“Where should we start?” I asked. This was Galen’s area of expertise. I had to let him lead.
“With his men.” He held out his hand for me to take. He was here on official business and most sheriffs didn’t hold their girlfriend’s hand on the job. I was still his priority. I put my hand in his and let him lead me out of the barn. I looked at his workspace one more time, then forced my attention forward. Wesley wasn’t out here.
Larry Morton, one of Wesley’s longtime ranch hands, was in the driveway when we emerged from the barn. He gave me a sour look.
“Do you think we didn’t look in the barn?” he demanded.
I shrank back in the face of his annoyance. “Sorry.”
Galen didn’t let me finish. “No, you’re not.” He glared at Larry. “She’s worried about her grandfather.” What he didn’t say was “you will regret it if you mock her again.” But it was implied.
“Sorry.” Larry cast me an apologetic look. “It’s been a long day and it’s just started. We’ve been looking for hours. Nobody realized he was missing until about four hours ago.”
I did the math. “Why was everyone up at four in the morning?”
This time Larry reminded me of a guy desperately trying to maintain his patience when he deigned to focus on me. “Honey, it’s a farm on a tropical island. The only time the weather doesn’t want to suck the life out of you is at four in the morning. We do the bulk of our work between four and eight o’clock.”
I’d known this, of course. Wesley had mentioned going to bed at seven o’clock and getting up at three o’clock more times than I could count. “Right.” I felt like a dolt.
“Run me through this,” Galen instructed. “When was the last time anyone saw him?”
“Last night,” Larry replied. “We had a barbecue right out here.” He pointed to the pretty side patio surrounded by flowers. “We do that at least once a week. Wesley likes to reward the ranch hands.”
Galen bobbed his head. “Who was at the barbecue?”
“Everyone who works here.”
“Any outsiders?”
“Like who?” Larry’s forehead creased.
Now Galen was tugging on his limited patience. “There are a lot of men who work this ranch. Maybe there were wives, girlfriends, someone who wouldn’t normally be here.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned on Larry’s face. “I get what you’re saying, but those sorts of people only come to the weekend barbecues. During the week, it’s just the workers.”
“Okay.” Galen bobbed his head. “Run me through it.”
“There was nothing out of the ordinary. Wesley was manning the grill, steaks instead of the usual hot dogs and hamburgers. We’re having a really good season and he wanted everybody to know we were getting bonuses.”
Larry momentarily brightened. “We ate. Old Hank Lorry played his banjo.”
I cringed without realizing. “Not in aDeliveranceway?”
It was a serious situation but Galen snorted. Larry didn’t find me funny — or perhaps he didn’t understand the joke. “No, ma’am,” he said. “It wasn’t in aDeliverancesort of way.”
I pressed my lips together. Larry really thought I was an idiot.
“It was a normal barbecue other than Wesley making the announcement about the bonuses,” he continued. “We helped clean up. Then … I’m trying to remember.” He turned pensive. “I’ve asked but nobody remembers Wesley going into the house. He said he was going to check on Loretta and that’s the last anybody saw of him.”
“Who is Loretta?” I asked.
“A heifer, ma’am.” Larry was deadly serious. “She gave birth two days ago and the calf seemed as if it might be sickly, but it rebounded. We’ve all been checking on it regularly.”
I found his use of “ma’am” irritating. Older women were addressed as ma’am. I was young and in my prime.
“Take us to Loretta,” Galen instructed, his hold on my hand firm. “We’ll start there.”
Larry nodded before turning on his heel and taking us in the direction of another barn farther behind the house. Wesley had a few crop fields, but his main job was to raise beef for the entire island. There were cows in the pastures as far as I could see.
