“Police!” Rory shouted as she hurried forward, fighting her way through the living, writhing mass of bodies, ignoring the angry shouts and shoves.
A burly protester stumbled into her path. Rory ducked under his arm, catching a glimpse of Barrett’s dark hair disappearing around a corner.
“Evan!” she called out, unsure if her partner was still behind her.
Finally breaking free of the crowd, Rory sprinted down the alley Barrett had taken. Her boots slapped against the pavement, echoing off the brick walls. Up ahead, Barrett darted left.
Rory skidded around the corner, nearly losing her footing on a pile of soggy cardboard. She recovered, pushing herself harder. Barrett was fast, but Rory was gaining.
They burst out onto an empty lot. Barrett, without breaking stride, vaulted over a chain-link fence with surprising agility.
Rory gritted her teeth, her lungs burning as she closed the distance. She reached the fence and began to climb, ignoring the protest of her aching muscles. As she swung her leg over the top, a sharp edge caught her jeans, tearing fabric and skin. Rory hissed in pain but pushed through, dropping to the other side with a jarring impact.
Barrett was still in sight, her dark hair streaming behind her as she ran. Rory forced herself forward, drawing on reserves of energy she hadn’t known she had. The gap between them was closing, inch by agonizing inch.
They burst out onto a busier street, Barrett weaving through startled pedestrians. A car honked angrily as Rory darted across the road, narrowly avoiding becoming a hood ornament. Her focus narrowed to a singular point: catch Barrett at any cost.
The chase led them into a small park, trees and benches blurring past. Barrett was tiring, her steps becoming less sure. Rory sensed her opportunity approaching.
As they rounded a corner, Barrett’s foot caught on an exposed root. She stumbled, her momentum faltering for just a moment. But it was enough.
Rory launched herself forward in a flying tackle, her arms wrapping around Barrett’s midsection. They went down hard, rolling across damp grass and fallen leaves.
For a moment, they lay there, both gasping for breath. Then Barrett began to struggle, twisting in Rory’s grip like a wild animal.
“Stop…fighting,” Rory panted, fumbling for her handcuffs. “You’re under…arrest.”
Barrett’s elbow caught Rory in the ribs, driving the air from her lungs. Rory held on, however, managing to secure the cuffs around Barrett’s wrists.
As the fight drained out of her captive, Rory became aware of a crowd gathering around them. Curious onlookers murmured and pointed, a few with phones out, undoubtedly recording the scene.
“Evan,” Rory wheezed into her radio. “Suspect…apprehended. Elwood Park.”
His reply was lost in a burst of static, but moments later, Rory heard the blessed sound of approaching sirens. She sagged in relief, the adrenaline fading and leaving her acutely aware of every ache and pain.
Barrett had gone still beneath her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “You don’t understand,” she muttered. “You have no idea what’s really going on.”
Before Rory could respond, Evan burst onto the scene, followed closely by two uniformed officers. He took in the tableau with a mixture of relief and concern.
“You okay, partner?” he asked, helping Rory to her feet.
She nodded, wincing as various injuries made themselves known. “Nothing a hot shower and about twelve hours of sleep won’t fix.”
As the uniforms took custody of Barrett, reading her rights and escorting her to a waiting cruiser, Evan turned to Rory with a grin. “Guess those rodeo skills came in handy after all, huh?”
Despite her exhaustion, Rory felt a smile tugging at her lips. “Turns out chasing down a calf isn’t so different from chasing an eco-terrorist. Who knew?”
***
“So,” Evan said, studying Barrett through the one-way glass, “how do you want to play this?”
Rory rubbed her bruised side as she considered the question. “Let’s start soft. She’s scared, cornered. If we come on too strong, she’ll lawyer up and we’ll lose any chance of getting answers.”
Evan nodded, and they entered the room. Barrett’s gaze flickered between them, wary and calculating.
“Ms. Barrett,” Rory began, keeping her voice calm and neutral, “I’m Assistant Sheriff Wood, and this is Deputy Tate. We’d like to ask you a few questions about—”
“I want a lawyer,” Barrett interrupted. “I’m not saying anything without representation.”
