by Barb Han
Leanne could be honest enough to admit that Clara was known to keep a secret if she thought sharing would hurt the other person or upset the applecart too much. I should’ve listened. I should’ve taken you more seriously, Clara.
Kicking herself again wouldn’t do any good. She knew that on some level. And yet, she’d never forgive herself. What if she’d gone to pick up her niece a week earlier? If Dalton was right, the date was important.
Bethany took in a deep breath, popped her head up off the pillow and then resettled almost immediately. Leanne froze.
When she was certain her half sister was asleep again, she slowly shut the door and tiptoed down the hallway until she was far enough away to exhale.
Would San Antonio give her the answers she craved? Or, like everything else, would it cost more valuable time?
* * *
“I KEEP RUNNING around in circles in my mind trying to figure out if he’s involved,” Leanne said, after spending a half hour in companionable silence.
“I’ve been thinking that we should let the sheriff take care of the obvious,” Dalton said, adding, “Maybe we should focus on the ways the girls might’ve been linked.”
“That’s a good strategy. I’m getting nowhere without being able to access the evidence and the sheriff isn’t going to cooperate, so it’s all speculation on my part.” He was right. She needed to move on to what she could control instead of stressing about what she couldn’t. The sheriff would be covering traditional bases. She had to assume he’d found something or he wouldn’t have been able to detain Gary. Releasing him this quickly could mean his alibi had held up, at least for now. Concentrating their efforts on the road less traveled was a good strategy. It could also keep them from bumping heads with Sawmill. They’d already brainstormed a few possible connections, so she took out a notepad and scribbled them down.
“We could start at Cattle Barge High School. See if they had any of the same teachers,” he offered. “Think your sister would give you her schedule?”
“It would be easier than trying to go behind her back and get it from the school,” she said. “We might even get her full cooperation if we tell her that we’re trying to find someone besides Gary to name as a suspect.”
“Worth a shot,” he agreed, pulling off the highway. “There’s another angle we owe it to ourselves to consider.”
“And that is?”
“It’s possible that someone could be using this situation to get at me.” His words were heavy, and she could tell he’d been carrying around the guilt associated with the possibility. “I’ve read everything I could get my hands on that’s been reported about Alexandria. The sheriff is right. Reporters drudged up details of the past after my father was killed. I’d been avoiding the reports but stayed up last night reading everything I could find.”
That explained the dark circles cradling his eyes today and the reason he’d rubbed them several times on the ride over.
“If we’re going to consider this,” she began carefully. It was obvious the possibility was agonizing for him, even though he’d never admit how deeply it seemed to cut. “We could also say that someone could be trying to rattle you. To get at you or throw you off balance. With your father’s recent murder, someone could be trying to get revenge on the family.”
Was Clara an innocent victim in a plot aimed to make the Butler family suffer?
“My father lived an exaggerated life. He did things none of us are proud of. I’m sure he had a long list of enemies,” he admitted.
“But why would someone specifically target you?” she asked. “With all due respect, he’s already gone.”
A revenge-against-his-father plot didn’t work for that exact reason. Why target someone’s child when the person was gone and therefore wouldn’t be around to see it?
“True. I still think we need to put it on the table for consideration.” She could tell that he was committed to finding the truth, even if it cost him something precious—the answer to what really happened to Alexandria. Because if this was some sort of revenge killing, that meant Alexandria’s murderer might never be brought to justice. And he’d been waiting fourteen years so far to figure it out.
“Okay, then we have to consider motive. It’s murder investigation 101. Who stands to gain from tipping you off balance? Why wouldn’t they just go after you?” she asked.
“Maybe they want me to be distracted so they can go after something on the ranch,” he threw out there.
It didn’t stick.
“You have how many siblings and staff working there every day, day in and day out?” she asked.
He started rattling off names. She waited a few seconds before politely interrupting him.
“That’s a whole lot of people. If you’re distracted, the ranch still runs just fine. Am I right?”
He nodded.
“So we can probably rule that out as a motive.” She thought for a long moment about non-Gary possibilities. “Have you kept in touch with Alexandria’s family?”
“I’m pretty much the last person they want to see,” he admitted tersely.
“Did she have any siblings?” she prodded. Based on the increased tension in his posture he was still uncomfortable discussing details of her life.
“She was the youngest of three kids. Her brothers were a few years older than us and a year apart from each other.” He followed GPS onto a side road as buildings came closer together. Traffic had noticeably thickened as he made a right onto a road that promised to take them into the suburbs.
“Did her parents ever divorce?” she asked.
“Took another six months, but they did. Mrs. Miller stayed in Cattle Barge but her husband moved years ago. I think to Houston.”
“I could reach out to them. See what they’re up to now.” She wasn’t sure if it would net anything, but it wouldn’t hurt to make a couple of calls.
