Convictions (28 page)

Matching irritation flashed in Jordan's face. "What time was this argument?"

"Around nine thirty, maybe ten o'clock."

"What was the argument about?"

Although Hank knew this question was bound to be asked, he still didn't know how to reply without hurting Olivia's reputation. What would happen if it became common knowledge that she had slept with a con?

"I'm waiting," Jordan said, drumming his fingertips on the table.

"Mantle made some crude remarks," Hank finally answered.

"Surely someone who's spent six years in prison is used to hearing them."

Hank tensed. "This isn't prison."

Jordan narrowed his eyes. "Did what he say have anything to do with Ms. Kincaid?"

Damn.
He was more perceptive than Hank gave him credit for.

"Yes."

Jordan glanced down, and a red flush touched his cheeks. He'd obviously figured out some things on his own and was reluctant to hear the details, which made Hank's attitude toward him thaw a bit.

"Mantle had a dirty mouth," Hank said in a low voice. "He said some things to Oli—Ms. Kincaid that weren't appropriate." He shrugged. "She stopped me from giving him a lesson in manners."

"So maybe you decided to teach him that lesson when Ms. Kincaid wasn't there to stop you."

Jordan just lost the points he'd gained, and Hank growled, "I didn't kill him."

"All I have is your word on that."

Anger surged through Hank. "What evidence do you have that says I killed him?"

Jordan held his gaze for a few moments longer, then glanced away. "Nothing yet."

Because the crime scene investigators are still in the barn,
Hank thought. He stood. "I choose not to answer any more questions."

Jordan came to his feet. "If you're innocent, you have nothing to hide."

Familiar bitterness surged through Hank. "That's what they said six years ago, and look where talking got me then." He shook his head. "I didn't kill anyone, Sheriff." He spun on his heel and strode outside.

Trembling, Hank stood on the porch and sucked in a deep breath. He gazed out at the high plains that stretched to the mountains, enticing him to disappear into the wild land where he'd be free. It took every ounce of his self-control not to start running and never stop.

Olivia's father was on the phone when she came into the house to tell him about Rollie. She paced outside his study, listening to the low timbre of his voice. As soon as she was certain the conversation was over, she knocked on his door, which was slightly ajar. "Come in, Liv," he said.

Uncertain how her father would take the news of Rollie's crime, she entered hesitantly.

Her father smiled, but the gesture didn't touch his eyes, which were troubled. His complexion was pale, almost gray. "Don't worry. I won't shoot the messenger."

Olivia's throat tightened. As worried as her father was, he still tried to ease her tension. "Sheriff Jordan arrested Rollie Pepper for pushing the bales down on Hank."

He blinked in surprise. "Why did he do it?"

She explained his motive and ended with, "He says he didn't kill Mantle."

"That doesn't mean he didn't murder Melinda Holcomb."

"True." Olivia clasped her sweat-dampened hands. "But I don't think he killed anyone."

Her father leaned back in his high-backed chair, and the springs creaked softly. "So we have a killer who strangles his victims with a leather strap, and we don't know who's next because no motive has been determined."

Olivia inhaled and let it out slowly. "That about covers it."

"What did Mantle, Melinda, and the first victim all have in common?"

She huffed out a humorless laugh. "If Sandra Hubbard was Mandy Hubbard, I'd say it was people with an M in their name."

Her sarcastic comment brought a small smile to her father's wan face. "It won't be long before the FBI will be involved in this case. In fact, when I spoke to Warden Vincent, he was surprised they weren't already conducting the investigation."

Olivia frowned. Three murders by presumably the same person in two states would make it a federal case. And the last two bodies were found on the ranch, which meant the murderer was close. Far too close for comfort.

"Bob will be here first thing in the morning," her father announced.

It took a moment for Olivia to connect the dots. "How did he take the news about Mantle?"

Her father grimaced. "About as well as a man whose job might now be in jeopardy. I talked him out of immediately taking the remaining four prisoners back to the facility. He's coming here because he wants to check out the situation himself."

"But he could still decide to send them back to prison?"

"I'm afraid so, Liv. I'll do what I can to make sure that doesn't happen, but it might be out of my hands at this point."

