Showdown in West Texas (8 page)

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” McKinney said.

“Sookie thinks this is just a ploy on your part to drive down my asking price.”

“If that's what Sookie thinks, then she's dumber than she looks,” McKinney said bluntly. “I'm perfectly willing to honor my original offer. You're the one dragging your feet.”

“I told you, I have to clear up that little deed problem first.”

“Then do it.”

“It's not as easy as you make it sound. I have to be real careful how I handle this.”

“Just stop whining and take care of the problem, for God's sake.”

“I'm working on it. But I need a little more time.”

“How much time?”

“A few more days.”

“Forty-eight hours,” McKinney told him. “And I warn you, if I have to get involved in this again, the aggravation is going to cost you. Maybe you ought to see what Sookie has to say about that?”

McKinney got up and strode past Cage's booth to the door. Behind him, Cage heard Jesse Nance scramble to his feet to follow him out. The two men continued their discussion in the parking lot. From McKinney's expression and Nance's frenzied gestures, the conversation was getting more heated by the moment.

The redhead brought over Cage's breakfast, drawing his attention momentarily away from the window.

“Sorry for the delay,” she said with an apologetic smile.

“No problem.” As she topped off his coffee, Cage said, “That man out there…the tall one. He looks familiar, but I can't place him.”

“Oh, that's Colt McKinney.”

Cage could have sworn she actually let out a dreamy little sigh when she said his name.

“I'm pretty sure we've met before,” Cage said. “Does he live around here?”

“You've probably seen his picture in the paper. He's kind of Cochise County's version of Donald Trump. Except
way
cuter.”

“Big shot, huh?”

“Big, big shot. His family owns most of the land and businesses around here. They were cattle ranchers back when there was good money in it, but nowadays, Colt dabbles in a little bit of everything, including politics.”

“What about the guy with him? Are they business partners?”

She laughed out loud at that. “Not hardly. Jesse Nance is just about the biggest loser you're ever likely to run across. Never worked an honest day in his life. He's been living off the money his old man left him for years, but he's flat busted now. What little he had left, Sookie Truesdale ran through when they hooked up. Talk about high maintenance,” she said with a disdainful sniff.

“Takes cold hard cash to keep a woman like that happy,” Cage said, as if he knew Sookie personally.

“Yeah, well, the only thing Jesse's got left to his name is that broken-down old ranch.” She leaned down and lowered her voice. “I'll give you three guesses as to why Sookie hasn't already dumped his ass.”

Cage shrugged.

“I hear Colt's made him an offer on his land. And
you can bet Sookie's gonna get her paws on as much of that cash as she can before she splits.”

The waitress straightened and gave Cage a wink. “Anything else I can get for you, hon?”

Cage decided that conducting a stealth investigation in Jericho Pass might be a little like shooting fish in a barrel. He didn't need to be all clever and sly to ferret out information. All he had to do was ask a few questions and then stand back.

If everyone in that town liked to talk as much as Miss Nelda and the redheaded waitress, Cage shouldn't have too much difficulty finding out everything he needed to know in fairly short order.

Whether they were just trying to be friendly or whether there was a self-important aspect to their openness, he had no idea. What he did know was that in less than an hour's time, he'd already learned about the murder of Grace Steele's parents and her elopement with Jesse Nance. He knew that Colt McKinney was the town bigwig and Grace's ex was the town loser, and the two of them were cooking up a deal together. McKinney had made an offer on Nance's ranch, but Nance had a problem with the deed. A problem he intended to care of.

The only thing Cage hadn't found out yet was who
had paid a hit man five thousand dollars up front to come to town and take care of Grace.

But he was closer than he had been last night.

Something about that deal with Colt McKinney and Jesse Nance had set off a few alarm bells for Cage, and he was still thinking about their conversation when he walked into the sheriff's station a little while later. Sam Dickerson greeted him with another goofy grin.

“How's that Caddy holding up in all this West Texas grit?”

“So far, so good,” Cage said. “Is Sheriff Steele in? I'm supposed to be meeting her here at nine.”

“She's on a conference call right now. She'll give a holler when she's through. Since you've got a little time to kill, why don't I give you the grand tour?”

Cage shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

He followed Sam around the station, nodding politely, and occasionally shaking hands when he was introduced to the staff. Deputy Dickerson seemed to have an endless repertoire of stories and anecdotes about everyone in the department, and Cage soon learned to laugh in all the right places without really paying much attention to what was being said.

