Justice Inked (Cowboy Justice Association 7) Read online

  Of course, things were going better for her than the guy lying in the woods. His day really sucked.

  “Yes,” Rayne sighed, standing and starting to sift through a pile of rubble. She’d already changed into an old pair of jeans and t-shirt that she’d left at the shop for those just in case moments. She hadn’t thought she’d be using them to clean up a robbery. And murder. “I need to see how much of this equipment will need to be repaired or replaced. I may not be able to even open for a few days.”

  “Rayne, can I speak to you for a moment?”

  Dare had appeared in the back doorway, a tentative expression on his face. She’d been pretty crappy to him earlier and she felt badly about it. As frustrating as he was to deal with he didn’t deserve to be her whipping boy when things went wrong in her life.

  “Of course, Sheriff. What do you need?”

  She stepped out of the back door to join him but he didn’t answer right away, appearing to struggle for words.

  “I need you to take a look at our murder victim,” he finally said. “See if you know him or why he might have been here. Can you do that for me?”

  It was the last thing she wanted to do but she couldn’t say no. This was a serious investigation and someone was dead. This wasn’t about her comfort level or lack thereof.

  Her answer stuck in her throat so instead she just nodded. He seemed to understand her reticence and placed his arm loosely around her middle to guide her back toward the woods behind the building. The area was lit up by several mobile spotlights and a lone figure was covered by a black tarp. She stumbled taking in the scene but luckily Dare caught her, pausing long enough to steady herself before moving forward.

  “Are you sure you can do this?”

  No. I am not sure at all.

  Lips pressed together tightly, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to will herself to relax. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

  He didn’t argue, instead leading her over to the tarp-covered body and reached down to take hold of a corner of the plastic. “Are you ready?”

  Fuck no. How am I supposed to prepare myself for this?

  Rayne had a feeling that her life was going to be separated into two sections from this moment on. Before seeing a dead body and after seeing a dead body.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  * * * *

  “You know him?” Dare pressed, once they were back in her shop. Rayne’s stomach was churning at the sight of a dead man, his face still and ghostly white. She was sure to have nasty nightmares tonight.

  If she slept at all.

  The young man’s name, according to his driver’s license, was Patrick Moulton and he was twenty-nine years old. He wouldn’t be getting any older. That thought had Rayne’s stomach twisted into painful knots. The delicious dinner she’d eaten earlier was in danger of making an untimely reappearance.

  “I don’t know him but I’ve seen him before.”

  Sitting shakily down onto an office chair in the back room, Rayne pressed her clammy hands to her cheeks trying to make some sense out of the night’s events. She knew there were people out there that were violent. She’d been hit in the head by a homicidal woman who wanted Misty dead after all, but for some reason this felt closer to home. This wasn’t about Misty. Did that mean it was about her? And if so, why?

  “Do you remember where? Anything you can tell us will be helpful,” Dare urged, settling into a chair across from her, their knees bumping. For once she didn’t mind his close proximity. His strong, no nonsense demeanor was comforting and oddly reassuring despite the fact that he got on her nerves. He had taken charge of the situation since the moment he’d shown up and every detail looked to be under control.

  “He came into the shop about a week ago,” Rayne explained, sipping the coffee that Jared had placed in her trembling hand. “He wanted a tattoo of course, and he’d brought in a drawing. We chatted about it and then he left without making an appointment when my next client showed up. He said he’d stop back by when I had more time.”

  “Go on. What happened when he came back?”

  “He didn’t. Come back, I mean. He said he’d return the next day but he never did so I kind of forgot all about him. The only reason I really remember him now is because I recognized that tat on his neck.”

  The man had a devil’s pitchfork inked on the side of his neck in red and black. It had been a simple design but she’d never seen one like it.

  “What did he say when you talked to him? Did he ask any questions about the equipment or how much money the shop takes in?”

  “We only talked about the design, the colors. The usual things. He didn’t act strange or out of the ordinary and he didn’t ask me anything personal.”

