by Janet Dailey
Beau’s gaze flickered toward Natalie. Her eyes were big and frightened. Her mouth formed the word Go!
Reining in the urge to drop the man to his knees with a well-placed jab, Beau took a step toward the door. “I didn’t come here to cause trouble for either of you. I’ll be going now. Thanks again for your help, Natalie.”
Tearing his gaze away from her, he strode out the door to his truck. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he backed into the street and switched on the radio. As he headed out of town, he punched in a country music station and cranked the volume up so loud that it almost hurt his ears. He’d hoped the pounding noise would drown out the thoughts in his head—wanting Natalie, worrying about her, knowing he couldn’t allow her problems to become his. It didn’t work. The music’s blare became annoying. He switched the radio off.
Natalie faced her husband across the clinic’s small reception room. “That was uncalled for, Slade,” she said. “Beau’s an old friend and he had a legitimate reason for coming here today. Beyond that, there’s nothing going on between us.”
“Nothing, my aunt Maggy’s ass!” He crushed the can in his fist and flung it to the floor. “I know you went tearing off to Lubbock to be with him. Did you think that because I was on the road I wouldn’t hear about that?”
“Stop it!” Natalie’s fist came down on the counter, hard enough to hurt. “Will was snakebit and had to be Life Flighted to Lubbock. Beau rode along in the helicopter. The hospital was out of antivenin, so I rushed there with what I had. That’s all there was to it. Call the hospital if you don’t believe me! Ask anybody who was there!”
“Like I’d want people to know I was checking up on my wife!”
Seething, she drew herself up, chin thrust at a defiant angle. “I’ve been completely faithful to you, Slade. The whole time we’ve been married, I’ve never strayed once, never even come close. Can you say the same for yourself?”
The moment the last question was out of her mouth, Natalie realized what she’d just said. She saw Slade’s expression harden, saw the color deepen in his handsome, fleshy face. And suddenly, in a flash of insight, what she’d been denying for years became brutally clear.
“Good Lord, that’s what’s behind all this,” she said in a strangled voice. “That’s why you’re so suspicious of me. You’ve been cheating all along, haven’t you?”
His mouth flattened into a grim line. “You bitch!” he snarled, lunging for her. Natalie sprang away, but he caught her wrist and yanked her back toward him. “I’ll teach you to talk that way to your husband—” His hand came up, only to freeze as the front door opened.
“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry.” It was the little old lady with the blue hair and lavender pantsuit. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. “I was just looking for my glasses. I believe I may have left them on that counter.”
With an explosive breath and a muttered oath, Slade stalked past the woman and out the front door. A moment later, Natalie heard his pickup backing out of the garage and roaring down the street.
Beau arrived at the ranch to find a van from a local TV station parked in front of the house. Pulling up next to the vehicle, he turned off the engine and slid out of the driver’s seat. A perky blond reporter sat on the front porch swing, talking with Lute as a cameraman videotaped the interview. Beau could hear her as he walked closer.
“Other people have claimed the girl was a prostitute, Mr. Fletcher. What do you have to say to that?” She was actually smiling, tilting her face to get the best angle for the camera.
Lute was hunched into himself, looking wretched. His skinny arms clutched his ribs, and he appeared to be on the verge of tears. Beau had never punched a woman, but as he strode toward the porch, the urge was there.
“She wasn’t what they say,” Lute mumbled. “She was a nice girl. Nice to everybody. She even let me take her out for pizza.”
“I understand you were one of the last to see her alive,” the blonde continued in a voice so upbeat that she might have been covering a child’s birthday party. “How did you feel when you found her body?”
Lute hunched deeper, not answering.
“Mr. Fletcher, please tell us exactly how you felt. A million viewers out there are wanting to know.”
Beau had reached the porch. Moving to block the camera, he glowered down at the reporter. “This interview is over,” he snapped. “You and your crew have five minutes to get off this property before I have you arrested for trespassing.”
