by B. J Daniels
“Did he? Was Wyatt jealous of your relationship with Tanner?” Liza saw the answer in the woman’s expression. “Tanner was supposed to be watching the equipment, right?”
“No, Wyatt wouldn’t...” She shook her head. “He’s had to overcome so much.”
“Does he know about the blackmail?”
“No, of course not.”
But Liza could see the fear in the woman’s eyes. “If he found out that you were being blackmailed and thought it was Alex Winslow behind it, what would your husband do?”
“He couldn’t have found out,” she said. “If he knew, he would have left me.”
Liza thought about that for a moment. “What if you weren’t the only one being blackmailed?”
Shelby’s head came up. “What?”
“Has your husband been having similar financial problems to yours?” Liza asked.
“It’s the economy,” Shelby said. “It’s not...”
“Because he’s been paying a blackmailer just like you have?”
“Why would he do that?” Her eyes widened and Liza saw that, like her, Shelby could think of only one reason her husband might be paying a blackmailer.
“Oh, no, no.” She began to wail, a high keening sound. “He wouldn’t have hurt Tanner. Not Tanner.” She rocked back and forth, hugging her stomach.
“I have to ask you,” Liza said. “Were you ever pregnant with Tanner’s baby?”
Her wailing didn’t stop, but it slowed. She shook her head, before she dropped it into her hands. “I didn’t want him to leave Big Sky after graduation. I thought that if he married me I could say I had a miscarriage. Or with luck, I could get pregnant quickly.”
“Where is your husband?” Liza asked her.
“He’s been out of town, but I expect him back tonight.”
“That’s why you were leaving. You’re afraid your husband has found out.”
Shelby didn’t have to answer. The terror in her eyes said it all.
“I’d tell you not to leave town,” Liza said, “but I’m afraid that advice could get you killed tonight.”
Shelby’s cell phone rang. She glanced at it. “I need to take this.”
As Liza was walking away, she heard Shelby say, “I’m so sorry.” She was crying, her last words garbled but still intelligible. “Really? Just give me a few minutes.”
* * *
AFTER LEAVING THE RANCH, Jordan drove around aimlessly. His mind whirled with everything that had happened since his return to the canyon.
Foremost was Alex and Liza’s blackmail theory. Alex had always resented the rich people who came and went at Big Sky—but especially those who built the huge houses they lived in only a few weeks each year.
So had Alex blackmailed Shelby for the money? Or for breaking him and Tessa up all those years ago?
But was that what had gotten him killed? As much as he disliked Shelby, he couldn’t imagine her actually shooting Alex. True she used to hunt, maybe still did, and hadn’t been a bad shot. And she was cold-blooded, no doubt about that.
It just felt as if there had to be more.
Both Hud and Liza had warned him to leave town and stay out of the investigation. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Driving past Yogamotion, he saw that the lights were out. There was a note on the door. Getting out, he walked to the door. Closed Until Further Notice.
He pulled out his cell phone and tried Shelby’s house. No answer. Then he got Crystal Winslow’s number from information and waited for her to pick up.
“Hello?”
“Crystal, you probably don’t remember me, I’m Jordan Cardwell.”
“I remember you.” Her voice sounded laced with ice.
“I need to ask you something about Alex. I heard he majored in engineering at Montana State University. Is that how he made his money?”
“He was a consultant. He worked for large construction projects like bridges and highways and some smaller ones that I am only now finding out about.”
He heard something in her voice, a bitterness. “Smaller jobs?”
“Apparently, he was working for Shelby Iverson and had been for years. Her husband signed the checks, but I’m betting she was behind it. He must have thought I was so stupid. What could Iverson Construction need an engineer consultant for? They build houses.”
“Crystal, how often did they hire Alex?”
“Every month for years.”
“Twenty years?”
“All these years.” She was crying. “That bitch has been...playing my husband like a puppet on the string.”
More likely it was Alex playing her. So he had been blackmailing not Shelby, but Wyatt since Tanner’s death and hiding it as work-related payments. No wonder Liza hadn’t found it.
As he told Crystal how sorry he was and hung up, he wondered how Wyatt had been able to hide this from Shelby all these years. With building going crazy at Big Sky until recently, maybe it hadn’t been that much of a strain on Wyatt.
He would ask Wyatt when he saw him. Which would be soon, he thought as he parked in front of the Iverson mansion on the hill. The place looked deserted. As he started to get out a big black SUV came roaring up.
* * *
WYATT IVERSON LOOKED HARRIED and dirty as if he’d just been working at one of his construction sites. He had a cut on his cheek that the blood had only recently dried on and bruises as if he’d been in a fist fight. “If you’re looking for Shelby, she’s not here.”
“Actually, I was looking for you,” Jordan said, not caring what had happened to Wyatt Iverson or his wife. “Have a minute?”
“No, I just got home. I’ve been out of town.”
“This won’t take long,” Jordan said, following him up the steps to the front door and pushing past him into the large marble foyer. “I just need to know how you killed Tanner Cole. I already suspect why you did it, misguided as it was.” Through an open doorway he saw a large bedroom with women’s clothing strewn all over the bed and floor. Shelby either had trouble finding something to wear tonight or she had hightailed it out of town.
