The Missing McCullen

by Rita Herron

  The pictures on her Facebook page were months old. Did Diane have a recent lover? If so, who was he? Was he involved with this kidnapping plan?

  BJ moved to the closet, and found jeans, T-shirts, Western attire, boots and belts. According to her social media sites, Diane gave horseback riding lessons to children at the stable where she’d taken lessons herself.

  Maybe someone there knew who Diane was involved with—or someone that could have been her accomplice.

  She dug deeper in the closet and found two boxes with designer stilettos, and several cocktail dresses. One side also held a man’s pair of work boots and a man’s denim duster.

  The coat was size 40, the shoes size 11. No business card or ID inside, though.

  She ran her fingers along the top of the closet shelf in search of a journal or calendar, but found nothing. Same with the nightstand drawers. She even checked beneath the mattress. Nothing.

  She moved to the master bath and checked the drawers. Basic cosmetics and toiletries.

  One toothbrush in the ceramic holder but there was an extra one in the drawer.

  A blue one.

  The blue one could belong to Diane’s male friend.

  She plucked it from the holder and carried it to Maddox.

  “A man’s coat and boots are in the closet. And this toothbrush might belong to Diane’s male friend.”

  Maddox bagged the toothbrush. “I’ll send this and her laptop to the lab.”

  Maddox pushed a sticky-note pad toward BJ. “I found this in the desk. Phone number. No name. I called it and got the voice mail for Hyatt Spillman.”

  “He worked with Cash at the Triple X,” BJ said. “He claimed Cash was in love with Sondra and that he argued with her the morning she died.”

  Maddox shifted, his jaw tight. “And he’s connected to Diane. He could have been the one who framed Cash.”

  * * *

  DISBELIEF CHURNED INSIDE CASH.

  Sondra’s best friend had betrayed her. And now she might have taken Tyler?

  God, he’d never suspected her. She’d acted innocent when they’d questioned her about the little boy’s whereabouts.

  BJ joined him outside and explained about finding Spillman’s number in Diane’s condo. Had that bastard set him up?

  Maddox clenched his phone in his hand as he stepped out of the condo. “Whitefeather just called. He found some discrepancies in Elmore’s financials. He also had a life insurance policy on Tyler. I’m going to question Elmore again.”

  The possibility that Sondra’s father might have been part of this mess made Cash curse. “We’ll find Spillman.”

  Maddox gave him a warning look. “Wait, Cash, I’m running this show.”

  BJ cleared her throat. “Maddox, if he has Tyler, he might be panicking. We need to get to him before he disappears completely.”

  Maddox looked torn, but finally agreed. “Just don’t do anything rash. If he’s at home, just watch him. Let me know and I’ll be right there.”

  Cash wrangled his temper under control, then lifted his fingers in a Scout’s pledge. “Yes, sir.”

  The clouds darkened, hovering above, threatening rain. A stiff wind picked up, swirling dried tumbleweed and dust, a reminder of Wyoming’s dust storms as Cash drove toward the Triple X.

  BJ checked her watch. “Tyler should be home in his bed right now.”

  The pain in her voice twisted Cash’s insides. “So should you, BJ. Let me take you back to the cabin. You’ve done enough for me already.”

  “No,” BJ said. “I’m not giving up until we bring Tyler home safe.”

  BJ bit down on her lip and turned to look out the window. A second later, a tear seeped from her eye and trickled down her cheek.

  He wanted to comfort her, ask her why this case was getting to her. But hell, she probably just had a soft spot for kids, like he did.

  That alone made him worry about her.

  God, he’d already lost one friend this week. He didn’t want to care about BJ, but he was starting to. And he couldn’t live with the guilt if something bad happened to her.

  Nerves on edge, he turned onto the road that led to the Triple X. A sliver of moonlight glowed across the pasture. Horses galloped and cattle grazed on the hill. Donovan’s truck was parked in front of the farmhouse, but they passed it and parked at the bunkhouses.

  At this time of night, most of the ranch hands had turned in. Work started at first light. Spillman’s rusted truck was parked sideways by the bunkhouse.

  BJ touched his arm before he climbed out. “Remember what Maddox said, Cash. We just need to see if he’s here.”

  An engine rumbled in the quiet as he slid from the truck. Cash scanned the surrounding area in search of trouble. Car lights flickered across the terrain in the distance and disappeared over a hill.

  BJ started toward the bunkhouse, but Cash had a bad feeling. The bunkhouse door was ajar.

  He caught BJ’s arm and motioned for her to stay behind him. If Spillman was involved in this mess, that meant he’d tried to kill them.

  He was damned tired of sitting on the sidelines and letting Maddox and BJ put themselves in the line of fire for him.

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he inched forward. Wind whistled through the wood slats. He hesitated, pausing to listen for someone inside.

  Nothing.

  Still, Spillman could have seen them coming and be hiding, waiting to ambush him.

  BJ followed on his heels, but he held his arm out to keep her from entering, then glanced through the door. His chest clenched at the sight of blood on the floor.

  “Wait,” he mouthed to BJ.

  He crept inside, then came to an abrupt halt. More blood.

