BRANTLEY’S LEGS held out until he closed the door, and then he collapsed into the nearest chair. During all of the activity, he’d been able to keep his mind on what was happening and managed to remain aloof, but now everything hit him like a semitruck at freeway speed. Someone had been shot on his front porch, and it was obvious that whoever had done it was either trying to send him some sort of message or it was a clumsy effort to frame him. Either way, it scared the living shit out of him.
He picked up his phone and made a call back East. “Linda, pick up,” he said under his breath as the phone rang.
“This better be good, sweetheart. I finally got Jim to take me out to that new restaurant. It took three months to get a reservation, and we have to leave in ten minutes.”
Brantley could practically see her hurrying through the bedroom of her Upper East Side apartment. “I came home today and found a dead body on my porch. Someone shot my real estate agent, and I think they tried to pin it on me.” He leaned forward, trying to get oxygen to his head. “I lived in New York for God knows how long, and I’ve spent a week out here, where it’s supposed to be open and where everyone knows everyone else, and there’s a dead body on my porch.” He was tempted to fucking sell the place and go back home.
“Honey, wait. Are you serious?”
“Yes.” He held his head and stroked his forehead.
“So come home. We miss you, and those people are obviously weird out there. What, do they kill each other off and put the bodies on each other’s doorsteps? Hello, Welcome Wagon,” Linda said, and Brantley knew she was throwing her hands in the air dramatically.
“I don’t think that’s how it works. But I have to tell you that being out here alone is starting to freak me out. I have every door locked, and I’m sitting in the middle of the room away from windows in case anyone is watching me. Have I told you that it’s freakishly quiet out here? There isn’t a sound except bugs and birds, and at night it’s just the bugs. No cars, nothing.”
“Then come home.”
“I can’t. You know that. Everything there has been sold, and I bought this place here.” He’d uprooted his life to find something he thought he was missing. He hadn’t expected a murder on his doorstep.
“Then get a dog, maybe two. Big ones that will bark when anyone gets close and keep you company. They’ll also make noise, if the quiet is what has you freaked out.”
“Mainly it’s the dead body.”
“They don’t really think you did it, do they?” Linda asked.
“I don’t know. The sheriff seemed thorough enough, but he cuffed me when he first arrived.”
“He what?” Linda nearly blew his ear off. “You aren’t a criminal.” Her righteous indignation was part of the reason he’d called. “Why in the hell did he do that? I’d call the local paper and give them what for. Abuse of police power and all that.”
“He didn’t keep me handcuffed long, but he thought I might have killed someone. I think he did it for his own safety.” Jesus, now he was defending the guy. He needed to get a grip. This whole thing had really unsettled him. He needed to find something to do to push this shit out of his mind. He hadn’t killed anyone. Fucking hell, he’d barely spoken to a single person in town. “It’s all right. Everything turned out fine, and I’m home and not in handcuffs.”
“You had better not be, or he’ll have to answer to me.”
He laughed and felt better. “What are you going to do? Gucci-whip him?”
“Smartass.” Linda had calmed down. “Don’t let those people intimidate you or get the better of you. No one in New York ever did, and you can’t let them do it out there either. So make sure they know exactly who they’re dealing with. Get yourself a lawyer and tell this sheriff guy to back off.”
“Well….”
“Brantley… is the guy hot?” she asked in that tone.
“Not that that has anything to do with any of this, but yeah. He’s a big guy, maybe part Native American, with these piercing eyes that would have you salivating. He’s just the kind of guy you would have tried to pick up before you married Jim. I think they grow things big out here.”
“Well, like I said, don’t let him get to you, and stand up for yourself.” She was clearly getting distracted. “I need to let you go. Jim is ready, and we don’t want to be late. I’ll definitely call you tomorrow, and you can let me know what else happens.” She made kissing sounds and then ended the call.
Brantley slid the phone onto the coffee table and turned on the television. Before coming out here, he’d never watched anything other than the various financial news channels to monitor the markets. He flipped through numerous channels to try to find something that didn’t completely suck. He’d watched more television in the last week than he had in years. Not that he was interested, but he needed something to make the house seem less empty.
