You're Not Safe (Texas Rangers) (8 page)

“His brother has friends in high places, let’s just say.”

She’d not seen David Edwards in a dozen years but lingering memories were of a young man driven hard to succeed like their father. The one time they’d stood face to face, his gaze had been sharp and cold. “David can be a force.”

“You remember him?”

“Very clearly.”

“You don’t resent David?”

“I did then. But not now.” She managed a smile. “Time heals all wounds, right?”

His gaze remained on her a beat longer. “If I have more questions, Ms. Templeton, I can give you a call.”

A statement not a question. “Sure.”

“And you are still going to hire Mitch?”

For the first time she sensed disquiet in Bragg, perhaps even a flicker of vulnerability. His job was at odds with his family. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He studied her carefully. “As you might have guessed, with Mitch here I’ll be stopping by a lot until I know he’s doing better.”

“That just makes my day, Ranger Bragg.”

Her sarcasm gave him pause. “As long as we understand each other.”

“Loud and clear.”

He moved to the door, opened it, and held it for her while she passed. Gravel crunched under his boots as he followed her into the courtyard where the heat already beat on the earth.

Despite his stony expression, he cared about the boy and perhaps had come face to face with a problem that confounded him.

“This is a good place for Mitch,” Greer said. “It brought me back to life, and it might do the same for him.”

Questions clearly stirred behind his dark eyes, but he kept them to himself. “If there is a problem with Mitch, I want to know about it.”

She shook her head. “Short of it being a nine-one-one emergency kind of a problem, if you have something to say to him then say it. I’m not getting between you two.”

A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “You already are.”

“No, I offered him a job. That’s between him and me. You showed up on my land and insinuated yourself into the mix.”

“Just doing my job.”

“As a Ranger or an uncle?”

“Both.” He touched the brim of his hat and turned to leave.

She didn’t wish him well or ask him to come again like she would have most. Instead she stood silent, afraid to turn her back, as he climbed into the front seat of his SUV. As the engine turned and roared, she remained in the same spot for a long time, watching the truck move along the dirt drive, chased by a cloud of dry Texas dust. Only when his vehicle vanished around the last bend did she let her shoulders slump a fraction.

“What did you get yourself into, Rory?” she said.

 

 

An hour later the sound of another approaching vehicle had her lifting her gaze from a collection of chairs she was assembling for the reception room. Another truck, but not Bragg’s truck. Instead, it was a dark pickup, with a back rusted wheel well, gun rack hanging inside the cab, and a
Semper Fi
sticker on the back bumper. She recognized the driver. Mitch Bragg.

She’d thought yesterday she’d seen the last of him. He’d shown next to no interest in her offer and in truth she’d wished he’d decline. That would eliminate a good bit of emotional turmoil and Ranger Bragg.

But she’d promised to extend the invitation and she kept her word. By her way of thinking, when Mitch was back up on his feet, she was off the hook.

She waited and watched as the kid parked his car and reached for the hat on the passenger seat. He nestled it on his head as if he worried more about delaying their meeting than the sun. Finally, he eased out as if his body were stiff and when he walked toward her, his posture was erect despite a limp. Once a marine, always a marine.

Her heart clenched as she watched him. He so reminded her of Jeff. The broad shoulders. The swagger. The hint of uncertainty lingering behind the direct gaze.

She cleared her throat. “I didn’t think you’d show,” she said. She wouldn’t mention Bragg’s visit. She’d meant what she’d said about staying out of the middle.

His gaze roamed the land as if assessing the terrain and possible threats. “Almost didn’t.”

“Why’d you come, then?”

“Can’t rightly say. Maybe because I don’t really belong anywhere else and here is as good a place as any.”

Now he reminded her not of Jeff but of herself when she’d first ventured on this land. Lost. Desperate. Afraid. “Fair enough. Ready to get to work?”

He dug his hands into his jeans pocket. “What kind of work do you have in mind?”

The same work her aunt had given her all those years ago. “I’ve a couple of old horses. They need tending. They’ll need to be fed and their corral extended. After that, the vineyards always need work. It takes four of us to run the place. It’s me, my manager, José, and his two sons. The sons return to college mid-August and come fall I’ll be shorthanded. If you work out, you can have a full-time job in the field.”

