by B. J Daniels
“Looks can be deceiving,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’m scared, Ford. I’m under arrest.”
“My uncle’s a marshal in Big Sky. I talked to him earlier. He said that it’s police procedure. What does your lawyer say?”
“That we’ll fight it. The problem, he says, is that self-defense claims are fairly common. Because of the amount of force I used...well, it could complicate things. If I hadn’t killed him, only wounded him...” She met his gaze. “He was so close. I knew that if he got his hands on me again...” She looked down at her own hands knotted together on top of the sheet. “I was holding the gun. You heard me tell him not to come any closer or I would shoot him.” She closed her eyes. “He wouldn’t listen. I had no choice. I pulled the trigger.”
He placed his hand over hers, surprised someone had told her not only that she’d accidentally called him, but also what he’d heard her say before the gunshot. “What can I do to help you?”
Rachel opened her eyes and wiped them before she turned that high-wattage smile on him. And he’d been so certain just forty-eight hours ago that he’d never be able to feel again. There was a time that her smile would have filled him with so much joy. He told himself the reason he didn’t feel that joy now, couldn’t because of everything that had happened to them both. He realized Rachel was still talking.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here,” she was saying. “It’s crazy, it’s like fate, but I’m so thankful that somehow I hit your number. What are the odds?”
What were the odds? he thought.
“So just your being here is enough,” Rachel said. “I can’t tell you what it means to me.”
“I’m sure your lawyer will get you bail and fight this,” he assured her.
“I don’t know. He says we have to prove that I was defending myself and believed I was in imminent danger.”
“Your injuries should prove that.”
She nodded. “It’s just hard to prove when there was only the two of us there.” She brightened. “But I guess it wasn’t just me and Humphrey. You were there.” She looked away. “I can’t believe any of this is happening.”
He knew the feeling. “How is your head?”
She grimaced. “It hurts. The pain pills help. I can’t believe what he did to me.” She began to cry. “The doctor is releasing me tomorrow, and if I don’t make bail, I’m going to jail.”
“Do you have money for bail?”
She nodded. “I was afraid all our assets might have been frozen until the outcome of the investigation. But thankfully, they weren’t. The thing is, Humphrey always handled the money. I have no idea how much I will be able to raise.”
“I’ll help what I can,” he said.
“I know.” She flashed him that smile again. “I knew I could count on you. Oh, Ford.” She took his hand in her two. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“I should have known you would be here,” said a female voice behind him. He turned to see Shyla come into the hospital room. She moved to the bed to give Rachel an awkward hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How’s our girl?”
Ford looked to Rachel and smiled. “She’s doing okay, under the circumstances.” A silence fell over the room. “I’ll leave you two alone so you can visit.”
“Don’t run off on my account,” Shyla said, even though he got the feeling that she was anxious to talk to Rachel alone. Because she would be more honest with her than she’d been with him?
He realized that he was letting Hitch get to him, her and her suspicions. “I’ve got to go anyway,” he said, as if there was anywhere he needed to be. But maybe he should see how much money he could raise on Rachel’s behalf if she needed more bail money. “But I’ll be back.”
Rachel grabbed his wrist as he started to turn away. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Ford stepped out into the hall, closing the hospital room door behind him. He stood in the hallway for a moment. Why had this visit with Rachel left him feeling...not so sure of her? The medical examiner had him questioning everything Rachel said, and he hated her for doing that to him. He shook his head and reached into his pocket for his pickup keys. Empty.
He swore under his breath and turned back to Rachel’s room, remembering putting them down on the side table when she spilled her water.
But as he pushed open the door, he froze as he overheard Rachel’s words. “I should have married Ford.” He started to ease the door closed and stopped.
Shyla laughed. “Oh, please. He wasn’t even in the running and you know it. His father owns a barbecue joint with his brothers.”
“They have a dozen barbecue joints, as you call them, and were worth a bunch even back in college.”
“You ran a financial on him?”
Rachel’s laugh was like a fingernail down a blackboard. “Why does that surprise you?”
“Actually, nothing you do surprises me,” Shyla said. “I know you, Rach. Ford told me how you two met. A squirrel? Really. You just happened to be there feeding a squirrel? You went after Humphrey and you used Ford to do it.”
Silence, then Rachel’s voice, stronger than it had been when she was talking to him earlier. “I wanted to marry someone who could take care of me in the way I wanted to become accustomed. What’s wrong with that?”
“Really? Have you noticed how that turned out? You’re on your way to jail when you get out of here.”
“Maybe. We’ll see. I’ll make bail. Ford’s going to help me.”
“Of course he is.”
Ford saw his chance and said “I forgot my keys!” as he pushed the door all the way open. Both women turned in surprise as he hurried in, grabbed his keys and waved an apologetic goodbye as he left again.
He reached the door and stopped just out of their sight around the corner at the edge of the hallway. The deputy was no longer outside her door since she’d been fitted with an ankle bracelet. Ford didn’t let the door quite close.
