Page 32 of Killer on the Homestead
“I’m going to be straight with you all. I could arrest you, Mr. Kirk, or Mrs. Kirk, or both, if I had any reason to believe you’d be behind something like this, even without the tests. But I don’t see any motive, any reason.Yet. So please, if you really want answers, forget that I’m an outsider, drop the small-town,circle-the-wagons, tight-lipped merry-go-round, and let me do myjob.”
His parents didn’t say anything to that, and Duncan couldn’t really either. It didn’t endear the detective to him any, but the idea hecouldarrest his innocent parents, and wasn’t…yet… It was some kind of relief. Some kind of hope that… That no matter what anything looked like, the truth really was the goal.
But he still didn’t like the guy.
“We’ll be in touch,” the detective said before pushing out the door. He headed down to the bunkhouse to question Terry. And put the whole ranch up in arms.
But Duncan knew that if either of the guns they’d confiscated connected to the murder, it implicated someone on this ranch.
In the wakeof the police leaving, the silence was a heavy weight that reminded Rosalie of times in her life she didn’t wish to revisit. Stress, worry, shock, and that horriblewhat do we do. So she took charge of the situation.
“Mr. Kirk, it would be quite a feat for someone to sneak into your house, steal your gun, kill that boy, then put it back,” Rosalie told him. “Not impossible, but quite a feat. If it comes back that one of those guns is the murder weapon, I don’t think the suspicion would be on you. It’d be someone who works for you.”
“No one who works for me would do such a thing,” Norman said, offended.
But Rosalie watched as Duncan shared a look with his mother. Maybe they didn’t love the idea that one of the ranch hands couldmurder, but they both knew Norman was too kind when it came to all those troubled distant cousins.
Rosalie didn’t argue with him though. No point to it. She had researched all of them. There weren’t any violent offenders,but she’d keep digging on each of them. “You’ve got a detective bureau and an investigator looking into it. I know I can’t tell you not to worry, but I’m determined to help get to the bottom of this. Keep cooperating with Detective Beckett. As much as his bedside demeanor leaves something to be desired, he’s right. Shutting him out just because he doesn’t know us won’t help. But I’m not going to let what he doesn’t know—about Bent County, about ranching, about you all—affect you. That’s a promise.”
Mrs. Kirk rose, walked over to her, and enveloped her into a warm, motherly hug that smelled like cinnamon and felt like an old memory Rosalie certainly wasn’t going to indulge in right now.
She awkwardly patted Mrs. Kirk’s back before the woman released her. “Thank you, Rosalie.” Her eyes were shiny, but she didn’t cry. She turned to her husband. “Come on, Norman. Let’s get some sleep. Duncan can lock up.”
Rosalie watched them go, wishing there was more she could do. Wishing she could see something in this case that Copeland and Bent County didn’t see.Wishingfor faster, better answers, and maybe a time machine to just erase this.
But those were never useful thoughts or feelings.
“Thanks for coming,” Duncan said.
She should say “you’re welcome” and leave it at that, but… Well, sometimes she really couldn’t help herself. “You’ve got to stop trying to play hero, Duncan. We’re all on the same side.”
His expression hardened. She looked away before she cataloged too many things about the way his eyes darkened, or lines bracketed his mouth, or how her stomach did an entire gymnastics routine if she spent too long looking at him—whether he was smiling or scowling.
“Not if they let my parents think, for even a second, they might be implicated.”
Her response was a little curt, and not because he deserved it, but because she didn’t like the thing going on in her chest. “They’re adults. It sucks, but they can handle it.”
“I’llhandle it.”
She rolled her eyes.Men. “Are you always this frustrating?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. But his demeanor changed. Lightened. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car. And I can already tell you’re opening your mouth to say I don’t need to, but if you say that, I’m going to assume you’re scared to be alone with me.”
“Nothing about you scares me, Ace.”Wow, Rosalie, could you lie any harder?Since she recognized the lie, instead of settling into the denial like she wanted to, she walked for the door. And she didn’t argue when he followed, when he walked her out to her truck. She just marched on ahead and told herself that once she was in her driver’s seat, she’d feel in charge again.
Except, when she turned to give him one last warning about trying to protect his parents, she was effectively caged against her truck. He wasn’ttouchingher, and she wouldn’t need to even use self-defense to get out of this, but she stayed there all the same. Back to the truck door. Front to him. Ahimwho was far too close.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, glaring up at him. But that was the only weapon she wielded. She didn’t try to push him away. She didn’t draw attention to the gun at her hip. She just glared.
While Duncan’s small, tired smile curved up. “Looking.”
“Well, stop.”
“All right.” But he didn’t back off. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers. Not like back at his cabin. With a pause, with a softness.
No, he swooped in. Just like… Like they were doing this thing. Like he had any right to just lean in and kiss her. Like his mouth was made for hers and everything she ever thought she knewabout how to handle a guy was a joke, because there was no handlingthis. This twisted-up, dizzying feeling he brought out in her.
ButGod, he was good at it. All those arguments she held very near and dear to her heart seemed to turn to ash and scatter on the wind. All that self-control she was so proud of disappeared somewhere.
