Ghost Layer (The Ghost Seer Series Book 2)

by Robin D. Owens

  Eyes more smoke than solid orbs, Enzo nodded, looked as if he might transmute to the Other, then grinned and he was all dog. And you will tell everyone about the old Hawburton, so everyone will know he was a bad guy. And Zach will tell the person who keeps the history books, and you will both tell people who tell the stories.

  “Yes, we will. But it’s time now for me to go tell Zach.”

  Call him, Enzo said.

  “I don’t want to do this over the phone.” She turned hers on and saw she’d missed a call from him, and pressed the voice mail. “Stay inside! I’ll get back to you,” Zach barked and cut the message.

  Clare sniffed at his order to stay inside the room, looked at the door, the heavy and cumbersome vest. She was still cold so she went to the bathroom and washed her hands, came out. How she wanted the sunshine behind the drapes, the fresh mountain air, the view that would soothe her heart with the colors of autumn.

  THIRTY

  RIGHT AFTER HE’D called Clare, Zach punched in another number.

  “Rossi,” the bodyguard answered.

  “This is Slade. Keep everyone inside.”

  “What!”

  “I think there’s a sniper on the ridge. Hawburton.”

  Rossi swore, then said, “I’ve got to stay with Laurentine, then, can’t scout it out. Don’t trust anyone else.”

  “I can’t raise Clare on her phone. Lock her in or have Desiree sit on her. He set Clare up before and got her where he could hurt her, he’s probably done so again. I’m calling the sheriff right now. They might give me a ride up behind Hawburton. I’ll try to convince them to take him red-handed.”

  Rossi grunted and signed off.

  Zach phoned the sheriff, got the female deputy he’d spoken with before, Julie Wilson, and laid out his conversation with Tyler Jorgen and his own deductions succinctly. He heard a keyboard tapping. “Yes. The tire pattern would be right for one of the trucks registered to Hawburton’s ranch. I’m on my way.”

  Zach gritted his teeth, spoke through them. “I’d advise coming in soft, cold.”

  “You want to take a man with a gun rack on every truck he owns, maybe a guy with a rifle, by surprise,” the deputy said flatly.

  “We know how to do this,” Zach pointed out.

  A slight sigh. “Wait there, I shouldn’t be more than twenty. My partner and I will pick you up. We’ll go up the back road, park below the truck Tyler says is Hawburton’s and is purportedly at that location. Review the situation.”

  “Right.” This time Zach clicked off.

  Cold moved through him, and he heard barking. “Enzo, is that you?”

  Another series of barks.

  “Is Clare okay?”

  One bark and a whine. Zach could figure that one out.

  “She’s in danger from Hawburton—”

  A sharp bark that felt like agreement. “Oh, she got to that conclusion, too?”

  The bark was repeated. “Good. Tell her to stay safe inside the room.”

  Yes, Zach, he thought he heard in his head, then the cold went away.

  He had to face it again, whatever thing that the crow stuff was, was slopping over to let him hear Enzo without a connection with Clare. He’d think about that later . . . and stonewall any “discussion” until he didn’t feel so damn sensitive about it.

  Since he wanted to act and not wait, Zach took measured steps to the fence, walked beyond the tire tracks on the other side, and with slow and careful movements, he slipped between the barbed wire without any snags. Good job.

  The deputies pulled up not long after. Both the man and the woman gave him a hard look, and once Zach was in the backseat . . . which he loathed . . . grilled him on every detail he’d gotten from Tyler, everything else he’d figured out. Then they told him what data they had.

  They backtracked off the ruts to a grated dirt road that looped behind the ridge Laurentine’s house was built on.

  Neither of them looked happy at the prospect of bringing a prominent member of the county in for questioning on an attempted murder.

  At the next turnoff, they wound up the ridge. And saw a black truck in the distance. They parked across the road, blocking the way down, but the truck looked to have four-wheel drive and could probably handle the slope . . . with a good driver.

