Justice For A Ranger Read online

  “I’m going with you. I need to catch up on the details of the investigation.”

  He frowned, held the door open for her, and they walked across the street to the courthouse in silence. As soon as they entered the conference room, which had been designated as a temporary office for the sheriff, the room quieted. Zane occupied the chair behind the desk as if he’d self-appointed himself head of command while Sloan was propped on the edge, looking like a relaxed hometown boy. A deputy stood by the window staring outside as if he’d been watching for Cole to warn his half brothers of his arrival.

  Cole had seen pictures of both of them in the paper, had kept abreast of their careers, their commendations and awards. Both had been popular in high school. Zane, the valedictorian, Mr. JHS—Justice High School—and a quarterback on the football team. And Sloan had been a baseball star and won the state championship. They’d also been noted for their work in solving various high-profile cases.

  But he had never met them face-to-face.

  He was surprised at the way his stomach clenched. Both men resembled Jim to a degree, although there were subtle differences.

  Judging from their solemn expressions they weren’t happy about meeting him. Fine, he was a necessary evil. Here to do a job, not make friends with his siblings.

  Zane gave him a clipped nod of acknowledgment. “Glad you finally made it.”

  Sloan’s look wasn’t as hospitable. “We’ve been waiting.”

  Cole returned their greeting with a scowl. Then Joey entered the room, and the tension intensified to a deafening roar.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Zane asked.

  Cole wasn’t surprised at their reaction.

  Next to him, the last thing the Rangers wanted was a special investigator for the governor—and the daughter of a prime suspect—breathing down their necks as if the governor didn’t trust them to do their jobs.

  But the governor obviously recognized that each of the participants had a personal interest in the outcome of the case. His half brothers and Joey included.

  And the verdict was still out over whether or not any of them were on the same side.

  JOEY PLASTERED her professional, detached face in place. No doubt her position here threw a kink in their family-run operations. The fact that she’d arrived with their illegitimate half brother hadn’t ingratiated her with the McKinney men, either.

  But she refused to let these men intimidate her with their macho, own-the-town attitudes. She’d told the governor the McKinneys wouldn’t welcome her nosing into what they considered their investigation, but the case had drawn statewide attention, and the Rangers investigating one of their own, especially their father, meant lines could be crossed.

  She smiled smoothly and claimed a seat at the conference table with the local deputies. “You know why I’m here. You’re too close to the people involved.”

  “And you’re not?” Zane said sarcastically.

  She shrugged. “My parents and I aren’t exactly tight. Besides, I’m a professional. The governor wants this case solved, and he’s the boss.”

  “We’re professionals, too, and can handle the case just fine without you,” Zane said.

  Joey folded her hands in front of her on the table. “Listen, I’m not going home until we’ve ended this investigation and someone is arrested for Sarah Wallace’s murder. So you’ll have to put up with me, boys.” She gave them a saccharine grin. “Besides, look on the bright side. I can run interference with the media. You don’t want a circus in town creating panic and trying your suspects before you make an arrest.”

  Cole claimed the chair beside her, enjoying her spunky side. “All right, now that our happy little party is assembled, why don’t you fill us in on what you have so far? If I’m tracking in the woods today, I’d like to get started.”

  Zane huffed and Sloan made a disgusted sound, but gestured toward the whiteboard on the wall, which held various facts, including the TOD for Lou Anne’s and Sarah Wallace’s murders.

  “All right,” Zane began. “Sarah Wallace came to town to meet her sister, Anna, and share evidence she’d uncovered about their mother’s death. She used a prepaid cell phone, which we haven’t recovered yet, to phone Anna, but when Anna arrived, she found Sarah’s body in the hotel room. She was already dead, had been strangled like her mother. Later someone tried to kill Anna in the same way.”

  “Why kill Anna?” Joey asked.

  “Apparently the killer thought Anna knew something to incriminate him. Or her.”

  Cole nodded. “Did she?”

