Wildfire (15 page)

Chapter
15

Heat steamed off his back and sweat drenched his shirt. He
had enough firewood for two winters, but he didn’t feel ready to stop. He
needed hard, physical labor, mind-numbing work, anything to keep his mind off
Lynn.

Engaged. The wedding announcement said she’d be married in
less than a month. No wonder she’d balked at kissing him. He gritted his teeth.
She could’ve told him. Instead, she’d played him for a fool. He put extra force
into the next swing and was rewarded with a satisfying thwack!

He should have stuck to the occasional bar waitress who just
wanted some fun. But no, he had to fall for Lynn. Gone out on a limb and risked
everything for a relationship. What the hell for? To be lied to or manipulated
into a damn pretzel? Suffer like his heart had been tossed down a dry well?

No thanks. He’d take fun and meaningless with a dash of
honesty. He thwacked the log again.

The sound of car doors slamming echoed from the front of the
house. Shit, he wasn’t in any mood for friggin’ visitors. He hacked at the next
log.

“Morning, Jack.”

He turned and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
Sheriff Roberts and his deputy, the hulking Jenkins, stood behind him. Since he
couldn’t confront Lynn, might as well scratch his itch by taking on these guys.
“What do you want?”

“A concerned citizen reported seeing some suspicious
activity around the front of your house.” Roberts smiled and shrugged. “Thought
I might check it out, if it’s okay with you.”

Jack’s grip tightened around the axe handle. Concerned? Make
that nosy and ugly. People needed to keep themselves out of his damn business.
“You got a warrant?”

Roberts’ lips flatlined. “You got something to hide?”

They stood soldered together by twin glares. Jenkins’
cleared his throat.

The sheriff’s body sagged. “Look, I’m just trying to do my
job.”

A soft breeze kissed Jack’s heated skin, soothed some of the
anger away. Dang, he was being an ass. “What kind of suspicious activity?”

“Someone lurking around.”

He leaned the axe up against the house. “Let’s go check it
out.”

“With all the strange goings on around here, we can’t be too
careful,” Roberts said leading the way.

“Yeah.” Jack walked, his back stiff, between them. Jenkins
loomed behind almost breathing down his neck.

When they reached the front of the house, Jenkins slipped like
a shadow and joined Roberts’s search in the bushes and trees.
What the hell
did they expect to find?

“Sheriff!” Jenkins pulled out a camera from his coat pocket
and snapped picture after picture.

Jack hurried after Roberts and saw some cigarette butts
scattered under the azalea bush.

“Smoking’s real bad for your health,” Roberts said over his
shoulder.

A muscle ticked at Jack’s jaw. “I don’t smoke.”

“Well, somebody does and he’s been peeping in your windows.”

Jack gritted his teeth as anger twisted through him.
Somebody had been on his property. Spying on him. His hands bunched into fists.
He wanted to stomp the damn butts into the ground and then do the same to the
peeping Tom.

Jenkins took out an evidence bag and tweezers from another
pocket, and went after the smokes. Jack exhaled as he unclenched his hands.
“Can I see one of those?”

Jenkins stood, closed the evidence bag and held it up for
him.

He reached for it, but Roberts stopped him. “We don’t want
your fingerprints on it.”

Jack sighed and peered at the see-through plastic bag. He
made out a bit of a printed logo. “Can I smell them?”

Jenkins and Roberts exchanged a glance. After a nod from the
sheriff, the deputy cracked the top open.

Jack leaned forward and took a deep sniff. A sharp bite of
tobacco laced with a hint of licorice. Anger battered at him. He stumbled
backward. “I’ve smelled that before.”

Roberts’ eyes widened. “Details?”

“Sam White, the foreman at the Callaghan-Avery ranch, smokes
something like that.”

Jenkins gnawed his lower lip. “Sam White and probably
three-fourths of the county. Even I smoke the same brand.”

The man had a good point. Didn’t mean he’d have to like it.
“Oh, well then. Sorry can’t be more help.”

The sheriff and deputy ambled toward the car. Jack followed
to make sure they got the hell off his property.

Roberts stopped and popped the trunk. He pulled out a pair
of broken-in boots and held them up. “Look familiar?”

