A_Wanted Man - Alana Matthews (8 page)

Harlan squinted at the body. “You sure that’s Pritchard?”

“Got a witness says it is.”

Callie was surprised. “Who?”

“Landry Bickham.”

“Landry?” she said. She hadn’t seen him in all the confusion. “Where is he?”

Mercer gestured to another ambulance across the tarmac. The first one had already taken Gloria to the hospital. “They found him in the backyard. I took a statement from him while Dudley Do-Right here was getting patched up.”

The burns Harlan had suffered were minor, mostly to his hands and forearm. He ignored the jab and turned to Callie. “We’re talking about the gatekeeper, right? The one with the shotgun?”

She nodded and Mercer said, “He’s been with the Pritchards since high school. Says he tried to drag Gloria out of the back, but the smoke got to be too much for him.”

“Is he conscious?” Harlan asked.

“They’ve got him on a gurney in there, but last I looked he was wide awake.”

Harlan nodded and abruptly headed across the tarmac toward the ambulance.

Callie followed him.

The rear doors of the truck were hanging open to reveal Landry lying on the gurney inside, breathing through an oxygen mask as a paramedic tended to a burn on his forehead.

“Mr. Bickham?”

Landry rolled his eyes around in their sockets until his gaze was on Harlan. He reached up and pulled the mask aside, his trademark smile nowhere in evidence. “Still wanna arrest me?”

“Just need you to answer a few questions.”

“I already told Sheriff Mercer what I know.”

“I prefer to get my information firsthand,” Harlan said.

“Can’t stop you from asking.”

“That’s right. So why don’t you tell me what happened here?”

“What do you think happened? House burnt down.”

“I think there’s more to it than that. Where were you when the fire started?”

Landry grabbed hold of the gurney rail and pulled himself upright. The paramedic tried to stop him, but Landry ignored the guy, keeping his gaze on Harlan. “You accusing me of something?”

“Are you
guilty
of something? I mean besides intimidating federal and county law enforcement deputies with a shotgun.”

“I never pointed that weapon at you. And I was just doing what Jonah told me to.”

“Did you always do what he told you to?”

“That
was
my job,” Landry said.

“Did that include helping him hide his granddaughter and her two friends?”

Landry frowned. “What’s Meg got to do with this?”

Callie moved up closer to the ambulance doors. “Come on, Landry, you know that’s why we were here this afternoon.”

“First I’m hearin’ about it.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Harlan said, “but let’s get back to the fire. I’m gonna ask you again, where
were
you when it started?”

“Down at the south stable. Feeding the horses.”

“What about the stable hands?” Callie asked.

“Jonah told me to send ’em home for the weekend. Along with the rest of the staff. I’m the only one stays on the premises 24/7.”

“Why’s that?”

Landry shrugged. “The Pritchards like their privacy. What difference does it make? It is what it is.”

“How late does the staff usually stay?”

“Ranch hands do a six to three, house help seven to four, except for the cook, who preps dinner and is out by eight. But they were all gone by noon today, except for the boys you saw with Jonah. And they cut out right after you left.”

“Why did he send everyone home so early?” Harlan asked.

“Hard as it may be to believe, Jonah Pritchard don’t consult me on such matters. He said send ’em home, I sent ’em home.”

It didn’t take much to figure out why, Callie thought, but even if he knew, Landry would never tell. His loyalty went beyond the boundaries of death. Jonah may be gone, but he still had family with a reputation to uphold—as sketchy as it may already be—and Landry had been indoctrinated long ago.

Speak no evil.

“Okay,” Harlan said. “So you were down at the south stable.”

Landry nodded. “It’s the one closest to the house—the Pritchards’ private stock. Couple of the horses got skittish and I heard shouts, followed by some gunshots. So I figured I’d better get my butt up here. By the time I got to the house, the flames had already started, and when I went inside I saw Jonah on the floor, a pool of blood around his head. No pulse.”

“And what about Gloria?” Callie asked.

“Slumped in a corner, looked like she’d been shot, too, but she was still breathing. I tried to drag her toward the back hallway, but I started choking on the smoke. I was about to pass out, so I figured I’d better get out of there and call for help.”

Neither Callie nor Harlan said anything, and she could see that Harlan was running Landry’s statement through his mind, trying find holes in it.

“And those shouts you heard,” Harlan said. “Right before the gunshots. You know whose they were?”

“Not a clue.”

“Male or female?”

“Both, would be my guess.”

Callie didn’t figure there was much guesswork required. Those voices undoubtedly belonged to Meg Pritchard, Billy Boy Lyman and maybe the third man, who had yet to be identified.

It suddenly occurred to her that they may have misjudged Jonah. Could it be that he had been harboring Meg and her friends against his will? That would explain why he’d come on so strong this afternoon. Maybe he’d had a gun trained on him the whole time.

But then that didn’t really fit, did it? Jonah Pritchard had never been a man who was easily intimidated, and she couldn’t see Meg and a couple of punks forcing him to do much of anything.

Besides, Jonah had always been Meg’s number one apologist. So it seemed more likely that he had welcomed the girl into his home, happy to give her refuge in her time of need, even if she was towing a couple pieces of unwanted baggage along with her.

It looked to Callie as if this was a case of misplaced trust. The question was why had Meg and her friends turned on Jonah? What had gone so horribly wrong?

She doubted Landry would offer any enlightenment. But if anyone could, it was Gloria.

She said to Harlan, “I need to get back to the hospital and talk to Gloria Pritchard.”

