The Blood Page 3

  “No, Carrie, I don’t think he just laid down and let someone slice his throat.” His irritation showed. This one was going to be difficult. Yes, he liked a challenge, but he also didn’t like feeling so lost without any clues. There were usually clear and evident signs of something, either motive, opportunity, or means. This time, so far, there was nothing. That irritated Randy, and it showed.

  “I know you don’t,” she replied in a softer tone.

  They rode in silence for several more miles, both deep in thought. The countryside whizzed by in shades of green. Springtime was here, and there were multiple shades of color. Some trees were yet to bud, but that made the Redbud trees even more vivid in their bright purple glory. They were everywhere.

  Passing a small housing addition, Carrie noticed that the Ornamental Pear trees were also in full bloom. Their blossoms looked like tufts of cotton covering the trees.

  “What if everything bloomed at once,” Carrie said mostly to herself as she looked out the car window.

  “What?”

  “Oh I was just thinking that I love how the Redbud and Pear trees are blooming, but there are so many trees still dormant and brown. I thought how pretty it would be if everything bloomed and budded at once.”

  “I’ve never thought of that,” said Randy. He thought for a moment then, “I think dull makes the bright show up more. It might be hard to noticed otherwise.”

  Randy slowed to make the turn onto Deer Horn Road. It ran east and west and intersected with Central Boulevard which ran through the center of Kachina. After about a mile, a big white fence that looked recently painted, began following along the road. The property beyond had clearly been well tended. Black Angus cattle spotted the grass, and they barely raised their heads to observe the SUV pass.

  The spread lasted for the next ten miles. About five miles in was a very elaborate and ostentatious ranch entrance. There were brick pillars with wrought iron scrollwork connecting them. Overhead was a sign bearing the brand of the Big Horn Ranch next to the name.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Carrie as she turned back in her seat to watch it as they passed. “That's where the victim worked, right?”

  “That’s what Darren said. I want to see if there is anything else they have found and then put a plan together. We can come back out here later and see what they know.”

  They came to the intersection they needed and turned north on Central Boulevard. After another three miles they crossed a bridge over Deer Creek and they were at the South edge of town. To the left was a large bluff. It seemed to stick straight up from the ground, huge and out of place in the rolling green hills and woods. Around the base of the bluff were thick green woods.

  They crossed the train tracks and passed the small train station. They both glanced to their left toward the warehouses. The yellow tape still fluttered in the wind, but there was no sign of personnel.

  Seven blocks ahead they pulled into a space on the town square under a shade tree and parked.

  “You don’t see town squares like this around here much anymore,” commented Carrie.

  “No, you don’t. I don’t think that was ever much of a city plan for Oklahoma. Everyone just ran in and staked a claim and didn’t care to take time to plot out a town much less a town square.”

  “It’s nice. I like it.”

  The police office in Kachina consisted of Darren, the police chief, and three other officers. There was Kim the dispatcher and two other support personnel. Because the town was small and rural, they often worked hand in hand with the county Sheriff.

  Darren was on the phone with the Sheriff when Randy and Carrie walked in. They waited just outside his door, but Darren waved them in.

  He hung up the phone. “Want some coffee? It’s pretty good for a police station. The dispatcher used to work for a fancy coffee shop and has made it her mission to make bad station coffee a thing of the past,” he said chuckling and shaking his head.

  They both commented that they were good and sat down in the two chairs in front of Darren’s desk. The office was no nonsense, but he had placed a few photos around. The one on the metal filing cabinet was of a sweet looking young lady and two smaller children, one boy and one girl.

  “We just came from the coroner’s office. The cut across the neck was clean, done with a sharp blade,” began Randy with no preliminary niceties. “No hesitation marks. Just a clean, deep cut. There was no abnormal bruising or other abrasions.”

  “It’s too soon to have gotten the lab results back on whether there were any chemicals or other drugs that might have been in his system,” Carrie said. “That usually takes a few days, unfortunately.”

