second, Deputy Pritney just came in. Would you like to speak to her?”
“I think I should speak to Deputy Rollins. He’s the one who’s been working with me.”
“Deputy Pritney and Deputy Rollins work cases together. Hold on, I’ll get her for you.”
After a couple of beats, Pritney’s voice came over the line. “Hello, Miss O’Neil. How can I help you?”
“I was just wondering if there’s anything new in the investigation of my brother’s death.”
“It’s ongoing.” Pritney’s voice was cool, the words crisp. “Have you remembered something?”
What the hell was the attitude about? Frankie could almost sense the statuesque, raven-haired woman rolling her eyes at the phone. “No, I haven’t. But Deputy Rollins told me I could call for updates.”
“Okey dokey. I’ll let Nick know you called.” Pritney’s voice lingered on her partner’s first name, the implied message clear regarding their relationship. “One of us’ll be in touch if anything important comes to light. Bye now.” The deputy hung up with a dismissive click.
Other than Pritney’s physical appearance and suspicious demeanor, Frankie barely remembered her from their sole encounter at Kate’s. Had she committed some kind of chain-of-command faux pas by telling the operator she preferred to speak with Deputy Rollins?
She pulled a couple of cans of sugar-free fruit cocktail, pears, and peach slices from the market shelf and slipped them into her shopping cart. She reached for a can of cherry pie filling just as her cell phone rang. She tapped her ear bud and answered.
“Hello, Miss O’Neil,” Nick Rollins said. “Dispatch said you called.”
“Yes. Deputy Pritney said there’s been no progress in the investigation?”
Frankie placed her items onto the conveyor belt at the checkout. The canned fruit was more expensive than she’d realized. She’d have to cut something else from her budget this month. Damn.
A young man she assumed to be a market employee motioned that he would carry the shopping bags to her car. She absently nodded agreement.
“We’ve had no response to the all points,” Rollins was saying. “We questioned the locals, but no one admits to seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary. We haven’t found a weapon or any other evidence that might help find the men you said followed you.”
“The men I said followed us?” Frankie’s voice rose in pitch. Why did everything that came out of the deputy’s mouth irritate her?
Seemingly unaware of the sudden tension in Frankie’s voice, the young man placed the bags in the back seat of Tim’s car. He closed the door, smiled, and raised his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. But instead of returning to the market, he walked to an old banged-up Mercedes parked several spaces away and got in.
“We found footprints around your cabin, so we know at least two people other than the dead hunter spent some time wandering around there—”
“Right.” Cutting off what she knew Rollins was about to say, Frankie’s voice shot from her mouth as if fired from a howitzer. “Like I said…they were waiting for us.”
“Miss O’Neil, it’s hunting season, and your cabin sits right up against federally held land. That’s a popular hunting area.”
“I don’t believe this. Are you really trying to convince me my brother’s death was just some hunting accident, like that other poor man? These guys followed us all the way from Albuquerque. They shot at us and then stood around our cabin waiting for us to show up. Does that sound like an accident?”
“Look, we should talk about this in person. I could either make a trip in to town or we could meet somewhere.”
Frankie forced herself to take a deep breath so she wouldn’t shout her next words into the deputy’s ear. “I’ll be in Eagle Nest tomorrow to return Kate’s clothes.”
“I’ll be in that area as well, maybe we could meet at the café.”
“Fine. I’ll see you at noon.”
Learning to Kill: Stories