The Missing McCullen

by Rita Herron

  CASH HEAVED A breath as the gunman fell over the edge. The man clawed the embankment, struggling to keep from falling below. A bullet had grazed Cash’s shoulder, and he tasted dirt as he looked into the man’s eyes.

  An expression of cold evil glinted back. “You gonna kill me by pushing me over?”

  Cash was tempted. But he wanted answers instead.

  A dead man couldn’t talk.

  The sound of BJ’s car crashing to the bottom of the ravine rent the air. Dammit. They would have been in that car.

  Cash grabbed the gunman’s hand and tried to pull him back up.

  The man’s hat flew off, sailing to the bottom of the ravine just as BJ’s car had. He felt like dead weight as Cash hauled him to safety. The man groaned and fell onto the grass, his breath rasping.

  A second later, he punched Cash and grabbed the gun again.

  Cash cursed and rolled sideways to avoid the bullet. The man lunged toward him again. Cash kicked him hard in the chest and sent him careening backward. His attacker’s foot hit a loose rock, more rocks skittered down the embankment and the man flailed his arms to keep upright.

  He failed, bellowing as he plunged below.

  Cash crawled to the edge, his breathing ragged, and stared into the ravine. BJ jumped up from her hiding place, raced to him and dropped to her knees. The man’s body lay twisted and mangled on the jagged rocks.

  She gently laid a hand on Cash’s back. “Are you hurt?”

  Anger shot through him. “No, but dammit, he’s dead.”

  Her gaze searched his. “Do you recognize him?”

  “Never seen the bastard before.”

  “So that isn’t Ronnie?”

  Cash shook his head. “No. But I intend to find out who he is.”

  And why he wanted them dead. Or at least why he wanted him dead.

  Things had just gone from bad to worse. If Sheriff Jasper got hold of this news, he’d use it as an excuse to lock Cash’s butt back up and throw away the key. Even if BJ backed up his story, Jasper would do everything he could to make Cash’s life hell until the truth came out.

  If the truth came out. Someone was clearly trying to frame him for murder. There was no telling what lengths they’d go to. And he didn’t want BJ hurt.

  “My purse was in the car, but I’ve got my phone,” BJ said. “I’ll call for help.”

  “I’ll check out his vehicle,” Cash said. “Maybe his ID is inside. We can also try to run his plates.”

  BJ caught his arm. “Don’t touch anything, Cash. Remember you’re the primary suspect in a murder investigation.”

  Cash cursed beneath his breath. How could he help himself if he had to sit back and twiddle his damn thumbs?

  “Maddox will help us,” BJ said softly.

  His stomach somersaulted at the concern in her eyes. How long had it been since a woman had cared about him?

  She doesn’t care, Cash. She’s your lawyer. Hell, if she decides you’re guilty, she’ll call the cops on you herself.

  “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” she asked.

  Cash swallowed hard. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.” From foster fathers with a hard hand.

  Sympathy filled her eyes as if she’d read his mind.

  By God, the last thing in the world he wanted from her was pity.

  He yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the blood to prove the wound wasn’t serious. “See, it just grazed the skin.”

  Her hand trembled as she punched in Maddox’s number. She obviously didn’t get shot at every day. He’d had enough scrapes and beatings in his life to blow this one off without a second thought.

  Despair threatened to choke Cash. What if he’d killed the only person who knew Tyler’s whereabouts, and Tyler was someplace alone, hungry and cold? And so far off the grid no one would ever find him?

  That thought made Cash want to double over in rage.

  But he couldn’t waste time. He needed answers.

  Desperate, he picked himself up, retrieved his gun and stowed it in his jacket. Then he rushed to the dead man’s car. Hopefully, he’d find something inside that would lead him to the truth.

  * * *

  BJ READ THE frustration on Cash’s face. He’d hidden his gun in his jacket, but she decided not to mention it.

  The only way to help him was to get answers.

  She phoned Maddox and explained the situation.

  “My deputy will be there ASAP,” Maddox said, then he hung up.

