by Nancy Bush
Physically, they would work well together.
It was the emotional, social bond that would bite them both in the ass.
He slid a hand up under her sweater, cupped a breast and they both groaned in pleasure. This was not high school. This was not two amateurs fumbling around in the dark. But that didn’t diminish the tingling pleasure of it all, the sweet sip of the giant cup that neither of them were ready to imbibe in.
Not just yet.
But with her eyes closed and his hand caressing her breast and her hands running over the planes of his muscular body, she could allow herself to forget all the things that kept them apart.
Just for one sweet minute.
Chapter Eighteen
Despite the obvious limitations of the top bunk, Ricki slept well knowing Sam was in the next room. In the morning, she rolled over and caught the savory smell of brewing coffee. Heaven on earth.
She stared at the ceiling and pressed a finger to her lips, as if she could trace the remnants of the kisses. Sam was a good kisser, but that had been no surprise. Sam and Colt were the same age, and so she’d had a close-up view of the many loves of Sam Featherstone as he and her brother skated through high school. She’d always figured that a guy who could land so many pretty girls had to have some secret skills in the dark.
And last night—finally!—she’d been the recipient of his legendary sumptuous lips, warm hands and hard body. Just a short make-out session that left them both wanting more, but still, it had been the fulfillment of a childhood crush—a crush that was quickly blossoming into a full-blown attraction. She was going to have to tone things down now. She and Sam couldn’t get involved. She had a daughter to raise, as did he, and he was dead set against mixing business and pleasure. But there was nothing to say she couldn’t enjoy having him here, making a pot of coffee in her kitchen.
As she slid out of the bunk and reached for her robe, she heard voices.
“Can you teach me how to shoot?” came the sprightly voice. Brook? What was she doing here? When was she ever out of bed before nine A.M.? Ricki was going to kill Pilar if she’d kicked her daughter out again.
“I could show you a few things.” Sam sounded friendly, comfortable. “But you need to ask your mom. She’s a good shot. When we were kids, she usually managed to outscore me and your Uncle Colt in target practice.”
“Good morning.” Ricki found Sam at the kitchen table with her laptop, while Brook leaned against the counter holding a tall glass of orange juice.
“Morning. Hope you don’t mind, I jumped on your computer to access my e-mail.”
“Go for it,” Ricki said, thinking how natural Sam looked sitting at her kitchen table. She stepped close to Brook to get a mug from the cabinet. “Is this my daughter I see, up and about before noon?” Brook looked so sweet, with her hair pulled back and wisps curling at the edge of her face. Ricki was tempted to kiss her, but wasn’t sure if that would be welcome.
“Pilar got everyone out of bed. There’s an army of ladies attacking the lodge, wiping down walls and vacuuming. I couldn’t wait to get out.”
“Did she at least have Grandpa walk you down here?” Ricki asked, pouring coffee.
“Mom! You can see this house from their kitchen windows. And Pilar said she’s sending Rourke down later. She wants me to watch him while she goes into town to take care of some wedding stuff.”
Ricki shook her head. “I won’t be here, and you can’t be alone here, not with everything that’s going on. You can do it up at the lodge.”
“She said she’d pay me! And I told you, the cleaning ladies are there. Don’t ruin this for me.”
“How about out in the barn? Grandpa could give you a riding lesson.”
“Grandpa has meetings all day. He told me you need to do an airport run to pick up Aunt Delilah.”
“I can’t.” Ricki sighed. A little support from the family would have been nice. “I need to work.”
“I wish I could go along to pick up Aunt Delilah, but I have to watch Rourke,” Brook said, but she didn’t sound all that upset. Whether Brook admitted it or not, she liked Pilar’s son.
“Maybe Colt can do it.” Ricki grabbed her cell phone and ducked into the bedroom. “Let me call him.” Quickly she lined Colton up for the airport run. He promised to call Ira and straighten it all out, with a word of warning that it still wasn’t safe to send his grandson outside on his own. Then she hit the bathroom for a quick shower.
