Frozen Ground

by Webb, Debra

  “He insisted on staying at the house and cleaning up after we finished. He didn’t want anyone else to do it.”

  Garrett exhaled a weary breath. “Hardheaded old man. He should have gone to a friend’s house or over to his sister’s in Belgrade and let a professional cleaning service take care of things.” There really wasn’t so much to clean up and even that was outside. But dealing with the blood—even only a small amount—of a lost loved one would be difficult.

  When folks reached a certain age, there was no changing their minds once they were made up. Especially after such a traumatic and tragic event. The man’s wife of nearly fifty years had been murdered. He couldn’t be expected to make rational decisions.

  “How are we coming on the search around the outer perimeter of the crime scene?”

  “No vehicle tracks. No foot prints. We got nothing, Sheriff,” Sanders chimed in. “We’ve checked with the entire list of friends Mr. Hansen provided—it wasn’t that long—and no one spoke to the victim yesterday or last night.”

  Garrett glanced at Wagner. He picked it up from there. “A bulletin—a plea for information—went out on all the local news stations as well as radio stations. We’re running the MO through the data bases. Nothing so far other than the similarities between Mrs. Hansen’s murder and Mrs. Gray’s all those years ago.”

  “I have a call into Brisbain. He’s getting me a location on Steven Gray.”

  Both men nodded. That scenario didn’t sit right with Garrett, but he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t a logical possibility.

  “Did you confirm Hansen’s alibi?” Garret had known Lionel Hanson as long as he’d known anyone in this town, which meant his whole life and he hated like hell to treat him like a person of interest in this case, but it was standard operating procedure. He was the husband of the victim; he had to be ruled out.

  “I did,” Wagner confirmed. “He picked up the package in Spokane at five p.m. on Saturday. Slept for a few hours at a motel,” Wagner glanced at him. “I confirmed. He checked out of the motel and headed home, just as he stated. The mileage on the truck verifies he drove from Livingston to Spokane and back. No deviations or additional mileage unaccounted for.”

  Which meant Hansen couldn’t have come back and killed his wife. Not that Garrett had actually believed he had. He couldn’t fathom a motive. But that didn’t mean one didn’t exist. Until he discovered one, he had every intention of considering the man innocent.

  “So what we have,” Garrett offered, “is nothing except a victim stabbed in the back, in the middle of the night, outside her own home.”

  He still needed to ask Hansen about the lipstick and the necklace. That odd little fact nagged at him. Seemed a bit odd for the middle of the night.

  “I checked to see if there have been any break-ins in the surrounding areas and found nothing so far,” Sanders put in.

  Garrett scrubbed at his jaw. He hadn’t taken the time to shave this morning. The call had come in and he’d hit the road. “Hopefully, Taylor will find something to point us in the right direction. Did Hansen say his wife wore a necklace? If there was one and it’s missing, we need a description.”

  Wagner said, “He doesn’t think she has one. He said his wife rarely wore jewelry. Or makeup.”

  Garrett would give Hansen a few more hours to pull himself together and do what he had to do and then he’d question him again. They were missing something. There was no other explanation.

  Rayna showed up with sandwiches. Garrett and the two deputies ate in silence as they reviewed the notes and reports from this morning. Rayna ate in her office, fielding calls. Word had spread about the murder and people were worried.

  “Ms. Gray didn’t see or hear anything?” Wagner asked.

  “She didn’t,” Garrett confirmed.

  “My wife said she’s already had several inquiries about the Gray property. It may sell quickly.”

  The murder next door notwithstanding, Garrett didn’t mention.

  “Funny thing,” Wagner went on, “Mr. Hansen talked to my wife about the property. You know,” he shrugged, “asking price and that sort of thing.”

  “Maybe he wants to expand,” Garrett said. Didn’t make a lot of sense at his age but stranger things happened.

  “I can’t see any way the sale of that property would have any impact on the case,” Sanders commented.

