She wanted answers. Closure. Something to help her make sense of what had happened to her friend. The one person who had been there for her.
He blew his breath out between clenched teeth. He owed her that much. Not that he knew anything that would make her feel better. “You remember where we were staying, don’t you?”
“Of course. That house just off Main Street, the one that was for sale by the bank. Marcie wanted me to stay there with her, but you wouldn’t allow it, so I was staying at the inn.”
He nodded. “That’s right. I should have moved her back to Austin, into a safe house. Then I could have kept her whereabouts secret. Here in Comanche Creek, there might as well have been a big neon sign over the house. But the attorneys were sure it wouldn’t take but a few days, and they wanted her available for depositions and questioning. I agreed, because I was sure there wouldn’t be a problem. Hell, it was a local land fraud case. Everybody in town probably knew who was behind it, and Marcie was the only one who’d had the nerve to speak up. With her testifying, I figured others would come forward, and the whole thing would be settled within another day or two.”
Nina started to shake her head. Was she going to tell him not to blame himself? He doubted it. Anyhow, it was two years too late for that.
He went on. “So that morning we were up early. The judge wanted to get the preliminary hearing started by nine o’clock. So it was around eight o’clock when I went out to check around and start the car.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands.
After a moment he spoke again. “I heard a sound from the house. I ducked behind the car just as a bullet hit the car door. Then three more shots. I could see a shadow standing at the front door, so I pulled my gun and ran toward him but…” He stopped. His chest was tight. He took a long, unsatisfying breath and stood, looking out through the blue shutters on the windows.
“That’s when you were shot.”
“I hit the ground, but when I tried to roll up and shoot again…” He shrugged. He hadn’t been able to get back onto his feet. There had been a two-ton weight pressing on his chest. He’d raised his gun and fired, but it was like he’d lost control of his gun hand. All he’d been able to hear were his wild shots hitting the wooden siding.
Nina spoke from behind him. “I heard the shots all the way over at the inn. Then Betty Alice’s phone started ringing off the hook.” He heard the clunk of her cup as she set it on the desk. “I remember that by the time I got downstairs, everyone knew you’d been shot and the sheriff had rushed to Marcie’s house, but she was gone, and there was blood on the kitchen floor.”
Wyatt turned. Her eyes were bright with tears. Somehow that hurt his chest more than the memory of the bullet’s impact.
“I’d give anything if I could have been there to process that scene myself,” he confessed. “By the time I could do anything, the house had been cleaned up and sold. I wanted to examine that door. The person I saw had come from inside the house. I’m sure of it.”
Nina made a small sound. “Inside? Surely you don’t think it was Marcie?”
He shook his head. “She screamed. I heard her say ‘Don’t shoot.’ No. It wasn’t her. But whoever it was managed to get into the house somehow—with or without her permission. And of course, the blood was O-negative. Just like Marcie’s.” He rubbed his forehead again. “I’ve been over the files a dozen times. But that’s not the same as being there.”
Nina looked down at her hands, then up at him again. “Wyatt, I—”
“If there’s anything you know—anything at all—tell me. About Tolbert, about Marcie. About anyone else she mentioned talking to. I just need answers. Once I know all the facts, maybe I can finally figure out what happened.”
Nina’s dark eyes assessed him for a fraction of a second. “Marcie was so nervous about testifying. That’s why she called me. To give her moral support. Plus, as soon as she was done giving her testimony, we were going on a cruise.”
“Did she say why she was nervous? Who she was afraid of? I’m thinking it had to be somebody besides Collier.”
“Jonah Becker?”
Wyatt gave a quick nod. “That’d be my guess. It’s hard to believe Collier would have the guts to do anything on his own. Did Marcie ever mention Becker to you?”
“No.”
“From what she told me, most of the information she had came from overheard telephone conversations. I’m not totally convinced that her testimony would have been enough to hurt Collier, much less Becker.” Wyatt watched Nina and waited.
“She used to say that Jerry Collier was creepy. Apparently he was always trying to cut a deal with somebody.”
“Did she ever talk specifics?”
Nina shook her head. “One of the worst things she told me she’d seen was Collier and Daniel Taabe getting into a fight.”
“Right. That fight was what precipitated the investigation. It was Taabe who brought the original charges of land fraud against Jerry Collier. I talked to him today. He believes that Marcie’s sympathy for the Native American cause contributed to her disappearance.”
“He could be right. Marcie thought the Comanches were getting the raw end of the deal.”
“Taabe’s not shy about showing his resentment for the town leaders. He offered me his help in the investigation.”
“Are you going to accept it?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Can’t afford to. I’m afraid allowing him access to the site could become a powder keg. One tiny spark and I’d have an explosion on my hands.”
Nina nodded. “Did you talk to anyone else?”
“I tried to get an interview with Billy Whitley and his wife, Charla, but they weren’t available. All I know about them is that they’re big friends with Tolbert and they can’t stand Taabe.”
“I don’t know them. I never heard Marcie mention their names.”
“I’m going to try and talk with them tomorrow.” He paused, studying her. “So if the fight between Collier and Taabe was the worst, what did she tell you that wasn’t the worst?”
