Deadly Secrets
Author
Cathy McDavid
Reads
18.2K
Chapters
14
A rancher searching for answers… uncovers a town's sinister secrets Rancher Ridge Burnham unearths a gun and a strongbox of cash on his property — possible leads in his father's unsolved murder. The sheriff's department has ignored the case for years, but rookie deputy Elena Tomes is determined to prove herself by helping him find the truth. Faced with the town's sordid history of drug running, Elena and Ridge must work together and trust each other. Now this decades-old cold case will expose the rot in their small ranching community…and the secrets that someone will kill for.
ONE
The old woman stood on her dusty concrete porch stoop and leveled an arthritic finger at Deputy Elena Tomes. Tucked in the crook of her other arm, a fat gray cat hissed and growled and dug its sharp claws into the woman’s skin deep enough to draw blood. She didn’t appear to notice.
“What are you going to do about it?” she demanded.
Elena silently prayed for patience. “As I explained to you when I first arrived, there’s nothing I can do.”
“That vicious dog next door keeps coming into my yard and scaring poor Peaches.”
“You have to call Animal Control.”
“I did. And they said because the dog wasn’t on my property when they got here, all they could do was issue a verbal warning.”
Elena glanced over at the neighbor’s backyard where the dog in question, a white ball of corkscrew curls hardly bigger than the cat, played chase with a pair of giggling girls. Vicious? Elena doubted it. More likely the dog was defending itself against Peaches’s assault.
She noted the bent chain-link fence with its many holes separating the two properties. “Maybe if you repaired the fence, the dog wouldn’t get into your yard.”
“Me?” the woman gasped. “Their dog is the one trespassing. Fixing the fence is their responsibility.”
“Have you told them that?”
She squared her shoulders, the bony knobs visible beneath her droopy cardigan. “I have. They refuse.”
“Then maybe you should take them to court. Let a judge decide. But in any case, this isn’t a matter for the sheriff’s department. You can’t keep calling with nuisance complaints.”
“Nuisance?” Vivid red splotches bloomed on her wrinkled cheeks. “I’ll have you know I won’t be voting for you in the next election.”
Elena swallowed a sigh. “I’m not an elected official, ma’am. You’re thinking of the Cochise County sheriff. I’m just a regular employee.”
Elena had been hired on four months ago at the Ironwood Creek Sheriff’s Substation. Her recruitment was part of the governor’s new program to fill deputy vacancies with female and underrepresented candidates.
But Elena didn’t explain any of that to the old woman. There was no point.
“What’s the name of your supervisor?” the woman demanded. “I have half a mind to report you.”
“Sergeant Deputy Jake Peterson. I can write that down for you if you want.”
“Oh, trust me. I’ll remember.”
“If that’s all, ma’am...” Elena tugged on the brim of her dark green ball cap. She didn’t much like the regulation headwear, but it did protect her from the sun, relentless in this southeastern corner of Arizona even during winter.
Besides, the hat, combined with aviator sunglasses, made her look tougher and older. With her small stature and youthful features, few people took Elena seriously. That included her fellow deputies, much to her consternation.
She felt the old woman’s stare burn into her as she walked to where her county-issued black-and-white SUV sat parked alongside the narrow street. Curtains parted and blinds separated as nosy people peered out their windows at the goings-on.
Elena paid them no heed and climbed into the driver’s seat. There, she squeezed her eyes shut, already dreading the paperwork for this unnecessary call.
“Lord, I know You led me here for a reason, and I’m willing to wait until that reason reveals itself. But in the meantime, I could sure use a bit of encouragement.”
After a moment, she sat up and radioed the station. Ironwood Creek was what her Abuelo Carlos called a service town, meaning it existed solely to support local industry—which in Ironwood Creek happened to be cattle and agriculture. Besides Jake and the deputy chief, Elena shared duties with two others. Not much ever happened of consequence, and protocol leaned toward lax. A hundred-and-eighty degrees from Elena’s last position in Phoenix.
Sage Blackwell answered with her usual even tone. “How was the ever-congenial cat lady?”
“Let Jake know she may be calling him to report her dissatisfaction with me. Over.”
“He’ll love that.” Sage had been the station secretary and deputy chief’s assistant for the past three years. Nothing fazed her.
“Maybe you can run interference? Over.”
“I’ll try. Can’t promise.”
