Page 2 of Killer on the Homestead
He remembered Audra as a serious girl with serious eyes, a year or two behind him in school. The younger sister, Rosalie, had been the polar opposite. He remembered, with some fondness, when she’d punched one of his high-school teammates for trying to cop a feel on the bus.
She was a private investigator, according to Mom, at some place in Wilde. Duncan wasn’t surprised at that. The main things he remembered about Rosalie Young were her red hair and the way she always liked to stick her nose into trouble.
Mom told him about an issue with a cousin of theirs not too long ago, and even bigger trouble a while back, when the mysterious Hudson family disappearance had been solved after years of being a cold case. Which had led to the gruesome discovery of years of dead bodies in a cave in the state park.
Mom claimed she’d told him about all this already, but he didn’t remember it. In fairness, he didn’t pay attention to much aside from baseball when the season was in full swing. Or in the offseason, when he was already planning on the next season.
Now there was nothing to plan for.
He really thought he’d moved a little closer to acceptance in the past few months of doctor’s appointments and discussionsof options, then surgery and the inevitable bad news, but something about being home was like finally fully admitting defeat. Even more so than the retirement announcement he’d had to make.
He wasnotgoing to deal with that horrible sinking feeling at his parents’ dinner table. He’d wait until he was alone in the cabin, tucked away for the night.
Dad’s phone chimed, and Duncan was surprised to see his father check it without one admonition from his mother. They shared a look and Dad scooted back in his chair.
“I’ve got to go check on some things. I’ll be back.”
Duncan watched his father go, then looked at his mother, who was staring very hard at her plate.
“What’s wrong?” Because he could think of no other reason his mother would accept anyone reading a text at her dinner tableandthen leaving, unless it was an emergency.
He watched his mother consider her answer. Then look over her shoulder as if to make sure Dad was gone. “It’s nothing.”
Which was clearly a bald-faced lie. “Mom.”
She sighed. “He won’t want me to tell you.” She looked over her shoulder again. “He’s already mad at me for being pushy.”
“Pushy? You?”
She scorched him with a mean look in response to his sarcasm. “We’ve had some cows disappear is all.”
“Disappearing? How do cows disappear?”
Mom waved away the question. “Dad’ll figure it out.” She smiled, but there was some worry in the new lines on her face. “Except…” She sighed. “You have to pretend I didn’t tell you.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You weren’t a Scout, Duncan,” she said, but she almost smiled at the old joke. “It’s just strange. In all our years of ranching, we’ve never seen such a thing. Because cows just don’t gomissing. Not one by one like this.”
“Is someone taking them?”
“That’s one theory.”
“If someone’s stealing them, why hasn’t he called the police?”
“We don’t know for certain anyone’s stealing them. It may be a bad spot in the fence. Or maybe some silly prank.” She sighed. “Dad talked to Sheriff Hudson, but that’s Sunrise, and we’re unincorporated. Bent County is who Dad would need to file a report with, and he’s stubborn. Doesn’t like their new ‘modern’ sensibility. I guess they hired a detective from Denver, over that good-for-nothing cousin of his’s kid.” Mom shook her head disgustedly. She had no fondness for some of Dad’s extended family.
But Duncan wasn’t interested in old family feuds. “So what’s he doing about it then?”
“Worry himself to death,” Mom said with a scowl. She sighed, leaned close and lowered her voice, even though Dad was long gone. “He’s afraid he’s getting old and forgetful. He even went to the doctor of his own accord.”
Duncan was surprised at how hard that hit him. Once Dad had broken his arm and refused to go to the doctor fordays. Until Mom had threatened to knock him out and drag him to the hospital herself.
“Nothing came back, except a bit of high cholesterol, go figure. But he’s still embarrassed that something’s going on under his nose. Worried. Blaming himself. I’ve tried to get him to call Bent County. I’ve talked to the ranch hands, tried to get them to convince him to call, but… Well, you know your father.”
“Stubborn is an understatement.”
She smiled fondly. “He certainly didn’t pass that trait on.”
