by Webb, Debra
He made his way to the house. No tracks in the snow. A good sign. The front door was already open, probably from whoever had searched it earlier. The weathered door barely hung on to the frame by a single hinge. Inside the house were four rooms, all stripped bare save for a random chair or side table. The kitchen had no built-in cabinets and whatever pieces had been lined up against the walls for storage were long gone. Either sold at auction or given away, maybe stolen over the years as the house deteriorated.
He saw no indication that anyone had been inside. Snow filtered in through the broken windows, creating little drifts here and there on the wide plank wood floor. He walked to the second of the two bedrooms, the only room he hadn’t checked. The house didn’t have a bathroom but at one time there had been an outhouse in the back.
Garrett stilled in the open doorway. There was more snow in this room. The one window didn’t have just a few broken panes like the other windows in the house, this one was missing the entire lower sash. He crossed to the window and peered out into the snow that pretty much obscured his view now.
Fresh tracks that were quickly filling with snow marred the white blanket.
“Son of a…”
Garrett climbed out the window, his phone already at his ear as he put through a call to Wagner. He rushed through the snow, following the tracks that would all too soon disappear. Whoever had been here hadn’t been gone long. Maybe a couple of minutes.
“I was just about to call you, Sheriff,” Wagner said by way of a greeting.
“I’m at the old Munford place,” Garrett said over the lashing of the wind and the sound of rushing water. “Someone’s been here in the last few minutes.” He reached the tree line of the woods that bordered the property and the tracks vanished.
“Sending help your way, Sheriff.”
Garrett moved into the woods more slowly, alternately scanning the ground and surveying the area around him. “I’m thinking whoever was here heard me pull up and took off out the bedroom window. He headed into the woods. I’ve lost his trail.”
Damn it. He turned all the way around, the snow swirling down around him as if he’d stepped into a shaken snow globe.
“Tracey and Nelson are en route to your location,” Wagner said. “You should probably stand down, Sheriff, until you have back up.”
Garrett remained as still as possible, moving nothing but his eyes from side to side, watching for the slightest movement. “Let them know I’m at the tree line behind the house.”
That was the instant that Garrett’s attention settled on the broken-down barn that sat only a few yards from the tree line about halfway between his position and the house. He turned in that direction. Whoever had fled into the woods when he arrived, could have circled back and entered the barn.
“I know that silence,” Wagner warned, “what’s happening, Sheriff?”
“I’m going into the barn,” Garrett said in a near whisper.
“You mean there’s some part of it that’s still standing?” The disbelief in his deputy’s voice didn’t slow Garrett’s stride in that direction.
He didn’t bother answering. He couldn’t hope for the element of surprise since the structure had enough cracks in the partially standing walls to throw a stick of firewood through. But he wasn’t going out of his way to warn whoever might be inside.
He moved in at the rear of the structure, the part that was closest to the woods. A couple of missing boards in the siding allowed him to see inside. The light coming in through the missing parts of the roof allowed him to see fairly well. Snow covered most of the ground inside. No tracks as best he could see. He moved to a larger opening and ducked inside.
He progressed cautiously through the building, his gaze roving the ground for any sign of human tracks and the dark corners for any flicker of movement.
“I need to hear your voice, Sheriff.”
Garrett had forgotten he still had Wagner on the line. “Nothing in the barn. No sign anyone’s been holed up here or in the house, but someone has definitely passed through.” He explained about the treehouse and what Abbey found there. “Could have been a hunter,” he said before his deputy could suggest as much, “but seeing those tracks leading away from the old Munford house this close to our homicide scene and to Abbey makes me doubt that scenario.”
“Well, here’s something else to make you doubt the hunter theory,” Wagner said.
Garrett moved back out into the open, snow covered ground between the house and the woods. Frustration twisted through him as he walked toward the driveway. “What’s that?”
“I was about to call you when you phoned. Scott from over at the market came by. He was all excited about some guy coming into his store. It took a moment to get the him calmed down so he could tell me who.”
A patrol car pulled into the driveway and two deputies emerged. Tracey and Nelson. With the roads icing quickly, the two had obviously been close by or they would still be minutes away. Garrett asked Wagner, “So who was it?”
“He can’t be positive, mind you,” Wagner warned. “Scott said he only got a glance at his profile as he walked out of the store, but he showed the cashier who waited on him a photo and she said it was the same guy.”
Garrett felt like reaching through the phone line and shaking his deputy. “Wagner, who was it?”
“Steven Gray. Scott said if it wasn’t him it was his identical twin.”
A new kind of tension twisted through Garrett. “How recent was this photo?” Garrett doubted the man had seen Gray in fifteen years. It was highly unlikely anyone in the community had.
“The picture was from an article in the Billings Gazette about when he was released from prison last year. Scott said he was as sure as he could be that it was him considering he hadn’t seen his whole face, but the cashier was positive.”
Could still have been someone else, but Garrett wasn’t prepared to take the risk.