  Dammit. Spillman couldn’t help them. He was dead.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Is he in there?” BJ whispered from the doorway.

  “Stay there,” Cash growled. He quickly scanned the adjoining bath, but no one was inside. It appeared that no one was using the second bedroom, either.

  The room and Spillman’s body needed to be searched, but he couldn’t contaminate the scene or Maddox would be furious.

  He urged BJ away from the bunkhouse. “Spillman’s dead. I have to call Maddox.”

  BJ’s eyes widened, but she nodded and straightened, then began scouring the area. Cash pressed Maddox’s number. The phone rang three times before he answered.

  “Sheriff McCullen.”

  “It’s Cash. We’re at Spillman’s bunk. He’s dead. Gunshot to the chest.”

  Maddox muttered a sound of frustration. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there ASAP and I’ll call a crime unit.”

  “How’s Elmore?” Cash asked.

  “Distraught, but Jasper was there for support. He says he can explain the financial discrepancies. Says his accountant’s assistant skimmed money from him. He fired both of them six months ago.

  “Whitefeather verified his story. The accountant moved to Texas and took the assistant with him. Apparently they were an item.”

  “What about the life insurance on Tyler?”

  “His lawyer advised him to do that for Sondra’s sake. I asked the lab to put a rush on the DNA on the toothbrush and compare it to Spillman’s.” He paused. “I’m on my way. Jasper was going to hang around and make sure Elmore was safe in case the kidnapper came after him. We’ll need to talk to everyone on the Triple X.”

  Maddox hung up, and Cash surveyed the hill where the car lights had been. Could the person driving that vehicle be their shooter?

  “Were there any signs Tyler had been in that bunk?” BJ asked.

  Cash shook his head, then headed toward Spillman’s rusty truck. He wanted to search it himself.

  But he forc
ed himself not to touch it. Instead, he paced the yard and waited on Maddox.

  * * *

  FATIGUE PULLED AT BJ as Maddox and the crime unit arrived. She and Cash were once again delegated to watching. She sensed it was hardest for Cash—he’d grown up depending on himself, not on others.

  One of the team found an envelope of cash inside Spillman’s truck.

  “Fifteen thousand,” Maddox said as he counted the bills.

  “Could be payment for his part in the kidnapping,” Cash suggested.

  “Or it could be savings from his job,” Maddox said. “We need more proof.”

  The ranch owner, Wilson Donovan, showed up looking harried and upset. “I can’t believe he died here on the ranch.” The man removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me.” He shot Cash a questioning look. “You know what’s going on, Koker, you better fess up.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Cash squared his shoulders. “It looks like Spillman was involved in Sondra Elmore’s death and with her son’s disappearance.”

  “We need to speak to all the ranch hands and employees,” Maddox said. “Ask them to meet me in the dining hall in half an hour.”

  Donovan checked his watch. “It’s ten o’clock at night, Sheriff. Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

  “No,” Maddox replied. “A man was murdered here this evening. Questioning everyone on the ranch as soon as possible is imperative. Whoever shot Spillman could still be on the property.”

  Donovan’s eyes widened in alarm. “All right, I’ll make some phone calls.”

  “Mr. Donovan,” Cash said. “I saw a vehicle driving in the distance on the property when I arrived. I think it might have been a Jeep.”

  Donovan grunted. “Several of the hands drive Jeeps. What color was it?”

  Cash jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Couldn’t tell. It was too far away.”

  Donovan grunted again, then gripped his cell phone and stepped back to his truck to make the call.

  “He blames me for bringing trouble to his place,” Cash said, his voice full of regret.

  “This isn’t your fault, Cash.” BJ squeezed his arm. “Hang in there. We’ll find out who framed you and bring Tyler home safely.”

  “What if we don’t?” The agony in Cash’s voice tugged at her heartstrings.

  She couldn’t resist. She took both his hands in hers and cradled them against her chest. “We will, Cash. You have my word.”

  * * *

  CASH DESPERATELY WANTED to believe BJ, but anxiety knotted every muscle in his body. He felt helpless as he watched Maddox and Deputy Whitefeather question the ranch hands and other employees.

  “Listen, guys, one of your ranch hands, Hyatt Spillman, was murdered in his room,” Maddox said. “We believe Diane Stuckey and Spillman conspired to kill Sondra Elmore and kidnap her son.”

  Shocked gasps and murmurs followed.

  “We found a large sum of cash in Spillman’s truck,” Maddox continued. “If you know where he got the money, please come forward. Any information will be helpful.”

  A hand Cash recognized as a new hire named Jordan stepped up and approached Whitefeather. Cash stood a safe distance away, but the condemning looks from the other men suggested they thought he was behind the trouble on the ranch.

  BJ coaxed him outside, and he paced the porch as the interrogations continued.

  “Maddox is looking for gun residue on the workers’ hands,” BJ said.

  Meanwhile, the sun had faded hours ago, and the clock was ticking, precious time slipping by.

  Midnight struck as Maddox and Whitefeather finished and joined them on the porch. One by one, the men headed back to their bunks to get some shut-eye before the sun signaled another day on the ranch.

