Page 22 of Killer on the Homestead (Bent County Protectors #2)

Duncan woke up with a curse on his lips as a sharp zing of pain shot from his shoulder down his arm. Grumbling irritably, he blinked his eyes open. Everything about last night came rushing back at him and made him want to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

But Rosalie wasn’t here and he wanted to know where she went, so he forced himself to sit up. He scrubbed a hand over his face while his opposite shoulder throbbed. Just throbbed.

It was to be expected. It wasn’t a career-ending injury and two surgeries for nothing. But he was damn tired of it, and he didn’t have a real pain pill to take the edge off. Because someone had trashed his stuff and stolen his pills.

Rosalie was right that it had to connect, but that it didn’t make much sense in the grand scheme of things. Missing cows. Murder. Missing pills.

He scrubbed a hand over his face again. Coffee. He smelled it, and he needed some. Then he and Rosalie could sit down and plan out what to do next.

But when he moved into the kitchen, it wasn’t Rosalie in his house. It was Mom. She was wiping down his kitchen counter and Rosalie was nowhere to be seen.

She looked up at him, surveyed him in that way she had when he’d been sick as a kid and insisted he was well enough to go to baseball practice anyway.

“She had to go into her office,” Mom said, even though he hadn’t asked about Rosalie. “I’m not sure she slept, poor girl. But she’s as stubborn as you are.”

“More.”

Mom shook her head with a tiny smile. “Impossible.”

“What about you? Any rest?”

“I tried. Slept in snatches, I suppose.” She rinsed out the dishcloth, folded it neatly over the faucet.

“How’s Dad holding up?”

Mom didn’t look at him and didn’t speak right away. That’s how Duncan knew it was bad.

“He was out before dawn. Calving season is in full swing and we’re down a hand. He’s got lots of work to throw himself into. For good or for ill.”

“I wish I could be more help.”

“Next year you will be.”

Duncan smiled. It was a nice enough thought. To know he’d be here next year and the year after. That he’d be in better physical shape to really help Dad out. But he sure as hell hoped they weren’t dealing with any of this next year.

Still, he didn’t say that to Mom. He just nodded in agreement and took the mug of coffee she offered him.

“Rosalie left you a list of things to do.”

“Did she?”

Mom held out the paper, and in an only kind of legible chicken scratch there was a bulleted list.

Call your doctor get prescription refilled. Call Cam Delaney. Security system installed TODAY. Eat something and take care of yourself.

Nothing about the case. Which no doubt meant she’d gone into her office so she could work on it alone.

Wasn’t going to happen.

He was tempted to crumple the list, but she wasn’t wrong about the first two things. Getting a security system up and running for his cabin would be necessary if he was going to have more pills on hand and wanted to feel safe about it.

But he hated the idea of Rosalie down at her office, investigating this case that involved everything he held dear without him.

“I’ve got a favor to ask you, Mom.”

“Anything, honey.”

“I’ve got a few calls to make. If I get an appointment set up for the alarm install, can you be here for it?”

“Where are you going to be?”

“I’ll probably have to go into Fairmont to pick up my pills.”

“And you can’t plan that around a security install?”

He supposed there was no point trying to hedge with Mom. Even if she didn’t figure it out, someone would see his truck in Wilde and no doubt tell her. “Okay, fine, I’m going to stop by Fool’s Gold and talk to Rosalie.” He looked down at the list with a scowl. “She’s not shaking me off of this.”

“Investigating is her job, her expertise. Is she shaking you off or is she just doing her job?”

Duncan didn’t know quite how to respond to that. Mom wasn’t wrong, but this was… It was a unique circumstance. Her job involved him . This ranch. His family. “You want me to just sit around and stew?”

“I want you to be safe.”

Guilt was a sharp pang in his heart, but he didn’t let it take over what had to be done.

“I’m not in any danger. This all happened while I wasn’t here.

The murder happened when no one was around.

Whatever’s going on doesn’t connect to us.

You don’t have to worry about me being safe. We’re all safe.”

“Duncan.”

