Dead Ringer & Classified Christmas

by B. J Daniels

He looked up from his notebook. “Can anyone verify that?”

  “Cade.”

  He studied her for a long moment, then wrote something down in the notebook. He’d already made it perfectly clear that he didn’t approve of her—especially her and Cade. She wanted to assure him that she would never hurt his brother, but the truth was, she already had and she had no way of knowing what the future held any more than Cade or the sheriff did.

  “Have you ever seen the deceased before?”

  “No.” Although she suspected she knew who he was.

  “You have any idea why he was killed?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t think it might have something to do with why you’re in Whitehorse?”

  “I came here for a job.”

  “Right. You just happened to stumble across the fact that Grace Jackson was really Starr Calhoun.”

  “I didn’t bring the Calhouns to Montana.”

  He nodded solemnly. “But you’re up to your neck in this.”

  “I’m a reporter. I go after stories. I don’t expect you to believe this, but someone got me involved in this—not the other way around.”

  He looked skeptical, just as she’d known he would. “I don’t want to see my brother hurt.”

  “It’s a little too late for that.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Starr Calhoun,” he said, glancing toward the front window. “He’s vulnerable. You’re the first woman since Starr. Add to that he feels responsible for what’s happening.”

  She wanted to argue that none of this was her fault, but she knew that wasn’t necessarily true.

  “When this is over, you’ll make headlines again,” the sheriff said. “You’ll go back to your old job or get offered an even better television job in some big city. Cade won’t ever leave Montana. If you think he will, then you don’t know him. And even if you were able to get him to leave, well, a big city would kill him. He’s a cowboy. He has to have room. This is his home.”

  She said nothing as he rose from his chair.

  He looked as if there was more he wanted to say, but after a moment he turned and left.

  When she heard the door close, she walked to the window and peeked out from behind the curtains. Cade was standing by the patrol car. He got in as Carter went around to the driver’s side.

  Andi turned from the window and stepped over to the fire again, chilled. She knew that Cade had recognized the resemblance between his deceased wife and the man under the ice. It was a Calhoun. It had to be Lubbock since Cade had told her that some remains found down in Old Town had turned out to be those of Houston Calhoun—and according to the crime lab, he’d been there about six years.

  If the body was Lubbock Calhoun’s, which she suspected, then she had to ask herself: Who killed him?

  She felt another chill.

  What if Starr really had faked her death and was not only alive, but back in Whitehorse?

  * * *

  CADE WATCHED A herd of antelope race across a wind-scoured snowy hillside just beyond the cabin as his brother started the patrol car and turned on the heater. The heater blew cold air, but not nearly as cold as Cade felt.

  His brother was too calm, too much a cop on a case, and Cade knew he was in bad trouble.

  “Any idea what a dead man was doing in your fishing shack?” Carter asked after a moment, pulling out his notebook and pen.

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  Cade looked over at his brother. “In the cabin with Andi.”

  Carter swore. “We have an ID on the dead man from some jailhouse tattoos that we knew of from the APB out on him. His name is Lubbock Calhoun.”

  Cade nodded. No surprise there. He’d known the man was a Calhoun from his resemblance to his sister. Lubbock would have been his first guess since they’d known he had broken parole after getting out of prison.

  “Had you ever seen him before?” Carter asked, writing down his responses.

  “No.”

  “You have any idea who might have killed him?”

  “None.”

  “When was the last time you used your fishing spear?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “It appears he was killed with your spear,” Carter said. “What are the chances the only prints on it will be yours?”

  “I’d say pretty darned good.”

  His brother shook his head. “This all started with that damned reporter.”

  “Don’t blame her. It actually started with Starr.”

  Carter put his notebook and pen away. “You’re sure Ms. Blake didn’t slip out last night while you were sleeping?”

  He met his brother’s gaze. “I didn’t get much sleep last night so yes, I’m sure.”

  Carter swore. “Glad to see you took my advice and haven’t gotten involved with her.”

  “I know you think I have lousy luck with women,” Cade said. “But I loved Grace. Starr was Grace, a woman who wanted our baby, wanted this life with me and wanted to put all the rest behind her. I believe that with all my heart. Who knows how this would have ended if she hadn’t died?”

  Carter shook his head. “You’re kiddin’ yourself, bro. As long as that robbery money was missing, you and Starr, Grace, whatever, wouldn’t have had a chance in hell. The only reason you haven’t heard anything from this family is that Lubbock was locked up and Houston was dead. Now you’ve got a dead man in your fishing shack and I’m willing to bet he didn’t break parole to come up here to ice fish.”

  “No, I think he was looking for the money. But apparently he’s not the only one.” Cade thought of Andi’s theory about Starr. “What if Starr killed him?”

  Carter shot him a look. “Starr’s dead.”

  Cade realized it had always been coming to this. He had to know if that was her he’d buried. Or if everything he’d believed about his wife had been a lie. Otherwise, he knew he would never be able to put her to rest. “What would it take to have her body exhumed?”

