“Wood, Tate,” Sheriff Harlan barked as Rory and Evan entered the building. “Please tell me you’ve got something.”
It was just past dawn, the sky painted in hues of pink and gold, and Rory was exhausted. She knew Evan had to be feeling it, too. They’d spent a few more hours at the crime scene, studying the area and speaking with the family, but they hadn’t come up with any new leads.
And the boss wasn’t going to be happy to hear that.
Sheriff Harlan’s door was already open, the man himself pacing behind his desk like a caged animal. Rory cast Evan a quick glance—he looked even more nervous than she was—then swallowed hard and entered the office.
“Well?” Harlan said. “What do you have?”
Rory took a deep breath and began. “Sheriff, the scene at the Kade ranch was…it was bad. Worse than the others.”
Harlan leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “How so?”
“The killer’s escalating. That strange symbol…it wasn’t just burned into the ground this time. It was branded onto Kade’s chest.”
Harlan’s face paled. “Holy hell.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Harlan ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking much older. “Any leads? Anything at all?”
Evan shook his head. “Nothing concrete. But we’re worried, sir. With the escalation in violence…”
“You think he’s building to something,” Harlan finished.
Rory nodded. “We do. And sir, we’re concerned about potential targets. With Kade, it’s clear the killer isn’t just after wealthy newcomers anymore. Any rancher could be next.”
Harlan sank heavily into his chair, the weight of the situation visible in the slump of his shoulders. “How many potential targets are we looking at?”
“Dozens, sir,” Rory replied softly. “Maybe more.”
Harlan closed his eyes for a moment. “So what you’re telling me,” he said slowly, “is that we’ve got a serial killer on the loose, targeting ranchers seemingly at random, and we’re no closer to catching them than we were at the start of this case.”
“Sir, we’re making progress,” Rory argued. “We’ve identified patterns in the killer’s behavior, we’re analyzing new physical evidence—”
“Patterns?” Harlan interrupted, his voice rising. “Patterns won’t stop this maniac from killing again tonight, Wood! We’ve got three dead bodies and a whole county full of potential victims. This is spiraling out of control.”
Rory felt her own temper flaring. “We’re doing everything we can, sir. If you’d just give us a little more time—”
“Time?” Harlan slammed his hand on the desk, making both Rory and Evan jump. “We don’t have time! No, I’ve made my decision. I’m calling in the FBI.”
“With all due respect, sir, we don’t need the feds coming in here and taking over our investigation. We know this county, these people. We can—”
“This isn’t up for debate, Wood,” Harlan said. “I’ve got the governor breathing down my neck, the press circling like vultures, and a community on the verge of panic. We need all the help we can get.”
Rory felt her control slipping. “So you’re just going to hand over our case? Just like that?”
Harlan sighed as he rose. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but it’s not your call to make. Now, either you get on board with this, or I’ll have you removed from the case entirely. Do I make myself clear?”
The office fell silent, tension crackling in the air like electricity. Rory opened her mouth to retort, but felt Evan’s hand on her arm, a gentle pressure urging restraint.
“Crystal clear, sir,” Evan said, stepping forward. “We understand. If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got some follow-up interviews to conduct.”
Before Rory could protest, Evan was steering her out of the office. She shrugged off his hand as soon as they were in the hallway, rounding on him with fire in her eyes.
“What the hell, Evan? We can’t just let Harlan hand this case over to the feds!”
Evan held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Take a breath, Rory. Think about this. Harlan’s right—we need all the help we can get on this one.”
Rory paced the narrow hallway, frustration and exhaustion warring within her. “When it comes to the feds, ‘help’ is code for ‘take over,’ and they don’t know a damn thing about this county or its people. We don’t need help, we need time. If we could just—”
“Time isn’t on our side right now,” Evan interrupted gently. “Look, I know how much this case means to you. But maybe having some fresh eyes on it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
Rory stopped pacing, leaning against the wall with a sigh. The fight drained out of her, leaving only bone-deep weariness in its wake. “I just…I can’t shake the feeling that we’re close to something, Evan. That the answer is right there, just out of reach.”