He didn’t balk at the job description as his gaze trailed hers to the horses. “Hope you didn’t pay a lot for them. They’ve one foot in the grave.”

“Had it in my head to rescue these old gals. They’re not good for much, but they’ve worked hard all their lives. They should enjoy the years they have left.”

She walked toward the corral hoping he’d follow. He did. When they reached the smooth fence the dark horse glared at them but made no move to approach. “They’re just the start. Like I said, we have harvest in a few weeks and come fall I can use the help.” She’d purposely left the fall open-ended. One moment, one hour, one day at a time.

He held out his hand to the horses. The black one snorted and turned her head away while the brown one ambled forward to nudge his fingers with her snout. He scratched the brown one under the chin, not smiling but not frowning so hard either. “Do they have names?”

“They didn’t come with names but they need ’em.”

Silent, he waited for her to handle the official naming.

Before she thought too hard, she said, “Beauty is the black one and Buttercup is the brown one.”

The black horse snorted and not to be ignored moved toward them. “Beauty has an attitude.”

“She’s had a rough go of it, I suspect. I imagine she’s loved and lost one too many people. Losing leaves a scar.”

Mitch didn’t respond, but his hand stilled for a moment on Buttercup’s snout. “You have feed for them?”

“Over by the utility shed.” She’d not thought about what she’d have done with the old horses if Mitch hadn’t shown. Last thing she needed was the added work let alone the expense of a couple of horses. But when she’d committed to take them she’d known one way or the other she’d have made it work.

“So what are they supposed to do?” he said.

“Not much they can do. When folks come out to tour, they can enjoy the picnic area and visit the horses. Maybe we’ll have carrots or feed for them to give the animals. Most folks like animals.”

“I had a dog growing up. Sergeant. Other than my mother he’s about the one thing I miss about my life before the Marines.”

She rubbed Buttercup on the nose, letting silence persuade Mitch to speak more.

“Spent my summers on a ranch. My mom sent me there to get away from the city. I liked the work but haven’t been to that place since I enlisted. Three years.”

As tempted as she was to ask about what had happened to him while he was serving, she didn’t. Her aunt had never asked her a single question about her accident. She’d left Greer be until one day she’d been ready to talk.

She was doing this her aunt’s way. Might not be the best way and she was pretty sure this method wasn’t written up in any textbook. But it had worked for her and would have to do. “I pay minimum wage, and I cut paychecks on the first and the fifteenth. If I send you into town on errands, mark your miles, and I’ll reimburse you for the gas. Does that suit?”

For a moment he rubbed Buttercup’s nose while Beauty watched. “Can’t promise how long I’ll stay.”

She’d never figured she’d stay at Bonneville, either. She’d seen it as a life raft, not a destination. “I’d appreciate three days’ notice if you decide it doesn’t work for you. I’ll need to rearrange my schedule to care for the horses.”

He nodded. “You know much about horses?”

“Not a darn thing other than they’re tall and more animal than I know what to do with. The farrier said the feed load he dropped was about a week’s worth.”

Mitch glanced at the hay bales. “Barely a week. Explains why they’re too thin.”

“You can tell me what kind of feed to buy?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ve got them? You can do whatever it is they need.”

Beauty moved closer but remained out of Mitch’s reach. “Have they been watered?”

“I put water in the trough.”

“Where can I find a water hose and a bucket? Don’t want to overdo the water, but I imagine they’d appreciate a splash on a hot day.”

She showed him around the storage shed, which she said he could rearrange to suit himself. She gave him a rough idea of where she wanted to expand the field for the horses and showed him the pile of lumber she’d had delivered yesterday. He nodded and listened but didn’t say much.

She left him, retreating into the main tasting room to the chairs still needing assembly. A large picture window framed the west wall and a view of the horses and Mitch. He didn’t move quickly but with a halting, uneasy pace as if his body was relearning how to move again.

Grief and sorrow could rob you of will and energy so that all you wanted to do was crawl under the covers and let life pass you by. Giving up was a little too easy unless there was someone waiting on you to get out of bed each day. It was one thing to disappoint yourself. But it was another to let a loved one or an animal down.

She picked up the phone and dialed. Next came a calm and steady, “Dr. Stewart.”

“Dr. Stewart, this is Greer.”

