The Marshal's Hostage

Chapter Seven



“You sure Kirby’s up to this?” Joelle asked again.

“Yeah,” Dallas lied.

Kirby was in no shape to be answering questions about Webb’s murder, the knife or anything else, but Dallas knew that his foster father would do it anyway. Kirby would do anything humanly possible to keep any of them from being arrested for the murder of a man who hadn’t deserved to live.

Joelle blew out a deep breath and continued leaning her head against the passenger’s window of his truck. It’s where she’d been leaning it since they’d started the drive from Maverick Springs to his family’s ranch. She’d moved briefly just to hurry inside her hotel room so she could collect her things and change into a skirt and a top.

Better than that peekaboo bathrobe.

She was clearly exhausted, probably hungover from the drugs and the adrenaline crash, but she was nervous, too. Nibbling on her bottom lip and mumbling something about Owen. There wasn’t time for her to rest or even compose herself. Dallas hated to admit it, but with time eating away, he needed all the help he could get.

Especially Joelle’s.

She’d already spent weeks looking into Webb’s murder, and it would waste time they didn’t have for him to go back and recreate what she’d managed to get done. They needed answers, and they needed them fast.

Dallas’s phone rang just as he took the final turn toward Blue Creek ranch. He saw on the screen that the caller was Clayton, probably with an update on what was happening, so he put the call on speaker since Joelle would no doubt want to hear.

“Please tell me you found the gunmen,” Dallas greeted. Because if they found them and tied them back to Owen, they could discredit Owen and the evidence that he’d turned over to Saul Warner.

“Still looking,” Clayton said. “But I thought you’d want to know that Lindsey Downing is here and claiming she had no part in drugging Joelle.”

“She’s lying,” Joelle immediately said.

“Probably,” Clayton continued, “but she’s saying that she merely poured you a drink from the bottle that was in the reception room at the church.”

“She claims there was a bottle of booze just lying around?” Dallas pressed.

“Yep.”

Hell. Dallas wanted to drive back to headquarters and question the woman himself. He could threaten the truth out of her. But he wouldn’t be able to get in the front door.

Saul’s orders.

Dallas couldn’t blame his boss for excluding not just him but all five of his foster brothers from this particular investigation. Having them involved was the textbook definition of conflict of interest. Still, that wouldn’t stop all of them from finding the truth on their own. Even Saul couldn’t fault them for that.

The family was at stake.

“What about the knife?” Dallas asked Clayton. “What did Saul do with it?”

“He’s arranged to have it couriered over to the lab in a few hours. And before you ask, he won’t delay it until tomorrow. He said everything’s got to be aboveboard on this and that with all the interviews he’s doing, two hours is a reasonable amount of time for him to do the lab paperwork.”

Yeah, it did have to be aboveboard because Owen would jump to report them to the governor, the rangers or the FBI if they did anything out of the ordinary. Of course, if Owen did that, he’d also have to explain why he’d withheld potential evidence even for this period of time.

“I figure we’ve got three days at most before the preliminary results are back,” Clayton continued.

Joelle groaned softly. Owen had only given her two days. Hardly enough time to even find a starting point for the rest of the investigation. And that’s why Dallas had had no choice but to turn to Kirby, and he prayed like the devil that his father had a reasonable explanation for that handkerchief wrapped around the knife. While he was praying, he needed to come up with his legal, plausible reason as to why his prints were on a possible murder weapon.

Yeah, they needed a boatload more time.

“Whatever Kirby tells us, we’ll go from there,” Dallas assured his brother. “And call me as soon as Joelle’s lab results are in.”

With that reminder, she glanced down at the crook of her arm, peeled off the bandage that the medic had put in place after drawing a blood sample and pinched the bandage into a little ball. Almost as if she were trying to work out her anger with the motion.

It wouldn’t help.

Joelle probably felt violated. And had been. Now the question was—who was responsible? His money was still on Owen using Lindsey as a lackey, but proving Owen’s guilt was the next step.

