Whispers of the Heart

by Woster, Barbara

Dalian’s eyes widened as realization dawned. Kat was alone and the assailant was still at large. Both men leapt from their chairs and dashed out the front door.

  “Follow me. My siren will ensure no one stops us or gets in our way,” Jonathan shouted, as both men raced to their respective vehicles. The sheriff’s siren sounded even before his Jeep began moving. Without slowing to check for on-coming traffic, both men darted onto the main road and sped toward Dalian’s ranch near Wind River Canyon.

  Dalian threw his Jeep into park seconds before the sheriff threw his own Jeep into park. Both men quickly exited their vehicles and dashed up the front steps and into the house.

  “Kat,” Dalian called, taking the stairs two at a time. He pushed into Kat’s room and came to a quick halt, bending at the knees to catch his runaway breath; tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He stood after a minute and looked at the sheriff who entered behind him. “She’s safe,” he whispered, swiping the tears from his eyes. “Just sleeping.”

  The sheriff nodded and motioned with his head for Dalian to follow him from the room. Both men entered the hallway and were immediately met by Harvey and Mrs. Guthrie.

  “She’s sleeping soundly because I gave her something. She was too agitated to rest otherwise, with your being gone,” Mrs. Guthrie said immediately, addressing Dalian. “I was just telling Harvey what happened yesterday morning, when we heard you tear into the house.”

  “So, now that you’re back from your meeting, mind telling me what’s been going on since I left?” Harvey demanded. Dalian placed a finger on his lips, pulling the door closed behind him.

  He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and then seemed to realize suddenly that he was a ranch owner who had guests still to contend with, “Who do you have looking after the guests?” Dalian asked, making his way toward the study.

  “I have Achak doing that,” Harvey said, “not that anybody seems eager to do much right now. Since breakfast, they’ve all just been puttering around like lost sheep. It might be best if you and the sheriff fill them in. And we might consider sending them all home early.”

  “We won’t be doing that,” the sheriff interjected. “Has anybody attempted to pack up and leave?”

  Harvey looked at both men and his brow knitted in concern and confusion, “Not that I’m aware of, but I just got back early this morning. Mrs. Guthrie?” The housekeeper shook her head. Harvey turned his attention back to Dalian and the sheriff, “Either of you planning on telling me what’s going on?”

  “Yeah,” the sheriff replied, “we’ll fill you in, but let’s do it when we fill in the guests. Ok? That way I’m not repeating myself.”

  Harvey looked to Dalian who nodded in agreement with the sheriff, “Gather up the guests for me will you Harvey? Mrs. Guthrie, have the breakfast dishes been cleared away?” Mrs. Guthrie nodded. “Thank you. Harvey, have them meet in the dining room.”

  Half-hour later, a group of concerned vacationers filled the same room they’d only just departed from breakfast an hour earlier.

  “Before I turn this meeting over to Sheriff Masters, I just wanted everyone to know that Kat is doing fine, and will make a full recovery, as will I – obviously.” Dalian rubbed the back of his head softly and winced; and genuine smiles replaced looks of concern. Dalian wanted to say more, wanted to warn his patrons that there was a potential murderer still at large – possibly someone seated next to them – but decided it was best to let the sheriff handle that part of the news. “For more information related to all of this, I’ll turn the floor over to the Sheriff Jonathan Masters.”

  “Thanks Dalian.” The sheriff stood in front of the small number of people seated around and cleared his throat. “As you all know, there was an attempt made on Dalian’s life early yesterday morning, and possibly on the life of one of the other guest’s here, Kathryn McMurray.” Hands shot up to ask questions, as if at a lecture. The sheriff waved all hands down. “Please let me speak. If you still have questions that aren’t answered, I’ll do my best to answer them when I’m done.” Everyone lowered his or her hands and the sheriff cleared his throat again. “We thought we had two suspects in custody, but the alibis provided for each person proved solid. That means I have to assume that someone hereabouts still has a strong desire to bring harm to either Mr. Rivers or Miss McMurray. I can say that I don’t think any of you are in danger, but as we can’t be certain as to the identity of the assailant and/or to that person’s intended target, I need everyone to be alert. Never go anywhere without a partner. I will also be imposing a curfew and a bed check until this matter is resolved.”

