A Rancher’s Brand of Justice

by Ann Voss Peterson

  Calhoun snickered. “He could have communicated some other way. Maybe they met in person. Maybe he used a cell phone we don’t know about. There are a lot of explanations.”

  He was guessing. If he knew, that shouldn’t be necessary. “I thought you had proof Jimmy was in touch with Sanchez.”

  “I have proof.” He gestured to the report on Seth’s desk. “Bernard and Sanchez had a history.”

  Again, it seemed Calhoun was assuming things he shouldn’t assume. “Of course he knew Sanchez. Jimmy busted him twice. You don’t have proof of any calls between them though, do you?”

  “Not yet.”

  Seth looked up and met Melissa’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Melissa. He’s right. As encouraging as these records are, all they prove is that Jimmy wasn’t sloppy.”

  Melissa shook her head. “Since when do you have to prove a man’s innocence?”

  Seth gave her a sympathetic tilt of the lips. “Since the press will be swarming all over this as soon as they get a whiff.”

  He had a point. The press loved police scandal, and it seemed as if they didn’t require even a shred of evidence before splashing such rumors all over the front page and using them to lead their newscasts. But though she believed in Jimmy’s innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt, she couldn’t prove it. Not yet. But she might be able to open up different possibilities. “Have you ever considered that there might be something else going on here?”

  Seth leaned forward, elbows on desk. “Something? Like what?”

  “I don’t know. But Jimmy had a brand-new lead about Gayle Rodgers’s death. He was telling someone about it the night before he died.”

  “How do you know this?” Seth glanced down at the phone records, as if the answer might be right there in front of him.

  “His wife remembers the call, but she’s not certain of the time.”

  Calhoun arched his brows. “Who was he talking to?”

  She glanced at Calhoun. “I don’t know. Yet.”

  “Well, I guess that’s all the proof we could ask for.” Calhoun brushed his palms together with a light clapping sound. “Case closed.”

  She felt like strangling the guy. “You’re the one who has no evidence. This is a witch hunt.”

  Seth shook his head slowly, as if the movement took all his energy. “There are things you don’t know about, Melissa.”

  “Then tell me. I thought that’s why I was here.”

  Seth nodded to Calhoun.

  Calhoun all but rubbed his hands together, eagerly this time. “We think Bernard was involved with Gayle Rodgers on the side.”

  The words hung in the air for several seconds before they sank in to Melissa’s mind. Jimmy? And Nick’s ex-wife? She shook her head. “Impossible.”

  “Not so impossible,” Calhoun said, his voice strangely soft this time. “We have credit card charges for nearby hotel rooms. We have evidence that Gayle was buying little gifts a man might appreciate. And the landlord, he saw a boyfriend.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was Jimmy.”

  “The landlord’s description says different. Tall, good-looking, graying hair.”

  She still wouldn’t believe it.

  Calhoun went on. “We don’t know why Gayle turned on him, woman scorned or something, but that’s when she called our office.”

  “You have recordings of those calls? Specific information she offered?”

  “We’re getting it.”

  “What do you mean, you’re getting it?”

  “Just that. When I have more, I’m sure Seth will let you know.” Calhoun focused a put-out look on Seth.

  Seth nodded. “Go on. Tell her how the rest fits together.”

  “When Bernard found out Gayle Rodgers was in touch with us, he told Sanchez. Sanchez needs to protect his investment. Dirty cops aren’t that easy to come by, you know. So he kills Gayle Rodgers, takes some stuff to make it look like a burglary gone bad.”

  Melissa had to admit, the scenario might be possible, but not for Jimmy. “Jimmy arrested Sanchez for Gayle’s murder. Why would he do that if Sanchez killed to protect him?”

  Calhoun shrugged a shoulder, as if none of these details mattered enough to bother him. “He didn’t ask Sanchez to kill anybody. Just because he takes bribes doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. So he pops Sanchez for his crime. Figures it will make him right with the Lord or something, who knows?” Calhoun settled back in his chair like a man comfortable he had figured out all the answers.

