by B. J Daniels
“Have you had time?” she asked, her heart in her throat.
“I like to do whatever the marshal asks right away.”
She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Her prints were on file. Chase must have suspected as much.
“I haven’t seen him though to give him the report.”
Lucy took a breath and let it out slowly. “Is there any way that the report could get lost?”
He snickered. “Now you’ve got me curious. Why would you care about prints run on a Fiona Barkley?”
So her prints had come back that quickly? “If that report gets lost, I’d be happy to tell you when I see you. Like I said, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Are we talking money?” he asked quietly. “Or something else?”
“Or both,” she said, her heart pounding. “I can be quite...creative.”
He laughed. “What time shall I pick you up?”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t I meet you later tonight after I get off my shift? I know just the spot.” She told him how to get to the secluded area up in the mountains. She’d spent her free time checking out places for when it came time to end this little charade.
Dillon thought he was going to get lucky—and use her to bring Mary into line. She’d known men like him. He would blackmail her into the next century if she let him.
“I have to work late. Is midnight too late for you?” she asked sweetly.
“Midnight is perfect. I can’t wait.”
“Me either.” The deputy had no idea that he’d walked right into her plot, and now he had a leading role.
Chapter Sixteen
Later that night, as Lucy prepared for her date with Dillon, she couldn’t help being excited. She’d spent too much time waiting around, not rushing her plan, being patient and pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
Tonight she could let Fiona out. The thought made her laugh. Wait until Dillon met her.
She had to work only until ten, but she needed time to prepare. She knew all about forensics. While she had little faith in the local law being able to solve its way out of a paper bag, she wasn’t taking any chances. Amy, who worked at the coffee shop, had seen her talking to Dillon when he’d asked her out, but as far as the other barista knew, he was just another customer visiting after buying a coffee.
If Amy had heard anything, she would have thought he had been asking her for directions. There was no law in him flirting with her, Lucy thought with a grin. That exchange would be the only connection she had to Dillon Ramsey.
At least as far as anyone knew.
She didn’t drive to the meeting spot. Instead, she came in the back way. It hadn’t rained in weeks, but a thunderstorm was predicted for the next morning. Any tire or foot tracks she left would be altered if not destroyed. She had worn an old pair of shoes that would be going into the river tonight. Tucked under her arm was a blanket she’d pulled out of a commercial waste bin earlier today.
The hike itself wasn’t long as the crow flew, but the route wound through trees and rocks. The waning moon and all the stars in the heavens did little to light her way. She’d never known such a blackness as there was under the dense pines. That’s why she was almost on top of Dillon’s pickup before she knew it.
As she approached the driver’s-side door, she could hear tinny sounding country music coming from his pickup’s stereo. He was drumming on his steering wheel and glancing at his watch. From his expression, she could tell that he was beginning to wonder if he’d been stood up.
When she tapped on his driver’s-side window, he jumped. His expression changed from surprise to relief. He motioned for her to go around to the passenger side.
She shook her head and motioned for him to get out of the truck.
He put his window down partway, letting out a nose-wrinkling gust of cheap aftershave and male sweat. “It’s warmer in here.”
“I’m not going to let you get cold.”
Dillon gave that a moment’s thought before he whirred up the window, killed the engine and music, and climbed out.
Lucy had considered the best way to do this. He had his motivation for asking her out. She had hers for being here. Everyone knew about Dillon and Chase’s fight. The two couldn’t stand each other. So whom would the marshal’s first suspect be if anything happened to Dillon?
She tossed down the blanket she’d brought onto the bed of dried pine needles. Dillon reached for her. He would be a poor lover, one who rushed. “Not yet, baby,” she said, holding him at arm’s length. “Why don’t you strip down, have a seat and let me get ready for you. Turn your back. I want this to be a surprise.”
It was like leading a bull to the slaughterhouse.
“Well hurry, because it’s cold out tonight,” he said as he began to undress. She’d brought her own knife, but when she’d seen his sticking out of his boot, she’d changed her plans.
The moment he sat down, his back to her, she came up behind him, grabbed a handful of his hair and his knife, and slit his throat from ear to ear. It happened so fast that he didn’t put up a fight. He gurgled, his hand going to his throat before falling to one side.
She stared down at him, hoping he’d done what he promised and lost the report on her fingerprints. Her only regret was that she hadn’t gotten to see the surprise and realization on his smug face. He’d gotten what was coming to him, but she doubted he would have seen it that way.
As she wiped her prints from the knife and stepped away, she kicked pine needles onto her tracks until she was in the woods and headed for the small creek she’d had to cross to get there. She washed her hands, rinsing away his blood. She’d worn a short-sleeved shirt, and with his back to her, she hadn’t gotten any of his blood on anything but her hands and wrists.
She scrubbed though, up to her elbows, the ice-cold water making her hands ache. She let them air-dry as she walked the rest of the way back to her vehicle. Once she got rid of the shoes she had on, no one would be able to put her at the murder scene.
