She stared at posters with slogans like “Just say no!” and “Drugs Kill” until a young Latino officer came in and offered his hand. “Deputy Perez. What can I do for you?” He glanced at the papers in his hand. “It says here your brother’s missing?”
“Yes.” She let out the pent up breath she’d been holding. “My brother’s name is Martin Castillo. His girlfriend hasn’t heard from him for a few days and she called me. I want to file a missing person’s report.”
“Martin is your brother, you said?” The officer fiddled with the sheaf of papers. “When did you last speak with him?”
“I haven’t heard from him since the holidays.” She twisted her fingers together. She should’ve called to apologize, but Martin was so stubborn. He hadn’t called or made any move to heal the rift either.
“Wait here a minute.” He left the room.
What was that all about? How difficult could it be to fill out some paperwork and get someone looking for Martin?
Deputy Perez returned, followed by a gray haired man in street clothes. “Miss Castillo?” Deputy Perez indicated the other man. “FBI agent Keith Staton.”
“I understand you’ve come in with information about Martin Castillo,” the agent said.
She managed to shake Staton’s dry hand while her incredulous gaze shot between him and Perez. She’d come to them for help, and as usual, gotten nothing but the runaround. Just another couple of cops out to get one of her family members. Her stomach churned acid. “Martin is gone, yes. I’d like your help in finding him.”
Staton’s gray eyes locked on her face. “You’re Martin Castillo’s sister?”
“Yes.” She massaged her throbbing temple with her fingertips. “That’s what I said.”
“You’re not aware of what happened with him?”
“I know he’s been gone … what are you implying?” She dropped her hand to her thighs and pressed her palms to them to hide her trembling. “You mentioned FBI?” Her head spun. Perez didn’t say a word, just continued to stand by the desk like a statue and stare at her. Same old thing, guilty by association. He must’ve already weighed and judged her and found her guilty. Just like every other cop she’d ever met. A sour taste filled her mouth.
“Your brother is,” Agent Staton drew her attention back to him, “wanted by local law enforcement and the Arizona Bureau of Investigations.”
Fear clogged her throat and she could hardly force the words out. “Why?”
“Maybe you could tell us.”
Why was he talking in circles? “I don’t know anything.” She swiped damp palms down her legs. “I drove in from Dallas yesterday to look for my brother. I came down here this morning to talk to y’all before I start searching for him on my own.” Her shaking intensified. “Do you know something about Martin?”
Staton ignored her questions. “Where do you work? Can someone verify your whereabouts on Saturday?”
“Sun Dial Working Cow Horses in Dallas. My boss’s name is Joe Winston. I rode all day last Saturday and drove here Sunday and Monday. I came straight in here this morning.”
Staton nodded at Perez and he faded out of the room. Castaña barely noticed Deputy Perez leaving she was so focused on Staton. “Well? What about my brother?”
Staton eyed her for a long moment, and then seemed to make up his mind about something. “We need to talk to him about two murdered BLM agents.”
Castaña closed her eyes and fell back against the chair. It was all too much to take in. Had Martin finally snapped? Had he killed some of the people responsible for rounding up his beloved mustangs? A moan slipped out of her. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” Staton said coldly.
She blinked back tears. “What happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” He sounded a little less intimidating. “We know two BLM agents — ”
“Did they have something to do with wild horses?”
He gave a quick nod. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
From a lifetime of knowing when a policeman showed up, it always had something to do with mustangs. “Where did this happen?”
Before Staton could answer, Deputy Perez stuck his head in the door. “I made the call. Miss Castillo’s story checks out. Her boss verified her story and gave me a list of five other people who could back her up as well.”
Castaña glared at him. “Satisfied?”
Staton seemed unfazed by her anger. “Just doing our job. What do you know about your brother that could help us bring him in?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. Martin might be a little unhinged when it came to protecting his beloved mustangs, but he wouldn’t commit murder. “Nothing.”
“That’s not very helpful, Miss Castillo.” Staton toyed with a pen on the desk. “The bodies were discovered at the bottom of Sky Rock Trail. Near Angel Falls. We know your brother was in the same area that morning. No one’s seen him since. We want to talk with Martin and find out what he knows.”
