by D'Ann Lindun
“No one seems to know where Martin went, or why. He doesn't get along with the sheriff in town and I doubt they'd lift a finger to look for him.”
“Why's that?” He sounded interested, but not judgmental.
“Because my father and brother didn't always follow the rules,” she admitted in a rush of honesty. What was she saying? Her father had never followed any rules. Ramon Castillo had lived life the way he saw fit, with no thought to society's restrictions or conventions. If he wanted to ignore his wife, he did. If he wanted to pretend his daughter didn't exist, he did. He hadn't given a rat's ass about being arrested time and again for interfering with the government. His stints in jail hadn't changed him one bit. If anything, they only made him more determined to do what he wanted.
“What did they do that the sheriff didn't like?” Jake asked.
“My dad thought he was above the law,” she told him. “Was arrested countless times for sabotaging the BLM agents who oversee the wild horse herds. And Martin was just as determined as Papa to save the horses.”
“Save them from what?”
A wave of old bitterness flooded her as she remembered the way her father and brother shut her and Mama out of their lives. “They worship wild horses more than anything. Both my father and brother have made it their life's work to save the mustangs from slaughter. Government interference enrages—enraged—them. In their opinion, the wild horses should be free. Some of their methods have been . . . extreme.”
“But isn't it true that if the government doesn't step in and remove some of the horses, won't they overpopulate the area and starve to death?” He used the same argument she herself had on more than one occasion with Papa and Martin. But an outsider preaching about mustangs annoyed her all the same.
“Yeah, that's right.” Her tone grew short. “But the public doesn't know the whole truth about what happens to the horses.”
“Which is?” He almost sounded like he cared.
“The horses are offered for adoption through government sponsored auctions. That's great. But what happens to the horses not adopted is so sad. They used to be shipped off to holding pens, feedlots, where they spent the rest of their lives. The law just changed so some of them can be sold at public sales. They often end up at meat packing plants in Mexico and Canada. It's not right, and I agree with Martin that there's got to be a better way.” Her voice sounded brittle even to her own ears.
Castaña felt his eyes on her, but she kept her own gaze firmly on the horizon. If she met his eyes, he'd see her resentment that still lingered after all these years.
“How far would your dad and brother go to keep the horses safe?”
Still staring at the dark purple hills, she shrugged. “I don't know everything.”
She risked a glance at him and he nodded, waiting for her to continue.
It shouldn't hurt after all this time, but the wound still throbbed like a fresh cut. Her tone went bleak. “My mother died eight years ago. There wasn't anything wrong with her that we knew of, but her heart just gave up. Papa took off, didn't even come to the funeral. Two months later, a hiker discovered his body in a canyon. We don't know how he got there, or why.”
“I'm sorry.” He sounded like he meant it. Most folks around here hadn't spent much sympathy on Ramon Castillo.
“Me too.” Her throat tightened. “Martin's all I have left.”
“When's the last time you heard from your brother?”
“Christmas.” She closed her eyes, willing away the memory of their last argument. She blinked away the tears building behind her eyelids. “I've gone on too long about me and my crazy family. Are you feeling better?”
He shifted and their thighs bumped together. “Yeah. A little.”
“You've got to tell the sheriff about what happened to your stuff. It might be related to Martin's disappearance.”
“I doubt it,” Jake said. “But there's no point. I can't tell him enough to start an investigation. I just want to forget it. I won't be dumb enough to camp alone again.”
“You went camping by yourself? Why?” She supposed some people would camp solo. Just not most that she knew.
“Ever been to Phoenix?” he countered. “There's a lot to be said for being alone.”
“Is there someone at home who'll be worried about you?” An attractive man like him wouldn't stay single for long. A little bug of jealousy jumped around in her stomach. “A wife? A girlfriend?”
“Don't have either.” He shrugged. “Too busy.”
An image of his nearly nude body leapt into her mind. He wouldn’t have a hard time finding female companionship. Her heart skipped a beat, but she ignored it. “What do you do?” He hesitated just long enough to make her wonder if he was honest. “This and that.”
She arched her brows at him. “Really? And what exactly does 'this and that' entail?” She wasn't going to bare her soul to have him elude the simplest questions. “I, for instance, train working cow horses.”
“Really? Tell me about it.”
His diversion tactics were almost working. She loved talking about horses, their bloodlines, their records, and their owners. She could spend hours thinking about her favorite subject, but right now Jake interested her more. “Do you work with horses, too?” She used her sweetest voice. He grinned and her breath caught. What had she asked him?
“You aren't going to give up, are you?” He sounded resigned and she knew she'd won.
“No.”
He sighed. “Okay. Fair is fair. I'm an IRS agent. I have the most boring job in the world. Now do you understand why I'm reluctant to talk about it? Compared to what you do, my life isn't very exciting.”
Castaña's jaw went slack. In her mind, all tax people were nerds. Jake didn't come close to being a nerd. Unless one counted Clark Kent as a nerd. The comparison was accurate, she realized. All she could come up with was, “I'm sorry.” She let the fact he was a taxman sink in for a minute. Then she grinned at him. “Did the people who trashed your camp know what you do?”
