Come Sundown

  you don’t want to go tracking it around behind you.”

  Clintok’s face went red as boiled beets, a transition Callen knew—from past experience—generally presaged a sucker punch.

  “Go on, follow through with that.” Callen’s invitation blew as cold and stiff as the wind. “We’ll see where we end up.”

  Clintok’s teeth set—Callen would have sworn he all but heard them grinding. But the deputy backed off.

  “You can go on to work, for now. Don’t make any traveling plans.”

  “I’ll leave when Bodine does.”

  “I told you to move along.”

  Deliberately Callen walked down the porch, sat in one of the rockers. “Now, tell me what law I’m breaking.”

  Clintok’s right hand closed into a fist. “It won’t take me long to deal with you. That time’s coming.”

  But he walked inside, leaving Callen sitting in the rocker.

  “There’s coffee,” Bodine said immediately.

  “I wouldn’t say no to that.” Clintok, the red still staining his cheeks, sat at the long table in the kitchen area. “Would you know if Billy Jean was working last night, and when she’d have left?”

  “She was working, and I can’t be sure exactly when she left, but it would’ve been after midnight. We leave closing up to the staff, as long as they’re available until midnight. It could’ve been as late as one. Then there’s closing up. So I can only say she’d have left somewhere between twelve-thirty and one-thirty.”

  She set coffee in front of him, sat herself. “I really need to tell my parents about this, Garrett, and some of the staff.”

  “In a bit. We got our own men blocking off this area, so you can tell yours to go on once I get your statement here.”

  “All right.”

  “Now, what were you doing riding with Skinner way over this way? Did he ask you to take the long way?”

  “No. I wanted to give my horse a good run. I haven’t had him out for over a week. It’s why I left early this morning, and when I ran into Callen saddling his own horse, we rode together.”

  “His idea?”

  “God, I don’t know, Garrett.” Weary, half-sick, she shoved at her hair. “It was just the natural thing to do. We’re leaving at the same time, going to the same place.”

  “All right, but—”

  “Look.” She was done with the weak-kneed ploy. “I know you’ve got a deep dislike for Callen, but that’s beside the damn point here. We left the ranch together, and I decided how we’d get to the resort. I wanted a good ride. I started to head in, but I just wanted a little more, so I took this road to get another gallop in, and I saw Billy Jean’s car. I didn’t think that much of it, except she must’ve had car trouble and called somebody to come get her, but then I saw her purse still in the car, and I got worried. I called her. I took out my phone to call hers, just to check. And…”

  Now she had to take a moment. She rose and poured a glass of water. “I heard—we heard—her phone ring. I know her ringtone. And her phone was on the ground, lying in the snow, and then I saw … I looked over where you could see somebody’d been going off the road, walking or running through the snow, and I saw her coat. I saw her. I told you, I just reacted, and I started running, trying to … to get to her, and Callen grabbed me, told me to stop. That I couldn’t help her.”

  “Now, how did he know that?”

  “Oh God, Garrett, anyone could see!” Anger reared up, through the weary, through the sick. “I just didn’t want to see, to believe, so I tried to get away. I even punched him, but he held on until I calmed down. I don’t know why you’re letting some idiot high school feud make you try to point fingers his way, but I can damn sure tell you, whoever did that to Billy Jean wasn’t Callen Skinner.”

  “I got a job to do.” Clintok pushed to his feet. “And unless you can tell me you know just where Callen Skinner was when this happened to Billy Jean, I’ll point where I need to point. You ought to be careful of him. You can go on into work if that’s where you’re going. The sheriff ’ll come around to talk to you himself when he’s done here.”

  When he walked out, Bodine snatched the coffee off the table, dumped it down the sink. “Male, dick-measuring, ball-swinging, chest-puffing bullshit.”

  She swung around when Callen came in. “And I don’t want to hear any of it out of you.”

  “All right.”

  “The pair of you want to ram antlers and paw the goddamn ground? There’s a woman dead. A woman I hired. A woman I liked. A woman with family and friends, and…”

  “There it is,” Callen soothed when Bodine covered her face, began to shake. He went to her, wrapped arms around her. She didn’t fight him this time, stayed stiff only for a moment. Then leaned in, let go.

  “She was a friend of mine. She was a friend.”

  “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, stroked a hand down her back. “I wish there was more to say, but that’s all there is.”

  “I need to do something. I’m better if I know what to do.”

  “You need to take a minute. That’s doing something, too.”

  “Crying’s just annoying. Crying doesn’t do anything.”

  “Sure it does. You empty something out so you can fill it with something else.”

  “Maybe, but—”

  She turned her head just as he turned his. Their lips met.