“Do you think he heard us?”
Shyla laughed. “Even if he did hear, Ford’s still so in love with you he’d forgive you anything. Oh, don’t give me that look. This comes as no surprise to you. So tell me. How is it that you just happened to call his number?”
“I have no idea. But he saved my life.”
Ford closed the door softly behind him. He stood in the hall trying to catch his breath. His stomach roiled with what he’d heard. He tried to still it, assuring himself that he hadn’t heard anything he hadn’t already known. He’d seen how Rachel felt about money even back in college. She’d been at the university on loans and small scholarships. She’d hated being poor and had made no bones about it.
Yet he couldn’t help but think about the medical examiner’s suspicions. He felt sick to his stomach. Worse, Hitch thought he and Rachel had planned this whole thing to get rid of her husband. He’d come running to save her—even though he hadn’t forgotten what had happened at her wedding.
What had she gotten him involved in this time? Murder?
Chapter Ten
Hitch decided since she was already at the ranch that she would see if she could find the hired hands. If Rachel Collinwood was being abused by her husband, then someone must have noticed.
According to the sheriff, the Collinwoods employed only two young men who lived in the old ranch house several miles from their employers’ home.
As she approached, she could see horses in a pasture and a corral and several outbuildings next to a large barn. The house was a modest two-story farmhouse with a wide porch complete with a swing. Hitch wondered about the former owners of the ranch. Had they moved to Arizona? One of them died? Why had they sold to the Collinwoods? Often it was because there was no one who wanted to keep the place and work it. But in this case, maybe they’d been made an offer they just couldn’t refuse.
Hitch parked
in front of the house, and before she could get out, two young men headed toward her from the direction of the barn.
Both men appeared to be in their early twenties, tall and gangly and green behind the ears. She introduced herself. The more handsome of the pair was Pete Baxter. He was also the more cocky of the two. Clayton Mandeville was the more talkative of the two.
“So what does a state medical examiner do?” Clayton asked, grinning. “Cut up dead bodies?”
“That and investigate for the state,” she said. In this case, she had been given carte blanche from the governor. Which was flattering, but she could feel the weight of it on her shoulders. The message had been clear: don’t screw this up. “Can we step inside and talk for a few minutes?”
The house was homey, though dated. Once seated in the living room, she asked, “So the two of you live here?” They nodded. “What is it you do here on the ranch?”
Pete laughed. “We look after things.”
“Does the ranch run cattle?”
“It’s not a real ranch, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clayton said. “The only animals are the horses.”
“I saw a tractor out there,” Hitch said. “Does the ranch grow anything?”
They shook their heads. “So you basically take care of how many horses?”
“Six. When the boss wants to ride, we saddle one of them up for him,” Clayton said. “We muck out stalls and exercise the horses.”
She nodded, looking from one man to the other. Clearly, they had a pretty good setup here. “What about Mrs. Collinwood? Does she ride?” They both shook their heads. “So you don’t see her often?” More head shakes. “Where were the two of you yesterday?”
“We had the day off,” Clayton said without hesitation.
“Was it your usual day off?”
She asked the question of Clayton, who scratched his neck before saying, “I had some extra time coming. The missus told me to go ahead and take it off.”
She looked to Pete, who added, “It was my regular day off.”
“So you were both here at the house?”
Clayton shook his head. “I went into town for a while. We were out of a few things.”
“He went to see his girlfriend,” Pete said with a chuckle.
“And you?” she asked Pete.
“I was here all day. I took one of the horses out for a while and then did chores since someone has to muck out the stalls.” He elbowed Clayton.
“So you usually both don’t have the same day off. Why yesterday?”
Pete shrugged. “Clayton wanted to see his girlfriend. I didn’t mind filling in for him. It isn’t like we have a lot to do around here.”
“So the Collinwoods don’t really know what the two of you do here,” she said and hesitated since she wasn’t sure how to ask the next question. “Have either of you seen any trouble between Mr. and Mrs. Collinwood?”
Clayton started to speak, but Pete cut him off. “We shouldn’t be talking about our employers,” Pete said.
“One of them is dead and the other arrested,” Hitch pointed out. “I’m not sure how long you’re going to be employed. What I need to know is if you had reason to see the two of them together since she didn’t ride any of the horses.”
“We’d get called up to the house sometimes to do a chore for the missus,” Clayton said.
“Did you hear them fighting? Ever see him hit her?”
“Never,” Clayton said quickly. “They argued. You know, like old married couples do. Like my parents. He got annoyed with her, but I could tell he loved her. Can’t see him raising his hand to her, though.”
She looked to Pete, who was studying his boots. “You disagree?”
“I don’t like telling tales out of school, but I’d seen her a few times in tears and noticed some bruises on her. I also saw him looking at her a few times like he wanted to kill her.”
She studied the ranch hand, curious why his story was so different from Clayton’s. “Like he wanted to kill her? What kind of look is that?”
Pete shrugged. “You’d know it if you saw it.”
