The Marshal's Hostage (6 page)

Not hers.

Everything inside her was yelling for her to come clean with the head marshal. Not to clear her name but because Owen was weaving some kind of spider web here, and if she withheld info about the tests she’d run, she could be helping Owen with whatever stupid plan he was now concocting.

However, if she spoke up, she’d have to admit the tests she’d run. She’d have to admit that Dallas’s prints were on the knife. She would also have to confess to withholding evidence in a murder case. She’d be arrested along with Dallas.

“Joelle didn’t kill Webb,” Dallas said before she could speak up, “so the knife must be a fake. Or else someone planted evidence on it.”

“Possibly,” Owen admitted, sounding smug again. “But that’s why I’m turning it over to Marshal Warner here. I have someone retrieving it from the safe-deposit box as we speak.” Owen looked at Joelle, obviously waiting to see how she’d respond.

“Then we’ll wait for the test results,” Dallas insisted, and he shot her a stay-quiet look.

She wanted to pull both Owen and him aside so she could try to do the right thing, but Dallas’s iron gaze had her holding her tongue.

Joelle prayed that didn’t turn out to be a big mistake.

Marshal Warner gave them each a considering look. “I’ll accept custody of the knife and arrange for it to be sent to the lab. Since all of you were at Rocky Creek at the time of Webb’s death, it’s best if none of you has a part in this.”

Owen quickly nodded, stepped closer to Joelle. “And while we’re waiting for the results, Joelle and I can proceed with the marriage.”

“What?” she blurted out.

“Not a chance,” Dallas added. “She’s been drugged, remember? A medic needs to check her. She’ll need lab work. And we’ll need to take yours and Lindsey’s statements to figure out who put that drug in the drink.”

Owen’s eyes narrowed for just a split second, and then he must have remembered that Marshal Warner was watching his every move. “I hope you’ll be questioned, too, about kidnapping her. That wasn’t necessary, you know. I was already on the way to the church and could have handled the situation.”

Again, Dallas stepped in front of her. “Your idea of handling it would have had her saying ‘I do’ even though she was drugged out of her mind.”

Since this was quickly turning into an argument and because she was tired of having Dallas fight her battles, Joelle nudged him aside and faced Owen. “Dallas didn’t think it was safe for me to be at the church and therefore he won’t be questioned for
kidnapping.
”

She tossed Dallas one of those stay-quiet glares he’d been giving her since this conversation had first started. “That doesn’t mean I approve of what he did,” she continued. “I could have gotten out of the church by myself.”

Dallas made a yeah-right sound.

“This is all starting to sound personal,” Marshal Warner interrupted. “Is it?”

Harlan and Clayton looked away, leaving it to her and Dallas to answer.

“Joelle used to have a thing for Dallas,” Owen volunteered. “Old water, old bridge. She broke things off with him when she was a teenager, and she’s my fiancée now. As far as I’m concerned, the wedding will take place ASAP, right after a doctor confirms she’s okay, of course.”

Even though that was an accurate summary, there was something in Owen’s tone and expression. Maybe something about her dirty little secret.

Did Owen know?

Or was her guilty conscience coming in to play?

“Why don’t we step into the hall and discuss this?” she said to Owen. Joelle didn’t give him a chance to say no. She grabbed him by the arm and jerked him toward the door.

But the private conversation she’d intended suddenly wasn’t so private because Dallas stepped into the hall with them and shut the door. Not that she could blame him. He had just as much stake in this as she did. Maybe more.

“What game are you playing now?” Joelle immediately asked Owen. She kept her voice to a whisper and glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing range. Thankfully, they had the hall to themselves.

“No game,” Owen insisted. “I just want you to go through with our deal.”

“Our deal was for you to keep the knife hidden away until I could prove who really murdered Webb. Now that you’re turning it over to Marshal Warner, the deal is broken.”

“Maybe not. It’ll take a couple of days to get back the preliminary test results. A lot can go wrong during that time. The knife could be lost. Evidence could be destroyed.”

Dallas groaned. “And that will only make me or some member of my family look guiltier.”

“Not my problem.” The smugness was so thick now that Joelle was afraid Dallas might slug Owen. She grabbed Dallas’s arm so that he wouldn’t move any closer to the man.

