AFTER HE hung up with Mack, Brantley spent the next hour or so dozing, and then he was wide awake. Whatever he’d been given seemed to have worn off, because after dinner he turned on the television and watched whatever crap he could find. He was getting really bored and was thrilled when his nurse came in.
“How are you feeling?” she asked cheerily.
“Bored out of my skull, wide awake, and I feel like I want to get up and do something, anything.”
“No sleepiness or hazy thinking?”
“Nope. My mind is clear, and the stuff on television is—” He paused midcomplaint. There was nothing she could do about it. He needed to make the best of where he was until he could go back to Mack’s.
“You certainly seem better,” the nurse said, checking the machine. “Everything looks good here too. Rest is the best thing for you now.”
“I know, but I’m not tired at all. I’ve slept most of the day, and I don’t think I can any longer,” Brantley told her as she went about fluffing his pillow.
“Just rest, and after the doctor comes in tomorrow morning, you should be able to go home.” She placed the call button near his hand. “Be sure to call if you need anything.” She smiled at him and left the room.
Brantley stared at the screen, watching just to pass the time.
Hours later he wondered if Mack was going to make it in time to see him. It was after nine when Mack walked into his room, looking like hell and smelling of smoke. “What happened?”
Mack sat in the chair next to his bed. “I’ve had a rough night. We got a report that Denny Beltz’s truck was seen on its way toward town. I went out to meet it, and before I could stop him, he ran off the road. His truck flipped. Zeb and I got him out before the truck burst into flames.”
“Is he alive?” Brantley asked.
“Yes. As of right now, he’s here in the hospital. He had emergency surgery because the accident caused internal damage, and he hasn’t woken yet.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“That’s why I’m so late. He wasn’t wearing the boots, and they weren’t in the cab of the truck. Neither was the gun. We looked everywhere for them because they might have been thrown from the truck when it flipped. We found nothing.” He took a deep breath and sat back in the chair, clearly exhausted. “Once we got the truck processed and then flipped over, they weren’t under it either. That section was largely protected from the flames, and the paint was mostly intact in the bed, so if they’d been stowed there, they’d still be there, but they weren’t. We did find a tent and some camping equipment. Fishing poles, but no gun.”
“So no boots and no gun—that means he could have stashed them somewhere else.”
“Why would he do that? He doesn’t know about the print. No one does. So why would he dump his boots?” Mack shook his head. “He was wearing an old pair of boots. We gathered everything we found, and tomorrow I’ll see what I can put together.”
“How did you get so dirty?”
“We sifted out the contents of the cab to see if we could find anything. I have it all locked up in evidence and need to evaluate it in the morning.”
“Do you have a theory about what all this means?”
“I have dozens of them, but I’m too tired to think clearly. I’m hoping Denny can tell us something once he wakes up. It certainly looks like he’s been camping, and I’d really like to know where he’s been.”
“Like in the woods near my ranch so he could watch me?” Brantley asked, the anger he’d held at bay rising in his voice. “I want you to catch this asshole and nail him to the wall. He burned down my house and tried to kill me more than once.” He clenched his fists.
“Relax. I’m getting really close to the end of this. I can feel it now. When I can think clearly, we’re going to review everything and piece together the entire picture of exactly what’s happening. And Lord knows, Denny isn’t going anywhere.” Mack looked thirsty, and Brantley passed the glass of water from his tray to Mack. “Thank you.”
“Welcome,” Brantley answered, the way he’d heard some of the locals do. “You really think you got him?”
“Yeah. There are still outstanding questions, but I do.” Mack yawned. “With what his wife told me, they’ve been having troubles and the ranch isn’t doing well. So I suspect he wanted your place so he could go for the gold that was there and try to stave off foreclosure. With you gone, the place was certain to sell cheaply, being the scene of a murder and all.” He kept his voice low.
“Do you think he had a thing with Renae? Is that why he went after her? I mean, he could have killed me with that shot through the diner window, but didn’t, and I don’t think that was some accident. He didn’t want to kill me, only put the fear of God in me so I’d run.” Brantley thought for a while. “You know, it’s very possible that he ditched the boots and gun long before he decided to come back toward town.”