“So what happened yesterday doesn’t surprise you?” she asked, sure they both had heard all about it.
Pete shook his head. “Not everyone can take living out here in the middle of nowhere. She wasn’t raised for this kind of living. Like her husband cared.”
Hitch could hear the sympathy in his words. It was clear which side he was on. “She ever talk to you about how she felt?” He looked at his boots again, confirming it. Rachel had complained to the older of the hired hands, the one closer to her own age. There was nothing illegal about that—unless she needed his sympathy for when she killed her husband. Or worse, had been hoping to get him to help her.
“Well, it shocked me what happened,” Clayton was saying. “I can’t imagine what might have set that off, but I never thought he’d do something like that, let alone her ever shoot him. I would have doubted that she even knew how to fire a gun.”
Pete merely stared at his boots and said nothing more.
As Hitch drove away from the ranch, she considered the differences between their opinions. Rachel had gone to Pete with her complaints about living on the ranch—and about Humphrey. But Pete didn’t seem like the type she would trust as her accomplice. He seemed to Hitch like the kind of man who would have bled her dry for the rest of her life.
That was what had been bothering her, Hitch realized. Rachel couldn’t have pulled this off without help. But who had she turned to? She needed a man who was more than sympathetic. She needed one who’d get involved with murder.
She thought about the man who’d allegedly come running the moment he heard the gunshot, Ford Cardwell. After pulling onto the two-lane paved highway, she hadn’t gone far when she looked back and saw a pickup behind her. It had one of those large cattle guard grilles on the front. With the sun glinting off the windshield, she couldn’t see the driver at this distance. Had the pickup come from the Collinwood Ranch? She didn’t think so. Wouldn’t she have noticed if either Pete or Clayton had followed her?
The pickup appeared to be the same color as the one that had been sitting outside the morgue last night. She sped up. The pickup driver did the same. She slowed down. The pickup driver did the same.
She told herself that it didn’t mean anything, but she was glad when she neared the outskirts of Big Timber and looked back to see the truck gone. It wasn’t like her to feel this jumpy. But she couldn’t remember ever having a case like this one. Since the first day on this case, she’d had a bad feeling she couldn’t shake that things would get worse before they got better.
At the back of her mind was always that one big question. What if she was wrong? What if Humphrey Collinwood’s death was exactly like what it appeared to be and Rachel Collinwood was innocent?
Her cell phone rang. She quickly picked up when she saw it was coming from the DCI lab.
“We found something interesting when we began checking the broken shards of glass and pottery found on the floor of the kitchen at the crime scene,” Bradley told her. “Fingerprints.”
She frowned. “Fingerprints? Of course there would be fingerprints.”
“Yep, of the lady of the house. But what’s missing are the fingerprints of the deceased. If he had broken up the kitchen—”
“You’d have found his fingerprints on the shards,” she said and felt that light-headed feeling she always did when a case began to come together.
* * *
FORD HADN’T WANTED to go back to the hotel right away. He kept replaying what he’d heard Rachel and Shyla talking about. Rachel had planned the whole meeting with him—and Humphrey. She’d already staked out the man she planned to marry. That day with the squirrel... She must have known that he and Humphrey often came to that spot in the park after chem class. The woman had done her ho
mework.
There was something so cold and calculating about that. He knew Rachel had been driven, but clearly there were things about her that he’d missed. He shook his head, feeling off balance. Was it possible she’d set this whole domestic homicide up for the money?
He refused to believe she would do something like that even though he knew what money meant to her. Once at a party, the two of them had struck up a conversation outside. That was back when she’d smoked. He’d found her standing at the deck railing. When he’d joined her, he could see that she’d consumed more than she usually drank.
She’d opened up to him about growing up living hand to mouth and her fear of being poor. “My father used to call it the snake pit, saying it was hard for people like us to climb out. That we could never feel like we belonged, even if we made a whole lot of money. No one like us gets out of the snake pit, he used to say.”
“Rachel,” he’d said that night on the deck. “Look at you. You’re going to an Ivy League university. Your father was wrong.”
She’d looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Are you sure about that?” She’d scoffed. “What if we have to be born into a family like Humphrey’s with real old wealth to ever be one of them?”
He’d forgotten about that conversation until now. Rachel had married into money, but had she still not felt as if she belonged or ever could?
“Ford?”
He turned to see Shyla come out of the hospital.
“Are you all right?” she asked, smiling oddly at him. “You were just standing here on the sidewalk as if you didn’t know which way to go.”
She was joking, but she had no idea how true that was.
“Just enjoying this beautiful day,” he said.
Shyla lit up a cigarette. As she let out a cloud of smoke, a sheriff’s department car pulled up. The deputy on the passenger side put down his window. “Hey, baby,” the officer behind the wheel called. Ford couldn’t see him without stooping down. He didn’t. The officer on the passenger side was studying Ford openly and making him nervous. “We were just going to the drive-in for lunch. You wanna come?”
