The Blood Read online

  “Well, everyone associates with everyone. We all have to work together to get things done,” replied Pinky.

  Randy studied Pinky. Was he trying to be evasive or was he just answering as he felt he should? Pinky’s gaze back at him was calculating and deliberate.

  “I guess what I am wondering, Pinky, is who did he hang with during his off hours.”

  “Well, most of the younger ranch hands kept to themselves. They liked to go to town and hang at the bar, play pool, drink, and flirt. You know how it is when you’re young.”

  “Did Justin have a girlfriend, someone in particular?” asked Carrie.

  “Not that I know of. Leastwise he never talked about a special someone and he never brought anyone around here.” Pinky had a knot in his stomach when he said that. He didn’t dare talk about the night he walked around the corner of the back equipment barn and saw Justin and June McGivens in a close embrace.

  “Who else could we talk to that might know more about what Justin did in his free time? Was there one particular guy who he hung out with the most?”

  “I would say you should talk to Keith. He and Justin were buddies. I’ll get him for you,” Pinky said as he picked up his phone and sent a text.

  ~~~

  “So Keith, you and Justin had gone to the Darkside Tavern earlier that night?” asked Randy.

  “Well, just for about an hour. We were worn slick out from working all day. Pinky had us doing a bunch of stuff we don’t normally do. We went for a drink, played a game or two of pool and then left.” He shuffled his feet trying to find a stance that felt right in order to discuss his best friend’s murder, but nothing did.

  Keith looked so much like Justin. He was thin and about the same height. His hair was lighter, Carrie thought, but they could almost be twins.

  They were standing out in the sun now talking to Keith. They were out in the space between the main barn where they had spoken with Pinky and the bunkhouse. It was hot, the sun bright, and they were all squinting to see each other. Keith kept pushing up his sweaty John Deere cap and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Perhaps it was the heat, or could it be something else?

  “Did Justin have a girlfriend?” asked Carrie.

  Keith looked away before answering. “Naw, he didn’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Was there anyone that had a beef with him? Someone who had an axe to grind with him?” asked Randy.

  “Not that I know of,” replied Keith. “This is a small town and here at the ranch we just try to do our work and make it through the day. Justin was a good-natured guy. He was easygoing and everyone liked him.”

  There was frustration in that statement. Carrie thought to herself that they were friends and his death must have been hard on Keith.

  “Look, we know you guys were buds and this must be very hard on you, but the only way we can find out who did this is to ask hard questions. Most of the time we ask questions no one wants to answer when they least like to answer them. Please understand we want to find his killer and the only way is to trace Justin’s steps and get to know him and his life better,” explained Carrie.

  Keith looked at her and she saw the pain in his eyes for the first time. The tough cowboy facade was all gone. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion and it was evident it was difficult for him to talk.

  “Yeah it is hard, real hard. We grew up together, went to high school together. We’ve shared football, hunting, and more days hanging out than I can count. I have no idea who would have done this to Justin.”

  “Okay. If you think of anything will you please give us a call?” asked Randy as he handed Keith his business card. Keith looked at the card and nodded.

  On the drive back to town, neither Carrie nor Randy said a word. They were processing the three interviews they had just conducted.

  Finally Carrie said, “Something else is going on that they are not telling us.”

  “Yes, but what?”

  “I don’t know. June was fidgety and nervous, and Pinky was picking and choosing each word he said. Keith is grieving and probably not thinking of details that could help us right now.”

  “You would think June would have opened up with Darren there. He’s a nice guy, but too willing to step back and let us conduct the interviews. It's evident to me that the local people do not trust us.”

  Tomorrow we’ll go to the Darkside and see what that place reveals.

  ~~~

  Senna’s family hadn’t had a TV while she was growing up. Her father frowned on it and so Senna had never learned to enjoy it herself. She had watched one while at her grandparents’, but little time was spent on that activity. Her Gran loved to be spending her time with Senna, doing things like baking or shopping, even just sitting in the backyard in the garden watching Senna play.

  So, each day after work Senna came home and read the afternoon paper. She always purchased it from the vending machine just outside the library front door. Because it was so routine, she rarely stopped to look at it until she was home. She would pull it out, tuck it in her bag, and head for home.

  It wasn’t until she settled on her sofa with a cold glass of tea beside her, that she opened the paper and saw the headlines, ‘Body Found in Kachina, Oklahoma’, with a subheading of, ‘Local Police Say It Is Murder’.

  Senna felt shocked. Moving to the edge of her seat, she devoured the article. Apparently, a local resident had been found in a remote part of the town with his throat slashed. There were no witnesses. They had not elaborated on clues. Probably best to keep that out of the paper, she thought.

  She read the article again. A strange feeling began in the pit of her stomach. Was it fear? No. Was it anxiety? No. What was this strange feeling? For the first time she could remember, she shut the paper without reading the entire thing.

  She jumped up and thought to herself that she needed to get out of the house, had to get out of the house.