“There are still too many unanswered questions for my liking. I’m hoping that Denny will open up once he knows I have him dead to rights, and then I can tie this case up in a nice little bow and be done with it. The town will be happy and feel safe once again, and by solving the murder, I hope most people will be willing to overlook the whole gay thing at election time.”
“I’ll feel so much better once this is wrapped up, and then I can figure out what I’m going to do about a house. I’d like to rebuild, I think. Maybe a place with a little city elegance in the country.” Brantley chuckled. “I’ve had lots of time to think while I was lying here.” He’d also thought how lonely he would be once Mack didn’t need to keep him close anymore and he stopped living in Mack’s guest room. That was going to be difficult.
“I’m sure you could build whatever you wanted. But there’s no hurry. You’ve got a place to stay as long as you need it.” Mack sighed and then leaned closer to his bed. “You need to make the decisions that are right for you, and you’re going to need some time to work things out. Hell, I’m sort of hoping you have a tough time deciding.” He smiled, and Brantley closed his eyes and Mack brought his lips to his.
Brantley would never get used to how good that felt and tasted, or how heat never failed to sizzle up his spine just from that simple touch. He loved it and slowly wound one arm around Mack’s neck. The click of steps in the hallway receded, as did the general soft buzz of conversation from the nurses’ station, along with the overlapping drone of patient televisions—all of it falling away as he basked in the warm glow of Mack’s eyes and the melting heat from his lips. That was all he needed to feel better, and his dick was now as wide awake as the rest of him. God, he wanted Mack so badly. Time alone to think had allowed his mind to wander over many things, including how nice it would be for Mack to pummel his lips, sink his thick cock between his cheeks, filling him and letting him know that everything was going to be all right, just because Mack was there.
Mack broke the kiss when his phone rang. He groaned, answered it, and spoke softly before hanging up. From the stormy yet sad expression, the news wasn’t good. “It’s going to be a while, if at all, before Denny wakes up.” Mack put his phone away.
“I know you’re tired. Go on and go home. Try to get some rest.”
“I will. Call me when they let you out of here, and I’ll come get you and take you to the house where I can look after you.” The relief in Mack’s voice was palpable. “If he doesn’t wake, I may never get the answers I’m looking for, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s the one behind this. And either way, it’s over. I’m going to file all my reports and paperwork so I can get a warrant, and that should be that.”
Brantley nodded, and when Mack kissed him again, it took all Brantley’s self-control not to pull him down on the bed. “That should give you something to look forward to.”
Mack brought his lips to Brantley’s ear, hot breath sending a shock through him. “When I get you home, I intend to celebrate the end of this case well into the night. Maybe I’ll give Dad ear plugs so I can make you scream when I eat out that pretty ass of yours before fucking you hard until you can’t remember your own damn name.”
Brantley’s cock throbbed, and he had the urge to palm it, but touching himself in a situation like this was not the best idea. “I thought I was the only one with time on his hands.”
“With you, it doesn’t take much. I’m on the edge just thinking about you.” Mack sucked on his ear, and then his lips slipped away. He stood over the bed, looking, and Brantley watched him in return, wondering what was going through his mind at that moment. “Get some rest, sweetheart, and I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“You too. This is over now, and you can get some sleep.” Brantley took Mack’s hand. “I’ll never forget how you took care of me when I needed it.”
“Hey. It was a two-way street.” Mack squeezed Brantley’s fingers. “I really think we make a good team.”
Brantley kept expecting Mack to turn to leave, but he stayed and stayed. They didn’t talk. Mack held his hand and turned slightly toward the door more than once, but he stayed where he was until Brantley’s eyelids began feeling heavy. Then Mack kissed him once again and left the room.
Brantley slept soundly, no longer having to keep one ear out for something to go horribly and dangerously wrong. Even so, his dreams were filled with replays of him finding Renae and the shooting. The shot kept ringing in his ears. In his dream he could never see the shooter, but he always got so close. His dreams changed as the night progressed. First it was him, and then Lew was the target, then it was him again, along with Mack. Soon his mind was conjuring up images of a shooting gallery with all of them as targets, moving to someone else’s movements.
Brantley woke with a start, his eyelids flying open.
