Sheriff in the Saddle
Author
Delores Fossen
Reads
16,0K
Chapters
16
Chapter One
There’s been a murder at the Triple R Ranch.
Sheriff Leigh Mercer figured those were words no cop wanted to hear, but the dispatcher had been dead certain that was what the 911 caller had said.
Since the Triple R Ranch was in the jurisdiction of the Dark River Police Department, it was Leigh’s job to check it out. But she hoped like the devil that the caller had been wrong. There hadn’t been a murder in her hometown of Dark River, Texas, in nearly a decade, and for reasons other than just the obvious, Leigh wanted to keep it that way.
“You think we should call in Jeb on this?” Deputy Rocky Callaway asked her.
There was an edge to his voice, and leaning forward in the passenger’s seat of the cruiser, Rocky was drumming his fingers on his holstered sidearm. The deputy was showing some nerves, and that was the only reason Leigh didn’t scald him with a glance for asking that question.
Still, the question set her teeth on edge.
Jeb Mercer was her father, and before Leigh had pinned on the sheriff’s badge eighteen months ago, Jeb had held that particular title for over four decades. He’d trained her. Trained Rocky, too. And even though Leigh had been duly elected after her dad’s retirement, there were plenty, including Rocky, who’d always think of Jeb as the “real” sheriff.
“No, we’re not bringing in Jeb,” she insisted.
It was two in the morning, and she didn’t need him to hold her hand at a possible crime scene. She’d already gotten Rocky out of bed since he was the deputy on call, and right now he was the only backup she intended to have.
She stepped from the cruiser, the winter wind howling and swiping at her. Mercy, it was cold, a bone-deep kind of wet cold that poked like icy fingers through her buckskin coat and boots. Leigh suspected in less than an hour, the predicted sleet would start to come down in buckets and turn the roads into skating rinks.
The wind gusts flicked away any of the usual scents that she might have picked up from the ranch, but then again, usual didn’t apply to the Triple R. It was sprawling with its hundreds of acres of prime pastures to accommodate the hundreds of Angus cattle and prize quarter horses raised there.
The sleek white limestone house qualified as sprawling, too. Three floors that stretched out so far that it’d take a serious wide-angle lens to get it all in one photo. Lights speared out from at least a dozen of the windows.
Leigh flipped up the collar of her coat and glanced around. She hadn’t been to the Triple R in fourteen years, not since she’d come to a party here when she’d been a senior in high school. She had plenty of memories of that particular event.
Memories that she hoped wouldn’t get in the way if something bad had truly gone on here tonight.
Giving his own thick coat an adjustment, Rocky clamped his hand on his gun as they walked up the steps, and Leigh rang the doorbell. She automatically checked around for any signs that something was off. Nothing. And only a couple of seconds ticked by before the large double doors opened. Leigh instantly recognized the silver-haired woman who answered.
Rosa Tyree.
That was one of the advantages of living in a small town. Leigh knew most folks, and in this case, she knew that Rosa was a housekeeper at the ranch. A longtime one, having worked there for longer than Leigh had been alive. She was also well aware that Rosa didn’t usually look this frazzled.
“He won’t let me in the room,” Rosa volunteered right away. “He said I should wait down here for you.” Shivering from the cold, she frantically motioned for them to come in, and when they did, she shut the doors.
“He?” Leigh questioned though she was pretty sure she already knew what Rosa’s answer would be.
“Mr. Brodie,” Rosa provided, and then she added, “Mr. Cullen Brodie.”
Yep, Leigh had been right. Cullen Brodie was the owner of the Triple R, but his brother, Nick, and their father, Bowen, visited often. Leigh had been hoping for Nick or Bowen since Cullen was a huge part of those memories that she hoped wouldn’t get in the way.
“You made the 911 call?” Leigh asked the woman while she had a look around the foyer and the adjoining rooms.
Rosa nodded, followed her gaze. “The cleaning crew won’t be in until morning to clear up from the party.”
