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Dangerous Waters

Page 10

by Amy J. Fetzer


  Yet his own distrust clouded the possibilities she'd outlined at dinner. Scan Galloway was a good friend, an honest man who loved his wife and unborn baby. But even Chris remem­bered seeing Kelly talking intimately with Raif Dunkirk the week before she died. And Raif was Sean's best friend. But talking didn't make her an adultress, and Chris was going to sadistically enjoy watching Victoria try to prove it. Or anything else. He wouldn't give her an inch. He'd already said too much. But as he left the office and mounted Caesar, a part of him hated her for being so damn capable.

  Victoria rehashed their conversation over and over in her head, wondering if she's acted superior and finally deciding if she had, it was the hundred twenty five years separating their attitudes and approaches that did it. Yet it steamed her to no end that he couldn't see her point simply because she was a woman, but then, he didn't know she'd been second guessing perps for years. Deciding she needed to concentrate on her hunt and not bother with his, Victoria recklessly stepped into the Pearl, close to ten o'clock, where the pleasures of the 19th century were in full swing. Vel's girls were draped over the laps of cowboys and miners, smoke graying the light, and a piano player tapped out a lively tune she couldn't name. She walked in her best lazy saunter over to the bar, ordered a beer and hoped Vel didn't make a pass at her as she shifted to the far corner where the long marble top curved at the end. She braced her back against the wall. From her position, she had a perfect view of the entire saloon.

  The Pearl had a regular crowd, she realized, the same custom­ers as the first time she'd been inside, the same as she'd seen through her binoculars every night since. Ivy League didn't

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  come out until late, gracing the underlings with his presence. His pattern of routine was confirming itself with each passing day. Sunday the saloon was closed and that would be her chance to see him in action and every moment she dreaded that he'd kill someone before she could get evidence on him.

  She scanned the drunken crowd, recalling Vel's comments and drawing on her memory as her gaze lit on an exceptionally handsome man. She recognized him from the other night, Plunked in a corner, his long legs propped on the table, he rested a half empty bottle on his stomach. Sean Galloway? Dark reddish brown hair curled and tumbled over his eyes, intense green eyes, and even at this distance she could see his body was lithe and muscular beneath the chambray shirt and worn jeans. And he looked as if his world had come to an end. Regrets or remorse? One thing was for certain, Christopher Swift and Sean Galloway were friends and Chris didn't want anyone, especially her, defaming his friend's honor and raising suspicion.

  Anymore than he wanted her help,

  She turned back to her beer, groaning to herself when Velvet Knight headed in her direction.

  Vel smiled, sliding against the bar toward Jake. Her gaze slid admiringly down over his body, to his cute rear, then back to his face. Spectacles rested on the end of his nose. So studious. "Feelin' lonely?"

  "Lonely? Yes. But I got a girl back in Denver, Miz Knight." That ought to do it, Victoria thought.

  Disappointed, Vel nodded. "I understand." She sighed for­lornly. "Lucky gal."

  "Should I be insulted that you gave up so easily?"

  "Makin' you betray your woman ain't my style."

  Jake arched a blonde brow.

  "Even a whore has standards, honey."

  Jake nodded, smiling slightly and pushing his spectacles up his short nose. "That Sean Galloway?" he asked, inclining his head to the corner.

  She glanced and her expression saddened. "1 think he's trying to drown himself to death."

  "Him and everyone else." Jake nodded to the sandy haired man on the opposite side of the room, stunk in the chair, his head bowed and a drink cupped in his hands. Much like Sean. He glanced up only long enough to look at Sean, then focus of the liquor, shoulders hunched, long fingers gripping the glass.

  Vel frowned, her gaze shifting between the two men.' 'That's strange."

  "How so?"

  "Sean and Raif are good friends." At least they were, Vel thought. "I'd have thought they'd cry in their beers together."

  "Why you figure they're not?"

  Vel shrugged, winking at a potential customer. "Maybe Raif's too torn up to console him."

  "Did he have an itch for Kelly?"

