Native Cowboy (5 page)

An image of Nellie’s blood-soaked body taunted her. “Do you think this could be related to Nellie’s murder?”

Mason shrugged. “It’s possible. Maybe the killer was looking for the adoptive parents’ names and broke into the drug cabinet to throw us off.”

Fear slithered up Cara’s spine, and she hurriedly glanced at the files on the floor, searching for Nellie’s. But there were hundreds of pages, all in disarray, so she decided it would be quicker to check the computer.

“Let me find the information on Nellie’s boyfriend and his address.”

“Get the adoptive parents, too,” Mason reminded her.

She suddenly paused. “Sherese turned the computer off before she left.”

“Which means whoever broke in tried to get something off of your hard drive.” Mason studied the screen. “It looks like he tried to access patient files.”

Cara sighed wearily. ‘They’re password encrypted.”

Mason shrugged. “That may be the reason he dumped the hard files.” He placed his hand over hers. “Use gloves now so you don’t contaminate the keyboard in case he left prints.”

Cara’s throat tightened.

Mason removed his phone from his belt and headed to the front stoop. “I’ll call the sheriff and have him fingerprint the clinic, so we can track down the boyfriend.”

Cara nodded. She just prayed that they found out who’d killed Nellie and that her baby was safe.

But what if the killer had been here at her clinic? She’d received hate mail before, mail telling her that they didn’t need her kind of help. That she was encouraging women to give up their children.

But that wasn’t the case.

Still, what if Nellie’s murder and the break-in were connected?

Mason’s comment about the ritualistic aspect of the crime troubled her even more.

What if the killer planned to strike again?

* * *

H
E SIFTED THROUGH
the files, smiling at how easily he’d copied them and hacked Dr. Winchester’s password.

It really had been easy. People were so predictable. All he had to do was dig a little into the pretty doctor’s past. And now he was in.

Sweet mercy. The list was longer than he’d expected.

The thrill of realizing he would replay the fun he’d had with Nellie made his body hot all over. Sweat trickled down his neck. Adrenaline churned. His pulse and heartbeat soared.

He lifted his bottled water and took a deep drink.

Nothing artificial would contaminate his body. He had flushed out the poisonous toxins long ago just as he had to flush out the poisonous women now.

Dr. Winchester had alphabetized the names, so he scrolled down the list. He could start in the order she’d presented them.

A laugh bubbled in his throat. No...that would be too easy. Too boring.

He would shake up the list. Keep the cops on their toes.

Let them wonder who would be next.

Chapter Four

Cara felt violated as the crime unit combed through the clinic. She had to protect her patients, many of whom came to her because they knew they could trust her.

Some were in terrible home situations, were dealing with abusive boyfriends or husbands, and others needed medical help as well as counseling. Single mothers, women who needed financial assistance, and unwed teenagers who had to make a difficult choice regarding their child’s future—whether to keep the child or find an adoptive family.

Mason oversaw the crime unit, his gaze continually straying to her and her rounded belly. A confrontation was inevitable, but thankfully he was professional enough to leave their personal business simmering on the back burner for the moment.

After all, a young woman’s brutal slaying was their top priority.

“We’ll need your prints, ma’am,” one of the crime techs said. “Just for elimination purposes. We’ll also need your other employees’ prints.”

Cara allowed the female tech to take her print. “I’ll have my assistant Sherese come to the police station.”

“What do you know about her?” Mason asked.

Cara frowned. “You mean, can I trust her?”

Mason nodded. “Do you think she might have stolen the drugs and made it look like a robbery?”

Cara released a sardonic chuckle. “No, Sherese is one of the sweetest, most honest, trustworthy women I know. She’s not only had nurses aide training but she’s a single mother raising a small child on her own.”

“Maybe she needed the money and planned to sell the drugs?” Mason suggested.

“No,” Cara said emphatically. “Her father was an abusive alcoholic. There’s no way she would sell or do drugs. She actually helps counsel addicts when they come in.”

“Sounds like you think a lot of her.”

Cara nodded and wiped her fingers off on a towel. “I do. Now let’s move on.”