Evan’s expression softened. “I know. And we’re not giving up. FBI or no FBI, we’re seeing this through. Partners, remember?”
Despite everything, Rory felt a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, partner. What’s our next move, then?”
“Well,” Evan said, checking his watch, “Bobby Kade should be here by now to give his official statement. Why don’t we start there?”
Rory nodded, pushing herself off the wall. “Good idea. Maybe he remembered something else that could help us.”
They made their way to the interview room, where Bobby Kade sat hunched over a cup of coffee. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face haggard with grief and shock. When he saw Rory and Evan enter, he straightened, a flicker of hope crossing his features.
“Have you found anything?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Do you know who…who did this to my father?”
Rory’s heart clenched at the raw pain in his voice. “Not yet, Mr. Kade. But we’re working around the clock to find them. We just need to go over a few more details with you, if that’s alright.”
Bobby nodded wearily. “Anything I can do to help. I just…I can’t believe this is happening. Dad was always so careful, so strong. How could someone just…”
He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Rory sat across from him, her voice gentle but firm. “Mr. Kade—Bobby—I know this is difficult, but I need you to focus. Can you walk us through the night one more time? Any detail, no matter how small, could be important.”
Bobby took a shuddering breath, then began to recount the events of that terrible night. As he spoke, Rory listened intently, jotting down notes. Evan stood by the door, his own notebook in hand.
“…and that’s when I heard the cattle getting restless,” Bobby was saying. “It was strange, you know? They’re usually pretty calm at night, but they were really worked up.”
Rory’s pen paused mid-sentence, thinking. “Tell me again, when exactly did the cattle start getting agitated?”
Bobby frowned. “Must’ve been around two or just after, I guess. That’s what woke Dad up. He always said a rancher needs to listen to his herd, that they can sense things we can’t.”
Rory and Evan exchanged a significant look. Distressed cattle appeared to be a firm connection to the murders.
“And this wasn’t normal behavior for them?” Rory pressed. “No coyotes or other predators that might have spooked them?”
Bobby shook his head. “Nothing like that. And it wasn’t just them being noisy. It was like…like they were scared of something. Really scared.”
The agitated cattle, present at all three crime scenes. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Somehow, the killer was using the herds to lure their victims out into the open.
But how? And, more importantly, why? What was the significance of the cattle in the killer’s twisted methodology?
After finishing the interview and assuring Bobby they’d keep him updated on the investigation, Rory and Evan retreated to their shared office. Rory immediately went to the evidence board, adding notes about the cattle’s behavior at each crime scene.
“It’s got to be connected,” she muttered, more to herself than to Evan. “The killer’s using the cattle somehow, maybe as a way to draw the victims out.”
Evan nodded, perching on the edge of his desk. “But how? And why go to all that trouble? Why not just break in and kill them in their homes?”
“Because it’s not just about the killing,” Rory said slowly, the pieces starting to come together in her mind. “It’s…it’s a ritual. The symbol, the specific method of death, and now this thing with the cattle. It all means something to our killer.”
Before Evan could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them. Sheriff Harlan entered, his expression unreadable.
“I’ve got news,” he said without preamble. “I contacted the FBI office in Cheyenne.”
Rory swallowed hard, waiting.
“Well…they’re stretched thin right now,” Harlan said. “Covering all of Wyoming and part of Colorado with limited manpower. They can’t send anyone immediately.”
Rory felt a mixture of relief and disappointment—relief that she still had the opportunity to lead this investigation, disappointment that they wouldn’t have additional help and resources.
“So what does that mean for us?” she asked.
Harlan sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “It means, for now, we’re on our own. They’ll send someone as soon as they can, but until then…” He shrugged, his expression bleak. “I guess it’s up to us to stop this killer.”