  Vel scowled at Jake, looking older, harder. "Not like you're implying." Jake's expression remained impassive, waiting for her to continue. "Raif only recently met her, about a month or two before she died." Jake's eyes flared and Vel warmed to the story. "See, Raif and Sean mined the Dublin together. Sean owned it and gave Raif half the profits for helping him out, then sealed it up. Raif left the territory for a couple years. In the meantime, Sean worked his ranch and married Kelly."

  "And Raif?"

  Vel signaled the bartender. He automatically poured her a flute of champagne and brought it to her. "He didn't have much luck with his place," she said after a delicate sip. "Flash flood or something. Sean comes from ranching stock, knew the business better, I guess." She stared into the mirror, her gaze on the reflection of Sean Galloway. She could feel his despair from*across the saloon. "He'll never recover from this. Kelly was his life."

  "Did you know her?"

  "Everyone did. A pretty little blonde who could sew like a dream." Velvet smoothed her stays, remembering Kelly's

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  meticulous work on the gown. "She was very kind, even to me."

  Jake nudged her. "It's hard not to be, Vel."

  Red Velvet Knight, the most sought-after harlot in the terri­tory, actually blushed.

  "But what I'd like to know is what happened to the twange in your accent?"

  Vel blinked, then laughed to herself. "Shoot," she said, shaking her head, then draining the champagne. "Don't miss much do you, honey." Jake shook his head slowly. "Heck, I was even married once, you know." Vel didn't know why she was telling him a damn thing, but it just seemed easy. Sakes. A man who listened! "But the Apache wars killed him and the Indians burned everything we had, I had to resort to other means to feed my baby."

  "Baby?" Jake said so softly that the ears around them wouldn't hear her business. The consideration warmed Vel's heart.

  "I couldn't take care of her, not living like this." She flicked at hand to encompass the saloon. "It wasn't right for her to see her Momma servicing men who weren't her Pa. I had to give—" Vel bowed her head, her throat working furiously. Her heart broke every time she thought about her little girl.

  "Gets lonely, doesn't it?" Jake covered her trembling hand, giving it a squeeze. "With no family."

  Vel's painted lips curved. "You aren't supposed to be so smart for such a young man." The bartender refilled her glass and she was about to bring it to her lips when she frowned at the mirror. "Well, it looks like old friends are still friends," she said, then drank.

  Victoria turned to see Raif, slim and tawny haired, cross the

  room to Sean. Galloway didn't look up, taking a swig of whis­

  key, ignoring him, ignoring the world. Then the blonde spoke,

  and Sean's head jerked up, his eyes narrowing to mere slits as

  he listened. But Becket entered the saloon from his offices just

  then, capturing her attention. Several men twisted in their seats

  to greet him, and Victoria's teeth set on edge as he offered his

  hand and that million dollar smile to his customers. He checked his appearance in the mirror with a discrete glance. How vain. Black suited him, she thought morosely, her gaze shifting over his clothes, the red brocade vest beneath the coat. Perfect. Clean. But she could feel the slime on him twenty clicks away. Doesn't matter how hard you scrub, she thought, the blood still drips from your hands.

  Her gaze jerked to Galloway as he suddenly shot out of the chair, his fist connecting
with Raif's face so hard he toppled back and hit the ground like a felled tree. The entire room was still for several seconds, every pair of eyes on Sean. But instead of taking his pound of flesh, he tossed a coin on the table and stepped over Raif, staggering out the bat wing doors. Rait stirred, moaning, rolling onto his side before pushing himself to his knees. He spat blood, tongued the inside of his jaw and then climbed to his feet, shoving off helping hands. Victoria tensed as Becket approached him, murmuring something she couldn't hear, then patting him on the shoulder. Raif nodded and left. Victoria didn't think he'd make it beyond the porch steps before he passed out in the dirt.

  Becket shook his head and signaled the pianist to continue playing and the noise heightened almost instantly. Victoria turned back to her beer, taking a gulp and feeling Becket closing in behind Velvet.

