Dark Signal Page 19

  A thump, scrape sounded, followed by more, and from the end of the hallway, a figure emerged. Thump, scrape. Thump, scrape. Olin Riek slowly advanced with his walker.

  Trey nudged my shoulder, and his eyes clearly told me that, yes, I had indeed wasted his time. No way Olin was climbing around on a railcar last night.

  His huge salesman grin greeted us as he struggled into the light of the foyer. “Katie Fox. Been thinking about you. Probably ought to get your policy changed. Beneficiary is Ted Conner, and my guess is you maybe want someone different. And with your new job, might be smart to up the policy.”

  I didn’t need the policy anymore since I was insured through the county now. But if I canceled the policy, it might mean another winter in Nebraska for poor Jan. I didn’t have the heart to do that to her. I smiled at Jan, then at Olin, and wondered how to get us out of there. “You heard about Chad Mills?”

  Olin lost his grin. “That is a tragedy. Wish he was insured with me. I’d have a check right now for his wife. But he went with the cheapest and now…,” he trailed off.

  Trey followed up. “You wouldn’t know anyone who had a grudge against Chad, would you?”

  Jan’s mouth gaped, and she turned to Olin. “He was always so polite and sweet. Can’t imagine anyone thought ill of him.”

  Olin looked sad. “I know I should have been madder than a hornet at him for getting the union to switch insurance. But the honest truth is that I know he was trying to do what’s best for his guys. Can’t fault him for that.”

  I don’t know about the sincerity of Olin’s statement, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t have killed Chad. And that plopped Josh right back into the fire.

  24

  The cold had eased, but only because the clouds hovered low. We drove past Meredith’s house. Most of the shiny cars and dusty pickups were gone. There are few things sadder than the hours after the funeral. I looked the other way, across brown weeds and a tumbleweed-clogged barbed wire fence. Hard to believe that in a few months knee-high green grass would ripple in soft spring breezes. Life and seasons.

  That’s too philosophical for a small-town sheriff on a cold winter afternoon.

  Trey drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding a travel cup filled with the evil courthouse brew.

  A few miles west from the Millses’, a narrow dirt road led to the right. Two whitewashed corner posts held a plywood plank with “Stevens Ranch” painted in black letters. Another few miles in brought us to a second wooden sign indicating “Stevens Ranch” to the left.

  Trey settled his cup in the holder. “Ogallala is pretty rural, but this Grand County is a whole other dimension.”

  I might not know every hill and valley, every shallow lake or the name of all the pastures, but Grand County was home. The remote ranches and distances from one landmark to another were just the way it was.

  Stevens Ranch wasn’t the most impressive place in the Sandhills. What it lacked in sparkle, new and improved, it made up for in neat and clean. A freshly painted white picket fence surrounded the picturesque, if small, ranch house, also painted white with forest green trim around the windows and doors. A front porch faced south and held a swing and two bent willow rockers. No dust, dirt, leaves, or trash marred the tidy front yard.

  Trey parked the car in front of the fence, and we climbed out to pelting ice crystals.

  An old wooden barn with corrals in back and a windmill towering behind sat fifty yards from the house. It, too, showed signs of loving attention, the white paint and green trim flawless. Josh’s black pickup was parked in front of the closed barn doors.

  The pinging of ice pellets on the ground added to the clanking and banging from behind the barn. I threw Trey a curious glance and headed off in that direction. When I got closer, I heard grunts and the banging grew louder. I followed the commotion behind the barn to see Josh poised under the windmill.

  Weathered wooden scaffolding centered over his head with the sucker rod running from the hole in the ground. The rod wasn’t connected to the blades so the pump ran on electricity. This must be the main water supply for the house. One-inch PVC pipe disappeared into the well.

  His gloved hands clamped on the plastic pipe. His face was nearly purple, and veins popped in his neck. He seemed to be in a trap. If he let go of the pipe, it would sink back into the well, but he couldn’t get a grip to pull it out farther.

