by Hood, D. K.
“Yes, ma’am.” Rowley hesitated before leaving and looked at her. “Ah, can I ask you a personal question before I go?”
“Yes, what’s the problem?”
“If I decided to get married, would I still be able to live in the house, seeing as it belongs to the department?”
Jenna couldn’t stop smiling. “Yes, of course, you can stay there for as long as I’m sheriff, but I do hope someday you’ll have a place of your own. The townsfolk might get tired of me one day.”
“I hope to buy a ranch close by in a year or two.” Rowley grinned. “Oh, and please don’t mention it to Sandy, I haven’t asked her yet. I was thinking of asking her at Christmas.”
“I won’t say a word.” As Rowley went out the door, Jenna walked around the desk and grabbed her coat. “Come on, Kane, we’ll be late for the autopsy.” She glanced down at Duke. “You’d better stay with Maggie. Come on, boy.” She patted her leg and Duke led the way out the door.
At the front desk, Jenna waited for Duke to climb into his basket behind the counter and looked at Maggie. “How’s our handyman getting along?”
“He’s a hard worker.” Maggie met her gaze. “I don’t know if he has any cash. He didn’t take a break, so I sent him down to Aunt Betty’s to get something to eat. Susie Hartwig made sure he was fed.” She frowned. “He seems like a lost soul.”
“A bear ate all his supplies and the plant laid him off.” Jenna frowned. “Pay him two hundred this afternoon and if you get time, see if you can find him any work around town.”
“I sure will.” Maggie grinned. “I’ll start with Rowley. He’s been complaining his garage needs to be cleaned out before the snow arrives.”
Jenna smiled. “Good idea.” She gave her a wave and, following Kane out the door, pulled up the hood of her coat.
She didn’t mind the snow—the cold had a refreshing, cleansing feel about it—but the sleet drove her nuts. Everything was damp, and the freezing rain seemed to seep through all her clothes. The constant fog closed in around the town, obscuring the views. It was oppressive. She ducked her head and made her way to Kane’s truck through the slow-moving pedestrians, bundled up for winter and looking like drowned rats. Inside the truck, she fastened her seatbelt and turned to Kane. “I hope this weather blows through soon. It will ruin Halloween.”
“Weather forecast said it would clear by this afternoon.” Kane started the engine and backed out of the space. “The wind has picked up; maybe it will blow the clouds away. Then the temperature will drop like a stone, and with everything wet, the blacktop will be slick with ice. Dangerous times.” He groaned. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. One of the investors in the ski resort heard about the Old Mitcham Ranch and has purchased it as a tourist attraction. They already have flyers out and advertisements all over the media for Halloween.”
A shiver radiated through Jenna as the memory of the place slammed into her mind. It had started with a murder–suicide decades ago, and more recently the brutal murder of two young women had made the ramshackle building a legend. The locals insisted the ghosts of lost souls haunted the Old Mitcham Ranch and it carried a curse. After coming close to dying there, and witnessing the fate of the previous owners, she didn’t need convincing the curse was real enough. “Who would want to go there for fun?”
“Not me but that sort of thing attracts people. They like to be scared.” Kane sounded the horn as a stray dog dashed out from the curb.
As he hit the brakes, Jenna’s seatbelt snapped so tight, she could hardly breathe. “Yikes.”
* * *
“Dammit, that dog is going to cause an accident.” Kane pulled in at the curb.
Jenna stared after the bedraggled mixed-breed. “Drive. We don’t have time to chase after it now, Kane. I’ll call the council and have the dog catcher keep an eye out for it.” She made the call.
They arrived at the ME’s office a few moments later and although the sleet had turned to light rain they dashed inside. Jenna swiped her card at the door and they dragged off their coats and then hung them on the pegs provided in the hallway. As they headed toward the morgue, Emily Wolfe poked her head out the door and waved to them. Jenna smiled at her. “Sorry we’re late.”
