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Jenna observed grimly, “Somebody must have found that broken branding iron and brought it back for a horrible purpose.”
“Maybe among family heirlooms,” Frank agreed. “Either repaired the old artifact or made a new one like it.”
“To use it on humans this time,” Jake said. “That’s got to be one of the ugliest methods of murder that I’ve seen, even when I was a street cop in Kansas City.”
“So what’s the connection between our two victims and that brand?” Jenna wondered aloud. She asked Agnes, “Do you have Genesius County family histories in your digital records? I mean, for a lot of generations back?”
“Some of them,” Agnes replied. “I’ve found that the histories of wealthy and well-known families in the county have been conscientiously documented from their beginnings in this area, and even earlier. But records are skimpy for some of the less well-off population. Either they didn’t always bother to register births, or the records were lost in previous decades.”
“Can you check and see if Clyde Simmons or Roger Bates had ancestors involved with Mitch Bishop’s ranch?”
“I should be able to find those.” Agnes said as her fingers returned to the keyboard. “Simmons... Bates...” she muttered as she worked, her focus absolute.
Jenna admired the woman’s methodical nature, so akin to her own when piecing together the tattered remnants of unsolved cases. The way Agnes meticulously examined every detail, no matter how small, spoke to her experience as a judge piecing together the tattered remnants of unsolved cases.
Agnes paused, her eyes narrowing. “It looks like we’re onto something,” she whispered, drawing the trio closer. On the screen, a web of names intertwined in ways that spoke of alliances and betrayals long buried. Jenna’s pulse quickened as she saw the lines connecting, the patterns emerging.
“See here,” Agnes pointed, “the Bishops, the Simmonses, the Bateses – they’re all interlinked, if you go back far enough.”
After another moment, she announced, “Here it is! Roger Bates was a direct descendant of Jupiter Bates.”
“Who was Jupiter Bates?” Jenna asked, her eyes never leaving the monitor.
Jasper stirred in his armchair. His voice, when he spoke, was unexpectedly robust. “Jupiter Bates was one of the ranchers who seized a significant portion of Mitch Bishop’s land,” he said, words tinged with the gravity of history remembered. “The very ranch where Roger lived was once part of the Great Sky Ranch empire.”
“And that was where he was murdered,” Jenna said.
“Great Sky Ranch...” Frank murmured, absorbing the import of Jasper’s statement.
“Thank you, Jasper,” Jenna said, offering a nod of gratitude to the elderly historian. She shifted her gaze to Agnes, whose eyes were narrowed in concentration at the computer screen. “Let’s dig deeper,” Jenna encouraged her. “What about Clyde Simmons? As far as I know, he doesn’t own property in that area. But he was the first one murdered with that branding iron. Can we figure out why?”
“Let’s try,” Agnes replied, almost to herself, as she resumed her work at the keyboard.
Jenna leaned closer to peer at the names and dates that came up on the screen.
“Look here,” Agnes murmured, tapping the screen with a slender finger. “Clyde Simmons... and his sister Mayor Claire Simmons—they share a lineage with Hector Simmons.”
That got Frank’s attention. “Hector Simmons?” he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a familiarity that suggested traces of memories long filed away in the archives of his mind. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”
“Who was he?” Jake asked.
Jasper’s voice, frail yet certain, again came up with the explanation. “Hector Simmons was a powerful figure in Trentville’s early days. He made his fortune in local mining.” The old man’s eyes were clouded with the dust of time, but the clarity in them when he spoke of the past was unnerving.
“And the connection with these crimes?” Frank prodded gently.
“Hector Simmons used his influence to orchestrate the takeover of Mitch Bishop’s land,” Jasper announced.
“So a present-day Simmons paid the price for his ancestor’s participation in that land-grab plot,” Frank acknowledged.
“Does that mean that the mayor could be the next target?” Jake’s hushed tone underlined the gravity of what they had unearthed.
