Chapter Thirty-Five

Brenda looked likeshe'd aged a decade. I wouldn't have thought that possible with all the wrinkles, but it was the spaces between the wrinkles. The downturn of her mouth, the pinch of her eyebrows, the confusion in her eyes.

"Did you hear what's happened?" she demanded before we were all the way out of my SUV.

I was grateful for its four-wheel drive as we'd found snow as we climbed. More than grateful that we weren't trying to get to Cooke City and beyond grateful Diana wasn't driving the NewsMobile.

From the lightning look we exchanged, both Diana and I thought she might mean Wendy being taken in for questioning by the sheriff's department. But I didn't want to put words in her mouth.

"What's happened?"

"They took Wendy. Asked her a bunch of questions here, then took her. They're crazy. They've got it all wrong. They asked me a lot of questions again, too. What they're thinking — that is just wrong. That's not Keefer. Hell, that's not Wendy, either. They got it wrong. And I told them so. I said, right to his face, You got it wrong, Wayne Shelton."

Tempted as I was to hear more about how she'd told Shelton he got it wrong and how he'd reacted, I moved on.

"Brenda, can you list exactly who's been in Keefer's cabin since you found him?"

"Exactly? With all the people coming and going, going and coming? It's like the end of the week when one set of guests leaves and another set arrives, only this is worse because it's every day and no tellin' when somebody'll turn up." Belatedly, she added, "And what does that have to do with them taking Wendy?"

I felt safe ignoring that last part. "You talked about Randall Kenyon being here and acting like he already owned the ranch."

"He was and that's just how he acted."

"Was he inside the cabin since the crime tape came down?"

"Him and everybody else. Came right after you two left yesterday. And he was back today, standing there watching, him and Robin, while the sheriff's department dragged Wendy in. I'm telling you, they got it wrong—"

Before she could go another round of that refrain, I hurried on. "You said he came sweeping out—"

"He did. All high and mighty and—"

"No. Wait. Go back. Which day?"

"Yesterday," she said, impatient. "Just told you. After you two left."

"Tell us exactly what you saw."

"Him coming out of Keefe's cabin, like I said — that's exactly what I saw. I asked him what he thought he was doing and he got all high-handed about seeing what he was getting for his money and I told him—"

Her voice faded into the background as Diana and I looked at each other.

"We could wait until we see what Jennifer has from what you and I shot," she said. "That would support us saying there was no paper sticking out from behind the painting yesterday."

"But she's not doing that until after enhancing the copy of the newspaper interview. Even if we told her now to rush it..."

"And you don't want to wait."

We have to go to the sheriff's department.

As the thought formed, I said it aloud.

There was no forming-a-thought gap before Brenda said, "Go the sheriff's department? Not a chance. I'm staying here. Somebody's got to stay here."

Following the direction of her gaze to Suzie Q lying on the porch, I was already hitting speed dial on my phone.

"We'll take care of her."

I swore to myself when I heard the voice answer on the other end.

Ferrante. He was the embodiment of the word no in human form. I don't know how he and his wife — a very nice woman — ever had kids considering his hundred percent turn-down ratio.

I could have clicked off. But never let it be said I didn't cross every ‘t', dot every ‘i', as well as ram my head into every brick wall.

"It is vital that I talk to Sergeant Shelton immediately. Vital for him and—"

"He is not available."

"He will not thank you for—"

"He is not available. I'll tell him you called." Click.

That result was so predictable, I was already onto the next step.

First, I texted Richard Alvaro's number, figuring he'd more likely check that, even if he wasn't inclined to answer a phone.

URGENT. Going to call you. ANSWER.

I did and he did.

"Elizabeth, I'm busy."

"I know. I have to talk to Shelton immediately."

"No way. He's doing an interview—"

"I know. Wendy Barlow. And I know you have more evidence to process now. But there's something he has to listen to, something Brenda Mankin has to say."

From behind me, she said, "I'm not saying anything to him. He's got it wrong. Besides, Suzie Q—"

I tried to wave her to silence.

He might have said more, but I heard the no-way-on-earth in a single word, "Elizabeth—"

"I swear to you, Richard. He wants to hear this. Well, not want to. But he needs to."

