“You’ve met Kyle. You know he’s a good guy.” I didn’t know why I appealed to Ted’s good sense. One look at Roxy proved Ted was no character judge.
“You’ve always been like this.”
A geyser of anger started in my gut. I narrowed my eyes, ready for the fight. “Like what?”
Ted leaned back, coffee cup in hand, as if he wasn’t insulting me but simply having a pleasant chat. “Believing in everyone. You’ll march in a pride parade in Lincoln, hand out money to beggars on street corners, hell, I’ve known you to vote Democrat at least once.”
He said it all like it was a bad thing.
“Hiring Red Owl without the consensus of the other sheriffs, especially when you’re the most junior member and only in office a few months, well, that shows you’re more interested in doing the PC thing than the smartest thing.”
I spoke slowly, struggling to hold back my temper. “I shouldn’t need to keep saying this: Kyle is an excellent deputy. Trained, reliable, smart, hardworking. And if that wasn’t enough—which it is—he’s the only one out here qualified for the job.”
Ted tilted his head to the side and stared at me, waiting for me to acknowledge my mistake.
I bit my cheek, and when he didn’t yield, I said, “At the time we hired him, you were using a cane and had months of physical therapy ahead of you.”
“Because I’d been shot in the line of duty.”
I shouldn’t, but I did. “Duty? That’s what you call conveniently being at the crime scene because you were screwing your girlfriend?”
That ignited a spark in his blue eyes. “Careful, your bitterness is showing.”
I slapped my palm on the table. “Frankly, your affair with Roxy was the best thing you ever did for me. Because of that, I have a job I love, and I don’t have to deal with your lying and narcissism every day.”
“You stole the best things in my life from me. You didn’t even want to be sheriff before you ran against me.”
I stole…what? “I had to make a living once you kicked me off Frog Creek.”
“That was your choice. I never wanted you to divorce me.”
Did he hear himself? “But you didn’t want to give up Roxy. You can’t have us both.”
He didn’t seem to draw the lines. “Still, you didn’t have to steal the job I loved.”
Oh, for the…just…ugh. “Poor you.”
A hand on my shoulder made me jump. Aunt Tutti, in her violet scrubs, frowned at me. “I think you two ought to take this outside.”
I let my gaze shift from her around the cafeteria. People in scrubs and street clothes sat at most of the tables, and they found sudden interest in their food or each other. They were curious enough to watch our spat and probably whisper it to their friends and relations, but polite enough to pretend they hadn’t noticed.
I stood. “Will you be at David’s class this afternoon or not?”
Ted sighed and nodded at me.
With a peck to Tutti’s cheek, I walked out with as much dignity as any humiliated ex-wife/sheriff could and went to check on Kyle once more before throwing myself into another bad situation.
24
Fresh, clean ozone rose into the air as I crossed the hospital parking lot to my car. Lilacs pushed their sweetness into the cool air, and I wanted to bury my nose in them, wishing Kyle’s pale and motionless body wasn’t in his hospital bed. The forecast called for several more days of rain, so the sight of sun flashing across the hills, highlighting the neon green of the new grass, was a gift, although wasted on me.
I should have rushed to help Kyle when he’d called me last night. Why did I let my foul mood answer for me? My basement could have waited. What kind of sheriff was I to let my personal life interfere with the job?
Something Kyle found out got him in trouble. Kyle was tracking Shelly. The kid from the Olson place, Max, wanted to talk to Kyle. Barnett was lurking around the school in Sand Gap. Alex said Kyle had asked to meet him in Dry Creek. Barnett and Frankie had Alex cornered. Max had been on his way to Frankie’s yesterday morning. How did this all tie together?
If there was a connection with any of this, I couldn’t find it. Thinking felt like the click when you turn the key on a dead battery. Every muscle twitched with fatigue, and I had to roll down the windows and sing to keep myself awake.
