You're Not Safe

by Mary Burton

  “Just twenty-one.”

  “Real shame.”

  “Yes.”

  He adjusted his weight as if his hip bothered him. “Was it cancer? Cancer strikes many these days.”

  Greer cleared her throat. “It was a car accident.”

  He shook his head. “Young kids drive like bats out of hell. No sense.”

  She’d not been driving recklessly. Or at least she’d not thought she had been. Rising, she dusted the dirt from her knees. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  In her car, she switched on the engine. The blast of cold air did little to cool the heat of her skin, now flushed and hot. She put the car in drive and glanced toward Jeff’s grave. The caretaker stood next to her brother’s spot, leaning on his shovel and staring at Greer’s truck. She raised a nervous hand in farewell and he nodded.

  She drove back toward the entrance and as she pulled out on the main road, she glanced in her rearview mirror. The caretaker was still staring at her.

  Bragg had inspected Sara’s belongings and had found the red rope bracelet bagged and tagged in the box. His heart sped up when he lifted the bag and studied the red rope bracelet. Made of three braided thin red strips of yarn, the bracelet’s craftsmanship was amateurish and reminded him of something a teenager would wear. It hadn’t appeared out of place on Edwards but on Wentworth it was a huge red flag. What the hell did the red rope bracelet mean?

  It took him a couple of hours, but he put all the details of the two murders into the ViCAP system. The national database contained details of other murders throughout the country, and if his killer had a hit anywhere else in the country maybe this detail would pop a match. ViCAP was not a perfect system. Cops in small localities with limited funding didn’t always have time to enter crimes into the database. His inquiry was a crapshoot but better than no shot at all.

  He pushed away from the desk, grabbed his hat, and headed to the medical examiner’s office. Dr. Watterson would be doing Sara Wentworth’s examination this afternoon and he wanted to be present.

  The heat hit him hard as he stepped outside. One hell of a hot spell had hit Texas, and now they were knee-deep in summer’s brutal temperatures. He’d grown up working outside and had learned to ignore the heat. For some reason, he thought about Greer outside. She’d said harvest time would be soon, which meant she was likely in the fields working in the heat preparing.

  It was a hell of a lifestyle switch. Knowing she was raised in the world of country clubs, pools, and fancy trips, he doubted she’d known a bit of manual labor before she’d moved to Bonneville. But he’d felt the scrape of calluses on her hands and seen the depth of her tan when he caught a flash of white flesh just inside the cleavage of her dress.

  That little bitty peek shot right through his body. As he’d stood there wondering if she could kill a man or if she was trouble waiting to happen, he’d been rock hard. His voice had been calm, steady, as he’d imagined touching those white breasts.

  Bragg shook his head. “Son, you been out of the game too damn long.”

  He’d dated over the years. Even been serious about one gal about ten years ago. But he’d never been able to bring himself to pull the trigger. He’d had a host of excuses. Work earned the lion’s share of reasons. The last gal he’d dated had been just fine. And he couldn’t give her a reason why he didn’t want to get married. And when it occurred to him not having a reason wasn’t reason enough, he’d broken it off.

  He parked and strode the short distance inside. He stepped onto the elevator and found the doctor and his assistant preparing the instruments standing by an exam table holding a body clad with a white sheet.

  Dr. Watterson pulled on rubber gloves. “Usually I don’t have the pleasure of seeing you twice in a week.”

  “Not that I don’t like you, doc, but this isn’t my idea of a fun date.”

  The doctor chuckled. “You weren’t the pretty face I was imagining when I started this day.”

  “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

  Dr. Watterson pulled down the microphone, suspended over the table, until it was inches from his mouth. He clicked it on and pulled back the sheet covering the body.

  Sara Wentworth’s pale bluish body lay on the table still and flaccid. Her head rested on a block and her blond hair was brushed off her face. The tech had removed her make-up. She’d been a pretty woman. And it was clear she’d taken pride in her appearance. Her skin was in excellent shape. Her hair neatly trimmed. Her nails manicured. She’d not scrimped on herself.

