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“No.”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“I said, ‘No,’ ” he repeated and didn’t bother hiding his irritation. Ralph was going bananas again, and he said sharply, “No! Ralph. Sit!”
The shepherd did, ears cocked, eyes focused on James.
Bobby asked, “What’s this?”
“I’m Charity Spritz,” she said quickly. “With the Clarion.”
“I’ve seen you on TV,” Bobby said with a sharp nod of his head.
“Yes. Right. Once in a while I do a spot for KPTD. I just want to ask Mr. Cahill and . . . and you too, some questions. You are?”
Beside him, Bobby straightened to all of his five feet, nine inches. “Robert Knowlton. I’m the ranch manager.”
“So you were the person who found Mr. Cahill, last Thursday night? Here,” she said, motioning toward the interior of the house.
“That’s right,” Bobby said with a quick grin.
“Enough!” James cut in. He’d had it with people and their interest in his life. He didn’t want to talk to the police, or Megan’s sister, or Sophia, and especially anyone from the press. His head ached, his shoulder was throbbing, and he hadn’t showered or cleaned up in what seemed like forever. “Please, just leave.”
“But I only have a few questions.”
“I’m sorry.” He really wasn’t.
“But I’d like to write your side of the story.”
“My side?” That sounded bad. “There are no sides.”
“Of course,” she said with a smile, though she was craning her neck to peer around him and view the interior of the house, his house. “What I meant was, I’d like to publish the truth.”
“Talk to the police.”
“Again, I’d like to hear what you have to say.” She seemed so earnest, her eyes beseeching his. “I went to the hospital but was turned away.”
“Look, Ms. Spritz. I just got home, and tonight isn’t a good time.”
“Tomorrow then?” She seized on the idea.
“No.”
“The citizens of Riggs Crossing have questions.”
“Don’t we all?”
He started to close the door.
“You’re Riggs Crossing’s golden boy. The man who comes from San Francisco and makes good in this small town.”
“I’m not from San Francisco.”
“But your family is,” she reminded. She dug in the pocket of her coat, retrieved a card, and thrust it at him.
Bobby snatched it from her gloved fingers.
“Tomorrow,” she said as he shut the door.
