almost masculine, though her soft facial contours and long lashes were definitely female. A pretty lady. Not his type, though.
His type… Cara Hamilton’s cute and sexy face popped into his mind, and he forced it right back out again.
“Right,” he said to Stephanie, and turned away.
“Actually, Ben didn’t send for him,” Stephanie said. “I needed to talk to you.”
Mitch turned back. “Yeah?”
“I figured you’d want to know that not only Hurley, but Ben, too, is getting copies of the lab reports. And he’s intercepted the phone records you asked for.”
“Damn. Thanks, Stephanie.” He stopped for a moment, looked at her. Why would she tell him?
As if responding to his unasked question, she said, “Like I’ve said, I want to help you in this case. It’s a murder. High profile. I was kept off the other murder investigations because I’m a woman, though no one here would ever admit to that kind of discrimination. I’ve seen the prejudices against you, too—your background, your dad. Maybe we can help each other. And if I can be on the team that solves this latest murder, it can’t hurt my career, right?”
What she said made sense. But Mitch was too leery to bite. “Right,” he replied anyway. “We’ll talk later.” Now, he wanted to talk to the sheriff about some phone records.
The sheriff wanted to see him, too. Ben Wilson sat at his large desk. Behind him hung an autographed photo of the governor of Texas with the flags of Texas and the United States flanking it. The office was nearly the size of the whole deputy admin room.
Fortunately, Hurley wasn’t there.
“Sit down, Mitch,” Ben said. Mitch took one of the low wooden chairs facing the desk. Its rounded back hit him just above the kidneys. “I’ve just gotten a nasty call from Roger Rosales, local rep of Ranger Corporation. Seems that Ms. Cara Hamilton has been harassing him. Threatening him.”
Damn. Mitch wished he’d gotten Cara’s version of the conversation before this confrontation. “I need to talk to her anyway, get clarification of part of her statement. I’ll find out what happened.”
“You do that,” Ben said.
“By the way, I understand you received some phone records I requested—calls to and from the murder victim Nancy Wilks.”
“You heard it wrong. The records I got are from the Lambert law firm. They were already collected for what would have been the prosecution of Paul Lambert in the Rawlins murder.”
�
��I need to see them. Some might have been Ms. Wilks’s.”
“Later. Meantime, I’m counting on you to get Ms. Hamilton off Ranger Corporation’s case. Threaten her, call Beau Jennings about her, whatever. We’ve enough important matters around here that we don’t need to throw that reporter in jail for acting malicious, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Mitch said grimly. It was time he got the details of Cara’s conversation with Roger Rosales.
He signed out for the day so he’d be on his own time, not that he was done working on the murder. He’d go chat with Cara. With no interruptions.
Reaching his car, he slipped inside and called her on her cell phone.
“Cara, I need to continue the conversation we started earlier,” he said when he reached her. “Where are you?”
“Just getting out of my car across from Nancy’s. I’m going to—” She ended with a quick intake of breath. “No!” she screamed.
Mitch heard a shriek of brakes before a noise like metal slamming metal. And then nothing.
Chapter Five
Stunned, Cara lay across the hood of her car, her legs dangling over the front, her dark-blue denim skirt hiked up.
All those self-defense lessons she’d taken for years and she hadn’t been able to use them—not against machinery and metal.
Fortunately, she’d had the presence of mind to leap up on the hood when the pickup came barreling down Caddo Street straight toward her. At least the idiot driving it hadn’t ploughed into her car. He had just scraped its side.
But he wouldn’t have been able to keep going then, would he? This hit-and-run had seemed intentional.
“Are you all right?” Cara recognized Mrs. Bea Carrow, who stared at her in concern from the sidewalk. The middle-aged lady was one of Nancy Wilks’s upstairs neighbors Cara had interviewed yesterday morning.
“Sure,” Cara said. Or tried to say. Adrenaline still pumped through her so hard that she continued to gasp for breath. She slid off the hood, though she remained leaning against her car for support. Her legs wobbled as if made of elastic. She pulled her skirt down. “Did you see what happened?”
Lawful Engagement - Linda O Johnston Page 6