Restless Hearts

by B. J Daniels

  Making up his mind, he stormed back to the house. They needed to have this out, and right now was as good a time as any. He walked into the house, glad he hadn’t locked himself out and stalked down the hallway to pound on her bedroom door.

  “We’re going to talk about this,” he yelled.

  “Go away, Jake.”

  “I’m not going to do this with a door between us. I think you know I will break down this door if you don’t open it.” Silence. He took a step back and was about to put his boot into the door when he heard her unlock it. The door slowly swung open.

  She stood, arms folded, still dressed in jeans and a Western shirt. Her blue eyes fired with anger. She hadn’t even tugged off her boots. He took some satisfaction in the fact that she hadn’t already been in bed reading. He knew this woman. Like him, she was still too stirred up.

  “Let’s talk in the living room,” he said and went back down the hall, not completely sure she’d follow him. He threw more logs onto the fire and closed the screen. When he turned he saw that she’d made herself comfortable in one of the leather chairs.

  He took one across from her, the coffee table between them. Blaze looked a little less angry with him. But sometimes it was hard to tell. She still had her arms folded and that distrusting glint in her eye. She was giving him a look he recognized only too well. Damn, but the woman was full of wild spirit. It was one of the things he loved about her.

  “What’s it going to take for you to trust me?” he demanded.

  She shook her head. “Give me one reason I should ever trust you again.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and slid it across the coffee table. When she still hadn’t moved, he took back the phone, called up the last call and slid the phone over where she could see the number. “You can see the last number that called and when.”

  She didn’t pick up the phone.

  He nodded toward it. “Did you ever consider that I might need to talk to someone privately who isn’t some secret lover? Call the number if you don’t believe me.”

  She looked down. He saw her eyes widen before they lifted to his again. “Why is the judge calling you?”

  He let out a bark of a laugh. “The last problem he asked me to look into wasn’t quite finished when this happened, so he’s been letting me know how it’s going.”

  “You dropped it to come here?”

  He met her gaze, holding it. “Nothing was more important than helping you.”

  She scoffed. “That certainly wasn’t true the last time we saw each other.”

  “Okay, you want to go there, fine.” She started to argue, but he spoke over her. “You were right about one thing. Cara Ramsey was an old friend and a former lover. She was in serious trouble and she came to me for help.”

  “Before you start sugarcoating it, I saw you kissing her.”

  “You saw her kissing me. She wanted you out of the way almost as much as I did. But not for the same reasons,” he said before she could jump on what he’d just said. “She was jealous of you. I was worried about you. Cara’s trouble was bad and so were the people she was involved with. I didn’t want to get you killed. So when you misinterpreted the kiss, I saw it as a way to get you out of there fast without any argument.”

  She shook her head. “You seriously expect me to believe this?”

  “It just happens to be the truth. I’ve never lied to you, Blaze. I’ve never given you any reason to mistrust me. If you’re honest with yourself, you used that kiss as much as I did. You were scared of what we had between us. You were looking for a way out.”

  She opened her mouth but then closed it. He could see that she wanted to argue the point, but then her gaze moved past him toward the front of the house about the time he heard the soft tap at the door.

  “It’s Allie,” she said as she rose to her feet. “I think it would be best if I spoke to her alone.”

  “This isn’t over, Blaze.”

  She met his gaze. Hers had softened. She swallowed. “No, I don’t believe it is.”

  As she went to the front door, he let himself out the back.

  * * *

  ALLIE RUBBED HER arms as she tried to warm up. It was warm in the house, but she was chilled to the bone. After she’d left the bank, she hadn’t wanted to go home. She’d gone to the grocery store and bought anything that caught her eye, filling her basket and then putting most of it back. Her refrigerator was full of food and she couldn’t keep anything down, so what was the point?

  She’d thought about going to the small department store, seeing if they had maternity wear, but then the news would be out before she could reach home. So she’d just driven around, taking roads she’d never been on before and finally ending up at the McClintock Ranch.

  “Come sit by the fire,” Blaze suggested, not seeming surprised to see her—even this late at night.

  Now that she was here, she didn’t know where to begin. She warmed her hands in front of the fire before taking the chair she was offered. “I’m sorry.”

  Blaze looked at her and asked, “What are you sorry about, Allie?”

  She had to look away from those intense blue eyes so like her father’s. Just the thought of Montgomery behind bars... “He didn’t kill Frank.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Your father isn’t a killer.”

  Allie could feel the woman’s sharp gaze on her. “Are you?”

  She shook her head, but she could see that Blaze didn’t believe her.

  “Then who killed Frank?”

  “I don’t know. Honestly.” Her voice broke. She’d told herself that she wouldn’t break down, but being here in this house without Montgomery...

  “Then how do you know it wasn’t my father?”

  “Because Montgomery wouldn’t. He might have wanted to...for me. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He’s not that kind of man.”

