Convictions (26 page)

He stared at her a moment, then pulled her into a hug. Contentment surged through her, and for a moment she felt her old self click into place. But then an echo of fear washed through her, shattering the illusion of normalcy.

"I'll talk to Mantle in the morning, then decide what to do. If he's not working out, I'll call Bob Vincent to have him send someone up here to take Mantle back," her father said.

Olivia drew back and looked up at him. "And if Mantle lies through his teeth?"

"Have some faith in your old man," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "I sat on the bench long enough to recognize a load of manure when it's shoveled my way. And this time I've been forewarned."

She leaned into him and tightened her arms around his waist. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered.

He patted her back, then loosened his hold and stepped away. When she met his somber expression, anxiety made her heart skip a beat.

"When I talk to the warden I'll have to tell him about the murders and Hank's possible involvement," he said regretfully.

Her apprehension graduated to full-blown alarm. "Why? Nothing's been proven."

"And I'm going to stress that when I speak to Bob. I'm going to recommend Hank stay here until the evidence is sorted out."

"Do you think he'll take your recommendation?"

"He has in the past."

Olivia hoped her father's persuasive skills hadn't dulled since he stopped practicing law. She mentally crossed her fingers and couldn't help but ask, "You believe he's innocent, don't you?"

"I wouldn't lay my reputation on the line if I didn't." He eyed her closely. "Do you believe he's innocent?"

She glanced down, remembering the glide of Hank's hand over her skin and the warmth of his body over hers. But mostly she remembered the tenderness in his eyes when he'd asked her if she was certain. She met her dad's questioning gaze. "He's not a killer."

"No, he's not." His smile was interrupted by a yawn. "This old man is going back to bed."

Olivia kissed his cheek. "Good night, Dad."

She watched him leave, then turned back to the window. A movement near the barn caught her attention, and a large shadow glided away from the building. A cloud passed over the moon, darkening the yard, and when it cleared, the shadow was gone. She stared at the barn, trying to make sense of what she'd seen. A breeze stirred against the window, making branches move and shadows shift. She smiled in relief. It was merely a branch swaying in the wind.

Sleep lured her and, after taking one last look outside, she went back to bed.

Olivia yawned as she placed the last of the bowls filled with scrambled eggs on the tables. As she headed back toward the kitchen, the men trudged in for breakfast. She remained in the dining hall, proving to herself that she could. Smiling to herself, she couldn't stop her gaze from latching onto the main reason of her reemerging confidence. However, Hank looked as if he'd slept as well—or unwell—as she had.

Reminded of last night's incident, she searched for Mantle. Her gaze swept across the other convicts—Lopez, Johnny Barton, and Reger—over Buck, Rollie, and the other men, but she didn't spot Mantle.
Maybe he overslept, which will be another mark against him,
she thought with more than a hint of wicked satisfaction.

"Olivia, could you make some more toast?" Dawn asked as she sailed out of the kitchen bearing a plate piled high with buttered toast.

Putting Mantle out of her mind, Olivia entered the kitchen to man the toasters.

Later, as the hired men left the dining hall, Olivia caught Hank's attention. He stepped over to join her by the kitchen. "Good morning," he said in a low, husky voice, evocative of the night before.

Quivering inside, Olivia was envious of his cool calmness. "Morning. Sleep well?"

He smiled, and his gaze slid down to her breasts, then back to her face. "I could've slept better."

Olivia had no trouble translating, and her nerve endings sizzled with awareness. "Me, too." She licked her lips and was disconcerted when Hank followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes. "I-I talked to Dad about Mantle."

Hank straightened, and wariness displaced his languid sensuousness. "And?"

"He's going to talk to Mantle this morning."

Hank scowled. "So Mantle will do his lap dog act, and the judge will decide it was all your imagination."

Olivia's temper climbed. "Dad didn't get to be a judge by being a pushover."

"Whatever," he said, clenching his jaw.

Olivia didn't both arguing with him. She had faith in her father. "Have you seen Mantle this morning?"

"His bunk was empty when I got up."

