The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the Wyoming sky in hues of orange and pink as Rory and Evan drove away from the Montero ranch. The picturesque view stood in stark contrast to the grim scene they’d left behind. Rory’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her mind replaying every detail of the crime scene.
“The question is,” Rory said, “why would someone target Talia Montero? What was so special about her that someone would go to such lengths to kill her?”
“Could be about the ranch,” Evan suggested. “You know how some of the old-timers felt about her buying up all that land, bringing in her city ideas.”
“Maybe,” Rory conceded, but something about that theory didn’t sit right with her. “But if it was just about the ranch, why the elaborate staging? Why the symbol?”
They drove in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Evan spoke up again. “What about the husband? Marcus Montero. He seemed pretty broken up, but…”
“But he’s also our prime suspect,” Rory finished. “It’s always the spouse until proven otherwise. And his story about sleeping through the whole thing…”
“Seems convenient,” Evan agreed. “Though if he did do it, why call it in? Why not try to cover it up?”
Rory shrugged. “Could be part of his plan. Play the grieving widower, throw suspicion off himself. We’ve seen it before.”
As they discussed the case, Rory found her mind drifting. The symbol burned into the barn floor kept flashing in her mind’s eye, stirring up memories she’d long tried to bury. Memories of another night, another loss that had never been fully explained.
She could still hear the police officer’s voice, gentle but firm as he delivered the news that had shattered her world. Her mother, dead in a car crash. Her sister, Ramona, missing without a trace. And Rory, left behind to pick up the pieces.
The guilt hit her anew, a familiar ache in her chest. She should have been there. If she hadn’t been so focused on her rodeo career, if she’d just gone home that weekend like her mother had asked…
Rory shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time for self-recrimination. She had a job to do, a murderer to catch. She couldn’t let her personal demons interfere with the investigation.
Evan’s voice cut through her reverie. “You, okay? You got quiet there for a minute.”
Rory managed a small smile. “Yeah, just thinking.”
Evan was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “You know, it’s okay to still be affected by it. What happened to your mom and sister…that’s not something you just get over.”
Rory’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I’m fine,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended. Then, softer, “But thanks, Evan. I appreciate it.”
They lapsed into silence again as they approached the outskirts of town. The streets were quiet, most of Bearclaw County’s residents already settled in for the evening. Rory pulled the patrol car into the parking lot of Annie’s Diner, the neon OPEN sign flickering in the growing darkness.
“What do you say we grab some coffee and go over what we know so far?” she suggested. “I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
Evan nodded, relief evident on his face. He’d clearly been worried about pushing too far with the personal stuff. “Sounds good to me. I could use some fuel for the old brain cells.”
Inside, the diner was nearly empty. A lone waitress, her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, nodded to them as they slid into a booth. “Evening, Officers. The usual?”
“Please, Marge,” Rory replied with a tired smile. “And maybe a slice of that apple pie if you’ve got any left.”
As Marge shuffled off to get their order, Rory pulled out her notebook. “Alright, let’s break this down. What do we know for sure?”
Evan leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Talia Montero, thirty-five, was found dead in her barn this morning. Cause of death appears to be strangulation, though we’re waiting on the ME’s report for confirmation.”
Rory nodded, jotting down notes. “No signs of forced entry or struggle, suggesting Talia either knew her killer or was taken by surprise.”
“And then there’s the husband,” Evan added. “Marcus Montero claims he slept through the whole thing, didn’t realize his wife was missing until he woke up this morning.”
“Which could be true,” Rory mused, “or could be a convenient alibi. We’ll need to dig deeper into his background, see if there’s any motive there.”
Marge returned with their coffee and pie, eyeing them curiously. “You two working on that Montero case?” At their nods, she clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Terrible business, that. Poor Talia. She was in here just the other day, all smiles and big plans for the ranch.”
Rory’s ears perked up. “You knew her well, Marge?”
The older woman shrugged. “As well as anyone in town, I suppose. She was a regular, always chatting with the locals. Trying to fit in, you know?”
“And how about Marcus?” Evan asked casually. “Did he come in often?”
“Oh, sure,” Marge replied. “Those two were thick as thieves. Always holding hands across the table, looking at each other like newlyweds. It was sweet, really.”
Rory and Evan exchanged a look. This didn’t fit with the image of a husband who’d murder his wife. “They seemed happy then?” Rory pressed. “No arguments, no tension?”
Marge shook her head emphatically. “Not that I ever saw. In fact, just last week they were in here talking about some big anniversary trip they had planned. Sounded really excited about it.”
After Marge moved on to tend to another customer, Rory sat back, frowning. “Well, that complicates things.”
Evan nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s not proof of Marcus’s innocence, but it sure doesn’t make him sound like a killer either.”
“Unless it was all an act,” Rory mused. “People can hide all sorts of things behind a smile.”
But even as she said it, she felt her certainty waver. “I think we need to talk to more of the neighbors,” she decided. “Get a better picture of the Monteros’ life here. And we should look into Talia’s background, see if there’s anything in her past that might have caught up with her.”
Evan nodded, already pulling out his phone to make some calls. As he arranged to meet with some of the neighboring ranchers, Rory found her gaze drawn to the window. The street outside was dark now, the few streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement.
For a moment, she thought she saw a figure standing across the street, watching the diner. But when she blinked, it was gone.
Just a trick of the light, she told herself. Just a trick of the light.
***
An hour later, they were pulling up to the Henderson ranch, the closest neighbor to the Monteros. The old farmhouse was dark save for the porch light and a single light burning in an upstairs window. As they approached the front porch, the door swung open, revealing a weathered man in his sixties.
“Evening, Officers,” he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. “Figured you’d be coming by sooner or later. Come on in.”
Inside, the house was cluttered but cozy, filled with the kind of knickknacks and family photos that spoke of a life well-lived. Bob Henderson turned on a few lamps and settled into a worn armchair, gesturing for Rory and Evan to take a seat on the nearby couch.
“Poor Talia,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Damn shame, what happened to her. She was a good woman, for all that she was a city slicker.”
“You knew her well, then?” Rory asked.
Bob nodded. “As well as any of us did, I suppose. She and Marcus, they made an effort to get to know their neighbors. Wasn’t always easy for them, what with all the changes they were making to the ranch, but they tried.”
“Did you ever notice any tension between them?” Evan asked. “Any arguments or problems?”
Bob’s bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. “Them two? Lord, no. If anything, they were too lovey-dovey for my taste. Always finishing each other’s sentences, laughing at private jokes. Made a man feel downright lonely just watching them.”
Rory leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Mr. Henderson, have you noticed anything unusual in the area recently? Any strangers hanging around, any changes in the Monteros’ behavior?”
The old rancher was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “Now that you mention it,” he said slowly, “there was something odd a couple nights back. I was out checking on my herd—they’ve been real skittish lately, don’t know why—and I saw a car I didn’t recognize parked down by the Monteros’ south fence line.”
Rory’s pulse quickened. “Did you get a good look at it?”
Bob shook his head. “It was dark, and my eyes ain’t what they used to be. But it was a big car, maybe an SUV. Dark-colored. And when I drove by to check it out, it took off real quick-like.”
“Did you mention this to the Monteros?” Evan asked.
“Meant to,” Bob admitted, “but it slipped my mind. Figured it was probably nothing, maybe just some kids looking for a place to park, if you know what I mean.”
Rory nodded, making a note in her book. Inwardly, however, she suspected the driver may have had much more sinister intentions.
Maybe even murder.