It didn’t work very well. As the light faded outside, darkness seemed to close around the house, coating it in gloom that no amount of lights seemed to be able to dispel. He pulled the curtains closed in every room and tried to concentrate on whatever he was doing.
The last thing he thought he’d need when he moved out here was a security system, but now it seemed like a great idea, and he felt like a fool for not having one installed. He made a note to look into it first thing in the morning. Of course, his first hurdle was probably going to be getting someone out here to install it.
At nearly midnight Brantley was on the sofa, watching television, jumping at every sound from outside and getting damned tired of it. Fucking hell. He’d taken on the wolves in New York and come out on top. He’d done battle with some of the most brilliant financial minds from around the world and beaten them. He was not going to let a few noises scare him. He went through the house, turning off the lights as well as the television before going to bed.
EVENTUALLY HE slept and woke to a dark room. He’d purposely hung heavy curtains in the bedroom, and he blinked a few times when he turned to the clock by the bed. It was nearly eleven. He’d made it through the night. He got up and shuffled into the kitchen, made some coffee, and then peered out the front windows.
“That’s a win,” he muttered to himself when the porch showed no one lying on it. He went back to the kitchen, absently scratching his butt before pouring a mug of coffee and sipping slowly. God, he needed that. Brantley sipped some more, the caffeine finally pushing the sleep from his brain as he looked out the kitchen window to admire the view.
“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath, leaning over the sink to get a better look out the window. Dark shapes were moving across the back of his property. He continued watching as more and more of them passed along the ridgeline. He went to the living room and snatched his phone off the coffee table. Not that he knew whom to call at first. But then he looked up the sheriff’s number and dialed.
“Hartwick County Sheriff’s Office,” a woman said when she answered the phone.
“Yes. Um, I’m not sure if this is who I should call, but there are some animals moving along the back of my property, and they aren’t supposed to be there.” He wandered back into the kitchen to watch the creatures.
“Maybe there’s a fence down. Why don’t you call your neighbor and ask?”
“Well, I don’t know who my neighbors are. I just moved in a week ago,” Brantley said. “I need someone to take a look and help me. They shouldn’t be there.” And he was wondering if they’d get together and stampede toward the house.
“If you give me your address, I’ll have someone come out.” She sounded like Brantley had called to ask them to take out his garbage or something, but he gave her the address anyway. “Oh, the Richardson place.” Her tone shifted to something more ominous. “All right, I’ll alert the sheriff. Someone will be out shortly.”
“Thank you.” Brantley hung up and continued watching the groups of dark spots as they moved across the field. They seemed to be congregating to the one side of the property. Brantley suspected they were someone’s cattle, but he had no intention of going out there to find out. They seemed to stay where they were, and he’d do the same.
By the time he’d finished his coffee, Brantley realized he was still wearing his boxer briefs and nothing more, so he hurried to the bedroom and pulled on some clothes, finishing as the crunch of tires sounded outside.
“What’s the problem?” the sheriff asked when Brantley opened the door.
He stepped out into the building heat and led him around to the back of the house. “Them,” he said, pointing. “They aren’t supposed to be there.”
“Probably Erickson’s cattle,” the sheriff said and got on the radio. “Gloria, can you call Erickson? He needs to get his cattle off his neighbor’s land.”
“Sure thing.”
“Why are they here?” Brantley asked.
“Probably for the water. It’s been very dry, and the cattle can smell water. They’ll knock down a weak fence to get to it.”
Brantley nodded before asking what he really wanted to know. “Did you find out anything about Renae?”
“I was able to corroborate your story and whereabouts for yesterday.”
“So I’m not a suspect,” Brantley said, and the sheriff nodded darkly. “What’s next, then?”
“We’re looking into her life. There had to be a reason someone killed her, so we’re trying to figure it out. We’re pulling her phone records and things like that.”
“Do you think you’ll figure out who did it?”
The sheriff turned toward him, eyes burning. “Of course I will. Sometimes these things take time, but I will figure out who’s behind this and why.”
Brantley wasn’t sure if that was meant as a threat or not. “I wasn’t impugning your investigative powers. It just seems like there isn’t much to go on.” And he would feel a hell of a lot better if he knew what the hell was going on and why someone thought it a good idea to shoot her on his front porch.
