Shoot First Read online

  Shoot First (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 3)

  Patricia McLinn

  Published by Craig Place Books, 2015.

  Also by Patricia McLinn

  A Place Called Home

  Lost and Found Groom

  At the Heart's Command

  Hidden in a Heartbeat

  A Place Called Home Trilogy Boxed Set

  Bardville, Wyoming

  A Stranger in the Family

  A Stranger to Love

  The Rancher Meets His Match

  Bardville, Wyoming Trilogy Boxed Set

  Caught Dead In Wyoming

  Sign Off (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 1)

  Left Hanging (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 2)

  Shoot First (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 3)

  Last Ditch (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 4)

  Look Live (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 5)

  Back Story (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 6)

  Cold Open (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 7)

  Hot Roll (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 8)

  Reaction Shot (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 9)

  Body Brace (Caught Dead in Wyoming, Book 10) (Coming Soon)

  Flores Silvestres de Wyoming

  Flores Silvestres de Wyoming: El Principio

  Casi una Novia

  Pareja Hecha en Wyoming

  Mi Corazón Recuerda

  El corazón de Jack

  Colección de trilogía Flores Silvestres de Wyoming

  Innocence Trilogy

  Price of Innocence

  Marry Me Series

  Wedding of the Century

  The Unexpected Wedding Guest

  A Most Unlikely Wedding

  Baby Blues and Wedding Bells

  Rodeo Knights

  Ride the River: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance Novel

  Seasons in a Small Town

  What Are Friends For?

  The Right Brother

  Falling for Her

  Warm Front

  Secret Sleuth

  Death on the Diversion

  Death on Torrid Ave.

  Death on Beguiling Way

  Death on Covert Circle

  Death on Shady Bridge

  Death on Carrion Lane (Coming Soon)

  Serie I Fiori di Campo del Wyoming

  I Fiori di Campo del Wyoming: L'inizio (Il Prequel)

  Innamorarsi In Wyoming

  Il Mio Cuore Ricorda

  Il Cuore di Jack

  The Wedding Series

  Prelude to a Wedding

  Wedding Party

  Grady's Wedding

  The Runaway Bride

  The Christmas Princess

  The Surprise Princess

  The Forgotten Prince

  Hoops

  Not a Family Man

  The Wedding Series: The Complete Collection (Books 1-7 and Prequels)

  The Wedding Series Trilogy

  The Wedding Series Box Set Two (Books 4-5, The Runaway Bride and The Christmas Princess)

  The Wedding Series Box Set Three (Book 6, The Surprise Princess, and Hoops prequel)

  The Wedding Series Box Set Four (Book 7, The Forgotten Prince, and Not a Family Man prequel)

  Tod in Wyoming

  Tod in Wyoming: Sendeschluss

  Tod in Wyoming: Hängengelassen

  Tod in Wyoming: Abgeschossen

  Tod in Wyoming: Grabenbruch (Coming Soon)

  Wyoming Wildflowers

  Wyoming Wildflowers: The Beginning

  Almost a Bride

  Match Made In Wyoming

  My Heart Remembers

  A New World

  Jack's Heart

  Rodeo Nights

  Where Love Lives

  A Cowboy Wedding

  Making Christmas

  Wyoming Wildflowers Trilogy Boxed Set

  Wyoming Wildflowers Box Set Two (Book 5, Jack’s Heart, and A New World prequel)

  Wyoming Wildflowers Box Set Three (Book 6, Where Love Lives, and Rodeo Nights prequel)

  Wyoming Wildflowers: The Complete Collection

  Wyoming Wildflowers: The Complete Series

  Standalone

  Courting a Cowboy

  The Games

  To Love a Cowboy (A Western Historical Duet)

  Widow Woman

  Wyoming Wild: Western Romance Series Starters

  Christmas Romance: Three Complete Holiday Love Stories

  Proof of Innocence

  Survival Kit for Writers Who Don't Write Right

  Watch for more at Patricia McLinn’s site.

  SHOOT FIRST

  Caught Dead in Wyoming

  Book 3

  Patricia McLinn

  Caught Dead in Wyoming series

  Sign Off

  Left Hanging

  Shoot First

  Last Ditch

  Look Live

  Back Story

  Cold Open

  Hot Roll

  Reaction Shot

  Body Brace

  Also by Patricia McLinn

  Secret Sleuth series

  Death on the Diversion

  Death on Torrid Avenue

  Death on Beguiling Way

  Death on Covert Circle

  Death on Shady Bridge

  Mystery with romance

  Proof of Innocence

  Price of Innocence

  Ride the River: Rodeo Knights

  Join Patricia McLinn’s Readers List and get news on releases and special deals first.