  I ran over and grabbed hold of the pipe below Josh’s hands. With his injured hand, he probably couldn’t get a strong handle on it. My synthetic ski gloves had some texture so I got a better grip, but my sore muscles screamed in pain. The wind blew tiny bits of ice down the back of my neck.

  “Ice is collecting on the rod.” He strained to pull, and with my help, we managed to drag up the pipe a few more inches. “Not sure why the danged thing quit working, but I suspect it’s the old pump.”

  I’d pulled enough wells in my time. It always seemed the vital wells went out in bad weather. The idea was to pull the pipe from the bottom of the well. In this case, several lengths of PVC were screwed together, so the easiest way to pull it would be to unscrew each length as it came out.

  We both grunted with the effort, and I figured my face turned as many bright shades as did Josh’s. Even my Thinsulate gloves couldn’t keep my fingers from growing numb. Trey was nowhere in sight. He must be getting a good look around.

  I braced while Josh unscrewed the top length of PVC. We yanked again until we’d pulled enough pipe from the well he could unscrew another twenty-foot section. We finally succeeded in pulling the submersible pump above the well. It was not much wider than the PVC, a stainless steel bit of metal about two and a half feet long. We laid it out on the ground. Breathless, we stepped back. A gust sent the blades of the windmill clanking overhead.

  “Looks like this would be easier if you’d use a block and tackle.” I slapped my hands on my thighs to get some blood into them.

  “Can’t find the pulley, but I didn’t think I’d have much trouble pulling this. It’s only fifty feet.” He set to work disconnecting black, white, and red wires from the old pump.

  My mind flashed to the pulley attached to the railroad tie. It hadn’t looked like a new piece of equipment. Had it come from Josh’s barn?

  Josh grabbed the new pump lying on the ground and stopped. He grinned up at me, a boyish expression that made it nearly impossible to think of him harming anyone. “Thanks. I wouldn’t have been able to get that by myself.”

  Trey spoke from the corner of the barn where he stood with arms folded. He didn’t seem all that pleased. “You two looked like you’ve been working together for years. Like an old married couple.”

  Being married didn’t guarantee a peaceful working relationship. Ted and I never would have been able to pull a well together without him losing his temper at some point, sending pliers sailing through the air in frustration, or without one of us walking away. I preferred working alone, but Trey was right. Josh and I had been a pretty good team.

  I watched Josh reconnect the wires. “It’s hard to work a place alone. I came up with a lot of ways to manage without help, but some things require an extra pair of hands.”

  Still grinning, Josh said, “Well, thank God for yours.”

  “Joshua!” The commanding male voice carried reprimand. “What have I said about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

  The smile drained from Josh’s face. Trey and I both whirled around.

  A wiry wrinkle of a man, once tall but now bent at the waist with a caved-in chest, stood with wispy white hair floating around his head like fluff from a cottonwood tree. It seemed unlikely the roar of authority issued from him, but he opened his mouth and proved it to be true.

  “You will milk all the cows alone for the next three days to remind you to respect your Creator.” The old man didn’t seem to notice me or Trey. He threw Josh a curt nod and spun away. With halting movements, he marched back around the barn.

  Josh watched him go, sad
ness settling on his face. “That’s my father.”

  Trey put on his cop face. “He’s got dementia?”

  Josh watched his father like a blue heeler tracking a calf. “Most of the time he gets along fine. But once in a while his mind slips.”

  I traced Josh’s gaze, squinting into the ice pellets.

  “Today is not one of his good days. Excuse me.” Josh strode away, but before he disappeared around the barn, he hurried back. “Thank you so much for your help. I’ll be able to put the pump back together soon’s I get Dad situated.”

  Trey and I didn’t move for a moment, then Trey said, “We need to talk to you.”

  We followed and caught up with them in front of Josh’s pickup. Josh spoke to his father with a cheerful note, like a regular afternoon. “Let’s have a cup of coffee.”

  The old man glowered at him. “If we don’t get those bulls out of the pasture, we’ll have calves in September, and they won’t survive the winter snow.”

