“How?” His grip crushed her fingers, and his blue eyes burned with intensity.
“I’m going to pay Jacey Holloway a visit…in the morgue.”
Chapter Eight
“No.” Rafe yanked her toward him, placing her hands over his thundering heart. “I’m not going to allow you to put yourself in that kind of danger.”
Dana’s dark eyes sparkled, and she looked ready to bite his head off again. Then she uncurled her fists and laid her palm on his chest, her lips edging into a smile.
“I’ll be fine. I’m a Ute shaman, remember? I’m protected by the wolf.”
“I don’t think any spirit can protect you from a serial killer—not once he finds out you’re capable of identifying him.” He trailed his fingers through her hair, its strands capturing the morning light as it streamed through the window. “You don’t have to do this, Dana. We’re going to check out Brice’s cell phone today. We’re onto something with that. We don’t need your ESP.”
“But it could help, and you know it. Don’t tell me you hadn’t hoped I’d seen something during the trance in Holly’s room. I saw it in your face.”
He opened his mouth, but she put her fingers on his lips. “I don’t blame you, Rafe. If I can glean something, anything from a vision, it can only help. We both know it won’t stand up in a court of law, but it just might lead us to a clue…or a person. The investigative work can take over from there.”
“I don’t want you to do this.” He captured her hand and kissed each of her fingers. “I’m afraid of what you’ll go through in one of those trances. I’m afraid of what you’ll see. And I’m scared as hell the wrong person’s going to find out you’re playing with fire.”
“Nobody is going to find out. We’re not telling Emmett or Steve.” She peered over his shoulder at the grandfather clock ticking in the corner. “What time is the autopsy today?”
“It’s later in the afternoon, around three o’clock. Do you want me to pick you up?”
She smiled. “Seeing things my way?”
“Since you have the gift, I’ll never quite see things your way, sweetheart. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you have some creepy vision in a morgue with a dead body without me standing right by your side. When are you meeting Steve?”
“Nine o’clock and I’m exhausted.”
He brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek, edging the dark circle beneath her eye. “Get to bed and get a few hours of sleep before your meeting. I’m going to pick up Brice and head over to the Elk Ridge Bar. Rest up and eat a healthy lunch. I’ll pick you up at two-thirty.”
He tucked her hair behind her ears and kissed her mouth. “Just think of me as your wolf.”
Two hours later, Rafe hitched a hip on the stool and smacked his palm on the smooth mahogany surface of the bar at the Elk Ridge Bar, Silverhill’s most popular drinking establishment. “So who was in here last night, Chuck?”
Chuck Hernandez, proud owner of the Elk, screwed his eyes shut as he tilted his head back. “The usual suspects, Sheriff. Hank, Greg, Scout. Even Joshua Trujillo was in here slumming it. Robert, Lenny, Theresa, Barb…”
As Chuck said each name, he ticked off a finger until he didn’t have any left, and then he started over again. He opened one eye. “Your brother, Rod, was in here having a relaxing beer.”
Rafe snorted. “I didn’t know my brother relaxed. You said Lenny was in here? Lenny Driscoll?”
“Yep. He’s been hitting the booze hard since he came back to town.”
“Was he alone?”
“He was with Louella Thompson, Holly’s mom. Damn shame about her girl and now Jacey Holloway. When are you boys going to stop this guy?”
“We’re working on it.” Rafe gulped down some tinny-tasting orange juice and grimaced. And if he could get some solid information from Brice and Chuck about what occurred at the Elk last night maybe Dana could skip her assignment at the morgue.
“I was sitting at the end of the bar.” Brice pointed down the length of the bar. “Did you see anyone near my barstool or jacket when I was dancing?”
“You dance?” Rafe raised his brows.
A crimson flush raced up Brice’s neck. “The ladies like to dance.”
“From what I saw last night, I think you need to stop thinking about what the ladies like.”
“You went home with Belinda?” Chuck smirked as he polished the same glass he’d been polishing since they walked in ten minutes before. “She’s a man-eater, boy.”