  A killing to keep old Wyoming secrets and treasures

  Death hits close to home for Elizabeth Danniher when an elderly neighbor kills a man apparently robbing her of Western artifacts. As a former national TV reporter, Elizabeth knows self-defense might satisfy the legal system, yet leave her neighbor in danger. Doing what she does best — asking questions — Elizabeth sidesteps her boss and a jealous anchorman to inquire into an eccentric and mysterious western billionaire, an ambitious curator, rival collectors, family feuds and Cottonwood County’s Wild West crimes of a century ago.

  5-Star Praise for Shoot First

  “Strong characters, solid mystery. A great feel for the newsroom, as well as Wyoming. McLinn does a stellar job of clouding the identity of the murderer, while leavening the tension with sly humour.”

  Also available in audio

  Also available in print

  Copyright © 2014 by Patricia McLinn

  Large Print ISBN: 978-1-944126-80-3

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-939215-35-2

  Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-944126-28-5

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-939215-34-5

  EPUB Edition

  www.PatriciaMcLinn.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Cover design: Art by Karri

  Interior design: BB eBooks

  Photo credits:

  Wyoming Road Under Storm Clouds (manipulated) © Nicolaus Wegner | LightAlivePhotography.com

  Smooth-bore (manipulated) © Mycteria | Depositphotos.com

  Aufmerksamer hund (manipulated) © Sinnlichtarts | Fotolia.com

  * * * *

  Dear Readers: If you encounter typos or errors in this book, please send them to me at [email protected]. Even with many layers of editing, mistakes can slip through, alas. But, together, we can eradicate the nasty nuisances. Thank you!
— Patricia McLinn

  To Marion Hale,

  Who started all this by introducing me to mysteries

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  About the Book

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Day One – Monday

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Day Two – Tuesday

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Day Three – Wednesday

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Day Four – Thursday

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Day Five – Friday

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Day Six – Saturday

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Day Seven – Sunday

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Day Eight – Monday

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Day Nine – Tuesday

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Day Ten – Wednesday

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Day Eleven – Thursday

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Caught Dead in Wyoming series

  Acknowledgments

  Excerpt from LAST DITCH

  About the author

  DAY ONE

  MONDAY

  Chapter One

  “Holy smokes,” Jennifer said. “You’ll never guess what just came over the police radio.”

  Only she didn’t say smokes and said is mild for the sound that crossed the KWMT-TV newsroom.

  Like everyone else in the open room cluttered with desks, computer terminals, filing cabinets, and KWMT employees, I turned toward Jennifer. She is officially a newsroom aide, unofficially a sometimes-production assistant, and very unofficially the computer guru for me and sports anchor, Mike Paycik.

  Offsetting all that good, Jennifer loaded FreeCell on my computers at home and work…. She had a lot to answer for.

  “Elizabeth?” she called to me, then added, as if the newsroom were littered with Elizabeths, “Elizabeth Margaret Danniher? What’s your address?”

  As a light and airy casual question, it failed.

  Every face in the newsroom turned toward me. Without moving from my chair, I had provisionally stepped across the knife-sharp boundary between newsroom colleague and poor schmuck who’ll be the subject of a news story tonight.

  Journalists are not heartless about the subjects they interview or report about.

  Let me rephrase: Most journalists are not entirely heartless about many subjects they interview or report about.

  However, there is a necessary distance. Necessary to do a good job as a journalist, and necessary to retain a few shreds of sanity. If you shed a single drop of blood with each sad, tragic, woeful, heart-tugging story you encountered, you’d be a bloodless corpse in no time.

  So there is a firm line between us and them. Us being the newsroom folk, and them being the poor schmucks.

  Jennifer’s words connecting my address with a police radio call shoved me across the line to them.

  That wasn’t a new position for me at KWMT. When I’d arrived in April to serve out the remainder of a network contract, I’d been viewed as an alien. Not from outer space, but perhaps from an even more distant universe from Sherman, Wyoming — major-market TV.

  Now, with September nearly here, about half the newsroom no longer waited to glimpse my antennae, while the rest kept a wary eye out for any green tinges to my skin. Jennifer was part of the former group. Mostly.

  “Why do you want my address?” The question was reflex. I was already heading for her.

