“Sounds like a charming couple.”
“Every county’s got its share. The other thing is, we found a splotch of blood on your clothing from the night of the attack. It wasn’t yours, but it didn’t match his, either. So, considering the lack of evidence, I had to cut him loose.”
“Well, at least you’re not wasting any more time on the wrong man while my real attacker’s walking free. Now if you’ll quit wasting time worrying about Beau, who was still inside the community center when I was jumped, and maybe check out my ex-husband again—”
“First off, who’s to say Beau didn’t put someone up to helping him, what with all his money and those vaqueros—that’s what they call those Spanish-speakin’ cowboys on his place—dependent on him for their jobs. And secondly, your ex-husband—”
“Called and threatened to come after me that night because his uncle fired him.”
“I read that in Deputy Kendall’s report. You claimed Hansen told you his uncle was upset about having been put into a position to lie for a family member.”
“That’s right. And when Jeremy lost his temper, he ended up evicted, too.”
Wallace pulled the face of a man who’d been expecting a drink of ice-cold sweet tea, only to swill a mouthful of cider vinegar. “Well, the uncle was singin’ a different tune when I checked in with him again last night. He told me everything was right as rain between him and his nephew and he knows nothing about any landlord problem. Jeremy’s just off fishing for a few days with a buddy at his cabin.”
“So once more, you’re buying into another of his uncle’s lies on Jeremy’s behalf.” Emma sighed and shook her head. “And you personally spoke to my ex-husband?”
“I haven’t been able to reach him so far,” Wallace admitted. “And the uncle couldn’t lay his hands on the friend’s name or contact number. He’s tryin’ To track ’em down for me, though. Then I’ll ask local law enforcement to check up on him, just to make sure he’s where he claims.”
“Jeremy is not out fishing somewhere.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her nails digging into her own flesh in her frustration. “That much I can guarantee you.”
“If I had to go with my gut, I’d say your ex has just been mouthing off again, trying to rattle your cage.”
“I’m not sure I’m willing to gamble on your gut feeling, especially after two attempts on my life.”
“I’ll look into it,” he promised, “but that doesn’t mean I’m taking the heat off Kingston. Or that you should let your guard down around him, either. That gun you were carryin’ when we found you—if you drop by the station, I could let you have it back, for personal protection.”
Her stomach fluttered, and she knew that if she was going to tell him where the pistol had come from, now would be her last chance. But explaining why she hadn’t reported it earlier would be difficult at this point. She might even be charged with interfering with an investigation.
Instead, she let the moment pass. “Before we go any further,” she said, “there’s something else I’ll need you to consider.”
“Something you forgot to mention to Deputy Kendall?”
“Actually, it’s something I need to show you. Something I found the other night, out by the turbine.” She laid the flowers on the bedside table, and then pointed toward a built-in cabinet. “Would you mind grabbing my purse out of the top drawer for me?”
“You found something?” Wallace frowned, his drooping mustache ruffling. “If you had any evidence, you should’ve immediately turned it over. If there’s anything to it, to be usable in court, the chain of custody has to be clearly—”
“The afternoon Deputy Kendall came by, I was seriously hurting and sick from the medication. So the card I’d tucked inside my pants pocket wasn’t something I was prepared to discuss.” In truth, she’d forgotten all about it until the next day.
“Card?” he asked.
“My bag?” She gestured toward the drawer, which she couldn’t reach without tugging her IV line and sending pain shooting through her leg.
“Oh, sure.” He passed her the purse.
Unzipping a pocket, she pulled out a small blue memory card. “I removed this from a camera I found hidden near Turbine Number 43,” she said. “I believe Russell placed a number in various locations to confirm his suspicions that more birds were dying than we were documenting. But it’s very possible he could’ve recorded more than a conspiracy to beat us to the carcasses of protected species.”
“You think he might’ve gotten a shot of somebody payin’ a visit to the turbine around the time of his death, don’t you?” asked Fleming, his brows rising. But before she could answer, he stuck his hand out. “Let me see that.”
She released a long breath through her nostrils before dropping the card into his hand.
He turned it over to examine it, as if a visual inspection would reveal its digital secrets. “Have you opened up any of these pictures? Tampered with them in any way?”
“I wouldn’t even know how.” She felt heat creeping upward from the neckline of her hospital gown. “These cameras are motion-activated, so there are likely scores of shots. Probably hundreds, considering all the activity around the turbine after Russell’s death.”
“That’s not what I asked you. I want to know if you’ve—”
“I didn’t even try to look through them, not here, where anyone could walk in.” Emma drew in a deep breath, gathering her nerve before continuing. “But along with my purse, your deputy brought me my laptop computer out of my Jeep, and I did use that to copy the whole file to the desktop and a cloud-based storage vault before I turned the memory card over to you today.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed a fraction, his color deepening as he began to piece together the possible implications. “And why exactly, Dr. Copley, would you feel the need to do that?”
