Sovereign Sheriff Page 9

  He lowered the back gate and climbed onto the truck bed. From this angle, it was obvious that the blankets were covering something. He lifted the edge of one blanket. There was a stink, the smell of blood and excrement. He saw a partially clenched fist. The flesh was pale, so white it was almost blue.

  The top blanket might have been beige at one time but was so covered by grit and oil stains that the color was indecipherable. The next covering was a drop cloth that had been used for painting. Jake pulled it back.

  The body lay flat on his back with his arms at his sides. His eyes stared blindly into the sky. His forehead was a bloody pulp. Jake reckoned it was an exit wound. The killer had put a gun to the back of his head, pulled the trigger and blown away half the skull.

  He hunkered down beside the dead man and tried to bend his arm. Full rigor had set in. He’d been killed over twelve hours ago. After the chase with Saida.

  Wheeler peered over his shoulder. “That’s not Granger.”

  “This man is wearing a suit. I doubt Granger owns anything this nice.”

  Wheeler stepped back so fast that the truck jolted. He pivoted, averting his gaze. It was hard for Jake to believe that his deputy was squeamish. Wheeler was an avid hunter who shot and field-dressed his kills.

  “Are you okay?” Jake asked.

  “The smell. It’s getting to me.”

  The murder affected Jake, too. Though he was sheriff, he was still a man—an Arapaho with a connection to Mother Earth and all her creatures. A dark chill sank into his skin. Later, he would cleanse his spirit.

  To Wheeler, he said, “I need for you to keep an eye on the house. Make sure Granger doesn’t take this opportunity to sneak away. Don’t enter until I join you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jake took out his cell phone and put through a call to the chief forensic investigator, Jane Cameron. “I’m at Chad Granger’s house. We found the truck.”

  “Maddox was right,” Jane said darkly. “I hate when that happens.”

  “It gets worse. There’s a body.”

  “Granger?”

  “I don’t recognize him,” Jake said. “Looks like he was shot in the back of the head.”

  “Like a gangland execution. I didn’t know we had a Mafia problem in Wind River County.” She gave a short, nervous laugh. “I’ll notify the coroner and get there as fast as I can.”

  “Here’s the deal, Jane. I know I shouldn’t touch the body until after you and the coroner are done, but I’ve got to act fast on this.” The coroner was notorious for taking hours to respond to a call. “I’m going through his pockets to see if he has ID.”

  “Do whatever you need,” she said. “I’m on my way.”

  After he disconnected the call, he reached into the inner jacket pocket with his gloved hand. Inside, he found an envelope containing a boarding pass for a flight from Cheyenne to Dumont and a receipt for a rental car, both made out to the same name. The victim was William Dormand, the guy who’d rented the sedan.

  As Jake was about to stand, he noticed a bright shimmer on the truck bed near the victim’s shoulder. He picked up a round earring no bigger than a dime. Black enamel with crossed swords, it matched the ring Saida was wearing last night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jake knew better than to tamper with evidence. He shouldn’t have touched the earring, should have left it for Jane Cameron and the forensic investigators to find.

  Why was Saida’s earring left here? This murder scene had been staged with the body laid out on his back and covered where they’d be sure to find him. Was the earring supposed to be a threat, a reminder that she was still in danger? Or was this shiny bit of evidence supposed to implicate the princess in this murder?

  Either way, he didn’t want Saida dragged any deeper into this miasma. Her motive for coming here was pure; all she wanted was to find her brother.

  Jake stuffed the earring into his pocket. There was no justification for hiding evidence, but he’d made his choice. Saida’s well-being was more important than the law.

  As he strode toward the front of the house to join Wheeler, he spotted a vehicle coming down the driveway. A big, fat, yellow Hummer.

  Saida was here.

  The massive car parked, and Nasim emerged from the driver’s side. Through the windshield, Jake saw the princess. She gave a cheerful wave as though they were meeting for a party instead of storming the house of a suspect.

