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Chapter One
There’s been a murder at the Triple R Ranch.
Sheriff Leigh Mercer figured those were words no cop wanted to hear, but the dispatcher had been dead certain that was what the 911 caller had said.
Since the Triple R Ranch was in the jurisdiction of the Dark River Police Department, it was Leigh’s job to check it out. But she hoped like the devil that the caller had been wrong. There hadn’t been a murder in her hometown of Dark River, Texas, in nearly a decade, and for reasons other than just the obvious, Leigh wanted to keep it that way.
“You think we should call in Jeb on this?” Deputy Rocky Callaway asked her.
There was an edge to his voice, and leaning forward in the passenger’s seat of the cruiser, Rocky was drumming his fingers on his holstered sidearm. The deputy was showing some nerves, and that was the only reason Leigh didn’t scald him with a glance for asking that question.
Still, the question set her teeth on edge.
Jeb Mercer was her father, and before Leigh had pinned on the sheriff’s badge eighteen months ago, Jeb had held that particular title for over four decades. He’d trained her. Trained Rocky, too. And even though Leigh had been duly elected after her dad’s retirement, there were plenty, including Rocky, who’d always think of Jeb as the “real” sheriff.
“No, we’re not bringing in Jeb,” she insisted.
It was two in the morning, and she didn’t need him to hold her hand at a possible crime scene. She’d already gotten Rocky out of bed since he was the deputy on call, and right now he was the only backup she intended to have.
She stepped from the cruiser, the winter wind howling and swiping at her. Mercy, it was cold, a bone-deep kind of wet cold that poked like icy fingers through her buckskin coat and boots. Leigh suspected in less than an hour, the predicted sleet would start to come down in buckets and turn the roads into skating rinks.
The wind gusts flicked away any of the usual scents that she might have picked up from the ranch, but then again,usualdidn’t apply to the Triple R. It was sprawling with its hundreds of acres of prime pastures to accommodate the hundreds of Angus cattle and prize quarter horses raised there.
The sleek white limestone house qualified as sprawling, too. Three floors that stretched out so far that it’d take a serious wide-angle lens to get it all in one photo. Lights speared out from at least a dozen of the windows.
Leigh flipped up the collar of her coat and glanced around. She hadn’t been to the Triple R in fourteen years, not since she’d come to a party here when she’d been a senior in high school. She had plenty of memories of that particular event.
Memories that she hoped wouldn’t get in the way if something bad had truly gone on here tonight.
Giving his own thick coat an adjustment, Rocky clamped his hand on his gun as they walked up the steps, and Leigh rang the doorbell. She automatically checked around for any signs that something was off. Nothing. And only a couple of seconds ticked by before the large double doors opened. Leigh instantly recognized the silver-haired woman who answered.
Rosa Tyree.
That was one of the advantages of living in a small town. Leigh knew most folks, and in this case, she knew that Rosa was a housekeeper at the ranch. A longtime one, having worked there for longer than Leigh had been alive. She was also well aware that Rosa didn’t usually look this frazzled.
“He won’t let me in the room,” Rosa volunteered right away. “He said I should wait down here for you.” Shivering from the cold, she frantically motioned for them to come in, and when they did, she shut the doors.
“He?”Leigh questioned though she was pretty sure she already knew what Rosa’s answer would be.
“Mr. Brodie,” Rosa provided, and then she added, “Mr.CullenBrodie.”
Yep, Leigh had been right. Cullen Brodie was the owner of the Triple R, but his brother, Nick, and their father, Bowen, visited often. Leigh had been hoping for Nick or Bowen since Cullen was a huge part of those memories that she hoped wouldn’t get in the way.
“You made the 911 call?” Leigh asked the woman while she had a look around the foyer and the adjoining rooms.
Rosa nodded, followed her gaze. “The cleaning crew won’t be in until morning to clear up from the party.”
There was indeed some various glassware scattered on the tables in what Leigh supposed was called a great room. A room that lived up to the sprawling and plush standards of the rest of the ranch. There were also gleaming silver trays with remains of what had no doubt been tasty food. What was missing were guests, but maybe those who’d been invited to the engagement party had headed out so they could get home before the bad weather moved in.
“The, uh, body’s at the back of the house,” Rosa explained, fluttering her trembling fingers in that direction. “It’s the big room at the end of the hall. Mr. Brodie’s in there, too.”
Leigh did a quick trip down memory lane and silently groaned. That was Cullen Brodie’s bedroom. Or at least it had been years ago.
“Someone really got murdered here?” Rocky asked Rosa. “Who?”
“I don’t know who. But that’s what Mr. Brodie said, that there’d been a murder, and he told me to call 911. I didn’t see the body for myself though. Please don’t make me go in there,” the woman quickly added. “I don’t want to see a dead body.”
Leigh gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. She could easily agree to Rosa’s request because if this was indeed a murder, Leigh didn’t want the woman anywhere on the scene.