Brice blushed on top of his blush. “Can we get back to business here? Did you see anyone around my stuff?”
“Can’t say that I noticed anyone. We had a full house last night, dollar beer night, live band, hot mamacitas. You should come in more often, Sheriff. Hell, if that brother of yours can stop by, the former playboy of Silverhill can give it a try.”
Rafe rolled his eyes at the title. No wonder Dana never took him seriously. “That was a long time ago, Chuck.”
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t have time now since Mary Redbird’s great-niece is back in town. She’s a fine-looking chica.” Chuck shot Rafe a sideways glance.
Gossip whipped through Silverhill like a wildfire. That’s what worried him about Dana’s plan. “Dana’s FBI. We have to work together.”
“That’s what they all say.” Chuck winked at Brice. “Haven’t seen much of Dana since she left for college. She’s been back a few times, but mostly she flies Mary Redbird up to Denver. I think she’s got a daughter or something.”
“Dana doesn’t have any kids.” Rafe rubbed the back of his neck. At least he didn’t think so. Did he even ask her about that?
Brice shook his head. “You’re thinking of her cousin, Jennifer. She has a couple of kids and lives near Dana.”
Rafe expelled a breath. Good. He didn’t want to deal with any ex-husbands or ex-boyfriends—not when Dana seemed to be warming up to him.
Chuck finally put the glass away and picked up another. “Am I allowed to ask why you two are so interested in the Elk? Does it have something to do with Jacey’s murder?”
“You’re not allowed.” Rafe slapped the bar. “Make me a list of everyone in here last night and ask your waitresses if they noticed anyone around Brice’s stuff. We’re going to have a look around.”
While Chuck scribbled on a piece of paper, chewing on the end of a pencil between scribbles, Rafe and Brice canvassed the bar and the dance floor. No phone.
“This is all I can remember, Sheriff.” Chuck waved the list in the air. “If I think of any more, I’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks, Chuck. You do that.” Rafe plucked the piece of paper from Chuck’s hand. He and Brice pushed out of the Elk and Rafe gulped in the clear, cool mountain air. The Elk smelled like cheap beer and stale cigarettes. Rod must’ve been desperate to stop in there last night.
“Okay, no luck there unless the waitresses remember something. Where did you park your car? Maybe you dropped the phone on your way out.”
Brice scratched his unshaven chin. “I think the killer lifted my cell in the bar. He didn’t just happen to find a cell phone in the parking lot and text Jacey. Somehow he knew I’d hooked up with her and knew she’d respond to a message from me.”
“I knew there was a good reason why I hired you.” Rafe punched his deputy’s shoulder. “I think you’re right, but Chuck was no help. If you were kicking it up on the dance floor all night, someone had plenty of opportunity to slip his hand in your jacket pocket and steal your phone.”
Sawing his bottom lip with his teeth, Brice shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Do you think the killer already had Jacey picked out as his next victim? Was he biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to strike?”
“Maybe. But why did he select Jacey or any of them? With that text message, it doesn’t look like these are random slayings. He’s sending some kind of message. All the girls are full or half Ute.”
Rafe’s mouth went dry as he uttered the words that put
a bull’s-eye on Dana’s back. He settled his shoulders against his squad car and folded his arms, trying to block the uneasiness in his chest. “Were all the girls dating non-Native Americans?”
“Not Alicia. Her boyfriend was Patrick Rainwater, full-blooded Ute.”
“That’s right. Alicia always seems to be the odd girl out. All the others were into the party and club scene.” Rafe swung his door open and slid onto the front seat. “I think we need to look at Alicia Clifton a little more closely.”
“Are you going to the station?” Brice checked his watch. “Shift starts in less than an hour.”
“I’ll be there later. I’m going back to the ranch to get some breakfast, a little shut-eye and have a conversation with my brother about what he saw at the Elk last night.”
When Rafe got to the McClintock ranch, he headed for the kitchen. Rod usually got up early to do some work on the ranch and then dropped by the kitchen for breakfast and to read the newspaper before heading out again.
Better him than me.