“I know you didn’t shoot her, but my gut is telling me that her death has something to do with you.” The sheriff continued drilling his gaze into Brantley, and he refused to shiver or back down even though he could feel his insides withering under the intensity.
“What did I ever do to you or anyone here? I never even met Renae. I haven’t lived here long enough to make enemies.”
“Maybe and maybe not. But I don’t believe in coincidences, and though Renae Montgomery wasn’t killed by you, someone went to some trouble to make sure they killed her on your porch. We have confirmed that she got a phone call from a burn phone with a 212—New York—number before she was shot. The call lasted less than five minutes, and we believe it was the one to arrange the meeting. I’m wondering if she could have thought she was speaking to you or someone acting on your behalf. She came out here to meet you and was shot.” He sounded very matter-of-fact.
“I had nothing to do with her death,” Brantley said again. “She was a nice person and very helpful.” He blinked a few times. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I’m hoping you can help me. There’s a reason she was killed on your doorstep.”
“I have no idea why anyone would do that,” Brantley said. “I was up half the night trying to figure it out, and I don’t know. Maybe they thought the house was still empty and this was a good place to lure her to.” The sheriff’s gaze made Brantley want to squirm and get away, but he held his ground. Being nervous and jittery wouldn’t help him sound convincing, and Brantley knew this was one of those times when confidence and determination might help him. Lord knows doubt could sink his ass.
“I don’t think so.”
“How do you know, Sheriff?”
“Most everyone calls me Mack. Someone went to some trouble to get her out here, and they knew the house was occupied because we got that anonymous call. Like I said, there’s a reason for all this, so if you think of anything, you let me know.”
“I will.” Brantley didn’t know what else to say and took a step back, turning away from Mack’s intensity to watch the cattle out in the field.
Under different circumstances, being stared at that way, with such interest, would be thrilling. Mack was hot. There was no doubt about that. But at a time like this, those kinds of thoughts had no place. Besides, he was in the middle of rural America, and ogling the sheriff was a bad idea on so many levels.
“What’s that now?” Brantley asked, hearing crunching on the gravel drive. He turned and walked around the side of the house.
“Andy Erickson, your rear neighbor with the fence problem,” Mack said as he came up next to him.
“Are you the one who called the sheriff because some of my cattle got on your precious land?” The middle-aged man’s eyes blazed as he strode toward Brantley.
“Andy, that’s enough,” Mack said. “He wasn’t sure who to call, so he phoned us. Just drive the cattle off and repair the fence. There’s no need to make a federal case out of it.”
“Why the fuck should I? We’re in the middle of a drought. I’m trying to dig another well so I can water the cattle, and he’s got water to spare that isn’t being used.”
“Now look here,” Brantley said, stepping forward. “I’m all for being neighborly, but you can’t just let your cattle on my land without permission. It isn’t yours and you have no right to it.” Brantley took a step closer to this Erickson guy. “So get them off my land—now.”
Andy stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. But I will,” Mack said. “Andy, you need to get your cattle off his land and repair that fence, and you know it. You don’t have any rights to what isn’t yours, and you know that too. So stop acting like an ass and take care of your business.”
“He shouldn’t even have this land.”
“If you wanted it, then you should have bought it. The ranch was for sale for a while.”
“At a price no one could afford,” Andy countered.
“Well, he could, and now it’s his land.” Mack stepped between them. “You need to move the cattle, so get to it. Unless you want me to go out and investigate that fence that they broke through.” The threat was clear, and Andy blanched but didn’t argue the point.
“Fine. I’ll move the cattle as soon as I can.”
“You’ll do it by two, or he can press charges and I’ll have to bring you in. And if I do that, I’ll confiscate the cattle as evidence. Then where will you be?” Mack put his hands on his hips. He was intimidating and hot as hell. Not that Brantley was supposed to be noticing. He turned away to keep from snickering. He hadn’t meant this to devolve into a pissing contest, but he was happy the sheriff was standing up for him.
“I can’t believe you’ll stand up for some newcomer instead of an old friend whose cattle are drying up.”