  Walking along the sidewalk, her thoughts jumbled in her mind and distracted her. It occurred to her she must be crazy to be out for a walk with a murderer on the loose. But surely that guy in the paper was killed for a reason. He must have certainly done something or harmed someone. Maybe he was doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. If he had been more careful then he wouldn’t be dead, right?

  Senna viewed people differently as she walked. She wondered if each person she saw might be the one, the one who could take a life. Suddenly, she was bumped out of her thoughts—literally—by a blonde bombshell of fur. She looked down into the happy face of a big, friendly dog. Grabbing the leash, she then stooped to pet the wayward fellow while also looking around for its owner.

  A very handsome man about her age ran up to her and the dog. “I am so sorry he jumped on you!” he said breathlessly, adding a smile.

  “No, he’s fine. He just wanted a petting I think.” What a dope she thought. How dumb did that sound?

  “Buddy loves people and loves to be petted. I do my share, but he loves to befriend everyone he sees.”

  “His happy face makes me want to laugh,” Senna said. She felt the urge to laugh and suddenly realized how few things made her want to do that.

  The man studied Senna as she petted Buddy. Then she straightened and looked into the man’s eyes. She thought he must be about six feet tall. I’m five feet, ten inches and I can see him nearly eye-to-eye.

  Eye contact made Senna extremely uncomfortable, but they had locked gazes and couldn’t look away. It was as if she no longer had control over her own body. Is there such a thing as involuntary eye-lock?

  With that thought, a chuckle burst forth from Senna that caused her to break their gaze. She ducked her head and brought her hand to her mouth feeling subconscious about the laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing, it’s not you,” she said, once again feeling uncomfortable and looking away. She wanted to explain, but couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to have a casual conversation with this guy.


  “Okay, well that’s good.” He took the dog’s leash from Senna and said, “I’m Blake, Blake Burton. Nice to meet you.” Again, he grinned at her with a half grin and she was able to give him a tentative smile. She wanted to return the half grin with a welcoming smile, but couldn’t.

  “I like him,” she blurted out.

  “Oh, you like him, but not me?” he laughed.

  “No, that’s not at all what I meant,” she was feeling like such a fool. This is why she didn’t socialize more. “I mean that I really like him.”

  He burst out laughing. “Well, at least then you like me a little even if you like him more.”

  Her mouth fell open a bit as she looked at him dumbfounded. Realization broke through at how she’d sounded.

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I meant either.” She had to laugh then.

  “I know. I am just having fun with you.” The blonde bombshell jerked against the leash and tried to walk away.

  “Maybe I’ll let Buddy jump on you again sometime,” he said with a wide smile, the kind she wanted to give back to him. And with a small salute he turned and was gone.

  He left her watching him jog away. Finally, she slowly turned and walked away, too.

  With her mind still on Blake and Buddy she continued walking the two blocks to main street. She thought to herself how she always cooked at home, but felt like eating out just then. She pondered this thought which felt very foreign to her. Growing up, she had been taught that eating out was an unnecessary extravagance. She didn’t ponder it for long, however, and walked to the All American Diner, a favorite spot for most residents of Kachina.

  It was your typical diner and on any given day it was filled with locals. Senna usually avoided this place because she was uncomfortable socializing and had always felt tense when she found herself in a large group of people.

  Finding a booth in the back that was isolated, she sat down. She had never learned to enjoy food, but had to say she liked the taste of meat which seemed odd to her. After reviewing the menu from the rack, she decided on a cheeseburger with bacon. She replaced the menu and waited for the waitress.

  To Senna, most women her age seemed so concerned about their weight they would never eat such a thing. Her weight had never been a concern though. She had always been thin, particularly because she was always working at home. Her father had not tolerated laziness. Her mom did not cook elaborate meals either. They were utilitarian and there was never any waste. Father would not have allowed that.

  As she sat waiting, Senna noticed that the diner was old. A person could tell that the profit, if there was any, did not go into decor or renovating. As expected in a diner, there were booths along one wall with vinyl tufted red pleather. Some cushions had little rips where a white felt-looking substance peeked through. Others had duct tape repairs.

  The diner sat on Kachina’s main street between two other businesses. The only source of light was from outside and came in from the wall of windows at the front of the diner. It was spring, and the days were growing longer, so it was still light out. She noticed how the light played off of the walls and floors. Sitting so far back in the diner, she felt like she was almost sitting in the dark, which was okay with her.

  The waitress served her burger, and she noticed they had added fries. Senna hadn’t ordered them, but guessed they must come with the burgers. She had eaten there so few times she couldn't remember.

  The first bite into the burger released juices that sparked her taste buds. The greasy meat and bacon tasted so good that she shut her eyes as she relished the rare guilty pleasure. Once she had eaten just enough to be full, and no more, she asked for a to-go container, paid her bill, and left.

  Walking back home, she realized how exhausted she felt. She realized that she had felt very tired, exhausted even, most of the time lately and she didn’t understand why. She thought to herself as she walked that she would just rest a bit before doing her nightly chores.

  Unlocking the door, only silence greeted her and fatigue overwhelmed her. Thinking she would sit for only a bit then clean, she sat down and pulled the afghan over her.

