Wyoming Cowboy Justice

by Nicole Helm

  “A message?”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to need to come check it out.”

  “Is this a joke? Because—”

  Grady held out the phone to Ty. “Would you tell her?”

  Ty rolled his eyes but took the outstretched phone. “Delaney? Ty. Stop being difficult and come do your job, huh?”

  It was Grady’s turn to roll his eyes. “Charming as ever,” he noted, grabbing the phone back. “Laur—” But the call had ended.

  “Does it always have to be antagonism?” Grady demanded of Ty.

  “To a Delaney? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how it works.”

  “It doesn’t have to work that way. Did it ever occur to you that the people who fed us all that feud garbage weren’t exactly good people?”

  Ty’s eyes widened. “You slept with her.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Grady returned, irritable and edgy. “But I am thirty-three years old and playing cops and robbers is getting old. My dad was a miserable SOB. My mom wasn’t much better. Blaming the Delaneys for everything wrong in their lives never got them anywhere but more miserable.”

  “Sometimes the Delaneys are the source of a person’s misery, and before you start reading into that, let me just say that if you’re letting some woman convince you everything our entire family, and lives, and town are built on is crap, then maybe you need to get a hold of yourself.”

  “Maybe I don’t want my life to be built on a feud that’s older than my saloon.”

  “Then you aren’t the Grady Carson I know, and I’m not sure one I want to.”

  Grady clenched and unclenched his jaw, enough unspent fury pumping through him he wouldn’t mind a little bit of a fight. Except he had a concussion and he was tired. Tired of fighting and feuds and things that only existed because they always had.

  He still believed in Bent and history, but he wasn’t a boy playing at a man anymore, and he wasn’t going to let history or this town dictate how he lived his life.

  “Guess you can go, then.”

  “Guess I will,” Ty replied, grabbing his coat and striding out the door.

  Grady gave in to the impulse to slam his hand against the wall, and immediately regretted the way it jarred his head.

  When Laurel finally made it back, she didn’t knock or even pause. She barged right into his apartment. She looked around, frowning.

  “Where’s Ty?”

  “Left.”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “He was supposed to take care of you.”

  “Yeah, well, he was being an ass. So I booted him. Now, are you here to do police work or what?” He handed her the paper.

  She read, her expression going flat and hard, and Grady wasn’t surprised to see some mean-edged cop on her, or the fact it turned him on. But she also had dark circles under her eyes and her usually creamy complexion was near gray.

  “You’re going to crash, princess.”

  “Sooner or later,” she agreed, frowning at the paper. “I don’t like this.”

  “Can’t say I care for it, either.”

  “You can’t be alone. Not until we figure this out.”

  He offered her a smile. “You going to play bodyguard?”

  “I have an investigation to run.”

  “I can help.”

  “I’m going to take you to the Carson Ranch. There’s enough of you to keep an eye on things.”

  “On a big spread like ours? I’m not taking this to the ranch and potentially endangering my family. You want me not alone, you’re up. Since you’re already involved.”

  He could tell she wanted to argue, but in the end, she nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re right.”

  “Well, now, those are words I never thought I’d hear from you. ‘Unfortunately’ notwithstanding.”

  “But there are conditions.”

  “Of course there are.”

  “You go where I go, not the other way around. You listen to me. You obey me. Because this isn’t a joke, and it isn’t a game. I have a ticking time bomb of an investigation, more and more people in danger by the second. You’re going to have to swallow your Wyoming-sized pride and do what I tell you to do.”

  Grady gave her a grand mock salute, but she didn’t even crack a smile.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said in that earnest way that made him feel something close to vulnerable. Which was crap.

  “Get it through your head that the same goes, okay?”

  She sighed. “Well, let’s get going, then.”

  “Where are we off to?”

  “We have to question a possible suspect.”

  “Please tell me it’s not my brother. Or any Carson.”

  Laurel quirked a tiny smile at that. “It’s your lucky day. This suspect is as Carson-free as you can get.”

  “So, he’s a Delaney?”

  “Worse. An outsider.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It wasn’t easy to pretend the warning letter to Grady didn’t rattle her, but she knew she needed to present the tough cop facade right now. Not just because Grady was now under her protection, no matter how laughable that seemed, but also because she had to face Mr. Adams in a professional, smart way that hopefully led to a confession or more of a lead.

  It was hard to believe the pudgy, middle-aged manager of an unassuming mine could be a cold-blooded killer, strong enough to hit Grady so hard with a shoe it gave him a concussion, and agile enough to slip through darkened woods and out again without getting caught.

  But she couldn’t rule it out, either.

  The town of Clearwater was quite a bit larger than Bent. Many of the nonlocal mine workers lived here, so there was a sprawling residential area. Since the town had sprung out of meeting the needs of those workers, everything was more modern than Bent. Fast food, a Walmart, even stoplights.

  “How much you want to bet this guy lives in the nicest house in town?” Grady asked, clearly not impressed.

  “Well, he is the mine manager.”

  Grady made a rude noise. “You think this guy is the one who knocked me out?”

  “No,” Laurel said firmly, turning onto the street Mr. Adams lived on. “But he’s involved. Now, we need to go over a few procedure ground rules.”