“Look like my old work boots that went missing from the barn
a few weeks back,” Jack said. “Where’d you find them?”

“Downtown,” he said, tossing them back into the trunk. His
eyes stayed on Jack. “You want them back when we’re done with them?”

Why would he want back boots with worn off soles? And why
did the sheriff want them? He shook his head.

Roberts shut the trunk and crunched across the caliche to
the driver’s side. “Planning any trips anytime soon?”

“No.”

“Good. Let us know if you do.”

Lynn slammed down the phone into its cradle harder then
she’d intended.

Reporters working around her borrowed-cubicle popped up like
gophers and threw curious glances her way. While the newsroom came with many
resources, it didn’t afford her the privacy of Jen’s guest room. Her face
burning, Lynn threw a new notebook into her backpack and headed for her
assignment— a re-election announcement by Commissioner Ward on the County
Courthouse steps in downtown San Angelo.

She’d just left a fifth message for Henry Chase of Hope
Developers and not heard a peep out of him. The guy had to be avoiding her.

A carnival atmosphere greeted her on the courthouse lawn.
Red, white and blue balloons and streamers adorned the antique-looking lampposts
and wrought-iron stair rails at the main entrance. Rousing marching music
played from a boom box. The candidate stood surrounded by men in suits and
jeans, and coiffed and manicured women. Lynn watched the popular man smile and
handshake his way among the crowd.

She had her notepad flipped open and pen poised when the
music died down and Ward made his announcement. Applause greeted his words. She
needed a live quote from the man, something spontaneous rather than practiced.
If that wasn’t asking too much from a politician.

Seeing an opening, she pushed forward and shoved her hand
forward. Ward gave her a hearty handshake.

“Commissioner Ward,” she began.

“Call me Mike. Everyone calls me Mike,” he said, smiling.

The man could do a toothpaste ad. “Lynn Alexander from the
Herald
.
Why are you running again?”

“It’s the satisfaction of serving my community,” Ward said.
“Besides, the monthly stipend of seventy-five dollars is my cigarette money. My
wife won’t give me any.”

Lynn chuckled at his little joke. “Any ongoing projects you
want to see completed?”

“Oh, there are many,” Ward said. “A short-term and long-term
solution to our water problems, the proposed Paradise Valley development,
adequate facilities and equipment for our local law enforcement and fire
departments, better pay for everybody including employees and so on.”

She looked up from taking notes. “So you think the land
development will be a good thing for Paradise Valley?”

“Money and jobs coming into the community is always a good
thing.”

Jack’s take on the development floated to her mind. “So
you’ve no concerns about over-development or the ecological balance?”

“Well….” He tugged at his tie. “Like any proposal, it bears
scrutiny.” Ward’s gaze wandered over her shoulder. He waved and nodded at
someone. “I need to mingle.”

“Anything you’d like to add that I didn’t ask?”

“No, except that people need to go out and vote,” he said.
“They can vote for anybody they like, but they need to vote.”

A whole lot of nothing. Lynn thanked him and stowed her pad
and pen into her bag. He tried to give her a campaign button.

“Sorry, Mike, I have to be impartial,” she said. “Good
luck.”

As she headed back to the office, her stomach growled,
reminding her she needed to grab breakfast. She decided to detour to Diego’s
Burrito Shack. Walking in, she spotted Sam, the ranch manager she’d met at
Jack’s place. An ugly scowl lined his face as he talked in soft tones to another
man. The only other customer sat hidden behind a newspaper. She wished she had
a handy newspaper. Lynn ducked her head as she hurried to the counter and
ordered a chorizo and egg burrito. The transaction took only a few minutes.

Brown bag clutched in one hand, she tried to sidle by but
Sam’s words snagged her attention.

“Yeah, the Callaghans are having trouble,” Sam said. “Serves
them right. Ill-gotten gains are always hard to swallow.”

“If you can’t stand them, why do you work for them?” the
other asked between bites. “Anyway, the sister’s an Avery now.”

Sam slammed his palm down on the table. “Once a Callaghan,
always a Callaghan. It’s the blood.” He sat back and pulled in a couple of deep
breaths. “I work for them because they’re enjoying my inheritance and I might
as well squeeze ‘em for what I can.”

