The High Country Rancher (5 page)

“I never would have figured him for something like this.” Baylor opened the passenger’s-side door for her. She brushed past him and got into the truck, her skin on fire where they’d made contact.

“Sometimes the worst of the worst are right under your nose. You pass them every day, and you don’t know it.”

He closed the door, went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. “How do you live with that, Mariah? Do you look at everyone with suspicion?”

She sobered, considering his philosophical question. She’d been wondering the same thing as of late, and she could track her new contemplations right back to him.

“Yeah. I guess I do. I have to, or I wouldn’t be able to do my job. The bad guys would take over the streets.”

He fired up the engine. “I like to see the best in everyone.”

“You mean, hope for the best in everyone?”

His jaw tightened, as he put the truck in Reverse.

“No. See. Hope just means you have expectations that may never be realized. Seeing the best is physical. The old adage, actions speak louder than words, applies more times than not.”

She sat in silence, absorbing the gist of his words. In her world, those gut reactions, those little warning voices in her head, they were all just speculation. Sometimes they were right, sometimes they were wrong. That’s what led her to him. In his world, physical actions really did determine a person’s character. Like his saving her from freezing to death. She swallowed, staring out the window as they drove down the driveway and out onto the main road. Her line of work really had changed her view of humankind.

“Where’s the Turner ranch?”

“Just before the first bridge over the Salmon, we’ll take a right. They run mostly sheep, but they’ve got some cattle.”

“Maybe I should deputize you, in case there’s trouble.” She glanced at him and watched a not-on-your-life smirk spread on his lips.

“I didn’t think so, but I had to try.”

“I know you did.” Baylor tightened his grip on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. Every nerve in his body was attuned to her, but mentally he pushed back. Caring for the beautiful detective was off-limits.

“I know the Turners. Do you want me to approach them?”

“Sure. That might help us get our hands on Buckner.”

“They’re good people, Mariah. They’ll cooperate.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Baylor turned right and followed the narrow road back into the Turner ranch. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of the house, a single-level ranch style surrounded by a covered porch.

The Turners and the McCulloughs had been friends for years. The Turners had been some of the first folks to offer help after Amy drowned. They’d treated him more like a son than a friend. In fact, they’d been some of the only people who believed in him while James Endicott had tried his best to prosecute him for Amy’s death.

Maude Turner was the first one out of the door, and she stepped out onto the porch wearing an apron. Her husband, Clive, was right behind her.

Baylor climbed out of the pickup and headed for the porch. “Maude, Clive. I’d like you to meet Detective Mariah Ellis.”

“Detective?” Maude repeated, the welcoming smile slipping from her face.

“I’m with the county sheriff’s department,” Mariah said, stepping forward. “We had some trouble this morning. I’d like to speak with one of your ranch hands.”

“What sort of trouble?” Clive asked.

“Someone took rifle shots at us up in the meadow on the east side of the Bellwether. A witness saw your ranch hand, Ray Buckner, out there on a four-wheeler.”

“He was up there all right. Tracking a pack of wolves that have been killing our sheep for over a month. But I can tell you he wasn’t armed with a rifle, just a .22 sidearm to protect himself if he needed to.”

“Where can we find him, Mr. Turner?” Mariah asked.

“Montana. He left two hours ago. He’s at a rodeo in Missoula this week. He won’t be back until Friday.”

Mariah felt the wind go out of her sails. “Do you mind if we have a look at the four-wheeler?”

“Go ahead. It’s down by the bunkhouse.” Clive pointed toward the spot where a huge barn stood. Next to it was a long row of individual cabins.

“Thank you, Mr. Turner.” Mariah pulled a card out of her back pocket and handed it to Clive. “Have him call when he gets back. I’d like to know if he saw anything up there this morning.”

Clive took the card, looked at it and put it in his shirt pocket. “Can I interest you two in a bite of supper?”

“No, thanks.” Mariah said. “I’ve got to get back to town.”

“I’ll take a rain check.” Baylor tipped his hat and followed Mariah back to the truck. They climbed in and waved at the Turners.

“You were right. They’re nice people.” She stared
out the window as Baylor fired up the pickup and drove down to the bunkhouse. “How long have you known them?”

“Since I was a kid. They bought the ranch when I was in the fifth grade.”

“They knew Amy then?”

“Yeah. When we first got married, Maude tried to teach her how to survive up here. I don’t know that Maude ever gave up on Amy, even after she made it clear she didn’t want to be here.”

Mariah’s heart squeezed in her chest, and she glanced at Baylor. His jaw was locked; he stared straight ahead, his shoulders rigid.

“I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.” She regretted the inquiry, wishing she could take it back.