  She thought of the men in the sedan, men Nick saw, two of whom she’d caused to crash through the guardrail and into the ravine. “And the men who shot Jimmy?”

  “Sanchez’s gang brothers—fine, upstanding members of society that they are. They pull a drive-by to pay back the cop who framed their amigo.”

  “You know who the shooters are? You got an ID on them?”

  Another shrug from Calhoun. “They were gang members. We’re working on the rest.”

  She eyed Calhoun. At this point, she’d like to think he had something to do with all this. Of course, she had even less evidence of that than he had against Jimmy. “Two men came to Nick Raymond’s ranch last night.”

  “To kill him?” Calhoun asked.

  “That was their goal.”

  “I told you to get him back to Denver. I’m glad you finally listened.” Seth narrowed his eyes on her. “I assume he’s here with you?”

  She nodded. “He came back with me. He’s in Denver.”

  “But not here.”

  “No.”

  “How about the items Gayle Rodgers sent to Raymond’s ranch? Toys? Papers? Did you bring them back with you?”

  She nodded. With Calhoun involved, the last thing she wanted was to turn over the boxes. Not until she and Nick had a chance to go through their contents more thoroughly.

  “Do you have them?”

  “Not with me. Not here.”

  “Bring them in, then. Whatever is in them might fill in a few holes. And bring Raymond and his son with them. This attack in Wyoming is all the more reason they should be in protective custody.”

  Calhoun nodded, a little too eager for Melissa’s liking.

  Seth turned his probing frown on Calhoun for seemingly the first time since the meeting started. “It seems to me you have a lot left to prove. I want this kept under wraps until you can answer more of these questions with evidence.”

  “Will do.”

  Melissa let out a relieved breath. Once news of the investigation got out, no matter what she proved in the long run, Jimmy’s name would always have a dark mark beside it in most people’s minds. So maybe her arguments tonight had done some good. At least Seth had enough questions that he didn’t feel comfortable going public with the investigation. At least Tammy wouldn’t hear the rumors of an affair on top of everything else.

  “Go ahead, Cory.” Seth stood and ambled toward the door. “We’re done here.”

  Melissa sat still and quiet until the door closed behind Calhoun. Seth settled back behind his desk, his gaze riveted to hers. “Where is Raymond now?”

  She’d known this was coming, and she was braced for it. “He’s in Denver, and he’s willing to cooperate. But he doesn’t trust our office or the police after what happened the last time his son was in our custody. And I have to say that until we find out how the gang knew where Jimmy was picking up Nick’s son, I can’t blame him.”

  “I’m sorry, Melissa. I can’t leave this up to you alone.” His voice held the tone of an adult talking down to a not-to-bright kid about what was best for him. “The fact that you are insisting on hiding them has me more than a little worried.”

  Melissa tried not to bristle. “What are you saying, Seth?”

  “I know how you felt about Jimmy. I know what you’re trying to do now.” He spread his hands out on the desk blotter. “I’m afraid you’re too personally involved in this to be objective.”

  No, no, no. She thought she was doing so well. She thought she was getting t
hrough to him. “Seth, stop. It’s always personal, especially when it involves someone in law enforcement.”

  “Not like this is with you. Listen, I understand what you’re going through. You and Jimmy Bernard were close. I get that. But as sorry as I am, I can’t sit back and watch you try to undermine this office.”

  “Undermine? I’m not trying to undermine anyone. I’m trying to get to the truth.”

  “So is Cory Calhoun.”

  “Is he?”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t buy it, Seth. From where I’m standing, I think he’s out to get Jimmy.” That was the truth of it. If nothing else, Calhoun seemed willing to warp any fact he could to besmirch Jimmy’s name.

