Free Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) by Susan Vaughan

freckled face beneath a mane of auburn hair was unlined.
Not as slim as a high-school girl, but sturdy and strong as befit ranch life.
    “Irene, you haven’t changed a bit.” He held her away
from him. “Still as pretty as when you were leading cheers. You still barrel
racing?”
    “Not me,” the woman replied. “But you should see our
daughter Ginny’s blue ribbons.”
    Holt itched to get to the point but forced himself to
make small talk, introducing Maddy and the baby. “Maddy’s a family...friend.
She’s staying awhile to help out with little Bobby. Like a nanny, sort of.”
    Shit, that sounded lame. He could see amusement in
Maddy’s wry expression. He figured Irene knew about Maddy and Rob but she said
nothing.
    The Harpers cooed over Bobby, and Irene dabbed at her
eyes. “Such a tragedy for this poor little one,” she said. “Thank God you’re
here for him.”
    Nice segue into where Holt wanted to go. He readied
his opening as the Harpers invited him and Maddy into the house for lemonade
and Irene’s homemade gingersnaps. But once they were all settled in the kitchen
around the trestle table, he felt awkward about his purpose in the midst of
such hospitality. The Harpers didn’t make it easier, waiting quietly with their
frosty glasses.
    “Mighty good cookies, Irene.” Maddy bounced Bobby on
her knee. “We, um, Holt didn’t expect you’d go to such trouble. Right, Holt?”
Her gaze worked like a cattle prod to spur him to action.
    “Right. Thanks, Irene.” He jammed his hat on his knee
and set down his glass. “You folks are right. Rob’s and Sara’s deaths are a
tragedy. But not an accident.”
    Greg’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth. “What are
you saying? I thought it was a blown tire from a stray bullet.”
    Holt sketched out what he knew about the crash,
explained he was supplementing the sheriff’s overstretched office, and eased
into his purpose for visiting. He stressed he was talking to all the ranchers
so the Harpers didn’t take his questions as accusations.
    While he talked, half of his awareness was on Maddy as
she rocked Bobby in her lap. A set of colorful plastic keys held the baby’s
gaze. Having her present seemed to soften the purpose of the visit so these
folks didn’t feel threatened.
    “Murder,” Irene murmured, her eyes wide, when he
finished.
    “Do you know of anybody who had a grudge against my
brother or his wife? Maybe one of your hands had a run-in with Rob?” Holt
gripped his hat so tightly against his knee he crushed the crown. He smoothed
it and pulled a notepad and a pen from his shirt pocket.
    “A grudge? For goodness sakes, no. Two young people in
love, with a baby?” She shook her head in vigorous denial such an evil deed was
possible.
    Greg’s expression was more circumspect. “I don’t know
of anything specific, but now and again I heard talk of Rob’s short fuse
causing rifts.”
    “Like what exactly?”
    As if feeling the tension in his uncle, Bobby began to
fuss. Irene took the squirming infant, and the change immediately quieted him.
He cooed at the new person holding him.
    “Was it about the ranch?” Maddy asked softly. “Or his
wife?”
    “Rob was very protective of Sara,” Greg said, his
words measured. “He hovered. Kept the reins tight whenever they went out.
Didn’t like it when other guys talked to her. Like that. I can see where his
over-protectiveness could’ve riled a few.”
    Holt glanced at Maddy with new eyes. He’d asked her
along as another set of eyes and ears but didn’t count on such insight. Having
a partner in this mess felt good. But it was business, only business. Maybe if
he reminded himself often enough, he might actually believe it.
    Irene huffed. “Over-protectiveness? Not exactly. More
like jealousy and control. Sara was a meek little thing. She didn’t seem to
mind Rob’s hovering, but maybe she would have down the road. I liked him, but he
needed to learn that wives are partners, not