He grinned back and her pulse throbbed. “I don't know. I doubt it. My guess is they were on the lookout for someone to steal from. Maybe they needed drug money or something. I don’t see why they would have targeted me.”
“You need to report them,” Castaña said. “And go to the doctor, too.”
“Didn't we cover this earlier? I don't need a doctor. It looks worse than it feels, and the sheriff doesn't sound like a peach.”
“He's not, but he does want to keep this area crime free. A lot of tourists come here and if they're being robbed they aren't going to come rushing in.”
“I get that,” Jake said. “Okay, I'll fill out a report. Then I need to get a ride back to my campsite so I can gather up what's left of my stuff.”
“I'm sorry, but I can't take you.”
“No problem. I'll call Triple A after I speak to the sheriff.” He smiled and her pulse sped up. “Satisfied?”
Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER THREE
The closer Castaña drove to Payson the bigger the knot of apprehension in her stomach grew. Stranger or not, having Jake along helped. She glanced at him. He had his head turned, looking out the window. A faint shadow grazed his jaw. She let her gaze drop to his hand resting on his thigh. She’d like it on her thigh. She swallowed. Ridiculous. She made an effort to focus on the task ahead.
Talking to the police was the last thing she wanted to do, but she needed to fill out a missing person's report, and Jake needed to tell someone about the vandalism to his camp. Rare rain clouds hung over the skyline turning the enormous pine trees lining the highway a darker shade than their normal silvery green. A cool breeze blew through the open windows, and Toby Keith blasted out of the CD player.
The city had grown in the past six years. She hoped the sheriff was new, too. Whoever he was, he would no doubt recognize her last name from the many times he'd arrested Papa or Martin.
Turning off Main Street, she parked in fron
t of the sheriff's office and took a few deep breaths. Her knuckles bent around the steering wheel were white. Calm down, it's just a report. In her family, cops had always been the enemy. Coming to arrest Papa, Martin or both.
Her knees shook as they walked in together. After telling the receptionist what they needed, they were directed to separate rooms. A wave of fear washed over her, and for a brief moment, Castaña wished Jake could stay with her.
She stared at posters with slogans like “Just say no!” and “Drugs Kill” until a young Latino officer came in and offered his hand. “Deputy Perez. What can I do for you?” He glanced at the papers in his hand. “It says here your brother's missing?”
“Yes.” She let out the pent-up breath she'd been holding. “My brother's name is Martin Castillo. His girlfriend hasn't heard from him for a few days and she called me. I want to file a missing person’s report.”
“Martin is your brother, you said?” The officer fiddled with the sheaf of papers. “When did you last speak with him?”
“I haven't heard from him since the holidays.” She twisted her fingers together. She should've called to apologize, but Martin was so stubborn. He hadn't called or made any move to heal the rift either.
“Wait here a minute.” He left the room.
What was that all about? How difficult could it be to fill out some paperwork and get someone looking for Martin?
Deputy Perez returned, followed by a gray-haired man in street clothes. “Miss Castillo?” Deputy Perez indicated the other man. “FBI agent Keith Staton.”
“I understand you've come in with information about Martin Castillo,” the agent said.
She managed to shake Staton's dry hand while her incredulous gaze shot between him and Perez. She’d come to them for help, and as usual, gotten nothing but the runaround. Just another couple of cops out to get one of her family members. Her stomach churned acid. “Martin is gone, yes. I’d like your help in finding him.”
Staton's gray eyes locked on her face. “You're Martin Castillo's sister?”
“Yes.” She massaged her throbbing temple with her fingertips. “That’s what I said.”
“You're not aware of what happened with him?”
“I know he's been gone . . . what are you implying?” She dropped her hand to her thighs and pressed her palms to them to hide her trembling. “You mentioned FBI?” Her head spun. Perez didn't say a word, just continued to stand by the desk like a statue and stare at her. Same old thing, guilty by association. He must've already weighed and judged her and found her guilty. Just like every other cop she'd ever met. A sour taste filled her mouth.
“Your brother is,” Agent Staton drew her attention back to him, “wanted by local law enforcement and the Arizona Bureau of Investigations.”
Fear clogged her throat and she could hardly force the words out. “Why?”
“Maybe you could tell us.”
Why was he talking in circles? “I don't know anything.” She swiped damp palms down her legs. “I drove in from Dallas yesterday to look for my brother. I came down here this morning to talk to y'all before I start searching for him on my own.” Her shaking intensified. “Do you know something about Martin?”
Staton ignored her questions. “Where do you work? Can someone verify your whereabouts on Saturday?”
“Sun Dial Working Cow Horses in Dallas. My boss's name is Joe Winston. I rode all day last Saturday and drove here Sunday and Monday. I came straight in here this morning.”
Staton nodded at Perez and he faded out of the room. Castaña barely noticed Deputy Perez leaving she was so focused on Staton. “Well? What about my brother?”
