The High Country Rancher (8 page)

He strode over to Travis, seeing the soot on his face and the regret in his eyes as he stood up. “I tried to put it out, but it got so big.”

Baylor put his hand on the kid’s back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all that matters. The barn can be replaced. You can’t. Head in and get cleaned up.”

Travis nodded and took off for the bunkhouse situated a hundred feet behind the barn.

“McCullough.” The rural fire chief raised his hand and strode over to Baylor’s side. “We tried to save the old girl, your ranch hand got some
water on the fire, but it blew up. We couldn’t get here in time.”

“Thanks, Jock. I know you all did your best.”

The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires drew his attention to the driveway, where he spotted Mariah’s car pulling in next to his pickup.

“Any idea where it started?” he asked the fire chief, while he studied her moving toward them.

“The point of origin is in the southern corner. What did you have back there?”

“A calf warming pen.” Baylor mentally went through his routine, certain he’d unplugged every last heat lamp. Caution perked in his veins. Barn fires weren’t uncommon. There were a couple a year within the county. Usually caused by lightning, or hot equipment being parked on hay-littered floorboards.

“When can we get in there for a good look?”

“Maybe in an hour or so. It’s still too hot right now.”

Mariah came to stand next to him and he put his hand on her back. “I’m going inside, Jock. If you or your men need anything, you’re welcome to it. Let me know when you investigate where the fire started.”

“No problem. Thanks, Baylor.” Jock Hansen turned and moved back toward his fire crew.

“It’s just wood. I’ll rebuild. Now, where were we?” He felt Mariah hesitate and looked over at her.

“I can’t believe we were kissing in the station. My dad would have a fit.” She smiled and he stared at her lips, feeling his desire ratchet up.

“It would be just a short hop into a cell from there. Maybe it’s the safest place to kiss you.” He liked the way her cheeks pinked up and her blue eyes sparkled in the low light.

Every throbbing inch of him wanted her, but he held back from a full-on pursuit, restrained by his own sense of guilt. Did it matter whether or not he told her the truth about the night Amy died?

“Want something to drink?” He moved her toward the front door.

“Yeah. Sounds like it’s going to be a long night.”

“Hay bales can smolder for weeks. They’ll have to let them burn out by themselves.” Baylor pulled his house key out and reached for the knob. It turned in his hand.

“Weird.”

“What?”

“I locked this door this morning.”

“Like you turned off the heat lamp in the barn?”

“Yeah. Stay here. I’m going to check it out.”

He was glad when she didn’t put up a protest, pull her gun and charge in. This was his territory.

The house was dead quiet, but he listened anyway. Semidarkness filled the rooms and he reached for the light switch next to the door, flipping it on.

Baylor took several steps into the living room, satisfied everything was in its place, but an odd scent greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen.

Gasoline. Just a hint, like someone had it on their clothes as they moved through the house.

Caution worked through him, but he wasn’t ready to make a call like that until after the point of origin had been determined by Jock. If the same person who started the barn fire had been in his home, why in the hell hadn’t he torched it, too?

“Baylor?”

The sound of Mariah’s voice brought him around and he tried to look relaxed even though he didn’t feel it. “In the kitchen.”

He flipped on the light, pulled a couple of tall glasses out of the cupboard and opened the refrigerator door, spotting the glass pitcher of iced tea he’d put there that morning.

“Damn, would you look at that?” He pulled the container out of the fridge and held it up to the kitchen light.

Clearly outlined in the bottom of the pitcher was a gun. A 357, if he guessed right.

His 357.

“I’d rather have ice in mine,” Mariah said, staring at the container. Uncertainty quaked through her as she searched Baylor’s face for an explanation.

“It wasn’t there this morning, but the front door was unlocked when we got here.”

“Why would anyone hide a gun…unless it was used in the commission of a crime.”

“Do you have a paper bag?”

He set the pitcher down on the counter, took a brown bag out of the pantry and handed it to her.

Mariah pulled her pen out of her pocket and fished in the container, catching the loop behind the trigger. Carefully she raised the gun up out of the tea and let it drain before slipping it inside the bag to turn over to the lab.

A sense of foreboding latched on to her nerves. She had no proof Baylor hadn’t put it there, only a gut feeling.

A loud knock dragged her attention away and she followed him out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he opened the front door.

“She’s cooled down enough that we can get inside. We won’t be poking around, it’s still too hot, but we can find a point of origin.” Jock Hansen led them outside and toward the barn to an area where two huge floodlights had been staged.

“Watch your step, there are still hot spots.” He turned on his flashlight and moved into the barn.

Mariah’s toes curled up in her shoes as she stepped into the blackened structure anticipating a trip over the hot coals that glowed on the floor all around her.

