Page 35 of Engaging the Deputy (Silver Stars of Montana #3)

CHAPTER ONE

The rain was washing away the blood.

That was Sheriff Grace Granger’s second thought as she panned her flashlight over the scene. Her first thought had put ice in every vein in her body—the woman was dead.

Correction: the cop was dead.

The female officer was wearing a khaki-colored uniform, which meant she worked for the county sheriff and wasn’t one of Grace’s deputies in the Renegade Canyon Police Department. Still, that didn’t lessen the overwhelming grief and the sickening feeling of dread that Grace felt.

“Get the tower lights set up here,” Grace told her team of deputies, who’d responded to the 911 call with her. She pointed to two spots that were to the sides of the victim and far enough away from her that they wouldn’t destroy any potential evidence.

The generator-powered lights were necessary to illuminate the scene so it could be examined. However, Grace needed no such illumination to see the dead woman. Her flashlight and the headlights of the responding vehicles were doing an effective job of that.

“Another one,” Deputy Livvy Walsh muttered as she stepped shoulder-to-shoulder with Grace. She had no trouble hearing the slight tremble in her deputy’s voice.

“Yes,” Grace agreed. Her voice wasn’t especially steady, either. Hard to be steady when taking in the scene in front of them.

The dead cop had been tied to a fence post in such a way that her head stayed upright, thanks to the thick rope around her neck. The killer had left her in her uniform, but he or she had shredded it so that parts of the fabric flapped in the stormy wind.

Although Grace didn’t have any proof yet, the woman likely hadn’t died on the post. Not if her manner of death was the same MO the killer had employed on another officer who’d been murdered a month earlier.

In that murder, San Antonio Detective Andrea Selby had been stabbed repeatedly, and then her killer had tied her to another fence post that was about a quarter of a mile from this particular one.

And even though there was no evidence to link Detective Selby to Renegade Canyon, her body had been left just outside the grounds of the McClennan family’s Towering Oaks Ranch. Which was in Grace’s jurisdiction.

And she had personal ties to the ranch.

Very personal ties these days, she reminded herself as she thought of the baby bump that her high-visibility raincoat was concealing. Yes, her unborn child was about as personal as it got.

Unfortunately, every personal tie she had was also mixed with some bad blood that extended back to three generations of the McClennans and her own family.

If there’d been only one murder, Grace might have been able to consider the location of the body a coincidence.

But with two, this was a message. Exactly what message, Grace didn’t know, but she needed to find out before another officer died.

“You okay?” Livvy asked her.

“No,” Grace admitted. She blinked away the rain that was slapping at her. “And I figure you aren’t, either.” It was impossible to look at the cop’s dead face and not see their own. Or future victims. “But we’ll do our jobs.”

Livvy made a sound of agreement that Grace knew wasn’t merely lip service. They would indeed do their jobs and hopefully stop this killer from claiming anyone else.

“Any idea who she is?” Grace asked, tipping her head to the dead woman.

“No. She doesn’t look familiar.”

Grace was about to agree, but the slash of more headlights and the sounds of engines behind her had Grace looking over her shoulder. When she saw who’d arrived, she silently muttered a thanks.

And then a groan.

The thanks was for the CSI team who had just arrived, and they began to scramble from their van.

Grace had contacted them immediately after she’d gotten the 911 call that there was a dead body, because she’d known this would be a race against the elements to preserve the scene.

The spring storm was hitting hard and fast, and what the wind didn’t destroy, the rain probably would.

Grace’s groan was for the two men who exited a shiny silver truck with the Towering Oaks Ranch logo on the door.

The family patriarch and all-around thorn in her side, Ike McClennan.

And Dutton, his son. Except Dutton was more than just that.

He was the reason for those “very personal ties” to his family ranch.

Since she didn’t want any civilians trampling on the crime scene, Grace began to make her way to Ike and Dutton.

With the glare of the headlights, it was hard for her to see Dutton’s expression, but she figured he’d be concerned.

One of his ranch hands had no doubt alerted him to the cop activity outside the fence, and not only would he want to know what was going on, but he would also want to make sure she was alright.