“For safekeeping, for one thing, in case that memory card was somehow lost...or something,” she said, not allowing her gaze to waver as she recalled the only item missing from her recovered purse. “And also, that way, it was a great deal easier to create a simple link for me to email to an investigator—Texas Ranger Lieutenant Cody Williams out of the Department of Public Safety. I thought you might appreciate the help.”
Chapter 9
When Beau entered Emma’s hospital room, he was surprised to find her up already. Dressed in a pair of light cotton pants and a turquoise scoop-neck T-shirt, she was balanced awkwardly on one crutch and one leg as she put the contents of a drawer into a white plastic bag with the hospital’s logo printed on the front.
“You need some help with that?” he asked. “You look like you’re teetering a bit there.”
Turning, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. With her sun-streaked hair freshly combed and the color returned to her face, she looked flustered but far healthier than she had the last time he had seen her, with a small adhesive bandage replacing the larger gauze square on her forehead.
“I’m all finished, thanks,” she said. “Can you believe they’re springing me from here already? Maybe it was Sheriff Fleming’s idea. As furious as he was with me this morning, he’s probably planning to escort me to the edge of town like in one of those old Westerns.”
Beau felt his jaw tighten at the mention of his cousin. According to Beau’s lawyer, this damned convenient will Wallace had come up with could actually be accepted by the court as legal, since it had turned up such a short time after the original was filed. But until the document was properly authenticated, there was nothing for Beau to do but wait, work and go through the motions of a life that could be snatched out from under him at any moment.
“So what’s Wallace’s problem with you this time?” he asked.
Crossing her arms, she slanted a look his way. “I took the ball out of his court, or partly, by turning over what might be evidence in Russell Jorgenson’s
murder case to the Texas Rangers.”
Beau fought back a grin at the thought of the insult to the jackass’s ego, to say nothing of the threat, since the Rangers routinely investigated officials within the state who were suspected of malfeasance. “I’m surprised he didn’t go completely nuclear on you.”
She winced. “Close enough. Let’s just say the nurses were once more unhappy with his volume.”
“So you’ve told the Rangers everything that’s been going on here?”
“I had a conversation with one of the lieutenants. Afterward, I emailed him a link to the photos I found by the turbine where Russell died. I haven’t checked out the pictures yet myself, but—”
“Wait. You mean you actually found them? The game cameras you thought might be there? You didn’t tell me before.”
“One of them, anyway, and, um, no, I didn’t mention it.” Her gaze avoided his.
“Come to think of it,” he recalled, “you were a little busy back then, trying to decide whether to blow my head off or to trust me.”
“If you’d been where I was, forced to run for your life in the darkness—”
“But we established that that wasn’t me, right?”
She hesitated a beat before answering, with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Are you kidding? I let you take my prized possession. How is River doing?”
He pulled out his cell phone and showed her a picture of her dog sprawled on a mahogany-colored leather sofa, her tongue lolling as she enjoyed a belly rub from his boys. “Hating ranch life. Clearly.”
“She’ll never want to come home. They’re adorable together.” A smile warmed her expression, lighting her face like a shaft of sunshine.
Beautiful, he thought, the surprise hitting him a fraction of a second later, along with the pleasant punch of the confirmation that he still had it in him to appreciate an attractive woman, even one he ought to have the good sense to stay miles away from. Yet here he was again, unable to keep from worrying about how she was doing or if she was all alone.
“The boys love River,” he said, “and she’s welcome to stay as long as you need. If I’m lucky, her good manners will rub off on our big galoot of a puppy.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I should pick her up today.”
“Because you don’t fully trust me.” The thought bugged him way more than it should have.
She answered carefully, “The sheriff did give me several reasons why I shouldn’t.”
Beau made a scoffing sound, recalling his brief phone conversation with the jackass earlier. “Those incriminating prints on the Jeep, right? The ones I told him he’d find since I’d checked out your engine after finding the hood ajar.”
“That part didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, either,” she admitted. “And I also find it hard to believe that you’d try so hard to scare me off one night, only to come to my rescue the next morning.”
“Yet here you are, still nervous...” He took two steps closer and made note of the slight flinch, the way her muscles tensed. Did she really still imagine he would hurt her, or was she this jittery around all men? He thought about his earlier suspicion that she’d suffered more than emotional abuse at the hands of her ex-husband.
“Come on, Emma,” he urged. “Seems like these harebrained accusations are nothing but one more desperate strategy to try to pull the rug—and the ranch—out from under me so he can claim it.”
“Claim it? He can—what do you mean?”
“Never mind about the whys and wherefores. Just tell me you don’t buy into his self-serving garbage and I’ll take you to your Jeep.”
“My Jeep? I thought—wasn’t it impounded for the investigation?”
Beau shook his head. “All Wallace did was have it towed over to Marco Adams’s garage, where an evidence guy searched it and dusted it for prints. As soon as they released it, I took the liberty—I hope you don’t mind—of asking Marco to replace that drive belt and give it a good going-over to make sure it’s roadworthy.”
Surprise splashed across her face. “You did what? Why?”