  “No. But later, Anna remembered a false bottom in one of their mother’s suitcases. Sarah had it with her,” Zane explained. “We examined it and found papers Sarah had hidden inside. The notes and papers indicated that Donna Hendricks might have intended to pay off Lou Anne for providing her with information about Leland’s alleged plans to fake the kidnapping and murder of his son. We’re getting a search warrant now to access Donna’s financial records, along with Rosa’s.”

  “So you believe Lou Anne blackmailed Donna?” Cole asked.

  Sloan nodded. “Lou Anne didn’t want more kids, so when she discovered Leland’s plan, she phoned Donna to tell her. She tried to blackmail Donna into paying her for the tip. We think Donna probably agreed, but Donna wanted Lou Anne to report Leland to the FBI.”

  “Why wouldn’t Donna just go to the police herself?” Cole asked.

  “Because she was bitter over losing the custody battle,” Sloan supplied. “Without evidence, Leland could have accused her of conspiring with him to pull off the kidnapping/murder. Or he could have accused her of orchestrating the entire plan herself and she’d lose any visitation rights with her children.”

  “And no one would believe my mother because she was a drunk back then.” Joey understood the implied assumption. It was possible that when Lou Anne refused to go to the FBI, Donna had killed her.

  “What about Rosa?” Joey drummed her nails on the table. “Why are you looking at her records?”

  “She bought liquor and drugs for Donna,” Zane interjected. “If Donna wanted to hide money to pay off a blackmailer, she might have enlisted Rosa’s help.”

  “Has Donna confessed to any of this?” Cole asked.

  Zane grimaced. “No, not yet.”

  “While Zane’s been handling the grand jury, I stepped in to help Sheriff Matheson,” Sloan said. “We were studying the papers Sarah left when the fire broke out in the jail. Then someone tried to shoot Carley.” Anger hardened Sloan’s face. “She’s in a safe house now, but she’s searching Donna’s financial records for more details.”

  “So you’re focusing on my parents now?” Joey asked. Could one of them be a murderer? Had her mother or father killed Lou Anne, and now Sarah? Had one of them really shot the sheriff to keep her from finding out the truth?

  Her stomach knotted again. “I thought Leland had an alibi for the night of Lou Anne’s murder?”

  Zane’s boots hit the floor with a thud. “We discovered that he tampered with the surveillance cameras, so his alibi is shot.”

  “What about your father, Jim McKinney?” Joey asked. “He was seen leaving the inn that night.”

  The men traded an odd look.

  “What are you not saying?” Cole asked.

  Sloan twisted sideways and Zane clenched his jaw. “We haven’t ruled out Jim yet.”

  “And Stella?” Joey asked. “She hated Lou Anne for her affair with Jim.”

  Pain flashed into both men’s eyes. “Stella had a breakdown,” Zane said. “She’s in the hospital, despondent. I’m not sure how much more information we’ll get from her.”

  “Dad…” Sloan paused, then continued, “Jim agreed to see a psychiatrist to try to jog his memory of the events of that night, but Stella got upset and told him no. Then she broke down. The stress has been unbearable for her.”

  “She was always fragile,” Zane said in a low voice.

  Joey frowned and steepled h
er hands. They seemed completely focused on making her parents out to be the villains. And Zane and Sloan were keeping secrets. Something about Stella and their father.

  Her cell phone rang, and she checked the number. Governor Grange.

  “Excuse me, guys. I have to take this.” She stepped away from them and answered the call.

  “Joey, how’s it going in Justice?”

  “The Rangers are conferencing now,” Joey said. “No definitive leads yet. They’ve brought in Sergeant Cole McKinney to track evidence in the woods near the inn.”

  A long sigh filled with tension followed. “I hope they tie this up soon and put the guy responsible for these murders away. How is Dennison?”

  “I can handle him,” Joey said.

  “Good. Keep me posted.”

  Joey agreed and pocketed her phone, contemplating Zane’s and Sloan’s summary of the investigation.

  What were the McKinney brothers hiding?

