Cold Case at Cobra Creek

“It appears that way,” Sheriff Gandt told Sage. “And I will be investigating the matter. But—” he lifted a warning hand to Sage “—if your son had survived, we would have found him by now, Ms. Freeport. Odds are that the shooter fired at Lewis, he crashed and managed to get out of the car and fled. Maybe your son was with him, maybe not. But if he made it to the water with Lewis, he couldn’t have survived the frigid temperature or the current. He would have been swept downstream and drowned.”

“Sheriff,” Dugan snarled, hating the man’s cold bluntness.

The M.E. gave Sage a sympathetic look, then excused himself and hurried out the door.

Sheriff Gandt tugged at his pants. Damn man needed a belt to keep the things up. That or lose thirty pounds around his belly so he didn’t have to wear them so low.

“I know you want me to sugarcoat things, Graystone, but I’m the sheriff, not a damn counselor. I tell it like it is. Good or bad.”

Still, he could consider Sage’s feelings. She’d lost a child. “Part of your job is to protect innocent citizens and to find out the truth when something happens to one of them. Benji Freeport was three. He was certainly innocent.” Dugan squared off with the sheriff. “But you haven’t done a damn thing to give his mother closure or find the answers she needs.”

“You think bringing her a mangled bunch of bones is going to make her feel better?” Sheriff Gandt said.

“That would hurt, but at least I’d know the truth,” Sage said. “And now that we know Ron was murdered, there is a chance that whoever shot him took Benji.” Sage’s voice cracked. “That means that Benji may be out there, alone, in trouble, needing me. That he’s been waiting for us to find him all this time.”

Dugan’s chest tightened at the emotions in her voice. Emotions she had every right to feel, because she’d spoken the truth.

Sheriff Gandt swung a crooked finger toward the door. “I don’t need either of you telling me how to do my job. Now, leave so I can get to it.”

“Then let me know what you find.” Sage clutched her shoulder bag, turned and walked out the door.

Dugan stared at the sheriff. “She deserves to know what happened to her son. And if he’s alive, she deserves to bring him home.”

“She’s deluding herself if she thinks she’ll find him alive,” Sheriff Gandt said. “She needs to accept that he’s gone and move on with her life.”

Dugan had never had a child, but if he did and that child disappeared, he’d move heaven and earth to find him. “You are going to investigate Lewis’s murder, aren’t you? After all, you owe it to the people in the town to make sure that his killer isn’t still among them.”

Gandt tapped his badge. “In case you’ve forgotten, Graystone, the people elected me, so they obviously have confidence in my abilities. Now, get out of my office.”

Dugan shot him a go-to-hell look, turned and stormed out the door. The man might make a token gesture to solve Lewis’s murder.

But he doubted he would put forth any effort to hunt for Benji Freeport.

Dugan spotted Sage sitting on a park bench in the square, her face buried in her hands, her body trembling.

He headed across the square to join her. If Gandt wouldn’t find Sage’s son for her, he would.

* * *

SAGE WAS SO ANGRY she was shaking all over. Sheriff Gandt had stonewalled her before.

But how could he dismiss her so easily now that they knew that Ron Lewis had been murdered?

Ron’s face flashed in her mind, and her stomach revolted. She’d been such a fool to trust him. Why had he taken her son with him that day? Where was he going?

And who had killed him?

The questions ate at her. None of it made sense.

Ron had waltzed into her life and charmed her with his good looks, his business sense and his talk of giving the town a face-lift and bringing in tourism. Tourists would have greatly impacted her income, so she’d been on board from the beginning.

Maybe that was the one reason he’d warmed up to her. Had he thought she could influence the town council with his plans for putting Cobra Creek on the map?

Footsteps crunched on gravel, and she suddenly felt someone beside her. A hand on her shoulder.

She jerked her head up, wiping at the tears streaming down her face, and stared into Dugan Graystone’s dark eyes. The man was a rebel of sorts and was the only person she’d ever known to go up against the sheriff.

High cheekbones sculpted an angular face, evidence of his Native American roots. His chiseled face was bronzed from work on the ranch, his hands were broad and strong looking, his big body made for ranching and working the land.