Elena nodded to herself. She liked Jake. He was the only member of the station’s informal boys’ club to treat Elena like an actual deputy and not Sage’s underling, good only for brewing coffee, answering the phone and dealing with nuisance calls. Not that he’d taken Elena under his wing. He had a reputation to maintain with his buddies, after all. But at least he talked to her with respect and, when no one was listening, offered advice.
“Thanks. I’m going to patrol behind the abandoned pecan orchard. See you at the station in about an hour. Over and out.”
“Be careful.” Sage recited those two words every time and to everyone when she signed off. In that regard, Elena was an accepted member of the team.
Patrolling the abandoned orchard had been the first duty assigned to her when she arrived in Ironwood Creek. Grunt work for the untested rookie considered to be a liability in the field. Elena wasn’t sent on calls to investigate stolen cattle or defuse a domestic situation. She didn’t bust drug dealers or even break up bar fights.
Instead, she helped tourists move their disabled vehicles from blocking traffic, picked up homeless individuals in the park and drove them to the shelter, and responded to irate older women with fat cats who didn’t get along with their neighbors. On occasion, and when no one else was available, she was called for backup. Like the time an enraged man had held his ex-girlfriend hostage in his parents’ barn.
Incidents like that, however, were few and far between. Whether because she was new or a woman or both, Elena’s fellow deputies and the chief didn’t trust her. And neither had they given her the opportunity to prove herself. Yet.
The ancient pecan trees came into view, the late-afternoon sun glinting through their spindly barren branches. According to Sage, the orchard had been abandoned a decade ago and, to this day, the land remained tied up in a family trust, going unsold and untended. It had become a favorite party spot for errant teens. Not to mention a hideout for runaways and a magnet for stray dogs.
Elena’s second pass revealed nothing more troublesome than a small herd of deer in search of grass, sparse in colder weather. At her appearance, they bounded away and vanished among the trees. She was just executing a U-turn when Sage’s voice hailed her on the radio. Elena pressed the button on the transmitter.
“Deputy Tomes here.” She always identified herself. Her protocol wasn’t that lax. “What’s up, Sage? Over.”
“Chief needs you to head to Ridge Burnham’s place. You know where that is?”
“I do. What’s going on?”
“He called in. Found an old handgun buried under his well house.”
All right. Not exactly a hostage situation, but more exciting than scaring away deer. Elena decided Oscar Wentworth, the other deputy on duty, must be busy. Otherwise, the chief would have sent him.
“I’ll radio in when I arrive. Over and out.”
“Be careful.”
Elena knew Ridge Burnham, or more accurately, she was acquainted with him. He attended Hillside Church, the church home Elena had found since coming to Ironwood Creek. They’d met a few times through Jake, who also attended Hillside Church with his family. Jake was married to Ridge’s older sister, Gracie. They had two adorable daughters, aged three and six.
That was another reason Elena thought Jake secretly helped her. Women like Elena were paving the way for little girls like his, showing them by example that they had no limits and could be whatever they wanted.
Five miles down the road, she turned into the Burnham place. A long dirt drive flanked by mesquite trees and the town’s namesake ironwoods took her to the main house. She could imagine that a generation ago, the former cattle ranch had been a showplace. Now, it sat in disrepair, a victim of weather, neglect and vandalism. Jake once mentioned that Ridge had retired from a successful rodeo career with the intent of restoring the family ranch his late father had driven into the ground. From what Elena could see, he had his work cut out for him.
As she drew nearer to the house, she slowed. Ridge appeared from the doorway of a shed and waved her over. She pulled up next to an ATV and parked. Adjusting her cap and aviator sunglasses, she got out and started toward him.
“Afternoon, Ridge.”
“Thanks for coming so quickly.”
He took off his leather work gloves and stuffed them in the pockets of his fleece-lined jacket. When they shook hands, her slim fingers disappeared inside his larger, stronger ones. The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but Elena instantly dismissed it. If she was interested in dating, Ridge’s handsome features would appeal to her. But her career came first, and that wouldn’t change until she’d established herself.
“I’m told you found an old handgun,” she said.
“Yeah.” He led her to the back of the ATV. “The main pipe in my well house has a leak. I was digging under the side of the well house when my shovel hit something that shouldn’t have been there.” He reached into the ATV’s small bed and lifted a burlap cloth. There lay a .40 caliber revolver coated in dirt. “I found this.”
Elena leaned closer. A Smith & Wesson, she thought, though that would need to be confirmed. “You should have left it there and waited for the professionals. It might have accidentally discharged.”