The deputy insisted on showing him the whole nine yards of the operation, including the interrogation room, the communications room, the copy room, the break room, the map-lined conference room, and the holding cells in the back. A shoulder-high wall separated the four desks that made up Criminal Investigations from the rest of the department, and Dickerson saved that area for last.

Two of the desks were nearly covered over with case files, reports and myriad forms, while a third seemed to
have the same amount of paperwork but in a more orderly configuration. The fourth desk had only the usual office paraphernalia of paper clips, staplers and pen holders.

“That'll be your desk right there if you decide to take the job,” Sam said. “It's nice and clean right now, but give it a day or two and it'll look more like that.” He pointed to the mile-high stacks of file folders.

Cage wasn't impressed. His old desk hadn't looked much different. Every cop in the country was probably overworked to a certain degree, especially the ones that investigated crimes against persons. The red tape alone was staggering.

“Cruz caught a call first thing this morning, and it's Mosley's day off. But Lily should be around here somewhere,” Dickerson said. “If you have any questions, I'm sure she'd be happy to answer them. Just hang tight and I'll go see if I can find her.”

After he was gone, Cage glanced down at an open folder on the third desk. It was an autopsy report from the county medical examiner.

“Hey! What the
hell
do you think you're doing?”

Cage looked up.

“Yeah, you. I'm talking to you. Take a step back, slick.”

The woman bounding toward him couldn't have weighed much more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but she had a bulldozer quality about her that would probably make most people think twice before getting in her way.

“You got business here or you just plain nosy?” she demanded. A thick, black braid fell over her shoulder as she leaned across the desk to close the folder.

“Both,” he said with a grin.

She glowered until his grin faded.

“Sorry. I was just waiting around to see Sheriff Steele,” he told her.

“Then why don't you go wait in her office instead of mine?”

“Uh, I think Deputy Dickerson wanted me to meet you.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Her gray eyes swept over him. “And just who are you?”

“Dale Walsh.”

One brow lifted slightly. “Well, well, well. The infamous Detective Walsh finally graces us with his presence.”

“Why infamous?”

“Because Charlie Dickerson built you up so much, I was beginning to think you were nothing more than a myth. Or a figment of his imagination. But here you are.” She gave him another quick appraisal. “Not quite what I had in mind.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Not half as sorry as I am,” she muttered.

The mocking quality of her voice was a nice accessory to her derision, Cage decided. This woman was definitely a pistol.

“I didn't catch your name,” he said.

“Lily Steele.”

“Are you—”

“No relation to our illustrious sheriff,” she said before he had a chance to finish his question. “It's just an unfortunate coincidence that we share the same last name.”

“Why unfortunate?”

“Have you met her?” Lily's taunting gaze slid past him. “Speak of the devil.”

Cage turned to find Sheriff Steele striding toward them.

“Sorry you had to wait,” she said. “I see you've met my sister.”

He turned back to Lily who merely shrugged as she plopped down in her chair and reached for a folder.

“I just got a call about a situation out in the county,” Grace said. “You want to ride along?”

Cage shrugged. “Sure, if I won't be stepping on anyone's toes.”

“We're not that territorial around here,” Grace said. Then her gaze dropped to her sister. “For the most part.”

“What's going on?” Lily asked.

“A body was found just off Tombstone Road, east of Red Rock Canyon.”

“That's close to Jesse Nance's place.” Something flickered in Lily's eyes, a look of fear, Cage thought. “It's not…Jesse, is it?”

Grace looked surprised. “Why would you think that?”

Lily glanced away. “Because you said the body was found near his place. And we both know Jesse can't keep himself out of trouble.”

“Well, it's not him,” Grace said. “Nobody seems to know who this guy is yet.” As she turned toward Cage, her jacket swung open, revealing the star-shaped badge clipped to her gun belt.

Cage could also see the outline of her bra through the cotton shirt she wore, but he tried to pretend that
he couldn't. As he averted his gaze, he saw that Lily was staring up at him. His attention hadn't lingered on Grace's chest for more than a split second, but it was enough for Lily to notice and give him a smirk.

“Are you ready to go?” Grace asked.

Cage nodded. “Let's hit it.”

“Hey, Dale?”

Reluctantly, he turned back to Lily.

She smiled innocently. “So, are you going to be around for a while?”