  Darren sat back in his chair and it creaked and groaned loudly. His right elbow rested on its arm and he was running a finger thoughtlessly across his upper lip. The pinch of his eyes revealed his intent thought.

  He dropped the chair forward and put both arms on the desk. “What do you two think? Tell me any thoughts who might do this and why,” he asked. It was evident that he was deferring to their experience. He wanted this crime solved and was more than willing to work as a team.

  “Honestly,” said Randy, “we don’t know at this point. We wanted to meet with you to see if there were any other developments on your end. Our next step is to go to the Big Horn Ranch to find out as much as we can from those that Justin worked with.”

  Darren shuffled a paper or two on his desk and pulled up the one he was looking for. He began to read, “He was five feet, eight inches tall, and one hundred sixty-five pounds per his driver’s license. He has no criminal record, not even a speeding ticket. He’s worked at the Big Horn for the last year. Looks like he moved here from a ranch in Texas near Dallas.” Darren looked up to see if Randy or Carrie reacted.

  “That doesn’t give us much,” Randy said. “Hopefully we can learn more at the ranch. Do you want to come with?”

  “Sure,” said Darren. “I know Jack McGivens. Maybe he and the others will warm to you asking questions with me there. My daddy and Jack were friends for years before my daddy passed.

  “He’s a stern man and quite gruff. But he thinks of me as a second son. I’m hoping that will keep us from all being tossed out on our ears.” Darren chuckled and his plump midsection bounced up and down.

  “Okay,” grinned Randy. He liked this guy and looked forward to working with him. “We’ll be back around eight thirty in the morning.”

  The sun was setting in their rearview mirror as Randy and Carrie headed back to Oklahoma City.

  Kachina was a town of about four thousand when the community college was out for the summer and was situated about ten miles northwest of Oklahoma City. To reach the community, one had to exit off the highway south and drive another three miles, so it was rare that anyone just happened upon it.

  Randy and Carrie rode back to the office in silence. A murder in a small town was much different than if it had occurred in the city. A small town murder was usually very personal in nature and witnesses would be tight-lipped. As they travelled, they wondered what tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter Three

  On the road to the Big Horn Ranch the next morning, they rode in Darren’s patrol car with Randy in front and Carrie in back. It smelled clean, which surprised Carrie. She had been in so many dirty and smelly patrol cars that a clean one was an anomaly. Officers lived in their cars and often had ripe bags of old fast food meals still in there. Even when the bags and trash were gone, she was certain that crumbs and bits of food rolled under the seats to rot.

  The ride was the reverse of the one they had just made into town the day before when heading back from the coroner. They followed Central out past the railroad and across the creek. About ten miles later, Darren slowed to turn into the grand entrance.

  “This is some place,” Carrie declared in awe. The drive was lined with mature trees on each side, each of which were the same size and equal distance apart. Carrie had no doubt someone had planted them many years ago to achieve
this very effect.

  The drive was about a quarter mile long and just before the last tree, a large, two-level ranch home filled the view. Carrie gawked at the home’s grand size.

  It had a lodge feel with a rock face and timbers as trim and supports. There was a large, covered portico to cover vehicles at the front door which was made from those same large timbers and had an open ceiling rising high, showing the structure.

  The front entry had beautiful pots with freshly planted flowers and a bench with a colorful cushion. “Definitely signs of a female influence,” murmured Carrie.

  They rang the bell and waited.

  After only a minute or two, the door opened and a woman of about fifty-five stood before them. She was dressed casually, in jeans and a button-up shirt, and had an air of class about her. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was full and slightly wavy.

  The lady saw Darren and smiled as she opened the door. “Hi Darren. Lovely to see you but I am certain this is not for a happy occasion. What can I do for you?” she asked as her smile faded.

  “This is Randy Jeffries and Carrie Border. They are with OSBI. Can we come in and talk with you?” asked Darren.

