Texas Scandal
Auteur
Barb Han
Lezers
18,4K
Hoofdstukken
22
Chapter One
Tiernan Hayes stood on the steps of his back porch and whistled. Loki, his black Lab mix who was all heart and every kind of trouble, had chased after a squirrel and disappeared into the scrub brush. Since the one-year-old rescue had given chase to a rabbit yesterday and come home reeking of skunk spray, Tiernan didn’t have time for a repeat performance. Not two days in a row.
“Loki,” he shouted as he jogged across the small yard toward the wooded area on his property. He owned as far as the eye could see and then some. His decade on the rodeo circuit might’ve given his body every crick and groan, but it had also made him enough money to start a custom saddle business and buy his own four-acre piece of the Lone Star State. Not too bad if anyone asked him.
He listened for Loki’s heavy breathing or the sound of twigs breaking as he bolted across the scrub. Something moved deeper into the trees and to the clearing. The back of his property backed up to a farm road. Even though there was little traffic, he still worried Loki would run in front of a truck. The animal was bright. That wasn’t the problem. He was curious and had way too much puppy inside him to make good decisions. Any Lab owner would agree that it took about five years for them to settle down enough to become the best dog anyone could hope to own.
One down. Four to go. But who was counting?
Tiernan had a busy day ahead. Orders were stacking up. His brothers had reached out to tell him to come home to the family cattle ranch his grandfather had built from scratch. Duncan Hayes was the reason Tiernan had left Cider Creek after high school graduation. The man had been a bear. His grandfather’s recent death from heat exhaustion had weighed heavy on Tiernan’s heart, since his mother was left to work the multimillion-dollar operation on her own. She had requested everyone come home for an announcement. A couple of Tiernan’s brothers made the trip and deemed it necessary for everyone to follow suit. If Tiernan could get ahead of his orders, he would make the trip. At this rate, he was looking at the New Year before he could wrap up all the Christmas presents on order. He didn’t have it in his heart for a young rider to be disappointed at the holidays.
In fact, he’d taken on too much after a few parents begged. The money would come in handy, too. He never took for granted the fact he was building his business—a business based on his success on the circuit. He was developing a reputation by delivering high-quality custom saddles on time.
Since there was still no sign of Loki, Tiernan headed deeper into the thicket. He whistled again without any luck. This dog was determined to make Tiernan work for it today. Hells bells. The clock was ticking, and he was already pulling eighteen-hour days in the small shop he’d built behind his log-cabin-style home. Everyone had told him that he could set his own hours as an entrepreneur, and yet he worked all of them anyway.
Growing up working a cattle ranch had given him the right skills to survive. Calving season, which ran from January to March at Hayes Cattle, had taught him how to go days without sleep.
His boot caught on a vine. He narrowly escaped a face-plant by grabbing hold of the closest tree trunk, a mesquite. Pain shot through his right shoulder with contact. When he brought his gaze up, he saw movement ahead in a small clearing. Wind gusted, sending a stench that hit Tiernan so hard it nearly doubled him over. Bile burned the back of his throat at the smell of rotting meat with a tinge of sweetness to it. He was familiar with the scent.
Loki was digging where Tiernan guessed was the source of the smell. A dead animal shouldn’t be buried.
“Loki,” he said in more of a commanding than casual tone. “Come.”
Loki’s ears perked up. He craned his neck around, locked on to Tiernan and then bolted toward him. The dog had two speeds—full-on assault as he gunned toward Tiernan and passed-out-on-the-floor mode, usually belly up.
Tiernan fished his cell phone out of his back pocket. He checked the bars to make sure he had service before calling 911.
“Fire, sheriff or ambulance?” the female voice asked on the other end of the line.
“Sheriff,” he confirmed.
“What’s the nature of this call?” the dispatcher asked after introducing herself as Helen.
“Based on the smell and the fact there’s a fresh grave, I suspect there’s a dead body buried on my property,” Tiernan said. He knew better than to tamper with a site that might be considered a crime scene. He’d tracked enough dangerous poachers in his younger years and worked with enough law enforcement to know how important preserving a crime scene could be to an investigation.
Of course, he hoped like hell he was wrong about the dead body. Years of experience said he wasn’t.
“What’s your location, sir?” Helen asked.
A twig snapped to the left. Loki caught sight of something moving, so naturally he took off toward it.
“Loki,” Tiernan scolded. It was too late. The dog had selective hearing when he locked on to a target, and he’d already disappeared into the thicket. Tiernan bit back a curse.
“Sir?” Helen said.