“What about the other woman who was at the church with Lindsey?” Dallas asked Clayton. “Has she been brought in yet?”

“Amanda Mathis,” Joelle interjected.

“She’s on her way,” Clayton answered. “I’ll try to hang around to hear what she has to say, but Saul is already trying to boot me out the door. Harlan, too. And he’s already sent Slade and Wyatt to prisoner transport duty.”

Again, not unexpected but a damn inconvenience. Working from the inside out would be a heck of a lot easier than the reverse. Of course, both of those scenarios involved working with Joelle. Not his first choice of investigative partners. Too much old blood between them. Old wounds, too.

And apparently remnants of the attraction.

Nothing would come of it. Dallas was sure of that. He needed his head on this case and not clouded with memories of kisses and sex.

“You still there, Dallas?” Clayton asked.

Dallas snapped his attention back to the conversation and cursed the clouded head he already had.

“Hang in there as long as you can,” Dallas instructed Clayton, and he ended the call.

“Amanda wouldn’t have done this,” Joelle volunteered right away. “She also works for Owen, but unlike Lindsey, she’s a mouse. If he gave the order to one of them, it would have been Lindsey.”

Dallas thought about that while he pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling ranch house. However, he didn’t get out, and Joelle didn’t seem so anxious to do that, either.

“Would Lindsey have done this on her own, without Owen’s order?” Dallas asked.

She paused. “Maybe. Probably,” Joelle amended a moment later. “I believe she’s in love with Owen so who knows—this might have been her way of stopping the ceremony.”

“Does Lindsey know that Owen forced you into this engagement?”

Joelle shook her head. “I doubt Owen shared that with anyone. He would want everyone to believe that I’m marrying him for love.”

Good point. Yeah, Owen’s ego would have insisted on that. “Could Lindsey have been the one to hire those men in the woods?”

Joelle blinked. “Why wouldn’t you believe Owen did that?”

“I do think it was him, but I have to look at this the way my boss will. And Saul will want to know if there was someone other than Owen with means, motive and opportunity to drug you and send out those gunmen.”

She made a sound of agreement, then groaned. “Lindsey fits the bill on all counts. She comes from a wealthy family so she’d have the funds to hire gunmen. She’s also in love with Owen. And hates me. She could have called the goons as soon as you took me out of the church.” But then, Joelle shook her head. “Still, it all goes back to Owen. I mean, why would Lindsey want those men to force me back to the church?”

Unfortunately, Dallas could think of a reason. “Maybe they weren’t instructed to take you to the church. Maybe they were hired to make sure you never married Owen.”

And if so, perhaps they really had orders to kill her.

Of course, there was that part about a dirty little secret. Dallas wanted to ask Joelle if Lindsey would have known anything about that. Or had Owen known? But Joelle had made it pretty clear that particular subject wasn’t up for discussion.

Not now, anyway.

But soon, very soon, Dallas would need to hear it in case it was somehow connected to this mess of an investigation.

“Owen certainly had the means to hire those men,” Joelle continued. “And more.”

Yeah. Dallas was aware of that. Right after he’d finished college, Owen had married the only daughter of one of the richest ranchers in Texas, and both father and daughter had died in a car accident less than a year later. As the sole heir, Owen had inherited the successful ranch along with about twenty million dollars.

That could buy a lot of gunmen.

“You’ve stayed in touch with Owen all these years?” he asked.

“No.” A quick answer, and she made a face as if the idea was an unpleasant one. “He’s called a time or two and dropped by my office once, but I was never interested in seeing or hearing from Owen.”

“Yet he found a way to tangle you in his life.” And tangle in a bad way. In addition to the dirty little secret conversation, Dallas would need to see the evidence Joelle had found that would incriminate the piece of scum who was blackmailing her into marriage.

“It’s a nice place,” Joelle said when Dallas opened his truck door.