  Seth canted his head to the side. “Melissa…”

  She gritted her teeth. She hated when he took that tone. “Calhoun’s forcing evidence to fit his theory, Seth. He’s convinced Jimmy was corrupt and he’s grasping at anything he can to justify it. The question we should be asking is why would he do that?”

  “Because he wants to get to the bottom of the situation? Because I asked him to be thorough? I know this whole thing is hard on Jimmy’s wife, but we can’t think about that. We have to know what Jimmy was into. We can’t afford to tiptoe around hurt feelings. We can’t afford to even appear as if we’re willing to look the other way just because he was a police detective.”

  Appearances. That was it. Melissa should have seen it coming all along. “This is about your run for D.A.”

  “That has nothing to do with it.”

  “Yes, it does. You’re willing to let Calhoun drive Jimmy’s name into the ground so you can appear as if you aren’t showing favoritism to police officers.” She knew she was walking on thin ice talking to him like that, but she couldn’t help it.

  Seth tented his hands in front of his lips and studied her through narrowed eyes. He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his forehead as if trying to ward off a headache. “You’re off this case as of now, Melissa. I’m putting you on administrative leave. Turn in your identification and your weapon.”

  “This is bigger than politics, Seth.”

  “Damn right it is. It’s about you losing all perspective.” He reached out his hand, palm up, and cupped his fingers. “ID and gun.”

  She pulled out her identification with trembling fingers and laid it in his open hand. She removed her gun, unloaded the clip and checked the chamber and placed the pistol and ammunition on his desk.

  “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Melissa. But it’s for the best.”

  Sure. The best. Whose best was the question.

  “Now where are those boxes? And Raymond and his son?”

  She raised her gaze and met her boss’s eyes. “Sorry, Seth. I don’t remember.”

  MELISSA’S HEAD WAS STILL buzzing when she left Seth’s office. She walked through the halls, nodding and murmuring her hellos to coworkers, yet she barely saw them. She wasn’t in any shape to talk to anyone right now. And God help her, if she ran into Calhoun milling around, waiting to rub in his victory, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

  The slap of cool evening air felt good against her cheeks. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but streetlights lent a glow to the sidewalks, golden as the changing aspen leaves.

  She took a deep breath and started winding along back streets toward the McDonald’s where she’d left Nick and Jason. She tried not to dwell on Seth. She’d been stupid to think she could rely on his help. She was even more stupid to feel so betrayed now. She’d known he was eyeing a run for district attorney. Why she thought truth and justice would come before politics, she had no idea.

  A shiver rippled up her spine. She glanced over her shoulder.

  Two men walked twenty feet behind her. Dressed in sloppy jeans, hoods pulled over their heads and hands stuffed in pockets, she couldn’t see their faces. Worse yet, she couldn’t see their hands. But she could read their body language just fine.

  She wasn’t sure how long they’d been behind her. If she hadn’t been so rattled, she probably would have noticed them right away. They weren’t trying for stealth. No, their goal was intimidation.

  She tried to calm her breathing. More than anything, she wanted to break into a run. But she kept her pace steady and listened for any change coming from behind. She brought her hand to her hip, her fingers touching nothing but denim.

  What a time to lose her gun.

  Just ahead the side street came to a T. She turned to the right, away from the McDonald’s, away from Nick and Jason. If these two were the men from last night, the last thing she wanted was to lead them straight to their prey.

  “Hey.”

  She flinched at the sound of the voice.

  “Why are you railroading José?”

  The question was faint, barely audible above the traffic sounds coming from two streets over and wisps of theme music from a television show drifting from a window above. But it was obviously directed at her.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. She scanned the street. Mostly residential, there was no place she could run for help, not unless she wanted to drag an innocent resident into this mess. Of course even reaching a main thoroughfare wouldn’t necessarily protect her. It hadn’t helped Jimmy or Essie. The Latin Devils had taken them out right in broad daylight.

  She slipped her hand into her purse and groped for her phone. Her fingers brushed wallet and sunglasses and lipstick. Had she left her phone in the truck?