The inside was a hollow cavern shrouded in darkness and barely lit up by the bright lights. Charred boards told the story of the barn’s layout and she tried to imagine it with the stalls and hayloft still intact.

Gingerly she followed along next to Baylor.

“This looks like the place where it started.” Jock indicated a corner pen about twenty feet long and twenty feet wide. “The heat lamps are melted, but you can see the outline of the one lying on the floor.”

Mariah strained to see it, but finally made out the lines of the melted lamp.

“The fire started in the dry bedding on the floor.” Jock shined his flashlight beam on the charred boards, illuminating the fan pattern where the fire had progressed. “Then it caught the wall on fire.” He eased the light up a foot at a time as he explained the fire science.

“Then it…” A half-choked yell rattled out of Jock’s throat and he launched backward, his flashlight beam aimed toward the ceiling. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Mariah felt a wave of nausea sweep over her as she, too, stepped back and stared up at the roof.

There, swinging back and forth on a cable in the night breeze was a body, or a least what was left of one.

Baylor caught her before she could lean any farther back.

“I’ve got to phone this in immediately.” She turned in his arms.

“You won’t get any argument from me,” he said.

Her features were unreadable in the dim lighting, but he felt her go stiff in his arms. Was it possible the charred body swaying in the breeze belonged to James Endicott?

A sickening reality settled over him as he let her go and watched her jog out of the barn.

Not even passing a polygraph was going to convince her he had nothing to do with this. That was if he ever got the chance to take another one.

“I think this burned-out shell just became a crime scene. Maybe you better pull your guys out before any more evidence is destroyed.”

Jock nodded in agreement, and retreated.

Baylor stayed put, searching for any clues that might help him, but he saw nothing. Nothing but a pile of ashes and more questions than answers.

Exhaustion cramped Mariah’s muscles as she watched dawn break over the mountain and the sun’s first rays stream through the pines next to the barn.

Baylor had made himself scarce since the crime scene techs had rolled up on scene three hours earlier, and she found herself worrying more about him than the implications of the body hanging in his torched barn.

Maybe it wasn’t James Endicott. Maybe…She rubbed her temples, sure the headache would pass if she drank another cup of coffee.

“We’re ready to drop the body,” CSI Worchester said, moving toward her. “The fire destroyed any evidence that might have otherwise been there. We looked for fiber evidence on the cable, got something. It’ll probably match with McCullough’s gloves. The only thing we’ve got left is the body.”

“Thanks, Ryan.” She paused in the entrance of the barn and watched them spread out a plastic sheet,
then cover it with a sterile drape in the area where the body would touch down.

A knot formed in her stomach, a mix of nerves and anticipation. She prayed there was some sort of trace on the corpse. Anything that would lead her investigation away from Baylor. Anything at all. But the circumstantial evidence was beginning to mount and she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t eventually produce an avalanche.

The clack of the teeth on the ratchet wench set her mind on edge. She watched as the charred body was lowered. Could Baylor really do something heinous like this? She searched her heart, digging for the knowledge, and finding it locked inside. Baylor was an honorable man.

Ryan, dressed in a clean suit, face shield and gloves, steered the body the last six feet, making sure it was positioned in the middle of the sheet.

Mariah stepped closer, careful to stay outside of the clean perimeter. The evidence Ryan recovered could make the difference between Baylor being cleared and…She couldn’t force her thoughts to go there. In spite of all of her training, in spite of her years as a cop and finally a detective. It all turned to a jumble when she thought about him.

“Drama and trauma,” Ryan said as he took a pair of bolt cutters from one of his technicians and prepared to cut the cable in order to free the body for transport.

“Everyone, watch yourselves. These cables can do some crazy things.” He set the bolt cutters three feet from the point where the cable had been placed around the neck of the corpse and clamped down.

The cable snipped and coiled in midair as the tension was released, springing up toward the ceiling of the barn before relaxing to swing ten feet above their heads.

Ryan handed the bolt cutters back to his waiting tech. “Get Detective Ellis a mask.”

Mariah was handed a cup-style surgical mask and an eye shield. She put them on and stepped closer.

Already, Ryan was examining the body. “The victim appears to be male. Approximate age…late thirties.”

Every muscle in her body cranked tighter as Ryan went on. He was describing James Endicott. If only the fire hadn’t burned away any distinguishing facial features.

“That’s odd.”

Her hearing tuned up. “You’ve got something?”

“I’m not sure. Jenny, I need a liver temp probe.”

Mariah looked away the moment the tech put the instrument in Ryan’s hand. The forensic end of her job had a tendency to turn her stomach inside out.

“Strange.”

