Native Cowboy

by Rita Herron

  That he’d never find out about the baby. That she wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of rejection.

  “Cara?”

  “Yes,” she said, struggling to regain control. “Who did he find?” Please, Lord, not one of the kids.

  “We don’t have an ID yet. Blackpaw said it appears to be a young woman, probably early twenties. Can you meet me there?”

  “Of course. I’ll get my medical bag and be right out.” Not that visiting crime scenes, if this was even that, was her favorite part of the job, but since she’d opened her clinic, she’d officially been named the assistant coroner for lack of anyone else to fill the job. Hopefully this was an accident, and she’d be able to avoid Mason.

  The sheriff gave her the location, and she tensed when she realized it was close to her own cabin. Then she grabbed her purse and doctor’s bag and headed to the front office. Sherese, her assistant nurse and receptionist, had already left for the day, so she locked up, then rushed to her Pathfinder.

  The short drive to the ranch only heightened her anxiety. As if her baby sensed trouble, he kicked the entire way, reminding her that he was an active little boy and couldn’t be forgotten.

  That he would make his arrival in less than a month.

  Would he look like his father? Have that strong Native American jaw? Mason’s high cheekbones?

  His stubborn independence?

  Or...maybe he’d get that stubborn streak from her.

  No, Mason had been stubborn, too. He hadn’t cared enough to even call her after he’d left.

  Because he hadn’t loved her.

  Dusk was setting, streaking the sky with orange and red hues as she drove on to the ranch and veered down the road leading to the creek. The BBL covered hundreds of acres of ranch land with rich lush pastures for the cattle side of the operation and a quadrant designated for the horses complete with riding pens, stables, barns and cabins.

  Ahead, she spotted Sheriff McRae’s police car along with a minivan and a pickup truck.

  She slowed, then parked and rubbed at her back again as she climbed from her SUV. The wooded area near the creek was at least a mile from the main lodge and camps that housed the campers.

  What was Mason doing out here anyway?

  Gripping her jacket around her in hopes that it might camouflage her condition, she grabbed her doctor’s bag, heaved herself out of the Pathfinder, and walked toward the sheriff’s car. She spotted McRae talking to Brody, then noticed Kim Woodstock, a counselor on the BBL, sitting on some rocks with a group of boys.

  Had the boys seen the body, as well?

  The wind picked up, swirling leaves around her as she neared the group. She gestured in greeting to Kim, then Brody and the sheriff.

  “The body is over there,” the sheriff said.

  “Do you think it was an accident?” Cara asked.

  He removed a roll of crime scene tape from the car. “Don’t think so. She was buried and covered in stones.”

  Cara tensed. No, that didn’t sound accidental...

  “Come on,” the sheriff said. “I know you want to look at the body while there’s still plenty of light. Then we can move her to the morgue before dark.”

  Cara held her bag in front of her as he led her through the bushes. She braced herself to see Mason, but still her heart fluttered madly when she spotted his big body and that black Stetson. The first time she’d met him, she’d thought he looked like a renegade from the wild West.

  He had certainly made love like one.

  He was kneeling with his back to her, most likely examining the scene. But still he stirred her blood like no other man ever had.

  “Detective Blackpaw,” Sheriff McRae said. “Coroner’s here to take a look.”

  Mason turned his head and spotted her, and shock lit his piercing dark eyes for a moment before he masked it. “You’re the coroner?”

  She nodded. She’d met Mason while she was doing a residency and volunteering on the reservation nearby. “I have a clinic in town now, but I also serve as assistant coroner.”

  His gaze raked over her, his jaw tightening, and she was grateful for the bushes between them.

  But she knew her reprieve wouldn’t last long.

  Still, she had to play it cool. So she pulled on latex gloves, determined to keep this encounter on a professional level. For all he knew, she’d moved on.

  And she had no doubt that he had. Mason was a sexual man.

  The image of him with another woman taunted her. Made her want to scream.