“Sorry.” Tiernan turned to follow Loki as it occurred to him a murderer might still be on his land. Since he hadn’t been expecting anything in the neighborhood of chasing down a cold-blooded killer, his Colt 45 was inside his workshop. It came in handy when there were coyotes around.
He gave his location and told Helen where a deputy could find him. Then, he stayed on the line with her until Deputy Calhoun arrived on the scene.
“I’m Tiernan Hayes,” he said to the deputy before extending a hand. Calhoun gave a firm shake. “My dog caught a scent and ended up here.” He motioned toward the site, wondering if he’d ever get the putrid smell out of his nose.
Calhoun walked over to the fresh grave after tying a bandana around his face to cover his nose. A small shovel extended from his left hand. Digging lasted less than two minutes before he glanced over and then nodded, confirming there was a dead body inside.
AS FAR AS thick gray clouds went, the ones slowly rolling across the Austin sky hinted at a gloom and doom kind of day. Melody Cantor walked to her sedan, light in her step despite Mother Nature’s somber mood. The job interview had gone well, and an offer was promised, meaning she would be able to put in her notice at the soul-sucking job where she presently worked for one of the wealthiest men in Texas. At thirty-three, she was starting to realize how fast time flew. Wasting another day as the right hand of real estate tycoon Byron Hunter, with his endless demands and sparse compensation by comparison, wasn’t worth it. Melody had drawn the line when he’d looked the other way while his firstborn son made an inappropriate pass at a Give Thanks–themed open house two weeks ago. There was nothing to be grateful for while she was trying to fight off Spence Hunter, who’d seemed determined to keep her from climbing down from the ladder she’d been on.
If luck was on her side, the offer from Community Planners would be waiting in her email inbox by the time she arrived home. The company was much larger than the family-owned operation where she currently worked.
A white slip of paper fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage on the windshield of her Camry. A parking ticket? Melody bit back a curse and denied this could be an omen.
As she neared her vehicle, which she’d wedged into what she believed was a legal spot, she realized the paper was too wide to be a ticket. A note? Was someone cursing her out for taking a spot that belonged to them?
Great. Just great.
Melody snatched the paper from her windshield and flattened the note onto the hood of her car.
Drive fifty miles west.
Right now? Was this a prank? She glanced up and down the street, unsure of exactly who or what she was looking for. Someone laughing? Someone staring? Someone paying special attention to her now that she’d read the message? No one seemed to notice her or care, but it was impossible to see everything. Someone could be hiding.
A cold shiver raced up her spine as she reread the chicken scratch handwriting. What was fifty miles from her current location? This had to be a misunderstanding or some kind of practical joke.
Melody reached inside her handbag and located the key fob. She palmed it and then clicked the unlock button. Camrys weren’t exactly rare. This note being placed on hers was probably a mistake.
She took the driver’s seat and then closed the door behind her.
What if it wasn’t, though? She locked the door before grabbing her cell phone to check Google Maps. From her location, fifty miles west of Austin would put her in Blanco, Johnson City or Meadowlakes. Just shy of those would put her in Marble Falls or possibly Shovel Mountain. Since she didn’t know anyone who lived in any of those cities, she crumpled up the note and tossed it onto the passenger seat, determined not to let the cryptic message ruin her post-interview high.
Besides, it wasn’t a ticket, which was no small miracle considering parking in Austin was almost as confusing as sitting in on her employer’s meetings with his accountant at tax time.
A thought struck as Melody navigated out of the parking spot where she was sandwiched between a red Tesla and a Ducati motorcycle. Could this somehow be related to her father? After all, he was in prison awaiting trial for mail fraud. He’d convinced a whole lot of folks they’d be better off handing over their money to “get in on the ground floor” of his new business opportunity. An investigation into his business operations turned up even more charges.
The scheme he’d initially been busted for turned out to be the tip of the iceberg on his illegal dealings. But walking in on her father while he was cheating on her mother with Melody’s favorite high school English teacher in her office had shattered all her beliefs about growing up in what she’d once believed was the perfect family.
When it came to Henry Cooper Cantor II, her attitude was more like, What has he done now? Her brother, Henry Cooper Cantor III, who went by Coop, worked for their father and claimed the man was innocent. Evidence didn’t seem to agree. Melody had walked away from the family drama after catching her dad with his pants down years ago. She’d donated her trust fund to feed the hungry and never looked back. Now, she wished she had kept some so she could repay at least a portion of the money her father had taken from others. The thought of all those lavish birthday parties during her childhood that must have been funded by her father swindling other people out of their cash almost made her sick. Did it make her a target?
Fifty miles west? Was someone waiting out there for her to show up? A murderer? A rapist? Since her current line of thought had taken her to a dark place, she took in a slow, deep breath to hit the mental reset button.
