But she had a different mission.
Walt Morrison lay propped against white pillows, his weathered face pale against the crisp hospital linens. IV lines snaked from his arms to bags hanging on metal poles, and the steady beep of monitors filled the room with electronic reassurance. His eyes opened as she settled into the visitor’s chair, the oxygen cannula under his nose turning his voice thin.
“Sierra.” His words came out raspy. “You okay? What happened?”
“Long story. But I’m fine.” She positioned her crutches against the bedside table. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone used me for target practice.” Morrie attempted a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But breathing. Thanks to that man of yours finding me.”
“Rowan’s not—” Sierra stopped herself. “He’s not exactly mine.”
“Please.”
She smiled. “Fine, yes.”
“I could see it from the first day he walked onto the ranch.” Morrie’s eyes sharpened despite the pain medication. “Man looks at you the way a drowning person looks at the shore.”
Heat crept up Sierra’s neck. “We’re complicated.”
“Most worthwhile things are.” Morrie shifted against his pillows, wincing at the movement. “Sierra, I need to tell you some things. About your grandfather. About what really happened.”
The monitor beeps seemed to accelerate. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t think Elway died in any ATV accident.” Morrie’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I saw Alden Jenkins talking to him the day before he died. Saw them having words near the south pasture.”
Sierra’s chest tightened. “What kind of words?”
“Heated ones. I think he threatened you. Maybe even Huck.” Morrie’s jaw clenched, and the monitors registered his rising blood pressure. “Your grandfather suspected Rousseau, but he began to believe Alden was involved too. The land deals, the intimidation, all of it.”
“So Alden killed him?” Probably Morrie didn’t need to know what Alden had done to her and Huck, given the beeping of his heart monitor.
“Elway got sick that night. Real sick, real fast. Same symptoms we’ve been seeing in the cattle.” Morrie’s eyes fixed on hers. “I think Alden poisoned him with whatever he’s been putting in the water supply.”
She knew it—really knew it, in the bottom of her soul, but it didn’t make hearing it easier.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because Elway made me promise to keep you and Huck safe, not to get you involved in whatever he was investigating.” Morrie’s hand found hers. “Made me swear I’d watch over you both if anything happened to him.” Morrie squeezed her fingers gently. “He was building a case, Sierra. Had documentation, photographs, financial records. He believed the Shadow Syndicate was behind it all.”
“The papers in his safe.” Sierra’s voice came out as a whisper. “I found them. I told Detective Martinelli about them.”
“Good. He always said you had steel in your spine, just like your grandmother.”
The door opened, and Mike entered carrying a coffee cup. His rumpled suit looked like he’d slept in it, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
“Morrie.” Martinelli nodded to the man in the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot, but grateful to be vertical.” Morrie’s tone held wry humor despite his condition. “Sierra been telling you about what Elway found?”
“She has. And it correlates with what we’re discovering about Jenkins’s operation as well as Rousseau’s involvement.” Martinelli pulled up another chair, setting his coffee on the bedside table. “Sierra, I need to ask you some more questions about the evidence your grandfather collected.”
“Of course.”
“You said he had maps showing targeted properties. Were there any other ranches marked besides the ones we already know about?”
Sierra closed her eyes, trying to remember the documents she’d found. “The St. Claire place south of town. The Hendrick spread. The old Kowalski ranch that sold last year.”
“All of them have significant lithium deposits,” Martinelli said. “And all of them were approached by Rocky Mountain Land Development before the harassment started.”