“We were never friends, so don’t try that angle, and it doesn’t matter who it is. The cattle are on his land, and he’s asked you to move them. There’s no need to get angry. Maybe if you’d come to him and asked to graze your cattle for a few weeks, he might have let you. But that doesn’t seem likely now.” Mack glared, and Andy eventually turned in a huff, stomped back to his truck, and slammed the door before taking off down the drive.
“I guess I made a real impression on that neighbor,” Brantley said softly.
“Erickson is a pain in the ass. He has water on his land. The stream that comes off your spring runs through his property. He let his cattle graze there too long this spring and early summer. Now the grass is played out and needs a chance to grow, but he doesn’t have any water anywhere else, so he needs to figure something out, and accidentally letting his cattle graze on your land is easier than solving his real problem.”
“Has it been that dry?”
“Yes. The creeks are running very low, and so are the rivers they feed. Some ranchers have had to sell early because they don’t have the water for their herds. These are tough times around here, and you have one of the few ranches with a permanent water source. Each one of your neighbors wanted to buy this place, but the heirs wanted a lot more money than they could afford. At least that was the rumor around town.”
“Thank you for your help,” Brantley said. “I appreciate you coming out. And I promise that if I think of anything, I will call right away.” Ideas were already churning in his mind, but he wasn’t sure where he should go with them yet, so he kept them to himself and decided to let them percolate for a while.
“Andy is a bit of a hothead sometimes, but I doubt he’ll make any trouble. And most of his anger is going to be directed at me. Just keep an eye out and make sure he drives his cattle home. If he doesn’t, call in, and I’ll stop by to speak to him. He doesn’t want me to go out and look at that fence because it’s likely he knew it was weak or weakened it himself so it would fail and his cattle could flow into your land and fresh grass.”
“What was he thinking?”
“That maybe if you didn’t make a stink, he’d keep them there for a week or so and then get them back. During that time, they’d be eating fresh grass and drinking your water, and if he were lucky, it would rain and his grass would have a chance to recover.”
“So….” Brantley’s mind was turning quickly. One of the strengths that made him good at his job and allowed him to make massive profits for himself and his investors was his ability to think many steps ahead very quickly. “Is it possible that one of my neighbors was behind Renae’s death? With me out of the way, they could buy the ranch up cheap and add it to theirs because few people are going to want it, and then they’d have the water source.”
“I have thought about that, and we’re looking into it. It seems like a plausible theory, and we aren’t leaving any stone unturned.” Mack tipped his hat and walked back toward his car.
Brantley watched him the entire time, unable to take his eyes off the way Mack filled out his uniform pants.
Mack got into his car and drove away, leaving Brantley standing outside, blinking in the bright sun. He was completely helpless, and that was a feeling he wasn’t used to. He hated it. So he figured he needed to do something about it. He had already met one neighbor, and that had gone over really well. Maybe it was time to go out, meet the others, and see what was going on. Maybe he’d learn something that could help. If it was true that one of his neighbors did indeed want him out, then maybe he could figure out who it was. Andy Erickson seemed perched at the top of the list, but who knew who else might have it in for him because of the land he’d bought. There was only one way to find out.
Brantley turned and jogged into the house. He grabbed his hat and changed into his boots. He wanted to look like he belonged. Then he grabbed his sunglasses, locked the doors, and climbed into his truck. He had some visiting to do, and there was no time like the present.
At the end of the drive, he decided to go right first and test his luck. He drove five minutes or so down the road and turned into the first drive he saw. He passed barns and outbuildings and pulled up to a sprawling ranch house, making sure he didn’t run over the small bicycles and various plastic toys that littered the area. He stopped and hoped he wasn’t on top of anything. The toys seemed to be everywhere. Brantley opened his door and got out of the truck, then closed the door and looked to see if anyone was around.
“Hello,” a young voice said, and Brantley whipped around. A boy about four years old stood on the porch in jeans, a flannel shirt, a small cowboy hat, and boots.
“Is your mom or dad around?” Brantley asked, and the boy pointed toward the barn. “Are all these toys yours?”
The boy nodded. “I maked a mess,” he said and hurried down the steps, then ran toward the barn. “Mama, there’s a man here!” He disappeared inside, and after a few minutes, a young woman in jeans and rough boots, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail under her hat, came out of the barn holding the boy’s hand.
