Right Behind Her (Bree Taggert) Read online

  Matt dealt out the photo of Jane with Richard Keeler like an ace. He said nothing, just waited.

  Elias straightened. “You’ll have to ask Richard about that.”

  “Was there any country club gossip about them?” Matt asked, his tone encouraging.

  Elias looked down his nose at him. “I don’t engage in gossip.”

  Frustrated, Matt backpedaled. “We don’t want gossip. We want to know if you ever saw them together.”

  “Richard and his family belong to the same club. Of course they saw each other.” Scowling, Elias pointed to the photo. “This photo was taken in the middle of a charity event. There’s nothing secretive going on here.”

  Everyone has secrets.

  Matt collected the photos. “And yet, this is the last time Jane was seen alive.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Bree’s saddle creaked as Cowboy tossed his head. It was eight a.m. and she was already sweating under her uniform. Her horse’s white-and-brown coat gleamed in the morning sun. People lined the street, waving. Ahead of her, a half dozen local veterans formed the color guard. Behind her, classic convertibles carried the mayor, this year’s Miss Scarlet Falls, and the oldest veteran in the county, Rich Bartlett, age 102. The Scarlet Falls High marching band played a surprisingly good cover of “Bad Romance” a block back.

  “Easy, boy.” Bree touched her horse’s sweaty neck. Generally a calm horse, Cowboy snorted. The crowd and noise excited him. The crowd thickened as they approached the fairgrounds. Children held flags. Bree waved to a little boy sitting on a tricycle. Ribbons had been woven into the spokes of his front wheel. Here and there, she spotted a deputy among the crowd. She’d approved overtime to make sure crowd control was adequately covered.

  A cheer went up as the color guard turned into the entrance and started up the grass aisle that ran between rows of tents and temporary food stands. They topped a slight rise in elevation. In the near distance, Bree could see the grassy parking areas already filling. A large field held stock trailers parked in neat rows. Larger tents to the south held livestock for judging. Cowboy arched his neck and pranced. Grateful for all the hours she’d spent riding over the past six months, Bree dropped her butt deeper into the saddle and moved with him. The red, white, and blue ribbons braided into his mane fluttered in the warm morning breeze.

  Bree spotted her family near the funnel cake stand. Dana and Luke waved. Kayla jumped up and down. Powdered sugar smeared her face. Bree passed the sheriff’s tent. Marge and Matt’s sister, Cady, were collecting donations for Greta’s training and equipment and selling tickets to the black-tie fundraiser being held in September. Deputy Oscar handed out gold star “Sheriff” stickers to kids.

  Matt waved at her from his place in front of the table. Brody sat at his side, playing ambassador. As a former K-9 shot in the line of duty, the big dog was a local celebrity. The mayor was making a special announcement midday, and Matt would bring Greta into the ring to show her off.

  In the stall next to the K-9 booth, a few of Bree’s deputies had volunteered to be “dunked” to raise additional money. Five dollars bought three tries. Todd was first in line. A few more hours in this heat and Bree would gladly sign up to be dunked.

  Fifty feet away, the grandstand and show ring, the end of the parade route, appeared ahead. The fairgrounds were packed, and everyone crushed forward to see the parade. The marching band launched into “Uptown Funk.” The band was close enough that Bree could barely hear herself think. The thought made her feel incredibly old.

  Just outside the entrance to the show ring, Cowboy startled, shot sideways, and bucked twice. Bree held tight, holding his head up so he couldn’t dump her and trying to keep him in the center of the space. She couldn’t allow him to slam into the crush of people on either side of the parade route.

  “Easy, boy,” she said in a low voice.

  But the normally sensible horse was having none of it. He sounded off with a thin, plaintive whinny, then reared straight up. Bree pitched her weight forward and prayed he didn’t go over backward. Her duty belt dug into her stomach. Her hat flew off her head. Cowboy came down and stood still, blowing hard and pawing the ground. She waited for him to settle, aware that the parade had come to a halt because of her.

  A few minutes later, the horse calmed, and Bree moved forward. She could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on her. The color guard had scattered for fear of being trampled. At the entrance to the show ring, she exited the parade.

