Unrepentant Cowboy

by Joanna Wayne

  “How long had you been married before Effie was born?”

  “Fourteen months. Celeste wanted to have a child before she started her career so that she didn’t have to take a break and lose ground. She liked things to go according to plan.”

  “Is she also an attorney?”

  “No, she’s a very successful executive for an international banking corporation. But she was also a good mother. I’m the one who didn’t measure up as a father. Not that I failed intentionally. I love Effie more than she’ll ever know. But I made mistakes. I may be able to persuade a jury, but I can’t force Effie to love me.”

  “It’s not a matter of forcing her love, Leif. It’s already there. I see it in the pictures when she was young. You just have to find a way to connect with her again, let her know how important she is to you.”

  “I tell her all the time.”

  “But do you always show her?”

  “I try.”

  “She didn’t see it that way this morning when you spent all your time on the phone instead of having breakfast with her.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “Let’s just say she didn’t try to hide her disappointment that you’d surprised her with a visit and then spent all of your time working.”

  “I wasn’t working. I was talking to her mother, who had plenty to tell me.”

  “You didn’t explain that to Effie.”

  “She didn’t give me a chance then.”

  “You have the rest of the week to spend quality time with her. Don’t blow it. And don’t make it about you but about her.”

  “I try, but if this week is anything like previous vacations with me, she balks or rolls her eyes at everything I suggest.”

  “Don’t let her get by with that. Make her choose an activity. And listen when she talks.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Then I’m not saying it right. None of this will be easy, but it is necessary if you want a close, loving relationship with Effie.”

  “I’ll need your help with this.”

  “You can bounce ideas and issues off of me, but the real work is up to you and Effie.”

  Effie needed her father before she ended up as bitter about him as he was about R.J. So, as hard as it would be to spend time with Leif and not succumb to the attraction, she would do anything she could to help bring the two of them together.

  Anything but fall in love with Leif.

  * * *

  A VAN FROM a local TV channel pulled up in front of the condominium complex just as Leif and Joni sped away. “Looks as if we split just in time,” he said. “The vultures are circling.”

  Joni turned to look back at the action. “They didn’t waste any time.”

  “Never do.”

  “But the public does have the right to know the facts about a murder,” Joni said. “How else can they protect themselves?”

  “There’s a difference between reporting the facts and creating a story. If there are any facts to be had, they’ll come from the police—not me. Pulling me into the limelight five years after a trial is creating a story.”

  A call came in over his cell phone, which was routed through the car’s audio system. No name was listed with the number, so he let the call go unanswered.

  The corner traffic light turned red. He stopped and then made a right turn. “The only good thing is that no one expects me to be at the Dry Gulch Ranch, so this shouldn’t affect Effie.”

  “She’s a smart girl,” Joni said. “Once you explain the situation, she’ll handle whatever happens.”

  “You’re probably right again,” Leif said. “I keep thinking I need to protect her.”

  “You do—from the evils in the world. Not from yourself and your life.”

  The calls continued. The third one was from Gerard Timberton, a senior partner in the law firm. That one he didn’t ignore. He left it on speaker so that both his hands were free to drive.

  “I guess you’ve heard by now that Jill Trotter was raped and murdered sometime in the wee hours of Monday morning,” Gerard said, greeting him with the grisly news.

  “I heard.”

  “I just got a call from Detective Josh Morgan with DPD homicide division.”

  “What did he want?” Leif asked. It was a rhetorical question. What he wanted was information that would lead to the identification and arrest of Jill’s killer—information Leif didn’t have.

  “Basically, he wants to talk to you about the trial. I told him you were off until next Monday, but he says it’s urgent.”

  “Did he leave a number where I can reach him?”

  “He did.”

  Joni grabbed a pen from her purse and took down the number as Gerard dictated it.

  “You’re free to cooperate with him if you have any direct facts that might help,” Gerard said, “but you don’t have to share any information that you perceive as client privileged or that might in any way be damaging to the firm.”

  Naturally. The firm always came first. “My former client is dead,” Leif said. “I’d like nothing better than to help the police find her killer, but it’s not likely I can. If the murder was connected to Jill’s not being convicted, someone waited a long time for vengeance.”

  “Then you’ll call the detective?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. And then enjoy your holiday.”

  “I’ll do my best. You have a good weekend, too.”

  They talked a minute more, but Leif’s focus had switched to what he could remember about Jill’s trial. There had been countless threats against Jill and Leif, but they had been the kind he usually got from kooks in the general population at large.

  Not that those could be dismissed lightly, but they had stopped quickly once the trial was over and no longer in everyone’s face.

  As best he could remember, none of the threatening notes, letters or phone calls had come from family members or people directly affected by the murder of Jill’s husband. If anything, he’d been surprised by the lack of involvement or concern from any of Phillip Trotter’s family.