“What the hell happened?” Ike snarled. His rough voice thundered through the night.

He charged toward Grace, his gestures and sounds reminding her of a snorting bull. Ike might be approaching the seventy-year mark, but he still looked plenty strong and formidable with his six-foot, three-inch height and beefy build.

While Ike continued to move toward her, Grace stared him down. Or rather glared him down. She’d had plenty of practice doing it, and though this situation shouldn’t be a confrontation, Ike usually managed to turn it into one any time she was involved.

“Well? What the hell is going on?” Ike persisted.

Dutton didn’t move in front of his father and didn’t do anything obvious to try to rein in the man.

Grace hoped it stayed that way. Dutton, she knew, had a protective streak inside him.

For their unborn baby. For Grace, too. But Grace didn’t want him acting on that.

Tonight, she was the badge, and not his ex-lover and the mother of his child.

“You can’t be here,” Grace told Ike. “This is a crime scene.”

Of course, that didn’t set well with Ike, who looked ready to implode, so Grace just hiked her thumb in the direction of the fence post. And the body.

That stopped Ike in his tracks, and when his attention landed on the dead woman, he cursed. “Another one,” he said on a groan.

Dutton cursed, too, but his profanity stayed under his breath. He looked at her, combing his intense brown eyes over her face, no doubt checking for any signs of injury. Or stress. The stress would be there. Nothing she could do about that. But there wasn’t a mark on her.

“I didn’t find the body,” she told him. “An anonymous call came in through Dispatch. The caller said we’d find the body tied to a fence post outside the west side of the ranch.”

And since a nearly identical call had come in with the first murder a month earlier, that’s how Grace had known it was almost certainly the real deal. Still, she had hoped for the best. Obviously, though, the best hadn’t happened.

“You haven’t done a good job of stopping this, have you?” Ike muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

“No, I haven’t,” Grace admitted, and that sickened her.

It didn’t matter that the killer hadn’t left any traceable forensic evidence and there’d been no witnesses to either the murder or the body dump. It was her job to keep the community safe, and she was failing at that, big-time.

She shoved aside the pity party that threatened, but this felt like a serious jab at her professionalism, while her private life had had its own jabs. Including the “jab” standing in front of her.

Dutton.

He was still staring at her with those intense eyes.

Ironic, since the rest of Dutton was the opposite of intense.

Everything else about him was normally laid-back.

The easy stride of his lanky body. That quick smile that only made his face even hotter than usual.

The smooth drawl that she was certain had worked in his favor too many times to count.

“No wonder you can’t solve this,” Ike went on. “You need better hired help.”

The venom in his voice went up a notch, and Grace didn’t have to guess why.

She followed his narrowed gaze to his other son, Deputy Rory McClennan, who had just finished setting up one of the lights.

Grace wasn’t the only one who had to deal with bad blood with Ike.

Rory did as well, by basically turning his back on his dad and becoming a cop.

“Mr. McClennan,” Grace said, “as I’ve already informed you, this is a crime scene, and you should just go home.”

Of course, that earned her a huff from the man, but he finally moved away from her and back toward the truck. What he didn’t do was get in. Despite the storm taking swipes at him, he leaned against the hood and stared out at the responders and cops.

Dutton didn’t leave, either. Nor did he go to the truck, as his father had done. He stayed right by Grace’s side, and Livvy must’ve decided to give them a moment, because she stepped away.

“This is the same as the other one,” Dutton said. Not a question, and he could certainly see the similarities for himself. “What kind of precautions are you going to take?” he asked. “And I know I’m making you plenty mad just by asking that, but I’d like to know.”

She sighed. “I’ll be as careful as I can be. But I’ll also do my job,” she said, certain that he’d known that was how she would respond.

Dutton didn’t say anything about that not being enough. And that had to be hard for him. Because he was just as invested in this baby as she was.

“If I can help, let me,” he muttered.

Not a pushy demand. Again, that had to be difficult for him since Dutton was a man used to being in charge.

Not a growling-bear kind of in charge like his father, but the real deal.

These days, Ike was just a figurehead on the ranch.

Dutton owned it and ran it his way despite what seemed to be constant criticism and interference from Ike.