Cooper’s Redemption (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

“We had you clean to rights last time,” Marlowe said. “Your first mistake was letting everyone in three counties hear you tell Henry Harper you’d get him. I admit, you’ve been quieter this time, but this dirty business has your signature written all over it. Not to mention, you’re covered in his blood.”

“I didn’t kill Lyle,” Cooper repeated. He’d wiped his palms on his jeans from when he fell. His ears rang, and his vision blurred as Marlowe continued to hammer at him. He hadn’t murdered Henry Harper, but no one had believed him that time either. If there had been any concrete evidence tying him to Henry’s death, he would’ve been locked up in Canon City faster than a coyote could catch a rabbit.

Deputy Harper came to the door and beckoned Marlowe. Over the sheriff’s shoulder, Harper’s cold eyes locked with Cooper’s own. A chill shimmied up his spine as he realized the deputy was out to pin this murder on him at any cost.

• • •

Elizabeth fumed.

Where had the sheriff and his deputy disappeared to? He’d ordered her to follow him into Salt Lick to discuss a few more details. Her hands shook as she poured herself a cup of coffee that resembled tar. She couldn’t control her tremors. They’d left her cooling her heels for over an hour, and she was getting angrier by the minute. Where was their concern when she’d come here first thing upon her arrival in Salt Lick and asked for help?

Were they still questioning the mysterious Cooper? If they had held him as long as they had her, she wouldn’t blame him for being angry. She shook her head, trying to force her thoughts away from him. But stubbornly, her mind wouldn’t let go of him.

She hadn’t expected the first man to pique her interest in ages to be a raw, dangerous suspected killer. He was not the kind of man she would ever think about dating. Granted, she hadn’t expected to meet men in Salt Lick, Colorado who wore three-piece suits and manicured their nails. She’d expected real men like John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. Maybe even Emilio Estevez.

Cowboys.

She’d found one all right.

An unfamiliar tingle jolted her. Why was she even thinking of Cooper? She must be crazy from worry and lack of sleep. He was the man blamed for killing her uncle. And now he was accused in another murder. Even if she did find the rancher intriguing, it would be disloyal to further any relationship with him.

If she were honest, she would admit Cooper frightened her. Tension visibly rippled under his skin, and she’d feared sending him into a rage. No, that wasn’t right. He had shown exactly how much control he had when Tom held him cuffed to the chair. There was something about Cooper that was … fascinating.

She knew he owned the ranch next door, but there were several hundred acres separating them. They had no reason to come in contact. In fact, she planned to avoid him. He had trouble written all over him in capital letters. She had enough problems of her own without getting caught up in the middle of this mess.

All the western movies she’d always loved idealized this area, made it seem so perfect, so safe. Now she realized that nowhere was unexposed to violence. Had her mother come face-to-face with ugliness? What had happened to her? Elizabeth shuddered just thinking about the possibilities. She set her mug on the scarred table, determined to go home when the door swung open. Sheriff Marlowe entered, accompanied by a white-haired, stocky man.

“Sorry for the delay,” the sheriff said.

Elizabeth nodded. She arched her brows at the second man, but no introductions were made. “How much longer, Sheriff? It’s been a very long night. I’d like to go home.”

“Soon, Miss Adams. Just a few questions if you don’t mind.” He gestured toward a chair. “Sit down.”

Bristling at his tone, she sat. “I’m not going to answer anything until you tell me if you’ve heard anything about my mother.”

He straddled the chair apposite her. “Like I explained every time you’ve come in, Miss Adams, I can’t tell you what I don’t know. What more can I say?”

“You’re still looking?” She didn’t believe him any more than she had the first time they’d met and he’d brushed off her fears like gnats at a picnic. He’d insisted Lillian Adams had gone back to L.A. The only problem being her things were still here. Including her suitcase and her clothes.

“I haven’t gotten a single lead. Now, start at the beginning and tell me how you came to be in your barn with Lyle Pritchett and Cooper.”

Seeing that nothing had changed in the week since she’d first come here for help, Elizabeth bit her lip and concentrated. “It was about five this afternoon, just starting to get a little dark. A storm was building when Mr. Pritchett came to my door and asked me if I needed any help around the house. I told him no. Frankly, he frightened me a little, and I told him to leave.”