“It’s all right,” the nurse said from next to his bed.
“What time is it?” Brantley asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Just after six. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes, and you can go back to sleep.”
“What’s your name?” Brantley asked.
“Nadine.” She smiled softly. He hadn’t heard that name in a very long time. It was unusual, and he said so. “I was named after my grandmother. I need to take a little blood from you so we can do one more set of tests before we send you home.” She did what she needed and then straightened his bedding and got him comfortable before leaving the room.
Brantley closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He was a little too excited to really fall deeply to sleep. When he woke an hour or so later, there was a visitor in his room.
“Morning, Julie,” Brantley said.
“I heard you were in here,” she told him, moving closer to the bed. “I guess you were very lucky to have gotten out of the house.” She didn’t smile, and something in her eyes sent a chill up his spine.
“Are you here to visit Denny?”
“Eventually.” Her gaze didn’t turn away from him, and Brantley squirmed under its intensity. She’d always seemed so confident when he’d visited her, but now she looked harried and one hand flicked against her thigh every few seconds. “I wanted to see that you were all right.” Each time she said something, the air grew just a little colder. There was something very off. Of course, finding out your husband was a murderer was enough to make anyone a little scattered.
“I’m sorry about everything. This all has to be so hard for you. If there’s anything I can do….”
Julie’s misery was starting to fill the entire room.
Brantley’s phone rang and he reached for it. “Hey, Mack,” he said happily.
“Have they said anything about when you’ll be ready to go?”
“Not yet. They took some blood earlier this morning, and I’m hoping that will be it.” He couldn’t help smiling at the sound of Mack’s rich voice. “I’ll call you as soon as they tell me.”
“Okay. I’ll be there once I get cleaned up, and we can wait together.” Mack hung up, and Brantley set his phone back on the tray.
“Sorry,” he said. “And I mean it. I know this has to be very hard for you, and I want you to know that you aren’t responsible for what he did.” Brantley smiled, hoping some reassurance would ease some of the pain and worry on her face.
“I know that,” she said softly as she came closer, standing right next to his bed. “There’s only one problem,” she whispered and placed her hand in the center of Brantley’s chest. “My husband, the cheating bastard, didn’t have the guts to tell that bitch Renae to mind her own damn business and stay away from what was mine.”
In an instant he realized that Julie was behind everything: she’d framed her husband and they’d been completely fooled. Her hand went to Brantley’s throat, gripping, but not squeezing, at least not yet, but the threat was enough to keep Brantley from moving.
“Why go after me?” Brantley was confused.
“You’re a smart boy—you know why. I needed money, and with you gone, I could mine the creek at will. I’ve been pulling gold out of it for months now, but I need to go deeper. I kept it all, almost enough to bring the mortgage on my place current, and maybe with a little more work, I can have enough money for a down payment on your place. Then I can mine whenever I want, and no one will look at me twice.”
“Why didn’t you take what you had and use it to pay for what you needed? No one would have known, and you wouldn’t have had to go through all this.” The pieces all began to fit into place. Denny hadn’t lied about being at Reserves an extra week—that had all been Julie, knowing it would come out. Brantley was willing to bet that Julie was a crack shot with a hunting rifle, and the rest was all her. All she’d needed was a scapegoat, and she got that in her husband, who was cheating on her.
“I couldn’t just show up with raw gold and expect there not to be a million questions. I needed to own the location it came from. Gold itself might not be traceable, but raw gold with all the other minerals sure as hell is.” Her voice was soft but menacing.
“So you set Denny up to take the fall?” Brantley asked, flicking his gaze in the direction of the door. The curtain had been pulled to block the view, and judging by the quiet, he suspected she’d closed the door when she came in.
“Sure. Why the hell not? He cheated on me, and the sheriff never thought about me. I wore Denny’s boots, used his gun, and made sure everything led back to him. I gave him an alibi that I knew would fall apart if anyone looked into it, and from there everything fell into place.”
“But where was he?” Brantley placed his hand on hers as she began to squeeze. Julie was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked. He was having some trouble breathing from the pressure. He knew his only chance was to try to buy some time. Mack had said he was going to come up to see him, so if Brantley could keep her talking long enough, he might have a chance. He tried feeling for the call button, but it was gone.