“I beg your pardon!” The reporter’s eyebrows shot up. Her eyes were the brilliant artificial blue of colored contact lenses. “This is a free country, and we have every right to—”
“I have every right to sue you for harassing my employee in my place of business. Lute, get back to work. You don’t have to talk to these human scavengers.”
As Lute scurried off, Beau was dimly aware that the cameraman had moved and was filming him from the side. He’d probably end up on the evening news, but right now he was too mad to care. As for his legal threat, he had no idea whether it had any teeth, but for now, at least, it seemed to have worked. The cameraman had gathered up his gear and was headed for the van. The reporter followed, mincing down the steps in her high-heeled sandals and tight yellow skirt. But the most satisfying sight was the rear of the van vanishing down the long graveled drive.
They’d be back, and more like them, Beau reminded himself. He was going to have his hands full. But for now he wanted to visit the bog, just in case the local law enforcement team had missed something.
Saddling a horse and strapping on a pistol, he set out cross-country for the bog. Taking the pickup would’ve been faster, but in a moving vehicle it would be too easy to miss things like tracks or bottle caps or cigarette butts. And the day was warm and sunny, perfect for riding. Quail scurried out of his way, calling from the underbrush. The light breeze carried the aromas of sage and cedar and the earthy smell of cattle.
A good half mile before he reached the bog, he could smell it. The girl’s body was gone, of course, but the seeping earth and rotting plant matter carried a fetid odor that lingered like a miasma. As he scanned the ground, he wondered why he even bothered to look. The rusty earth was crisscrossed with tire tracks from news crews, law enforcement vehicles, and curious spectators. And before the body had been found, there’d been cattle and horses all over the countryside.
Today the place was eerily quiet, the only signs of life a pair of red-winged blackbirds flashing among the cattails and the ever-present gnats forming a cloud over the water. Beau tethered his horse and walked toward the edge of the bog. The damp ground was trampled with boot prints. There was no way to tell if any of them had belonged to the killer. Aside from the pleasant ride, this adventure had likely been a waste of time.
The tracks were thickest at the spot where the body had lain. Beau stared into the hollow where the winter reeds remained bent and flattened. He hadn’t known Jessica Warner, but he sensed a hard life that, given the chance, might have been turned into something decent. Her killer had robbed her of that chance, stealing not only her life but also her future.
Dropping to a crouch, he used a stick to probe the soggy reeds. No sign of blood. The girl had almost certainly been dumped here. But why? If she’d been killed in Blanco, there were plenty of closer places to leave a body. Had the killer wanted her to be discovered on the ranch?
“Find anything, Beau?” The deep voice was friendly in tone, but it startled Beau enough to make him turn and grab for his pistol. His nerves unclenched as he recognized Hoyt Axelrod.
“My deputies have been over this place with a fine-tooth comb. But if fresh eyes can find something, I’d say knock yourself out.” Axelrod nodded. “How’s your brother doing after that snakebite?”
“Will’s mending, thanks. But I’ve got my hands full, trying to run things without him. Especially now.”
Axelrod scowled down at the crushed reeds. “Damned shame. She was a sweet little thing, even if she was
a whore. This is just between us, but she had a packet of cocaine on her, tucked in her bra, when they brought her in. You’re with the DEA, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “So you’re thinking this thing could be drug-related ?”
“Makes as much sense as anything else. We dusted the packet, but it was clean. Didn’t even have the girl’s prints on it. And if she’d had recent sex, consensual or otherwise, there wasn’t enough DNA for a decent sample. If you’re nosing around on your own, I hope you’ll let us know what you find. She was somebody’s lost daughter, and she deserves justice.”
“I agree. And the fact that she was dumped on Rimrock land makes this personal. I’ll keep you posted if you’ll do the same for me.”
“Consider it done. And give my best to your brother.” With a departing handshake, the sheriff wandered back to where he’d parked his tan Jeep Cherokee in the cedars. Minutes later, Beau heard the growl of the engine and the crunch of underbrush as he drove away. Had Axelrod been waiting for the killer to return to the scene of the crime? Had someone watching the ranch radioed him that a rider was getting close? Was he under suspicion now?
