“I don’t see why you’d want somebody who barely knew Billy Jean, and works on parties. But it’s your decision.” He moved his shoulders.
“That’s right.”
“Dad and I have to settle down the ranch hands. It doesn’t make sense.” Anger eked through. “It just doesn’t make any damn sense why someone would go at her that way.”
“We don’t know that’s what happened.” Bodine held up a hand before Chase could bite at her. “I think it has to be what happened, but we don’t know. Until we do, you have to tell everyone at the ranch the same as we’re telling everyone at the resort.”
He stared at her until the hot anger in his eyes cooled. “It had to be an awful thing for you, finding her like that. I’m glad you weren’t alone when you did.”
Because the image of Billy Jean’s body flashed into her mind, Bodine only shook her head and looked away. At a knock on the door, she rose quickly. “I’ve got it.”
She opened the door to find Sheriff Tate dutifully wiping his boots on the mat.
“Bodine, how are you doing, honey?”
Bob Tate had a robust build and a weathered, ruddy face. She’d known him all of her life, as he was friendly with her parents and liked to tease he’d kissed her mother once before her father got up the gumption.
“It’s a terrible day. A hard, terrible day.”
“I know it.” He gave her a quick hug, then a pat on the back. “I stopped in over at the office, and that pretty blonde from out East said you and your family were all over here. I’m going to need to talk to you, honey.”
“I know. Let me take your coat.”
“Don’t you worry about it.” He stepped into the living room. “Miss Fancy, Mrs. Bodine.” He took off his hat. “I’m sorry to have to come into your home like this.”
“You’re always welcome here, Bob.” Cora rose first. “I’ll get you some coffee.”
“I’d sure be grateful for it. Maureen, Sam, boys.”
“Rory, get Sheriff Tate a chair.” Miss Fancy gestured toward her daughter’s bedroom. “How’s Lolly doing?”
“She’s got me on a diet.” He smiled as he said it, eyes crinkling. “A man could starve to death in his own house. Thank you, Rory.”
He sat in the chair Rory carried out, puffed out a breath.
“What can you tell us?” Sam asked.
“The fact is, I can’t tell you much right now. We’re doing all we need to do, and I can’t speak frankly on that. I need to ask Bodine some questions.”
Cora stopped on her way back from the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. “Do you need us to leave?”
“No, ma’am, no, there’s no need. It could be, as you all knew Billy Jean, you may have something to say that might add to the picture. But, Bodine, you’re the one who found her. Along with Cal Skinner.”
“Yes, sir. We were riding to work together—horseback,” she qualified. Though, of course, he knew.
“You took a roundabout way. Cal suggested that?”
“No. I did. I had the lead.”
He lifted his eyebrows, but nodded.
She gave him the details, as she had to Garrett Clintok. Tate stopped her when she got to Billy Jean’s phone.
Nodding, Tate flipped through a little notebook. “Cal suggested you try to call her.”
“No. When I saw her purse was in the car, I got worried, so I called her cell. She doesn’t have a landline. And I heard her ringtone. About the same time, Cal said for me to come around the car and look. And we saw her phone on the ground, and that torn-up path through the snow. Then I saw her, and I tried to run over to where she was lying in the snow. I thought she was hurt, I tried to tell myself that, but the truth was I could see—anybody could see—it was too late. Callen stopped me, held me back.”
Watching her, Tate tapped a stubby pencil against his notebook. “Did he go up to her?”
“No. He held on to me, got me calmed down enough till he could make me understand—I just didn’t want to understand—that we weren’t supposed to touch her, or anything.”
“I’m told Cal has a black eye. Did he have that this morning when you started out for work?”
“No, because I gave it to him. I was half-crazy, fighting to get loose, and I landed one on him before I got ahold of myself. And I see what’s happening here.” She spoke coldly now. “And I’ve got something to say.”
“You go ahead.”
“I told Garrett as clearly as I’m telling you what happened and how. If he told you differently, he’s lying.”
As if to tamp things down, Tate tapped a hand in the air. “Well, Bo, I’m aware there’s some bad blood between Cal and Garrett.”
“Clintok poisoned it a long time ago.” Chase got to his feet, slow and easy. “It got poisoned when we were no more than kids and Clintok dogged Cal, hounded him. He was goddamn relentless. Sorry, Grammy, but that’s the word for it. He poisoned it when he and three of his asshole friends…”
When he paused again, Miss Fancy waved a hand. “Wait until you’re done to apologize for your language in the parlor.”
“It’s what they were as they jumped us when Cal and I were camping down at the river. The three of them holding me down so Garrett could pound on Cal. But it ended up with Cal pounding on him, and getting the better of him before Wayne Ricket—you remember him?”
“I do,” Tate said, “seeing as back when I was deputy, I hauled him into a cell more than once, and as sheriff I had a part in putting him away for five years for aggravated assault.”
“He jumped into it, so it was two against one. But that only left two on me, and I had some mad worked up. We licked them. After, Clintok settled for hard words—didn’t have much else, as a couple of the gut punches Cal landed had Clintok puking like a sick dog. I’m saying, if he could find a way to beat Cal down, even if it’s steering you into thinking he’d kill a woman, he’d do just that.”
Piece said, Chase sat again.
Tate sat silent a moment, studying his little book. “I appreciate the information. All right then, Bo.” Tate turned back to her. “What happened next?”
“Cal called you, and I called our security, as I had my wits about me again, so they could block off the road and keep anybody from coming along. Clintok got there first, and it was clear he wanted to push at Callen, so…”
She blew out a breath. “I said how I needed to sit, have some water, and I’d arranged for the office to send down the keys for the near cabin. I wasn’t in the mood to have the two of them snapping at each other with Billy Jean lying over there.”
“That was a smart way to handle it. I’ve got some details to get yet, and I need to talk to Billy Jean’s direct supervisor and whoever was working with her last night.”
“That’d be Drew Mathers. I’ve talked to him and the bar staff. You’ll need to do that, too, but I can tell you: Billy Jean sent the others home about twelve-thirty. She had three couples still in the bar—four of them came in as friends, and the other couple got friendly, so they stayed on. I can’t tell you for sure what time she closed down and left, but I can give you the names of the people who were in the bar after twelve-thirty.”