“We haven’t started yet.” Emily met them in the hallway and handed them masks and gloves. “I’ll let Dad know you’re here. It’s an interesting case. I’m looking forward to discovering all the victim’s secrets.” She turned on her heel and marched back inside the room.
Jenna looked at Kane and noticed a flash of amusement in his eyes. Kane’s macabre sense of humor seemed to spill out in the most inappropriate moments. She’d come to view it as his release from the stress of seeing so many dead, and sometimes mutilated, bodies. “Okay, Dave spit it out.”
“Oh, nothing.” Kane pulled on his mask but it didn’t hide the smile. “I was just wondering how much information a practically headless man can tell us.”
Unable to reply, Jenna lifted both arms into the air and then dropped them at her sides. She composed her expression and pushed through the door. The usual unmistakable smell of death and antiseptic greeted her. “Afternoon, everyone.”
“Okay, it’s getting late, but before we start, I’ve obtained positive IDs on the Stanton Forest victims. We’ll conduct their autopsies tomorrow.” Wolfe looked at Jenna over his face mask. “Let’s get on with the Robinson case. I collected blood samples and conducted a blood-alcohol test at the scene last night before decomposition set in. I’d say from the reading, Mr. Robinson had a few drinks before retiring.” He pulled back the sheet from the corpse. “I’m running a full tox screen on the samples as well.”
“Do you have reason to believe someone drugged him?” Emily’s pale gray eyes flicked toward Jenna.
Jenna shook her head. “No. From his wife’s statement, she heard someone in the house and tried to wake him before the shooter entered the room.”
“Exactly.” Wolfe pulled down the recording device from above the examination table. “The amount of alcohol he consumed wouldn’t have placed him in a stupor. So, we look for other reasons she couldn’t wake him. Even though we found no gunshot residue on the wife’s skin to indicate she shot him, we still need to rule out the possibility she was involved.”
“I sleep like the dead.” Webber cleared his throat. “Maybe he was the same.”
“I’ll take everything into consideration, but that question will have to be directed to his wife.” Wolfe looked at Jenna. “Okay, no more questions. I’ll record my findings as I go.”
Jenna waited patiently as Wolfe described a healthy male, weight normal for his height. Nothing seemed out of place until Wolfe paused the recording and Webber turned the body over. Her gaze drifted over the torso, trying to ignore the shattered neck where part of the head had been, and centered on a mark. “Is that a bite?”
“Sure looks like one.” Wolfe lowered a magnifying glass complete with light to the mark. “Webber, get a few shots of the area.” He stood back. “Any suggestions?”
“How old would you say that is?” Kane moved closer and peered at the mark.
“It’s not fresh—three or more days.” Wolfe turned to look at him. “Although the teeth broke the skin, healing is well underway. Also, note the purple tinge to the bruising. You’ll typically see a bruise change from red to blue to purple within the first few days after an injury. Maybe his wife bit him?”
The implications of the bite mark whirled through Jenna’s mind. “If she didn’t but noticed it, she’d be aware he was having an affair.” She let out a long sigh. “Heck, how do you ask Mrs. Robinson if she was in the habit of biting her husband without opening a can of worms? For all we know, she’s totally oblivious to her husband’s lovers.”
“Then we ask the girlfriend.” Kane looked at Wolfe’s astonished expression. “I’m sorry, we haven’t had time to bring you up to speed. We only just found out Robinson was a player. He was seeing Ann Turner.”
“The hair stylist?”
Emily stared at them. “She was seeing him?”
Jenna nodded. “Seems so. I guess we’d better speak to Ann.”
“I’d guess she doesn’t know he’s dead.” Kane frowned. “Nothing worse than being the bearer of bad news.”
Eighteen
Wednesday evening
It surprised him that people never realized someone was following them until it was too late. The sleet had cleared and yet Ruby hadn’t noticed his truck following her to the bus stop. He’d stayed well behind, waiting to discover her stop, crawling along the curb like someone out viewing the limp, rain-soaked Halloween decorations out front of most yards. The houses became scarce at this end of town, the perimeters of the properties turning from white picket fences to barbed wire. This close to the forest, many of the ranches had tree-lined driveways, and people used the alleyways as a shortcut to their homes rather than follow the road. His heart picked up as Ruby stepped down from the bus and it chugged away, leaving a puff of black smoke in its wake. He pulled to the curb, well away from a streetlight, as she walked a few feet along the sidewalk and then turned onto an alleyway.
