by B. J Daniels
The place was fairly noisy for a Sunday after church. An elderly couple was seated in the booth next to them. From all the times she’d heard them repeating what they’d just said, Blaze was pretty much sure they were hard of hearing.
Still, Jake lowered his voice as he leaned over the table toward her. “I talked my way into the newspaper office and looked at some old papers that aren’t available online.”
She frowned. “What were you looking for?”
“Whoever killed Frank had to be a pretty good shot. It’s about eight hundred yards from the road to where he was shot. The average person couldn’t make an accurate shot from that far, even laying the rifle over the hood of their car.”
“So it wasn’t your average person. Or the person just got lucky.”
He shook his head. “The person knew what he or she was doing. This is Montana. Boys—and girls—grow up shooting guns at tin cans, gophers, signs on fence posts. They even compete.” He pulled out a folded copy from one of the newspaper articles he’d found and pushed it over for her to see.
She looked down to see LJ Fraser’s smiling mug in a photo calling him the sharpshooter champion. He was holding a rifle in one hand and an award in the other. “LJ.”
“But he wasn’t the only one. Look who came in second.”
Blaze scrolled down to see another name she recognized. Lonny Dean. And yet another. Wade Cameron. Followed in the older division by Bud Fraser and Hutch Durham.
“Did you know that LJ and Lonny were in the same class? I found photos of the two of them in a variety of sports. It’s possible they were friends.”
She stared at the article. “A whole list of suspects.”
“Including two of your old boyfriends,” he said with a grin.
“Wade doesn’t live here anymore. He’s married with a toddler and has twins on the way.”
Jake nodded. “You don’t need to defend him. I already crossed him off my list.”
“I’m not defending him.” She met Jake’s gaze. “In case you’re wondering, there isn’t anything there anymore. If there ever was.”
“Hmm.” He looked deep into her eyes as if digging for the truth before he said, “I’m glad to hear that.”
She studied the newspaper article for a moment before handing it back. “At least three people on that list have motive—LJ, Lonny and Hutch, not to mention the sheriff, who seems to want to put my father behind bars come hell or high water.”
“Check out the winner in the women’s shooting competition,” Jake said, grinning as he pointed to the bottom of the article. “Rita Lee, now Rita Durham, Hutch’s wife.”
Their meals came and they ate, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Blaze was thinking about the list of suspects. What if Lonny had been telling the truth and he’d kept LJ’s rifle for him, just as he’d said? If it was the murder weapon, then Lonny would get rid of it now.
She realized there was something else bothering her. The sheriff had been acting stranger than usual at church. She mentioned it to Jake.
“What was the sermon about?” he asked.
“Forgiveness.”
Jake chuckled. “Maybe the topic hit too close to home.”
* * *
BUD GOT THE call only minutes after he walked in his door. He felt his pulse jump as he looked down at his phone. Unknown caller. Could it be the same one who’d taken his five hundred bucks?
“Hello?”
For a moment there was only heavy breathing, then, “Do you know where the old Murray place is?” It was the same low, hoarse whisper.
“I do.”
“Check the buildings, especially the ones farthest from the main road.”
“Wait, how do you know where the car is?” More heavy breathing, then silence. For a moment he thought that the person had hung up. Bud couldn’t help feeling suspicious and at the same time, relieved that he hadn’t been completely cheated out of his money. Not that this couldn’t be a runaround just to amuse the caller on the other end of the line.
But he knew the old Murray place. It was in the middle of nowhere. A perfect location to hide a car. An even better one for an ambush. “Why now? Why tell me now?”
“I didn’t know anyone was looking for it until now.” The line went dead.
Bud stood holding the phone, his heart a sledgehammer in his chest. The old Murray place. He grabbed his coat and keys. It was about ten miles from McClintock Ranch if you followed the main road south, but Bud knew of another road that could get you there faster if you opened a few gates and trespassed. Monte knew the area just as well or better. He could have ditched the car quickly and returned to the ranch without anyone being the wiser.
The old homestead had numerous buildings. The place had been sold off for grazing to a larger ranch, so Bud doubted that anyone had gone near the buildings in years. As he drove in, he saw no other tracks. His caller was either sending him on a wild-goose chase or the person hadn’t been in here recently. Or he was walking into a trap.
He stopped by a bunch of old structures and got out. Taking his flashlight, he looked in one after another. Most were almost falling down, dark and musty inside. He heard a rustle in one and felt a shudder as something small and fast disappeared under an old mattress. In the barn, he found a lot of old farming equipment, rusted and cold looking, but no car.
Back in his patrol SUV, he drove on up what had at one time been a road. The weeds were high, the tracks almost obliterated by time. As he came over a rise, he saw more buildings down by a ravine. He felt a stab of memory. Something about this scene felt...familiar. As he drove, weeds and sagebrush scraping the bottom of his vehicle loudly, the snow getting deeper where it had drifted, he realized he’d been here before.