  But she’d be damned if she’d show that she was jealous.

  “What happened?” she asked as the sheriff began to comb the area for evidence.

  Mason turned back to the scene, and began snapping photographs. “Boys and I were out riding and I saw vultures,” he said. “So I decided to check it out. When I saw the stones, I realized it was a grave.”

  Cara inched closer, the stench filling her nostrils. She’d smelled death before, but pregnancy accentuated her senses, and not in a good way. Then she spotted the woman’s eyes staring up at her, cold and lifeless, and she had to swallow back bile.

  “Is there some significance to the stones and the way they’re arranged?”

  “Yes. It’s ritualistic, a Comanche tradition,” he said in a clipped tone.

  “So whoever buried her must have been Native American?”

  “Probably, but we can’t be sure. It could be someone obsessed with the traditions and rituals of the Indian people. Or even someone who killed the woman and wanted to make it appear like a Native buried her.”

  His tone was so curt that she realized he was going to play it cool, as if nothing had happened between them. Heck, he’d probably forgotten about her while she carried a reminder of him with her daily.

  Fighting hurt and irritation, she took a deep breath. “You think she was murdered?”

  He nodded, then moved aside. He had uncovered most of the woman’s body. “What do you think?”

  Cara gasped. The woman had definitely been murdered. Her stomach had been carved open in a brutal mess.

  She was also one of Cara’s patients.

  Chapter Two

  Mason tried to ignore Cara as she stooped down beside him, but her soft gasp disturbed him, and the sweet scent of her lavender soap melted into his senses, making it impossible.

  He had to ignore his reaction, though. Hell, they had a job to do and nothing else mattered.

  Not that he hadn’t once lusted after her until he thought he’d lose his mind. Or that he’d been haunted by her tender voice whispering his name in the throes of passion.

  Or that he’d wished he was different and that things could have worked between them.

  But that was impossible.

  She shivered beside him. She looked pale in the waning light, her eyes tormented as she stared at the dead woman in the ground.

  Still, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and she didn’t bother to take time with her appearance. Her blond hair had been thrown up haphazardly on the top of her head and secured by some kind of clip, and she wore no makeup.

  But her green eyes had always sparkled with intelligence, kindness and a sensitivity toward others that had drawn him to her from the start.

  Except now they were filled with pain.

  “Cara, are you all right?” he asked, suddenly concerned. It wasn’t like her to get squeamish over blood.

  “I know this woman,” she whispered. “She was one of my patients.”

  Mason’s pulse began to pound. “Then you might know who did this to her?”

  Cara gently placed a hand on the woman’s cheek as if to console her. “I’m so sorry, Nellie,” she said softly. “So sorry. You didn’t deserve this.”

  “No one deserves this,” Mason muttered. “Who is she? Does she have family?”

  Cara glanced at him, the shock subsiding slightly as if she realized she had to keep it together. “Her name is Nellie Thompson. And no, she do
esn’t have family.” She opened her doctor’s bag. “Did the boys see her?”

  “Not like this,” Mason said. “I told them to stay back while I walked ahead. I figured it was probably a dead deer or another animal.” He paused, gulping back his own distaste. “They ran up and saw the stones and realized it was a grave. But I didn’t uncover her until the counselor arrived. When she stepped aside with the boys, I photographed the stones and the way they were arranged, then the area surrounding the grave.” He gestured toward the woods. “I’m going to conduct a wider search for evidence and hopefully pinpoint the spot where he murdered her.”

  She gestured toward the grave. “You don’t think he killed her here?”

  “No, but close by.” He shined a flashlight across the terrain to the left, and she noticed a streak of blood dotting the ground.

  “My guess is, he attacked her somewhere near the road, then dragged her to the woods to bury her.” He frowned, thinking. “Now we need to figure out if she came on the ranch of her own volition, if they were together, maybe lovers, or if he brought her here against her will. Can you give me a firm time of death?”

