Chapter Five
Five
Leanne sped down the highway as the last glimmer of daylight faded over the mountains.
“What’s this shit about the autopsy being at noon?”
Josh sighed on the other end of the phone. “No idea. All I heard is that it’s tomorrow.”
“It should have been tomorrow morning at the latest. What else have they got going? This is clearly a homicide.”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re backed up,” Josh said. “Listen, about that tire cast you made. I hear it’s a no-go.”
“Says who?”
“McBride.”
When the chief had refused to call a CSI down from county, Leanne had hauled the evidence kit from the back of her truck and made the plaster cast herself.
“He wouldn’t let me send it in, says we don’t have the budget,” Josh told her. “So, it’s still sitting here.”
“Where are you?”
“The evidence room.”
She pictured him in the windowless storage room where they kept evidence dating back to the 1980s. At least he was working late, which was more than she could say for anyone else.
Anger simmered inside her. If a rancher’s daughter had been found dead on the side of the road, McBride would have every sworn officer working round the clock.
“He’s blowing me off, Coop. Has been since this morning.”
“Yeah, well. He’s a little distracted. Besides Sean Moriarty, he’s dealing with the jackknifed truck thing.”
“Why? That’s all the way in Alpine.”
“Yeah, but one of the injured motorists is from here. Frank Murcheson’s nephew. You know Scott?”
“He graduated ahead of me,” she said.
“Well, he was in town visiting family, and he was involved in the collision. Now he’s in the ICU.”
Leanne hadn’t heard that. She chalked it up to her being tasked with visiting the Rawls’ place when she should have been focused on her homicide case.
Her head throbbed, and she glanced at the clock. Almost seven, and she hadn’t eaten anything since the chocolate Pop-Tart she’d had for breakfast.
“I’m heading out,” Josh said. “Are you going to the autopsy?”
“Of course.”
He didn’t offer to join her, and she didn’t ask. They didn’t both need to be there, and he’d already put in a full Sunday.
“Thanks for the update,” she said. “Let’s catch up tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
She tossed her phone on the passenger seat as she passed the Texaco where Will Akers had stopped for coffee and gotten word of the body. Less than a mile down the highway was a low-slung building with a neon blue sign out front. On impulse, Leanne pulled in.
She didn’t see Duncan Harper’s black pickup, but most of the bar’s parking was around back.
Plus, it was a Sunday during football season, so her odds were good.
Leanne swung into a space and cut the engine, then flipped down the mirror.
Her eyes looked bloodshot, and her long hair was a stringy mess because she’d been out in the wind earlier.
She gave it a quick finger-combing that didn’t really help.
Giving up on her looks, she got out and crossed the lot, skimming the rows of cars and luxury trucks with out-of-state plates. More tourists—and a watering hole once known for five-dollar pitchers now sold imported beer and top-shelf cocktails.
Someone exited the bar, and a noisy guitar riff burst out. Leanne sidestepped a pair of laughing young women in miniskirts and heels. She watched for a moment to see if they were steady on their feet before yanking open the door and going inside.
The Javelina was packed tonight. A glance at the TVs above the bar explained why. The Cowboys were playing the Packers, and it was tied. A cacophony of sportscasters and rock music filled the air as Leanne squeezed her way through the crush of warm bodies surrounding the bar.
“Katie.”
The bartender glanced up. She had long blond braids and wore her year-round uniform—a white tank top and push-up bra.
“Is Duncan here?” Leanne asked over the din.
“He was.” She poured foam off a pint and glanced over her shoulder. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe check the back?”
Leanne wove her way through the crowd to the back room, where the three pool tables were occupied. One of the games was all women. The other two were mixed, but no sign of Duncan or any of his friends.
“Well, if it isn’t little Miss Everhart.”
She turned to see Liam Moriarty eyeing her from the corner. He sauntered over, pool cue in hand. Leanne cast a wary glance around but didn’t see Sean.
Liam stopped in front of her and rapped the butt of his cue on the floor. “Looking for someone?”
“Nope.”
He stared down at her. She lifted her chin and stared right back.
Liam wore a chambray work shirt and jeans.
He smelled like sweat, and the dirt-filled creases around his eyes suggested he’d come here straight from a job.
Last she’d heard, he worked in the oil fields near Odessa.
He didn’t live in town anymore—none of the Moriartys did—so what had brought him here tonight?
Liam wobbled his cue back and forth so that it almost grazed her breast. Leanne held her ground.
“You heard about Sean.” He leaned his free hand against the wall, boxing her in. “He’s out now.”
“I’m aware.”