Or for a woman.

She silently chided herself. Just because she felt vulnerable and needy, and Dugan was strong and powerful looking, didn’t mean she’d fall prey to his charms.

No man would ever get close to her again.

“What do you want?” Sage asked, a little more harshly than she’d intended.

Dugan’s eyes flared at her tone. “Gandt is a first-class jerk.”

His comment deflated her anger, and a nervous laugh escaped her. “Yes, he is.”

“He said he’d look into Lewis’s murder.”

“Sure he will.” Sage brushed her hands together. “Like he looked into the crash two years ago.”

Dugan sank his big body onto the bench beside her. “I know you were engaged to Lewis and want answers about who killed him.”

Anger shot through Sage. “We may have been engaged, but that was obviously a mistake. The minute he took my son from my house without my permission, any feelings I had for him died.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t care why he was murdered. In fact, I would have killed him myself for taking Benji if I’d found him.”

A tense second passed. “I understand,” Dugan said in a gruff voice.

“Do you? That man took everything from me.”

The anguish in her tone made his chest squeeze. “I’ll help you,” he said. “I’ll find out why Lewis was murdered.”

Sage studied his face. He seemed so sincere. Earnest. As if he actually cared.

But she wouldn’t buy in to that, not ever again.

On the other hand, Dugan had run for sheriff and Gandt had beaten him, so he probably had his own personal agenda. He wanted to show Gandt up and prove to the town that they’d elected the wrong man.

She really didn’t care about his motive. “All right. But understand this—the only reason I want to know who killed Ron is that it might lead me to my son. Whatever dirt you dig up on Ron is fine with me. I don’t care about his reputation or even my own, for that matter.”

Dugan studied her in silence for a few minutes. Sage felt the wind ruffle her hair, felt the heat from his body, felt the silence thick with the unknown.

“I’ll do everything I can to help you,” Dugan said gruffly. “But I may not find the answers you want.”

Sage understood the implications of his statement. “I know that.” She gripped her hands together. “All I want is the truth...no matter what it is.”

“Even if it’s not pretty?”

Sage nodded. “The truth can’t be any worse than what I’ve already imagined.”

* * *

DUGAN HOPED THAT was true. But there was the possibility that they’d find out her little boy had been burned in the fire. Or that he’d been kidnapped by a cold-blooded murderer.

The scenarios that came to mind sent a shot of fear through him. For all they knew, the shooter could have abducted Benji and sold him or handed him off to a group trafficking kids. Hell, he could have been a pedophile.

In fact, kidnapping the boy could have been the endgame all along.

Someone could have hired Lewis to get the boy.

But if so, why?

He had to ask questions, questions Sage might not like.

“You’ve done investigative work before?” Sage asked.

Dugan nodded. “I’ve been called in as a consultant on some cold cases. I have a friend, Texas Ranger Jaxon Ward, who I work with.”

“How do you know him?”

“We go way back,” Dugan said, remembering the foster home where they’d met.

Sage arched an eyebrow in question, but Dugan let the moment pass. They weren’t here to talk about him and his shady upbringing. “In light of the fact that Lewis’s body has been found, I’m going to enter your son’s picture into the system for missing children.”

Emotions darkened Sage’s soft green eyes, but she nodded. “Of course. I tried to get Sheriff Gandt to do that two years ago, but he was certain Benji died in the crash or drowned, and said it was a waste of time.”

That sounded like shoddy police work to him.

“If you want to stop by the inn, I can give you one of the latest pictures I took.”

“I’ll walk with you over there now.”

Sage stood, one hand clutching her shoulder bag. “Why don’t you meet me there in half an hour? I have an errand to run first.”

“Half an hour,” Dugan agreed.

Sage hesitated a moment, her breath shaky in the heartbeat of silence that stretched between them. “Thank you, Dugan. I can’t tell you what it means to have someone listen to me. I...know some people think I’m nuts. That I just can’t let go.”

He had heard rumors that she set the table for her son at every meal, as if he was coming home for dinner. Hell, was that crazy, or was she simply trying to keep hope alive?

