Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Beth Katz carried a secret no one could ever discover but she’d come close to jail time some years ago.
She preferred to work alone, and after hunting down a child rapist and murderer, she’d saved the little girl but been found covered in blood alongside the dead killer.
The killer’s throat had been slit from ear to ear and a tarot card, the Grim Reaper, was left on the body.
When questioned, Beth had insisted she’d been trying to save the man, when in truth, after seeing him on top of the little girl, she’d lost her cool and murdered him.
The result was she’d been reassigned to the backwoods town of Rattlesnake Creek with Dax Styles, a man who played by his own rules.
Working as an FBI agent and seeing so many killers walk free on a technicality, when their guilt was evident, had triggered the dormant psychopath in her.
From that moment on, she lived two lives, one as an FBI agent and the other as the mysterious Tarot Killer.
“So this guy, Dirk Lovall, likes to get in bar fights and had a few problems with the law in his youth.” Styles scrolled down his tablet. “He’s been at the ranch for the last twenty-four years and covers our past and recent cases. So how do you want to play this?”
Pulling out her phone to record the conversation with Lovall, Beth fell in step beside him.
“I would like to get a take on the man, feel him out, and see what makes him tick. Right now, we don’t know if he is a reliable witness or not.
I figure we’re going to get conflicting stories about what happened twenty years ago and what happened to Marie. ”
The news that no one was allowed to leave the ranch had spread like a wildfire.
As they walked toward an old room in one of the barns designated to them as an interview room, Beth noticed the suspicious looks from the men she passed.
After being a city girl for so long, Beth wrinkled her nose as they walked past a corral filled with bawling cattle.
Inside the dim room a man hovered uneasily with his hat clasped in his hands and his fingers moving nervously along the brim.
Sweat beaded across the man’s forehead and the room stank of unwashed male.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Lovall?” Styles shut the door hard enough to rattle the window. “I’m Agent Styles and this is Agent Katz. We have a few questions for you but it won’t take long.”
“I already told Bowman everything I know.” Lovall sat stiffly, placed his hat on the table, and folded his arms. “This is a waste of time. I have work to do.”
Beth took in his defiant posture, turned on the recorder on her phone, and placed it on the table in front of him.
“I don’t like taking notes, so I’ll be recording our conversation.
I’d like to make it clear that you’re not under arrest. We’ll be interviewing many people on the ranch to try and establish a timeline for Marie Reyes.
” She brushed a few straws of hay from the chair before sitting down opposite him.
“You’ve worked here for a long time, since Rhett’s father ran the ranch.
What can you tell me about the accident that killed him and his wife?
What was Lawson like in the weeks prior? ”
“He’d always gotten along with the hands but those last few weeks he always seemed to be angry.
” Lovall scratched the back of his neck.
“He gathered us up one day and told us to stop driving around at night yahooing. He said it set the dogs barking and disturbed his young son. The thing is, I don’t recall anyone driving around much at night at all.
Like now, we’re all too exhausted. Some of the hands went into town on a Saturday night and returned late.
They’d set the dogs barking. Funny thing, not long after Lawson complained, all the dogs vanished.
It wasn’t Lawson. He was asking after them. ”
“And what do you know about the accident that killed the Lawsons?” Styles cleared his throat. “It must be prominent in your mind even after all these years. It’s not every day the ranch owner and his wife get burned to death.”
“I recall it right enough.” Lovall ran a hand down his face.
“Nasty business. Most of us had come in from the fields because there was a bad storm brewing. I didn’t know that the Lawsons were out riding way past the north pasture.
I’m not sure who did. The thing is, we all know to take shelter if there’s a bad storm.
There are hundreds of cabins across this spread, so when they didn’t return for supper, I’m guessing most people would have assumed they’d taken shelter, which we discovered they had.
We all saw the smoke and when they didn’t return the following morning, Wade, being leading hand, got a few of the hands together and rode out looking for the fire.
By the time we reached the cabin it was already burned out. Wade went inside and found the bodies.”
Beth nodded slowly. “Wade Cutter?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t the same after that.” Lovall shook his head.
“He told Bowman that he kept seeing them all black, curled up, and grinning at him. One day he just up and killed himself.” He lifted his chin and stared at Beth.
“He was weak to leave his wife and son all alone, a coward. I never got along with him.”
Finding his lack of empathy disturbing, Beth changed direction and focused on the Marie Reyes case. “Okay now, where were you working on Thursday afternoon and with whom?”
“I rode up to check the south fence line. I went alone.” Lovall’s jaw clenched, making a nerve in his cheek twitch.
“Everyone on this ranch seems to work alone. That’s very convenient.” Styles leaned against the door, his mouth turning down.
