by B. J Daniels
At the sound of his voice, she started and half turned, making him realize that she hadn’t noticed him enter behind her. He took her arm before she could resist. “What would you like to drink?”
They were here now—best to act as normal as possible. These were the kinds of bars that a fight could break out in at a moment’s notice—and usually for no good reason other than the patrons were drunk and bored. Between him and Ella, Waco feared he’d given them an even better reason.
She glared at him but let him lead her over to the booth. “Bottle of beer. I don’t need a glass,” she said, those green eyes snapping as they telegraphed anger to cover what he suspected might be just a little relief at not being alone in this place.
“Wise decision,” he said quietly. This wasn’t the cleanest establishment he’d ever been in. Walking over to the bar, he nodded at the men sitting along the row of stools. They were now staring at him with way too much distrust.
The bartender, a heavyset man with an out-of-control beard, took his time coming down the length of the bar. “You lost?” he asked quietly. The pool game had resumed with a lot of loud ball smacking followed by even louder curses.
Waco spotted several baseball bats behind the bar. He had no doubt there was probably a sawed-off shotgun back there, as well. This was the middle of Montana, miles from anything. Justice here was meted out as necessary on an individual basis.
“Two bottles of beer. Whatever you have handy.” Ella hadn’t stopped here because she was thirsty. Unless he missed his guess, she’d come here looking for her mother. That alone gave him pause. Why would she think Stacy would be here, of all places?
That worried him. If it were the case, then Ella wouldn’t want to leave until she’d gotten what she’d come for. That fact was going to make this excursion a whole lot trickier. Because if Stacy Cardwell was here, which he had to doubt, he knew these people weren’t going to give her up easily.
There would be no demanding answers here. Waco knew his badge would be useless—worse than useless. It would be a liability, and he wasn’t in the mood to have the stuffing kicked out of him—let alone to end up in a shallow grave out back.
“You want these to go?” the bartender asked, glancing from Waco to Ella and back.
The open-container law aside, Waco didn’t think Ella was planning on leaving that soon. “Here.”
“Suit yourself.” The bartender walked back down the bar to open a cooler and pull out two bottles of beer.
Waco got the feeling that not many tourists found their way here. If they did, he’d bet they sped up and kept right on going.
The men at the bar were watching him, except for the ones still leering at Ella. He cursed under his breath. Did she have any idea what she’d walked them both into?
Chapter Twelve
Stacy’s second conquest attempt had a home on Canyon Ferry Lake outside Helena. Hud had tried calling Todd Bellingham’s residence first, only to get a recording. He’d headed for the lake, arriving in the afternoon. The sun shimmered off the surface of the water as he pulled in, parked and exited his SUV. The day was warm, the scent of the water rising up to meet him, along with shrieks of laughter from the other side of the house.
As he rounded the front of the house overlooking the lake, he could see a group of teenagers frolicking in a cacophony of spray and high-pitched shrieks at the water’s edge.
“Grandkids,” a distinguished gray-haired man said from a lounge chair on the patio as the marshal approached. “I tell people they’re what keeps me young, but the truth is, they wear me out.” He chuckled. “Marshal Hudson Savage, right?” he asked as he started to rise from the chair.
“Please, don’t get up,” Hud said quickly. Clearly, Emery Gordon had called to let Todd know he was coming. “And it’s Hud.”
“Then join me, Hud.” Todd Bellingham motioned to the chair next to him. The man glanced back through the wall of windows into the house and made a motion with his hand. “I’m having iced tea. Have a glass with me?”
“Thanks. That sounds good,” Hud said as he took the lounge chair in the shade. The view of the lake and the mountains on the other side was spectacular. Gold had been found in those mountains over a century ago, one area said to be the richest place on earth. It was no wonder that Montana had first been known as the Treasure State.
A woman appeared with a tray. “This is my wife, Nancy. Marshal Hudson Savage,” Todd said by way of introduction.
The woman smiled as she left the tray. “Nice to meet you, Marshal.”
“You, too,” he said as she exited quickly, as if sensing this wasn’t a social visit.
Below them on the mountainside, the group of teenagers had apparently exhausted themselves for the moment. The girls had plopped down to sun on the beach while the boys had climbed into a wakeboard boat and turned on the music. It blared for a moment before one of them glanced up at the house and then quickly turned it down.
“What can I do for you, Marshal?” Todd asked after they had both sipped their tea.
“I’m here about Stacy Cardwell Gordon.” He didn’t think it came as a surprise, given that Todd had been expecting him.
The congressman nodded slowly, his gaze on the lake. “I understand you spoke with Emery, her first husband.” When Hud said nothing, Todd continued. “I was young and foolish and Stacy... Well, she was Stacy.” He glanced at the marshal, then back at the lake. “Why the interest after all this time?”
“Stacy’s missing and she’s wanted for questioning in a homicide investigation.”
Todd shook his head. “Homicide.” He didn’t sound surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. I liked Stacy.”
“You were married when you began seeing her,” Hud said, keeping his voice down.
