“Sounds good.” The MCK9 Task Force’s technical analyst, Isla Jimenez, was second to none and someone Kyle was thankful to call a friend.
“I’ll also coordinate with the Santa Fe PD,” Chase went on, “as I’m sure it’ll end up being a joint investigation if there is a RMK connection. But at the moment it’s too soon to know anything really.”
“Understood. Talk soon.”
They ended the call. Kyle sent his mom a quick text letting her know that he had to work a scene nearby and would be in touch later. Then he peeled out of the crowded petting zoo parking lot as quickly as he safely could and followed a small sign directing him to the wedding venue. In a matter of moments, he pulled through an arch welcoming him to the wedding of Jared Clarke and Gabrielle Martinez. The top of the rustic barn appeared ahead through pine trees. He drove through the parking lot and down a small access road. He stopped the vehicle as close as he could to the barn, got his badge and gun from his glove compartment, then hopped out and ran down the winding path, with Rocky by his side.
There wasn’t another emergency vehicle in sight. But a couple of men in crisp black suits and sunglasses, who he guessed were ranch security, were standing by the entrance, holding back a small gaggle of well-dressed gawkers in pastel dresses and paisley ties, who seemed to be trying to film whatever they could with their phones.
He held up his badge and identified himself to the security officer closest to the door.
“FBI Agent Kyle West, Mountain Country K-9 Task Force,” he said. “Has anyone been inside?”
“No, sir.” The guard shook his head. “Just the chick.”
Chick?
He couldn’t imagine anyone referring to Ophelia Clarke like that. Had one of the party guests breached the perimeter? Whoever he was talking about, she shouldn’t be in there.
“We need a twenty-five-foot perimeter around this barn,” Kyle said. “Get everyone out of here and keep them back. They’ll all need to be questioned. The priority is figuring out where everyone was at the time the gunshots were fired and not giving anyone the opportunity to coordinate their stories.” Not to mention, the last thing he needed were people trampling all over the evidence or crime scene pictures ending up on social media. “Make sure the entrance is clear for emergency services when they get here.”
The guards nodded and started yelling for people to get back. Kyle signaled Rocky to stay close to his side and started for the door. The double barn door seemed designed to open all the way on both sides, but for now it was only open a couple of feet. For someone to slip in and out without being seen? A soft growl rumbled in the back of Rocky’s throat, letting him know that death lay on the other side. Kyle pulled his weapon.
“Agent Kyle West, Mountain Country K-9 Task Force,” he called. “Drop your weapons and get down on the ground with your hands up.”
“It’s clear,” a female voice called. “He’s already dead.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “You really can’t be in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
He stepped through the door and froze. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen knelt on the floor in a flowing purple dress beside the bloodied body of a man in jeans and a T-shirt. She seemed to be checking the corpse’s pockets.
“No wallet, no phone and no identification,” she said, as if he hadn’t just politely told her to leave. “We seem to have a John Doe.”
She tossed her long blond hair around her shoulders and stood. Dazzling blue eyes fixed on his face. He felt his mouth open and close again, like a goldfish.
“Single gunshot wound to the torso,” she went on. “Pretty much dead center and still imbedded in his chest. I checked his vitals and attempted CPR. But I’m afraid he’s gone.”
She ran her hands down her skirt, leaving bloody streaks on the delicate fabric. Only then did he notice she was wearing plastic gloves. She looked down at them as if debating extending a hand to shake his, before deciding against it. “I’m glad you got my message.”
He holstered his weapon. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Ophelia Clarke.” Something hardened in the blue of her eyes. Her chin rose. “Crime Scene Investigator for the Santa Fe PD’s Crime Scene Unit. It’s good to see you again, Agent West.”
He just stood there and blinked, while his brain struggled to compute the fact that the most impressive crime scene tech he’d ever worked with also just happened to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Come on, man, he chided himself. He’d worked with a lot of strong and talented female officers, detectives, agents and CSIs for his entire career. So, what was it about this particular one that had suddenly robbed his tongue of its ability to form words?
“The groom is my second cousin,” Ophelia added. She pulled her gloves off. “I came for the rehearsal party and they were trying to rope me in as a bridesmaid, when I heard the gunshots. Thankfully I always keep a few gloves and evidence bags in my purse.” Ophelia glanced at his partner and a warm smile crossed her face. “Hello, Rocky.”
She ran her hand down his side. His partner’s tail thumped against the floor. Seemed Rocky had no problem recognizing her.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t recognize you without the protective gear. I assumed you were a guest who’d just wandered in and started playing detective.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but she didn’t smile.
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” he plowed on, hoping to find the right thing to say to put the investigation back on track. “You’re a really good CSI.”
“Uh, thank you?” Now it was her turn to blink.
Had he said something else wrong? Or was she just not used to being complimented? Either way, it seemed he’d managed to put his foot in it again.
Then she glanced past him and her face paled.
“There’s a man in a mask in the trees,” she said. “He’s got a gun pointed right at the barn.”
Before he could turn, a gunshot sounded and the barn door behind him exploded into splinters.
Copyright © 2024 by Harlequin Enterprises ULC
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