Mason studied her for a long moment, then started to speak but the crime techs interrupted. The male tech cleared his throat. “We’re finished here, Detective Blackpaw. We’ll get these to the lab ASAP.”

“Thanks. I’ll need to compare them to any prints we found at the murder scene of Nellie Thompson.”

As the techs gathered their equipment and left, a wariness settled over Cara. She wasn’t ready to have the discussion about the baby.

“Cara?” Mason said in that gravelly voice that sounded like seduction.

She fought off a reaction and turned to the file cabinet.

“If the drugs were stolen to cover up the real reason the intruder broke in, and it’s related to Nellie’s death, the killer may be after Nellie’s baby. I need to go.”

Cara glanced at the printout. “His name is Alfredo Rodrigo.” Cara grabbed her purse. “I’m going with you.”

Mason glanced down at her belly. “No, this is police business.”

Cara tucked the address into her bag. “Listen Mason, Nellie was my patient. I’m going to protect her choices and her child just like I promised.”

She started toward the door, but Mason caught her arm. “You don’t trust me to protect this child?”

His question lingered between them for a pained heartbeat. Cara had to wonder if he was referring to Nellie’s little girl or the baby she carried.

“That’s not the point,” she said evenly. “This adoption was a private matter, Mason. I know Alfredo took it hard, but the adoptive parents were assured confidentiality. Having a cop at their door is going to upset them, and I can help smooth the waters.”

Turmoil darkened his eyes, but a second later he gave a clipped nod of acceptance. “All right, but let me take the lead with Rodrigo. Remember, he’s a suspect in a murder investigation.”

Cara sucked in a deep breath. How could she forget? She would never be able to erase the image of Nellie’s butchered body from her mind.

* * *

T
HE URGE TO PUMMEL
Cara with questions nagged at Mason as he drove from the clinic toward Rodrigo’s address. But she looked uncomfortable and worried about Nellie, and she had just identified the body of a woman she knew, a woman who’d been brutally slain and whose death was obviously personal to her.

His questions would have to wait. At least until they’d talked to Rodrigo, and he decided whether the man was the suspect they were looking for in this homicide.

“Do you think we should call Alfredo to make sure he’s home?” Cara asked.

“No, I want the element of surprise on my side.”

“I’m telling you, he wouldn’t kill Nellie, especially in such a vicious manner.”

“Maybe not,” Mason conceded. “But crimes of passion can turn ugly. And if he didn’t kill her, he might know something that could lead us to who did.”

Cara nodded, then turned to look out the window, worry knitting her face. For a moment, he was tempted to squeeze her hand to console her, but he had no right. Besides, touching her was too personal.

He had to guard against his emotions.

The town lights disappeared behind them, the landscape giving way to wilderness, scrub brush and the beauty of the Texas land. Small ranches and farms were interspersed between patches of deserted land rich with cacti, boulders and mesquites. He passed the sign for the local reservation where Cara had first volunteered.

Memories of watching her work with patients hit him, reminding him of the compassionate woman who had stolen his heart. He glanced at her, his gut tightening as moonlight spilled across her ivory skin and highlighted the rich tones of her hair.

Hair that he had lost himself in just as he had lost himself in bed with her.

Dammit. The very reason he’d had to walk away.

No one had ever turned him inside out like she had.

He’d vowed that no woman ever would again.

But now here she was working at the BBL, running a clinic in town, right in his face.

Hell, when he finished this investigation, he’d request a transfer. Texas was a big damn state.

But what if that child is yours?

Cara shifted, her hand automatically flying to her stomach when he hit a bump, and he silently chastised himself, then checked his speed. For God’s sake, he needed to take it easy.

There was a kid on board.

One that might be his.

Sweat broke out on his brow as he turned down the road leading to Rodrigo’s. His own father had been nonexistent in his life. Had deserted him and his mother the moment he’d discovered she was pregnant.

Hell, she had been both parents to him, though, had raised him on the same res where he’d met Cara. A couple of the men on the res had taken him under his wing and taught him to fish and hunt. Chief Pann had taught him to track.

They had served as his male role models, as opposed to the man who’d actually fathered him.

If this baby was his, what kind of father would he be? Cara hadn’t told him about the child, so she must not want him in the baby’s life.

