by Janet Dailey
“Or maybe you never do,” Erin said. “Not if too many pieces are lost. My dad got turned down by the bank. He stopped by the Blue Coyote for a beer, then headed home and died on the way. That’s all we’ve learned. And it isn’t enough.”
“So we keep trying,” Beau said. “Right now I’m going to the jail to talk to the sheriff. I want you to stay put in the car. He’s apt to tell me more if you’re not with me.”
“What about Luke? Will you be able to see him?”
“He’s probably still being processed. But that’s not why we’re here.” Beau pulled into the parking lot of the city and county complex and found a shady spot in the farthest corner. “Wait for me here. I’ll leave the keys so you can turn on the AC if it gets too hot. I’ll try not to be too long.”
“It doesn’t matter. Take the time to find out everything you can.”
Beau left, and Erin settled down to wait. Time crawled past. The sun climbed higher in the sky, shrinking the patch of shade that kept the car’s interior from turning into an oven. People arrived and left. Still there was no sign of Beau.
She imagined herself bursting into the jail, demanding to see Luke, maybe even taking him at gunpoint and whisking him off to someplace safe, like Mexico. Silly schoolgirl fantasies. The reality was, there was nothing she could do.
By the time Beau showed up, Erin had the car running with the air-conditioning on high. Beau climbed into the driver’s seat. His grim expression scared her. She forced herself to ask the question. “What did you find out?”
Beau shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking spot. “Plenty. Most of it not so good. You may want to write this down when we get home.”
“Fine. But tell me now. How’s Luke?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him. But I spent enough time with the sheriff to get some answers.”
“I’m listening.” Erin steeled herself as he turned the car up Main Street, in the direction of the highway.
“Luke’s being arraigned in the morning. His lawyer, a woman, has been assigned, but she has yet to show up. She’ll work with him to prepare the case for the grand jury, if it gets that far. I’m guessing she’ll want to talk to you.”
“And I’ll want to talk with her. What else?”
“The medical examiner determined that Will died sometime between eleven-thirty and noon. I’m guessing the lawyer will try to prove that Luke was somewhere else, but so far he has no alibi.
“The bullet is still missing. The medical examiner didn’t find it, and there’s no sign that it hit Will’s truck, which means that either the shooter took it, or it’s still at the scene.”
More bad news, Erin thought. A ballistics test could confirm that the bullet hadn’t come from Luke’s gun. That would go a long way in establishing reasonable doubt.
“Can I go to the place where Dad was shot and look for it?” she asked.
“Maybe. But if you find it, you mustn’t touch it. Otherwise the prosecutor could claim that it was planted at the scene.” Beau glanced at her as they turned onto the highway. “There’s one more thing, Erin. You’re not going to like it.”
“So far I haven’t liked anything I’ve heard. How can they hold Luke when they don’t have a scrap of solid evidence against him?”
“I asked the sheriff the same question. He told me an eyewitness came forward, someone claiming they saw Luke unload that big tire from his trailer and leave it in the road.”
Erin’s heart dropped. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it, Erin?”
“What are you saying, Beau?” she demanded. “You can’t believe that Luke would murder my father!”
“I believe what fits,” Beau said. “Luke left the ranch sometime after Will went to town—Carmen should be able to confirm the time. When the police picked him up on the freeway, fifty miles from here, he was headed back toward Blanco Springs. He claimed to have turned around in Plainview, more than a hundred and fifty miles away. If that was true, he couldn’t have shot Will and made it that far before the news came on TV. But what if he lied? What if he just went partway, waited somewhere, and then headed back, knowing he’d be picked up? It could’ve happened that way. He could have killed your father, Erin.”
The sense of betrayal burned like acid. “Luke would never do such a thing! I don’t believe you!”
“That’s because you love him. And love can make you see things in a different light. I’m saying this because I don’t want you hurt. You have to prepare yourself for the truth.”
“I know the truth. And I don’t believe that witness. Did the sheriff tell you who it was?”
“He did.” Beau glanced at Erin as the car slowed for the turnoff to the Rimrock. “It was your old boyfriend, Kyle Cardwell.”
* * *
“Your lawyer’s here, Maddox.” Through the bars the deputy cuffed Luke’s wrists before opening the cell and leading him to the interrogation room, where he chained the cuffs to a ring on the table. Luke bore the humiliating treatment with as much patience as he could manage. But he was all raging fury inside. He knew whose lie had put him here, and he knew why.
It would be all too easy to blame Erin’s innocent love for putting him here. If she’d kept her distance, Will wouldn’t have taken him to task that morning, and Erin’s jealous boyfriend wouldn’t have claimed to witness something that never happened. But even if he tried, he couldn’t fault her. Her love had been the sweetest, truest thing he’d ever known. And whatever happened, last night would remain the happiest memory of his life.
“Wait here,” the deputy said. As if he could get up and leave. Alone in the bleak room, Luke willed himself not to appear nervous. He could almost feel the eyes watching him through the one-way glass. His assigned lawyer would be a public defender, probably young and inexperienced. Well, he would have to make the best of that. He certainly couldn’t afford to pay anyone halfway competent. All he could do was pray for a miracle. Otherwise, he’d be spending the rest of his life behind bars, maybe even on death row.