“The gun’s not loaded.”
“You checked?”
“I did.”
Elena had learned since coming to Ironwood Creek that most of the ranchers in the area were knowledgeable about firearms. The difference between rural and urban living.
“You’re fortunate,” she said. “Had the gun been loaded, you might not be standing here.”
“I guess God was watching out for me.”
“He was,” Elena agreed. “I’m assuming you don’t recognize the gun, or you wouldn’t have called.”
“I’ve never seen it before.”
“Okay. I can take it to the station for you.”
“And then what?” Ridge wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and his intense blue eyes bored into hers.
“The serial number will be traced. Hopefully, we’ll find the owner of record. Learn if the gun was reported stolen or used in a crime.”
“The serial number’s been ground off.”
“You checked that, too?”
Rather than answer, Ridge asked, “Am I required by law to turn the gun over to you?”
“Is there a reason you wouldn’t? You did call.”
“I think it might have something to do with my dad’s homicide.”
“Ah.” Elena had heard about the late Pete Burnham’s murder eighteen years ago. The case remained unsolved and ice-cold.
“I don’t want the gun to get buried at the bottom of some box in the evidence room or sent off to a lab, never to return.”
He sounded like he was speaking from experience.
“Why do you think the gun’s connected to your dad’s homicide?”
“Because of this.” Ridge removed more of the burlap cloth to reveal a rusty metal strongbox. Beside it lay a pair of bolt cutters and a padlock, the shackle split in two pieces. “Take a look.”
He lifted the strongbox lid. Inside were neat stacks of what appeared to be banded hundred-dollar bills, each securely wrapped in plastic.
Elena felt her jaw go slack. “Huh.”
“I found the strongbox after I called the station,” Ridge said.
“That’s a lot of cash.”
“My rough count, over forty thousand dollars.”
And rather than keep the money for himself, he’d reported it to the authorities. Interesting, thought Elena.
“I’m convinced my dad was either killed for what’s in this strongbox,” Ridge said, “or he hid it because he knew someone was after him.”
She retreated a step from the ATV, the gravity of his discovery sinking in. “I need to call for backup.”
Ridge watched Elena as she rested an elbow on the hood of her SUV and talked into her radio. Deputy Tomes, he amended. She was here on business. He’d met her a few times at church and seen her once or twice around town. On those occasions, she’d been out of uniform. He’d had trouble imagining the petite, dark-haired beauty wielding a gun and taking down criminals. She’d seemed too delicate.
He didn’t have that problem today. She exuded a confidence worthy of admiration.
Because she was new to town, she may not know all the details of his dad’s homicide. That could come in handy for Ridge. Or work against him. It was too soon to tell and too early in their acquaintance.
If things were different, he’d remedy that and ask her out for coffee. But his focus was elsewhere. Specifically on rebuilding the ranch and restoring his family’s good name. Both had been damaged by his late father, and solving his homicide could help significantly with the latter.
Besides, Elena gave off strong not-interested-in-dating vibes. Ridge didn’t take the slight personally. She gave off the same vibes to every unattached man who attempted to flirt with her, leastwise according to his sister, Gracie. As the church’s self-appointed matchmaker, she’d know and would have moved mountains to put an attractive, available single woman like Elena in Ridge’s path. Since he’d retired from the professional rodeo circuit and returned home, she’d made it her personal mission to find his soulmate.
Ridge wanted that, too. Someday. Just not yet.
Elena finished her radio call and returned to where Ridge waited by the ATV.
“Chief Dempsey will be here shortly. He’s stopping to pick up Jake first.”
Ridge nodded. He’d rather the chief came alone. Not that he didn’t get along with his brother-in-law—Jake was a good husband to Ridge’s sister, Gracie and a loving father. He and Ridge were fans of the same sports teams and enjoyed nothing better than riding the mountain trails surrounding Ironwood Creek. But they didn’t agree when it came to Ridge’s late father. Jake thought Ridge should leave the past in the past and move on with his life. In Jake’s opinion, Pete Burnham had been a drunk and a good-for-nothing and undeserving of the effort and emotion Ridge expended on him.
“Would you like a water?” he asked Elena.
“Thank you.”
“Come on inside. We’ll be able to see when the chief and Jake arrive through the kitchen window.”