When she emerged twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, Brook was finishing off a plate of cheesy eggs and Sam was studying the laptop screen, a sober expression on his face.
“We saved some bacon and eggs for you,” he said. “Plate’s in the oven.”
“Thanks.”
“The eggs are good, Mom. You need to try Sam’s recipe,” Brook said.
He shrugged. “Onion powder.”
“Mmm. Smells good.” Using a towel, she retrieved the warm plate and set it on the table beside Sam. “What’s the latest?”
“Initial reports are back from the ME and the state crime lab,” he said. “You might want to finish eating first.”
“Gross.” Brook scooted her chair back, brought her dish to the sink and headed off.
“She’s a good kid,” Sam said when Brook was out of range.
Ricki swallowed a mouthful of creamy eggs. “This move has been hard for her, but like it or not, we had to get out of there. Her father is dabbling in the drug scene, and Brook was beginning to hang with some kids in crisis.”
“Aren’t all kids in crisis?”
“If you expect that, you’ll never be disappointed.” She popped the last strip of bacon into her mouth and took her plate to the sink. “Okay, I’m ready for the hard stuff. Did the crime lab find any links between the cave and Amber Barstow?”
“They did.” He turned the screen to her. “I’ve had some time to sift through it, and I think this is a good time to frame our investigation.” He’d highlighted a few lines.
“So, it was Amber Barstow’s blood in the cave. He must’ve kept her there for a while.”
“The bloodstains in the shed were hers, too. And it looks like those empty bags held blue tarps. The same blue fibers were found in the shed and on Barstow’s body.”
“So we know where he was holed up—on Dillinger and Kincaid land. And from there, he went into town, to Mia’s place.” A tingle ran down her spine at the thought of him being there, so near. “It’s like he’s been breathing down our necks.”
“He was close.” The kitchen light shone on Sam’s glossy dark hair. “I wonder why.”
“The Rocking D is a good half hour from Big Bart’s. Certainly not geographically desirable.” Ricki took a sip of coffee. “Do you think he’s got a vendetta? Anti-rancher?”
Sam shook his head. “Look at the two women he killed. If we’re looking at one killer, why Amber Barstow, a stranger? And then Mia? We don’t have any prints at all to link the cave or shed to Mia Collins’s house.”
“Footprints?”
“We got clear ones from the shed and Collins’s house. My instincts say it’s the same guy, but right now we need to keep it open.” He changed the screen. “The ME’s report on the two corpses shows plenty of similarities between the killings. In both cases the cause of death was blood loss from a severed neck.”
Ricki stared at the report. What a horrifying way to go, looking into the eyes of your killer.
“The two animals and the two victims all had a single tooth cut out. And the medical examiner said the mutilation of the skin was distinctive in both cases. See here?” Sam highlighted a line in the report. “They say Mia’s injuries are consistent with Amber Barstow’s.”
“Another link between the two killings.”
“Like I said, I think it’s the same guy, but it’s not definitive.” He clicked to another screen. “Here’s a list of the patrons at Big Bart’s the night that Amber Barstow was seen there. This isn’t everyone, of course. Just
customers who paid by credit card or personal check.”
Ricki scanned the list. “Two of the Kincaids were there. Mariah and Blair.”
“But the time stamp for them appears to be earlier than when Amber was there. Katrina’s checking the whole list, but let’s pull out the ones that fall into the right window.”
“Good idea,” she said.
“Looks like Doc Farley was there. Cashed out late. What sticks out is that he knew we were looking for witnesses from that night, but he didn’t come forward.”
“That’s not like Doc.” Stuart Farley had taken care of the Dillinger family since before Ricki was born. “Too drunk to remember?”
“The bartender doesn’t think so. But he does remember that Doc was there with a woman. Not his wife.”
Ricki felt a stab of compassion for Nora Farley. “So … how do you want to handle it?”