There was indeed some various glassware scattered on the tables in what Leigh supposed was called a great room. A room that lived up to the sprawling and plush standards of the rest of the ranch. There were also gleaming silver trays with remains of what had no doubt been tasty food. What was missing were guests, but maybe those who’d been invited to the engagement party had headed out so they could get home before the bad weather moved in.
“The, uh, body’s at the back of the house,” Rosa explained, fluttering her trembling fingers in that direction. “It’s the big room at the end of the hall. Mr. Brodie’s in there, too.”
Leigh did a quick trip down memory lane and silently groaned. That was Cullen Brodie’s bedroom. Or at least it had been years ago.
“Someone really got murdered here?” Rocky asked Rosa. “Who?”
“I don’t know who. But that’s what Mr. Brodie said, that there’d been a murder, and he told me to call 911. I didn’t see the body for myself though. Please don’t make me go in there,” the woman quickly added. “I don’t want to see a dead body.”
Leigh gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. She could easily agree to Rosa’s request because if this was indeed a murder, Leigh didn’t want the woman anywhere on the scene.
With Rocky at her heels, Leigh made her way down the hall to the big room. And yep, it was big all right. The doors to the massive bedroom suite were open, and even though it’d been redecorated in the years since she’d been here, it lived up to the size in her memory.
She didn’t see anything remotely resembling a dead body, but there was a live one all right. Leigh immediately spotted Cullen.
And she felt the punch of lust.
There was no other word for it. Pure, hot lust. Of course, Cullen had that effect on plenty of women, what with his rock-star face. Not a used up, has-been rock star, either, but one in his prime who could attract just by breathing. Sizzling blue eyes, midnight-black hair and a face that, well, created those punches of pure, hot lust.
He was seated in a dark red leather chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. The top buttons of his rumpled white shirt were undone, and his tie was tossed on the glossy mahogany table in front of him.
His gaze slid over her, settling for a long moment on the badge she had clipped to her belt. “Sheriff,” he said, and there wasn’t a trace of the smirk or disapproval that some folks doled out when they mentioned her title.
“Mr. Brodie,” Leigh greeted in return, and it earned her a raised eyebrow from him. Probably because the only other time she’d been in this room, they’d definitely been on a first-name basis.
Since Leigh didn’t want to remember that right now or think about the lust, she got down to business. “You had Rosa call 911 to report a body?”
Cullen nodded, his gesture slow and easy. The same as his movements when he got to his feet. He definitely wasn’t dressed like a rancher tonight in his black pants that had no doubt been tailored for that perfect fit.
When he got closer to her, she caught his scent. And she mentally sighed. He smelled expensive.
Leigh followed Cullen to the adjoining bath, but he didn’t go in. He stepped to the side to give her a clear view of the stark white room. A view that gave Leigh a gut-jab of reactions and emotions.
Sweet merciful heaven. There was blood. And lots of it. It was spattered on the tub, the walls. Even the mirror.
There was also a body.
The woman was sprawled out on the glossy white marble floor. She was a brunette with her arms and legs flailed out as if she’d tried to break her fall and then crawl away from her attacker. Maybe she’d managed to do that, but if so, she hadn’t gotten far, and it hadn’t helped save her. Nothing probably could have done that, considering the back of her head had been bashed in.
“Blunt force trauma,” Leigh muttered, hoping if she focused on the scene and not the body that her stomach would stop churning.
She didn’t normally have this kind of reaction to blood. Or a crime scene. But then, she’d never personally seen one this bad. During her time at the Lubbock Police Academy, she’d stayed on the fringes of murder investigations. An observer there to learn. Well, she wasn’t an observer tonight. She was right in the thick of it.
Leigh continued to look around. Continued to study what was right in front of her. There was no weapon that she could see, and there wasn’t any blood on the sharp corners of the counters to indicate that’s how the woman had been fatally injured.
“Uh, you want me to call Jeb?” Rocky asked, and the shakiness in his voice had gone up some significant notches.
“No.” This time Leigh didn’t manage to tamp down her glare when she glanced back at him.
Along with the shakiness, Rocky looked ready to boot. She was pretty sure this was his first murder scene, too.