  “Of course we do.”

  Laurel ignored the sarcasm. “You can’t go in with me.”

  “I thought I was under your protection, Deputy,” Grady returned, all mock innocence.

  “It’s tricky and it’s complicated, but I can’t have you shooting off at the mouth. It will call into question my investigation and if there is a trial, and Mr. Adams is accused of some wrongdoing, your presence and interference will be noted and used to undermine everything. I can’t risk it.”

  Grady was silent as she pulled to a stop in front of the Adams residence. She turned to him, surprised when he hadn’t mounted an argument, but also not convinced he would listen to her. When did he ever listen to her?

  “Stay put. For the sake of making a murderer, and possibly his accomplice, pay.”

  “What about a little creative use of the truth?”

  Laurel frowned, but he had said truth, and Grady might be all manner of wild, rule-breaking things, but he tended to dwell in the truth of it all. “I’m listening.”

  “We’ll say I’m looking for Clint, since we know he’s been hanging out with Lizzie. He’s not here, I say fine. Then you can question Mr. Adams in a separate room and I can quietly and patiently wait.”

  “You can’t snoop.”

  Grady grinned. “I can’t snoop and tell you about it, but I can snoop for my own peace of mind.” He put a hand to his heart. “My brother could be missing.”

  “And is more likely at the Carson Ranch sleeping off teenage idiocy.”

  “More
than likely, but you never know. Might as well give it a shot.”

  Laurel blew out a breath. She didn’t know if it was genius or stupid and that was always the problem with Grady. He obscured both with those sinful smiles and mischievous glances.

  “It’s like having a partnership with mayhem,” Laurel muttered, pushing out of the car.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment and agreement.”

  They walked up the well-kept path to the door side by side. Laurel reached out and pushed the doorbell as Grady surveyed the yard and house.

  “I was right about the nicest house in town,” Grady mumbled as Mr. Adams slowly pulled the door open.

  His eyebrows were furrowed and he was clearly surprised and concerned to see her. “Uh, Deputy. I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name...”

  “Deputy Delaney. Mr. Adams, do you have a few moments to answer some questions for me?”

  Mr. Adams looked nervously from Laurel to Grady’s bandage and back to Laurel. “Erm, I suppose. Is...is something the matter?”

  “We hope not. I have a few more questions about the Jason Delaney murder case, and Mr. Carson here is looking for his missing brother, who was last seen with your daughter.”

  Mr. Adams blinked at that. “I don’t know anyone named Carson.”

  “His last name is Danvers. Clint Danvers,” Grady supplied, and Laurel was quite impressed with how concerned brother he sounded.

  “Oh, Clint. Yes, he and Lizzie have been working on a school project together.”

  Laurel did her best not to snort. She’d have almost felt bad for the guy for being so clueless if it wasn’t for the fact he might be linked to murder.

  “I haven’t seen him in a while, and I have to say I’m starting to get awfully worried. I don’t suppose Lizzie is around so I could ask her if she knows where he is.”

  Mr. Adams blinked in surprise and clearly balked at the request, so Laurel fixed her kindest smile on her face.

  “If you’d feel more comfortable with a woman asking her, I can do it.”

  “Why don’t I go get her and we’ll... We’ll all discuss it together.” Mr. Adams smiled thinly. “She’s in her room.”

  “Do you mind if I come with? I have some—” she glanced at Grady, then back at Mr. Adams “—confidential questions I’d like to ask you.”

  “Oh. Oh. Well, I suppose.”

  Laurel followed Mr. Adams from the entryway toward a staircase. She glanced back at Grady, who was whistling as he wandered the large entryway. She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she focused on Mr. Adams.

  She had to consider her words carefully. Hank’s not-quite-clear answers didn’t give her specifics to go on, so she had to fill in some blanks and hope she was right. “Were you aware Jason Delaney had evidence something criminal was going on at the mine, and was threatening to blackmail a higher-level official within the company?”

  Mr. Adams stopped in his tracks. He looked genuinely surprised, but his next question left Laurel more than a little suspicious.

  “How do you know that?”

  She smiled apologetically. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “I...I had no idea.” Mr. Adams resumed his pace up the stairs, but Laurel noted he’d gone pale.

  “There’s some concern you could be involved, Mr. Adams.”

  Again he paused, this time at the top of the stairs. He licked his lips, looking around nervously. “Involved... I...I didn’t know... I...” He cleared his throat. “You’ve caught me quite by surprise.”

  “Clearly.” Though Laurel didn’t know if it was the right kind of surprise. “Please understand, I have to do my due diligence, and I hope if you know anything at all, you’ll pass it along to the police. It’s always so much worse on someone when they try to hide the truth.”

  He was all but sweating now, swallowing nearly convulsively as he reached out for a doorknob.

  “This is Lizzie’s room,” he said, his hand shaking, his voice weak. When he tried to turn the knob, he frowned. “Locked. How odd.” He knocked on the door. “Lizzie. Are you awake? I’m afraid I need you to come talk to some people for me.” He chuckled weakly and looked at Laurel. “Teenagers do love their sleeping in.”