“What, specifically, scared you?”

“I’ve lived in Los Angeles all my life, Sheriff. A woman learns to be cautious. Mr. Pritchett arrived out of the blue and he looked … unsavory. Also, my mother came here to do some routine business and she’s disappeared. I’m a bit jumpy. I’m sure you understand.”

He nodded. “Go on. What do you mean by ‘unsavory’?”

“Unclean. Desperate. He seemed a little … off. I watched until he went out of sight. Then I bolted the front door, and went through the house to make sure the back door and windows were also secure. I waited a few minutes before I went outside.”

“What made you go to the barn?” Marlowe made a note.

“It was almost time to feed my uncle’s horse, so I dug around for a flashlight. Probably a total of five or ten minutes.”

“Then what happened?”

“I looked through the kitchen window, but I couldn’t see anyone. After I waited for another minute or so, I heard a dog bark. I went to check it out.”

“Did Cooper have enough time to murder Lyle before you got there?” Marlowe’s expression was intent.

She stared back at him. “No.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because, as I said, I went out right after I heard the dog. I saw someone at the barn door. I thought it was Lyle again, but it was Mr. Cooper. I followed him inside, and that’s when I found him with the body.”

“Wait a minute. You said you were scared. And you went to the barn alone, unarmed?” He arched his gray brows at her.

“I wasn’t unarmed,” Elizabeth said. “I had a heavy-duty flashlight with me.”

Marlowe snorted. “What makes you think you could protect yourself with that?”

“I didn’t have anything else handy.” She didn’t mention she’d taken self-protection courses and carried a can of mace in her pocket.

“What time was this?”

“About five-fifteen. I know because I always feed the horse at five sharp. I glanced at the clock when Mr. Pritchett left.”

“The victim first showed up at your house at what time?” The second man silent until now, sat forward in his chair, eyes focused on her like twin sabers.

“About four-forty-five. Right before five at the latest.”

“How do you know so certainly?”

Elizabeth thought back. “Because I was in town until four. I stopped by the grocery store and I was inside about fifteen minutes. Then came home. I had just changed my clothes and sat down with a cup of coffee when I heard him knock. I guess all that adds up to about an hour.”

Marlowe glanced at the other man. “You agree with that, Doc?”

The white-haired man nodded. “I think the time of death was between three and five.”

Elizabeth stared at him. “You’re the coroner? An autopsy has already been done tonight?” Her throat constricted. Once again she had been no help when someone needed her.

He nodded. “I’ve done a preliminary exam. Body temperature is accurate enough I feel secure about the time of death.”

Sheriff Marlowe added, “There are a slew of witnesses who saw her in town. Cooper’s the one with no alibi.”

“I already told you he didn’t come along until about five,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes, but can you prove it?” Marlowe leaned close. “You’re sticking up mighty hard for someone who might’ve killed two of your family members. Why is that?”

“I have no reason to lie,” she responded tightly. “Besides, I didn’t know anything about Mr. Cooper until tonight. We’d never met, and he didn’t introduce himself to me.”

Why was she defending Cooper so valiantly? Maybe it was her anger at the way this department was handling her mom’s disappearance. Not to mention the way Deputy Harper tied Cooper to one of kitchen chairs had been just plain wrong. Of course she knew about police violence. She’d grown up in a city famous for it, but she hadn’t expected it in Salt Lick, Colorado. She hadn’t liked watching her cousin hurting a defenseless man.

She sipped her coffee and choked. Defenseless. That word didn’t fit Cooper. He reminded her of a chained mountain cat. Dangerous. Untamable. No one would ever call him beautiful, but he oozed sex appeal. His features were rugged, sharp like the Colorado peaks. She had been awed by his ripped physique. She knew men in California who would pay thousands to a personal trainer to help them attain abs like his.

“Cooper arrived at your place on a horse, so he could’ve been in the barn for some time before you realized he was there.” Marlowe gave her a gotcha smile.

“He could’ve been,” she agreed. “But he wasn’t. I already told you I followed him inside.”

“Do you believe there was a herd of cows in one of your corrals this afternoon?” Marlowe curled his thin lips in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted. “I didn’t see them.”

“So, you’re telling me you didn’t notice the herd of cows Cooper claims he trailed to your place, but you know exactly when a man wandered into your barn?”

