Falcon's Run

“Carl didn’t have a vehicle, so I’m assuming he had a bicycle or drove one of the ranch’s trucks?” he asked.

As he looked at her, she felt the power of his gaze all through her. Detective Bowman was all male, with cool eyes that didn’t miss much and left her feeling slightly off balance.

“What is that, Detective—a trick question? You’ve undoubtedly already run his name through the MVD and know that Carl didn’t have a driver’s license. If he needed to go someplace, he either hitched a ride with one of our volunteers or rode his bicycle, which is in his office in the barn.”

Preston held her gaze a moment longer, but she forced herself not to even blink.

“You paid him by check?”

“Yeah, but he preferred cash. He didn’t have a bank account,” she said.

He looked at her, surprised. “And that didn’t seem odd to you?”

“Carl was one of a kind,” she said with a sad smile. “He also didn’t have a credit card or a cell phone. In this day and age, that’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

“No prepaid cell phone either?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I really doubt it. It just wasn’t his style.” As much as she wanted to trust him, she knew they weren’t really on the same side. He was here only to investigate the crime. Her priority was protecting the ranch and, more importantly, the work they did here.

“After we’re done and the scene is released, do you plan to reopen right away?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, then as her voice wavered, she swallowed hard. “Without knowing why someone came after me, I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. Just being around me could endanger the kids and I can’t let that happen.”

“I can’t give you any real assurances, but based on the evidence, the guy who jumped you didn’t want you dead. He had his chance. My guess is that he only wanted to scare you.”

“Do you think it was the same person who killed Carl?”

“Not likely. Woods died last night, between nine and midnight approximately. That means his killer would have had to stick around for six to nine hours.”

“But two violent incidents that close together? That’s a huge coincidence, don’t you think? We’ve never had any trouble here,” she said. “Let’s assume the killer did stick around. What do you think he did all that time?”

“Searching for something? You tell me. This is your ranch, so your guess will probably be better than mine.”

Hearing a knock on the door, she excused herself and went to answer it. A tall, wiry, redheaded man in a Western shirt and jeans came in.

“Stan,” she said.

The man took her hand for a moment. “Abby, I’m so sorry. Carl was a good man.”

She gestured toward Preston. “This is Detective Bowman from the Hartley police,” she said. “He’s investigating Carl’s death.” The words sounded odd even in her own ears. “Detective, this is Stan Cooper, my accountant and business advisor.”

“You can add ranch volunteer to that list, too,” he said, brushing alfalfa leaves off his shirt instead of offering to shake hands. “I just brought in a trailer loaded with hay, saw the police and learned what happened.”

“I’m still trying to come to terms with everything,” Abby said.

“I know this is hard on you, Abby, but you’ve got a more immediate problem. Some kids with special needs have just arrived, and right behind them is a camera crew from the local cable TV station.”

She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips and closed her eyes for a second, trying to push back a migraine. “I made a lot of calls already this morning, but I couldn’t reach everyone, particularly the ones who were already on their way.”

“That’s okay. Put it out of your mind. Right now you’re going to have to go out there and make a statement to the press,” Stan said. “You need to make sure everyone understands that the ranch will have to remain closed for the time being. Explain that your priority is cooperating with the police so this unfortunate incident can be cleared up. Don’t let them draw you into long discussions. Keep it short and simple.”

She nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

“After the initial interview, don’t talk to the press again,” Stan said. “Stay low profile. That’s my professional and personal advice. The longer this story remains front-page news, the worse off the ranch will be. Something like this could scare away current and future benefactors.”

Abby moved to the window and looked outside. “I really don’t want to turn those kids away now that they’re here. They really look forward to spending time at the ranch and I hate disappointing them.”

Preston followed her gaze. “Is it just those three kids?”

“Yes. I got hold of the others due in today and told them I’d reschedule.”

“If you could keep them well away from the crime scene area, you could still let them ride the horses and pet the other animals,” Preston said.

“Absolutely not,” Stan said quickly. “Abby, think about it. The media is already out there taking photos. If you say that the ranch will have to be closed for now, people will see that as your way of putting the kids’ safety first. Yet if you say that’s what you’re going to do and then invite those kids in, you’ll lose credibility. The public will see images of kids riding horses and petting camels right next to half a dozen police cars and lots of yellow crime scene tape. Your donors are going to run for cover.”

“I’ll figure this out, Stan. Stop worrying,” Abby said firmly.

As she stepped out of the office, she had no idea what she was going to say. Then, making a spur-of-the-moment decision, Abby went to meet the kids. After briefly explaining the situation to the adults who’d brought them, she focused on the children.

“I know you’ve all been looking forward to this, but the police have important work they need to finish.” Abby glanced at Lilly, a small seven-year-old girl who’d been to the ranch once before. Her illness was terminal and, with her, each day counted. The other two, both boys, were new to Standing Tall Ranch.

“So we have to go back?” Lilly asked, her expression so downcast it tugged at Abby.

“I’ll tell you what. There can be no horseback riding this time, but how would you like to come say hello to Hank and Eli, our camels?” She saw their faces brighten.

“I’m Jason,” the tallest boy said, balancing well on two prosthetic legs. “I’m eight and I’ve never even seen a camel. Can we pet them?”

“I’d like that too,” the other boy said. “I’m Carlos.”

Abby recognized him from his file. Carlos was a victim of abuse and still had trust issues.

“Are they friendly?” Carlos added.

“Absolutely. We’ll pick up some treats for them as we go over to their pens.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw a camera crew hurrying over to her, but the detective moved quickly to intercept them.

A wave of relief swept over her and she smiled. She liked that man already. Beneath the stern cop exterior was a gentle heart. She’d make sure to thank him later.

PRESTON IDENTIFIED HIMSELF to the reporters. He knew a few already, like Marsha Robertson. She was an area reporter for the number one network affiliate in the state, which was based in Albuquerque.

He gave them all a quick rundown. “That’s all I have for you at this time.”

“A source tells me the owner was also attacked,” Marsha said, “perhaps by the killer. How can you be sure that those kids are safe?”

“There are a dozen or more police officers here. They’re safe, just as you are.”

“Right now, sure, but later…then what? Once the crime scene is released and the officers all leave, will Sitting Tall Ranch open up and return to business as usual?”