Six-Gun Investigation

by Mallory Kane

  So she crossed her arms and glared at him. “You didn’t lock the door.”

  “I did lock it.”

  “I think it’s obvious that you didn’t.”

  He examined the old door with its age-darkened hardware, then looked back at her. His steely gaze burned like a laser as it slowly moved down her body and back up again. When he met her gaze his eyes were smoky. And Anna could have sworn that for an instant, lust gleamed in their blue-gray depths.

  Her knees grew weak and her mouth went dry. She was practically naked, standing in front of the best-looking man Justice, Texas, had ever produced. Mortification piled on top of her other emotions—fear, grief, shock and a totally inappropriate attraction to Zane McKinney.

  “Have you been in the bathroom all this time?” he barked, frowning.

  She bristled at his sharp tone. “Yes. Why? Are you afraid I used all the hot water?”

  His mouth thinned in disapproval. “This is serious business, Annie. I locked the door. Did you unlock it?”

  “I told you no. I did not unlock the door.”

  “Then what happened?”

  She propped her fists on her hips. “You’re asking me? You’re the one who made the mistake. And trust me, I’m not thrilled to find out I took a shower in an unlocked room.”

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “Like what?” she snapped. Then she remembered the creaking and the click, and a shudder racked her body. “Wait. I did, but I thought it was the pipes.”

  “When?”

  “I’m sure it was the pipes.”

  “Annie!” His voice rose in frustration.

  “Just a few minutes ago. I thought I heard a creaking noise, so I turned off the water. Then I heard it again. It sounded like a door closing—or opening.” She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Her stomach turned over. “Are you thinking someone tried to get in here?”

  Zane nodded grimly. “I’m thinking someone did get in. I’ll have Enis dust for prints.”

  “But why would anyone—”

  She stopped as he walked over to her, close enough that she had to look up to meet his gaze. Close enough that if he hadn’t stopped when he did, his summer-weight jacket would have brushed the tips of her barely covered breasts. He smelled of soap and leather. Like a man. Whatever cologne he used was subtle and expensive.

  “Annie, what are you not telling me?”

  She stepped backward and her legs hit the bedside table. “Nothing. I just walked out of the bathroom.”

  “Not about that. About your sister. You’re holding something back.”

  “No, I’m not.” Anna slid sideways, away from his commanding presence. She was covered only by a few scraps of nylon. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and although she’d never admit it to him, it spooked the hell out of her that someone might have sneaked into her room while she was in the shower.

  “Yes, you are. You’re not a very good liar. It’s a wonder you can make a living as a reporter.”

  “I’m a journalist. And I am not lying.”

  He shrugged. “Fine then. Get some clothes on.”

  Her face burned at his arched tone. “What a great idea. I plan to. And as soon as I dry my hair I’m going to bed.”

  “No. You’re coming with me. I need you to write out and sign your statement.”

  Anna stared at him in disgust. “On the cases I’ve covered, the strong-arm tactics were reserved for suspects. Surely you don’t—” She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him. “You do! You consider me a suspect, don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Look, Zane. I didn’t kill my sister. I don’t see why my written statement can’t wait until morning. You already know everything I know.”

  His mouth quirked in a wry smile, the famous smile that had won the hearts of all the high school girls and made the other guys jealous. Anna had never been on the receiving end of it before. It was lethally sexy.

  “See? There you go lying again. But don’t worry, Annie.” His smile stayed in place but his eyes turned cold and hard. “Before I’m done, I’ll know everything you know. Including what your sister told you.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Anna said haughtily. “Please lock the door on your way out. And stop calling me Annie!”

  She turned and fled into the bathroom. Slamming the door, she leaned against it, biting her lip in consternation. He was good. In the few years she’d worked as an investigative journalist, she’d seen her share of lawmen. They ranged from dense as a fence post to brilliant, from haphazard and sloppy to obsessively meticulous. But she’d never met anyone like Zane.

