Falling Darkness--A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Karen Harper

  Claire avoided filling the silences with her own words or questions, a tough task, always her weakness as she wanted to reach out and help, to comfort and advise.

  Arch Rock seemed so close, as if they could touch it, despite its distance. It felt to Claire as if the forest hovered behind them, both views soothing and somehow threatening. The road far below and the distant crashing waves on the edge of the lake wove a strange spell.

  Julia suddenly spoke again. “Just a bit farther down, I accepted a proposal of marriage and several years later told my husband there we were going to have a child. Sadly, my mother died right here on these older steps you can see below this spot. Heart attack when she was hiking. She loved it here too.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother, but the other two things—happy events, at least then, no doubt.”

  “Which didn’t stay that way. Lost Michael and I’m losing Liz if I stay here, but I need to stay here. Not only because of my father or my career, but because I want to live and die here. Michael could do his consulting work from here, but he refuses. Other things—even another woman—keep him in Baltimore.” She heaved a huge sigh. “Yet I could stay here forever.”

  “But he brought you roses.”

  “He wants Liz in Baltimore, so needs me to help convince her to go there and not New York.”

  Claire wanted to argue that she sensed it was not just Liz that had brought him, but she had no right to intrude more than she had. Still, Julia had been so kind and gracious that she’d love to give back to her. But wouldn’t that be stepping over the WITSEC line that Jace had been warned against?

  “So,” Julia said, suddenly standing and leaning stiff-armed on the railing, bending slightly over to look down. Then, still without turning to face Claire, she wiped her cheeks with both hands and turned to come up the steps.

  Claire stood too and went up the few stairs to the top ahead of Julia. “So,” she echoed Julia’s single word when she joined her, “you said there was one more place you wanted to show us on the way back, but you can’t top this view.”

  “Nothing can, at least for me,” she repeated as they walked to where Nick and Lexi were waiting. “And maybe, as morose as I’ve been just now—and I apologize for that—we shouldn’t even make that other stop today or it might give Meggie nightmares. There’s a place called Skull Cave on the route I was going to take back, called that because a white man hiding out there from the Native Americans one night thought he felt rocks and stones of all shapes around him in the dark. When he woke in the morning, he was hiding in a cave where the Native Americans buried their dead, and those were bones and skulls.”

  “Ugh. Yes, maybe Skull Cave for another day. Jack and I would love to see Meggie get up on Scout’s back if there’s time for that.”

  “Great idea,” Julia said with a sniff. “Something happy. Something good.”

  * * *

  “I hope I’ll be riding a bike soon, but this darn leg may just have to wait for a snowmobile to get me around,” Nick told Claire after they’d covered Lexi up where she’d fallen asleep on the couch in the family room. She’d been so excited and used muscles gripping Scout’s sides so hard that she was exhausted. “And to think,” Nick went on with a sigh, “we’re all going to learn how to drive again—snowmobiles.”

  “Bronco should be back by now, shouldn’t he?” Claire asked Nick as they sat like old folks in wicker rockers on the front porch of Widow’s Watch. “Nita’s been wearing out that stretch of sidewalk waiting for him. Maybe I should walk down with her to meet him or get him.”

  “It’s crazy not having a cell phone or landline, but Julia warned against using either, even though we have them. The fewer trails we leave, the better off we are, even here.”

  “She scared me today, Nick. I glimpsed not only a chink in her armor, but a huge hole. It’s wrong for us to think law enforcement or FBI like her are always strong and steady with no problems, like they are just here to take care of us.”

  “I know. I’ve seen desperate people look at me as if I can save them from prison or bring back someone who was murdered. My mother used to look at me that way after Dad died. I was so young then and I was all she had left. But, hey, you don’t need another client begging for your psychological services today, and a nonpaying client at that. Sure, take a turn helping Nita so she quits worrying about why Bronco isn’t back. Heck’s researching info about Vern Kirkpatrick, Gina’s gone to interview at the medical center, so I’ll just be Mr. Mom with Lexi, in practice for when we’ll have two to tend.”

