again.
From the other side of the glass, Noah grinned at him, a reminder of just what was at stake here.
“I want a copy of those surveillance disks,” Lucky requested.
“I figured you would. And I thought about how many different ways to tell you no. You’re no longer a cop, Lucky. I can’t give you official authorization to see them.”
Lucky cursed. “Then I hope you’ve worked out a way to do it unofficially because I need those disks. Someone tried to kill me, and I want to know who.”
Cal groaned heavily enough for Lucky to hear it. “And that’s how I’m going to get around the official part. A set of the disks are already on the way to the local sheriff there in Willow Ridge. He’ll bring them out to you so you can view them as a witness looking for anything that you would consider suspicious.”
Lucky released the breath that he didn’t even know he’d been holding. “Thanks, Cal. I owe you.”
“Yeah. You do. You can repay me by finding our unknown suspect on those disks.” And with that assignment, Cal hung up.
Lucky didn’t waste any time. He went back into the sunroom so he could question Helen about Dexter. So far, she was the only person who seemed to want to talk about Marin’s brother. But when Lucky saw Marin’s face, he immediately knew his questions about Dexter would have to wait.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He hadn’t thought it possible, but she was even paler than she had been when they first arrived.
Marin exchanged an uneasy glance with her grandmother, who still had Noah in her arms. “There was a message left for me.” She pointed to the phone on a wicker coffee table.
“It’s a private line,” Helen supplied, taking up the explanation. “Lois didn’t have the line taken out when Marin moved. And since no one other than the cleaning lady ever goes out here, we didn’t notice the message until just now.”
Since this “message” had obviously upset both women, Lucky went to the phone and pressed the play button. It took a couple of seconds to work through Marin’s old recorded greeting and the date and time of the call. Two days earlier at nine fifty-three in the morning. About the same time Marin had been on the train en route to Willow Ridge.
The answering machine continued, and a man’s rusty voice poured through the sunroom. “Marin Sheppard, this is Grady Duran.”
The very person who’d hounded Marin when she first moved to Dallas–Fort Worth.
“I’m tired of waiting for you to get chatty about Dexter,” Duran continued. “And I’m tired of warning you of what could happen if you don’t tell me where your brother is. My number will be on your caller ID. Get in touch with me. That’s not a suggestion. Keep ignoring me, and you’ll regret it.”
Lucky felt the inevitable slam of anger. How dare this SOB threaten Marin, especially after everything she’d been through. But then, something else occurred to him.
Had Grady Duran been the one to set that explosive?
Lucky couldn’t immediately see a motive for that, since Duran would want Marin alive. Well, alive until he got the info about Dexter’s whereabouts. But maybe the explosion had been meant to scare her.
If so, it’d worked.
“Has Grady Duran ever been here at the ranch?” he asked Helen and Marin.
Marin shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Helen echoed the same.
Lucky took out his wallet, fished out the dog-eared photo and handed it to Helen. “Does he look familiar?”
Helen brought it closer to her face and studied the picture. Marin leaned in and looked at it, as well. Lucky had already studied it so long that he’d memorized every little detail. Kinley had sent it to him just a month before she was murdered.
The last picture taken of her.
Kinley was smiling, as usual. It was a victory photo of sorts, she’d said in her brief e-mail to Lucky. An office party to celebrate her boss getting a new research contract, which meant she’d be employed at least
From the other side of the glass, Noah grinned at him, a reminder of just what was at stake here.
“I want a copy of those surveillance disks,” Lucky requested.
“I figured you would. And I thought about how many different ways to tell you no. You’re no longer a cop, Lucky. I can’t give you official authorization to see them.”
Lucky cursed. “Then I hope you’ve worked out a way to do it unofficially because I need those disks. Someone tried to kill me, and I want to know who.”
Cal groaned heavily enough for Lucky to hear it. “And that’s how I’m going to get around the official part. A set of the disks are already on the way to the local sheriff there in Willow Ridge. He’ll bring them out to you so you can view them as a witness looking for anything that you would consider suspicious.”
Lucky released the breath that he didn’t even know he’d been holding. “Thanks, Cal. I owe you.”
“Yeah. You do. You can repay me by finding our unknown suspect on those disks.” And with that assignment, Cal hung up.
Lucky didn’t waste any time. He went back into the sunroom so he could question Helen about Dexter. So far, she was the only person who seemed to want to talk about Marin’s brother. But when Lucky saw Marin’s face, he immediately knew his questions about Dexter would have to wait.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He hadn’t thought it possible, but she was even paler than she had been when they first arrived.
Marin exchanged an uneasy glance with her grandmother, who still had Noah in her arms. “There was a message left for me.” She pointed to the phone on a wicker coffee table.
“It’s a private line,” Helen supplied, taking up the explanation. “Lois didn’t have the line taken out when Marin moved. And since no one other than the cleaning lady ever goes out here, we didn’t notice the message until just now.”
Since this “message” had obviously upset both women, Lucky went to the phone and pressed the play button. It took a couple of seconds to work through Marin’s old recorded greeting and the date and time of the call. Two days earlier at nine fifty-three in the morning. About the same time Marin had been on the train en route to Willow Ridge.
The answering machine continued, and a man’s rusty voice poured through the sunroom. “Marin Sheppard, this is Grady Duran.”
The very person who’d hounded Marin when she first moved to Dallas–Fort Worth.
“I’m tired of waiting for you to get chatty about Dexter,” Duran continued. “And I’m tired of warning you of what could happen if you don’t tell me where your brother is. My number will be on your caller ID. Get in touch with me. That’s not a suggestion. Keep ignoring me, and you’ll regret it.”
Lucky felt the inevitable slam of anger. How dare this SOB threaten Marin, especially after everything she’d been through. But then, something else occurred to him.
Had Grady Duran been the one to set that explosive?
Lucky couldn’t immediately see a motive for that, since Duran would want Marin alive. Well, alive until he got the info about Dexter’s whereabouts. But maybe the explosion had been meant to scare her.
If so, it’d worked.
“Has Grady Duran ever been here at the ranch?” he asked Helen and Marin.
Marin shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Helen echoed the same.
Lucky took out his wallet, fished out the dog-eared photo and handed it to Helen. “Does he look familiar?”
Helen brought it closer to her face and studied the picture. Marin leaned in and looked at it, as well. Lucky had already studied it so long that he’d memorized every little detail. Kinley had sent it to him just a month before she was murdered.
The last picture taken of her.
Kinley was smiling, as usual. It was a victory photo of sorts, she’d said in her brief e-mail to Lucky. An office party to celebrate her boss getting a new research contract, which meant she’d be employed at least
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