“It was no secret she hated my way of life, and she didn’t mind telling anyone who’d listen. Maude did the best she could to help Amy adjust. After she drowned, Clive and Maude were the only ones who didn’t look at me like I was some sort of a killer.” Baylor pulled up in front of the bunkhouse where the four-wheeler was parked, and turned off the engine.

“Endicott did his best to convict me. He questioned everyone on the river including the Turners, and then some. I couldn’t walk down the street in town without hearing the whispers.”

Mariah sobered. For the first time she realized how devastating Amy’s death must have been for
him, and the aftermath could well have driven him over the edge. But enough to hurt James Endicott?

“In this country you’re innocent until proven guilty. I’m sorry you had to endure his zealous attack.”

“I survived.” He pushed his hat back and looked at her. “But I’ve always wondered why he had it in for me.” Baylor opened the door and climbed out of the truck.

Mariah pondered the unanswered question as she got out of the pickup and circled the four-wheeler. She flipped open the hardcover rifle scabbard mounted in front of the handlebars.

Lying in the foam-insulated holder was a rifle.

Caution laced through her. She had enough probable cause to seize the gun, but she didn’t have a slug to compare it to in a test fire. Those bullets were all up in the meadow, buried in the dirt around the mine shaft.

“So much for him only packing a .22.”

Baylor let out a low whistle. “Damn. I would never have believed it.”

“We’ll have to go back to the meadow with a metal detector, and a CSI to recover one of the slugs from the ground so they can do a ballistics comparison.”

“Why would he shoot at us?” Baylor couldn’t still the doubt looping in his mind. Killing someone was serious business.

What did Ray Buckner possibly have to gain?

CSI Ryan Worchester stood up holding a mini-shovel in one hand and a bullet in the other.

Mariah dropped her sunglasses down on her nose and stared at it. “What do you think?”

“I won’t know until I get it into the lab, but it’s a rifle slug. Too big to have come from a pistol.”

She pushed her glasses back into place and glanced over to where Baylor stood, his hat pushed low on his head, arms crossed as he surveyed the meadow.

“Does the chief know about this?” Ryan asked, dropping the shovel and fishing for an evidence bag in the pocket of his pants.

“I didn’t mention that someone was shooting at us, in so many words, but I’ve got a lead I’m following up. Just do the ballistics comparison with the rifle I brought in yesterday evening.”

“Okay. I should have the results in a couple of days.” Ryan dropped the bullet into a baggie, zipped it closed and put it in his pocket. “Damn
beautiful spot to be shot at.” He looked around the meadow.

“Yeah. But I’d rather enjoy the scenery than have to take cover behind it. Be careful getting out of here, and stay on the path.” She glanced over at the vertical shaft that had almost been their grave.

She followed Ryan back to where Baylor held their rides down off the mountain.

“You found a bullet?” he asked.

“Yes, we’ve got what we need to compare it with the rifle we found on the four-wheeler Buckner was riding.”

Baylor nodded, glad to wrap things up in the meadow. For the first time in his life, the setting seemed hostile to him. The feeling of being watched had invaded his senses more than once since they’d first entered the area this morning, and he couldn’t shake it.

“You take the lead, Mariah.” He handed her the reins to Jericho. “Do you need help, Ryan?”

CSI Worchester had ridden Whiskey to the meadow, an old mare Baylor had retired but still had an affection for. She was kid-gentle, perfect for an inexperienced rider.

“No. I think I’ve got this.” Ryan put his foot into the stirrup and mounted up, grabbing a hold of the saddle horn.

Baylor handed him the reins, and mounted Texas. “I’ll take up the rear.”

The trio moved along the trail down out of the
meadow, and Baylor didn’t breathe easy until they were riding up the driveway to the ranch. He had some investigating of his own to do, but it would have to wait.

The crunch of gravel under tires brought his head around and he moved over to the side of the drive, as Travis Priestly slowed and pulled up next to him.

“Hey.” Travis leaned out of the open window of his vehicle.

“Go ahead and come up to the house. I’ll show you where you’re going to bunk.” He liked Travis. He was trying his hand at ranching for the first time through a work study program out of a college in Montana, and Baylor had jumped on the chance to tutor the kid.

Travis rolled past him, braked in the driveway and climbed out of his car.

Baylor reined in Texas, climbed down and tied him next to the other horses. CSI Worchester was already walking toward his vehicle, and gave a wave.

“You’ve got company,” Mariah said as she came toward him.

“He’s my ranch hand for the summer. Come on, I’d like you to meet him. He’s a nice kid.”

They walked over to where Travis was rummaging in the trunk of his car.