  She leaned over the arm of her rocker and kissed him soundly, then, without even going for her purse or sunglasses, went out to Nita so they could walk up the hill to Julia’s.

  * * *

  Julia wasn’t in the stables. And things just didn’t seem right to Claire. Someone—Julia, of course—must have reharnessed the two horses to the wagon they took this morning. They stood stomping and snorting, impatient to be driven. Scout looked fine in his stall, but two other horses were missing because there were only six here. For one moment, Claire imagined—hoped—that Michael had come back, Julia had talked Bronco into staying awhile longer, and they’d gone for a ride. Maybe they were going to take the wagon at first, then decided to take the horses. Claire had to admit she wanted things to go well for her. Maybe they went back to that romantic spot where Julia had said he’d proposed and where she’d told him a child was on the way.

  But everything that had happened today told Claire that was mere wishing. Her instincts, her intuition, her training told her something was wrong.

  The house door was open and no one answered when Claire called in.

  “I suppose Bronco and Hunter Logan—that’s Julia’s father’s name—could have gone for a walk,” Claire told the nervous Nita.

  She had been driving Claire crazy, saying all the way she thought something was wrong. But after all they’d been through since they’d hired Nita back in Naples, no wonder she’d learned to be on edge.

  “Cody! Mr. Logan!” Claire called into the kitchen and then from the bottom of the stairs. “I know the upstairs layout. Julia won’t mind. Let’s go check on them.”

  Her stomach cramped with foreboding, Claire hurried upstairs, still calling for “Cody” and Mr. Logan. Strange, but she was sure she smelled cigar smoke. Julia’s father could smoke, but she hadn’t smelled that before, and the odor usually clung.

  Maybe they were watching another Gene Autry movie or TV show and couldn’t hear, but all she heard was that same “Back in the Saddle Again” song playing over and over again.

  Nothing amiss in the main room, but in the next with all the glass display cases, Claire saw one was open and the gun was gone, the old man’s favorite silver six-shooter he had proudly shown them.

  Claire put her hand on Nita’s arm to hold her back; they both froze for a moment, listening. Cigar smoke again. Or could something be on fire? They stepped in farther.

  Beyond the case with the array of cowboy boots and hats, Claire gasped and Nita screamed.

  Unmoving, with videocassettes and CDs strewed around, Bronco was sprawled facedown on the floor with a puddle of blood under his head.

  18

  Heck carried his laptop out to where Nick was sitting on the front porch, waiting for Claire and Nita to come back with Bronco. “I see our new horse rider’s out like a light.”

  Nick nodded. “You know, Heck, Lexi’s a light in my life, despite the darkness we’ve all been through.”

  “I can say I know what you mean now, boss. Gina’s something, isn’t she? I do want to marry her, but not here. Soon as we get back home, if she’ll have me. I hope you can help to get her legal, if Patterson’s magic goes away when we’re out of here. I’ll pay for her education, whatever it takes to make her happy.”

  “I’d say she’s a great in
vestment in more ways than one.”

  “Right. Caramba, like she says. I better get used to her earning a lot more money than me someday. You’ll just have to raise my salary again, right? But here—look at this stuff on Vern Kirkpatrick. Wanting the old man’s Gene Autry collection must be to fit the theme in his casino and show. Yeah,” he said as he lifted the laptop onto Nick’s lap, “he’s a rich one. Jace was right about him. Thanks to Julia again, Jace is in a good spot at the airport to keep an eye on things, maybe including this guy, make sure he doesn’t run off with her father’s cowboy collection.”

  “If Jace can keep his cool and not hijack a plane just to get back in the cockpit.” Nick looked at the laptop screen. It listed Kirkpatrick’s top investment deals in Q2—the second quarter—as millions of dollars. Megadeals in technology and luxury real estate, but, of course, no names of clients. It was a long shot, but he could know or work with Ames.

