Now the question was, would Kyle accept her decision?

* * *

From her vantage point in the outcrop above the horse paddock, Marie had a clear view of the Rimrock’s main house. Aided by the security light, her sharp eyes could see that the black SUV pulling up next to the porch was damaged in front. And the figure climbing out of the passenger side, slamming the door behind her before she raced up the steps, was Erin Tyler.

Marie couldn’t see the driver of the departing SUV, but the situation appeared to be a date gone bad. Maybe that had something to do with the wrecked car.

If the accident had just happened, Marie mused, it was a shame she hadn’t been there. She could’ve taken out the girl and her boyfriend, done some skilled rearranging, and nobody would have suspected the truth. As it was, the girl wouldn’t be going anywhere until tomorrow. Time to call it a night and go back to the deserted line shack where she’d made her camp.

Marie cursed as she wound her way among the rocks, taking care not to leave a trail. She was losing patience. She’d already missed the appointment with her parole officer. If it took her much longer to complete Stella’s job, pick up the drugs, unload them for cash, and beat it out of the country, the cops would be on her tail. Or worse, she’d have to run before the job was done, and she’d be stuck with no money, a crappy motorbike that barely ran, and no place to go.

From higher up, she could see the distant lights of a smaller ranch. She’d checked it out earlier. Sky Fletcher, her cousin, had done well for himself—a fine house, a high-class wife, and plenty of livestock. Marie and Sky had grown up together after his mother died and her family took him in. As children, they’d been like brother and sister. But those days were over. The first time she’d shown up here, Sky had tried to help her. But he’d washed his hands of her after she’d tried to murder his fiancée, by ramming her car. If she were to show her face now, or give any other sign that she was here, Sky would be the first one to call the police.

Her motorbike was waiting on the far side of a rocky hill. Marie avoided riding the noisy piece of junk within hearing of the central ranch. She was getting tired of that, too. Her cockroach kicker boots, relics from before her arrest, weren’t made for walking. Tonight her feet were screaming. It was a relief to climb on the bike and roar off to her vermin-infested hideout.

She’d spent the better part of a week watching the ranch, waiting for a chance to move in on the little Tyler princess. That chance hadn’t come, and Marie was running out of time. She needed a more aggressive plan. If that plan entailed more risk, so be it. Her whole future depended on her killing Erin Tyler.

CHAPTER NINE

THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER HER FATHER HAD LEFT THE HOUSE, ERIN prepared to go into town and present her evidence to the sheriff. Except for the bird gun, which Will had locked in his gun cabinet, the box of personal things found with Jasper’s body had been left in the ranch office. The box had been opened, but no one had felt the need, or the desire, to go through the contents in any detail. So much the better, Erin told herself as she lifted the box out of the corner and set it on the desk. Jasper’s simple possessions could hold clues, maybe even fingerprints.

Or maybe nothing. She had to be prepared for that.

She’d put on rubber gloves from the kitchen and was about to lift off the lid of the cardboard box when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. Kyle. It appeared he hadn’t given up. She let the phone ring until voice mail came on.

“Erin, I hope you’re listening. I was a fool last night. Can you ever forgive me? I’ll be with my dad today, but I’ll call you when I get home. I love you.”

She deleted the voice mail. Kyle’s behavior last night had been the final straw. She was finished with him. Why couldn’t he just give up and move on?

Dropping the phone back into her pocket, she opened the box. Jasper’s dusty old Stetson covered everything beneath it. Erin blinked back tears as she set the hat aside. She wasn’t just looking for what was in the box, she reminded herself. What she really needed was to discover what was missing.

Jasper’s clothes and boots had been bagged by the medical examiner. The things in the box were smaller, more personal items. Her gloved fingers touched each one—the red bandanna Jasper had worn against the dust, his khaki shooting vest with shotgun shells stuck into the cotton loops, his cheap Timex watch, his belt, a few coins, a bottle of nitroglycerin pills for occasional heart pain, his empty water canteen, a pack of Wrigley’s gum, and his beat-up leather wallet.

There would be no cell phone. Jasper had refused to own one of the contraptions, as he’d called them. The same went for credit cards. Jasper hadn’t believed in them. He’d always carried cash, sometimes as much as several hundred dollars.

The pistol wasn’t in the box. And it wasn’t in the gun cabinet where Will would have put it. But the wallet would be worth checking.

She picked it up carefully. Jasper’s driver’s license and Medicare card were in the slots where he kept them. But in the compartment that held bills . . . Erin’s heart slammed. There was nothing there but a single dollar bill, which appeared to have been left behind as a joke.

So far the pistol and the cash—the first items that a thief would take—were missing. Was there anything else? It appeared not. But Erin had to be sure.

Jasper’s cigarettes and lighter weren’t here, but Erin had found them when she’d cleaned the duplex. What about his keys? The key to the ATV had been in the igniti

on, but Jasper also had his own keys to the ranch truck, the duplex, the barns and sheds, and the main house, which he kept together on a ring with a leather fob. If someone had taken those keys, every lock would have to be changed.

Panic building, she rummaged through the items one last time. Relief weakened her knees as she found the key ring, deep in the pocket of Jasper’s shooting vest with a handful of extra shells. One worry out of the way, at least.

Erin took a few minutes to box and address the old Bible for Jasper’s niece in the Hill Country. It was almost eight o’clock when she carried the two boxes outside to the station wagon. From the direction of the horse pens came the ring of Luke’s hammer as he shaped a steel shoe on his anvil. She resisted the urge to cross the yard and tell him what she’d discovered. Before she’d kissed him, that might have been an easy thing to do. But that impulsive kiss had destroyed the chance of an easy relationship between them. They’d agreed to forget it had happened. But Erin hadn’t forgotten it. Something told her that Luke hadn’t forgotten it either.

The morning was already warm, and the AC was going out on the old station wagon. As she drove to town, she opened the side windows to let the air blow through. The breeze was better than nothing, but she could feel the dust in the air like grit on her teeth.

She passed the spot where Kyle had swerved to avoid the cow the night before. She could see the black, curving skid mark on the road, the crushed weeds, and the smashed barbed wire fence. But there was no sign that an animal had been struck. At least she could be relieved for the cow.

The sheriff’s office was in a wing of the county building, adjacent to the courthouse. Sheriff Harger hadn’t come in yet, but his young deputy, Roy Porter, was at his desk. The sight of him raised Erin’s hopes for a sympathetic hearing. She and Roy had gone through school a year apart. With luck, he’d be more inclined to listen than the crusty, older sheriff.

He stood and motioned Erin to a seat opposite the desk. She remembered him as quiet and smart, but not the kind of boy who stood out. Looking at him now, she surmised that he hadn’t changed much. In his tan lawman’s uniform, with his ginger hair buzzed short, he looked like a bright-eyed, apple-cheeked Boy Scout.

Erin took her seat, setting the box on the floor next to her chair. “I have some concerns about Jasper Platt’s death,” she said, wasting no time.

Tags: Janet Dailey The Tylers of Texas Romance
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