Fear flickered in Jacobson’s eyes. “M-murder? I didn’t kill no one!”
“You left a basket of snakes in the Brooks’ yard. Their five-year-old son found it and almost got bitten. Mr. Brooks suffered multiple bites. You’re fortunate he survived. As it stands, instead of first-degree murder, the charge can only be attempted murder.”
“No one shoulda been hurt! It was meant to scare ’em.” Jacobson’s hands trembled. His smile was long gone.
Travis snorted. “You expect me to believe that? Those were Western rattlesnakes. Their venom can be deadly.”
Sweat beaded Jacobson’s forehead. “I swear…”
“And you started a barn fire with Mr. Brooks inside. You must have known he could get trapped.”
“No! I thought he’d be distracted while I ran. That’s all!” Jacobson swallowed. His eyes flitted to Cody. “Besides, he’s fine.”
Cody mirrored Travis, crossing his arms and leaning back. “I might be fine, but you’ve caused a lot of stress for me and my family. My wife wants no part of her Boston life, and you keep throwing it in her face.” His voice rose in volume. “Whose orders are you here on? Her father’s? Howard’s?”
“Best think carefully, Mr. Jacobson.” Travis affected a bored look. “I’d hate to see you swing on a noose.”
The man blanched. “Y-you c-can’t.”
No, they couldn’t, but the out-of-towner didn’t know that. Travis shrugged. “Maybe not where you come from, but Montana’s only a territory of the United States. We have our own justice system here.” His eyes sparked fire. “I’m sure you’ve heard some tales of the Wild West.”
Cody suppressed a snort. Between Buffalo Bill Cody and wildly popular dime novels, people had all kinds of assumptions about life in the American territories. Not all of them were true, but maybe the reputation for lawlessness and vigilante justice would help now.
“I’ll ask again. Who are you working for?” The flint in Travis’s tone would have frightened Cody if he didn’t know his friend so well.
Jacobson shook from head to toe. “I dunno.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Travis eyed him. “If you think this will buy you time…”
“Someone hired me without meetin’ me. That happens a lot in my business. I was to follow Mr. Blackwell here and wait for a list of instructions by post. Whoever it is wanted check-ins wired in code after each incident.”
Travis narrowed his eyes. “How many more incidents were on this list?”
“Three.”
“And where is this list?”
Jacobson’s fingers twitched. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a tattered piece of paper. Travis took it.
Cody leaned closer to read the contents. They all made his stomach turn. His eyes bugged on the last one. “You were going to kidnap my wife?”
His voice rose with each word. He leapt to his feet, legs bent to lunge at the prisoner, but Travis gripped his arm. “Easy,” he whispered. “I know you’re angry, but you need to calm down.”
Fire pulsed through Cody’s veins. He stalked to a corner, pacing with his hands planted on his hips. Travis resumed questioning Jacobson. Blood whooshed in Cody’s ears, his fury drowning out the interrogation. Perhaps that was for the best. The other incidents on the list burned in his mind.
Maim Brooks’s horse.
Set fire to the pastures.
Kidnap Ariella and bring her home.
Cody snarled, resisting the urge to slam his hand against the wall. Taking a deep breath, he willed his anger to dissipate and focused on the interrogation again.
Travis tapped his fingers against the desk. “Why not kidnap Ella outright? Was there a reason for that?”
Jacobson shuffled his feet, head down. “I dunno. I got the feelin’ the boss wanted her scared enough to come back herself.”
That fit his image of Ella’s father. Or ex-fiancé. Controlling. Manipulative. Power-hungry.