Because I couldn’t stop thinking of you, cowering under that rock ledge all night with only a rattlesnake for a companion. Because I can’t stop thinking of you period just lately.
But Beau couldn’t let himself admit that, so instead he shrugged. “I figured you had enough to worry about without sweating that kind of detail. The bill’s all taken care of, and Marco said the Jeep’s running good as new now.” With a teasing smile, he added, “Although you’re free to check with him to make sure I didn’t tamper with your brake line.”
Emma’s jaw dropped before she recovered. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.”
“Your thanks is more than enough.” He felt the uptick in his own pulse as he added, “But that’s not why I did it.”
“Why, then?”
“Truth is, I feel a little guilty about banning you from the ranch,” he admitted, wondering when the last time he’d let down his guard enough to be so honest with woman. It didn’t come easily to him now—he’d been raised to believe that real men blustered through their blunders rather than admitting them. But all that baggage he’d been toting got awfully heavy after a while. “I should’ve listened when you tried to tell me there might be proof there that Russell had been murdered. If I hadn’t been so damned high-handed, you wouldn’t be here now, hurt.”
She searched his face before saying, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault. Whatever the sheriff thinks about it, I’m certain of that much.”
Hearing her say that, he decided, was worth the price of the repair bill and then some. But instead of telling her, he changed the subject. “I wanted to let you know that our security cameras seem to be on the fritz, but I checked to see if there was any record of someone taking one of our vehicles from our equipment shed prior to the time that vehicle came after you.”
She perked up, pushing herself more upright. “Oh?”
He shook his head, aggravated as hell to think about their so-called inventory control system. “I can’t rule out that the truck that came after you was one of ours. A couple of the pickups weren’t where there were supposed to be that night and hadn’t been in days. Trouble is, it turns out our guys have been pretty lax about signing them out the way they’re supposed to. And lots of times, they just toss the keys to the next hand who needs to use one instead of returning it the way they should.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t know where the truck that tried to hit me came from?”
“Fernando, my ranch manager, is trying to track down the whereabouts of all the vehicles missing from the shed.” He’d be seeing to the flaws in their security system as well. “But, yes, you’re right. There’s no guarantee that some complete stranger didn’t manage to steal one of our pickups or drive his own through an unlocked gate or cut fence we haven’t found yet.”
“It could have been anyone who jumped me after the memorial service, too,” Emma said. “The sheriff told me they’ve definitely excluded that sex offender he arrested, so he had to turn the guy loose.”
Beau clenched his jaw, frustrated as the one piece of the puzzle that had made sense slipped out of his grasp. “So it’s likely the same person came after you both times.”
“Unless this time, it was my ex-husband—not long before that truck showed up, Jeremy threatened me again. He blames me for being fired after the sheriff called to question his boss about harassing me before.”
Back in his MP days, Beau had arrested men like that, pathetic losers whose refusal to take the blame for the problems they themselves had caused boiled over into a rage they directed at their women or kids. The worst lashed out with fists or weapons, while others used words to inflict the kinds of wounds that left less visible, but sometimes even crueler, marks. “You think he’s really got it in him to drive down here to
hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I already know he’s left his place in Waco, but it’s hard to say how far he’d go. Or if he even knows where I am. For all I know, he’s skulking around Austin somewhere, trying to get my friends to tell him where I moved after our split.”
“They wouldn’t tell him, would they?”
“Not on purpose, but he’s really clever about spoofing calls and conning people with stories about a family member’s accident or—” She spanned her temples with the fingers of one hand as if to ward off a headache. “If you’d only known the man he was before—I still can’t believe what he’s turned into.”
“Sorry to hear it.” Remembering the helplessness he’d felt watching his own wife changing and all the pain that it had led to, Beau reached out and touched Emma’s arm. “Sorry about all this.”
“There’s no reason to apologize.” Emma’s green eyes sparkled. “Not unless you were somehow in league with that rattlesnake.”
“If so, he definitely got the bad end of that deal,” Beau said drily. “But speaking of partners, one of my security business cohorts back in Colorado is a licensed private investigator. He’s currently in Texas on business, so why don’t I put in a call to see if he can lend a hand?”
“How?”
“I’ll ask him to track down your ex’s movements and try to figure out what he’s been up to. Unless you’d rather wait for the authorities to do it.”
“I don’t think it’s a priority for the sheriff. Especially now that I’ve reached out to the Rangers,” she said.
“I’ll call him this afternoon, then. I’ll just need you to write down as much identifying information as you can. Full name, previous addresses, birth date and his Social if you know it.”
“I can do that,” she agreed, “but I’m paying for this detective’s time myself. I insist on it.”
He started to argue, but the look she pinned him with said that she was serious. And would refuse to cooperate if he didn’t agree.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll ask Ty—his name is Tyler Phelps—to invoice you, so I’ll need your mailing address, too.” Most likely, Ty would never send the bill, considering whatever time he spent a down payment on Beau’s helping him out of a sticky situation last year. But there was no reason to get into any of that now.
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