“We’re gonna need the techs.”
“I got it,” Carlson said, dialing.
While he called, Rumsfeld turned in a slow circle. Billy Ray had the sense that he missed nothing, not even a speck. It made him feel small town.
“Private back here,” he murmured.
Rumsfeld grunted.
“What’re you thinking? Accidental or—”
“What the hell?”
Billy Ray turned to Rumsfeld striding toward the windows. And then he saw it. A rifle. Propped against the window. He’d missed that, first go-around. Rookie move. The worst.
Rumsfeld looked at him. “Son of a bitch, Williams. They could’ve blown our heads off.”
Heat climbed Billy Ray’s cheeks. “They didn’t.” It sounded lame, even to his own ears, and he felt like a fool.
“Techs are on their way,” Carlson said. He crossed to stand beside his partner. “Big miss, Williams. Sucker’s loaded.”
“I messed up. Won’t happen again.”
Rumsfeld examined the gun. “A Remington 700. Shoots a .308, among others.”
“Rodriquez was shot with a .308.”
“And Perez worked at Abbott Farm.”
Rumsfeld nodded. “I think it’s time to have a little chat with our friends inside.” Rumsfeld looked at him. “You want to take notes?”
“Hell, yes. I say we start with Abbott’s wife. She’s the one Perez called.”
But Rumsfeld disagreed and interviewed the other two first. Raine Abbott was distraught to the point of unintelligible. They did manage to learn that Perez had drug issues in the past, but as far as she knew he hadn’t used in a long time. They also discovered she’d found the rifle on his bed and she’d brought it down.
Paul Banner had even less information. Raine and Bailey had called him. When he’d arrived the women had been on the back deck and Raine had been hysterical.
Which left Bailey.
“Are you feeling all right?” Rumsfeld asked. “Need a glass of water or—”
“No. I’m okay.”
But Billy Ray saw that she wasn’t. Her hands were shaking and she was white as a sheet.
Obviously, Rumsfeld saw it, too. “You don’t look so good, Mrs. Abbott.”
“All right then, a glass of water please.”
Billy Ray set it in front of her. She took it but didn’t acknowledge him, even with a glance.
“I need to ask you some questions, Mrs. Abbott. About the sequence of events that led you to be here. Your answers will help determine Mr. Perez’s manner of death.”
She frowned. “But I … it looked like a drug overdose.”
“That’s the way it appears, yes. But ‘manner of death’ refers to how the coroner’s office will classify his death. Was it an accident? Suicide? Or even murder?”
Her eyes widened as if the thought of the last had never crossed her mind. Billy Ray noted it.
“I understand he called you?” Rumsfeld said.
“He called me. I didn’t pick up.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t feel up to it. I was sure he was just checking on me and—”
“What?”
“August could be … difficult. He left a message.”
“How long passed before you checked it?”
“Not long. Five minutes. Less, even. Raine urged me to.”
“Raine Abbott?” She nodded and he went on. “So she was with you?”
“Yes. Keeping me company because my husband…” Her voice trailed off.
Was in custody.
“Why did she urge you to check it?”
“She thought he might have some information.”
“About?”
She met his eyes, the expression in hers defiant. “My husband. August was well-connected in the community.”
“On the message, what did Mr. Perez say?”
“Not much. He sounded … out of it. He couldn’t seem to form his thoughts. I had Raine listen to it and she was … alarmed.”
“Think, Mrs. Abbott, can you recall anything he said?”
“That he was sorry. He mentioned Henry—”
“Rodriquez.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say about Mr. Rodriquez?”
She hugged herself, rubbed her arms. “I don’t remember … just that he said his name.”
“Is the message still on your phone?”
“Yes.”
“May we listen to it?”
She retrieved the message and handed the device over. Rumsfeld and Carlson both listened several times, then handed it to Billy Ray.
“Need … talk … you. Something import … Sorry, so … Henr … I saw—”
Billy Ray frowned and listened again. An apology? For what? Henry? Or something else he’d known but hadn’t shared with her?
“Did you have any idea Mr. Perez was shooting up ketamine?”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s a horse tranquilizer. Affects the central nervous system. You may have heard of it called K, Special-K or Vitamin K?”
“No, I’m not … drug savvy.” She brought her hands to her face. “I had no idea he did … that.” She dropped her hands. “Can I go now?”
Just a couple of more questions. “Did you know him well?”
She shook her head. “He was helping me overcome my fear of horses.”
The evidence collection team arrived, as did the coroner’s investigator. She watched them go past, her expression lost. A lump formed in Billy Ray’s throat and he quickly averted his gaze.
“Thank you for your help, Mrs. Abbott. We may need to speak with you again, so please don’t leave the area.”
She nodded. “Could I have my phone, please?”
“I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to keep it for now.”
“What? But I—I don’t understand.”
“For Mr. Perez’s call. It could prove to be evidence.”
“Evidence?” Her voice rose. “Of what?”
“We’ll get it back to you, I promise. In the meantime, you might consider acquiring another for temporary use.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Thursday, April 24
10:25 A.M.
The news that August Perez was dead of an overdose of ketamine had spread through Faye’s like a California wildfire. It’d been all anyone talked about and as the hours of her shift passed Stephanie had grown more weary of it.
And sadder, as well. She hadn’t known August very well, but he had been a brilliant horseman and a member of their little community.