Despair dulled Olivia's thoughts. "What if he does send them back, and someone else is murdered? That would mean none of them was the killer. Would they be able to resume their positions here?"

Her father shook his head. "I don't know." He rubbed his chest and coughed. "There's nothing we can do now. Why don't you go fix lunch for the men?"

Although restless, Olivia knew mundane tasks would help keep her occupied. She studied her father a moment, not liking the creases in his brow or the way he kept his hand pressed to his chest. "What about you?"

He managed a smile, but Olivia saw through it. "My accountant has been after me to get last month's expenditures to him, so I'll work on that. It'll be all right, Liv."

She didn't know if he was trying to convince her or himself.

He gasped suddenly and squeezed his eyes shut.

Olivia's heart skipped a beat. "Dad?"

"It's n-nothing," he stammered, but the lie was evident in his pain-etched brow and the sweat that suddenly beaded his forehead.

Olivia hurried around his desk and squatted down beside him. "Is your chest hurting?"

"Just some heartburn."

This was more than heartburn. A hell of a lot more.

"Is the pain in your left arm, too?" Olivia asked through the dryness of her mouth.

"Tingles." He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as pain crested through him again.

Hysteria threatened to steal Olivia's composure. She pushed herself to her feet and hurried outside. Her knees nearly buckled in relief when she spotted Buck and Hank.

She called out to them and the two men turned as one toward her.

"Come here. Hurry!" she shouted.

Hank didn't hesitate, and Buck followed after a scant second or two. Hank jumped the stairs to the porch and grabbed Olivia's arms. "What's wrong?"

"Dad. I-I think it's his heart," she said, her voice shaking as much as her hands.

"I'll call nine-eleven," Buck said.

"Where is he?" Hank asked Olivia.

She didn't answer but led him to the study in the house. Her father's pallid face gleamed with moisture, and his eyes were closed.

Olivia's vision blurred. "Oh, God," she whispered.

Hank immediately went to her father's side, and the judge's eyes fluttered open. "Is it your heart?" Hank asked.

"I think s-so." Her father's mouth twisted into a grimace of agony.

Hank speared Olivia with a sharp look. "Do you have any aspirin?"

She nodded, her gaze locked on her father.

"Get it," Hank ordered, snapping her out of her stupor.

Moving on jellylike legs, she stumbled down the hall and into the bathroom. She carried the aspirin and a glass of water back to the study, past Buck who stood nervously in the doorway. "Here," she said to Hank.

"Good," he said, giving her a quick smile.

Olivia watched him place an aspirin in her father's mouth then hold the paper cup to his lips. He swallowed convulsively.

"Just relax, sir. Take nice, easy breaths," Hank said in a soothing tone.

Hank had unbuttoned the top buttons of her father's shirt to make him more comfortable, but the older man's gray complexion frightened her. She couldn't lose him...

"It's okay, L-Liv." Her father's muffled voice brought her out of her misery. Her gaze met his. He was still trying to be strong for her.

Dammit!
It was her turn to be strong.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

"Pray the ambulance gets here soon," Hank whispered.

"Olivia," Jordan called.

"Over here," Buck said.

The sheriff skidded into the room, and his gaze landed on her father. "How is he?"

Olivia glanced at Hank, who replied, "Hanging in there. When will the ambulance be here?"

"Twenty minutes," Buck replied.

"Can we take Dad in your car and meet them halfway?" Olivia asked Sheriff Jordan.

"That would cut the time in half," Hank added.

Suddenly her father groaned and arched upward in the chair. His face grayed even more, and tears rolled from tightly closed eyes.

"We need to get him on the floor. I think he's having a heart attack," Hank barked.

Firmly but gently he moved Olivia out of the way, then he and the sheriff lowered the judge to the floor on his back. Olivia pressed herself against the wall and stared down at the unfolding nightmare.

Hank laid two fingers against her father's neck. "I can't feel a pulse." A faint blue appeared around the older man's mouth.

"Stay back," Hank said to the sheriff, then brought his clenched hands down on her father's chest.

