Born to Die

by Winter Austin

  “I’ll go back to the department. Jolie’s probably out of her mind with worry right now, and I bet the phone is ringing off the hook.”

  “Whatever you do, keep this under wraps as long as you can. We don’t need an out of control circus with misinformation spreading like wildfire. If the killer is still around here, we want him to believe his dirty deed hasn’t been discovered yet.”

  “I know how to do my job, Boyce,” she snapped.

  “You do, but does Jolie Murdoch? She grew up around here, and her father is the former sheriff. Can she be trusted not to let it slip to the wrong person?”

  His doubts clouded Cassy’s brain. True, she was an outsider and could keep her job separate from her personal life; she’d been well-trained in that aspect living in the city. But Jolie was a hometown girl, new to the job in the department, and still learning the ways of being a cop. The public only needed to know what the public needed to know to avoid panic and disruptions in the investigation. And the Clydes were well known around here and well-liked.

  “I’ll take care of it. Keep an eye on Con.”

  Boyce gave her a curt nod, waited as she climbed back into the cab, then shut the door. He stepped away from the truck as she started the engine. Cassy stared at him a moment. Yeah, she knew he’d manipulated her to get his way, but she didn’t care. In a roundabout way, he’d given her a duty, a way out of this without making her look weak.

  The ease with which he’d done it made her shiver. Despite all her attempts to erase what The Priest had done to her, those manipulations had never disappeared. She was still weak-willed and gullible.

  And that made her burn with anger.

  • • •

  Cassy discovered a befuddled and panicking dispatcher at the sheriff’s department. Jolie was staring at the computer, each phone line blinking either red or green.

  “Jolie?”

  Startled, the younger woman jerked around. “Deputy Rivers, oh my God.” She pulled off the headset and let it drop on the desk. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep up with these calls, and most of them are people demanding to know why most of the emergency people are out of town. I don’t even know what’s going on. I can’t ... ” Her voice cracked on a sob. “Tell me what to do.”

  Taking hold of the woman’s shoulders, Cassy looked her straight in the eye. “One, you’ve got to snap out of it. If you lose it over something as simple as answering calls, you won’t be able to handle the job as a cop. Second, it’s a need-to-know basis. Those people calling and tying up the lines are going to get the ax. The emergency line isn’t their personal gossip center, got it?”

  Jolie nodded, sucking in a breath. “We have one legit emergency, but I couldn’t get ahold of the sheriff. I tried to pass it along to Eider police, but they said it was too far out for them to cover.”

  “What is it?”

  “Someone spooked Mark Campbell’s horses, and they busted through the fencing. One ran out in front of a car, and there was an accident.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Cassy scribbled down the address. “You get those gossipmongers off the line. Remind them it’s a crime to call the line when there’s not an actual emergency.”

  “Mom offered to come help, since she did this when Dad was sheriff.”

  “It would be up to our current boss whether she can.” Cassy headed for the exit. “Tell Hamilton or Nash where I went.”

  “Yes, ma’am. McIntire County Sheriff’s Department, what’s your emergency?”

  Cassy pushed outside into the cold, digging out her cell phone as she strode across the parking lot to her truck. Her call was answered on the third ring.

  “Cassy, what’s going on? Con won’t answer his phone.”

  “Sorry, Nic, I don’t know how much I can tell you right now. But we need a favor.”

  “Name it.”

  “We’re strapped for people, and Jolie is alone answering a billion unwanted phone calls. Do you think you can come in and guide her through it? I’m out on a call.”

  Nic sighed. When things got tight, Hamilton would ask her to help out now and again. Cassy wanted to avoid having any of the Murdochs in the office when news came back about the Clyde family. Jolie would need someone like Nic to pull her through this.

  “Emma would love a chance to babysit. I’ll be in ASAP.”

  Cassy climbed into her cab. “Thanks. I’ll touch base when I get to my call.” She tossed her cell into the passenger seat and drove out of the lot.

