Page 72 of Dark Side of the River

“Haven’t seen that girl of yours for a while,” Tick said.

Tilly would love being called agirl. “The young woman in question isn’t mygirl, and I wouldn’t call her that to her face.”

The geologist laughed heartily. “She is a firebrand, isn’t she? I was just thinking of her when I saw you driving past. There was a man in the bar the other night asking about her and her family, especially her mother.”

“What man?” Cooper asked.

“Said his name was Jason Murdock. After he left, I asked who he was and was told he was a private investigator. I guess he’d been asking questions around town about a man named Dixon Malone. Used to be married to Charlotte Stafford. Apparently, Dixon disappeared some years ago and hasn’t been seen since.”

Seemed odd anyone would be looking for him now. “Did he say who’d hired him?”

Tick shook his head. “I noticed that a lot of people clammed up in the bar. I heard Tilly’s name mentioned. Got the impression everyone liked her. Just thought she should know.”

“Thanks,” Cooper said. Tick didn’t seem like such a jerk when he wasn’t drinking. “I’ll let her know.” He wondered if Rusty knew anything about this. Rusty and Dixon Malone were shirttail relatives. He’d never understood exactly how they were related, but maybe he’d better find out. He couldn’t imagine Rusty hiring a PI after all these years to investigate what might have happened to Dixon, though.

STUARTKNEWTHAThe couldn’t send a deputy out to the Stafford Ranch to pick up CJ. He was going to have to do this himself. He hoped CJ wouldn’t put up a fight and would simply come along peacefully. Maybe he should have brought a couple of deputies with him, he thought as he left town.

What he couldn’t understand was why CJ would have shot his sister. Once he had, why hadn’t he come forward? He had to know that he would be found out.

Then again, Stuart had found most suspects didn’t turn themselves in. They waited, hoping they’d get away with it, right up until they were caught.

As he drove out to the Stafford Ranch, he was still having trouble believing CJ had shot Oakley. He kept telling himself there had to be a mistake. He’d been so sure it had been someone from the McKenna Ranch who’d taken a potshot at her. Someone like that hothead Rusty Malone.

But the evidence didn’t lie. Oakley had been shot by a 270 rifle belonging to her brother. CJ’s fingerprints were still on it. Now all Stuart needed was a confession, and he could wrap up at least this case.

He still had the meth lab to deal with. The Feds were out there combing through the ashes. With luck, they would come up with something that led them to the culprits. They wouldn’t even need the sheriff’s help.

After the past week, he was ready to take off his badge and hang up his gun. Problem was, what would he do? Leave Powder Crossing? He chuckled. Cooper had been right. He was never leaving here. His boots were covered with too much of the red dirt from these hills. He couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to.

Just as he couldn’t quit the one job he’d thought he’d been pretty good at and maybe could be again.

Pulling through the gate, he drove up to the sprawling house and got out. All on one level, the house had been added on again and again from the original small one that John and Ruth Carson had lived in with their only child, Charlotte. But after they passed and Charlotte married Rake Stafford, a man seventeen years her senior, the family had grown and so had the house. She’d gotten pregnant with five children in less than eight years. Rake had been her age now, fifty-two, when he’d died from a fall from his horse, hitting his head on a rock.

After Rake died, Charlotte had added more rooms as her children required more space, with rooms going off in different directions until the original house was part of a sprawling complex of glass and wood and rock.

Stuart had always wanted to see inside the house, but had never been invited in. While he and Tilly were dating, he’d hinted a few times, but it was clear he wasn’t going to get an invitation. He didn’t take it personally since, from what he’d heard, Charlotte Stafford practically lived as a recluse.

He walked up to the door again thinking he should have brought at least one deputy with him. He knocked and waited, then knocked again.

Ryder Stafford opened the door, brushing back a lock of long blond hair out of his green eyes. “Yes?” Behind him, Stuart got a glimpse of the living room with its rock fireplace, worn wood floors covered with equally worn Native American rugs and worn leather furniture. A bear rug hung on one wall next to a large whitetail deer head. “Yes?”

“I need to see CJ. Is he around?”

“He and Tilly left about five, ten minutes ago.”

CJ and Tilly? That struck him as odd since the two were always at odds with each other. “Do you know where they were headed? Because I didn’t pass them on the county road into town.”

Ryder shook his head, but then seemed to remember. “I thought I overheard Tilly say she had to get to the hospital to bring Oakley something.”

“Is there anyone else home who might know? It’s important.” Stuart couldn’t shake the sliver of dread that had embedded itself just under his skin.

Ryder turned back to the empty room for a minute. “Sorry. My mother’s gone for a ride. Brand’s been gone with the ranch hands checking cattle since early this morning. I could ask our cook, though I really doubt they told her where they were going.”

“It’s okay. If you see either of them, would you give me a call?”

“Sure,” Ryder said, and closed the door.

As Stuart walked back to his patrol SUV, he called Tilly. Her phone went straight to voice mail. He left a message. “I know who shot Oakley. Get hold of me right away and don’t say anything to CJ.”

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