  Todd rushed to her side as she brought her mount to a full stop twenty feet away. “Is he OK?”

  “I don’t know what spooked him.” Bree dismounted. She wanted to check every inch of her horse. She started with his shoulders, running her hands down his forelegs. “He’s not flighty, and he’s been in parades before without issue.”

  “I know what it was.” Todd pointed to the horse’s flank. Two splotches of paint the size of tennis balls decorated his rump.

  “What the hell? Is that a paintball?” Bree pointed to the spots.

  “That had to hurt.” Todd surveyed the crowd. “But we’ll never find who did it.”

  “Probably not,” Bree agreed. She scanned the area. “The crowd is thick, and the band would have drowned out the sound of a paint gun.”

  “Probably some stupid kid’s idea of a prank.” Todd shook his head.

  “Maybe someone saw the paintball gun. Aren’t they big?”

  “They make pistol-size ones now,” Todd said.

  Bree touched Cowboy’s hindquarters, and he flinched. Anger bubbled in her throat. She had no patience for anyone who hurt kids or animals.

  “Come with me,” she said to Todd. She turned to the ring, where the mayor was giving the opening remarks. When he’d finished, she signaled to him that she’d like to speak.

  The mayor looked startled. “It looks like Sheriff Taggert would like to say something.”

  She led Cowboy right up to the stage. Handing Todd the reins, she jogged up the steps and moved behind the microphone. “Hello, everyone. Welcome to the Randolph County Fair. I’m sure this is going to be the best year yet. Unfortunately, a few minutes ago, someone shot my horse with a paintball.” She paused while angry murmurs spread through the audience. “This was a very dangerous prank. Not only was my horse frightened and potentially hurt, but someone could have been seriously injured. If anyone saw someone with a paintball gun or has any information regarding this incident, please come to the sheriff’s tent. This type of behavior will not be tolerated.” Bree waved. “Thank you!”

  Bree jumped off the stage, collected her horse, and led him from the ring to a standing ovation. She walked Cowboy back to their horse trailer. She untacked him and gave him fresh water and hay.

  Kayla, Luke, and Dana rushed back and fussed over him. Luke fetched a bucket of water and attempted to wash off the paint, but blue stains remained on Cowboy’s white rump.

  Matt came by to make sure she and the horse were both OK. The local large animal vet stopped to check on him and declared Cowboy bruised. The mayor’s daughter brought him an apple. A teenage boy brought Bree her hat.

  The next two hours saw a steady stream of visitors. Cowboy enjoyed every moment—and every carrot.

  At eleven o’clock, Bree saddled Pumpkin, and Kayla warmed him up in the practice ring. She wore jeans, a western shirt, and boots. Under her cowboy hat, her hair was in pigtails. The effect was almost too adorable.

  Adam arrived. His jeans and T-shirt were liberally smeared with paint. Even his sneakers were splattered.

  Bree hugged him. “How are you?”

  “Good.” He leaned on the fence. “I saw your press conference.”

  “I tried to call you to give you an update.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t return your call,” Adam said. “I’ve been working.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She took in the distraction in his gaze and the exhaustion that shadowed his eyes. “Almost done?”

  When he imm
ersed himself in a painting, he thought of little else until it was complete. As the piece progressed, his focus tightened until even sleep and food were secondary. But since their sister had been killed, he’d forced himself to emerge from those artistic fugue states to maintain regular contact with the family. He’d clearly dragged himself away from his studio to see Kayla compete today.

  “I’m that transparent?” Adam laughed.

  Bree cocked her head. “Your shirt is on inside out, and your socks don’t match.”

  Adam’s careless shrug said he didn’t care. He might have other faults, but Adam wasn’t the least bit superficial. He didn’t care about clothes or appearances. “Do you think Dad killed those people?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I won’t lie to you. It’s possible.”

  He turned to watch Kayla. “I know. He was a violent man.”

  “He was.” Bree wrapped one arm around his shoulders. “His guilt or innocence changes nothing. We already knew he was a killer.” As much as she wanted to soften the impact of bad news for him, she couldn’t. He needed to be prepared to handle the truth.