  Cara removed a kit from her bag and swabbed the woman’s cheek where blood and dirt were caked.

  “You said she was one of your patients?” Mason asked. “You live on the ranch?”

  Cara nodded and continued to take samples from the woman’s eyelids, hair and fingernails. “I offer medical services in the clinic on the BBL in exchange for a cabin.”

  “Maybe she was coming to see you,” he suggested.

  Her startled gaze flew to his, concern darkening her eyes. “I suppose that’s possible.”

  “Was she ill?” Mason asked.

  Cara shook her head.

  “Then what was going on?”

  “You know I can’t discuss her medical information with you.”

  “She’s dead, Cara,” Mason said. “I think doctor-patient confidentiality can be waived to solve her murder.”

  Cara’s mouth tightened. “I don’t see how her medical information is relevant.”

  Anger knotted his chest. “Everything is relevant,” he said. “This bastard was cruel.” He gestured for her to look at the gruesome scene again. “We need to know the reason for the overkill.”

  Anguish strained her face. “So you think it was personal? Someone she knew?”

  “Maybe...hell, I don’t know yet.” Mason studied the damage the killer had inflicted. “But it was violent. And the burial was ritualistic. Which means something triggered his rage, and that he might just be getting started.”

  * * *

  MASON’S DECLARATION sent a shudder through Cara. He and Miles had just closed a terrible serial killer case, and now he thought there might be another serial murderer on the loose?

  Had Nellie known the killer, or had she been chosen at random? If so, why kill her in such a brutal way?

  The fact that the killer had butchered her abdominal cavity might be significant....

  Leaves rustled behind her, and Cara startled and stood. The baby chose that moment to kick, sending a spasm of pain down her leg, and she winced.

  The sheriff strode through the woods, but suddenly Mason rose, his gaze latched on to her belly. She gritted her teeth, willing herself to remain calm, but his eyes darkened with emotions that made her chest clench.

  She’d been in love with Mason ten months ago. She’d wanted a future with him, but he’d broken her heart, and she could not allow herself to fall for him again.

  Or admit how much he’d hurt her.

  “Cara?”

  His gruff voice had once called her name in passion, but now a layer of confusion, shock and uncertainty underscored his tone. “You’re pregnant?”

  He didn’t have to know it was his child, did he?

  Then again, she had morals and she refused to lie.

  “How observant,” she said matter-of-factly. She gave him a look that dared him to ask more.

  The sheriff broke through the bushes, his expression stony, and cut off Mason’s response. “Blackpaw, you need to see this. I found her car, her purse inside.”

  Mason stared at Cara another full minute, but the sheriff was waiting, and she certainly didn’t intend to discuss her pregnancy—or their situation—in front of him.

  “Cara?” His gaze raked over her swollen stomach again, then he searched her face. For a brief moment, pain flickered in his eyes, then the moment passed, and his jaw tightened, making him look like a hardened, rugged cowboy cop.

  “Go,” she said. “You have a case to work, and I need to finish here and get Nellie moved to the morgue.”

  “You’ll perform the autopsy?” he asked.

  Cara pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Not me. I’ll call in the county medical examiner.”

  “Make sure her body is processed for forensics,” Mason said gruffly.

  “Don’t worry, I will.” Her stomach churned. “I want whoever did this to pay.”

  “Also make a list of everything you know about her,” he said. “Any detail might help us find the bastard who did this.”

  A debate began in her head. She knew he was right. But there were some parts of her life that Nellie had wanted to keep private.

  “You coming, Blackpaw?” the sheriff asked.

  Mason muttered a sound of frustration then left her alone with the body. Cara swallowed back the tears threatening to choke her as he disappeared into the woods. She couldn’t take her eyes off his big sexy body. Couldn’t help but remember the husky way he’d murmured her name in the throes of passion.

  God help her. She was always saying goodbye to him.

  What would he say when he learned the baby she was carrying was his?