  His changeable eyes had burned like laser beams, probing past her defenses. She had no doubt he meant every word he said. He wouldn’t stop until he knew everything about the murder.

  Oh, brother. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

  THE NEXT MORNING as Zane stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor trauma ward at County General Hospital, he heard Carley. Her voice echoed off the pale green walls.

  “You can’t keep me here without my consent!”

  Zane headed toward the source of the sound. When he stepped into the hospital room, he found Sheriff Carley Matheson grimacing as she tried to reach the ties on the back of her hospital gown. A tired-looking nurse stood beside her holding a tiny paper cup and a plastic water jug with a flexible straw.

  “Hello, Carley.” He grinned. “I see you haven’t changed a bit since high school.” She might be Sheriff of Justice, but to Zane she still looked like the little girl with braces and a bedraggled ponytail who’d followed his younger brother Sloan around like a puppy.

  Her eyes widened. “Zane! I mean, Lieutenant McKinney.” Her hand lifted automatically to her hair.

  “From what I can see, you’re doing fine. I assume you know why I’m here.”

  The nurse proffered the cup. Carley sent her a withering glare.

  Zane almost chuckled. “Come on, Carley, be a good girl and take your medicine.”

  “Mind your own business—sir.” She accepted the cup with ill grace. “I’m not taking any pain pills,” she warned the nurse.

  “We’ve been over this, Sheriff Matheson,” the nurse said wearily. “This is an antibiotic, to keep your bullet wound from getting infected.”

  Carley made a face as she tipped the cup and let the tablet fall into her mouth. Then she took a huge swig of water. “There. Happy now?”

  The nurse sent Zane a grateful nod as she left the room.

  Carley cocked her head to one side. “I was surprised when your captain told me he was sending you.”

  Zane grimaced. “No more surprised than me. The way he put it, he had two choices. He could send a Ranger who knew nothing about Justice and its scandalous past and wait a week for him to get up to speed, or he could send a Ranger who knew everything that happened sixteen years ago, but who might be prejudiced.”

  Carley eased carefully back against the pillows, her lips thinning in an obvious effort not to wince. “I see. And you assured him you could remain totally objective.”

  Objective. Hardly.

  He shook his head. “Nope. I told him I was definitely prejudiced. That as far as I’m concerned, Jim McKinney is a prime suspect, just like he was back then.”

  “Zane.” Carley hesitated. “I want you to know I’d give anything to change what I saw that night. I know how much it hurt your family—”

  He waved a hand. “You were thirteen. You saw what you saw and you told the truth. I have no illusions about my dad. He was a rounder then, and I’m sure he still is.” Bitterness tasted like bile in his mouth.

  Time to get back to the present. He frowned. “I need you to tell me everything you saw last night.”

  She nodded. “I gave Enis a statement on the way here, but I’m afraid I was pretty much out of it.”

  “I’ve talked to him. You’re right. Your account was sketchy. Start at the beginning.” He took out a
digital recorder and turned it on.

  “Happy to, sir.” She closed her eyes. “I was sitting in my office, doing paperwork. There’s never enough time to get it all done. A movement out the window caught my eye. When I looked up, I saw someone running across the inn parking lot.”

  “What time was this?”

  “My best guess—about seven-twenty. Because when I looked at my watch on the way outside a few moments later it was seven twenty-three.”

  “Good.” Zane made a note on his PDA. “But wait a minute. Seven-twenty is working late?”

  Carley nodded, amused. “This is small-town Texas, Zane. The sheriff’s office closes at five. The deputies and I take turns being on call.”

  “Crime from nine to five.” Zane shook his head. “Okay, tell me exactly what you saw.”

  “There was no moon. The only light came from the sconces beside the inn’s back door. All I saw was a dark figure running across the inn’s parking lot.”

  “Male? Female?”

  She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face. “He or she had on pants. Their upper body was in total shadow. All I saw were legs and shoes. Maybe cowboy boots.”