  If her parents were guilty…well, she’d have to find a way to accept it. But if they were innocent, she didn’t want them railroaded to jail for a crime they hadn’t committed. After all, they had suffered terribly over Justin’s death.

  Perhaps Stella had suffered a breakdown out of guilt. Maybe she had killed Lou Anne and had hidden behind a weak woman’s facade all these years to deflect suspicion from herself.

  COLE TRIED TO IGNORE the quick flash of worry in Joey’s eyes. He’d just met the woman. He could not let himself care about her or how the outcome of this investigation might affect her personally.

  “So, what exactly am I looking for?” Cole asked.

  “We need an expert to search the woods by the inn,” Sloan said. “The night Sarah Wallace was murdered, Sheriff Matheson saw a figure in dark clothing. She chased the culprit into the woods, but he shot her in the ribs. Actually cracked one. We’d like to recover any bullet casing or other evidence that you might find.”

  Cole stood. “I assume you have a horse available, along with the standard crime scene kit and supplies.”

  Zane stood, as well. “At your disposal.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m going to get that search warrant for Donna’s records,” Sloan said.

  Cole nodded, anxious to get outside. He loved the fresh air, the scents of nature, the sunshine beating on his face. Fieldwork was his specialty, not digging through files, although he did plenty of that, too.

  Twenty minutes later, he saddled a beautiful quarter horse named Apache, strapped on the supplies he’d need in the saddlebags and rode into the woods. Sloan and Zane had searched the edge, so he needed to go deeper. Find out how the killer had escaped. Locate that bullet.

  Although it had rained recently, and some evidence might have washed away, he slowed Apache to a walk and studied each section of the forest, each patch of weeds and each tree for signs that someone had recently been through. A broken branch. Trampled bramble. An indentation in the bark not made by an animal. Each detail provided a clue and indicated he was on the right track.

  He noticed a footpath along with muddy prints, although dead leaves and debris created problems in lifting a print. Still, he tied Apache to a tree and combed the area on foot, kneeling to inspect the markings and the ground. He photographed each patchy section and collected dirt for trace in hopes that they might be able to match it to a suspect’s shoes and make an arrest.

  Working diligently, he took a partial molding of the footprint, as well. It would give them a general clue as to the size of their suspect. A fiber from a piece of clothing was caught in a branch, and he removed an evidence bag and tweezers, snagged the fiber and bagged it to send to forensics. The next few hours he combed each mile of the woods, then finally traced his way back toward the inn and his horse. He found two other fibers, along with more footprints—muddied and misshapen, different from the first ones—so he took the best print he could lift.

  Not for the first time, he considered the fact that they might be dealing with more than one perp here. What if the killer had an accomplice? Donna and Leland could have worked together. Or one of them could have hired help to do their dirty work.

  About seventy-five feet to the right of where he’d tied Apache, he noticed a shattered piece of bark on a live oak. He removed the magnifying glass from his bag and examined it, then decided a bullet had scraped past. He collected the sample, bagged it, then turned and assessed the area. The bullet had grazed Carley, then bounced off the tree, which had slowed its descent. Noting the location where Sloan said the sheriff had been running, and had been shot, he estimated the trajectory of the bullet and where the shooter might have been standing when he’d fired. Zeroing in on the angle, he calculated the speed and scrutinized the other foliage until he located the shell. With gloved fingers, he picked it up and studied it. A .38.

  Hell, half the town probably owned guns, and half of those were probably .38s. But modern science could do wonders. If they had a suspect and his gun, they would be able to match it.

  He searched for other bullets and evidence, but found nothing. A few feet away, though, something shiny glinted through a patch of bramble. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his neck as he recognized the item.

  The silver star of Texas—a Ranger’s badge.

  The badges were handmade from Mexican silver coins, making each one unique, and easily identifiable to its recipient. Some badges still had coin lines on the outer rim of the circle, and you could see the peso on the back of the badge. The coin on the back wasn’t always at a perfect upright angle, either, and had distortions caused from being handmade.

  He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat as he lifted it to the sun. When Jim McKinney’s badge had been reported missing years ago, right after Lou Anne Wallace’s murder, a description had been posted. The badge had three coin marks on the lower right star point.

