Matt: Texas Rascals Book 2 Page 6

  Cody, his face nestled against Savannah’s breast, peeked sideways at Matt.

  “Thanks for the paperwork.” He held up the manila folder. “I’ll return it as soon as I can.”

  “No hurry.”

  Savannah walked him to the front door, his heart pounding with the remembered promise of her soft lips. Common sense told him to proceed with caution, but something stronger, something intense, tempted him to throw discretion to the wind.

  To keep from saying more than he should, Matt turned without a backward glance, got into his Jeep, and drove away.

  Wanting to touch base with his most reliable contact, Matt stopped by Kelly’s on the way home. The heavy wooden door creaked in protest as Matt walked into the smoky room. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the darkened interior.

  “Hey, Jimbo.” He waved at the bartender and plopped down on a stool. At four o’clock in the afternoon, the place was almost deserted.

  “What’ll you have, Detective Forrester?” Jim placed a napkin on the bar in front of Matt.

  “Water will do me just fine. And a little information.”

  “I’m beginning to think you only come in here to pump me for secrets,” Jim said, filling a glass with ice and water from the tap.

  Matt narrowed his gaze and stared at the two men at a corner table, hunched down in their chairs, their eyes trained on their beers. Brent Larkins and Hootie Thompson.

  “Those two been around a lot lately?” Matt asked Jim, inclining his head in the direction of the unsavory duo.

  Brent’s and Hootie’s rap sheets went way back to adolescence for shoplifting. They’d graduated to hot-wiring cars, illegal gambling, fencing stolen goods, and had eventually moved on to breaking and entering. Both had done a series of short stints at the state prison in Huntsville.

  Jim nodded as he polished water spots from a glass with a hand towel. “And throwing lots of money around.”

  “Any explanation for it?”

  “Claimed they won a bundle on the ponies last Saturday.”

  Matt ran a hand along his five o’clock shadow. Time to have a talk with Rascal’s resident thugs. He picked up his water glass, thrust out his chest, and sauntered over to their table.

  “Howdy, fellas,” he greeted, pulling up a chair.

  Hootie grunted and pulled a red cocktail straw through his unattractive teeth. Something about the gesture tugged at Matt’s memory.

  “Whatcha want?” Larkins snarled, a trail of beer foam clinging to his scraggly mustache.

  “I hear tell you men found yourselves some extra cash.” Matt kept his eyes on them. These two had a reputation for carrying concealed weapons. Matt noticed three mugs and at least a dozen empty beer bottles cluttering the table. Who had been keeping them company?

  “Yeah,” Larkins challenged. “We scored big at the track last week. That ain’t illegal yet, is it?”

  Hootie hee-hawed like a donkey and continued chewing the straw.

  “I don’t suppose you two know anything about the cattle thefts out at the Circle B, do you?” Matt arched an eyebrow.

  Brent Larkins made a face. “Why, Detective, are you accusing us of something?”

  “Not at all. Just thought you might have some information.”

  “We didn’t even know about it.” Larkins’s dirty fingers curled around his beer mug. “Till just now.”

  The door to the nearby men’s room opened, and an old man stumbled out. Matt looked up to see Clement Olson swaying in the doorway, his eyes rounding in surprise when he spotted Matt.

  “Hello, Clem,” Matt greeted him, a bad feeling snaking through his gut. This whole situation smelled mighty fishy. What was Savannah’s hired hand doing drinking with riffraff like Larkins and Thompson?

  Clem stood frozen for a second. Then suddenly he bolted for the front door.

  “Aw, hell,” Matt swore, getting to his feet and taking off after Clem. He pushed outside in time to see Clem disappear behind the Dairy Diner next door.

  “Clem,” Matt shouted, sprinting to catch up to the panicky old man. “Wait.”

  Clem halted next to a trash Dumpster. His whole body trembled as he raised both palms defensively. “I didn’t do nothing!”

  “I just want to talk to you, Clem. What were you doing hanging out with those two?” Matt stepped closer, adopting a tough stance, feet wide apart, hands on his hips.