  Kayla rode over to him. “Uncle Adam, you came!”

  “Of course I came.” Adam stepped up onto the lowest rail of the fence and hugged her. “I wouldn’t miss my favorite niece’s horse show debut.”

  Kayla grinned and rolled her eyes as if she were eighteen instead of eight. “I’m your only niece.”

  Adam grinned back at her. They all trooped to the show ring for her walk/trot class. Bree, Dana, Adam, and Luke leaned on the fence and watched the little girl win third place. Pride rushed in Bree’s heart as the judge pinned the yellow ribbon on Pumpkin’s bridle. Kayla beamed, and Bree was filled with a rare moment of pure joy.

  Adam leaned sideways and spoke to Dana. “Someday, you’re going to break down and ride a horse.”

  Dana laughed. “Nope. I’m a city girl. I’m fine patting noses.”

  Kayla rode out of the ring, and they returned to the trailer. She changed out of her riding clothes in the trailer but insisted on wearing her hat and boots with her shorts. Then Luke loaded the horses. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Dana slid behind the wheel. He had an evening shift at the grocery store, but he would settle the horses at home before he left. Bree watched the truck and trailer roll away.

  “Come for dinner tonight?” Bree asked Adam.

  He blew an overgrown curl off his forehead. “Not today. I want to get back to work.”

  She and Kayla hugged him goodbye, then Bree took Kayla’s hand and they walked back to the sheriff’s tent just in time to see Todd fall into the water in the dunk tank. Cady sold tickets from behind the table. Like all the Flynns, Cady was tall and athletic. Today, she wore denim shorts, a tank top, and white sneakers. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied back in a long ponytail. Todd climbed out of the tank, his wet T-shirt clinging to his chest, and Bree watched in amusement as Cady tried not to stare at him.

  Brody lay in the shady grass at Cady’s feet. Air from a box fan ruffled his fur. Kayla dropped onto the ground and hugged him. The big dog shifted to rest his head in her lap. Bree reached down and gave his head a scratch. His tail thumped on the ground. Once upon a time, she would have been afraid of him, but he’d proven himself to her. Brody had once been a big bad police dog, but now he loved tiny humans and belly rubs. He was utterly devoted to Kayla, and Bree trusted him completely with the child. She also swore the dog understood plain English. When she spoke to him, he always acted as if he knew exactly what she was saying.

  “Kayla!” A dark-haired girl raced to the sheriff’s tent. Emma was Kayla’s current best friend.

  Her mother, a short woman with a wide smile and one thick gray streak in her nearly black hair, offered Bree a smile. “Hi, Sheriff.”

  “Hi, Cathy.” Bree smiled. “Please call me Bree.”

  Kayla and Emma had regular playdates. Bree often felt out of her element with the moms of Kayla’s friends. They were all normal; some stayed at home, others worked outside their households. Bree was the only one who carried two Glocks, an expandable baton, and a Taser.

  “Emma would love Kayla to come to the food tent with us.” Cathy lowered her voice. “I’d like to promise I’ll make them eat something healthy, but honestly, I’m going to let them eat whatever they want.”

  Bree laughed. “If you can’t eat hot dogs and funnel cake at the county fair, when can you?”

  “Exactly,” Cathy said. “It won’t come again until next summer.” She smiled, her expression wistful. “I still remember running these fairgrounds as a kid, covered in cotton candy, insect bites, and sunburn.”

  Bree had no such wholesome, happy memories, but she very much wanted Kayla to have them.

  Kayla jumped up and grabbed Bree’s hand. “Can I go eat with Emma?”

  “Sure.” Bree gave her a quick hug. “You remember the rules?”

  “Stay close to Emma’s mom, don’t wander off, stay alert.” Kayla spoke in the monotone of a child who received frequent lectures on personal safety.

  “What do you do if you get lost?”

  “Stay put. Ask a mommy with kids to call you,” Kayla said without hesitation. Then she recited Bree’s cell phone number. She squirmed. “Can I go now?”

  Bree nodded. “Have fun. I love you. Be safe.”

  Just before she raced off, Kayla pulled off her hat and shoved it at Bree. “Aunt Bree, would you hold this?”