“I really don’t have time for this,” Wyatt said behind him.
He got as far as the living room with its white furniture he would bet no one had ever sat on, before he turned to look into the other man’s face. Wyatt was magazine-model handsome, a big, muscled man, but Jordan was sure he could take him in a fair fight.
Unfortunately, when he saw the gun in Wyatt Iverson’s hand, he knew he wasn’t going to get a chance to find out.
“You want to know how your friend died?” Wyatt demanded. “I told him that everything was going to be all right. That he shouldn’t blame himself for my father’s construction equipment being vandalized. He’d already had a few drinks by the time I got to the cabin.” Wyatt stopped just inches from Jordan now.
“Tanner felt horrible about what had happened, blamed himself,” he continued, a smirk on his face. “I suggested we have more drinks and bury the hatchet so to speak. By the time we went out by the fire pit, he was feeling no pain. I kept plying him with booze until he could barely stand up, then I bet him he couldn’t balance on an upturned log. You should have seen his expression when I put the noose around his neck.”
Jordan knew the worst thing he could do was go for the gun. Wyatt had the barrel aimed at his heart and, from the trapped look in the man’s eyes, he would use it if provoked. But seeing that Wyatt Iverson felt no remorse for what he’d done and realizing the man was ready to kill again, Jordan lunged at the gun.
Wyatt was stronger than he looked and clearly he’d been expecting—probably hoping—Jordan would try something. The sound of the gunshot ricocheted through the expanse of the large living room, a deafening report that was followed by a piercing pain in Jordan’s shoulder.
Wyatt twisted the gun from his fingers and bac
khanded him with the butt. Jordan saw stars and suddenly the room started spinning. The next thing he knew he was on the floor, looking up at the man. His shoulder hurt like hell, but the bullet appeared to have only grazed his skin.
“You lousy bastard.” Jordan struggled to get up, but Wyatt kicked him hard in the stomach, then knelt down beside him, holding the gun to his head.
“Your friend knew he deserved it. I told him how my old man had let his insurance on the equipment lapse, how this would destroy my family and your friend Tanner nodded and closed his eyes and I kicked the log out.”
“You murdered him,” Jordan said between clenched teeth.
“He got what he deserved.”
“He didn’t deserve to die because of some vandalized equipment even if he had been responsible. Shelby set up Tanner that night—from the party to the vandalism—to get back at him. It was that old story of a woman scorned.”
With a start Jordan saw that this wasn’t news. Wyatt had known. “How long have you known that you killed the wrong person? Then you killed Alex to keep it your little family secret and end the blackmail?”
“Alex? I didn’t kill Alex.”
Jordan started to call the man a liar. But why would he lie at a time like this when he’d already confessed to one murder? With a jolt, Jordan realized that Wyatt was telling the truth. He didn’t kill Alex. Shelby. No wonder she’d taken off. Not only would it now come out about her vandalizing the Iverson Construction equipment, but that she’d killed Alex to keep the photographs from going public.
“Where’s your wife, Iverson?” Jordan asked through the pain as Wyatt jerked him to his feet and dragged him toward the front door with the gun to his head.
“Have you known all along it was her? No? Then you must be furious. Did you catch her packing to make her getaway?” Jordan had a thought. “Does she know that you killed Tanner?”
Wyatt made a sound that sent a chill up Jordan’s spine.
He thought about the cut and bruise on Iverson’s cheek, that harried look in his eye—and the dirt on him as if he’d been digging at one of his construction sites. “What did you do to her?” he demanded. “You wouldn’t kill your own wife!”
“One more word and I’ll kill you right there,” the man said as he pulled him outside to the rental car. He reached inside and released the latch on the hatchback.
“You’re going to kill me anyway. But you have to know you can’t get away with this.” He felt the shove toward the open back of the SUV just an instant before the blow to his head. Everything went dark. His last clear thought was of Tanner and what he must have felt the moment Wyatt kicked the log out from under his feet.
* * *
LIZA CALLED HUD’S cell on her way to the Iverson house.
“How is Dana?” she asked first.
“In labor. We’re at the hospital and they are making her comfortable. They’re talking C-section, but you know Dana. She’s determined she’s going to have these babies the natural way.”
“Give her my best. Did you get a chance to ask Stacy about Tanner’s party?” she asked as she drove toward the mountain and the Iverson house.
“She was pretty shaken up after what happened and I got busy, but she’s standing right here. I’ll let you talk to her since I have to get back to Dana.” He handed off the phone.
A moment later a shaky-voiced Stacy said, “Hello?”
“I need to know about the party Tanner Cole had at the Iverson Construction site twenty years ago.”
“What?”
“You were there. I’ve seen a photograph of you standing around the campfire. I need to know who shot the photos. Come on, Stacy, it wasn’t that long after that that Tanner died. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
“I remember,” she said, sounding defensive. “I was just trying to understand why you would ask me who took the photos. I did. It was my camera.”
“Your camera? Why were you taking photographs at the party?”