Dallas followed her gaze to the white limestone house. It wasn’t a new structure. The ranch had been in Kirby’s family for six generations.

“Most people just describe it as big,” he mumbled. And it seemed to be constantly growing. After Kirby had taken him and his five foster brothers in, he’d added a second floor and expanded the kitchen and living areas.

Joelle got out slowly, and even though she was no longer wobbling when she walked, her steps were tentative. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

Before Dallas could remind her again that they were short on options, the front door opened and Declan stepped onto the porch that stretched across the entire front of the house.

“Joelle,” Declan greeted. He said her name with some disdain. No doubt because of her inquiry that could ultimately burn Kirby.

Dallas frowned, grabbed her overnight bag and joined them. Joelle looked a little hurt by Declan’s frosty welcome, and there was good reason for that. Back at Rocky Creek, she and Declan had always been friendly in a big sister, little brother kind of way. But Dallas really didn’t want her welcomed back with open arms.

“You look good,” Joelle said to Declan. “I’ve missed you.”

That didn’t sit well with Dallas, either, and he didn’t take the bark out of his tone. “We have to talk to Kirby,” he said as he put her bag on the entry floor and pulled off his Stetson. He hung it on its usual hook next to the door.

“Yeah,” Declan acknowledged. “Clayton called and filled me in. Kirby knows, too.”

“And he’s up to seeing us?” Joelle asked.

Declan shook his head and tipped his head for her to follow him inside. “Not really up to it, but he insisted on the visit.”

“Then we’ll keep it short,” she promised.

Declan started toward Kirby’s bedroom at the back of the house. “Is Joelle staying the night?”

“No,” she answered, probably because she felt about as welcome as the flu.

“Yes,” Dallas contradicted. “Until those gunmen are found, she’s staying with one of us.”

Declan didn’t argue with him, though Dallas thought Joelle might.

“I’ll have Loretta fix up the guest room,” his brother commented. “Loretta’s our housekeeper,” Declan added, glancing back at Joelle.

“Loretta Wiggins,” she said as they wound their way through the hall.

“You know her?” Dallas asked, surprised.

Joelle nodded. “When the governor asked me to look into Webb’s death, I asked for background checks on all of you, including your help here at the ranch.”

It made him wonder what else she’d done. And learned. She certainly hadn’t learned anything from his immediate family firsthand but had instead sent her assistant, a pasty-faced lawyer, to interview him and his foster brothers. Maybe because Joelle hadn’t wanted to personally confront what she thought would be a bunch of riled lawmen.

Or maybe she just hadn’t wanted to confront him.

They stopped in front of Kirby’s door, and Declan looked at them. “He’s been out of it most of the day. Asking for Stella again.”

“Stella Doyle?” Joelle immediately asked. “The cook who was at Rocky Creek?”

Declan nodded, then scratched his head. “Didn’t even realize Kirby and Stella knew each other that well, but he wants to see her.”

“One of my people interviewed her,” Joelle offered. “I’m sure we have current contact information.”

Dallas huffed. He already had too much on his plate, but if Kirby wanted the woman to come to the ranch, he’d figure out a way to get her there. As long as Kirby didn’t want to see Stella for some deathbed farewell, that is. He didn’t want Kirby giving up on the treatments.

When Dallas reached for the doorknob, Joelle took several deeps breaths. She opened her mouth, probably to repeat that this wasn’t a good idea, but Dallas opened the door anyway. And there Kirby was on the bed.

Hell.

He looked worse than he had earlier when Dallas left for the church to stop Joelle’s wedding. Kirby opened his eyes. Not without some effort. And he turned his head in their direction. He even managed a watery smile for Joelle’s benefit.

God, it hurt to see him like this. Kirby had always been so strong. A hulk of a man. And now the cancer and the treatments had reduced him to practically a skeleton.

“I’ll get Loretta started on that guest room,” Declan said, excusing himself.