He had her there. “Why don’t you suspect me? I was alone with Lyle in the middle of nowhere.”

Marlowe smiled like a cat with a canary in its paws. “Who says I don’t?”

Elizabeth blanched. She’d better shut up or she’d find herself locked up next to Cooper, convicted of a murder she hadn’t committed. Had her mother asked questions, too? Had she seen rustling? There were too many questions and no answers.

“I don’t suspect you because you have no motive,” the sheriff said. “First, I can’t think of one earthly reason why you’d want to kill Lyle. Second, it would take a great deal of strength to crack open someone’s skull. I don’t think you have that kind of power. On the other hand, a man Cooper’s size wouldn’t have much trouble.”

Elizabeth had to admit it had looked like Cooper had a lot of muscle. Still, she pressed. “What’s his motive? What makes you so sure he did it?”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” the sheriff said. “Last time, Cooper announced his intentions to the whole town. I guess a little age made him a little wiser.”

“Are you implying Mr. Cooper said he was going to kill my uncle before he did it?” Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face. “Did Mr. Cooper murder my Uncle Henry, or is that just gossip?”

“They were alone, and Henry ended up dead from a blow to the head. You do the math.”

“I see.” Were her instincts so wrong? She didn’t have time to think about it before Marlowe dropped another bombshell.

“Cooper moved here, made friends with the Harpers, then tried to steal their water. When Henry protested, Cooper killed him in cold blood.”

“That’s insane,” Elizabeth whispered. “This is the twenty-first century. No one kills someone over water. You can buy a million different brands in any supermarket.” Her feelings swirled around in a crazy circle. She should hate Cooper. He’d been accused of killing her Uncle Henry. But the way he’d sat there like some character out of a Clint Eastwood film and never even flinched when Tom had berated him had taken guts. His quiet dignity had impressed her. A lot.

Marlowe’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t look amused. “Not drinking water, Miss Adams. Irrigating water. Water wars still exist. Just pick up a newspaper, or listen to the news. A network of ditches keeps this land lush, and ranchers and farmers pay dearly to use it. You’re from Los Angles, you should know about water wars.”

“Cooper was stealing Uncle Henry’s water? Why? Didn’t he have any of his own?” She couldn’t believe he’d killed — not once, but twice. Over water? Insane.

“Yeah, Cooper has water, plenty of it. He swore, and still does, that Henry was the one stealing. But, hell, Henry wouldn’t have done that. Your aunt and uncle were from this area, settled since the late 1800s. Some of the original homesteaders. There wasn’t any contest as to who I believed. Cooper is an outsider.”

“Like my mother?” Bile rushed up Elizabeth’s throat. “Like me?”

“Has it occurred to you that two of your family members have died where Cooper was the only one on the scene? Maybe you ought to wonder if he was in contact with your mother.”

The room spun, throwing her out of focus. “May I go now?”

“Don’t leave town,” Sheriff Marlowe warned her with a frown.

“I won’t,” Elizabeth promised as she stumbled into the hall. “Not until I find out what Cooper knows about my mom.”

Chapter 3

Cooper’s head ached. At thirty-five, he wasn’t exactly over the hill, but he felt ten years older than he was. Marlowe had let him go at about four-thirty in the morning with a warning not to leave town. With a grimace, Cooper washed in the bathroom sink. He scrubbed under his fingernails, remembering Lyle’s blood on his hands. Who had murdered the harmless old guy? And why?

Cooper couldn’t believe he’d been caught up in this thing. He didn’t know if he was more angry or frightened. How had his life gone all to hell in just hours? Who wanted to ruin him? He wasn’t Mr. Popular in Salt Lick, but he didn’t think anyone, even Tom Harper, cared enough about him to try and destroy him. Had he been set up? But that made no sense. After all that happened with Henry, it was unlikely for anyone to think that he’d go to the Harper place. Unless the rustled heifers had been taken there as bait to get him.

He was getting paranoid.

Still, four months as the prime suspect in an unsolved homicide had made him skeptical. Who knew better than he just how slow the rusty wheels of justice rolled? Salt Lick’s finest might find the real murderer if they were willing to look past him to see there was someone else out there with a motive. Cooper vowed he would not be falsely accused again. Even if he had to find the killer himself.