  “Not often we have someone freeze to death in Texas during such a bitch of a heat wave.”

  Bragg donned rubber gloves and approached the table. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

  “I’ve sent her blood off for analysis so we’ll know soon if she had drugs in her system. There is no sign of physical trauma on her body. No defensive wounds.”

  “Like Rory Edwards.”

  “Yes.”

  “You think this is a suicide?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t say right now.”

  Bragg thought about the red bracelet. She’d worn one and so had Rory. Could the two have had something going on no one knew about? His death had clearly been assisted, whereas hers showed no signs of a second party.

  Winchester was running the numbers on Wentworth’s phone and searching for connections to Rory and Greer.

  “I did find an interesting fact about her.” The doctor walked from the head of the table to the foot. “Look at her left foot.”

  He glanced at the pale, long, manicured nails and instantly saw what the doctor found odd. “She’s missing her two small toes.”

  “A recent injury?”

  Watterson turned the foot so Bragg had a full view. “No. They’ve been gone a long time.”

  “Birth defect?”

  “No. Look closely, and you’ll see suture lines. The toes were removed.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “It could have been an accident, but given her cause of death the first thought that comes to mind would be frostbite.”

  Bragg leaned in and studied the old injury. “Frostbite?”

  Dr. Watterson peered through protective goggles. “Sure, if she’d been exposed to the elements for a long time she could well have lost toes or fingers.”

  “I asked her parents directly if she’d had any mental instability problems and they said no.”

  “Might not have been a suicide attempt. Could have been a ski accident. And remember, frostbite is a guess. She could have dropped a rock on her foot or God knows what.”

  Bragg would have bet a month’s paycheck Sara’s past included more instability than her parents had conceded. “I’ll see if I can find her medical records.”

  Dr. Watterson reached for his scalpel and made a neat clean Y in the chest’s center. “I’d be curious myself.”

  The doctor continued the exam for several hours while Bragg watched. After he’d sutured her back together and covered her with a sheet, the doctor shook his head. “I can find nothing wrong with her. She was a healthy woman.”

  “So why’d she end up dead in a freezer in East Austin?”

  Willie Nelson’s “Georgia on My Mind” played on the radio as Greer studied the stack of invoices on her desk. Several times she’d lost her train of thought and had had to recalculate a column of numbers. When she added a row of numbers and came up with a different answer for the third time, she tossed her pencil on the desk and sat back in her chair.

  She glanced out the window and saw Mitch working with the horses. He’d barely spoken since his arrival, but she’d noticed he carried a little less worry in his shoulders. His patience with the horses remained endless even when Beauty nipped or Buttercup lagged. And José had said he listened well in the fields and had caught on quickly with operating the equipment.

  At first blush she’d never have put Mitch and Bragg together but the more she’d watched him today the more she’d seen
similarities. Mitch’s coloring was lighter, but he had a square jaw like his uncle and he carried himself with the same straight-backed posture. Both were over six feet and though Bragg had a broader chest Mitch would fill out more given time.

  Bragg.

  Why did her thoughts keep circling back to Bragg?

  The man didn’t trust her. His distrust reflected in his gray eyes. Though he’d kept silent about Mitch’s working here, he didn’t like it.

  She rubbed her hands over her eyes and tried to work away the fatigue. She didn’t have time to worry over what was out of her control.

  As she pushed away from the books, the afternoon news started. She was half listening when she heard the newscaster say, “Woman found frozen to death in downtown Austin.”

  The temperatures had been well over a hundred the last few days and the idea a woman freezing to death struck her more as wrong. The reporter gave scant details so she switched to another radio station hoping another report would air. When she found none, she turned to her computer and searched the story. On the newspaper Web site she spotted the small blurb: The Austin resident, 32, was found dead in an East Austin warehouse freezer.

