he said. “And lots of it.”
* * *
Owen watched the color drain out of Ella’s face until her freckles stood out in stark relief against her milk white skin. Shock, he recognized. He’d seen it in the faces of his marine brothers when they’d taken a round, the befuddled look of a body trying to process that it had just been shot. He grabbed her hand and she let him, fingers small though calloused and tough from her work as a farrier. “Ella,” he said quietly. “You’re not talking anymore until there’s a lawyer present.”
“A lawyer?” she repeated dully. “Owen, I didn’t do anything to Luke. He’s my friend.”
“A friend you borrowed money from?” Larraby asked.
Her face went from cream to plum. “I...yes. I did.” She looked at the floor. “He offered to loan me five hundred dollars to have Betsy’s wheelchair fixed. I was going to pay him back by the end of the month.”
Oddly, Owen felt a twist of jealousy. She hadn’t come to him for a loan? She’d gone to some other guy when it was his duty to Ray to help her in any way he could? Duty. Maybe she didn’t want to be anybody’s duty, wanted to stand on her own two feet just as badly as he did. Still, he wanted to snap at her to keep away from the spoiled, soft-handed Luke Baker.
“Mr. Reed said Baker complained that he wanted the money repaid and you weren’t cooperating,” Larraby said.
“Bruce Reed is lying,” she spat, irises sparking.
Larraby wrinkled his nose and raised an eyebrow. “Have you been drinking, Miss Cahill?”
“No,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “I already explained that.”
He pursed his lips. “Okay. Would you mind letting me take a look at your vehicle?”
“Got a warrant?” Owen said. “Otherwise she doesn’t have to show you squat.”
Larraby’s look was poisonous. He and Owen’s youngest brother, Keegan, were biological half siblings, though their father would not acknowledge Keegan. Owen’s parents adopted Keegan at age sixteen. Bad blood boiled between Larraby and Keegan, and spilled over into the rest of the Thorn family. Probably always would.
“Of course you can see my van,” Ella said, stepping inside to snatch her keys off the table. “Here’s my spare set.”
“Ella,” Owen said, pulling her close and talking low, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Everything in him was screaming a danger message, loud as the whine of an incoming rocket. “Don’t.” But she was already pushing away, following Larraby to the back of the house to the carport.
Larraby strolled around the vehicle slowly, examining every inch of the white metal exterior. He gestured to the driver’s-side door handle. “May I?”
“Yes,” she said.
“No,” Owen replied at the same moment.
Larraby gave Owen the whisper of a smile. You lose, it said.
Above all things, Owen detested losing, always had.
And Larraby knew it.
Larraby unlocked the door with the key and swung it open, bending to peer inside. After a moment he straightened.
“See?” Ella said with a sigh of relief. “I don’t have Luke bound and gagged in my van, okay? I will do everything I can to help you find him, but I did not harm him in any way.”
Larraby nodded. “I’ll make a note of that, but before I go, one more thing. I’m going to open up the back, if you don’t mind.”
Ella nodded and Larraby unlocked the rear doors of the old van. Owen had heard from Ray that Zeke Potter, Ella’s mentor and the town veterinarian had sold it to her. Ray didn’t approve of the transaction, since every weekend it seemed his sister reported she was under the hood, repairing something in the aged engine, but Owen suspected she enjoyed that part. She was as at home with engines as she was with horses. A heavy wire grate separated the driver’s area from the back, ideal for housing the collection of rasps, nippers, hammers, nails and other paraphernalia of her trade, neatly stowed.
Larraby was leaning into the van. After a moment, he turned, his expression hard as stone. “I’d like to hear you explain this one.” He stepped aside. Ella cried out in horror. She and Owen stared into the sightless eyes of Luke Baker.
Owen grabbed her when she shot back, slamming into his chest. He could feel the quick shuddering breaths that shook her. “It’s all right,” he wanted to say, but nothing about the situation was all right.
Luke Baker’s blond head protruded from under the blanket at an awkward angle. Owen had seen death plenty of times before and although Larraby checked for a pulse, there was zero chance that the man was alive. His eyes were open, staring and dull, a splash of dried blood visible on his neck above the wool blanket where the tip of a broken farrier’s rasp protruded from his skin.
“I didn’t hurt him,” she whispered. “Please believe me. I did not do this.”
“Then when my coroner gives me a time of death, you’ll have an alibi.” Larraby lifted a corner of the blanket with his pen. “I’m guessing sometime yesterday. So, Ella, care to change your story?”
Owen tightened his grip around her shoulders. “She wants to talk to a lawyer.”
“Time to lawyer up? Not looking too innocent anymore are we?”
“I didn’t kill him. I was abducted and spent the night in a ravine like I told you.” Tears began to stream down Ella’s face. “He is...was my friend.” Owen held her tight, brain scrambling to find a way to fix it.
Larraby used the pen to pull the blanket farther away. “That’s a farrier’s rasp, isn’t it?” he said, pointing to the metal shaft that protruded from Luke Baker’s throat. “Yours? Your prints are on it? The other half of the one you gave me that was in your pocket?”
There was a sound of hushed voices and then Candy Silverton appeared around the corner of the carport. Her hair was swept into a neat platinum chignon, and a short man wearing a dark leather jacket followed one step behind. Bruce Reed, Owen figured.
Larraby held up a palm to stop her progress but Owen heard her sharp intake of breath as she saw the contents of the van. Her shriek cut through the air like bullet fire.
“Luke,” she cried, trying to get to his body. “No, no it can’t be.” Her escort held her back.
“Candy,” Reed said, face grave. “Don’t look.”
Candy’s eyes went from the tool embedded in the flesh of her nephew’s neck to Larraby and finally her gaze slid to Ella.
“You...you
