Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“It’s what you told me last time. You’re writing an exposé about prominent officials right here in my backyard. I have to assume I work with some of them, so my reputation is on the line potentially. I’m sure you could find a way to make me look bad in your article, if you had an ax to grind.”
Leanne watched him, trying to read his expression.
What she hadn’t said was that he could probably make her father look bad, too.
She didn’t want to put attention on that particular point, but it was only logical.
Everyone knew about her close connection to one of the primary investigators in the Hannah Rawls murder case.
The father-daughter link was supposedly the reason various media outlets wanted to interview her—although she’d never really bought into that idea.
Leanne believed their real motivation was that they wanted a chance to pump her for information about her dad and her police department.
They probably figured they could trip her up in an interview and get her to reveal something damaging.
She stared out at the canyon, acting bored as she waited for him to decide.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell you in generalities. But I won’t give you a name.”
She pretended to think about it.
“Deal.”
He took a deep breath. “My source is someone in law enforcement.”
“PD or sheriff’s office?”
“That’s it. That’s all I can say.”
“Law enforcement meaning a badge? Or an officer of the court?”
“I can’t say.”
It wasn’t a name, but it was a starting point. And the information would save her time at a moment when time was running short. With everything that happened yesterday, along with the victim identification this morning, her case was quickly gaining momentum.
“Okay, let’s hear it.” He crossed his arms. “What’s your scoop?”
“This is on background only,” she said. “Do not quote me, even anonymously. You understand?”
“Sure. Got it.”
“I’m serious about that. If I see my name or anything about me as your source, you will be sorry. Are we clear?”
“I said I got it.”
She paused, watching him. “It’s about last night’s homicide victim.”
“I hadn’t heard it was officially determined to be a homicide.”
“It will be. Local officials have reason to believe that homicide might be part of a pattern.”
“A pattern,” he repeated. “What, you mean like other victims?”
“Yes.”
“As in ‘victims’ plural?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble digging that up,” she said. “You seem to have a lot of sources around here.”
She watched his face, and clearly this tip had gotten his wheels turning. He had no doubt heard of her Jane Doe case, which hit the news the very same weekend as the Sean Moriarty bombshell. Now he just had to figure out what other cases she was talking about.
This was a calculated risk.
As in almost all risk, almost no calculation.
Leanne was fed up with McBride trying to stymie her.
If last night proved anything, it was that her theory was right, and his dismissiveness of her work was having dire consequences.
She was determined to figure out who was killing these women, and she needed resources to do it.
Which meant she had to step up the pressure, but in a way that didn’t look like she was doing it.
Max was still watching her closely, maybe deciding whether she was a crackpot or not.
She took out her phone and checked the time. “I have to head back.”
“Wait. Just want to be clear here. You’re saying there’s a pattern of more than two homicide victims. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t that make this a serial killer case?”
She removed her cap and wiped her forehead. “Those are your words. Not mine.” She settled the cap back on her head and started down the trail.
“Hold up.” He jogged after her. “I’m going to need a lot more information.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it.”
· · ·
After her less-than-strenuous workout, Leanne swung back by the office, then picked up a veggie taco and headed home. She sped down the highway with the windows rolled down, hoping the cold night air would wake up her brain because she had more work to do tonight.
What was she missing?
She’d been pondering the cases and going through clues in her head during the mind-numbing drive from El Paso.
The El Paso lab is super backed up. You know that, right?
She pictured Izzy on her front porch, telling her to send the evidence to Austin.
The backlog at the El Paso crime lab was well-known, particularly their drug section.
So why had McBride insisted on sending their evidence there?
Was he trying to stall her? Or was it like he claimed, that they had some kind of pull with them?
Leanne was skeptical. That was the thing about a small-town police department—they didn’t have much pull anywhere.
Lights flashed in her rearview mirror, and she heard the faint whine of a siren.
The sound grew louder and louder, and she eased onto the shoulder as a wailing fire truck raced by.
She pulled back onto the road, but soon more headlights zoomed up on her.
She veered onto the shoulder again and rolled to a stop as an ambulance sped past, siren howling.
She looked over her shoulder for more, then got back onto the highway and reached for her radio. Turning up the volume, she listened to the mix of static and chatter.
The words “Sullivan Ranch” made her heart lurch.
Leanne hit the gas. She grabbed her phone and called her mom. No answer. She tried again, and it went straight to voicemail.
Leanne floored the pedal, racing to catch up to the trucks. She tried calling her brother. No answer. Cursing, she tossed the phone away and punched the gas until her speedometer pushed one hundred.
Finally, the turnoff for Sullivan Ranch came into view.
Leanne slowed. Whirring lights bounced off the canyon walls as she jabbed the brakes and swung a left into the driveway.
She eased through the gate, bumping over the cattle guard as she strained to see what was happening ahead.
Smoke wafted through her windows as she made her way up the narrow dirt road.
Approaching the trees surrounding the house, she came upon a row of emergency vehicles.
Beyond the treetops was an orange glow. Her stomach clenched as she neared the house and saw flames licking up from the roof.
“Oh God.”
A sheriff’s car backed up, and she slammed on the brakes and hit the horn.
She pulled into the yard. Shoving her truck into park, she flung open the door and grabbed her phone, hitting redial as she ran toward the house.
The commotion was at the end of the driveway.
A red fire rig blocked her view of the guesthouse.
Leanne’s heart skittered as she ran through the haze of smoke.
“Hey!” She rushed up to a firefighter, grabbing his arm. He turned around, and she recognized his sooty face beneath the helmet.
“Rick, what’s happening?”
