Indigo Lake

by Jodi Thomas

  They pulled up to the blackened frame of the first barn that had caught fire. Several men were standing around. Only two looked like they belonged on the land. The others, including the owner, were dressed more for the streets of downtown Dallas than the open country.

  The sheriff climbed out and handed Blade the rifle. “Carry it easy, but keep it at ready. I have no idea what we’re getting into here, but one of the men standing around looking at the latest body may be our killer.”

  “Just a hunch?”

  “Yep.” Brigman shrugged.

  Blade fell into step with the sheriff. He was starting to feel like Doc Holliday at the OK Corral. “I guess we know one man who is not a suspect,” he whispered.

  “Who, besides me and you?” Brigman glanced his direction. “And I’m not positive about you.”

  “Lucas Reyes. I know he was in his cell all night because he kept pacing, keeping me awake.”

  The sheriff shrugged again. “I tried to let him out this morning after you left, but he refused to go. Said he’d deck me if I tried to make him leave.”

  “Isn’t there something wrong with the idea of fighting your way into jail?”

  The sheriff lowered his voice. “Sometimes small towns can be a little quirky.”

  They moved into the small crowd of men. Reid Collins was there, wanting to do all the talking. He was nervous to the point of panic. The first body had frightened him, but this one seemed to be driving him over the edge.

  Blade took his time looking around, and noting the men who refused to turn toward the body, even when the sheriff pointed something out.

  Dice Fuller was standing across from Reid, but he didn’t say a word. Neither did the men Reid had behind him. Yesterday there had been two. This morning there were half a dozen.

  Blade studied each man. Most, if not all, of the thugs Reid hired to help close the ranch were armed. One had all the knuckles on his right hand scraped clean of skin. Another was limping.

  The sheriff was right. Far more was going on here than just barn fires. The thugs, as the cowboys called Reid’s new crew, didn’t fit on a ranch, but it was obvious they were moving in, taking over.

  Reid ended his account to the sheriff by adding, “Not one man here has any idea how this body got on my property. I swear, I may have to put a no-dumping sign on the fence to keep people from dropping off bodies.”

  Dice finally stepped forward. “Coffer worked for you for ten years. He might not have always been sober at dawn, but he put in his day.” The old man looked straight at Reid. “You may act like Coffer up and died just to ruin your party, but I doubt it went down that way. He didn’t kill himself or walk over here dead to tumble into the ashes, so maybe we need to start looking for who killed him.”

  Reid turned away as if he hadn’t heard a word the old man said. The owner looked straight at the sheriff as if this whole mess was his problem.

  “Was he your friend?” Blade stepped in front of Dice.

  “I can’t say that, but he always pulled his share of the load around here. It was his job to keep the tack room clean. Most nights, when everyone else was filling their dinner plates, Coffer was making sure the gear was all put up right.”

  Reid rubbed his forehead. “I don’t have time for this. Sheriff, do whatever it is that needs to be done. When you finish, call the funeral home in Lubbock. I’ll pay for the burial. I’ve already checked his employment records and Coffer listed his dog as his next of kin.”

  Dice ignored the boss as he continued to talk to Blade. “We found his pickup out by the old west entrance. Nobody uses that gate except cattle trucks now and then. His truck was pointed toward the county road, like he’d stopped to open the gate before pulling out.”

  “Find his dog?” Brigman asked.

  “Nope, he’s missing along with my friend and his horse.”

  The sheriff nodded once, thanking the old man, then turned to Blade. “Collect all names here. They’ll each have to give statements. I’ll talk to anyone left at the headquarters who might have seen Coffer yesterday.”

  Brigman turned back to the crowd. “No one leaves the county until I get their statement. That includes you, Reid.”

  A groan went up from the crowd. The thugs settled into silence, but two cowhands swore, not at the sheriff, but at their bad luck. Blade began collecting names and setting times for them to come into the office. He paused long enough to watch Reid Collins storm off. Apparently, he didn’t think the summons should apply to him.

  When Blade circled back to Brigman, the sheriff paused his official phone calls long enough to tell him to go back to town. He’d handle everything here and call in any findings. “I need you to start the interviews before these men have time to compare their stories, or in some cases, rewrite what they saw. Also, draw up a timeline. I want to know where everyone was from the night of the first fire to when Dice notified us of the second body.”

  Blade looked around at the crowd. “I doubt most of these guys will be able to remember back twenty-four hours, much less forty-eight.”

  “Give it a shot.” Brigman smiled. “You know what the deputy’s main job is in a two-man office?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Doing what the sheriff doesn’t want to do.”

  Blade grinned. “We need to do one thing to make this job perfect.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Hire a deputy in training.”

  The sheriff frowned. “You find me one, Hamilton, and I’ll consider it.”

  “Me?” Blade sure didn’t want another duty on top of a job he didn’t want in the first place. At the rate duties were piling up, he’d never get back to Dakota and her soft skin. He’d be rewinding the memory of holding her so many times he’d wear it out.

