Knowing she was going into a bad place and wanting today to be positive and successful in many ways, Shakota forced her concerns into a box in her mind labeled “later” and focused on what had to be done today. The journey to Thermopolis was right around three and a half hours. If they left at six as they’d originally planned, they would be there before ten, but she thought they might make it out of here early, albeit with no sleep. Early was better; it gave them more time to search.
Hoyt Brooks must have left some sort of trail, and like a bloodhound, if she could pick up the scent, she’d have him in no time. The biggest hiccup they could run into was if he’d only stopped in Thermopolis and kept going from there. It was a distinct possibility, and they’d have to find out where so they could follow his tracks.
Even without the time they would spend sniffing out the sheriff, the car ride was a lot of time alone with Garrett, and she had a feeling they wouldn’t spend it in silence. She just didn’t know if it was a good time to talk through what had already happened and what was to come. After all, if she failed today, she’d lose Garrett before she had him. That would put a severe cramp in any plans they made, so it might be best to hold off making any at all.
As she scraped the eggs onto a serving platter and reached into the oven to pull out the biscuits she’d made, she heard the door open and marveled at the irony of the situation. Garrett’s boots clicked on the floor, and they stopped right around the doorframe. She called over her shoulder without turning around, “I believe that yesterday morning our roles were perfectly reversed.”
She heard him chuckle and come toward her, but she didn’t turn around, and he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, kissing the top of her head. “You’re right. I like the view from this standpoint for sure.”
Shakota turned in his arms and gave him a withering look. “Well, the question for you is, do you have an appetite for food, or are you stuck on sex?”
He gave her a fake look of confusion. “Do I have to choose?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m making the decision for you. Breakfast is ready. Grab us both some coffee, and I’ll make you a plate.” She was observant enough to have taken note yesterday of how he liked his biscuits, and she slathered butter and strawberry preserves on two of them for him, adding the eggs on the side. As he put both coffees on the table, she slid his plate in front of him.
“You didn’t have to go to that much trouble,” he told her as he practically drooled into his eggs.
“It wasn’t really trouble. Besides, I like my eggs like this.” She sat down with her own plate and dove in. Their romp in the bedroom had left her empty and ravenous. “It’s also healthier. You get greater volume with the added stuff and don’t have the cholesterol and fat you would get by adding more eggs.”
“Are you really concerned with fat?” he asked her, grazing her body with his eyes.
Shakota shrugged. “There’s a reason I’m fit. I treat my body like a temple. Sure, I splurge once in a while, but most of the time I minimize the bad things I put into it so I can get the most out of it.” She could read the dirty thoughts in his head, and she liked that. She enjoyed making him squirm a little. She said no more, shoveling food into her mouth to satisfy the infernal hunger eating at her.
“Should I pack for more than a day?” Garrett asked finally, breaking the silence brought on by starvation.
She thought about it. “I would, and I’ll tell you why. First, we may need a second day in Thermopolis, if only because we didn’t sleep last night, and we’ll have to sleep sometime before we drive back. And second, if we find out your sheriff moved on from there, we’ll want to follow the trail before it gets too cold.”
He didn’t look happy about that. “Do you think he left Thermopolis?”
Shakota was still debating with herself on that. “Honestly, I don’t think so. For all intents and purposes, it seems like he was confident no one would find his trail. Did Hoyt not know you had friends among my people, or did he just figure you weren’t smart enough to ask for help?”
“He knew I had a couple of contacts down there. I don’t know if he knew how well acquainted with the tribe I was, and I don’t think I ever mentioned I was friends with the chief. But I don’t think it has anything to do with my intelligence. I think he just figured he was too smooth in his little escape.” Between his tone and his expression, it was obvious Garrett was disgusted. She didn’t blame him. She just wanted to know the reason for the disappearance and why a man who had been so close with Garrett would implicate him.
“Well, either way, he obviously greatly underestimated you, which makes me believe he didn’t know you as well as he thought he did. And obviously, that road goes both ways. Other than being angry with him about your parents, is there something else you know about him that could come back to bite him? Some other reason he’d want you out of the way or discredited?” She was trying to put it together in a way that made sense. Maybe, if there were something the good sheriff was hiding, and he was afraid that something was going to bring it out, he’d fake his own death. But he wouldn’t need to drag Garrett’s name through the mud unless he was afraid Garrett would be the one to spill the beans.
As she gazed across the table, she could tell Garrett was deep in thought. “You know, Lou said those two strangers were asking questions about him. I wonder if they knew something about him that terrified him.” He was still spinning his wheels at a million miles an hour, so Shakota quietly waited. “Unless there was information I could find if I knew what they were looking for, I can’t see him needing to tuck me away.”
His eyes shot to hers suddenly. “There has to be something in the files at the station, one of the drawers that even Leland doesn’t have keys to. I have the only other key, and he must have started thinking that things were going to get pieced together.”
Now they were getting somewhere, and she could feel Garrett’s excitement. “I think we should make a little side trip to the sheriff’s station on the way out of town. I have keys, and I have every right to be there.”