What would happen to his grandmother if he went to prison? He had some money in a savings account. Maybe the lawyer could help him arrange for it to go to her care.
But now he was getting ahead of himself.
A click of the doorknob riveted his attention. The deputy opened the door to reveal a stocky figure, silhouetted against the light. Only as the door closed behind her and Luke saw her more clearly did he realize he was seeing a woman.
She appeared to be in her sixties, plump, with frizzy, dyed red hair. She was wearing a sleeveless, flowered sundress that showed her fleshy, suntanned arms and stretched tight over her ample bosom. Instead of a briefcase, she carried an oversized red leather purse.
She walked toward the table, her carved wooden cane thumping on the floor. Remembering his manners, Luke stood. The chain locking his cuffs to the table kept him from straightening to his full height, but at least he’d made the effort.
“No need for formalities. Sit down, Mr. Maddox,” she said, plopping onto the folding chair across from him. “My name’s Pearlina Murchison. You can call me Pearl.”
As Luke sat down again, she laid her purse on the table, opened the clasp, and slid a manila file out onto the table. He took a moment to study her. Her jowly face was freckled from the sun. Behind thick, tortoiseshell glasses, her blue eyes were sharp and alert. When she leaned closer, Luke could smell the strong stench of cigarette smoke.
“I’ve only had a few minutes to read up on your case, Mr. Maddox,” she said. “My first impression is that we’ve got a tough fight ahead of us. But I’ll give it my best shot.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Luke said.
“Fine. And you don’t need to say it. I’m not what you expected. But believe me, this isn’t my first rodeo. I worked in Chicago, in the Cook County prosecutor’s office, for twenty-eight years. When my health couldn’t take it anymore—bad heart—I came home to Blanco, where I grew up. I’m pretty much retir
ed now, but I help out the court when they need me. So let’s get started. You’re familiar with attorney-client privilege?”
“Yes. I’m afraid this isn’t my first rodeo either.”
“So I see.” She glanced at the file, which lay open on the table. “So, since you understand that everything you tell me here is confidential, I’ll just ask you straight out. Did you ambush and kill Will Tyler?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay, so let’s hear your side.”
Luke told her the whole story, including his relationship with Erin and his decision to leave the Rimrock. Only one detail was left out—their night of lovemaking. That was too personal to share.
“So the girl believes you’re not guilty of killing her father?”
“That’s right. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you.”
“And the so-called witness was her boyfriend until you came along?”
“That’s right.”
“Fine.” Pearl closed the file and slid it back into her purse. “You’ll be arraigned in the morning. You’ll plead not guilty. After that we’ll work on three possible lines of defense: Number one, if the bullet can be recovered and tested, it won’t be a match for your gun. Number two, the witness had reason to lie about what he saw. And number three, we can hope to prove that you were too far away to have committed the crime. Got it?”
“Got it.” Luke had a good feeling about the woman. At least she was experienced. But that was no guarantee she could clear him of murder.
“All right, then.” Pearl stood and gathered her things. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve seen stronger defenses than yours fall apart, but we’ll give it our best shot. See you in the morning.”
With that, she walked out, the thump of her cane echoing down the hall.
* * *
Will Tyler’s funeral filled the Congregational Church and overflowed into the parking lot. The service was informal, with friends who’d known him invited to get up and say a few words. Several did, including Rose, who spoke about the early days when she’d known him as a boy.
Erin had glimpsed Kyle with his parents, taking their seats in the back of the chapel. Now she kept her face forward, focusing her attention on the service. But it was as if she could feel his gaze boring into the back of her head. She hadn’t spoken with him since the discovery that he was the sheriff’s witness against Luke. But this was the time to honor her father’s memory. Any nastiness with Kyle would have to wait.
She listened as Will’s friends told stories about his honesty, his fearlessness, and his generosity. Will Tyler hadn’t been a perfect man, but he’d been a good man, passionate in his devotion to his ranch and his family.
By the time the closing hymn was sung, there was scarcely a dry eye in the place. The congregation stood with a rustling of motion. With what was left of the family—Beau, Sky, Lauren and their children, and Rose, who’d been included—Erin followed the casket out the door to the waiting hearse. Kyle was still watching her—she could sense it, like a fly crawling on her skin. But that couldn’t be allowed to matter.
Later on, after Will was laid to rest beside his beloved Tori, she would deal with Kyle, the bank, the sheriff, the ranch, Luke’s lawyer, and everything else that had been laid on her inexperienced shoulders. Right now, all she could do was say a loving good-bye and try to carry on as her father would have expected.
* * *
Most of the townspeople went home after the church service. The closer friends and family followed the hearse to the Rimrock for Will’s burial in the family cemetery. The little plot, on the crest of a low hill, looked dry and desolate in the summer heat, the sparse grass yellowed, the ground baked hard, the granite headstones hot to the touch.
The oldest grave was that of Williston Tyler, who’d settled the land and fathered a son by a wife who’d died young. His son, Virgil “Bull” Tyler, who’d built a hardscrabble ranch into a family empire, lay next to his beloved Susan. Now Will would be there, too, beside Erin’s mother.