* * *
THE MOMENT MARY saw her father’s face, she knew something horrible had happened. Was it her mother? One of her brothers or someone else in the family? Chase? She rose behind her desk as her father came into her office, his Stetson in hand, his marshal face on.
“Tell me,” she said on a ragged breath, her chest aching with dread. She’d seen this look before. She knew when her father had bad news to impart.
“It’s Dillon Ramsey.”
She frowned, thinking she’d heard him wrong. “Dillon?”
“You weren’t with him last night, were you?”
“No, why?”
“He was found dead this morning.”
Her first thought was a car accident. The Gallatin Canyon two-lane highway was one of the most dangerous highways in the state with all its traffic and curves through the canyon along the river.
“He was found murdered next to his truck up by Goose Creek.”
She stared at him, trying to make sense of this. “How?”
He hesitated but only a moment, as if he knew the details would get out soon enough and he wanted to be the one to tell her. “He was naked, lying on a blanket as if he’d been with someone before that. His throat had been cut.”
Her stomach roiled. “Why would someone want to kill him?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’m looking for a friend of his, Grady Birch. Do you know him?”
Mary shook her head. “I never met any of his friends.”
Her father scratched the back of his neck for a moment. “I understand that Dillon and Chase got into a confrontation that turned physical.”
“Chase? You can’t think that Chase... You’re wrong. Chase didn’t trust him, but then neither did you.”
“With good reason as it turns out. I believe that Dillon was involved in
the cattle rustling along with his friend Grady Birch.”
Mary had to sit back down. All of this was making her sick to her stomach. “I’d broken up with him. I had no plans to see him again. He’d threatened to ask out one of my tenants.” She shook her head. “But Chase had nothing to do with this.”
The marshal started for the door. “I just wanted you to hear about it from me rather than the Canyon grapevine.”
She nodded and watched him leave. Dillon was dead. Murdered. She shuddered.
* * *
GRADY BIRCH’S BODY washed up on the rocks near Beckman’s Flat later that morning. It was found by a fisherman. The body had been in the water for at least a few days. Even though the Gallatin River never got what anyone would call warm, it had been warm enough to do damage over that length of time.
Hud rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the coroner put the second body that day into a body bag. Dillon was dead; Grady had been dead even longer. What was going on?
He would have sworn that it was just the two of them in on the cattle rustling. But maybe there was someone else who didn’t want to share the haul. He’d send a tech crew out to the cabin to see what prints they came up with. But something felt all wrong about this. Killers, he’d found, tended to stay with the same method and not improvise. A drowning was much different from cutting a person’s throat. The drowning had been made to look like an accident. But Grady’s body had been held down with rocks.
“I’ll stop by later,” he told the coroner as he walked to his patrol SUV. There was someone he needed to talk to.
Hud found Chase fixing fences on the Sherman Jensen ranch. He could understand why Sherman needed the help and why Chase had agreed to working for board. He was a good worker and Sherman’s son was not.
Chase looked up as Hud drove in. He put down the tool he’d been using to stretch the barbed wire and took off his gloves as he walked over to the patrol SUV.
“Did you get the prints off the cup back?” Chase asked.
Hud shook his head. He’d been a little busy, but he’d check on them the first chance he got. He studied the man his daughter had been in love with as far back as he could remember. Out here in his element, Chase looked strong and capable. Hud had thought of him as a boy for so long. At twenty-four, he’d still been green behind the years. He could see something he hadn’t noticed when he saw him at the marshal’s office. Chase had grown into a man.
Still he found himself taking the man’s measure.
“Marshal,” Chase said. “If you’ve come out here to ask me what my intentions are toward your daughter...” He grinned.
“As a matter of fact, I would like to know, even though that’s not why I’m here.”
Chase pushed back his Stetson. “I’m going to marry her. With your permission, of course.”
Hud chuckled. “Of course. Well, that’s good to hear, as far as intentions go, but I’m here on another matter. When was the last time you saw Dillon Ramsey?”
Chase grimaced. “Did he think that’s why I was in your office the other day?” He shook his head. “That I’d come there to report our fight? So he decided to tell you his side of it?”
“Actually no. But I heard about it. Heard that if Mary hadn’t broken it up, it could have gotten lethal.”
“Only because Dillon was going for a knife he had in his boot,” Chase said.
Hud nodded. Chase had known about the man’s knife. The knife Dillon had been killed with. “So the trouble between you was left unfinished.” Chase didn’t deny it. “That’s the last time you saw him?”
Chase nodded and frowned. “Why? What did he say? I saw the way he was trying to intimidate Mary.”
“Not much. Someone cut his throat last night.” He saw the cowboy’s shocked expression.
“What the hell?”
“Exactly. Where were you last night?”
“Here on the ranch.”
“Can anyone verify that you were here the whole time?”
“You can’t really believe that I—”
“Can anyone verify where you were?” Hud asked again.