“What can I do for you?” she asked skeptically.
“I’m your new neighbor, Brantley Calderone. I moved in next door a week ago. I wanted to stop by and say hello.” He wished he’d brought something along with him. He seemed sort of stupid standing there empty-handed.
“Nathan, go on and pick up your toys and put them away like I told you earlier. Your daddy is not going to be happy if you leave them everywhere.” She waited until he was gone and then stepped a little closer. “The same neighbor where Renae was killed yesterday?”
“Yes. I came home and found her on my porch. It’s so sad. She was very helpful and seemed kind.”
“Renae was a bitch from hell,” she hissed. “She didn’t deserve to be killed, though. May she be tormented forever.”
“I take it you weren’t friends, Mrs.…?”
“Julie Beltz, and you met my son, Nathan.” She turned to him hesitantly. “My husband will be home in just a few minutes. So don’t try anything.”
“I’m only trying to be neighborly. I didn’t hurt Renae, and I certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone else. But I suppose it’s a little much to ask you to believe me.”
“It’s all over town where Renae was killed, and folks are putting two and two together.” She glared at him.
“I wasn’t even home when she was killed.” God, he should have thought about this. “Maybe I should go. I didn’t mean to bother you.” Brantley turned and walked back to his truck.
“Brantley,” she called from behind him, and he stopped and turned to face her. “It will be easy enough to find out if you done it.”
“I was at the store when it happened, and I tried to help her.” Brantley knew it was going to be impossible to convince anyone he hadn’t hurt Renae. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He tipped his hat the way Mack had earlier and then pulled open his truck door.
“Shit,” she said. “This town can’t get anything right, no matter what.” Julie walked up behind him, and Brantley slowly turned around. “Anyone can see you don’t have it in you to shoot anyone.” Her mouth turned up in a slight smile. “How did you know Renae, anyway? Was she after you?”
“After me?” Brantley asked.
“That woman went after every man in town. Married or not, didn’t matter. She didn’t want a husband of her own—she just wanted everyone else’s.” She yanked her hat off her head and fanned herself with it. “I got some ice tea. Why don’t you sit on the porch, and I’ll get you a glass?” She stomped toward the house, and Brantley closed his truck door.
He followed her to the porch and sat down while she went inside. Nathan hurried through the yard, picking up toys and carrying them back into the house, running by every few minutes.
“They go in the toy box. Not on the living room floor,” Julie called, and Brantley smiled at Nathan’s groan. Nathan stayed inside for a few more minutes and then burst out of the door to go gather more toys. Julie came out with three glasses, two ice tea and one that looked like lemonade.
“Thank you,” Brantley said when she handed him a glass.
“Nathan, when you’re done with the other toys, you can ride your bicycle in the driveway, and I have some lemonade for you.”
He hurried up to her, drank part of the glass, handed it back, and then set about racing to finish what he’d started.
“He never stands still for two minutes. Sometimes I wish I could bottle his energy.”
Brantley nodded. “Why did you invite me to stay?”
“Because I trust Mack, and if he thought you were guilty, he’d have arrested you and taken the heat. Unfortunately, there are people in this town who aren’t so logical. Besides, you haven’t been in town long enough to hate her the way half the women do.”
“Only half?” Brantley asked.
“Yeah. The other half are either too young or have husbands that are too old. Renae’s husband—well, ex-husband—is a real piece of work. Drank too much. Still does, I hear. When she left him, I guess she thought she was free and made the most of it.” Julie drank from her glass, watched Nathan, and then turned back to him. “So why did you buy the Richardson place?” She looked him over head to toe. “You don’t seem like the type to want to run a ranch on your own.” She chuckled. “Where did you get those boots?”
“Before I left New York.” He shifted his gaze downward. “What’s wrong with them?”
“They look like you’re going to some club. They’ll never hold up to any sort of hard work. And your hat is for show too. Not that it’s any of my business.”
Brantley bristled until he realized she hadn’t meant anything by it other than an observation.
“Is Daddy coming home?” Nathan asked as he bounded up on the porch and gulped from the glass of lemonade Julie offered him.
