Page 9 of Dark Side of the River

“She came riding out of there,” Deputy Dodson said. He’d volunteered to protect the crime scene after dropping off Cooper at the sheriff’s department. Clearly, he’d done some investigating on his own. “She wasn’t alone. There was another rider with her—or at least behind her. I think it’s someone she met back in there and things didn’t go quite like either of them expected and he chased after her.”

Stu shot him a warning look to shut up.

“She was already being chased through the ravine, from what I can tell,” Dodson said, ignoring the warning as he turned to the medical examiner as if Stu wasn’t even there. “What’s odd is that when she came out, she headed for the woods. Whoever was chasing her followed for a ways, then went the other way back toward the McKenna Ranch house.” They’d been following the tracks as they walked and now stopped at the edge of the opening that cut back into the mountains.

“Or the rider could have headed for the Stafford Ranch, since it is just beyond those hills over there,” Stu said to Brewer, wanting to clarify that whoever was chasing Oakley didn’t necessarily come from the McKenna Ranch house. As he did, he desperately wanted an excuse to send his deputy back to the road.

“If the other rider shot her, there is no indication here that she was already hit,” Brewer said. “I haven’t seen any blood. For her to make it all the way to the road as your eyewitness said, I’d say she must have made it as far as the trees before she was shot.”

“Eyewitness,” Dodson said, and scoffed. “My instincts are that Cooper McKenna’s the one who shot her. Something about him bothers me.”

His deputy had made his suspicions perfectly clear—no evidence to back it up aside.

Stu stepped away as he got a call from the lab. “Sheriff Layton,” he said into the phone.

“You asked for an update on the bullet taken out of Oakley Stafford as soon as I had it,” the lab tech said. “It’s a 130-grain load from a 270 rifle. I’m checking to see if this particular rifle has been used in an earlier crime. I’ll let you know.”

Stuart figured it was a long shot that it had been used in another crime. He didn’t believe that whoever had shot Oakley was a known criminal. But then again, he could be wrong.

“I’m going to have my deputies bring in some 270s to be tested. The sooner we find the owner of the weapon that fired that shot, the better.”

“It’s just me and another assistant. How many 270s are you talking about?”

“Not sure. Just do the best you can. Thanks.”

The sheriff disconnected and called Judge Branson. “I need a warrant.” He explained about the slug taken out of Oakley Stafford. “Thanks. Deputy Dodson will be stopping by to pick it up.”

Dodson, he thought with a low growl. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the young, cocky deputy. The slug that was removed from Oakley during surgery was from a 270 rifle, one of the most common makes in the valley. None of the weapons found in Cooper’s pickup had been a 270. Nor did the caliber match.

Not that lack of evidence seemed to stop Dodson from his assumptions based on his impressions. Stu walked back to where the deputy was bending the medical examiner’s ear. “I need you to go by Judge Branson’s, pick up a warrant, then take Deputy Collins with you to collect all the rifles from both the McKenna and Stafford ranches.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.” He didn’t want word getting out what model they were looking for. “Bag them and any ammo with them, identify the owner and owner’s permit, if they have one, and take the rifles to the lab ASAP.”

“What about the guns we took from Cooper McKenna’s pickup?” Dodson demanded.

“None of them match what we’re looking for. And, Deputy, I need you not to share any more of your suspicions or theories with anyone else.”

Dodson looked as if he wanted to argue, but not in front of the state medical examiner, whom he’d been showing off for. Even though he looked as if he thought he was being sent on a wild-goose chase, he thankfully left without another word.

“Did I mention that he’s new?” Stu said to the medical examiner.

Brewer sighed as they both watched Dodson disappear into the woods. “I hate to say it, but Dodson could be right about it being a romantic liaison, though I can think of more comfortable places to get together than in that rough, rocky terrain back there. Doesn’t feel right, does it?”

No, Stu thought. It didn’t. She’d ridden back into that ravine that went back into the mountains, but they had no idea for how long or why. But it was suspicious that the other rider headed in a different direction—one that could have taken him to the McKenna Ranch house or over the property line to the Stafford home.

COOPERALREADYFELTas if he’d overstayed his welcome. But since the sheriff had pretty much told him not to leave town and he wasn’t going anywhere without his guns, he headed for the ranch. He figured he might as well get it over with. By now, his father would have heard about Oakley and the man who found her after she was shot. No doubt Holden would be wondering why he hadn’t already heard from him.

He hadn’t seen his father in more than two years. They hadn’t spoken since the last time he was at the ranch. They’d pretty much said all there was to say at the time—another reason he was unsure if he was even staying at the ranch tonight. The smart thing would have been to stay in a motel and let the dust settle.

But Cooper knew the dust wasn’t going to settle for some time. The shooting would be the talk of the county. What made it more salacious was that a Stafford had been shot on McKenna land.

As he drove through the McKenna Ranch gate, he knew he couldn’t put off the inevitable. He’d planned to sneak back into town, test the water, see if he was staying or not. But that hadn’t happened. He would have to face everything, including why he’d left. Wasn’t that why he’d come home? Because he was tired of running from it?

Still, it seemed like a bad idea to confront his father now, especially after what had happened earlier. When he’d gassed up the truck before leaving town, he’d heard the local speculation. Tongues were wagging as if the jury was already out. A romance gone wrong, and the obvious suspect was some cowboy from the McKenna Ranch. What was Oakley Stafford doing there if not meeting up with someone?

It did make sense. They were the same questions he was asking himself as he parked in front of the house. He doubted his father would have the answers, but he never knew since he’d been gone for so long. A lot could have changed. He shut off the engine and sat looking at the place where he was born and raised.

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