“Is he still alive?” Trevor hurried to her as Chad came running down the hall and to the living room.
She shrugged. “There was blood everywhere. I didn’t stay to check him out.”
“How long have you been home, Chad?” Trevor asked.
“I got back last night at midnight. Haven’t left since then.”
“And you didn’t hear anyone coming or going, any cars?” Trevor asked.
Chad shook his head. “It’s been quiet. No one.”
“Stay in the house,” Trevor said. “Make sure you watch our six. Whoever shot the guy is probably still out there—and they are probably gunning for us as well.”
As he ran toward the barn he couldn’t help but wonder if he was wrong and their shooter was already long gone—he had to hope, but he wasn’t going to risk it.
If Bayural or his men were here, they could have easily taken Chad out while he’d been sitting watching television in the living room. From the right vantage point, Chad would never have known that anyone was ever even out there.
Whoever was behind these killings was doing their best to frighten them into submission. He couldn’t let the killer get away with their murderous rampage any longer.
“Did you recognize the guy?” he asked Sabrina as he followed her into the barn.
Sabrina shook her head as she pointed toward the last stall. “He’s in there.”
Zane was nickering, his sound high-pitched and scared as he trotted nervously around the stall. Just like Trevor, he must have been able to feel the danger in the air.
Trevor walked to the last stall, half-afraid of what he would find. The blood was splattered over the wood paneling and there was a bloody handprint smeared down the far wall. “Hello?” he called, hoping that the man would answer. But there was little chance that the man was alive on the other side of the gate.
There was no answer.
He unclicked the latch and opened the gate, stepping into the stall. There, against the wall closest to him and tucked back into the corner of the room, was the man. He had scraggly gray locks and hair was sprouting from his ears. On his neck was a long, puckered scar as though someone had once tried to cut his throat but failed.
His hands were covered in blood and palms up in his lap, and his head was leaning haphazardly to the side. There was something about the man’s face that looked familiar. He’d seen those same eyes and that shape face before—in fact, he looked almost identical, albeit slightly older, to the man in the shack. Trevor had to be looking at another of the Cussler brothers.
He walked over to the man and placed his fingers against his neck, hoping against all hope that there would be some faint pulse, but he found nothing but a sickening chill. He pulled his hand back. Algor mortis had started to set in.
Trevor moved to the man’s feet and pulled back the leg of his pants, careful not to touch too much and leave behind any trace evidence. The guy had been sitting with his knees up and, even though Trevor pulled at his jeans, his legs stayed bent due to the effects of rigor. He’d definitely been down at least a few hours. Around twelve and he would have been completely immobile, but there was still a bit of pliability in his limbs.
Who in the hell was killing this family? And had they planned to murder the man here or had the man come here to die after he had been shot—making it look like Trevor and his family were responsible for his death?
“Is he alive?” Sabrina asked, but there was a resignation in her voice that told him she already knew the answer.
He didn’t respond. Sabrina stopped behind the opened gate and looked inside; her gaze moved to the dead man. Maybe the poor light in the barn was causing him to see things, but he could have sworn that her face had grown a shade paler.
“You don’t have to be in here,” he said, moving closer to her and taking her hand. “You don’t have to pretend to be tougher than you are with me.”
She opened her mouth to speak as she looked up at him. There was a renewed softness in her eyes, and the look reminded him of when they had been making love and her body had begged him for her release.
“It’s okay,” he said, giving her a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got this.”
She took a step back so the man’s dead body was out of her view, but she didn’t leave. “What are we going to do, Trevor?”
He hadn’t gotten that far yet.
This really should have been a case for the local cops, but calling them in would lead to a whole slew of questions he wasn’t ready or willing to answer. It would only land them in deeper trouble. Yet they couldn’t just wait for this body to disappear like they had the last, not with so many possible variables.
His first thought was for her to call her people at the FBI, but if they were in any way connected to this case, they wouldn’t be coming in as allies. They weren’t an option.
He’d have to call in a few of his friends at the CIA. They didn’t typically work within the borders of the States, but undoubtedly his people knew some folks who could help him sweep this man’s death under the rug.
Though sweeping it under the rug last time had certainly done them no favors. They needed to find answers and fast.
“You don’t think your brother has a hand in this, do you?” Sabrina asked, her voice soft and smooth as though she was trying to be careful and not sound too accusatory.
He appreciated her effort, but her question still ruffled his feathers. “Chad wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill a guy and leave his body sitting out here.”
“Unless he wanted to set us up. He doesn’t have a reason to want to drive you off the ranch, does he?” Sabrina asked.
He tried to control the anger that rolled through him. “No. He didn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. My family are the only people I can really trust.”
She visibly cringed at his unintentional jab.
“I just mean that he wouldn’t have let us walk out here and work in the barn if he’d left this guy to cool down before getting rid of his remains.”
“But you admit your brother is fully capable of pulling the trigger?”