Nina licked her lips. “I told you, we didn’t talk about the town that much. I do remember her talking about those two men whose medical records the Ranger lab sent me.”
“You mean Lattimer and Phillips, the guys who disappeared? Marcie knew them?”
“I don’t know. She worked at the land office for nine years, ever since she graduated.”
“What did she say about them?”
Nina looked at him thoughtfully. “It was a long time ago. But it had something to do with Native American artifacts and burial grounds, and…Oh, that was it. One of them was buying up ancient artifacts. The other one, Phillips, was the leader of the Comanche community, and the two of them came to blows over some missing artifacts.”
“When was this?”
She rubbed her temple. “It was one small conversation years ago. We were celebrating something. Maybe it was when I’d just gotten my PhD.”
“I’ll ask Hardin about it.”
“I can tell you that when the land fraud came to light, Marcie mentioned them again. She said she was afraid she’d end up disappearing, like they did.”
Wyatt nodded. Marcie had told him that, too. He should have asked her who she thought was responsible for Lattimer and Phillips disappearing. “What about her and Tolbert?” he asked. “Did she think he had anything to do with those two? You still haven’t told me what happened that made Marcie decide she was through with him.”
“When I called to tell her I’d booked us a cruise for the week after she was supposed to testify, she said Shane had been pestering her, wanting to see her. Wanting to talk to her about the case.”
“When? While she was in my custody?” Wyatt thought back. Marcie had had her cell phone, but Wyatt didn’t remember hearing her talk to Shane Tolbert.
Nina shook her head. “Just before. She agreed to meet him one last time, but then when she told him she didn’t want to see him ag
ain, he threatened her.”
Wyatt waited.
“He told her she was his. And if he ever saw her with another man, he’d…” Her throat moved as she swallowed.
“He’d what?”
Nina’s eyes widened, and she swallowed nervously. “He’d kill both of them,” she whispered.
He’d expected something like that, but the words hit his ears like a stunning blow. Kill both of them. Was Shane Tolbert capable of killing? Had the deputy shot him?
“Wyatt?”
He blinked. “What?” He realized she’d said something.
“I said, do you think Shane shot you?”
“The bullet they pulled out of my lung was never matched to a weapon. According to the file, the Rangers tested every gun in Comanche Creek.”
“Your lung?”
Ah, hell, he thought. That had slipped out. It sounded like a bid for sympathy.
“I thought…” She’d turned pale. Her skin looked translucent against the backdrop of that dark hair.
He didn’t wait to find out what she thought. He stood. “I don’t trust Tolbert, but he was attacked. You saw that head wound. Seven stitches isn’t child’s play.”
“No. It’s very serious.”
As was her voice.
“Wyatt? I didn’t show you the pictures I took, did I?”
“Which ones?”
“Of Shane’s head wound.”
He shook his head, but she was already up and heading through the connecting door. Within seconds she was back with her camera. “Take a look at this.”
He looked at her photos of the cut on Tolbert’s head. There was a red stripe, emphasized by the camera’s flash, next to the bleeding laceration.
“Do you see it?” Her voice was laced with excitement and impatience.
He didn’t answer. He wanted to see what she saw.
“That red streak. It’s a hesitation wound. Can’t you see it?” she asked.
“I see it.” He handed the camera back to her. “I noticed it that night, but do you really think Shane conked himself on the head?”
“Do you think he stayed politely still while someone else took a practice blow?”
He had to give her that point. “You know how hard that will be to prove. The redness has already faded.”
She sighed. “I know. And the inflammation of the laceration will have spread to cover it.”
He nodded, then gestured toward the coffeepot. “You want some more coffee?”
She shook her head. “I’ll never get to sleep if I drink any more.”
He took her cup, trying to ignore the way his fingers tingled where they brushed hers. Trying to ignore how she jerked her hand away from his accidental touch.
“You said you didn’t get to question Whitley?” she asked.
He set the cups down, then propped a hip on the edge of the desk. “No. I want to, though. He and his wife acted like they were furious that I’d even dare to question them. I got maybe three minutes with Mayor Sadler, most of which he spent talking. Making sure I understood just how much he does for this town.” He paused. “And Trace Becker never showed up. What do you know about him?”
“Not much. Marcie called Trace a spoiled brat. She did say she wouldn’t be surprised if he was in on the illegal land deal with his father and Collier.” She yawned. “Excuse me. I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
“What are you planning to do in the morning?” Wyatt asked. “Go to the site or back to the lab?”
“I trust my students to handle the extraction of the bones. I want to do those scrapings of the thigh bones and send them to the Ranger lab.”
“So you’ve got somebody to pick you up?” He was interrupted by his cell phone. It was Hardin. He answered it.
“Lieutenant? It’s Reed Hardin. I just got a call from Daniel Taabe.”
“Something happen?”
Nina sat up straight, her sharp gaze holding his.
“You could say that,” replied Hardin. “He says he found a hatchet in the back of his pickup. A hatchet with blood on it.”
“Where are you?” asked Wyatt.
“Wait. That’s not all. He said he also found a bone.”
“He found a bone?” Wyatt asked.