  “I’m engaging the camera,” the male deputy said, tapping a button. Julie sighed and did the same. Zach figured he could keep his right hand free for his smart phone camera or his weapon. He chose his gun, and wished he had body armor. The other two were wearing covert vests.

  “Civilian,” the guy said. “Keep behind us and to the side.”

  That burned him, but he didn’t disagree. They walked quietly and stopped when they saw Baxter Hawburton staring down at the house, his rifle in his hands.

  “Baxter,” said Deputy Wilson.

  “Hey, Julie,” Hawburton said casually, but his fingers tightened around the stock of his gun. His jaw flexed and his face showed fury before he masked it.

  “What are you doing up here with a rifle?”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I’d like you to come with us for questioning with regard to the attempted murder of Ms. Cermak.”

  “Rather not.”

  “Please give me your rifle.” She stepped forward and held out her hand for it.

  “I don’t think so. You have nothing on me.”

  “I repeat, what are you doing overlooking Dennis Laurentine’s house with a rifle?”

  A shrug. “Came up for the view, then thought I heard something.”

  “I’d like the rifle.”

  He hesitated, his eyes narrowed, his lips thinned, looking grim. Then he met Zach’s gaze, said with a sneer, “I see you brought the crippled city boy who’s screwing the crazy fake psychic girl.”

  Both deputies tensed, both faces going expressionless. “That’s an interesting way to characterize a female consultant your friend hired,” Julie said. And her tone told Zach, at least, that Hawburton had made a mistake.

  “Never thought you could be so stupid, Hawburton, to assault someone.”

  “You can’t prove that.”

  “I think we can.” Zach smiled with an edge.

  “Why don’t you give me the rifle and you can explain yourself up at the station,” Julie said.

  It was a basic human need, explaining yourself. One that most cops—investigators—capitalized on.

  “This is all a mistake, and you don’t have anything on me,” Hawburton insisted.

  “We have enough to bring you in for questioning,” Deputy Wilson said.

  “You can’t!”

  Julie let loose an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, we can. Give me the rifle, Hawburton, and let’s move this conversation to headquarters.”

  It was a stare-down of three to one. Hawburton shoved the rifle at Deputy Wilson. She took it and kept her balance. The other deputy read him his rights and asked if Hawburton understood them. With a snap of his teeth, the guy answered in the affirmative.

  “Get in the back of the SUV,” ordered Julie.

  Another fulminating glare, another three people staring right back. Hawburton stalked to the back of the SUV and got in.

  The deputy reported to the department. After a shake of his head, he said, “For God’s sake. I have to talk to Laurentine. You take Hawburton in.”

  Zach moved forward. “Mind if I come along?”

  Deputy Wilson gave him the narrow eye, the flat cop stare. Zach stood hard-faced under it. Then she said, “Hawburton doesn’t seem to think much of you, and we might be able to use that, so yeah, you can come. Until he asks for a lawyer.”

  “Maybe I can keep him talking. Make a better case for you.”

  “Maybe you can. Get in the front.”

  On the drive to Fairplay, Zach called Clare and listened as she told him the story of J. Dawson’s death. A few minutes later Hawburton was charged with attempted murder and steaming in an interrogation room.

  “Wo
uld you mind if I took point on questioning him?” Zach asked.

  Julie snorted. “Fact is, the sheriff is letting me handle this. He has bigger fish to fry.”

  “He doesn’t want to be associated with the attempted murder of a psychic ghost seer.”

  “Dennis Laurentine has shine, but he’s also a pain in the butt. Right now, I think the sheriff sees more detriments than advantages of being in on this. And you have more experience than me in an attempted murder investigation.”

  “Some.” That was the truth. He’d worked with detectives when he’d been a city cop, then had a few cases as a deputy sheriff in less populated places. “But you know Hawburton.”

  “Dated his son for a while.”

  “Sorry,” Zach said.

  She hunched a shoulder. “Small community.” She studied Zach again. “Yeah, maybe we’d make a good team.”

  “Thanks for letting me participate.”