  She welcomed this emergency call. It gave her something to do to get her mind off the murder scene and get away from Jolie. Cassy was too close to the dispatcher, and she was afraid she’d say the wrong thing. The last thing anyone needed right now was for Cassy to slip up and tell Jolie what happened, then have Jolie go off the rails. Nic was levelheaded and clueless as to what was going on. She’d keep Jolie focused and wasn’t afraid to give a piece of her mind to the busybodies.

  The gravel road, cleared but packed with snow, loomed on Cassy’s left. She slowed and turned onto the road. The truck slid a few feet, and she drove into the slide, punching the four-wheel drive button. Once she had traction, she maneuvered the truck back onto the right path. She didn’t like taking the country roads in the winter; even though the county kept them as clear as they could, the roads were notoriously slick. It didn’t help when more than half of McIntire County’s population lived on gravel roads, either.

  Cassy’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. The four-wheel drive helped, but she wasn’t putting all of her trust in the thing. Everything about this day was screwed up. And the guilt over letting Boyce seduce her into bed was beginning to seep to the front of her mind. Since Sheriff Hamilton had asked Boyce to head up the investigation into the murders, he’d be around longer. She wasn’t sure how to process this new development.

  Damn it to hell! How had she let it get this far?

  The back end of her truck fishtailed, jolting her out of her fragmented thoughts. She had to shove Boyce and their mistakes back into the closet for now. Cassy got the truck under control and slowed down. She crawled past a few lanes leading to homes or farm property before she came upon the accident scene.

  A dark-blue, four-door sedan sat perpendicular to the ditches, the front end crunched, with steam billowing in the morning air. Three people stood on the opposite side of the car, staring at something.

  Parking the truck and leaving the lights flashing, Cassy climbed out. Heads turned as she approached. Mark Campbell skipped around the stunned, pale-faced couple and the mangled car. Cassy popped another mint in her mouth as she navigated the slick spots on the road.

  “Deputy Rivers, I’m glad someone was able to make it out. Your dispatcher wasn’t sure anyone would make it this soon.” Campbell met up with her, about-faced, then walked alongside her.

  “Sorry about that, Mr. Campbell. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “All I know is the Neils were on their way to visit Mrs. Neil, the former home economics teacher—she retired about thirty years ago, that one.”

  “Yeah.” Oh, the long explanations these Iowa farmers could give.

  “Well, they came around the corner, and Charlie, my old gelding, ran right out in front of them. Slick as snot out here; they weren’t able to stop in time. Their car is pretty tore up.”

  “I bet.” Cassy nodded to the Neils. “What happened to Charlie?”

  Campbell came to a halt at the edge of the road and pointed down at the deep ditch. Lying in a twisted mess of legs and body was Charlie. Blood dripped from his nose and the fractured legs. Cassy’s gut roiled at the sight while her heart ached. She and Nic had owned and rode horses most of their lives. Seeing one of those beautiful animals gravely injured chipped away a part of her soul.

  “Sweet mercy, please tell me he didn’t suffer.”

  Campbell made a choking noise in his throat. Cassy glanced over, and her heart twisted in her chest at the tortured expression on the man’s face.
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  She gripped his shoulder and squeezed through his thick winter coat. “Did you put him down?”

  Tears pooled in the corners of the man’s eyes. “I ain’t never had to do such a horrible thing in all my life.” He bowed his head and wagged it back and forth. “I just don’t understand how they got out.”

  “Where are the other horses?”

  “I caught them and put them in the barn.” He sniffed. “Charlie wasn’t one to just run off or ignore my calls. I had him since he was a baby. You never saw a more docile horse. Part dog, I always said.”

  “Mr. Campbell, have you had problems with trespassers or predators on your property?”

  He frowned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  It took a lot for an even-keeled horse to spook. They were prey animals with two instincts: flight or fight. So what had made Charlie, a horse obviously attached to his owner, take off like that?