“Go ahead and call the medical examiner and the county CSI team,” Leigh instructed. “We also need some deputies to do a room-to-room search and check the grounds. When you’re done with that, take Rosa’s statement. And the statements of anybody else who’s in the house.”
“No one else is here,” Cullen provided. Calmly provided.
If she hadn’t looked at Cullen, she might not have noticed the tight muscles in his jaw or the fierce set of his mouth. But she did look. Did notice. And she saw this had given him a gut-punch, too.
“But Jeb oughta be brought in on this,” Rocky protested.
This time, Leigh didn’t bother with words. She gave her deputy a look that could have frozen El Paso in August, and it was thankfully enough to get Rocky moving.
“I didn’t kill her,” Cullen said, those jaw muscles stirring again. “I found her when I came to my room after the party.”
He didn’t have to explain what party he was talking about. Small-town gossips had clued in everyone who’d listen or overhear about that. Cullen had hosted an engagement celebration for his friend Austin Borden and Austin’s fiancée, Kali Starling.
According to the bits Leigh had heard, there’d been about a hundred guests, most from Lubbock, about a half hour away. Since Austin lived in Lubbock and it was where Cullen had his main office, that didn’t surprise her. It was also no surprise that only a couple of locals had received invitations. Cullen hadn’t exactly kept close ties with many in his hometown.
Including her.
Leigh gave Cullen another once-over, and this time she made sure the lust stayed out of it. “You wore those clothes to the party?”
Cullen nodded. “I didn’t kill her,” he repeated.
She believed him. Whoever had done this would have had blood spatter on him or her, and Leigh didn’t see so much as a speck on Cullen. Of course, a smart killer would have changed his clothes before calling in the cops, but Leigh didn’t think that was what happened here.
“It’s Alexa,” Cullen added when Leigh was about to go inside the bathroom.
That sent Leigh whirling back around to face him. “Alexa Daly?” she asked on a rise of breath.
Cullen nodded and had another gulp of his drink while he kept his eyes on the body.
Leigh swallowed hard. This just got a whole lot stickier. Because Alexa was Cullen’s ex-girlfriend. There’d been plenty of rumors about that, too. Leigh didn’t know how much of what she’d heard about the breakup was actually true, but just about everyone agreed that it’d been a nasty one. There’d been some public arguments and rumors of a restraining order. Later, Leigh would have to suss out how much of that was gossip and how much was fact.
“Did you touch the body?” she continued, stepping inside the room. Leigh was careful to avoid any of the blood while she surveyed the area.
“Yes. I checked for a pulse on her neck. There wasn’t one, and her body was already cold so I didn’t try CPR. I called out for Rosa to dial 911.”
So, there could be trace evidence from Cullen. She wished he hadn’t made that a possibility, but it was instinct to make a check like that. Well, instinct for some. Others would have just panicked and run.
She stooped down to get a closer look at the body. Yes, it was Alexa all right, and even death hadn’t been able to completely steal her beauty. Someone, however, had definitely stolen her life. Alexa’s now blank emerald green eyes stared up at her.
“How many people had access to your bathroom?” Leigh continued her examination of the body and didn’t see any self-defense wounds. No blood or tissue under Alexa’s perfectly manicured nails, which had been painted bloodred.
“Anyone who came to the party, and that includes any of the catering crew who set things up. Guests don’t make a habit of coming back here, but it does happen every now and then.”
Leigh looked back at him again to see if that was a little jab at her. After all, she had come to his room fourteen years ago during a party. She hadn’t made a habit of doing that, either. In fact, it’d been her first.
Cullen had been her first.
And that was yet something else that she nudged aside.
“I’ll need a guest list along with the names of any catering staff,” she told him, shifting her focus back to the dead woman. “Include the names of any of your ranch hands or hired help who might have had access.”
“I’ll have Rosa give it to you. Alexa’s name won’t be on it,” he explained. “She wasn’t invited, and I didn’t know she was here.”