  “They bought me a beer.” Clem wheezed, slightly short of breath.

  “Is that all?”

  Clem hung his head. “Yeah.”

  “Savannah know you’re here?”

  “No. You won’t tell her, will you?”

  Matt sighed. “Only if you promise to go home and quit wasting your time hanging around those two.”

  “I swear it.”

  Placing his hand on Clem’s shoulder, Matt squeezed firmly. “See that you do.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  As he walked back to his Jeep, Matt turned the events over in his mind. The whole thing was suspicious. Clem passing the time of day with Larkins and Thompson. The old man worked for Savannah, and her livestock had come up missing at a time when cattle were conveniently disappearing all over the county. Hootie Thompson liked to chew up red cocktail straws, and Matt had found such a straw at the scene of the thefts. Matt didn’t like the scenario one bit. What he needed now, however, was solid evidence.

  Gary Markum’s papers might hold the key. That and the Santa Gertrudis cattle with the altered brands that had turned up in Midland.

  He sat in his Jeep, watching Clem meander back into the bar. Rolling his window down for air, Matt sighed. He picked up the manila folder and leafed through it. Gary Markum’s leisurely scrawl recorded cattle purchases, weather reports, feed bills.

  Branding records, that’s what he needed. Something, anything to tie Clem, Larkins, and Thompson to the thefts. Matt kept searching.

  Vaccination lists, calving times, notes on fencing repairs. He dampened his fingertip with the tip of his tongue, flipped the pages quicker. Invoices, bank statements, an insurance policy.

  Insurance policy?

  He extracted the six-page document underwritten by Texas Farmers Insurance, Todd Baxter, agent. A tight knot wadded in his throat as he clutched the paper in his fists. What he read sickened him.

  Suddenly everything made an ugly, logical kind of sense.

  A seventy-five-thousand-dollar insurance policy issued for twenty-four head of purebred Santa Gertrudis cattle.

  Listed as sole beneficiary was one Savannah Markum.

  7

  Ginger’s wedding day arrived on a blast of pre-summer air—warm, sultry, and bursting with sunshine. Savannah whispered a prayer of thanks for the sunshine. From her own experience, outdoor weddings had a tendency to conjure thunderstorms.

  Savannah had risen two hours earlier than usual to complete any last-minute preparations, only to find Ginger already awake, brewing a pot of coffee and pacing the kitchen floor.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she told Savannah with a sheepish grin. “This is more nerve-racking than Christmas Eve. Were you this nervous when you married Gary?”

  Don’t judge your wedding by mine, Savannah thought.

  The congenial feelings she’d had for Gary couldn’t be compared to the bright, shining love Todd and Ginger shared. Savannah merely nodded, poured herself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the kitchen table. She didn’t want to remember the day she’d stopped believing that true love really could conquer all.

  From the baby monitor on the table, they heard Cody wail.

  “I’ll go get him,” Ginger said before Savannah could push back her chair. “I need something to do.”

  Closing her eyes, Savannah sighed, lifted her cup to her mouth, and sipped. Mentally, she reviewed the numerous tasks needing her attention before the four p.m. wedding. Direct the florist and the caterers, steam Ginger’s dress, make sure Clem had the parking situation under control, attend to her own hair and nails, dress C
ody.

  Whew.

  “Look who’s awake,” Ginger cooed, coming back into the room.

  Savannah opened her eyes and grinned at her son. His fuzzy, brown hair stood straight up; his white cotton sleep shirt was molded to his chubby little torso. Cody reached for her, his smile glowing like a thousand-watt bulb. Gathering his familiar weight to her chest, Savannah breathed in her son’s wonderful aroma. Cody could soothe her like nothing else on earth.

  “Da!” he exclaimed and wrapped his arms around her neck.

  Ginger’s eyes misted. “I can’t wait until Todd, and I have a baby of our own.”

  Savannah made a face. “Wait. You’re only twenty-one. Lots of time for babies.”

  “Come on, Vannah, don’t give me that. You adore Cody.”