Rod, more than any of them, felt an attachment to the McClintock ranch. He wanted to preserve it. He wanted it to flourish. Maybe he remembered more of the good times when their mother still halfway acted like a mom.
Rafe’s middle brother, Ryder, couldn’t wait to get away from the place. He’d joined a covert ops group and had spent most of his twenties roaming around the world. When he discovered the love of his life living in Silverhill with their daughter, he finally settled down…but not in Silverhill.
Rafe couldn’t wait to get away either, especially after Dana left for Georgetown. L.A. seemed like the perfect place to get lost, work a tough and dangerous job as an L.A. cop and blow off steam chasing skirts. The easy conquest of easy women soothed the dull ache in his heart, courtesy of a mom who didn’t give a damn. That lifestyle had gotten old fast. He’d returned to Silverhill, yearning for something more substantial in his life, seeking roots. He’d felt that with Dana, and now fate had given them another chance…fate and a serial killer.
He went around to the side of the big house and stomped up the two steps to the kitchen door. He didn’t want to catch anyone by surprise or in midargument.
Three smiling faces greeted him as his father, Pam and Rod all looked up from poring over drawings rolled out on the kitchen table. Rafe’s eyes widened and he must’ve looked something like a fish since the smiles broadened into grins and then laughter.
“What are you staring at?” His father wiped his eyes and rested an arm across Pam’s shoulders.
“Haven’t seen the three of you enjoying each other’s company much since I’ve been back.” Rafe inched into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Ralph McClintock patted his wife’s arm. “We’ve made a few decisions.”
“Oh?” Rafe shifted his gaze from his father’s worn face to his brother’s inexpressive one.
“Tell him, Dad.” Rod rolled up the plans and snapped a rubber band around them.
“Pam and I are leaving the ranch, leaving Colorado. Doc Parker’s been after me to move to a warmer climate for years.” He plowed stiff fingers through his thick silver hair.
“So you and Pam are happy to be going to, Palm Springs, is it? And Rod’s just happy you’re leaving?” Rafe slurped his coffee and scalded his tongue anyway. He’d returned to Silverhill to reconnect with family, and Ryder had wasted no time in spiriting away his new family and now Dad and Pam were leaving.
Ralph raised his shaggy brows. “You sound…irritated. I thought you were sick of the fighting?”
“I am.” He tilted his chin toward the roll under Rod’s arm. “And now maybe Rod will quit stomping around here growling since it looks like he’s going ahead with plans for a dude ranch.”
Rod smacked the roll against his hand. “Not so fast. We have a lot to work out first.”
Dad frowned. “We’re not leaving for a month or two. We heard about the Holloways’ girl, Jacey. Hate to leave you in the middle of this nasty business.”
“We plan on catching this guy a lot sooner than a month or two.” Rafe rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans. And he hoped they could do it without endangering Dana’s life.
“Hate to say it, but at least it brought that pretty little girl, Dana Croft, back to town. As I recall, you had quite a thing for her. Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time in her company.” Ralph winked at Rod, who rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, well, that pretty little girl is an FBI agent now and we are investigating these murders. I’ve been spending a lot of time with her partner and Emmett too.”
Ralph slapped him on the back, and Rafe nearly choked on his coffee. Hard to believe his larger-than-life father, his big frame only slightly stooped, had to move to a warmer climate for his health.
Her face pale, Pam gripped Ralph’s arm and tugged. “We’re going for a walk, boys. We’ll be back in a few hours.”
Rafe shrugged and splashed some milk in his coffee. “Do you want to show me those drawings?”
“They’re sketchy right now, but don’t worry. I don’t have any intention of tearing down the guesthouse if you plan to stay there.”
“I don’t have any plans right now except to catch a killer.”
Rod’s eyes narrowed. “The old man’s news seemed to shake you up. Don’t tell me you’re going to miss the old SOB, and I know you’re not going to miss Pam.”
“Hell, no.” Rafe tossed his hat so that it hooked on the back of a chair. “I didn’t realize the old man’s health had deteriorated so much. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Rod leaned the heels of his hands on the counter behind him, hunching his shoulders. “Cause you never struck me as the hearth and home type before.”