Dreading the encounter, Lynn nevertheless pivoted and
presented herself at the table. “Hi, I couldn’t help overhearing you and I have
to ask— will you repeat what you just said?”

Sam glowered at her. “I have no problem repeating the truth,
but what’s it to you?”

She pulled out her notebook and pen. “I’m writing an article
for the paper on the proposed land development, and part of the research is
tracing the families with land stakes in Paradise Valley.” She smiled. “What do
you mean the Callaghans’ are enjoying your inheritance?”

Sam eyed her suspiciously as she dropped onto the bench next
to his more even-tempered companion. “I don’t have to talk to you.”

“Well, if you don’t want the world to know your side of the
story…”

He hunkered forward. “Part of the land they own used to be
owned by the White family. My great-granddaddy homesteaded the place.”

“His grand-dad lost the farm in a drunken gamble.”

Sam tossed his companion a heated look, then turned back to
Lynn. “Yeah, well, a more honorable man than a Callaghan wouldn’t have taken
advantage of the situation. He ought to have thought about the family.”

Maybe he had a point, but shouldn’t White have thought about
the family before risking the land? Lynn kept her opinions to herself as she
jotted down notes. “Do you have proof that your family owned the land?”

His gaze skewered her. “I’m telling you like it is. Why do
you need proof?”

She shrugged and threw full blame on Hernandez. “The editor
requires it.”

Sam looked down at his gnarled and dirt-encrusted hands.
“Yeah, my dad tried to sue and the paper covered it. I’m sure the
Herald
still has those old articles.”

Probably stored in the archives, or as the news staff referred
to it— the morgue. “How much land are we talking about? What’s it worth?”

He grimaced as if he’d just bitten something bitter. “It was
a decent-sized farm, about one hundred sixty acres right by the river.”

“With the developers sniffing around, it’d be worth some
money today,” his friend chimed in.

“All of which would go into Callaghan pockets instead of
mine,” Sam growled.

“Have you tried talking to Jack Callaghan or his sister?
Maybe they’d sell you the land.” Lynn packed the tools of her trade into the
backpack.

“Buy back what should be mine? I don’t think so!” Sam
attacked his burrito with a vengeance.

The man next to her, obviously an old friend or just
foolishly fearless, snickered. “There’s also the issue of being able to afford
it.”

Sam lurched to his feet, swearing and cussing. Lynn said a
quick goodbye.

She exited the booth and turned toward the door just in time
to see Jack racing for the door. He carried a folded newspaper. Shit.

“Jack!” She rushed after him.

By the time she exited, he was already in his truck.

She flew to the window and knocked on it.

He turned an unsmiling face to her. After a moment, the
window rolled down.

“I can explain,” she blurted.

His icy stare didn’t change. “No need. You’re curious like
all the others about the infamous Callaghans.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “Well, your nosiness isn’t
appreciated. And watch out who you trust, Sam White is neither stable nor
reliable.” He paused and let out a deep sigh. “We employ him out of a stupid
sense of obligation.”

The window went back up and the truck rumbled to life.

Lynn jumped back and watched him squeal out of the parking
lot. Something inside her grew heavy and sank to the bottom of her stomach and
she felt an overwhelming need to cry. Fool. She was only trying to find other
suspects, and a disgruntled employee seemed like a good candidate. A long-drawn
breath surged out of her. It didn’t matter what he thought of her. She was in
Paradise Valley to help Jen and catch the rogue. Not to mess around with Jack.

Abby, the
Herald
receptionist, greeted her with a
mile-wide smile and an impressive bouquet of red roses. “Someone’s got an
admirer.”

“Huh?” Lynn hurried forward. The roses’ sweet, heady
fragrance made her feel woozy. “Who sent them? Is there a card?”

“There is.” Abby plucked it out from the back and handed it
to her.

Lynn held the small innocuous cream envelope like a dragon
egg in mid-hatch. Could Jack have sent them? The man got an A+ for romantic
follow up. She wished again he hadn’t overheard her conversation with Sam. Her
heart thudded at the base of her throat.