Texas True (22 page)

“I'm looking for a friend who works here,” he said. “Albert Sanchez. Do you know when he'll be coming in?”

“Sanchez?” The man guffawed. “You won't be seeing him around here. He got his butt fired this morning for taking a
mordida
from some rich tourist. Damned lucky for him he didn't land in jail. If he's a friend of yours, kid, you need to find better amigos.”

Muttering his thanks, Lute wandered away, found the line for foot traffic, and checked through on his passport. In a restroom on the U.S. side, he took the papers for the truck, ripped them up, and threw the pieces in the trash, along with the set of keys to the vehicle. He was walking away from this adventure with almost twenty thousand dollars in cash. But Stella was going to be mad as hell about that truck. He'd better have one good story ready to tell her.

Maybe he'd be better off not going back at all.

 

Beau was standing on the front porch, finishing his coffee, when his cell phone rang. Caller ID flashed Tori's name.

“I just spoke with the sheriff,” she said. “He's got the results of the ballistics test back. He wants us in his office as soon as we can get there.”

Beau's pulse slammed. There was no way that fatal bullet could be a match to Slade's Barrett. But with Hoyt Axelrod determined to nail him to the wall, anything was possible. He'd been in the law enforcement business long enough to know how evidence could be manipulated by the right people.

“Did the sheriff say how the test came out?” he asked Tori.

“All he'd say was that he wanted to tell us in person.”

“I can leave now and meet you at your office.”

“Let me come out and pick you up. It'll take longer, but I have a book that I ordered for Erin. I can bring it to her and we can talk on the way back to town.”

Beau acquiesced, although he was anxious to get the waiting over with. Even bad news was better than not knowing.

He took the cup back to the kitchen, changed and cleaned up from chores, and was back waiting on the porch when Will came outside.

“So she didn't have any idea what Axelrod wants?” Will had been told that Tori was coming and why.

“All Axelrod wants is me behind bars and his fat ass in Congress. My guess is he'll do whatever it takes to make himself look like a hero.”

“Even fake a ballistics test? That's pretty serious.”

“Who's going to call him on it? Tori? She can't prove a thing. I'm preparing myself for bad news.”

“Beau, there's something I need to say, and there might not be a better time to say it than now.” Will's hands braced against the porch railing. “You know I put up a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bond against the ranch to make your bail.”

“I know, and I appreciate it more than I can say.”

Will cleared his throat. “I've been thinking, if things were to go from bad to worse, the ranch could survive the loss. I could take out a bank loan, sell off some land . . .” He fixed his gaze on Beau. “Anything I had to do would be better than having my brother spend his life behind bars for a crime he didn't commit.”

Jolted by Will's words, Beau stared at his brother. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

Will nodded. “If it's looking like a conviction, don't hesitate to run. I know you had to surrender your passport, but there are ways around that. You know them better than I do. And you know how to hide. If it comes to that, just go—until we can prove your innocence.”

Beau was not an emotional man. But he felt the salty sting of tears. “I don't know what to say,” he muttered.

“You don't have to say anything. If Dad were here, he'd do it in a heartbeat.”

“But the ranch, the land—”

“This isn't about the ranch, it's the family.”

Beau might have replied, but just then Tori's station wagon pulled up to the house. Tori climbed out, dressed in tan slacks, a white silk blouse, and the designer sunglasses she favored. In one hand she carried a brown mailer with the logo of a popular online bookstore on the outside. “Here's the horse book Erin wanted.” She thrust the mailer at Will. “See that she gets it, and tell her I'll be back later for a visit.”

“We'll plan on you for lunch,” Will said.

“We'll see.” Her serious demeanor warned Beau she was expecting bad news. “Ready, Beau?”

“Just waiting for you.” Beau hurried down the steps and climbed into the passenger seat. Tori slipped into her place and started the engine.

“Call me!” Will shouted as she swung the vehicle around and started down the drive. Tori didn't look back.

