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"Damn vermin," Silas muttered under his breath, and suddenly, without warning, he pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out like a cannon blast, echoing through the still morning air. Rachel didn't flinch--she'd been expecting it. Beside her, Ethan tensed but remained outwardly calm.
"Mr. Clark!" Rachel called out, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. She had to remind herself she was here to ask questions. "We need to talk."
Silas lowered his gun and turned to face her, an amused smirk playing across his lips. Jeb lingered in the doorway next to him, his eyes narrowed. "Well now, missy," Silas drawled. "I didn't know you had a thing for groundhogs."
"Actually, I'm more interested in what you might know about the recent murders," she replied, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I've been looking into your background, Silas, and the more I learn, the more I believe you might have some answers."
"Is that so?" Silas raised an eyebrow, his amusement quickly morphing into something darker. He slung his shotgun over his shoulder, the barrel pointed skyward. "And what makes you think I'd be willing to share those answers with the likes of you?" He paused, though, and glanced at Jeb. "See that big sucker?" He was pointing over the porch.
Jeb stepped forward now. Gun raised.
And he squeezed off a shot.
Two groundhogs now lay dead on the ground. The Clarks were fair shots, even with a shotgun.
Rachel swallowed hard, her palms slick with sweat. She knew she was walking a tightrope here, trying to balance her need for information against Silas' volatile temperament.
"Mr. Clark, I'd like to ask you about Candace," Rachel began. "You were in her client book." She glanced at his sons surrounding him, then back at him. "Would you prefer we talk about this in private?"
"Nah." He shrugged. "Might remember her. Hard to say. Only bought a few head of cattle from me every now and then," Silas replied nonchalantly, stroking his thick white beard. "Why? You think there's something fishy there?"
"Actually, I do," Rachel said, her voice steady despite the anxiety churning in her gut. "I've learned that Candace had some fertility issues. Did she ever mention them to you?"
The corner of Silas' mouth twitched, and Rachel could see the gears turning behind his dangerous eyes. "Suppose she did say somethin' 'bout not bein' able to have kids," he admitted, shifting his weight on the wooden planks of the porch. "But that ain't none of my business."
"Did she ever discuss those issues with you? Did she ever ask you for help, or advice, or anything of that nature?"
"Help?" Silas barked out a laugh, the sound harsh and mocking. "What kind of help would a man like me be able to give her?"
"Maybe she wanted to borrow money. Jack had borrowed money, we heard. Did she do the same? To pay for fertility treatments, or to hire a surrogate. Something like that."
"Sure, she asked. But I didn't lend her anything. I told her I ain't in the business of handin' out charity."
"Except that's not entirely true, is it?" Rachel countered, her pulse quickening as she recalled the allegations against Silas and his family – the debts, the threats, the mysterious deaths. "There are plenty of people around here who've borrowed money from you, Mr. Clark. And some of them didn't live to tell the tale."
The air seemed to thicken around them, and Rachel could feel the weight of Silas' scrutiny bearing down on her like a leaden shroud. He just watched her, and his family members flinched as if his silence were as frightening to them as a scream.
"Funny you mention charity, Mr. Clark," she said, her voice cool and steady despite the unease that simmered beneath the surface. "Seems to me like there's a pattern with the people who borrow money from you – they have a tendency to wind up dead."
Silas's face darkened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. He shifted his weight, the shotgun cradled in his arm suddenly feeling more menacing than ever.
"Are you accusin' me of somethin', Ranger Blackwood?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"I'm just stating facts."
"Well, let me ask you somethin', Ranger. How's my boy Tom doin' in jail? I heard from a pal you locked him up couple nights ago." He raised his eyebrows. "Figure the family should know that sorta thing, don't you?"
The question caught Rachel off guard, and she hesitated for a moment before answering. Of course, she'd expected the Clarks to know by now, but the calm way in which Silas was asking her put her off guard.
"He shot a man in cold blood," Rachel said. "I have to wonder if you put him up to it."
"So when's Tom coming home?" Jeb cut in, his face red as if from sunburn.
Rachel shook her head. "I don't know. That depends on the trial."
"Ah, yes, the trial," Silas said mockingly, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. "And how do you think that'll go for him, eh? Seein' as how you're so keen on findin' the truth and all."
"Tom will have his day in court, just like anyone else."