“We’re going to be talking to him anyway, seeing as how the mutilations of our two victims seem to be the work of a professional. I plan to see him this morning. I’ll be discreet.”
That was one great thing about Sam; he knew how to keep things quiet. Ricki considered other angles that needed to be pursued. “I want to have a chat with Sabrina and Antonia over at the veterinary clinic since we got our information secondhand about the coyote’s extracted tooth. We need their statements to go on the record.”
“Good,” Sam said.
“Has anyone talked to the last people in the church the day of the fire?” Ricki asked. “Pilar and Emma Kincaid?”
“My staff was turned inside-out yesterday, split up in search parties,” Sam told her.
“How about I take care of it first thing?”
“Okay. See what you can find out and I’ll see you at the town hall at noon.”
“Town hall?” She pushed back the curls on her forehead.
“Today is the mayor’s Christmas party, and everyone in our office attends.”
“Is that the party with the tree-decorating competition? And Santa comes to give toys to the kids?”
“That’s the one. You think Brook would like a toy?”
“Fat chance, but Rourke might, if it’s the right one.” She took a sip of coffee and said, “See there? We may have just found the perfect activity for him today.”
An hour or so later, Sam thanked Maddie, Doc Farley’s receptionist, who had set him up in an exam room so that he and Doc could talk privately. If he’d gleaned anything from working in Prairie Creek for nine years, he’d learned how easy it was to fire up a rumor and how difficult it was to squash it.
He took a seat on the chair instead of the exam table. A minute later, there was a knock on the door and Doc Farley entered, cordial and friendly. “What can I do for you, Sam?” The doctor’s hair was thick as ever, but graying over a distinct brow ridge, which gave him an air of dignity.
“I just wanted to get in to talk to you without raising eyebrows all over town.”
Doc closed Sam’s file and laid it on the exam table. “What’s this about?”
“Your Saturday night out at Big Bart’s, Thanksgiving weekend. As the bartender recollects, Nora wasn’t with you.”
Farley’s eyebrows rose. “What’s that supposed to mean, Sheriff?”
“I’m not trying to butt into your business, Doc, but your credit card receipt shows you were at the bar pretty late that night. All I want to know is if you saw anything out of the ordinary. Out in the parking lot … or even in the lounge.”
Doc pinched the bridge of his nose in concentration. “This is about the girl that was killed, Amber Barstow.”
“That’s right.”
“Sorry, I really wasn’t paying much attention.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Pretty hefty bill for a man alone, having a few drinks. Did you drive yourself home that night? After all those drinks?”
“No. Jesus, Sam. Why don’t you just say what you’re thinking?”
“I think you were there with a woman friend.”
He shook his head. “Nora thinks I was away on a hunting trip that weekend. She doesn’t know.”
Oh, she probably does, Sam thought. He’d seen too much to think otherwise. “It sure would help if I could talk with your friend, Doc.”
“I’m not naming names. If word gets around, people will be hurt. I can’t let that happen.” He looked down at one of his hands, flexing it slightly. “Not to mention that it would damage my reputation.”
“I understand your concern, but it’ll be easier if you tell me her name now. I’ve got two dead women, and a killer on the loose. A killer who was likely at Big Bart’s that night.” Sam locked his gaze on the doctor’s drawn face. “You were there that night and you haven’t come forward. You see my problem?”
“I have an alibi.”
“This woman you won’t name.”
He met Sam’s gaze. “That’s right.”
“I want to clear you, Doc. I really do. But I need your help. I’d like to do it outside the public eye, save your reputation, but I need to talk with your friend. A corroborating witness.”
The doctor stared blindly at the wall, deciding what to do.
“I need the name of your friend to prove your alibi.” When he was met with more silence, Sam said firmly, “By the end of the day, Doc,” then Sam headed out, leaving the doctor grappling with his inner demons.
Getting to work and finding a safe place for her daughter and nephew had proven to be a challenge for Ricki that morning. Pilar was looking to dump her precious kid for the long haul.