Leigh wasn’t surprised that Alexa hadn’t been invited, but she was wearing party clothes. A clingy silk dress the color of expensive sapphires. Her wrists, neck and ears glittered with gold and diamonds, which ruled out robbery as a possible motive. Well, unless the would-be thief had panicked after she’d hit the floor.
“Alexa had a key to the place?” Leigh asked.
Cullen shook his head. “I had the locks changed after we broke up, but the house wasn’t locked tonight. She could have walked in except...” He paused.
“Except?” she pressed.
“She’s not wearing a coat, and I didn’t see one in here or in my bedroom. Plus, there’s no vehicle unaccounted for in the driveway. I checked out the windows and didn’t spot one,” he told her. “I also don’t see a purse.”
“You’re observant,” Leigh muttered, not at all surprised by that.
The ranch was a huge success, and from all accounts, that was because of Cullen. He might not spend much time at the house, but he still ran it, and observation skills would come in handy for that.
“Did you notice anything unusual about any of your guests?” she went on.
“Do you mean did someone come into the great room with blood dripping off them?” He cursed, shook his head and seemed to gain control of that quick snap of temper. “No. It was a party. A celebration. And we celebrated.”
Cullen turned away from her, groaned. “I don’t know who’d do this.”
“That’s why I’ll investigate.” She paused, steeled herself up. “But you should know that I have to consider you a possible suspect.”
With the same slow movements as he’d had before, Cullen eased back toward her. The breath he dragged in was long and weary. “Leigh,” he said.
Just that. Only her name. But he’d made it sound like so much more. There was a plea in his tone, maybe a plea for her to believe he was innocent. And heaven help her, she did. It wasn’t just the lack of blood on his clothes.
Or their very brief history together.
It was the whole package, even if that “package” was the assessment she’d been able to make so far. If Alexa and he had argued, if they’d had a fight that’d gotten out of hand, she didn’t believe Cullen would have struck the woman from behind. Nor would he have removed the murder weapon only then to leave the body in place. This very well could be a crime of passion, but she didn’t feel it in her gut that Cullen was responsible. Of course, she doubted anyone else was going to put much stock in her gut feeling.
Cullen scrubbed his hand over his face. “Will what happened between us get in the way here?”
Since she’d asked herself the same thing, Leigh didn’t blister him with a look or insist that nothing would get in the way of her doing her job. She couldn’t. Because, yes, their past might get in the way. It wasn’t like she could go back and erase memories of her first lover. Or the tangled mess that followed.
Despite her attempts to stop them, some of those memories came now. Not a gentle blur of images but crystal clear ones of Cullen’s naked body. He’d been a lot younger when they’d had sex. Just nineteen. But like the rest of him, his body had been memorable even then.
“Our past won’t get in the way,” she answered, hoping to reassure him, and herself, that it was true. Maybe if she said it enough, both of them would start to believe it.
Stepping around Cullen, Leigh went back into the bedroom and had another look around. No blood or signs of a struggle. It was the same for the sitting area and the adjoining office. Still, the CSIs might be able to find something.
“The bedroom door was open when you came up after the party ended?” she asked.
“Closed.” Cullen moved to stand beside her and followed her gaze as it skirted around the room. “Something’s missing,” he said.
That got Leigh’s attention. “What?”
He was already moving to the sitting area, specifically to a corner table next to a leather love seat. “A bronze horse statue. It’s a replica of Lobo,” he added in a murmur.
The name instantly rang a bell. In the short time that she’d been involved with Cullen, his favorite horse had been named Lobo. He had won plenty of competitions, and Leigh had heard through the grapevine that Cullen had been upset when Lobo died.
“How big was the statue?” she asked.
“About a foot high, and it was heavy.” He looked back at her then, and she didn’t have to ask what he was thinking. Someone had grabbed it and then used it to murder Alexa.
Leigh turned when she heard the hurried footsteps coming from the hall, and several moments later, an out-of-breath Rocky came rushing into the room. He didn’t have much color in his face, and he’d drawn his weapon.
“What’s wrong?” Leigh immediately asked.
Rocky’s chest was heaving, and it took him a moment to speak. “On one of the side porches,” he finally managed to say. “There’s been another murder.”