  Blaze looked as if she wanted to argue the point. It reminded Allie how much Montgomery’s daughter had blamed him when her mother had left. It broke her heart, the pain he’d gone through with Blaze. He’d never thought he’d see her again. She’d written him off, he said, and blamed himself for it.

  When Blaze finally spoke, all she said was “You have a lot more faith in my father than I do.” She cocked her head, those eyes intent again. “What exactly is your relationship with him?”

  She’d expected the question and yet it still took her a moment. Relationships weren’t that easy to classify or clarify. For example, if she’d been asked what her relationship had been with Frank at the end, she would have had trouble expressing how little they had known each other or how much she had resented him.

  “Your father and I are friends.”

  Blaze started to rise as if she’d had enough.

  “We are also lovers.” She said the words, knowing that not even lovers covered what they’d been to each other. They’d saved each other. Out here in the middle of the prairie, far from town, far from civilization, they’d comforted each other through the hardest times.

  Blaze lowered herself back down into the chair. “For how long?”

  “Years, beginning after your mother left.”

  “Which could explain why he paid off your ranch notes and gave you fifty thousand dollars in cash.”

  “I had no idea he was going to do that,” she cried. “I was shocked when I went to the bank and found out.”

  “The judge will see it as guilt money for killing your husband. If he did kill him. I think he might be covering for someone. I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “No, I—” She felt sick to her stomach. “May I use your restroom?”

  “Third door down the hall,” Blaze said. “But I’m sure you already know that.”

  Allie left her and rushed away, barely making it be
fore the juice she’d drunk earlier came up. She ran cold water. Blotted her face with it and then used one of the towels to dry before she returned to the living room. The moment she walked in, she felt as if something had changed.

  Blaze didn’t let on that anything had happened in her absence, but Allie sensed it. She spotted her purse lying on the couch where she’d dropped it. Had it been partially open when she’d left to go in the restroom? Her heart began to pound a little harder as she sat down next to it, moving the bag so the opening wasn’t visible across the room. But it might be too late. Blaze might have already snooped.

  “The two of you must have talked about the future.” Blaze seemed to study her openly for a long moment. She felt herself shiver under the woman’s intent stare. “What was your plan?”

  She shook her head. “We... That is, he wanted me to leave Frank but I couldn’t. We couldn’t have stayed here, not with Frank’s ranch right next door. I couldn’t do that to your father. He loves this ranch. He wants to leave it to you. To give you something tangible.”

  Blaze made a disgusted sound. “You had an affair with my father for years and yet you couldn’t leave your husband? Allie, why did you come here tonight?”

  “To tell you that Montgomery didn’t kill Frank and that I don’t want the money. I will pay you back as soon as I sell the ranch.”

  “It’s not my money and clearly my father wants you to have it.” Blaze stood and Allie did the same, gathering up her purse and holding it close. For a few moments, they merely stood staring at each other.

  “You look so much like your mother. She was the best friend I ever had.”

  Blaze looked as if she’d slapped her. “And you couldn’t wait to get into her bed.”

  “That’s not true.” Her voice broke again and she had to fight tears. Her emotions were all over the place. “Your father was so lonely. You weren’t talking to him. His heart was broken. He adored your mother. At one point, I thought...”

  “You thought what?” Blaze demanded.

  “That he might take his own life. He missed Bethany so much that he didn’t want to go on and he blamed himself for her leaving.”

  “And now he’s in love with you.”

  She could feel Blaze’s gaze go to her protruding stomach and, willing herself not to, she still covered it protectively with her free hand.

  “Oh my God.” Blaze let out a cry. “Tell me you aren’t—”

  “I am.” She lifted her chin, refusing to feel guilty about the child she was carrying. “I’m pregnant with your father’s baby.”

  * * *

  BLAZE COULDN’T SPEAK for a moment. “Does my father know? Of course, he knows.” Her eyes widened. “Frank. If he found out—” She felt fury course through her. “I knew my father was protecting you. Now I know why.”

  “I love your father.” Allie sounded close to tears. “I don’t want him going to prison for a murder he didn’t commit.”

  “Then tell the sheriff the truth.”

  “I tried to, but he wasn’t interested.”

  “What are you talking about?” Blaze snapped. “All you’ve told him from what I’ve seen of the evidence is that you didn’t fire the shot that killed your husband and that you didn’t see anything.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Blaze shook her head. “What is really going on? You’re pregnant, you’re carrying a gun in your purse...” Allie’s eyes widened as if she’d known Blaze had looked in her purse while she was in the bathroom. “And not just a gun, but your passport. Planning to skip the country?”

  “I’m not going anywhere without your father.”

  She thought at least that might be true. “If it wasn’t you or my father, then who? Frank was your husband. You have to know something.”

  Allie pulled her purse closer to her side and for a moment looked worried. Or was that fear? “Frank had been acting strangely for months.”

  “Strange how?”

  “He would get cleaned up and go into town in the evenings, something he never used to do. He’d make up stories about why he had to go in, but I never believed them. When I questioned him, he became angry. He’d been getting more violent. There were times I was afraid for my life.”