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the scene and put her professional face on. “What?”

“His liver temp is…well, it’s forty degrees. That’s impossible.”

Mariah calculated what the temperature had been yesterday, and overnight, both temps well above forty degrees. “What about the fire? That should have raised the temperature.”

“You’d think. Unless…he started out really, really cold.”

“Frozen?” Curiosity coiled around her thought processes. “That would explain why his body temperature is less than the outside air temperature.”

“The average household freezer maintains a temperature of zero to minus ten. If he was that cold in the beginning, that would explain why the fire charred his skin, but didn’t destroy the subcutaneous fat layers underneath.”

“Any signs of cause of death?”

“Well, we know he didn’t die in the fire.” Ryan stood up from his squatting position next to the body. “I’m going to need time in the morgue before I can give you anything else. We’ll X-ray for foreign bodies, and take dental slides. Do you think this is James Endicott, your missing prosecutor?”

“Yeah, I do, but let’s keep it under wraps until we get a positive I.D.”

“You’ve got it.” Ryan waved his tech over and together they began lapping the sheet over the body, preparing it for transport to the county morgue.

Did Baylor have a freezer? She didn’t recall seeing one. A measure of relief surged through her as she left the barn.

“Is it him?”

The question came at her from out of the shadows shrouding the left side of the barn.

Mariah stopped and turned to face Baylor. His features were chiseled into hard lines. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hat was pulled low, but she could still see his blue-gray eyes under the brim of his Stetson.

Her brain worked double time as she bounced between two extremes. Guilty, not guilty.

“We can’t make a positive I.D. until Ryan gets the body to the morgue for analysis—”

“Cut the company line, Mariah.” He stepped toward her and she automatically closed her eyes, expecting to feel the gentle touch of his hand on her skin, but the fantasy didn’t materialize.

She opened her lids and gazed up at him.

Tension ticked along his jawline, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “It’s him, isn’t it?” His teeth clamped together.

“I think so.” She wanted to implode as she watched a mix of anger, resentment and resignation flow over his features. “Let’s wait it out, Baylor. There’s always a chance it’s not him.” The words tasted like fluff. A hope cooked to half-baked.

“I was taking a polygraph when this happened.” He motioned to the scorched barn. “You’re my alibi.”

“You could have used some sort of light timer to activate the heat lamp hours before the fire started.”

He glared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. “And I booked a seat on the next damn shuttle to Mars.”

Mariah swallowed. “Do you have a freezer?”

“What?”

“A freezer, Baylor. A chest freezer.” Her throat tightened and every nerve in her body twisted tight. She’d rather be anywhere than here. Rather be kissing him than shaking him down for murder.

“Yeah. It’s in the garage. But what the hell does a freezer—” The end of Baylor’s sentence caught in his throat as he put the puzzle together. “I’m going in the house to call my lawyer.” He took a step back from her, when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her.

He could see the pain in her eyes, feel her internal struggle, but she was a cop. At the moment, her obligation was to her badge.

The sound of tires on gravel pulled his attention to a red BMW, hauling ass up the driveway. It ground to a stop in a cloud of dust. A woman bailed out of the car and headed straight for them.

“Detective Ellis. Where is he? Where’s my husband? I heard the call come in over the police scanner.”

Caution took hold of Mariah’s actions as she sized up Rachel Endicott. The woman had been on her back since she’d reported James missing. But she’d probably have done the same, only there was something off about her emotionless rants every couple of days.

“Mrs. Endicott, we’re not even sure it’s him at this
point. Go home. I’ll contact you as soon as I’ve got a positive I.D.”

“I won’t leave! I want to see my husband’s body.” Her face went red with anger and exertion. She turned toward Baylor, warning Mariah that she intended to confront him next. “Did you kill him?” she asked, glaring at Baylor.

“No.” He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Endicott. Sorry for your loss.”

Rachel Endicott’s eyes went wide and for a moment Mariah thought the woman was going to burst into tears, but she got a hold of herself and took a step back.

“I’m sorry, Detective. You know how to reach me.” She dropped her gaze to the ground and turned around, walked back to her car, climbed in and backed down the driveway.

Mariah tried to relax but she couldn’t shake the odd sensation combing up and down her spine. Rachel Endicott had been acting strange since the moment her philandering husband had vanished. Did she know about the affair between James and Amy McCullough?

“I’d say she was a blip on your radar,” Baylor said from next to her.

“Not exactly a grieving widow.” In fact, Rachel Endicott had never really struck her that way, now that Mariah considered her meetings with the woman.

“Everyone handles loss differently. No one
knows what goes on behind closed doors. Maybe she was ready to divorce the cheating bastard when he disappeared.”