“We don’t need babysitters.” Lovall’s eyes flashed. “I often send groups of men out to move herds from one paddock to another.”
This man got into bar fights, so he had a short fuse. Beth wanted to poke the bear. “So you oversee all the cattle and bison?”
“Yeah, I’ve been the cattle boss for the last ten years or so.” Lovall frowned and gave a bored sigh. “Is there something specific you need to ask me?”
Beth leaned forward on the table and locked her gaze on him. “So you’d get reports of any livestock found dead and take the appropriate action?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Lovall cleared his throat.
“Most of the hands understand the procedure. They remove the tag from the animal’s ear and then get one of machinery guys to dig a hole and push it in.
We bury them where they drop. We don’t have an animal graveyard or anything.
It would take too much manpower to drag in a steer, when it’s easier to just go to it and dig a hole. ”
Nodding, Beth watched his eyes. She’d become an expert at reading expressions and gestures. “Did you visit a burial pit in the north pasture between Thursday and Sunday?”
“Yeah, Thursday. It was a dead steer.” Lovall waved a hand dismissively. “Routine.”
“Marie Reyes was buried in one. Is that also routine around here?” Styles pushed away from the door and pressed his hands flat on the table, staring at him. “What do you know about that?”
“Nothing.” The color drained from Lovall’s tanned face. “I didn’t know she was buried in a cattle pit.”
Needing a timeline, and suspects, Beth pushed a little harder. “When on Thursday did this occur? Who reported it and buried the steer?”
“Thursday morning.” Lovall scratched his cheek.
“It was Cutter, Wade Cutter’s son, Branch, he lives here with his mom.
He was moving horses through the north pasture.
We’ll be moving cattle into that area shortly.
He called me and I went out. It was a bison steer.
It had got tangled up in the fence. It’s a problem we have because some of the adults lean on the fenceposts to scratch themselves, they tip over the fences, and the young ones get tangled.
We don’t have a problem with wildlife migration and the fences due to the cattle grids.
Cattle and bison won’t cross but most wildlife negotiate them well enough. ”
“So who buried the steer?” Styles dropped into a chair, his expression grim.
“I didn’t ask.” Lovall raised one shoulder. “Either Branch or one of the other guys. Whoever was hanging around the machinery shed, I guess.”
Beth glanced at Styles to pull back and allow her to lead. “We’ll ask him.” She narrowed her gaze. “You’ve got a history of losing your temper—bar fights and assaults, but no charges against you. How well did you know the local sheriff back then?”
“I was a kid.” Lovall slammed his fist down on the table. “I didn’t get any favors from anyone. No one pressed charges, is all.”
“I figure you still have an anger problem.” Styles glared at him.
“You don’t know me.” Lovall shook his head, his eyes flashing with menace.
Beth refused to break eye contact with him. He had started to lose control. Perfect. “I don’t need to know you; your file speaks volumes.” She waited for him to look away. “One of the seasonal workers said you cornered Marie in the feed shed. What was that all about?”
“She was upset.” Lovall’s nostrils flared and he lifted his gaze back to her. “It wasn’t anything to do with me.”
“I hear girls often get upset around you.” Styles drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re a married man. Do you have difficulty keeping your hands to yourself?”
“I didn’t touch her.” Lovall shot to his feet. “I’m not answering any more of your darn stupid questions.”
Beth stared at him unblinking and lowered her voice. “Sit down.” She eyeballed him until he dropped reluctantly back in the seat. “Do you know it’s an offense to lie to an FBI agent? You’re jumpy and defensive. I figure you’re lying about something.”
“I didn’t kill Marie.” Lovall raked a hand through his hair and let out a low, frustrated growl. “She told me a couple of the guys were annoying her. I laughed at her and told her she was imagining it. No one wants to risk their job and Bowman is very tough on guys who harass the women.”
“So she came to you for help and you told her to suck it up?” Styles looked away disgusted. “You’re her boss.”
“No, I’m not. I’m the cattle boss. If she had problems with the hands in the hay shed, she should have gone to speak to Tex.” Lovall shook his head. “Cops are all the same. Because I have a few misdemeanors, right away you’re on my back.” He shook a finger at Beth. “I’m not scared of you.”
Beth smiled. “You should be. You see, people who torture women to death can’t stop at one.
We’ve dealt with all types of killers and we’re not going anywhere until we find who did this.
” She stood slowly and stopped the recording on her phone.
“That’s all for now. You may go.” She waited for him to go and turned to Styles. “He’s got a short fuse.”
“Yeah”—a slow smile crossed Styles’ lips—“and you just lit it.”