  “Probably not,” Wagner said. “If anything, it might make the property more marketable. Some folks are just downright bizarre. Near identical murders, sixteen years apart, right next door to each other.”

  Garrett couldn’t deny that allegation. There were those who loved mysteries and got some serious gratification from being near where that sort of event occurred.

  “Give me an update on the storm.” Garrett had noted the signs that serious trouble was in the air. He could hope, but he was reasonably sure they wouldn’t dodge the bullet on this one. Holly wasn’t going to be the typical winter storm.

  “We’ve got until dark, tops,” Wagner said. “The local channels are pushing the warnings. Holly’s coming. And she’s coming hard.”

  Damn. Garrett could do without that storm for the next few days. No one liked a fresh snowfall more than him. But there were times when it presented way too many complications. Like now, when he had a murder investigation in front of him. Worse, Holly wasn’t just going to drop a fresh blanket of snow. The projected precipitation amounts coming in this blizzard were best measured in feet rather than inches.

  “Let’s do what we can,” Garrett said, “before the storm hits.” His cell vibrated against his side. “Keep me up to speed on anything you find.”

  The deputies headed out and Garrett answered his cell without checking the screen. “Gilmore.”

  “Hey, Garrett, this is Ted.”

  Brisbane. Garrett’s pulse tripped into a faster rhythm. “I hope you called to tell me Gray is right where he’s supposed to be and that you spoke to him personally.”

  “I wish that were the case,” he said with a sigh. “I spoke to his employer. Gray was at work on Friday. He was scheduled to be off yesterday, but he was supposed to come to work today and he didn’t show. His employer gave me his address and cell number. I couldn’t reach him on his cell, so I called a detective friend over in Billings and asked him to check the duplex where the guy lives. No answer at the door. Yesterday’s mail was still in the box and the car registered to him wasn’t in the driveway.”

  Garrett swore silently. This was not good. Before he could ask, Brisbain went on, “I even called the hospitals to see if he’d had an accident or something. No one by that name has been admitted in the past forty-eight hours. This, of course, doesn’t mean he drove to Livingston and committed your murder, but it’s sure one hell of a coincidence.”

  Garrett got the details on the Steven’s car, just in case. “Thanks, Ted. I appreciate you looking into the situation for me.”

  The call ended and Garrett exhaled a big breath. He needed to talk to Abbey whether or not she wanted to hear what he had to say. He glanced at his phone, shook his head. He needed to do this in person.

  “Sheriff.”

  Garrett glanced up at his assistant. “Thanks again for the lunch.”

  She blushed. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “I was about to head out. Did you need something?”

  “Scott Pearson over at the market called and said he was supposed to make a delivery to the Gray address, but he wasn’t sure if you still had the road cordoned off on that end.”

  “It’s clear,” he said, then hesitated. “I have to drive out and talk to Abbey. Let Scott know I’ll pick up the delivery and take it out to her.”

  Rayna smiled. “I’ll tell him.”

  “And, Rayna. Go home early. That storm is coming and it’s looking worse all the time.”

  She nodded. “You be careful, too, Sheriff.”

  Garrett checked the messages on his desk. Nothing that couldn’t wait. He locked up and head
ed to Scott’s Market.

  Scott, the owner, waited for Garrett at the front entrance. He’d rolled a loaded cart into the lot by the time Garrett had braked to a stop in a parking slot. He climbed out of his truck and opened the back door of the crew cab.

  “Looks like that storm is going to be just as bad as they’re saying,” Scott offered as he passed the first of three bags to Garrett.

  “I’ve got four of my deputies going from door to door to check on the older residents,” Garrett said. “Livingston’s got a half dozen of their own doing the same. We want to be sure everyone knows we’re in for a bad one.”

  Scott passed him another bag. “I had to call in my entire crew. A lot of those folks have called in requesting deliveries.”

