Mysterious Montana

by B. J Daniels

  She put the thought out of her head. Although it had never come up before, she never got romantically involved while on a case.

  She made her way back to the rock wall where she’d started, and, checking to make sure the coast was clear, slipped off her heels, wriggled up her dress and shimmied over the stones again. As she dropped to the expanse of manicured lawn that stretched between her and the road where her Mustang convertible was hidden in a clump of trees, she heard the silk rip again. This time all the way to her thigh.

  Holding the dress up around her hips and her heels, she jogged barefoot through the darkness to the car. Once behind the wheel, she tossed her heels into the back seat and picked up her cell phone.

  “I’ve got the photos,” she said the moment the line was answered. “You’re info was right about the commissioner. He is selling construction bids.”

  “Good work. That didn’t take long. I assume it was uneventful?”

  Absently she ran her tongue over her lips. “You know how these parties are.”

  “Send me the film, and I’ll take it from here.”

  She hung up, suddenly anxious to get moving. The ball was over. It was time for Cinderella to get home.

  Too bad she hadn’t left the prince a glass slipper so he could find her again. Instead, she’d given him a false name and disappeared on him. Some princess she was.

  Well, if she ever saw him again—Like there was any chance of that. She didn’t even live in the same city, and definitely didn’t travel in the same circles.

  “So long, Will Sheridan,” she whispered as she pulled away and glanced in her rearview mirror. The road behind her was empty. What had she expected, Will to come after her?

  Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she picked up the phone again and checked her messages. With a little luck, she might be able to sleep in tomorrow, since she had a long drive ahead of her tonight.

  “Sam—?”

  Her heart began to pound at the once oh-so-familiar voice on her machine.

  “It’s Lucas.”

  As if he had to tell her. On key, her heart began to ache. Funny, but even after all these years just the sound of him could still make her hurt. Lucas. She swore under her breath and almost missed the rest of his message.

  “I need your help, Sam. I’m in trouble. I need you to look after—”

  She heard a noise in the background. Then silence.

  She stared at the phone in disbelief. She hadn’t even realized he knew where to find her. And now, after all these years and everything that had happened, Lucas had the nerve to call her out of the blue and say, “Hey, I’m in trouble. I need your help. Look after—” After what? His dog? His cat? His boat? His finances? Her heart began to beat harder. Oh God, surely he wasn’t going to say his son? Zack? But why call her? Why not call Zack’s mother?

  She dialed Seattle information, got Lucas’s home number and called it. The line rang and rang.

  She hung up, unable to shake the scared feeling that had settled around her heart. Distracted, she barely noticed the dark-colored van that pulled out after her a few blocks from the party.

  Normally, she could lose herself behind the wheel. Especially in the convertible with the top down. But on the five-hour drive home to Butte, not even speed, the cool fall night or letting her hair down could keep her from thinking about the party, Will Sheridan, the kiss and Lucas’s call.

  When she pulled into her driveway a little after 2:00 a.m., she saw in the headlights that something was terribly wrong. The front door of her small house stood open. She pulled her .357 from beneath the seat and carefully opened the car door.

  The night was black, the shadows hunkering in the bushes around the house even blacker. A deathly quiet hung over the neighborhood. Not even the dog down the street barked.

  As she padded barefoot to the front door, she raised the weapon, bracing herself for whatever might be waiting inside. The place had been ransacked. She wasn’t overly neat, but she could see the damage the moment she stepped in. A faint light leaked out of the kitchen, spilling across the cluttered floor.

  She swore under her breath. Why would someone do this? It wasn’t as if she had much of value to steal. Behind her, through the still-open doorway, she heard a car engine. She turned in time to see a dark-colored van cruise by. It was too dark to see the driver, not that she paid that much attention. The van continued on down the street, the sound of its engine dying away as she turned back to her vandalized house.

  She quickly searched the two floors. Nothing seemed to be missing, not that she could really tell in all this mess. The thing was, whoever had broken in hadn’t bothered with her TV, stereo, VCR or the two good paintings she’d purchased for the living room. That about covered everything of value.

  Once sure the burglar was not inside, she locked up and dialed 911, requesting her father, knowing she was in for a lecture on security systems.

  She had barely hung up from talking with him when the phone rang, making her jump. Trying to still her racing pulse, she picked up the receiver, expecting to hear Lucas’s voice.

  “Samantha?”

  Talk about déjà vu. Another blast from the past. Memories drifted over her like confetti—bright-colored vivid flashes of the past. Almost all of it painful.

  “Cassie?”

  It had been years since she’d heard from her former college roommate. Not since Cassie’s wedding to Lucas. Certainly not since Cassie’s divorce from Lucas a year later.

  In those few seconds, she wondered what Cassie had been doing the past five years. It beat wondering what would’ve happened if Lucas had never met Cassie.

  “I know it’s been a long time—” Cassie sounded apologetic.

  The call shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Not after the one from Lucas.

  But there was something else in Cassie’s tone that made her wary. “What’s wrong?” she asked, remembering Lucas’s cryptic message on her machine.