  Cassy studied the ditch, looking for the best way to get down to the carcass. “I’m going to check some things over, okay?”

  Campbell nodded then offered her his hand as she started down the snowy embankment. The crusted layer made for good footing, but the places where the horse’s body had churned up the snow were slick. She lost her footing as she got closer to the dead horse and slid to her knees.

  “Are you okay, Deputy?” Campbell asked.

  “Fine.” She waved him off and climbed to her feet.

  Inching around the broken body, Cassy got a good sense of what might have happened. From the severe fractures in his legs, it appeared the gelding had tried to jump over the car but didn’t make it. Once she questioned the Neil couple, she’d probably find herself correct. She couldn’t miss the wound between the eyes where Campbell had put the poor animal out of its misery. But an oddly shaped injury on its hindquarters drew her attention. She maneuvered herself around the tangled legs and pushed on the edge of the wound. Her heart raced as she recognized what it was. It certainly explained why Charlie had fled and ran out in front of a car. He was scared out of his mind and in a lot of pain.

  Someone had shot him.

  Chapter Twenty

  “It’s quiet. I’m surprised we don’t have a crowd out here.”

  Boyce handed the digital camera back to the DCI crime tech before answering Liza. “Apparently we have an angel standing guard, keeping them away.”

  “Look at you, using faith-based metaphors to describe people.” She wrapped her hair up in a bun and covered it with a hairnet she kept on hand to prevent any cross-contamination. “How long do you think we’ve got before the fine folks of McIntire County get wind of this and show up?”

  “Considering the seclusion of this crime scene, the fact that Cassy is working with the dispatcher to prevent any leaks, and we’re now five hours into discovery”—Boyce glanced at his watch—“any time now.”

  “Are you sure that was wise, sending Deputy Rivers?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? She’s a capable cop.”

  “Boyce, I read up on that Priest case. The maniac compelled her to shoot her sister and nearly led her whole family to their deaths. Deputy Rivers was here, she saw the carnage—how do you think she’s handling it?”

  His ire rising, Boyce glared at his partner. “I reiterate, she’s a capable cop.”

  “You’re a damn fool, Agent.” Liza’s gaze narrowed, and she frowned. “What did you do with her last night?”

  He didn’t answer, merely stared at her, hoping she’d drop it. Sadly, that was not to be the case.

  “Holy … You slept with her. I can’t believe you’d … Scratch that, this is you I’m talking about. Damn it, I should slap you upside the head for pulling the sex card on her.”

  Grabbing her by the elbow with a hiss, he steered her far from unwanted attention. “First, the way you were harping on when we first got here, you made it sound like it was something that should have been done. Second, I don’t need the whole damn McIntire County populace to know.”

  Liza punched his shoulder, and none too lightly. “Not once did I ever say you should get her in bed. In fact, I warned you off of her, to protect her from you. And maybe they should know. God knows a good pounding from her brother-in-law might be in order.”

  “It’s not Con I’m worried about,” Boyce muttered.

  Liza’s eyebrows flew up. “Her sister scares you more?”

  “Have you read the dossier on that woman? She’s a trained killer.” He swatted that part of their conversation away. “That’s beside the point. Look, it happened, and Cassy was a willing participant. Hell, she was the one to initiate it.” Boyce groaned, rubbing his face. “Why am I telling you this?”

  “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, through me, that you did the right thing.”

  “Agent Hunt?”

  They both turned to the head of the DCI team sent to the Clyde home. The woman beckoned him to follow.

  “This discussion is over, by the way,” he said under his breath to Liza.

  “Oh, no, cowboy, it’s far from over.”

  They trailed behind the woman to the juncture of the dining room and living room, where the Clyde family had lost their lives. The bodies had already gone through a thorough examination and had been remanded into Dr. Drummond’s care for autopsy. It had to be tearing the good doc to pieces to be the coroner; as a physician, he treated almost everyone in the county, the Clyde family included.

