Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) by Susan Vaughan Read Free Book Online Page B

strolled out of the office as if nothing had
happened.
    “Be careful, Holt.” Sheriff Foley sat and put up his
feet. “The DEA has no jurisdiction in this case.”
    “All I’m going to do is talk to people.” Since he’d
resigned, Holt had no status with the DEA. He wouldn’t disabuse the sheriff of
his mistake. For the time being, his reputation as a government agent would
serve his purpose. “Anything I learn I’ll share with your office.”
    After Holt dropped Chris Hawke off at his law office
in Rangewood, he stopped at the feed store for calf vitamins.
    A man was loading grain sacks into the back of a black
Ford 250 pickup that might have been the one behind him earlier. If Rob’s
killer was still around, he might worry about Holt involving himself in the
case. He parked beside the truck and eased out.
    “Hey, Holt, you’ve been a stranger. Good to see you,
man.” It was Will Rafferty, Luke’s brother and the manager of the Circle-S. He
was as tall as Holt and a few years older. His powerful build reminded Holt of
the man’s steer wrestling days. A compassionate expression on his face, he
slipped off his work gloves and stuck out a beefy hand.
    Holt took it. “Good to see you, Will. Guess I’ve stuck
to home since the funeral.”
    “How’s that little nephew of yours?” Will leaned one
elbow against the truck and slapped the grain dust from his gloves on the
tailgate. “You managing okay? You must be now you have a house guest.”
    Holt forced back a groan. Didn’t take long for Faith
to tell her brother Maddy’d moved in. “Just fine now that Maddy’s there.” It
had been only one day, so he wasn’t lying.
    Humor glimmered in the former bulldogger’s eyes. He
lowered one eyelid in a conspiratorial wink. “I reckon you’re a lucky man as
long as you two don’t battle it out like the Hatfields and McCoys. Or maybe
you’ve made up. How about it?”
    “We grew up together. We’re old friends. That’s all.”
Old friends and old enemies and old...nothing, under a white-diaper flag of
truce. So far.
    Holt noticed for the first time the Circle-S brand
logo on the side of the Ford truck. Distinctive. If it was the same one from
earlier, Will had spent an awful long time at the feed store. Had to have been
some other black truck.
    “If you folks want a break from diapers and formula,
come on over. My sister wants time to get reacquainted with Maddy.”
    “How is Faith, anyway? She came to the funeral, but I
didn’t talk to her much.” He pictured the brown-haired woman, once a champion
barrel racer, now confined to a wheelchair after a horse fell on her, crushing
her spine.
    The other man shrugged. “She’s mostly okay, but she
hardly leaves the ranch. She does manage to organize the children’s activities
for the guests. We’re all just grateful she’s alive. She’s using a walker a bit
now. So that’s progress.”
    “That accident was a terrible tragedy,” Holt said.
    For a few more minutes, they discussed their calf
crops and the weather. Will slammed the tailgate, prepared to drive away. “I
meant what I said, Holt, about coming over to the Circle-S anytime. Bring
Maddy.”
    “Sure thing. You might as well know. I’m not entirely
satisfied with Sheriff Foley’s handling of my brother’s case. I’d like to come
talk to you about that day and about Rob.”
    “About Rob?” Will glanced away as he keyed the ignition.
When his gaze again met Holt’s, his expression was guarded. “I’ll tell you
whatever I can, but I don’t know much.”
    Holt watched the 250 vanish down the highway. Unease
edged into suspicion. Will Rafferty would be the first rancher he’d question.
     
    *****
     
    He punched in the number he’d been given. The phone
rang once, twice, three times before someone picked up. He gave the coded
Spanish words.
    His employer’s accented voice, when it came
nerve-wracking moments later, rasped in his ear. “What news do you have for
me?”
    “He has a