“Not for a while. But he’d be so proud that you cleaned up your toys.” She hugged Nathan to her as he whimpered. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He called a few minutes ago.” She sounded just as disappointed as Nathan looked. “He still has a week, but he said he’d call you tonight. If you’re good, I’ll take you out on your pony this afternoon.” She glanced at Brantley as if apologizing for her earlier lie.
Brantley sipped his tea and watched as a sheriff’s department vehicle pulled into the drive. Mack got out of the car, and Nathan handed his mother his glass and rushed off the porch.
“Sheriff Mack.”
“Nathan,” Mack said. He hugged the boy and then walked him back to the porch. “It looks like you have a visitor.”
“Yes.” Nathan turned to him and stared, putting a finger to his lips as he thought.
“That’s Mr. Brantley,” Mack said as they climbed the steps. “I was just checking that you were doing all right.”
“We’re fine, and you know it isn’t necessary.” Julie turned to Brantley. “My husband is in the Army Reserves, and he was supposed to be done with his annual training, but they wanted him to stay a week longer. Nathan is really missing his daddy. Mack stops in to see how we are.”
“Denny and I went to school together,” Mack told him.
“Brantley came over to say hello and meet his neighbors,” Julie explained.
“He just left my place,” Brantley said, looking at Mack.
“Yeah. I was headed here and got a call, but it was cancelled, so I decided to visit anyway.” Mack nodded. “Meeting the neighbors is good.”
“He and I already talked about what happened yesterday,” Julie said.
“And he seems to have not had a hand in any of that,” Mack confirmed.
“I didn’t think he had,” Julie said. “There are plenty of people in town who didn’t like her.”
“Now, Julie. Just because the two of you never saw eye to eye doesn’t mean that everyone in town was out to get her. She was a hard-driving businesswoman.”
“I know. If she were a man, none of us would think twice, but because she was a woman….” Julie stood and walked to the door. “I still say she was a bitch and that’s the end of it.”
“Mama, bad word,” Nathan scolded.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Julie said just before the screen door slammed closed. Brantley watched her go and wondered if something was wrong. Julie returned quickly with a pitcher of tea and another glass. “Go and ride your bike,” Julie told Nathan, and he jumped off the porch, then climbed onto the small blue bike with training wheels. “You getting any closer to finding who whacked Renae?” She poured Mack some tea and refilled Brantley’s glass.
“We’re making progress,” he said but offered nothing more.
“You know this whole thing has tongues wagging all over town,” Julie said.
Brantley figured she left off the part about how he was being blamed because he was sitting right there.
“Yes, I know. I’ve fielded calls from a number of people, including the mayor.” Mack looked tired. “When something like this happens, everyone wants answers, and they don’t care if the guilty party is caught, just that someone is punished.”
“Great.” Going back to New York was looking better and better all the time. “I came here because I wanted a different life, open spaces where I could breathe, maybe put down roots. I didn’t expect to become a pariah immediately. That usually takes a little while.” Brantley tried to lighten things up, but it wasn’t helping.
“Look at me, Mama,” Nathan yelled.
“That’s great, honey. Don’t go near the road,” Julie said. “He misses his dad pretty badly. They do a lot together, and I’ve been so busy with Denny gone that I haven’t had as much time to spend with him as I should.” She drank the rest of her tea, and Brantley finished his glass.
“Thank you so much for the tea and the conversation. I really appreciate it, and it was so nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Julie stood, and they shook hands before Brantley went to his truck. “I’ll see you later.”
“Nathan, come up here, sweetheart, so Mr. Brantley can go.”
Brantley watched as Nathan raced up on his bike and stopped near the porch steps. Julie held the bike, and Brantley waved before backing down the drive and returning the way he’d come. The visit had proved somewhat enlightening. It was clear that Julie didn’t like Renae, but Brantley doubted she’d shot her either. Still, it was nice to have met Julie and maybe begun a friendship.
As he reached his drive, Brantley figured he’d pressed his luck enough for one day and decided not to visit any more neighbors. He turned in and pulled up near the house. He got out as a police vehicle parked next to his truck.
“Is there something you need, Mack?”
