Final Fix (Rachel Ryder Book 8), page 8
She must have noticed me fighting to maintain my composure. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s never easy.”
Bishop took over while I let my heartbeat drop into the normal range again. “I know you said Sean seemed anxious and worried recently. Can you elaborate on that?”
Jessica's composure finally shattered. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she shook her head. She excused herself for a moment and returned with a box of tissue. "Like I said at the ranch, he had been worried about something, I could tell, but he tried to hide it around me. I only noticed because I know my husband. I know his moods, his facial expressions. I know it all.” Tears streamed down her face, but she continued. “We talked about our plans for the future, and he seemed excited about them."
Mr. Doyle cleared his throat and interjected his thoughts with a touch of bitterness. "He had been stressed about his industry for the past few months. The horse selling world has become more corrupt over the years. Sean often talked about his concerns regarding the quality of horses being sold from other states. He couldn't stand to see the industry go down that path. He also wasn’t happy with local ranches buying those horses. He felt it impacted the reputation of all the ranches in the area.”
I took notes of Mr. Doyle’s thoughts, but it wasn't enough to point to a specific suspect. “Did he say which ranch in particular he was talking about?”
Mr. Doyle’s eyes shifted toward his daughter. When they returned back to mine, he glanced at the counter and just said, “I don’t remember.”
“Did Sean change his routine recently?” Bishop asked, his voice gentle yet persistent. “Did he go out more often, or alter his pattern in any way?”
“No. Sean had his routine, his work at the ranch, and time with our baby. He didn't deviate from it,” she said. “He was very devoted to us. We were his priority, and I knew that. That’s why he took the baby with him. I was tired, and he wanted to give me extra time to sleep.”
The cries of her baby echoed from upstairs. “I’ve got her again,” a woman yelled from upstairs as well.
“Thanks, Mom,” Jessica replied. She exhaled. “Daddy’s right. Sean was worried about the quality of horses coming into the state. He said a few had died recently, and he thought they might have been given performance drugs or something to make them sell for more at auction.”
“Did he say he was worried about horses at his ranch?” Bishop asked.
“No. He hasn’t bought any in a few years.”
“Did he say which ranch?”
“No. He didn’t really want to talk about it.” She dabbed her nose with a tissue. “I’m sorry.”
“Did he have good relationships with the other ranch owners?” I asked. Even though Connie had told us her thoughts, it was important to ask again. Sean may have portrayed his relationships differently to each of them.
“They were friendly, but not friends.” She twisted her head toward the countertop then raised it again. “You know, I actually don’t know if that’s the case. He never said he didn’t like any of them, but when we’d run into them, he treated them more like acquaintances than anything. He didn’t invite any of them to our wedding.” She paused then said, “Oh, he did invite someone who works at one of them. Maybe Haverty Ranch? I can’t remember. His name is Damian Sayers. They went to college together.”
“He told me Damian was a good guy,” Mr. Doyle said.
I jotted that down and asked, “Has he mentioned Damian lately?”
Jessica pressed her lips together, and finally said, “I don’t think so, but I’m so busy with the baby, I don’t know what day it is half the time.”
She would know from that point on. She’d count them. I counted until day 792 and only stopped after Lenny said Tommy would be disappointed if I’d kept going. He’d been right about that, too. “Did Sean keep a journal or a datebook, or anything like that?”
“He has a calendar in his office. It’s upstairs.”
“I’ll get it,” her mother said. She stood at the landing holding the baby and listening. “Where in his office?”
“I’m not sure if he put it away. If it’s not on his desk, just check the drawers.”
“Would it be okay if we looked in his office?” I asked.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mr. Doyle said.
“Daddy, Sean and I have nothing to hide.”
He grumbled something inaudible then crossed his arms. “I’d like to be there while you do.”
“Not a problem,” Bishop said.
Mr. Doyle showed us to Sean’s office. An hour later we’d gone through everything and found nothing we could even remotely link to Sean’s murder. Including his calendar.
“Can’t you just focus on finding Sean’s killer and leave us alone?” Mr. Doyle asked quietly.
“We are focusing on finding his killer,” Bishop said. “Part of that focus requires us to look into his recent past and, most importantly, the last few days of his life. Usually, there’s something there that can point us in the right direction.”
“Clearly, it’s not here. I wish you’d just leave us alone.”
“Mr. Doyle, don’t you think your daughter wants us to do everything possible to find her husband’s killer?” Bishop asked.
His nostrils flared. “It’s not about what she wants. It’s about what she needs.”
“In my experience finding the killer and getting justice is exactly what someone in her position needs,” I said. “It’s the only way they can move on.”
“She can move on without knowing. She has to. What if whoever did this comes after her? What if they kill my girl or my granddaughter?”
Bishop placed his small spiral notebook in his blazer’s pocket. “Is there something you’re not telling us? Something that makes you think your daughter is in danger?”