  “Then here,” Heck said, leaning over to hit a few keys to bring up another page. “The interior of his Las Vegas Wild West Museum and Show, which must be a hobby to amuse him, or even some kind of tax shelter.”

  Nick whistled low as a page with a topless chorus line filled the screen. Well, not topless, since the six women were wearing tiny fringed vests and minuscule skirts that hid very little. “A hobby,” Nick said, “or a way to get access to the—ah, workers he pays.”

  “Yeah, he’s done that too, evidently even married a couple of them.” Heck brought up another page of a large display room with cowboy posters, shelves of memorabilia—and slot machines. “See,” Heck said, “he’s got decent Roy Rogers and Lone Ranger memorabilia collections, but it says here the Gene Autry display will be open soon. There’s an official Gene Autry Museum in California.”

  “What’s this Kirkpatrick’s background?”

  “Born and raised in Vegas, twice divorced from former showgirls, no children, not sure how he made his fortune before his appearing on the financial stage, yada yada.”

  “Shades of Ames in the way he goes after what he wants and maybe flies under the legal radar. And, no doubt, his wealth. Julia said he’d offered her dad a fortune. But she also made clear that, even if her father passed away and Liz didn’t want one cowboy boot of the collection, Julia would never sell to this guy. I have the feeling—actually, Claire’s convinced me—that Julia doesn’t like Wade Buxton either. Claire thinks he might be a WITSEC witness. If he is, he’s using an alias, so your trying to research him might be a dead end. Julia partly judges people by who she likes and trusts, and neither of those guys make that cut.”

  “Not my place to say this maybe, boss, but does she like Jace? He likes her. He said the forbidden fruit is best.”

  Nick swore under his breath. “I’d trust her to keep her head, but I don’t know about him.” And, he thought, He’d better quit looking at Claire like she’s forbidden fruit too.

  * * *

  Claire tried to beat back her panic. Bronco’s head looked split open on the back right side, like he’d been hit from behind. The blood still looked sticky and had that fresh copper smell. This had happened recently. Where were Julia and Mr. Logan?

  Nita was whispering a prayer in Spanish.

  Claire knew better than to move Bronco. Trembling, she touched the side of his neck. He was warm and had a pulse.

  “He’s alive,” she told Nita. “Stop crying. Put your jacket carefully against his head wound to stop the bleeding. Some of it is starting to crust over. We’ve got to call for help. Stay with him, and I’ll look for a phone. I don’t care what Julia says—we need phones even here in paradise.”

  She was angry Julia had talked them out of the ones the FBI had given them. She got to her feet and tore through the upstairs. No landline phones, at least not up here, and Julia and Liz would have their cell phones with them. So where was Julia?

  “Stay there!” she shouted to Nita as she passed the room again to go downstairs.

  Her forensic training instincts kicked in. She should not be leaving fingerprints everywhere like this, on the banister, doorknobs.

  No phone she could see in the living room. She burst into the first room at the front of the house. What was once a parlor and dining room must have been converted into bedrooms for Julia and Liz with a bathroom between.

  She could tell whose room was whose. Liz’s in mauve and pink was a mess, including a worktable with sketches of corset styles strewed across it. Julia’s bedroom in blues and greens had photos of Liz and a middle-aged couple that were Mr. Logan and no doubt her mother. The woman had been beautiful. Liz looked like her. And, despite the fact she’d seen Julia had a cell phone, here was a mobile phone on the bedside table!

  Using the hem of her jacket to preserve any previous prints, Claire snatched the phone from its cradle and hit 9-1-1.

  * * *

  Considering that everyone showed up on bicycles, Claire thought the sheriff and medical help had arrived quickly. The two EMTs soon had Bronco conscious but woozy. Claire told Sheriff Archer and his deputy, Officer Stan McCallum, that Bronco’s name was Cody Carson. When the sheriff just nodded, Claire blessed the WITSEC rule that local law enforcement knew about Julia and the rest of them.