“I don’t blame you for not giving up,” Dugan said gruffly. “At least not without the facts or proof that your son is really gone.”

He let the words linger between them, well aware she understood the meaning underscoring his comment. If he found proof Benji was dead, she’d have to accept that.

But if there was a chance the boy was out there somewhere, he’d find him and bring him back to her where he belonged.

* * *

SAGE UNLOADED THE GROCERIES, grateful the couple staying at the inn had taken a day trip and wouldn’t be back until bedtime. Breakfast came with the room rental, but lunch and dinner were optional. In addition, she provided coffee and tea and snacks midmorning and afternoon, including fruit, cookies and an assortment of freshly baked pastries and desserts. She usually conferred with the guests on check-in and planned accordingly.

The doorbell rang; then the front bell tinkled that someone had entered. She rushed to the entryway and found Dugan standing beneath the chandelier, studying the rustic farm tools and pictures of horses on the wall.

People who visited Texas wanted rustic charm, and she tried to give it to them.

“I came for that picture.” Dugan tipped his Stetson out of politeness, his rugged features stark in the evening light.

“Come this way.” She led him through the swinging double doors to the kitchen. His gaze caught on the tabletop Christmas tree, and she bit back a comment, refusing to explain herself.

Maybe Benji would never come back.

But if he did, his present would be waiting. And they would celebrate all the days and holidays they’d missed spending together the past two years.

Chapter Three

Sage opened a photo album on the breakfast bar and began to flip through it. Dugan watched pain etch itself on her face as she stared at the pictures chronicling Benji’s young life.

A baby picture of him swaddled in a blue blanket while he lay nestled in Sage’s arms. A photo of the little boy sleeping in a crib, another of him as an infant in the bathtub playing with a rubber ducky, pictures of him learning to crawl, then walk.

Photos of Benji tearing open presents at his first birthday party, riding a rocking horse at Christmas, playing in the sprinkler out back, cuddled on the couch in monster pajamas and cradling his blanket.

Sage paused to trace her finger over a small envelope. “I kept a lock of Benji’s hair from his first haircut.”

Dugan offered a smile, tolerating her trip down memory lane because he understood her emotions played into this case and he couldn’t ignore them.

He shifted uncomfortably. He had a hard time relating to family; he had never been part of one and didn’t know how families worked. At least, not normal, loving ones. If they existed.

He’d grown up between foster care and the rez, never really wanted in either place.

She brushed at a tear, then removed a picture of Benji posed by the Christmas tree. “I took that the day before he went missing.”

Dugan glanced at the tabletop tree and realized the same present still lay beneath the tree’s base. Dammit. She’d kept the tree up all this time waiting on her son to return to open it.

“Can I get the photograph back?” Sage asked. “As you can see, this is all I have left....”

The crack in her voice tore at him. “Of course. I’ll take good care of it, Sage.” And maybe he’d bring back the real thing instead of just a picture.

But he refrained from making that promise.

“Sage, before I get started, we need to talk. There are some questions I need you to answer.”

Sage closed the photo album and laid a hand on top of it. He noticed her nails were short, slightly jagged, as if she’d been biting them.

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you have any idea why Ron Lewis had Benji in the car with him that day?”

“No.” Sage threaded her fingers through the long, tangled tresses of her hair, hair that was streaked with red, brown and gold. “Sheriff Gandt suggested that he was taking Benji Christmas shopping to buy me a present.”

A possibility. “What do you think?”

“Ron knew how protective I was of my son. I don’t understand why he would have left without telling me or leaving me a note. He knew that Benji was all I had, and that I would panic when I woke up and discovered they were gone.”

“What about other family?” Dugan asked.

Sage sighed wearily. “I never knew my father. My mother died the year before I had Benji. A car accident.”

He knew this could get touchy. “And Benji’s father?”

Resignation settled in her eyes. “Trace Lanier. I met him right after my mother died.” She traced a finger along the edge of the photo album. “I was grieving and vulnerable. Not that that’s an excuse, but we dated a few times. When I discovered the pregnancy, he bailed.”

“Where is he now?”

“I have no clue. He worked the rodeos, traveling town to town.”