His eyes shifted between us. “I already told you all I know. I just want my family safe. My granddaughter can’t lose both parents.”
“Then let us do our job so we can make sure that doesn’t happen,” Bishop said.
“You can’t prove Sean didn’t overdose himself,” he whispered.
“Not at this time,” I said.
“What if he did? What if you’re dragging all this out, upsetting my family, and forcing my daughter to hold onto some hope she may never get? Is that really the right thing to do? He died from a drug overdose. What does it matter how he got it?”
“Ask your daughter that,” I said. Frustration seeped from my pores. “Ask her what matters most, finding the truth and possibly a killer, or moving on. If you don’t know the answer to that, then I suspect you don’t know your daughter very well at all.”
Bishop sensed I was close to exploding and got us out of there with a quick goodbye.
“He knows something,” I said.
“I agree,” Bishops said. “I think we should try to talk to him on his own. He might not want to say anything in front of his daughter.” He pulled out of Sean’s driveway.
“He’s pushing us to drop this. He’s worried for his family. He definitely knows something. I’ll call him.”
“Jessica seems to be holding it together better than I expected.”
“It’s shock and adrenaline. The reality will hit once those wear off. That’s usually the day after the funeral.”
“How are you doing with this?”
How many times was he going to ask me that? I appreciated his concern, but I needed to separate my personal emotions from the investigation, and I couldn’t if he continued to harp on me. I drummed my fingers on my jeans. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
I exhaled. “I’m sure. Is it sad? Of course. Do I have regrets about Sean? From a while back, sure. Though I do wish I could have gotten to the ranch earlier. I might have been able to save him.”
“Don’t go down that road. You’ll only crash and burn.”
“I live on that road.”
“There’s a lot of truth in that statement.”
“Bishop, I need a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Stop asking me if I’m okay. I know you mean well, but I need to focus on a professional level, not a personal one, and each time you ask, it drops me back into the personal zone.”
“Noted.” He turned toward the department. “I need a coffee. We’re going to have to update Jimmy, and we don’t have much.”
“If all else fails, I’ll call Savannah. She’ll find a way to keep the investigation going.”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t even want to know what that might be.”
“No, you don’t,” I said smiling.
12
We headed into the conference room. The details of the dingy room around me burst from fuzzy gray to sharp, technicolor clarity. My mind raced. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew it in my gut. Sean’s murder was somehow connected to the dead horses. I jotted dead horses on my note pad and drew a circle around it. “I really think there’s a connection between Sean and the dead horses at Haverty Ranch.”
“I know,” Bishop said. “And the possibility of performance drugs.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else would he have information on ranches in Texas?”
“We have to consider the fact that he could have been doing it for other reasons. Maybe he was going to buy horses again? Maybe he was looking at moving? There could be a dozen or more reasons. That’s not enough to claim he was investigating ranches, or anything related to performance drugs.”
I chewed on my nail. “What if he was looking into where Baxter bought the horses that died?”
“Again, possible, but we need more than that.”
“Then we’ll find it.”
Bubba walked in carrying one opened laptop on top of another closed one, his head down and fingers clicking at a miraculous speed on the opened one. “I’ve been doing research on the ranches in town.”
“Great,” I said as Nikki, Michels, Levy, and Jimmy all arrived together.
“What do we have?” Jimmy asked.
“Nothing from Cooper Ranch,” Levy said. “The owner wasn’t there, and they’ve blocked us from talking to anyone until he returns.” She sat at the table.
“You’d think they’d see a badge and act accordingly,” Bishop said.
“That was probably them acting according to their boss’s demands,” I said.
“I think so,” Michels said. “They were pretty nice about it. Just said they needed their boss there.”
Bishop gave everyone a coffee. “We’re developing a concept.”
“Oh, thanks,” Nikki said as she took a Styrofoam cup from Bishop. “I need the late day jolt.”
Michels held up his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Sean’s father-in-law doesn’t want us looking into this,” I said. “He’s worried someone’s going to come after his daughter.”
“Did he say who?” Michels asked.
“Nope,” Bishop said. “But he was intense. We think he knows more than he’s saying.”
I added, “Jessica said Sean had expressed concern about performance drugs, that maybe that was why the horses had died recently, but that’s it.”
“If that’s the case,” Bishop said. “Sean could have called out one of the owners, and that’s what got him killed.”
“Mason Baxter,” I said. “He argued with him at the feed store.”
“Cooper was there as well,” Bishop said.
“Yes, but according to Billy Pruitt, he wasn’t really a part of the argument,” I said.
Bubba, pounding his fingers quickly onto one of his laptop keyboards, said, “I've found Haverty Ranch’s online presence. From what I can see, their Facebook mainly showcases horses and their achievements. Oh, and a few horses for sale, but each is marked sold.” He rotated his laptop for the rest of us to see. “I've gone through their posts, comments, and interactions, but there's nothing unusual or suspicious. It's all standard ranch-related content. Whoever runs the page seems genuinely passionate about the ranch and the horses.”