  “Of course I do, but you and Todd need some time alone to get to know one another. With children come responsibilities. Enjoy each other for a while. Anytime you feel that maternal hunger, come borrow this little pistol for a day.”

  “Da.” Cody nodded his head as if agreeing.

  “I bet you’re ready for breakfast, aren’t you, son?” Savannah tickled his tummy.

  Ginger clenched her fists. A large tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Ginger, honey, what’s wrong?” Savannah reached over and touched her sister’s shoulder.

  “I... I...” She gulped. “I’m going to miss you and Cody so much.”

  “Oh, is that all.” Savannah waved a hand. She knew on a day like today Ginger’s emotions were bound to take a few dips and turns. “I thought maybe you were having second thoughts about Todd.”

  “Oh, no. Never. I love Todd with all my heart.”

  “Good. That’s the way it should be.”

  “Is that how it was between you and Gary?”

  Savannah got up and settled Cody into his high chair. She kept her face hidden from her sister. “Gary was a good man.”

  “But you didn’t love him like you loved Matt.”

  “Not all of us get a fairytale, Gin.”

  “But Matt’s back now, and you’re single again…”

  “Stop trying to play matchmaker.”

  Opening the cabinets, Savannah took out a packet of instant cereal and mixed it with hot water. She refused to think about the past and Matt. This hectic day would require all her attention. She had neither the time nor the energy to waste on regrets. Or on wondering what might have been.

  * * *

  Matt had postponed the inevitable for two days. Another case kept him occupied, but the whole time, his thoughts returned to Savannah like a tongue probing an abscessed tooth.

  Was it possible that Savannah could be involved in an insurance fraud? He didn’t want to believe she was capable of such a thing, but the facts stood out bold and undeniable.

  One—her thefts were not related to the other thefts in the county. Two—her late husband had taken out a large policy on just those purebred Santa Gertrudis cattle. None of the other livestock at the Circle B had been insured. Three—Savannah was the sole beneficiary. Four—her ranch hand had been seen consorting with known criminals. Five—part of her herd had been located in Midland, their brands altered. Six—if Savannah had married Markum for his money, who was to say how low she might stoop for financial gain?

  Matt swore under his breath. He stood at the kitchen sink where he’d just wolfed down a sausage biscuit. Dusting his fingers on a paper towel, he stared out the window, his mind lost in thought.

  For two days, he’d tried to find some other explanation for the disappearance of the Santa Gertrudis herd, but all the evidence pointed to a certain honey-haired lady rancher.

  Except two things didn’t jibe. Why hadn’t she contacted the insurance company about the loss? Was she cagey enough to wait? Had the recent thefts in the area sparked the idea in the first place?

  And why had Savannah given him a copy of the insurance policy with Gary’s papers? Had she been trying to confess?

  Matt didn’t know. Once he thought he’d understood her so well, but that had been two years ago before she’d broken up him without a rational explanation and married Markum on the rebound.

  Matt sighed. No getting around it, he had to bring her in for questioning.

  He drank the glass of milk, turned off the radio, lifted his Stetson off the hat rack, and plunked it down on his head. Like it or not, he and Savannah were overdue for a confrontation.

  A dense knot rode in his chest during the twenty-mile trek to her ranch. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, he couldn’t stop thinking about their past. He kept recalling her youthful enthusiasm, her natural exuberance for life, which had evaporated over two years. Instead of the eager, spontaneous girl he remembered, Matt had discovered a cautious, reserved young woman.

  Until he kissed her.

  The memory of the kiss they’d shared in the barnyard reignited buried feelings. When he kissed Savannah time had dissolved. Disappeared. It was as if they’d been transported back to his uncle’s farm and the very first moment they’d kissed.

  For those brief, precious seconds, Matt had felt that maybe, just maybe a chance existed that they might reconstruct the shattered pieces of their relationship. But after the kiss had ended, reality trampled that illusion. She’d broken his heart once, and he wasn’t stupid enough to give her another opportunity. Especially if she was dealing in something as nefarious as insurance fraud.

  What had happened to the sweet, naive Savannah Prentiss he’d once known?

