“Do you do his vet work?”
“I do all the Redman Ranch horse work. They have about thirty head most of the time.”
“Have you ever suspected drug use?”
“Not at all. Nate Fletcher is a good ol’ boy. You know what I mean? Pure country. Likes to fish and hunt and probably pounds down his share of beer, but he’s always sober when I go out to their place. I’ve never suspected he was under the influence of anything.”
“Okay.”
“Uh, why do you ask?”
“I don’t trust these cell phone connections, so I’d rather talk about it in person. When do you plan to come home?”
“I’ll stay with Leslie until after we talk to the doctor about Garrett’s brain scan. Then I’ll decide if I can leave her alone or not.” He wished he could see Mattie in person, be with her face-to-face. There was more he wanted to say to her, and as usual, he felt like this case was pulling her away from him. “What are your plans?”
“We’ve wrapped up at the crime scene and turned it over to the techs. After we get a few hours’ sleep, we’ll meet back at the office at ten.”
“I hope you can get some rest.”
There was a long pause before she spoke. “Have you been able to sleep?”
“No, but I’m doing all right. Had some coffee.” He realized they’d digressed to chitchat, but the circumstances didn’t feel right for sweet talk.
“Here comes Stella. I guess I’d better go.” He heard her speak quietly to Robo to load up.
“Take care of yourself and call me when you can. I won’t call you back for a few hours since I know you’ll be sleeping, but I’ll text you an update when we know more.”
“You can call me anytime. I doubt if I can sleep.”
“Love you, Mattie.”
A short silence before she responded. “You too. Drive carefully when you come home. Don’t fall asleep on the road.”
“I won’t.”
After Cole disconnected the call, he paused for a moment. The call was no substitute for being with her in person, but that was as close as Mattie had ever come to confessing any love for him. He sighed as he put his phone back into his pocket and braced himself to go back into Garrett’s room.
SEVEN
After finding trace cocaine in Nate Fletcher’s van, Stella had decided it was important to talk to Flint Thornton as soon as possible. As Nate’s sole employee, Flint should know the most about Nate’s business, excluding Kasey and others in the Redman family, of course. But Stella and Mattie wanted to gather as much information as they could before talking about the evidence of drug possession with the family.
Mattie turned off the highway at a huge wrought-iron sign that said OXBOW RANCH. She rattled over a cattle guard and steered onto a long winding dirt road that would take them through grass pastures toward a tree-shrouded ranch house off in the distance.
“So this is where Flint Thornton lives?” Stella said. “Pretty big spread.”
“He lives here with his parents. Nice folks who had to deal with a wild child when he was growing up. They were pretty involved, from what I could tell.”
“It happens.” Stella shrugged as if dismissing the ways of the world. “How old is Flint now?”
Mattie thought about it but couldn’t come up with the answer. “I can’t tell you, but I know he’s no longer a minor. Haven’t seen him in years. His offenses were all committed as a juvenile and his record is closed.”
“We’ll see what he has to tell us. If drugs were a part of those hunting trips, he would know about it.”
“I think so, too.” Mattie breached the copse of cottonwoods around the ranch house and pulled to a stop in front of it.
The house was a sprawling log one-story with a porch swing hanging under the eaves. Instead of lawn, the space had been left natural, with a row of pine planted out front. Flower beds were scattered here and there in patches of sunlight, and a hose stretched from a house spigot sprinkled some young pansies. No sooner had Mattie put on her parking brake than a man stepped out the front door.
Tall and rugged, he had graying brown hair and a mustache that was more salt than pepper. He wore denims, a western shirt, and a frown of concern. Mattie recognized him as Flint’s dad, John David Thornton, also known as JD.
Stella and Mattie exited the Explorer and met him at its front. After exchanging greetings and introductions, he peered at Mattie with amber eyes under bushy eyebrows threaded with wild gray hairs. “I know you,” he said.
“Yes, sir. We’ve met before.”
“You’ve taken over the police dog work for the sheriff.”
“I have.” Mattie gestured toward the back of the SUV, where Robo watched from the window, ears pricked. “That’s Robo.”
When drug traffic had threatened the peaceful town of Timber Creek, local merchants and ranchers had gathered together to raise money to purchase a narcotics detection dog. Thus Robo had a certain star quality within the community. Though Mattie didn’t know each donor personally and the donor list wasn’t for public consumption, she suspected this man might have been part of the fund-raising effort.
He studied Robo for a few beats while Robo gazed back at him. “Looks like a fine dog.”
“He is, sir. I’m grateful to have him for a partner.”
JD quirked a corner of his lips and set his attention back on her. “What can I do for you?”
Since Mattie seemed to have the rapport, she took the lead. “We’re hoping to speak with Flint. Is he home?”
The line between JD’s bushy brows deepened. “He is. I suppose you want to talk to him about Nate Fletcher.”
This last bit came as a surprise. “Yes, sir. How did you learn about Nate?”
“Tyler called early this morning, needing Flint’s help. Nate had a trip scheduled for tomorrow that Tyler plans to go ahead with, so he wanted Flint to help him get ready.”
“I see.” Mattie glanced at the house. “Could we speak with Flint, please?”
JD gave an abrupt nod and went to the front door. He opened it and shouted inside to Flint, telling him to come out because someone wanted to talk to him. Mattie thought it odd that he didn’t clarify that the “someone” was the police, but maybe it was this dad’s way of letting his adult son stand on his own two feet.
“He said he’d be out in a minute,” JD said, coming back to join them.
Stella took a step forward. “Did you know Nate well, Mr. Thornton?”
“Well enough. Flint has worked for him over a year now. Most of us ranchers know each other up and down the valley.”
Mattie couldn’t help but wonder if Flint had fallen back into his old habits and Nate had become his supplier. She hoped she could get a feel for that sometime during this interview.
Stella continued. “We’re out doing sort of a canvass of the neighborhood. Asking folks if they’ve seen or heard anything that might help us with our investigation.”
“Tyler said Nate was shot.”
“That’s right.”
Hard lines of judgment creased JD’s face. “That’s a terrible thing. I have no idea who might do something like that.”
“Speaking to Flint is also routine. He should be able to tell us about Nate and his customers.” Stella seemed to be trying to reassure the father.
“You think one of his customers did it, then?”
“Hard to say. We’re exploring every possibility.” Stella wore a pleasant expression as she posed her next question. “Do you happen to know if Flint was with Nate yesterday? Helping get ready for the trip, I mean.”
JD tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, and Mattie sensed that he knew exactly what Stella was doing—trying to get information about his son’s whereabouts at the time of the murder. “From what I was told, Nate was out of town yesterday on a trip to Nebraska for supplies. Flint worked at the Redman place until about four and then came home to get ready for the dance.”