“Look, Sabrina,” he said, running his hands over the stubble that had grown on his cheeks over the last few days. “Anyone is capable of killing under the right circumstances. My brother is perhaps more likely to find himself in those kinds of circumstances than most, but that doesn’t mean he is an evil man. He doesn’t just go around killing people.”
“I’m sorry, I know you’re right,” Sabrina said, leaning against the doorjamb. “I’m just...tired.”
“I know you want to find an answer to this that doesn’t point back to your people at the FBI, but you need to stop looking in my direction in order to figure out who is behind these killings—at least in the direction of my family. I’m telling you, we aren’t the ones keeping secrets from one another.”
She nodded. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous. Your family...it’s one of a kind. I would like to have a group of people who I could always depend on.”
His anger dissipated. He knew what it felt like to be lost, so he could empathize with what she was going through right now. In fact, he had to wonder if he was the only one she could really trust.
It seemed crazy how far they had come since they first met each other. He would never have guessed that this was how they would’ve played out. Aside from the dead guys, he wasn’t sure he would change anything. He liked the fact that she was nearly as dangerous as him.
“Did you figure out where he was shot?” she asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
That was something else he appreciated about her—she was just as avoidant of feelings as he was. Sure, it may not have been the healthiest response, but it certainly kept one from getting hurt.
He stepped closer to the man. There was a small hole in his jacket just over his heart. Flippin
g back the edge of the coat, there was a small wound in his chest. Blood had seeped out and run down from the wound and had pooled at the top of his large belly before slipping down onto his jeans. “Looks like it was a single shot. Likely at least ten feet away.”
There was the crunch of tires on the gravel of the parking lot just outside the barn. Trevor flipped the man’s jacket closed, and as he did so he noticed the smear of blood on his own hands.
As he turned away, he saw a small hole in the wall. Lodged in the soft wood was a bullet.
Sabrina looked at him. “You think we should go out there?”
There was the sound of footsteps in the gravel as somebody made their way toward them.
Trevor rushed out of the stall, wiping his hands on the backside of his jeans. As he turned to face the door, a man came into view. Not just a man, but a deputy sheriff. He was all brassed up, complete with a Kevlar vest underneath his uniform. He looked to be in his midthirties, maybe. His hair was shorn and starting to recede just above the temples, and his forehead was littered with the wrinkles of someone who worried often.
He forced a smile as he walked toward the man. Zane’s whinnies intensified from inside the horse’s stall.
“Hey, Deputy, how’s it going?” Trevor said, trying to sound amicable.
The deputy gave him a two-fingered wave. “Good,” he said, sounding as tight and rigid as the vest he was wearing. “Anything going on out here that I need to know about?”
Sabrina gave him a confused look. “Nothing I can think of, Deputy.”
The man chuckled. “May I ask your name, please?” The question was more of an order than a nicety.
Trevor strode toward him, moving with as much confidence as he possibly could. He extended his hand. “The name’s Trevor Martin, you?”
The man gave him a strong shake of the hand, so strong it came across as an act of dominance—as though he wanted Trevor to know that he was at the head of the hierarchy here. “The name’s Wyatt.” A smile broke across the man’s face. “Did Gwen tell you I was coming?”
Sabrina stepped between them as she shook her head. “Trevor, this is Wyatt, Gwen’s husband.”
“Oh,” Trevor said, a wave of relief crashing over him. “Nice to meet you, man. Gwen’s a fantastic woman. I’m proud to have her as a cousin.”
“She is that.” Wyatt glanced around the barn. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in here. I helped Gwen and her mom get this place together so you guys could move in. Hope you found everything in order.”
Trevor nodded, but his mind went straight to the dead man in the last stall. “Everything’s been great, but we are still getting organized on our end. I’m thinking my sister and other brother should be descending upon the ranch in the next few weeks.”
Wyatt nodded. “That’ll be great. It’ll be nice to have some more family close. I know Gwen’s been awful lonely since her sister passed away. She’s been looking forward to getting to know you guys a little better.”
Trevor nodded. “I was so sorry to hear about Bianca’s death. At least they caught the person responsible.”
“Yeah, best part of my job is getting to watch the guilty pay for their crimes.”
Panic rose within him.
Zane nickered as he stuck his head out of his stall door and looked toward them.
“Ah,” Wyatt said, looking toward the horse, “my old boy’s here.” He walked by them to the horse and gave the gelding a good scratch under the mane. The horse seemed to soften under Wyatt’s touch.
“This your horse?” Sabrina asked as she stepped around Wyatt like she was trying to keep him from walking farther into the barn.
“Yep,” Wyatt said. “He and I have been buddies for a long time. Gwen told me you had taken them up riding, but I figured you had brought them back to Dunrovin by now.”
“Actually, we just got back from our ride. We were gonna take a rest, and then bring them back to you guys in the morning.” Trevor motioned outside. “In fact, we haven’t even unloaded the other horse yet. If you wanted, since you’re here, we could load up Zane and—”
“No worries. Gwen and I both know how it is.” Wyatt waved him quiet. “Did you guys just run the fences or did you go up the mountain a bit?”