A commotion outside caught their attention, and Olivia and Hank hurried to the open door.

"Somebody get the judge!" Buck hollered.

Olivia and Hank exchanged apprehensive looks and joined the milling men.

"What's going on?" Hank asked Lopez.

"Mantle's dead," the swarthy Hispanic replied.

Olivia gasped. Although she despised Mantle, she hadn't wished his death. "What happened?"

Lopez shrugged. "Don't know, ma'am. Somebody found him in the barn."

"Shit," Hank swore under his breath.

Olivia's mouth lost all moisture, and dizziness made her weave momentarily. Had Mantle pushed Hank too far? No, she refused to believe it.

Barton joined them. "No loss, if you ask me."

Startled by his unexpected fierce expression and voice, Olivia wondered what Mantle had done to him. Then she recalled Hank's belief that Mantle had been involved in raping Lenny, another young man. She swallowed hard, hoping Barton had been spared that violation.

But if he was raped by Mantle, wouldn't that give Barton a hell of a motive for killing him? It would take the pressure off Hank, but she found that scenario did nothing to ease her mind.

Her father's arrival scattered the disturbing thoughts.

His face was pale, but his eyes blazed with intensity.

"Olivia, go into the house and call the sheriff," he ordered her.

She swallowed hard and nodded. She glanced at Hank. Unable to articulate her jumbled feelings, she squeezed his hand in reassurance, then hurried across the yard to the house.

Since Sheriff Jordan had been on his way to the ranch already, he arrived within minutes after she made the call.

Olivia rejoined Hank, who had distanced himself from the throng. Dawn, her face strained, was standing beside Barton. By Hank's rigid stance, it was obvious his sister's presence at Barton's side hadn't escaped his attention. At least he was sensible enough not to make a scene.

"I'm going to the barn to see if I can find out what happened," Olivia said close to Hank's ear.

"No," he said, his eyes flashing.

Shocked by his sharp response, she glared at him. "Why not?"

His eyes widened with angry disbelief. "You think I killed him?"

Olivia jerked as if struck by a physical blow. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

He pivoted on his heel, and she grabbed his arm. The stark betrayal in his face swept away whatever she was about to say. For long moments, they simply stared at one another.

Hank glanced away first. "You've already seen one dead body. You don't need to see two."

"You're worried that I'll freak out?"

He scowled. "No. But you might have nightmares."

Was he truly only worried about her? Or did he have something to hide? As much as she wanted to believe he had nothing to do with Mantle's murder, a pesky inner voice reminded her that anyone was capable of committing a crime of passion. But if she followed that line of reasoning, Hank might be guilty of murdering the two women, too.

She shoved aside her doubts and managed a smile. "They couldn't be any worse than the ones I've had the last few months."

His glower deepened, telling her he didn't appreciate her attempt at levity. But he didn't argue.

Olivia wanted to reassure him that she believed him, but her voice wouldn't cooperate. Squaring her shoulders, she circled the men and headed for the barn.

The red-haired deputy, Kyle, guarded the door.

"Is my father in there?" she asked him.

Kyle nodded and said apologetically, "Yes, but I was told to keep everyone out to preserve the crime scene."

"I've been at crime scenes before." Usually it was long after the body was taken away and forensics had completed gathering evidence, but Kyle didn't have to know that. She took a step closer to the young lawman. "Ask Sheriff Jordan."

Indecision played across his freckled face until he turned his head and called out, "Can I let Ms. Kincaid in?"

Olivia noticed that he avoided looking inside the barn. He obviously didn't want a repeat of his reaction to Melinda's body.

She wasn't able to understand the muffled conversation in the barn until Jordan said, "Let her in."

The deputy stepped aside, his face paling. "It's not a pretty sight."

Feeling far older than her years, Olivia said, "It never is."

Although the lights were on, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust after the bright morning sunshine. She spotted her father, Buck, and Jordan standing by the body, partially blocking it from her view. Preparing herself with a mental shake, she joined them.