Rafe snorted. “You got that right. Speaking of hearth and home or the lack thereof, I heard you were carousing at the Elk last night.”
“I’d hardly call it carousing, but I did stop in for a few beers.”
“Did you see my deputy Brice there?”
“Oh, yeah, and Belinda Mathers had her talons firmly planted in his backside. That boy had better watch himself. Belinda thinks her husband doesn’t give a damn, but he’s plenty fired up about her antics.”
Rafe rubbed his hands. Good, he had caught his brother in a rare talkative mood. “Fired up enough to cause trouble for Brice?”
“Don’t know, but Greg Mathers has been seething with fury for a long time.”
Rafe mentally filed that piece of information away and felt in his pocket for Chuck’s list of patrons. He pulled it out and handed it to Rod. “Did you notice any of these people around Brice or Belinda? Did you see anyone else at the bar who’s not on this list?”
“What’s this about?” He squinted at Chuck’s cramped writing. “Are you asking me these questions in an official capacity?”
“Yeah, but I can’t say any more than that. Somebody stole something from the pocket of Brice’s jacket at the Elk last night…and he wants it back.”
Rod ran a thumb along his jaw as he studied the list. “Chuck has a better memory than I do. I don’t recall half these people at the bar, and I left while Brice was still there. I do remember he was sitting at the end of the bar, near the front door. Anyone could’ve slipped in unnoticed and filched something from his jacket pocket.”
Clenching his jaw, Rafe snatched the list back from his brother and smoothed it out on the kitchen table. Looked like he and Dana would have to keep that appointment at the morgue after all.
DANA FLEW DOWN THE STEPS of her aunt’s house before Rafe could even kill the engine. A pair of gray slacks, high-heeled boots and a cobalt blue wool coat had replaced the worn denim jeans, furry boots and down jacket from last night. Dana had her professional armor firmly back in place.
From a distance, her appearance radiated confidence and swagger but when she slid into the patrol car next to him, her washed-out complexion and the dark circles bruising her eyes told a different story.
&nbs
p; “You look tired. Are you sure you want to do this?” He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.
“I have to do it. I couldn’t fall asleep this morning. Those girls need my help. The Ute Tribe needs my help. I feel it here.” She curled her hand into a fist and thumped her chest.
He clasped his hand over her fist. “Then I’ll be there for you.”
“You always were there for me, Rafe.” She tilted her head and her eyes watered. “You would’ve supported me.”
“Would have?” Her words didn’t make sense. She must be tired. Rafe drew his brows together and smoothed the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand. “I’m supporting you now, sweetheart.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the headrest. “I suppose this means you didn’t get anything out of Rod.”
“He didn’t have anyone to add to Chuck’s list.”
She sighed, keeping her eyes closed. “What did you tell the coroner about our visit today?”
“Correction. Silverhill doesn’t have a coroner. Dr. Simpson, who has training in pathology, has been performing the autopsies on all the victims.”
Opening one eye, she said, “I didn’t realize Dr. Simpson wasn’t a San Juan County coroner. Steve was okay with that?”
“Steve has the right idea—keep the investigation as local as possible. This isn’t some big-city killer who’s a stranger. This is a local man.”
Dana hugged herself and shivered. “That’s what makes this so creepy. So what story did you tell Dr. Simpson?”
“Didn’t need a story.” Rafe wheeled onto the highway back into town and the funeral home where Dr. Simpson would be performing the autopsy on Jacey Holloway later this afternoon. “I’m the sheriff of Silverhill.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they pulled into the empty parking lot of the Sharp and Heaton Funeral Home. Dana clasped her hands between her knees, staring straight ahead. You can do this.
Giving her a curious glance, Rafe got out of the car and came around to open the passenger door. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Dana swung her legs out of the car and straightened her back. As they walked up the stone pathway to the colonial-style building, Dana felt as if she were preparing for her own funeral.
The Sheriff of Silverhill Page 9