  She raced to the shooter’s truck. Cash had the door open and was searching the interior.

  She looked over his shoulder. A box of ammunition on the seat. A rifle lay on the floorboard—the weapon the gunman had used to shoot at her car. He’d also had a pistol. He’d pulled it from his back pocket and used it to fire at Cash.

  She snapped pictures with her phone, then opened the dash and found more shells. No wallet. He probably had it on him.

  “I’ll look in the truck bed,” Cash said.

  She started to argue, but if this man had stashed Tyler somewhere, the little boy’s life depended on them acting quickly.

  Cash rushed to the back while she checked the vehicle registration. She found proof of insurance, a hunting and fishing license, and a burner phone.

  The truck was registered to a man named Taft Rumkin. The other documents were registered under the same name.

  “Anything in the truck bed?” she asked.

  Cash lifted his head, a weary look in his eyes. “No. No sign of Tyler.”

  A siren wailed, and Deputy Whitefeather sped up in his police-issued SUV. A tow truck and crew, along with a crime scene unit from the county, careened to a stop behind him.

  A flurry of motion ensued as the workers exited their vehicles and joined the deputy.

  She’d done her homework on the deputy sheriff. Apparently Joe McCullen had been romantically involved with Whitefeather’s mother before he married the woman who’d given birth to the McCullen brothers—and possibly Cash. That made Whitefeather a half brother.

  He’d also spearheaded the investigation into Joe’s death and had uncovered the fact that Joe McCullen’s wife had been murdered and the twins kidnapped.

  The head of the towing company and his men began to assess the situation and develop a plan to extricate her car. Two of the CSI team members harnessed up to climb down, photograph and process the body, and bring it up.

  BJ carried Rumkin’s documents to the deputy. “The man driving that pickup shot at us and tried to kill Cash. According to the vehicle registration, his name is Taft Rumkin.”

  The sun glinted off Deputy Whitefeather’s dark skin as he turned to Cash. “Did you know him?”

  “No, never heard of him.” Cash swiped at a bead of sweat on his forehead. “We had to jump from the car or we’d have gone over that ridge with BJ’s sedan.”

  Deputy Whitefeather scowled, then glanced down at BJ’s demolished car. He whistled at the distance. “Looks like he ended up there, too. What happened?”

  “I lost control,” BJ said. “Cash pulled me from the car and saved my life.”

  The deputy’s eyes focused on Cash. “That true?”

  Cash simply shrugged, then jammed his hands in his back pockets.

  “The man kept shooting,” BJ continued. “We rolled into the bushes, and I hid behind a tree while Cash snuck up on him.” She paused, her breath heaving as her adrenaline waned. “Cash and the man fought. The man lost his balance and fell over the edge.”

  “You push him?” Deputy Whitefeather asked Cash.

  BJ cleared her throat. “That’s not the way it happened. Cash actually dragged him up over the edge to save him, but he attacked Cash again. If Cash hadn’t defended us, we’d both be dead.
”

  The wind swirled the smoke still rising from BJ’s vehicle below as the gravity of the situation sank in.

  Cash was innocent. Tyler was still missing.

  And someone didn’t want them asking questions or poking around. Someone who’d kill to keep them from finding the truth.

  Chapter Eleven

  BJ shivered at the sight of her crushed vehicle as Deputy Whitefeather and the crime team worked.

  If Cash hadn’t dragged her from the car, she’d be dead. “Someone is nervous that we’re asking questions about Sondra’s death and about Tyler.”

  Cash murmured agreement, his face a solemn mask. She could almost feel the anger building inside him. He was a tough, huge man, with muscles strong enough to tear up a rock.

  What would happen if he unleashed his frustration? According to his rap sheet, he had a couple arrests for bar brawls.

  “I’m sorry about your car,” he said quietly.

  BJ’s jittery nerves settled slightly. “It’s insured. I’ll get a rental until I replace it.”

  “We can use my truck,” Cash offered. “It’s not as nice as your car, but it runs.”

