Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2)(14)

Ordinarily in a murder case you look at the evidence on the scene first. And it can usually tell you a lot. But we’ve got nothing to go on this time.

“The family said they’d return in a few weeks to take care of the house,” Ariana says. “Clear out all the stuff. Put it on the market. They were upset, as you might imagine. I don’t think they were in any shape to go through her things.”

We look in Susan Snyder’s office, which contains a desk with two large-screen computer monitors. Inside a filing cabinet are loads of paperwork—town council agendas, news clippings, various reports from county agencies. There are also files and files of work-related information: invoices for clients, folders full of graphic design samples, notes about design projects, etc. And that’s just what’s been printed—I’m sure the computer itself has a whole world of information on it.

“It will take forever to go through all this stuff,” she says.

“Box it up,” I say. “We don’t know what’s going to be relevant.”

We fill file boxes and evidence bags with anything that seems like it might be useful later. I have a feeling that most of what we’re doing is a waste of time, but this is part of the job. You have to be thorough.

When we’re finished, we sit on the tailgate of my truck under the shade of a mesquite tree. The temperature is blazing hot, but the air lacks the oppressive humidity I’m used to in Central Texas. I take a couple of warm bottles of Ozarka spring water from the cab, and we each drink one. Ariana’s demeanor seems friendlier now. More relaxed. I think she’s just happy to be doing something on this investigation. Anything at all.

“What I don’t get is why the chief wouldn’t declare this a murder investigation,” I say to her. “Or at least take a good close look before ruling that out. The phone call she made to you seems like enough cause to raise suspicions.”

Ariana fixes me with her big brown eyes. She looks vulnerable right now, scared.

“There’s something else,” she says.

I can tell she’s deliberating whether to trust me. Again, I let silence do its magic.

“The truth is,” she says finally, “I never told the chief she called me. He doesn’t know that part.”

“What?”

“That was the other part of what Susan told me,” Ariana says. “She said she had something important she needed to talk to me about. And she said don’t tell the chief. Her exact words were ‘I’m not sure he can be trusted.’”





Chapter 18



WHEN WE GET back to the police station, I can feel Ariana’s nervousness. Am I going to tell Harris? Am I going to report him to my higher-ups?

A big part of what the Texas Ranger Division does is investigate instances of suspected corruption of public officials. Ariana could have contacted us and asked us to look into Harris, but instead she gave him the benefit of the doubt and asked him to be the one to call for help. That suggests to me that she still believes—or wants to believe—that Harris is trustworthy. So I want to tread carefully here. I don’t want to let him know I’m suspicious of him, but it’s also too soon to open a full-fledged investigation of him.

“Got the case solved yet?” the chief says, smirking at the evidence boxes we’re bringing into the station.

“Looks like it’s probably just an accidental allergic reaction,” I say, taking a suggestive tone. “We’re just going to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s. I should be out of here in a couple of days. You’ve got a zealous detective over there.” I nod toward Ariana. “She wants to be thorough.”

He laughs, enjoying the condescending way I’m talking about Ariana. This seems to satisfy him, and he heads out the door.

Ariana looks at me and mouths the words, Thank you.

I give her a nod, and then I catch Harris walking back into the station.

“I forgot to tell you,” he says, “I told the local newspaper guy you’re helping us out with something. I didn’t want to say what until I okayed it with you.”

I appreciate the chief deferring to me. He might not have wanted me here—and maybe he can’t be trusted—but so far he hasn’t given me any resistance.

“Can you put him off for a while?” I say. “I don’t want to talk to him if I can help it.”

“Will do,” Harris says. “But I know this guy—he’s going to keep calling and calling until he’s able to interview you.”

“If you can stall him for a few days,” I say, “maybe we’ll have this whole thing wrapped up by then.”

I’m stalling, too. It might not hurt to do an interview with the local newsman—the media could be used to our advantage—but I still need to learn more before I say anything.

When the chief is gone, Ariana and I discuss our plan of attack for the next day. Susan Snyder had recently gone on dates with two men—Ariana had asked around enough to find this out—and one date was on the same night she died. We’ll try to interview both men tomorrow.

Before we call it a day, I ask Ariana why the chief finally gave in and agreed to call the Rangers.

“Did you threaten to quit?”

She says she did, but that isn’t what made the difference.