“Not particularly. I just wanted to tell you that I will make it clear in town that you are not a suspect in Renae’s murder. Some people will believe it and others will stick to their stubborn ignorance, but it should lower some of the barriers to getting to know people.”
“Thanks, but I think yesterday made that process doubly hard. What people are going to remember is that she was murdered at my house, so therefore I must have had something to do with it.”
“I’ll catch the real killer, and then that will put an end to all this.” Mack came around to where he was standing. “I was wondering if you have plans for dinner.”
“Just heating something up.”
“Then how about coming into town with me? We could go to the diner. It’s where everyone meets. If people see you eating with the sheriff, they’ll know you aren’t a threat because I don’t usually eat with criminal suspects.”
“You don’t have to go out of your way just to be nice. I’ll figure out a way through this.” He was a New Yorker, after all. He could do anything if he put his mind to it.
“Suit yourself. I figured you’d need to eat and might be getting tired of your own cooking.” Mack cocked his eyebrow just so. It was both hot and disarming.
“I’d like to get some dinner. Do you want to meet in town?”
Mack’s radio sounded. He answered the call and returned his attention to Brantley. “That would be great. Meet you at the diner at six.” Mack turned back toward his car but stopped before he opened the door. “One word of advice. Wear what you’re comfortable in.”
“Why does everyone seem to comment on my clothes?” Brantley asked. They were supposed to be the latest style in this sort of thing.
“Because they aren’t you.” Mack tilted his hat, climbed in his cruiser, and began to pull out of the drive, but stopped. “Don’t forget to call if the cattle aren’t moved,” he yelled out his window, and Brantley waved his hat, keeping it in his hand when he was done.
Once Mack was gone, Brantley went inside, tossed his hat on one of the chairs, and wandered through to the kitchen. He got some water and peered out the window. There were just a few of the dark shapes toward the one side of the field, with men on ATVs around them. Andy was moving his cattle as promised. At least that bit of excitement was over.
Brantley made a light lunch and ate it in front of the television. Afterward he ended up dozing on the sofa for a little while. When he woke, he wasn’t sure what the hell to do. He was bored stiff. People in the West always seemed so busy in the movies. There were always things to get done and never enough time to do everything. It hadn’t occurred to Brantley that he’d have nothing to do and enough time on his hands that he’d want to wring his own neck. In a week he’d unpacked everything and done the little chores around the house. Maybe he could explore and clean out the barn. He hoped to have animals to fill it at some point, but he needed to find people to help with that. But the chances of finding good people had probably died along with Renae. Who would want to work on a ranch where someone had been murdered? This whole situation sucked.
HE WAS a mess. Brantley had spent the afternoon cleaning out the barn. He’d shoveled old dirt and God knows what else into a wheelbarrow he’d had to repair before he could fill it and carry it away. He’d been lucky. When he decided to start this little chore, he’d realized he didn’t have any tools, but someone had left a few things in the old tack room, so he was able to scoop away the junk and sweep out the loft and main floor. So at the moment, the place was really clean and he was completely filthy.
Brantley put away his tools, checked his watch, and hurried into the house. He needed to shower and dress fast or he was going to be late for dinner.
He very nearly was. It took plenty of rushing, but he pulled through the small town and parked in front of the diner with two minutes to spare. He didn’t know what Mack drove when he was off duty, so he wasn’t sure if he had arrived yet. Brantley went into the diner and stood near the hostess station as the entire place went quiet. He swallowed, all eyes on him, but soon people began talking once again. He had no doubt that he—and the speculation about whether he’d killed Renae—was the topic of conversation.
“Excuse me,” a large man said as he ambled to where Brantley was standing. “How can you show your face here? You should be in jail.” He parted his lips and showed a set of broken teeth. Brantley figured he’d lost them in bar fights or something.
“That’s enough, Cal,” Mack said from behind him.
Brantley was getting to know that voice very well, and he had never been so pleased to hear it in his life.
“Sheriff… he…,” Cal began.
“Mr. Calderone is here to have dinner with me,” Mack said, and the wind went out of Cal’s sails in the blink of an eye.
“But….”