Elena followed him to the rectangular courtyard at the rear of the house. Three citrus trees—a lemon, an orange, and a grapefruit—stood guard. This time of year, like every February, they were still heavy with fruit.
Ridge opened the wooden gate and motioned for her to precede him. He did the same at the door leading to the kitchen. Warm air enveloped them, a welcome relief from the forty-degree temperature outside.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He indicated the kitchen table and then continued toward an ice chest on the floor, where he removed two bottles of water. Returning to the table, he handed a bottle to Elena.
She perched on the edge of the seat, every muscle rigid. When she removed her sunglasses, her large brown eyes met his gaze before traveling the room and noting every detail.
“You’re remodeling,” she said matter-of-factly.
Ridge hung his cowboy hat and jacket on the back of his chair before sitting across from her. “One of my many projects.”
“Must be hard to fix meals with no appliances and no cabinets.”
“I eat a lot of fast food. There’s also a microwave and toaster oven on the TV tray over there.” He unscrewed his bottled water and took a long swig. “The new cabinets will be installed the first of the week. The appliances after that.”
“Should look nice.”
“I’m limiting the inside work to the kitchen and bathrooms. For now. Most of my repairs and restorations will be to the outbuildings and grounds, which, I’m sure you noticed on your way in, are in bad shape.”
“Like the well house?”
“Like the well house.”
Elena considered for a moment. “What makes you think your father is the one who buried the gun and the money? Could have been anyone.”
“Well, it wasn’t my mom. That’s for sure.”
“You asked her?”
“No need. She’d have dug up the money years ago if she knew about it and kept every dime.”
Ridge’s mother shared Jake’s low opinion of her late husband and disagreed with Ridge’s efforts to rebuild the ranch, constantly pestering him to sell. Ridge refused. Pete Burnham had inherited the ranch from Ridge’s grandfather and passed it on to his children. For now, Gracie supported Ridge’s plans to renovate. That could change. Their mom pestered Gracie, too.
“My sister and I were young when Dad died,” he said. “Who else but him could have, or would have, buried the gun and strongbox?”
Elena sipped her water. “Let’s assume for a minute it was your dad. How did he come into such a large sum of money? I heard he...didn’t work much.”
“That’s true.” Ridge tried to ignore the eighteen-year-old ache in his chest. “Worse than that, he drank away most of what little money he did earn. So, no, I have no idea how he acquired forty thousand dollars. Except my gut tells me he’s the one who buried it there. If a cartel drug runner needed a place to hide money and a gun, they’d have buried it in the mountains, not beneath someone’s well house where the owner might find it.”
Elena sat up. “Drug runner?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you when you took the job?”
“Tell me what?”
“Ironwood Creek has a pretty unsavory history.”
“Really?”
“Look it up. We used to be a gateway town for bringing illegal drugs into the country. At night, you could see headlights winding through the outskirts of town. I used to watch them from my bedroom window traveling the far edges of our ranch. When I asked my mom about the headlights, she told me I was imagining things. My dad said to just ignore them and go to sleep.”
“What was done to stop the drug runners?”
“Nothing. People bolted their doors and stayed inside.”
Elena shook her head. “I had no idea.”
“An altercation with a drug runner is the explanation we were given for my dad’s homicide. He must have encountered one of them, who then pushed him off the ledge into the ravine. Evidence at the scene pointed to a possible struggle.”
Elena studied Ridge thoughtfully. “But you don’t believe that story.”
“Not for a minute.”
“Why?”
Her talents were being wasted as a deputy. She’d make a fine investigator. Not only because she asked questions, but because she listened and observed.
“Earlier on the day my dad was killed, I went out to the barn looking for him. When I got there, I heard him arguing with some guy. I was curious and a little scared. My dad seldom raised his voice. I ducked around the side of the barn and snuck in the back entrance. I hid behind the tractor and eavesdropped. They were too busy yelling to notice me.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“Someone named the Hawk who was on the way. My dad apparently had an agreement with them.”
“Them being the Hawk?” Elena asked.
“I’m not sure. Not much of what they said made sense.”
“What else?”
“The guy kept saying my dad gave his word and going back on it would cost him and his family. That’s when the two of them got into a scuffle. Next thing, the guy shoved my dad to the ground, told him that he was a dead man and stormed out. I ran to my dad and helped him up. He insisted he was okay, that it was nothing, and not to tell my mom.”
“Did you describe this man to the authorities?”