The voice on his GPS interrupted her, telling him they’d arrived at their destination. There was a strip shopping center on the left, so he pulled into it.
Leanne scanned the storefronts for the eatery. “There.”
“Got it,” Dalton said, cutting the wheel right. He seemed to zero in on the place because he was parked a few seconds later. He took a deep breath before exiting the vehicle to meet her in front of his sport utility. “Will he recognize you?”
“I’m sure Clara sent a picture of us. You know how kids are with their cell phones these days,” she said.
“Good. We won’t have to waste time explaining who you are or gaining his trust,” he said.
“I’ll handle his supervisor,” she said as they walked toward the door. She dreaded this part. Having to tell someone a person they cared about was gone. It hit twice as hard since it was Clara.
First, she’d have to speak to his supervisor. Leanne reached inside her purse and dug around for her badge. The conversation would flow better if Christian’s boss saw her credentials first.
A short woman in her early forties with dark hair greeted them from behind the cash register. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Detective West,” Leanne flashed the badge in her palm, “and this is my associate, Dalton Butler.” Leanne worried his last name would garner a reaction but the woman seemed to fixate on the badge instead. It was a common reaction when a detective showed up out of the blue in someone’s life. Their next move was to check for a gun. Hers was tucked in her shoulder holster underneath her navy blazer that she’d thrown on over the borrowed shirt from Ella.
Her gaze searched for the weapon. Found it.
“I’m looking for the manager,” Leanne said.
“She’s right here.” The woman gestured toward herself by sweeping her hand in front of her body. She had the build of a seasoned baker, full and round. Everything was short about the woman, her haircut, her height and her fingers. Dark circles c
radled her eyes.
Leanne glanced around. “Can I speak to you for a moment privately?”
“Am I in some kind of trouble?” The woman’s light brown eyes widened.
“No. Nothing like that. I have a sensitive matter to discuss with one of your employees,” she reassured.
“Christian?”
“How’d you know?” Leanne asked.
“He’s the only one here right now,” the woman said as he emerged from the kitchen, holding a fresh tray of bagels for the counter display case.
He glanced from Leanne to his boss and then to Dalton, seeming to take the whole scene in. “What’s going on?”
At seventeen, he was tall for his age, a little more than six feet, and hadn’t filled out in the chest yet. He was a good-looking, hardworking kid and Leanne hated the news she was about to deliver.
“Let’s talk a walk,” Leanne said, motioning toward the door.
Christian’s gaze followed her hand and then snapped to his boss for approval. He had a suspicious, lost look in his brown eyes.
“Go on,” the woman urged. She seemed to catch on that he was about to get terrible news or maybe she was trying to score some brownie points with a detective when she added, “Take all the time you need. I’ll leave you clocked in.”
Either way, Leanne appreciated the goodwill.
The three of them walked out front as a blast of wind knocked the door out of Dalton’s hand. He righted it and then secured it closed.
“You’re Clara’s aunt.” It was a statement. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to talk to you about Clara,” Dalton said. His low rumble of a voice held so much compassion. He put his hand on the guy’s shoulder, and the move seemed to calm Christian’s nerves. His breathing was shallow and his complexion was already starting to pale. He knew this was going to be bad. But she could tell that he had no idea just how bad it was about to be.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of Clara like crazy after a sheriff called and asked where I was the other night. She hasn’t been returning my calls or texts,” he said, his voice rising at the end like he knew something was wrong. “I figured her stepdad—” he glanced at Leanne and then Dalton “—she called him Gare-the-grumpy-bear. Well, anyway, I thought maybe he took away her phone once he found out.”
Found out about what?
Chapter Eleven
“Where is she? What happened? She’s okay, right?” Christian started firing off words, sounding more desperate with each question. His gaze darted from Leanne to Dalton.
Leanne would circle back around to his comment once Dalton filled the kid in.
Dalton looked the young man directly in the eyes. “She got involved with someone who took her life.”
Dalton paused as Christian sucked in a burst of air. Tears welled as his gaze bounced from Dalton to Leanne and back in sheer disbelief.
His legs seemed to give but Dalton held him upright with a strong hand on his arm. “This is my fault. I should’ve told—”
“I’m going to stop you right there, son. There was nothing you could’ve done to save her,” he reassured, walking him over to one of the chairs on the small patio area.
Christian sat down, his expression stunned. “Are you sure it was her?”
A quick nod confirmed the worst.
“This can’t be happening.” His face paled as shock kicked in. “I just saw her last week.”
“Did she talk about meeting someone new or making a new friend?” Leanne asked, taking the seat opposite Christian.
“No. She couldn’t stand anyone where she moved.” He looked up with wet brown eyes. “That’s why she wanted to kick it at your place for a while.”
“Had she and Gary been in a fight?” she asked, needing to know if she could rule him out.