  As she drifted off to sleep she thought to herself, I have to keep on schedule. That’s a rule I made to keep order in my life and I have to have order.

  The sofa was soft and almost instantly her eyes closed and she drifted.

  Chapter Four

  Randy and Carrie pulled up to the Darkside Tavern at 10:00 am. They had stopped by to see Darren and share any viable information.

  The toxicological panel had come back, and a horse tranquilizer called Ketamine had been found in Justin’s system. In a rural area with ranches and horses everywhere that information hadn’t narrowed the search.

  But it confirmed that Justin had, indeed, been drugged. He had still been alive at the time of death, but had not felt a thing, being deeply tranquilized.

  Before exiting the car, they had a good look around at the neighborhood. It was quiet and rundown. The surrounding houses were small, frame houses, only around nine hundred square feet or so.

  Almost all the houses had peeling paint and scruffy, unkempt yards. Many had mini junk yards off to the side where piles of random junk lay abandoned. A few had cars in various stages of decay and/or repair, it was hard to tell which.

  It could have been a cute, quaint neighborhood with its lush, mature trees and peaceful quiet, had the residents just maintained the homes and taken some care in their yards.

  The Darkside itself was a large, two-story building that had been a grand home at one time. The only large home on this street—or those adjacent to it—caused it to look out of place.

  It had been maintained somewhat better. The peeling paint was at a minimum, but there had been no extravagant remodeling or work done to improve the curb appeal that they could see.

  What had once been a large front yard was now a parking lot. It had once been covered in gravel, most of which was now pushed deep into the mud and dirt. There were ruts and dips that made driving challenging.

  A tall, Cottonwood tree that stood about thirty feet tall, shaded the entire front yard. There were no other cars in the parking lot at ten that morning.

  The sound of Randy and Carrie shutting their car doors was the only sound. The entire neighborhood was void of people, pets, and other noises.

  Randy surveyed the wide front porch with its old, mismatched rockers and indiscriminate tables as they climbed the wooden steps. The screen door that had once graced the front door was missing with only the hinges left. Carrie turned the doorknob of the old door to enter.

  Coming in from the light, even the shaded light, into the darkness of the bar stopped them both. They stood for just a minute to allow their eyes to adjust. As they did, they saw they were in an entryway with stairs on one side. To the left was a wide opening leading to what they assumed had been the parlor at one time.

  As they stepped into the bar, former parlor, they saw the typical old bar along the far wall. It was handcrafted from beautiful wood, however it had clear signs of wear through the years from the many customers who had leaned on it while drinking and conversing.

  Behind the bar was a wall of mirrors, with shelves holding multiple bottles of liquor. It was the same as thousands of other bars in thousands of other towns.

  To their right, in what must have been the dining room at one time, were a couple of pool tables. The wall between the parlor and dining room had been removed to make more open space.

  “Hello,” Randy called out. “Is anyone here?”

  The only response was quiet.

  “Hello,” Randy repeated as they stepped farther into the bar looking around for any sign of human life.

  Finally, a slight noise in a room beyond where the pool tables were, grew louder. It sounded like footsteps coming upstairs. Maybe someone was in the basement.

  As the footsteps seemed to emerge from the back room itself, Randy once again called out, ”Hello.”


  “Yep?” came a reply.

  Out came Ike, wiping his hands on a towel. “What can I do for ya?”

  Holding out their OSBI badges so Ike could see, they explained who they were and asked if they could talk to him.

  Ike agreed and motioned to a table in the front room. He had no intention of giving them any more information than necessary, but he also knew not to antagonize them in such a way as to drive them to dig for more. He had danced this dance more than once in his life.

  They asked a few preliminary questions to establish basic background info. Then Randy shifted gears, “Did you know Justin Thatcher?”

  Neither Ike nor Randy varied their gaze, but stared at each other steadily. After a moment Ike replied, “Justin came in from time to time.” His eyes darted over to Carrie, then right back to Randy.

  “Was he here in the Darkside three evenings ago on April fifteenth?”

  “Not sure I remember who was in here that night. I don’t exactly take roll. There were some hands from the Big Horn in here, but I couldn’t tell you which ones or what time.”

  “Do you have surveillance cameras?”

  Ike snorted a laugh and shook his head. He crossed his burly arms over his rotund midsection and leaned back. “No, I don’t have cameras—on purpose.”

  “How many ranch hands were in here on the evening of the fifteenth?” asked Carrie. She held Ike’s gaze firmly.

  “Two or three, maybe four.”

  “Are they regulars that frequently come in?” she asked.

  “They are all regulars at one time or another.” Ike grinned.

  “Was there anyone new to the bar that night or in the last week?” Carrie was rapid-firing questions at Ike now. She did not like the waiting game that Randy played. And it seemed to work. Ike was feeling a little unsettled, and it showed.

  “The only new one around that I remember was a young lady. She didn’t give her name, and she didn’t stay long.”

  “Do you remember her talking to the hands or anyone else?” Randy took up the questioning.