  She opened the door wide to welcome them in, motioning toward a large, great room with a huge, stone fireplace. “Have a seat.”

  They sat in deep brown leather club chairs. As Carrie rubbed her hand along the arm of the chair, she thought about how it would take a month of her salary to buy a chair like that.

  “We are here to ask about Justin Thatcher. He was one of your ranch hands, correct?” Randy asked. “I assume you’ve heard of his murder?”

  “Well, yes, but I couldn’t tell you anything about him. My husband handles all of that. All the business on the ranch,” June McGivens answered. She looked uneasy and stiff.

  “Did you know Justin at all?” Carrie asked. She noticed the tendons in June’s neck were protruding and taut.

  “I’ve met him. We have ranch gatherings from time to time. We had an all-ranch cookout a week ago last Saturday. I met Justin there, briefly.” June’s eyes darted to the floor.

  “I have it here that he has worked for your ranch for one year,” said Randy. “Is that about right?” He was looking at the notes he had written on the small, leather-covered pad he kept in his pocket. It had been a gift from his wife Sandy and she’d had it embossed with his initials, RJ.

  As Randy read, Carrie watched June McGivens. She squirmed as she listened to Randy. It was a very subtle shift in the way she was sitting. But her face remained blank.

  Randy looked up, waiting for an answer. He knew to wait that eventually the silence would draw it out.

  Finally, June responded. “Again, you would have to ask my husband. I do not keep the records, but that seems about right.” She concluded with a tight nod of her head.

  Randy continued to look her in the eye. He was reading her, looking for signs that showed she was being honest, or hiding something. But he couldn’t tell. It was obvious that she was uncomfortable, but he could not pin down why.

  “You seem uncomfortable, Mrs. McGivens. Why is that?” Randy asked.

  Her eyes grew wide, and she sat up straighter. Her right hand went to her chest just below her collarbone.

  “Yes, I am, I suppose. This murder has gotten me on edge. I am confident it had nothing to do with the ranch, but it is all just so unsettling.” Her words tumbled out.

  Randy watched her for a few brief seconds, then said, “Yes, I am sure it is. May we talk to your husband?”

  “Well, he’s out at the barns somewhere, I believe. I can ask our ranch foreman.” She picked up her cell phone and sent a text.

  There was a whoosh and then a ding. She looked up and said, “Pinky said Jack has gone into the city to get supplies and he is not sure when he will be back.”

  Carrie jumped in, “Can we talk to... Pinky, was it?”

  “Yes, we call him Pinky because when he was a kid he used to drink with his pinky held up. With all the teasing he stopped, but the nickname has lasted. His real name is Andrew, or Andy.”

  June McGivens looked back at her phone and sent another text. Another reply came quickly. “He said yes he can talk, if you don’t mind coming down to the big barn.”

  “No, we don’t mind if you will point us in the right direction,” Carrie said as she stood.

  Darren had been quiet the entire time allowing the two detectives to conduct the interview. But he never took his eyes off of June.

  Randy reached out to shake June’s hand. “Please let us know if something—anything—should occur to you," said Randy.

  “I will. It’s a horrible thing. I promise if I think of anything, I will call you.” She seemed relieved to be done with the conversation.

  She walked them to the door and from the porch pointed to a red building that was barely visible through the trees. “That is the big barn you can see there just through the trees. Follow the path or you can just drive down, and Pinky will meet you there.”

  Carrie smiled and shook her hand. “It was nice to meet you.”