Coldness dropped over him in an almost trance-like illusion. His body seemed to have a mind of its own as he slid from the truck. He walked hunched over and added a limp. Anyone glancing out a window and seeing him would see an old man battered by the wind heading home in the dark. He moved slowly to the entrance of the alleyway. Ahead he could hardly make out Ruby’s slight figure as she kicked aside the thick coating of fall leaves on the well-trodden pathway.
Underfoot the gravel crunched beneath his boots and he sensed more than saw Ruby stop and look at him over one shoulder. He increased his speed and could taste her fear as he came within a few yards of her. Her breath puffed out in great clouds of steam as she increased her pace. It made her appear ethereal as if she might take flight and he’d lose her forever. He stamped his feet as he gained on her, amused by how she zigzagged like a scared rabbit. Ahead, he could see the yellow glow of a streetlight at the end of the dark alleyway, and with a sigh, he turned and walked back in the other direction. Ruby had whetted his appetite, and the next time they met, she wouldn’t see death coming.
Nineteen
Thursday morning
The sun had just peeked over the horizon as Kane leaned on the fence surrounding the corral. He smiled at the horses racing around snorting with their ears pricked. At last the sky was clear for miles and he could turn out the horses during the day to enjoy the lush green grass. He stared into the distance, feasting on the view. It was so darn good to see the mountains again. When Jenna walked up beside him with straw caught in her hair, he grinned at her and plucked it out. “Thanks for helping with the horses.”
“They’re my horses as well.” She yawned. “Getting up to work out and then muck out the stables before we leave is a pain when we have murder cases as well.” She turned and headed toward the house. “You’ve been carrying me far too long.”
He chuckled and fell into stride beside her. “You help me tend them every night, and I did say I’d do the chores if we could have them in the first place.”
“Hmm, but we’ll be missing the autopsies on the Stanton Forest victims if we don’t get a move on.” Jenna glanced at her watch. “Can you shower and fix breakfast in time? I told Wolfe we’d be there before nine.”
Kane whistled for Duke and turned toward his cottage. “Sure, and I’ll drive real fast with lights and sirens if we’re late.” He smirked at her and jogged along the path.
Over breakfast, he allowed the case to filter into his mind. “As far as I’m aware, Wolfe will have started the autopsies already. With two to cover, he’ll be using Webber as a law enforcement witness.” He lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth. “We could interview the hair stylist at the beauty parlor and then drop by the ME’s office for Wolfe’s findings.”
“Yeah, we could cut a few corners, but then I’m not there to ask questions.” Jenna frowned. “I know you take the majority of evidence from the crime scene but I believe the victims still have something to tell us.”
“Sure.” Kane stood, collected the plates, and scraped the uneaten eggs into Duke’s bowl. The dog had cleaned them up before Kane had loaded the dishwasher. “Need more coffee?”
“No, thanks, I’m good.” Jenna pushed to her feet, rounded the table, and added her cup to the dishwasher. “We’ll speak to the hair stylist later. What was her name?”
“Ann Turner.” Kane strapped on his duty belt and then pushed on his hat. “Ready?”
“Yep.” Jenna slipped her phone into her pocket. “Is Duke coming?”
Kane headed to the door, snagging his jacket on the way, with Duke hot on his heels. “It’s not raining so he’ll stick to us like glue. I guess he’ll be able to wait in Shane’s office during the autopsies. I don’t think we’ll have time to drop by the sheriff’s department.”
“He’ll be fine—Wolfe, I mean.” Jenna headed toward Kane’s truck. “It’s not like it’s a sterile area. Duke will probably sleep the whole time.”