“Greer.” His chair squeaked as he leaned back. She imagined his desk piled high with papers and the shelves behind him crammed full of books, papers, and pictures of his family. “Mitch arrive?”

“He’s with the animals now.”

“Greer, this is great.”

“I don’t know, Dr. Stewart. I didn’t expect paying off my aunt’s favor meant babysitting a soldier with PTSD.”

“You’ve been in his shoes. You get him. You’ll be good for each other, Greer. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I ended up buying a couple of old nags and told him his job was to take care of them.”

“That’s a great idea!” His rich voice was ripe with approval.

She cleared her throat. “What if Mitch wants to quit?”

“Think back to what it was like for you, Greer. Mitch is no different. He lost his buddies in a roadside bombing.”

“He shouldn’t blame himself.”

“But he does. And you know logic and emotion don’t go hand in hand.”

“What if this doesn’t work?”

Dr. Stewart laughed. “Don’t you worry, Greer. I’ve all kinds of tricks up my sleeve.”

 

 

Why did Greer Templeton need Mitch? Growing up on the ranch, Bragg had worked the land long enough as a kid to know when a farm was efficient and Bonneville Vineyards was a well-run farm. His boy was smart. Quick on his feet. But he knew less about wine than Bragg.

And as much as he wanted to let go of the reins and trust this was good, he couldn’t. It wasn’t his nature to avoid trouble. Last night’s Internet searches didn’t come close to satisfying what he wanted to know about Greer.

He dialed his phone and after several calls he was connected to Hays County Deputy Eric Howell, who’d been the chief investigator on the Templeton accident. Bragg identified himself, explained what he needed. Howell promised to pull the files within the hour.

Bragg drove straight to Howell’s office located in San Marcos, halfway between Austin and San Antonio. He found the tall, slim officer with thick graying hair in a small back office waiting for him. The man rose and extended his hand.

“Ranger Bragg?”

They clasped hands. “Deputy Howell. Appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

Deputy Howell extended his hand toward a chair. “Got to admit I was surprised. I haven’t heard the Templeton name in awhile. Can I ask why the interest?”

“Her name came up in a murder investigation yesterday.”

Thick brows rose. “Elizabeth Templeton’s name came up?”

“She goes by her middle name, Greer, now. We found a picture of her and our victim nailed to a tree by the body. The picture was taken about twelve years ago.”

“That would have been right around the time of the accident.”

“Correct. The picture was taken at Shady Grove Estates. A camp for troubled teens.”

He opened a thick, dog-eared file. “I heard Elizabeth had been sent away after she tried to kill herself. Hell of a burden to know you drove the car that killed your brother and his girlfriend.”

“Tell me about the accident. The Internet articles gave bare facts.”

He reached for a pair of wire-rimmed glasses in his coat pocket. “Her family spent a lot of money keeping the story as quiet as possible. Of course when you’ve a couple of fatalities, it’s impossible to keep it completely silent no matter how much money you spend.”

“Can you give me a recap of the accident?”

He slipped on his glasses and glanced at the file. “When you called I had the file sent up from archives. I’d forgotten more details than I thought. It was a horrific accident.” He flipped through a couple of pages. “It was Jeffrey Templeton’s twenty-first birthday and the family was celebrating at the Austin Country Club. According to friends it was a big party, and the liquor had flowed. Elizabeth, rather, Greer, was fifteen.”

“How’d those three end up leaving?”

“Witnesses said the brother had been drinking heavily and was sick. He had an early morning appointment, so Greer had offered to take him home away from prying eyes. The girlfriend was also drunk but insisted on riding shotgun in the car because Greer was so young. According to Greer while she was driving a dark stretch of road, a car appeared out of nowhere. She said the car switched into her lane and was headed straight toward her. She said she beeped the horn, but the other driver didn’t budge. At the last second, Greer veered, went off the road, and hit a tree. Jeff and Sydney were thrown from the car. Greer had on her seat belt.”

“Was Greer drinking?”

“At the scene the responding officer could not run a Breathalyzer on Greer because she was so badly injured. He did report her saying she’d not been drinking. Her blood tested negative at the hospital. I saw her several days after the accident. She was recovering from surgery to repair a badly broken leg. By then, the family had lawyered up and a representative from her attorney’s firm was with her. Her parents were not at the hospital. They were at their son’s funeral. Elizabeth was still so injured she couldn’t leave the hospital for the funeral.”