  Her brows lowered. “I’ll let you run the questioning—”

  “Until you won’t. I understand, Deputy.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  They went into the room. Hawburton was ruddy, not a good sign. “You don’t have anything on me.”

  Zach shook his head. “You’re wrong there. We have tire tracks that match the tires belonging to a red truck registered to you. Those tracks were found at the site of a newly mended breach in Laurentine’s fence to the east of the house when you snuck in to pour furniture polish on the stairs, then called Ms. Cermak’s room. We have a witness who saw your truck that night.”

  “Clare’s just a stupid, clumsy, crazy woman.” Hawburton made a disgusted noise, spat on the floor.

  “Hey!” Julie protested.

  He smiled at her.

  Zach continued. “And we have tracks that match your tires that were found behind the general store that had the bottles with pesticide in them.”

  “We got your fingerprints from the bottle you used and found them on additional bottles,” Julie Wilson put in.

  Shaking his head, Zach used the info. “Left your fingerprints on the bottles. Sloppy and half-assed. I’m surprised you managed to run a business. But then you had your own secret gold mine to bail you out when you made a mess of things, didn’t you?”

  Hawburton half rose from his seat, settled back. “You can’t prove that either.”

  “I think Clare can find the mine,” Zach said. “And gold buyers keep good records. If there’s a stream of sales coming from you, we’ll find them. Check out the composition of the gold—or any you might have . . .” He glanced at Deputy Wilson.

  “A warrant’s been requested to search his property and is expected to come through shortly.”

  Zach nodded, saw that sweat began to bead at Hawburton’s hairline. “We can cross-check the gold with the mine, with the sales to anyone in Denver.”

  Hawburton pressed his lips together.

  The deputy shook her head mournfully. “This is going to kill your family,” she said. “Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

  “Deadly family secrets held close enough to spread poison,” Zach said. His mouth thinned. “I’ve seen it before.”

  Hawburton’s expression twisted, then he glared at them and said, “Laurentine said the girl knew stuff. I had to protect my secret.”

  “So you decided to scare her off.” Zach leaned close to get in Hawburton’s face.

  The man shrugged. “Didn’t think the girl could see ghosts, but why take the risk?”

  “Damn half-assed way to do it,” Zach said. “Leaving a puddle of furniture polish on the stairs?” He infused his voice with disgust.

  Hawburton jutted his jaw. “Worked, didn’t it? Strange woman in a strange house, not paying too much attention? I knew Dennis Laurentine would have given her a lecture on how she should jump when he said jump and come when he calls. Standard for the guy.”

  “And you knew the house’s routine.”

  “That’s right. Rossi would have checked out the doors. I’ve known the security code for a while, Dennis doesn’t change it as often as your boss and Rossi advise. Knew Laurentine himself would be screwing Missy Legrand.” Hawburton flicked a rough hand. “I knew everything I needed to about Dennis Laurentine before he moved in.”

  “And you knew everyone who worked for him.”

  A shrug. “Sure, from the first. I study and I learn.”

  “But you don’t execute well,” Zach said. “Stupid accidents that were too stupidly executed to fly as accidents. Puddle on the stairs and a call to Clare. Poison in a bottle you didn’t know Laurentine would give her, didn’t know how much she’d take.” That made Zach pause as a bitter taste coated his mouth. He sipped some water.

  The deputy just shook her head at Hawburton, a sad expression on her face. “Sloppy.”

  “Stupid.”

  Hawburton scowled. “The poison should have done the job. Was pretty evident she’s crazy enough to know things she shouldn’t. I knew Laurentine considered Clare girly, would give her the pink bottle. Thought there was enough in there, even if she did drink slow.”

  “The poison was just plain stupid,” Zach repeated. He’d noted the man had tensed when he’d used the word.

  “Should have worked.”

  Zach shook his head. “You’re not a good planner, Hawburton.”

  The man jerked up straight from his lounging position. “I came pretty damn close.”

  “Cowardly,” the deputy stated, with a disparaging undertone that made Hawburton’s face redden.

  “I’m not a fucking coward, Julie.”