He leaned closer, and she got a blast of beer breath. “Good thing your dad’s rotting in hell already. Saves my brother the trouble.”
She didn’t respond, and the side of his mouth curved up.
“Your mom’s still alive, though.” His smirk became a grin. “She still working on her back to pay for your brother’s meth habit?”
“You know something, Liam? You reek.”
She moved to duck under his arm, and he blocked her with the stick. She grabbed it and jabbed the toe of his boot.
“Fucking bitch,” he growled, grabbing it back.
“Hey, hey, hey. Whoa.”
Someone pulled Liam away and took the pool cue from him. Justin Carr.
“Let’s relax, okay?” Justin glanced at Leanne, then turned to glare at his friend. “Come on, man. What are you doing?”
Everyone in the room was watching them now. Scowling, Liam yanked the pool cue from Justin and walked off. Leanne’s heart rate came down as he returned to his game.
Justin looked at her. “You all right?”
“Of course.”
He frowned down at her. At six-two, he was nearly a foot taller than she was. She stared up at him, refusing to be intimidated by his muscular build or the disapproving look in his brown eyes. As a seasoned river guide, Justin was accustomed to settling drunken disputes around the campfire.
He rested his hands on his lean hips, and butterflies filled her stomach, but she kept her face carefully blank. Justin was one of the few men from her past who actually seemed more attractive, not less, since she’d moved back home.
Not that she would ever let him know that.
“Come on, Leanne.”
She drew back. “Come on, what?”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve approaching him right now.”
Her cheeks warmed with a combination of anger and embarrassment. “Mind your own business, Justin.”
“I’m just saying. Give him some space, tonight of all nights. Don’t you think you owe him that much?”
“I don’t owe him anything.”
Justin shook his head.
“Not to mention, he’s an asshole,” she added.
He stepped closer, and she felt his disapproval to the soles of her feet.
“Well, can you blame him? Your dad ruined his brother’s life.”
· · ·
Leanne surveyed the glowing white tents as she neared her driveway. Of Desert Star’s fifteen campsites, twelve were occupied, judging from the cars. It was a busy Sunday, even for the high season.
Leanne passed a low adobe bungalow decorated with swags of twinkle lights.
Pots of bougainvillea lined the path, and a rope of dried chili peppers hung beside the door.
Unlike her neighbor’s house, Leanne’s adobe cottage was dark and uninviting.
Her only decoration consisted of a concrete birdbath that had been dry for months.
Leanne parked in the driveway and spied a small blue cooler by the front door. She scooped it up on her way inside the drafty house. After setting it on the table, she switched on the heating unit, which rattled and creaked before emitting a puff of air.
Her phone chimed, and she checked the screen. Michelle.
“Hey, thanks for dinner,” Leanne said.
“Sure thing. We had extra.”
Leanne opened the cooler, and the oniony scent of barbecue wafted out. She picked up a warm, foil-wrapped bundle.
“Any problems tonight?” Leanne asked.
“Nope. We’re almost full, but it’s been pretty quiet.”
Quiet was good. Leanne didn’t enjoy getting up in the middle of the night to deal with unruly tourists—drunk, high, or otherwise. She got enough of that in her day job.
Michelle owned the Desert Star Campground, and she and Leanne had an informal arrangement. In exchange for the occasional meal delivery, Leanne helped keep an eye on things when she happened to be home.
“This smells amazing,” Leanne said now, unwrapping the sandwich. “Pulled chicken?”
“Carnitas.”
She chomped into the warm bun stuffed with spicy meat. She closed her eyes and moaned.
“Oh my God.”
“Thanks,” Michelle said. “Hey, one thing. The lady in Nine told me that she came back from a hike, and now she thinks her laptop is missing.”
“She thinks?”
“She’s not sure. Says she may have left it at her office in Houston. But she wanted me to know just in case something turns up. Super annoying, I know.”
“Does she want to file a report or not?”
“For now, no. She’s going to ask someone to check if it’s at her office, then get back to me tomorrow.”
Leanne grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
“So, is it true they found a body out by the tracks?” Michelle asked.
“It is.”
“God, that’s awful. Was it an accident?’
“I can’t talk about it.”
“That means no.” Michelle sighed. “I’m sorry. You must have had a long day. I’ll let you go.”
“Thanks.”
“Forget about the lady in Nine. If she wants to report it, I’ll send her to the station. I’m guessing you’ll be up early?”
“Yup.”
“Night, then.”
Leanne stood at her kitchen sink, staring out the window as she savored the last few sticky bites of meat. Several tents went dark as people called it a night.