“I was and so was she. It almost cost me my marriage.” He didn’t sound sorry about that. “I almost let it.” He looked over at Hud. “I was in love with her.”
“What happened?”
Todd chortled. “I didn’t have enough money. My future at that time didn’t look great. I was working for my father at the car dealership, hating it and kind of feeling at loose ends. I would eventually inherit the business, but it wasn’t quickly enough for Stacy. She wanted...more.”
“More as in whom exactly?”
The man smiled over at him. “You do know Stacy, huh. His name was Marvin Hanover, a wealthy man from Gateway who apparently came from old money. She’d caught his eye and vice versa. And that was that.”
Hud thought about it for a moment as below them, on the shore, the teenage boys called the girls from their towels spread on the sand into the boat. He watched them speed away, the boat’s wide wake sending water droplets into the air.
“When was the last time you saw Stacy?” he asked after finishing his drink.
Todd frowned. “Just before she married Marvin. I tried to talk her out of it.” He laughed. “Like I said, I was young and foolish.”
“When was the last time you saw Marvin Hanover?”
“I never met the man.” The congressman smiled. “If you think I killed him for her...” He chuckled at that. “A man can only be so young and foolish and survive.”
“Did Stacy ask you to kill him?”
Todd Bellingham only smiled before draining his tea. “I hope you find her before...well, before anything happens to Stacy. I still think about her sometimes.” His gaze took on a faraway look. “I’ve wondered how different my life would be if I had stopped her from leaving me.” He turned to look at Hud. “Or how different hers would be now.”
* * *
ELLA FELT HER skin crawl as she looked away from the leering men at the bar to check her phone. Her phone showed that she didn’t have a strong connection. She should have expected it might be sketchy out here. Not that she’d thought she’d have a call from her mother. But she might have to make a call
for help—and not just for her. Waco wasn’t safe here; that much was clear.
She saw that she had voice messages from both her aunt and uncle. She didn’t listen to them, knowing Dana and Hud were worried about her and anxious to know where she’d gone.
As the detective returned with two bottles of beer, she pocketed her phone and hoped he didn’t see that her hand was trembling.
Ella had been warned that this was a rough bar. And yet, when she’d walked in, her feet had frozen to the floor just inside the door as she’d felt the suspicion, the mistrust, the menacing vibrations. She’d stared at the faces of the men, hoping to recognize at least one of them from her mother’s photos. She hadn’t.
Over the years as a wrangler, she’d been in dangerous situations with horses and cattle, but she’d always been in her own element, one she knew well, and had felt confident in her abilities to get herself out of trouble. Walking in here, though, when she’d looked into the faces of those men, she’d known she was out of her depth.
Waco set a beer in front of her and slid into the opposite side of the booth. He met and held her gaze as he lifted his bottle in a salute that told her he was as wary of what might happen next as she was. “The bartender wouldn’t take my money. I suspect another beer will be out of the question.”
She knew what he was trying to tell her. She lifted her beer to her lips but hardly tasted it. The two of them were still being watched. At the pool table, two of the players were arguing loudly.
The detective took a swig and set down his bottle, leaning toward her as he spoke. “I think we should leave.”
Ella knew he was right, but she’d come here to get answers. She wasn’t leaving without them. Her mother had been coming to this place for years. All her instincts told her that, now on the run, Stacy had come here again. “You know where the door is,” she said with more bravado than she felt.
He chuckled. “If you think I’m leaving you here alone...” But his look said he was tempted just to show her what a fool she was.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a door open at the back of the bar. A woman with dyed red hair entered with an air of ownership. No one paid her any mind as she stepped behind the bar and opened a large old-fashioned cash register.
Another song came on the jukebox as a fight broke out at the pool table. The woman behind the bar picked up a glass and hurled it at the two scuffling in the back. The glass hit the wall and shattered, loud as a gunshot. The two stopped in midmotion.
“Lou, Puck, you’ve been warned. Outside. I’ve had enough of the two of you,” the woman said in a deep, gravelly voice as brash as her hair color. She turned to the bartender. “They don’t leave? Throw them out and don’t let them back in. Best clean up that glass before some fool cuts his leg off.”
Lou and Puck were still in a brawlers hold. For a moment, they glared at each other, and then the larger of the two shoved the smaller one aside and left. The smaller man looked to the bar and the woman. “Come on, Helen,” he said with a groan. “You know it weren’t me that started it.”
She motioned toward the back door and then turned, freezing for a moment as her gaze lit on Ella and then Waco. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she asked the bartender what they’d ordered. Then she scribbled something down and walked the length of the bar, coming around the end and heading straight for their booth.
Ella sat a little straighter. She recognized the woman even though her hair hadn’t been red in the old photos. Helen had aged over the years and now had to be pushing seventy, maybe more. As she reached them, Ella swallowed the lump in her throat. This was her chance to ask about her mother.
“What are you doing here?” Helen’s quiet words were directed at her. In the older woman’s hand was what looked like a bill for the beers. Guess they would be charged after all.
“I need to talk to you about my mother, Stacy Cardwell,” Ella said, keeping her voice low since she could feel all the attention in the room focused on the three of them.