“Which time?” He sucked in another burst of air. “You don’t think it was him, do you? He started getting rough with her mother after the move.”
Based on his shocked expression, Christian was having a difficult time processing this news, as expected. It was clear that he cared a great deal for Clara.
“Hitting her?” Leanne braced for the answer.
“Grabbing her by the arms and leaving bruises.” Fire glinted behind his eyes. “Clara wouldn’t let me confront him about it. She said it would only make things worse for her mother.”
“You said something about him taking her phone away. Why would he do that?” she asked.
“Yeah, I thought maybe he found out what she was doing and took it away as some kind of punishment,” he admitted, and he seemed to think everyone knew what he was talking about.
“What was she doing that would upset him?” Leanne asked.
Christian looked from Leanne to Dalton like one of them had to know what he was about to say. “You didn’t know?”
“I’m afraid not,” Leanne said. Clara had another secret.
“She was searching for her father,” he said, putting one hand on the table and grabbing his forehead with the other.
“Did she have any success?” This was the first Leanne had heard about her niece’s search, and she wondered if her sister had uncovered it or was trying to cover it up. Sawmill would figure it out soon if he hadn’t already based on her browsing history or cell phone records. Well, he’d deduce that she was looking for someone, even if he didn’t know whom.
“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his brown hair. “He lives in Dallas.”
Dallas? A whole string of warning bombs detonated. Was that the real reason Clara had wanted to come live with her aunt? Why had her niece kept this from her?
There were so many secrets. First, Clara hid just how bad things had gotten between her and her stepfather. She’d downplayed the fights between her mother and stepfather. And she’d hidden the fact that she was searching for her father.
Of course, trying to relate any of this emerging picture to the hanging and especially Dalton’s friend nearly made her head explode with questions. Because the story developing was that Clara had located and contacted her father in Dallas, and either the man had decided for one reason or another to meet with her and get rid of her, or Gary had resented it and gotten rid of her. Tying the murder to a past crime in Cattle Barge could’ve been to confuse law enforcement.
Bethany didn’t talk much about that part of her past. She hadn’t said much more than she’d been in a dark place during dark times when she’d met Clara’s father. She’d explained it like a bad storm and that, rather than focusing on the devastation, she wanted to rebuild her life. Just how bad had it been? How many more secrets were there under the layers?
Leanne shivered against the cold chill gripping her spine. Bethany didn’t exactly have the best taste in men, but wouldn’t she have known to stay away from someone so evil he could murder his own child when she reached out to him?
More questions swirled around in Leanne’s head but she had trouble grabbing and holding on to just one. Had her sister been in a relationship with a murderer? Leanne had checked into Gary’s background when the two had started dating and he’d been clean. She hadn’t been around to do the same thing during Bethany’s relationship to Clara’s father.
“Did she tell you anything about her father?” Leanne hated to dredge this sore subject up with Bethany. Her sister had never wanted to discuss Clara’s father and Leanne respected her privacy. Now, she wished she’d done more digging, demanded answers.
And yet, everything she knew about investigating murder said that the closest ring of people around the victim would most likely be as far as they had to look for the killer. Sadly, a woman’s number one danger came from the person she lived with day to day, her spouse. Or in Clara’s case, potentially her stepfather. Her own father killing her made no sense unless he had something to lose if news of her being his child came to light.
And why would a stranger want to hurt his own daughter? All he would’ve had to do was blow her off and tell her to go away. She would’ve listened.
Unless there was more to the story and in Leanne’s line of work, there almost always was.
What else were you hiding, Clara?
* * *
“CLARA’S FATHER WAS in a band, living in a loft with some friends and doing odd jobs. That’s as far as we got during her search.” The look in Christian’s eyes was a sucker punch to Dalton’s gut. Kids were honest about pain, unlike adults, who had years of practice burying theirs. Dalton should know. Seeing the kid in such a devastated state brought back a flood of memories for him, none of which he welcomed.
“Do you know his name?” Leanne asked.
“Adam Robinson, but he goes by Havoc because of his antics on stage,” he supplied and it looked to be taking him a great effort not to break down. “His last name starts with an h. That’s all I know.”
Leanne had kicked into detective mode and Dalton wanted to protect Christian while still giving her the room she needed to dig for answers. The more questions she asked, the further the two cases moved away from each other. He could see that she was honing in on those closest to her niece for suspects and he couldn’t argue the logic, no matter what that beating organ in the center of his chest wanted to say. Deep down, he wanted—needed!—these cases to be locked together in order to find answers for Alexandria’s family and maybe put to rest some of his own torment.
This twist took him down a road he didn’t want to go but couldn’t ignore now that it was out there.
“Will you excuse us?” Dalton looked to Leanne for approval, still a little unsure why it suddenly seemed so important to get her stamp. This was shaky ground for him, because Dalton rarely cared what anyone other than his family thought about his actions.