“Did he express any interest in seeing his son?”

Sage laughed, a bitter sound. “No. He didn’t even want to acknowledge that Benji was his. In fact, he accused me of lying, of coming after him for money.”

Dugan waited, his pulse hammering. Sage didn’t strike him as that type at all.

“I was furious,” Sage said. “I told him that my mother was a single mother and that she’d raised me on her own, and that I would do the same. I didn’t want his money. And I didn’t care if I ever saw him again or if he ever met his son.”

“And that was that?”

Sage brushed her hands together. “That was that. I never heard from him again.”

Dugan contemplated her story. “Do you think that he might have changed his mind and decided he wanted to see Benji?”

Sage shook her head. “No. I think he’s doing pretty well in the rodeo circuit now. Making a name bronco riding. That brings the rodeo groupies. The last thing he’d want is to have a child get in the way of that.”

Dugan had never met the bastard, but he didn’t like him.

Still, he’d verify that information. Perhaps Lanier’s manager had suggested that having a little boy could improve his popularity. It was a long shot, but Dugan didn’t intend to ignore any possibility.

SAGE HATED ADMITTING that she had fallen for Trace Lanier’s sexy rodeo looks, but she had. Even worse, she’d believed Ron Lewis was different.

Could he have simply been taking Benji Christmas shopping and gotten killed before he could bring her son back?

And why would someone kill Ron?

Or had Ron taken Benji for another reason?

But why? She didn’t have money to pay a ransom....

“Do you want coffee?” Sage asked.

Dugan nodded, and she poured them both a mug, then placed a slice of homemade pound cake on a plate in front of him. “It’s fresh. I baked it last night.”

A small smile curved his mouth. “I’ve heard you’re a good cook.”

“Really?” Sage blushed. What else had he heard?

“Yes, I’m sure it helps with your business.”

“I suppose so,” Sage said. “I used to stay with my grandma when I was little, and she taught me everything she knew.”

He sipped his coffee. “Tell me about Ron Lewis. How did you two meet?”

“Actually he stayed here when he came to town on business,” Sage said. “He was a real estate developer. He wanted to convince the town council to go forward on a new development that would enrich the town, create jobs and tourism and bring us out of the Dark Ages.”

“I remember hearing something about that project,” Dugan said, although he hadn’t exactly been for the development. The group handling it wanted to buy up ranches and farms in the neighboring area, and turn Cobra Creek into a tourist trap with outlet malls, fast-food chains and a dude ranch.

“So you struck up a friendship?”

Sage nodded. “I was reluctant at first, but he was persistent. And he took an interest in Benji.”

“Benji liked him?”

“Yes.”

“He would have gone with him, without being afraid?”

“Yes,” Sage said, her voice cracking. “Ron stayed in Cobra Creek most of that summer, so we went on several family outings together.” She’d thought she’d finally found a man who loved her and her son.

Fool.

Dugan broke off a chunk of cake and put it in his mouth. Sage watched a smile flicker in his eyes, one that pleased her more than it should.

“Did the town council approve his plans?”

Sage gave a noncommittal shrug. “They were going back and forth on things, discussing it.” She frowned at Dugan. “Do you think his murder had something to do with the development?”

“I don’t know,” Dugan said. “But it’s worth looking into.”

Sage contemplated his suggestion. She should have asked more questions about Ron’s business, about the investors he said he had lined up, about him.

And now it was too late. If something had gone wrong with his business, something that had gotten him killed, he might have taken that secret with him to the grave.

* * *

DUGAN NEEDED TO ask around, find out more about how the locals felt about Lewis’s proposal. What had happened to the development after his death? Had anyone profited?

But Sage’s comment about Ron’s interest in Benji made him pause. “You said he showed an interest in Benji?”

Sage stirred sweetener in her coffee. “Yes, some men don’t like kids. Others don’t know how to talk to them, but Ron seemed...comfortable with Benji.”

“Hmm,” Dugan mumbled. “Did he come from a big family?”

Sage frowned. “No, I asked him that. And he actually looked kind of sad. He said he was an only child and lost his parents when he was young.”

“Was he married before? Maybe he had a child.”

