“Don’t bother.” Tess had heard all she could stand. “Finding out more won’t bring Callie back.” She stood. “Do you have anything else to tell me?”
The sheriff rose with her. “Only that the body’s been signed off for release. Have you made any arrangements?”
Tess rummaged through her purse and came up with a card from the funeral home. “These people will pick it up when you call them. I’ve arranged to have Callie cremated. We’ll have a small, family service and bury her ashes next to my dad.”
“Regardless of—?”
“Yes, regardless.” Tess forced a smile. “Whatever she did or didn’t do, she was family for a lot of years.”
Driving home, Tess turned the radio up full blast to drown out the clamor in her mind. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to ask any more questions. Callie was gone, and the more Tess learned about the circumstances of her death, the more it hurt, deep down inside where anguish lived.
Close the door, she told herself. Mourn her, bury her remains, and move on. Nothing she’d learned today would bring Callie back or ease the pain of the people who’d loved her. Callie’s death had been a tragic accident—that was what she would tell anyone who asked.
The resolution eased her mood some. She even tried singing along with the radio to raise her spirits. But something was troubling her—some unnamed thing gnawing around the edge of her awareness, a small detail she’d forgotten until now. Tess gasped as she realized what it was.
If Callie had stumbled forward, or even jumped, she would have landed facedown. But she’d landed on her back. Her body had been lying face up when Tess and Ruben discovered it.
There could be a number of explanations for that. But was there a chance that Callie’s body, dead or unconscious, had been carried to the arroyo and dropped over the edge?
Was there a murderer lurking around the ranch?
* * *
Lexie shifted down, pulled Shane’s truck onto the highway, and headed south toward Tucson. Behind her, the sun was rising over the pass. Its light sent shadows streaking across the desert. On the low-growing clumps of brittlebush, leaves damp with dew gleamed like drops of polished turquoise.
Cactuses that had blossomed that spring were laden with fruit now. Birds flocked and chattered, feeding on the bounty. On the reservation, the women would be harvesting juicy red saguaro fruit, knocking it to the ground with long poles and making it into jam. Every year, Ruben gifted the ranch with a few precious jars. It was tart, earthy, and delicious.
Lexie rolled down the windows to let the morning breeze blow through the cab. When she’d left Shane to come home, she’d promised to give him space while he was in rehab. But after almost three weeks, she felt that she’d waited long enough. It was time to see him and to hear what he’d decided about his future.
Knowing what Brock Tolman had the power to offer him, she was braced to say good-bye.
She sped up to pass a lumbering cattle truck on an open stretch of the two-lane road. She’d kept busy while she and Shane were apart. Whirlwind had bucked at two different PBR events, in Mesquite and Window Rock, throwing off good riders both times. Because he’d started in midseason, he was still low in cumulative points. But his high scores were getting him noticed. Next year, if he kept performing well, he could be among the top bulls.
She’d driven to both events alone. With the sale of his property about to happen, Aaron was less inclined to want extra work. And by now, Whirlwind had settled into the routine. He would trot up the ramp and into the trailer with little urging, almost as if he looked forward to the trip.
She hadn’t seen Brock Tolman at either event. But Casey had been at the one in Mesquite. Lexie had given him a quick greeting and hurried away. If he were to ask her about Val, she would have to lie—and she would hate herself for it.
A few days ago, Lexie and her sisters, with Ruben and Aaron, had buried the urn containing Callie’s ashes in the family graveyard beyond the upper pasture. The family had never been religious, but Ruben had offered a ritual prayer in his native language and purified the earth with burning sage. Then the little group had trudged down the hill and gone their separate ways, too sad to commemorate the funeral with food and drink. Even Aaron, who’d been close to tears, had turned away and walked back to his own house without a word.
Only at the end of the day, as the sisters shared cold beef sandwiches for supper, had Tess mentioned her suspicions about Callie’s death. “There’s no way of knowing for sure,” she’d said. “But we all loved Callie, and she loved us. Even if we can’t prove it, I’d like to go forward thinking that she could have been innocent.”
Nothing more had come of the idea. There was some speculation that Callie had caught the unknown intruder in the act of doing more harm, and that he’d killed her, which made sense to Lexie. But there’d been no more secret sabotage on the ranch, which suggested that it had been Callie all along.
But what if Callie was innocent? What if she’d actually been murdered and framed?
Your family owes me, the cryptic note had said. In a way, that did fit Callie. But the things that had been done—the dead animals and the slashed tire that had almost killed two men and four bulls—were not like gentle Callie at all.
Lexie pushed the thought aside. She was entering Tucson now, driving past the trailer parks and strip malls, and into the picturesque downtown historic district. She’d never been to the Santa Cruz Sports Rehabilitation Center, but she’d Googled directions online. With some trial and error, she found it—a low, pueblo-style building surrounded by trees, in a high-end business neighborhood.
Her heart crept into her throat as she parked and climbed out of the truck. She hadn’t called ahead to let Shane know she was coming. In fact, she hadn’t called him at all. She’d wanted to give him space—but maybe she’d given him too much. Maybe he’d already made plans that didn’t include her. It was even possible that he’d already left.
Braced to make a fool of herself, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and strode through the front door, into the reception area.
“May I help you?” The dark-haired girl behind the desk was pretty enough to be a model.
Lexie cleared her throat. “I understand Shane Tully is a patient here. Is he available?”
“I believe he’s in the weight room. Give me your name, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”