  It had been like any other consultation and he had been like any other customer.

  Dare tapped his pencil against the small notebook in his hand. “Did he say anything about himself? Anything at all?”

  Rayne wracked her brain to remember the details of their all too brief conversation. Nothing about it had seemed strange so it had been filed under “Just Another Day”, which meant the retrieval of the memory was shaky at best.

  “Not that I can remember. He’d had tattoos before obviously, so we didn’t have to have the usual first timer discussion. He knew what he wanted and I suggested a few tweaks since it was going to be on his upper arm.” Rayne blew out a breath. “That’s it, really. He said he’d come back to talk more but he never did.”

  “And no one was with him?”

  Rayne shook her head. It had been just another day.

  “I’m really sorry, Dare. It was a normal client interaction. Nothing out of the ordinary or strange. He was a nice guy who didn’t trip any creep out wires. But we kept the conversation to business. He didn’t tell me anything personal and I didn’t ask.”

  “It’s okay.” Dare didn’t smile but he wasn’t scowling either. He was actually trying to be nice, which was a switch. “The fact that you remembered him is great. He may have been here casing the joint and never had any intention of getting a tattoo.”

  The guy had seemed genuine, but perhaps she wasn’t as good a judge of character as she had thought. She’d had Dare pegged as an asshole but he was acting more than decently at the moment.

  “If his plan was to break in and steal then how did he end up…dead?” Rayne asked, still seeing his dead body before they’d pulled the tarp back over his face. “Do you think he had a partner?”

  “There’s no honor among thieves, Rayne.” Dare stood and shoved the small notebook into his chest pocket. “There’s a good chance he had an accomplice. They might have argued and then a shot was fired. I certainly don’t think this was some sort of tragic accident.”

  Jared stepped in between Rayne and Dare. “Is that all you need? She’s been through the wringer tonight.”

  Please let him be done. Her head hurt, her stomach was nauseous, and she wanted to sleep for a week, only waking up when this nightmare was all over.

  “For now,” Dare conceded. “Once I get the ME’s report and the forensics I may have more questions.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll see what I can pull for you on your victim’s background. It might be some help.”

  “I’d appreciate that. I wouldn’t say my computer research skills are all that strong.”

  Dare turned on his heel and strode out the back door toward the second crime scene. Rayne huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Just when she thought Dare was a good guy he did something crappy.

  “You’re welcome, Dare,” Rayne said sweetly to his retreating figure. He was too far to hear her but that wasn’t the point. “Please don’t give it a second thought. Jerk.”

  Jared laughed and wrapped his arm around Misty who was chuckling as well. “That pretty much sums up Dare Turner most of the time. Kind of a jerk. His bedside manner sucks but he’s a good lawman, Rayne. If whoever did this can be found, he’ll find them.”


  “I swear his tightie-whities must be two sizes too small. He has such a sour puss all the time. It doesn’t seem like his life should be that terrible. He has a job, a home, family, friends. What is he lacking that makes him so cranky?”

  Jared smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Misty’s head, his entire demeanor one of love and protection. “Maybe the love of a good woman.”

  “She might start out a good woman, but by the time he was done with her she’d be at her wit’s end,” Rayne declared. “Dare Turner could drive a saint to the bottle.”

  “He is handsome,” Misty observed. “Some might even say sexy. Not me because I married the sexiest man in Montana. But some might say it.”

  “He’s good-looking but it isn’t enough to offset his personality. The man is downright difficult. I’ll happily keep my distance.”

  Heaven help the woman who fell in love with the sheriff. She’d need all the help she could get.

  Chapter Six

  “Everything is fine. I’m fine and the shop will open again on Monday. I’m okay.”

  Assuring Rayne’s sister Camy of anything wasn’t an easy task. Once she had an idea in her head it was difficult, if not impossible to change it. Rayne had known that her sister’s breakfast invitation was a not so subtle ploy to question her about the body and break-in, but she couldn’t think of a decent reason not to go.

