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Creighton had been processed and Harlan was taking him back to his cell when the landline rang in the squad room.

Molly hurried down the hall to get the call. “Sheriff’s office, how can I help you?”

“This is Greg Windover calling, ma’am. I work for Boyd Construction, and I came by Ray Dangerfield’s house to pick him up for the job and he’s dead. I can’t believe he’s just lying here dead. I need some help here, ma’am. Can you send somebody right away?”

“I’ll send the sheriff to you right away, Mister Windover. Sit down, try to calm yourself and don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Harrison County Courthouse.

Ted and I handed Hannah Hargrove and her ranch hand, Rick Samuels, over to the bailiff and we were about to find our way to the courtroom when my cell rang, and it was Molly.

“A call came in a couple of minutes ago, Travis. One of the boys from Boyd Construction found Ray Dangerfield dead at the Dangerfield residence and the fellow, Greg Windover, is waiting for you to come. He’s quite upset.”

“Got it. Heading there now, Molly. Send Harlan out front of our building and I’ll pick him up in about three minutes.”

“Copy that.”

Dangerfield Residence. Shelby.

Greg Windover was smoking on the front step of Ray’s house when Harlan, Ted and I got there. He jumped to his feet as we spilled out of the squad, “I couldn’t wait inside with Ray being dead in there, Sheriff. No can do.”

“Understandable, Greg. All I need is for you to tell me how you discovered Ray’s body for my report, and then you can go. You don’t have to hang around here.”

Greg was a nice guy. He willingly gave details about finding Ray, and I sent him on his way to work.

On the drive to Shelby, I had called Doc Olson, and he was probably on his way, but it would take him a while from Cut Bank.

While we waited for the coroner, we sat on Ray’s front steps and discussed the obvious—who killed Ray?

“Got to be Tanya,” said Harlan.

“Sure looks like it,” I said. “Our suspect pool is getting smaller all the time.”

Ted was behind on the details of the case, and he couldn’t offer an opinion.

While I had a spare minute, I called Tanya’s sister—the place Tanya was supposed to be visiting, and Patty said Tanya wasn’t there. Patty hadn’t seen her sister or heard from her since Floyd’s cremation.

“Would you know if she got her check from the insurance company?” I asked.

“Yes, she got it,” said Pattiy “I know that much, Sheriff.”

“But you don’t know where she was going on her trip?”

“No, sorry.”

Patty might have been lying, but I couldn’t tell.

“Okay, Tanya is not at her sister’s place. That was one big lie she laid on me. She’s in the wind and we have to find her.”

Doctor Olson showed up and did a preliminary examination of Ray’s corpse. Ray was in his living room, slumped down in his favorite chair as if he had been watching TV. Some blood had seeped out of his head, but not a lot.

“He wasn’t poisoned like the others,” said the doctor. “He was shot in the head at close range by a small caliber pistol.”

“Ray knew the shooter,” I said. “He let the killer into his house, and he wasn’t afraid of him or her getting close to him.”

“If Tanya is away on a trip,” said Harlan, “who was it?”