  “Yes, you are. There was always something a little off with you that I couldn’t put my finger on. You’re cowardly and you take shortcuts.”

  “Just like your great-great-grandfather. His store was failing, wasn’t it?” Zach said. “His goods too expensive.”

  “Because they were high quality. He underestimated the miners’ tastes. There weren’t enough people who preferred quality over price. Though quality always outlasts cheap.” Baxter rubbed his hands on his jeans.

  “I have a feeling that J. Dawson liked quality,” Zach said softly. “So he came in and paid with a gold nugget and your ancestor recognized it for what it was.”

  “Pretty damn pure gold was what it was,” Hawburton said with a curl to his mouth. “And that pussy had found it. Hadn’t worked as long or as hard as most of the men in Curly Wolf.”

  “Luck,” Zach said.

  “Not as long and as hard as your great-great-granddad did in making a go of Hawburton Emporium,” the deputy interjected softly.

  “That’s the fucking truth. He was losing the store, would have had to close down within a week.”

  “And the pussy walks in with gold,” Zach said.

  “Dreams in his eyes, Great-Great-Granddad wrote. Wanted a new suit and a little silver locket for one of the new ladies who’d come to town.”

  “A gold mine would save your great-great-grandfather’s store. He followed J. Dawson, saw the prospector looking at a gold nugget he’d pulled from his mine in the sunshine, and killed him.”

  “There was a struggle,” Hawburton protested. “J. Dawson fell.”

  “If your great-great-grandfather wrote that, or told that to anyone else, he lied.”

  Hawburton jumped to his feet, even more flushed, his big hands fisted until his knuckles were white. “My great-great-granddad did not lie. He was a good man.”

  “And brought his sons up right?” Zach mocked. “But you sure went wrong if you targeted a young woman just to keep your dirty little secret that you’ve been stealing gold from the feds for generations. Your great-great-grandfather killed. He hid and waited until J. Dawson turned to walk down the goat trail then hit him in the head with his shovel and pushed him down the mountain. He set up the scene to make it look as if J. Dawson fell.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. And you set your own little traps and scenes, half-assed accidents that weren’t accidents. Slip and
fall. Poisoning. Setting up an accidental shooting by a stupid, mythical hunter by aiming at the damn house.” Zach stopped a moment to tamp the fury down, keep the red tide of anger from filling his vision.

  A deputy came in with a sheaf of papers, looked at Hawburton, and shook his head. “Done for.”

  Julie riffled through the papers. “We’ve got not only your confession, but hard evidence, Mr. Hawburton,” said Julie. “Tire tracks, fingerprints.”

  He turned even redder, sucked in a harsh breath, then simply folded. The rancher put his face in his hands. “I’m ruined. My family name is ruined. My reputation.”

  “Attempted murder,” Zach said. “We’ll go for attempted murder, along with assault with a deadly weapon, and—” He caught the raised eyebrows of the deputy and realized he wouldn’t be doing any charges. Not his job anymore. He was here as a damn courtesy and overstepping the boundaries. He pushed back from the table and walked to the door, changed his direction verbally. “You’re done.” He shook his head. “And whatever rep your great-great-grandfather had, it’s gone, too. He was a thieving, murdering bastard.”

  “Don’t say that! I won’t have that said.” Hawburton jerked upright again.

  “The truth has come out, live with it,” Zach said.

  “Just a stupid little fake psychic con woman. Who was she to take away my livelihood? To ruin us?” Hawburton snapped. “My family has worked that mine all our lives.”

  “A secret mine that you didn’t bother to register a claim for. Bad all the way down your line.”

  “Ruined.” Hawburton’s flushed color had turned grayish, but his hands remained tightly clenched on the table in front of him, and when he met Zach’s eyes, his own glittered. “A stupid little fake psychic girl. And the more I spent time with her, the more I didn’t like her. Talk about stupid. She doesn’t learn either.” His chin rose up, nostrils widened. Whatever civilized veneer he’d had peeled off. “I might be done. But my last plan won’t fail.”