  Across the way, the ambulance was pulling away, transporting Spillman’s body to the morgue for an autopsy.

  Maddox approached him and BJ. “One of the hands said Spillman was a gambler, that he might have been in debt.”

  “So he needed money,” Cash said.

  Maddox nodded. “We’ll verify the information. Unfortunately, no one saw anyone hanging around tonight.”

  Whitefeather cleared his throat. “One guy said he’d seen Diane with Spillman. Said they looked as if they were arguing. Later, he asked Spillman, but he said it was nothing. That Diane was just moody.”

  Cash balled his hands into fists. Dammit, they needed more. Something concrete to lead them to where Tyler was being held.

  “There’s not much we can do tonight,” Maddox said, his voice tired. “Maybe DNA, phone records or financials will turn up something in the morning. Jasper said he asked the media to keep running Tyler’s picture on the news. Maybe someone will spot him and call in.”

  The hope he tried to inject into his voice fell flat. Maddox looked as frustrated as Cash was.

  “Everyone get some rest. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Cash hesitated. He didn’t want to give up tonight.

  How could he sleep, knowing Tyler was still missing and that two people associated with his kidnapping were dead?

  * * *

  BJ’S HEART FELT heavy as Cash dropped her at the cabin on Horseshoe Creek. The day had been a nightmare.

  Memories of almost being killed and diving into that river in search of Tyler would probably keep her awake all night.

  Cash looked tortured, too—which made her even more determined to clear his name. She had a basis now to get the charges dropped.

  But all he cared about was Tyler.

  Cash insisted on searching the cabin to make sure the shooter wasn’t hiding inside, waiting to attack. When he cleared the space, he returned to her in the living room. She stood by the window, looking out at the night. A few lone stars glittered through the clouds, the moon barely a sliver. The sky looked gray and just as gloomy as BJ felt.

  “You all right?” Cash asked gruffly.

  “Yes, are you?” She lifted her hand and brushed it across his cheek. He sucked in a sharp breath.

  She’d vowed never to get involved with a client. Not to trust any man.

  Except...how could she resist this sexy, strong man?

  She looked up into Cash’s eyes and was moved by his tenderness. Desperate for his touch, for comfort, she pressed her hand over his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart pounded, strong and alive.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, the hunger radiating from him stirring her own. How long had it been since she’d slept with a man? Since someone strong and caring had held her?

  He brushed her hair from her cheek. “BJ?”

  “Shh, just hold me for a minute.”

  He made a low sound in his throat as if he was struggling not to touch her. Then his eyes darkened, and he pulled her up against him.

  BJ leaned into him, savoring the strength and safety in his big, powerful muscles. He rubbed her back gently, soothing her, stroking away her anxiety and arousing a part of her she thought was dead.

  The need to be with a man, to be intimate. To feel his love erasing the heartache that would never leave her.

  “Talk to me,” Cash murmured. “Today was rough. But something else is wrong. I can feel it.”

  She swallowed hard. She couldn’t make her voice work.

  Instead she lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. Dark, soulful, tinged with the pain of his past and his worry over Tyler.

  And his need to prove himself innocent. Maybe to prove he was worthy of being a McCullen.

  “I don’t want to talk,” she whispered.

  She cradled his face between her hands, rose on tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.

  He stiffened, his hands gripping her arms as if to set her away from him. She refused to let him.<
br />
  She needed him.

  Her emotions mingling with desire, she traced her tongue along the seam of his lips until he opened for her. She teased his mouth and drove her hands through his thick hair, deepening the kiss.

  With a low growl in his throat, he finally gave in and plunged his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues met, thrust for thrust, a dance of need and hunger and a longing so strong that she lowered her hands to stroke the hard planes of his back.

  His hands moved, as well, dragging her into the V of his thighs, settling her against his thick, hard sex. Erotic sensations spiraled inside her, creating a slow burn that made her tear at the buttons of his shirt.

  One button popped open, then another, and she raked the fabric back to press a kiss to his bare chest. He gripped her arms, threw his head back and moaned.

  “God, BJ...”

  Emboldened by the depth of his desire, she spread kisses all along his chest, touching scars from injuries that must have been traumatic, scars that aroused protective feelings for the man.

  His fingers tangled in her hair and he tilted her head back, then planted kisses along her neck and throat.

  She wanted more.

  So did he.

  They frantically kissed again, whispered longing in each stroke, and he walked her backward toward the sofa. She allowed him to push her onto it, but she refused to release him.

  Instead she teased him again by stroking his chest and lowering her hands to his hips. He grunted and reached for the bottom of her shirt. Then he climbed on top of her, straddling her hips as he lifted the shirt over her head. He tossed it to the side, but it hit a picture frame, and the frame fell onto the table.

  Cash reached sideways to right it, then went very still.

  BJ held her breath, need mingling with the realization that the picture he was looking at was of her lost son.

  “BJ?” His eyes searched hers. “You’re married? You have a family?”

  Sadness choked her. She didn’t want to talk about her loss. She wanted to feel his hands on her, making her forget.

  He angled his head in question and set the picture back on the table. Questions darkened his expressive eyes. “Answer me.”