Wolf was watching her and she realized she’d fallen into a thoughtful silence. She tugged her seatbelt across. As it clicked into place, he started the truck.
“What’s our mission?”
“To ask the key organizer to abort this event. Or at least delay it.”
Ugh. “We’re going to talk to Dean Edmunds?”
He gave her a wry look and put the truck in drive. “Hardly. Though Grant would like everyone to think that about him.”
“At the meeting earlier, he said he was head of the history department for the college, that the reenactment was under his leadership.”
“Rita chairs the department and Grant implements what she decides regarding the program and this event.”
“Rita?”
“The sheriff’s sister. And my ex-wife.”
“Um …” She stopped, trying to decide how to respond before she said something dumb.
“Don’t overthink it,” Wolf said. “We’ve been divorced longer than we were married.”
“Still.”
He laid his arm across the console and opened his hand. She sat looking at it a moment, then placed her own in it.
“I won’t say you’ll like Rita, but I’m confident you won’t dislike her.”
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response to that so she didn’t try. “Why would the sheriff send you to ask her instead of going himself? Do they not get along?”
“Because he thinks it needs to be said and he knows she’s going to refuse, which will make him mad. He doesn’t want to deal with it.”
“And you do?”
“No, but he was willing to bring me in on this investigation. Communication with Rita is a small price for that. Besides, he gets emotionally invested in their arguments. I don’t.”
She thought about that, about whether he was sending her a different, deeper message. Don’t overthink it, she told herself, mimicking his suggestion.
She made herself relax and found she was enjoying the ride. The hillsides unfolded with the varying colors of spring. Wildflowers dotted the slopes in places. In others, the carpet of brown winter leaves remained. The sun was a larger than life orb of deep orange as it sank close to the horizon. Once or twice, she glanced back at Trouble who snoozed in the back seat. That seemed to be his usual response to a drive of any length.
Wolf’s ex-wife lived far enough from town that the older homes in the quaint neighborhood were not right on top of one another. Kylah judged there to be several acres of well-maintained trees sprinkled across the manicured grass of her lawn. Wolf pulled into the drive and parked behind a low-slung sports car.
When he looked across at her, she lifted a brow. “And you’re sure this was a good idea?”
“Seeing Rita is never a good idea, trust me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Having me tag along,” she said, although she was confident that he knew what she meant without the clarification.
“Trust me.”
Biting back a smart-ass retort, she unbuckled her seatbelt then waited again for him to walk around and open her door. Though it wasn’t what she was used to, a tiny part of her admitted it was nice. Just a tiny part, she told herself.
As she stepped down, Wolf glanced into the back seat. “Sorry, Trouble. Rita’s not a cat person.” Kylah was confident she wasn’t imagining the look of affront in that green gaze. It surprised her to realize the level of her own curiosity, how interested she was to know what kind of person the woman Wolf had married and then divorced would prove to be.
From the affluent look of the house and neighborhood, it wouldn’t have surprised her to see a servant open the front door but that was not the case. The very pretty redhead welcomed them with a pleasant tone. Her smile was faint, almost non-existent, but neither did she look displeased at their appearance.
“You’re lucky to find me home. I had a late meeting at the college but I decided to cancel at the last minute.”
Wolf introduced Kylah.
“I’m happy to meet you,” Rita said. “Please do come in.” She led them into a cozy sitting room opposite what appeared to be her office. Both rooms had wide doorways and at least one wall that was all windows.
Rita dispensed with pleasantries in short order, offering them tea, adding, “Or perhaps you’d rather a glass of wine?” which they declined. She gave Wolf a look that was direct and intelligent and, to Kylah’s mind, amused. “I’m sure you’re here to tell me about the latest incident because my brother declines to grow a pair and face me himself.”
Rather than acerbic, her tone was droll and her hazel eyes were filled with wicked humor. Kylah liked her.
“I gather the grapevine is in excellent working order,” Wolf commented.
Kylah noticed he was careful not to respond to the insult to her brother. She wondered if that was because he agreed with it.
The gleam of wit faded from Rita’s eyes. “In fairness, the conversation that was brought to me had less to do with the incident than about the scene Grant caused soon after.”
Wolf’s face reflected Kylah’s own surprise. She couldn’t imagine Grant making a scene, at least not one that would reach the ear of people who counted. And clearly Rita counted. Annoying someone else to that point, yes, displaying that behavior himself, not so much. A solid half-dozen questions came to Kylah’s mind while Wolf waited for Rita to continue.
“It would seem the shooting, which may well have been random and accidental, rattled Grant so much that he demanded Audra,” she glanced at Kylah, “his wife, not participate in the reenactment.”
“And she refused,” Wolf guessed.
“So, I gather. As vehemently as he insisted. Unfortunately, they were in a public setting.”
“Has Grant, or anyone, suggested you cancel the event since we now have a murder followed by a second shooting?”
“Grant made some noises about it, but that hardly seems warranted. I’m sure Les will capture the person who killed that poor woman. I think the members of the historical society have the same confidence in our law enforcement that I do.”