  She loved her sister. She truly did. But Camy was wound tightly. Too tightly sometimes. She could make life a nightmare for those around her without breaking a sweat. The only person who could handle Camy was her mother, and she was hiking the Appalachian Trail at the moment.

  Camy eyed her sister up and down while holding baby Blair. Blair Christina had pretty golden brown curls and bright blue eyes just like her mother but a dimpled chin like her father. She was going to be a looker when she grew up. Not that Camy would ever let her daughter out of the house.

  “You’re not telling me everything,” Camy shot back, holding the bottle in Blair’s mouth, the infant sucking hungrily. “There’s more to the story.”

  “There isn’t. I swear.” Rayne held up her hand as if testifying in court. Camy was tougher than any prosecutor. “My shop was broken into by an almost customer who then ended up dead a few feet away. Shot in the chest. End of story.”

  “Do they know anything about him? Who would want to do this?”

  Rayne stood from the table where they’d eaten breakfast and picked at a piece of leftover bacon. Was it too early in the morning for wine? Her sister made drinking look attractive.

  Refilling her orange juice, Rayne counted to ten before she answered. It wouldn’t do to lose her patience. “I haven’t talked to Dare since last night. He said he might have more questions later after the autopsy and forensic reports, but I haven’t heard from him, which isn’t a surprise. It’s only been a few hours. As to who would want to do this, I have no idea. I don’t fraternize with killers, sis.”

  “There is a certain…element…that frequents a tattoo parlor,” Camy sniffed with a tone of disdain. “I’m sure you get your share of criminals.”

  Rayne had been dealing with the attitudes of closed-minded people for years. To many, tattoos equaled trash or at least someone lesser than. Rayne’s own sister often looked at her as if she was only one rung above a carnival worker. How Camy got so stuffy Rayne would never figure out. Their parents were completely open-minded, almost hippie-like, and then Camy somehow became priggish and judgmental.

  “Every business probably has customers with less than stellar pasts. It’s not my job to judge them. Besides, I’ve also done artwork for what you would call pillars of the community. I’m in the process of working on the sheriff’s latest ink and he seems trustworthy. Or do you think he’s the killer? He does look kind of shifty. Maybe he’s a serial killer in disguise.”

  Camy slapped the empty bottle down on the table, luckily not waking her now sleeping daughter. “I’m being serious here. Sheriff Turner is not a serial killer. But I am surprised he’s getting a tattoo. I wonder why.”

  “This isn’t his first ink. Maybe he simply likes the artwork on his body.”

  Which of course made Rayne think about Dare’s body, which was very fine indeed. Too bad his personality lacked a certain something. Like friendliness.

  Camy grimaced and stood to place Blair in her playpen. Mark would be along in a few minutes to change Blair’s diaper and put her to bed for her morning nap.

  “He seems more conventional than that.”

  “He’s a grouch,” countered Rayne. “Whether that is conventional or not I don’t know, but it is unpleasant. Actually, I just feel sorry for him. It must be terrible to be that unhappy every single day of your life. It’s sad when you think about it.”

  Maybe Rayne needed to be extra nice to Dare next time she saw him. She’d always assumed that everything was fine in his life but it could be an emotional hell for all she knew. Instead of bitching about him, she ought to try being extra special friendly to him. Everyone thought he was the invincible sheriff of Valley Station but that could be a front for a soft, sensitive heart.

  “I hope he finds this person soon,” Camy replied, settling herself again at the table. “I don’t like to think about you at the shop while this person is running loose. Maybe they’ll come back and shoot you too.”

  That was Camy…always thinking of the bright side of life.

  “If they wanted me dead, sis, they would have come in the daytime while I was there. No, I don’t think I’m the target here but I appreciate your concern.” Rayne glanced at her watch and then drained her juice glass. “I need to get going. I have several loads of laundry piled up and they won’t wash themselves.”