“Denny loves to go camping so he can live off the land. So I suggested he go after the Reserves and then just weaved my story. God, you men are so damn gullible when it comes to women. You never looked twice at me, and my plan was good. Scare you off, frame him for Renae’s death.” She leaned closer, applied more pressure to his throat, and then eased up. “Hell, when you came home right after I’d taken care of Renae, I called the sheriff, thinking I could throw up some more smoke.”
“But why take a shot at me?”
“To scare you off—are you deaf? I thought you had to be close to crapping your pants by then, and when you didn’t leave, I knew I had to get rid of you altogether.” She smiled and leaned still closer. “You should have seen Mack’s face at the fire. I burned you out and talked to him just a few minutes later. He didn’t look twice at me, the dumbass. He was so intent on Denny that he never gave me a thought. Then my asshole husband called to say he was coming home early, and I knew just where to take him out.”
“You caused his accident?” Brantley asked, his fear rising to epic proportions. He had to figure a way out of here or he wasn’t going to last much longer.
She reached into her pocket, pulled out a sizable syringe, and held it in her hand, showing it off to him.
Brantley stilled. She was going to kill him right here in the hospital, probably using the same stuff she’d used on him before.
“Of course I did. I know this area like the back of my hand. All I had to do was shoot out a tire at the right moment, and he would go over the ravine. It’s steep enough that he’d roll at least twice. The fire was a lucky break.”
“But you didn’t count on Mack getting there so fast,” Brantley said.
“Not that it matters. You’ll die from something your body makes on its own, and they’ll think it was what you were given before. Denny will die of something similar, only they’ll think it was his injuries, and I’ll play the grieving wife and everything will fall into place, eventually. I may need to do something in order to cash in the gold, but….” She leaned closer, and her eyes were as dark as the depths of hell. “I’ve gone too far to turn back now.”
This had gone way past talking. Brantley figured he was running out of time fast from the way she held the syringe to his neck. She could squeeze and plunge it at the same time, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “You won’t get away with this, and then what about Nathan?” He knew he had to think fast. “He’ll be alone.”
“My Nathan will be just fine. That’s why I’m doing all this. I’ve thought of everything. Denny will be gone, but Nathan doesn’t need a cheating bastard for a father. They half expect him to die anyway, and you’ll be written off as a side effect of what he gave you earlier. I’ll get to Mack as soon as you’re out of the picture. I already got the meds. Everything else will work out just fine. I’ll be able to save the ranch and can then pass it on to Nathan. He’ll have his inheritance, and if things work out, your ranch will be part of it. We’ll have the gold and the water, and the ranch will be stable for him. Nothing else is going to matter now. So you can stop your chitchat games and make peace with whatever God you believe in.” She thrust the syringe into his arm and depressed the plunger.
Brantley waited for something to happen. He didn’t feel anything.
“Now for something to put you to sleep so I can get away….” She reached for another syringe.
Brantley had had enough. If he was going to die, he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it lying down.
He grabbed her wrist as hard as he could, pulling it away from his throat. Julie was a strong woman, no doubt about that, and he used all his weight to try to push her back. “I need some help,” Brantley yelled. But no one came. He was starting to feel light-headed, and his stomach was extremely unhappy.
She pushed him back and placed her hand over his mouth. He felt her fishing around for something in her pockets, and she came up with another syringe. Brantley banged her hand, and the syringe went flying across the room, landing on the floor.
His hands and legs felt light, and his head began to float. Thinking was becoming more and more difficult. He heard the door open.
“Help,” he called and hoped like hell someone heard him. The next thing he knew, the grip on his neck eased, and Julie let loose a steady stream of profanity.
“I was trying to help him,” she said.
“No,” Brantley croaked, falling deeper and deeper into a black pit. He saw Mack holding her. “She gave me a shot of something,” he tried to say. His entire body felt strange, and he knew his ability to think was going fast. Food. All he wanted was food, and there was nothing nearby. His instinct was to reach for the tray, but there was nothing. “Help me, Mack,” he said, trying like hell to hold on to consciousness, but it faded away.