  “Oh, just wondering.”

  “Jennifer.”

  The threat in those syllables worked. “There’s a call on Lewis Street. The four-hundred block. That’s where you live, right?”

  She knew that since she’d been to my rental several times. But I was admitting nothing. Not while surrounded by media vultures. Plus, I hesitated to claim the tiny, disheveled house I’d dubbed, with not a shred of affection, the Hovel.

  “What?” I asked Jennifer.

  “You live on Lewis Street, right?” she repeated.

  “Not what did you say. What’s the call for?”

  “Oh. A body’s been found. A dead body.”

  “Oh, smokes,” I said, although I didn’t say smokes. “Mildred.”

  “I thought you named the dog Shadow?”

  I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to claim the dog any more than the house. Although that might have been self-protective, because he didn’t seem in any hurry to claim me, either. “Why would I name a dog Mildred? Especially a male dog?”

  She shrugged, conveying she didn’t put anything past me, though she was open-minded enough not to hold it against me.

  “Mildred is my elderly neighbor across the street. Mildred Katarese.”

  “Oh.” In concert with her syllable I felt the newsroom’s interest evaporate. The death of an elderly neighbor was unlikely to reach the evening news. “If they repeat the address, I’ll write it down and let you know.”

  I suppressed a sigh. Writing it down the first time was a basic Do in the journalism Dos and Don’ts I’d been sharing with Jennifer.

  But this wasn’t the time to go over that again. I had a decision to make.

  I could wait to see if they repeated the address, and if Jennifer caught it this time. I could call the sheriff’s department to see if they would fill me in over the phone. Or I could…

  “I’m going to go see what’s going on. If anyone—” Meaning Les Haeburn, the news director and my boss, or Thurston Fine, the news anchor and not my boss though more than willing to make trouble for me. “—asks, I’m on assignment.”

  * * * *

  Police and sheriff’s department vehicles littering a street from one corner to the other is never a good sign. The ambulance in Mildred’s driveway was worse.

  Earlier this summer, there’d been another ambulance at the door of another elderly woman in the neighborhood. I now knew the woman in the house behind Mildred’s had been her cousin.

  My limited contact with my neighbors had mostly been with Mildred. Primarily of the wave-cheerily-and-call-Good Morning-across-the-street variety, with a few conversations when our trips to put out or retrieve garbage cans overlapped.

  Mildred was seventy-nine years old. She’d been born and raised on one of Cottonwood County’s many far-flung ranches, then moved in with her grandparents to attend school. In the way of some older people, she was vague about what had happened since, while telling stories rich in detail about her family’s history,
the ranch, and the social whirl of her school days.

  At times the details were so unrelenting and so plentiful my attention unplugged while her voice and memories streamed around me.

  Right now, though, I would have been thrilled to listen to every last I remember when.

  I really didn’t want the ambulance to be for her.

  I could sit here in my car, a block shy of the Sherman police vehicle turned astride to block access to Mildred’s house (and my driveway), and hope against hope Jennifer had it wrong about the reason for the ambulance. Or I could get in there, find out, and possibly offer assistance. Of some kind. To somebody.

  I eased my foot off the brake to roll closer.

  A familiar figure wearing a sheriff’s deputy uniform on its shorter-than-average frame gave a peremptory wave, ordering me to get lost.

  The wave was also familiar. I’d received it from officials all over the globe. One of those universals that made you want to hum “It’s a Small World After All.”

  It might seem strange, a Cottonwood County deputy hanging around a Sherman Police Department vehicle, but it wasn’t. The Sherman Police Department was tiny, befitting its jurisdiction within city limits. The Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department, responsible for the rest of the county as well as the jail and courts, had six or seven times the personnel to cover seven- or eight-hundred times the territory. For nonroutine calls, the departments adopted a whoever’s-available policy.

  I rolled closer. The gesture became more commanding. I rolled closer. The figure came to my car window, not needing to duck much to look inside.

  “Ma’am, turn around and — Oh. It’s you.”

  “Deputy Shelton, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in town before.” That was notable, since everyone in the county shopped at the Sherman Supermarket, and considering the time I spent in the place, I would have expected our paths to have crossed.

  I’d first encountered Wayne Shelton on a ranch whose owner planned to repel burglars single-handedly. Deputy Shelton handled the situation, with timely assistance from three KWMT-TV staffers — Mike Paycik, camerawoman Diana Stendahl, and me.