  Zane sighed. Her description was almost word for word from Deputy Enis’s report. “So you couldn’t distinguish anything identifiable? Height? Weight? Hair color?”

  “No. Well, I’d say the person was not very tall. Mostly all I saw was a dark blob with legs. I pursued him, but by the time I got to the parking lot, he’d disappeared into the woods. I followed, but—” She gestured toward her side.

  “You were shot.”

  “And I went down like a girl. If I hadn’t been such a wimp, maybe I could have caught him.”

  “You were at a disadvantage. The shooter was concealed by darkness. You were outlined by the inn’s lights. You were an easy target. You could have been killed.”

  “I couldn’t even hang on to the bullet. It went right through. Do you know how much of a laughingstock I am now?” Her voice turned mocking. “The sheriff was stopped by a flesh wound.”

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” He softened his words with a smile. “You were lucky.”

  “I guess. Of course, now I’m not even in charge of my own town.”

  “Your job is to concentrate on getting better. I’ll take care of the investigation.”

  “You believe the guy who shot me killed Sarah Wallace?”

  “It looks that way. Jon estimated her time of death as between 7:00 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. With your information and Anna Wallace’s statement, we’re getting the time narrowed down to around seven-fifteen or seven-twenty.”

  “Luis told me Anna found the body. That must have been awful for her.”

  “Yeah.” Zane didn’t want to think about Anna right now. He tended to get distracted when he did. “Nothing else you can add?”

  Carley shook her head. “I’m sorry, Zane. I wish there were.”

  He checked his watch. He needed to get back to Justice. He patted Carley’s hand. “Take care, and don’t give the nurses too hard a time. I’ll see you later.”

  “Wait. Have you seen your parents?”

  He wasn’t going there. Not now. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here to investigate a murder, not visit my folks. But speaking of parents, what about yours?”

  “Zane, please don’t tell them. They’re on a summer-long camper trip—first time they’ve gotten away in years. If they come running back here, what’s that going to say about me as sheriff?”

  “That you have caring parents?”

  “Please.”

  “Won’t everybody in town call them anyway?”

  Carley shifted in bed and winced, but her eyes sparkled. “Dad just got a new cell phone, and nobody but me knows his number.”

  Zane frowned. “I need information about the inn.”

  “I can tell you anything you need to know.”

  “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t call them if you’ll be a good girl and do what the nurses tell you.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him as he turned to leave.

  He paused at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. Where are the records from Lou Ann’s murder? I need to go over them.”

  Carley’s brows knit. “Probably in the basement with all the other records, unless they were sent to the Department of Archives and History for storage.” She perked up. “Hey! You think whoever killed Lou Ann killed Sarah. I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “I just don’t want to leave any loose ends.”

  “You know who would know where those records are. Sloan. If he sent any to Archives while he was sheriff, he’d be able to tell you which ones.”

  Zane nodded and left. Sloan. Of course his brother would know. He’d been sheriff of Justice for five years, and he’d beaten out Carley for deputy three years prior to that.

  Zane should have realized he wouldn’t make it through this investigation without involving Sloan. He might have to work with his younger brother, but he didn’t have to like it.

  BACK IN JUSTICE, things were pretty well under control. Sarah Wallace’s body had been transported to County General for autopsy. With the bumbling help of Deputy Enis, Zane had managed to finish processing Sarah’s room, although it had been so thoroughly contaminated he didn’t hold out much hope of gaining any useful prints or trace evidence. He told Enis to collect Sarah’s belongings and lock them up in the evidence room at the police station.

  Deputy Spinoza hadn’t fared much better at the second crime scene, where Carley had been shot. Zane had examined the area earlier that morning, before he’d visited her. Her account matched the physical findings.

  The back door to the inn opened into a small, poorly lit parking lot. Beyond that was a wooded area. To the right was the sheriff’s office. Carley’s office window was perfectly aligned with the back door of the inn.

  Zane sat in her squeaky desk chair and cursed as he eyed the view from the window.

