The ranch it was.
Bluish-gray images from the TV flickered across the living room windows as I passed the front of the house. I parked in my usual spot, noting the absence of the light burning on the porch. In the past few months, I’d been here so infrequently, Hope had stopped leaving the light on. Sadness tightened my gut, and I felt ridiculous for the melancholy. Would I burst into tears if Shoonga didn’t race out to greet me, too?
The old truck continued to clatter after I’d clicked off the ignition-a victim of engine run-on. Damn thing was on its last legs, and I’d have to at least consider putting Dad’s beloved pickup out to pasture. I hopped out and scanned the yard… out of habit, I supposed. My gaze stopped at the lump next to the machine shed. Squinting, I couldn’t tell what it was. A furry lump?
Shit. Not Shoonga. I’d become so attached to Levi’s dog that losing him might just break me.
I ran even while my brain screamed, Caution! And images of dead animals appeared, animals propped in the middle of roads in Iraq, loaded with explosives, animals used as a lure.
But this was Shoonga. Not the same thing. This was my goddamn dog.
As I neared the lump, I didn’t catch the usual stench of death. I skidded to a stop. It wasn’t an animal, but a bag of garbage with a hide thrown over it.
An old Indian trick. I reached for my gun, only to come up empty-handed.
My head was jerked back as a hand twisted in my hair. A knife flashed in front of my face, then pressed against my throat.
Saro.
“Don’t fight me.”
“What do you want?”
“Where’s Cherelle?”
“You’re the third person to ask me today. She’s a popular girl.”
He slid the knife across my skin, cutting me. “Smart answers don’t amuse me. Where is she?”
“I haven’t seen her.”
Saro sliced me again. “Try again. Where’s Cherelle?”
Damn, that burned. “The last time I saw her was that night I was campaigning at Clementine’s.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I have no reason to lie.”
“Did you help her plan to kill my brother? Because she ain’t smart enough to figure it out on her own.”
“No.”
“Keep lying, and I’ll keep cutting.”
My skin had heated the metal so the blade at my throat was no longer cool. A breeze swept over the cuts. Shallow, of course, so they bled a lot. “I don’t know where you’ve gotten the impression that Cherelle and I are pals, Saro, but we’re not. I’ve met her once.”
Another slice. Deeper.
I hissed in pain.
“Then why did her cell phone record show she called you the same day the cops found my brother murdered?”
If he’d tracked my cell number, he’d also known how long we talked. “Yes, Cherelle called me. She babbled about the campaign. Then she asked me if I could recommend her for my old bartending job at Clementine’s. It was so random I thought she was either drunk or high.”
“I. Don’t. Believe. You.” With each enunciated word, Saro wiggled the knife in the cuts he’d already made.
I gritted my teeth against the ribbons of pain. “I’ve got no reason to lie. Maybe Cherelle was smarter than you gave her credit for.”
“Wrong. She was stupid, lazy, and useless.”
“If she killed Victor, she knew you’d back-trace her every move.” I paused. “How many other dead ends have you found?”
Silence.
“I don’t know where she is. Trust me, if I did, I’d already have her ass in jail.”
“Why?”
“Because Dawson is looking for her, too. Do you know how sweet it’d be if I one-upped him in Victor’s murder investigation? I’d win the election for sure.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the election. I don’t want Cherelle in jail. I want her dead.”
“But you have to find her first.”
Slice.
Blood flowed down my skin, and I sucked in a breath at the fire exploding across my neck. He knew precisely where to cut to make it hurt.
“Oh, I’ll find her.”
Then Saro was in my face with the chisel-like tip of the tanto blade under my chin. One wrong move, and I’d be tasting that steel on the bottom of my tongue.
“You know something else. Tell me. Now.”
Through clenched teeth, I said, “You want me to talk? Move that fucking blade.”
Saro pressed the tip against my heart, leaving a hole in my new blouse, causing more blood to ooze out of me. “Talk.”
“If I talk, you talk.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
I didn’t budge. Didn’t speak.
He watched my face as he twisted the blade into my breast. When I finally winced with pain, he said, “Okay. Ask your question.”
“Did you kill Jason Hawley?”
“You ain’t gonna let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
Saro angled forward. “I didn’t kill him.”
“Did you tell someone else to kill Jason? Someone like your brother?”
Anguish filled his eyes and then disappeared. “No matter. Victor is dead.”
“Exactly. If Victor didn’t do it and you didn’t do it, someone else did. Cherelle?”
“Cherelle was with us all night. Victor wouldn’t even let her take a piss by herself. But I will let you in on a secret. We saw Hawley’s body that night after he’d been gunned down.”
“And you did nothing?”
“Why should we? He was already dead. Me, Vic, and Cherelle weren’t the only ones who came across it.” He stared at me. “Fortunately, we used the situation to our advantage as a business maneuver. Besides, no one cared he was dead.”
“I cared.”
“So the fuck what? All I care about is finding the bitch who murdered my brother.”
“I told you. I don’t know where she is.”
Another empty stare. Then he smiled, and it was cold enough to chill me right to my soul. “You know, I believe you. But here’s some advice: if you’re unlucky enough to get elected sheriff tomorrow, be smart. Look the other way when you come across Cherelle’s body.”
“And if I don’t?”
An even crazier smile distorted his face. He reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a stuffed pink teddy bear. From Joy’s room. From Joy’s crib. The pink bear’s head hung from the plush body by a one white thread. White stuffing burst out from the gaping neck hole.
Panic clawed at my insides. This crazy son of a bitch had been in my house, messing with my family. “If you’ve touched a single hair on her head-”
“You’ll what? For all you know, I might’ve already slit her soft little throat and left her to die in her crib with the bunny rabbit mobile spinning above her head.”
I jerked toward him, and the knife tip gouged my skin.
“Or maybe… your sister with her pretty strawberry-blond hair and that ferocious Sioux warrior are bleeding out on the gray carpet after I gutted them. He should’ve done a better job at protecting them. Or trying to protect them.”
I made a break for it. Saro knocked me to the ground. He yanked my arms behind my back and kicked me in the side hard enough that I couldn’t breathe.
I was suffocating.
He placed the blade at the base of my neck. “One wrong move, and you’re paralyzed from the shoulders down. Understand?”
Sadistic fucking bastard. Maiming me for life would be worse than killing me.
“Don’t cross me. Any restraint I had died with my brother.”
“What do you want from me?”
“If you find Cherelle alive, turn her over to me. If you find Cherelle dead, let it go.”
Spots danced in front of my eyes. I felt a pinch between my shoulder blades, and I lost consciousness.
When I came around after Saro’s Vulcan death grip, I booked it to the house. I tripped and skidded on my hands and knees on the gravel. Cursing, I scrambled to my feet and scaled the porch steps with one leap. The door wouldn’t budge. I twisted the handle. It was locked?