Page 24 of A Mile of Ocean (Pelican Pointe #19)

S tationed in the attic with Savannah and Tate, Trent watched Woody drive off behind the wheel of the Ford, towing the horse trailer as the team set their plan in motion. Each guest had gathered their belongings and loaded their luggage into their vehicles.

As they drove off, the ranch appeared deserted.

The trio took turns watching from the windows for any sign of a stranger approaching the main grounds.

“I’m surprised she didn’t kick us out of the house before the plans for the trap went into effect,” Tate remarked, watching the north side through a pair of binoculars.

Peering toward the main gate, Savannah sighed. “I saw a side of her today that chilled me to the bone. I had no idea she could be so nasty to her flesh and blood. She must really believe she has all the angles covered where she’ll come out of this on top.”

“Looking back on our childhood, she always seemed smug and calculating, like playing a game of chess, and was always two moves ahead of everyone else,” Trent added as he surveyed the eastern grid.

Tate nodded. “Oh, I remember those days, playing chess with her. She never let us win, not once, not even before Mom and Dad died, not even when we were seven and eight years old. She loved beating the pants off us little kids. I do recall the first time Trent won. He must’ve been thirteen. She pitched a fit and knocked over the chessboard, sending the game pieces flying.”

Savannah’s face broke into a disapproving frown. “A grown woman reacted that way to losing a game?”

“A grandmother no less,” Tate said.

“I’d forgotten that,” Trent expressed, looking at his phone for updates from Birk and Beckett. “What a sore loser she was.”

“And don’t forget how she made us sit at the table until we cleaned our plates. No wasting food at her table. If we didn’t eat every bite we took, we’d get locked in our room without TV. It got so bad in my teen years that I’d barely scoop up whatever Dolly made for fear I couldn’t eat all of it.”

Trent winced. “She called it tough love. Sometimes walking down memory lane serves no good purpose for the heart and soul.”

“You two aren’t upset about getting kicked out of here?” Savannah questioned.

“We expected it once we challenged her,” Tate issued. “Or at least, I did.”

“Once I learned about her draining the Rio Verde accounts from Cooper and her financial success at the Triple C beef empire, I figured she would try to ruin everything Granddad built up,” Trent clarified. “That meant dismantling the Rio Verde all at once or bit by bit. Tate and I are his legacy, and she wants to destroy that, too.”

“So those ten-acre plots that she promised each employee were just for show,” Savannah concluded. “Duchess never meant to give them anything.”

“Nothing will be left if she leaves the ranch in financial ruin, including Turtle Ridge,” Trent pointed out. “The empty promises she made to the ranch hands are as worthless as the paper she used to write them on.”

“She was against Painted Heart from the start,” Tate reminded them. “She never wanted me to have those fifty acres to corral the mares we saved. Did you check the bank accounts?”

“Yup. I talked to Nick Harris. At the time, he said he thought the transactions were questionable. But she is the joint account holder. She had every right to move the money anywhere she wanted. And that’s what she did. The morning after Granddad’s funeral, she went to the bank and transferred fifty percent to a bank in Green River and the other half into her offshore account. She left us with limited cash to meet payroll at the first of the month. After that, I’ll need to take money from our trust for operating capital.”

Savannah’s face dawned with a new realization. “But if she moved the money the day after the funeral, that means she always planned to boot you two to the curb. Her decision didn’t come from your challenging her this morning; it’s what she had always planned to do.”

“Bingo,” Trent stated. “So ask yourself how deep was her involvement in the shooting? Was she the actual shooter? Did she pull the trigger or orchestrate the hit? How devious do you have to be to set up Colter Bohannon, a dead guy, as the first fall guy?”

“The first?” Savannah questioned.

“Oh, yeah. We’re sitting here watching for her second fall guy to reappear.”

“It has to be someone from the Rio Verde,” Savannah proposed.

Trent and Tate exchanged glances before Trent answered. “None of my guys are in on this plot. I’d bet my life on it. No, I think Duchess would use someone unquestionably loyal to her. He has to be someone from the Triple C.”

“Someone she trusts implicitly at the Triple C who would do her bidding when she was back in California,” Tate stated. “She didn’t build up her beef empire without help from a lackey.”

“But you said all the ranch hands respected her,” Savannah said, looking at Trent.

“They do. Granddad saw to that. But I never said they liked working for her.”

Savannah shook her head. “And you think she’s about to stab whoever her accomplice is in the back?”

“I know she is,” Trent stated. “And he’ll never see it coming.”

As the afternoon went on and a cool breeze swept through the open window, Trent’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. Lucien reported they arrived at Cord’s animal sanctuary and were about to transfer into the truck and trailer.

He held up his device so Savannah and Tate could read the update. “They should arrive back here in about twenty minutes.”

“I’m so nervous,” Tate admitted. “Moving the plan up during daylight hours means it has to come off without a hitch. There’s no hiding in the dark this time around.”

Trent sent her a tentative look. “What was I thinking? We needed the cover of darkness to give everyone time to get in position.”

“No,” Savannah grunted. “We need that woman in custody as soon as possible.”

An anxious Trent couldn’t leave his phone alone for two minutes without checking for text messages. “Let me know when they’re at the main gate,” he told Savannah.

“Will do.”

Another ten minutes ticked by before Savannah tugged his sleeve. “I see Woody turning into the driveway.”

Finally, the sound of a vehicle approaching somehow made him less nervous. Trent rushed to the window and spotted his Ford truck hauling the trailer lumbering up the private road and pulling into the barn to unload the passengers. “They still need time to get into position.”