  Dice stepped nearer. “How about I take you back to town, Hamilton? I could use a break, and if the coffee’s still free in the sheriff’s office, I might stop in to visit with Pearly. Always did fancy that woman. She still wearing those sexy earrings that hang down almost to her shoulder?”

  “Yep,” the sheriff answered as he nodded for Blade to take the offer for a ride.

  He had a feeling he and the sheriff were thinking the same thing. Dice’s idea of sexy was more Halloween decoration to them. But, when you’re nearing eighty, a woman in her late sixties might still be wild and sexy.

  “Thanks for the offer. I’ll stop by and pick up a few dozen doughnuts to go with the coffee. If you have time, Dice, maybe you could even help me with the timeline.”

  “Sounds like a plan, kid.” Dice patted Blade on the shoulder.

  “Glad to have your help, old man,” Blade answered.

  They both laughed as they walked to his rusty truck.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A WEAK SUN tried to fight its way through the clouds as Dan Brigman stopped his cruiser halfway back to town. Another body and still no answers. Worry made his mood as gloomy as the day.

  He pulled into a forgotten roadside park and dialed his bride. They’d been married two years and he still thought of them as newlyweds. Funny how a man doesn’t know how lonely his life is until he finds the right person.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he said when she answered with a sleepy hello. “Did you close the bar down last night?”

  He heard what sounded like covers being pulled up. His Brandi loved to sleep in. He could imagine her cuddling into bed with the phone close by.

  “I did. We played the final set at the Blue Bird last night, then went out for pancakes. Harry, our new drummer, ate so many we had to roll him to his car.”

  “And did they love your new songs?” He closed his eyes, wishing she was close enough to touch.

  “They did. I’ve got some work to do with the new label execs, then a few more days in the s
tudio and I’ll be home. You wouldn’t want to fly up for a long weekend before I leave Nashville? I booked the condo for another two weeks. We could sleep days and check out all the new artists at night.”

  “I wish I could,” he said, already thinking of how they’d spend their time. “But I got another dead body here to deal with.”

  She laughed. “You got a body here to deal with, Sheriff, and I’m very much alive. This body is warm and willing.”

  He leaned back. “I miss you every hour of every day you’re gone.” He wished he had the words to tell Brandi how much she meant to him. Half of him seemed missing when she wasn’t close. He didn’t sleep well, didn’t eat right.

  Her low whiskey-smooth voice came back to him. “I know. I miss you the same. I also know, thanks to Pearly’s latest call, that you’ve been working night and day. When I get home you’re going to spend some time in bed. So stock up on ice cream and frozen pizza because I’m not cooking and you won’t be dressed enough to go out for food.”

  He laughed. “Promise?”

  “Promise.” She made the little sound she always made when she needed his touch. “Now tell me about your case.”

  He knew what she was doing. Pulling him back to the day, even though they’d both be thinking of the night after she made it home. “All right. Not much to tell. Two hay barns burned on the Bar W. No owners there except Reid, and if crimes were solved by votes, he’d win the rap. His cowhands hate him, and the men he brought in to basically kick everyone off the land don’t seem to like him much, either.”

  “What else?”

  “We found a body in one of the burned barns. Could have been someone sleeping it off, but the back barn door was locked from the outside. If the guy was alive when the fire started, he may have been trapped. If he was dead, we’re dealing with a murder, and whoever set the fires might have been trying to cover up his crime.”

  “Have you heard from Reid’s father? You know, the one you claim collects women like some people do stamps. One wife from every country.”

  “Reid said he’s in Europe and doesn’t want to get involved with anything going on back in Texas. Handed over the ranch to him a few years ago. Said whatever happens to the place is Reid’s problem. The father is making so much money off the oil rights, he doesn’t much care about the land.”

  “Doesn’t Collins have another son?” Brandi sounded like she was fighting a yawn.

  “He does. Charley Collins. The old man disowned him years ago. Cut him off with nothing but the clothes he walked out of the headquarters wearing.”

  “Could he be causing the problem?” She was starting to sound sleepy. Police work always had that effect on Brandi. If she was having trouble sleeping, all he had to do was talk shop to her and she’d cuddle into his arms, sound asleep.

  “I don’t think Charley is involved. He’s happily married and owns Lone Heart Pass. It’s not a big spread, but they raise horses there. Sells them all over the world, I hear.”

  Brandi didn’t answer. He could hear her breathing. “Good night, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered into the phone. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

  He clicked off his phone and pulled back onto the highway.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when Blade Hamilton finally got a break from taking statements and could check on the county’s only prisoner. He felt like he was trapped in that movie Groundhog Day. He’d spent hours interviewing the same men he’d interviewed yesterday. Same men, same ranch, same burn sites, different body. Only difference was, they knew who this body belonged to. Coffer Coldman.

  When he’d asked each man he interviewed to describe Coffer, two of the cowboys said he was on the dumb side. One of the thugs said he was nosy, always asking questions.

  As Blade closed the notes and headed upstairs, he thought the repeat day would continue into night. It looked like he’d be sleeping in the same bed, in the same jail, with the same man, who shouldn’t even be there, pacing in the cell across from him.