Kirby lifted his hand and motioned for them to come closer. “Tell me about Owen,” he mumbled, and his hand eased back onto the bed.

Dallas wanted to keep this as short as possible because he knew even a simple conversation would be exhausting for Kirby. “Owen claims someone sent him a knife containing Webb’s blood and my prints and that it was wrapped in your handkerchief. He just turned it over to Saul, who’s sending it to the lab.”

“Owen always was a wormy little snake,” Kirby mumbled.

That wasn’t exactly what Dallas wanted to hear. He’d wanted Kirby to say the evidence had to be fake, that there was no way his handkerchief could be wrapped around a murder weapon.

“Saul wouldn’t let me look at the knife,” Dallas continued. “He wants me to stay away from all of this.” He motioned to Joelle. “But she had it tested, and they’re apparently my prints.”

“Dallas could have handled that knife at any time,” Joelle said, her voice a whisper. “And Webb’s killer could have used gloves during the murder so that only Dallas’s prints were the ones on it.”

She stayed back from Kirby’s bed and dodged his gaze when he turned his head in her direction.

What the heck was going on?

Maybe the idea of a dying man bothered her. Well, it bothered him, too, especially when that man was the only father Dallas had ever known.

“Owen’s setting you up?” Kirby asked, his voice already so weak that it barely had any sound.

Joelle nodded.

“He’s blackmailing Joelle to marry him,” Dallas explained when she didn’t say anything. “That won’t stop the knife from being processed.”

Or stop Dallas and maybe others from being arrested.

He walked closer to Kirby. “Look, I know you’re not well enough to leave town, but I want to hire you a good lawyer. One who’ll make sure that no one tries to include you in this mess.”

The corner of Kirby’s mouth lifted. “You’re a good son, Dallas. But let the chips fall where they may.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dallas snapped. “I’m not letting them arrest you, especially for something you didn’t do.”

Again, Kirby didn’t jump to say he was innocent, but Dallas didn’t care. Jonah Webb had been a scum of a man, and no one should be going to jail for stopping him.

Especially Kirby.

“You need to go back to Rocky Creek,” Kirby said several moments later. “Talk with the people who were there the night that Webb disappeared. Look around and see what you can find.”

“Joelle and her people have already done that,” Dallas reminded him. But Dallas did intend to examine all of her notes and statements.

“No,” Kirby said. “You and Joelle go. You talk to them. You look for something that others may have missed.” He drew in a labored breath. “I don’t know what answers you’ll find there, but you’ll find something.”

Yeah. But he damn sure didn’t want to find anything to corroborate that knife and handkerchief.

Kirby lifted his hand again, pointed at Joelle and motioned for her to come closer. She froze for just a split second. But Dallas definitely noticed. He also didn’t miss the uneasy look in her eyes.

Yeah. Something was definitely going on here.

Dallas waited. Watched and listened. Joelle inched her way to Kirby’s bed. When she was close enough, Kirby reached out and took her hand.

“You have to tell him,” Kirby said. “Dallas needs to know.”

“Know what?” Dallas immediately asked.

Joelle shook her head, and now she dodged Dallas’s gaze.

“Yes,” Kirby insisted. “Tell him. No more secrets.”

Secrets. There it was again. That blasted word that Dallas was beginning to hate. One of the gunmen in the woods had said something about a secret, and Joelle hadn’t brushed it off.

Well, she wouldn’t brush it off now.

Dallas took her arm and led her back to the hall so they could talk in private.

“Go easy on her,” Kirby mumbled. “Everything she’s done is because she’s still in love with you. Even a dying man can see that.”

Dallas cursed. In this case the dying man was wrong. The only thing Dallas saw when he looked at Joelle was a woman who’d abandoned him sixteen years ago. She wasn’t keeping secrets for love; she was keeping them, well, he didn’t know why.

Yet.

Dallas practically dragged her from the room, and when he shut Kirby’s door, he got right in her face.

“Start talking,” Dallas demanded. And this time, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.