After what seemed like a lifetime, I made it home to my cabin on the lake. Poupon jumped from the couch, anxious to go outside and do what dogs do. The house smelled damp, but no water rippled on the basement floor, and the fans Josh and I had set by the windows kept up their roar. A bag of groceries sat on my kitchen counter containing coffee, bread, a jar of peanut butter, and orange juice. Someone in my family felt bad about the voting can. Maybe I didn’t feel like forgiving anyone, but the coffee made me happy.
I fed Poupon, and he accepted my apologies for leaving him alone. Kyle deserved a friend to find his attacker, but I couldn’t help him unless I slept at least a little. I bargained for three hours, hoping that would revive me enough to go on.
When my alarm sounded, I’d been running from house to house on a busy street, leaving bits of myself behind. My arms, ears, nose, and one eye were goners, so I wasn’t too upset to wake up and get going.
I phoned the hospital before I swung my feet to the floor. Aunt Tutti must have slipped home for her own nap because I talked to a different nurse. She told me Kyle’s condition hadn’t changed, not the best news, but I suppose it could be worse.
I stared at the ceiling while late morning air seeped through the curtainless window. Redheaded blackbirds squawked in the orchestra, and it seemed the day had set the table and invited the sun over for coffee.
My mind was like a stormy lake, questions floundering in white caps of worry. Someone had brutally attacked Kyle. On purpose. I intended to find out who.
The extra scoop of coffee I’d dropped into the coffeemaker helped clear my head. I picked up my phone and dialed Josh, feeling like a turd in a bucket. “I’ve got to cancel our dinner tonight. I’m in the middle of something for work.”
Josh sounded happy to hear from me. “Glad you called. I wondered how everything worked out last night, and then I worried when I heard Kyle’s in the hospital. Sure wish we could get together, but I understand.”
I’d spent scads of time this past year wound up about people worrying about me. I was the damned sheriff, after all, and I should not be worried over. But it felt kind of good when Josh said he’d been concerned. Different, somehow. “I really appreciate your help last night.”
“No problem. Sounds like a few folks had flooding. It was a big rain.”
“I’ll be running around today. I could drop your pump at your ranch if I get out that way.”
He hmmed. “Dad might get spooky if you showed up out there. He likes his routine. I’m putting in a dog door for Olin Riek. Why don’t I meet you in the Long Branch in an hour and buy you lunch?”
Showing my face in the Long Branch made me cringe. Still, I had to get over the voting can, and putting it behind me right away was better than letting it fester. Having lunch with Josh sounded nice, if I didn’t have a deputy and friend with his brains bashed in and a need to find out who did it. “I really can’t take the time for lunch, but I’ll meet you there with the pump.” That would give me time to run to the courthouse and see about building permits for the Olson place. I hoped that information would provide probable cause.
I scarfed down a peanut butter sandwich, sipped my extra-strong coffee, showered, and loaded Josh’s sump pump into my trunk.
Before I left the house, I grabbed the picture of Brian and his classmates. I wanted to start checking into those friends. “Baxter’s guy might be the best, but…” I couldn’t simply sit and do nothing. That’s the truth.
I propped the screen door open and left the front door ajar. Poupon sat in the middle of the living room, and I was sure he understood exactly what I said. “I can’t take you with me today. You have a full foo
d dish, plenty of water, and can go outside. Don’t run off.” As if there was a chance he’d expend energy if he didn’t have to. Diane’s cockamamie story about a new fence because Poupon ran away frayed at the edges.
At the back of the courthouse, I used care to quietly click the door closed, then held my breath and snuck up the stairs, hoping to avoid Betty and the Case of the Missing Budget.
The commissioner’s room still emitted the stench of scorched coffee, and a few papers littered the long conference table. A new commissioner had been appointed to fill out Clete Rasmussen’s term. Clete had been commissioner for decades until the scandal that broke moments after he swore me in last January.
Illogical though it may be, a few people held me responsible for Clete’s downfall. People in Grand County didn’t cotton to change, and with an institution like Clete, the crash could hit hard.
While I debated the wisdom of another cup of coffee and contemplated the state of affairs in Grand County, Betty zipped into the room, face set.
