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Maybe he’d invite her to spend the holiday meal with him—or maybe he’d accept her invitation for the best home-cooked Thanksgiving turkey he’d ever had.
By Christmas, perhaps there’d be tasteful yet intimate gifts. By Valentine’s Day, she just might be the happiest woman on earth. Who’d have ever guessed that in such a short time, her world could change so much?
A whisper of doubt curled around her heart, but she firmly ignored it. There hadn’t been excitement in her life until now—a marriage she shouldn’t have had, years of hard work with little recognition.
She deserved this taste of happiness. Why look for trouble where there wasn’t any and destroy the best opportunity she’d ever had?
* * * *
OLLIE HURRIED into Nathan’s office, her face pale. “My cousin Sheila just called. There’s been a shooting out at the Lund place on Ridge Road.”
Nathan shot a glance at his desk phone—none of the lights were blinking—then took one look at the horror in his secretary’s eyes and grabbed his keys. “Any details?”
“S...she said it’s too late. Both Ria and Vince are dead.”
He gave a growl of frustration. In this small town, people often wasted time by dialing the local deputy’s office instead of 911, wasting precious seconds that could mean a difference between life or death. “She knows that for a fact?”
Tears welled up in Ollie’s eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. “Poor, poor Ria. She’s been one of my best friends ever. Who would have thought—”
“Tell me quick, Ollie. I need to get out there.” Nathan rounded the desk and took Ollie gently by the shoulders. “What did Sheila say?”
“Sh-she went out there to pick up Ria for the auxiliary luncheon at St. Pat’s today. When she got there—” a sob caught in Ollie’s throat “—there was blood everywhere. Both of them d-dead.”
Nathan released her and pivoted toward the door. “Call dispatch for the county crime-scene unit and the EMTs. Once we get there, we’ll decide if we need the BCA to assist with evidence collection. I’m on my way.”
Lights flashing and siren wailing, he made it to the small hobby farm north of town in four minutes, but one look at the scene and he knew there hadn’t been any need to rush.
Sheila sat sobbing on the back steps of the neatly kept two-story house, her head buried in her hands. She mumbled incoherently as she waved him toward the back door.
Vince Lund, a huge bear of a man in his mid-forties, lay facedown on the kitchen floor, a Colt AR-15 semiautomatic rifle at his side. A trickle of blood trailed from a small, neat wound beneath his jaw, but the exit wound had sprayed the kitchen counter, cabinet, and wall behind him.
The halo of evidence around the entrance wound—a tattoo of gunpowder and soot—suggested suicide.
A gleaming brass .223 cartridge lay next to the body. With the amount of powder held in that size of cartridge, the bullet itself was probably buried in the wall.
Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, Nathan stepped past the body and surveyed the living room, where smeared handprints on the walls and a dark red trail on the floor suggested that Ria had struggled to escape.
He found her face-up on the floor of the largest first-floor bedroom. She was still wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, so she’d never had a chance to get ready for that luncheon.
Was this a murder-suicide? Had Vince cornered his terrified wife, then squeezed off the shots that killed her? A Colt AR-15 set on semi-automatic fired a three-round burst with a single pull of the trigger. The good Lord willing, her death had been mercifully quick.
Hunkering down, Nathan pressed two fingers at her throat and then at her wrist to compare. Cool, with early stages of rigor mortis already stiffening the muscle of her neck. Four to six hours, maybe, though the coroner unit would do a more accurate assessment.
Shifting his cell phone from his pocket, he speed-dialed the BCA’s crime scene team, then stared down at her, images of the woman’s cheery smile flashing through his thoughts. She and Vince had seemed a perfect couple—happy, joking with each other in the aisles of the grocery store, active volunteers in the community. What could have gone wrong?
Minutes later vehicles began pouring into the driveway. Patrol cars. An ambulance. The local volunteer emergency truck. The Aspen County crime scene investigation van. It would take hours for the BCA to arrive because of the distance they had to travel.
Nathan stepped back as the homicide investigators and photographers took over. Amidst all the activity he glanced out the open back door and saw Sheila’s pale face.
A female officer looped a comforting arm around her and led her away, but not before Nathan caught a glimpse of the absolute disbelief and shock in her eyes.
Yeah, I agree, he told himself silently. First, Leon’s gunshot wound a week ago, and now this. It’s always hard to believe these things could happen in your small town, with people you know.
But there was something more about this case. Something that teased at the edges of his thoughts, just beyond reach.
Whatever the conclusions drawn by the experts, he wasn’t going to let it rest until he was very sure he had all the answers.
* * * *