That thought made his stomach knot.

“It’s at the end of that street,” Cara said as she pointed toward a graveled road.

Mason veered on to it and slowed as the car churned over the rocks and spit dirt. Several weathered cement houses lined the street, the yards unkempt, children’s toys scattered on the overgrown, weed-infested yards.

He parked in the driveway and cut the engine, noting the beat-up pickup in the drive. A light burned in the front window, illuminating the front porch.

Cara opened her car door, and he jumped out and ran around to help her. But she was standing by the time he reached her, her gaze daring him to comment on her bulk.

“Remember, let me take the lead,” Mason said.

“I’m telling you that Alfredo loved Nellie.” A frown crinkled her eyes. “He’s going to be devastated that she’s dead.”

Mason refrained from comment. If she was right, the next few minutes would be unpleasant, but breaking bad news came with the job. He’d learned to compartmentalize and not let it affect him, but Cara was too kindhearted not to be disturbed. After all, she dedicated herself to saving lives.

So did he, but in a different capacity. Although he had taken a life or two in the past. But only when necessary.

He was tempted to take her arm as they walked up the graveled path to the door, but she trudged forward, independent and determined to prove that pregnancy hadn’t slowed her down.

They climbed the cement steps, and he knocked on the door. A moment later, an Hispanic man with shaggy hair wearing a flannel shirt and jeans opened the door. He rubbed at his unshaven jaw with a scowl.

“Alfredo Rodrigo,” Mason said. “I’m Detective Blackpaw.”

Cara pushed her way in front of him. “Can we come in?”

He frowned at Mason, his eyebrows arching at the sight of Cara. “What’s going on?”

Cara gave him a compassionate smile. “Please, Alfredo, we need to talk.”

His gaze shot between the two of them, then he gestured for them to enter. Mason immediately scanned the man’s body for a weapon, but he appeared clean.

They stepped into a small living room with a faded plaid couch, a rickety coffee table laden with take-out wrappers and a pile of laundry in a wooden chair.

“What this about?” Alfredo asked in broken English.

“Nellie.” Cara glanced at the kitchen. “Let’s sit down.”

She led the way and they seated themselves about a Formica table with plastic chairs.

“What about my Nellie?” Alfredo asked. “What’s wrong?”

“When did you last see her?” Mason asked, ignoring
Alfredo’s question.

Alfredo rubbed his chin again as if thinking back, and Mason noticed a scar on his cheek that looked old, maybe from a knife. “Last week. Before I left town.”

“You’ve been out of town?” Mason asked.

“I drive a truck, big rig, haul petroleum products.” He tapped his foot up and down. “Tell me, is Nellie okay?”

Mason noted the concern in Cara’s eyes, but forged on. “When did you get back?”

Alfredo stood, suddenly looking panicky. “This morning, dawn.” He crossed his arms. “Now, tell me about Nellie. Is she okay?”

Cara drew a deep breath. “No, Alfredo, I’m afraid she’s not.”

Alfredo’s eyes twitched. “What wrong? Is she in hospital?” He started toward the door. “Tell me, take me to see her.”

Cara stood and gently gripped his arm. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Alfredo. I’m so sorry.”

“Nellie is dead,” Mason cut in, determined to get a visceral reaction from the man. Cara’s sympathy would only stoke his story if he planned to lie. “She was murdered.”

Alfredo staggered backward, his expression pained. “No...not my Nellie...not dead.”

“I’m afraid she is,” Cara said softly. “I’m so sorry, Alfredo.”

Tears welled in the man’s big dark eyes. “No...you’re wrong.”

“She was murdered and someone buried her on the BBL ranch,” Mason said matter-of-factly. “I found her body this morning when I was out riding.”

Alfredo slumped into the chair and dropped his head forward, tears rolling down his face. “No...I talk to her. Try to get her to come back to me.”

“You two broke up about the baby, didn’t you?” Mason pressed. “You didn’t want a child.”

Anger flashed in Alfredo’s eyes. “No it not like that.”

Cara covered his hand with hers. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can trust us, Alfredo. Just tell Detective Blackpaw the truth so we can find out who killed Nellie.”