“I need to let Abbey know about this,” he said, his pulse accelerating. “I’ll leave Tracey and Nelson to look around here.”
Abbey might believe she could take care of herself, but her mother had probably believed the same thing.
No one knew what he or she would do when face-to-face with a killer, especially when it was someone you should be able to trust.
Chapter Eight
3:55 p.m.
Abbey poured out the dregs in the bottom of her last cup of coffee. She’d had enough. More than enough. She filled her cup with water and headed back to the living room. At the front window she stared out at the wintry scene.
Perfect. Pure white. So beautiful. She’d always loved the snow against the backdrop of the woods that circled her childhood home. Most of the trees were evergreens, their limbs heavy with clouds of snow. It would be dark soon and the temperature would plummet.
How could something so beautiful be so lethal? Winter storm Holly was creating serious problems every place it touched. She was grateful for the supplies from the market Garrett had dropped off. The cold permeated the glass, making her shiver. Her arms went automatically around her waist.
Maybe she should have listened to him about going into town or to the ranch. It wasn’t that she didn’t have what she needed to get through the storm. Channel 31 was forecasting that Holly would move on out within the next twenty-four hours. That seemed to be the storm’s speed. It lingered anywhere from twenty to thirty or so hours wherever it blustered its way into. There was talk of a warm front coming not so far behind Holly, but it was too early to be sure it would follow the same path.
Abbey could be stuck here for a while. Didn’t matter. Not really. She had plenty to do. She glanced at the fireplace and decided to pile on another log. She’d brought in several armloads of firewood after Garrett left. No need to wait until the weather grew worse. She had coffee, bottled water in the event the pipes under the house froze, and food for several days. After what happened at the treehouse, she’d rounded up a box of shells for the shotgun. She h
oped she wouldn’t need the one in the chamber, much less more.
Rather than stand around staring out the window just waiting for trouble to arrive, she decided to start packing. The photo albums and keepsakes were first on her agenda. She’d already prepared three small and two medium size boxes. The ticking of the old grandfather clock made her feel much more at home. After hauling in the wood, she’d walked around the house trying to put her finger on what it was that seemed to be off. The quiet was, she’d realized, too quiet. Last night she’d been too tired to notice and then this morning Garrett had arrived with his shocking news. Finally, she’d realized it was the grandfather clock. It had belonged to her great grandparents. The antique grandfather clock had stood in the house for Abbey’s entire life, but it hadn’t been wound since her father died. She’d wound the clock and eased the hands to the correct hour and minute, going through the chimes until the time and the chimes were synced just as her father had taught her.
That missing tick-tock was what had felt off.
The crunch of snow and an the idle of engine drew her attention back to the window. She crossed the room and spotted the Park County Sheriff’s Department truck rolling to a stop in front of her house.
Garrett.
What was he doing back here? She’d wondered if he would call and check on her before the night was over or maybe even bring pizza as he’d suggested. But after she’d insisted she could take care of herself and that he should focus on his investigation, she’d decided he might not. He’d also mentioned assigning a detail to keep an eye on her place which she felt was unnecessary and she’d said as much. In any event, he was here. She would see what he had to say.
Hopefully no one else had been murdered. She shuddered at the idea.
As he climbed the steps, she unlocked the door and opened it wide for him to come in. “Back so soon?” She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t take the comment the wrong way.
Funny, growing up they’d practically been able to read each other’s minds. Things were different now. They were all grown up and hardly saw each other more than once a year. His gaze settled on hers and the worry there warned this was not just a drop by to see how she was doing. Something else had happened.
Renewed worry pushed into her chest.
He removed his hat and held it in his hands as if he needed to ensure they were occupied. “Have you heard from Steven?”
A frown tugged at her brow. “What? No. I’ve already told you this. You said he didn’t show up for work but that’s the last I heard. Has he contacted you?”
“No, but he was spotted in town.” Garrett shrugged. “Scott Pearson at the market believes he saw him. The cashier who rung up the guy IDed him as Steven from a photo taken last year when he was released from prison.”
Abbey remembered the photo and the accompanying article. It was the first time she’d seen her brother’s face in fifteen years. He looked so much like their father. Handsome, square jaw. Same hair and eyes. She blinked the memory away.
“Then he’s here.” A mixture of anticipation and uncertainty churned inside her. She didn’t know whether to be afraid or cautiously optimistic.
“It seems so.”
Good grief. She stared at Garrett’s coat. “I’m sorry.” She gestured to his broad shoulders. “Take off your coat. Would you like water or,” she shrugged, “something stronger?”
She had wine but unless he’d changed, Garrett was a beer guy who indulged in the occasional whiskey. Tucked beneath the kitchen sink was a bottle of her father’s favorite bourbon. He’d rarely touched the stuff but there were occasions when it was needed. This seemed like one of those times.
“Thanks but I’d like to check on Mr. Hansen, and I don’t really want to leave you here alone.”