Trevor wasn’t sure if Wyatt was testing him or not, but he didn’t want to give him the wrong answer. “Yeah, we ran up to the top of Rye Creek. Nice area up there.”
“When you get up there in those high mountains the last thing you want to do is come back to real life.” Wyatt looked to Sabrina and then back to Trevor and gave him a knowing wink. “And you can keep the horses here as long as you like. Zane isn’t our main guest horse, so he’s not in high demand. It does him some good to get in some trail time.”
Why did everyone assume that something had happened between him and Sabrina out there in the woods? Not that they were wrong. It just hardly seemed like it was anyone else’s business.
“Zane is such a good boy,” Sabrina said, bridging the gap for him. “It was a nice ride.”
“Did you run into the squatters?” Wyatt pressed.
Did the man know something he didn’t? Or was he looking for him to supply him with some kind of information? Regardless, his questions were making him unsettled.
“Nope, but we saw a camp they may have been using as a base.”
Wyatt nodded. “Good thing. That family can be a wild bunch. And they like to take potshots at people they don’t know or don’t like.”
“Good to know.”
Sabrina smiled, the effect dazzling. “Was there something we could help you with, Wyatt?”
He turned and looked toward the end of the barn like he was some kind of damned bloodhound. “Actually, I was here because we got an anonymous tip.”
“What?” Trevor asked, his voice taking on an unwanted higher pitch.
“Someone said they heard some shooting coming from out here. They said it sounded like it was coming from inside one of the buildings.” Wyatt turned to them. “You guys know anything about that?”
There wasn’t anyone within earshot of this place, and certainly shooting at a ranch wouldn’t have rung any warning bells. Someone had called in the tip on purpose—they probably wanted Wyatt to stumble onto the body.
They’d been set up.
“Don’t know anything about that. Like we said, we just got back from our ride,” Trevor said.
Wyatt looked to Sabrina and she nodded in support. “Anyone around here while you were gone?”
If Wyatt looked outside and toward the house he would have likely seen Chad standing near the front window. They couldn’t lie and cover his brother’s whereabouts—but as far as Wyatt was concerned, he seemed to be out here for nothing more than some suspicious activity. There was no use in lying.
“Actually, my brother Chad was here. He didn’t tell me he’d heard anything. And I’m pretty sure he’s been watching old football games all day.”
Wyatt laughed. “Dang, I want your brother’s life. That is just so long as he was drinking beer and eating Doritos as well.”
“You know it,” Trevor said, giving his cousin’s husband a jovial slap on the back. He started to move toward the barn door in an effort to get the man out of the death zone. “You want to come inside and ask him about it?”
“Sure thing. It’d be nice to meet the rest of the family.” Wyatt walked toward the front of the barn.
Trevor was careful to stay behind the man so he couldn’t see the blood that was likely smeared on the seat of his pants. That would be hard to explain away.
They walked back to the house and Chad met them with an open door. “Hey, bro, this is Wyatt Fitzgerald, Gwen’s husband.”
Chad wiped his cheese-dusted fingers on the legs of his sweatpants and gave Wyatt a quick shake. “Nice to meet you, man. What can we do for you?
” Chad gave Trevor a worried look, and Trevor shook his head in an attempt to convey the fact the deputy knew nothing about the body.
“We have a report of some shooting going on out here. You know anything about it?” Wyatt asked.
Chad nodded for a moment, and Trevor could see the wheels turning in his brother’s head. “Hey, yeah... Sorry, that was me. I saw a coyote out there. Wanted to scare ’im off.”
Wyatt nodded. “It work?”
Chad laughed. “Not gonna lie, been a lot of beers in the belly today—that, or the aim was a bit off on the old .22.”
“I hear you, coz,” Wyatt said as he started to warm to them. “If I was retired I would probably be doing just about the same thing—though Gwen may have something to say about that.”
Chad laughed. “There are some benefits to being a single guy.”
Sabrina’s brow lifted as she gave him a look of disdain. “If you keep up the sweatpants and Doritos fingers, the last thing you have to worry about is some poor woman falling in love with you.”
“Oh, burn.” Wyatt laughed. “It’s funny how women have a way of making us step up our game, isn’t it?” He looked to Trevor.
The game—that was one word to describe exactly what was going on in their lives. And this game of murder was one game he couldn’t lose.
Chapter Twelve
What in the name of all that was holy was going on around here? Sabrina wished the answers would suddenly appear and everything would make sense.
As the guys continued to talk, her mind wandered. It seemed possible that the Cusslers and the other hillbilly family could have been in some kind of backwoods war, and this was their way of telling the Martins they weren’t welcome at the ranch. Maybe it was the second family, and they were figuring they could kill two birds with one stone—the Cussler man, and the Martins’ chance of having a peaceful life out here.
But they couldn’t have known the Martins wouldn’t call the police—unless they been watching them dance around the issue of the dead body in the shack. They must have been watching, and had pieced it together that the thing Trevor and his family feared most was drawing attention from the cops. And they had set the boys up to take this fall.
Hidden Truth Page 13