“Les is concerned despite your confidence in him. And so am I.” He paused before asking, “Why do you think the shots fired this morning might be random? Or accidental?”
Kylah found that odd as well, in light of the all too recent murder.
Rita crossed her legs and leaned back in the oversized chair she’d selected.
“Well, think about it. The murder appears to have been a very skilled shot to the heart. This morning’s shots were off target.”
“Not so far off.” Kylah spoke for the first time. “The first went through the knapsack on my back.”
Rita’s eyes widened. “I’m so very sorry. I didn’t realize you were there, that the shots came close to you. How frightening that must have been.”
Her words made Kylah pause. The whole thing had happened with such speed. She’d been startled, reacting on instinct when she dropped to the ground in self-preservation. And her knees had been shaky afterward. But more than fear, she’d felt a flash of anger. Felt it still.
“It wasn’t fun.”
Turning her attention back to Wolf, Rita said, “As much as I love company, I do feel bad that Les sent you out here to tell me something I already knew. He forgets how fast bad news travels in academia.”
Wolf cleared his throat. “That wasn’t his primary reason for asking me to talk with you. With one murder and another attempt, which neither he nor I think was random, Les is concerned about being able to provide enough manpower to cover this event.”
“You think Ms. West was a failed murder target?” Rita didn’t wait for his answer but shifted her gaze to Kylah. “Do you think that?”
“Please, call me Kylah. And I don’t know what to think. I’m not from around here. I’ve never been in a reenactment and I don’t know any of the people who are. I never met Maisy McGuire.” She shrugged. “None of this makes sense.”
She could feel Wolf’s g
aze on her face before he shifted his attention back to his ex-wife. “Les wants you to shut down the event,” Wolf told her bluntly. “And that’s my advice as well. Before someone else dies.”
Rita studied his expression a moment as if she found it unexpectedly intriguing then looked back at Kylah. “Will you pull out, go home, if I move forward?”
Kylah hadn’t thought about that but it didn’t take her long. “No. I won’t do that.”
“What about others? What do you think they’ll do?”
“I can’t say. I have a contract and won’t walk away from it. The reenactors have their enthusiasm for the event. It may well depend on whether they think the event itself triggered what has happened and will escalate from here. Or if the event is a good cover for a different plan.”
She watched as Rita tapped her finger against her forehead as if the motion would help her think.
“Wolf, if we shut the event down, Les may never find the murderer. He may fade away to surface at another reenactment and kill again.”
Kylah could tell by Wolf’s expression he’d already thought of that.
He admitted as much adding, “It’s a concern, sure, but I have to think about this community first. I agree with Les. For once. There’s no way even our combined teams can provide security across several hundred acres and thousands of participants and spectators.”
Rita took a deep breath. “I’ll consider the request but we’re just days away from the first scenario. Dozens upon dozens of participants have spent God knows how much money getting here, on hotels, restaurants. All significant boosts to the local and state economy and the prestige of our campus. Some of the audience have even made a week-long vacation before this first weekend. To turn them all away with no more than an apology and an expectation – or even a hope – they’ll trust us when we advertise again next year, hoping they’ll forgive and return? I don’t know. I have to think this through.”
Kylah sensed none of this was supposition for Rita. She was a woman who had done her homework and knew her facts, knew the impact to local businesses and what cancellation could mean for future plans for the event.
“How about an apology coupled with ‘we don’t want you to be a murder victim’?” Wolf suggested.
“Truly, I’ll think about it,” Rita said again. “And I’ll talk with the other organizers, including the historical society members. That’s the best I can tell you.” There was a finality to her voice as she turned her attention from Wolf to Kylah. “You’re going back to the fairgrounds? For the barbeque and dance this evening? The group we’re bringing in is local but did have a country hit on the charts last year.”
Kylah had forgotten the organizers within the college and historical society had planned a festive evening for the reenactors who cared to attend. She’d hoped to slip away before it got started but it might be an opportunity to take a hard look at the people around her. Not everyone would be there but would the guilty party be able to resist the urge to mingle and hear what was being said about him? And, after the scare she had this afternoon, she’d be damned if she’d give any appearance of hiding.
Chapter Twelve
Trouble greeted their return to the truck with a grumble, not quite a growl but definitely not a purr. Clearly, he thought they’d been with Rita longer than necessary.
“I’d hoped to have another evening alone with you,” Wolf said as he pulled out of Rita’s drive, “but I hear Rita’s team went all out for this evening’s entertainment.”
When she didn’t answer, he glanced her way.
She smiled at his expression. “Are you going to tell me not to overthink again?”
“Do I need to?” He sounded more curious than concerned.
She flashed him a quick, rueful smile. “No. Already working on that.” And she was but it didn’t come easy although she could remember a time that it had. Before Marty had ended his life and ripped hers apart.
“At least you can promise to dance with me. The band is as good as Rita said.”
“I’ll dance with you.” She glanced down at her pants still dusty from the arena though she’d done her best to brush them off earlier. “After I shower and change.”