He stopped some yards from the buildings, parked and sat listening to the tick of the cooling engine. LJ had shot a big mule deer buck on a neighboring ranch some distance from here. He’d only wounded it and they’d had to track it.
Across the ravine, he recognized the hillside where they’d found it. LJ had been about sixteen, his first hunting season. Bud remembered leaving his son to gut the deer while he went back to get the truck.
A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. It was also familiar, one that he’d pushed away since LJ was born. Frank Anson’s genes ran through his son’s body, bringing with it worry. Frank had been mean, cruel even. Look what he’d done to Lorna. And she wasn’t the only one. He didn’t want to believe that his son had inherited something...dark and dangerous, especially when it came to women.
LJ had played down his fight with his fiancée. But Bud had heard that Tawny had a black eye and bruises. His son had been wild at sixteen—just like his biological father. He couldn’t believe the path his thoughts had taken. Did he really think that LJ at that young age might have come across Bethany as she was leaving town and—
Shoving the thought away, he climbed out and started for the first building, telling himself Bethany’s car probably wasn’t even here. And if it was, it didn’t mean that LJ had put it here.
Snow crunched under his feet where the wind had glazed the surface, turning it to ice. He snapped on his flashlight and peered through some broken boards on the side wall. The light cut through the darkness. Empty. He started for the next building. The snow had drifted here and was deeper and harder to walk through.
He was sweating by the time he busted his way through the snowdrifts to the part of the building that was still standing. He could feel the cold and wetness from the snow seeping through his pant legs. This was the last building on the property. If it wasn’t here...
He pried open a side door, exerting even more energy. A flurry of movement inside made him start. Here he was. He felt as if he was looking for ghosts and almost feared he might find one.
Turning on his flashlight, he shone it into the dark musty expanse, just
wanting to get this over with. He was cold and tired and was anxious to get back to his patrol SUV. The light swept across the open space. He started to turn off the flashlight when the beam caught on something dull and still shiny enough that he recognized it for what it was. A bumper.
His heart began to race even as he told himself it might not be Bethany McClintock’s car. This part of the country was riddled with abandoned old vehicles. He pushed his way in, shivering from the cold, from a growing exhaustion, from excitement.
A half-dozen crows burst out in a flood of flapping wings, making him jump. They disappeared through an opening on the collapsed side of the building. He grabbed his chest and fought to still his thundering pulse. All around him was silence. Deathly cold silence.
His flashlight beam skimmed over the back of the vehicle and the license plate.
It was Bethany’s car.
His legs felt weak from relief and dread as he made his way along the side of the car, ducking to keep from hitting his head on the side of the building that had caved in. Another bad winter and the roof would have collapsed and this car might have never been found.
At the dust-coated driver’s-side window, he hesitated, afraid of what he would find. Using his gloved hand, he wiped at the glass. The driver’s seat was empty.
He shone his flashlight beam across the front seat, then the back, frowning in confusion when all he found was a flat tire resting in the back seat—and a suitcase. He’d been so sure he would find her body.
A chill moved through him as he glanced at the suitcase and then in the direction of the sedan’s trunk. The driver’s-side door groaned as he opened it. With his gloved hand, he pulled the lever that opened the trunk. As it yawned open, he moved toward it, already knowing what he would find.
Bethany McClintock’s cramped metal grave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BUD PULLED OUT his phone with trembling cold fingers and swore. No service. As he was pocketing his phone, he thought he heard a sound outside the building. He froze and listened. Only one person knew where he was—his caller.
That thought did nothing to calm his nerves. He picked up the heavy large flashlight from where he’d put it down to make the call. Placing it in his left hand, he unsnapped his revolver, telling himself that the noise was just the birds he’d heard earlier. But even as he tried to convince himself, he knew that the sound had been different.
He felt spooked, a feeling that left him off balance. He’d been at this lawman job for a long time. Nothing usually shook him. But then, finding what was left of Bethany in the trunk of her car would rattle anyone.
He pushed open the door along the side of the building. It groaned loudly. The afternoon sun hung low on the horizon, providing little warmth this time of year. It shone off the snow, almost blinding him.
Bud blinked and listened. He heard nothing but his own ragged breathing. He looked down and saw only his footprints in the snow. The wind had come up and now sung through the slits between the weathered boards. What a desolate, cold spot for a final resting place.
He thought of the young woman who’d enamored him so and felt sick to his stomach. But Monte would pay. Bud had never even considered that someone else might have killed her and he certainly didn’t now. He finally had proof that Bethany McClintock had never left the county.
Taking a deep breath, he began to trudge along the edge of the building through his already-broken tracks, just wanting to get to his patrol SUV and radio this in. The wind buffeted him, making the going through the deep, crusted snow even harder. Maybe he was getting too old for this job.
Next to him, he heard the building creaking and moaning in the gale. He assured himself that was all he’d heard. He leaned against the worn wood as he worked his way to the end of the building. He was almost there when he heard a whisper of a sound. It came from just around the corner.