“They wouldn’t delay it for her?”

“They refused.”

“You ever talk to the parents?”

“Sure. A couple of times. Their focus was on losing Jeffrey not Elizabeth.” He leaned back in his chair. “Jeffrey was the favored son. Smart, athletic, and handsome. He had the world on a string. Family had high hopes for him. And then in an instant he was gone. Her mother could barely speak Elizabeth’s name.”

Bragg was silent for a moment, wondering how he’d have handled the weight of such grief. He hoped like hell he wouldn’t have condemned the surviving child. “She goes by Greer now.”

“Right.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Greer was torn up about the accident. Knowing she killed her brother had broken her. I think she wanted to talk to me about Jeff because her parents refused. But with the lawyer there it was hard for her to finish a sentence without being cautioned.”

“How badly was she hurt? You mentioned her leg.”

“Her left femur was broken and her left wrist. Shattering glass cut her arms, she was pinned in the wreckage for several hours before rescue crews could cut her free.”

“Greer said there was another driver.”

He flipped through more pages. “No evidence of another driver. There were no skid marks on either side of the road so if there had been a second driver we found no evidence of it.”

“And the other family sued?”

“They did. The Templetons’ insurance company settled out of court for millions.”

Bragg studied more pictures detailing the tangled metal of the black BMW convertible. It was a miracle she’d escaped the mangled metal alive.

He came to an image featuring Greer being pulled from the car. Blood splashed her white blouse and caked her hair. Her left arm was in a splint and the EMTs were securing her leg. Her gaze was wide-eyed and vacant. Shock, he supposed.

Howell’s chair squeaked as he leaned back in his chair. “You said Elizabeth . . . Greer’s name came up in another investigation. Who was killed?”

Bragg closed the file. “Rory Edwards. He was at Shady Grove Estates with Greer. He was hung from a tree not five miles from her place.”

“Where’s she been all this time? She vanished after the trial and her suicide attempt.”

“Working at Bonneville Vineyards since. Her aunt took her in after the accident.”

“Thirty miles west of Austin?” He shook his head. “I always figured she’s moved as far away from Austin as she could get. My wife was out there for a tour. An older woman ran the place.”

“Her aunt. She passed about six months ago.”

He pulled off his glasses and cleaned the lenses. “I’m glad someone looked after the kid. She was damn near like the walking dead when I saw her last. What’s she like these days?”

“Attractive. Hair’s not blond anymore but natural brown. She’s guarded and not fond of law enforcement.”

“She associates cops with the accident.” Howell shook his head. “Nobody should have allowed Greer behind the wheel of that car. She was fifteen and too young to be driving the back roads unsupervised.”

“You mean the trio didn’t just slip away?”

“Nope. Mother told Greer to drive Jeffrey home, but after the accident Mom put all the blame on her fifteen-year-old.”

 

 

Greer’s accident file in hand, Bragg arrived at the Rangers’ Austin office minutes after two. He’d grabbed a burger on the fly and ate it in his car on the drive across town. Once he hit the office it would be nonstop. In addition to the Edwards murder, he had a bank robbery weeks from trial, a request for evidence for a kidnapping case, and subpoena requests to write in a drug case.

He dropped Greer’s file on his desk and instead of sitting, headed straight to Winchester’s office. He found the Ranger leaning back in his chair, the phone pressed to his ear. Winchester beckoned Bragg inside. Bragg took the seat in front of the desk and sat back, balancing his hat on his finger.

“That’s right the name is Edwards. Keep your ear to the ground. Any word comes up about him, I want to know about it.” He nodded. “Good. Talk to you soon.”

“What did you find out?”

Winchester hung up. “Rory Edwards’s been busy the last decade.”

Bragg sat back. “Was it like his brother said?”

Winchester’s seat creaked as he leaned forward. “And then some. The guy’s record is as clean as it was because his brother was always intervening. And like big brother said, he stopped intervening when their mother died last year. If Rory had lived, he’d have been facing serious jail time for fraud and breaking and entering. There’s also a possession charge out there.”

“A drug addict stealing to feed his habit.”