  She stared at the woman. “That all sounds like a motive for murder and a pretty good defense, as well.”

  “I didn’t kill him. There were times I wished him gone, but not dead.”

  “Does my father know that? Because I think he’s pleading guilty to protect you and your baby.”

  “No.” Allie shook her head adamantly. “He knows I didn’t do it.” But she didn’t sound completely convinced of that.

  Blaze thought about Frank and his change of character before his death. “Where do you think your husband went on those nights?”

  “I have no idea.” Her tone said she didn’t care, either.

  Blaze had a sudden mental picture of Frank, short, squat and neither handsome or wealthy. But still she had to ask, “Another woman?”

  Allie shrugged. “I have trouble believing that. Frank wasn’t all that interested in the one he had.”

  Blaze knew that never stopped a man from seeking out another woman. She couldn’t help but think about Jake and what he’d told her tonight. Dragging her thoughts back to the woman in front of her, she asked, “Did Frank know about you and my father?”

  Allie dropped her head for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

  “But he suspected.”

  She lifted her head. “Maybe. It could explain the change in him. A while back, I rode into town with Frank during the day. We split up to run separate errands. I saw him across the street arguing with Hutch Durham. They looked like they might come to blows before Hutch’s wife, Rita, stepped between them. Later, when I saw Rita in the post office, she tried to avoid me.”

  “You think Frank might have been seeing Rita?” They would have been about the same age, midfifties.

  “Frank always swore he couldn’t stand the woman, but I suppose anything is possible. Also some nights Frank came home with money. I have no idea where he got it. I thought he might have sold some hay or something. On those nights, he was in a good mood. When he didn’t come home with money, he was often drunk and mean.”

  “Did Frank have a gambling problem?”

  “A man who squeezed a dime so hard it squeaked?” Allie said. “Not just that. Frank often spoke out against gambling, as well as drinking.”

  Blaze chuckled. “If what you’re telling me is true, then there might have been someone else who wanted Frank dead—especially if he’d lost money to that person and hadn’t paid him.”

  “He did seem worried, but then again, he was always worried about making ends meet on that hardscrabble land of his.”

  “Well, it’s yours now. You’re going to sell?” Allie nodded. “Then what?”

  “That’s just it—I don’t know.” Her hands went to her stomach again.

  “If you’re waiting to see what happens with Monte... Does he know how you feel about him?”

  Allie nodded, tears in her eyes. “If I’m wrong and Montgomery killed Frank...” She looked up until her pale eyes met Blaze’s. “Then he did it for me, which means this is all my fault.” She began to sob, raising her hand to her face.

  Blaze hesitated for only a moment before she stepped to the woman and put an arm around her. Allie turned to cry into her shoulder.

  If Blaze believed anything, it was that Allie loved Monte and wouldn’t let him go to prison for something she’d done.

  After a moment, the woman got control over herself again. Blaze handed her a tissue, offered to make her a cup of tea, but Allie declined.

  “I should go.”

  “Allie, when I first came back, I was convinced my father was guilty. But more and more, I think he just might be innocent. I’m going
to find out who killed Frank. In the meantime, we have to keep Monte from pleading guilty. If you have any influence over him...”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LONG AFTER THE woman left, Blaze stood in front of the fire, chilled by what Allie had told her. Her thoughts were all over the place. Allie was pregnant. Pregnant with a half brother or sister to Blaze. If Frank had found out... It was one more reason why her father might have killed the man.

  She pulled out her phone, unable to let this go until morning, and dialed the attorney.

  “Sorry to call so late, but I need to know who has visited my father since he’s been in jail,” Blaze said.

  “I wanted to know the same thing. Hold on. I have the list.” She could hear him rustling through some papers. When he’d answered, she’d gotten the impression he’d been working instead of sleeping. He read off the list.

  “Allison Anson, Martin Shores...”

  “His banker, right,” she said before he could continue. “That explained the transfer of funds.”

  “...Rita Durham, Pastor Westlake, Luella Brown—”

  “Who—”

  “Luella works at the local café. I believe she’s a waitress there.”

  Why would she come visit Monte? Blaze wondered. Why would any of them?

  He continued, “Ron Pierce.”

  She frowned.

  “He owns the Cowboy Bar,” Clarkston was saying. “And Lonny Dean.”

  “Lonny Dean?”

  The lawyer consulted his notes. “Married to Sandra Westlake.” He looked up. “The preacher’s daughter.”

  She sighed. “Quite a mix.” A lot more than she would have expected. “Did you ask my father about his visitors?”

  “I did.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “That is was none of my business. Your father is a difficult client.”

  She figured that was putting it mildly. “Still no ballistics report?”

  “I’m told that the slug was misplaced but found again and another test is being run.”

  “What?” she demanded. The only reason the slug had disappeared and another test had to be run was because it didn’t fit the sheriff’s story about who killed Frank Anson. She said as much to the lawyer but he didn’t respond. She had a feeling that he’d dealt with small-town officials in the past.