answer that with one hundred percent certainty until he investigated more. And that was something he thoroughly intended to do.
“Lay out some barriers, Lijah. I don’t want another car to drive over that section of highway before I get a good look. I’ll be right there.”
Chapter Three
Long before daylight the next morning, Ripp was sitting at his kitchen table wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and sipping his first cup of coffee. Outside, down the dirt road that ran past his property, a rooster was crowing and somewhere nearby he could hear Chester, his black Labrador, barking, probably at an armadillo that was determined to dig up the last of the potatoes in the vegetable garden.
Ripp had moved into the small, shotgun-style house five years ago, after his father, Owen McCleod, had lost a long battle with lung disease. The family farm, where Ripp and his older brother, Mac, had once helped their father raise corn and cotton, had held too many painful memories for both men. They’d sold the place and used most of the money to settle up the enormous medical bills that had piled up while their father fought to stay alive. As for their mother, Frankie, she’d left the family farm long ago, when her sons had been mere children of eight and ten years old. Neither Ripp nor his brother ever heard from the woman and both of them preferred it that way. She’d chosen another man over her husband and sons and neither of them had any use for her.
As for what money remained from the estate sale, Ripp had used his small amount to buy this two-acre spot on the outskirts of Goliad. The house was old and had needed lots of work when he’d purchased the property, but Ripp was handy with carpentry and he’d managed to do all the refurbishing himself. And even though the house was far from fancy, the results of his hard work never ceased to leave him with a sense of proud accomplishment. At night, when he walked through the door, he liked knowing that his home, his land, belonged to him rather than some downtown banker.
Across the small kitchen, atop a refrigerator so ancient it had rounded edges, a radio was spewing the local news and weather. However, Ripp was paying little attention to the information. Last night he’d gone to sleep with Lucita Sanchez on his mind and this morning when he’d opened his eyes she was right there again.
Lijah’s discovery of the second set of tire marks had turned out to be correct, which meant that Lucita had been telling the truth. Someone had deliberately harassed her, then driven away from the scene after she’d crashed. The idea was more than disturbing to a man whose job was to keep the peace and ensure the safety of the citizens of the county.
Who did he think he was kidding? Ripp asked, as he left the table to drop two pieces of bread into a chrome toaster. This wasn’t about the citizens of Goliad County. This was something far more personal. Something about Matt’s sister haunted him, riled him and even stirred his libido. For the first time since Pamela had broken their engagement four years ago, Ripp actually caught himself thinking of a woman in a sexual way and the realization shocked him.
The browned bread popped up with a loud snap. Ripp retrieved a container of butter and a jar of jelly from the refrigerator, spreading thick layers on both pieces before tossing them onto a saucer and eating both pieces while standing at the cabinet counter.
Okay, so he was still a red-blooded man after all, he thought as he dumped the crumbs into a waste basket. Looking at a woman and finding her attractive wasn’t anything to get worried over. It only meant he’d returned to the land of the living. It didn’t mean he was going to get involved with the woman. Hell’s bells, that was a laughable notion anyway. Lucita Sanchez was as far away from his social circle as a woman could get.
Still, he couldn’t let her continue to wonder if her recollection of the accident had been completely accurate. She had a right to know what had happened—and to know to be on her guard. But before Ripp let her know anything, he wanted to personally make an inspection of her car.
Glancing at the clock hanging on the opposite wall, he figured he had time to feed Chester, then jump into the shower and shave before he headed off to work. Hopefully, he’d have a few extra minutes to stop at Santee’s before Sheriff Travers sent him off on a different matter.
An hour later, Ripp stood inside the chain-link fence surrounding Santee’s salvage yard. Junior, the owner, had a special spot where he kept vehicles for the sheriff’s department. The small area was locked away from the slew of public autos that found their way to his garage and salvage, so Ripp was quite certain that no one had tampered with Lucita’s small red coupe since the accident.
That made his finding even more sinister as he squatted on his heels and stared at the busted area on the back bumper. Near the fracture were several streaks and residual chips of black paint.
Lucita had described the threatening vehicle behind her as black or dark-colored. She’d insisted the car had rammed her from behind and this damage confirmed that she’d been right.
His thoughts grim, Ripp walked back to his waiting truck. Once inside, he reached for the radio.
“Send Lijah over to Santee’s with a crime scene kit. I’ll be waiting here for him.”
The dispatcher quickly advised Ripp that she understood the order and the radio went quiet as he hung the mike back on the dashboard.
Even though the morning was still early, he figured if Lucita felt well enough to work today, she was probably already on her way to St. Francis High School in Victoria.
Ripp hadn’t taken down her telephone number. That wasn’t normal procedure. Acquiring the offender’s mailing address was the limit. And in spite of her being the sister of a close friend, he wasn’t a man to break the rules. But now he had pertinent information regarding her accident.
Quickly, he picked up the cell phone lying on the console next to his seat and searched for the number for the Sanchez house. It rang twice before Juan, the family cook, answered.
“This is Deputy McCleod,” he told the older man. “I need to speak to Matt. Has he left for work yet?”
“Wait. He might be gone. I’ll go see.”
Ripp could hear the clatter of the phone as the cook laid it down, then the noise of doors being opened and closed. Finally, after a couple of long minutes, faint voices sounded in the background, then boot steps grew closer and closer to the receiver.
“Matt here.”
“Matt, I’m glad I caught you,” Ripp told him. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Ripp! Sure I can talk. Is anything wrong?”
Of course he would think something was wrong, Ripp thought wryly. It was six in the morning. Not the usual time for a social call. “There could be,” he admitted. “How is Lucita this morning?”
“I talked to her earlier this morning right after I got up. She’s stiff and sore and has a little headache, but other than that she’s fine. She was determined to go into school this morning. She just signed a new contract with St. Joseph back in June and classes started at the first of this month. She doesn’t want to start missing days this soon on a new job. Are you calling to check on her or is this something about the accident?”
Since Ripp had driven Lucita home to the ranch, Matt must have assumed he’d taken a personal interest in his sister. The idea was a bit embarrassing, yet he couldn’t deny that Lucita had sparked him with something more than official law business.
Feeling awkward now, Ripp said, “Uh—well, I’m glad to hear she’s okay. But I have some news about her accident and I thought—I wanted to run it by you before I talked with her.”
Matt was suddenly wary. “Why? What is it?”
“Last night after I left the ranch, Lijah and I scoured the whole scene from the point where Lucita’s vehicle got into trouble to the spot where it actually left the highway. Your sister was right about someone following on her bumper, Matt. We discovered another set of skid marks.”
There was a long pause