  The market didn’t make deliveries all the time—unless it was to the elderly or disabled—but in this kind of weather Scott and his crew did all within their power to ensure those in the community who needed extra help had it. Like his daddy before him, Scott cared deeply about this community. He was passing that same tradition onto his own son. The kid had just started his first semester of college and still he was here working every weekend and break.

  “Glad to hear it.” Garrett accepted the last of the three bags. “Let me know if you run into any trouble or see anything out of place.”

  “You know I will.” The older man shook his head. “Sure is a shame about Mrs. Hansen. You got any leads yet?”

  Garrett wished he did. “Not yet. But we’re doing all we can.”

  “I watched the breaking news report. You think whoever did this is still hanging around?”

  “Can’t be sure but we don’t want to take any chances. An appeal to the community for help and a warning to take special care was in order.”

  “Stuff like this just doesn’t happen around here.” Scott seemed to catch himself on the last. “Not for a long time anyway.”

  Garrett nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a long while.” He closed the truck door. “Thanks, Scott. I’ll get the order out to Ms. Gray right away.”

  “I heard she was back to sell the family place.”

  “It’s time I guess.” Garrett couldn’t blame her, even if it felt wrong.

  “You know, I read a couple of those book she wrote. Pretty scary stuff. Makes you wonder how a person—even one as nice as Abbey—could come up with something like that.”

  “It’s fiction,” Garrett reminded him. “After what she went through with her mother’s murder, it’s not surprising she understands that kind of darkness.”

  “Guess not,” Scott agreed.

  Garrett bit back a flare of anger. People would talk and come up with all sorts of scenarios to explain away the gruesome murder of a local. But Abbey Gray was the last person anyone should be considering. She would never hurt a soul.

  At some point before this day ended, he would have no choice but to warn the community to be on the lookout for her brother Steven. But he wasn’t doing that until he had some sort of proof the man had headed this way. He wasn’t bringing that kind of scrutiny down on Abbey unless he had no choice. He had, however, decided to issue a BOLO for his car. He’d deal with that if the vehicle was located in his jurisdiction.

  As he climbed back into his truck, his cell vibrated again. He answered without taking the time to check the screen. “Gilmore.”

  “Garrett, this is Abbey.”

  She sounded strange. Unsettled or worried. Maybe both. “Hey. Everything okay?”

  “Probably. I’m not sure. Maybe it’s nothing, but with what happened next door I don’t want to be too cavalier.”

  Tension rolled through him. “I’m listening.”

  “I did some walking around the property a little while ago. I ended up at that old tree stand that we turned into a treehouse.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “I remember the place.”

  “As I said, maybe it’s nothing, but it appears someone has been staying there. I found empty water bottles and snack packaging.”

  His tension moved to the next level. “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter Six

  Steven.

  Abbey hugged her arms around herself. Her thoughts kept going back to her brother. She didn’t want to believe the worst. And it made no sense. Why would Steven do any of this after all these years? He’d served his time. From all accounts, he had played by the rules during his incarceration and then for more than a year after his release, and suddenly he does this?

  Where was the logic?

  But then, Abbey didn’t know Steven, the man. She only knew the teenager he’d been more than fifteen years ago. After all those years in prison, he probably was nothing like the boy she had known growing up. They had explored these woods, climbed to the tops of every ridge in sight on those mountains that surrounded this valley. He’d always protected her from danger.

  If bitterness and hatred had consumed the good in him and revenge had burrowed into his soul, why now? What was the relevance of the timing? Why kill the woman who testified against him after he paid his debt to society? Why risk ending up back in prison? The only reasonable explanation was that maybe there was an undiagnosed mental illness and it had worsened. Now that he was mostly unsupervised had he even seen a doctor much less a counselor?

  Once he was imprisoned, Steven had ensured that she and her father were no longer authorized to be made aware of or to question anything about him. If he had died in prison they wouldn’t have been notified. Their only link to Steven all these years had been the district attorney’s office. But even the DA was not allowed to pass along any news of his physical or mental health. As the victim’s family, they were notified of any change to his status as related only to his incarceration.

