Dyer Consequences (24 page)

“Don’t worry. Don will be right there with the Fort Connor team when they go into the canyon to interview Bobby. The county cops are definitely interested in this guy, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kelly,” he said as he left.

Kelly hobbled back to the dining room, her insides still churning with frustration. There was no way she could sit still tonight. She needed a distraction. Something to take her mind off all of this.

Staring through the patio door at Carl sniffing his empty doggie dish, Kelly realized what she needed. She grabbed her cell phone and punched in Steve’s number. The Jazz Bistro would keep her mind occupied and ease her frustration. There was nothing like great food, an icy martini, and hot jazz to keep aggravation at bay.

"Good morning, Rosa, how’s your little girl, Naomi?” Kelly asked as she hobbled through the yarn room, coffee mug in hand.

Rosa looked up from filling yarn bins with bright green froth. “She’s doing fine, Kelly. Thanks for asking. The doctor said it was a bad cut on her head, not a concussion. She stayed at home yesterday, and I let her watch her favorite cartoon channel all day.” Rosa laughed softly.

“Wow, Saint Patrick’s Day must be coming.” Kelly pointed to the stacked baskets spilling over with varying shades of green. Forest emerald, vibrant shamrock green, lime green, pale early-spring green, melon green, olive green, even chartreuse.

“Oh, yes. Spring is coming, and we’re ready for it,” Rosa declared as she left the room, empty basket in hand.

Kelly slowly headed toward the knitting table, still maneuvering without her crutch. She found the crutch helped outside and on uneven surfaces, but inside the cottage and here in the shop, she was now clumping along fine without it.

She set her mug on the table and plopped into a chair. It was midmorning and the shop only had a few customers wandering about. A perfect time for quiet knitting. Kelly needed some quiet this morning. Knitting peacefully always helped settle her thoughts. Maybe knitting would help settle this gnawing unease in her gut.

Pulling out the circular needles, she carefully examined the vivid scarlet yarn. Her hat was coming along nicely. She’d completed nearly five inches of neat, even stitches which—thanks to the magic of knitting in the round— had transformed into a smooth stockinette pattern. Without purling. Only four more inches to go, and she could switch to the feared double-point needles to finish the top of the hat. She’d probably need a lot of help for that.

Kelly slipped the needle beneath a stitch, wrapped the scarlet yarn, then slid the stitch from the left needle to the right.
Slip, wrap, slide.
The familiar cadence always helped her settle into a rhythm. Slip, wrap, slide. Slip, wrap, slide.

She was starting to feel the rhythm when her cell phone rang. Anxious that it might be Burt, Kelly dropped her knitting quickly.

Bobby’s voice came on the line, as friendly and down-home as usual. “Hey, Kelly, this is Bobby.”

“Uhhh, hey, Bobby, what’s up?” she managed, feeling her gut clench. She was talking to a murderer.

“I was hopin’ you could do me a favor. My mom’s just called from down in the Springs, and she needs my help real bad. My brother’s off overseas in the army somewhere in the Middle East, so we’re kind of looking out for his wife and kids while he’s gone. I’m gonna hav’ta get some money and head down there this morning because the garage mechanic won’t fix my sister-in-law’s car without cash up front.”

Kelly had to hand it to him. Bobby oozed sincerity. Looking out for a poor relative in Colorado Springs while her husband was fighting overseas. Pulling on the heart-strings. Patriotism and pity all combined in one pitch.

Maybe Carolyn Becker was Bobby’s mother, and he was going to the Springs to celebrate with the rest of his scheming family. Their plan had worked. They’d “scared” Kelly into putting the ranch up for sale. Now they figured they’d get it for a bargain price. Or so they thought.

Kelly swallowed down the cynical response that rose to her lips and forced a reply. “That’s too bad.”

“I was wonderin’ if you could come up and feed the animals this afternoon. I figure I’ll be back by tonight, so I can close and lock ’em up in the barn. But it might be kinda late. I tried callin’ Jayleen but couldn’t get her.”

Kelly hesitated. If Bobby was gone today, the cops couldn’t question him until tomorrow.
Damn.