  “Mr. Adams. If you don’t answer my questions in a forthright manner, I will be forced to investigate you further. Not just for whatever criminal activity is happening at the mine, but the murder of Jason Delaney, as well as attempted murder of an unnamed victim and the attack on another man. Do you understand?”

  Mr. Adams nodded, jiggling the doorknob desperately. “Of course, Deputy. I don’t know a thing about any of those things. I swear.”

  That Laurel didn’t believe for a second, but the door swung open and a young, blonde teen answered, flushed and nervous-looking. “Hi, Daddy.” She gulped. “Who’s this?”

  “The police, sweetheart. They’re looking for your school friend Clint.”

  Lizzie’s eyes widened at Laurel. “Clint?” she squeaked. “Uh, why?”

  Laurel noted a boy’s boot was partly visible, as though someone had attempted to shove it under the bed, along with a pair of men’s jeans crumpled on one side of the room. Laurel decided to go for a little creative truth herself.

  “His brother’s been injured and—”

  A rustling sounded and Clint tumbled out of the closet. “Grady’s been hurt?” he demanded.

  Mr. Adams made an outraged, choking sound.

  “Grab your pants and head downstairs,” Laurel said, stepping between the fuming Mr. Adams and the half-dressed teen. “I suggest you hurry.”

  Clint scrambled to gather his clothes and darted out the door while Laurel stood in front of Mr. Adams. When he made a move for the boy, Laurel put her hand out.

  “Let’s all calm down now.”

  “You little slut!” Mr. Adams shouted.

  The poor girl began to cry and Laurel wasn’t exactly gentle pulling Mr. Adams out of the room. “I suggest you calm yourself.”

  But he pushed her away, heading for the stairs Clint had just run down. “I want him arrested! This instant!”

  “Your daughter is eighteen. There’s nothing arrest-worthy happening here. Now, if you would stop—”

  Clint skidded to a stop in front of Grady.

  “What are you doing here?” they asked each other in unison.

  “You’re not that hurt,” Clint said, frowning at Grady’s bandage.

  “But apparently you’re that dumb,” Grady muttered in return, glancing up at the furious Mr. Adams.

  Clint quickly shoved his legs into his jeans, then his feet into the boots he’d been carrying. “I gotta go.”

  Laurel took the moment of surprise and confusion to move past Mr. Adams on the staircase. “Let him go,” she mouthed to Grady, nodding at Clint.

  Grady moved out of the way of Clint’s escape, but he stepped side by side with Laurel to block Mr. Adams from him as Clint slipped out the door.

  “He... He defiled my daughter!” Mr. Adams shouted, pointing at Clint’s retreating form, his face growing redder and redder.

  Grady raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Mr. Adams,” Laurel said as calmly as she could manage. “Your daughter is eighteen. And upset by your behavior. You should calm yourself and have a civil conversation with her.”

  Mr. Adams poked his finger wildly at her “I don’t need you telling me how to handle my daughter.”

  “Clearly,” Laurel replied sarcastically before she could bite back the response. She forced herself to retrieve a card from her pocket. “If you have any further information you’d like to divulge on the mine, Jason Delaney, et cetera, please give me a call.”

  Mr. Adams stared at the card, but seemed to regather his wits and took it. “I assure you, I know nothing about any of that.”

  Laurel nodde
d. “I hope my investigation reflects that, for your sake.” Laurel turned for the door, ushering Grady out.

  “That asshole is lying,” Grady said flatly.

  “Through his teeth,” Laurel agreed, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I need search warrants ASAP.”

  “How long is that going to take?”

  A question she didn’t want to answer. “Long enough for him to tip off whoever’s got a hold on him.”

  “What about the girl? You think she might know something?”

  “Maybe. Maybe.” Laurel slid into her car and waited for Grady to get in the passenger side. “We’ll go to the station so I can apply for the search warrant. Then... Why don’t you call Clint? See if he can get Lizzie to come over for dinner at the Carson Ranch.”

  “Dinner?” Grady asked.

  “Get her there under the guise of meeting Clint’s family. Get her away from her father and in a neutral, safe space, and she might feel comfortable enough to talk. Maybe she doesn’t know anything, but if she does I doubt she’s going to tell me under her father’s roof, and I don’t want to drag a young girl into the police station if I don’t have to.”

  “And that’s legal?”

  Laurel shrugged. “Depends on what she says. If I have to go the straight and narrow route with the search warrant, I can get a little creative in the questioning department.”

  “My, my, my, Deputy Delaney, you are full of surprises.”

  “Don’t you forget it.”

  * * *

  GRADY HAD SPENT more than his fair share of minutes trying to rile Laurel up, but watching her reaction to the judge denying her search warrant application was like nothing he’d ever seen.

  She swore admirably. She fumed. She ranted as she drove from the sheriff’s department all the way to the Carson Ranch.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on,” he offered once she took a breath.

  “Oh, shut up,” she returned, wholly unamused. Which, admittedly, served to amuse him more.

  “Still no word from Clint?” she asked irritably.

  “Not since he picked Lizzie up. They should beat us here, though.”

  She shook her head. “Something doesn’t feel right. Something is off. I’m missing something.”