  As he walked up the second flight, he thought about how he liked the county’s one prisoner, Lucas Reyes. Blade was a few years older, but they were about the same size. They might come from different backgrounds, but they’d talked enough last night that they’d each developed a respect for the other.

  Reyes had said he admired Blade for being brave enough to fight fires and Blade had decided that Lucas was one of the good lawyers who really tried to make a difference.

  In all the hours they’d talked, Reyes had only made one comment about the barn fires. He’d told Blade that the fires might have been some kind of warning, or maybe a nudge to get Reid moving. Someone wanted the ranch closed, fast.

  When Blade unlocked the second door to the jail cells, he almost didn’t recognize the place. The table in the middle was full of food and clothes were hanging from the bars.

  “What’s up?” Blade asked. “You moving in?” Both cells now had several blankets and pillows. There was a stack of magazines higher than at any doctor’s office and books lying on the floor.

  Lucas shrugged. “What can I say? I’m from a big family. Plus, I know most of the folks in town. Everyone, including two of my old teachers, has dropped by. A few even demanded Pearly let me out.” Lucas laughed. “She said that duty was not in her job description.”

  Before Blade could ask, Lucas added, “Pearly let them all in and every time she climbed the stairs, she threatened to murder me if I had one more guest.”

  “You could leave, you know.”

  “I’m not leaving.” Lucas’s strong tone left no room for argument.

  A tap sounded from the open door into the jail cells, and Dice slipped in.

  Blade had enjoyed hours of the old guy’s tales between interviews, but was ready for a break. “What are you doing up here, Dice?” he asked. “I thought I left you to man the office in case someone else comes in to tell me what they didn’t see at the Bar W.”

  Dice shook his head as if he had a few loose vertebrae. “You left me down there alone with Pearly. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to be that much of a gentleman. I was tempted to steal a kiss every time she walked by in those two-inch heels.”

  Both Blade and Lucas grinned.

  Dice wiggled his tumbleweed eyebrows. “You wouldn’t believe the women who want a chance to take a roll of the Dice. By the time I was you boys’ age, I was looking twenty years older. Had to stop coming to town so I’d have enough energy to last the day at work.”

  Blade, who rarely laughed aloud, roared, and so did Lucas.

  The old man chuckled, proud of his one joke. He moved close to Lucas’s cell. “You want me to bust you out of this place, Lucas? I’m sure it’s hell behind those bars. I’ve known you all your life and you don’t belong in here, son.” He looked over at the table of food and saw a seven-layer orange cake. “Is that your momma’s cake? And are those Lupe’s tamales? I haven’t had them since the New Year’s party.”

  He helped himself to one, eating it in two bites. “On second thought, how about I break into this place and keep you company? I’ve been living on day-old doughnuts downstairs.”

  Dice nudged Blade out of the way and ate his way around the table. “You got to try these peanut butter patties. I can guess who made them but I might have to eat another one to be sure. They got enough sugar in them that your breath will sweeten your tea for a month.”

  “How about I leave you to guard the prisoner, Dice?” Blade ignored Lucas’s frown.

  “Sure,” Dice said with his mouth full. “Tell Pearly to bring a few coffees up. Man her phones while she’s up here taking a break. She needs to get off her feet for a while and I got the lap that’ll take her weight.”

  “Of course. Why not?” Blade said as he tapped an imaginary brim of a hat. “You’re the chaperone, Mr. Reyes.
”

  Blade was out the door, but he could hear Lucas yelling something about being tortured in prison.

  By the time Pearly climbed the stairs for her third break of the afternoon, the sheriff was back. He told Blade to take a few hours off and be back by seven. No need to bring meals.

  “I’m guessing I’m spending the night upstairs?” Blade tried to keep his voice even, like it didn’t matter, but Dakota had moved from a memory to an ache deep inside him. He felt like he was going through withdrawal as the hours piled up away from her.

  “You’re guessing right,” the sheriff said. “I could relieve you at two.”

  “No. I don’t have anywhere to sleep, anyway. I’ll drive out and check how the repairs at my place are going and then be back for the night. One of us should get a good night’s sleep.”

  Brigman didn’t try to talk him out of the night shift. The sheriff was already working twelve-hour days.

  Blade drove over to Dakota’s office in the tiny strip mall. She wasn’t there and neither were any of the boxes he’d ordered. If he had time, he’d drive back to Denver just to pick up clothes, but it didn’t look like deputies got more than a few hours off in a row.

  He tried to call Dakota to see if she’d collected any deliveries, but her cell went to voice mail. He wanted to hear her voice. He’d try again later.

  Next he stopped by his land. Jerry Cline and his crew were working hard on the bridge, and Jerry’s brother-in-law said he had the plumbing in the house operating fine in the kitchen and one bathroom. He also commented that they were counting dead squirrels in the house.

  Blade bumped his way across pasture, then the shallow creek that fed Indigo Lake and found enough boards to roll his bike into the bed of the rented truck. He tied the hog down, hating to see his beautiful bike so damaged. It would take thousands to fix it up.

  “What about the house?” Jerry called from the bridge. “I could find guys to clean it out. Gut it if you like?”