He’d long known Jim resented him for that fact. And it was Clint’s fault. He’d been the one to report some cronyism to his superiors when that cronyism had resulted in a nineteen-year-old boy being killed.
Animosity had existed between him and Hollace and his pals ever since.
That had been one of the motivators for him applying to the DCI. Miranda looked at Clint, a question in her pretty green eyes.
Another redhead popped into his head in that moment. And it wasn’t Miranda. Clint ruthlessly shoved thoughts of that woman out of his head for the time being. He wasn’t quite ready to deal with his housekeeper yet. Not just yet.
“What’s this about?” Hollace demanded, sending a belligerent look toward Agent Knight.
“Officer Hollace,” Miranda began. The scarred agent next to her remained silent. “What is your connection to the Luther and Pauline Beise family of Masterson?”
Hollace’s face flushed. His body tensed. “What’s going on here, Gunderson?”
Clint just shook his head and pointed to Miranda. “Dr. Talley is the one running this show.”
Hollace cursed for a good minute or two.
Finally, Weatherby interjected. “Answer the question, Jim. It’s part of an investigation. Unless you have something to hide?”
“Federal?” Hollace asked. “What is going on? What lies has Gunderson been telling now? He’s always had it out for me. Told you that before.”
“Officer Hollace, we’re trying to determine what circumstances led to the death of Helen Caudrell fourteen years ago,” Miranda said. “Your name came up as a person of interest recently.”
Hollace paled. “Helen?”
“Yes,” Miranda continued. “Her body was found, wrapped in a partially sewn quilt, in Luther Beise’s cattle barn. Your name was mentioned as being there frequently, and we’re running DNA samples in our St. Louis lab now. Will we find your DNA there?”
He leaned back in the chair. “Well, of course, you will. Luther Beise is my cousin. Well, stepcousin, but that’s just a formality thing. I must have been in his cattle barn three thousand times. I lived on the ranch with him for a few years. Helped with stock, as part of the rent. Moved out two months before they disappeared.”
“Do you know where Luther is now? The rest of the family?” That was all Miranda asked, in a friendly, unhurried tone. She leaned forward. Hollace wasn’t immune to her. Most people weren’t. Miranda had a way of getting through a person’s defenses before they even realized what was going on. Why should a jerk like Hollace be immune? “We need to find them. They are all persons of interest.”
Hollace snorted. “Good luck at that. Luther and his wife and kids took off one night about fourteen years ago. No one in the family knew why.”
“The family? Our searches didn’t find any living relatives for Luther or Pauline. Except you.”
“Then you didn’t search long enough or hard enough. There were a few cousins on our side of the family. Six or seven.”
“We’ll need names. We need to find Luther, Officer Hollace. As soon as possible.”
“You’re barking up the wrong trees, little lady.” Hollace shot her a smug look as his gaze traveled over her long, lean body. Clint knew what he was thinking by the look in Hollace’s eyes. “You’re not so little, though. You’re a tall one.”
Miranda just shot him a sunny smile. Clint saw the way her hands tightened on her chair where Hollace couldn’t see. He recognized the tell for what it was. Miranda was resisting slugging the man. She used to have a bit of a temper. Apparently, that hadn’t changed. “I’ve heard it before, Officer Hollace. I need you to write down names and contact information for everyone who might have had any knowledge of where Luther and Pauline may have gone fourteen years ago.”
“You have any ideas where that might be?” Weatherby asked, pointedly. Weatherby had made no bones about the fact that he didn’t much like Hollace, either.
Truth be told, Rex Weatherby wasn’t too fond of most people, when it came right down to it.
“Not a clue. Didn’t even realize the family had taken off until I stopped by a few weeks after. No signs of the family anywhere, except a note on the table saying they had no choice but to leave, and they didn’t want anything to do with anyone from Masterson County ever again.” Hollace pulled a cloth handkerchief screen-printed with the American flag from his pocket and blotted at the sweat rolling down his neck. “Said not to bother looking for them. Told Clive that, too, when he came around a few months later, asking questions.”
The room wasn’t hot. Not by a long shot. Hollace shouldn’t be sweating like this. Unless he was lying through his crooked, yellowed teeth. “Was that normal for the family? You didn’t file a police report?”
“Didn’t even think of it. Luther often took his family out to the woods to do some survival training. The man was convinced the world was ending at any moment. Them taking off never even struck me as odd. That was just Luther, through and through. He must have taken off four times when they were married, until Pauline put her foot down and told him no more. He’s still into that.”
Miranda leaned forward. “Still? So you do know where they are?”
Hollace’s eyes widened, and his face flushed again. Clint seized onto the slip immediately.
“You know where Luther Beise is, don’t you?”
Hollace closed his eyes and nodded. Clint didn’t buy the submissive pose for an instant.
Weatherby practically growled Hollace’s name.
“He lives down near Medicine Bow. Drives a truck out of there. Goes by the name of Dwayne Luther Maynard. Emails me ever’ so often, about once a year or so. He forgets we stopped talking years ago because of that wife of his. Ex, now. That’s all.”
“And the rest of the family?”
Hollace hesitated. Weatherby said his name one more time. “I don’t know. Pauline and Luther split twelve years or