He pulled his weapon and eased closer. As he turned toward it, he saw a shadow fall over his face only an instant before he fired. But he hadn’t been quick enough. He was struck in the face with something cold and hard that turned out the lights. He didn’t even feel himself falling.
* * *
ALLIE SNUGGLED AGAINST Montgomery on the couch at her house. Her house. That was what it was now, but she could feel Frank and his mother walking the halls. She couldn’t wait to get it sold. But then what?
“Tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked as he placed a hand over her swollen stomach.
She loved seeing his large, weathered hand there. She felt safe. Her baby felt safe. “I’m glad you had a chance to talk to Blaze.”
He glanced over at her and laughed. “I should have known what you were up to.”
“I was tired, but I felt the two of you needed to talk. Did it help?”
“I think so,” he said after a moment. “I hope so. Blaze has been so angry with me for so long. But maybe now things will be better. I can only hope.”
Allie nodded even though she couldn’t shake the bad feeling she had.
“You haven’t seen Hutch again out here, have you?”
“No. I reported him to the sheriff. I doubted Bud would do anything but maybe he talked to him.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how to say this. The one thing I never wanted to do was take you away from your ranch, but—”
Montgomery pulled her close with his arm around her and his other hand resting on her stomach. “We can’t stay here.” Tears filled her eyes. “I realized that a long time ago. It’s one reason I gave Blaze my power of attorney after I contacted the judge who helped her. I want her to have the ranch. She probably doesn’t want it, but I don’t care. She can sell it, do whatever she wants with it. I want you, Allie. Wherever we are with our child, that will be my home.”
“Are you sure?” she cried.
He smiled. “Positive. In fact, I think it’s time we left. Blaze will understand. Don’t even bother packing. We can buy whatever we need. I had wanted to come back for church today. I guess it was to say goodbye. But I’m ready to start a new life and there is nothing standing in our way.” They’d made sure of that with the new passports in their new names just in case, she thought as they headed for the door.
She wondered if, like her, he’d sensed something bad headed their way, but she said nothing as they climbed into his pickup.
“To our new life,” he said and smiled over at her as she buckled up.
* * *
BUD KNEW HE hadn’t been out long. He woke lying against the warm boards of the building in a spot where the snow had melted away. And yet he woke shivering, his head beating like a bass drum. He blinked, pushing himself up on his elbows, and looked around for his gun. The last thing he remembered was hearing someone. He’d gotten off a shot...
He found his gun buried in the snow nearby. But there was no one on the ground anywhere. Had he missed?
The sun hadn’t sunk much lower, but the wind had grown stronger. It howled around him, making him shiver even harder. He had to stand up and start moving. But when he tried to get to his feet, his head swam.
Leaning against the building, he managed to stand. He looked around for tracks in the snow. Footprints of the person who’d hit him. But all he saw were his own.
He tried to make sense of that. But his brain felt foggy. Laying his head back, he merely breathed for a few moments before he tried again to get to his feet.
As he worked his way up the wall, he heard a sound directly over him and shrank back as he looked up. It took him a moment to realize he was staring at what had hit him. A piece of solid iron hung down from the building and now swung in the wind, making that distinct sound that he’d heard.
Feeling even more like an old fool, Bud timed the iron’s swing and pushed off the building. He stumbled through the snow to his patrol SUV, climbed in and locked the doors as he picked up the handset on his radio.
/> Even then, he waited a moment until he could catch his breath. In the rearview mirror, he could see the lump forming on his forehead. “Damned fool,” he muttered and then made the call.
* * *
IT WAS TAWNY who called Blaze with the news.
“LJ just told me. I thought you’d want to know. The sheriff’s been looking for your mother’s car.”
She thought of the plane that had flown over the ranch. “My mother’s car?” Why would the sheriff think her car was on McClintock property unless—
“I heard an airplane, but why would the sheriff be looking for my mother’s car?” She and Jake had both wondered what the sheriff had been looking for. They’d both thought it was a form of harassment. She still did. “My mother left here sixteen years ago. Her car—”
“Blaze, Bud found her car.”
All the air rushed from her lungs. “What?” The word came out in a hoarse whisper. “That’s impossible.” If the sheriff had found her mother’s car on the ranch, that would mean that she never left. “Where—”
“In an old abandoned building down in the Breaks.”
She tried to wrap her head around what she was being told. “I don’t understand.” She was still having trouble catching her breath. Her pulse pounded so hard that she couldn’t think. The consequences of what Tawny was saying were only starting to sink in.
“Your mother never left. Blaze...” The woman seemed to hesitate. “You were always suspicious of why your mother left to begin with and figured your father had something to do with it. Blaze, her body was in the trunk.”
The words hit her in the face like a baseball bat. Her legs gave out under her and she sank to the floor. She heard Jake rush to her, asking what was wrong. She was afraid that if he touched her she would break down. Her hammering heart threatened to punch a hole in her chest.
Her mother’s car had been found, her body in the trunk. She’d never left. She’d been close by all these years. She hadn’t gotten away. She felt the realization vibrate in her chest, an alarm in her head as she dropped her phone.