T
he sheriff was waiting alone in the reception area when Beau and Tori arrived. His hair and mustache were freshly trimmed, his uniform crisp, his badge polished to a blinding gleam. He looked ready for a high-profile press conference, Beau thought. It wasn't what you'd call a hopeful sign.

Beside him, Tori was as tense as a greyhound at the starting gate. Beau could tell she felt it, too—the dark sense of impending disaster.

“Come into my office, you two,” Axelrod said, stepping aside as if to usher them in the right direction. “We need to talk.”

They entered ahead of him. The room was small, much of it taken up by the massive solid oak desk and the two empty chairs that faced it. The walls were decorated with framed citations, awards, and photos of the sheriff with Texas dignitaries, including both the first and second President Bush. The blinds on the glass windows that flanked the door were closed. A prickle of anxiety crawled up the back of Beau's neck as he waited while Tori took her seat, then lowered himself onto the remaining chair. Across the desk, Hoyt Axelrod smiled at them from his throne-sized leather chair. Lord, he'd even had his big horsey teeth whitened.

“Sheriff, shouldn't you have the county prosecutor, or at least one of your deputies, present for this meeting?” Tori asked.

He dismissed her question with a shrug. “The prosecutor's out of town and my deputies are all busy. Anyway, we don't hold much with formalities around here. So let's get right down to business.”

He shifted in the chair and cleared his throat. “As I expected, the ballistic test shows conclusively that the bullet found near Slade Haskell's body was fired from Slade's own Barrett fifty-caliber BMG rifle.”

“We'd like a copy of the results,” Tori said.

“I knew you'd ask, so I had this made for you.” The sheriff slid a plain manila folder across the desk. The single page inside, along with some printed data and a photograph of the gun, showed two magnified pictures of the bullets—one from the test firing, the other supposedly from the crime scene. The striation pattern on both bullets was identical.

Beau swore silently. Given the procedures for handling evidence, it wouldn't be easy to switch a bullet fired from Slade's gun with the original, but someone whose authority was beyond question—like the sheriff—could manage it. It was hard to believe that a man with Axelrod's record would stoop to evidence tampering, but what other explanation was there?

“There's more,” the sheriff said. “As you know, Beau, we found gunshot residue on your hands and your prints on the murder weapon.”

“Both of which have already been explained,” Tori said. “Beau moved the rifle and put it back in the safe. And he'd been target shooting with his niece before he was tested.”

“So you say.” The sheriff dismissed Tori's words with a shrug. “But more evidence has come to light. Beau, your fingerprints weren't found on the dial or anywhere else on the outside of that safe. So you weren't the one who opened it, correct?”

“That's correct. Nat—Dr. Haskell opened the safe for me.” Instinct and experience told him the direction this so-called interview was taking. Beau took a tight hold on his temper.

“You and Dr. Haskell were high school sweethearts, yes?”

“Anybody who's lived around here for a while knows that.”

“And the two of you have rekindled the old fires since you came back.”

Tori spoke up before Beau could respond. “They were old friends. That didn't change until after Natalie had filed for divorce. And that occurred after Slade had assaulted her and wrecked her clinic.”

“That's what I was told. Still, there were reasons for Dr. Haskell to want her estranged husband dead.” The sheriff 's pale eyes went cold. “Not only was he a physical threat to her, but she was also faced with the possibility of losing her clinic in a divorce settlement.”

Beau saw that Axelrod was deliberately baiting him. It was a tactic he had used many times himself. And the sheriff was damned good at it. “Why don't you get to the point? Say what you're really getting at,” Beau challenged.

“Fine.” The sheriff leaned back in his chair with the expression of a man holding all the aces in a poker game. “It appears to me that Natalie Haskell could be as deeply involved in this crime as you are. By opening her husband's gun safe so you could take one of his weapons, at the very least she could be charged as an accessory. Or she could be a coconspirator, plotting with you to do away with her husband. Maybe it was even her idea and she talked you into it.”

“That's a damn lie!” Beau exploded, nearly coming out of his chair. “She's the victim in this.”