He blinked at her, then seemed to place who she was. “It’s the garage.” He nodded toward it. “We got it contained.”
She ran toward the garage and darted around the fire truck. Her heart was in her throat as she saw the guesthouse through a veil of smoke. No flames, thank God.
A line of firefighters stood near the garage, dousing flames on the roof with a spray of water.
She whirled toward the main house and raced to the front door. It stood open.
“Mom!”
Leanne rushed into the living room. The TV was on. A half-empty drink sat on the table, but both recliners were empty.
“Mom? Boone? Hello?”
A firefighter walked out from the bedroom wing.
“They’re at the stables,” he said.
Leanne ran through the kitchen and out the back door, nearly tripping over a bag of potting soil on the patio. Red-and-white emergency lights reflected off the stable walls as she dashed up the path.
“Leanne!”
She whirled around.
“Over here.”
She spied Boone on the patio of the guesthouse. Her mother sat in a chair as a paramedic bent over her.
“What happened?” Leanne rushed over. “Mom?”
Her mother glanced up, wide-eyed, as the paramedic bandaged her arm.
“What’s going on?”
Her mom didn’t answer, so she turned to Boone. His eyes were wild, and his white hair was sticking out all over the place. “Boone, what happened?”
“That horse damn near killed her!”
“She did not,” her mom said.
“She sure as hell did!” He looked at Leanne. “Starlight busted down her stall. Then she went crazy and kicked the living hell outta your mom.”
“I fell on my butt, that’s all. It’s just an elbow scrape.”
“Where’s Ben?” Leanne demanded. “I saw his car back there.”
“I sent him out to get the horses,” her mother said. “They got loose and ran off. Sandy’s helping him.”
Sandy’s property abutted the ranch’s east side. Leanne looked over her shoulder at the three-car garage being doused with water. Thank goodness it was detached from the house.
She turned to Boone. “How did this happen?”
He shook his head. “Damned if I know. Nacho started barking. Then we smelled smoke. We called it in, and then your mother ran out there to see about the horses.”
Leanne turned to her mom, who looked even more annoyed than the EMT who was trying to treat her injury.
“Not so tight,” her mom snapped, jerking her arm away.
Leanne took a deep breath. Her heart rate started to come down as she saw that her mom was being her usual bossy self.
“We should go to the hospital and get your head looked at,” Boone said.
“I’m fine, I told you.”
“That damn horse could have killed you.”
Leanne left them to their bickering and jogged back to the driveway. They were still hosing down the garage, but the smoke was white now instead of gray. The front door to the guesthouse stood ajar, and Leanne rushed inside, needing to see for herself that the place was empty.
“Ben?”
The one-room cottage was dim, lit only by the glow of the TV.
An empty Whataburger bag sat in the middle of the coffee table.
She picked her way around the unmade bed and through an obstacle course of shoes and dirty clothes on her way to the bathroom.
She switched on the light. The damp air and lingering scent of Axe body wash told her that her brother had showered in here recently.
She eyed his medicine cabinet above the sink with a knot in her stomach.
Unable to resist, she opened the mirrored door.
No pill bottles. Just a can of shaving cream and a pink razor.
Leanne returned to the driveway, where the firefighters seemed to be winding things down at the garage. Steam wafted up from the roof, and she caught a glimpse of blackened rafters that had collapsed on top of Boone’s antique cars.
Several firefighters in yellow jackets stood off to the side, swigging from water bottles. Pulling her shirt up over her nose, Leanne tromped over to the nearest truck, where Rick was wiping down his face with a bandana. Besides going to high school together, they knew each other through work.
“Is it under control?” she asked, yelling over the loud hum of the nearby rig.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
He didn’t answer, just wiped his neck and then pulled off his helmet. His short-cropped brown hair was soaked with sweat.
“Don’t know,” he said.
“Come talk to me.”
He looked annoyed, but he followed her to the back of the stables, away from all the commotion and noise. The air was hazy, and her eyes began to sting as she turned to face him.
“How did it start?” she asked.
“Don’t know yet. We haven’t exactly had time to investigate.”
“Yes, but—”
“Smell that?” He nodded at the building behind her.
“No. What?” She sniffed the air.
“Gasoline.”
Leanne sniffed again and caught the faint odor of gasoline underneath the smoke smell. Her heart rate kicked up again.
“Stables might have gone up, too,” Rick said, “but the homeowner has a sprinkler system there. Good thing he had it installed. And good thing we got here when we did.”
The sprinkler system had been her mother’s idea, not Boone’s. After one of her mom’s friends lost her horses in a fire, her mother decided she wanted sprinklers put in.
“Where was all the gasoline?” Leanne asked.
“I don’t know.” He put his helmet back on his head. “We’ll have to investigate, obviously. But you can smell it here and around the garage, too. You guys are lucky it didn’t spread.”
Leanne’s chest tightened as she turned to look at the guesthouse porch. The EMT was gone, but her mom and Boone were still bickering, from the looks of it—probably out of sorts from all the drama.
Beyond the guest cottage was Boone’s big ranch house, surrounded by hundred-year-old oak trees. Leanne looked at the darkness to the east of them, where Ben and the neighbor were supposedly rounding up Starlight and Reesie. The horses had to be terrified, and it might take hours to get them back.
She turned to Rick, and he was watching her with bloodshot eyes. He was one of the locals who’d given her the cold shoulder since she’d returned to town. But he seemed normal tonight, maybe because he was in control here. She was the one who felt threatened and panicked.
“Thank you guys for getting here so fast.”
“Yeah, y’all are lucky.” He nodded toward the house. “This thing could have been deadly.”