Page 9 of Lawman’s Witness

As soon as she pulled over a little to let him pass, instead of shooting past her, the driver slowed to come alongside her. She looked over, a curse on her lips until she got a look at the man behind the wheel.

Shock sent her pulse racing at even the sight of Jack Marshall again. But when he pointed his index finger at her like a gun and pretended to pull the trigger she was so startled, so astonished, that she swerved. The left-hand front tire caught in the soft earth at the edge of the rural road and pulled her toward the ditch. It took all of her strength to get her vehicle back on the road.

By then Jack Marshall had sped off, disappearing over the horizon.

Shaking badly, she hit her brakes, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road as she tried to calm down. She gripped the wheel, fighting to rein in her emotions. It was scary enough that the man had been on their ranch. But he’d actually threatened her? She couldn’t believe this was happening.

She’d thought that if she could put it out of her mind, she could accept there was nothing more she could do. But he’d come to her ranch. He’d threatened her. At first, she had wanted to turn around and race back to the ranch house where she’d always felt safe. She knew she’d been hiding there for years, but especially after last year.

As the initial shock waned, she felt her anger boil up. This man thought he could intimidate her. Why? So she would take back her statement to the police? Or to keep her from causing him any more trouble? Either way, it made her furious.

She’d already had one man lie, manipulate and ultimately threaten her. Not this time, she swore to herself. Jack Marshall thought no one could take him down. While he might be right about that, Amy Sue was damned sure going to try.

Detective Russell Tate had always loved a good mystery. It was why he’d gone to the academy and worked his way up to detective. His family hadn’t understood why he would leave his life on the ranch outside of Roundup, let alone become a cop.

“You sure one of those wild horses you’re always trying to break didn’t kick you in the head?” his brother Patrick joked.

“Leave him be,” their father said. “The ranch will always be here when he’s ready to come back.” John Russell Tate Sr., just assumed the day would come when his youngest son would get so lonesome for wide-open spaces, the smell of horseflesh and leather beneath him that he’d come back home. “He’s got to try somethin’ different to be sure of where he belongs.”

“You can take the cowboy to the city, but you can’t take the cowboy out of a man,” his mother Maggie had said with a laugh.

Russ always took the good-natured kidding with a smile because it was true. It came with the territory. A lot of his friends had left the state for an education or a better job. A lot of ranchers had to sell because their offspring had no desire to ranch.

Russ was a cowboy through and through. He had no idea what the future held, just that right now he was also a cop and he had a mystery, one he was determined to solve.

The way he saw it Amy Sue Brand had seen a murder, but the killer wasn’t Jack Marshall. Or the woman was confused as his partner was determined to believe. Or Jack Marshall killed the blonde just as the Brand woman had said and now Marshall was going to get away with it, if Russ didn’t figure out how he did it.

He realized he was leaning toward believing the eyewitness. Jack Marshall had a pretty tight alibi, though. He would have had to set it all up long before the murder. He’d apparently gotten the woman to the construction site and killed her, using the plastic available to leave no evidence of the crime. But wasn’t he in Great Falls at the time? And how had he gotten rid of the body so quickly?

Russ felt a shock as a thought struck him like a horseshoe upside the head. The killer had left no evidence of the crime behind, except for the missing sheets of plastic from the room where Amy Sue said she’d seen him kill the woman. Russ had no doubt that the plastic had been on the floor and doorways the night Amy Sue had seen the murder—no matter what the contractor said. But again, he had no proof.

But what had come to him was how perfect it was to kill the woman at a construction site at night where there’d been a lot of excavation. It was the perfect place to bury a body quickly.

All Russ needed was a cadaver dog to search the area.

He stood up and walked to the chief’s office and tapped on his door. A gruff “Come in” was emitted from the other side. Opening the door, Russ stepped in.

The chief, Milton “Milt” Westmoreland had the face of an overweight bulldog and was known for his bite as well as his bark. “What now, Tate?”

“I’m going to need a cadaver dog,” he said, adding, “Sir,” a little late. “I want to search that construction site where the woman saw the murder. It’s the perfect place to get rid of a body quickly.”

“There was no murder,” the chief said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe,” Russ said. “Or maybe not, sir. But don’t you think it’s worth at least seeing what we find? If I don’t find a body or any evidence at the site, then I won’t mention it again.”

“You won’t mention it again because I’m telling you not to. I won’t have you out there looking for a body, wasting taxpayers’ money and my time, let alone calling even more attention to this. I’m warning you, Tate. Drop it. You are treading on thin ice as it is. I don’t want to hear another word about this. I especially don’t want to hear the name Jack Marshall for any reason. Am I making myself clear enough for you?”

Russ stood for a moment, wanting to argue but seeing it wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He’d have to come at this from another direction. “Yes, sir.” With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him but not before hearing the chief swearing up a storm in his wake.

He was going to have to wait until the body turned up. Or someone reported a woman missing. Neither had happened yet. Maybe he’d find a connection between the dead woman and Jack Marshall—if only he had a name.

If Amy Sue was right about all of it, then the man had known exactly what he was doing and had covered his tracks well. What nagged at Russ was that if Marshall had pulled off the perfect murder, Amy Sue wouldn’t have accidentally been at the scene that night and witnessed it. No one would have known there was even a murder, and Jack Marshall would have never been accused—if not for Amy Sue accidentally being there.

It always came back to the same thing. If Amy Sue told the truth and saw what she believed she had, then Jack Marshall had made a mistake by killing the woman in what should have been the perfect place. And if so, maybe he had made another mistake, one he hadn’t realized yet? One Russ hadn’t discovered yet.

He couldn’t give up, even knowing what it could cost him if he continued to pursue this.

Amy Sue found the tracks where Jack Marshall had driven into the back road to the ranch house. Because of the rain the night before, it was easy to follow the tire tracks. She hadn’t gone far before she saw where he had turned onto the side road that led to the back of the house.