Kane opened the back door of his truck, lifted Duke inside and then went about attaching his harness. “Although, he might start to howl if he smells the corpses.”
“Oh, that would make the news. I can see the headlines now.” Jenna jumped into the passenger seat and turned to grin at him. “Ghostly howling heard at local morgue over Halloween.”
“Can you imagine Shane’s TV interview?” Kane started the engine and headed down the driveway. “Mr. Wolfe, have you been howling at the moon lately?” He chuckled. “Oh, don’t mention any of this or he’ll get his I-just-bit-into-a-lemon face.” They turned onto the highway.
“I won’t mention a word.” Jenna’s bright demeanor faded as her phone chimed. “It’s Rowley, I’ll put him on speaker. Morning, is there a problem?”
“No, ma’am. As you’re heading straight to the ME’s office, I thought you’d like me to bring you up to speed with the suspect I interviewed yesterday, Ian Clark.” Rowley’s enthusiastic voice came through the speaker. “He has an alibi for the Robinson murder. I checked it out on the way in this morning and the mortician confirmed he was with him, preparing a body for burial for three hours that evening, and never left the parlor.”
“Okay, we can take him off our list. Thanks for letting me know.” Jenna leaned back in her seat and looked at Kane. “One down. Hey, is that ice?” She pointed to glossy patches on the blacktop.
“It sure looks like it.” Kane slowed to maneuver around them. He’d hoped the morning frost would’ve melted by now. “The temperature is dropping fast and the rain-soaked blacktop hasn’t had time to dry.”
The next moment a black cat dashed across the road, its coat spiky and damp. Kane slammed on the brakes, barely missing it. The back wheels of his truck hit an ice patch and they fishtailed so close to the ditch alongside the road, the front wheels crashed through the dried bushes before he regained control. He stopped inches from the edge of the ditch. “Where did that come from? There isn’t another occupied ranch here for miles.” He peered out the window but the cat had vanished into the undergrowth.
“Oh Lord, we didn’t need any more bad luck.” Jenna’s attention had fixed on the clump of trees. “There was a cat sitting on the gatepost of the Old Mitcham Ranch last time I went by and it probably belongs to one of the contractors working there. It can’t belong to the snowplow guy, he’s in Florida, and he wouldn’t leave a cat unattended.”
When Duke barked and let out a howl, the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stood to attention. He started back along the highway. “I didn’t expect that reaction from Duke, but then I don’t recall running into a cat with him lately.” He glanced at Jenna. “You don’t really believe black cats are bad luck, do you?”
“I guess not.” Jenna cleared her throat. “I had a neighbor who owned a Bombay. Its coat was glossy black and it had amazing copper eyes. It was a lovely cat. I cared for it for a time after her house burned down.”
She sighed. “Poor woman lost everything but that cat.”
Kane looked at her before pulling back onto the road. “So maybe not so lucky, huh?”
The moment they turned onto Main Street, Kane slowed to a crawl. The ice-covered blacktop glistened in the sunlight, and two rear-end accidents blocked the way. A crowd had gathered among the bedraggled Halloween bunting on the sidewalk, their faces obscured by the scarves and hats they wore to keep out the bitterly cold air. He pulled to the curb and stared into the distance. “They look like minor collisions.”
“Dammit. More delays.” Jenna slipped from the truck. “I’ll call Rowley. He’ll have to deal with them. Go check to make sure everyone is okay. We’ll have to take the backroads or we’ll miss the autopsies.” She sighed. “I’ll get someone out here to brine the roads as well.”
The chill shuddered through Kane’s head the moment he stepped from the truck. The temperature had dropped considerably in the short drive from Jenna’s ranch and the metal plate in his head, the result of a car bombing, caused severe headaches in winter. He ducked back inside the cab, dragged his woolen cap from between the front seats and pulled it on, leaving his Stetson on the seat. He pulled up his hood and ground his teeth against the threatening pain. His boots crunched on the patches of ice as he made his way to the first collision. “Are you injured, ma’am?” He peered into the vehicle.