“From all I’ve read that’s exactly what he is. No amount of help was enough to keep this guy out of trouble until last year. He landed in a state rehab program and cleaned up. By all accounts he stayed out of trouble.”

Bragg shook his head. “Can’t say I feel sorry for the guy. The world was at his feet, and he found a way to screw up his life.”

“He isn’t the first to be controlled by addiction and won’t be the last. You talk to Greer Templeton?”

The muscles circling the back of his neck tightened. “I did. She admits Edwards called her days ago but she did not return the call. She’s a hard one to read. But I know she’s holding back. The question is why.”

“I did a little reading up on her accident.”

Bragg nodded. “I did, too. She had one hell of an accident.”

“Kid screwed up. Doesn’t mean she was evil or bad, only young and stupid.”

“I know. She paid one hell of a price for seconds of carelessness.” He worried about the residual marks influencing Greer and ultimately Mitch.

“What motive would she have for killing Edwards? The accident is a matter of public record. And it sure was big headlines for a long time. And if you’re going to kill a guy, why leave the body on your property?”

“Maybe she didn’t like the idea of him digging up the past? Maybe she figured hiding the body in plain sight would deflect attention in the long run. Every time I think I’ve figured out the bad guys they throw me a new curve ball.”

His gut didn’t whisper warning about Greer but without all the facts he couldn’t make a call on her yet. “What about his cell phone records?”

“Put in the request for the warrant. We should have it by tomorrow.”

Bragg checked his phone. No word from Mitch. “What about the truck imprints? Greer Templeton has one truck I saw but she could have many, and this is Texas, home of the pickup truck.”

Winchester nodded. “Here’s hoping the tire has a distinctive trait. Also forensics pulled DNA from the cigarette butt found at the scene. When we get that back I’ll run it through CODIS.”

“Be our lucky day if the killer was in the FBI’s DNA database.”

Winchester grinned. “Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than smart.”

Luck had abandoned him years back so he wasn’t counting on her. “Right.”

“David Edwards will want an answer. He might not have liked his brother, but he’ll want this case closed so it can be forgotten.”

“Rory gets my best just like any other victim.” He straightened. “Did you hear Mitch took a job?”

“No. That’s good, correct?”

Bragg brushed a bit of dust from his cuff. “The offer came from none other than Greer Templeton.”

Winchester didn’t hide his surprise. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, I am not.”

“Hell of a coincidence.”

“Hell of a time for a coincidence.”

“They do happen. Sometimes.”

Winchester shoved out a breath. “You going to pull the plug on the job?”

He thought about Mitch gobbling his meal last night and of Greer’s willingness to keep the boy even after his grilling. “No. Not for now. But as I told Greer, I will be watching.”

 

 

Jackson sat straight behind the wheel of his car, parked on the grimy side street in East Austin. “It won’t be easy to fool this woman.”

“Did you send her the package?”

“Yes. She should have gotten it yesterday.” His hands trembled a little when he thought about leaving the neatly wrapped box on her doorstep. “You are always so calm?”

“My cool head is why you keep me around.” He heard the smile in her voice.

“Is that the reason?” His anger leached out in his tone.

“Now. Now.”

The woman, Sara Wentworth, slid out of the Lexus and her designer heels clicked with each crisp step. A sleek blue blouse draped slim shoulders and was tucked into a white pencil skirt that showed off a narrow waist and hips. She carried a briefcase that was as expensive as her diamond earrings and pearl necklace. A French manicure and a neat haircut finished the look of a woman used to the finer things.

“She looks nice. Perfect.”

“Fine clothes and a smile hide so much. We both know that.”

Annoyance snapped. “You always do that.”

“Do what?” She sounded amused.

He gritted his teeth, his gaze on Sara as she moved toward the old warehouse. “Bring up the past.”

“The past never goes away. It is with us forever.”

“Some people leave the past behind.”

“Maybe. But not you. And certainly not me.”

“I want to.”

“You never will as long as I’m around.” Her laughter rumbled in his ears.

For a long moment he was silent and sullen. He hated it when she taunted him. She could be such a bitch.

“Now you are mad,” she teased.

“I am.”

“Was it something I said?” She laughed.

He would not be baited. Not today. “We have a job to do. Today. In the here and now. We can quibble about the past another time.”

“You are no fun.”

“Focus on the woman. Sara Wentworth.”