  “Have you heard from Lucas?” Cassie asked.

  Her heart began to pound again. “Just a short message on my machine. I tried to call him, but I didn’t get an answer.”

  “Have you talked to him lately?” Cassie asked, sounding hesitant.

  “No.” She hated to admit that she hadn’t even thought of Lucas in a long time. The great love of her life. The great loss of her life. When had she quit thinking about him every minute of every day?

  “Or received a letter or maybe a package from him?” Cassie asked, her voice taut.

  Heart racing, Sam asked, “Cassie, what’s happened?”

  “Lucas has disappeared and Zack—” Cassie’s voice broke. “Oh, Sam, I need your help.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Wolf Point, Montana

  Two days later

  Will Sheridan prided himself on his tenacity. Samantha’s sudden disappearance the night of the party had left him all the more eager to find her.

  But before very long he’d realized it wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. There was no Samantha Moore listed in the phone book. Nor did any of the Moores listed in Billings, Montana, know of a Samantha who fit her description.

  Worse, when he’d called his sister, she’d been distracted over the commissioner’s recent resignation.

  “He’s being investigated for corruption—corruption, mind you. And he was at my party,” she cried. “Can you imagine? A criminal at one of my parties?”

  “Alleged criminal,” he noted distractedly, then quickly asked her about Samantha Moore.

  Katherine assured him that no one by the name of Samantha Moore had been invited to the party—not as a guest or as a date of an invited guest.

  “Are you sure you didn’t just imagine this woman?”

  His sister had sounded a little peeved because he hadn’t cared for the woman she’d had in mind for him. Not that Jennifer Finley hadn’t been adequate.

  But she was no Samantha Moore. After Samantha, no other woman held any interest fo
r him.

  There were, however, several things about her that did cause him concern. The first of which was the Sudden and Sensuous Kiss.

  And the fact that she’d literally disappeared from the party afterward. Why was that? He might have thought her shy, if not for the kiss. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted Katherine to see her, since Samantha wasn’t, it appeared, an invited guest. Another small concern.

  Neither explanation seemed to fit, but whatever the reason for her disappearance, he intended to find her. And he’d told Katherine as much.

  “I just hope you know what you’re getting into,” she’d said haughtily before hanging up.

  Did he? He’d assured himself with his usual confidence that he could handle whatever there was to learn about the woman. After all, unless he was completely wrong about her, she was going to be his wife.

  And he was seldom wrong about things.

  Two days later, on a hot, late-fall afternoon, he found her quite by accident. She was sitting in a blue Firebird in Wolf Point, Montana, her attention on something in the opposite direction from him.

  He’d literally done a double take when he saw her as he drove past. She didn’t look anything like she had at Katherine’s party. And yet, he’d have known her anywhere.

  His first impulse was to get out of his car and walk up to her driver’s window. She had it rolled down, and was leaning back in the seat as if waiting for someone in the shade of the trees lining the quiet street.

  He pulled over half a block past her car and walked back, coming up behind the Firebird. The car had plates for Silverbow County—a county clear across the state from where he’d first seen her. He wondered what she was doing in Wolf Point—sitting in a car this far from home. If her home even was in Silverbow County. And the car seemed all wrong for the woman he’d met at the party. Maybe she’d borrowed it from a friend.

  As he approached the Firebird on the passenger side, watching the side mirror as he advanced, he was even more intrigued by this woman. Strangely, he had the feeling she might bolt if she saw him. Or maybe not so strangely. After all, she had disappeared from the party without a word—and after that very intimate kiss.

  He’d almost reached her car when he heard the engine turn over. He wasn’t about to let her get away again. Impulsively, he rushed forward, grabbed the passenger side door handle and pulled. The door swung open, and he jumped in.

  * * *

  SURPRISE DIDN’T EVEN come close to describing what Samantha felt when Will Sheridan leapt into the front seat of the Firebird. Her hand went for the pistol duct-taped beneath her seat—stopping just short of the weapon when she recognized him.

  “Hello,” he said, reminiscent of their first encounter. Except for the lack of champagne.

  “Will Sheridan?” She stared at him openmouthed and tried to get her heart rate back to near normal.

  He grinned. “You remembered.”

  Not likely that she’d forget. However, she’d never dreamed she’d see him again. And certainly not here. Certainly not now. What could the man possibly be doing so far from where she’d met him? Not to mention his timing, which was nothing short of amazingly bad.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Looking for you.”

  Oh, no, this didn’t sound good. He must have found out that she was the one who busted the commissioner at his sister’s party.

  “Imagine running into you here in Wolf Point,” he said, his look questioning, suspicious. Not surprising under the circumstances.

  It was beyond even her imagination. She’d sized up Will Sheridan at the party and had known, even before she investigated him later, what kind of man he was. A stable, successful construction company owner with good standing in the community. Everything a woman could want. If that woman liked predictable and unimaginative. And terrible timing.

  “Why were you looking for me?” she asked, already knowing the answer, wondering how she could get rid of him—short of shooting him.