But the gesture clearly didn’t have a good effect on Owen. He glanced at her grip on Dallas’s arm. At their faces. At
them.
And his smugness turned to an ice-cold glare.

“This isn’t finished,” Owen said to Dallas. “If Joelle doesn’t go through with the wedding, both of you are going down for Webb’s murder. Kirby, too.”

Dallas’s jaw turned to iron. “What the hell does Kirby have to do with this?”

“Everything. There was a detailed account of how Kirby disposed of the body in the second package someone sent me. That makes him an accessory to murder, which carries the same penalty as murder itself.”

Joelle’s stomach churned again, but she forced herself to think. “I know the law, and I know you need proof. Some anonymous statement won’t do it.”

An oily smile tugged at Owen’s mouth. “Oh, didn’t I mention what else was in the package? Must have slipped my mind. The knife containing Webb’s blood and your prints was wrapped in a handkerchief. Kirby’s. And it has his DNA on it to prove it. All together, it looks like some kind of family effort to murder Webb. Throw in Joelle’s obstruction of justice, and I see the three of you landing in jail.”

“We won’t be alone,” Joelle snapped. “If we’re arrested, I’ll spill everything.”

“Oh, yeah?” Owen countered. “Well, so will I.”

She flinched, and the
oh, Gods
started to run through her head again.

“What’s he talking about now?” Dallas demanded.

Joelle didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Suddenly, all the old memories came flooding back, and she couldn’t speak over the lump in her throat.

Owen leaned in and pulled her grip off Dallas’s arm. “I figure you’ve got a couple of days at most until that knife is processed and you’re arrested. At any time Joelle can stop it by marrying me.”

“I won’t let Joelle marry you to save me,” Dallas snarled.

Owen’s smile flashed again. “No, but you would let her do it to save Kirby. Plus, there are things you don’t know. Things Joelle wants to keep secret.”

Now it was Dallas who stopped her from going after Owen. How dare he do this? But what had she expected? Joelle had known the man was a piece of work, but what she hadn’t known was that he’d be able to get this kind of information.

“I will stop you,” she warned him, though she didn’t have a clue how to do that.

“Stop me?” Owen repeated. He stayed quiet a moment, but she couldn’t tell from his expression what he was thinking. But it couldn’t be good. “Then maybe you should speak with Kirby.”

“Why?” Dallas asked immediately, and it sounded like a threat, warning Owen not to bring Kirby into this. On this point, Joelle agreed with Dallas. She didn’t want Kirby any more involved than he already was.

“Kirby has a lot of answers,” Owen finished seconds later. “But the question is—will he give them to you?”

“He’s lying,” Joelle said, hoping she was right.

“What answers?” Dallas pressed.

Another lift of his shoulder. “You should ask him.”

“Kirby’s sick,” Joelle reminded Dallas, but he only made a sound to let her know he was still giving it some thought.

She wanted to throttle Owen again. There was no way Dallas would drop this now unless Kirby was genuinely too weak to talk with them. Joelle didn’t want to benefit from the too-weak possibility, but she was afraid of what Kirby might say.

“Call me when you’re ready to go through with the wedding,” Owen said to her. He opened his mouth to say more, but the sound of footsteps stopped him.

Dallas and Joelle turned, and she spotted the man coming up the stairs. He was bald and bulky, and she recognized him as one of Owen’s bodyguards who’d been at the church. He was carrying a package.

“Ah, the knife and other evidence are here.” Owen threw open the door to the marshals’ office where Clayton, Harlan and Chief Warner were all waiting.

Owen’s bodyguard went inside with the package, but Owen stayed back, leaned in and put his mouth to Joelle’s ear.

“Can you feel the seconds just ticking by?” he taunted in a whisper.

“Give me a week,” Joelle pleaded.

But Owen just shook his head. “No deal.”

“Don’t even try to do this,” Dallas warned her. “You’re not marrying him.”

Joelle ignored Dallas. Or rather, she tried to. It was hard to ignore him when he was right in her face.

“Give me three days then,” she tried again with Owen.

