by B. J Daniels
Her cell phone rang and she quickly picked up as he slid a plate full of pancakes and bacon in front of her. “Hello?”
He watched her face as he brought his own plate over to the table and sat down. She was listening. Then she was hanging up without saying a word.
“What was that?” he asked.
She looked at him. “An anonymous caller who wanted me to know that Allie Anson is pregnant with my father’s child.” Her phone was still in her hand. She glanced down at it. “Looks like I have a text from Clarkston. I forgot he wanted me to go with him to talk to Allie. He’ll be here soon.”
* * *
BLAZE RODE WITH Clarkston over to Allie’s house. She’d been inside the house as a kid a few times since her mother and Allie had been best friends. She’d found their talks boring and had spent most of her time outside with the animals. Frank would often catch her and chase her back to the house. By then, her mother was usually ready to leave anyway.
She remembered Frank as being an angry man with dark hair that stood up on end and even darker eyes. Her mother never said anything bad about him—Bethany McClintock never said anything bad about anyone—but Blaze had known that her mother could hardly stand the man and had felt sorry for Allie.
Now as they pulled up in the yard, Blaze wondered what her mother would think of the latest...situation. Her husband in jail for murder. Her best friend pregnant with her husband’s baby.
As they climbed out of the car, she saw Allie step out the front door. She had one hand placed protectively over her stomach, the other shielding her eyes from the sun. The day was cold and clear, the sun glimmering off the light sprinkling of new snow.
“Mrs. Anson,” the attorney said in greeting.
“Please, call me Allie. Everyone does.” Her gaze shifted from him to Blaze. She smiled. “Please, come in.”
The house was small and old, but neat and clean. Allie had made coffee and rhubarb muffins. She offered them a seat at the square oak table and joined them once she’d poured the mugs of coffee. “The muffins are made from rhubarb I froze last spring,” she said, clearly nervous. She straightened the table runner under the plate of muffins before she put her hands around her mug as if to still them.
“Tell me about your husband,” Clarkston said.
Allie took a breath and let it out before she spoke. “He was a very practical man. He wasted nothing and prided himself on living off the land.” She smiled but couldn’t hold it. “He was also a very hard man, unforgiving.”
“Did you know he had a daughter?” the attorney asked.
Blaze swung her gaze to him in surprise.
“Sandra Westlake,” Clarkston said.
Blaze couldn’t have been more shocked. “The daughter of Pastor Wilber and Emma Jean Westlake?” She’d attended the church as a girl and knew the Westlakes. Sandra was five years older than Blaze so they hadn’t attended school together. Tall with blond hair, Sandra had always seemed...aloof. Nice enough at church, but Blaze had heard that she kept to herself, making few friends.
Clarkston didn’t answer or look at her. His gaze was on Allie. Blaze turned back to the woman and saw that she wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Allie swallowed before she spoke. “Yes, I know about Sandra.”
Blaze felt as if she’d fallen into a rabbit hole. How had she not known about this? Sandra was two years away from forty. That would mean that Frank had gotten someone pregnant when they were both teenagers. Since Allie was Frank’s first and only wife... “Who was her birth mother?”
“That I don’t know,” Allie said. “Frank took that information to his grave. The baby girl was left on the church steps shortly after being born with a note saying that the father of the baby was Frank Anson. The Westlakes kept that a secret and raised the girl as their own.”
“How long have you known this?” Blaze demanded of Allie.
Allie looked away, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Not long. I confronted Frank about it after he went over to the Westlakes’ and made a scene. At first he lied, then he admitted that he’d had a...dalliance when he was a teenager. The young woman became pregnant. He had no intention of marrying her and told her to get rid of the baby. He felt he’d been...tricked.”
Blaze blinked. Had it been anyone but Frank Anson, she would have had a hard time believing a man could be that cold and uncaring. “Does Sandra know?”
Allie met her gaze. “She does now.”
She stared aghast at the woman her father had apparently fallen in love with. “You told her?”
“No, of course not,” Allie cried. “Frank...” She let out an exasperated breath. “One night after he’d been in town and had been drinking, he stopped by the Westlake house. I heard that the pastor and his wife were very upset and that Sandra was devastated since apparently she hadn’t known that Frank was her father.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Blaze said under her breath.
“When was this?” the attorney asked.
“A few weeks ago,” Allie said and took a sip of her coffee.
The room fell silent.
“Given how upset the Westlake family was, especially Sandra, would you say one of them might be capable of killing your husband?” Clarkston asked.
Allie said nothing.
Blaze thought she couldn’t be more shocked by any of this. “You can’t think the pastor or his wife...” Her words died off as she thought of Sandra, who had Frank’s blood and a mystery woman’s running through her veins.
As Blaze made her way into Clarkston’s car, Allie said, “You really should try the muffins. They were Frank’s favorites.”
On the drive back to the ranch, Blaze still felt shaken. “How did you—”
“Your father told me,” he said, his eyes on the road.