  Josh nodded and without touching or coaxing, managed to direct his father to the side yard. A wood door with a window on the top half opened into the house, probably the kitchen.

  Trey and I followed across the yard and into a neat house. Josh and his father dropped their coats on hooks that lined the wall next to the door. We closed the door while Josh’s father settled at a chrome-rimmed gray Formica table. Trey focused on the bruise-blackened fingernails of Josh’s right hand.

  The old man seemed to notice us for the first time. “Who are you?”

  Josh stepped between the table and us, as you might put yourself between two dogs to keep them from attacking. “Dad, this is Kate Fox. You remember the Foxes from Hodgekiss.” Josh looked at me. “Kate, this is my father, Enoch.”

  I offered my most polite smile. “My father is Hank. He says he knows you.”

  Enoch eyed me from my head to my boots. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “I’m Grand County sheriff.”

  He threw his head back and guffawed. “A girl? Good gravy. What’s next?”

  Trey grew impatient and addressed Josh. “I’d like to take a look around. Ask you a few questions.”

  Josh scowled at Trey. “I’d say you got a good enough look already.”

  Trey unzipped his coat and pulled out his notebook. “Okay. Let’s start with you and Chad Mills. You weren’t exactly friends, were you?”

  Enoch’s fist hitting the Formica table made us all jump. “You are not to be around that boy. I told you to stay away from him and that Saunders kid.”

  The heat from Josh’s gaze could have given Trey third-degree burns. He softened when he turned to Enoch. “It’s okay, Dad. I haven’t been around either of them.”

  Enoch folded his arms and clamped his mouth.

  “I’ll make some coffee in a minute, Dad.” Josh indicated for us to follow him out of the kitchen into a small living room. The couch looked lumpy and was draped with a chenille bedspread. An ancient brown recliner with lace doilies on the arms crowded into a corner. Several books and reading glasses, old mugs and tissues cluttered TV trays set up as end tables. There was no television. Large windows looked out onto a front porch and the gray afternoon. I stood close to the kitchen, keeping my mouth shut.

  Josh stopped and towered over Trey. “Chad and I have been friends from when we were kids. But yeah, we had a disagreement. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but I imagine gossips at the railroad would tell you we were sworn enemies.”

  Trey scribbled in his notebook and waited.

  Josh pointed to the kitchen. “You see him? If Chad got the pool changed like he was pushing for, we couldn’t stay here. I can leave Dad for a while, but he can’t live alone. What would I do? Quit my job? Then how’m I going to pay my bills? Move? That would flat-out kill him.”

  “So getting rid of Chad was your solution?” Trey said matter-of-factly.

  Josh sneered at him. “You have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  I faced the kitchen and noticed Enoch fidgeted and stood up, going to the wood cookstove.

  Josh’s gaze slid to me then back to Trey. If I were a betting woman, I’d bet he had a secret he’d like to spill.

  Trey looked like he wanted to punch Josh, but he wrote in his book. “What’s your relationship with Meredith Mills?”

  Enoch reached to a wooden fruit box on the floor next to the stove. He picked up some kindling and threw it into the firebox. He grabbed some newspapers and twisted them, then lit a match and held it to the papers.

  Threat dug deep in Josh’s throat. “Leave Meredith out of this. She didn’t have anything to do with Chad’s death.”

  I didn’t see what happened next, but the papers in Enoch’s hand were a mass of flames. He waved them and whimpered but didn’t throw them in the firebox with the kindling.

  I lunged into the kitchen and in less than a heartbeat, grabbed Enoch’s arm and shoved it toward the stove and into the firebox. I didn’t need to tell him to let go, and when I jerked his hand back, it was empty, the flames already crackling on the kindling.

  He glared at me, and I stood silent, panting in post-panic mode.

  Dad’s uncle Chester and aunt Hester had a stove like this. Chester and Hester, a constant source of giggles for us kids, lived in an old soddy well past the Choker county line. Nowadays, we call them “living off the grid,” and they’d be cutting-edge cool. Back then, they were old and eccentric and just a little bit creepy.

