Tracy tore her eyes off Cash and looked toward the highway. Two vehicles slowed and turned under the Triple C Ranch-East sign. The car in front was a Cavalry Blue Rav4, followed by a dealership car. Cash jammed his hands into his front jeans pockets as Tracy gripped her hands at her waist. When the vehicles came to a stop in front of Cash and Tracy, Dude stood up and barked. The gentleman driving the Rav4 Crossover SUV exited the car and, smiling, ran forward through the downpour, dangling keys.
“Is this the pretty redhead you told me about who gets these keys?” the man asked Cash.
“She’s the one,” Cash replied and turned to Tracy. “Surprise.”
“Here you go,” the car dealer said to Tracy and placed the keys in her hands. “This brand spanking new Rav4 was special ordered for you and arrived this morning.”
Flustered and stunned, Tracy looked at Cash and said, “No, no—I can’t take it.”
The car dealer looked at her, then at Cash and said, “It’s bought and paid for so I hope one of you will take it.”
“You need to get home, right?”
“I can Uber it, Cash.”
“Maybe or maybe not with a wet dog,” Cash said as the car dealer shrugged.
“I’ll pay the Uber driver extra,” Tracy said.
“Calvary Blue to your rescue, but suit yourself,” Cash growled. Turning to the car dealer, he shook his hand andsaid, “Thank you.” The salesman nodded and scurried in the rain toward the dealership car where a coworker waited to take him back into town. Looking at Dude, Cash said, “Gotta go, pal.” Leaving the front door to the house open, Cash sauntered toward the side road. Dude trotted after him, but Cash slashed his hand toward Tracy and told the dog, “Stay.” At Cash’s command, Dude stopped in his tracks and sat in the pouring rain. Then to Tracy, as Cash walked around the corner, he called over his shoulder, “Take the SUV.”
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Tracy stood in the rainstorm watching Cash vanish.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“What the hell are you doing here?” Winston hollered at his daughter and some guy, sniffing something off the backs of their hands while loitering at the edge of Tammy Dalton’s property.
“Came to help you look for it,” Donna said, walking forward.
“Look for what?” Winston played dumb. Pointing at the disheveled man following her,
whose clothes had seen cleaner days, he asked, “Who the hell is he?”
“Gerald. My friend from the magazine who’s been helping us,” Donna replied.
Gripping the handle of a shovel, Winston said, “You were never supposed to bring him here, Donna.”
With a sweep of her hand at the property, she said, “You’re not getting anywhere finding it by yourself. Right?”
“None of your business.” Winston watched his greed reflected in the unnatural gleam of Donna’s eyes as she and the guy named Gerald observed the front and side yards where, at last count, a hundred and twenty-three freshly dug holes littered the ground. He’d been digging these holes for days, hence the tinfoil on the outsides of the windows. “I don’t need your help.”
“Where’s Tammy Dalton?” Donna asked, stepping over and around the holes.
“Who?” Winston asked stupidly, stalling. He glanced at the truck where his new pawnshop gun was hidden in the console.
“Tammy Dalton, like in Tracy Dalton,” Gerald sneered. “Like in the Dalton Gang?”
Closing in on him, with Gerald at her side, Donna said, “Daddy dear, we all know you’re hoping Tammy and her dead husband took after his outlaw ancestors and buried their money.”
Tammy’s husband was dead, thanks to him snapping the old geezer’s neck. Nervously, Winston headed straight for the truck and said, “I’m aerating the soil as a favor for Tammy.”
Donna’s laugh was shrill to the point of maniacal. “So, you already murdered Tammy Dalton because she wouldn’t tell you where she hid all her money?”
“I found out she didn’t have no money,” Winston said, sidling up to the truck.
“Yeah, right,” Donna spat. “That’s not what you said the last time we talked.”
“If the old gal is dead, out here in the middle of nobody and nowhere, we can dig until we find it,” Gerald said, studying the holes. “It’s in a waterproof box of some kind.”