  At first, Bronco just stared at Claire and the tearful Nita as if he didn’t know them. But he’d responded to his alias and then reached out to hold hands with Nita, so he might not have a concussion. His eyes seemed dilated, and he talked even slower than usual.

  “Do you know who hit you?” Sheriff Archer was asking.

  He looked the part of a rural sheriff, Claire thought, calm, steady, even laid-back. His gray hair was cut marine-short, and his eyes were steely blue. He was probably late forties or early fifties. His son, the pizza boy, resembled him, but why was she thinking of such things now?

  “Yeah,” Bronco muttered, even as one medic worked on cleaning and patching up his head wound. “He musta hit me. The old man wanted to be called Gene but I said he was Hunter Logan.”

  The sheriff said, “He thinks he’s Gene Autry sometimes. So he hit you for that? It looks like the display box labeled ‘Gene Autry’s six-shooter’ is empty.”

  “Yeah,” Bronco said again, followed by a long pause. “Musta been that. I told him he couldn’t go out on the range again, like he kept saying—singing.”

  “Do you know where the gun is?” the sheriff asked. “It doesn’t seem to be anywhere we can see.”

  “No idea. Hope he didn’t have bullets too.”

  “You got that right. We’ll have to ask that of Julia or even Liz.”

  “Cody,” Claire said, unable to contain herself, “where’s Julia? Was she here?”

  He started to shake his head, then just groaned.

  “I’ll ask the questions here, Mrs. Randal,” the sheriff said. “But go ahead, if you know, Cody.”

  “Don’t know. Did I see her? Didn’t see him when he hit me...”

  Claire said to the two medical men, “I hope you’ll check him for a concussion. Sheriff, will Lorena be able to go with him to the medical center?”

  “Sure. I’ll need statements from both of you, but that can be later.” He rose from his stooped position and motioned Claire out of the room in the hall by the staircase.

  “I’d like you and your friend to make private statements later so you don’t attract attention in front of others. She can go with him, but you should probably get back to Widow’s Watch.”

  “But don’t you see? Not only might Mr. Logan have hit him, but he’s missing. And Julia might be too. Two horses from the stables are gone.”

  “He did wander sometimes and liked to ride, but she put an end to that.”

  “Or thought she did. Maybe wished she could.”

  “He used to hightail it into the forest over by Arch Rock. She’d usually find him, but twice he was out all nig
ht, and she refused to lock him up. Once he was found peering in windows of one of his rental properties on the island, the one you’re in, I think. Finally, she had to take to locking him in.”

  “So he might have gone off again. Maybe she went after him on the second horse.”

  “Horses are better than bikes back in the forest to look for someone, especially if they get off the trail.”

  “Julia advised us not to use phones, so I can’t call my husband to help look for her. Could you send someone to tell him what happened? Cody’s his employee.”

  “So I read in the dossier. I’m gonna make this house off-limits until we find who hit Cody for sure and contact Julia. I’ll call her on my cell right now, but there’s lots of places deep in the woods where they don’t work. Can you keep an eye on the stables out back til I get a few more men here? Didn’t have many on duty. Stan!” he called over his shoulder. “You got an extra phone on you?”

  “In my saddlebag on the bike.”

  “Get it for Mrs. Randal, will you? So, Jenna,” he said with a hard but, she thought, trusting look at her, “you punch the star on it, direct line to me, but like I said, it won’t work everywhere.”

  Claire went back and told Nita she’d be in the stables. Still looking shaken, Nita nodded as she followed the two medics outside, where a wagon had appeared to take Bronco to the med center. When the cell phone was pressed into Claire’s hand, she was so grateful she almost cried.

  She waited while the sheriff called Julia. She didn’t answer, so he left a voice message, then called Liz, who said she was still at her shop, and told her it looked like her grandfather had not only “flown the coop” again but might have committed assault and battery.

  The sheriff put Officer McCallum in charge of the house and, before he left, made another call to his office to get a search party to “help Julia find Hunter Logan again. Just tell them to shout for Gene Autry!” After that, Claire went back out to the stable and leaned exhausted against the door.