“He could be camping or trailing wild horses. He does that a lot.” She defended Martin, but her insides shook.
“Again, we just want to talk to him. If you hear anything, have him call me.”
“It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind,” she shot back, “even before all the facts are in.”
He showed a feral smile. “I’ve got plenty of facts, ma’am. Your brother has an arrest record as long as my leg. He has a long history of disagreeing with the government on the wild horse issue.”
“Neither of those things means Martin murdered anyone.” She stood. “Who do I see about filling out a missing person’s report?”
“There’s no need. Every cop in this county is on the lookout for your brother.”
“Can I go now?” she asked in an acid tone.
Staton waved a hand toward the door. “Don’t leave town.”
As she reached for the door handle, Perez said, “Miss Castillo, we’ll be out later today to look around your place. This isn’t personal, you know.”
“Save it,” she said coldly. “Just stay the hell out of my way.”
He placed a hand on the door. “This might not be all bad.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m willing to ask questions first and shoot later.”
She didn’t answer. Too angry with him to speak, she turned over this new development. Sure Martin would turn horses out of holding corrals, pour sugar in gas tanks, maybe even shoot his gun in the air to scare off BLM agents. But murder?
He would have had to change a great deal to become a cold blooded killer.
Numb, Castaña stomped through the station, forgetting all about Jake until he appeared at her elbow. At his sympathetic expression, she almost stumbled. “That good, huh?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She hurried to her truck, Jake on her heels. At the door, she turned to him. “How’d it go for you?”
He shrugged. “So-so. Not much they can do at this point. I called Triple A. They’re going to pick up the truck and haul it to a station. It’s going to take a week to fix it.”
“That’s rough.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
They both got in and she started the engine. “Where can I drop you?”
“The Starlight Motel will be fine.”
She bit her lip as an idea occurred to her. She had to go out in the woods to look for Martin. Maybe an extra set of eyes and ears around the ranch would be useful. “Why don’t you stay at my house? I won’t be there, but you’re welcome to camp out for a while. There’s food, a hot shower, a bed — ” She blushed. Why did she go so gooey around this man?
“Love to.”
• • •
When Castaña drove into the ranch, there was no sign of Briar Rose. The front door stood wide open, but Martin’s Chevy junker was gone. Parking her truck by the barn, Castaña stepped out and hurried for the house.
Something felt wrong, and her hair stood on end.
Jake, too, seemed on high alert. He told her to follow him as they went inside the house.
Inside, nothing moved or made a noise. Where was Briar Rose? Had she gone to find Martin?
She stepped into the living room, stumbled to a stop and gasped. The house had been trashed. Every drawer opened, dumped and scattered across the floor. The furniture overturned, the bottoms slashed. Pictures torn from the walls and the backs ripped off. Her fisted hand went to her mouth. “My God.”
Behind her, Jake said, “Don’t go any farther. Let me look for Briar Rose.”
Briar Rose. Lord. Was she okay?
Castaña’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. She went to the door and watched Staton and Perez climb out of a tan sedan and walk toward her. “Mind if I take a look around the rest of the house?” Staton pulled a sheaf of papers from his back pocket. “We have a warrant.”
“You’re just in time,” she pinned him with a tight stare. “Agent.”
Jake appeared at her elbow and gave a little shake of his head. She heaved a sigh of relief.
Staton looked at Jake. “Are you related to Miss Castillo?”
“A friend.”
Staton looked as if he didn’t believe him, but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned to Castaña.
“This is your brother’s primary residence?”
“Yes. Come see.” She led the way inside and pointed to the mess. “This happened while we were gone. I have an alibi, so maybe this will convince you my brother is in danger.”
He didn’t comment. “Where does your brother sleep?”
She showed him the room opposite of her old bedroom. It, too, had been torn apart.
As Staton and Perez picked through opened drawers and looked through ravaged closets, she leaned on the wall and watched. As she suspected, he didn’t find much. Martin was obsessively neat. His room had always looked like a service cleaned it. There weren’t any family pictures or art on the walls. His clothes were folded and placed in drawers and on hangers.
