up the mountain with his dog. By the time he got back to the murder scene, cops were everywhere, and the ache in his chest was firmly entrenched.
* * *
Leigh’s silent vigil over Stanton’s body ended when the constable and his men arrived. Once she had given her statement, she had to watch from a distance as the crime scene investigators began taking pictures of everything from the name that he’d scribbled in the dirt to the position of his body. When the medical examiner rolled the body over and realized the shot had been a through and through, the crime scene officers began looking for a bullet, hoping it had hit a tree.
When Michael and Aidan offered to help look, their offer was rejected, so they went to stand beside their mother. They stood for a few moments before they realized she was too quiet, and began to get concerned.
Leigh’s expression was evidence of her contempt as she watched the officers stomping around the area and examining the trees in search of the missing bullet.
“Both of you, please, go help those fools find the bullet. It’s going to help us name the killer.”
“We offered. They told us to step aside.”
“Oh my God,” she muttered, as she ran a shaky hand through her tangled hair.
“You don’t think they’ll find it?” Michael asked.
She pointed.
“No. Just look at them. They can plainly see where Stanton is lying and a direct line of shot would be there.” She pointed toward the northeast. “And yet look where they’re at.”
Aidan frowned. “I don’t care what they said. I’m going to help search. This is ridiculous.”
“I’ll go with you,” Michael said.
They were on the other side of the clearing when Samuel came up behind his mother. He tied Big Red up and then slid a hand across her shoulder.
She spun immediately.
“Anything?” she asked.
“I found a cartridge casing, and then the trail ended a ways down. He got away on a motorcycle.”
“Where’s the cartridge?” she asked.
“I marked the trail and let it lie. I figure the crime scene investigators will need to bag and process it.”
Leigh paused for a moment, staring up at her second son, then she cupped his face. Her voice shook as she spoke.
“You and Bowie look so much like your daddy.”
Samuel pulled her into his arms.
“We love you, Mama. We’ll all be here for you and Jesse. Always.”
She drew a slow, shaky breath. There were tears on her face when she pulled away, but the fire in her eyes was even brighter.
“Do you have Bowie’s number on your phone?”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you want to call him?”
He watched a muscle jerk at the side of her jaw and then the tears began to fall in earnest.
“I can’t say the words yet. Will you call him for me? Tell him I need him. Tell him I said to come home.”
“Yes, I’ll call. I have to go find a signal. I won’t be long.”
Leigh watched him walking away and for a moment could almost imagine it was Stanton.
Oh my God. Stanton. How am I going to live life without you in it?
Samuel tried to call Bowie but had to leave a message for him to return the call, then headed for Constable Riordan instead.
“Sir, I have some information for you.”
“I’m listening,” Riordan said.
“I took my dog and trailed the shooter all the way down the mountain until the trail ended at a set of tire tracks. It was some kind of motorcycle. I took pictures of the tread and of his footprints. Give me a number and I’ll send the pictures to you. Also, there’s a spent cartridge in the brush where the shooter stood. If you’ll get one of your investigators to follow me, I’ll show him where it is. I marked the spot without picking it up.”
Riordan’s eyes widened.
“Good job,” he said, and then added, “I’m sure sorry for your loss. Stanton was a good man.”
Samuel’s eyes were glassy from unshed tears, and his chest was so tight it hurt to breathe.
“Yes, sir,” he said, and waited.
The constable called out to one of the investigators, who came on the run.
“What’s up?” the man asked.
“This is Samuel Youngblood, one of the victim’s sons. He found a spent cartridge. Follow him to bag it.”
“Yes, sir,” the investigator said, and took off after Samuel, who was already walking away.
Despite being frowned at for interfering, it was Aidan who located the tree where the missing bullet was lodged. He turned and called out, “Here! I found the bullet.”
A couple of the investigators came running, one with a small handsaw and the other right behind him carrying his evidence recovery kit.
Aidan watched them saw a notch out of the tree with the bullet still in it.
“Why didn’t you just dig it out of the tree?” he asked.
“It can ruin the striations,” the investigator explained.
“Ah, makes sense,” Aidan said, and watched them bag it up, tag it and enter it into evidence.
* * *
Bella Youngblood was relieved to see Jesse sitting on the porch when she drove up and parked. He was rocking too fast, which told her he was nervous, but at least he was still there.
She got out and hurried up the steps. “Hi, Jesse.”
He nodded. “Hi, Bella. Mama told me to stay here. The war’s coming,” he said.
Bella was a tall, buxom blonde and used to Jesse’s ways. She knelt in front of the rocker and patted his knee until he looked into her eyes.
“Are you hungry, Jesse?”
He nodded.
“Want to come into the house with me? You can show me what you want to eat.”
“Mama’s gone. She told me to stay right here.”
“She’ll