  Bumped, she’d think later. Really just bumped—unplanned, an accident in timing and direction. Maybe they lingered together a few seconds, but it wasn’t remotely an actual kiss.

  Still, she jerked back. “That—that’s so disrespectful.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  Stuck between frustrated and embarrassed, she waved her hand in the air, swiped at her wet cheeks as she paced away. “Wasn’t you, wasn’t me. Just happened. It’s a horrible morning, horrible, and it just happened. I need to get to Bodine Town. My mother should be in by now. I need to tell her about this. We need to … God, we need to figure out how to tell everyone.”

  She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “You need to get to the BAC. We’re shorthanded enough there.”

  “Why don’t I call Chase, tell him what happened? Seems like he and your father should come over here. You’re going to want your whole family when you tell everybody.”

  On a long expelled breath, she dropped her hands. “You’re right, you’re right, and I should’ve thought of that. We’ll have Mike take us in. Clintok said the police are blocking things off now.”

  She closed her eyes a moment, drew her shoulders straight again. “Okay, I know what I have to do. Let’s get going.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The family gathered at Bodine House, spread out in the pretty living room with its dozens of framed photographs and its simmering fire. After insisting her mother sit, just sit, Maureen passed around the coffee.

  If they’d been at the ranch, Bodine thought, a family meeting would take place at the big dining room table. With her mother fussing just as she was now.

  Because fussing kept her calm. Bodine could relate, as doing something, most anything, did the same for her.

  They’d chosen the meeting site because the family needed to stay close, and Bodine calculated she couldn’t spare more than a half hour away from her office.

  She needed to tend to her people, deal with the fallout and grief already reverberating through the resort.

  “What can we do for her family?” Miss Fancy sat, back erect, in her favorite chair. “I knew her—a hardworking, fun-loving girl. But, Bodine, you’d have known her best. What can we do for her family?”

  “I’m not sure right now, Grammy. Her parents are divorced, have been, I think, a long time. She has a brother in the marines, and I don’t know where he’s stationed. I’ll find out. Her mother’s in Helena, as best I know. I’m just not sure about her father.”

  “If her family comes here, we need to put them up somewhere as private as we can, take car
e of them.”

  “No question of it,” Cora agreed. “Bodine, you’ll need to block off two cabins so we’ll have them if needed. And choose a driver for them.”

  “I’ve blocked the cabins already.” She had an agenda, tried to organize what could and should be done. “For a driver—while they might rent cars, I think one of us should be available for driving them wherever they need to go. I think we should do that rather than one of the staff.”

  “That’s a good thought,” Maureen told her. “We also have to tend to our resort family. Billy Jean…” Tears swam into her eyes so she took a moment to settle the ones that rose to her throat. “She was well liked. Such an outgoing girl. We need to address, and soon, the grief and the shock, and the fear, too. We don’t know what happened yet, but people are going to be speculating and worrying on top of mourning one of our own.”

  “I think we should bring in a grief counselor.”

  At Rory’s suggestion, Chase turned his head, stared.

  “I don’t see people wanting to talk about all this with some stranger.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Rory agreed. “And other stoics wouldn’t. But some would, more than you might think. We’re a company, and as a company, we should offer counseling to our employees.”

  “I may be of Chase’s mind about talking things through with some counselor,” Sam began, “but I can see Rory’s point here. We should find somebody who has a good reputation for this, and provide it. People can decide for themselves on it.”

  “I’ll look into it.” Doing so was already on Bodine’s list.

  “No.” Cora shook her head at Bodine. “You’re going to have enough on your plate. I can find the right person for this.”

  “I’m not being cold or callous.” Rory scowled into his coffee. “And I’m as pissed off as I am sad. I still can’t get my head around it, and I’m not sure I will even when we find out what the hell happened. But we’ve got to think about a press release, how we answer reporters, not to mention how we answer guests.”

  “I’m working on it,” Bodine assured him. “Until we know what happened, it’s best we say the truth first. We’re all shocked and grieving over the loss of one of our own. And we’re cooperating fully with the investigation. There’s just not much else to say at this point.”

  “I can talk to some of the staff. Nana’s right,” Rory continued, “about you having so much on your plate.”

  He’d know what to say, Bodine thought. And he’d know when to just listen. Rory had such heart and the ability to read what a person needed often before that person knew themselves.

  “That’d be helpful. As this goes along, Jessica and I will refine official statements, and work out what everyone—not just us, but everyone—should say to guests, to reporters. You could help with that, too, Rory.”

  “Why her?” Chase asked. “Why Jessica? She’s events, isn’t she?”

  “Because she’s smart and she understands perceptions. She stays calm and on message, but she knows how to adjust when circumstances change.”

  Bodine sat cross-legged on the floor, looked up at him and his doubtful frown. “Have you got a better pick for it?”