Ridge snorted in disgust. “For all the good it did. Long hair. Scruffy beard. A brown T-shirt and jeans. I might have been describing any random fifty guys in Ironwood Creek. The detective said it didn’t matter, anyway. I was young and, according to him, an unreliable witness.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve. Almost thirteen.”
“Not that young,” Elena commented.
She was the first person to agree with Ridge.
“My age was irrelevant,” he said. “People were determined to discredit me.”
“What people?”
“I don’t know. Maybe those who stood to benefit the most from the mass amounts of illegal drugs being moved through the area. Millions of dollars’ worth. Operations that size don’t exist without help and without law enforcement and elected officials turning a blind eye. For a percentage, I’m sure. Isn’t that how these things work?”
“That’s a serious accusation. Do you have anything to back it up?”
“Only suspicions.” He shrugged and took another swig of water. “Which, I’ve learned, will get you nowhere.”
“You think your dad was involved with the cartel?”
“Involved or a witness.” Ridge leaned forward. “My dad wasn’t the only one killed. See for yourself. Find his case and read about it.”
Elena also leaned forward. “Do you suspect the man your dad argued with killed him?”
“Yes.”
“What evidence at the scene made the police rule your dad’s death a homicide?”
“Footprints and broken branches, plus the location and position of my dad’s body, all indicated he’d been pushed. Nothing to identify who did the pushing. No game or security cameras. No witness driving by.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not uncommon.”
“But I found something in the barn that day,” Ridge continued. “On the ground, in the dirt. A gold chain. It must have belonged to the guy and fell off when he and my dad scuffled. When I showed the chain to my dad, he ripped it out of my hands and shoved it in his pocket.” Ridge swallowed what felt like a tangle of barbed wire. “Five hours later he was dead, and the gold chain wasn’t in his pocket.”
“You think he hid the chain or that whoever might have pushed him took it?”
“My guess is he hid it.”
“Why?”
“Insurance. To use against the guy he argued with.”
Elena released a long breath. “I wish I could say differently, Ridge, but that doesn’t prove anything.”
“If I can find the chain, it might. My dad didn’t leave after the scuffle, and no one else came over. It wasn’t until later, near dusk, that he hiked into the hills. Since the chain wasn’t on him, and he didn’t give it to any of us, it must be somewhere on this ranch.”
“What if he disposed of it?”
“I went through the trash. I wanted to show the police I wasn’t inventing stories for attention.”
Anger and frustration rose anew and clawed to the surface. He heard again the accusations made by thoughtless individuals that had shaped his future life, almost as much as losing his father at a young age had. Years of riding bulls and broncs hadn’t driven away the pain. Neither had prayer, nor counseling from his Cowboy Church preacher. He hoped restoring the ranch would finally bring him peace.
Perhaps his brother-in-law was right and Ridge needed to let go of the past—but he wasn’t ready. And finding the gun and money felt like a sign from above for him to continue seeking answers.
“Why did your dad hike up into the hills?” Elena asked. “Seems a strange thing to do so late in the day.”
“Not that strange.” One of the fond memories Ridge had of his dad returned. Too often, it felt like he was the only one who remembered the late Pete Burnham with affection. “He was an amateur prospector. We went out together a lot. Never found much to brag about, but we had fun. That’s what counts.”
“Was any prospecting equipment found at the scene of the homicide?” Elena asked.
“None.”
“Okay. So, if he didn’t go into the hills to prospect, then why?”
“To meet the Hawk?” Ridge suggested.
“Or to get away from him.”
He sat up, suddenly energized. Why hadn’t he considered that before? After the argument with the bearded guy, Ridge should have realized his dad had been running from danger.
The next instant, a different, more alarming scenario occurred to him.
“Dad could have been drawing his killer away from the ranch. To save me, my sister and my mom. The guy he’d been arguing with did threaten the family.”
“That’s possible,” Elena agreed. “But unfortunately, you’ll probably never know.”
For the first time, emotion showed in her expression. Ridge saw compassion and empathy mixed with sorrow and felt a sudden bond with her. Perhaps, like him, she’d suffered loss and had failed to receive needed closure.
Before he could respond, they heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle. Ridge pushed back from the table and stood. Elena followed suit, and they both glanced out the kitchen window.
“The chief and Jake are here,” he said, and reached for his cowboy hat and jacket.
She put on her sunglasses and followed him outside. Ridge readied himself for what would no doubt be yet another battle with law enforcement.