“No question of it,” Cora agreed. “Bodine, you’ll need to block off two cabins so we’ll have them if needed. And choose a driver for them.”
“I’ve blocked the cabins already.” She had an agenda, tried to organize what could and should be done. “For a driver—while they might rent cars, I think one of us should be available for driving them wherever they need to go. I think we should do that rather than one of the staff.”
“That’s a good thought,” Maureen told her. “We also have to tend to our resort family. Billy Jean…” Tears swam into her eyes so she took a moment to settle the ones that rose to her throat. “She was well liked. Such an outgoing girl. We need to address, and soon, the grief and the shock, and the fear, too. We don’t know what happened yet, but people are going to be speculating and worrying on top of mourning one of our own.”
“I think we should bring in a grief counselor.”
At Rory’s suggestion, Chase turned his head, stared.
“I don’t see people wanting to talk about all this with some stranger.”
“You wouldn’t,” Rory agreed. “And other stoics wouldn’t. But some would, more than you might think. We’re a company, and as a company, we should offer counseling to our employees.”
“I may be of Chase’s mind about talking things through with some counselor,” Sam began, “but I can see Rory’s point here. We should find somebody who has a good reputation for this, and provide it. People can decide for themselves on it.”
“I’ll look into it.” Doing so was already on Bodine’s list.
“No.” Cora shook her head at Bodine. “You’re going to have enough on your plate. I can find the right person for this.”
“I’m not being cold or callous.” Rory scowled into his coffee. “And I’m as pissed off as I am sad. I still can’t get my head around it, and I’m not sure I will even when we find out what the hell happened. But we’ve got to think about a press release, how we answer reporters, not to mention how we answer guests.”
“I’m working on it,” Bodine assured him. “Until we know what happened, it’s best we say the truth first. We’re all shocked and grieving over the loss of one of our own. And we’re cooperating fully with the investigation. There’s just not much else to say at this point.”
“I can talk to some of the staff. Nana’s right,” Rory continued, “about you having so much on your plate.”
He’d know what to say, Bodine thought. And he’d know when to just listen. Rory had such heart and the ability to read what a person needed often before that person knew themselves.
“That’d be helpful. As this goes along, Jessica and I will refine official statements, and work out what everyone—not just us, but everyone—should say to guests, to reporters. You could help with that, too, Rory.”
“Why her?” Chase asked. “Why Jessica? She’s events, isn’t she?”
“Because she’s smart and she understands perceptions. She stays calm and on message, but she knows how to adjust when circumstances change.”
Bodine sat cross-legged on the floor, looked up at him and his doubtful frown. “Have you got a better pick for it?”
“I don’t see why you’d want somebody who barely knew Billy Jean, and works on parties. But it’s your decision.” He moved his shoulders.
“That’s right.”
“Dad and I have to settle down the ranch hands. It doesn’t make sense.” Anger eked through. “It just doesn’t make any damn sense why someone would go at her that way.”
“We don’t know that’s what happened.” Bodine held up a hand before Chase could bite at her. “I think it has to be what happened, but we don’t know. Until we do, you have to tell everyone at the ranch the same as we’re telling everyone at the resort.”
He stared at her until the hot anger in his eyes cooled. “It had to be an awful thing for you, finding her like that. I’m glad you weren’t alone when you did.”
Because the image of Billy Jean’s body flashed into her mind, Bodine only shook her head and looked away. At a knock on the door, she rose quickly. “I’ve got it.”
She opened the door to find Sheriff Tate dutifully wiping his boots on the mat.
“Bodine, how are you doing, honey?”
Bob Tate had a robust build and a weathered, ruddy face. She’d known him all of her life, as he was friendly with her parents and liked to tease he’d kissed her mother once before her father got up the gumption.
“It’s a terrible day. A hard, terrible day.”
“I know it.” He gave her a quick hug, then a pat on the back. “I stopped in over at the office, and that pretty blonde from out East said you and your family were all over here. I’m going to need to talk to you, honey.”
“I know. Let me take your coat.”
“Don’t you worry about it.” He stepped into the living room. “Miss Fancy, Mrs. Bodine.” He took off his hat. “I’m sorry to have to come into your home like this.”
“You’re always welcome here, Bob.” Cora rose first. “I’ll get you some coffee.”
“I’d sure be grateful for it. Maureen, Sam, boys.”
“Rory, get Sheriff Tate a chair.” Miss Fancy gestured toward her daughter’s bedroom. “How’s Lolly doing?”
“She’s got me on a diet.” He smiled as he said it, eyes crinkling. “A man could starve to death in his own house. Thank you, Rory.”
He sat in the chair Rory carried out, puffed out a breath.
“What can you tell us?” Sam asked.
“The fact is, I can’t tell you much right now. We’re doing all we need to do, and I can’t speak frankly on that. I need to ask Bodine some questions.”
Cora stopped on her way back from the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. “Do you need us to leave?”
“No, ma’am, no, there’s no need. It could be, as you all knew Billy Jean, you may have something to say that might add to the picture. But, Bodine, you’re the one who found her. Along with Cal Skinner.”
“Yes, sir. We were riding to work together—horseback,” she qualified. Though, of course, he knew.
“You took a roundabout way. Cal suggested that?”
“No. I did. I had the lead.”
He lifted his eyebrows, but nodded.
She gave him the details, as she had to Garrett Clintok. Tate stopped her when she got to Billy Jean’s phone.
Nodding, Tate flipped through a little notebook. “Cal suggested you try to call her.”
“No. When I saw her purse was in the car, I got worried, so I called her cell. She doesn’t have a landline. And I heard her ringtone. About the same time, Cal said for me to come around the car and look. And we saw her phone on the ground, and that torn-up path through the snow. Then I saw her, and I tried to run over to where she was lying in the snow. I thought she was hurt, I tried to tell myself that, but the truth was I could see—anybody could see—it was too late. Callen stopped me, held me back.”