Chase shook his head. “Can’t you track my cell phone or something? Better yet, you know me. If I saw Dillon again, I might get in the first punch because I knew he’d fight dirty. But use a knife?” He shook his head. “Not me. That would be Dillon.”
Hud tended to believe him. But he also knew about the knife Dillon kept in his boot, and he hadn’t seen Chase in years. People change. “You aren’t planning to leave town, are you?”
Chase groaned. “I have a carpenter job in Paradise Valley. I was leaving tomorrow to go to work. But I can give you the name of my employer. I really don’t want to pass up this job.”
Hud studied him for a moment. “Call me with your employer’s name. I don’t have to warn you not to take off, right?”
Chase smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. Like I told you, I’m marrying your daughter and staying right here.”
Hud couldn’t help but smile. “Does Mary know that?”
The cowboy laughed. “She knows. That doesn’t mean she’s said yes yet.”
* * *
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? I just heard the news about the deputy,” Chase asked when he called Mary after her father left. “I’m so sorry.”
“Dillon and I had broken up, but I still can’t believe it. Who would want to kill him?”
“Your father thought I might,” he said. “I just had a visit from him.”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“He’d heard about the fight Dillon and I had in front of your building,” Chase said. “I thought maybe you’d mentioned it to him.”
“I didn’t tell him, but he can’t believe that you’d kill anyone.”
Chase said nothing for a moment. “The word around town according to Beth Anne is that Dillon had been with someone in the woods. A woman. You have any idea who?”
She thought of Lucy, but quickly pushed the idea away. Dillon had said he was going to ask her out, but she doubted he’d even had time to do that—if he’d been serious. Clearly, he’d been seeing someone else while he was seeing her.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to go with me late to see the next man on my list,” Chase said.
“No, I’m going. I’m having trouble getting any work done. I’m still in shock. I know how much finding your father means to you. Pick me up?”
“You know it. I’m going to get cleaned up. Give me thirty minutes.”
* * *
“YOU QUESTIONED CHASE about Dillon’s murder?” Mary cried when he father answered the phone.
He made an impatient sound. “I’m the marshal, and I’m investigating everyone with a grudge against Dillon Ramsey.”
“Chase doesn’t hold grudges,” she said indignantly, making Hud laugh.
“He’s a man, and the woman he’s in love with was seeing another man who is now dead. Also, he was in an altercation with the dead man less that forty-eight hours ago.”
“How did you know about the fi—”
“I got an anonymous call.”
“I didn’t think anyone but me...” She thought of Lucy. No, Lucy wouldn’t do that. Someone else in the area that night must have witnessed it.
“You can’t possibly think that Chase would...” She shook her head adamantly. “It wasn’t Chase.”
“Actually, I think you’re right,” her father said. “I just got the coroner’s report. The killer was right-handed. I noticed Chase is left-handed.”
Mary felt herself relax. Not that she’d ever let herself think Chase was capable of murder, but she’d been scared that he would be a suspect because of their altercation.
As she looked up, she saw Lucy on her way to work. The woman turned as if sensing she was being watched, and waved before coming back to the fro
nt door of the office to stick her head in.
“Mary, are you all right? I just heard the news on the radio about that deputy you were seeing, the one your cowboy got into a fight with the other night.”
“I know, it’s terrible, isn’t it?”
“You don’t think Chase—”
“No.” She shook her head. “My dad already talked to him. It wasn’t him.”
Lucy lifted a brow. “Chase sure was angry the other night.”
“Yes, but the forensics proved that Chase couldn’t have done it.” Mary waved a hand through the air as if she couldn’t talk about it, which she couldn’t. “Not that I ever thought Chase could kill someone.”
Lucy still didn’t look convinced. “I think everyone is capable. It just has to be the right circumstances.”
“You mean the wrong ones,” Mary said, the conversation making her uncomfortable. She no longer wanted to think about how Dillon had died or who might have killed him.
“Yes,” Lucy said, and laughed.
“Did you ever go out with Dillon?” Mary asked, and wished she hadn’t at Lucy’s expression.
“Seriously?” The woman laughed. “Definitely not my type. Why would you ask me that?”
“He mentioned that he might ask you out. I thought maybe—”
Lucy sighed. “Clearly, he was just trying to make you jealous. I think he came into the coffee shop once that I can remember. You really thought I was the woman who had sex with him in the woods?”
“We don’t know that’s what happened.”
“It’s what everyone in town is saying. They all think that the killer followed the deputy out to the spot where he was meeting some woman. That’s why I asked about Chase. If your cowboy thought it was you on that blanket with him...”
“That’s ridiculous. Anyway, it wasn’t me.”
“But maybe in the dark, Chase didn’t know that.”
“Seriously, Lucy, you don’t know him. I do. Chase wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Sorry. Not something you want to dwell on at this time of the morning. I can’t believe you thought I could be the woman with him.”