“Jordan. I wanted to get something on him,” she said. “He was always telling on me to Mother.”
Blackmail, great. Liza sighed. “If it was your camera, then how is it that there’s a photo of you?”
Silence then. “Alex Winslow. He wanted to borrow the camera for a moment. I made him give it back—”
“By promising to get him copies,” Liza finished.
“Yes, how did you—”
“Do you still have the negatives?”
“I doubt it. Unless they’re stored in my things I left here at the ranch.”
“Let me talk to Jordan,” Liza said, feeling as if all the pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together.
“Jordan? He’s not here. He asked me who took the photos, then he left, saying he’d come by the hospital later.”
“Do you know where he went?” Liza asked, suddenly worried.
“He said something about blackmail and the other side of the coin.”
Ahead, Liza saw the Iverson house come into view in her headlights. “If you see him, tell him to call my cell.” She gave Stacy the number, then disconnected as she pulled into the wide paved drive.
Parking, she tried Jordan’s cell phone number. It went straight to voice mail. She left a message for him to call her.
The Iverson house could only be described as a mansion. But then Wyatt Iverson was in the construction business. Of course his home would have to be magnificent.
Liza got out and walked up the steps to the wide veranda. She rang the doorbell, heard classical music play inside and was reminded of Crystal Winslow’s house down in Bozeman. It wasn’t anywhere as large or as grand.
Liza thought about an old Elvis Presley song about a house without love. Or honesty, she thought as she rang the bell again.
Getting no answer, she checked the five-car garage. There was a large ski boat, a trailer with four snowmobiles and the large black SUV, the same one Liza had seen Wyatt Iverson driving the night of the reunion dinner.
He’d returned home. So where was he? And where was Jordan? She tried his cell phone again. As before, it went straight to voice mail.
Something was wrong. She felt it in her bones. If Wyatt Iverson had returned, where else might he have gone? She recalled overhearing Shelby say what sounded like she was going to meet someone. Was she stupid enough to agree to see her husband? If so, where would they have gone if not their house?
Yogamotion was her first thought. But she’d seen Shelby hightail it out of there. Was it possible Wyatt had taken another vehicle? She thought about Jordan. What if he’d come up here as she suspected?
She didn’t want to go down that particular trail of thought. Maybe Wyatt Iverson had gone by his construction office. Unlike his father, Wyatt kept all his equipment under lock and key at a site back up Moonlight Basin.
She hurried to her rental SUV and, climbing behind the wheel, started the engine and headed for Moonlight Basin. All her instincts told her to hurry.
Chapter Sixteen
Jordan came to in darkness. He blinked, instantly aware of the pain. His wrists were bound with duct tape behind him. More duct tape bound his ankles. A strip had been placed over his mouth. He lay in the back of the rented SUV. Outside the vehicle he heard a sound he recognized and sat up, his head swimming. Something warm and sticky ran down into his left eye. Blood.
Through the blood he looked out through an array of construction equipment. He couldn’t see the piece of equipment that was making all the noise, but he could see a gravel pit behind the site and catch movement.
Now seemed an odd time to be digging in a gravel pit. Unless, he thought with a start, you wanted to bury something.
Jordan knew he was lucky to be alive. He’d been a damned fool going to Iverson’s house unarmed. What had he hoped to accomplish? The answer was simple. He’d wanted to hear Wyatt Iverso
n admit to Tanner’s murder. He’d also wanted to know how he’d done it.
So he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do—a suicidal mission that had been successful if one didn’t take his current predicament into consideration.
Hurriedly, he began to work at the tape on his wrists. There were few sharp edges in the back of the SUV. Nor could he get the door open thanks to child locks. In frustration at modern advances, he threw himself into the backseat and was headed for the front seat to unlock the doors, when he heard it.
The noise of the running equipment had dropped to a low purr.
Jordan felt around quickly for a sharp edge. He found it on the metal runner of the front passenger seat and began to work frantically at the tape. Whatever Wyatt Iverson had been up to, he’d stopped. Jordan had a bad feeling that he’d be coming for him any moment.
The tape gave way. He quickly peeled the strip from his mouth then reached down to free his ankles.
The back door of the SUV swung open and he was instantly blinded by the glaring beam of a heavy-duty flashlight.
“Get out,” Iverson barked.
Jordan saw that the gun was in the man’s other hand and the barrel was pointed at him. He freed his ankles and did as he was told. As he stepped out, he breathed in the cold night air. It made him shiver. Or it could have been the sudden knowledge of what Iverson planned to do with him.
Standing, he could see where the earth had been dug out in a long trench. There was already one vehicle at the bottom of the trench. He recognized Shelby’s expensive SUV.
“Get behind the wheel,” Iverson ordered, and holding the gun on him, climbed in behind him in the backseat.
Jordan could feel the cold hard metal of the gun barrel pressed against his neck.
“Start the car.” Iverson tossed him the keys.
His hand was shaking as he inserted the key. The engine turned right over even though he was wishing for a dead battery right then.
“Now drive through the gate to the back of the property. Try anything and I’ll put a bullet into your brain and jump out.”