  It was nine a.m. when he turned into the driveway of the Circle B. Startled by the brightly colored canopies stretched out over the lawn, Matt stared at the folding metal chairs lined in neat rows underneath. He frowned wondering what was going on, and then he remembered.

  Ginger’s wedding.

  He groaned. What lousy timing. How could he take Savannah in for questioning today? Yet, how could he not? He’d already delayed as long as he could, and he was feeling the heat from the sheriff.

  “Bring Savannah Markum in,” Sheriff Langley had growled at him last night before Matt left the office. “First thing tomorrow. If you’re not comfortable conducting the questioning, someone else will handle it.”

  So here he was with orders to detain her and the desire to do just the opposite. Did he genuinely believe Savannah had plotted to have her own cattle stolen for the insurance? In his heart, no, but the matter demanded attention. He hated to be suspicious of her, but he had no choice, and Matt was nothing if not thorough.

  He got out and adjusted his Stetson. Walking around the vehicles—Savannah’s compact car, a pickup truck, a florist’s van, two luxury cars—Matt made his way up the wide, sweeping drive.

  Like any lawman worth his salt, he scanned his surroundings, noting every nuance, drawing conclusions based on his observations. Wedding day preparations and nothing more.

  And then he caught the flash of movement from behind the barn.

  He turned his head for a better glimpse and saw Clem Olson stumbling across the field in his haste to reach the bunkhouse. Matt’s brow furrowed as he ran a hand along his jaw. He didn’t trust the old man.

  “Matt!”

  He swung around to find Ginger standing on the back porch. She waved.

  For the time being, he dismissed Clem and focused his attention on Savannah’s little sister. He could remember when Ginger had worn braces and pigtails, and now she was getting married. She used to tag along after him and Savannah like an overzealous puppy. Matt smiled, recalling the numerous ploys they’d used to give her the slip.

  “You came.” Ginger dashed down the steps to wrap her arms around his waist. “I hoped you’d make it.”

  Guilt pressed down on Matt like a leaden ballast. He’d totally forgotten about Ginger’s wedding.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He gently chucked her chin.

  “I’m so glad you got here early. Maybe you could calm Savannah down. She drank a whole pot of coffee this morning, and now she’s zoo
ming around the house like an idling jet engine, making a lot of noise but not getting much done.”

  “Nervous, is she?” Matt grinned.

  “Boy, is she ever.” Ginger shook her head ruefully. “You’d think it was her wedding day.”

  Savannah had already had her wedding day, Matt thought. A cloud floated past the sun. The courtyard darkened. He remembered that day. How could he forget the moment when his world had come to a crashing halt? The day his girl had said “I do” to a middle-aged rancher. Matt clenched his jaw at the memory.

  The screen door creaked open. He looked up to see Savannah standing in the doorway, her honey-colored hair caught back in a bright-blue bow, her long, tanned legs highlighted in a pair of white shorts.

  He swallowed hard. No matter how he tried to fight it, the woman still possessed the power to transform his insides into mush. But he didn’t have to let her know the influence she wielded over him.

  “Hello, Matthew,” she said, her voice as soft and cool as the sudden breeze.

  “Savannah.” He tipped his hat.

  “I’m glad you were able to take time from your busy schedule to attend Ginger’s wedding. It means a lot to her.”

  Was that a dig? He squinted. She kept her face expressionless. What thoughts churned behind those mesmerizing green-gold eyes? Did his presence disturb her? Did she fear he’d uncovered her scheme to defraud the insurance company?

  That idea made him wince.

  He wanted so badly to believe she wasn’t capable of such a thing, but the truth was, he just didn’t know her anymore. And he hadn’t understood her since that moment two years ago when she’d broken things off with him after they’d made love and he’d asked her to marry him. She’d said it was because of his job. Because he’d gotten shot. Because he was reckless.

  No. Unless she was a superb actress, Savannah had once cared intensely for him. Matt prided himself on his judgment. It had rescued him from more than one jam during his career, but a person could change a lot over two years.