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The jangle of her cell phone, which she’d slipped into her lab coat, startled her. She snatched it up and glanced at the display name.
“Tori, what is it?” Natalie felt as if she were struggling for air.
“I just spoke with the sheriff. According to him, Slade had a semiautomatic assault rifle, a Barrett.” Tori’s voice was taut with strain. “It should be in his gun safe. I know Beau had to open the safe to find your shotgun. Think carefully. Did either of you handle that rifle?”
“I didn’t, but Beau did.” Natalie’s throat tightened with each word. “He lifted it out of the safe and put it back.”
“Then I’ve got bad news. Slade was most likely killed with that kind of weapon. Sky found the bullet and casing at the scene. The sheriff ’s men will be coming by to collect the one you have. Try to stall them until I get there.”
“Tori, they just left.” Natalie felt her knees giving way. She sank onto the arm of an overstuffed chair. “They took the gun, and it’ll have Beau’s prints on it.”
“There’s no way the ballistics will match.” Beau gazed around the circle of gloomy faces. Tori, Will, Sky, and Jasper had joined him in the ranch house parlor to discuss the latest development in the murder case. “They’ll run the routine tests, compare the bullets, and that will be the end of it.”
“But that could take time,” Tori said. “The nearest ballistics lab is in Lubbock, and I know for a fact they’re backlogged. Meanwhile, the sheriff and the DA will be building their case against you any way they can.”
“What the hell kind of case can they build against an innocent man?” Will exploded with frustration. “Why aren’t they looking at anybody else? Like that bartender?”
“About that bartender . . .” Beau had heard back from his friends at the DEA that morning. It wasn’t great news, but he had to share what he’d learned. “They ran facial recognition on Sky’s photos and got a hit. His real name is Nick Tomescu. He’s in the database for some petty crimes like shoplifting and possession but no violence involved. Back in Jersey he was a runner for the Rumanian mob—took a plea deal when he got busted, which may be part of why he’s holed up in the boondocks under an alias.”
“But can he shoot?” Jasper demanded.
“Nobody seems to know. He has no military record, and if he’s a hit man, he’s managed to keep it off the books.”
“So he’s not a great candidate for our shooter, but we can’t rule him out,” Sky said.
“At least my friends were thorough,” Beau said. “Here’s another tidbit they dug up. The man is Stella’s younger half brother. They were raised together—same mother, different fathers.”
“So it might look as if he’s protecting her,” Tori mused, “but it could be more like Big Sister is protecting him.”
“Let’s forget him for now,” Will grumbled. “I don’t care if the man’s a blasted saint! But if you ask me, Slade and that Stella woman were involved in some illegal business with those trucks. What if Slade knew too much, and Lute was given his job as payment for shutting him up?” His fist crumpled the empty beer can he’d left on the coffee table. “And speaking of Lute, he could be the key to this whole mess. Could he be the shooter?”
“I’d pick him as the one who stole Jasper’s gun and fired the shots into the body to frame Beau,” Sky said. “But Lute never had a steady aim. Even lying down, with a high-powered scope, he’d have been damned lucky to make the shot from that hill. But if he didn’t do it, maybe he knows who did.”
“So where is the little bastard?” Will demanded.
“Somewhere between here and that ranch in Mexico where he was hauling hay,” Sky said. “Leave Lute to me.”
The conversation might have continued, but just then Bernice, who’d kept up with all that was happening, came rushing in from the kitchen. “Come look at the TV! Hurry! You’re not going to believe this!”
With no time to turn on the big set in the den, they raced after her to crowd around the miniature TV that sat on a shelf above the kitchen countertop. The local newscast was just beginning. On the screen, a gaggle of reporters clustered below a podium erected on the steps of the county building. Looming be
hind the podium, his uniformed chest glittering with the medals and awards he’d won over the years, stood Sheriff Hoyt Axelrod.
“Thank you for coming, friends.” He beamed like a Texas-style Santa Claus as he surveyed his small but enthusiastically cheering audience. “I’ve invited you here to share this great moment and to say that it’s time for our party to replace Garn Prescott, a Washington insider who puts his own interests above those of the people he represents. It’s time for a new face in Washington—the face of a man with a proven record, a man who stands for law and order and justice. That is why . . .” The silence implied a drumroll. “That is why I stand before you today as a candidate for the United States Congress from the twenty-fourth district of the great state of Texas!”
Sky sat on the porch of the brick duplex he called home, scowling down at the unopened manila envelope that lay across his knees. On the day the will was read, he’d slid it under his mattress and resolved to ignore it. But try as he might, he couldn’t stop its secrets from troubling his mind.
Lifting his head, Sky gazed across the yard toward the sprawling ranch house. The rosy light of sunset lent a glow to its gray river-stone walls. But tonight a shadow had fallen over the Tyler home, and he’d had a hand in casting it.
When he’d searched out the bullet that killed Slade Haskell, he had only meant to help. But in the sheriff ’s eyes, the discovery had stacked the evidence deeper against Beau.
On top of all that, Sky had failed to find Lute.
Tonight, in his present frame of mind, Bull’s mysterious bequest mocked him like a silent rebuke. Maybe he should just light a match to the damned envelope and walk away.
“What’s wrong? You look like a thundercloud.” Jasper had come out of his front door, letting the screen slam behind him. Dragging his rocker to Sky’s side of the porch, he sat down.
“Been watching the news,” he said when Sky didn’t answer.