“I have a meeting in town this morning, and then I have to get back here to meet with Delilah and get her on board. After that, I have to drive to Jackson for a spa treatment,” Pilar had told Ricki. “I won’t be back until late tomorrow, and I’m counting on you and Brooklyn to help me out with Rourke.”
Ricki wanted to point out that Pilar was leaving town five days before her wedding, making Delilah and the rest of them pick up the pieces, but honestly, she was happy to have her gone. The woman sucked all the air from a room.
After Pilar spun out of the snowy driveway, Ricki had followed with the kids. Brook seemed happy to be earning money for corralling her cousin, and Ricki decided that they could hang out at the sheriff’s office and make Christmas decorations for the competition at the town hall party. She wanted to maintain a tone of calm fun, minimizing the fear of the underlying threat that a heinous killer was roaming Prairie Creek.
After checking in with Naomi at the front desk, they started off at Sally Jamison’s flower shop, where Brook and Rourke picked out a dozen Styrofoam balls along with ribbons, pins and glitter glue to make ornaments.
Sally’s hands were shaking as she finished the transaction, and though the woman chattered on like a mockingbird, Ricki could tell she was a nervous wreck. “What about Mia? Have you found the person responsible?” Sally asked, but Ricki shook her head when she started in and inclined her head toward the kids.
Sally looked over and said, “You’d better walk them back to the precinct. Just to be safe.”
“It’s just two blocks down Main Street,” Ricki pointed out. She handed Brook the bag of supplies, touching her shoulder. “There are people everywhere.”
Tears flooded Sally’s eyes as she watched the door close behind the kids. “Oh, Ricki, are you sure? It’s so dangerous out there. Such a terrible time for Prairie Creek. How can Pilar go through with the wedding with this hanging over us like a dark cloud?”
“I don’t know.” Ricki grabbed two tissues from the box on the counter and handed them over.
Pressing the tissues to her face, Sally quavered. “Mia didn’t really have anyone, y’know. Kit’s never been around, and Mia never got over your uncle Judd. Not really. Oh, she had a thing for all the Dillinger men, and she used to date Dodge Miller, but she was alone mostly. Life can be terrible, can’t it?”
“Mia dated Dodge Miller?” When Sally nodded, Ricki pressed, “Recently?”
“I think so.
”
Dodge Miller was the town butcher. Or, at least he had been until his business had dried up. If Dodge didn’t get back to Sam soon, they would have to go find him. “I didn’t think he spent much time in town anymore.”
“He doesn’t. He was too bitter about losing the butcher shop. Blamed everyone in Prairie Creek for his own failure, especially the folks with money. I understand he went to your father, asked him to invest to keep the shop going, but Ira said no. Well, that just set Dodge off like a crazy bull. After that, no one could stand to be around him. No one except Mia.”
Sally’s eyes filled with more tears and Ricki asked gently, “Is there anyone you can think of who had something against Mia?”
“Well … Ira. Mia sued for child support from Judd’s estate, but she just wanted to be part of your family, y’know.”
Ricki nodded. Kit was a Dillinger, and it was no secret Mia had wanted to be considered one as well.
The conversation turned to burial plans for Mia—of which there were none. Her body had not been released from the coroner yet, but as soon as it was … well, Ricki had to wonder what would happen. Kit was doing her own unique send-off, and it would be difficult to plan a funeral around the wedding and Christmas.
“Check with Kit,” Ricki told Sally. “Maybe there’ll be a memorial service sometime in January.”
“Kit?” Sally repeated in disbelief.
Ricki knew how she felt. Kit didn’t travel the conventional road.
Sally’s eyes welled up once again as she promised to do the flowers at cost.
“So sweet of you,” Ricki said, zipping up the navy patrol jacket Naomi had assigned her from the supply closet at the sheriff’s office. It was a man’s medium, way too big for Ricki, but there was room for a sweater underneath and it made her feel petite under the sloshing hunk of fabric.
