Murder And Mistletoe. Barb Han
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href="#u01a94f79-530d-52fa-9732-ae0cb5779ad9">Chapter Four
“Dammit,” Dalton said, cursing again under his breath. “Keep your face covered in case he tries to shoot another picture.”
The reporter hopped into his sedan and then tore out of the parking lot, spewing gravel. Before the small gray car could disappear, Dalton palmed his own phone and snapped a pic of the back of the vehicle. He’d open his own investigation on the man and see what he could find.
“This isn’t good,” the detective said. “I could lose my job if this thing plays out wrong.”
“We need to go.” Dalton started toward his sport utility, feeling a cold blast of morning air penetrate his thin jacket.
“Where?” Detective West asked.
“You can go wherever you want,” he shot back. Other than engaging in a kiss that did a little too much damage to his senses, nothing had changed. She still didn’t trust him, a sentiment that went both ways.
“The sheriff said there was only one set of footprints leading up to the base of the tree before she was taken down. Now there are many,” she said and her words stopped Dalton in his tracks.
“How much did your niece weigh?” he asked.
Leanne must’ve known the question was coming because she answered without hesitation. “Around a hundred pounds or so.”
“He could’ve carried her,” he countered, keeping his back to her. He stomped on the ground. The earth was cold, hard, unforgiving. “I’m a big guy and I’m barely leaving a footprint.”
“I’m trying to talk the sheriff into treating this as a murder investigation,” she said. “Maybe if you come with me, I’ll have a chance.”
“Being with me will only hurt your cause in case you haven’t noticed.” Dalton needed to get back to the ranch where he could be productive. Besides, he wanted to examine the pictures he’d taken in detail. “Good luck.”
There were no sounds of footprints behind him, which meant the detective was standing her ground. “If Sawmill treats this as a suicide, we both lose.”
“He won’t change his mind and especially not with me around,” Dalton said. “It’s a matter of pride at this point.”
“Then we have to think of a way to change it for him.” The despair in her voice nearly cracked the casing that locked down his emotions. He’d buried them so deep in order to survive all these years he was caught off guard that anyone could come close enough to touching that place inside him.
“You’ve never met the guy. He’ll stay the course,” he said.
She shot him a curious glance and he decided not to go into detail about how he knew Sawmill so well. “We need him. I can’t call in favors in Dallas to investigate leads. Not without putting people’s jobs in jeopardy and I won’t do that to my friends. If you and I put our heads together, we might just get somewhere.”
“I have to go to work,” Dalton said, figuring he’d given enough of his time to this lost cause. If she thought he could make an impact with Sawmill, she’d have a better chance without his involvement. That part was true enough.
“My niece is dead because of me. It’s my fault. I should’ve been here. We were supposed to meet and I was late.” Damn, the sound of anguish in her words tugged at him. It was a pull he couldn’t afford. He should walk away right now and not look back.
Instead, he turned around, wishing there was something he could say to ease her pain. “Blaming yourself won’t bring her back. Believe me.”
“Who did that tree take from you?” she asked, and her eyes here wide bright brown orbs.
Dalton started to answer but held back.
“I’ll find out either way. I’m sure there’s been coverage, and I still have resources at the department who can check into a cold case. Why not just tell me and make this easier on both of us?” she asked.
Trying to force his hand was as productive as trying to drink milk from a snake.
“Because it’s none of your damn business.” A surprising explosion of anger rattled against his chest. His blood pressure spiked and adrenaline-heated blood coursed through him.
A grunt-like noise issued from the detective. “This whole situation stinks for both of us, but this could go easier if we work together. And you might just get the answers you need as desperately as I do.”
“Good luck, Detective.” He walked away.
She stalked behind him and poked him on the shoulder.
Dalton stopped but didn’t turn.
“Name your price. I’ll do whatever it takes to get your help.”
Damn that he was about to agree to help her.
* * *
LEANNE WALKED INTO Sawmill’s office ahead of the tall cowboy. She didn’t like the way she could feel his masculine presence behind her without needing to see him. She chalked it up to his intensity and did her level best to move on.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us again, Sheriff.” Leanne held her hand out.
Sawmill politely shook it and greeted them but stopped short of inviting them to sit this time. He stood near the door, making it all too clear that he had nothing else to add and expected this meeting to last a minute or two at best. From the grooves around his eyes, she sensed that his patience was running thin.
“I appreciate how much you have on your plate right now...” she started but was met with a get-on-with-it response in the form of the sheriff leaning back on his heels.
Okay, she could work with his emotions. See if she could get his agreement to move forward with a murder investigation instead of wrapping this case as a suicide.
“We just came from the scene,” Leanne said, figuring the sheriff needed to be aware since the guy who was most likely a reporter had taken a picture of them. “Someone showed up and had his phone out. I’m sure he took a picture but we did what we could to hide my face. The story could leak.”
The news didn’t seem to sit well with the sheriff. He folded his arms in a defensive tactic. He was shoring up his reserves when she was trying to lower his guard by sharing and being honest. All she needed was his word that he would open an investigation.
“I’m sorry about that. It’s not good if my name is linked to the scene and I know it,” she quickly added.
“What were you doing at my scene? What’s the real reason you requested this meeting?” Sawmill asked.
When Leanne hesitated, he added, “I don’t have the resources to follow every bunny trail, including professional courtesy cases. If I did, I’d be more than happy...”
“This isn’t a case of departmental cooperation or respect. I have no intention of wasting your resources or time.” Leanne shouldn’t allow herself to become so heated, but this was Clara. Her sweet niece was never coming back and she knew in her heart Clara hadn’t committed suicide. Leanne suppressed a sob. “I know for a fact that my niece never would’ve done this to herself.”
“I’m listening,” the sheriff said. His posture had improved; she had his ear and she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth by overanalyzing it.
“Gary didn’t like her,” she added, fighting the personal disdain she had for her brother-in-law.
“That’s nothing new in my business,” Sawmill responded flatly. Any hope she had that he could be taking her seriously fizzled.
“Of course it isn’t, but how often do you have a detective telling you there are holes in your case?” she said a little indignant. Damn, why’d she say that? Putting Sawmill on the defensive