  June didn’t reply, just simply nodded. Her hand was up at her collar again fiddling with the button there.

  ~~~

  They should have taken two separate cars. Just as they were leaving, Darren’s mike squawked, and a deputy summoned him to another incident. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Darren said. “I’ll need to take you back to get your car.”

  “Sure, but we need to let June and Pinky know that we will have to come back,” said Carrie.

  Darren called June on his cell phone and explained the situation. “June said that would be fine and that she would let Pinky know.”

  Carrie looked over at Randy as they walked to the car. “Did she act funny to you?” she asked so Darren wouldn’t hear.

  Randy looked up as he opened the door. The sun was so bright she had to shield her eyes with her hand to see him.

  He stopped with the door open and looked at her. “Yes, she did,” he said. “She was as nervous as a kitten meeting a new puppy.”

  “And Darren couldn’t take his eyes off of her.”

  “Yes, I noticed that, too.”

  Twenty minutes later they were back at their car in town. They got in the hot car and the instant Randy cranked the engine Carrie reached for the AC controls. “You know turning that up will only shoot the hot air straight out to us like a blow dryer. Best to let it cool down a bit.”

  “I know,” said Carrie, “but it’s a hard habit to break. It’s so hot in here and I just want to fix it and get cool. You would think I would get used to this crazy weather, spring and ninety degrees. Tomorrow it could be fifty.”

  Once back at the ranch entrance, Randy turned the car onto the drive and this time turned to head toward the barn and other outbuildings rather than take the drive up to the house.

  The barn, stable, and other buildings were as well-appointed as the house. Not only void of peeling paint, but beautifully trimmed as well. Underneath the gable of each building they had fashioned a large logo of the ranch.

  Anyone looking at this ranch, the home, property, and buildings, could see who the owner was and the statement he was making. He was successful, and he was proud of it, it showed everywhere you looked.

  “Jack must have a tight rein on things around here. Look how orderly everything is,” Randy pointed out.

  They were driving so slow on the gravel drive you could hear the popping of the gravel under the tires. It sounded just like popcorn in a popper. They were giving themselves time to survey the land and take it all in.

  “Hey,” said Carrie, “speed up a bit. At least outrun the gravel dust. I can’t see a thing. Feels like our car is PigPen on Charlie Brown.” Randy gave her one of his looks but sped up.

  At the barn that June had directed them to, which was the largest building of them all and the first one on the drive, an old cowboy was just coming out the door. He was slim and short and bowlegged; he looked like he had
been born with his legs strapped around the belly of a horse.

  His light straw hat was stained with sweat and battle worn. He was taking a red bandana and wiping the sweat and dust from his face. His face was twisted as he wiped, and he squinted at the car coming up to the barn.

  As they stopped, he shoved the bandana in his rear pocket and put both hands on his hips to wait.

  “Hello, I’m Agent Carrie Border and this is Agent Randy Jeffries from the OSBI,” Carrie introduced them as she approached. “Mrs. McGivens said you would talk with us.”

  Pinky nodded, ducked his head and turned back toward the barn all in one fluid movement. “Come on back to the barn. We’ll find a cooler spot to talk than out in this hot sun.” He motioned with a swipe of his hand indicating for them to follow.

  The barn was an architectural marvel. Carrie couldn’t help but stare up at the construction of the thing. The thought crossed her mind that she should watch where she walked since she was in a barn, but someone had swept the concrete floor cleaner than many houses she had seen.

  They followed Pinky until he led them into a room within the barn. It appeared to be his office. Who knew cowboys could have offices?

  “Have a seat,” said Pinky as he moved some tack out of one of the chairs in front of an old beat up, but clean desk. He dumped the tack on an old saddle rack off to the side and fell into the chair behind the desk.

  In the window there was a window unit trying to keep the office cool. As he plucked his hat off of his head and dropped it onto his desk with one hand, he reached and cranked up the AC knob with the other.

  “Okay, what did you want to talk about?” Pinky asked as he leaned back in the chair not looking enthused.

  “Tell us about Justin Thatcher,” said Randy.

  Pinky took a minute to answer. What did he tell? He pondered what was actually necessary to tell to help solve Justin’s murder.

  “He was young, but a hard worker,” replied Pinky.

  “Who did he associate with here at the ranch?” asked Randy.