  Nasim approached. “Can I be of service?”

  “I assume you’re armed,” Jake said.

  He nodded.

  Jake also assumed that Nasim was an expert marksman who could shoot the wings off a gnat. Not a bad person to provide backup.

  “Draw your weapon. We’re searching the house.” Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the Hummer. “What about Saida?”

  “I have advised her to stay in the car.”

  Which didn’t mean she’d obey. If Granger actually was in the house and tied to pull something, Jake didn’t want the princess in the line of fire. He went toward the Hummer.

  She lowered the window. “Is the truck here?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “Don’t leave the car until I give you the okay.”

  “I understand.” She handed her Beretta through the window. “This might be more effective than your cute little stun gun.”

  He shouldn’t be grinning at her, but he couldn’t help himself. “Thanks.”

  At the front door, Jake didn’t waste time by knocking. “We’ll search the house. Wheeler, take the upstairs. Nasim and I will cover the downstairs. I’ll go left.”

  Before kicking down the door, he tried the knob. It turned easily in his hand. Granger hadn’t even bothered locking up. Not a good sign. He’d probably fled hours ago.

  The three of them rushed through the house, checking corners and closets. Jake’s initial assumption was confirmed: nobody home.

  The kitchen was particularly disgusting with a sink full of dirty dishes, pots and pans. The table was piled high with papers and mail. Buried in this mess might be a clue to where Granger had gone.

  To Wheeler he said, “Since Granger couldn’t take his truck and didn’t use the motorcycle, he must have another vehicle. See if there’s anything registered to him, get the license plates and put out an APB.”

  “Got it.”

  With Nasim, Jake walked toward the Hummer. “Thanks for your help.”

  “I wish we had found the driver.” Nasim’s tone suggested that he would have shot first and asked questions later.

  “How did you and Saida get here so quickly?”

  “Princess Saida observed the press conference. She found the address of Chad Granger and used the GPS. We were already in the Hummer.”

  “Any reason you and Saida decided to leave the resort?”

  “The princess entertains definite ideas. She preferred to avoid Efraim and the other princes.”

  Which was the exact opposite of what he’d asked her to do. She was supposed to be gathering inside info about COIN. When they were in sight of the Hummer, Jake motioned to her that she could come out.

  With zero hesitation, she responded, rushing toward him. As he watched her approach, he forgot for a moment that he was in the midst of a difficult investigation. The tension knotting his muscles loosened when she flashed her smile.

  He heard the sound of sirens as his other deputies drew near. “You and Nasim should go back to the resort. I’m going to be busy here for a while.”

  “I can help,” she said. “In fact, I insist that you let me take care of this one thing.”

  “What thing is that?” Enthusiasm was one thing; expertise was another.

  “The media.” She spread both hands palms up as if offering him a solution. “It only took me a couple of minutes to figure out where Chad Granger lived. I’m pretty sure the TV vans are already on their way.”

  After this morning’s press conference, Jake wasn’t looking forward to another go-round with reporters,
especially not with Ms. Lipstick. The murder had added another layer of complexity to the situation. He couldn’t shove this responsibility onto Saida’s slender shoulders.

  “Much as I’d like to take you up on the offer,” he said, “I can’t appoint you spokesperson for the sheriff’s department.”

  “I wouldn’t speak in an official capacity. I promise not to talk about anything pertaining to the investigation.”

  He liked that idea. “That might work.”

  “I’ll park the Hummer at the road leading to the house. Give me one deputy who can control who enters, and I’ll handle everything else until you’re ready to make an official statement.”

  Why the hell not? “You’re on, Princess.”

  AFTER SAIDA GOT HERSELF situated at the end of the long driveway leading to Granger’s house, she prepared to meet the media. Her conservative outfit wasn’t exactly right. Though she intended to be serious, people with cameras expected a bit of flash and dazzle from a princess.