  "Everything all right, Miss Velvet?" he said grasping Vel's hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. Vel smiled at him and Victoria's stomach rolled. Couldn't she see the predator beneath all that refined crap?

  "I thought we were going to have a whopper of a brawl there for a second."

  Becket's blues eyes slid past Victoria as if she wasn't there to the door. "A tragedy," he murmured. "It's a shame they can't help each other." He sighed, then smiled at Vel. "How is Dee?"

  "Feeling better, still tired."

  "She has an appointment with Doctor MacLaren tomorrow. I trust you'll see she makes it?"

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  "Sure thing."

  "I knew I could count on you." He pecked her cheek and ordered another glass of champagne for her. ' 'Let me know the results and Vel?" He waited til she lifted her gaze to his. "Think about my offer."

  "I will, Algenon. I will."

  He left and Victoria let out her breath, glad to be rid of him. "Offer?"

  Vel gave her a silencing look, then leaned close. "He wants me to come in as a partner. Imagine me, owning a place like this?"

  * 'It'd be great, if you could.'' What was his motive for being so generous? Vel didn't fit the profile of his kills, so it wasn't to ingratiate himself. He was always around her, therefore deleting his chance to stalk. Or was he handing over the respon­sibility so he could stalk? Victoria hung around until he bid his customers good night and disappeared beyond the private doors. So punctual, she thought, glancing at the talk clock outside his door.

  Saying good night to Vel, Victoria left the Pearl and headed down the boarded planks. Two men rushed past her with a shove, knocking her off the planks. But she let it pass, in no mood to bust heads tonight. Her bed was calling for her. She could almost feel the cool clean sheets against her bare skin and quickened her pace. A groan, long and pained drew her to a stop. She frowned, waiting for it to come again, then followed the noise, crossing the street to the livery stable. Inching along the narrow alley way separating the barn from the small horse pen, Victoria squinted in the dark. She could scarcely make out a figure, crumpled against the wall, but she recognized the shape of a gun.

  The sliver gleam of nickle plate gave it substance in the dark as a broad hand brought it upward and for an instant Victoria thought she'd be the target, til the clouds blocking the moonlight shifted. She heard the click of the hammer drawing back and saw the long barrel he pressed against his temple.

  She lunged. "No!"

  Chapter Ten

  This ranked up there with the time he and Hunter McCracken charged a rebel patrol with only eight bullets between them.

  Dumb, motivated by emotion.

  And Chris spent half the night cursing himself for allowing his own to get to him, enough to challenge her sharp mind and take her to Sean's ranch. She had no business sticking her nose in an investigation, even if she did have some valid points. And as Chris covered a yawn and rolled his shoulders, he watched her inspect the area where Kelly Galloway died. Though there wasn't much to inspect except broken wood and gutted earth.

  Yet down on one knee in the mud, she poked the earth with a pencil she'd swiped off his desk at dawn this morning. The cattle pen a few yards before her was empty, the gate and fence rails shattered like twigs, unable to halt a thousand tons of angry beef.

  Carefully, she straightened, something dangling from the

  pencil's tip. Chris frowned. "A piece of her nightgown, I guess."

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  She dropped it into a small sack and Chris wondered why the hell she was keeping the bloody scrap. She checked her watch, then made a wide birth to the barn, kicking at the splintered gate. She picked up a short plank, examining the end, using the pencil to pry and prod for a few moments before leaning the wood against the barn wall. "No one's been in here since?"

  Chris shook his head, scowling. What could she possibly find that he didn't? "We couldn't even get her from Sean to bury her. He'd picked her up and carried her into the house, then locked himself in. When we he finally let us in, she was prepared as best he could." Chris stared at his boots, remembering her lovely face crushed, her horribly mangled body even the fresh dress couldn't hide. "The ranch hands have been off looking for the steers since.'' "When did this occur?"

  He met her gaze. "Two days before I locked Vie Mason up."

  No wonder he was so hot on her trail, she thought, glancing back at the deeply trampled ground.