  Camy grabbed Rayne’s wrist. “Will you call me tomorrow and let me know you’re okay? And if you hear anything from Dare? I really am worried about you. When I told Mom–”

  The tenuous thread that Rayne held on her patience snapped. “You talked to Mom? When? Why? Shit, Camy, she doesn’t need this kind of worry when they’re out on an adventure and she can’t do anything about it. This will just make her worry over nothing.”

  Color flooded Camy’s cheeks and her hand fluttered to her throat nervously. “I sent her a text and she called me back. They have cell towers everywhere now, you know.”

  Rayne pressed her fingertips to her forehead, trying to hold back every word that threatened to spill out of her lips. Not nice words. Mean words. She didn’t want to be nasty but Camy was making her crazy. Her sister needed to get a life and stay out of Rayne’s. It was becoming a habit. A bad one.

  “You went too far,” Rayne said between gritted teeth. “I don’t want to worry Mom and Dad about something that isn’t a big deal. I swear your life isn’t dramatic enough so you have to stir shit up. You’d probably be in heaven if they’d shot at me. Would that be dramatic enough for you?”

  “That’s not true,” Camy protested. “It’s just–”

  “What?” Rayne shot back. “It’s just what? You’ve blown this entirely out of proportion. Like you always do and then you sit back and get all pissy when people call you out. Just stop it. I moved here to Montana to help you when you were sick and pregnant but now I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake.”

  “If you feel that way maybe you should leave.”

  “Maybe I should,” Rayne agreed, knowing that they both would apologize later for the nasty things they’d said. “Stop trying to interfere in my life and for the love of God, stop judging it. I know things about you, Cameron Elizabeth. Things that would horrify your friends but you have apparently conveniently forgot about. Let me remind you that people who live in glass houses shouldn’t sing opera.”

  There were too many stories to count that Camy wouldn’t want her husband to know about. They had major dirt on each other.

  Camy’s eyes had gone wide with fear. Good. Her sister needed to remember that she wasn’t a perfect angel. She’d lived life to the fullest for many years before settlin
g down.

  “You wouldn’t,” Camy whispered, her hand over her trembling lips. “That’s cruel.”

  “I don’t intend to, but you need to stop acting like you’re Mother Theresa. You’re a Dunn whether you like it or not, and that means you’ve lived on the edge. Embrace it, sis.”

  “This town…” Camy’s voice trailed off, shaking her head. “Since moving here…”

  Valley Station and Fairfield could kick anyone’s ass. Rayne had learned the hard way how a newcomer could be treated in a small town. Especially a person that stood out as much as she did. She’d chosen not to buckle under and dealt with the gossip and stares, but Camy had gone another route deciding to blend in. Neither one was right or wrong, and they needed to stop harping at each other about it.

  “Come here and hug me.” Rayne held out her arms and Camy flew into them, sniffing delicately without any actual tears. “I love you. I know it’s tough here. I feel your frustration. But the way to deal with it is not to become one of the Stepford Wives. You can fit in but still be true to yourself. And not be a pain in the ass to me.”

  “I swear I’m not trying to be. But you might have a point about my life being a little boring. I love Blair, but I feel like every day is the same and they are all starting to blend together.”

  “You need to get out more. You know I could use a receptionist at the shop. It’s not that far of a drive between towns and you could bring Blair. I’ll set up a play area for her and everything.”

  Camy’s mouth hung open. “Work? In a tattoo shop?”

  Rayne’s smile grew at her sister’s shock. “Who knows? You might enjoy it. Maybe you’ll even decide to get some ink of your own.”

  Camy was uncharacteristically speechless so Rayne took full advantage, slipping her purse on her shoulder and heading straight for the front door. “Think about it. The offer is open. If you need me I’ll be at the house.”

  Rayne climbed into her vehicle and headed back home. She had a million things that needed to be done today but she had to admit her mind was filled with questions. The main one?