  Phillip’s two children were in California with their mother and hadn’t come to the trial. His parents were dead. Leif remembered he had an older half brother who was a missionary or a teacher or a Peace Corps worker. Whatever, he had been in South America at the time.

  There was also a younger brother. He was in prison. Or had been. At any rate, the prosecution for obvious reasons hadn’t introduced him as a character witness.

  No red flags—unless Leif was overlooking something.

  He turned to Joni. “Would you mind if we made one quick stop at my office to pick up the files on the Trotter case?”

  She frowned. “I’m still in the clothes I wore horseback riding this morning.”

  “So am I. We’ll just dart in and dart out. Besides, it’s not likely we’ll run into anyone except the secretarial staff. Most of the attorneys have probably already started their holiday.”

  “All the same, I’ll wait in the car. Are you going to call the detective first?”

  “Yeah. May as well get that over with.”

  Leif made the call to the detective and for once things worked out in his favor, though it would mean persuading Joni to come inside with him. Josh Morgan agreed to meet him in his office for a quick question-and-answer session.

  That was only after Leif mentioned that he was on his way back to Oak Grove to take a friend home who lived very near where Jill had been murdered. The rest of the weekend would belong to Effie and Joni, the two people most likely to avoid Leif if he gave them half a chance.

  He planned to make sure they didn’t get that chance.

  * * *

  THE PROSPECT OF being questioned by Detec
tive Morgan made Joni nervous. She couldn’t explain why except that this was the closest she’d ever come to a murder investigation. Even now, she couldn’t imagine why the detective wanted her in on the conversation.

  The three of them sat in Leif’s impressive office, Leif in the power seat behind the curved desk made from a rich wood in a deep shade of pecan. His swivel chair was the same black leather as the sofa she shared with Detective Morgan.

  Leif reeked of authority, but then so did the detective. Not that they were in a power play, but still she sensed suspicion in their every exchange.

  The reasons for that might be a bit more obvious if she’d been part of their entire conversation, but for the previous half hour, she’d sat twiddling her thumbs in the firm’s empty reception room.

  Detective Morgan looked to be in his late forties; there was already graying at his temples. He was slightly shorter and a few pounds heavier than Leif, and his eyes were bracketed with significantly more wrinkles.

  He crossed a leg over his opposite knee and turned to face Joni. “I understand that you were a neighbor of Jill Trotter’s.”

  “I live on the same road, but my house is about a mile from hers. I’ve seen her at her mailbox but never actually met her.”

  “So Mr. Dalton told me. But you do drive by Mrs. Trotter’s house every day?”

  “Most days, only she was going by the name of Evie Monsant then.”

  “How long had she lived in the house?”

  “I don’t remember exactly, but I think she moved in about two months after I moved to Oak Grove. I’ve been there a little over nine months.”

  “But other than passing her house, the two of you never crossed paths?”

  “No. I heard she shopped at the local grocery store from time to time, but that was about it. She didn’t go to church in Oak Grove or eat at the diner or go to any community events. There was lots of speculation about why she was such a loner, but I don’t think anyone thought she was in danger or that she was hiding her identity.”

  “There are still a lot of questions to be answered,” the detective said. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “I wish I could be more helpful,” Joni said. “I really don’t know anything about the woman.”

  “Sometimes you may know more than you realize. Did you ever see cars at her house other than her own?”

  Joni tapped her fingernails on the arm of the sofa while she gave that more thought. “Not on a regular basis, but there were workmen’s vehicles from time to time, especially right after she moved in.”

  “What kind of workmen?”

  “Repairmen, the cable guy, furniture delivery people, the telephone company truck. The type of people you’d expect to need when you move.”

  “What about lately?” the detective asked. “Have you noticed any vehicles around her house in the past week or so?”

  “Last week there was a black pickup truck in her driveway and a man working on her roof.”

  “Can you remember what day that was?”

  “Last Thursday, I think. Now that I think about it, there was a man in the area about two weeks ago looking for odd jobs,” Joni added. “She may have hired him. I do remember that he was driving a black pickup truck, as well.”

  The detective leaned in closer. “You met this man?”

  “Yes, he stopped by my house after work one day. Said he’d lost his construction job in Dallas and was looking for any kind of work. I only talked to him a minute.”

  “So he wasn’t from Oak Grove?”

  “I don’t think so. At least I’d never seen him before that day.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Average height. He was heavier than you or Leif, but not fat. Kind of unkempt and rough-looking.”

  “What do you mean by unkempt?”

  “He needed a haircut and his jeans were frayed around the hem. But what really put me off was a tattoo on his lower arm.”

  “Describe the tattoo.”

  “It was a pair of crossed hunting knives. One of the blades looked as if it were dripping blood. I’m not opposed to tattoos, but that one looked excessively gory. I thought it might be some kind of gang symbol.”

