Pete dropped to his knees, his gun clattering to the floor. He collapsed weeping, his sobs so wrenching they swallowed the room.
Barnett kicked Pete’s gun my way, and it slid behind me. I turned to pick it up, but Aunt Tutti got there first. She held up the gun in one hand and the key to the handcuffs in the other. Of course Barnett would have the key on him.
I hurried to Kyle’s bedside. His mouth worked, but he made no sound.
“They’re fine. Alex and Shelly are safe.”
He let out a long breath and closed his eyes.
34
Gentle rain pattered on the porch roof. I sat with my feet up, sipping a cold beer, listening to the frogs croak in the dusk.
My phone rang, and I tensed. My plans for the evening didn’t involve sheriffing. One look at the ID and I relaxed again. “Baxter.” I hadn’t told him about Carly’s text, deciding it wouldn’t advance the investigation.
He answered the same. “Kate.” A pause. “Why is it you never call me by my first name?”
I sipped my beer and patted Poupon’s fluffy head. “Never thought about it. Baxter sounds like a first name. Kind of.”
“But Glenn sounds friendlier. I know we didn’t start out as friends, but we are now, right?”
I’d lived in Grand County my whole life. Accounting for births and deaths, I’d known the same people forever. Sarah and I had been inseparable since kindergarten. Yet Baxter, who entered the scene as a suspected murderer, seemed as much a part of my life as any of them. “Sure, we’re friends. That doesn’t mean I’m going to call you Glenn.”
I heard his smile. “Anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?”
The rain tapped a happy tune, and soft spring growth floated on the evening air. “Might have heard it a time or two.”
He chuckled. “I guess it won’t do me any good to plead again for an exclusive interview about Marty and Rhonda.”
I snarled. “It hasn’t worked for the Omaha World-Herald or the Wall Street Journal.”
“Damn. The Journal?”
The warm temperatures of the last week had gone a long way to encouraging the grass in my sandy yard, and I concentrated on that instead of the irritation of almost constant harassment from the press. “They all have an angle. Everything from Marty and Rhonda to what I know about the trend of preppers in the Sandhills to the criminal charges for Barnett and Grainger.”
Something sounded different in his voice, slower, maybe lower than normal. “Looks like you’ll be spending time in court.”
My stomach tightened. “I’m writing reports and gathering evidence for the cases against the sheriffs. But they tell me I won’t have to testify against Marty and Rhonda, so I won’t have to hit the big city. Whew.”
“Hey, the city’s not all bad.” He switched the subject. “Is Kyle out of the hospital?”
“Got out a couple of days ago. He’s going to be okay. He bought a little house on the rez, and Alex agreed to move in with him. Shelly is going to New Jersey with Max, at least until she’s done with college.”
Baxter sounded surprised. “On the rez? Wow. Are you surprised Kyle is going back?”
“It’s not going to be easy. But Alex wouldn’t leave, and Kyle is determined to keep him straight.” I thought about it. “Kyle and Alex want to reconnect. Rebuild the family.”
Baxter chuckled. “If anyone knows about family, it’s you.”
He had that right. Brothers and sisters pulling me here, pushing me there. Nieces to love and lose. A new generation swelling the Fox herd. And me, building fences and walls around myself. I changed the subject. “How’s Chicago?”
Baxter hesitated. “Spring blizzard. Icy wind so cruel it could draw blood. Thank goodness I’m not there.”
I sat up. “Did you hear anything about Carly? Are you on your way to get her?”
“No.” He answered quickly. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”
“Oh.” I settled back into my porch chair. “Hope runs high, I guess.”
“I’m in LA. Sitting by a pool and a bucket of chilled champagne.”
That didn’t sound half bad, though I preferred the moon glow on Stryker Lake and a hoppy beer.
“And packing a box of DVDs on climate change. Just in case you don’t own a player, I’m sending one of those, too.”
Well, shut my mouth. “Holy cow. You’ve got a date!” If he flew to LA for the gig, that meant his dinner partner was probably someone famous, elegant, and beyond imagination.
He laughed. “You issued a challenge. I like to win.”
Headlights cut the gloom and pointed my way. “When is the lucky lady supposed to arrive?”
His voice sounded like satin. Dating might be good for his blood pressure. “I sent a car for her an hour ago, but with this West Coast traffic, she might not make it here for another hour.”
