Convictions (23 page)

Ten minutes later, Rollie swaggered into the dining hall. His gaze roamed across Olivia who stood by the kitchen door, but didn't linger.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Pepper." Sheriff Jordan motioned to the chair where the other men had sat. "Have a seat."

Rollie shrugged and settled on the chair.

With Rollie's back to her, Olivia moved closer, so that she could listen in on the interview without being obtrusive.

"I knew Ms. Holcomb—used to see her at the Watering Hole in town on Friday and Saturday nights," Rollie said without prompting.

"How well did you know her?" Jordan asked.

"Not as well as I'd a liked, but then she didn't go for the hired help. She went straight to the ranchers, or anyone who might have more than a hired man's wages in his pocket. She didn't care if he was married, either."

"You're saying she was promiscuous?"

Rollie frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means she slept around," Jordan explained.

"Guess so."

"When was the last time you saw her there?"

"Been over a year. I haven't been there since I got this job."

"So you don't go out anymore?"

"Not since I quit drinking."

Olivia frowned. Was he an alcoholic?

"Are you an alcoholic?" Jordan asked, reading her thoughts.

"Not anymore."

Apparently no one had told Rollie that once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.

Jordan merely grunted. "Where were you the night Ms. Holcomb was killed?"

"Sleeping," Rollie replied.

That seemed to be the standard reply.

"Did you ever hear anyone talking about Ms. Holcomb? Maybe someone who got turned down by her?"

"I've heard some talk, but nothing like that. Mostly it was just stuff guys talk about."

Olivia swallowed back her disgust, knowing all too well how that kind of "stuff" sometimes led to assault, rape, or murder.

"Did any of it seem more than just guy talk?" Jordan asked, calm and professional.

Rollie thought a moment then shook his head. "Nah."

Jordan jotted down some notes. "Where were you eight years ago, Mr. Pepper?"

"Why?"

"Just answer the question, please."

"I don't see why—"

"Answer the question," Jordan said, staring hard at Rollie.

"Prison," he answered, anger ringing in his tone. "Satisfied?"

Surprised, Olivia leaned forward.

"What were you in for?" the sheriff asked.

"I beat up some asshole in a bar in Montana. Got three years in the state pen."

"Where were you this morning between ten and ten thirty?"

"Working."

"Where?"

"In the south barn, cleaning out stalls."

"Was there someone with you?"

"Slim."

Jordan glanced up and caught Olivia's gaze. He lifted an eyebrow that asked if she was satisfied. Although something niggled at her, she couldn't pin it down, so she nodded.

The sheriff rose. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Pepper."

Rollie stood and crossed to the door, where he paused. Fierce anger and something else blazed from his eyes. "If you ask me, it was Elliott that killed Melinda."

"Why do you think he did it?" Jordan asked.

The husky man shrugged. "He was pissed off at Mel— Ms. Holcomb for hitting the stallion."

Olivia restrained an impatient sigh. Hank wasn't the only one angered by Melinda's fool stunt.

"Thank you," the sheriff said in dismissal.

Once Rollie was gone, Olivia said, "If he's going to base his accusation on that, you'd have to add my father, Buck, myself, and half the hired men."

"What exactly happened?" Jordan asked.

She described the incident that led to the stallion trying to jump the corral.

Jordan raked his hand through his hair. "Ms. Holcomb wasn't exactly a paragon of virtue."

Olivia couldn't help but chuckle at his dry tone. "Don't ask me. I'm prejudiced."

Jordan eyed her thoughtfully. "You mentioned before that you weren't real happy with Ms. Holcomb's article in the paper. Do you think Elliott could have killed her because he knew she upset you?"

Disbelief bubbled up in Olivia. "No way, Sheriff. Hank and I are friends, sort of." How could she describe their relationship?
Lover wannabes?
"He's helped me out, and we've gotten to know each other a little. But we're not lovers."

"Maybe he's obsessed with you."

This was going from ludicrous to ridiculous. "And maybe you're reaching for straws, Sheriff Jordan," she said coolly. She stepped up to him. "If he killed Melinda for me, how do you explain Sandra Hubbard's murder?"