Walking with his eyes on the ground, he made a slow circle around the bog. In his work as a DEA agent, Beau had learned not to make assumptions. At this point in the investigation, everyone was a suspect and nothing could be ruled out.
Beau didn’t expect to find much here. The ground was trampled all the way around the bog, all visible evidence collected. But the walk did give him a chance to think.
The little packet of cocaine on the girl had to be a plant. She wouldn’t have put it in her bra without leaving prints on it. But was it a distraction? A frame-up of some kind? A warning?
And the motive? Had the girl known too many secrets? Had she blackmailed some client with too much to lose? Had jealousy driven someone to kill her?
The answers weren’t here, on this malodorous patch of ground. He needed to check out the place where she’d worked and the people who’d known her. That would mean paying a visit to the Blue Coyote. But that could wait till evening. For now, he would ride up the canyon to the pasture where Sky and the men were rounding up cattle. They could use another hand, and he could use some good, hard physical work.
Tori filled two tall glasses with iced tea, carried them to the kitchen table, and sat down across from her friend. She’d known for years that Natalie’s marriage was unhappy, but she’d never seen her so agitated.
“What do you want to do about Slade?” she asked gently. “Divorce him?”
Natalie’s face was ashen, but her eyes were tearless. “You know I’ve never believed in divorce. But I never expected anything like this to happen. I want to do the right thing, Tori, but I don’t know what that is anymore. That’s why I’m here. You’re not just my best friend. You’re also my lawyer.”
“You’re sure he’s been cheating on you?”
“He didn’t deny it. And he went crazy when I accused him. If that woman hadn’t walked in when she did, I don’t know what he’d have done to me.” She took a sip of the tea, struggling to keep her composure. “It all makes sense—the late nights, the way he smelled when he came in, things that I was too deep in denial to notice. Are you suggesting I need evidence?”
“If you go through with the divorce, it might help. You and Slade built your house and the clinic together. I’m guessing his name’s on everything you own.”
Natalie wilted, her shoulders sagging. “I hadn’t thought of that. Slade inherited his trucking business before we were married. That’s his. But the house is in both our names, and my clinic’s attached. He could force me to sell it out of sheer spite and take half the money.”
Setting the glass on the table, she shook her head in quiet despair. “I can’t believe I’m even talking about this, Tori. You went through a divorce. And with a child. How on earth did you manage?”
The memory flickered in Tori’s mind. She blocked it. Will’s settlement had been more than fair, but still, the breakup of their marriage had been the most heart-wrenching experience of her life.
“Every divorce is different,” Tori said. “But no divorce is easy. I’ll help you any way I can, but before you go ahead with this, you need to look at what you’re facing and be sure it’s what you want.”
Natalie stared down at the dissolving ice cubes in her tea. “You’re right. I do need to be sure. Today I’m still in shock. A decision like this one needs to be made with a cool head.”
Tori nodded. “Talk to me before you do anything rash. And don’t push any boundaries with Slade while you’re alone with him. I know he’s got a temper.”
“I’ll be all right. Slade can get pretty loud when he’s mad, but he always cools down, and he’s never hit me.”
“You said he came close.”
“Don’t worry, I know Slade. I can handle him.”
“What about Beau?”
Natalie’s head came up. Color flamed in her pale cheeks. “Beau has nothing to do with this.”
“Evidently that’s not what Slade thinks. Be careful, Natalie. Don’t give Slade any reason to think there’s something going on between you two.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Natalie shook her head vehemently. “Beau can’t be a part of this. Not even if Slade and I separate. Slade threatened to kill him if he comes near me. Not that he would, but I can’t take that chance. I don’t want Beau hurt.”
“Do you still love Beau, Natalie?”
She stiffened in her chair, her chin squared. “When Beau joined the army, he asked me to wait for him. Like a fool, I did. I waited years, but he never came back. Never called. Never wrote.”
