Page 55 of Homicide in Water Creek

“Come on, King. Men like Palatino Parenti don’t care whether the land is for sale. That’s a minor inconvenience for someone like him.”

“You seem to know a lot about this guy. How?”

“Google is for everyone, King,” she said with a smirk. “It didn’t take long to find forums where customers and ex-employees talked about what they saw at his casinos and about people who disappeared.”

“Examples?” he asked, standing and walking to a whiteboard on the wall. First, he wrote the general timeline they had for Vonita’s murder. Below it, he wrote Jordan Colburn and drew an arrow to the name Palatino Parenti.

“Sounded a lot like money laundering to me,” Jacks said. “Which makes sense when your business is casinos. The former employees, if that’s what they were and if anything they said was truthful, said the people who disappeared were usually muscle for either the casino or Parenti.”

“It’s long been said that Parenti is running a money-laundering operation out of the casinos, so I’m not surprised. The questions we have to ask ourselves are these.” He started writing on the board again. “Why did Jordan fake his own death? Did he have help? Who does he work for now? If he does work for Parenti, did he send Chinos here for the land? Why does Parenti want the land?”

“That one isn’t hard, King. He wants to build another casino.”

Setting the marker down, King lowered himself to the edge of the desk. “For what, though? He has a casino less than an hour away. This town is way too small to support a casino of any size, much less one the size of Parenti’s. Not to mention, certain tribal rights in some areas prevent other casinos from going up. I don’t know the laws in that respect for Water Creek, but sending someone out here to get the financials without knowing all that information doesn’t sound like something Parenti would do.”

“Chances are, Parenti did that work long ago,” Jacks said. “He’s not the kind of businessman who banks on anything but a slam dunk.”

“Something feels off,” King said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but it is.”

“I’ve felt that way since I first met Chinos.”

King held up his finger. “When did the new class arrive for rodeo school?” he asked, grabbing the marker again.

“October 3rd,” she said.

He wrote it down, then stared at the board. “It doesn’t work.”

“What doesn’t work?” Jacks asked, walking toward him. He noticed her limp was severe, and she was dragging her leg to the side and setting it down as though it was the only way to stay upright. He also noticed she was using a crutch in her left hand, allowing her to take weight off her right leg.

“What’s wrong with your leg, baby?” he asked, turning and taking hold of her shoulders.

“It’s fine,” she said, but he could see worry in her eyes, too. “Maybe I’ve just been overdoing it the last few weeks.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Some,” she said, her gaze darting away from his. “I think it’s just a pulled muscle.”

“But you won’t let it go if it gets worse?” he asked, caressing her cheek. “I don’t like seeing you in pain. Did I do something last night that hurt it?”

Last night had been a languid roll in the hay. Once they came to their senses and remembered she couldn’t stand in the shower, he insisted they move to the bed for their lovemaking so she wouldn’t get hurt. He was glad he had, but the possibility remained that he’d done something without knowing, and now she was suffering. A fist clenched his heart at the thought.

“No,” Jacks whispered, leaning into him and pressing a kiss to his neck. “It’s been bothering me for weeks. You could never hurt me. I promise that once we get this case worked out, I’ll see the doctor about it. It could be as simple as the brace needing an adjustment. Don’t stress about it right now, okay? We have enough to worry about.”

“True that,” he said, kissing her once before pulling away. “I’d love to kiss you until you’re too weak to stand, but Maverick reminded me there are cameras in here.”

“Oops,” Jacks said, her laughter lifting his heart out of its former depression. “Guess we gave him a show a few times.”

“Probably, but I have no regrets.”

“Me either,” she agreed, hugging his arm. He could tell she was clinging to it to keep herself upright. He wouldn’t say anything more about it as long as she told him when she needed help. Right now, she needed him to hold her up, and he was happy to do it. “Now, what doesn’t work on the timeline?”

King snapped back to the case. “Right. I was thinking maybe Chinos killed Vonita, but the timeline is off by three days. We know Boone signed for the cars on the 30th of September. She had to have been killed on the first or, at the latest, the second.”

“How does that rule him out?” she asked, her attention fixed on the board.

“Wait, it doesn’t,” he said, glancing at her, then back at the board. “We don’t know where he was before he arrived at the rodeo school.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say he was about an hour away working at Parenti’s casino. Fort Bridger is an hour from Water Creek but only fifteen minutes from Parenti’s property. The timeline works if we substitute Chinos in as the killer.”