  She left her jacket in the Hummer. Her high-collared blouse was sleeveless and white with pleating at the front—simple and sophisticated but not colorful enough for television. She repurposed her black pearl necklace by double-looping it around her wrist as a bracelet, and she used a red-and-gold silk scarf that she had in her purse as an ascot. Her Beretta would have made an interesting accessory, but she was here to defuse rumors and to protect Jake from the negative impression that might have been left by the earlier press conference.

  Leaning against the hood of the Hummer with Nasim standing nearby, she waited while the television van from Channel Six was turned back by the deputy posted at the driveway.

  The van parked at the side of the road, and the reporter bounded toward her. “You’re the princess, right?”

  “Yes.” Though she withheld her smile, she gave him an encouraging nod.

  The reporter—a blue-eyed man with floppy brown hair—introduced himself and asked if he could interview her. He was probably the same age as Saida, but she had decades on him in terms of experience. Deftly, she manipulated their positions so the sun wouldn’t be shining directly in her eyes. When the cameraman set up his tripod, he could contain both of them in a single shot with the mountains in the background.

  Saida explained her presence by saying that she was waiting to speak with the sheriff. The only information she had that pertained to the investigation was that the little house at the end of the driveway belonged to Chad Granger, and the sheriff had found a truck that might have been the one that tried to run her off the road.

  As she spoke and answered questions, she subtly flirted with the youthful reporter, offering a degree of warmth while avoiding any blatant suggestion of sexuality. Persuasion came in many forms, and she’d practiced this skill, wielded it like a weapon.

  The reporter was hooked. He leaned toward her. His voice lowered. His pupils dilated. He showed all the signs of a man who was interested in her as a woman.

  Another reporter and cameraman joined the first, then another. She worked her magic, used her power as she spoke of Jamala—the beaches and palm trees and the warm Mediterranean. Her homeland, though different from the high plains of Wyoming and the mountain ranges, shared a common interest in oil.

  Nothing she said would make headlines, but the group that gathered around her was interested and encouraging. They wanted to hear more from her, wanted to be with her.

  Saida knew that she was an attractive woman. Certainly, she had flaws. Who didn’t? But she was blessed with regular features, a healthy body and the good taste to dress well.

  Her flirting also worked with women. The aggressive female reporter with harridan-red lipstick demanded to know about her relationship with the sheriff. “What’s going on, Princess Saida? You spent the night at his house.”

  “I’m sure you understand.” Saida reached toward her, welcoming her into a special circle of friendship. “After I survived the high-speed chase, I was shaken. Sheriff Wolf was kind enough to offer his protection.”

  The woman smirked. “And what else did he offer?”

  “Hospitality. I chatted away the night with his younger sister. We exchanged recipes.” Not exactly true but close enough. “Sheriff Wolf was occupied with his investigation.”

  Attention was diverted from Saida when an ambulance arrived and turned down the driveway. The lack of siren meant only one thing: a death.

  “Murder,” said the guy with floppy hair. “Princess, do you know who was killed? Was it Granger?”

  Truthfully, she answered, “I don’t know.”

  In a news-seeking herd, the reporters moved away from her. The cameramen aimed their lenses toward the small house where several police vehicles were parked. Once again, the case had taken a deadly turn.

  Saida found herself alone with the female reporter. She lowered her microphone and flashed a huge, red grin. “To tell the truth, I couldn’t care less about the murder,” she said. “I do entertainment news, and I’m here to see you.”

  “Have we met before?”

  “I’ve been on a couple of red carpets where you were strutting your stuff.” Though it seemed impossible, her smile got even bigger. “Just between us girls, what do you think of Jake Wolf? Gorgeous, right? I wouldn’t mind parking my stilettos under his bed. Right?”

  “Between us,” Saida mimicked the insincere phrase, “his appearance isn’t important to me.”

  “Oh, please. He’s turning into a celebrity himself. Tons of women are glued to the daily press briefing and fantasizing about long, cold Wyoming nights.”