  “OK.” Bree waved.

  “She’s having a good time?” Matt came out from behind the table. He held Greta on a short leash. She sat utterly and almost eerily still, her attention on Matt as sharp as a brand-new razor blade.

  “I think she is.” Bree watched her skip away hand in hand with Emma. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy.”

  “That’s awesome.” Matt smiled. Greta fidgeted, and Matt spoke to her in German.

  “Is she ready for her public debut?” Bree watched the sleek, young dog snap to attention at a single command.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Matt insisted. “The crowd is going to get one look at her and . . .” He brushed the fingers of one hand across the other in a money-flowing gesture.

  “I hope you’re right.” Bree’s department really needed a K-9. Importing a dog from Germany or Poland, where most police K-9s originated, would cost additional money they didn’t have. Heck, they didn’t even have the basic training fees and necessary K-9 equipment. She hoped they would by the end of the month.

  “I am.” Matt knew what he was doing, and he was right. Greta was gorgeous. Sleek and black, with huge ears she hadn’t quite grown into. “She’s smarter than most humans too.”

  Bree stroked Brody’s head one last time, then stood and brushed wrinkles out of her dress uniform pants. “Then let’s do this.”

  She stashed Kayla’s hat in the sheriff’s tent. She and Matt walked back to the show ring together. The mayor once again took the stage. “Hello, Randolph County!” The mayor waved his hand toward Matt and Greta. “This is Matt Flynn. Many of you might remember Matt from his K-9 days with the sheriff’s department. The beautiful dog with Matt is Greta. Who would love to see Greta as our sheriff’s department’s new K-9 officer?”

  The crowd cheered. Matt paraded Greta around in a circle. She heeled and sat and lay down on command. When he held a tug toy over her head, she leaped for it, and Matt held her suspended a foot off the ground. The audience clapped wildly.

  The mayor continued. “If you’d like to contribute to Greta’s training and equipment costs, please visit the sheriff’s tent or go online and contribute directly. You can make a straight donation, buy a ticket to their fundraiser, or purchase a chance to dunk a deputy. Every dollar raised goes toward making Greta one of ours. Seriously, folks, we need Greta on our team! Loosen up those wallets and make it happen!”

  Matt led Greta from the ring and walked a short distance to stand in the shade of a tree. The dog pranced.

  Bree stepped back
as the dog spun on the end of her leash.

  “Fuss,” Matt commanded her in German. The dog moved to his heel obediently, her tongue lolling. In another minute, she sat on command.

  “She really did well.” Bree reached out a hand. Greta’s tail thumped and she shifted forward so Bree could stroke her head.

  “I told you.” Matt grinned. “She’s a rock star. For a young dog, she was incredibly focused in front of hundreds of people. Training will only make her better.”

  Bree scratched under Greta’s ears.

  Matt shortened the leash. “I’m going to take her home. She did great, but she’s had enough excitement for one day. Would you let Cady know? Tell her I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  “Sure.” Bree met his eyes. She wanted to kiss him goodbye but settled for a smile.

  He led Greta away toward the parking areas.

  Bree turned and walked back toward the sheriff’s tent. The crowd in front of the table was so thick, Bree had to elbow her way through the throng. The line in front of the dunk tank reached for three stalls. Dressed in academy-blue shorts and a T-shirt, Collins sat on the ledge while a grade-schooler tossed baseballs at the target.

  Smiling, Bree felt the wholesomeness of the day to her bones.

  Behind the sheriff’s table, Marge and Cady were working hard. Bree reached for a roll of gold-star stickers and started offering them to the kids in line.

  “Sheriff!” a woman shouted.

  The panicked pitch of her voice grabbed Bree’s attention. She swiveled her head, seeking the source. It was Emma’s mother, Cathy. Her face was white and stricken. She dragged her small daughter through the crowd by the hand.

  Where’s Kayla?

  Panic grabbed Bree by the lungs. “What happened?”

  Out of breath, Cathy panted. “Both girls were right behind me at the hot dog stall. I paid for our food. When I turned around, Kayla was gone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Terror blinded Bree for a breath. She exhaled hard.