Olivia flinched at the dull thump. She knew Hank and the lawman were talking, but she tuned out their words. Her entire concentration centered on her father. Her fingernails dug into her palms, but the pain was negligible compared to the piercing anguish of watching her father die.

But, no, he wasn't dead. Hank and Jordan didn't stop. First compressions, then mouth-to-mouth. One set right after another. She could tell the two men were growing tired, but their fierce absorption didn't waver.

More noise came from the front of the house, and Olivia realized the ambulance and EMTs were finally here.

"In here," she shouted.

A gurney loaded with equipment was wheeled into the study. The man and woman replaced Hank and the sheriff at her father's side.

Olivia was dimly aware of Hank coming to stand beside her, but she couldn't draw her gaze from her father. As long as she didn't look away, he wouldn't die. She wouldn't let him.

"Got a pulse," the female EMT suddenly said. The other EMT nodded. "Okay. Let's get him hooked up."

In a matter of minutes, Olivia saw her father's heartbeat on the EKG monitor. Her knees buckled, and only Hank's strong hold kept her upright.

"Is he on any medication?" the woman asked.

Olivia tried to swallow, but her mouth was parched. She nodded. "I'll get his bottles."

"I'll get them," Sheriff Jordan said. "Where are they?"

She told him, and he went to retrieve them. The female EMT asked more questions, and Olivia answered them mechanically. After the woman had written down the medications, they loaded her father on the gurney.

"You can ride with him in the ambulance, if you'd like," the male EMT offered Olivia.

She nodded. "Thanks."

As she, Hank, and the sheriff followed the gurney out of the house, Olivia became aware of the silent group standing outside the porch. At the front of the crowd was Buck, Dawn, and Ted, their expressions somber. She felt like she should say something but wasn't certain what.

"The judge is stable right now," Sheriff Jordan announced. "He may have had a heart attack, but they'll know more after he gets to the hospital."

The sheriff's voice broke her mute despair and fired her determination. Her father needed her to ensure the ranch and men were taken care of. She hurried over to Buck and Dawn. "Do you think you can handle getting dinner ready, Dawn?"

Biting her lower lip, Dawn nodded.

"Good. Connie is supposed to be back sometime this afternoon. She's the regular cook I told you about."

"Okay," the girl said.

Olivia turned to Buck. "Warden Vincent is coming here tomorrow morning, so make sure we don't lose any more of the prisoners before then. When the sheriff is done questioning the men, get them back to work."

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, then ran back to the ambulance and climbed into the back. Her gaze caught Hank's, and she realized she didn't want to wait alone... she wanted Hank's quiet strength. "Can you come to the hospital?"

"I don't—" Hank began.

"I'll bring him," Jordan volunteered, then glanced at the EMTs. "Yampa Valley?"

The woman nodded. "Closest one."

"We'll follow you."

"Is there anything you need from the house?" Hank asked.

"My purse. It's in my bedroom," Olivia replied.

"We'll bring it."

The ambulance doors were slammed shut, leaving Olivia with the female EMT and her unconscious father.

Only one other time had she felt this alone and helpless—when she was eight years old and watched her mother's blood seep across the dirty floor of a convenience store.

Chapter Twenty

It felt odd for Hank to be sitting uncuffed in the front seat of a police vehicle. Déjà vu washed through him as he remembered the night he'd been taken from his family's ranch. He'd thought it was a practical joke until they arrived at the jail and no one was laughing.

He shook himself free of the uncomfortable memories and glanced at the sheriff, who followed the ambulance with the same dogged determination he'd used when interrogating him. "How much farther?"

"Another ten or fifteen minutes," the sheriff replied. He shot Hank a sideways glance. "Where'd you learn CPR?"

"They offered a course in prison."

"And you took it?"

Hank bristled at his skepticism. "Why not? It wasn't like I had anything else to do." Sheriff Jordan grunted.

Hank dismissed the lawman and locked his gaze on the ambulance ahead, envisioning Olivia sitting close to her father. Just remembering the anguish he'd seen in her face made his gut twist into knots. When had her pain become his?

"She trusts you," Jordan suddenly said.