Wyoming Brave (Wyoming Men #6)

“Don’t feel bad,” Cash said. “Anybody can slip up once. We’ve got a BOLO out for your limo driver,” he added coldly. “We’ll find him.”

“He set her up, didn’t he?” Sari asked, still disbelieving what had happened.

“Yes. From the info we’ve gathered from eyewitnesses, he parked the limo in a spot where it could easily be broadsided by a speeding vehicle, got out, called somebody and walked away just before the impact.”

“The other vehicle...?”

“A 1996 Dodge Ram truck, stolen of course. The driver dived out in the nick of time. He conveniently disappeared.”

“Of course.”

“We’re checking area hospitals for a man with a lot of bruises, and possibly broken bones,” Cash continued. “Just between us, this guy is too smart to be caught that way.”

“That’s what we’ve been told.”

“I believe your houseguest knows something about the contract killer,” Cash added. “Can I come over and talk to him again?”

Sari managed to smile. “Of course. Come on out to the house anytime you like.”

“Thanks. We’ll wait until you have some news first, though,” he added. He cocked his head. “It’s mostly the bruising they’ll have to monitor,” he told her. “When Tippy was beaten by her stepfather in New York, she was in the hospital for several days. She had bruised lungs. They put her on antibiotics. She did fine. Merrie will, too.”

Sari nodded. “Thanks.”

“I wanted to...just a sec.” His cell phone was vibrating. He stood up, pushed the button and listened, and replied with a grim expression on his face. He put the phone back in its holder. “They just found a body out on the Victoria Road.”

“Let me guess. Was he tall and silver-haired and called himself Mr. Jones?” she asked wearily.

He raised both eyebrows. “You’re good. Ever thought about getting a job as an assistant district attorney?”

“If I weren’t so miserable, I’d laugh,” she said with a faint smile. “So I guess there’s no way to question him about who hired him.”

“Or where his boss went,” Cash agreed. “Well, he might have something on him that would give us a clue.”

“How was he killed?” she asked.

“Double tap,” Cash replied. “Execution-style. First rule of assassination. Kill the assassin.”

She just nodded. She drew in a breath. “Oh, I wish time went faster,” she moaned.

“When you’re my age, you won’t be wishing that,” he said with twinkling eyes. Paul came down the hall with two cups of coffee. “Hey, chief,” he said when he saw Cash. “Want a cup? I can go back.”

Cash made a face. “I am a connoisseur of fine coffee. We have a nice little hospital, but that vending machine should be arrested for counterfeiting caffeine products.”

Paul smiled. “I want to watch you try to handcuff it.”

“It’s not as bad as that poor soft drink machine over in Palo Verde that Garon Grier told me about.”

Paul lifted both eyebrows.

Cash chuckled. “Happened before he and Grace married. It seems that the machine had a habit of taking money and not giving out soft drinks. So it was accidentally hit with a baseball bat—several times.” He held up a hand when Paul started to ask how somebody could accidentally hit a vending machine with a bat. He smiled broadly, then continued. “Garon didn’t inquire about the perp, but I’d bet money that he was wearing a uniform at the time.”

Paul laughed in spite of himself. “I had a vacuum cleaner once that met with the same sort of accident.”

“So did I,” Cash replied with a grin. “Kindred spirits.”

“I shot mine.”

“I stomped mine,” Cash said.

“Feeling better, sweetheart?” Paul asked Sari, who was holding the cup of hot coffee against her temple.

“Not a lot, no,” she said miserably. “I didn’t bring my migraine capsules with me today, either.”

“I’ll call Mandy and have her send them over with one of the Avengers.” Paul stepped away for a moment to place the call.

“I’ve never had a migraine,” Cash said, sobering, “but I know people who do. Tough luck, counselor.”

“Story of my life,” she replied, wincing. “They get closer together, and worse, when I’m under pressure.”

Paul came back. “Mandy’s sending them over with Barton,” she said.

“Thanks, honey,” she said, squeezing the hand he put on her shoulder.

“I’ll get back to work,” Cash said. “It goes without saying that if Tippy and I can help, we will, even if it’s just sitting up with Merrie while she’s recovering.”

“Thanks,” Sari said. “I mean that.”

He shrugged. “We have to look out for each other. It’s one of the really great things about small towns.” He looked at Paul. “You weren’t here when I told her,” he indicated Sari. “We found Mr. Jones in a ditch near the city limits sign on Victoria Road.”

“Dead, right?” Paul asked curtly.

“Very dead. We’re backtracking on the truck right now. It’s a rental. The killer left the rental sheet in the glove compartment. Sloppy.”

“Maybe he wasn’t the contract man.”

“You mean, maybe he subcontracted the job?” Cash asked. “Well, it would be a novel approach.”

Diana Palmer's books