Shakota wasn’t about to argue with that. Anything with information that could help her catch the scent and pick up the trail would be amazing. “I’m all for it.” She wiped her mouth and drained the last of her coffee, standing to take both plates to the sink to rinse. “Go get your things; we can be out the door in five minutes.” She was already packed--she’d never actually unpacked--so her preparation for today was simple.
He picked up a duffel bag from the couch, apparently having an emergency sack already packed, and Shakota laughed as he slung it over his shoulder. “A man has to be prepared, you know?”
She grunted as she put the last dish in the dishwasher. “I’m sure that was your sheriff’s philosophy, anyway.” It made Garrett laugh, and she was glad. She dried her hands and hurried to grab her bag, then followed him out the door.
“I’ll drive,” he said, already opening the door on the old Bronco.
“Are you sure that beast will make it all the way to Thermopolis and back?” she asked, leery of the age and condition of the vehicle.
He gave her an insulted look. “She’s a beauty, and don’t ever say otherwise again. I’ve taken great care of her, and she runs almost like new. Nobody around here has a more reliable mode of transportation than I do.”
He climbed in, and she knew he was serious. She wouldn’t verbally abuse the beast again. They rode down the mountain in companionable silence, driving into the heart of Courage, where nothing was open yet except for Lou’s Diner, which never closed except for Christmas--or so she’d been told. Shakota considered asking Garrett to drop her off at the diner so she could talk to Lou about those guys who claimed to be traveling, see if Lou could remember their specific questions, but she doubted the owner was there at this time of morning, before the crack of dawn. She worked long hours, but she had to sleep sometime.
Instead, she just eyed the sleepy town, wondering if she would mind
living here. After all, if she and Garrett ended up together, and she left the reservation, this would be her home. Granted, she likely wouldn’t spend a lot of time down in the center of town and would probably live happily up on the mountain. But she was sure Garrett would want to interact with the community at times, and they had to get supplies. He didn’t have chickens, so he had to get eggs, and he didn’t have wheat fields, so he needed bread.
She thought that, as long as she didn’t have to come down here when it was this quiet, it would be okay. It would never be overcrowded, but there were enough people and things going on to keep it from feeling deserted during the day. If only she could bring some of the reservation with her…
They pulled up to the sheriff’s station, and Garrett got out to check if anyone else was there, forcing her to wait in the car. She wanted to remind him that she was a tracker and could probably tell better than he could, but she just smiled to herself and let him have his moment of control. When someone had so much of his life out of his control as Garrett’s was, she knew he needed to be in control of something.
Chapter 16
Garrett thought it was a little suspicious that the sheriff’s station was as deserted as the rest of the town. Considering he still had keys to the place, he would think they’d have been patrolling it to keep him out, especially with the way they’d kicked him off the search and rescue attempt. But apparently, his bitterness reached further than their precautions, and he was glad. He needed to get into the files and see if he could find something, anything, related to Hoyt.
Determining it was clear, he went back to the Bronco and retrieved Shakota. He didn’t know what to tell her to look for, other than anything with Hoyt’s name on it. The problem was, there were far too many files to go through, and Garrett doubted it would be filed appropriately if it were something Hoyt wanted to hide. With twenty years in this office, he could have burned or buried the file by now, if there had even been one to start with.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered.
“You said there were locked files. Why don’t we start there?” Shakota suggested. He was grateful for the reminder. He was so busy thinking about the hopelessness of the situation he’d forgotten his own plan. He nodded and dug the keys out of his pocket, going over to the ancient file cabinet behind Hoyt’s desk. He rolled open the top drawer, finding it packed so tight with file folders he couldn’t even pull one out without disrupting twenty more, much less flip through them.
Shakota pushed it closed and opened each of the other three in turn, finding all but the bottom one just as stuffed. The last one held only a couple of folders, and she started to close it quickly, a strange look on her face. Garrett stopped her, sticking his heel in the drawer to keep it open. He squatted and knew instantly why she’d tried to keep him from seeing what was inside.
Tenderly, he reached in and took out the file with his parents’ names on it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to open it or not. He’d never seen the actual damage; the funeral had been closed casket, and Alex had been the one to handle everything, since he was a legal adult. Something drew him to it, maybe an unresolved issue or the need for closure.
“I’m going to leave you here with this and look around,” Shakota said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder to make sure he heard and then moving away. He didn’t see which direction she went; he was fully focused on the file, and he held the corner open, debating. Finally, he threw the cover back, like ripping off a bandage. The first page was the police report, signed by Hoyt himself, giving the details.
As he read through it, he scowled. He’d been told his parents died instantly, but according to this, his mother had lived long enough to ride to the hospital and tell the EMT what happened. That meant she’d suffered, and it angered Garrett, partly because people had lied to him, most likely to protect him from the horror of that exact thought, but mostly because his mother had at least deserved a swift, peaceful death if she had to die.
What else didn’t he know?