  “What?” Carter demanded. “You think she’s alive?”

  “I need proof that the woman who died in that car wreck was my wife. Andi thinks Starr might have faked her death and taken off with the money. Under the circumstances, I think we should know who all the players are, don’t you?”

  His brother looked at him. “You knew her. You can’t really believe that your wife could kill someone in cold blood with a fishing spear?”

  “Not the woman I married, no,” Cade said. “But I think Starr Calhoun might have been more than capable of murder. My .45 is missing and Houston Calhoun is dead. Not to mention the body found in her car—if she faked her death.”

  Carter shook his head. “Well, at least now we have two of her brothers’ DNA to compare hers to. If it’s not Starr, we’ll know soon enough.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “IT WAS LUBBOCK, wasn’t it?” Andi said as Cade entered the cabin.

  He nodded. “Carter ID’d him from some prison tattoos.” He stepped to her, taking her in his arms. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded against his shoulder, burrowing into him. The fabric of his coat smelled of the outdoors and the cold but the feel of his arms around her warmed her to her toes.

  “My brother upset you.” He swore as he stepped back to look into her face, holding her at arm’s length. “I should never have let him talk to you alone.”

  She smiled at that. “Like you could have stopped him. This is a murder investigation. He’s worried about you.”

  Cade let out a laugh. “I’m worried about me.”

  “If it wasn’t Lubbock who got me here, then who?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “We’ve known all along that whoever was behind this wanted the mon
ey. Someone must think I know where it’s hidden.”

  “But who? If Lubbock was the one who was sending me the information and attacked me, then who killed him?”

  Cade looked into her eyes. “I’ve asked my brother to see about getting Starr’s body exhumed.”

  She stared at him. “Are you sure?”

  “We have to know. If she’s alive, then...” He couldn’t finish at just the thought that the woman he’d loved and married was a killer.

  * * *

  ANDI SHUDDERED AT the thought that Starr Calhoun was alive—and killing off the competition. “If she hid the money, then why wouldn’t she just take it and leave?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe there’s more to it than money. Or maybe she can’t find the spot where she hid it. Everything looks different in the winter. There’s also the possibility that Houston hid it.”

  Andi thought about what Bradley had said. “Wouldn’t whoever hid it have made some sort of map? Or at least written down the directions?”

  Cade moved to the bookshelves with the outlaw books. “Grace did some drawings... I think they were in the back of one of these books. She was always sketching. She had talent as an artist.”

  “I can see that in her photographs,” Andi said.

  He glanced back at her with a grateful look that did more than warm her toes. “I still believe she wanted to be Grace.”

  “I think you’re right.” She stepped to him and put a hand on his arm. “That photograph of you in your bedroom... She loved you.”

  He looked away. “Here,” he said, handing her a few books. “Let’s see if there is some sort of map in here.”

  They spent the next few hours going through Grace’s books. Many of them were inscribed to her from Cade with love. While there were small drawings often in the margins or notes, none of them appeared to be a map or diagram or clue to the missing money.

  When they’d gone through her last book, Cade got up from the floor. “Well, that was a dead end.”

  Andi was just as discouraged. Why had she been given the article about Kid Curry? There had to be some connection. “I need to go to the newspaper. There might be another manila envelope waiting for me.”

  “I’m worried about you,” Cade said. “It’s not safe.”

  She smiled and leaned in to brush a kiss over his lips. “I’ll be all right. It’s Whitehorse. No one will grab me in the middle of Central Avenue. And anyway, whoever is behind this wants us to find the money. Until we do, I’m pretty sure we’ll be safe.”

  “I hope you’re right about that. I’ll drive you to your car. I want to do some looking around the apartment. I’ll call you if I find anything.” He stepped to her, cupping her face in his hands. “Be careful. And please don’t go back to your place. Stay with me at the apartment in town.”

  She nodded. There was no place she wanted to be other than with him right now.

  He followed her into town, driving on past as she pulled into the diagonal parking in front of the newspaper building.

  Getting out she fought that feeling again that she was being watched as she entered the building.

  Her desk had numerous envelopes on it. She dug through, hoping for another manila envelope. At this point, she had no idea what to do next and could use all the help she could get.

  But there was no manila envelope.

  She did what she had to do at the paper, all the time thinking that she’d missed something at the museum.

  Glancing at her watch she saw that it was still open if she hurried.

  She went straight to the outlaw exhibit and, starting at the top left, studied each photo, each story. She had to have missed something.

  She hadn’t heard the elderly volunteer until the woman spoke, “We’re closing in fifteen minutes, but you’re welcome to stay until then.”

  “Thank you,” Andi said, then noticed something she hadn’t seen before. “What is that?” she pointed to a series of numbers and letters at the bottom of one of the exhibit cards, wondering if it referred to another exhibit.

  “That’s a geocaching site,” the woman said.

  “Oh, the game you play with a GPS.”

