Cold Case at Cobra Creek. Rita Herron
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the grass and embankment near where the bones had washed up. He also searched the brush for clues. He plucked a small scrap of fabric from a briar and found a metal button in the mud a few feet from the place where he’d first discovered the bones. He bagged the items for the lab to analyze, then conducted another sweep of the property, spanning out a half mile in both directions.
Unfortunately, Gandt was right. With time, weather and the animals foraging in the wilderness, he couldn’t pinpoint if the body had gone into the river here or some other point.
Frustrated, he finally packed up and headed back to town.
But a bad feeling tightened his gut. Gandt had closed the case involving Sage Freeport’s missing son and Lewis too quickly for his taste.
How would he handle this one?
BY LATE AFTERNOON, news of the bones found at Cobra Creek reached Sage through the grapevine in the small Texas town. She was gathering groceries to bake her famous coconut cream pie when she overheard two women talking about the hikers that had been recovered safely.
The checkout lady, Lorraine Hersher, the cousin of the M.E., broke in. “A body was found out at the creek. Nothing but the bones left.”
Sage inched her way up near the register.
“Who was it?” one of the women asked.
“Don’t think they know yet. Liam said he was checking dental records. But he said the man had been dead about two years.”
Sage’s stomach clenched. Two years? About the time Ron’s car had crashed.
Could it possibly be...?
Desperate for answers, she pushed her cart to the side, leaving her groceries inside it, then hurried toward the door. The sheriff’s office was across the square, and she tugged her jacket around her, battling a stiff breeze as she crossed the street.
Sheriff Gandt had been less than helpful when Benji had gone missing. He wouldn’t want her bugging him now.
But she’d long ago decided she didn’t care what he thought.
She charged inside the office, surprised to see Dugan Graystone standing inside at the front desk. She’d seen the big man in town a few times, but he kept to himself. With his intense, dark brown eyes and brooding manner, some said he was a loner but that he was the best tracker in Texas. Tall, broad shoulders, sharp cheekbones—the package was handsome. Half the women in town thought he was sexy, while the other half were afraid of him.
Dr. Longmire stood next to him, the sheriff on the opposite side of the desk.
All three men turned to look at her as she entered, looking like they’d been caught doing something wrong.
Sage lifted her chin in a show of bravado. “I heard about the body you found at Cobra Creek.”
Dugan’s brown eyes met hers, turmoil darkening the depths, while Gandt shot her one of his condescending looks. She couldn’t believe the man had ever been married and understood why he wasn’t anymore.
She had heard that he’d taken in his ailing mother, that the elderly woman was wheelchair-bound, difficult and demanding. Even though she disliked Gandt, she had to admit his loyalty to his mother was admirable.
“Who was it?” Sage asked.
Dr. Longmire adjusted his hat, acknowledging her with a politeness bred from a different era. “The body belonged to Ron Lewis.”
Sage gasped. “You’re sure?”
“Dental and medical records confirm it,” the M.E. said.
Sage’s legs threatened to give way. She caught herself by dropping onto a chair across from the desk. Tears clogged her throat as panic and fear seized her.
But she’d been in the dark for two years, and she had to know the truth.
Even if it killed her.
“Was Benji with him?”
Sage held her breath. “Sheriff, did you find Benji?”
Sheriff Gandt shook his head. “No. Just Lewis’s body.”
Relief spilled through Sage. “Then my son... He may still be out there. He may be alive.”
Dugan and the medical examiner traded questioning looks, but the sheriff’s frown made her flinch. Did he know something he wasn’t telling her? Was that the reason he’d closed the case so quickly after Benji disappeared?
“Ms. Freeport,” Sheriff Gandt said in a tone he might use with a child, “Dr. Longmire believes Ron Lewis has been dead since the day of that crash. That means that your son has been, too. We just haven’t found his body yet. Probably because of the elements—”
“That’s enough, Sheriff,” Dugan said sharply.
Sheriff Gandt shot Dugan an irritated look. “I believe your part is done here, Graystone.”
Sage gripped the edge of the desk. “How did Ron die, Sheriff?”
“Ms. Freeport, why don’t you go home and calm down—”
“He died of a gunshot wound,” Dugan said, cutting off the sheriff.
Sage barely stifled a gasp. “Then the car crash...? That didn’t kill him.”
“No,” Dr. Longmire said, “he most likely bled out.”
Sage’s mind raced. Who had shot Ron? And why? “The shot caused the crash,” she said, piecing together a scenario in her head.
“That would be my guess,” Dr. Longmire said.
“Was there a bullet hole in the car?” Dugan asked Gandt.
Sheriff Gandt shrugged. “I don’t know. The fire destroyed most of it.”
Sage folded her arms and stared at the sheriff. “But that bullet proves Ron Lewis’s death was no accident. He was murdered.”
* * *
DUGAN WORKED TO rein in his anger toward Gandt. The weasel should be comforting Sage and reassuring her he’d do everything humanly possible to find the truth about what happened to her son.
That was what he’d do if he was sheriff.
But he lacked the power and money the Gandts had, and in this small town, that seemed to mean everything.
“It appears that way,” Sheriff Gandt told Sage. “And I will be investigating the matter. But—” he lifted a warning hand to Sage “—if your son had survived, we would have found him by now, Ms. Freeport. Odds are that the shooter fired at Lewis, he crashed and managed to get out of the car and fled. Maybe your son was with him, maybe not. But if he made it to the water with Lewis, he couldn’t have survived the frigid temperature or the current. He would have been swept downstream and drowned.”
“Sheriff,” Dugan snarled, hating the man’s cold bluntness.
The M.E. gave Sage a sympathetic look, then excused himself and hurried out the door.
Sheriff Gandt tugged at his pants. Damn man needed a belt to keep the things up. That or lose thirty pounds around his belly so he didn’t have to wear them so low.
“I know you want me to sugarcoat things, Graystone, but I’m the sheriff, not a damn counselor. I tell it like it is. Good or bad.”
Still, he could consider Sage’s feelings. She’d lost a child. “Part of your job is to protect innocent citizens and to find out the truth when something happens to one of them. Benji Freeport was three. He was certainly innocent.” Dugan squared off with the sheriff. “But you haven’t done a damn thing to give his mother closure or find the answers she needs.”