Heather sat in the passenger's seat of the SUV and Jack drove, while Steve and her father occupied the rear seat and jabbered about golf. Two full days of bed rest resulted in a significant reduction in pain and a desire to get up and start moving. The swelling in her lip had gone down to a point she didn't sound like she had a huge dip of snuff in her mouth.
Looking at Jack, she had a desire to apologize again for ruining their vacation. She put the thought away and reached for his hand. He'd played a couple rounds of golf and had stories to tell about how he and her father let Steve drive the golf cart. The mere thought of a blind man tearing down a fairway was enough to pull her lips into a crooked smile.
Heather pointed to the gravel road Jack was to turn on. "Anna and Angelina must already be here. They left the gate open."
Steve piped up from the back seat. "We’d better close it behind us. Rance said there are still some strays."
As Jack played rancher and shut the gate, Heather's father made a comment. "This land is much rougher than I imagined. I don't know how anyone could scratch out a living from it."
"It's all about water," said Steve. "If you have it, you can make it look like paradise."
"Like Horseshoe Bay," said Heather. "I'm still amazed they took land like this and turned it into a world class resort."
Jack climbed back in the SUV and they set off on the dusty, bumpy ride. Heather was glad she took extra strength Tylenol before she left the hotel.
The SUV eased to a stop between Angelina's car and Rance's truck. The rough road reminded her that the rib had a long way to go.
The remains of the Voss ranch house sat in a charred heap thirty yards to their right. Only the smoke-blackened stone chimney and a few cedar stumps used for floor supports remained.
Angelina kicked the dirt with a white tennis shoe and chewed on a fingernail. Her mother stood close to her and nudged her once everyone had gathered under the shade of an oak tree singed by the blaze. "Thanks for agreeing to meet with us. We want to discuss something with you, but I don't know exactly how to do it."
Rance spoke up. "They want your advice on selling the land."
"Ah," said Heather. "I was wondering what you planned to do with it. How can I help?"
Rance chuckled. "They want you to buy it from them."
Heather tried not to look startled, but sensed her eyes had widened. "How much land?"
"Well," said Angelina in a small voice. "All of it."
"Every acre," said Rance in a full voice. "All the land in Llano County and the surrounding counties."
Heather tilted her head. "Why me?"
Rance's response came with a glint of pleasure in his eye. "They trust you."
"But why not develop it yourself? It would be worth so much more."
Angelina's pony tail swung from side to side. "Mama and I paid close attention to what everyone said in the meeting Monday afternoon. Steve was right by calling Sid and Sydney sharks. Roy lost the card game to Mae so he wouldn't inherit the land. He could tell a blessing from a burden. Mama and I would worry about every decision we had to make, and we'd end up fighting."
"You could list the properties with someone local."
"Rance tells me you already know what the land is worth,” said Angelina. “Mamma wants to sell everything to you at twenty percent below market value. We trust you and it's worth it to us to not have to worry."
Heather took in a breath that puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. She looked at her father. He had on his poker face.
"I tell you what," said Heather. "You and Rance take my father down to the lake. Show him the lakefront and come back. I'll have an answer for you."
Rance led the way to the barn, down to the burned-out cabin and out of sight and earshot.
Steve asked, "Are they gone?"
"Yep," said Jack.
"No one can hear us?"
“They’re long gone.”
Steve reached into his pocket. He pulled out a five-dollar bill and handed it to Jack.
"What are you up to?" asked Heather.
"I'm hiring Jack as my attorney. This conversation is confidential."
Jack gave Heather a quizzical look, which she returned with a shrug of her shoulders and said, "All right, Steve. At my usual rates, this gives you less than a minute."
"You'll want to pay me for what you're about to hear. Take me to the barn."
Heather placed his hand on her shoulder and led him to the front door of the barn.
"Have Jack help you find the place with the dent in the ground."
Heather scanned the area she remembered Steve commenting on. She found the divot and pointed it out to Jack. He ran his hand over it and his fingers went down a couple of inches. He stood up. "Found it. What does it mean?"
Steve placed both hands on the top of his cane. "We've been so busy dealing with the inheritance and Hector's killer that everyone seemed to forget about Charley and how he died."
"Blunt force trauma to the back of his head," said Heather. "I assumed it was Patrick’s first murder."
"That's what the sheriff thinks, but it's not true. There was no transfer of trace material onto Charley's head. Remember?"
"That's impossible," said Jack.
"Almost impossible," said Steve. "I have a theory. I can't prove it, but I believe I know how Charley died, and it wasn't murder."
Steve pointed to the barn. "Above the open double doors, there's another opening in the loft. When they unloaded hay from a trailer, the top bales went directly through that door. They let gravity bring the bales down whenever they needed them."