“And she's played the role well, hasn't she?” the sheriff taunted. “It's only her word that she was attacked and raped by her husband. You two could have staged it all.”

Tori gripped Beau's arm, holding him in the chair when he wanted to reach over that desk and jerk Axelrod across it by his shirtfront. Retaining the tight hold on his arm, she turned to the sheriff.

“You do realize that everything you're saying is pure conjecture. Even as a circumstantial case, it's weak.” Her words were as crisp as her voice. “You don't have a shred of proof against her.”

“Not yet,” he conceded, never losing his smug look. “But I'm guessing that if we bring her in for questioning, we'll get what we need to charge the lady.”

Rigid with contained anger, Beau glared at the man, who continued to watch him the way a well-fed cat watches a cornered bird. This was all part of some carefully laid plan. But what?

Suddenly Beau saw the end game.

“It occurs to me that if this case goes the full distance, the trial could be months away. Which would be too late to make a difference in your campaign for Congress, wouldn't it, Sheriff? The primary is coming up soon. To win, you need all the good exposure you can get. That's why you called us here today, and why there are only three of us in your office.”

Beau paused. Beside him, Tori sat frozen in shocked silence, but the smile on Axelrod's face didn't even twitch. “Go on, Beau,” he said. “I'm interested in hearing where you're headed with this.”

“I think you know,” Beau said. “The one thing that will get you a fast conviction, and maybe enough exposure to win the nomination, is my signed confession or a promise to plead guilty at the arraignment. And your only chance of getting that from me is to go after Natalie.”

Tori gasped. “That's enough, Beau! Not another word until we've had a chance to talk! Sheriff, this is highly irregular! I strongly object—”

“Be still, Tori.” Beau's voice was gentle but firm. “Otherwise I'll have no choice but to fire you.”

She made a sputter of protest but otherwise kept quiet.

“So, do you have an offer to make me?” the sheriff asked. “I don't have to remind you that Texas is a death penalty state. If Dr. Haskell is convicted as a coconspirator, you could both be facing the same punishment.”

“I know that,” Beau acknowledged.

As Beau took in the sheriff 's calculating smile, he felt the trap close around him. Hoyt Axelrod was holding all the trumps, and they both knew it.

Beau said, “If I plead guilty to Slade's murder at the arraignment, would you grant Natalie full immunity?”

The sheriff 's smile broadened. “Not good enough. Here's the deal. You plead guilty to Slade's murder
and
to the murder of Jessica Warner, and your girlfriend gets a free pass. Do that, and your service record and your history of PTSD should be enough to get the death penalty taken off the table. You might even get probation down the line in, say, twenty years. If you're prepared to sign a confession, we can take care of this right now.”

“That's enough, Sheriff!” Tori was on her feet, quivering with fury. “You're in no position to bargain with my client! Any plea deal has to be made with the county prosecutor and cleared with the judge. You should know that.” She glanced at Beau. “Both of you should know that. This stops here and now!”

“Aw, now, take it easy, Tori.” The sheriff's demeanor had turned warm and folksy. “I was only trying to put things in order for when Clay Drummond gets back from his daughter's wedding on Monday. Once he's here, we can wrap this mess up nice and legal like.”

Beau recognized the name of Clay Drummond, Tori's former law partner and now, evidently, county prosecutor. He remembered little else about the man, but he could be sure Drummond would do anything within the law to put him behind bars. That included extending the plea deal the sheriff had offered.

Tori swept the ballistics report into her briefcase. “We'll talk again when Clay is back in town,” she said to the sheriff. “Meanwhile, my client is complying with the terms of his bail. If you want this process to go smoothly, you're not to harass him or Dr. Haskell. Anything you have to say to them is to be channeled through me. Do I make myself clear?”

“No need to be so feisty, Tori. We're still friends, aren't we?” The sheriff 's smirk didn't waver.

Tori flashed him a disgusted look and opened the office door to stalk out through the reception area. Beau quickened his step to keep up with her determined stride. Only as they reached the parking lot did she speak.

