Texas Tall (The Tylers of Texas 3)

Lauren sighed, shifted in the seat again, and sank into silence. Will had to admit her ideas made sense. But he was already dealing with more than he could handle. Somebody else would have to play detective.

He found himself wondering if Lauren had done anything about the transfer of the canyon land. She’d mentioned that she wanted to explore it first, but she and Erin had already spent time up there exploring to their hearts’ content. On a stressful day like this, would it be crass of him to mention it again? Maybe so, but he was running out of time.

“I was just thinking about that canyon—” he began, then realized she wasn’t hearing him. Lauren’s head had sagged against the window. She was fast asleep.

* * *

Tori came out onto

the porch as Will pulled up. By then the ranch hands, under Beau’s supervision, were already clearing away the rubble from the burnt barn. With the aid of the farm-sized backhoe and bulldozer, they were setting aside any salvageable materials and pushing the rest into piles to be hauled off later.

Tori waited until Will had climbed down from the cab. “How’s Sky?” she asked.

“Doing better this morning. But he’ll be out of action for a while.” He strode around the truck and opened the door for a drowsy-looking Lauren. “See that this lady gets some rest, or at least some coffee before she drives back to town,” he said. “She’s been up all night.”

Tori took in her friend’s hollow-eyed expression and rumpled clothes. “You look like death warmed over,” she said. “Jasper and Erin are eating breakfast now. Come on in and join them—unless you’d rather just lie down.”

Lauren gave her a flicker of a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’m starved.”

Tori had ushered Lauren inside and was about to follow her when the sheriff’s tan SUV came roaring up the long gravel drive and swung toward the area where the hands were cleaning up the barn debris.

“Here comes trouble,” Will muttered, taking off at a fast clip across the ranch yard. After a second’s hesitation, Tori followed him. As his lawyer, it was her job to keep any exchange with Abner from getting out of hand.

By the time she got within hearing range, the sheriff was out of his vehicle. She could hear him shouting at Beau. “What do you think you’re doing? This place is a crime scene!”

“Since when?” Beau stepped up to face him, looming over the short, chubby sheriff.

“Since the coroner’s preliminary report came back this morning. It looks like Ralph Jackson most likely died from a fractured skull. To me, that spells murder. I can’t let you disturb the evidence.”

Beau’s color was rising, and with it, his temper. “Look around, you lamebrain! It’s already disturbed! Your deputies were here yesterday. They took photos, picked up a few things that caught their eyes, and left. Your people are done here.”

Will was quick to jump into the argument. “Damn it, Sheriff, we need to clear this place to rebuild the barn. Every day—every hour—we lose puts us closer to winter. If you want to look through those trash piles, go ahead. But we can’t afford to stop working.”

Abner pouted beneath his trooper’s hat. “You know, I could have you charged with obstruction of justice for destroying evidence.”

“Hell, I’m already charged with that!” Will snapped. “What do you want us to do, put everything back the way it was? You’re not even making sense. This is nothing but harassment!”

The situation was becoming a powder keg, about to blow, which could be just what Abner wanted—an excuse to drag Will back to jail. Fearing the worst, Tori stepped forward. “Sheriff,” she said in a firm but civil voice, “you’re welcome to look around, but this is private property. Unless you have a court order, we have no obligation to stop this work.”

Abner puffed his chest, saying nothing.

“Do you have a court order?” Tori asked again.

“I can get one.”

“Then please don’t interfere until you have it.” Tori’s voice dripped ice.

“I’ll guarantee you haven’t heard the end of this!” Abner wheeled and stalked back toward his SUV. His oversized tires spat gravel as he drove away.

Beau gazed after him, shaking his head. “Now what the hell do you suppose that was about?” he mused out loud.

“I don’t know,” Tori said. “But I had the distinct impression that the sheriff was bluffing.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea who might’ve put him up to it,” Will said. “But what we need right now is to forget Abner Sweeney and get this mess cleared away from the foundation. Let’s get the hell back to work.”

* * *

Feeling like a fool, Abner Sweeney gripped the steering wheel with sweating hands. His pulse was racing, and his prostate was acting up again. If he couldn’t hold it till he got back to his office, he’d have to pull off the road and pee in the cold. To make matters worse, his personal cell phone was ringing, a call he knew better than to ignore. Slowing down, he reached for the phone in his pocket.