  “Don’t let a hard-core geocacher hear you say that. They take it very seriously. There are two sites in our area. When you find the spot, you look for a container of some kind. Inside can be anything from a coin to a toy or a book to a map.”

  A map? Her heart began to pound. Bradley had said Starr would have had to have some way to find the money again. Like a global positioning system coordinate?

  All she needed to find out was whether or not Cade had a GPS. It was too much to hope for.

  But even if Cade had a GPS device, Starr wouldn’t have been foolish enough to leave the site on it. She would have hidden the coordinates.

  As the volunteers locked up the museum behind her, Andi glanced at her watch. It wasn’t even four thirty and it was already almost dark. She could feel the chill in the air as she called Cade’s cell, too excited to wait until she got back to his apartment at the bait shop.

  Starr Calhoun probably wouldn’t have known about geocaching since it wasn’t even started until 2000—just a year before she died.

  But she could definitely have known how to use a GPS, especially if Cade had one. A lot of hunters and fishermen used them.

  The phone rang four times before voice mail picked up. Disappointed, she started to hang up, then changed her mind and left a message telling him what she’d learned at the museum.

  “If Starr had access to a GPS, then she might have left behind the coordinates to find the money, but for some reason hasn’t been able to get to them. Call me.” She snapped shut her phone, wondering where he was.

  It was full dark now, the temperature dropping rapidly. Christmas lights tinkled on the houses around the museum and carols played on her car radio. She turned up the radio as she drove, surprised that the songs made her teary eyed. She’d missed Christmas.

  Up here in this part of Montana Christmas seemed so much more real than it had in Fort Worth. The snow helped considerably. But it was more than that.

  It was Cade, she thought. She was falling for him. The thought sent a jolt of panic through her. She’d worked too hard at her career to fall for any man, especially one who lived in Whitehorse, Montana.

  His brother was right. How could she stay here and continue her career? And she couldn’t imagine Cade Jackson anywhere but here.

  A part of her wanted to just keep going. Get on Highway 191 and head south until she hit Texas. But the rest of her couldn’t wait to see Cade, couldn’t wait to be wrapped in his arms, as she turned into the bait shop.

  Her headlights flashed across the empty spot where he parked his pickup and she was filled with disappointment. She climbed out of her car and walked to the back of the building, her spirits buoying a little when she saw that there was a note on the back door.

  The back door was unlocked. She reached inside to snap on the light, stepping in to read the note. A key fell out of the envelope. She picked it up and saw that it appeared to be a key to the apartment.

  Andi,

  I thought of a place Starr might have hidden the money. I’m driving up there. Stay here. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll be back as soon as possible.

  Cade

  She smiled at this thoughtfulness as she closed and locked the back door. The apartment felt cold. She kicked up the heat as she moved through it, taking off her coat. It felt strange being here without Cade.

  As she neared the door to the bait and tackle shop, she noticed the thin line of light under the door.

  Had a light been left on?

  Even stranger, she thought, was that she felt a breeze. Almost as if the front door had been left open.

  She hung up
her coat and opened the door into the shop. She was hit with a wall of cold air. As she listened, she could hear the front door of the shop banging in the wind.

  A faint light glowed near the front. She hurried down the narrow aisle, fishing items stacked almost to the ceiling, anxious to get the door closed.

  The temperature was supposed to drop to more than twenty below zero tonight. She hoped nothing in the shop had been ruined because of the door being left open.

  At the front door, she reached out and grabbed the achingly cold handle. She had to pull with all her strength to get it closed, the wind was so strong, and snow had drifted in, making it even more difficult.

  The door finally slammed with a thunderous bang. She locked it and used the dead bolt as well, wondering how it could have gotten left open. Cade, no doubt, had other things on his mind.

  She was halfway back down the aisle, when she noticed that the door to the apartment was closed. Strange, since she was sure she’d left it open. She’d almost convinced herself it had been the wind, when the small light at the front of the shop went out, pitching her into blackness.

  * * *

  CADE JACKSON HAD driven up into the Bear Paw Mountains to the west of Whitehorse. He and Grace had picnicked there early in the fall among the ponderosa pines along a small creek.

  She had been so happy that day. They’d eaten fried chicken, potato salad and fried apple pies that she’d made early that morning.

  He’d been surprised how good a cook she was. They’d made love in the shade and fallen asleep.

  He’d awoken to find the sun behind the trees and Grace gone.

  She’d come hiking up thirty minutes later, after he called for her and hadn’t gotten an answer. He had been getting worried something had happened to her.

  She’d been apologetic, saying she’d just wanted to take a little walk and had been so taken with the country she’d lost track of how far she’d gone.

  He’d thought it a wonder she hadn’t gotten lost and said as much.

  She’d told him she had a great sense of direction.

  The Bear Paws were iced with snow this time of year. The picnic spot looked nothing as it had with ice covering the creek and the boughs of the pines heavy and white with the new snowfall.