“You said your foot was better, so I was hopin’ you could come out, but if ya can’t, I guess the herd can wait till tonight. I’ll drive back as fast as I can.”

Kelly paused, about to refuse. Why would she help him? Then suddenly a crazy idea surfaced, dancing in front of her eyes, and she found herself answering, “Uh, yeah, sure, Bobby. I’ll drive up. I’ll have to borrow someone’s car, but I’ll take care of it.”

“If it’s too much trouble for you...”

Another refusal started forming, but the crazy idea danced again, teasing her. Once more, Kelly jumped in— without thinking. “No, it’s okay. It’s fine. You take all the time you need with your mother. I’ll close the barn doors, too. We don’t want any predators coming in.”

“Thanks, Kelly. I sure do appreciate it. I’ll call you when I’m headin’ back.”

“You do that, Bobby. Drive safely.” Kelly waited for him to click off before she closed her phone, her mind racing as fast as her pulse.

Bobby would be gone all day. Which meant she would have time to look around the ranch house. She could search for something, anything that could link Bobby to Tracy’s death. Otherwise, Bobby would get away with murder. She
had
to find something. She owed it to Tracy.

Kelly grabbed her mug, ready to down more coffee, then realized the last thing she needed was more caffeine. Her heart was pounding already with the crazy ideas that were dancing through her head. She needed to calm down and think this through. She reached for her knitting again and took a deep breath, forcing her breathing to slow as she returned to her stitches.

Slip, wrap, slide. Slip, wrap, slide. Over and over, Kelly knitted, finishing one row, then another, while a war raged inside her head.

Are you crazy?
the sensible side of her argued.
You’ve still got a cast on your foot. You have no business clomping through a barn in the mountains. And what about your other ankle? That’s a thirty-minute drive up into the canyon. Your right ankle’s not strong enough.

That comment didn’t faze Kelly’s Crazy Idea side at all. She’d been getting around just fine this week, thank you very much. She would have the crutch with her. No problem.

Slip, wrap, slide. Slip, wrap, slide.
What about a car? Yours is totaled, or had you forgotten that?

Crazy didn’t miss a beat. Just like Bobby. She could ask to borrow Rosa’s car. If she left now, she’d be back before shop closing time. No problem.

Slip, wrap, slide. Slip, wrap, slide.
What the hell do you expect to find in the ranch house? Do you think Bobby has left something incriminating sitting there? Like a coat with Aztec Blue dye on it, or something? You’re nuts if you think so. Bobby’s far too clever for that.

That thought caused a momentary pause while Kelly’s racing ideas sorted themselves. She was good at finding clues. She’d find something. She
knew
she would. Papers showing his connection to the Colorado Springs people, phony IDs, something . . .

Slip, wrap, slide. Slip, wrap, slide. Knitting wasn’t bringing the peacefulness this time. Calm didn’t have a chance with Crazy Idea and friends crowding Kelly’s mind. After another moment Instinct spoke up.

That got her attention, and Kelly’s needles paused while she took stock of what was happening outside the chaos in her mind. The uneasiness in her gut was no longer gnawing. It had taken a huge bite. Normally, Kelly listened to her gut. Listened to her instinct. Listened to that little voice that came from somewhere inside her. She hesitated.

Then the awful image of Tracy shimmered before her eyes. Tracy, facedown in the dye vat, her blonde hair floating on the water. Blue-blonde hair. Aztec Blue. Bobby did that to Tracy. He’d killed her, and now he was about to get away with murder.

Kelly felt a surge of anger shoot right up her spine.
The hell he would!
She’d find a way to trap that bastard. She knew she would. She owed it to Tracy. Kelly would get Bobby if it was the last thing she did.

She tossed the needles and yarn into her knitting bag as she grabbed her phone. Punching in Burt’s number, she pulled herself out of the chair and headed toward the front, where she’d last seen Rosa. Burt’s voice mail came on.

“Hey, Burt, Kelly here. Bobby just called and said he’d be in Colorado Springs all day helping out his mother. That must be Carolyn Becker. So you’d better tell the detectives to reschedule their visit to the ranch, okay? Talk to you later.”