Other spaces were empty. Would she lie in one of them someday? Erin wondered. Would Luke? Or would this sad little square of land be gobbled up and sold to the syndicate, along with the rest of the Rimrock, when the bank foreclosed?
The thought triggered a burst of hot emotion. She couldn’t lose the ranch. She owed it to these people, and to generations to come, to keep the Rimrock in the family. Somehow, whatever it took, she would have to find a way.
Back at the house, guests gathered for a late buffet of drinks, fresh rolls, donated salads and casseroles, and Carmen’s chocolate cake. When Jasper had died, it had been Will who’d greeted people and accepted their condolences. Now, with Will gone, Beau packing the car for the trip home, and Sky tending to the ranch, that duty fell to Erin.
Most everyone was kind, squeezing her hand, introducing themselves if she didn’t know them, and offering what passed for comfort. Aside from a nagging headache, she was holding up well, or so she thought, until she looked across the room and saw Kyle and his parents making their way toward her. From where she stood, she could see the swollen, purpled flesh that ringed his left eye.
Something inside her shrank and hardened. Why hadn’t these toxic people stayed home? They hadn’t been friends of her father’s and, after her last encounter with Kyle and his father, they certainly weren’t friends of hers.
But she was at the center of attention in what amounted to a public gathering. She knew better than to make a scene. That would come later, in private, when she confronted Kyle about lying to the sheriff.
Close up, Vivian Cardwell looked drained. Her striking green eyes were bloodshot, her makeup caked on her colorless face. Erin had sensed that she had had a harmless crush on Will. Was she grieving for him, or was there something darker behind her haunted look?
Her hand gripped Erin’s, the fragile bones almost digging into her flesh. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said. “So very sorry. Your father was a fine man.”
“Yes, thank you,” Erin murmured, extricating herself. Hunter Cardwell was next, his big hand swallowing hers, his wolf-eyed gaze strangely intimate. “My condolences, Erin,” he said. “We’re here for you anytime you need us.”
Kyle’s arms went around her in a possessive hug. Erin stood cold and rigid in his embrace. He seemed unaware that she knew about his lie. But that would change. “We need to talk,” she said, speaking close to his ear.
“Yes, we do. I’ll call you.” He released her, smiled, and moved on with his parents, leaving her with a cold lump in the pit of her stomach.
“Are you all right, Erin?” Rose had stayed nearby. “You look pale. If you need to go and lie down, I can cover for you. I’m sure everyone will understand.”
Erin raised her head and squared her shoulders. Part of her wanted to do as Rose had suggested. But this was no time to appear weak. She was in charge of the ranch now. She needed to be stronger than she had ever been in her life.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll have to be, won’t I?”
* * *
By the time the last of the guests were gone and the remnants of the buffet were cleared away, it was late afternoon. Heat waves rose from the gravel in the ranch yard. Clouds roiled above the escarpment, but the moisture they appeared to bring was only virga—the ghostly rain that evaporated long before it reached the ground.
Dressed in jeans once more, Erin sat in the ranch office, feeling small in the big leather chair that the Tyler men had filled so masterfully. An hour ago she had said good-bye to Beau, who’d invited her to call him with any questions or concerns, but hadn’t offered any help beyond that. She was on her own.
The yellow pad on the desk was covered with scribbled notes, ideas, and reminders that she was attempting to organize into a meaningful list. Tomorrow she would go to the bank and take the death certificate the mortuary had given her. Will had listed her as beneficiary on all the ranch accounts, but she would need to make sure they were properly transferred
and her signature authorized.
So cold. Words and numbers had taken the place of her fierce, loving father who would never hug her again, never talk with her over breakfast, never ride with her on a mountain trail or teach her how to rope a steer. In the past five months she had lost the three most important people in her life—her mother, Jasper, and now Will. And she could only honor them all by carrying on alone, not just for herself but for the Rimrock family—all the good people who’d made a life and a living here.
While she was at the bank, she would face Sim Bartlett and tackle the question of an extension on the balloon payment. The bank president would no doubt turn her down. But she was determined to let him know that she was in charge now and wouldn’t stand for being bullied.
And then there was Luke.
Giving way to fear, she pressed her hands to her face. Tomorrow morning Luke would be arraigned on charges of first degree murder. But she couldn’t be there for him. She couldn’t visit him in jail or even call him. Any contact would only strengthen the prosecution’s case against him.
The court should be able to tell her how to reach his lawyer. She would call the woman, maybe arrange a meeting, and tell her everything she knew about the circumstances. Beyond that, all she could do was pray.
Putting her emotions aside, she returned to sorting her notes, listing items in order of urgency. She was making a start when her cell phone rang.
Kyle.
Telling herself that now was as good a time as any, she took the call.
“Still mad at me?” he asked, his manner as brash as ever.
Erin warned herself to be cautious. “That depends,” she said.
“You told me we needed to talk. Want to go for a ride?”
No more rides! “I’m pretty busy,” she said. “Why don’t you just come over? We can sit on the porch and have a beer.”