“Budget?”
Guess I hadn’t been as stealthy as I’d hoped, either that or Betty’s Sheriff Detector Ring worked great. “You heard about Kyle, right?”
Her face fell in sympathy. “I am sorry for that boy. But that was last night, and you promised me the papers yesterday.”
The front door opened, and I almost prayed for an emergency to get me out of this. Betty and I turned in anticipation.
Trey Ridnoir glanced inside the room, probably on his way to my office. He altered his path and poked his head in. “Hi, Kate.”
That didn’t sound official, but I jumped at it. I gave Betty a serious nod. “Excuse me.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Of course.” Her motherly frown followed. “Today. I need those papers today.”
I refrained from making her a promise I wouldn’t deliver and hurried out to Trey. I led him out the front doors into the fresh-smelling spring air. It held moisture but was a darned sight warmer than yesterday. “What are you doing up here again?”
Crimson started at the base of his neck, where his gray uniform collar buttoned tight, and colored his face. “Heard your deputy got worked over. Wanted to check up on you.”
I gave him an exasperated look. Last time we’d worked together, Trey’s concern over my welfare cost him a bullet to his leg. “We aren’t going to get into that again, are we?”
Duly chastised, he shrugged. “It was an excuse to see you.”
It felt like the floor dropped. My mind stuttered and looked for the ladder out of this pit. “Oh. Have you had a lot of rain in Ogallala?”
He glowed like a branding iron in the fire. “Um. Yeah. Four inches in the last few days.”
We stood in silence, and I tried to think of something to say.
He got there first. “I was wondering. If you?” He hesitated and swallowed. “Ted called.”
Oh for the love of moldy mildew.
Trey swallowed and started again. “He, well, I imagine Roxy put him up to it.”
No doubt.
“He said you might be interested…”
His throat closed, and I wanted to help him out. “Half the darned town is trying to set me up. I don’t know why they think it’s any of their business. I’m officially letting you off the hook. I’m not a prized pig on auction.”
I didn’t think it was possible for him to turn redder, but he looked like a Husker flag. “Of course not. No.” He let out a breath that must have burned his lungs. “I think you’re great. I do.”
Ted might not have been a prince, but if being married saved me from conversations as painful as this, I had another reason to regret my divorce. “Thanks.”
“But I don’t think I could stand being with you.”
Ka-wham. It wasn’t that I carried a torch for Trey, but admittedly, that stung.
He babbled on. “That didn’t sound right. I mean, I like you a lot, and if we were together, knowing that you could be in danger, well, that would make me crazy.”
I laughed. “Thank goodness. I thought maybe it was because I was a slimy monster who slithered on shore looking for my first meal.”
Tension eased from his face and shoulders and rolled onto the pavement. “Far from it.”
Now was a good time to swerve from the personal and get to business. “Have you dealt with preppers before?”
It took him a moment to catch up to the change in subject. “You mean end-of-world, religious types?”
I tipped my head to catch the sun. “Not really. Maybe people who want to live off-grid.”
He thought about it, his skin turning a more natural color. “I’d say most of them are harmless. They distrust the government or society or what have you, want to rely on themselves, so they find someplace like the Sandhills.”
I walked him toward his trooper car parked at the curb. “The preppers I found seem pretty secretive and mean.”
He mulled. “There are places I’ve heard of where a group of militia get together and plot the overthrow of a government, maybe send bombs or anthrax.”
Marty and Rhonda didn’t seem like overthrowing types. “How can I get a warrant to check it out?”
Trey shook his head. “You really can’t, unless you’ve got some compelling evidence of a crime or intent to commit a crime.”
Hiding an eighteen-year-old runaway wasn’t a crime. “What else?”
He leaned back on his car, arms crossed. “There are weird cult things, like Waco.”
I pictured Rhonda kowtowing to Marty or worshipping anything. “I didn’t get a sense of religion going on.”
Trey grinned now as if we were playing a game. “How about organized crime?”