“Travis, I’d like you to meet Mariah Ellis. She’s a detective from the sheriff’s department.”

“How do you do?” Travis shook her hand. “I didn’t know they made cops like you.”

Mariah pulled in a breath and smiled at him. He was a good-looking kid, with a close-cropped haircut, brown eyes, brown hair and a nice grin. She liked him. “Well, thanks.”

She turned back to Baylor. “I’ve got to get back to the station.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

He moved along next to her and she caught wind of his woodsy scent.

“I’ll let you know what Ryan finds out, ASAP. If that bullet belongs to Buckner’s rifle, we’ll arrest him immediately.” She stopped next to her car, and turned to stare up into his face. “Watch yourself.”

He smiled. “You do the same.”

“I will.”

M
ARIAH LEANED BACK
in her desk chair and stared out the window at the boring parking lot.

An unsettled feeling had dogged her since she’d climbed in her car at the Bellwether Ranch yesterday morning and waved goodbye to Baylor.

She felt like an idiot for kissing him back in the meadow, and she’d compromised her investigation to a point of no return. She’d lost what little objectivity she had left and she planned to tell her father, if she could get up the nerve. He was an intuitive man. He’d begin a line of questioning that would box her in and the truth would be the only way out.

The slap of his office door against the kick stop brought her head around.

“Ellis, get in here!” he ordered in the gruff tone of voice he saved for those times when he was agitated, but she knew it was just flash.

Mariah sighed as she stood up and strode toward the office. She doubted he knew about the kiss, so what had fired him up?

“Come in and close the door.”

She did as she was told and plopped down in the stiff brown chair in front of his desk, feeling like an unruly kid about to be grounded for a month.

“These showed up in the mail this afternoon.” He tossed a packet of bagged evidence photos down in front of her.

Mariah leaned forward and picked them up. Her breath caught up in her throat as she studied the images, flipping through them one by one.

“Can you identify them?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s James Endicott and…Amy McCullough.”

A measure of disbelief rubbed holes in her thinking. How was it possible? How could it be? The images had been shot at night and showed a half-naked Amy locked in a compromising clinch with Endicott. Mariah flipped through the pictures one more time, noting that each was more intimate than the last.

Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she
tossed them back onto her dad’s desk, feeling a weight descend on her. “Any prints? Any idea who sent them?”

“No on both counts. But they’re at least a year old. Amy McCullough died a year ago today.”

Mariah sobered. Her throat tightened. A wave of emotion plowed her over. The pain Baylor must be experiencing today, and now these.

“Endicott and Amy were having an affair.” The words were like acid coming up in her throat.

Ted Ellis thumped his desk. “This could be a motive for Baylor McCullough. If he knew his wife was sleeping with Endicott, he could have snapped. Maybe Endicott was justified in going after him for Amy’s death. Maybe he really did have something to do with it.”

Mariah’s heart squeezed in her chest and she tried to get her cop brain around it. She didn’t want to believe it, but there it was in full color. Most crimes of passion involved infidelity, jealousy, rage. Was Baylor capable of murder over his wife’s affair?

“I’ve got a uniformed officer en route to pick him up for questioning. He’ll be in your interrogation room within the hour. Press him hard, Mariah, make him account for his whereabouts the day Endicott went missing.”

Things were spinning out of control, she realized as she stood up. Was it possible? Her mind wanted to believe the incriminating evidence in the photos
would be enough to push any loving husband over the edge, but her heart couldn’t.

B
AYLOR STARED AT THE
gray walls of the interrogation room, a bland cubicle that reeked of trouble. Unfortunately he’d had the experience of seeing it once before. A year to the day he’d lost Amy, but he’d survived the aftermath. The fact that he’d even been suspected of not trying to save her from drowning sent a charge of irritation rattling through him.

The door to the room opened and Mariah Ellis stepped inside.

He sucked in a breath to ease the tension knotting his shoulders. He could see it on her face, see it in the narrowing of her eyes as she studied him.

Contemplation.

She pulled out the chair across the table from him and sat down before laying a manila folder out in front of her and opening it.

“These showed up here this afternoon. Did you know about this?” There was an accusatory tone in her voice. He bristled, glancing down at the five pictures she laid out in front of him.

Anger and pain churned his emotions as he stared down at the photos. He reached out and picked up the most incriminating of the group. A shot taken through a slit in a curtained window. Amy and Endicott locked in a kiss, minus their clothes.

“How did I miss this?” He swallowed. “How in
the hell did I miss this? No wonder he came after me when she died. He wanted someone to pay for taking her from him.”