Mariah tossed Baylor a suspicious glance. “And how would you know that?”

“If Endicott didn’t have the character to be a one-woman man, do you think Amy was the only woman he played around with, the only marriage he destroyed?”

Mariah tried to dissipate his argument, to chalk it up to bitterness, but she couldn’t. Baylor was right. Men like James Endicott dabbled at their own risk and it was hard to tell whom they’d angered in the process.

“Did he really crush your marriage to Amy?” The question was personal and probing, but somewhere in her heart she needed to hear the answer.

“No. What Amy and I had was gone long before Endicott took her physically from me. Amy was looking for a way out from the day we married. I’m surprised she said I do.”

Somewhere in her soul, Mariah felt a shift. She’d always felt guilty for kissing Baylor. Always felt like some sort of husband stealer for wanting him.

“Amy always planned to take off for L.A. the minute she graduated from high school. She was going to be a star,” Mariah said, reliving the memory of exuberance Amy had always used to paint her world.

“I wasn’t what she wanted, Mariah. I never was. The Bellwether was a prison in her mind. All the
fresh air and open country made her feel trapped.” He shook his head, accentuating his disbelief.

She saw the tension around his eyes soften.

“She planned to leave. I asked her to get on with it. We needed to move forward. I didn’t hold her. She was free to go.”

Surprise laced through Mariah, catching her in a net of curiosity. “What happened?”

“The night she died, we had dinner at the Steak House Restaurant in town. We’d agreed to separate months before that, but for some reason she stayed put. Money maybe, I don’t know.”

The air charged with a feeling of sadness Mariah couldn’t shake. Had Amy planned to run off with James Endicott?

“We argued just before we left in her car.”

“She was driving. That’s what the eyewitness said and it’s why the vehicular manslaughter charges Endicott brought against you were dropped.”

A faraway stare seemed to pull Baylor away from her and back into the past. She watched him swallow hard, sensing an internal struggle churning inside of him. Was he reliving that horrific night one terrible moment at a time?

“That’s not what happened.”

Her heart slammed against her rib cage and she sucked in a labored breath. She suddenly didn’t want him to go on, didn’t want to know the truth.

“Amy wasn’t driving. I was. I made her pull over
on the edge of town and I took over.” He reached for her and she felt his hand on her elbow. Her skin tingled beneath his fingers and she resisted the urge to touch his cheek, to soothe away the pain she could see in his eyes as he stared down at her.

“It happened so fast, I couldn’t stop it. The deer jumped out of the ditch. I jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid it, but the car pulled to the right. For some damn reason it all went to hell in a hand basket, and we were in the river…the car filled with water. I couldn’t get her to talk to me.”

Mariah’s throat squeezed shut, her eyes stinging as she blinked back tears. Baylor’s words painted a vivid picture of the terror they’d experienced in the cold, dark water, of the panic and struggle he’d gone through only to lose her.

“Her seat belt jammed, but I yanked it free. She was conscious, but dazed. I kicked out the driver’s-side window and floated out. I never should have left her.”

Baylor felt his chest tighten until he was sure he couldn’t take another breath. He stared into Mariah’s eyes, looking for a hint of skepticism, a trace of disbelief, and then he realized she was crying. Reaching out to touch her cheek, he brushed away her tears.

“I couldn’t swim. I had a hold of her for an instant. Dammit! I couldn’t save her. I barely saved myself. If I hadn’t found a rock under the water to hold on to, I’d have been swept away.”

Then she was holding him, stroking his cheek with her hand. Baylor buried his face in her hair, breathing her in with desperate gulps of air.

The truth was out. He was free. All that mattered now was protecting the woman in his arms from a madman crazy enough to try to take her away.

M
ARIAH SIFTED THROUGH
her copies of the crime scene photos one more time before moving on to the autopsy report. She’d managed to keep the case, but she knew Chief Ellis wasn’t going to allow it for much longer unless she could fork over some solid proof.

She was convinced Baylor had been set up for Endicott’s murder, right down to the gun in the tea pitcher, which had produced a ballistics match for the single slug in Endicott’s right temple. The gunshot wound was his cause of death, but the freezer angle still gave her pause.

Worchester hadn’t been able to establish a time of death, but it could have been weeks before the fire.

Someone had intentionally waylaid the discovery of Endicott’s body. But why?

“Give it a rest, Mariah. Eat.” Baylor slid a plate of food in front of her and she gave him a smile.

“Thank you, but I’ve got to figure out what I’m missing.”

“It’ll wait.” He took her hand and pulled her off her stool at the bar separating her dining room and
kitchen. He was gorgeous, she thought as she stepped into his open arms and raised her mouth to his.