“A bone?” Nina echoed. “Is it my thigh bone?”
“I’m headed out to Daniel’s place now.” Hardin gave him directions. “I’ll be right there.” Wyatt hung up his phone and reached for his shoulder holster.
Nina stood. “I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not.” Wyatt slipped the holster on and checked his weapon.
“Yes, I am. Somebody found my missing bone, didn’t they?”
Wyatt cursed under his breath. He was going to have to be a lot more careful with her around.
She headed back to her room. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
“Three, or I’m leaving.” It was an empty threat, and he knew it. He reached for his windbreaker. She was right. If it was the missing thigh bone, she needed to be there. He wasn’t taking any chances of contaminating the evidence. The stakes were too high—for him, for the town and for Marcie.
Chapter Eleven
Daniel Taabe lived west of Comanche Creek, in a white clapboard house with a screened porch and a tin roof. They passed a trailer park, a few large new homes set back from the road and several houses that appeared to be the same age as Taabe’s.
Sheriff Hardin was already there, along with Deputy Spears. They had a big spotlight on the backseat of Taabe’s truck, and Spears was crouched down, examining the floorboards with a flashlight, while Hardin stood talking to Taabe.
Wyatt parked the Jeep and got out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nina heading straight for the truck.
“Lieutenant,” Hardin said as Wyatt approached. He was holding a small spiral notepad and a ballpoint pen.
“Sheriff. Mr. Taabe,” said Wyatt.
Daniel Taabe was frowning. His black hair was unbraided and loose. It looked damp, as if he’d just washed it.
Hardin’s face was dark with worry. Wyatt couldn’t blame him. If the acknowledged leader of the Native American community here was arrested, things in Comanche Creek were liable to get real ugly, real fast.
“What happened?” asked Wyatt.
Hardin pushed his hat back off his forehead. “Daniel called me about seven thirty, told me he went to get something out of his truck and noticed a small hatchet and a bone in the backseat. Says he knows they weren’t there when he got home from town around lunchtime.”
Wyatt nodded and waited for Hardin to offer up more information. He was certain that the hatchet was the weapon used to knock out Shane Tolbert and the bone was the one missing from the crime scene. Therefore, this discovery fell under his jurisdiction, and he had every right to march over to the truck and claim the evidence. But as much as he wanted to do that, he owed the sheriff a little courtesy.
“Kirby’s checking out the truck. I see your bone collector came along.” Hardin paused. Wyatt didn’t speak, so he continued. “I was just asking Daniel if he saw anybody around his truck earlier.”
“I was about to tell the sheriff that kids come around here all the time,” said Taabe. “I hire them to do odd jobs. It keeps them busy. There were three here this afternoon, cleaning out the stables.”
Hardin clicked the ballpoint pen. “Who were they?”
“Tim Hussey, Andy Jones and Kirk Foote. You wouldn’t know them.” Taabe’s voice held a note of indignation.
“Did you see any of them hanging around your truck?” asked Wyatt.
“No. As I told the sheriff, I did not see anything.”
“I take it your truck wasn’t locked,” Wyatt continued.
“I have no reason to lock it.”
“You didn’t go out to the stables while the boys were working?” asked Wyatt.
Taabe shook his head. “Of course I did. I spent nearly two hours out there with them. I like to show them the right way to tre
at the horses.”
Wyatt nodded. “And when they left?”
“I was still in the stables,” replied Taabe. “I had a couple of mares whose hooves needed trimming.”
Wyatt persisted, frustrated with Taabe’s polite yet uninformative answers. “So you don’t know if one or more of the boys did something to your truck.”
“Yes, I do. They didn’t,” Taabe asserted.
Wyatt’s jaw ached. “Would you mind telling me how you know?”
Taabe’s mouth softened into a smile. “I’d be happy to. The stables are there, east of my house. My truck was parked where it is now, right in front of my door.” He paused and lifted his head, as if sensing something. Then he pointed to the north. “I always watch the boys leave. They went north.”
Wyatt leveled a gaze at him and waited.
“The only time someone could have approached my truck without me knowing was when I was inside my house, taking a shower.”
“And that was when?” Hardin asked.
“Shortly after the boys left. Around five.”
“You always follow the same routine?” Wyatt interjected.
Taabe smiled again. “Generally.”
Wyatt turned toward the cab, checking on Nina. Spears was still searching inside the truck. Wyatt could see flashes of light as the deputy took pictures. Nina was examining the ground beside the door.
“Do you have any further questions for me?” Taabe asked. “Because I’m expecting someone.”
As Wyatt stalked over to Taabe’s truck, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance. He watched as they grew closer, until a white pickup pulled up several feet from where they were standing.
Ellie Penateka jumped out, dressed in faded, torn jeans and a figure-hugging yellow top. She went straight to Taabe’s side and asked him what was going on.
So she was the company Daniel Taabe was expecting.
Wyatt would have liked to hear their conversation, but he needed to know what Nina had found out about the bone.
“Professor,” he said, dropping to his haunches beside her.
“Yes, cowboy?” she retorted without lifting her head. Her flashlight beam played along the hard, dusty ground.
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