  If there had been a full moon last night, or if the parking lot behind the inn had been appropriately lighted, Carley would have seen the face of the person who shot her.

  Zane would have his killer. He had no doubt that the same person who murdered Sarah Wallace had shot Carley. And he knew in his gut they’d also killed Lou Ann sixteen years ago. The question was why.

  Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his captain. “Where are you on getting me a team out here?”

  Captain Hardy sighed. “I’m working on it. You know the president is scheduled to present a commendation to the four Rangers who brought down that child-smuggling ring at the border. The governor wants a big turnout.”

  “Are you saying I’m not getting any help?”

  “It’ll be a couple of days. Can you hang in there with local law enforcement for the next thirty-six hours?”

  “If I have to.”

  “Good. That’s why I sent you.”

  “Thank you, sir. And thanks for getting me a transcriptionist.”

  “Lottie Hagan works in my office. So she’s duly sworn in and knows how to handle confidential matters. She’s one of the best.”

  “I appreciate that. One less thing I have to worry about. Keep me informed.” Zane disconnected and pocketed his phone just as Lottie came in with the typed statements from the desk clerk, Leland Hendricks and Anna Wallace.

  Zane thanked her and gave her Carley’s tape to tran scribe. Then he glanced through the statements. Deputy Luis Spinoza had taken the desk clerk’s and Leland Hendricks’s statement. Zane probably should have talked to Leland himself, but he was just one man. He couldn’t do everything.

  Leland claimed he was at home during the time of the murder. Since the murder occurred on Sunday his house staff were off duty. So, no, there was no one who could corroborate his story. Zane flipped the page. Leland had planned a quiet night at home. He’d fixed a sandwich, had a couple of beers and was watching a DVD when he got a phone call telling him about Sarah’s murder.

  So Leland Hendricks
had no alibi. Great.

  Zane kept reading. Spinoza asked Leland if he’d spoken to Sarah. Leland’s answer was no, but Spinoza had placed a sticky note in the margin. Delay in answering. Check phone records for incoming calls.

  A tiny seed of excitement began to grow in Zane’s chest. Spinoza was a good lawman. If Leland was lying and Sarah had called him, what else was he lying about? And who else had Sarah called?

  He reached for his cell phone and called the deputy sheriff. “Spinoza, McKinney here. I’m reading Leland Hendricks’s statement. You think Sarah called him?”

  “I don’t know, but he definitely hesitated before answering.”

  “Have we checked the hotel records for outgoing and incoming calls?”

  “Yes, sir. None from Room One.”

  “And we didn’t find a cell phone on her.”

  “No, sir. But there was a receipt in her purse for one of those prepaid phones. If she brought it with her, somebody took it.”

  “Thanks, Spinoza. Good job. Follow up on that receipt. Find out what the number was and see if you can match it to any resident’s calls.”

  “You want me to check everybody in town?”

  “Get Burns to help you. Start with those whose statements we’ve gotten.” Zane disconnected and set Leland’s statement aside.

  The other two statements were from Richie Blackwell, the desk clerk, and Anna. Predictably, Richie had no information. Zane muttered a few choice curse words as he skimmed the one-word answers that were all Spinoza had managed to extract from the kid. Nothing there.

  So far, if he were to believe the statements, Leland and Richie were clueless about what happened that night. But Zane wasn’t taking any of the statements at face value. He picked up Anna Wallace’s statement. Certainly not hers. He turned to the last page and looked at her small neat signature.

  His brain fed him a vision of her standing in the middle of her room in nothing but that tiny top and those bikini panties. He stirred uncomfortably, and cursed under his breath.

  “Come on, McKinney. You’re beginning to take after your old man.” The idea that he might be physically attracted to the daughter of the woman who’d destroyed his family nauseated him.

  His reaction to her surprised him. Not only was she the enemy, she wasn’t his type. He preferred leggy blondes. Long and cool, and not interested in forever.