“Uh-oh,” Tate cautioned. “Dolly just sent me a text. She said Duchess is on the move. She’s leaving the house carrying the Winchester and heading toward the haybarn. She must not have noticed that the rifle is unloaded and missing the firing pin. We need to tell Woody she’s heading their way.”

“It’s too soon,” Trent stated, his heart racing as he scanned the area for any sign of his grandmother. He quickly calculated their next move as he saw her striding across the grounds. “She looks like she means business,” he said, peering through the binoculars. He sent Woody, Birk, and Beckett a text with a heads up.

“I recognize that look. She’s all rage and fire,” Tate noted.

Trent kept his eyes on Duchess, watching her every move. “She isn’t heading to the haybarn, though. She’s on track to reach the stables in less than four minutes. We need to stall her until Beckett and Birk and the others are in position,” he said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

Savannah nodded. “I’ll go out and try to delay her. You two stay put and watch for her partner in crime.”

Without waiting for a response, Savannah hurried out of the attic and down the stairs. Trent and Tate watched from the window as she emerged between two buildings, running at full speed toward the stables.

Out of breath, she waved her arms. “Hey, Mrs. Callum! Do you have a minute?” Savannah called out, putting on a friendly smile.

Duchess turned to face Savannah, a look of annoyance crossing her face. “What do you want? I’m pretty sure we’ve finished our discussion,” she snapped.

“That’s just it, I wanted to tell you that I’m not here for Trent’s money.”

“Good. Because he doesn’t have any.”

Savannah began to babble. She tossed out anything she could think of to keep Duchess from reaching the stables until they were ready. “That last meeting of our 4-H group, why did you have us stay for lunch? I thought you were truly interested in helping the kids learn about horses. They loved being here. Will you still want to participate next semester? In the fall, the kids will be older and more able to ride. What about the riding lessons this summer? Is all that ending?”

Duchess shot Savannah a withering stare, clearly unimpressed by her attempt at small talk. Caught off guard by the unexpected conversation and barrage of questions, she quickly grew impatient, tapping her foot and glancing toward the stables with increasing irritation. Finally, she held up a hand to silence the teacher. “Enough with the nonsense, girl. I have more important things to do than stand here and listen to your trivial chitchat.”

With that, she turned on her heel and started striding purposefully toward the stable. Over her shoulder, Duchess shouted, “You’ll have to find someone else to sponsor your little horse club.”

Savannah’s brain kicked into overdrive as she watched Duchess get closer to the stables, knowing they needed more time. She wracked her brain for something else to say, some other way to keep Duchess occupied. And then it hit her.

“Wait!” Savannah called out, causing Duchess to pause and turn her head slightly. “You need to see something in the haybarn before you go. It’s about your financial documents.”

Duchess stopped in her tracks, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face. “What are you talking about?”

“We women have to stick together, right?” Savannah prompted, gesturing toward the haybarn, her mind racing with a plan forming on the spot. “Less than an hour ago, I overheard Trent talking to the lawyer about contesting your husband’s will. He plans to file a lawsuit to examine all your financial dealings.”

Savannah felt an icy chill creeping down her spine as Duchess gripped the Winchester tighter. The grande dame slowly turned back to face the teacher.

“What did you say?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous. “Tell me everything you overheard.”

Savannah took a bold step forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she improvised, hoping to buy more time. “Trent and Tate were discussing how they suspect you of skimming assets from the estate and putting them into the Triple C. They also think you're siphoning money off to offshore accounts.”

Duchess’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in her gaze. “You’re lying,” she spat out, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “What’s in the haybarn?”

“I’m just telling you what I overheard,” Savannah said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Trent is planning to have all your financial records audited. They believe there’s evidence of embezzlement. I didn’t think you’d want to talk out here in the open.”

Duchess’s hand trembled. The mention of offshore accounts seemed to strike a nerve as anger and fear flashed across her face. She stepped toward Savannah, her voice low and now laced with a dangerous edge. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”

The tone was icy as she lowered the Winchester at Savannah’s chest. “You think you can scare me with baseless accusations? Didn’t you learn anything from my evicting Tate and Trent?”

But Savannah held her ground, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising tension. “I’m just telling you what I heard. You might want to check any documents before Trent and his lawyer do.”

Duchess’s gaze darted around the area to see if anyone was within earshot, a calculating look in her eyes.

Before she could say anything else, Cecil appeared at the end of the stable door. “Got your message about wanting Confetti Queen ready to ride. Bad news. She came up lame. But Zorro needs exercise. I can have him ready in ten minutes.”

Duchess rolled her eyes. “Then do it!” she shouted. “I’ll expect him ready in five!”

She angled back to Savannah. “This isn’t over, young lady. I’ll deal with you later.” With one last glare, Duchess marched off toward the stables, her posture rigid with anger, the Winchester tucked tightly under her arm.

Savannah let out a shaky breath, her heart still pounding from the tense encounter. She watched as Cecil hurried off to tend to Zorro, knowing they had narrowly bought themselves some time. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and quickly sent a message to Trent and Tate.

But the two had already emerged from the attic, concern etched on their faces as they joined Savannah outside the stables.

“Are you okay?” Trent asked. “That was quick thinking.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Hell no. You had to come up with something to buy us time. Mentioning the financial documents was brilliant.”

Savannah nodded, her legs still shaking. “Brilliant? That wasn’t the word that came to mind when she glared at me with those daggers for eyes. Is everyone in position?”

Trent grinned. “Thanks to you, everything is good to go. Even Brent is standing by. We’re just not sure where she’s headed yet.”