She silently cursed her father. So why hadn’t her father given her this information? “If I was Allie, I would have killed him myself.” No wonder her father had been afraid that Allie had shot Frank. She knew that Allie had wanted children and felt Frank had lied to her about his desire to have them, as well.
Now the woman was pregnant in her forties with her first? Would they have more? Blaze was still trying to get her head around the fact that she was going to have a baby brother or sister. She hadn’t even considered Allie and her father might have more.
She could see the turn ahead for the McClintock Ranch. “I can’t imagine how devastating it must have been for Sandra to find out Frank Anson was her father and the circumstances of her birth and adoption.”
“I’m sure it must have been quite upsetting for her parents, as well. I doubt it was something they ever wanted their daughter to know. Worse, your father said he went there demanding money to keep his mouth shut about it.”
Blaze shot the attorney a look. “You think one of them shot Frank.”
“I never jump to conclusions,” Clarkston said as he turned into the ranch. “But it is always good to have other suspects.”
“There might be someone else who wanted Frank dead,” she said as they started down the road. She could see the ranch house in the distance and the burned-out shell of the small barn. Smoke rose from the fireplace chimney in the house, giving her a start for a moment. Jake had made a fire. “Allie told me that Frank had been acting strangely the last few months.” Now that she knew about Sandra learning the truth, she wondered if the change in him had something to do with that. “She thought he might have been gambling because sometimes he came home happy with money and other times not so happy and broke. Jake is looking into it.”
Clarkston pulled up in front of the ranch house. “I guess I don’t have to tell the two of you to be careful.”
“No,” she agreed. But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about Jake. He was playing poker with the men this afternoon. One of them could be a killer and if Jake got too close to the truth..
. She shivered as she opened her door to get out. Through the front window, she could see Jake watching her as she walked toward the house.
That aching feeling deep inside her deepened under his gaze. All the man had to do was look at her and her pulse took off. How much longer could she hold him at arm’s length here on the ranch, just the two of them? Being within touching distance of each other and not being able to reach for him was killing her.
* * *
AS CLARKSTON DROVE OFF, she stood for a moment listening to the wind in the bare limbs of the nearby cottonwood trees. The eerie sound did little to calm the growing sense of worry building in her.
After talking to Allie, she was even more convinced that her father had nothing to do with Frank’s murder. She wasn’t all that sure about Allie herself, though. She’d seen the hatred in the woman’s eyes when she’d talked about her deceased husband.
Inside the house, she filled Jake in before he left to do some investigating on his own prior to his poker game. “Be careful,” she called after him as he started to leave.
He stopped in the doorway and turned to look back at her. Something in his eyes made her heart leap. “You be careful, too. If you need me...” With that, he left.
She was too antsy to stick around the house. Not long after he left, she headed for her pickup. She needed to talk to the Westlakes. On the drive, she debated whom she should talk to first. Sandra? Or the pastor and his wife? Or just the pastor?
Reaching town, she was driving down the main street when she saw a woman bundled up in a long coat and wearing large dark glasses. She pulled over and parked. Getting out, she called, “Tawny?” She ran after her. “Tawny?”
Before her former friend finally stopped, Blaze was beginning to think she’d been mistaken. But as Tawny turned, it was clear she was the last person the woman had hoped to run into today.
“Didn’t you hear me calling your name?”
“I must have been lost in thought,” Tawny said. “I was on my way to the drugstore.”
“I’m glad I saw you. Have a cup of coffee with me. I need to ask you something.” Before the woman could come up with a reason to decline, Blaze took her arm and steered her toward the small local coffee shop. This time of day, the place was practically empty.
“Tell me what you’d like and I’ll get it,” she said.
Tawny asked for plain black before moving to a table in a far dark corner.
When Blaze came back with the coffees, she noticed that her former best friend was still wearing her coat and sunglasses. She put down the coffees and studied Tawny for a moment before she reached over and pulled down her sunglasses to expose a bruised black eye.
“It isn’t what you think,” Tawny cried and pulled her glasses back up.
Blaze sat down and took a sip of her coffee. “You never asked me why I broke up with LJ.”
“Don’t start, okay? I love him.”
“I’m betting the eye isn’t the only bruise on your body. Tawny, I know the man. I know how he gets when things aren’t going his way.” She sighed. “Please think long and hard before you go through with the marriage. He isn’t going to change, but I’m betting that you think you’re the woman to do it.” Her laugh held no humor. “A man who takes his anger out on a woman like that is no man.”
“You sound like a domestic abuse ad.”
“At least you know that it’s abuse,” Blaze said. “That’s only one reason I asked you to join me for coffee. I wanted to apologize for the other day. I’ve been so upset over my father... So, tell me what’s been going on since I’ve been gone. I heard Sandra Westlake got married.”
Tawny looked relieved that the lecture was over. She picked up her coffee and took a drink. “She’s married to Lonny Dean. He manages the stockyard.”
Blaze said, “She always seemed...”