There it was. His refusal to believe that she could take care of herself. “I thought you were sending someone to watch after me. Not that I need someone watching after me, mind you.” She’d lived in the big city for years now. There wasn’t a whole lot she was afraid of and she definitely knew how to take care of herself in most situations.
“If you won’t go to the ranch with me,” Garrett announced, “I’m staying here with you. I just need to check in at the Hansen place first.”
Was he serious? The sheer determination in his brown eyes warned he was indeed. A half dozen valid arguments raced to the tip of her tongue, but she knew Garrett Gilmore entirely too well to believe she could win this battle. He’d made up his mind and there would be no changing it.
And maybe she didn’t want him to.
Rather than dissect that thought, she said, “All right. Give me a sec to get my coat and boots.”
In the kitchen, she took her coat from its hook by the back door and pulled it on. While she tugged on her gloves, she pushed one foot and then the other into her boots. She checked the deadbolt on the door and grabbed her keys from the counter. Garrett waited right where she’d left him.
“Watch the steps,” he said as he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. “They’re getting a little icy.”
She locked the door and poked the keys into her pocket. “I’ll put something on them when we get back.”
Living in an apartment all these years, she’d grown accustomed to someone else taking care of those sorts of things. She should have already sprinkled de-icer on the front and the back steps. Then again, after bringing in the firewood she hadn’t expected to go outside again much less have company. With the weather growing worse every hour, there wouldn’t be many people out and about.
Except Garrett.
Law enforcement, she amended with a glance at the man who opened the passenger side door of his truck. Garrett wouldn’t sleep a wink until this storm was over. He and his deputies would do all within their power to see that the residents of Park County were safe.
Before she could climb in the truck the cold had invaded her outer wear, making her shiver. She settled into the seat and fastened her safety belt. Her father had raved about what a great sheriff Garrett was. Better than anyone before him. So caring. So dedicated. So considerate. She wouldn’t have expected any less from him.
Abbey stared at his profile as he slid behind the wheel. And handsome. The day’s beard growth on his jaw made her want to reach out and slide her fingers over those planes and angles. She shook off the idea and faced forward. All during high school the girls had chased after him as if he were a rock star. No matter how pretty or popular the girl, he was always careful how he reacted. Always kind and yet noncommittal. As if he’d enjoyed the attention but hadn’t wanted to give anyone the wrong idea or string any of his admirers along. His dark hair was shorter now, barely touching his collar. His body was broader and more muscular, but still lean. He’d hit six feet when he was seventeen. By the time he was twenty he’d grown another couple of inches. The cowboy boots and hat made him appear even taller.
But beneath the handsome exterior and the cowboy trappings, he was still the same old nice guy he’d been as a kid.
She turned back to him. “Why in the world aren’t you married?”
The question popped out of her mouth rather than flitting through her mind. She could have bitten off her tongue. Heat rushed up her neck and she instantly stared straight ahead once more.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He looked at her now instead of the snow-covered road. She didn’t have to turn her head to know, she felt his gaze on her.
“I’m too…busy,” she sputtered. She dropped her head against the back of the seat and silently ranted at herself. There were many reasons why she remained single and being busy wasn’t at the top of the list.
Could she have answered anymore generically?
The resounding silence that followed didn’t help.
Finally, he said, “I get it. I should mind my own business.”
She shouldn’t have been, but she was immensely grateful he totally misunderstood. When was the last time she’d allowed herself to
get flustered in the presence of anyone, much less someone she’d known her entire life? Thankfully he turned down the drive to the Hansen home before she had to answer.
The house sat back in the woods a full quarter of a mile from the road, much like her childhood home. In fact, if they’d cut through the woods instead of taking the road, they could have arrived more quickly. Except they would have had to go on foot and with the storm, that wasn’t feasible.
A county cruiser sat in the snow-covered driveway a few yards from the house. Mr. Hansen’s truck was likely around back the way she’d parked her SUV at home.
As much as Abbey would prefer to stay right here in Garrett’s truck, that would be disrespectful. She owed it to Mr. Hansen to offer her condolences. He and his wife had been good neighbors and friends to her family for as long as she could remember.
“Mr. Hansen didn’t want to leave home either,” Abbey guessed. The man had lived in this house, on this land from the day a midwife helped him into the world. Her father had done the same. Though Hansen’s wife was gone now, her things were here…her essence still lingered in the house. Abbey sensed her father’s essence even a year after his death.
“We were able to sequester him in the bedroom until the forensic folks were done, but we couldn’t convince him to leave the house except to follow his wife to the morgue.” Garrett shut off the engine. “Can’t blame him, I guess.”
“He doesn’t have anyone left? What about—?”
“He didn’t want to go to his sister’s,” Garrett explained before she finished. “My deputy said she called and spoke to him. She was too afraid to get out in the storm and at her age she shouldn’t.”
Abbey understood. He was devastated and this storm wasn’t helping. “There’s never a good time to die.” She stared out the windshield at the tsunami of snow. “But there are certainly worse times.”