Page 36 of Concrete Evidence
He and Roden followed Holcombe to the rear left side of the building. He opened the door of an enclosed office large enough to host a dozen men. Everything was in rustic Western design—floor-to-ceiling tan-and-white stone fireplace, chandelier constructed of cow horns and candles, and a coffee bar and small fridge. Marc had stepped into a world he’d only heard about or seen in magazines. “Not what I expected in a stable.”
“The senator does things right. My living quarters are connected behind my office.” Holcombe grinned. “Allows me to live right next to the best horseflesh in the state. I’m a blessed man.” He gestured to a leather sofa. “Have a seat. Can I get you something? Iced tea? Coke? Water?”
Marc and Roden chose water.
“How can I help you?” Holcombe removed his Stetson and placed it on a custom hat rack next to a hand-hewn oak desk that looked like a polished slab of wood. After retrieving two bottles of water, he sat across from them in a leather chair.
“Since talking to the Army investigators, have you heard from Senator Elliott?” Marc said.
“No, sir. He doesn’t answer his phone either.”
“What’s your relationship with him?”
“I’m his friend, foreman for the ranch, and manager for the commercial construction company. He’s been like a father to me for years.”
“You’re a busy man.”
“I am. That’s why I need Avery back here on the job.”
“Have you heard or seen from her?”
“I’ve emailed her, and she responded but refused to tell me where she or they are or when they’ll be home. She doesn’t answer her phoneeither. Mia, the housekeeper, said they left separately, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t together now.” Holcombe drew in a deep breath. “By the way, I knew Liam Zachary. Fine man and I have no idea why someone wanted him dead. Told that to the Army men too. I’m worried about the senator and Avery. Real worried.” Craig stared into Marc’s eyes. “Have you traced the bullet? Found the gun?”
“Working on it,” Marc said. “Were you acquainted with Colonel Abbott Wilkins?”
“Yes, sir. Why? Has something happened to him?”
“He died of a heart attack.”
Holcombe’s face darkened. “Sorry to hear that. When did this happen?”
“Funeral was Monday.”
“I had no clue. Whoa. Kin to you?”
“My father.”
“Rough situation with the senator missing too. Your father was a familiar face here. Good man. I don’t like any of this. Whatever you need, I’ll help.”
Roden walked to a window overlooking the pasture. “Who helps you with the workload?”
“I have good men and women I trust, both with the ranch and the construction company. But in just a few days, I’m behind. The senator, Avery, and I make a good team. We each have our own specialty and each other’s backs. The senator compared us to the legislative, executive, and judicial branches of Texas government.”
Roden smiled. “Are you surprised?”
Holcombe laughed. “It’s the way he lives and breathes—everything about him is faith, family, friends, and politics.”
“Have you consulted Senator Elliott’s attorney?” Roden said.
“Talked to him today, and he advised me to sit tight in hopes the senator would surface soon. My guess is the attorney knows right where they are.” He held up a finger and jotted down somethingon a piece of paper and handed it to Roden. “There’s his name and number.”
“Thanks.” Roden returned to the sofa. “Mr. Holcombe, what’s your opinion of the senator’s son?”
“Buddy? A waste to mankind. Lazy. Money burns a hole in his pocket. He’d drain the senator’s financials like an alcoholic drains a bottle of liquor if he has the chance.” Holcombe waved his hand. “Not my position to accuse anyone of a crime, but I don’t trust Buddy or his wife. They eat from the devil’s Crockpot.”
“You have definite opinions,” Roden said.
“Sure do. Buddy and Saundra Elliott have always caused trouble, and I wouldn’t put it past either of them to be up to something now.”
