Page 7 of Killer on the Homestead (Bent County Protectors #2)

Running jolted pain through his arm with every step, but the frantic terror in the ranch hand’s voice meant he couldn’t stop.

Until he saw a body in the pasture. Then he came to a skidding halt, even as Rosalie shoved the phone at him and rushed forward. She went right up to that bloody body and kneeled down next to it. She was careful, but she didn’t recoil. She reached out and touched his neck.

Another unrecognizable person, except this time not just because he didn’t know anyone anymore, but because the head of the very, very still body was covered in blood.

“He won’t move!” the ranch hand yelled, not fully running up to the body on the ground. He looked from Rosalie to Duncan. “I kept shouting his name, and he won’t move.”

“What is your emergency?” Duncan heard vaguely from the speaker, jolting him back to his body—not some far-off place of shock. He lifted the phone to his ear. “Sorry. It seems… Someone’s been hurt.”

“We’ve already dispatched police and an ambulance. What kind of injury has the person sustained?”

“I’m not…sure.” Duncan didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself. “There’s blood.”

“Is the person conscious?” the dispatcher asked with a kind of detached calm Duncan envied.

He felt jittery and outside his body. Because Duncan didn’t think consciousness probably had much to do with anything right now.

When Rosalie’s gaze lifted to his and she shook her head slowly, he knew it didn’t.

Duncan had to clear his throat to speak. “I don’t think he’s alive.”

The dispatcher had him stay on the line and answer questions. Rosalie tried to calm the ranch hand who’d found them, but the kid just kept repeating the same information.

I called his name. He wouldn’t move . Why won’t he move?

As they waited, a few more ranch hands appeared, and Rosalie somehow managed to corral them all in the same area. She was about a foot shorter than all of them, but she had a kind of stature and calm in the face of all this that had every single person obeying her without question.

Duncan heard the blaring sirens before he saw the vehicles approaching. The police cruiser appeared first, followed by an ambulance. Both vehicles came to a stop on the drive, close to where they all stood.

Even as the paramedics rushed forward, Rosalie was walking past him, right for the uniformed cop who was striding toward the body. He couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but her tone was confident. Authoritative.

And it was clear, the cop didn’t like it. So Duncan moved over to her, not sure what he thought he’d do about anything. Only knowing he didn’t like the scowl on the cop’s face.

Rosalie didn’t acknowledge his approach, but she must have noted it because she held out her hand. “Give me my phone, Duncan. I’ve got a phone call to make.”

“You can go crying to your friends in the bureau, but that’s not how this works,” the cop told her. And not kindly.

“It’s a free country, Stanley, which means it’s how I work.” She jammed a finger onto the screen of her phone and whirled away from the police officer.

Who was now studying him. “Name?” he demanded.

For a full minute, Duncan could only blink at the guy. “What?”

“Your name? You’re not Natalie or Norman Kirk, so I need to know your name and reason for being on the property.”

Duncan supposed he shouldn’t be offended. Not everyone who knew his parents was going to know who he was, especially by sight, but the guy’s tone grated . Everything about this guy grated.

“I am a Kirk. I’m Duncan Kirk, their son. So I’d say I know Natalie and Norman pretty well and have a pretty damn good reason for being on the property.”

The guy looked taken aback for maybe a second, then went back to big-chested bluster. “Where are your parents then?”

“Mom’s running errands.” But he wasn’t sure where his Dad was. With her? Somewhere on the property? But if he was around, shouldn’t he have heard the commotion and come running?

Duncan’s entire body went cold. Oh God . What if…? The phone in his pocket buzzed just as the fear of something awful befalling Dad gripped him.

It was a text from his dad.

What the hell is going on up there?

Duncan thought his legs might fully give out, just from relief alone. We’ve got a situation. Come on up to the north gate. Then he shoved his phone in his pocket and tried to find his strength again.

“My dad is on his way,” Duncan told the cop. Then, before the guy could ask any more questions, Duncan turned away from him. He felt weak-kneed from that bright bolt of terror.

So he walked until he didn’t. Until he found Rosalie. She didn’t look at him, but she began speaking, and he could only figure it was to him.

“I called a detective at Bent County. He’s rounding up the coroner, though the paramedics hopefully already put that call in.

I don’t know why Stanley has to be such an ass about it.

” She scowled over her shoulder at the guy, who was now talking to the ranch hand who’d gotten them.

“You said your mom’s out running errands.

You better give her a call. No doubt if anyone noticed emergency services turning into the ranch, they’re already calling her to ask what happened. ”

Duncan swore inwardly. “Dad texted asking what was going on. I just told him to come on up.”

She nodded. “Call your mom, or text her, if she’ll read those. Tell her you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Rosalie shrugged. “Small-town gossip isn’t always true gossip, Ace. You should know that. Text your mom.”

Duncan sighed. He didn’t like taking orders from anyone, but particularly this slip of a woman who was only a little more than a stranger to him. But he still pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted his mom.

Come home. I’m okay. Before he hit Send, he quickly added that Dad was okay too, then slid the phone back in his pocket just as yet another car he didn’t recognize came to a stop next to the police car and ambulance, followed by a truck.

A guy dressed far too nice for ranch work, with expensive sunglasses, got out of the car. A woman who looked vaguely familiar got out of the truck. The woman headed for the paramedics, while the man made a beeline for Rosalie.

He approached, surveyed Duncan with a flicker of recognition, but he didn’t say anything about it. “How’d you get roped into this?” he said by way of greeting to Rosalie.

“Long story,” Rosalie returned, shading her eyes against the quickly rising sun.

“Well, Bent County will take it from here.” He held out a hand to Duncan. “Detective Copeland Beckett, Bent County Sheriff’s Department.”

