to the night—barely remembered until now—when she and Drew had stopped off at the Blue Coyote for a late-night beer. She remembered glancing around to meet those absinthe eyes, and how their hate-filled gaze had made her skin crawl.
“It had to be Stella,” she said. “Who else would despise you and your family enough to do this?”
“You could be right.” Will’s tone was carefully neutral. “But Stella wouldn’t come on the ranch and set the fire herself. If she wanted it done, she’d pay or blackmail somebody else to do it. And she’d make damned sure nothing could be traced to her.” He shot Tori a stern glance. “Leave it to the law for now. Trying to figure out who set the fire won’t undo the damage. Besides, you’ve got more urgent things to deal with.”
Yes, the trial. She couldn’t forget that. Not when the worry was keeping her awake nights. She had a good case. Given the true facts, no reasonable jury would convict Will. But something told her she’d be playing against a stacked deck. Clay Drummond always liked to win, but this time he seemed determined to the point of desperation. Something, Tori sensed, was very, very wrong.
* * *
Stella turned off the nightly news and poured herself a glass of the finest Kentucky bourbon money could buy. She’d ended the holiday with three wins in her column—Will Tyler’s barn burned to cinders, Sky Fletcher injured, and Ralph Jackson dead.
When she’d heard the sirens around one-thirty, she’d figured Ralph must’ve done his job, but she’d spent an uneasy afternoon wondering what the chances were that the fool would get caught and turn on her to save his own skin. She’d asked herself, again and again, whether she’d risked too much to strike at her enemy. Ralph was a weak link. However the day went down, he would have to go. It was just a matter of how and when.
Hours had passed as she waited for Ralph to call her and demand the rest of the cash she’d promised him. When no call came, she’d imagined the worst—that he’d been caught and arrested.
After packing a valise, to have ready in case of a needed getaway, she’d glued herself to the radio and TV for any word about the fire. Not until the six o’clock news had she learned that the fire was out, and that one man had died in the blaze, presumably trying to save the horses. The owners of the ranch were unavailable for comment, but the deceased ranch hand, Ralph Jackson, was being remembered as a hero.
A hero! What a joke! Stella grinned as she took another sip of expensive bourbon. It wasn’t often that fate played into her hands. That it had happened today was a cause for celebration. But she wasn’t finished, not by a long shot. First thing tomorrow she would call Abner and make sure he took advantage of every chance to give the Tylers more trouble.
She could only hope Will’s trial would go as well as the barn fire had. She could hardly wait to see Nicky’s killer behind bars.
* * *
It was 1:15 a.m. when Sheriff Abner Sweeney parked behind the county vehicle lot, procured the keys to the department’s tow truck, and drove it out of the gate. Twenty-five minutes later, he crossed the boundary of the Rimrock and switched off his headlights. With the November moon just bright enough to show the road, he drove to the bungalow where his daughter had lived.
Ralph’s old pickup was still parked outside. It took only a few minutes for Abner to hitch the rear axle to the tow truck, pull out of the driveway and onto the road. What he was doing was illegal as hell and could cost him his job. But as he’d told himself all the way here, this was for the greater good. This was for his daughter and his grandson.
After he’d found the money in the truck, it hadn’t taken long for the truth to fall into place. That kind of cash could only have come from one source—the person who hated Will Tyler enough to burn down his barn. She would have needed to pay someone to do the job, someone who worked for the Rimrock and had access to the place. That someone had been Ralph.
The money, mostly new bills, was evidence. It would likely have Stella’s prints on it. Here, at last, was something that could link her to a crime.
His duty