“I questioned them separately to see if their stories would match—they did. According to them, the only times Callie came into the bunkhouse was to pull the dirty sheets off the beds and leave clean ones. While she was there, she’d inspect the place to make sure it was shipshape and give them blazes if it wasn’t. The boys had a nickname for her—The Sergeant. Evidently, they were terrified of her.”
“So much for Callie the Cougar.” Lexie had to smile, even though speaking the words gave her pain.
“Just to cover my bases, I went through the bunkhouse while the boys were working,” Val said. “I found a couple of girlie magazines stuffed under the mattresses. But nothing more incriminating than that.”
Lexie gazed at the flowing cloud shadows cast by the risen moon. “So maybe Callie wasn’t fooling around. The sheriff’s report didn’t mention that she’d had sex. Don’t they usually check for things like that?”
“I would think so,” Val said. “They did say she hadn’t been raped.”
“But she still could have been murdered. Maybe she heard a noise outside, got up to investigate without bothering to put on her bra, and somebody surprised her.”
“It’s possible,” Val admitted. “But you told me you didn’t find that bra when you cleared out her things—just the clean ones in her drawer. And we haven’t ruled out Aaron. You told me how much he hated our father.”
“But he didn’t have any reason to hate Callie. They were good friends,” Lexie said. “I don’t suppose you snooped inside Aaron’s house.”
“There was no way I could,” Val said. “He was working within sight of the place all day.”
“So, without checking his house, we’ve hit a wall. Short of an admission on his part, there’ll be no way to prove he was involved with Callie—if he was involved at all.”
“And there’s nobody else we haven’t cleared. If we don’t find any evidence, we’ll have to go with the sheriff’s theory that Callie was sabotaging the ranch, and she fell trying to get rid of the rat poison.” Val reached down and stroked the dogs, who’d settled next to her lounge chair. “Have you ever been in Aaron’s house—I mean ever?”
“No, come to think of it,” Lexie said. “I’ve known him all my life, but he’s never once invited us in. Maybe the place is such a mess that he doesn’t want anybody to see it. But what if he’s hiding something?”
“We’ll never know unless we look,” Val said. “But we’ll need to find the right time—not only when Aaron is safely away, but when everybody else is, too. We don’t want to get caught going in there. Trespassing is against the law.”
“So we’ll wait. Once I happened to see him put a key under his doormat before he left.If that’s something he usually does, we won’t have a problem getting in.” Lexie stood, stretched, and yawned. “Right now, I’m beat. I’m going to shower and make it an early night.”
“Sleep tight. I’ll be along.” Val was a night owl. She could be expected to stay awake for hours yet.
Lexie went inside and headed for her room at the end of the hall. Passing Shane’s door, she paused, listening. At first, no sound came from the other side. She felt a pulse-flutter of worry. But then, as she pressed her ear to the wood, she could hear, over the pounding of her heart, the low, velvety murmur of his snoring. He was asleep.
Her hand rested on the doorknob. What could be wrong with slipping into the room just long enough to stand by the bed and look at him—even lean down and brush a kiss across his forehead? He was here, in her home, where she’d wanted him to be. Here, where she could see him and talk with him and love him, if only from a distance.
Her fingers tightened on the knob, then pulled away. Shane was determined to fight his battles alone. If she loved him, she would stay back and let him.
Steeling her resolve, she turned away and walked down the hall to her own bedroom.
* * *
Tess had managed to get a few hours of sleep in her truck. After cleaning up in a park restroom, she’d gulped down some coffee and hurried to the arena, only to learn that the program had been reordered. Whirlwind, who’d been scheduled among the early buckers, was to be the last bull out of the chutes. Riding him would be former world champion Clay Jeffords, currently number one in points on the PBR circuit.
Tess stared at the posted schedule, scarcely daring to believe her eyes. If Whirlwind bucked off the current world leader or gave him a high-point ride, the exposure would be phenomenal. On the downside, she’d planned to leave early and drive home overnight. Now, given the late finish and the need to allow rest time for the bull, she wouldn’t be leaving Gallup till dawn.
After checking on Whirlwind in the pens, she found her seat and settled in to watch the competition. Following Jack’s death, she’d dreaded seeing another bull riding event. But, for the most part, she was able to block the nightmare memory and enjoy the sport. Only once, when a downed rider was solidly rammed by a bull’s head, did she stifle a scream. But as the bullfighters closed in, and the young cowboy scrambled to his feet, she began to breathe again. She was going to be all right.
She’d looked for Ca
sey among the bullfighters and was relieved not to see him. If he’d been here, and if he’d asked about Val, Tess would’ve been forced to lie. She didn’t know what her sister might be hiding. That was Val’s business. But if she didn’t want her old love to know she’d come home, Tess would respect her wishes.
A stray breeze cooled Tess’s face. The arena was an outdoor facility, modern and beautifully set against a massive outcrop of red rock. With the moon and stars overhead and the night lights glowing, the effect was almost magical—except for the stress of thinking ahead, to the moment when Whirlwind would explode out of the chute with a world-champion cowboy on his back.
She would go down to the pens after intermission to make sure her bull was ready and to attach the flank strap when he entered the chute complex. For now, there was nothing to do but wait.
“Is this seat taken?” The deep voice made her nerves quiver like taut bowstrings. This was no coincidence. If Brock Tolman was here, it was because he’d planned to be.
“Suit yourself.” Tess kept her gaze fixed on the arena.
“You must be looking forward to seeing Clay Jeffords ride your bull.”