Free Soul Deep by Pamela Clare Page B

up. “Could they have planned
this? Maybe they reported the weapon stolen, then used it to shoot
Chinook to get back at you. That way, there’d be a record of the
pistol being stolen if it were ever found. They’d be off the
hook.”
    That was an interesting thought.
    The sheriff shot Jack an amused look. “Just
because the gun that was stolen was a forty-five and this slug is a
forty-five doesn’t mean the two are connected in any way.
Forty-five handguns are very common, ma’am.”
    Jack didn’t like Rove’s response. True, Rove
was an old dog, but that was no excuse for dismissing a woman’s
opinion out of hand, especially when that woman was a hell of a lot
smarter than he was. “Ms. Killeen is an FBI special agent.”
    Rove’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
“It’s a good theory, I guess, but that’s giving these fellows
entirely too much credit. I doubt they can chew gum and tie their
boots at the same time, much less come up with a plan like that.
Besides, they cleared off the day before the storm, headed back to
Denver. They wanted to catch a flight home before the snow started
flying.”
    But Janet had gotten Jack thinking. He hadn’t taken the weapon, but that didn’t mean one of his men
hadn’t. What better way to commit a crime than to do it with a
weapon that couldn’t be tied to you?
    Of course, Sheriff Rove was right. The fact
that both weapons had been forty-fives could easily be a
coincidence. Up here, everyone owned at least one.
    The detective put away his camera. “With your
permission, Mr. West, I’d like to interview everyone who was on the
property the day your stallion was shot—family, friends,
employees.”
    Jack had expected as much. “I’ll provide you
with a list of our personnel and arrange for you to speak privately
with each one of them in my office.”
    He hoped Taylor had better luck finding
answers than Chuck had.
    “Thank you.”
    “Boy, I tell you, it sure is a mystery.” The
sheriff shoved both of his hands in his pockets, which was probably
where he kept them most of the time.
    “It can’t be that big of a mystery,” Janet
said. “Either it was an accident, or it was deliberate. If it was
deliberate, then we need to look for motive. Bullets are fired from
weapons held by people who have some reason for pulling the
trigger. It’s not like this bullet came from outer space.”
    Sheriff Rove’s round cheeks turned red, and
he immediately tried to cover his ass. “What I meant was that it’s
a mystery as to why anyone would want to harm such a fine animal.
Normally, we send animal control to respond to these kinds of
calls, but I take a special interest in what happens at the
Cimarron.”
    Maybe it was time for Jack to take a special
interest in county elections and see that they got some new blood
in the sheriff’s office.
    “Chuck, will you see Ms. Killeen safely back
to the house?” Jack turned to Taylor. “If you’ll give me a moment
to get Chinook back into his stall, I’ll walk the sheriff to his
car and then see you get what you need.”
    # # #
    Janet opened her eyes, glanced around. When
had she fallen asleep?
    Someone had draped a throw blanket over her
and set the book she’d been reading—a biography of John Adams—on
the end table, her page bookmarked. That same someone had also
started a fire in the fireplace.
    How kind he was, how thoughtful. With a few
simple gestures, he made her feel cared for, pampered, special.
Byron on his best day couldn’t have managed that.
    Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun
had already set, snowflakes drifting lazily from sky to ground.
She’d been asleep for a while.
    She’d given her statement to Taylor and then
come here to occupy herself while Jack dealt with his men. It had
taken most of the afternoon.
    She pushed aside the blanket, reached for her
cane, and got to her feet, her hip stiff, the muscles of her inner
thighs sore from today’s ride. It had been a long time since