  This woman was dying to turn her and Jake into a couple, which would have been much to Saida’s liking. But definitely inappropriate. She didn’t want to mess up Jake’s career.

  She lowered her gaze. “My only concern is my brother’s safety. I’m so afraid for what might be happening to him.”

  The reporter scowled. “How come I don’t know much about your brother?”

  “He and the other COIN princes don’t spend as much time in America as I do. A shame, really.” Pushing this aggressive woman toward the others was purely evil, but Efraim had been a jerk and deserved to be tortured by the media. “They’re all young and handsome…and unmarried.”

  The reporter murmured, “I should check them out.”

  Saida nodded as though dismissing her. “Please excuse me.”

  She went to where Nasim was standing. The big yellow Hummer separated them from the reporters and cameramen. Though they were close enough for her to hear them clamoring and demanding answers from the deputy who stood stalwartly blocking the road, she was no longer the object of their attention.

  She looked up at her companion and bodyguard. “How did I do?”

  “Nicely,” he said.

  “You didn’t mention that someone was murdered.”

  “I was not told,” he said. “Following the instructions of Sheriff Wolf, I entered the hovel of Mr. Granger with my weapon drawn. Mr. Granger was not in residence.”

  Though she wanted to see Jake and go over the photographs, she assumed he would be busy with the murder investigation for some time. Her suspicions and deductions would have to wait.

  She hadn’t thought that the process of investigating would require so much patience. Waiting was hard. Amir had been missing for weeks, and she wanted to take action.

  As her gaze drifted along the line of the barbed-wire fence beside the shoulder of the road, she got an idea. Taking matters into her own hands shouldn’t be a problem. As long as Nasim was along to protect her, she wouldn’t get into trouble.

  She reached for the door handle on the passenger side. “There’s someone we need to talk with.”

  Chapter Twelve

  When Burt Maddox said he was a neighbor of Chad Granger, he wasn’t kidding. A quick check on her computer showed Maddox’s address to be less than a mile from where they were parked.

  Though Saida had no right to interrogate the former sheriff, she suspected that Madd
ox was either connected to the crimes or had information about them. In reviewing the photos Danny had taken, she’d spotted Maddox in the crowd more than once. He’d been hanging around, watching. And he’d found the truck. As Nasim had pointed out, there was too much coincidence.

  If her bodyguard hadn’t been accompanying her, she never would have gone to Maddox’s house. But Nasim was right here, scowling with unspoken disapproval as he turned at the neatly lettered sign for Maddox Horse Ranch.

  “You don’t like this,” she said. “You don’t think I should get involved.”

  “As one who protects you, I prefer for you to be safe in your suite at the resort. However, I comprehend the need for interrogation. I think your partner should be Sheriff Wolf.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  In contrast to Granger’s shabby, downtrodden ranch, this property was well-maintained. A white-washed fence enclosed a large field where two chestnut Arabian horses chased each other through the sunshine. At the far end of a paved circle drive, the sprawling white house featured a peaked roof and a wraparound porch with a screened section at one end. The house reminded her more of a genteel horse farm in Virginia than a rugged Wyoming ranch.

  Maddox stepped down from the porch to greet them. “Princess Saida,” he said. “I wondered how long it would take you royals to realize that you were close to the finest horse ranch in the West.”

  Seriously? He thought she’d come here to shop? It wouldn’t hurt to play along. “Are you planning to expand your business to international markets?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve had interest from others.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  She didn’t exactly know what to make of Big Burt Maddox. With his doughy body and too-tight shirt, he looked like a clown, but not friendly. A mean clown.

  He asked, “Do you ride, Princess?”

  “Yes.”

  Behind her, Nasim snorted. As well as teaching her to shoot and drive, he’d been her equestrian instructor. When she introduced him, he offered Maddox a compliment. “Your Arab horses are spirited. Two-year-olds?”