Another headshake. Another smile. “You’ve got forty-eight hours to marry me, that’s all,” Owen insisted. “Then all hell will break loose, and I’ll tell Dallas
everything.
”

Chapter Seven

“You sure Kirby’s up to this?” Joelle asked again.

“Yeah,” Dallas lied.

Kirby was in no shape to be answering questions about Webb’s murder, the knife or anything else, but Dallas knew that his foster father would do it anyway. Kirby would do anything humanly possible to keep any of them from being arrested for the murder of a man who hadn’t deserved to live.

Joelle blew out a deep breath and continued leaning her head against the passenger’s window of his truck. It’s where she’d been leaning it since they’d started the drive from Maverick Springs to his family’s ranch. She’d moved briefly just to hurry inside her hotel room so she could collect her things and change into a skirt and a top.

Better than that peekaboo bathrobe.

She was clearly exhausted, probably hungover from the drugs and the adrenaline crash, but she was nervous, too. Nibbling on her bottom lip and mumbling something about Owen. There wasn’t time for her to rest or even compose herself. Dallas hated to admit it, but with time eating away, he needed all the help he could get.

Especially Joelle’s.

She’d already spent weeks looking into Webb’s murder, and it would waste time they didn’t have for him to go back and recreate what she’d managed to get done. They needed answers, and they needed them fast.

Dallas’s phone rang just as he took the final turn toward Blue Creek ranch. He saw on the screen that the caller was Clayton, probably with an update on what was happening, so he put the call on speaker since Joelle would no doubt want to hear.

“Please tell me you found the gunmen,” Dallas greeted. Because if they found them and tied them back to Owen, they could discredit Owen and the evidence that he’d turned over to Saul Warner.

“Still looking,” Clayton said. “But I thought you’d want to know that Lindsey Downing is here and claiming she had no part in drugging Joelle.”

“She’s lying,” Joelle immediately said.

“Probably,” Clayton continued, “but she’s saying that she merely poured you a drink from the bottle that was in the reception room at the church.”

“She claims there was a bottle of booze just lying around?” Dallas pressed.

“Yep.”

Hell. Dallas wanted to drive back to headquarters and question the woman himself. He could threaten the truth out of her. But he wouldn’t be able to get in the front door.

Saul’s orders.

Dallas couldn’t blame his boss for excluding not just him but all five of his foster brothers from this particular investigation. Having them involved was the textbook definition of conflict of interest. Still, that wouldn’t stop all of them from finding the truth on their own. Even Saul couldn’t fault them for that.

The family was at stake.

“What about the knife?” Dallas asked Clayton. “What did Saul do with it?”

“He’s arranged to have it couriered over to the lab in a few hours. And before you ask, he won’t delay it until tomorrow. He said everything’s got to be aboveboard on this and that with all the interviews he’s doing, two hours is a reasonable amount of time for him to do the lab paperwork.”

Yeah, it did have to be aboveboard because Owen would jump to report them to the governor, the rangers or the FBI if they did anything out of the ordinary. Of course, if Owen did that, he’d also have to explain why he’d withheld potential evidence even for this period of time.

“I figure we’ve got three days at most before the preliminary results are back,” Clayton continued.

Joelle groaned softly. Owen had only given her two days. Hardly enough time to even find a starting point for the rest of the investigation. And that’s why Dallas had had no choice but to turn to Kirby, and he prayed like the devil that his father had a reasonable explanation for that handkerchief wrapped around the knife. While he was praying, he needed to come up with his legal, plausible reason as to why his prints were on a possible murder weapon.

Yeah, they needed a boatload more time.

“Whatever Kirby tells us, we’ll go from there,” Dallas assured his brother. “And call me as soon as Joelle’s lab results are in.”

With that reminder, she glanced down at the crook of her arm, peeled off the bandage that the medic had put in place after drawing a blood sample and pinched the bandage into a little ball. Almost as if she were trying to work out her anger with the motion.

It wouldn’t help.

Joelle probably felt violated. And had been. Now the question was—who was responsible? His money was still on Owen using Lindsey as a lackey, but proving Owen’s guilt was the next step.

“What about the other woman who was at the church with Lindsey?” Dallas asked Clayton. “Has she been brought in yet?”

“Amanda Mathis,” Joelle interjected.