“Standoffish?” Tawny nodded in agreement. “I always thought she thought she was better than the rest of us because she was a preacher’s daughter.” She took another sip of her coffee and seemed to relax.
Blaze watched her, looking for any sign that Tawny knew about Sandra’s biological father. “They have any kids?”
Tawny shook her head. “Other than church, the only thing Sandra does is quilt. There’s a small group of them who get together in the church basement occasionally. I guess they are a bunch of old women. There is a group closer to Sandra’s age, but I heard they make her uncomfortable because they drink wine.” Tawny laughed, although it seemed to hurt her. She hugged her ribs, making Blaze suspect they were bruised if not broken. “The younger group probably talks about sex and makes suggestive jokes about the opposite sex. Sandra’s not that much older than us but she’s always been reserved. What a prude.”
To cover what she really wanted, Blaze asked about other people in town that the two of them had known even though she had little interest. By the time they’d finished their coffee and stood to leave, she almost felt as if it had been like it used to be when they were good friends.
As they walked to the door, Tawny said, “You don’t have to say anything, okay?”
Blaze smiled and touched her friend’s shoulder. “It was good to see you.”
Tears filled Tawny’s eyes. “You, too.”
She watched her walk away, hoping she’d gotten through to her. LJ had only been rough with her once, but once had been plenty enough. She’d broken up with him, and even when he’d come begging for her forgiveness and promising he’d never lay a hand on her again, she’d known it was a lie. Men like LJ didn’t change. For Tawny’s sake, she hoped the woman would realize that before it was too late.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BLAZE FOUND PASTOR WILBER WESTLAKE in his office at the back of the church. He was writing in longhand on a yellow tablet, stopping, scratching out words, then adding others.
He looked up at her knock on his open door. “Hello, Pastor.” It seemed to take him a moment to recognize her. It had been years since she and her mother had attended this church. “Blaze McClintock. Come in. I was so sorry to hear about your father.” He pushed aside whatever he’d been working on as he rose and motioned to the empty chair in front of his desk. “I suppose you heard that I visited him.”
She took the chair he offered her. “I heard. I was surprised. I didn’t think he was one of your flock.”
The pastor chuckled as he sat down again. “No, but I can only hope, can’t I?”
“So your visit to him was about saving his soul?”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment. “Why do I get the feeling that there is something else you want to discuss with me?”
“When I first came back, I thought my father was probably guilty. It’s no secret about him and Allie Anson. But after a few days in town, I’m convinced he didn’t do it. Which makes me wonder who else had reason to want Frank Anson dead.”
Pastor Westlake nodded as he got up to close his office door. He waited until he took his seat again before he spoke. “Is there some reason you’re asking me about this?”
“Is there some reason you felt the need to close your office door? Pastor, I know about Sandra.” She watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down for a moment.
“And because of that you think I had reason to harm Frank?”
“I think you had a very good reason since as I understand it, Frank was the one who told your daughter.”
Leaning back again, he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he sighed and said, “I didn’t kill Frank.”
“I’m sorry, I can see that this is upsetting you, but I have to ask. How did your wife take the news?”
He looked surprised. “You think Emma Jean...?” This time he laughed. “You know my wife. Do you really think—”
“I think my father wanted to plead guilty to protect someone. At first I thought it was Allie
Anson. But after hearing about your visit to him and learning what I have, now I’m wondering if it was your daughter he’s protecting.”
The pastor froze for a moment as color rushed to his cheeks. “I need you to stay away from Sandra.”
“I understand that you’re protective of her.”
“I don’t think you do understand.” He rose to his feet as he leaned toward her, his hands planted on the top of his desk. “She’s been through enough,” his voice broke. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
* * *
JAKE TOOK IN the men gathered around the table. He’d had a lot to think about on his way into town for the poker game. Blaze had filled him in on what she’d learned at Allie’s. The suspect list was getting longer by the minute. Now he considered who at this table might have wanted Frank Anson dead.
He’d spent his life assessing his environment for danger. The men at the table looked like a bunch of local ranchers. All except one. Deputy LJ Fraser leaned back in his chair as he clocked Jake coming into the room. His expression was one of surprise, then amusement. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
“Knock it off, LJ,” hardware store owner Herb Perkins told him.
“I don’t mine taking his money,” the deputy blustered. “Just make sure he doesn’t deal off the bottom of the deck.”
“That would be your trick,” Herb said before rising to introduce him to the other men at the table. Jake put the names with the men. Bob Christianson of Christianson Cattle Company, Sonny Dix from the local grocery, Dale Allan from the ranch supply store, Hutch Durham, whom Frank owed money, and Deputy LJ Fraser.
He nodded to each man around the table. “Jake Horn.” All the men but Hutch met his gaze. Hutch fidgeted in his chair, saying impatiently, “Can we get started now?” as if he had somewhere to be later.
“How’s Blaze?” LJ asked from his seat across the table.
“You want to chew the fat or play poker?” Jake asked, meeting with Hutch’s approval. Herb whipped out a new deck of cards, letting the man next to him open them, and the games began.