"Maybe he was obsessed with her, too, and when she came to break it off with him..." He let it drop, his insinuation as clear as her grandmother's crystal.

Olivia's first reaction was to simply deny his words, but she couldn't use emotion. If she wanted to convince him, she had to use reason. "Except you're talking two very different motives. If Hank is obsessed with me and killed Melinda in a twisted display of affection, then you can't use the same logic to say he killed Sandra. He either kills
for
his obsession or he
kills
his obsession, not both."

"Why not? For all we know, if you don't return his affection, he'll kill you next." Sheriff Jordan paused. "Are you willing to bet your life he isn't the killer?"

Olivia opened her mouth to reply affirmatively, but the ADA in her stilled her voice. People wore many faces, and nobody could predict who might or might not commit a crime, especially one of passion. Oftentimes, friends and family members of criminals didn't even have a clue until after the fact.

Although she hated to admit it, she answered, "No. But that doesn't mean I think he did it."

"Then give me another suspect," Jordan said, his patience obviously wearing thin.

"Are you absolutely certain both Melinda and Sandra Hubbard were murdered by the same person?"

"According to the forensic evidence, pretty damn certain."

Olivia's confidence wavered. "Was Melinda raped?" Jordan glanced down. "No."

"What about fingerprints on her body or the murder weapon?"

"Since she was underwater, the lab folks aren't very optimistic about finding any good prints. But they'll let me know." Jordan glanced at his watch. "If you'll excuse me, I have three more men to interview."

"Just one more thing, Sheriff. Are you going to check Rollie's alibi for this morning?"

He sighed. "I'll get to it, Ms. Kincaid."

Although unsatisfied by his answer, Olivia returned to the kitchen.

"Is it time to start dinner?" Dawn asked.

Startled, Olivia glanced at the girl who sat by the small table, leafing through a magazine. "I suppose."

Dawn frowned. "What's wrong?"

Unaccountably irritated, Olivia stared down at her. "Aren't you the least bit worried about your brother?"

Dawn blinked and lowered her gaze, but not before Olivia spotted a spark of something: concern, maybe?

"A little, I guess." She looked back up at Olivia. "But you told me he wasn't hurt."

Olivia dropped into the chair beside her. "Not this time. But what if something like this happens again, and Hank isn't as lucky?"

Dawn squirmed in her seat. "He can take care of himself."

Olivia laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. "What about the murders? Do you think he killed those women?"

Dawn tensed. "Women? I thought there was only one."

"Do you remember a Sandra Hubbard?"

Dawn's brow wrinkled. "I—yeah, I do. She was one of Hank's girlfriends. I think she disappeared or ran away a long time ago."

Olivia supposed eight years was a long time ago for a nineteen-year-old. "She was murdered." Dawn's mouth gaped.

"And since Hank knew her, and he kind of knew Melinda, they think he may have killed both of them," Olivia finished. She didn't reveal that they'd each been strangled with a leather strap.

"He didn't do it." Righteous anger sparked the girl's eyes and voice.

Surprised by Dawn's vehemence, Olivia leaned back in her chair and studied her a moment. "You do love him, don't you?" she asked softly.

Dawn's eyes glistened as she stood and wrapped her arms around her waist, as if protecting herself. "He's my brother."

"So why do you act like you don't care?"

"Because he hurt me, and I want to hurt him back." A tear ran down the girl's cheek, and she dashed it away with the back of her hand.

Olivia stood and hugged her. "He didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," came the muffled reply. "But I get so mad sometimes."

"Don't you think he gets mad, too? He was put in prison for a crime he didn't commit. He's the one who's had to live behind bars for six years."

Dawn's shoulders shook, and Olivia rubbed her back soothingly, allowing the girl to cry. After a few minutes, Dawn eased away and drew her sleeve across her cheeks. She lifted her head and looked at Olivia. "What will happen to him if they arrest him for the murders?"

"He'll go back to prison to await his new trial. If he's found guilty, he could get the death penalty if they establish premeditation." Olivia didn't sugarcoat the possibility. She wanted Dawn to understand exactly what her brother faced.

"But they haven't arrested him yet, right?"