He’d hit closer to their personalities. “Mafia? What could they be doing out here?”
He leaned forward, getting into it. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re laundering money or running from the law.”
That seemed more like Rhonda and Marty.
“Or they could be hiding stolen goods.”
I needed to have a look around that big barn and the chicken house with no chickens. “Thanks.”
He stood close, looking down at me. “Whatever you’re planning, I would be happy to go with you.”
I started to protest, saw he was teasing, and grinned. He surprised me by landing his palm on my shoulder and pulling me in for a one-armed hug. “Glad to have you as a friend and colleague.”
That put a fine period to the end of any romantic notions. Another one bites the dust, but I couldn’t generate remorse. I slapped his back.
A black pickup pulled up Main Street and turned toward us. Josh.
Dang. “What time is it?” I pulled out my phone and realized I was twenty minutes late to the Long Branch.
Josh pulled a U-turn at the intersection and glanced our way. He registered me and Trey looking all chatty. Like a stupid teenager, I snapped my hand up and plastered an eager look on my face, trying too hard to show that I was glad to see him, not guilty or embarrassed, as I was, but didn’t want to be.
Without stopping for his pump, Josh continued back down Main Street.
Trey spun toward the street to see why I’d gone spastic. He looked back at me. “Where you meeting him? Here?”
“I, well, not really.” That sounded lame, and I felt my face heat up.
A “bye,” “see ya,” a few asides about the next training and the flood damage he’d seen on his drive up—your basic ten-minute Sandhills’ goodbye—and I watched Trey drive off.
I should chase after Josh on the pretense of giving him the pump. But really, I wanted to make sure we were still…what? Friends?
Didn’t matter. I had sheriff work to do.
It started with some quick Internet searches of the names on the back of Brian’s class picture. Easy enough, since at least three of these guys were lit in pretty bright spotlights. A lawyer, a real estate broker, and a rich guy who sat on about two dozen boards. Within an hour of sitting at the computer, I’d con
tacted the offices of those three and given messages to their gatekeepers.
It was a start.
25
Not that I doubted the cliché about the rain making the grass grow, but, holy fat cows, the blades practically shot up a foot and deepened three shades of green since last we’d had full sunshine. The hills popped with yellow and blue wildflowers, the roadsides dripped weeds onto the gravel shoulder.
What a waste of a perfect day—poking my head where it decidedly would not be welcomed. I turned off the highway at the unmarked dirt road to the Olson Ranch and rolled down my window to soak up as much budding spring happiness as I could, fighting guilt that Kyle would miss this—and probably more perfect days.
Because I hadn’t taken him seriously. I owed Kyle more than duty. I owed him justice.
A brown long-nosed curlew let out her shriek and dove in front of the cruiser. Maybe because they were so ugly, or because they showed up as if bringing spring with them, curlews were one of my favorites. A meadowlark let out her trill, so beautiful. Mom said it always sounded to her like, “There’s jelly in the courthouse.” This was the sort of day I loved to be out working cattle or mending fence. Not tracking violent criminals.
Thinking of people who steal girls and attack my friends hardened my resolve. When I reached the locked steel gate, I grabbed the bolt cutters and made short work of it. Marty and Rhonda would spend a small fortune on padlocks if they didn’t start cooperating. On the way back to my car, I glanced at the flattened grass of a trail road heading over the hill to the east. The tire tracks veering from the main road must have been made since the last rain, possibly that morning.
I topped the hill, gazing down on the headquarters. Far from the abandoned feel when I tromped into the ranch at dawn two days ago, now the place buzzed with activity, all centered around the house. Obviously, I surprised them when I slipped over the last hill because no one fired a cannon at me.
The hillside had collapsed in a scene similar to those you see on the news from Malibu. But instead of some movie star’s mansion, the cistern lodged halfway down on its side. Beneath the three-thousand-gallon barrel, it looked like a thousand-year flood ran its course. Marty and Rhonda darted from the front of the house, around the back, then to the front again.
Bitter Rain (Kate Fox Book 3) Page 22