by BJ Daniels
“Well, would you look at that,” Zane said as he peered into the space between the lining and the hard cover of the suitcase.
He reached in and drew out a thin stack of hundred-dollar bills.
Dakota felt her eyes widen. “Do you think Courtney knew the money was in there?”
Zane sent her an are-you-serious look. “Who do you think put this money in there? The bills are new.”
“How much is it?” Dakota asked as he began to dig out the stacks.
“I’d say at least ten thousand.”
Ten thousand dollars? “I don’t understand this. Courtney let me think she was broke. She’d been borrowing money from me until she could find a job, she said.”
Zane shook his head sympathetically. “Apparently your sister took us both in. Any idea where she might have gotten it?” He tossed the money into the suitcase, snapped it shut and grabbed the handle.
“Probably from whoever put her up to whatever no good she’s involved in,” she said, still in shock. Courtney had played them both. “You’re taking the suitcase?”
He smiled. “Looks like we’re going to Great Falls to find out if Frances Dean knows where we can find Courtney. In the meantime, we have the money. Which means it’s only a matter of time before Courtney comes looking for us.”
* * *
DAKOTA GLANCED AT HER WATCH. It was several hours to Great Falls. There was no way they would get there in time to talk to anyone—at least not tonight.
“Don’t you think we should wait and go in the morning?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid of what Courtney will do next if we wait. This way we can try to track down whoever lives at the address on the suitcase first thing in the morning. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
No chance of that. “Just let me go over to the house and throw a few things into a bag.”
“Dakota,” he said as she started to turn away. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re in this with me.”
She felt a stab of guilt. Tell him about the diary. He needs to know that you’re the one who involved him in this.
“Give me ten minutes,” she said, and hurried across the yard, telling herself that Courtney had to have more of a motive for involving Zane than sibling rivalry. Dakota hadn’t even seen Zane in years.
But she realized as she packed a few items of clothing in an overnight bag that Courtney might be using Zane because she felt cheated. Maybe she thought she should have had everything Dakota had since she didn’t get to live on the ranch with their father.
Who knows what made Courtney do what she has, let alone what she is planning to do next, Dakota thought. Zane wasn’t the only one worried about that.
On impulse, Dakota went into her father’s den. Once she’d realized that Courtney had been in the house and taken her old diary, she’d been so upset that she’d only given a cursory look for what else her sister might have taken.
Now she had a bad feeling as she went behind her father’s desk and saw that the bottom drawer was partially open. There were gouges in the wood where someone had used something sharp to break the lock.
With trembling fingers, Dakota pulled the drawer out, knowing what had been inside was gone—and who had taken it.
* * *
ZANE FOUND DAKOTA standing in her father’s study. He tried to read her expression, but the afternoon light cast her face in shadow.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
She looked up and seemed surprised to see him, as if she’d forgotten about him. He figured she was thinking about her father, missing him. He regretted interrupting her but they had to get going.
“I hate to rush you—”
“You’re not,” she said quickly. “I’m ready.”
He saw her overnight bag by the door and picked it up. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. She seemed distracted, but he didn’t press her as they walked out to her pickup.
“I thought we’d go to my place if you don’t mind. I can pack a few things and we can take my truck. I’m feeling much better.”
“Whatever you think,” she said. He could tell wherever her mind had been, it was still there.
They were both quiet on the drive back to his house. It wasn’t until they were on the road to Great Falls that Dakota broke the silence.
“You think Courtney was paid to set you up?” she asked.
That’s exactly what he thought. But ten thousand dollars? That was a lot of money. Way more money than he was worth setting up.
“I just can’t understand why anyone might have paid your sister to do this,” he said. “Especially that much money. And other than me looking like I got into a catfight and feeling hungover, what was the point? Unless she was supposed to kill me… .”
“Don’t say that. Even if Courtney drugged you, I’m sure she didn’t mean to take it that far.”
Zane looked over at Dakota. “I thought her phone call to you was part of the setup, but what if she really was in trouble? What if she was supposed to kill me and couldn’t go through with it? That could explain why she’s disappeared. She’s hiding from whoever paid her to do the job.”
“Why would she want you dead? And why didn’t she come back for the money? Unless the money wasn’t her real reason for what she did.”
“That’s why I don’t think she acted alone. But it has to be someone with a grudge against me.” He glanced over at Dakota and gave her a crooked grin. “As I recall, you had quite a temper when I riled you up. You out to get me, Dakota?”
“That’s not funny.” She turned away.
Zane stared out at the Montana evening as they drove through the rolling green prairie. This was such a beautiful time in this part of Montana. The mountain ranges were capped with pristine white snow from the last snowfall in the high country. The snow and deep blue mountains were in stark contrast to the lush green of the prairie. Creeks ran wild with the beginning of summer runoff and there was a feeling of new beginnings in the air.
It was the kind of evening he loved and yet he was too aware of the woman sitting just inches away from him.