“Still friends,
he says! For two cents I'd have given the man a black eye! And you!” She turned on Beau with fury. “You didn't do yourself any favors in there, offering to plead guilty! What in heaven's name were you thinking?”

“I'm not letting Natalie get dragged into this.”

He opened the car door for her. She slid into the driver's seat and started the engine as he climbed into the passenger side.

“I know you'd do anything to protect her; she said she'd do the same for you, which makes her even more vulnerable. You saw how Axelrod tried to spook you into a confession so he could call his press conference and play the hero. What he did back there was way out of line.”

“You're right,” Beau conceded. “He had me cornered and all I could think about was Natalie. But my first concern is still keeping her out of this mess. How would the county prosecutor handle a plea?”

“Clay's a by-the-book kind of man. Whatever he does will be up front and according to policy. But make no mistake, he likes to win. And he'll be out to get you.”

“So I could make the same deal with him?”

“No question. But Clay would have the power to make it stick, so if you're crazy enough to take the fall, which would kill your brother, at least don't be in a hurry. If you can wait Clay out, he may offer Natalie her own deal—immunity in exchange for her testimony against you.”

“You might suggest it to him and make sure she takes the deal. Knowing she's out of harm's way would at least give me a chance to fight this.”

Tori paused at the town's only stoplight. “We have to fight this, Beau,” she said, swinging left onto the highway. “Listen to me. You mustn't sacrifice yourself on a plea deal, not even to save Natalie. We can win this.”

“We can also lose.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Tori asked.

“Yes. Find out all we can about the real killer.” Beau forced a mental shift, trying to think more like a federal agent again. “It's Friday morning. We have three days until the prosecutor gets back. Right now Lute is the only solid lead we have. We need to find him.”

 

Sky faced Stella across the bar. He'd already stopped by the trucking company and found no sign of Lute or the truck he'd driven. Stella had just confirmed that he was two days overdue.

“And the last you heard from him was four days ago?”

“That's right, Blue Eyes.” She leaned against the bar, giving him a glimpse of her ample cleavage. “I phoned the ranch in Mexico yesterday. They said he'd left two days ago, a little late, but he should have gotten in before nightfall. It's an easy day's drive from there to the border. Mexico can be a dangerous place. I hope nothing's happened to him.”

Her face looked older in the slanting afternoon light. Was she hiding something? Maybe not this time, his instincts told him. Stella was a good actress, but she seemed genuinely worried—if only about the truck. He decided to tell her what he knew.

“Beau has connections in the border patrol,” he said. “According to their records, Lute crossed the bridge from Piedras Negras to Eagle Pass three days ago. But he checked through the border as a pedestrian. He wasn't driving anything.”

Stella muttered an unladylike curse under her breath.

“My guess is that something happened to the truck—might have been wrecked or stolen. Which means Lute's out there somewhere, trying to work up the nerve to come in and tell you about it.”

“Why, that little—” She broke off, then laughed and shook her head. “The poor kid is probably scared to death. But these things happen. Anyway, the truck had U.S. and Mexican insurance. If you find Lute, tell him it's covered and he can come back to work. No hard feelings. I'll just be happy to know he's safe.”

This time Sky recognized the signs. The subtle narrowing of Stella's absinthe eyes and the twitch of a jaw muscle told him she was fuming inside. Wherever Lute was, he was in big trouble.

Where would Lute go to hide out? Sky asked himself. Back to Oklahoma, maybe? If he had money, he could have headed for one of the big cities. But where would he get money unless he'd done something to double-cross Stella?

Stella could be asking herself the same questions. That might explain why she was furious. Sky would bet a month's pay she'd had a lot more to lose than a truck.

What if Lute was close by, keeping out of sight to see what would happen? That sounded more like the sort of thing Lute would do. Hole up in the back country. Finding him wouldn't be easy. Lute was coyote clever. He would know how to lie low and cover his tracks.