She turned to go, but Harlan caught her by the crook of the elbow. “Wait a minute.”

It had been a very long time since Callie had felt his touch, and she was surprised to find that she recognized it. Remembered it.

Was that even possible?

Gentle yet firm. No intimacy intended, but she suddenly felt as if it were the most intimate thing in the world.

She pulled herself free. “Do you mind?”

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna take off without me?”

“You didn’t seem too anxious to be around me earlier. Besides, this is a murder investigation. Two dead in the span of less than a day, and both murders point to the fire-starting talents of Megan Pritchard-Breen. I hate to break it to you, but your little manhunt is just a sideshow.”

“Not if Billy Boy put her up to this.”

“You don’t know Meg. I can’t see anyone calling the shots but her. She’s as bullheaded as her grandfather.”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.”

Callie frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re about the most bullheaded woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “Something I used to love about you. Now? Not so much.”

Callie’s frown deepened. “If this is your way of trying to convince me to let you keep riding shotgun, I think you may want to reconsider your approach.”

“At least I didn’t call you an idiot.”

She huffed at him and started toward her cruiser again, but Harlan caught up to her and once again grabbed her arm. “Callie, I’m not the enemy.”

Callie fought off the sudden memory of what he used to do to her with his hands and gave him her best cold stare. “Would you please let go of me?”

He studied her a moment, then did as he was told, Callie saying, “You’re on your own from here on out.” She continued across the yard, feeling his gaze on her, wishing he would just go away and let her live her life in peace.

But as she climbed into her car and got her seatbelt latched, the passenger door flew open and Harlan sat down next to her.

“I can be bullheaded, too,” he said. “So don’t even waste your time trying to argue with me.”

Chapter Nine

It took an hour and a half of surgery to remove the bullet from Gloria Pritchard’s left thigh and get her stitched up. She was still in recovery when they arrived.

The doctor told them they’d have to wait until she was transferred to a room before they could question her. She wouldn’t be making much sense until the anesthesia wore off anyway.

“How badly was she hurt?” Callie asked.

“Bullet was a through-and-through. Some muscle and tissue damage, but nothing too serious.”

“She got lucky,” Harlan said.

The doctor nodded. “She’ll be sore for a while, and she may have some problems with her lungs, thanks to smoke inhalation, but she should be back to normal in no time.”

Physically, at least, Harlan thought. Mental and emotional trauma weren’t as easy to shake loose. He and Callie were proof of that. And if Gloria’s own daughter—or one of her daughter’s friends—had done this to her, the condition was likely to be permanent.

As Gloria slept it off in recovery, Callie went to check on her grandmother, leaving Harlan to spend most of the wait alone. He tried to get comfortable on a plastic waiting room chair, but it was an exercise in futility. And after twenty long minutes of staring blankly at a television screen and leafing through old news magazines, Harlan finally got to his feet and headed down the hallway to Callie’s grandmother’s room.

He may not be wanted, but anything was better than this.

Back in their graduate school days, Callie had spoken fondly about her grandmother, and Harlan knew that the bond between them was unbreakable. But he’d never had the privilege of meeting Mrs. Glass. Had no idea if she even knew he existed.

Still, when Rusty had told him on the phone earlier that she had been hospitalized, he couldn’t help feeling some concern. Callie had grown up without her parents, and the thought of losing her grandmother had to be weighing on her mind.

When he reached the doorway, however, he was surprised to find that Callie was nowhere to be found. He thought for a moment that he’d gone to the wrong room, but the woman in the bed looked eerily familiar. A much older, more delicate version of the girl he’d once loved. The ravages of age had done nothing to erase her beauty, and Harlan knew that Callie would grow old just as gracefully. It was in her genes.

Too bad you won’t be around to see it.

This thought slipped uninvited into Harlan’s brain, and while he wasn’t sure where it had come from, he had to admit it was accompanied by a sense of sadness. He had always believed that he and Callie would be together forever, but for some reason fate hadn’t been in a cooperative mood.

“Are you gonna stand there daydreaming or say hello?”

Harlan blinked and pulled himself from his thoughts. Callie’s grandmother was looking directly at him, a wry smile on her thin face—one that Harlan recognized, although it had been a long time since he’d seen it. Callie didn’t seem to smile much nowadays.

“Sorry, ma’am. I was looking for your granddaughter.”

“She went out to get me a snack. The food here is horrendous.” She gestured to a chair. “You want to sit down?”

“No ma’am, I’ll just wait here. I’m Deputy Harlan—”

“Oh, I know who you are. Callie told me you were in town.”

Harlan stiffened, half expecting her to start shouting at him for breaking her granddaughter’s heart and ruining her life, but the old woman kept right on smiling.

“It was a long time ago,” she said, “but every email I got, every phone call that girl made while she was away, she must’ve mentioned you at least two or three times.”

Harlan nodded. “She talked about you a lot, too. I’m sorry we never got a chance to meet.”

“So am I.”

“We had plans to come up that last summer but…things changed.”

Her smile faltered. “Well, I guess that couldn’t be helped, could it?”

Harlan shrugged. “
Callie
thinks it could have.”

The old woman shook her head. “She’s a complicated girl, that one. So much like her mother, I sometimes find myself wanting to call her Mary. Probably have, once or twice. She makes her mind up about something, she’s apt to hang on to it even when she knows she’s being unreasonable.”

“Well, unreasonable or not, she made up her mind about me. And to be honest, I didn’t handle it all that well. Said quite a few things I shouldn’t have. And if I’d known what I was walking into when I came here, I probably would’ve stayed away.”