Rory exchanged a glance with Evan. This was going to be trickier than they’d hoped.
“You have that right,” Evan said smoothly. “But before we go down that road, I think there are some things you should know.”
Barrett’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Like what?”
Rory leaned forward, her voice low and intense. “Like the fact that we know about your history with the Montero ranch. About the protests, the vandalism. And now we have three dead ranchers and a whole lot of evidence pointing in your direction.”
It was a bluff, but Rory watched Barrett carefully, looking for any reaction. There was fear there, certainly, but also…confusion?
“Three dead—” Barrett shook her head. “What are you talking about? I haven’t killed anyone!”
“Then why did you run?” Evan pressed. “Innocent people don’t usually flee from the police, Ms. Barrett.”
Barrett’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I know my rights.”
“Look,” Rory said, “we’re not here about petty vandalism or trespassing. This is about murder. Three people are dead, Ms. Barrett. If you’re innocent, help us understand why you ran.”
Barrett’s gaze flicked between Rory and Evan, uncertainty replacing her defiance. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly wrestling with herself.
“My lawyer,” she started, then stopped, shaking her head. “No, this is crazy. I can’t be a suspect in a murder investigation.”
“Then talk to us,” Rory said. “Help us clear your name.”
Barrett was silent for a long moment, her fingers drumming nervously on the table. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, I ran because…because I thought you were there about the spray paint. I didn’t…I never meant for anyone to get hurt. It was just supposed to be a message.”
Rory and Evan exchanged a quick glance. They were finally getting somewhere, but they had to tread carefully to keep Barrett talking.
“Spray paint?” Rory asked.
Barrett sighed, seeming to deflate. “Last week. I… I tagged some of the Montero fences. Slogans about animal cruelty, that sort of thing. It was stupid, I know, but I was angry. They’d expanded their operation, were talking about doubling their herd size. All those animals, suffering…”
She trailed off, blinking back tears. Rory pushed a box of tissues across the table, her mind working furiously. Could she believe Barrett? Or was this all an act?
“Liza,” Rory said softly, using her first name to establish a connection. “I need you to listen carefully. In the past week, three ranchers have been murdered: Clayton Harrow, Talia Montero, and Wesley Kade. They were killed in a very specific way, with a strange symbol left at each scene.”
Barrett’s eyes widened in genuine shock. “Talia’s dead? But I just saw her at the feed store a couple days ago! She was…oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.
Evan shot Rory a questioning look. She gave a small nod—Barrett’s reaction seemed too raw, too immediate to be faked.
“Liza,” Rory continued gently. “I believe you when you say you didn’t kill anyone. But we need your help. Is there anything you can tell us about Talia, about any of the ranchers, that might help us understand why they were targeted?”
Barrett looked up, her face tear-streaked but thoughtful. “I… I don’t know. Talia and I disagreed on a lot of things, but she wasn’t a bad person. She was actually working on more humane practices for her cattle. That’s part of why her expansion plans made me so angry—I thought she was selling out.”
She paused, brow furrowed in concentration. “There was something, though. Last time I saw her, Talia seemed…distracted. Mentioned something about the cattle, how they’d been restless for the past few nights.”
“Did she have any idea why?” Rory asked.
Barrett shook her head. “No, and that’s why she was so worried.”
“Thank you, Liza,” Rory said, standing. “You’ve been incredibly helpful. We’re going to have an officer take your official statement about the vandalism, but for now, I don’t think we’ll be charging you with anything more serious than that.”
As they left the interrogation room, Rory’s mind was racing. They’d been wrong about Barrett, but in the process, they might have stumbled onto something far more sinister.
“Why would the cattle have been restless days before Talia was killed?” Evan asked as they walked back to their desks.
“I can think of two reasons,” Rory said. “Either our killer kept trying to lure her out, and the circumstances weren’t just right—maybe she wasn’t alone—or else he had to work himself up to actually going through with the deed.”
“You think he chickened out?”
Rory shrugged. “Taking lives isn’t easy. But if that really is the reason behind the cattle’s agitation…I have a feeling our killer has put his hesitation behind him now.”