“She’s on her way,” Clayton answered. “I’ll try to hang around to hear what she has to say, but Saul is already trying to boot me out the door. Harlan, too. And he’s already sent Slade and Wyatt to prisoner transport duty.”

Again, not unexpected but a damn inconvenience. Working from the inside out would be a heck of a lot easier than the reverse. Of course, both of those scenarios involved working with Joelle. Not his first choice of investigative partners. Too much old blood between them. Old wounds, too.

And apparently remnants of the attraction.

Nothing would come of it. Dallas was sure of that. He needed his head on this case and not clouded with memories of kisses and sex.

“You still there, Dallas?” Clayton asked.

Dallas snapped his attention back to the conversation and cursed the clouded head he already had.

“Hang in there as long as you can,” Dallas instructed Clayton, and he ended the call.

“Amanda wouldn’t have done this,” Joelle volunteered right away. “She also works for Owen, but unlike Lindsey, she’s a mouse. If he gave the order to one of them, it would have been Lindsey.”

Dallas thought about that while he pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling ranch house. However, he didn’t get out, and Joelle didn’t seem so anxious to do that, either.

“Would Lindsey have done this on her own, without Owen’s order?” Dallas asked.

She paused. “Maybe. Probably,” Joelle amended a moment later. “I believe she’s in love with Owen so who knows—this might have been her way of stopping the ceremony.”

“Does Lindsey know that Owen forced you into this engagement?”

Joelle shook her head. “I doubt Owen shared that with anyone. He would want everyone to believe that I’m marrying him for love.”

Good point. Yeah, Owen’s ego would have insisted on that. “Could Lindsey have been the one to hire those men in the woods?”

Joelle blinked. “Why wouldn’t you believe Owen did that?”

“I do think it was him, but I have to look at this the way my boss will. And Saul will want to know if there was someone other than Owen with means, motive and opportunity to drug you and send out those gunmen.”

She made a sound of agreement, then groaned. “Lindsey fits the bill on all counts. She comes from a wealthy family so she’d have the funds to hire gunmen. She’s also in love with Owen. And hates me. She could have called the goons as soon as you took me out of the church.” But then, Joelle shook her head. “Still, it all goes back to Owen. I mean, why would Lindsey want those men to force me back to the church?”

Unfortunately, Dallas could think of a reason. “Maybe they weren’t instructed to take you to the church. Maybe they were hired to make sure you never married Owen.”

And if so, perhaps they really had orders to kill her.

Of course, there was that part about a dirty little secret. Dallas wanted to ask Joelle if Lindsey would have known anything about that. Or had Owen known? But Joelle had made it pretty clear that particular subject wasn’t up for discussion.

Not now, anyway.

But soon, very soon, Dallas would need to hear it in case it was somehow connected to this mess of an investigation.

“Owen certainly had the means to hire those men,” Joelle continued. “And more.”

Yeah. Dallas was aware of that. Right after he’d finished college, Owen had married the only daughter of one of the richest ranchers in Texas, and both father and daughter had died in a car accident less than a year later. As the sole heir, Owen had inherited the successful ranch along with about twenty million dollars.

That could buy a lot of gunmen.

“You’ve stayed in touch with Owen all these years?” he asked.

“No.” A quick answer, and she made a face as if the idea was an unpleasant one. “He’s called a time or two and dropped by my office once, but I was never interested in seeing or hearing from Owen.”

“Yet he found a way to tangle you in his life.” And tangle in a bad way. In addition to the dirty little secret conversation, Dallas would need to see the evidence Joelle had found that would incriminate the piece of scum who was blackmailing her into marriage.

“It’s a nice place,” Joelle said when Dallas opened his truck door.

Dallas followed her gaze to the white limestone house. It wasn’t a new structure. The ranch had been in Kirby’s family for six generations.

“Most people just describe it as
big,
” he mumbled. And it seemed to be constantly growing. After Kirby had taken him and his five foster brothers in, he’d added a second floor and expanded the kitchen and living areas.

Joelle got out slowly, and even though she was no longer wobbling when she walked, her steps were tentative. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

Before Dallas could remind her again that they were short on options, the front door opened and Declan stepped onto the porch that stretched across the entire front of the house.