  Hands shot up again, and the sheriff sighed loudly. “Okay, I’ll answer a few questions now.” He pointed to Cal Withers, seated to the front of the others.

  “You said that Kat is okay? I saw an ambulance transport her to the hospital, while we were all outside this morning. Will you allow us to go to the hospital to see her? Check on her well-being?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Cal,” Dalian interjected. “I brought Kat home this morning, because the doctor gave her a clean bill of health. She’s upstairs sleeping right now. As soon as she’s feeling up to it, I’ll permit guests to go up to talk to her. Jason?” Dalian pointed to another guest whose hand shot up the minute he finished speaking.

  “Why can’t we just pack up and go home? If we’re not in any danger?”

  The sheriff looked at Dalian and sighed before turning back to answer the question, “Because, my office has to clear you all as suspects.” The sheriff concluded, and the room erupted into cries of outrage and distress. Only one person maintained her calm and raised a hand to ask another question. The sheriff whistled shrilly to silence the chatter, and then called on Chloe to speak after everyone fell silent.

  “Ma’am, you have a question?”

  Chloe nodded, “The two suspects that you cleared. Was it Marsha Canton and her father? If not, I would definitely consider them as suspects before any of us since Marsha was serious about catching Dalian, and I heard that her father...”

  “They were cleared, yes,” the sheriff interjected, and Chloe’s calm facade cracked a little, her brow knitting in apprehension.

  “That means...,” she started, but the sheriff interrupted again.

  “There’s a possibility that someone in this room is responsible; or one of Mr. River’s ranch hands, or a complete stranger. Until we know who that someone is, we’ll all be staying. The ranch hands are being sequestered in the bunkhouse until they are interviewed and fingerprinted; so rest assured you are not the only people being detained. Furthermore, I have a call into the state police. Members of their force and my deputies will be along within the next hour. Throughout the remainder of the morning, they will circulate the room, asking questions and acquiring your fingerprints. You needn’t be concerned that your comfort will be overlooked during this time. After we finish with fingerprinting, you are free to roam about the ranch, but again, do not go anywhere alone, and please, do not try to leave. If anyone here wishes to contact an attorney prior to the start of this procedure, I highly recommend you contact them immediately.”

  The sheriff had no sooner finished that last statement, than people began yanking their cell phones from their pockets. A few people asked to be excused to go retrieve their Skype-enabled iPads from their rooms. With the flurry of activity from such a small number of people, the sheriff decided it best to cover his own ass. He stepped onto the front porch, pulled out his own cell phone, and dialed Wind River’s county judge. He would get the permission he needed now for taking fingerprints so none of the attorneys could cry foul. He saw his deputy sheriff approaching and waved him over.

  When he concluded the call, he turned to his deputy, “Judge Sanders is getting the paperwork together that we need to legally hold and fingerprint the people staying here at the ranch. I want you to get Nichols to pick it up and return it to the office. Have him give it to Deputy Mallory, with instructions she can fax it to attorneys if they dem
and to know how we’re not tramping on their clients’ legal rights. Tell her to expect the switchboard to be flooded, if all fifteen guests are contacting attorneys. She knows the song and dance. Finally, get in touch with the crime lab. Tell them to expect to be working nonstop until all persons fingerprints are run through the system. They should expect to get about thirty-five sets – that includes the vacationers and the ranch hands. I’ll inform patrons that they will be free to leave once they are cleared from our suspect list.”

  “Whew. I can’t remember the last time we had a crime of this magnitude here in Wind River.”