  He flipped the badge over and grimaced as he scrutinized the point.

  If he was right, this star had belonged to Jim McKinney, his bastard father. According to police reports, Jim had claimed he’d lost it the night Lou Anne Wallace was murdered.

  Chapter Five

  Joey rubbed her temple where a headache throbbed. There had been enough charged electricity in that meeting between the McKinney brothers to start a brushfire. Outside, she breathed in the fresh air, hoping to calm her nerves, but she spotted her mother approaching and her anxiety rose another notch. The reporter from hell, Harold Dennison, trailed behind her like a fox chasing a rabbit.

  Which one would be the lesser of two evils?

  “Joey, please wait. I’d like to talk to you,” Donna called.

  Joey halted, knowing the confrontation was inevitable. Besides, she’d be lying to herself if she said she’d come here only because of the governor’s request. She was secretly afraid the grand jury would indict one or both of her parents, and she wanted answers. Running wouldn’t help her get to the truth.

  Donna’s eyes flitted nervously across the street, then behind Joey. Instantly recognizing the press, she stopped and her mouth flattened into a thin line. “Let’s step into my office so we can talk in private.”

  Joey nodded, her shoulders tense as she followed Donna through the back door of the restaurant and into an office. She was surprised by the minimalist furnishings. Simple oak desk, leather chair, a love seat in the corner beside a potted plant. The room almost looked homey. Much more domestic than the mother she remembered.

  Still, Donna didn’t have a hair out of place. Joey felt like an awkward teenager beside her with her linen pantsuit, manicured nails and skillfully applied makeup.

  In fact, she’d never quite fitted the mold of what her parents envisioned as the perfect daughter. Donna would have liked a petite ballerina or cheerleader. Leland had wanted a boy—the reason he’d nicknamed her Joey instead of Josie or called her by her full name. Then he’d had Justin, and for a while she’d thought he might be happy.

  But her mother’s drinking and her father’s financia
l problems had torn them apart. Then came the nightmare of the custody battle, her brother’s disappearance and the allegations against her father.

  Joey had felt betrayed by them all. And what about Justin? Had he died when he was two? Where had the killer left his small body? It had never been recovered. The image of his trusting cherub face still haunted her.

  And what if he was still alive? If so, where had he been all these years? Had a family adopted him? Did he remember that he had a big sister?

  Even that hope was tainted with worry, though. If he had survived, someone abusive, even a deviant child molester, might have taken him in. Or he could have been sold into slavery of some kind or taken across the border. He might not even know his real name.

  The harsh possibilities threatened to consume her, but oblivious to her daughter’s pain as always, Donna turned and smiled. “It’s so good to see you, Josephine.”

  Joey braced herself. “Is it, Mother? I didn’t think you really cared.”

  Donna gasped, then forced another tight smile on her face, recovering quickly. “Yes, it is. I realize that the last time we saw each other things were unpleasant. But I’ve changed, sweetheart. I don’t drink anymore.”

  Joey twined her fingers together.

  “And I’ve no need for pills, either, so you see, I’m clean. I have been for a long time.” She gestured around the office. “This is my life. The business, this café. It may not seem like much to you now that you work for the governor, but it’s mine and I’m proud of it.”

  Sincerity and wariness underscored Donna’s words, at odds with the bitterness that Donna wore as a second skin. “That’s good, Mother. I’m glad to see you’re…happy now.”

  Her mother’s false smile faded slightly. “Well, that happiness and peace may not last. Not if the sheriff and those McKinney men keep nosing around.”

  “A woman was murdered, Mother,” Joey pointed out. “They have to investigate her death. You don’t want a killer running free here in town again, do you?”

  Donna’s face paled, and she glanced down at her hands. “No, but neither do I want my name dragged through the mud.” She gave Joey an imploring look. “It’s taken years for me to recover from your father’s…behavior, and the shame. And now those Rangers want to dredge up the past. All the painful memories of losing your brother.”