“Yes, ma’am.”
He wasn’t much of a talker. Now that she had a face to put with his name, she remembered seeing him in town a few times. A tall, lean man with midnight-black hair and dark eyes, he was attractive in a quiet sort of way.
He wore standard ranching attire. A dark brown Stetson that had seen better days, faded jeans over scuffed cowboy boots and a blue, western-style shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The taut muscles in his tan forearms and the sweat stains on his clothes told her he wasn’t afraid of hard work.
His record had been clean since his out-of-state arrest for marijuana three years ago, but that didn’t prove he was innocent. It might only prove that he’d gotten smarter.
He stood silently before her. The thing that struck her most was how still he was. Almost at military attention, he waited as she crossed the graveled yard toward his vehicle. The crunch of her boots on the crushed rock was the only sound except for the panting of the little dog that scampered at her feet.
She wished the man would take off his hat.
Strolling to the front of his truck, she noticed a number of deep dents and scratches. “You’ve got some damage up here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She waited in vain for him to explain. He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. Finally, she nodded toward the hood. “Care to tell me how this happened?”
“It’s an old truck. It gets used hard.”
Wow, two whole sentences. He’s really loosening up.
Stepping back, she cocked her head to one side. “This midnight blue looks almost black, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t say “Yes, ma’am” this time. He said, “Is there something I can do for you?”
His tone was clipped, lacking any emotion. His stillness bothered her. Was he hiding something?
Garrett wasn’t used to company—especially not the company of a pretty woman who happened to be a cop. She’d come for a reason. He wished she’d get to the point.
She gazed at him without flinching. “Do you know a woman named Judy Bowen?”
His unease flared like a grass fire. “Yes.”
“How well do you know her?” Her question sounded nonchalant, but it wasn’t.
“What’s this about, Sheriff?”
“I asked how well do you know her?”
Something was wrong, but he sensed he wouldn’t get answers from Sheriff Scott until she was ready to give them.
He forced his tense muscles to relax. “She’s my ex-wife, but I figure you already know that.”
Only the slightest lift of her eyebrows acknowledged his assumption. “When did you see her last?”
He clamped his teeth together. He didn’t like sharing details of his personal life. “Judy split about a year ago. I haven’t seen her since.”
“I heard she was here today. What time did she leave?”
How did the sheriff know Judy was coming to visit? “She hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Care to tell me why she was here?”
“I told you, I haven’t seen her yet.” He kept his face carefully blank. He’d learned as a child not to show fear or anger or anything that would trigger his father’s rage. Still, it was hard to hold back his growing concern.
“Is that so?” She clearly didn’t believe him. Her eyes locked with his, seeking something. Weakness?
Never let ’em see you’re scared. He could hear his mother’s cautiously whispered advice.
Garrett raised his chin a notch. “I’m not answering your questions until you tell me why you’re asking. What’s wrong?”
Mandy’s eyes widened. “Why would something be wrong?”
“Because you’re out here, grilling me.”
She folded her arms and leaned back slightly. “Your ex-wife is dead. What do you know about that?”
TWO
Mandy scrutinized Garrett Bowen’s face, paying close attention to every detail.
“Judy’s dead?” The disbelief in his voice was the first crack in his armor that she’d seen.
His gaze dropped to his boots. The dog came over. Whining, the mutt rose and braced his front paws against Garrett’s knee. After a long moment, Garrett asked, “How?”
A flash of sympathy darted through her, but she suppressed it. Her job was finding Judy Bowen’s killer. Mandy pulled her notebook from her pocket and flipped it open. “Her car was deliberately run off the road. Where were you at seven o’clock this morning?”
He looked up sharply. “Here.”
“Who can verify that?”
“Wiley.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And who is that?”
He nodded toward his feet. “The dog. I don’t get a lot of company.”
Not much of an alibi, yet his words had a vague ring of truth. If he wanted to cover up his involvement in a murder he could certainly do better than make a dog his only witness.
“Care to tell me what Judy wanted to see you about?”
“I don’t know,” he stated quietly.
Once more her suspicions were aroused. “Your ex-wife was coming to see you after a year and you had no idea why?”
“That’s right. I got a call from Judy a week ago. She said she had to see me—to tell me something she couldn’t put in a letter or talk about over the phone.”
“Didn’t that seem strange?”
“It did, but I didn’t pry.” He stared at his boots again. “Were drugs involved in her death?”
“That’s an odd question. Why do you ask?” She hoped pretending ignorance of his record would put him off guard. If she could, she wanted to catch him in a lie. It would help her decide if she believed anything else he’d told her.
“Judy—had a drug problem.”
“Really. When was this?”
He waited for a long moment, then said, “While we were married, and before I met her.”
“I see. What about you?”
Glancing up suddenly, he said, “I was arrested once for possession as I’m sure you already know. You think I had something to do with her death.”
She arched one eyebrow. “I never said that.”
“You don’t have to say it.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No.”
Again, she heard a ring of truth in his voice, but she wasn’t willing to accept his word. She’d been wrong before.
Let me get this one right, Lord. Help me find justice for that little boy.
Deciding to press Garrett, she stepped closer. “I can see how things might have gotten out of hand. You had a fight. She took off. You followed. Maybe all you wanted to do was stop her. You never meant to send her car off the road.”
“No.”