  “I don’t see why you’d want somebody who barely knew Billy Jean, and works on parties. But it’s your decision.” He moved his shoulders.

  “That’s right.”

  “Dad and I have to settle down the ranch hands. It doesn’t make sense.” Anger eked through. “It just doesn’t make any damn sense why someone would go at her that way.”

  “We don’t know that’s what happened.” Bodine held up a hand before Chase could bite at her. “I think it has to be what happened, but we don’t know. Until we do, you have to tell everyone at the ranch the same as we’re telling everyone at the resort.”

  He stared at her until the hot anger in his eyes cooled. “It had to be an awful thing for you, finding her like that. I’m glad you weren’t alone when you did.”

  Because the image of Billy Jean’s body flashed into her mind, Bodine only shook her head and looked away. At a knock on the door, she rose quickly. “I’ve got it.”

  She opened the door to find Sheriff Tate dutifully wiping his boots on the mat.

  “Bodine, how are you doing, honey?”

  Bob Tate had a robust build and a weathered, ruddy face. She’d known him all of her life, as he was friendly with her parents and liked to tease he’d kissed her mother once before her father got up the gumption.

  “It’s a terrible day. A hard, terrible day.”

  “I know it.” He gave her a quick hug, then a pat on the back. “I stopped in over at the office, and that pretty blonde from out East said you and your family were all over here. I’m going to need to talk to you, honey.”

  “I know. Let me take your coat.”

  “Don’t you worry about it.” He stepped into the living room. “Miss Fancy, Mrs. Bodine.” He took off his hat. “I’m sorry to have to come into your home like this.”

  “You’re always welcome here, Bob.” Cora rose first. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

  “I’d sure be grateful for it. Maureen, Sam, boys.”

  “Rory, get Sheriff Tate a chair.” Miss Fancy gestured toward her daughter’s bedroom. “How’s Lolly doing?”

  “She’s got me on a diet.” He smiled as he said it, eyes crinkling. “A man could starve to death in his own house. Thank you, Rory.”

  He sat in the chair Rory carried out, puffed out a breath.

  “What can you tell us?” Sam asked.

  “The fact is, I can’t tell you much right now. We’re doing all we need to do, and I can’t speak frankly on that. I need to ask Bodine some questions.”

  Cora stopped on her way back from the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. “Do you need us to leave?”

  “No, ma’am, no, there’s no need. It could be, as you all knew Billy Jean, you may have something to say that might add to the picture. But, Bodine, you’re the one who found her. Along with Cal Skinner.”

  “Yes, sir. We were riding to work together—horseback,” she qualified. Though, of course, he knew.

  “You took a roundabout way. Cal suggested that?”

  “No. I did. I had the lead.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, but nodded.

  She gave him the details, as she had to Garrett Clintok. Tate stopped her when she got to Billy Jean’s phone.

  Nodding, Tate flipped through a little notebook. “Cal suggested you try to call her.”

  “No. When I saw her purse was in the car, I got worried, so I called her cell. She doesn’t have a landline. And I heard her ringtone. About the same time, Cal said for me to come around the car and look. And we saw her phone on the ground, and that torn-up path through the snow. Then I saw her, and I tried to run over to where she was lying in the snow. I thought she was hurt, I tried to tell myself that, but the truth was I could see—anybody could see—it was too late. Callen stopped me, held me back.”

  Watching her, Tate tapped a stubby pencil against his notebook. “Did he go up to her?”

  “No. He held on to me, got me calmed down enough till he could make me understand—I just didn’t want to understand—that we weren’t supposed to touch her, or anything.”

  “I’m told Cal has a black eye. Did he have that this morning when you started out for work?”

  “No, because I gave it to him. I was half-crazy, fighting to get loose, and I landed one on him before I got ahold of myself. And I see what’s happening here.” She spoke coldly now. “And I’ve got something to say.”

  “You go ahead.”

  “I told Garrett as clearly as I’m telling you what happened and how. If he told you differently, he’s lying.”

  As if to tamp things down, Tate tapped a hand in the air. “Well, Bo, I’m aware there’s some bad blood between Cal and Garrett.”

  “Clintok poisoned it a long time ago.” Chase got to his feet, slow and easy. “It got poisoned when we were no more than kids and Clintok d
ogged Cal, hounded him. He was goddamn relentless. Sorry, Grammy, but that’s the word for it. He poisoned it when he and three of his asshole friends…”

  When he paused again, Miss Fancy waved a hand. “Wait until you’re done to apologize for your language in the parlor.”

  “It’s what they were as they jumped us when Cal and I were camping down at the river. The three of them holding me down so Garrett could pound on Cal. But it ended up with Cal pounding on him, and getting the better of him before Wayne Ricket—you remember