Dakota didn’t seem to be aware of him. Something was bothering her. But apparently it wasn’t anything she wanted to share with him. He’d been joking earlier about her being a part of this. What if she was?
* * *
DAKOTA WAS FURIOUS with her half sister and couldn’t wait to find her. If Courtney even really was her sister.
She’d been so shocked when she’d first learned about Courtney that she now realized she should have demanded more proof. All she’d had was a glance at Courtney’s birth certificate. Once she’d seen her father’s name and his signature…
Why hadn’t she questioned that the birth certificate might have been a fake? She’d invited Courtney to come live at the ranch—a stranger. Now she regretted that terribly. What else had Courtney taken from the house? Dakota didn’t know. Just as she didn’t know why Courtney was doing this or what she had to gain other than possibly ten thousand dollars.
Dakota had put off telling Zane what she’d discovered missing in her father’s den. She needed time to let all of this sink in so she could sort it out. At least that’s what she told herself. But she hadn’t sorted it out and Zane needed to know. He already suspected that Courtney was supposed to kill him last night. What if he was right? What if Courtney tried again?
“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said as they left the meandering Milk River behind and headed south toward the Missouri—and the city of Great Falls. “I told you Courtney took something of mine.”
“But you don’t want to tell me what she took.”
She knew it was silly not to confess about the diary. But she was embarrassed by all the things she’d written. With luck, she would get it back and Zane would never have to know.
Letting out a breath, she said, “Courtney took some old photos along with a pistol my father kept in the bottom drawer of
his desk. It’s a .45.”
Zane let out a curse. “You’re just now telling me about this?”
“I didn’t check until I went in to pack for this trip. But after everything that has happened…”
“Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “You came looking for her because of something she took, right? Something that had you upset enough that you actually believed I had been set up.”
“Courtney had also taken some personal things of mine, including some old photographs.”
“Old photographs?”
“Some of my father at several rodeos and one of you and me.”
He blinked at her. “She took a gun and a photo of your father and one of the two of us?”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“You think she targeted me because of a photograph of the two of us? That’s why you believed me! That’s why you’re so anxious to find her and why you didn’t want the sheriff involved.” He shot her a look, then laughed. “Dakota, you aren’t responsible for this. Seriously. You can’t believe that’s all that’s behind this.”
She shook her head, feeling close to tears.
He grinned. “You had a photo of the two of us?”
She brushed at the tears. “It was a good one of me. You just happened to be in the picture,” she said, and looked away, but she knew he was still grinning. Just as she knew he was wrong. She was responsible somehow for what was happening.
* * *
EMMA CHISHOLM HEARD the steady throb of an engine and slipped out of bed. At the window, she saw one of the ranch pickups pull around to the side of the house. She glanced back at the clock beside the bed. 2:11 a.m.
As the driver cut the engine, she thought it must be one of her six stepsons. But since they each had their own homes it would be unusual for one of them to come by this late—unless there was trouble.
Emma was surprised when Mrs. Crowley stepped from the pickup.
“I will need a vehicle at my disposal,” Mrs. Crowley had announced the day she’d appeared at their door. “I’d prefer not to drive my own car given the condition of your…rural roads.”
Emma had to shoot Hoyt a warning look to keep him from saying what she knew he was thinking.
“There is always a ranch pickup around. Will that do?” Emma had asked the woman. She was determined to make this work, one way or the other.
Mrs. Crowley had turned her nose up, but said that would have to do.
“Who the hell does she think she is?” Hoyt had demanded later when the two of them had gone out to the barn. That was where they escaped to, knowing that Mrs. Crowley wouldn’t set foot out there. “If you knew what I was paying her… ” He’d broken off, looking chagrined.
“It’s all right. I know she didn’t come cheap.” Emma appreciated that he’d gone to so much trouble to make sure she was safe. She knew that Hoyt would pay any price for her safety.
“Yeah, well, the problem is that no one wants to work for a murderer. Even an acquitted one.”
“Stop that,” Emma had snapped. “The problem is that no one wants to be more than a mile from a mall.” She’d laughed. “They just don’t realize that there isn’t a mall anywhere that can beat being out here.”
Hoyt had smiled as he’d cupped his hand behind her neck and pulled her close. “How did I get so lucky with you?”
Emma could have told him, since he was the sexiest man she’d ever known and the biggest-hearted. Any woman would have been a fool not to love this man and appreciate the land that he loved. But she’d bit back her words. His first wife, Laura, hadn’t appreciated either.
Now Emma wondered what Mrs. Crowley was doing out at this time of night. She didn’t seem like the type of person to close down the bars in Whitehorse, but as secretive as she was, who knew her type?
The woman reached back into the pickup cab for the large purse she carried. It was more like a carpetbag, and tonight it seemed fuller than ever. What did Mrs. Crowley carry in there, anyway?
With a start, Emma realized that the woman could have a secret life at night. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken off after supper without a word. She could have come in late all those nights as well and Emma just hadn’t heard her before.
