Her Broken Wings by D.K. Hood
Nineteen
Thursday morning
The sun had just peeked over the horizon as Kane leaned on the fence surrounding the corral. He smiled at the horses racing around snorting with their ears pricked. At last the sky was clear for miles and he could turn out the horses during the day to enjoy the lush green grass. He stared into the distance, feasting on the view. It was so darn good to see the mountains again. When Jenna walked up beside him with straw caught in her hair, he grinned at her and plucked it out. “Thanks for helping with the horses.”
“They’re my horses as well.” She yawned. “Getting up to work out and then muck out the stables before we leave is a pain when we have murder cases as well.” She turned and headed toward the house. “You’ve been carrying me far too long.”
He chuckled and fell into stride beside her. “You help me tend them every night, and I did say I’d do the chores if we could have them in the first place.”
“Hmm, but we’ll be missing the autopsies on the Stanton Forest victims if we don’t get a move on.” Jenna glanced at her watch. “Can you shower and fix breakfast in time? I told Wolfe we’d be there before nine.”
Kane whistled for Duke and turned toward his cottage. “Sure, and I’ll drive real fast with lights and sirens if we’re late.” He smirked at her and jogged along the path.
Over breakfast, he allowed the case to filter into his mind. “As far as I’m aware, Wolfe will have started the autopsies already. With two to cover, he’ll be using Webber as a law enforcement witness.” He lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth. “We could interview the hair stylist at the beauty parlor and then drop by the ME’s office for Wolfe’s findings.”
“Yeah, we could cut a few corners, but then I’m not there to ask questions.” Jenna frowned. “I know you take the majority of evidence from the crime scene but I believe the victims still have something to tell us.”
“Sure.” Kane stood, collected the plates, and scraped the uneaten eggs into Duke’s bowl. The dog had cleaned them up before Kane had loaded the dishwasher. “Need more coffee?”
“No, thanks, I’m good.” Jenna pushed to her feet, rounded the table, and added her cup to the dishwasher. “We’ll speak to the hair stylist later. What was her name?”
“Ann Turner.” Kane strapped on his duty belt and then pushed on his hat. “Ready?”
“Yep.” Jenna slipped her phone into her pocket. “Is Duke coming?”
Kane headed to the door, snagging his jacket on the way, with Duke hot on his heels. “It’s not raining so he’ll stick to us like glue. I guess he’ll be able to wait in Shane’s office during the autopsies. I don’t think we’ll have time to drop by the sheriff’s department.”
“He’ll be fine—Wolfe, I mean.” Jenna headed toward Kane’s truck. “It’s not like it’s a sterile area. Duke will probably sleep the whole time.”
Kane opened the back door of his truck, lifted Duke inside and then went about attaching his harness. “Although, he might start to howl if he smells the corpses.”
“Oh, that would make the news. I can see the headlines now.” Jenna jumped into the passenger seat and turned to grin at him. “Ghostly howling heard at local morgue over Halloween.”
“Can you imagine Shane’s TV interview?” Kane started the engine and headed down the driveway. “Mr. Wolfe, have you been howling at the moon lately?” He chuckled. “Oh, don’t mention any of this or he’ll get his I-just-bit-into-a-lemon face.” They turned onto the highway.
“I won’t mention a word.” Jenna’s bright demeanor faded as her phone chimed. “It’s Rowley, I’ll put him on speaker. Morning, is there a problem?”
“No, ma’am. As you’re heading straight to the ME’s office, I thought you’d like me to bring you up to speed with the suspect I interviewed yesterday, Ian Clark.” Rowley’s enthusiastic voice came through the speaker. “He has an alibi for the Robinson murder. I checked it out on the way in this morning and the mortician confirmed he was with him, preparing a body for burial for three hours that evening, and never left the parlor.”
“Okay, we can take him off our list. Thanks for letting me know.” Jenna leaned back in her seat and looked at Kane. “One down. Hey, is that ice?” She pointed to glossy patches on the blacktop.
“It sure looks like it.” Kane slowed to maneuver around them. He’d hoped the morning frost would’ve melted by now. “The temperature is dropping fast and the rain-soaked blacktop hasn’t had time to dry.”
The next moment a black cat dashed across the road, its coat spiky and damp. Kane slammed on the brakes, barely missing it. The back wheels of his truck hit an ice patch and they fishtailed so close to the ditch alongside the road, the front wheels crashed through the dried bushes before he regained control. He stopped inches from the edge of the ditch. “Where did that come from? There isn’t another occupied ranch here for miles.” He peered out the window but the cat had vanished into the undergrowth.
“Oh Lord, we didn’t need any more bad luck.” Jenna’s attention had fixed on the clump of trees. “There was a cat sitting on the gatepost of the Old Mitcham Ranch last time I went by and it probably belongs to one of the contractors working there. It can’t belong to the snowplow guy, he’s in Florida, and he wouldn’t leave a cat unattended.”
When Duke barked and let out a howl, the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stood to attention. He started back along the highway. “I didn’t expect that reaction from Duke, but then I don’t recall running into a cat with him lately.” He glanced at Jenna. “You don’t really believe black cats are bad luck, do you?”
“I guess not.” Jenna cleared her throat. “I had a neighbor who owned a Bombay. Its coat was glossy black and it had amazing copper eyes. It was a lovely cat. I cared for it for a time after her house burned down.” She sighed. “Poor woman lost everything but that cat.”
Kane looked at her before pulling back onto the road. “So maybe not so lucky, huh?”
The moment they turned onto Main Street, Kane slowed to a crawl. The ice-covered blacktop glistened in the sunlight, and two rear-end accidents blocked the way. A crowd had gathered among the bedraggled Halloween bunting on the sidewalk, their faces obscured by the scarves and hats they wore to keep out the bitterly cold air. He pulled to the curb and stared into the distance. “They look like minor collisions.”
“Dammit. More delays.” Jenna slipped from the truck. “I’ll call Rowley. He’ll have to deal with them. Go check to make sure everyone is okay. We’ll have to take the backroads or we’ll miss the autopsies.” She sighed. “I’ll get someone out here to brine the roads as well.”
The chill shuddered through Kane’s head the moment he stepped from the truck. The temperature had dropped considerably in the short drive from Jenna’s ranch and the metal plate in his head, the result of a car bombing, caused severe headaches in winter. He ducked back inside the cab, dragged his woolen cap from between the front seats and pulled it on, leaving his Stetson on the seat. He pulled up his hood and ground his teeth against the threatening pain. His boots crunched on the patches of ice as he made his way to the first collision. “Are you injured, ma’am?” He peered into the vehicle.
When the young woman shook her head, he nodded and moved on to the next vehicle. Underfoot the blacktop was treacherous and his feet slipped with each step. After checking each of the people involved, he slipped and slid his way back to Jenna. “No injuries this time. The sudden drop in temperature has covered this end of Main with black ice. The other end of Main should be clear, the sun is already on that part of town. Here the blacktop is in the shade.”
“Brine spreaders are on their way.” Jenna moved out into the middle of the road and directed traffic toward Ronan Road. “We’ll need to keep the traffic flowing so the brine spreader can get through.” She glanced at him. “You’re as pale as a ghost. Headache?”
Kane winced. She could read him like a book. “Yeah, I’ll take some pills, as soon as we get to the ME’s office.”
“No, you won’t.” She frowned at him. “You’ll take them now. Rowley is picking up Deputy Walters and he can handle the traffic. Rowley will file the accident reports. You can wait in the truck.” She turned away and walked down the center line, the yellow sheriff’s logo splashed across the front and back of her winter uniform giving the oncoming traffic no doubt as to who was in charge.