The black pickup rumbled to a stop in front of my gate. “Then I’d say you can quit packing the DVDs and your personal assistant should book an appointment at the nearest stable. Unless, of course, you’d like to make a stop in the Sandhills on your way home.”
The laidback tone vanished. “What do you mean?”
Josh unfolded from the pickup, reached inside, and brought out a bouquet of Sandhills’ wildflowers. My favorite. He flashed me a shy smile.
“It’s time for me to rip down walls and maybe start remodeling my life.”
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The Desert Behind Me
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Close Enough: A Kate Fox Novella
EASY MARK
Kate Fox #4
With her ex-husband, Ted, working nearby in an adjoining county, Kate Fox is eager to prove she’s the better sheriff. And when the less-than-popular ex-foreman of a local ranch is found dead, Kate gets the opportunity she’s been looking for.
* * *
But as it turns out, the case hits a little too close to home. The dead man’s body is discovered in Kate’s brother Jeremy’s truck—and her brother is missing. Evidence left at the crime scene leads Ted to suspect the ranch’s new foreman, but Kate isn’t convinced he’s responsible for the crime.
* * *
Kate dives into her own investigation. But the mystery only deepens when a herd of horses disappears and threatening strangers are seen in the Sandhills. It seems like everyone close to the ex-foreman has secrets to hide and reasons to kill—including Jeremy.
* * *
As Kate races to eliminate suspects, a shocking realization leads her to the truth. But is she too late to prevent the next murder?
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Easy Mark
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Acknowledgments
My biggest thanks is to everyone who picked up Stripped Bare and Dark Signal and this book. I hope you like hanging out with me and Kate for a while. All writers st
art out as readers (and we continue as readers) and it’s the best feeling in the world to create a story others want to read. So thank you, for giving me that thrill.
There were a lot of eyes on this book helping it along the way. Thanks to Dave, who inspired the original plot with his doomsday predictions, and for reading and brainstorming and every other thing. To Janet Fogg, as always and forever, thank you. Thanks to Alan Larson for critique as well as beers and commiseration on hot Scottsdale afternoons. To eagle-eye Roni Olson who knows the difference between Norwegian and Swedish.
Heartfelt gratitude to the editorial professionalism of two women. Terri Bischoff is an amazing editor and an even better friend. Jessica Morrell is so freakin’ smart about writing, and the best investment a writer could make.
Thank you to Christie Haney, Grant County Clerk, for her expertise about permits and parcels and all that technical stuff. I owe thanks to Betty Gentry, the county treasurer and my boss for two years while I worked at a courthouse “very similar” to where Kate’s office is located.
This story borrows heavily from the realities of the Pine Ridge Reservation on the border of Nebraska and South Dakota. I played fast and loose with the geography to make it fit Kate’s world. White Clay (Dry Creek in Kate’s world) is a horror, but since the time of this writing, liquor sales have been banned. I don’t mean to minimize the problems on the reservation, but this book is meant to entertain, not depress the heck out of readers.
Thank you for the Desert Sleuths Chapter of Sisters in Crime, who lives by the national motto, “You write alone, but you’re never alone with sisters.”
Huge appreciation for the information, handholding, and support of Rocky Mountain Fiction over the course of twenty-five years: you were my K-6, secondary, undergrad and Masters in writing. (I’ve got degrees to earn, so we’re not done with each other.)
To Maegan Beaumont: Wow. Friend, taskmaster, cheerleader, sensei. You make my life so hard. Thank you.
Thank you to Andrew Watts, Amber Hudock, and all the crew at Severn River Publishers. You are masters of the publishing universe.
To my daughters, Erin and Joslyn, pandemic life would surely be dismal with you!
About the Author
Shannon Baker is the award-winning author of The Desert Behind Me and the Kate Fox series, along with the Nora Abbott mysteries and the Michaela Sanchez Southwest Crime Thrillers. She is the proud recipient of the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers 2014 and 2017-18 Writer of the Year Award.
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Baker spent 20 years in the Nebraska Sandhills, where cattle outnumber people by more than 50:1. She now lives on the edge of the desert in Tucson with her crazy Weimaraner and her favorite human. A lover of the great outdoors, she can be found backpacking, traipsing to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, skiing mountains and plains, kayaking lakes, river running, hiking, cycling, and scuba diving whenever she gets a chance.
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Arizona sunsets notwithstanding, Baker is, and always will be a Nebraska Husker. Go Big Red.
www.Shannon-Baker.com
Bitter Rain (Kate Fox Book 3) Page 28
