Contents
CRY WOLF
Also By J. Carson Black
Copyright
Dedication
1: The Crime Scene
2: The Victim
3: The Madera Canyon Cabins
4: Sean Perrin 101
5: Frank Entwistle’s Ghost
6: The Canvass
7: Home
8. Liar, Liar
9: Ruby
10: On the Run
11: Running Down the Road
12: Two Liars
13: Legwork
14: Xanadu in the Desert
15: The Ex
16: The Road Not Traveled
17: Deception
18: The Lion in her Den
19: Down and Out and Out of Leads
20: Second Saturday
21: When Good Things Happen to Bad People
Epilogue
End
About the Author
Acknowledgments
CRY WOLF
J. CARSON BLACK
A LAURA CARDINAL NOVELLA
Also by J. Carson Black
The Laura Cardinal Novels
Darkness On The Edge Of Town
Dark Side of the Moon
The Devil’s Hour
The Shop
Icon
The Survivors Club
The Maggie O’Neil Mysteries
Roadside Attraction
Writing as Margaret Falk
Darkscope
Dark Horse
The Desert Waits
Writing as Annie McKnight
The Tombstone Rose
Superstitions
Short Stories
Pony Rides
The BlueLight Special
Copyright © 2013 by Margaret Falk. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted 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.
Published by Breakaway Media
Tucson, Arizona (USA)
www.breakawaymedia.com
ISBN: 978-1-939145-14-7
130914
For my good friend, author Christopher Smith, who encouraged me to catch up with Laura Cardinal and find out what she’s doing now – thanks, Chris!
1: The Crime Scene
Laura Cardinal was just finishing up breakfast when she got the call.
Her sergeant, Jerry Grimes, said, “You like Madera Canyon?”
Of course she liked Madera Canyon. Madera Canyon was situated in the Santa Rita Mountains, a beautiful area south of Tucson, oak woodland, wild turkeys, cozy cabins, great hiking, and lots of birds. But Laura knew that Jerry wasn't inviting her to a picnic.
Laura Cardinal was a homicide cop.
Matt looked at her from across the breakfast nook, a question in his eyes.
She nodded.
He nodded back, got up from the table and motioned toward the back door. Going to feed the horses. Laura's fiancé was the philosophical type. One, he didn't resent the time-sucking nature of her job, having been a fire fighter with the Tucson Fire Department for eleven years, and two, he could keep himself entertained—one of the many traits they shared.
Jerry said, “I called Anthony and he'll meet you there. You know the parking lot at the top? The trailhead to Baldy?”
“Which one?” There were three parking lots terraced down the hill.
“The top one—near the restroom. Google Map it.”
“As we speak,” Laura said, scrolling through her phone. “What happened?”
“There's a guy in a car. Shot in the head. A group of hikers were on their way to the trailhead when one went back to her car to get something. She spotted him and they called it in. A ranger there secured the scene. Ran the plate—the car is a rental, rented to a Sean Perrin, of Las Vegas, Nevada.”
Laura watched Matt walking out to the pipe corrals. Their two horses were peering over the fence snorting and nickering. Breakfast!
If only everyone could be so easily pleased.
It looked like her breakfast would be a homemade muffin on the fly and coffee in a to-go cup. She had a row of to-go cups on the top shelf of the dish cupboard. “What about Pima County Sheriff's?” she asked. As a criminal investigator with the Arizona Department of Public Safety—Arizona’s state law enforcement agency—Laura was often called out to assist other jurisdictions in their homicide investigations.
“That part of the canyon is Santa Cruz County and Coronado Forest. Santa Cruz is the one asking for the assist. They're short-handed, what with the border troubles and you know the furloughs just came down. They knew they could use us so they asked.”
Saturday Morning going down. Going, going, gone.
She should have hated working on her day off, but a part of her was already on the case. Already anticipating what she would find, already wondering how a guy from Nevada got himself shot in one of the prettiest places in southern Arizona.
She drove into the Madera Canyon Recreation Area just before nine a.m. First thing she saw as she passed the Madera Canyon Cabins on the right was the colorful dragonfly streamer hanging from the rustic wood sign.
This morning, she'd awakened to Matt kissing the dragonfly tattoo above her shoulder blade. It was safe to say he really liked her dragonfly tattoo.
Amazingly, considering her previous track record, Matt had been admiring her dragonfly tattoo for three-and-a-half years. Her love life had been like riding a bicycle—she'd had several tries, bit the dust a whole bunch of times, but finally she was riding like a pro.
She loved the feeling. But even after all this time, Laura wondered if this was a dream. The love stories she'd written for herself over the years had always ended badly, so it amazed her that love could actually be easy and fun.
She was just beginning to trust that.
The road wound through the canyon. The shadows were deep, the grass catching the sun like spun gold, the oaks dark but glittering where the sun touched their upturned leaves. Deep blue sky. Laura felt sorry for the poor soul who'd passed away and missed a day like this. She drove past a few cute little four-wheel drive vehicles, people walking along the road in shorts, lots of birders in hiking gear and carrying walking sticks.
Laura drove slowly, taking photos of the vehicles and the people she encountered.