  The realization that he had little money and Elmore had treated him as if he was lesser because of it roused BJ’s temper. “Cash, we need transportation. It doesn’t matter what kind of vehicle it is. I’ll call the McCullens and ask one of them to bring your truck.”

  He nodded, but the uncertainty in his eyes endeared him to her even more. What would it take for Cash to learn to trust someone?

  * * *

  “THE MCCULLENS ARE good people,” Deputy Whitefeather said. “You can trust them. They accepted me.”

  Cash narrowed his eyes. “You’re related to them?”

  Deputy Whitefeather nodded. “Half brother.”

  Which meant that if Cash was a McCullen, the deputy was his half brother, as well.

  Late afternoon shadows painted the skies a murky gray as the crew finished hauling BJ’s car from the ravine. The medical examiner arrived along with an ambulance, and he examined Rumkin’s body.

  Cash studied the dead man’s face for recognition, but nothing clicked.

  The ME looked up from Rumkin’s body. “Cause of death was head trauma from the fall.”

  Deputy Whitefeather knelt beside the ME and checked the man’s hands. “Powder burns confirm that he fired the weapon.”

  The crime team collected bullet casings and retrieved the gun he’d fired at Cash. Another investigator dug two bullets from BJ’s car. So far everything supported his and BJ’s statements.

  Brett arrived in Cash’s pickup truck, with one of the ranch hands following. “Gosh, you guys were lucky,” he said as he peered over the ridge.

  “Cash’s quick thinking saved us,” BJ said.

  Brett met his gaze, making Cash fidget. The McCullens were dissecting every movement and word he said. Even if he was related to them, which was still a big if, they didn’t have to call him a McCullen.

  Elmore had talked about how close-knit the family was, that although they’d had problems, they stuck together.

  He couldn’t imagine that kind of loyalty.

  “Thanks for bringing my truck.” He turned to BJ. “Maybe you should let me look into this on my own. Being with me is putting you in danger.”

  “There’s no way I’m walking away,” BJ said. “Besides, you’re the one who shouldn’t be involved in the investigation.”

  The sound of BJ’s scream as he’d jerked her from the car taunted Cash. “I just don’t want you to be hurt because of me.”

  “Don’t worry about me. This is not the first case I’ve worked that got rough.” She took her purse from one of the CSIs and thanked him for retrieving it. “I want to talk to Ronnie Thacker tonight.”

  Deputy Whitefeather made a clicking sound with his teeth. “I’ll go with you two. The judge or DA can’t argue with that.”

  The deputy stowed the box of Sondra’s notebooks in Cash’s truck, then Cash and BJ followed Whitefeather along the farm road to Thacker’s. The deputy eased into the drive and Cash parked behind him.

  The property was run-down, the pastures overgrown, farm equipment rusty and broken. A dilapidated barn tilted at an odd angle, as if it was sinking into the ground. Vultures soared near a dried-up creek.

  They climbed from their vehicles and strode up the graveled drive. Whitefeather knocked on the door, but the hair on the back of Cash’s neck bristled.

  He pivoted, braced for trouble. Ronnie Thacker stood by a giant oak near the barn with a rifle pointed at them.

  * * *

  BJ FROZE AT the sight of the rifle. Cash instantly pushed her behind him. “Don’t move, BJ.”

  Deputy Whitefeather’s hand slid to his gun. “Listen, Mr. Thacker, put down the rifle. We only want to talk. No one needs to get hurt.”

  “You’re the law. That mean I’m in trouble?” Thacker shouted.

  “Not if you haven’t done anything wrong,” Whitefeather said calmly.

  BJ pressed one hand to Cash’s back. She could practically feel his heart pounding. She and Cash had escaped death once today. She didn’t intend to push their luck.

  Thacker aimed the rifle toward Cash. “What are you doing on my land?”

  “We need to talk to you about Sondra and Tyler Elmore,” BJ said.

  Thacker tilted his hat backward, revealing bushy eyebrows and sweat streaking his face. But he kept the gun trained on Cash. “You here to gloat and tell me the two of you are getting hitched?”