  “I can,” the sheriff muttered.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right,” the deputy murmured. “I guess this just seems so much bigger since there are so many more suspects. God, almighty! This is the second time something like this has happened to Dalian too.”

  “Yeah. People sure do seem to take a dislike to the man.”

  “I can’t see why. He’s a great guy, a hard worker, an honest businessman...”

  “Maybe it isn’t about him, personally.”

  “Then what the hell could it all be about?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what we’re here to find out. Go take care of that stuff, ok?”

  “Sure thing.”

  The sheriff returned to the dining room only to to have one of his deputies inform him that someone contacted the media instead of calling an attorney. The sheriff shook his head in anger and ordered all phones confiscated. The outrage that followed that order was borderline mob madness. He quickly reassured everyone that they would be allowed time to speak with their attorneys using the home’s landline, as needed – and under close supervision.

  An hour later, the state police arrived, followed by a horde of reporters.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was an easy matter to resolve. How could you have screwed up so badly!

  “It wasn’t easy, and I thought it was done!”

  Had it been done, it would have been done wrong. I never said ‘double homicide’ you moron.

  “Well if you’d given more than vague directions and been there to stop me messing up, it would have been done. But you’re always conveniently absent when it’s time to get hands dirty. I was barely even awake at that hour. How did you even know they were going to be out there?”

  Because I know everything. And now, because you are a first-rate screw up, the two patsies I’d chosen to take the rap, have air tight alibis, which means the cops are going to turn their focus on everyone else – including you.

  “If you knew everything, you’d have known the two patsies would have alibis and had me wait until they didn’t.” The voice fell silent, and for the first time in twenty years, a sense of empowerment swelled within. Perhaps age and knowledge made bravery achievable, making it possible to see the voice clearly for the first time – not as an all-knowing presence, rather as an impish, demanding child that had to have its own way or would pitch a hissy fit. Then what it said registered and fear and uncertainty returned.

  “Do you think they will see me as a suspect?” The tone whispered was reminiscent of the teenager twenty years ago – unsure and cowardly.

  Apologize. The voice said sullenly, and then we’ll discuss what’s to be done.

  “For what?”

  For being stupid and stupidly arguing with me. I’m the one in control here, not you. And if you don’t apologize, I will make certain that you’re blamed.

  Fear swelled again, “Not if you don’t let them. You’ve always made certain that I’m never a person of interest.”

  You’re worse than a moron; you’re imbecilic. Didn’t I just say that the reason you’ve never been looked at as a person of interest is because I always had pre-selected pawns on which to pin the murders? Now, there is no one and no way I can prevent them looking at you.

  “How do you do that anyway? How do you always know that there will be someone that we can steer the blame towards?”

  There is always someone, somewhere, whose life is seriously screwed up. Someone who’ll make a good suspect for a police inquiry. It’s just a matter of keeping eyes and ears open to find them. And find them I did; but now the cops know that they’re innocent. On top of that, I gave you specific instructions to follow and had you done so successfully, we’d be ready to move in on our latest conquest.

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you!”

  If it weren’t for me, your life wouldn’t be worth jack! You better not forget that!”

  “Right now, I can’t forget that the cops are fingerprinting everyone. How do I know the police won’t...?”

  Dunce is your middle name, not mine. I’ve been more than careful. They may find your juvie record, but unless they dig deep, they’ll be hard-pressed to connect you to any of the other deaths.

  “I hope you’re right, because if I get caught now, it’ll be your fault.”

  Oh, make no mistake, if you get caught, it will all be on you. But just so you know how partners work, I’ll be there the next time to help see it done, but time is getting short, so if I can’t make it, you’ll have to step up to the plate and hit more than a foul ball. You know you can’t screw it up again.

  “I won’t, but the cops are suspicious. Another attempt...”

  Better not fail! And this time, make certain you get rid of the right person. Now apologize, and stop thinking for yourself, or I’ll make you stop.