  Abbey walked to the front window and checked to see if Garrett had arrived. She felt guilty now for waiting to call him until after she heard back from Stella. But she’d hoped to have some confirmation of her brother’s whereabouts. Stella hadn’t been able to reach him or his parole officer. It was Sunday and only days before Christmas.

  Stella had agreed that her inability to reach him did not mean he was back in Park County and certainly not that he had murdered anyone.

  Still, Abbey’s hopes had plummeted with the news.

  The snow had started to fall in earnest now. Channel 31 had already warned that Park County was in for more snow than anyone around here had seen in years. The sky and the strange shift in the wind warned that Holly was close.

  Abbey wasn’t really worried. She was prepared well enough to get through the storm. But what about whoever had stayed in that treehouse? What if that person was her brother? He could freeze to death in the coming storm.

  Worry washed over her. She shouldn’t be concerned about his wellbeing. He’d certainly made it more than clear that he wanted nothing to do with his family. Unless he wanted her dead. She blinked away the thought. She had no reason to suspect he felt that way. He’d never said anything of the sort during the trial. He’d insisted he was innocent, and Abbey and her father had believed him.

  It made no sense. If anything, Steven had been closer to their mother than Abbey. She had always been a daddy’s girl. More of a tomboy. She exhaled a big breath. Felt that overwhelming sense of loneliness again. When her mother and Steven were gone, she’d still had her father. Now there was no one but her. Once this place was sold, there truly wouldn’t be a reason to come back to Park County.

  As if the thought had summoned him, Garrett Gilmore rolled up the driveway in his big black Park County Sheriff’s truck. Her heart twisted the slightest bit. There were still people here who were like family. Garrett was one of them.

  This place would always be home whether or not she ever came back.

  She watched as he climbed out of the truck and then held his hat in place as he bounded across the yard and onto the porch. He stamped the snow from his boots and knocked.

  Despite the current circumstances, a smile tugged at her lips as she opened the door. “I
t’s getting pretty bad out there.”

  He stepped inside and she immediately closed the door to keep out the freezing air that whipped the snow around, sending it swirling through the door. “And it’s only going to get worse,” he warned.

  He shrugged out of his heavy coat. She took it and his hat. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen.”

  “Sounds good. It’s cold as hell out there.”

  In this part of the country, hot, fresh coffee was a mainstay during long winter months. She hung his jacket on the rack next to the door, only then noticing that her father’s was still there. When she’d placed Garrett’s hat on the shelf above the rack, her fingers trailed down her father’s everyday coat. It was the one he’d worn when working in the barn or puttering around the yard when there was a chill in the air. Whenever he went into town or to church, he had his Sunday coat. How in the world would she part with this piece of him?

  When she pushed the painful memory away and turned around, Garrett walked back into the room carrying two mugs of coffee. He passed the one she’d left by the coffeepot—the one she’d been using—to her, brimming with hot, steaming coffee.

  “Thanks.” She was running on caffeine overload at this point but what was one more cup?

  An awkward moment passed with them both simply standing there. “Please, sit down.” She settled into the side chair that had been her mother’s favorite.

  She suddenly realized that her life growing up in this house had been so very different than her life in the city in far more ways than the landscape and the way of life. New York apartments were notoriously small, ensuring she kept her decorating and furnishing on the sparse side. She’d filled the small spaces with modern, stylish furnishings. Here, her parents still had the same stoneware and cast-iron pots and pans from when they first married. The furnishings were the same ones from her childhood. The sofa and chairs were a little worse for the wear but still perfectly serviceable and reasonably charming.

  And more than comfortable. Her body fit into this old chair as if it had been built for her. More likely the cushions had molded to her frame over the years. Her mother had been the same size as she was now.