He kept reading, but nothing else struck him the same way. There were autopsies, which he didn’t want to think about. Somehow, he thought that a gunshot wound was an obvious cause of death, but apparently it had to be confirmed. As far as Garrett was concerned, autopsies just desecrated the bodies and showed no respect for the dead person.
He flipped the page again, and he nearly dropped the entire file. Pictures of his mother and father, their injuries, the crime scene with chalk drawings, and a number of other candid and painful reminders made Garrett nauseous. Morbidly fascinated, he couldn’t look away, and it took an incredible amount of strength to turn the page again.
The final few pages were forensics reports, including matching the bullets to the gun and the gun to the owner, and so on. There was information on trajectory, blood spatter, and other details that Garrett didn’t really care about. He started to close the file and move on, until a name on the page caught the corner of his eye. Still squatting with his knees starting to ache, he went back and read more closely.
“I think I found something,” Shakota called, sounding excited and interrupting him before he even got started. He looked up as she came toward him, her expression hopeful. She held open a file that looked like it had been through hell, bent and torn and worn thin with notes scribbled everywhere. The contents weren’t in any better shape. She plopped down cross-legged next to him and pointed. “Seventeen years ago, there was an investigation in the county regarding illegal weapons. Someone was selling them black market style, and Sheriff Hoyt Brooks was implicated, since his name popped up as a registered owner of three of those weapons.”
Garrett scowled. “And so what happened?”
Shakota read silently, scanning the words with her finger and flipping the page. “Looks like the investigation lasted several weeks. The sheriff said he’d reported the weapons stolen, but he couldn’t provide the files showing the report. They found a known felon’s fingerprints on several of the guns, so they started following him and managed to get him convicted. Brooks came out clean as a whistle.”
That made Garrett’s stomach churn harder as he looked back at the file on his parents’ deaths. “That’s interesting. I was just looking at something here that goes right along with that.”
“What is it?” she asked anxiously.
He held up a finger for her to wait as he read through the paragraphs with Hoyt’s name. He should have stopped with the file Shakota had because this one made him livid. “That son of a bitch!” He slammed the folder closed and turned to Shakota, trying to control his rage and agonizing pain. “The gun that killed my parents, the one Titus Wilcox had, was reported stolen the next morning. Guess who it belonged to.”
Her face paled, and it drew back in harsh lines. “You must be kidding.”
“I wish I were. All this time, I thought it was wrong to blame Hoyt for my parents’ death. But now I know better. Not only did he not arrest Titus, he gave him the gun that killed my parents!”
“And how did he explain reporting it stolen after the fact?”
Even through the fog of anger, Garrett heard the careful control in her voice as she tried to keep her own rage at bay. “According to the file, he claimed Titus must have managed to grab it off his hip while he was breaking up the fight, and things were so hectic he didn’t notice until after everything went down.” He shook his head, as disgusted with himself as he was with Hoyt. How could he have been so naïve? And how could Hoyt have deceived him like this? Garrett had trusted the man wholeheartedly, and this was what he got in return.
“Garrett, you can’t blame yourself for not knowing better, and I know that’s what you’re doing right now. It’s written all over your face, so don’t try to deny it.”
“I should have known, Shakota.”
“You were fifteen. All you knew was that your parents were taken from you unfairly, and it was wrong. Besides, the authorities should have known, not you. Obviously, the sheriff had a hi
story of supposedly stolen guns. Someone buried this file, so when that came up seven years later, no one saw the correlation between the two.” Shakota seemed to feel strongly about it, and she had a point.
Garrett didn’t want to be reasonable right now. He wanted to be pissed off, and he wanted to rail at himself for not catching this sooner. But he couldn’t ignore her insight. “Where did you find that file?”
She pointed. “In that empty desk that looks like no one uses it. It was in the bottom drawer, stuck randomly between some other miscellaneous papers.”
Making a face, he told her, “That’s the desk I used on the one or two occasions I came in. Go figure. That sort of information would make great additional motivation for me to kill the man.” Only one of two people could have put it there, and he had a good idea which one. “I can’t remember when Leland took over as deputy. I want to know who was working here when my parents were murdered, and I want to know who was here seven years earlier, when Hoyt almost got hit with the black market gun sales. We need to find payroll records.”
He stood, his knees creaking in protest, and he limped toward the back room; it was a tiny storage closet that had, at one time, housed the office of a county clerk. He had to hurry. They needed to get on the road, and it was coming up on six. He had no idea what time Leland would be in, if at all, but he tended to be an early riser, despite his laziness, and Garrett didn’t want to get caught here, digging in files that would definitely layer more suspicion on his shoulders.
It was hard to move around in the tight space, and though he could see the credenza he knew all the old employees’ paperwork was stuffed in, he wasn’t sure he could get to it. “Here, let me do it,” Shakota offered. “Which one do I need?” Feeling like a blundering idiot to her grace, Garrett pointed her toward the credenza in the far right corner, and she easily slid between the stuff just piled awkwardly in the space.
Courage To Follow (Cowboys of Courage 1) Page 12