“Who’s the admin?” Nikki asked. “The admin manages the page and posts content,” she said to Bishop.
I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. Bishop was ancient to people Nikki’s age, and he solidified that thought in her with his lack of modern technical knowledge, especially when it came to social media platforms.
“I know what an administrator is,” Bishop said.
“It’s admin,” I said as I smiled.
“Whatever. They’re the ones who put pictures and news up. Cathy’s got one of those page thingies for her book club. She’s the person who does all that.”
Nikki giggled and smiled at Bubba. “Who’s the administrator of the page?”
Bubba grinned. “Emma Baxter. I checked her page as well. She’s seventeen, so I’m assuming she’s the owner’s kid.”
“What about Sean’s ranch? Do they have a page too?” I asked.
He spun the laptop back toward him, tapped at a rapid speed and turned it back to us. “It’s not too current. Looks like the last post was about six months ago.”
“Who’s their admin?” Nikki asked.
“Jessica Higgins.”
“Their baby is about six months old,” I said. “She probably stopped updating the page once she was born.”
“Check out Cooper Creek Ranch, and Sweetwater Ranch on that thingamajig,” Bishop said to Bubba.
“Thingamajig?” Bubba asked.
Bishop pointed to the laptop. “The Facebook thing.”
“Oh, right. Let me pull up their pages.” He scooted his chair an inch or two in front of the second laptop. His fingers danced over the keys until he said, “Cooper Creek Ranch and Sweetwater Ranch have quite active social media presences. Their pages are filled with pictures of their horses, competitions they've participated in, and some horses for sale as well. So, yeah. The same as Haverty Ranch.”
“Is there any mention of interactions or competitions between Sean's ranch and the other three?” I asked.
Bubba scrolled through their pages. “I don't see any direct interactions between the ranches. Wait. I forgot about this. I did find a few posts where some individuals have mentioned visiting multiple ranches, including Sean's, for different events or competitions. It seems like horse enthusiasts go to multiple ranches in the area.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
Bishop asked, “Did anyone mention horses dying?”
His eyes traveled over the screen as fast as he typed. “Not that I see.”
I hated to think it, but mentioning a horse’s death would help us get approval for the investigation. I eyed Jimmy, trying to read his micro expressions, but his face lacked any emotion. “Jimmy, we need to move forward without the worry of whether we’ll have an investigation or not.”
He dragged his hand down his face. “I’ve already spoken to the assistant district attorney. His first question was if we thought Sean’s murder involved horse racing. He believes it’s a hot ticket, so let’s roll with it. But follow up with the father-in-law. If he knows something, we need to know what it is.”
Nikki, Bubba, and Jimmy left, but the other four of us spent three hours going through Sean’s financial records, work files, and what we knew, which wasn’t much.
“There’s nothing in any of this,” I said. “If he knew something, he didn’t write it down.” I closed the last box. “I’ll have an officer drop them back at the ranch and Sean’s home.”
“It’s got to be a drugging thing,” Levy said. “When does the blood test come back from the autopsy?”
I tapped my pencil on the desk. “Barron’s got a rush on it. That’s all I know.”
“That Damian Sayers. I’ll run the name,” she said. “See if I can get an address.”
“Please do,” I said. I checked my watch. “It’s late. Let’s get a fresh start first thing in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” Michels said.
“You call Mr. Doyle tonight?” Bishop asked.
“I’ll get his cell from Connie on my way home.”
Levy stood and stretched. “I’m going for a run. I need blood flowing to my legs again.”
“Not me,” Michels said. “Ashley’s forcing me to help her pick out a China pattern.”
Levy busted out laughing. “People still do that?”
Michels and Ashley were in the middle of planning their shebang. I felt for him. And her.
“Southern weddings are very traditional,” Michels said. “Ashley’s born and raised in the South. Her mother is driving me crazy with this wedding stuff.”
“Watch how you refer to it,” Levy said.
I chuckled. “She’s right. The wrath of the mother-in-law is real, and calling it wedding stuff in front of Ashley is a road you don’t want to drive.”
Michels looked to Bishop for support. Bishop held up his hands. “They’re right. As for the China, I picked out ours. I picked out the ugliest pattern I could find. The ex got it in the divorce.”
13
I gave Connie what little update I could. It wasn’t much, but she wrapped it back to questions I’d previously asked her. “You think this has to do with the horses that died recently? The ones at Haverty Ranch?”
“We’re still looking into it,” I said. “Do you have Jessica’s father’s cell phone number by any chance?”
“Actually, I do. I’ll text it to you.”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks.”
I received it immediately and called him but had to leave a voicemail. “Mr. Doyle, this is Detective Rachel Ryder with the Hamby PD. I’ve got some additional questions for you. Could you please call me back?” I left my number and then called Kyle. “You hungry?”
“I’ve got Vietnamese from Pho and Go waiting.”
My mouth watered. “You’re incredible.”