Duncan shook the offered hand, still feeling fully out of his body. “Duncan Kirk.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s his parents’ place,” Rosalie explained. “By the way, I don’t want Stanley on this case.”

The detective sighed. “You don’t have a say,” he replied with a shrug. And then, as if he realized it was not in his best interest to fully piss her off, he added, “Besides, he won’t be investigating. I will.”

Rosalie let out a huff of a breath. But once the detective walked away, toward the possible murder scene, she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “so will I.”

Which eased some of Duncan’s tension, whether it should or not.

Rosalie hung around while Copeland asked questions, poked around the murder scene, conferred with the coroner.

No matter how many times Copeland tried to shoo her away, she stuck close.

She observed, kept a tally of questions and answers, and a mental note of everything she overheard.

Once she had some time, she’d sit down and write it all out while the information was still fresh.

Copeland Beckett was a fine enough detective. She trusted him to do his due diligence, even if some of the people involved were incompetent.

Xavier Stanley was at the top of that list.

But this was too close to the Young Ranch, and until Rosalie knew why someone had murdered this guy, she wasn’t about to back off and let anyone else handle the case, even if she trusted them.

Until she knew why that guy was murdered, and by who, she was working this case.

The body was removed, evidence sealed and packed away, pictures taken.

Rosalie snuck a few of her own on her cell phone when Copeland and Deputy Stanley weren’t looking.

When the coroner was making the move to leave, Rosalie sidled up to her. Gracie Cooper was older than her, so they hadn’t gone to school together and didn’t really know each other socially, but that never stopped Rosalie from trying to press an advantage.

“You’ll share that report with me, right?”

Gracie let out a sigh, the long-suffering kind. “Rosalie. You know better.”

“It’s for a case.”

“Uh-huh.” Gracie glanced at Duncan, gave Rosalie a look that implied things Rosalie would not acknowledge. “Some case.”

Rosalie scowled, but she didn’t argue with Gracie because she knew all about protesting too much.

But she did find herself looking back at Duncan. He stood with his parents, was about two inches taller than his dad and a few more than his mom. All three were looking at Deputy Stanley, and if the scowl on Duncan’s face was anything to go by, he didn’t like what he was hearing.

Duncan had been out of his element for a bit there.

Hard to blame him, though Rosalie would have if he hadn’t snapped out of it once his parents arrived on the scene.

She’d watched him very carefully put all his what the hell away behind a demeanor that was firm and authoritative.

He didn’t let Copeland start asking questions until he was sure his parents were ready.

He hadn’t let anyone run roughshod over them.

She didn’t care for the fact that she respected it.

“No reason for you to still be here.”

Rosalie looked at Copeland, who’d come to stand next to her. He was clearly about to leave too. “The Kirks are friends of mine.”

“The parents or the baseball player?”

“Both, thank you very much.”

“Small towns,” Copeland muttered with some disgust. Because he was Mr. Big City Hotshot. Except he’d landed here and stayed. So far. “I’m headed back to the department to put some stuff together. Stay away from my murder scene.”

She smiled at him, batted her eyelashes. “Well, of course , Detective.”

Copeland muttered curses all the way to his car. But he said something to a uniformed deputy— not Stanley, thank God—and Rosalie knew he’d leave someone posted until they were sure they had all the evidence and pictures taken they needed.

But she could get access to anything she needed. If not through Copeland, then through Hart. Oh, his loyalty would be to the Bent County Sheriff’s Department, but with the right familial pressure, she could get what she wanted.

With that knowledge tucked away, she walked across the yard to Duncan. He was standing alone now, his gaze on where the body had been. Caution tape now marked the spot, and a lone deputy who stood watch.

Duncan turned that dark gaze to her when she approached. He offered a wry smile.

“How are they holding up?” Rosalie asked, nodding at the house.

“Mom’s…upset. Dad’s…upset. I guess that’s really all there is to say. They’ll feel responsible because it happened on their property, even if it had nothing to do with them.”

Rosalie’s heart twisted. What a terrible thing. “Was it one of your cousins?”

Duncan shook his head. “No, I guess this was a friend of one of the second cousins. Had some trouble back in North Dakota, so came here to get his life straightened out with Owen. That’s the cousin.”

“Maybe trouble followed him?”

Duncan nodded. “Sounds like. Owen talked to your detective. I imagine they’ll look into that.”

Rosalie nodded. “Mind if I talk to Owen?”

Duncan studied her. “He’s been through a lot, but… Well, I don’t know that detective. And neither do my parents. But they know you. We trust you.”

Odd that he included himself in that we . Odd that it should make her feel something flutter inside of her. Like pressure, when she didn’t believe in pressure.

Because Rosalie Young always got her man. “Good, because I intend to look into this.”

“Whatever the fee, I’ll pay it.”

Rosalie shook her head. “No need. My sister and my cousin live just across that access road. I’m working on this for my own peace of mind over their safety.”

“What about you?”

“What do you mean ‘what about me?’”

“You live there too. You should be safe too.”

“Yeah…” She knew she wasn’t invincible. And she knew Audra and Franny weren’t weaklings. It was just…

She was the protector. Always had been. Always would be.

“And I thought you all were armed and knew how to shoot. Wasn’t that the warning you gave me?”

She scowled at him. “Sure, but… Well, that’s all true, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about a murderer lurking about. I protect my own.”

Duncan looked back at the house, where his parents had gone inside.

His expression was deadly serious. “So do I.” Then he turned that serious expression onto her, and that fluttering was back, with a full set of jittering to go along with it.

“I’m no detective or investigator, but I want to help. I’m going to help.”

“How?”

“You tell me.”