Run Wild (41 page)

“Ethel Piney, or Pope, or Burrows, call her what you want, is addicted to the adventure of it all, not to the catch. Trust me. She’ll take off with that King fellow and drop him like a hot potato before winter is out. I’ll bet my next paycheck on it. Within a year she’ll be married to some millionaire and doing his butler.” Again both men laughed. “But I’ll tell you one thing: she’s getting the hell out of Dodge before the fireworks do go off. Carl Williams’ murder was just a cover for the real crime on that ranch. I know I won’t be around when the wrath comes down on Jim Burrows. If he weren’t so goo-goo eyed for his wife he’d see the danger for himself. His death will make everyone quit talking about Carl, the poor boy. He didn’t deserve to get caught in the middle of all that rage.”

A cover for the true crime going down out at the ranch? Hadn’t her father said something very similar? Natasha stumbled away from the diner, reached in her pocket for her phone, and raced across the street to her Avalanche, not bothering to see if anyone was watching her or not.

*   *   *

Trent picked up his phone on the first ring. “Oakley,” he grunted. It was only noon and already felt as if it should be well after five.

“Trent, this is Helen Pratt over at the Nugget.”

Trent leaned against his desk, rested his forehead on his free hand, and forced himself to sound civil. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now.

“What can I do for you, Helen?” he asked.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I was taking out the trash behind the diner and overheard Ricky Post and Morgan Reeding talking. I wouldn’t have given it a thought, but it’s not every day you see a Trinity ranch hand having a casual conversation with the son of the owner of Excelsior Ranch.”

“True,” he said slowly, but straightened. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t think so, Sheriff.” Helen began telling him about the conversation she’d just overheard. “Now I swear by every word of that,” she finished.

Trent was already up, pacing the length of his office.

“I’ll swear on a Bible,” she went on.

“I believe you.” If only he knew who was bringing in this trouble. It made his job damn hard when his target was the most prominent man in the county and Trent didn’t have a clue what direction the first shot would be coming from.

“There’s one more thing.” Helen sighed. “If I’m out of line I’ll apologize, but I don’t think I am. Natasha King overheard this conversation, too.”

Trent wasn’t able to hold back a spew of profanity as he gripped his phone hard enough to break it. “Where is she now?”

“I’m not sure,” Helen said quietly. “She was about to come inside the diner, I think. I didn’t notice her until I finished eavesdropping and hurried inside to call you. I guess she was alongside the building, because she took off running across the street toward Pearl’s. But Trent, Ricky Post and Morgan Reeding saw her, too. I overheard Morgan tell Ricky not to worry about it, and that he’d take care of it. When Natasha pulled out from behind Pearl’s, which was just as I was calling you, Morgan followed her in one of the work trucks.”

“Which way was she headed?”

“Toward Trinity Ranch.”

“Thank you, Helen.”

“You’re welcome, and Trent?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve heard the gossip all morning on my shift. Don’t play hard-ass with her. I’ve known you all my life and I know how you are. Natasha will forgive you about her papa. I liked her. Just don’t be your usual bullheaded aggressive self.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Now of course, if I’m wrong, I am available this Saturday night,” she added sweetly.

Trent was already grabbing his coat. “Thanks for calling, Helen.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said again, and hung up.

Something told him Natasha wouldn’t call and fill him in, not this time, not when he’d done the one thing she would view as unforgivable. He’d done his job, though, and with no regrets. It hadn’t surprised him a bit when Ethel Burrows had sauntered in this morning, her lawyer in tow, and escorted George King out of there.

Trent had learned what he’d needed to know the night before. George had no desire to go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. The man might be a shitty father, but there was good inside him. Trent hadn’t been surprised. Natasha wouldn’t have persisted as much as she had to prove her father’s innocence if he were a jackass.

George was on the run, but as Trent had started to suspect, King wasn’t running from him as much as from the people who’d set him up, made him their scapegoat, and threatened to expose him to Burrows as his wife’s lover if he said a word. The man faced murder charges, or the end of a shotgun pointed up his nose. That was about enough to make any man run.

It had been almost one in the morning when George finally told Trent the entire truth, how Pat O’Reilly had killed Carl, enraged by Carl being loved so much by their father and Pat barely acknowledged as blood. George had the incredible misfortune of witnessing O’Reilly torturing Carl Williams. The younger boy didn’t stand a chance against the fury and bitterness that had built up in O’Reilly over the years.

George King had done what any sane man would have done. He stepped in, told O’Reilly to leave the boy alone. But King hadn’t suspected the depths of O’Reilly’s hatred toward Carl, the illegitimate son who was favored. O’Reilly had gone ballistic, slicing and dicing Williams until the boy collapsed. Then O’Reilly turned his rage on King.

Trent bought most of King’s story about the fight that followed. King admitted not being as young as he once was, and although the months on the ranch had helped get him in shape, he was on the defensive from the beginning, and he hadn’t been armed. King showed Trent the knife wounds he’d endured during the fight. All of them superficial, bandaged and allowed to heal on their own. King didn’t think going to the hospital would have been in his favor considering the circumstances.

He’d explained the direction of the fingerprints, too, showing Trent how once O’Reilly got the better of King, Williams had come to and started moaning. King tried pushing O’Reilly away, but the man had gone insane. King wasn’t sure where the hunting knife was that O’Reilly had used but suspected O’Reilly either still had it on him or had ditched it somewhere on the ranch property. The man was all over that land. He could have lost it anywhere.