"I'm not following," said Jack.
"If you read between the lines of the will, you can tell Charley grew tired of living. What if he planned and carried out his own death? That would explain why I got a phone call out of the blue, and that afternoon he took action."
"You're saying Charley Voss committed suicide?" asked Jack. "How did he hit himself in the back of his head hard enough to die and not leave a trace?"
Steve had come up with unique solutions to solving crimes in the past, but this one stumped Heather. "There wasn't a club or a shovel or anything near him when Rance found him."
Steve pointed to the loft. "Use your imagination. Picture a board slanting downward from the loft, which was used to slide a bale of hay to the bed of a pickup truck. The plank is wide, but doesn't stick out the upper door very far. Now slide something else down the ramp. Something heavy enough to kill someone. What would happen if that object hit Charley in the back of the head?"
Jack looked up to the blackened loft and then down to the indentation in the ground. "It would kill him, but that still doesn't account for Rance not finding that object near the body.”
Steve walked to the depression and felt the hole. He stood and backed one long step toward the barn. "I think the divot was a practice run. Charley needed to make sure of the trajectory so he'd know where to stand. He rigged the board, placed the object on it, and let it slide. When he was sure where to stand, he did it again. This time for real."
"But the transfer?" said Heather. "You still haven't accounted for it or how he released something heavy enough to kill him. Also, whatever it was, it wasn't anywhere near the body."
Steve allowed a few silent moments to pass before he spoke in a whisper. "Imagine a large block of ice."
Jack shook his head, but it turned into a nod. "It’s possible! All he would need was some sort of trigger to release it. It could be as simple as a nail or two barely holding it in place. When the ice melted, down it came."
Heather stared at Steve, then hung her head. He'd done it again. What Jack didn't realize was that Steve, through his gift of associative chromesthesia, had known all along it wasn't a homicide because he didn't see red, only a light pink.
Steve kicked dirt in the divot. "Jack, you're a defense attorney. Poke holes in my theory."
"It's an unprovable crime. All the evidence melted, evaporated, or burned in the fire. They didn't find the body for days and it’s summer in Central Texas. Fire destroyed the loft, which included the slide, or ramp, or whatever you want to call it."
"That's the same conclusion I reached. That's why I won't tell the insurance company about my theory. Roy, Rance, and Sue Ann will keep their money."
Jack took it a step further. "The D.A. will never have evidence that links Patrick or anyone else to Charley's death. It will remain an open case."
Heather dealt with her conflicted emotions as they walked back to the vehicles. On the one hand, Steve had left her in the dark on much of the case. Could she blame him? A potential financial disaster involving her father, and a romance she wanted to pursue left Steve to work on his own. A broken rib and a scar would remind her to be fully engaged the next time they set out to solve a murder. She concluded Steve had included her as much as he could.
The sound of voices coming from the lake grew louder. Heather's father continued to pepper Angelina with questions about the land and expounded on the potential it held. Soon, the group reassembled and she took her father by the hand. "Will you excuse us for a few minutes?"
In a low voice Heather whispered. "What do you think? Is it an investment worth pursuing?"
His eyes twinkled. "People are flocking to Texas in droves. There is virtually no undeveloped lakefront property in the state. This tract is a rare find." His voice dropped. "I'm not sure about the other properties, but you can't go wrong buying below market value."
Heather looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. "All the properties come with full mineral rights."
Her father winked at her. "There must be something under all the cactus that's of value. You'd be foolish not to jump on this. It will make a fine addition to McBlythe Enterprises’ portfolio."
This was the part Heather dreaded but knew it had to be done. “I hope what I’m going to say won’t destroy our relationship for another ten years. I was serious about striking out on my own. I can’t lead the life you want me to. You’re my father and I love you, but I want to chart my own course. I’ll buy the land, but it will be with my company’s money and in my company’s name.”
He nodded and looked toward the lake. His gaze shifted back to her face. “If that’s the way you want it. I’ll support you in whatever way I can. I’ve come to realize being your father means more to me than land or gold.”
Heather reached up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Father.”
She hooked her arm in his and they started walking toward the others. “I had a talk with mother. She told me you never took her on a honeymoon. Why don’t you stay here a few more days and relax?”
“That’s not possible. Meetings and trips are already planned and can’t be cancelled.”
Heather stopped. She lowered her chin and nodded. “I understand, and I’m sure Mother does too.”
“It’s not the way it sounds. I asked your mother if she wanted to come back in the fall when it wasn’t so blasted hot.” He grinned and held out his arms. “We’ll expect you and Jack to join us, and I plan on beating both of you in a round of golf.”
Heather buried her head in his chest. “There’s hope for you yet, Father.”
A detective’s perfect vacation: sun, sand, surf… and murder.
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