Mariah’s heart squeezed in her chest and her throat tightened around her words. She hadn’t intended to torture him with the pictures, but that’s exactly what she was doing.

“I’m sorry you had to discover the truth like this.”

He rocked back in his chair, his lips formed in a grim line. “I knew there was someone else, but Endicott?” He shook his head slowly. “Why?”

She didn’t have the answer, probably never would, but she suddenly disliked Amy McCullough. What had pushed her to infidelity when her own husband was so…gorgeous? She stiffened, wishing the wayward path of thought to meander somewhere else. Physically sizing up Baylor wasn’t part of her job, getting a firm verifiable alibi was.

“Where were you on April the fifth after 4:30 p.m.?”

His eyes narrowed. “I get it, you think these pictures prove something?”

“A possible….” she cleared her throat “…motive.”

“We’re done here, Detective. I want my lawyer.”

His words slammed into her like a physical blow. She’d had suspects lawyer up time and again, so why did it upset her that Baylor McCullough was doing the same thing?

“Please, Baylor. You have to tell me where you were and what you were doing on the fifth.”

He sat back and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Time stretched as she waited, waited for an answer that would alleviate the creeping edge of concern that wrapped around her heart. “I can verify it. You’ll be cleared.”

His features didn’t soften.

Why was she pleading with him? She’d never pleaded with a suspect in her life, but he was different.

She pushed back her chair and stood up, gathering the scandalous photos, watching his eyes follow their progression as she put them back into the folder.

“I’m sorry.” Her breath caught in her throat; her brain flooded with sympathy. The emotions were wrong. The situation suffocating.

She moved toward the door. “You’re free to use the phone to contact your lawyer.”

“Mariah. Wait.”

She froze in midstep and turned around, hope generating in her mind and body as she stared at him.

He stood up. “I’d like to help you, but no one saw me on the fifth. I was riding herd in the high country. I saddled up before dawn and returned just after dark. I didn’t speak to a soul who can verify it, and my cow dog Bess isn’t talking.”

A brief smile pulled at her mouth, but the serious
ness of the situation pushed it down. “That’s all I needed to know. You’re free to go.”

“I’ll never be free to go.” He stepped past her and she felt a charge build between them. The memory of his lips on hers as they lay in the grass was so vivid it tested her resolve, but somewhere in her mind she believed him. Baylor McCullough was an honorable man.

“Will you take a polygraph?”

“No.” He reached for the doorknob and she fought the urge to touch him. They’d already experienced intimacy, and she found herself drawn to him, but she resisted her primal urge.

“Derrick Hastings is good.”

He stared down at her, so close she could see the muscle along his jawline jump.

“This is about Amy, isn’t it?” He leaned closer.

Her heart rate shot up. “No.”

His scent invaded her senses, a mix of outdoor air and the forest. Her desire hit overdrive.

“What she did with Endicott was wrong. She was your wife. I don’t understand how she could do it when she had someone like…” The last word died on her tongue as she stared up at him. His eyelids closed slightly, his blue-gray eyes taking her in with a sultry gaze that could have dissolved granite.

Mariah felt her knees go weak, overtaken by the seductive line of his body as he relaxed and leaned against the doorjamb.

“Is that a hint of belief coming from you? A maybe-he’s-telling-the-truth admission?”

Heat burned inside her and blazed onto her cheeks. “Murderers don’t usually go around saving lives. It’s not an admission, just an observation.”

He smiled slow and easy, raising her level of desire to white-hot, just before the door opened and she nearly fell into the arms of the chief of police.

“Detective Ellis. I need a word.”

B
AYLOR STEPPED OUT
of the interrogation room into the hallway, but not before the sound of Chief Ellis’s raised voice hit his eardrums.

He lifted his gaze to the exit sign at the end of the corridor and tried to stay focused as he put one foot in front of the other, listening to the sound of his own boots hitting the polished tiles. Every nerve in his body was ready to explode.

Pushing through the double glass doors, he walked out onto the massive cement steps of the station. Hell, he didn’t even have a ride home, but somehow that didn’t matter. The world as he’d known it had just imploded with Amy at the center.

Striding down the steps, he turned left on Main Street and started walking. Had she needed more attention? He’d always known the ranching life didn’t suit her. Too much solitude for someone as fun-loving as she’d been and not enough action to make her happy.

A knot fisted in his gut as he mentally recalled the details of the pictures that Mariah had laid out on the table in front of him.

Mariah.
He had to believe the information had torn her apart as well. He’d caught a glimmer of pain in her eyes. That gut-level reaction when you discover you’ve misread someone’s moral compass.

The toot of a car horn drew his attention, and he watched her pull her white sedan in next to the curb and roll down her window.