“I don’t know anyone by that name. You need to leave. Now.” Helen had started to turn away when Ella grabbed her slim wrist. She looked down at the hand stopping her before looking up at Ella.
The look in the woman’s eyes made her flinch inside, but Ella didn’t let go. “I’m not leaving until I find my mother. I know she comes here,” Ella said just as firmly as the older woman had spoken. “I suspect she’s here now.”
“You’ve made a mistake,” the woman whispered. “You don’t belong here.”
“And my mother does?”
Helen’s gaze shifted to Waco as she reached down and gently peeled Ella’s fingers from her wrist. “You brought a cop?”
“He’s looking for her, too,” Ella said. “We’re not together.”
The woman swung her gaze back to Ella. For a moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of kindness in the woman’s faded eyes. “Leave now. While you can.” With that, she wadded up their bill and dropped it in front of Ella before turning and walking back to the bar.
“What are you all lookin’ at?” Helen demanded of the men at the bar in a raspy bark. They all turned away from Ella and Waco as the woman took her spot behind the bar again.
Ella surreptitiously pocketed the wadded bill and got to her feet. Waco rose, as well, and reached for his wallet to leave a twenty on the table.
As they walked out, she could feel eyes on her. But only one set felt as if it was boring a hole into her back. How had she ever thought she’d seen kindness in those eyes?
* * *
“YOU THOUGHT YOUR mother was here?” Waco demanded once outside as he followed Ella to her pickup. She started to climb inside the truck, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Why would you think that?”
She sighed and shook off his hold. “I had my reasons. I’m going home, in case you want to follow me all the way back.”
“You’re not leaving,” he said after a split second. “I already know you better than that.”
“You don’t know me at all,” she snapped.
“I wish you were smart enough to turn your pickup around and hightail it out of here as quickly as possible. That would be my advice—not that you’d take it. If there is one thing I know, it’s that this is getting dangerous and you’re just stubborn enough to think that by staying around here you’re going to get some answers.”
Ella mugged a face at him. “Believe what you will.” She started to get into her pickup but stopped to look back at him. “I have some advice for you, Detective.”
“You can call me Waco.”
“You’re the one who should hightail it out of here. No one’s going to talk to you,” Ella said. “You look like the law.”
“I am the law.”
“I rest my case. It’s too dangerous for you here.”
He laughed. “Too dangerous for me? Are you serious? We’ll be lucky if we get out of this town alive.”
“If you’re trying to scare me—”
He swore and passed a hand through his hair in frustration as she climbed in and slammed the pickup door. As the motor roared to life, he swore again and stepped back before she had a chance to run over his toes. Did she really think he was going to buy her story about leaving?
But as she pulled out, she headed in the direction they’d come. He watched her go, for a moment debating what to do. Follow her? She hadn’t seemed to have gotten any information from the owner of the bar and yet she was leaving? Why was he having trouble believing this? Because he thought he knew Ella after such a short length of time?
A man came out of the bar and glanced after Ella as he climbed into his pickup and started to take off in the same direction Ella had gone.
Waco let out another curse as he hurried to his SUV. Once behind the wheel and racing after Ella and the man, he glanced back at the bar’s front door. Another man stood the
re, watching them leave before turning his gaze on Waco.
Waco floored the SUV and quickly passed the older pickup, putting himself between Ella and the male driver hunched over the wheel of the old-model truck. As he drove after Ella, he recalled the way Helen had wadded up their bill and thrown it at Ella. He’d seen the woman write something on it before coming over to them. Was it possible she had written a message on it?
Ahead of him, he could see that Ella appeared to be driving out of town—just as she’d said she was going to do. So why didn’t he believe her? Just as she’d told the woman at the bar, Ella wouldn’t leave until she got the information she needed.
He shook his head in both frustration and admiration. Ella reminded him of himself. Stubborn to a fault and just as crazy cagey. He just hoped she didn’t get herself killed, because as capable and strong as she was, she wasn’t trained for this kind of dirty business.
Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw that the pickup from town was gaining on them. He’d known it wasn’t going to be easy to get out of there alive.
Chapter Thirteen
As Ella drove, she dug the bill Helen had thrown down in front of her from her pocket. She flattened it out and read what was written on it. Just as she’d suspected, the woman had sent her a message.
She felt her pulse jump. That meant Helen had known who she was before the bar owner had come over to the booth—just as she’d suspected. Had her mother shown her photographs of Ella over the years?
She stared at the scrawled words.
Go home before you hurt your mother more than you know.
Her heart thundered against her ribs. She’d found her mother. Or at least found someone who knew her mother. But then what? How could she hurt her mother more? Stacy already had a homicide detective after her. More to the point, could Ella trust Helen, a woman she didn’t know?
Her hope was that she could talk her mother into returning to the ranch—at least until she was arrested for murder. It wouldn’t be easy. Worse, she had Waco Johnson dogging her every step, she thought, glancing in her rearview mirror to see his SUV not far behind. The detective wasn’t giving up any more than Ella was.