  With calm that had returned, I said, “Would you like me to make coffee?” No canisters rested on the narrow counter, so coffee was probably stored in one of the clean white cupboards.

  Enoch scraped a chair across the linoleum and planted himself. “Now that’s what you should be doing. Cooking, making coffee. You’ve got no business running around being the law in Grand County. You should be raising kids.”

  Josh hurried back into the kitchen, Trey in tow. “What’s going on?”

  “Enoch wanted some coffee.” And to tell me how I ought to live my life.

  Josh’s face looked tight as a new boot as he turned his back on Enoch and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry about Dad. He kind of lost his manners.”

  Enoch’s arthritic finger drummed on the table and eyes narrowed. “You Foxes all have the same look. Got to say though, you’re better looking than the other one that was here a while back.” He turned to Josh. “What was her name?”

  Josh spun from me and wrenched open a cabinet. “It’ll take a minute to get the coffee going.”

  Enoch sat back and tapped his scruffy chin. “Linda. Lou. Lou. Louise. That’s it. Now that girl knows how to keep her groceries.”

  Louise? When was she out here? Before I could get the question out, Josh slammed the cabinet and plunked a five-pound can of Folgers on the counter. “A day this cold, nothing to help it but hot coffee, huh Dad?”

  Trey stood in the living room doorway and zipped his coat. “Thanks for your time.” He sounded anything but grateful. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Josh’s expression gave nothing away.

  Enoch’s chair squeaked as he sat back. He took in Trey’s uniform with contempt. “Why is the state patrol and the sheriff here? We’ve got no business with either of you.”

  Enoch might have lost our whole previous conversation.

  Josh answered his father but kept his eyes on Trey. “They’re leaving now.”

  I produced a Dad-approved polite smile. “It’s been good talking to you, Enoch.”

  He stiffened. “Mr. Stevens.”

  “Of course.”

  Trey reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a card. He handed it to Josh.

  Josh didn’t take it. Trey dropped it on the kitchen table.

  Josh opened the kitchen door and stood, not looking at us. The ice storm had stopped. Trey walked out into damp gloom. I stopped in front of Josh. “Why was Louise out here?”

  His face clouded over. “I’m not going to t
ell you that.”

  Josh had too many secrets. Maybe it was time I quit giving him the benefit of my doubt.

  25

  I was still wondering about Josh and Louise when we climbed back into Trey’s car and headed toward town. What was going on?

  We headed down the country road to the highway, but before turning, Trey picked up his phone and eased to the side of the road. “I’ve got to check in with my sergeant.”

  While he launched into a discussion, I pulled out my phone and punched speed dial. Louise didn’t hesitate when she picked it up. “This better not be an excuse for not going to Mose and Zeke’s game.”

  Dang. I’d forgotten. “Sorry. I’ve got to work.”

  Her sigh of irritation was designed to germinate guilt. “Fine. But you’ll have to apologize to them because I’m not going to.”

  Mose and Zeke didn’t care whether I showed up or not. “Okay.” I hesitated, not sure how to corral her. “I’m going to ask you something I normally wouldn’t, but I need you to give me an answer because…” Should I tell her why? I had to. “Because it’s looking like Josh Stevens is a strong suspect in Chad Mills’s murder, and I…”

  I didn’t finish because her gasp was so loud. “Murder? I thought it was an accident. Oh my God.”

  I gave her a moment to process what I’d been living with, and eventually she circled back to me. “Josh? They think. You think he did it?”

  “I don’t know. But it isn’t looking great for him. I know something went on between you two. I need you to tell me what it is.” After the ice pellets earlier, the late afternoon sun cast some welcome warmth through the windshield.

  “Oh.” There was silence long enough for me to hear Trey tell his sergeant that Josh was his prime suspect. “Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and forced a calm tone. “Dad knows but he won’t talk about it. Josh’s keeping his mouth shut.”

  “Because there’s nothing to tell.”