The note creeped her out more than she wanted to admit.
“Call Coop’s cell,” she said to her phone after speaking the magic words to get its attention. Through some magic of Bluetooth technology, the call started ringing through her stereo speakers. She wondered if anyone even called them stereo speakers anymore. If not, what would the new name be? Car speakers made it simple enough.
“You okay?” Coop asked, sounding more than a little caught off guard by the random call. Granted, she could be better about keeping in touch. Since her parents’ divorce, the four of them no longer spent holidays together, let alone have regular conversations. There were no more birthday parties or Sunday brunch tables for four. Her mother, Tilly, had drawn a line in the sand that said she wanted out of all activities that involved her ex. The term coparenting was a joke when it came to her mother’s perspective on their former family. Thankfully, Melody and Coop had been old enough to take care of themselves.
“Fine,” she said, realizing she sounded the opposite.
“Is it Dad?” he asked.
“No,” she countered, feeling a little defensive at the abrasiveness in his tone.
“Then what?” he asked.
“Am I not allowed to call and check on my brother?” she asked, feeling every bit the hypocrite. He wasn’t too far off base. Lately, neither one called the other unless there was something to do with their father’s case. Usually, it was more bad news.
He didn’t respond.
“Okay, you got me,” she said. “I don’t call just to check on you but that doesn’t mean I don’t care or think about you.”
The truth was that she’d basically cut herself off from the family when she dumped her trust fund into Austin-area food banks. Her father had flipped out and her brother had called her delusional for thinking money grew on trees. He couldn’t begin to fathom why she might not want Cantor money or wasn’t bursting with pride to have the Cantor name.
Melody never once looked back after getting rid of the trust. Her brother had lost most of his betting on the stock market, thinking he could double it. So, he’d gone to work for their father to rebuild his personal wealth and she’d worked at ordinary jobs they all thumbed their noses at.
The reason for the tension in her brother’s voice dawned on her. If her father was involved in illegal activity, wouldn’t it stand to reason Coop had been, as well? At the very least, he had to have known about the criminal activity. The question was whether or not he was an accomplice or simply looked the other way.
“Are you doing okay, Coop?” she asked. “I mean, about everything?”
“There’s no reason not to be,” he countered a little too quickly. “Dad will beat this because he didn’t do anything wrong. This is a witch hunt, nothing more.”
“You said the exact same words the last time we spoke several weeks ago ever since Dad has been in jail,” she said. As much as she wanted to believe those words, there was far too much evidence to the contrary to be that naive or blindly loyal.
“Because they’re true,” Coop shot back. His defensiveness was on full display, coming through loud and clear on the line.
“And you?” she asked. “You didn’t answer my question about how you’re doing.”
“Dad is in jail,” he said with an accusatory tone. “How am I supposed to feel?”
“I guess that’s a fair point,” she reasoned, figuring this call was a mistake. Her brother would go to his grave defending their father. He’d treated her like the enemy after she freaked out over the man cheating years ago. Coop had made it seem like she was the reason the family had broken apart and their mother resented everything about her relationship with their father. As though witnessing her father’s infidelity hadn’t been soul crushing enough for Melody, the backlash was somehow her fault.
“I took a few days off and headed out of town to get my head straight,” he said. Coop had always lived in a fantasy world of his own making. Reality didn’t seem to have a place once he’d made up his mind on a subject. Words like facts and evidence had no bearing after Coop decided on their father’s innocence.
“Sounds like a good idea,” she said. A piece of Melody wished she had the ability to turn a blind eye to reality. Maybe then she would be a lot happier. Knowing the truth was awful on a lot of levels when it came to realizing her father wasn’t the person she’d believed he was for all those early years.
Hoping to make a quick pit stop at home to change out of her interview clothes, she saw a law enforcement vehicle on her street. What was going on?
There was a man sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV. He was better looking than anyone had a right to be. She didn’t recognize him. When he made eye contact, a trill of awareness shot through her despite the ominous scene unfolding.
For a split second, she thought about ditching the clothing change idea to avoid the hassle of going inside the apartment while something was going down. Work wasn’t far from here. Although, the thought of going into the office right now held no appeal. Besides, it might be better to find out what was up.
As she pulled into the spot where she usually parked at her above the garage apartment, the SUV pulled in right behind her, blocking her exit. Awareness was quickly replaced with fear as one of Austin PD’s finest came walking up to the driver’s side, right hand resting on the butt of the gun strapped to his hip.
“Coop, I have to go,” she said before ending the call and steeling herself for whatever was about to happen.