  Would he walk away from their child, too?

  * * *

  A DOZEN QUESTIONS pummeled Mason as he followed the sheriff to the car. Questions that had nothing to do with the case he should be focusing on.

  Which was the very reason he’d walked away from Cara in the first place. He couldn’t afford distractions. A personal life. To care about anyone.

  But the image of her pregnant belly taunted him. Had she met someone after they’d ended their affair? He hadn’t noticed a ring...but then he hadn’t looked...

  Was she married? Pregnant with her lover or husband’s baby?

  Mentally he ticked off the months they’d been apart. The dates they were together.

  A little over nine months ago.

  The air whooshed from his lungs in an agonizing rush. Could that baby be his?

  “Her car went off the road up there,” the sheriff said, gesturing toward the hill.

  His voice jerked Mason back to the present. Dammit, if he didn’t pay attention, he’d miss something important.

  Leaves crunched beneath his boots as he trudged through the woods, and he dragged his head back to the case. He needed to be searching for clues.

  He shined his flashlight along the ground, panning it across the bushes and terrain in case the killer had dropped something, maybe a button or glove, or some other evidence. Anything could be useful.

  He spotted a patch of bushes that looked as if they’d been mangled, then knelt and discovered a partial footprint in the dirt that could have belonged to a man. A torn piece of clothing was trapped in a patch of thorns.

  “Hang on a minute,” he told the sheriff. “I think I found something.”

  The sheriff walked over and examined the print, then watched as Mason knelt and plucked the fabric scrap from the bush with some tweezers and placed it in a bag.

  “I called in a crime unit from the county,” the sheriff said. “I think we’re going to need them on this one.”

  “You’re right,” Mason said. He was only one man. He couldn’t do it all. “Make sure they take a plaster cast of this partial print. It might be helpful at some point.”

  A few more feet, and Mason spotted the small, rusted sedan crashed against the trees. The passenger side was intac
t, but the windshield was shattered, the driver’s door stood ajar, and branches and limbs had caught on the roof and door.

  “You already checked out the car?” Mason asked.

  “Just a visual to see if anyone was inside, but I didn’t touch anything.” He gestured toward the handbag on the seat. “Left her purse there. Thought we’d want to photograph everything before we searched it and sent it to the lab.”

  “Good,” Mason said, grateful the sheriff hadn’t bungled evidence like some locals he’d encountered before. The smallest detail could prove to be important in analyzing the crime and catching this unknown subject, or UNSUB.

  Mason shined his flashlight across the car interior. Blood dotted the dashboard and glass, and the seat had been torn as if someone had clawed at it.

  Then he spotted a baby rattle that had rolled beneath the seat.

  Hmm...did Nellie have a child?

  “Look at this,” the sheriff muttered.

  Mason walked around the car and stooped down where the sheriff aimed his light on the tire. “Looks like it was slashed.”

  Mason’s heart pounded. “Just enough to create a slow leak so the tire would blow.”

  The sheriff gestured toward the road with his hand. “Probably blew up there, she lost control, ran off the road and ended up here.”

  Mason noticed drag marks by the door and tried to visualize the crime in his mind. “The killer was following her. He watched her to crash. She hit her head, she’s disoriented and he drags her out of the car.” He paused, the images playing out. “At first she doesn’t realize what’s happened. She thinks this man might have stopped to help her. Then he drags her into the bushes and stabs her.”

  “But why?” the sheriff asked. “Does he know her? Did he choose her for some reason?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out.” Mason snapped some pictures of the car and surrounding area, took several shots of the slashed tire, then retrieved the woman’s purse and rifled through it.

  “ID confirms she’s Nellie Thompson. She was twenty-four, lives nearby. I’ll send a patrol man over to search her house.” He rummaged deeper and located her cell phone, but the battery was dead. He’d check it out, though. She might have had contact with her killer. Or if she was being followed by a stranger, she might have tried to call for help.