She clicked off, deliberately leaving out the part about her decision to go up to the ranch and search for evidence. Burt’s constant answer was “wait for the detectives to do their jobs.”

Waiting took too long to Kelly’s way of thinking. The police were too slow. Today might be the only time Bobby would be away from the ranch for several hours. And he wouldn’t be expecting someone to come searching.

The cold hand inside Kelly’s gut gave another squeeze, but Kelly ignored that, too. Just like she ignored the warning voice inside her head. She’d made up her mind. She was going to find something that proved Bobby’s guilt. She’d been able to find information on those other four killers. She’d do it again. She
knew
she would.

Rosa came through the archway of the main room, and Kelly gave her a bright smile. “Hey, Rosa, I was looking for you. Do you think I could borrow your car for a little while? I’ve got some business stuff I have to do right away.”

“Are you sure you can drive okay?” Rosa said, clearly hesitant.

Kelly made an offhand gesture. “Absolutely. My right foot is even stronger now that I’ve been walking without my crutch. I’ll be back before closing time. No problem.”

Kelly drove the Honda to the end of the ranch driveway, grateful that the deepest snow had melted. She wanted to park as close to the barn as possible. That way she wouldn’t be slogging through too much snow and slush. Grabbing her crutch, Kelly balanced on her good foot as she maneuvered out of the car.

Mud, slush, and gravel squished up the side of her booted right foot as she headed toward the barn. Glancing back at the car, she noticed that she’d parked between the barn and the ranch house and couldn’t be seen from the road.

Two alpaca stared at her from the corral area, their huge brown eyes observing her strange hobbling gait. Then a third poked his head out. Then another. Since the snow had drifted higher near the pasture fence, none of the animals came to greet her.

Kelly decided to give the herd a final pat. Her alpaca, but not for much longer. She’d already decided to sell all of them to Jayleen’s friend, so this could be the last time she saw the animals. A slight twinge of remorse came and passed. Her dreams of owning a mountain ranch were dying a slow death.

She hobbled inside the barn, and the smell of hay drifted to her nostrils along with dirt and another smell. Something oily. “Hey, guys, how’re you doing?” she said as she clumped through the hay to the wooden fenced corral. “I guess this is goodbye, huh? You’ll be going off with another owner in a week or so.”

The alpaca started to cluster around the fence, shoving their long necks toward her for attention. Their response spurred Kelly to get closer, so she unlocked the gate and let them mill about the corner of the barn with her. The more affectionate of the herd pushed forward and crowded around her, looking for rubs and attention, which Kelly supplied generously, returning their affection. She placed her crutch against the corral fence so she could pat them with both hands.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” she said, rubbing the soft gray nose of the most dominant male. He persisted in standing in front of her, blocking the others’ access. “Will you miss me?”

“They won’t miss you at all,” a sarcastic male voice answered.

Kelly jumped, her heart racing.
Bobby.
That was Bobby’s voice, but it sounded different. Not friendly Bobby, not at all. She ducked her head around the alpaca, trying to see toward the door.

Peering between two alpaca, she spotted him standing inside the barn door. But he didn’t even look like Bobby. Gone were the cowboy hat, boots, and jeans. They’d been replaced by white ski pants and jacket, goggles, and snow boots. Snow white.

“Bobby . . . wh-what are you doing here?” Kelly managed.

“Surprised you, huh?” he said, strolling into the barn. “I figured as much. I knew if I sprinkled enough bread crumbs out there, you’d come running. Like you always do. Sniffing around, looking for clues. Sleuthing, isn’t that what your friends call it?”

Even Bobby’s speech sounded different. No more cowboy drawl. No more friendly tone, either. This Bobby’s voice was cold and harsh. The hand in Kelly’s gut squeezed tighter.

“I figured you couldn’t resist the chance to come up here and search the ranch house, right?” He walked to the middle of the barn and stopped. A couple of the alpaca bolted away from the corral corner.

Now that she could see him clearly, Kelly noticed Bobby was carrying a lantern in one hand and a gas can in the other. The gas can had an old-fashioned design, like the one that was found on the first buyer’s torched construction site. The cold in her gut turned to ice.

"What . . . what are you talking about?” she forced out, her voice sounding strained, odd.