“Could you tell if he took anything with him?” Staton lifted a worn pair of jeans.
“No, Agent. I haven’t been home in six years.”
Jake stood at her shoulder as the agent and policeman went through Martin’s things.
She and Jake followed them into the living room and watched while they searched the papers scattered around Pop’s old roll top desk. Staton sorted through a mangled stack of magazines and several still rolled
Arizona Republics
. He picked up one of the newspapers and checked the date. “This is dated from the day before the murders occurred. It doesn’t look like Martin had time to read any of these.”
“He doesn’t read much.”
Staton made a note in a little black book. “Are there any more bedrooms?”
She motioned toward the back of the house. “My parents’.”
Giving the kitchen and the bathroom a cursory look, Staton and Perez walked to her parents’ bedroom and opened the door. Even though she hadn’t been home in six years, Castaña held her breath. She could almost hear Pop shouting to stay the hell out. She shook her head. Pop was dead. He couldn’t shut her out now.
“Is this your stuff?” Officer Perez asked of the woman’s clothing strewn about, mingled with bedding and toiletries.
“No, Officer, it’s Briar Rose’s.” At his questioning look, she said, “My brother’s girlfriend. I don’t know where she is right now. She was here when I left this morning.”
The ghosts of Ramon and Magdalena Castillo weren’t there. The room bore little resemblance to the neat haven Magdalena had created for herself with handmade quilts and cross-stitch everywhere. The bed had been tipped over, lamp on the floor, curtains hanging at a crooked angle. The deputy opened the closet. Nothing but bare hangers on the floor.
Staton gingerly picked up a pair of denim shorts that looked like they had never been laundered. “Doesn’t this lady use a washing machine?”
Castaña shrugged. “I don’t know anything about her.”
“Wonder where she’s at? I’d like to talk to her.”
Wouldn’t we all?
“Don’t have a clue, Agent,” she said.
He reached again for his notebook. “What’s the girl’s last name?”
“I don’t know.”
He made a note. “Any idea of her age?”
“She claims to be twenty-one.”
“Any idea where she is today?”
“No, Agent.”
He placed the little book in his pocket. “Look, Miss Castillo, I’m just doing my job.”
Her stomach churned. Like she’d never heard that before. Cops never thought it was ‘personal’ when they arrested Pop or Martin. “It’s not personal convicting my brother when you don’t know for sure that he’s the killer?”
“If your brother’s guilty I’ll find out. If he’s innocent, I’ll prove it. So help me by answering my questions honestly.” After a deep breath, he continued, “Does Martin own a weapon?”
“Of course.” Hurriedly, she added, “He lives in rattlesnake country.”
Staton furrowed his brow. “Show me the gun cabinet.”
Feet dragging, she led the men to the cabinet in the living room. She saw it a half second before they did.
The lock hung open, an empty rack where several rifles should be stored.
Chapter Four
Staton pointed at Jake. “I want to talk to you. Outside. Now.”
Jake waited until they were out of earshot of the house. “What the hell was that? Are you trying to blow my cover?”
“What have you got going on here, anyway?” Staton grinned. “Another Linda Navarone situation? You got a thing for this girl?”
“Not even close,” Jake growled, wishing he could punch his supervisor in the mouth. Just like him to bring up the worst time in Jake’s life.
“You sure? Pretty lady in there.”
“I’m positive.” Jake wondered if his past mistakes would haunt him until he died. “I’m going to stay here with Miss Castillo until I figure out who trashed her place. You know as well as I do that she didn’t do it because she was with you the entire morning. She could be in danger if whoever did this comes back looking for her brother.” The thought of someone hurting Castaña made his stomach clench. She didn’t deserve to be injured if she got in the way of someone determined to make Martin suffer.
“Maybe her brother is the one who tore the house up. And what about this other girl, this Briar Rose? Know anything about her? Like where she was when the house was being ransacked?”
“Not yet.” Jake filled Staton in on what he had been doing, ignoring the other agent’s smart ass grin.
“Heatstroke?”