  “We didn’t get to talk the other night at the party.”

  That stopped her. “What?”

  He grinned. “I want to get to know you.”

  She stared at him. He had to be kidding. “Why?”

  It was the kiss, dummy.

  Pleeeeze. I’ll admit it was a nice kiss—

  Oh, come on. Can you even remember the last time a man made you feel like that?

  Let’s not even go there.

  “Why?” He laughed. “I should think it’s obvious.”

  It was the kiss. She dragged her gaze away to look down the street at the tan rental car parked in front of the motel. Time was running out. She had to do something. And quick.

  She tried to keep the urgency out of her voice. “Will, I’m flattered but this really isn’t a good time.” Major understatement.

  He seemed to notice then how she was dressed. A jogging bra that showed a lot of cleavage and midriff. A pair of skimpy running shorts. Cross-trainers and ankle socks. No makeup. Her unruly sun-streaked brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was amazed he’d even recognized her.

  “I guess my timing isn’t very good?”

  Boy howdy.

  He smiled and reached for the door handle. She never knew she could feel relief and disappointment at the same time.

  But he didn’t get out.

  “Here’s the thing. I had a little bit of a hard time finding you,” he said, turning back to her. He flashed her a hundred-watt smile. “Now, I’m afraid if I let you out of my sight you’ll disappear again, and I might not be so lucky next time.”

  She stared at him. How had he found her? That was some luck.

  Could be fate.

  Yeah, right.

  “So,” he said, appearing as conflicted as she felt.

  She could understand his confusion. She’d kissed him at first sight, lied to him and disappeared. Now here she was in this rather revealing outfit in a different town, acting even more strangely. Add to that the fact that he must have gone to a lot of trouble looking for her. By now he’d know she’d lied about her name and a lot more. And here she was trying desperately to get rid of him. What he must think!

  So why was he still here? Why didn’t he just turn and run?

  * * *

  THE LAST THING on Will Sheridan’s mind was running. Admittedly, the situation was odd, and it appeared things wouldn’t be quite as easy as he first might have hoped. But that had never stopped him when he wanted something.

  And he wanted Samantha. When he looked at her he was struck by one clear thought: he wouldn’t mind waking up to that face every morning. Tiny freckles trailed across the bridge of a cute little nose, golden lashes framed wide warm sea-green eyes, suntanned skin glowed on prominent cheekbones.

  She’d been stunning at the party. But without makeup, she looked…delectable.

  It wasn’t just her face or her lovely body—something he could see a lot of right now. There was something…intriguing about this woman. Mysterious.

  “So,” he said again, hoping she’d help him out. He watched her shoot a glance down the block in the same direction she’d been looking when he’d first seen her. He followed her gaze down the quiet street to what appeared to be a small, one-story nursing home. The sign in front read, Lazy Rest. A tan Buick was parked in the for-the-disabled space out front. The car had a rental sticker on it but no disabled decal.

  He could feel her tension. It was as strong as the low-frequency hum that vibrated between them. Was she meeting someone? Was that why she wanted him out of the car? She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved. Temporarily, he hoped.

  “If I could just get your phone number,” he said, wanting so much more. Home address, work number, e-mail, social security number and first-grade school photo. “I’d like to call you for a date, to start with—”

  Her gaze swung around to his, her eyes wide. “You tracked me down just to ask me for a date—?”

>   She sounded incredulous. And almost suspicious. As if there was some other reason she thought he’d come looking for her.

  “—To start with?”

  Definitely suspicious now. Imagine what she’d say if he told her his real intention.

  Up the block, the front doors of the rest home opened and a short, stocky man in his late thirties came down the long walkway. Was this the man she’d been waiting for? Shorty headed for the tan Buick parked at the curb.

  Samantha seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of her eye. She swung around in her seat to stare in the man’s direction, tense as a tightrope walker.

  “Look, you seem busy. What are you doing tonight?”

  “Tonight wouldn’t be good,” she said, her gaze on the man now opening the driver’s door of the Buick. “Why don’t I call you?”

  Did she really think she could get rid of him that easily? “Samantha, I have no idea what’s going on here, but I’m not getting out of this car until you at least talk to me. If you hadn’t kissed me the way you had—”

  * * *

  SO IT HAD BEEN that blamed kiss! She’d regretted it for two days now. But only because she hadn’t been able to put it—or Will Sheridan—out of her mind. She’d wondered, what if…What if they’d met under different circumstances. What if she ran into him again?

  And now she had. And at the worst possible time!

  She glanced over at him. One look, and she knew he meant what he’d said. He wasn’t getting out of her car until he got some answers. Not that she could blame him. But he was making this very difficult.

  She looked back to see the man getting into the rental car look back toward the nursing home, and she knew what she was going to have to do.

  This is just part of the job.

  Sure it is.

  She threw herself into Will’s arms and kissed him. Again. Only this time she didn’t lose herself in his kiss. This time she kept it short and sweet. She couldn’t afford not to.

  * * *