My brain was catching up with the what-could-happen sequence that got me to the unshakeable conclusion that we had to get to the sheriff's department.

They arrested Wendy.

Then Brenda's observations put a different angle on the provenance of that note.

With the Barlow connections behind her, Wendy brought the Cottonwood County Sheriff's Department to its knees.

Sheriff Russ Conrad was tossed out.

Diana was miserable. Or she went with him, wherever that was.

And if Shelton went? I might not even be happy with that outcome, if only because it could get worse. This county had had worse. Lots worse. Shelton was a pain in the ass, but he did his job. We could get somebody who didn't.

"I'll tell him you called when he's done and what you said—"

"No. That won't cut it. We're coming there."

I ended the call.

"I told you—" Brenda started.

"I know. You won't leave Suzie Q alone. She's coming, too."

****

On the driveto town, with Brenda and Suzie Q in the back, Diana and I talked it over, right after calling Jennifer and asking her to check any shots of the painting on the mantel as fast as possible.

Brenda agreed to go after a promise that she could tell Shelton he got it wrong and that he'd listen. Suzie Q was picked up and carried.

Storming the sheriff's department office would play to their strengths. Including lockable doors, Ferrante at the front desk, and weapons. Lots and lots of weapons.

I was pretty sure Shelton wouldn't shoot me — very sure he wouldn't shoot Diana. But I preferred better odds than that with weapons involved.

"I could call Russ," Diana said. "If I ask him to order Shelton to listen so he doesn't take the investigation in the wrong direction—"

I was shaking my head before she stopped. "No. Thank you for offering and some other time we might take you up on playing that ace in our pocket, but I think... Yeah, I'll call Tom."

Fortunately, he answered. Even more fortunately, he was on his way to his next committee meeting. And that meant he was passing through Sherman right now.

No, I don't know which of the forty-seven committees he was on it was for. And didn't care. Unless it was the Committee to Keep the World From Blowing Up Tonight.

Even then I might have pushed him to delay the meeting a few hours.

I told him what I wanted from him in straightforward terms. As for why...

"I can't tell you details, Tom." I wasn't sure how much Brenda could hear from the back seat, but enough. Maybe she'd piece it together on her own, but I had to be able to say I hadn't done it for her. "I can say that it will be a whole lot better for Shelton, the sheriff's department, and the case if he does this."

"I'll try."

From Thomas David Burrell, that was a pledge to the death. If it could be done, he'd do it.

The trouble was Shelton.

We went to my house to wait.

Shadow greeted us at the door, happy to see Diana and me, though clearly noting the irregularity of me coming in the front door.

He watched Brenda with the reserved neutrality he employed with most strangers.

His reaction to Suzie Q was also reserved, yet intensely curious, especially since I carried her in. He looked up at me with a world of questions in his eyes.

"This is Suzie Q. She's visiting for a little while. She's had a tough time lately."

I had the feeling I didn't need to add that last part.

I put her down not far into the room.

Neither dog's tail wagged. Neither made any attempt to sniff the other. That would have concerned me more with other dogs. Shadow stood back and regarded her. She stayed were I'd put her. Not moving. Not looking around. Not caring.

Jennifer called with answers, which I messaged to Tom.

While Diana made coffee and put cookies on a plate — I'd worry later about how she knew where what I considered my backup super-secret stash of Pepperidge Farm Double Dark Chocolate Milano cookies was kept — I lit the already laid fire in the fireplace.

I called Suzie Q. She didn't budge.

I put a spare leash on her, then drew her close to the fireplace, and ordered her to sit. Before I could add the next command, she slid into a down. Shadow gave me a questioning look. I tipped a shoulder in a faint shrug.

He came over to the fireplace and laid down parallel to her but not touching. After a half dozen breaths, he shifted onto his hip, putting his back to her now, but touching her side. She didn't move away.

We three women were each on our second cookie when Suzie Q stretched her head out on her paws and expelled a sorrowful breath.

"She's accepted that he's not coming back," Brenda said quietly.

"A lot more grief to go through, but she has accepted it," Diana agreed.

I was focused on Shadow.

He'd heard a vehicle outside.