He hated the way his mother sounded. So…beaten down. Distraught. That just wasn’t her. She had endless patience and optimism that everything could work out with enough hard work.

She sighed. “I want to believe some stranger came in and did both these things. I know that’s what your father believes. And I’m trying so hard, but…”

He knew what she was going to say, and he hated it, but he felt that way too. “But it feels like an inside job.”

Mom nodded. There were tears in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. “It’s one of our own. I just know it.”

Rosalie knew the reception from the detectives wouldn’t be positive, but maybe that’s why she went. She wanted an argument. She was itching for a fight. Why not have it with Copeland?

Not smart when she was riding on the fumes of sleep deprivation, but she didn’t want to be smart or patient, or depend on any of her usual investigative techniques. Usually the job itself kept her in line.

Except when the client mattered personally to her. Then her lines got a little blurry.

She wanted action and answers, and for this damn thing to be over. Because all she could seem to think about, worry about, obsess over, was how bereft Mr. and Mrs. Kirk had looked. How beaten down and exhausted Duncan was.

Even in sleep, when she’d slid out of bed maybe having dozed for less than an hour herself, he’d looked beat up, lying there, breathing evenly. Handsome as a devil but beat up .

Police investigations were full of waiting. Full of time ticking. Funny how easy that was to understand when she didn’t really know the victim, and how impossible and unfair it felt when the crime was mixed up with people she knew and cared about.

And because she did care about Duncan in uncomfortable ways, she was going to throw her whole self into getting answers fast . Better than dealing with all that care.

She strode into the sheriff’s department with a grim smile on her face. She made a beeline for the detective’s office and was gratified to find all three of the detectives in there. Clearly having a little meeting.

Before she could even open her mouth for an obnoxious greeting, Copeland was snarling at her.

“Get the hell out of here, Rosalie.”

“You guys busy?” she said, ignoring him. “Did you get a match on the prints you pulled from Duncan’s place? Matches to the murder weapon?”

Copeland didn’t respond. He jerked his chin at Detective Delaney-Carson and she nodded. She left the room, Copeland followed with little more than a glare in Rosalie’s direction.

She waited until both detectives were out of the room, then turned to Hart, who was sitting at a desk. Expressly not making eye contact with her.

“Where are they going?”

He studied her with that pinched-cop look she hated. Especially from Hart, because unlike Copeland, he had an excellent bedside manner. Which meant it felt like he was pitying her, and she’d rather spar with Copeland than be pitied or treated gently by her cousin’s husband.

“There’s movement on the case,” Hart said with careful cop language.

“What kind of movement?”

“The kind I can give you a general debrief on, because you’ll find out soon enough once you talk to the Kirks. But I need you to promise to keep clear of it for a little bit while we sort out some logistics.”

“Why would I promise that?”

“Because otherwise I’ll make you go get the information out of the Kirks. I know I can’t stop you, Rosalie, but I can slow you down.”

She scowled, but figured he would do just that, and she didn’t want to be slowed down because there was movement. Besides, she didn’t have to keep any promises. Not if it meant helping.

“I know you’ll keep your word if you promise, Rosalie,” Hart said gravely and seriously.

Oh, damn him and his guilt tactics. “Fine, I promise I won’t get in the way this morning. So just tell me.”

“We didn’t get a match on the prints in Duncan’s place yet. We’re still waiting on the report for the murder weapon too. It’s a process, full of red tape. You know this.”

“Yeah, I do. So, what’s the movement then?”

“There was an emergency call out at the bunks at the Kirk Ranch not too long ago. One of their hands was unresponsive, had clearly taken a large number of pills. Ambulance got out there and transported the patient to Bent County Hospital.”

Oh God . Pills. It had to be Duncan’s pills. It just had to be. One of the ranch hands had… “Owen.” He’d been so distraught over Hunter. It made the most sense that it was Owen who’d done it.

Hart’s expression was grim. “What I can confirm is Owen Green was transported to Bent County Hospital. The first responders confiscated the remaining pills they found on the scene, and we can confirm they are the same type of pills Duncan Kirk reported stolen last night.”