“How about I drop you off at the hotel and pick you up when you’re ready?”
There were a dozen reasons why that was not the best idea, why she should get her truck from the fairgrounds and be her own transportation, but all she said was, “Okay.”
* * *
Well, this is interesting to say the least. We have a woman murdered and another who dodged – literally dodged – a bullet and the masses party on. The entire affair seems a trifle incongruous in light of recent events. I won’t use the word inappropriate but that would be close.
From my perch at the top of the stadium seating, I watch as the band plays and couples dance. I’m astounded at the speed with which a temporary flooring and platform for the band was set up in the center of the arena but it serves its purpose well. The performers are versatile, offering an eclectic mix, everything from big band to pop rock to country. I don’t prefer country but find myself amazed at the skill of those able to dance to those tunes.
The crowd is equally varied. I note diamonds and rhinestones, denim with cowboy hats, pressed khaki and polos, a sprinkle of flirty dresses, and what I’m finding to be the inevitable Confederate gray and Union blue of authentic garb.
Even Wolf and Kylah have stayed more on than off the dance floor. Wolf’s attention seems divided, half focused on the woman he swirls around in time to the music, half wary and watchful on the crowd around them.
My own scan of our surroundings is continual. Although I’ve seen nothing untoward, I can’t help prickles of concern. My training won’t ignore how easy it would be for a marksman hidden above to pick off someone on that dance floor then slip through one of several exits that lead to the fairground proper. With the scattering of barns and outbuildings, there are far too many places to hide beyond those doors.
I’m relieved to see my charges leave the dance floor at last. Ah, yes, they are moving toward the stairs that lead upward toward me and the concrete level behind me where tables have been loaded with all manner of nourishment. The seating around me has a good share of onlookers holding paper plates loaded with food, plastic cups containing some libation placed at their feet. I’ve not been so rude as to peruse the contents of those paper plates, but I will not mind the chance to nibble at some delicacies this evening.
I stretch my tense muscles as Wolf and Kylah walk past and leap to follow them to sustenance. I note that the food is plentiful but hasn’t the élan of the spread that Cade Delaney arranged for the rodeo finalists during a recent case. Nothing to sneer at however. Nor do I find anyone resembling the Amazonian brunette with the warm gaze who provided me with the most delectable of morsels at the rodeo festivity. The servers here are not so attentive.
Well, I do see an attractive brunette, tall and slender, who has snared the attentions of Wolf’s fishing pal, Logan. I recognize Mrs. Edmunds from the meeting at the college. Interesting. Of equal interest, at least to me, is that she appears displeased with Logan’s conversation. If I’m not mistaken, they’re at the precipice of a disagreement if not a full-blown argument. I wonder if I should draw Wolf’s attention to this bit of drama. Should he not take note soon, I’ll move closer in the event I deem it best to intervene.
* * *
Wolf followed the cat’s intense gaze across half the length of the building. Damn. He touched Kylah’s arm. “I’ll be right back. Will you be okay for a moment?”
She glanced at him, a small crease of concern forming on her forehead at the change in his tone. “Of course.”
He felt a flash that was equal parts irritation and amusement. Kylah was a woman more accustomed to taking care of herself and others than to having someone take care of her. The protectiveness he felt took him by surprise. Something to think about later, but – for now – he needed to head off a potential e
xplosion. From the far end of the structure, Grant was bearing down on Logan and Audra who looked less than happy with their discussion. And Grant’s expression sure didn’t give the appearance of a peacemaker as he strode their way.
Wolf reached them first, grateful for the small group of young people who momentarily blocked the aisle ahead of Audra’s husband.
“Hey, Logan, you got a minute?”
Audra looked relieved. Logan flashed Wolf a look of pure frustration but the glare soon shifted to include self-disgust and regret as he realized he’d been making a spectacle of himself. And Audra. He muttered an apology to her as he stepped back with Wolf.
Audra gave Wolf a quick glance, then moved away from them, blending with the crowd.
“Man, what the hell are you doing?”
“This whole thing needs to be shut down.” Logan’s voice was low and controlled but not calm. More than frustrated, Wolf realized, Logan was angry, burning up inside angry.
“The reenactment.” It wasn’t a question.
Logan nodded. “A woman is dead. I hear Ms. West was shot at. Looks like any woman in costume is fair game. Grant could care less that Audra could get caught up in this.”
“That’s their business, man, not yours.” One thing was for sure. The flame that had started in high school had never been extinguished. Not for Logan. Wolf had suspected but this was beyond that suspicion and he felt a stab of sympathy.
Logan met his gaze. He gave a curse and brushed past Wolf toward the row of doors. Wolf knew his sympathy wasn’t appreciated and he stared after Logan knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could say to help.
“Your friend needs to keep his distance.” It wasn’t a friendly warning.
Wolf stifled a sigh and turned to face Grant. The man had made an effort to fit in with the crowd but it didn’t work for him. It never had. His khakis were too stiffly pressed as was his button-down shirt but at least he’d forgone the tailored suits he preferred.
Trouble in Action Page 13