  She sat back in her chair, thinking back to another girl she’d known who had nearly frozen to death. That girl had gone out into the frigid cold night air with the intent of killing herself. She’d been found in time and saved. Like Rory and like Greer. Her name had been Joan. And she’d not only known Rory but had loved him. It was hard not to love Rory. He was so handsome and beautiful. Most girls noticed him, but Joan had had a deep affection for him and was furious when he’d chosen Greer. One of the last nights they were all in camp together, Greer had been late meeting Rory. She’d been delayed by extra chores in the kitchen. As she’d approached his tent, she’d seen Joan inside with him.

  She’d watched as Joan had wrapped her arms around Rory’s neck and kissed him hard on the lips. Rory had responded and kissed her back. Greer’s heart sank. She’d wanted Rory and had been ready to give him what he’d been begging for.

  Finally, Rory eased out of her grip and whispered something only Joan could hear. She’d smiled, kissed him good-bye, and left.

  Greer, lingering in the shadows, could have slipped away into the night and written Rory off. But she’d lost so much and to lose him was unbearable. So, she’d summoned her courage and slipped into his tent. Before she thought, she rushed up to him and kissed him on the lips. He’d folded his arms around her and held her so close she could feel the erection Joan’s touch had created. But she’d ignored his attraction for another girl and she’d deepened the kiss thinking maybe she could make him forget Joan. He’d kissed her back and then took her by the hand and led her into the woods to a soft grassy patch of land.

  As she sat at her desk now, nervous energy churned in her stomach. Silly to think there’d be any kind of connection today between Rory and the woman in the news report. The cops had said Rory ran with a rough crowd and could very well have angered the wrong guy. And this woman who’d frozen to death could be a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time. There could have been any number of odd circumstances why she’d met such an odd ending.

  Not her business.

  Not her problem.

  She had so much work to do.

  And after she reminded herself again of the reasons why she should just drop this, she reached for her purse and car keys. She went in search of José. They had a quick discussion about the daily tasks still to be done, Mitch’s assignments, and the target date for harvest. Both agreed they’d be harvesting soon. And with José mumbling in Spanish, she left.

  “This is stupid,” she muttered as she turned off the route onto the main road. “This is so none of my business.” Bracelets jangled on her arm as she ran her fingers through her hair and continued toward town.

  She didn’t know anyone in the Austin police and likely if she approached them they’d shuffle her to the side and make her wait for hours. It wasn’t as if she had real evidence to offer them.

  But she did know Ranger Tec Bragg and Rory’s case. If there was a slim possibility the two deaths were connected, he’d know.

  For the second time that day, she made the thirty-minute drive into Austin. With each new mile she questioned if she’d made the right choice. Once or twice she considered turning the car around. But she somehow stayed the course.

  By the time she pulled into the Rangers’ parking lot every muscle in her body quivered. Her back ached and her jaw was clenched. Bragg unsettled her in more ways than she could articulate.

  As she searched the lot for his car, her breathing grew shallow. Not seeing Bragg’s vehicle, she allowed a relieved sigh to shudder through her. He wasn’t here. Relief collided with disappointment. Maybe she’d overreacted. “This is nuts. I need to leave.”

  She thought back to Joan, who had lain in the snow and wished for death. That girl hadn’t been her friend, but she wasn’t so different from Greer. She had been just as lost and desperate for love.

  “Damn.” Greer shut off the truck and cut across the parking lot to the main entrance of Ranger headquarters. Gritting her teeth she moved up to the security window.

  An older man dressed in a Department of Public Safety uniform stared up at her with a mixture of mild curiosity and suspicion. It occurred to her she’d not taken the time to change from her shorts, faded Bonneville T-shirt, and work boots. Her long braid fell down her back and a glance at her reflection in the glass revealed a halo of stray curls framing her face. She looked a little crazed.

  She tightened her grip on her purse strap. “I’d like to see Ranger Tec Bragg.”

