Rory rubbed her eyes, willing them to focus on the jumble of papers spread across her desk. The harsh fluorescent lights cast a sickly glow over everything, making the photos of Clayton Harrow and Talia Montero seem even more ghastly than they already were.
“Earth to Rory,” Evan said, his voice cutting through her foggy thoughts. She looked up to see him holding out a steaming cup of coffee. “Thought you could use this. It’s fresh…well, fresher than the sludge from this afternoon, anyway. And I used almond milk.”
Rory managed a weak smile as she accepted the cup. “Thanks, Evan. What would I do without you?”
“Probably solve this case in half the time,” he joked, but Rory didn’t miss the flash of insecurity in his eyes.
She shook her head, taking a sip of the coffee. It was terrible, but the caffeine hit was welcome. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Evan’s answering smile was warm, and Rory felt an odd flutter in her stomach that she quickly tamped down. Now wasn’t the time for…whatever that was. They had a killer to catch.
“So,” Evan said, settling into the chair beside her desk. “Let’s review. What have we got?”
Rory sighed, gesturing to the chaos before them. “Two victims, Clayton Harrow and Talia Montero. Both successful ranchers, both relatively new to the area. Both killed in the same distinctive manner.”
“And both with that creepy symbol left at the scene,” Evan added, a shudder running through him. “Any luck figuring out what it means?”
“Nothing concrete. It’s not a known gang sign or occult symbol, at least not according to any databases I’ve checked.”
Evan sighed, sounding disappointed. “So we’ve got two victims with similar profiles. What else connects them?”
Rory rifled through some papers, pulling out a financial report. “They were both doing well financially, but looking to expand.”
“Think that’s why the killer targeted them? Because they were wealthy?”
“It’s a working theory, but we still don’t know why the killer would do that. Harrow was in talks to buy out his neighbor’s struggling ranch. Montero was planning to modernize her operation, bring in some high-tech farming equipment.”
“Expansion plans,” Evan mused. “That could ruffle some feathers in a traditional ranching community like this. Any signs of pushback from the locals?”
Rory shook her head. “Nothing overt. Some grumbling at town meetings, but nothing that screams ‘I’m going to murder you over this.’”
A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. Deputy Sarah Lightfoot poked her head in, her right hand holding a bag that smelled tantalizingly of grease and spices. “Thought you two could use some fuel. Annie’s was closing up, but I convinced her to whip up some of her famous chili cheese fries for you.”
“Sarah, you’re a saint,” Evan said, reaching for the bag.
Rory smiled her thanks, but her mind was still on the case. “Sarah, before you go—did you ever finish that background check on Talia Montero’s finances?”
Sarah held up her left hand, revealing a folder, which she tossed down on the desk. “Just came through about an hour ago. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Not sure yet,” Rory admitted. “But thanks. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”
As Sarah left, Evan began divvying up the fries, the rich aroma filling the small office. “Come on, partner. Let’s refuel while we dig into these reports. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be another long night.”
Rory nodded, reaching for a fry. As she bit into it, the familiar taste of Annie’s chili brought back a flood of memories: late nights studying for the police academy exam, her father’s rare sober moments sharing a meal with her, the day she’d gotten her badge…
She shook off the nostalgia, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Okay, let’s start with Montero’s financials. You take the bank statements, I’ll look at the loan applications.”
They worked in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustle of papers and the occasional murmur of discovery. Rory found herself sneaking glances at Evan, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way he absently chewed on his lower lip when he was puzzling something out.
Who are you, Evan Tate? she wondered. They’d known each other since high school, and yet she sometimes wondered if that familiarity caused her to overlook him, to assume she knew him better than she really did.
What if he were a suspect she was profiling? What would she learn?
Evan glanced up, catching her eye, and Rory immediately glanced away.
“I think I found something,” Evan said. “Look at this bank statement from three months ago. There’s a large deposit, way out of line with Montero’s usual income.”
Rory leaned over. “You’re right. That’s…that’s a lot of zeros. Any idea where it came from?”
Evan shook his head. “Nothing in the notes. But it’s right around the time she started talking about those expansion plans.”
“Interesting,” Rory mused. “Maybe she found an investor? Or…” She trailed off, a new thought occurring to her. “Evan, can you pull up Harrow’s financials? Look for any unusual deposits around the same time.”
As Evan complied, Rory turned back to the loan applications in front of her. Something was nagging at her, a connection just out of reach. She flipped through the pages, scanning for…there.
“Evan,” she said, her voice tight with excitement. “Montero applied for a business loan to fund her expansion. It was denied.”