Owen had stolen Duncan’s pills. Trashed his cabin. But why? Just to hurt himself? She might have believed that if he hadn’t made a mess of Duncan’s whole place. That he’d just been looking for oblivion.

But the scene of the crime didn’t make sense if all he wanted was some pills. There were other ways to get drugs around here, no doubt. It just didn’t add up, and worse, it made her heart hurt, the whole of it. She rubbed at her chest, trying to determine her next move. “But… Owen’s alive?”

“So far. We haven’t been notified of a change in his condition. We will be, either way, and if he wakes up, we’ll need to question him on the pills.”

She hated the thought of it. Of Owen stealing from Duncan. Making that mess in the cabin. She just hated all of this. She really hadn’t pegged him as capable of it.

“Rosalie, I know you’re close with the Kirks, and I’m not sure they realize what the next step of this is going to be.”

For a minute, she was confused. But it connected, and quickly, just what the next steps the detectives would need to take.

They were going to try to connect Owen to Hunter’s murder. Because how could the burglary, the murder, and a suicide attempt in this short of time on the same ranch not connect?

“I need you to let us do our job, Rosalie,” Hart said, trotting out his no-nonsense detective voice that brooked no argument. “Trust us to do our job. You’re a hell of an investigator, but this is a big deal, and we need to make certain our case doesn’t have any inconsistencies.”

“Owen didn’t kill Hunter, Thomas. Hunter was his friend.” All she could think about was him crying at that table in the bunkhouse. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe a response to killing, but…

She just couldn’t believe it of him.

“Unfortunately, when you add drugs to the equation, nothing is as cut-and-dried as friend ,” Hart said gently. “But if there’s no evidence he did it, then that’s going to tie our hands.”

Rosalie wanted to argue with Hart about drugs and murder, but what was the point? Hart was right. Drugs complicated everything, and both Owen and Hunter had a history of being involved in them.

But that didn’t make Owen a murderer. And there was no evidence, so… “You’re still waiting on the reports for the Kirk weapons Copeland confiscated?”

Hart nodded. “Yes. Looks to be a few more days yet.”

Slow and frustrating. “Do you know if the Kirks are at the hospital?”

“I’m going to ask you to stay away from the hospital.”

She shook her head. “No go, Thomas. If they’re there, I’m going to stop by and make sure they’re taking care of themselves.”

“If I thought that’s all you’d do, I’d be okay with it. But I know you, Rosalie. You’re going to try to push your way into Owen’s room, and if he’s awake at all, you’re going to try to push your way into our investigation.”

“I’m a licensed investigator. What I find out will hold up in court.”

“You’re too close to this case. You’re a liability. Stay away from the hospital. Okay? Don’t put me in an awkward position at home.”

More guilt. She wanted to hate him for it, but how could she? The fact he was even being kind about this was because he was married to her cousin. Otherwise he’d tell her to get lost and threaten to arrest her if she went to that hospital.

But she didn’t need to go to the hospital to help. “Fine,” she muttered. “Can you at least let me know if he wakes up?”

“I’m sure the Kirks will.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she just left the office without so much as a thanks or goodbye.

Halfway through the parking lot on the way to her car, her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket.

Duncan.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Answered.

“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding rough and tired. She wondered how much sleep he’d gotten. “I’ve got some…alarming news.”

“I’m at the police station, so I just heard. What can I do?”

“Mom and Terry are at the hospital with Owen. I convinced Dad to stay behind, but he’s distraught. It’s a hell of a mess.”

“Yeah, it is.” And she couldn’t break it to him that the detectives were going to lean on the Owen theory now. But there were things they could do. She was an investigator, and if Hart was so dead set on keeping her away from the hospital, she’d take another angle. “I’m coming out.”

“You don’t have—”

“I’m coming out so we can do some investigating of our own. Can your dad clear out the bunkhouse for a bit?”

Duncan was quiet for a minute. “I imagine everyone will be getting back to work soon enough.”

“Good. Meet me by the bunkhouse. Make sure it’s empty.” She was going to find something to prove that Owen hadn’t killed his friend.