Olivia nodded. "That doesn't mean they won't. The sheriff has to take his report to the district attorney, and if they find there's enough circumstantial evidence against your brother, they'll issue an arrest warrant."

Grief filled Dawn's face. "You're a lawyer, right?"

"Yes."

"Then you can defend him."

Olivia shook her head. "I'm a prosecutor in Chicago."

"Does that mean you can't practice law in Colorado?"

"No. I'm licensed here, too."

"Then why couldn't you?"

How could she tell Dawn that because of her assault and the emotional fallout, she might not be able to enter a courtroom again? And even if she got past her personal demons, that she'd become too emotionally involved to be effective as Hank's defense lawyer? She laid a hand on Dawn's shoulder, giving her the only promise she could. "If it comes down to him being arrested, I'll make sure he has good counsel."

Dawn's expression fell, but she didn't push the issue. "All right."

Troubled by the girl's obvious disappointment, Olivia forced a smile. "We'd better make dinner, or we'll have a room full of unhappy and hungry men."

Dawn nodded and they went to work in leaden silence.

Feeling more at ease now in the company of the hired men, Olivia waited in the dining hall as they drifted away until only Hank remained. He stood and gathered the dirty dishes around him.

"You don't have to help us." Olivia reached out to take the stack from him.

He sidestepped her. "I don't mind," he said over his shoulder.

Going through the doorway into the kitchen, he almost collided with Dawn, who was coming out.

"Uh, sorry," Dawn murmured, her cheeks flushed.

Surprised she'd apologized rather than reamed him a new one, Hank stopped. "It was my fault. Sorry."

Her gaze darted across him but came back to rest on the bump on his forehead. "Olivia told me what happened this morning."

Hank's thoughts ground to a halt. His sister was speaking to him without anger for the first time. "She did?"

Dawn nodded and slid her hands into her jeans pockets. "She said you were all right."

"I am." Hank knew he sounded like an idiot, but he was shocked by Dawn's civility.

"I'm glad." Then she hurried into the dining area to help Olivia.

Warmed by his sister's concern, Hank placed the dirty dishes in a deep sink filled with hot soapy water. Why the change of heart? Or was it only a reprieve?

Olivia brought in an armful of plates and cups and set them in the sink, too.

"You told her what happened this morning," Hank said.

Olivia leaned her hips against the sink and nodded. "She was in the house when you came in here to tell the sheriff. I thought she'd want to know."

"Did you talk to her about anything else?"

Olivia tilted her head. "Like what?"

Hank narrowed his eyes, recognizing her attempt at misdirection. "Like anything?"

"Define anything."

She was acting like a damned lawyer. "Her attitude is different," he said with a hint of annoyance. "Like she might even care what happens to me."

"She does care about you, Hank. Don't doubt that."

Hank knew Olivia wasn't telling him everything, but had no clue as to what she might be hiding... or why. However, he also suspected she wasn't about to tell him either.

"Head hurting?" she asked, motioning toward his forehead.

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

Olivia leaned forward and straightened his collar. "Sure you are."

The oddly intimate touch and the gentle smile that accompanied her words made his chest tighten and his blood race. He tucked a glossy strand of hair behind her delicate ear. The sensual pleasure of touching a woman made him linger, his fingertips caressing her velvety softness.

Olivia's eyelids fluttered shut, and her mouth opened slightly. She brushed her tongue across her lower lip, leaving it pink and gleaming. And so damned tempting. One taste of her sweetness hadn't been enough.

His fingers curled, gripping her silken hair, and he tilted her head upward as he leaned down to kiss her. Olivia's mouth was warm and firm and tasted oh so sweet. Blood roared in his ears, and his body pressed against hers. She rotated her hips slowly, like a dancer performing exclusively for his pleasure. He hardened and knew she felt him when she groaned and pressed more firmly against him.

Suddenly she pushed him away, her hands flattened against his chest. Although Hank would've rather faced a charging bull than release her, he drew back. His heart thundered, and his breath came in shallow pants.

"Dawn's out there," Olivia said in a hoarse whisper. "I don't want her..."

So he was good enough to tease, but she couldn't let anyone see her kissing a con... and enjoying it.

"Sure. Whatever," he muttered.