The smell struck her first. Mantle's bladder and bowels had voided when he died. She resisted the urge to cover her nose with her hand and settled on breathing through her mouth.

She forced herself to look at Mantle's corpse, the bluish tinge around his lips and the marblelike cast of his narrow face. Then she spotted the leather strap wrapped around his neck... just like Melinda's body. And the one found with Sandra Hubbard's remains.

Everything she knew of serial murderers told her they rarely broke their pattern, and usually they were gender-specific with their victims. But she also knew that serial murderers followed their own twisted logic.

"Same MO," Sheriff Jordan said quietly.

"Except for one detail," Olivia said, equally soft. "The previous victims were women."

"Maybe it was one of them copycat killings," Buck said.

Suddenly she remembered the shadow she'd seen last night. What if it had been the killer?

Her palms dampened with sweat. "I might have seen the murderer."

Jordan's hawklike gaze speared her. "When?"

Olivia cleared her dry throat. "Last night. I woke up about two and couldn't get back to sleep, so I went into the living room. I was looking out the window when I saw a shadow moving away from the barn. I thought it was just a tree branch."

Her father's eyes narrowed. "You didn't mention this last night."

"I saw it after you went back to bed."

"How certain are you it was a person?" Jordan asked.

She pictured the fleeting shadow. "It was too dark to make out much more than a shape. But now that I think about it, it was larger than a branch."

"Was it the size of man?"

"Yes." Her fingernails dug into her palms as she wondered if she'd seen the murderer.

"Can you remember anything more, Ms. Kincaid?" Jordan asked.

"If it was a man, he was big, bigger than you." Her breath caught. "Maybe the size of Rollie."

Jordan eyed her suspiciously. "Your father told me that Elliott argued with Mantle last night in your presence. Is that true?"

"What does that have to do with what I saw?" she demanded.

The lawman shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other. "It's no secret that you don't believe Elliott had anything to do with murdering the two female victims. It's also clear that you've taken a personal interest in him."

Righteous anger flooded her veins. "You think that I made up the shadow to take suspicion away from Hank," she stated rather than asked.

The sheriff shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time a person lied to protect someone he or she cared about."

"My daughter doesn't lie, Caleb," her father said with an edge of steel.

The State Crime Scene Unit arrived, interrupting their heated conversation.

Olivia, her father, and Buck shifted out of the way while Sheriff Jordan conferred with the three techs.

"I didn't lie, Dad," Olivia said in a low voice.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I know that, Liv."

"But why would Rollie kill him?" Buck asked, scratching his jaw. "From what I seen, Rollie and Mantle got along fine." He grimaced. "Birds of a feather."

"Maybe they had a falling out," Olivia suggested.

"Over what?" her father asked, puzzled.

"Maybe they were both involved in Melinda's death."

"Then how do you explain Sandra Hubbard?" Sheriff Jordan asked as he rejoined them.

"Was Mantle really working in Omaha when she was killed?" Olivia asked.

Jordan nodded. "He was employed there for nearly a year before he was fired."

"Why was he fired?"

"The man I spoke to said he was suspected of embezzlement, but it couldn't be proven."

Olivia didn't doubt Mantle had been guilty of the crime.

"I'm going to start questioning your hired men," Jordan said to her father.

"Of course. Would you like to use the dining hall again?" her father asked.

"That'll be fine. Don't send any of the men out to work until I've talked to them. And I want to speak with every single person who was on the ranch last night." He clenched his jaw. "I'll start with Rollie."

Yes.
Olivia resisted the urge to pump her arm.

Before following the men out of the barn, she took one last critical look at Mantle.

Who killed you?

Outside, Olivia searched for Hank but didn't see him. It was probably best that she didn't talk to him now anyhow. Sheriff Jordan was already suspicious of her relationship with Hank. She didn't want him to think they were collaborating on an alibi.

She followed her father and the sheriff to the dining hall while Buck rounded up Rollie. Anticipation quickened her pulse. If Rollie had killed Mantle, it would take the investigation in another direction, away from Hank.

Jordan claimed the same table he'd used yesterday.