“Okay,” Evan said slowly. “That’s not uncommon, especially for newer ranchers looking to make big changes.”
“True,” Rory conceded. “But look at the reason for denial.”
Evan leaned in, reading aloud. “‘Insufficient collateral and uncertain market conditions.’ Signed by…Victor Hamelin, Loan Officer.”
“Now look at this,” Rory said, pulling out another document. “Harrow’s loan application from two months ago. Also denied.”
Evan’s eyes widened as he read. “Same reason. Same loan officer. Victor Hamelin. And I just noticed a similar large deposit in Harrow’s account around the same time.”
“Okay,” Rory said, the pieces starting to fall into place. “Both our victims were denied loans for their expansion plans by the same person. And shortly after, they both come into large sums of money from an unknown source.”
“You think Hamelin had something against them?” Evan asked.
“I don’t know,” Rory admitted. “But it’s a connection we can’t ignore. Two successful ranchers, both looking to expand, both denied by Hamelin, both murdered in the same distinctive way…”
“It’s thin,” Evan cautioned. “Hamelin was just doing his job. And being denied a loan isn’t exactly a rare occurrence.”
Rory nodded, acknowledging the point. “You’re right. But it’s more than we had an hour ago. And there’s something about this that doesn’t sit right with me.”
She turned back to her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard as she dug deeper into Hamelin’s background. Evan leaned in, his shoulder brushing against hers as he peered at the screen. Rory ignored the warmth that spread through her at the contact, focusing instead on the information unfolding before them.
“Look at this,” she said, pointing to a news article from two years ago. “Hamelin was involved in a scandal at his previous bank in Cheyenne. There were allegations of fraudulent loan approvals, but nothing was ever proven.”
Evan’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s interesting. Why would a bank hire someone with that kind of history?”
“Good question,” Rory mused. She clicked through a few more pages, her frown deepening. “And here’s something else. In the six months since Hamelin started working at Bearclaw County Bank, there’s been a significant increase in loan denials, especially for agricultural businesses.”
“Could be a coincidence,” Evan said, but his tone suggested he didn’t really believe it. “Maybe the bank’s just tightening its lending policies.”
Rory shook her head. “I don’t think so. Look at the pattern. The denials are concentrated in specific areas of the county. Areas where land values have been increasing rapidly.”
She pulled up a map of Bearclaw County, overlaying it with data points representing the loan denials. A clear pattern emerged, with clusters of denials in some of the most desirable ranching areas.
“What if,” Rory said slowly, the pieces starting to come together in her mind, “Hamelin isn’t just denying loans? What if he’s targeting specific properties for some reason?”
Evan’s eyes widened as he caught on to her train of thought. “You think he might be working with someone to drive down property values? Force ranchers to sell?”
“It’s possible,” Rory said. “We’ve seen it before in other parts of the state. Unscrupulous developers using any means necessary to acquire prime land cheaply.”
She turned back to the financial records spread across her desk, rifling through them with renewed purpose. “Here,” she said, pulling out a document. “Remember that large deposit we found in Montero’s account? Look at the date.”
Evan leaned in, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s exactly one week after her loan was denied.”
“And the similar deposit in Harrow’s account,” Rory added, holding up another statement. “Also, a week after his loan denial.”
“You think someone was offering to buy them out?” Evan asked. “Maybe Hamelin’s working with a developer, identifying potential targets?”
Rory nodded, feeling a surge of excitement. This was more than just a hunch now. This was a solid lead. “It would explain a lot. The loan denials, the mysterious deposits. Maybe Harrow and Montero were holding out, refusing to sell despite the pressure.”
“And someone decided to take more drastic measures,” Evan finished grimly.
Rory stood, needing to move, to think. She paced the small confines of her office, her mind going into overdrive. “We need to be careful with this, Evan. If Hamelin is involved with someone powerful enough to orchestrate multiple murders, he’s very dangerous.”
Evan nodded, his expression serious. “What’s our next move?”
“We need more evidence,” Rory said. “We can’t go to Sheriff Harlan with just a theory and some circumstantial financial records.”
She paused by the window, looking out at the dark, quiet streets of Bearclaw. Somewhere out there, a killer was watching, waiting. And now, it seemed, there might be an even bigger threat lurking in the shadows.
“Let’s go talk to Hamelin,” she said.
Evan looked puzzled. “It’s almost eleven. You think he’s still up?”
“If he isn’t, we’ll wake him up. If he’s as dangerous as he seems…then catching him off guard—talking to him under our terms—might be our safest bet. Either way, if we’re right about his involvement, then this isn’t just about two murders. This is a conspiracy that could shake the very foundations of this county.”