Page 49 of One in a Million
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By midmorning, some of the loose animals from the game farm had been discovered on Culhane property. The cowboys who tended the Culhane cattle were pressed into service to chase them back to Charlie’s ranch and mend the fences behind them. The giraffe and the zebras went first, then the goats, which were rounded up and driven in a herd. The chickens and rabbits would remain free until they were caught and eaten by predators.
Sam volunteered for the fence crew, checking each cleared pasture for strays before helping string and crimp the wire to mend the broken fences. Not only was the work a welcome diversion, but it gave him a chance to listen to cowboy gossip. It also gave him a rare opportunity to talk with Darrin, who was in charge of the Culhane cattle operation.
“Charlie’s going to get one hell of a bill for this.” Darrin stood back, keeping a supervisory eye on the work. “As I told him, somebody needs to pay my crew to clear his animals off my property or repair the damage those damned bleeding hearts did to my fences.”
My property.The words were not lost on Sam. “So, you talked to Charlie this morning?” he asked Darrin.
“I did, before I put my men to work. He claimed he slept through the whole thing, police sirens and all. But I don’t buy that. He looked like hell this morning. I think he was passed out drunk all night.”
Sam kept his mouth shut. Darrin didn’t know that Jasmine had been with the mob who’d cut the fences, started a fire, and turned most of the animals loose. And he didn’t know about how she’d been rescued. If Sam had his way, that would remain a secret.
“At first he balked at paying,” Darrin said. “But when I threatened to call the press, that brought him up fast. Any animal care regulators who saw that place of his would shut it down on the spot. It would serve the sonofabitch right after the way he crashed my dad’s memorial and embarrassed my sister. We should’ve had him arrested for trespassing and assault. You saw how he grabbed her arm.”
“I did. But that would have detracted even more from your father’s memorial. With all that’s happened to him, I’d say Charlie has suffered enough. But I have to ask—given his obsession with your sister, do you think Charlie could be your father’s killer? He works with animals and would probably have connections to buy the drug. That gives him the means and opportunity. What’s missing is a motive.”
“I know there was bad blood between them. Charlie’s an easy man to hate, and my dad wasn’t exactly lovable. But I can’t think of anything Charlie might have to gain by becoming a murderer—and the killer was careful not to leave evidence. Charlie’s a slob. If he wanted to kill somebody, he’d be more likely to use a gun. My money’s still on Lila. Have you searched her room and her car for evidence?”
“Should I?” Sam had thought about a search earlier and decided to wait until he had cause to ask for a warrant, which Nick could get and send him—a safer plan than asking a local judge who might or might not be in league with the powerful Culhanes.
To justify a warrant, he would need something solid that would point directly to whomever he suspected. So far, he had nothing but hearsay and hunches. Lila might be at the top of the list, but the murderer could be almost anyone, including the man standing in front of him—or the woman who’d spent much of last night in his bed.
And once he got that warrant and used it, he would become the bad cop. People who’d felt comfortable enough to confide in him would shut down. And the welcome mat at the Culhanes’ would be jerked out from under him. Whatever decision he made next would need to be thought out carefully.
“Hey, I could use an extra hand here!” The shout came from the cowboy who was mending a section of fence where the wire mesh had been snipped and pulled apart from top to bottom.
“That’s my cue.” Sam excused himself from Darrin and hurried to hold the fence in place while the cowboy wired the cut together.
“Think about what I said.” Darrin turned away to walk back to the four-wheeler he’d driven out to the pastures.
“I will.” Sam knelt in the dust, pulling the cut fence together with his gloved hands. That was when he noticed something unexpected. On the far side of the fence, where the feet of the demonstrators had trampled the dust, he could make out a set of fresh animal tracks.
He pointed them out to the cowboy he was helping. “What do you make of those?” he asked.
The cowboy studied the tracks, then shrugged. “They’re too big to be coyote tracks. And there haven’t been any wolves around here in years. Most likely just a dog. A big dog, I’d say, going by the size of those tracks.”
“Does anybody around here have a dog like that?”
“Frank didn’t like dogs. Never had one that I recall.”
“And Charlie?”
“Who knows what Charlie’s got in that place. But I work cows out this way, and I never heard a dog bark from over there. Maybe the dog was with those yahoos that cut the fences and let the animals out. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose it does,” Sam said. But the tracks were fresh. Unless the dog had been left by the demonstrators, there had to be another explanation—maybe even some kind of missed connection. Had the crime scene investigators found any evidence of a dog in the stable? The McKennas had a dog, but it was medium sized and had looked too old to wander this far from home. But what if the killer had had a dog with him—or even dog hair on his—or her—clothes? The connection was unlikely, but he’d be remiss if he didn’t follow through.
He would check the crime scene report later. Right now, he had more important things to worry about. Time was passing, and the pressure to close this case had begun to weigh on him. What he needed was a breakthrough.
* * *
By midday, Charlie and his hired men, driving four-wheelers, had rounded up most of the escaped animals, including the ones that had been herded back from the Culhane pastures. Some of them, like the goats, had been hungry enough to come back into the compound on their own.
Charlie was still in a foul mood. The bright sun was killing his eyes, his head was throbbing, and the thought of what he’d have to pay the Culhanes to keep him out of court only made him feel worse. To add to his worries, the damned hyena was still AWOL.
He’d known better than to mention the missing animal to Darrin Culhane that morning. If the hyena were to do some serious—and costly—damage, he would disavow all knowledge of the beast, claiming he’d never owned it, or even seen it. Except for his own workers, who could prove otherwise?
When Charlie had acquired the hyena six months ago, there’d been no papers signed, no money exchanged. The owner of the small roadside zoo had been happy to get rid of the creature that had been cute as a cub but had outgrown its tiny cage and become ferocious enough to scare away visitors. Looking back, Charlie wished he’d just told the man to shoot the god-cursed thing.