ambulance doors. “Come on, Landry, you know that’s why we were here this afternoon.”
“First I’m hearin’ about it.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Harlan said, “but let’s get back to the fire. I’m gonna ask you again, where were you when it started?”
“Down at the south stable. Feeding the horses.”
“What about the stable hands?” Callie asked.
“Jonah told me to send ’em home for the weekend. Along with the rest of the staff. I’m the only one stays on the premises 24/7.”
“Why’s that?”
Landry shrugged. “The Pritchards like their privacy. What difference does it make? It is what it is.”
“How late does the staff usually stay?”
“Ranch hands do a six to three, house help seven to four, except for the cook, who preps dinner and is out by eight. But they were all gone by noon today, except for the boys you saw with Jonah. And they cut out right after you left.”
“Why did he send everyone home so early?” Harlan asked.
“Hard as it may be to believe, Jonah Pritchard don’t consult me on such matters. He said send ’em home, I sent ’em home.”
It didn’t take much to figure out why, Callie thought, but even if he knew, Landry would never tell. His loyalty went beyond the boundaries of death. Jonah may be gone, but he still had family with a reputation to uphold—as sketchy as it may already be—and Landry had been indoctrinated long ago.
Speak no evil.
“Okay,” Harlan said. “So you were down at the south stable.”
Landry nodded. “It’s the one closest to the house—the Pritchards’ private stock. Couple of the horses got skittish and I heard shouts, followed by some gunshots. So I figured I’d better get my butt up here. By the time I got to the house, the flames had already started, and when I went inside I saw Jonah on the floor, a pool of blood around his head. No pulse.”
“And what about Gloria?” Callie asked.
“Slumped in a corner, looked like she’d been shot, too, but she was still breathing. I tried to drag her toward the back hallway, but I started choking on the smoke. I was about to pass out, so I figured I’d better get out of there and call for help.”
Neither Callie nor Harlan said anything, and she could see that Harlan was running Landry’s statement through his mind, trying find holes in it.
“And those shouts you heard,” Harlan said. “Right before the gunshots. You know whose they were?”
“Not a clue.”
“Male or female?”
“Both, would be my guess.”
Callie didn’t figure there was much guesswork required. Those voices undoubtedly belonged to Meg Pritchard, Billy Boy Lyman and maybe the third man, who had yet to be identified.
It suddenly occurred to her that they may have misjudged Jonah. Could it be that he had been harboring Meg and her friends against his will? That would explain why he’d come on so strong this afternoon. Maybe he’d had a gun trained on him the whole time.
But then that didn’t really fit, did it? Jonah Pritchard had never been a man who was easily intimidated, and she couldn’t see Meg and a couple of punks forcing him to do much of anything.
Besides, Jonah had always been Meg’s number one apologist. So it seemed more likely that he had welcomed the girl into his home, happy to give her refuge in her time of need, even if she was towing a couple pieces of unwanted baggage along with her.
It looked to Callie as if this was a case of misplaced trust. The question was why had Meg and her friends turned on Jonah? What had gone so horribly wrong?
She doubted Landry would offer any enlightenment. But if anyone could, it was Gloria.
She said to Harlan, “I need to get back to the hospital and talk to Gloria Pritchard.”
She turned to go, but Harlan caught her by the crook of the elbow. “Wait a minute.”
It had been a very long time since Callie had felt his touch, and she was surprised to find that she recognized it. Remembered it.
Was that even possible?
Gentle
“First I’m hearin’ about it.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Harlan said, “but let’s get back to the fire. I’m gonna ask you again, where were you when it started?”
“Down at the south stable. Feeding the horses.”
“What about the stable hands?” Callie asked.
“Jonah told me to send ’em home for the weekend. Along with the rest of the staff. I’m the only one stays on the premises 24/7.”
“Why’s that?”
Landry shrugged. “The Pritchards like their privacy. What difference does it make? It is what it is.”
“How late does the staff usually stay?”
“Ranch hands do a six to three, house help seven to four, except for the cook, who preps dinner and is out by eight. But they were all gone by noon today, except for the boys you saw with Jonah. And they cut out right after you left.”
“Why did he send everyone home so early?” Harlan asked.
“Hard as it may be to believe, Jonah Pritchard don’t consult me on such matters. He said send ’em home, I sent ’em home.”
It didn’t take much to figure out why, Callie thought, but even if he knew, Landry would never tell. His loyalty went beyond the boundaries of death. Jonah may be gone, but he still had family with a reputation to uphold—as sketchy as it may already be—and Landry had been indoctrinated long ago.
Speak no evil.
“Okay,” Harlan said. “So you were down at the south stable.”
Landry nodded. “It’s the one closest to the house—the Pritchards’ private stock. Couple of the horses got skittish and I heard shouts, followed by some gunshots. So I figured I’d better get my butt up here. By the time I got to the house, the flames had already started, and when I went inside I saw Jonah on the floor, a pool of blood around his head. No pulse.”
“And what about Gloria?” Callie asked.
“Slumped in a corner, looked like she’d been shot, too, but she was still breathing. I tried to drag her toward the back hallway, but I started choking on the smoke. I was about to pass out, so I figured I’d better get out of there and call for help.”
Neither Callie nor Harlan said anything, and she could see that Harlan was running Landry’s statement through his mind, trying find holes in it.
“And those shouts you heard,” Harlan said. “Right before the gunshots. You know whose they were?”
“Not a clue.”
“Male or female?”
“Both, would be my guess.”
Callie didn’t figure there was much guesswork required. Those voices undoubtedly belonged to Meg Pritchard, Billy Boy Lyman and maybe the third man, who had yet to be identified.
It suddenly occurred to her that they may have misjudged Jonah. Could it be that he had been harboring Meg and her friends against his will? That would explain why he’d come on so strong this afternoon. Maybe he’d had a gun trained on him the whole time.
But then that didn’t really fit, did it? Jonah Pritchard had never been a man who was easily intimidated, and she couldn’t see Meg and a couple of punks forcing him to do much of anything.
Besides, Jonah had always been Meg’s number one apologist. So it seemed more likely that he had welcomed the girl into his home, happy to give her refuge in her time of need, even if she was towing a couple pieces of unwanted baggage along with her.
It looked to Callie as if this was a case of misplaced trust. The question was why had Meg and her friends turned on Jonah? What had gone so horribly wrong?
She doubted Landry would offer any enlightenment. But if anyone could, it was Gloria.
She said to Harlan, “I need to get back to the hospital and talk to Gloria Pritchard.”
She turned to go, but Harlan caught her by the crook of the elbow. “Wait a minute.”
It had been a very long time since Callie had felt his touch, and she was surprised to find that she recognized it. Remembered it.
Was that even possible?
Gentle
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