“Mr. Calderone was in town at the time Renae was killed, and there are witnesses to support that. So back off.” Mack stepped closer and stood his ground. “People are innocent until proven guilty. That’s how the law works, and you don’t get to use that pea brain of yours to think anything different. Now go on back to your dinner.” He pointed, and Cal turned on his heels and sat back down.
“Thanks.”
Mack nodded and led the way to an empty table. “This is a seat-yourself kind of place. Marlene only seats people on Saturday when it seems like the whole town comes here for dinner.”
“I wasn’t expecting the welcome wagon, but…,” he began.
“Cal is as dumb as a box of rocks, and he always acts before he thinks.” Mack turned to the huge man, exchanging glares. Mack waited until Cal looked away, and then he turned back around. “Most people just want something to talk about, and someone getting killed is the story of the year around here.”
“I suppose. I just wish someone else was at the center of the story.”
“Word will get around fast that you didn’t do it, and then they will start speculating about who did. It’s the nature of a small town.” Mack leaned over the table. “And sometimes the mill conjures up a nugget of truth that can actually be helpful.”
“Okay.” Brantley stopped when their server, a girl from the high school by the look of her, approached their table.
“Mandy, how are you?” Mack said. “This is Brantley Calderone. He’s new in town.”
She turned to him warily. “What can I get you? The meatloaf is real good, and so is the pot pie.”
“I’ll have the pot pie,” Brantley said.
“Me too. With a coffee and a salad,” Mack said.
“That sounds good,” Brantley added, and Mandy flashed Mack a smile before leaving the table. “Do you know everyone in town? After what happened, I wanted to get an alarm for the house. I ordered a basic setup, but I need some help installing it.”
“I grew up here, and I know some people who can help with that. Everyone in this town is connected somehow. My mother was Lakota Sioux, and my father is Andy’s cousin. The hothead you met earlier. We were the poor relations. Dad worked cattle, and Mom, well, she didn’t stick around too long after I was born. Dad fell in love with her, they got married and had me, but Dad said he wasn’t what she needed. I was two when Mom took off. She was in a bad space and really unhappy.” Mack must have realized he’d gotten off track. “I’ll get someone to help with the installation.”
“Thanks.” Then Brantley returned to the previous topic. “Did she return to the reservation?”
“Yes, but she took her own life just a few weeks later. Her brother called my dad and told him. That’s why I wear my hair longer, in honor of her.”
“Is your dad still alive?”
“Yeah.” Mack smiled. “He’s in a wheelchair now, but not much stops him.”
Brantley did some figuring in his head. “Your dad can’t be that old.”
“He’s not. He got thrown and stepped on by a horse a little over a year ago. It injured his back so he can’t use his legs any longer. Dad lives with me, and the neighbors watch out for him when I’m not there. Right now he’s trying to figure out something he can do to make some extra money. Lord knows what he’ll come up with.” Mack’s indulgent smile told Brantley that the two of them cared very much for each other. “I’ll take you to meet him sometime. Dad loves talking to new folks.”
Mandy brought their drinks and made a hasty retreat. Brantley did his best to ignore it.
“So why law enforcement?” he asked as he added a little sugar to the strong coffee.
“After college, I joined the force in Sioux Falls, and I intended to move to a larger city and join a large department once I got some experience. I was in Sioux Falls for about five years. But after Dad’s accident, I moved here and joined the sheriff’s department, and then ran for sheriff when the last one got embroiled in a scandal and had to step down.” Mack sipped from his mug, and Brantley watched him, a familiar flutter kicking up in his stomach. He knew what that meant. He’d been admiring Mack for the last couple days, but now that he got to talk to him, he realized the looks Mack was giving him every now and then weren’t because he was waiting for Brantley to reveal something about the case. They indicated interest, or at least they seemed to.
Brantley had figured he’d have to give up on any kind of relationship once he moved out here, and that had been more than fine. They always ended in disaster anyway, so why bother? His goal had been to build a new life, one closer to the land. He blinked a few times, chastising himself for being ridiculous. He had to be reading the signals wrong.
Their food arrived, and Brantley arranged the plates, figuring he’d eat the hot food first. Moving his salad bowl knocked his fork on the floor, and as he bent down to pick it up, the window next to him exploded.