The thought that this web of historical vendettas might ensnare Claire Simmons brought an acrid taste to Jenna’s mouth. The irony that Mayor Claire Simmons, the latest scion of Hector’s lineage, could be targeted by a vengeful specter of the past was not just a chilling prospect; it was a cruel twist of fate.
“Mayor Simmons keeps herself well-protected,” Jake said. “We’ll have to warn her security detail, maybe call for a squad car to watch her place, but no one is likely to slip past her various alarm systems and human guards.”
Jenna knew that Jake was right. But who else might be in danger?
The ghost of a memory teased at the edges of her consciousness: Ethan Holbrook’s face, lit by pride as he spoke of Verdigris Ranch. Ethan’s voice echoed in her memory, recounting how Dutch Holbrook, his forebear, had once owned the land upon which Verdigris now prospered. It had been an offhand comment, the kind one makes filled with pride over reclaiming a piece of familial legacy. But in the light of these discoveries …
If the pattern held true, Ethan Holbrook might also find himself unwittingly marked by the killer’s twisted sense of justice.
“Jake,” Jenna’s voice was a whisper. “Remember what Ethan said about his ancestor? Dutch Holbrook owned Verdigris before it slipped from their hands.”
“Agnes,” Jake asked, “can you search for information on Dutch Holbrook?”
“Dutch Holbrook,” came Agnes’s reverent whisper, reading aloud the name now emblazoned across the screen, “was another rancher involved in seizing Mitch Bishop’s land.”
Jake gave a harsh laugh. “So Ethan himself might be a target. It’s actually good for him that we nailed him for zoning fraud. At the moment, he’s safely locked up in a jail cell.”
“So we’ve identified a likely motive for two murders,” Jenna said, struggling to pull all the loose ends together. “And we’ve found the source of the image on the branding iron that killed them. We’ve also identified two potential future victims. Both are hard for a killer to get at, and presumably safe for the time being. One of them is the mayor of Trentville herself, and the other is under guard in the county jail.”
Frank said, “I think we’ve gotten to the why of the murders. But we don’t seem to be getting any closer to the who.”
Jake agreed, his expression grim. “And even if we’re right about all this so far, the killer isn’t going to stop until he’s avenged every perceived wrong against Mitch Bishop’s family.”
“Are there any of Mitch Bishop’s kin still around?” Jenna asked. She glanced at Jasper, but he had lapsed back into silence.
“You’re thinking a descendent might be behind these murders?” Frank asked. “That a possibility, for sure.”
Agnes busied herself at the keyboard, and they all waited for her findings. After a few moments, she reported, “My records don’t show anyone. “Of course, bloodlines could get complicated over that period of time. And like I said, county records aren’t complete for every family.”
Jenna knew they needed to take a different tack. “Can we take a look at the shape of the original ranch?”
“That I can do,” Agnes said as brought up the image of an old map showing the boundaries of the original Big Sky Ranch.
“Can you superimpose the current properties?” Jake asked Agnes.
“I think so,” she said. After a few moments, new outlines appeared. It was clear where the old ranch had been broken down into the pieces already familiar to them. Almost all of it consisted of the present-day ranches of Roger Bates and Ethan Holbrook. And yet …
“There’s a little piece of land that’s not identified,” she observed, pointing a finger to a tiny area that fell outside the lines of the two present ranches.
“Why, that’s Robert Anderson’s little farm,” Frank said in surprise.
“I’ve heard of him,” Jenna said. “But I don’t remember anything about him. I’m pretty sure he’s someone I’ve never met.”
“That’s because he’s kind of an odd type,” Frank replied. “Lives very quietly, even kind of a hermit you might say. A nice guy, to be sure, but keeps to himself. And he’s definitely not from one of the wealthy dynasties we’ve been discussing.”
“Then how did he come to live on any part of the Big Sky Ranch?” Jake asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Frank said. “He’s lived on that little farm his whole life. He inherited it, I guess …” Frank’s voice trailed off.
“His farm must have also been part of the old ranch,” Jenna gasped. “That means he could be the killer’s next target.”