  A shot rang through the morning air and instinctively Victoria ducked behind the open barn door. Chris hadn't moved, but now he strode toward the house. Sean Galloway stood on the porch, his legs braced wide and a rifle cradled in his arms like the baby he'd lost.

  "Get off my land, Marshal."

  Chris put up his hands. "Take it easy Sean. We, or rather Jake," he inclined his head to Victoria, "thinks he knows what happened to Kelly."

  Victoria caught the doubt in his voice and it made her more determined as she moved around the wood door. Sean's gaze narrowed on her and she felt ripped in half by the sorrow and resolution in his eyes. She prayed she was right about this. This man didn't need anymore pain.

  He left the porch, walking toward Chris, pausing to speak briefly to him, then continuing on his way. He stopped a few

  feet from her, his hard gaze raking over her like beef at an auction.

  "Where's your dog?" Chris had said he had one. "Buried with Kelly."

  Just to say it caused him pain, she thought, then pushed aside her sympathy to business. She'd already marked off the trek from the house to the privy to this area. It took Kelly no more than three minutes total, she decided, a theory gelling in her head. "Now correct me if something sounds out of place to you."

  Sean shouldered the rifle, his hand on his hip and Victoria was certain she had his full attention.

  "Kelly got up to use the facilities and let the dog out. But when her pet—" "—Atticus."

  She acknowledged the correction. "When Atticus didn't answer her call, she went to look for him." She shrugged. "Nothing unusual there. This was her home, why should she be afraid?" She glanced at the barn, then to Sean. "Marshal Swift said you heard a howl?"

  Sean nodded, his gaze piercing her like a branding iron. "Could it have been your dog and not a wolf?" Sean arched a russet brow, considering her more closely. It made her sweat beneath the mask and padding. His green eyes were bloodshot and his handsome face hadn't seen a razor in days, but he was still a powerful presence.

  "It's possible," he finally said. "I got out here just as the herd bolted. Sounded like squealing thunder. I had no idea what happen until—" He took a breath, deep and slow and for an instant broke his gaze.' 'Atticus was beside Kelly when I found her." She could see detachment in his eyes, a closed hardness that would either help him get through this, she thought, or destroy him.

  "I think she heard it, came to investigate, certain you'd follow. But she wasn't alone." She squatted and pointed to the foot prints near the barn and gate, "See. These are square toed." She gestured to the ground close to the fence.
"Then

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  there's her prints, just a couple, but enough to know she walked along the fence line before stepping out into full view," She indicated the area where the body had been discovered. "I found only one of Atticus's, over by the gate." She glanced up to see Sean and Chris leaning over, gazes combing the area. "Your boots are pointed, the marshal's, too. Mine rounded." She straightened and moved to the barn, picking up the plank. "Atticus likely snooped out whoever was here and he killed the dog with this," she hefted the two-by-four, "to shut him up. That was the howl."

  "How do you know that for sure?" Chris snapped and she frowned at him. Why was he trying to shoot her out of the water?

  "Atticus was white and brown, a long hair?" she said to Sean.

  "A collie." A fracture of awe in his deep voice.

  "Blood and hair are caught deep in the splinters. The rest," she waved to what was left of the gate and fence, "are broken from the cattle stampede, except this one." She tossed the club to Chris and he caught it, peering at the bloody tip. "It's not the same wood, probably picked up when the perp realized the dog might be out."

  Sean's brow furrowed deeply and he glanced at Chris.

  "Perpetrator. The criminal," he interpreted before Sean returned his gaze to Victoria.

  "While looking for Atticus, Kelly must have seen them opening the gate. She caught someone in the act of releasing your assets and was shocked, so shocked that she was immobile, but by the time she regained her senses, the gate was swinging open and the cattle moving. I think she was trapped between the gate and the fence and called out to the intruder, which brought you out of the house. But when the perp realized she was there, in the path of steers, he tried to get to her. By then the herd was wild enough to storm the fence. It was hopeless." Sean mashed a hand over his face, then speared his fingers through his hair. His sorrow was pafitable.

 

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