  “José, he didn’t have nothing to do with that bitch dying. Nothing. Who are you covering up for?”

  Melissa kept digging. The phone had to be here somewhere. It had to be. She took the next right and increased her pace.

  “You running away from us? You can’t run away.” Their voices sounded closer, as if they too were walking faster, as if they were closing in. “You listening? You better listen, or we’ll find other ways to show you we mean business.”

  “Lot of ways,” said another voice.

  She could hear the shuffle of rubber soles against concrete. Close behind. Too close. Her fingers closed over the phone’s squarish shape.

  She needed to buy some time. Even if she could get a call off to 911, it would take time for them to find her location. More time for a patrol car to arrive.

  She slowed her steps, then stopped and turned to face them. She left her hand in her bag. She smoothed over the pad, trying to read the numbers with her fingertips.

  The men stopped just five feet away, close enough for her to see their faces..

  Were these the men who’d killed Jimmy? Who’d tried to kill Nick and Jason and her at the Circle J? She swept them with her eyes, trying to absorb every detail about them she could.

  Hispanic males, both in their late teens to early twenties. Average height. Gang tats visible on their temples, cheeks and neck. Hands still in pockets, they stared at her in a way that was both wary and threatening. “The cops are lying. Jose didn’t do nothing. You tell the DA that.”

  She located the nine. Skimming over the other numbers, she counted to the one and pressed it twice. “I just want to find the truth. That’s all.”

  The larger of the two stepped toward her. Apparently comfortable enough to give up the wary and let the threatening take over his full focus. “You want the truth, you listen. The cops are lying.”

  She raised her chin and pushed as much bravado into her voice as she could muster. “Is that why you shot the detective? Because he was lying?”

  “Detective?” The shorter one’s voice cracked, apparently still struggling with puberty. “We didn’t shoot no detective.”

  “Someone in the Latin Devils did.”

  The bigger one shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Somewhere a siren screamed.

  She resisted the need to look over her shoulder. “I was there. There were four of you in the car. Two are now dead.”

  “You’re crazy, lady. Whatever you’re talking ab
out, we had nothing to do with it.”

  “You didn’t shoot Essie Castillo and Detective Bernard? The detective who arrested José Sanchez?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Prove it? Yeah, I’ll prove it.” The taller one pulled one hand from his pocket. With the flick of a wrist, the blade of a knife gleamed in the streetlight’s warm glow.

  Chapter Eleven

  The first thing Nick saw when he rounded the street corner was the gleam of a knife’s blade. A knife pointing straight at Melissa.

  He brought his rifle to his shoulder. “Put the knife away, boys,” he bellowed in a voice he reserved for cantankerous cattle and coyotes he caught skulking around his property.

  The hoodlums spun around and stared at him. The one with the knife held it in front of him as if he thought he might be able to take Nick on.

  “You really think that blade is going to help you here? Put it away.” He lined up the knife man in his sights. When he’d seen the two follow Melissa into the side street, Nick had debated whether or not carrying the rifle through city streets was a wise move. Melissa was armed. She would surely take control before things got out of hand. But when he saw the knife in the man’s fist and Melissa’s hands empty, he knew something was wrong. And he was mighty glad he’d taken the risk. “Put it away right now.”

  The knife man folded his blade and stuffed his hand into his pocket.

  “I want to see your hands. Both of you.”

  Slowly they did as he ordered.

  Nick looked past them, focusing on Melissa. “Are these the guys?”

  “You tell me.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  A siren screamed, the sound growing closer.

  The two gang members glanced at each other. Then as one, they ran for an alley next to them.

  Nick pulled his finger from the trigger guard and watched them go. He’d had enough shooting at people to last him eight lifetimes. He lowered the rifle.

  Melissa headed straight for Nick. “What are you, crazy? Carrying a rifle down the street like that?” Her words were accusatory but her tone spoke only relief.