  Boyce studied the individual places where each family member had died, and his body quaked. From his vantage point, he should’ve been unaffected by the carnage in both rooms. Should being the operative word. But he couldn’t separate emotion from logic at this point. Cassy’s breakdown had pierced his stone facade, cracking it, allowing the turmoil to run rampant through him.

  This was the sole reason he’d put distance between her and himself. She was the only person in existence who managed to make him feel.

  The DCI team leader stopped and gestured at the dining room. “We found something significant. There are”—she pointed at the living room—“two different sets of ammunition used in these murders.”

  “You found bullets?” Boyce asked.

  She held up evidence baggies, unsealed at the moment. “One bullet and a shot round, to be exact.”

  Boyce and Liza each took a bag and examined the shot round and bullet, the majority of it smashed and curled back.

  “Hallow point,” Liza whispered.

  “Are you saying there were two killers?” Boyce asked the DCI leader.

  “I’m saying it’s in the realm of possibility.”

  Boyce handed back the evidence bag. “Or one shooter using two different weapons for maximum damage?”

  “That’s hunting ammo.”

  Boyce and Liza turned to Sheriff Hamilton. His stricken features made him appear older than his late forties.

  “Yes, this ammunition is allowed for hunting purposes,” the DCI leader said.

  “Do you know of anyone who might have had a grudge against the Clydes who would have access to weapons like this or is a hunter?” Liza asked Hamilton.

  Hamilton gave a derisive snort. “About half of the damn county owns weapons like that, and most of them are hunters. You’ve just narrowed our suspect list down to a few thousand people. And lucky us, it’s deer season.”

  • • •

  It was deer season.

  Cassy had to take that into serious consideration in the doomed horse’s fatal escape. A stray bullet from a hunter could have hit the gelding.

  After checking in with Jolie—it was nice to hear that Nic was there keeping the younger woman on task—Cassy learned that Hamilton had been apprised of her whereabouts and that Nash was on his way out to assist her. She secured a wrecker for the couple’s damaged car and called for the vet to come out and help Mark Campbell dispose of his horse’s remains. While she waited for Nash, she wrote out a quick report on the accident and tried not to think about where she was headed. Donning a bright orang
e hunter’s vest and stocking hat, Cassy pulled out her 12-gauge shotgun, loaded it, and stashed extra shells in her pockets.

  She laid a plot map over the hood of her truck and studied the area. Whether good or bad, depending on who you spoke to, this region of McIntire County was covered in thick wooded areas, making for prime hunting ground that pulled in hunters from all over the United States. Hoping to locate the place where the shot had originated, Cassy planned for she and Nash to walk a wide arch out from the pasture where the horses had been kept and into the timber that bordered the property. She did not want to go there. She wanted nothing to do with this trek. But Nash couldn’t do it alone, and the others were occupied.

  Rubbing the aching spot right above her eyes, Cassy tried to quell the storm stirring up a frenzy in her belly. She’d gone inside those insidious woods twice now, and nothing had happened to her. Yet she just couldn’t break the hold these memories of torment at the hands of a sadistic killer in that abandoned hunting cabin had over her.

  The purr of an engine and the crunch of snow under tires announced the approach of Nash’s squad car as it pulled alongside her truck. She folded up the plot map and tucked it in an inside pocket of her winter coat.

  “You’re sure no one has called or tried to call in an accidental shooting?” Nash asked as he got out of the car.

  “Jolie hasn’t gotten a tip. And if you shot someone’s horse, accidentally or otherwise, would you call it in and risk losing your right to hunt for a long while?”

  “Good point.” Nash pulled on his orange hunter’s vest and cap and stuffed granola bars in his coat.

  “How do you even have the stomach to eat anything after what we saw this morning?”

  “I admit it’s bad, Rivers—horrifically, demented bad—but I can’t risk it. If things get dicey, there’s no sense in having a repeat pass-out performance.”