  The officer raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. I wanted to talk to him.”

  “Is this related to a case?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  The officer shook his head as he reached for a pen. “Give me your name and number, and I’ll have him contact you.”

  Leave her name. She hesitated.

  The officer’s gaze narrowed. “Go ahead and leave me your name. I’m sure he’ll want to know you came by.”

  His tone added an edge to the words. “Greer Templeton. But it’s not an emergency. I’ll call him later.”

  She turned to leave, grateful to put distance between her and Bragg’s office. She’d made it ten steps outside the door when a tall man blocked her path. Annoyed, she glanced up to find Bragg, his face shadowed by the Stetson’s wide brim. Damn.

  “Greer Templeton.” His deep rich tone had her squaring her shoulders.

  “Ranger Bragg.” So much for a clean getaway.

  His gaze burrowed into her. “What brings you my way? Mitch all right?”

  She cleared her voice, annoyed at the nerves chewing at her. “He’s fine. Working with the horses this morning and in the fields in the afternoon. A little ham-fisted with the grapes, but we’re working on that.”

  “The boy never did have a delicate touch.”

  “No.”

  “Why the visit?” The unease had melted from his voice. “Did I win a door prize last night?”

  Had he made a joke? He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who joked. “No. No. Nothing like that.”

  He stood silent, letting the quiet burrow under her skin. His height had her stretching her spine, but the extra quarter-inch she eked out was paltry in comparison to his six feet three inches.

  “Why have you come, Greer?”

  Her name sounded as if it had been roughened with sandpaper when he spoke it. “I heard a news story on the radio about a woman that died.”

  He stiffened. “What about it?”

  “She froze to death?”

  His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Yes.”

  “I knew a girl once who tried to kill herself by running into a snowstorm.”

  If it were possible, his scowl deepened. He took her elbow in his hand. “It’s hot outside. Let’s get inside.”

  A glance at
the building had fear shooting through her. An office shouldn’t scare her but Bragg’s office would be more like a lion’s den. “We can talk out here.”

  He was already walking, tugging her with him. “It’s a hundred degrees.”

  “I’m used to the heat.” Sweat soaked the back of her T-shirt.

  A half smile tipped the edge of his mouth. “Then you’re a better man than I. I want out of the heat.”

  She kept moving forward toward the building as if caught in a riptide. She could pull and fight, but Bragg like a riptide wouldn’t yield. And so she let herself be pulled inside. It wasn’t like she was in trouble. And she half believed her information wouldn’t be of use. She’d say her piece and then leave.

  The lobby’s cool air chilled her skin and puckered her flesh. She chanced a glance at the guard who stared at her with more interest as Bragg flashed his badge and escorted her to the elevators. Neither spoke as they waited for the elevator. When the doors dinged open he guided her inside. He kept his hand on her elbow as if he expected her to bolt. Smart man. She could easily turn on her heel, slipping through the doors before they closed and scurrying out of here. It wouldn’t take much to convince her that her visit had been prompted by an active imagination.

  They moved past cubicles, the hum of conversations buzzing around them. Some folks paused to look, as if wondering whom Bragg had snared. Just her luck she’d worn her Bonneville T-shirt. Smart. Imprint her business’s name in the minds of a dozen Texas Rangers.

  Bragg flipped on his office lights and motioned for her to sit in a wooden chair in front of a large desk as he removed his hat and tossed it on a desk, piled high with neat stacks of papers. The office was filled with shelves, stocked with manuals and a handful of awards. No family pictures. Not even an image of Mitch.

  She took her seat and rested her purse in her lap as he moved behind her and closed his door with a soft click. The exit now blocked, the room shrunk. Her feet tapped nervously on the floor.

  He paused behind her, and she could feel him staring. Instead of sitting behind his desk as she’d hoped, he took the seat in the chair beside her. He settled back as if he didn’t have another worry in the world other than her.