  “Sorry,” came the reply, but it was lacking sincerity, rather was delivered in the manner in which it was felt – tired and reluctant.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  It was no small feat keeping the reporters outside the ranch’s main gates, but his deputies managed successfully. That was one load off of the sheriff’s mind, since the main gate was so far from the main house. That meant nosy reporters with over-eager camera operators couldn’t interfere with his investigation; that the most they could do for their viewing audience, was speculate as to the flurry of activity, and about the flock of police officers who came and went – and speculate they did. Dalian and the sheriff watched the afternoon news and shook their heads as the reporter for their local media station confidently stated that, “While police refuse to comment on what has transpired here today, our sources reveal that tragedy has once more struck one of Wind River’s most affluent residents, Dalian Rivers.”

  Dalian reached for the remote and switched off the television, “They can be relentless, and just plain dumb. ‘Our sources reveal that tragedy has struck yet again’? More like they put two-and-two together since the cops are at my house – again.”

  “They have to feed the masses,” the sheriff snorted. “Speaking of the masses, I better go check on the progress being made. Everything appears to be progressing nicely, so I anticipate being out of your hair before lunch time.”

  “That’s all well and good, Sheriff, but what am I to do then? Somehow, I have to convince my guests to return to business as usual while we await fingerprint results; guests that are probably holding onto to their sanities by a thread. That’s a hard thing for me to focus on right now, when my only concern is protecting Kat and me. That may be selfishness talking, but that’s the truth of the matter.”

  “Let me worry about the guests, Dalian,” Harvey said, stepping into the room. “You’re right that your primary concern should be looking after Kat. Besides, I’m the one who generally takes care of the guests during this time of year anyway, while you manage the ranch, so now that I’m back, I can do my job.”

  “I’ll let you two hammer out those details,” the sheriff said, moving toward the door. “My worry is catching a potential murderer, not keeping the guests happy. I will try to hurry things along though, to try to get things back to normal around here as quick as possible. There will be a couple of extra guests for you to be looking after, Harvey – wearing uniforms. They’ll be here to make certain no one tries to leave, and also to help Dalian with keeping Kat and himself sa
fe.”

  “Thanks Jonathan,” Dalian replied.

  “Mighty welcome.”

  When the sheriff left, Dalian turned back to Harvey, “How was the funeral? How’s your Mom holding up?”

  “She’s a strong woman with a positive outlook on life, so losing Dad, while hard, wasn’t an end-all. He’d been sick for a long time too, so she’d been preparing for this day for over a year.”

  “What about you? You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m good. I’ll miss the old man, but I was prepared too.” Harvey settled into a chair and looked up at his friend, “Have any theories?”

  “About?”

  “You damned well know what about.”

  “My theory was shot to hell as soon as the sheriff cleared the Cantons. I can’t even begin to fathom who would want to hurt Kat and me. Where’s the motive? She’s been here less than three weeks. We’ve only just come to an understanding this past week.”

  “So I see,” Harvey grinned. “About time you got back into the game.”

  Dalian grinned, “Yeah, well, I was the one running all the moves and making all the passes, so it wasn’t an easy understanding, I can tell you that! But she’s a special lady, and I can’t even tell you why.”

  “There’s just something about her that called to you; whispered to your heart.”

  Dalian nodded. “Yeah, just like with me and Carolyn, and you and Scarlett. Think anyone will whisper to your heart again, old man?”

  “My heart’s too old, but I keep its ears free of wax, just in case some pretty lady starts talking.”

  Dalian laughed, “I think we’ve done beaten that analogy to death, so change of subject. How are you planning to keep our guests entertained when the police are roaming the place and all anyone can think about is a possible killer roaming free? If it were up to me, I’d refund their money and send them all packing, but as that doesn’t appear to be an option...”

  “Well, as you said, it may not be business as usual, but maybe I can consult with them. See what they want to do about it all. With a little persuasion, they might just decide the distraction of a daily routine is preferable to sitting about frettin’. I know I’d find it preferable.”