Staton eyed her for a long moment, and then seemed to make up his mind about something. “We need to talk to him about two murdered BLM agents.”
Castaña closed her eyes and fell back against the chair. It was all too much to take in. Had Martin finally snapped? Had he killed some of the people responsible for rounding up his beloved mustangs? A moan slipped out of her. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” Staton said coldly.
She blinked back tears. “What happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” He sounded a little less intimidating. “We know two BLM agents—”
“Did they have something to do with wild horses?”
He gave a quick nod. “Yeah. How'd you know?”
From a lifetime of knowing when a policeman showed up, it always had something to do with mustangs. “Where did this happen?”
Before Staton could answer, Deputy Perez stuck his head in the door. “I made the call. Miss Castillo's story checks out. Her boss verified her story and gave me a list of five other people who could back her up as well.”
Castaña glared at him. “Satisfied?”
Staton seemed unfazed by her anger. “Just doing our job. What do you know about your brother that could help us bring him in?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. Martin might be a little unhinged when it came to protecting his beloved mustangs, but he wouldn't commit murder. “Nothing.”
“That's not very helpful, Miss Castillo.” Staton toyed with a pen on the desk. “The bodies were discovered at the bottom of Sky Rock Trail. Near Angel Falls. We know your brother was in the same area that morning. No one's seen him since. We want to talk with Martin and find out what he knows.”
“He could be camping or trailing wild horses. He does that a lot.” She defended Martin, but her insides shook.
“Again, we just want to talk to him. If you hear anything, have him call me.”
“It sounds to me like you've already made up your mind,” she shot back, “even before all the facts are in.”
He showed a feral smile. “I've got plenty of facts, ma'am. Your brother has an arrest record as long as my leg. He has a long history of disagreeing with the government on the wild horse issue.”
“Neither of those things means Martin murdered anyone.” She stood. “Who do I see about filling out a missing person's report?”
“There's no need. Every cop in this county is on the lookout for your brother.”
“Can I go now?” she asked in an acid tone.
Staton waved a hand toward the door. “Don't leave town.”
As she reached for the door handle, Perez said, “Miss Castillo, we’ll be out later today to look around your place. This isn’t personal, you know.”
“Save it,” she said coldly. “Just stay the hell out of my way.”
He placed a hand on the door. “This might not be all bad.”
“Why's that?”
“Because I'm willing to ask questions first and shoot later.”
She didn't answer. Too angry with him to speak, she turned over this new development. Sure Martin would turn horses out of holding corrals, pour sugar in gas tanks, maybe even shoot his gun in the air to scare off BLM agents. But murder?
He would have had to change a great deal to become a cold-blooded killer.
Numb, Castaña stomped through the station, forgetting all about Jake until he appeared at her elbow. At his sympathetic expression, she almost stumbled. “That good, huh?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She hurried to her truck, Jake on her heels. At the door, she turned to him. “How’d it go for you?”
He shrugged. “So-so. Not much they can do at this point. I called Triple A. They’re going to pick up the truck and haul it to a station. It’s going to take a week to fix it.”
“That’s rough.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
They both got in and she started the engine. “Where can I drop you?”
“The Starlight Motel will be fine.”
She bit her lip as an idea occurred to her. She had to go out in the woods to look for Martin. Maybe an extra set of eyes and ears around the ranch would be useful. “Why don’t you stay at my house? I won’t be there, but you’re welcome to camp out for a while. There’s food, a hot shower, a bed—” She blushed. Why did she
go so gooey around this man?
“Love to.”
~*~
When Castaña drove into the ranch, there was no sign of Briar Rose. The front door stood wide open, but Martin's Chevy junker was gone. Parking her truck by the barn, Castaña stepped out and hurried for the house.
Something felt wrong, and her hair stood on end.
Jake, too, seemed on high alert. He told her to follow him as they went inside the house.
Inside, nothing moved or made a noise. Where was Briar Rose? Had she gone to find Martin?
She stepped into the living room, stumbled to a stop and gasped. The house had been trashed. Every drawer opened, dumped and scattered across the floor. The furniture overturned, the bottoms slashed. Pictures torn from the walls and the backs ripped off. Her fisted hand went to her mouth. “My God.”
Behind her, Jake said, “Don’t go any farther. Let me look for Briar Rose.”
Briar Rose. Lord. Was she okay?
Castaña’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. She went to the door and watched Staton and Perez climb out of a tan sedan and walk toward her. “Mind if I take a look around the rest of the house?” Staton pulled a sheaf of papers from his back pocket. “We have a warrant.”
“You’re just in time,” she pinned him with a tight stare. “Agent.”
Jake appeared at her elbow and gave a little shake of his head. She heaved a sigh of relief.
Staton looked at Jake. “Are you related to Miss Castillo?”
“A friend.”
Staton looked as if he didn’t believe him, but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned to Castaña. “This is your brother’s primary residence?”
“Yes. Come see.” She led the way inside and pointed to the mess. “This happened while we were gone. I have an alibi, so maybe this will convince you my brother is in danger.”
