Texas True (The Tylers of Texas 1)

CHAPTER 14

As he drove into town, Will felt more hopeful than at any time since Beau’s arrest. The sheriff had demanded proof that Slade was dead before he was shot with Jasper’s deer rifle. Thanks to Sky’s discovery of the brass shell casing on the hilltop, and the next day’s successful search for the matching bullet, he was carrying all the proof he needed—maybe proof enough to clear his brother.

On Tori’s advice, Beau had remained at the ranch. But Will would be picking up Tori at home on the way to the sheriff ’s office. As Beau’s lawyer, she would be there to represent his interests.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Will,” she lectured him as he drove. “Axelrod is a stickler for tying up loose ends. As long as there’s any basis for suspicion, he’ll be keeping Beau at the top of his list.”

“Hellfire, what list?” Will stormed. “As far as I know, the sheriff hasn’t even looked at anybody else. What about that tattooed bartender in the Blue Coyote? He looks like a hired hit man to me. And what about Lute? He hated Beau. And now he’s got Slade’s old job. How did the slimy little weasel make that happen?”

Will was still asking himself those questions when they walked into the wing of the county building that housed the sheriff ’s offices and the jail. Glenda Peterson, whose husband owned the town’s only gas station, gave them a breezy smile from her side of the reception desk. “The sheriff’s expecting you,” she said. “Hang on a minute. I’ll let him know you’re here.” She pressed a button on the phone and spoke a few words into the receiver. “You two can go right in,” she said.

Sheriff Hoyt Axelrod rose from behind his desk and extended his hand with a smile. “Good to see you, Tori. Will, I got your message. Have a chair. Let’s see what you’ve found.”

Will opened the manila packet he’d brought containing the bullet and casing in plastic bags and the photos of the sites, which Beau had printed from Sky’s phone camera. He slid the contents across the desk. “You asked for proo

f that another shooter killed Slade. Here it is.”

Axelrod scratched his thick mustache, scowling as he studied the evidence. “I’ll hang on to this,” he said. “I’ve no doubt it’s what you say it is. Judging from the ammo, I’m guessing the weapon was most likely a Barrett fifty-caliber BMG semiautomatic. Snipers used those guns in Iraq and Afghanistan. Plenty of those babies available at gun shows. I’ve even got a couple of them down in the evidence room. As far as that goes, there’s no way of determining how long that casing was there. For all I know, you could have planted it.”

Will felt a surge of frustration. Why was the sheriff determined to pin this crime on his brother? “Beau doesn’t have that kind of gun. Nobody on the ranch owns one either.”

The sheriff raised one grizzled eyebrow. “Maybe not. But Slade Haskell had one. He showed it to me last year, right after he bought it at a gun show. And Slade had a wife.”

Natalie was buttoning on a fresh white lab coat, preparing to open her clinic, when the front doorbell rang. Two uniformed sheriff’s deputies stood on the porch—younger men she’d seen in town but didn’t know by name.

“Dr. Haskell?”

“Yes.” Her pulse lurched. Had something happened to Beau?

One deputy thrust an official-looking paper into her face. “We have a warrant to search your house and examine your late husband’s gun safe for evidence.” He made a move as if to enter, but Natalie stood her ground.

“I have nothing to hide,” she said. “Can you tell me what this is all about?”

“We have our orders, ma’am. Now please step aside and open the safe.”

“The safe’s in the den. I’ll need to get the combination.” Natalie hurried ahead of the two men, willing her legs to support her. Something, she sensed, was terribly wrong. And not knowing what it was only heightened her dread.

Slade’s den was the one room she’d closed up and left alone. The new combination to the closet-sized safe, which the locksmith had changed while Natalie was in the hospital, was tucked inside the desk drawer. Natalie had used it only once, when Beau had found the shotgun for her. She hadn’t touched the safe since.

One of the deputies dusted the dial for prints and took samples. Both men had donned latex gloves. What was going on? Had her house become a crime scene?

Stepping back, the deputy motioned for Natalie to open the safe. She’d had no trouble before. But now her eyes refused to focus on the tiny numbered lines. She handed the paper to the nearest deputy, who worked the combination on the first try. The heavy door swung open to reveal Slade’s guns, stored vertically on supporting racks.

“Here’s the Barrett.” The taller of the two deputies lifted out an ugly semiautomatic rifle that, to Natalie, looked like nothing more than an assembly of pipes and braces. Slade had taken special pride in owning it.

“Was this your husband’s rifle?” the deputy demanded.

“Yes.”

“Has it been fired recently?”

“Not unless Slade took it out on the range before he was killed. If you want to take it, feel free.”

“We don’t need your permission, ma’am. It’s evidence.” The deputy produced a large, folded plastic bag from his pocket, unfolded it, and held it open while his partner slid the gun inside. Why? Natalie asked herself. The only fingerprints on it would be Slade’s—and Beau’s, of course, since he’d moved the weapon out of the way to get her the shotgun.

Dear God, was that what they were looking for?

“We’re done here, ma’am. Thank you for your cooperation.” The deputies walked out as abruptly as they’d come. Natalie stood in silence, staring into the open gun safe. She didn’t fully understand what had happened, but she sensed that her shattering world had been dealt a final blow and was about to implode into dust.