  Cash glanced at the deputy, then BJ. Was Thacker pretending innocence or did he really not know about Sondra and Tyler?

  BJ gave a little shrug, silently urging Cash to play along. If the man was lying, they’d find out soon enough.

  “Sondra and I were just friends,” Cash said.

  Whitefeather gestured toward the rifle. “Nothing can come of shooting anyone,” he said. “So put the gun down.”

  Thacker spewed a litany of curse words, then slowly lowered the weapon. “All right. But someone better start talking or else get the hell off of my property.”

  “You liked Sondra,” BJ said, taking the lead. Hopefully, Thacker would open up more to a female. The man had been eyeing her with appreciation. “Were you dating?”

  Thacker shrugged. “We were. At least I thought so, then she got all weird and stopped answering my calls.”

  “When did you last see her or talk to her?” Deputy Whitefeather asked.

  Thacker grunted. “Last week. Why?”

  Cash tensed, but BJ gently placed a hand on his arm. “Did you see her or talk on the phone?” she asked.

  The man glanced down at his boots with a sour expression. “She was in town at the honky-tonk.”

  “Really?” BJ asked. “Were you two hanging out?”

  Thacker cut his eyes toward the pasture. “No, she took out this stupid restraining order, so I stayed on the other side of the room. She was flirting with some cowboy.”

  “You didn’t talk to her?” BJ asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I...didn’t want to bother them.”

  “You mean you didn’t want to violate the restraining order,” Deputy Whitefeather said.

  Thacker’s shoulders drew back defensively.

  “Who was Sondra talking to?” Cash asked.

  Thacker hissed. “I don’t know the jerk’s name, but he wasn’t good enough for her.”

  “But you were?” BJ said.

  Thacker shuffled onto the balls of his feet. “I love her. Now, why you asking me all these questions?”

  BJ traded looks with Cash and the deputy. “Because Sondra Elmore was murdered Friday night.”

  Thacker’s face paled, and he staggered sidewa
ys. “No... Sondra can’t be dead...she can’t be.”

  He dropped his head into his hands and moaned. “She and I were going to get married one day. Have a family.” He waved his hand, gesturing to the farm. “I was going to fix this place up, show her I could be somebody.”

  “Maybe you told her that, and she said she could never love you, so you killed her,” BJ suggested.

  “No!” Thacker lunged toward her and grabbed her arm.

  BJ gripped his hands with her fingers to loosen his hold.

  A second later, Cash grabbed Thacker by the collar and slammed him against the wall of the house.

  * * *

  CASH SHOOK THE BASTARD. “Sondra called me to meet her. She was upset, but she wouldn’t tell me the reason. Said she had to see me in person. It was because she was afraid of you.” His voice cracked. “You were stalking her,” Cash continued. “You couldn’t stand that she didn’t want you, so you finally lost it and got revenge.”

  The man trembled. “That’s not the way it happened.”

  Cash tightened his grip. BJ murmured something in the background, urging him to release Thacker.

  Whitefeather moved up behind him. “Cash, take it easy.”

  “Then how did it happen?” Cash barked.

  “I didn’t hurt Sondra,” Thacker cried. “I loved her. I would never have done anything to harm her.” Tears leaked from his eyes. “I had a plan. After she filed that damned restraining order, the judge talked to me and I signed up for anger management classes.”

  Cash kept his fingers clenched around the man’s collar. “So you went to tell her, but it wasn’t enough. You realized nothing you did would ever be enough. Maybe she threatened to call the police.”

  “No.” Thacker pried Cash’s fingers from his neck. “I did see her at that bar, but I didn’t talk to her. I wanted to prove to her I was changing, so I left.”

  “Anybody leave with you?” BJ asked.

  Thacker cursed. “No.”

  “Then what did you do?” Cash growled.

  Thacker scraped a shaky hand over his face. “I went driving around and then went skeet shooting to blow off some steam.”

  “Is that all you were shooting?” Cash asked.