  “Sounds like it could be.”

  “Do you think he could be Jill Trotter’s killer?”

  “Right now everyone’s a suspect, Dr. Griffin.”

  An icy shiver slithered up her spine. The killer might have stood on her front porch. She might have hired him or he might have overpowered her and dragged her into the woods behind her house and attacked her the way he had Jill. She could be the one in the morgue.

  The tattoo became fixed in her mind. Hunting knives. A brutal murder. Her nerves rattled like dried bones. “Do you think he could be The Hunter?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” the detective said. “But we can’t rule out anything out at this point.” He made a few notes on a small pad. “Do you think you could pick this guy out in a lineup or identify him from a mug shot?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure, but I’m willing to try. I could definitely pick out the tattoo.”

  “I may be calling on you. Right now, just keep your doors locked and call me if you see anything or anyone suspicious in the area.” He took a business card from his pocket and placed it in her hand.

  Her fingers shook as she closed them around the card. To think that a half hour ago, she’d been freaking out over facing one of Leif’s model girlfriends. Now she might have to identify a serial killer.

  She barely heard the rest of the conversation. Once she and Leif were back on the road, she was more than happy to have him stop at the hardware store for outdoor lighting and better locks for her house.

  Funny how quickly priorities could change when a possible serial killer joined the game.

  Leif was bent over the trunk of the car, retrieving packages. The trip into town had taken more time than he’d expected. He needed to get back to the ranch and spend some time with Effie.

  He cared nothing about staying for dinner with R.J. If he dropped off the lights and locks now to install later, it would give him good reason to leave the ranch early and to return to Joni’s place. Plus, he could borrow the tools he’d need from Adam.

  He reached up to close the trunk. That’s when he spotted a shadow, and then the man. He was crouched low, half-hidden in a clump of shrubbery and underbrush about ten yards from the house.

  Adrenaline swept through Leif, triggering all his protective instincts. He dropped the packages, instinctively grabbed the lug wrench that was in plain sight and took off at a dead run.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Wait, I just want to talk to you,” Leif called as the man made a run for it.

  The man ignored his call and ran straight for the thickest wooded area, disappearing among the maze of evergreens, oaks, sycamores, ashes and honey mesquites. Proof enough for Leif that he was up to no good.

  Leif darted around tree trunks and through thick underbrush, straining for glimpses of the escaping prowler and trying desperately to gain ground on him. He finally spotted him again, off to his left, but still too far away and moving too fast to get a good look at him.

  Leif kept up the chase, maintaining his speed until he hit a low area, where his feet sank into the mush of dead leaves and mud. Even then, he pushed himself to keep up the pace.

  Finally, he spotted the man again, this time near a towering pine that had been split by lightning. If he had a weapon, there was no sign of it. Definitely not a hunter. A shotgun or rifle would be easy to spot from this distance.

  A few minutes and a little luck and he’d be able to tackle the man to the ground. Leif hurdled a downed limb. His breath burned in his lungs. But he was close enough now to hear the man’s labored breathing as well, so he wasn’t ab
out to turn back.

  He powered through an area of thick undergrowth, leaping over a low thorny shrub, clearing it without trouble. But then his right foot tangled with a clump of vines. Struggling to remain upright, Leif groped for a low-hanging branch.

  He steadied himself without hitting the ground, but those few seconds of delay gave the intruder time to disappear again. Leif paused, hoping to hear footfalls or the scraping of limbs being pushed aside so he’d have a sense of the direction the man had taken.

  But it was the sputter and knocking of an engine coming to life that split the silence. Damn. The man was getting away.

  A second later, Leif spotted a four-wheeler topping a ravine and vanishing into the thick woods a good hundred and fifty yards from Joni’s back door.

  A hundred-and-fifty-yard trek to position himself so that he could spy on Joni. The man was a determined stalker.

  A stream of unguarded curses flew from Leif’s mouth, drawing a squawking protest from a murder of crows perched somewhere over his head. He started back to the house, angry at himself for letting the man get away without at least getting close enough to get a good look at him.

  He spotted Joni as he reached the clearing near her house. She dashed toward him with a rifle that was almost as big as she was slung over her shoulder. She looked like an adolescent playing Annie Oakley in a school play. He smiled in spite of himself.

  “Where are you going with that gun, Annie?”

  “To rescue you.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I’m not so much of a city slicker that I can’t take care of myself.”

  “Really? What if that had been Evie’s killer you were yelling at to stop and talk? Do you think that lug wrench would have saved you?”

  “I was hoping not to have to use it, and we have no real reason to believe the trespasser was dangerous.”

  “Well, he wasn’t making a friendly visit. He’d already broken into my house. He could have had a gun. You could have been shot.”