“Joelle,” Declan greeted. He said her name with some disdain. No doubt because of her inquiry that could ultimately burn Kirby.

Dallas frowned, grabbed her overnight bag and joined them. Joelle looked a little hurt by Declan’s frosty welcome, and there was good reason for that. Back at Rocky Creek, she and Declan had always been friendly in a big sister, little brother kind of way. But Dallas really didn’t want her welcomed back with open arms.

“You look good,” Joelle said to Declan. “I’ve missed you.”

That didn’t sit well with Dallas, either, and he didn’t take the bark out of his tone. “We have to talk to Kirby,” he said as he put her bag on the entry floor and pulled off his Stetson. He hung it on its usual hook next to the door.

“Yeah,” Declan acknowledged. “Clayton called and filled me in. Kirby knows, too.”

“And he’s up to seeing us?” Joelle asked.

Declan shook his head and tipped his head for her to follow him inside. “Not really up to it, but he insisted on the visit.”

“Then we’ll keep it short,” she promised.

Declan started toward Kirby’s bedroom at the back of the house. “Is Joelle staying the night?”

“No,” she answered, probably because she felt about as welcome as the flu.

“Yes,” Dallas contradicted. “Until those gunmen are found, she’s staying with one of us.”

Declan didn’t argue with him, though Dallas thought Joelle might.

“I’ll have Loretta fix up the guest room,” his brother commented. “Loretta’s our housekeeper,” Declan added, glancing back at Joelle.

“Loretta Wiggins,” she said as they wound their way through the hall.

“You know her?” Dallas asked, surprised.

Joelle nodded. “When the governor asked me to look into Webb’s death, I asked for background checks on all of you, including your help here at the ranch.”

It made him wonder what else she’d done. And learned. She certainly hadn’t learned anything from his immediate family firsthand but had instead sent her assistant, a pasty-faced lawyer, to interview him and his foster brothers. Maybe because Joelle hadn’t wanted to personally confront what she thought would be a bunch of riled lawmen.

Or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to confront
him.

They stopped in front of Kirby’s door, and Declan looked at them. “He’s been out of it most of the day. Asking for Stella again.”

“Stella Doyle?” Joelle immediately asked. “The cook who was at Rocky Creek?”

Declan nodded, then scratched his head. “Didn’t even realize Kirby and Stella knew each other that well, but he wants to see her.”

“One of my people interviewed her,” Joelle offered. “I’m sure we have current contact information.”

Dallas huffed. He already had too much on his plate, but if Kirby wanted the woman to come to the ranch, he’d figure out a way to get her there. As long as Kirby didn’t want to see Stella for some deathbed farewell, that is. He didn’t want Kirby giving up on the treatments.

When Dallas reached for the doorknob, Joelle took several deeps breaths. She opened her mouth, probably to repeat that this wasn’t a good idea, but Dallas opened the door anyway. And there Kirby was on the bed.

Hell.

He looked worse than he had earlier when Dallas left for the church to stop Joelle’s wedding. Kirby opened his eyes. Not without some effort. And he turned his head in their direction. He even managed a watery smile for Joelle’s benefit.

God, it hurt to see him like this. Kirby had always been so strong. A hulk of a man. And now the cancer and the treatments had reduced him to practically a skeleton.

“I’ll get Loretta started on that guest room,” Declan said, excusing himself.

Kirby lifted his hand and motioned for them to come closer. “Tell me about Owen,” he mumbled, and his hand eased back onto the bed.

Dallas wanted to keep this as short as possible because he knew even a simple conversation would be exhausting for Kirby. “Owen claims someone sent him a knife containing Webb’s blood and my prints and that it was wrapped in your handkerchief. He just turned it over to Saul, who’s sending it to the lab.”

“Owen always was a wormy little snake,” Kirby mumbled.

That wasn’t exactly what Dallas wanted to hear. He’d wanted Kirby to say the evidence had to be fake, that there was no way his handkerchief could be wrapped around a murder weapon.

“Saul wouldn’t let me look at the knife,” Dallas continued. “He wants me to stay away from all of this.” He motioned to Joelle. “But she had it tested, and they’re apparently my prints.”