Trent had recorded King’s statement, and it was a tape he hoped he didn’t have to listen to again anytime soon. King had explained how, in an epitome of rage, babbling insanities about how the loyal Burrows would win in the end and there would no longer be favoritism bought and sold as if it were an item on a grocery store shelf. O’Reilly had decapitated Williams. King admitted he’d damn near puked. He wasn’t sure how he lived through that night, but he’d lost enough blood, was weak from fighting, and didn’t have the strength left to stop O’Reilly when the man had dragged King over to Williams’ body, tossed him on top of the corpse, then used King as a shield, dragging him across the yard with King’s arms and hands wrapped around the corpse. That was how King’s fingerprints were on Williams and not O’Reilly’s. It amazed both King and Trent how someone so incredibly out of his head could still be so shrewd to avoid being pegged to the murder.

Trent had taken King to his house, put him up in the guest room; then the two men had arrived at the station early enough to be there when Ethel pranced in. Helen had called right after Ethel had left.

Trent hurried to his Suburban, pulled out his light bar, and slapped it on the roof. Then hauling ass out of town, he prayed he would be in time to stop Natasha from storming right into the middle of a vicious feud, one that was about to blow up in quite a few people’s faces.

Chapter Nineteen

Natasha pushed the truck around the curves, daring to take them faster than was probably safe for her or the Avalanche. She plotted her plan as she drove, deciding the best she could do was warn Jim Burrows. Natasha had overheard too many times now that he was going to end up dead. And it sounded as if it was going to happen very soon. Even if he didn’t believe her, or brushed her off as the little lady who possibly wouldn’t have all her facts straight, it might buy him enough time and prevent whoever planned on killing him from doing so.

She’d already decided she wouldn’t say anything about Ethel. Jim wouldn’t believe her if she did. The man adored his wife. God only knew why. Ethel might lack scruples, but it didn’t sound as if she were really guilty of anything other than greed and adultery.

Her phone rang. Natasha glanced at it and sent it to voice mail.

“He knows,” she whispered, staring at Trent’s number before dropping the phone on the passenger seat. Natasha grabbed the steering wheel with both hands as she took a curve too quickly. Hitting the brakes, she forced her heart to quit pounding.

“Damn, Trent, you’re endangering my driving.” Why not blame him for her not slowing down in time for a sharp curve?

One of Trinity Ranch’s work trucks came up behind her, and she continued gripping the steering wheel with both hands, shooting wary looks at her rearview mirror. The men she overheard were ranch hands. Were the two men she overheard behind her? If they pulled into the ranch behind her, they would want to know why she was there.

Maybe peeling out of the bed-and-breakfast hadn’t been her smartest move. In a town like Weaverville, where tension was already running high, the new city girl in town hightailing out of the local bed-and-breakfast might have drawn attention she didn’t need. Why did she always figure out the right way to do detective work after the fact? If she didn’t learn how to do things right the first time, it might possibly cost her her life. Her heart began thumping in her chest so hard that she had difficulty breathing. Moving her grip on the steering wheel as her hands grew sweaty and continually checking out her rearview and side mirrors were going to distract her even more from driving on these curves.

Natasha wasn’t sure if she should slow and see if the truck would pass her, or speed up to get to the ranch before whoever was in that truck got there. She rounded another corner, then tightened her grip on the wheel when the work truck roared up from behind her. It blew passed her as soon as the road straightened.

She exhaled loudly, then tried catching her breath. Of course whoever was driving that truck would know this road like the back of their hand. Her heart barely had time to return to beating normally when another vehicle came up behind her. This one didn’t look like he planned on passing.

“God, calm down. Just calm down.” Natasha glared at flashing red lights in her rearview mirror.

Trent turned on his siren and accelerated, coming right up on her ass. She had half a mind to slam on the brakes. Fortunately, the rational side of her brain knew it would be stupid to damage her uncle’s truck or Trent’s Suburban. Trent pulled up alongside Natasha, the outrage in his face obvious. He thumbed to the side of the road and narrowed in on her.

She slowed, letting out a long list of expletives as she did. Trent pulled out ahead but didn’t pass her. Instead he herded her in, slowing his Suburban as she slowed the Avalanche until finally she pulled off on the side of the road and stopped.

Trent leapt out of his truck and took long, angry strides toward her.

He grabbed her door handle, yanked open the truck’s door, reached in, and pulled her out of the truck as if she were nothing more than a rag doll.

“Are you out of your mind?” he shouted.

Natasha braced herself, which took several steps to do, then spun around, angrier than she’d ever been in her life.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded, yanking her arm from his grasp so it burned. Then turning on him with both her hands fisted at her side, she got right in his face. “If you ever manhandle me in public again, I promise I will kick your ass whether anyone is watching or not. Also, abuse your rights as sheriff and pull me off the road, and you very well might regret it.” She was so mad she was shaking.

Trent stiffened and for a moment seemed taken aback when she spewed outrage at him, but then his eyes darkened until they were almost black. He narrowed them, pressed his lips together, and looked like one of the most dangerous enemies she’d ever encountered as he stalked toward her.

“I’m the sheriff around here.”

His tone created an ugly knot in her stomach.

“That doesn’t give you the right.”

“Like it or not, I’m going to protect you from walking into a situation where you could easily get killed.”

Natasha was shaking her head before he finished. “I won’t ask what you know or think you know about my business, but—”

“I also think I want to make your business my business.”

“I’m sure you do,” Natasha shot back. She was pissed and didn’t want distractions, like thinking about what he might have meant by what he just said. “But you are so stubborn, so bullheaded, you can’t see that I’m capable of taking care of myself. So let me make it clear as glass for you, right now. I’m a big girl, Sheriff. So back off! I know what I’m doing and no one is going to die today because I couldn’t get to them in time to warn them.”

His expression shifted. There was a tic in his jaw. Apparently, Trent didn’t have a lot of people who challenged him. More than likely he had always dated docile, submissive doormats. Well, if he hadn’t figured it out yet, she would never be docile or submissive.