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“I beg your pardon!” The reporter’s eyebrows shot up. Her eyes were the brilliant artificial blue of colored contact lenses. “This is a free country, and we have every right to—”
“I have every right to sue you for harassing my employee in my place of business. Lute, get back to work. You don’t have to talk to these human scavengers.”
As Lute scurried off, Beau was dimly aware that the cameraman had moved and was filming him from the side. He’d probably end up on the evening news, but right now he was too mad to care. As for his legal threat, he had no idea whether it had any teeth, but for now, at least, it seemed to have worked. The cameraman had gathered up his gear and was headed for the van. The reporter followed, mincing down the steps in her high-heeled sandals and tight yellow skirt. But the most satisfying sight was the rear of the van vanishing down the long graveled drive.
They’d be back, and more like them, Beau reminded himself. He was going to have his hands full. But for now he wanted to visit the bog, just in case the local law enforcement team had missed something.
Saddling a horse and strapping on a pistol, he set out cross-country for the bog. Taking the pickup would’ve been faster, but in a moving vehicle it would be too easy to miss things like tracks or bottle caps or cigarette butts. And the day was warm and sunny, perfect for riding. Quail scurried out of his way, calling from the underbrush. The light breeze carried the aromas of sage and cedar and the earthy smell of cattle.
A good half mile before he reached the bog, he could smell it. The girl’s body was gone, of course, but the seeping earth and rotting plant matter carried a fetid odor that lingered like a miasma. As he scanned the ground, he wondered why he even bothered to look. The rusty earth was crisscrossed with tire tracks from news crews, law enforcement vehicles, and curious spectators. And before the body had been found, there’d been cattle and horses all over the countryside.
Today the place was eerily quiet, the only signs of life a pair of red-winged blackbirds flashing among the cattails and the ever-present gnats forming a cloud over the water. Beau tethered his horse and walked toward the edge of the bog. The damp ground was trampled with boot prints. There was no way to tell if any of them had belonged to the killer. Aside from the pleasant ride, this adventure had likely been a waste of time.
The tracks were thickest at the spot where the body had lain. Beau stared into the hollow where the winter reeds remained bent and flattened. He hadn’t known Jessica Warner, but he sensed a hard life that, given the chance, might have been turned into something decent. Her killer had robbed her of that chance, stealing not only her life but also her future.
Dropping to a crouch, he used a stick to probe the soggy reeds. No sign of blood. The girl had almost certainly been dumped here. But why? If she’d been killed in Blanco, there were plenty of closer places to leave a body. Had the killer wanted her to be discovered on the ranch?
“Find anything, Beau?” The deep voice was friendly in tone, but it startled Beau enough to make him turn and grab for his pistol. His nerves unclenched as he recognized Hoyt Axelrod.
“My deputies have been over this place with a fine-tooth comb. But if fresh eyes can find something, I’d say knock yourself out.” Axelrod nodded. “How’s your brother doing after that snakebite?”
“Will’s mending, thanks. But I’ve got my hands full, trying to run things without him. Especially now.”
Axelrod scowled down at the crushed reeds. “Damned shame. She was a sweet little thing, even if she was
a whore. This is just between us, but she had a packet of cocaine on her, tucked in her bra, when they brought her in. You’re with the DEA, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “So you’re thinking this thing could be drug-related ?”
“Makes as much sense as anything else. We dusted the packet, but it was clean. Didn’t even have the girl’s prints on it. And if she’d had recent sex, consensual or otherwise, there wasn’t enough DNA for a decent sample. If you’re nosing around on your own, I hope you’ll let us know what you find. She was somebody’s lost daughter, and she deserves justice.”
“I agree. And the fact that she was dumped on Rimrock land makes this personal. I’ll keep you posted if you’ll do the same for me.”
“Consider it done. And give my best to your brother.” With a departing handshake, the sheriff wandered back to where he’d parked his tan Jeep Cherokee in the cedars. Minutes later, Beau heard the growl of the engine and the crunch of underbrush as he drove away. Had Axelrod been waiting for the killer to return to the scene of the crime? Had someone watching the ranch radioed him that a rider was getting close? Was he under suspicion now?
Walking with his eyes on the ground, he made a slow circle around the bog. In his work as a DEA agent, Beau had learned not to make assumptions. At this point in the investigation, everyone was a suspect and nothing could be ruled out.
Beau didn’t expect to find much here. The ground was trampled all the way around the bog, all visible evidence collected. But the walk did give him a chance to think.
The little packet of cocaine on the girl had to be a plant. She wouldn’t have put it in her bra without leaving prints on it. But was it a distraction? A frame-up of some kind? A warning?
And the motive? Had the girl known too many secrets? Had she blackmailed some client with too much to lose? Had jealousy driven someone to kill her?
The answers weren’t here, on this malodorous patch of ground. He needed to check out the place where she’d worked and the people who’d known her. That would mean paying a visit to the Blue Coyote. But that could wait till evening. For now, he would ride up the canyon to the pasture where Sky and the men were rounding up cattle. They could use another hand, and he could use some good, hard physical work.
Tori filled two tall glasses with iced tea, carried them to the kitchen table, and sat down across from her friend. She’d known for years that Natalie’s marriage was unhappy, but she’d never seen her so agitated.
“What do you want to do about Slade?” she asked gently. “Divorce him?”
Natalie’s face was ashen, but her eyes were tearless. “You know I’ve never believed in divorce. But I never expected anything like this to happen. I want to do the right thing, Tori, but I don’t know what that is anymore. That’s why I’m here. You’re not just my best friend. You’re also my lawyer.”
“You’re sure he’s been cheating on you?”
“He didn’t deny it. And he went crazy when I accused him. If that woman hadn’t walked in when she did, I don’t know what he’d have done to me.” She took a sip of the tea, struggling to keep her composure. “It all makes sense—the late nights, the way he smelled when he came in, things that I was too deep in denial to notice. Are you suggesting I need evidence?”
“If you go through with the divorce, it might help. You and Slade built your house and the clinic together. I’m guessing his name’s on everything you own.”
Natalie wilted, her shoulders sagging. “I hadn’t thought of that. Slade inherited his trucking business before we were married. That’s his. But the house is in both our names, and my clinic’s attached. He could force me to sell it out of sheer spite and take half the money.”