Natalie’s voice broke on the last few words. Looking flustered, she glanced at her watch and pushed away from the table. “I have a man bringing in a mare with hoof thrush at three. I’ve got to go.”
Tori rose with her, giving her friend a quick hug. “Be careful. If you feel threatened in any way, leave the house and call me. Or just come to my house. Day or night.”
Tori stood at the window and watched her friend drive away. Love was a bitch, she thought. Once you gave your heart, you never quite got it all the way back. She’d seen the tears in Natalie’s eyes as she walked down the church aisle to marry Slade. And she knew who’d put them there.
As for herself, she’d had plenty of men to choose from since her divorce from Will, including Congressman Garn Prescott. But Will was the father of her child, and somehow he towered above them all.
At least she had Erin, Tori reminded herself. Her daughter had been worth the pain a hundred times over. But Natalie had no children. She was miserable with Slade, and now, suddenly Beau had shown up again. As she turned away from the window, a dark premonition crept over her. Something bad was going to happen. And she couldn’t make that feeling go away.
CHAPTER 7
It was 8:35 p.m. when Beau ambled into the Blue Coyote and slid into an empty booth. Not wanting to stand out, he hadn’t taken the time to clean up after the roundup. His boots were scuffed, his jaw stubbled, his clothes caked with sweat and dust. He looked like any one of the two dozen or so cowboys who’d wandered in for a cold beer after a long day’s work. But he wasn’t fooling himself. Anybody who’d spent much time in the county would know the Tylers. And despite the layer of grit, they’d be aware of who he was.
The bar had been here for as long as Beau could remember. But the new owner had spruced it up some. Call it a woman’s touch. The autographed photos and retro country music memorabilia on the walls lent atmosphere, if not class. And for a weeknight, business looked pretty good. The bar stools were all occupied and the clickety-clack of pool balls blended with the blaring country music.
Jasper had filled Beau in on the woman who’d paid cash for the place two years ago. So Beau was prepared when she sauntered up to his table.
“I like getting to know my customers, cowboy.” She looked to be in her early forties, her voluptuous body stuffed into a den
im blouse trimmed with rhinestones and a skirt short enough to show off shapely legs clad in red cowgirl boots. Her wavy auburn hair was too bright to be natural, her makeup laid on with a too-heavy hand. Still, she wasn’t a bad-looking woman. The most attractive thing about her was her voice, husky-rich like a New Orleans blues singer’s.
“Beau Tyler.” Beau gave her a gentlemanly nod. “And I take it you’re Stella.”
“That’s right. And I knew who you were as soon as you walked in.” She flashed him an overtly sexy grin. Was it an invitation or just practicing good business? “I’d sit down and join you, but I’m doing double duty as hostess and waitress tonight. You know about poor little Jess, of course.”
“Heard anything new about the case?”
“No more than you. But I hope they catch the bastard who did it. I’d like to take a few whacks at him myself. She was a sweet kid.” Her green eyes narrowed. “I heard tell you’re DEA?”
“I’m on a leave of absence.”
“So you’re not here chasing drug dealers?” Her tone was playful, but Beau sensed something behind the questions. He remembered what the sheriff had told him about the cocaine.
“My brother’s in the hospital, so I’m playing rancher in his absence, chasing cows instead of drugs. Today I’ve worked up a powerful thirst. What’ve you got that’s wet and cold?”
“I can bring you a Corona. Free to first-time customers, especially handsome ones—that is, if you promise to come back.”
“You’ve got my promise.” Beau gave her a wink, taking in the sway of her full rump as she moved off.
Pretending to study the photos on the wall, he watched her sashay around the bar and whisper something to the bartender. The man glanced toward him, frowning. Now there was another type. Tattooed arms, shaved head. Nigel, somebody had called him. Despite the name, he looked more Eastern European than British. Not that Beau believed for a minute the name was real. If he could sneak a photo with his cell phone, he could ask a friend at the DEA to run a background check. But something told him the man wouldn’t just stand still and pose. Getting a picture would take some careful moves.