Still, as she watched Mrs. Crowley carefully close the pickup door so as not to disturb anyone and then disappear into the lower floor of the house, Emma was amazed at the woman’s stamina. As hard as she worked, refusing even a break, how could she stay out this late and still be up before the sun in the morning?
On her day off, Mrs. Crowley stayed in her room, not even interested in food. Everything about the woman was a mystery to Emma. The weather was beautiful this time of year and yet she showed no interest in the land right outside her window. In fact, the drapes on her windows were always closed.
Maybe the sunlight bothered her burned skin and eye, Emma thought, chastising herself for finding fault with the woman. Mrs. Crowley had made it possible for Hoyt to return to work with his sons. No more babysitting Emma day after day.
Emma stepped back from the window, telling herself it was none of her business. Climbing back into bed beside Hoyt, she snuggled closer. It didn’t matter what the woman did late at night or on her day off in her room.
But Emma had a terrible time getting back to sleep. What did they really know about the woman who lived in their house with them?
* * *
ZANE FROWNED AS HE TOOK IN the house. The house at 212 W. River Street was a narrow, two-story wood structure that had once been white before all the paint had peeled off. Like the neighborhood, it had an abandoned look.
He glanced over at Dakota. They hadn’t said much since he’d knocked on her motel door to see if she was ready for breakfast. Last night when they had stopped at a motel, it had felt awkward.
He’d stopped thinking of her as a kid and that was part of the problem. She seemed embarrassed and clearly hated admitting that she’d kept a picture of the two of them from when she’d had a crush on him. He couldn’t help being flattered that she’d kept it. He’d always pretended to his friends that Dakota hanging around bugged him. But he’d been sorry when her father had moved his rough stock part of the ranch to New Mexico and Dakota had gone with it.
Right now, he was glad that they had that history together. True, she had her reasons for wanting to find her sister, but he doubted she would have believed him about Courtney otherwise. Just as he was sure she wouldn’t have wanted his help if she didn’t somehow feel responsible.
But Zane didn’t believe that Courtney Baxter had come after him because of some photo she’d seen of the two of them from years ago. If Courtney wanted to hurt Dakota, the best way was to try to take Lansing Ranch. Not only would it kill Dakota to lose it, the ranch was worth a lot of money, not to mention the rough stock business. Worth a lot more than ten thousand dollars.
The question still remained though: Why come after him? What was to be gained other than the money?
The money alone meant Courtney hadn’t come up with this by herself. He suspected Dakota was right about the phone call from her sister. Maybe Courtney really had been scared and crying out for help. Or maybe that had been part of the setup. Maybe Courtney wanted to throw the two of them together. He felt foolish this morning for ever suspecting Dakota.
Now, as they climbed out of his pickup, he feared the address they’d found in the suitcase was a dead end. He’d hoped the name plaque might lead them somewhere, but it appeared the house was empty and had been for some time.
Everything around the house was overgrown to the point that the vegetation was slowly taking over the structure. No one had lived here in a very long time.
“Hello?” The voice was small, just like the woman whose head barely topped the fence between the properties. “Can I help you?” the neighbor asked.
She had a shock of white hair that seemed to float like a halo around her head. Dressed in worn blue overalls, a red long-sleeved shirt and tennis shoes, the
woman stepped out from behind the fence. She surveyed them with keen blue eyes. In her hands was a hedge trimmer.
“You live next door?” Zane asked, unable to hide his surprise. He’d thought for sure that the entire neighborhood was abandoned.
“Have for almost ninety years,” she said proudly. “I was born here. But you’re not looking for me, are you?”
“We were looking for Frances Dean,” Dakota said, stepping forward.
“Dead, I’m afraid,” the woman said. “Entire neighborhood’s been dying off for years now. I’m about the only one left. A developer is just waiting for me to die so he can tear down what houses haven’t fallen down and build a bunch of condos.”
From her tone it was clear she was holding out until her last breath. “You aren’t with that low-life vulture, are you?”
“No,” Dakota assured her. “Did you know Frances Dean well?”
“All my life.”
“Did she happen to have a daughter?” Zane asked.
“Camilla,” the woman said with a nod. “Married one of the Hugheses. Widowed, I’d heard. Nice girl.”
“Do you know if she has a daughter by the name of Courtney?” Dakota asked.
“Can’t say. Last I heard of Frances she was worried because Camilla was having trouble getting pregnant.” The old woman shrugged. She eyed Zane’s scratches. “You look like you tangled with a rosebush. Did that once. Nasty thorns on those little devils.”
“Well, thank you for your time, Mrs.… ”
“Miss. Abigail Warden.” They introduced themselves. “Pleased to meet you. I suppose I should ask why you’re looking for Frances’s kin.”
“A woman named Courtney Baxter has gone missing. We’re trying to find her mother and we have reason to believe she might be related to Frances Dean,” Dakota said.
“Might be. Might not. Good luck to you.” Miss Warden turned back to the hedge with her clippers. As they left, they heard the snap, snap, snap of her blades.
“You know they’re going to find that poor old woman under that hedge someday,” Dakota said.