“Looks that way.”

“Some of us are going over to the Blue Moon tonight to have some drinks and shoot a little pool. Why don't you drop in if nothing better pops up?” Her gaze shifted to Grace, then back to him and she smirked again.

“Thanks. Maybe I will.”

“I'd invite you, too, Grace, but I'm sure you'd feel out of place among us peons.”

“Ouch,” Cage said under his breath as he and Grace turned to leave. “I see what you mean about the cold shoulder.”

“She's been that way for as long as I can remember,” Grace said with a shrug, but Cage could tell that she was bothered by her sister's attitude. “I've given up trying to figure her out.”

“Must make working for the same department a little awkward.”

“Believe me, that was a
big
consideration before I decided to come back here.”

Outside, the sun was blistering. Heat rose in waves from the asphalt parking lot, and Grace pulled off her
jacket and tossed it onto the seat between them before climbing into the truck.

“Listen,” Cage said. “I need to come clean with you about something.”

She gave him a curious glance. “I'm listening.”

“It's about that guy Lily mentioned. Jesse Nance.”

Something flickered in her eyes, but her expression remained carefully neutral. “What about him?”

“I know that he's your ex.”

“Don't tell me people are talking about that. It was a hundred years ago.” She put the truck in gear and pressed down on the accelerator. The vehicle rocketed forward before Cage had a chance to fasten his seat belt.

She shot him a glance. “Who told you? Lily?”

“Miss Nelda mentioned it.”

“Busybody,” Grace muttered, and Cage wasn't certain at first to whom she was referring.

She said nothing else for a moment as she ran a hand through her dark hair. “Miss Nelda's a sweet old woman, but she can't seem to mind her own business. I don't know what I was thinking, moving into that boarding house.”

“For what it's worth, I don't think she meant any harm. She seems fond of you.”

Grace nodded. “Yeah, I know. And I've always liked her, too. She and Miss Georgina can be a real hoot, but I have to worry about my public image. I know that sounds trite, but to do this job right, I need to maintain an air of respectability.”

“I understand.”

“A county sheriff is an authority figure, and when
you're my age and a woman to boot, you've already got two strikes against you. The last thing I need is people gossiping about me.”

He put up a hand. “You're preaching to the choir, here.”

She chewed on her lip. “So…What else did she say about me?”

He gave her a doubtful look. “You really want to know?”

“Sure, why not? I may as well know what people are saying about me behind my back. Forewarned is forearmed, right?”

Cage glanced out the window. They'd quickly left the town limits behind, and the only thing he could see for miles was scrub brush, yucca and the occasional pumpjack silhouetted against the horizon. The feeling of isolation in that wide, vast openness still took him by surprise.

He turned back to Grace. “She told me that your parents had been murdered when you were just a kid. She said you and Lily were home when it happened.”

Grace stared straight ahead without comment.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to bring up such a painful subject.”

“No, it's okay. I asked you to tell me. And it's not so painful that I can't talk about it or stand to hear about it. It happened a long time ago. Sometimes it almost seems like it was just a bad dream. Something you think about in passing at times, and then you just get on with your life.”

Brave words, but Cage saw her grip tighten on the steering wheel.

“How old were you when it happened?”

A trickle of sweat ran down the side of her face, and she swiped it away as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Ten. Lily was six. I remember that something woke me up that night. I thought it was the windmill at first. It used to creak so loudly that you could hear it for miles, it seemed. It's a sound I never forgot, even after I'd been away from here for a long, long time.”

“Sounds are like smells,” Cage said. “They can stay with you for years, trigger memories you didn't even know you had.” His trigger had once been the smell of freshly mown grass. That scent always took him straight back to his high school football years.

Nowadays it was the smell of fresh paint. That was what he remembered most about the night he'd been shot. Not the pain or the fear or the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, but the acrid fumes in the house where a man had held his wife and two kids hostage for hours.

“After a while, I realized that what I heard was footsteps on the stairs,” Grace said. “When he got to the top, he stopped and just…stood there for the longest time. It was like he was waiting for something.”

“Maybe he was just trying to get his bearings.”

“Maybe.” She scowled at the road. “I don't know why I didn't call out. Maybe I was too scared. I woke Lily up and she and I crawled under her bed. We stayed there until I was sure he was gone.”

“You didn't see anything?”

“Just his boots in the hallway.”