The Missing Mccullen

It hadn’t occurred to him that the man would accuse him of murder.

“You could ease your conscience by telling me what happened,” the sheriff growled. “Or let me guess—you had a lover’s quarrel, and she threatened to cut you out of the kid’s life. Am I getting close?”

Cash went stone still. Nothing he could say would convince this man that he was innocent.

Worse, the evidence was damning. Given it, and the fact that Elmore owned half the town, they could lock him away and he’d never see the light of day again.

“You are way off base,” Cash said matter-of-factly. “I told you—we weren’t lovers.” In fact, he would never have gone to a motel with Sondra. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. “Why aren’t you looking at Elmore? He probably had enemies.”

“Elmore is not the problem,” Sheriff Jasper snapped.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Cash’s mind raced. “You should be looking for someone else with a motive. Sondra said some guy named Ronnie was bothering her.”

Sheriff Jasper raised a brow. “Stop trying to put the blame on someone else, and tell me what you did with Tyler. If Elmore gets his grandson back, he might go easier on you.”

Cash’s pulse jumped. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t know where Tyler is?”

The sheriff shoved him backward so hard the chair legs clacked on the floor. “Don’t act dumb, Koker. If you took that kid, you’re going down for kidnapping and murder.”

Panic streaked through Cash. Someone had kidnapped Tyler?

* * *

Three days later

BJ ALEXANDER HAD made a lot of mistakes in her short career as an attorney. She just hoped coming to Cash Koker’s defense wasn’t one of them.

But her father and Joe McCullen had been friends, and now that Joe was dead, her father had asked her to help his sons find out more about their long-lost brother.

Possible long-lost brother, she amended.

She slipped from the safety of her small sedan, letting the warmth of the summer day chase away the chill inside her as she studied the sheriff’s office.

The building was a one-story, ancient brick structure with mud caking the brick. She’d called ahead and Sheriff Jasper had filled her in on the arrest.

Cash Koker had been locked up for murdering a young woman named Sondra Elmore. Apparently, Cash had once worked for Sondra’s father on the Wagon Wheel Ranch.

Cash insisted he was innocent.

Like she hadn’t heard that before.

A year ago, she’d represented a man named Davis Turner, who claimed he’d been framed for murder. After losing her ex-husband and son, she’d been in a bad place. Vulnerable.

Davis was charming, convincing, and seemed compassionate. She’d broken the cardinal rule of not getting involved with a client and had allowed their relationship to become personal.

She had gotten him acquitted in record time.

Two days later, she realized he’d played her. She’d overheard him talking to his mistress on the phone. He’d admitted he was guilty.

Worse, he was a free man because of her, and he couldn’t be retried for killing his wife.

She’d hated herself for being so naive. Hated that she may have put another person in danger by helping a killer walk.

She wouldn’t make that mistake with this case. If she took it.

Despite her father and Joe McCullen’s friendship, that was a big if.

Cash Koker had to convince her he was innocent.

Resolved, she opened the door to the sheriff’s office and entered. A tiny older woman with gray hair sat at a reception desk. Her name tag read Imogene.

BJ identified herself. “I’m here to meet with Cash Koker.”

A tough-looking man in a sheriff’s uniform, probably in his midthirties, appeared in the doorway. He might have been handsome if his scowl wasn’t so off-putting.

He hitched his thumb toward the back. “You the attorney gonna represent that scumbag in there?”

BJ stiffened. It sounded as if the sheriff had already convicted Cash.

Did he have concrete evidence proving Cash was guilty?

* * *

CASH HAD TO get out of this cell.

He’d been here all weekend, shut off as if he was one of the most wanted people in Wyoming.

Dammit. He hated to be confined. Small spaces triggered bad memories of being locked in the closet when he was a kid in foster care.

He lurched up from the cot and paced the cell. He’d racked his brain all weekend, struggling to piece together what had happened Friday night. Had someone drugged him?

Was he with Sondra when she was murdered? How did he end up in a motel with her?

And what about Tyler? Where was that precious little guy?

Panic seized him at the scenarios that flashed through his head. He’d had his share of bad knocks in foster care and knew the dark side of the human mind. Knew the depravity that existed, and how difficult it was for a little kid to defend himself against those bigger than him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, battling despair. Maybe the sheriff had it wrong. Sondra had been upset when she’d called him to meet her. She could have dropped Tyler with a friend for safekeeping.

If so, wouldn’t that person have come forward when news of her murder was revealed? Surely Elmore and the sheriff had posted an Amber Alert by now and had people searching.

If Sondra’s killer had kidnapped Tyler, though, there was no telling what he’d do to the little boy.

Elmore had money. He’d probably made enemies. If someone wanted to get back at him, killing Sondra and kidnapping her child was the way to do it.

Cash dropped onto the cot and lowered his head into his hands. He’d called the lawyer in town, but got the message machine. So far no one had shown up.

Hell, for all he knew the man was in Elmore’s pocket.