“No, at least he said he’d never married,” Sage said. “But at this point, I don’t know what to believe. Everything he told me could have been a lie.”

True. In fact, he could have planned to kidnap Benji all along. He’d warmed up to the boy so he’d go with him willingly.

But why?

For money? Maybe someone had paid him to take Benji, then killed Ron Lewis to get rid of any witnesses.

But why would anyone want to kidnap Benji?

Sage wasn’t wealthy, and she had no family that could offer a big reward. Kidnappers had been known to abduct a child to force a parent into doing something for them, but if swaying the town council to vote for the development had been the issue, it wouldn’t have worked. Sage had no power or influence in the town.

Then again, Dugan had no proof that Ron Lewis had done anything wrong. That the man hadn’t been sincerely in love with Sage, that he hadn’t come to the town to help it prosper, that he was an innocent who had been shot to death for some reason.

And that he might have died trying to save Sage’s son.

* * *

“DID LEWIS LEAVE anything of his here at the inn? A calendar? Computer?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Sage said.

“I know it’s been two years, but what room did he stay in?”

“The Cross-ties Room.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“I named each room based on a theme. People who come to Cobra Creek want the atmosphere, the feel of the quaint western town.”

“Can I see that room, or is someone staying in it?”

“You can see it,” Sage said. “I have only one couple staying here now. They’re in the Water Tower Room.”

Sage led Dugan up the stairs to the second floor. She unlocked the room, then stood back and watched as he studied the room.

“Have you rented this room since he was here?”

“Yes, a couple of times,” she said. “I was full capacity during the art festival both years.”

He walked over and looked inside the dresser, checking each drawer, but they were empty. Next he searched the drawers in the oak desk in the corner. Again, nothing.

“What are you looking for?” Sage asked.

Dugan shrugged. “If Lewis was killed because he was into something illegal, there might be evidence he left behind.” He opened the closet door and looked inside. “Did he take everything with him that day when he left?”

Sage nodded. “His suitcase and computer were gone. That was what freaked me out.”

“If he’d simply been taking Benji shopping, he wouldn’t have taken those things with him.”

“Exactly.” Sage’s heart stuttered as she remembered the blind panic that had assaulted her.

“Did he mention that he was leaving town to you?” Dugan asked.

“The day before, he said he might have to go away for a business meeting, but that he’d be back before Christmas.”

“Did he say where the meeting was?”

Sage pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “No...but then, I didn’t bother to ask.” Guilt hit her again. “I was so distracted, so caught up in the holidays, in making a stupid grocery list for Christmas dinner and finishing my shopping, that I didn’t pay much attention.” Her voice broke. “If I had, maybe I would have picked up on something.”

Dugan’s boots clicked on the floor as he strode over to the doorway, where she stood. “Sage, this is not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Sage said, her heart breaking all over again. “I was Benji’s mother. I was supposed to protect him.”

“You did everything you could.”

“Then, why is he missing?” Sage asked. “Why isn’t he here with me this year, wrapping presents and making sugar cookies?”

“I don’t know,” Dugan said in a low voice. “But I promise you that I’ll find out.”

Sage latched on to the hope Dugan offered. But the same terrifying images that haunted her at night flashed behind her eyes now.

If the person who’d shot Ron had abducted Benji, what had he done with him? Where was he? And what had happened to him over the past two years?

Was he taken care of or had he been abused? Was he hungry? Alone?

Would he remember her when they found him?

* * *

“THEY FOUND LEWIS’S BODY.”

“Dammit. How did that happen?”

“Floods washed the body up. That Indian uncovered his bones in the bushes when he was looking for those hikers that got lost.”

“After two years, they identified Lewis?”

“Yes. Damn dental records. I should have extracted all his teeth.”

A tense second passed. “Hell, you should have burned the bastard’s body in that car.”

“I thought it was taken care of.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t. And Sage Freeport is asking questions again. Knowing her, she’ll be pushing to get the case reopened. She’s like a bloodhound.”

“If she doesn’t settle down, I’ll take care of her.”

“This time make sure nothing can come back to haunt us.”

“No problem. When she disappears, it’ll be for good.”