Mysterious Montana

by B. J Daniels

  Frantically, he fought to untie the drawstring. It gave, and he opened the bag, hurriedly uncovering Samantha’s face. Jerking the tape from her mouth, he felt for a pulse.

  His relief made him weak. Sam’s pulse was strong and steady.

  As the sound of the van’s engine died off in the distance, he pulled the bag from her body, scooped her up from the snow, and carried her to the Bronco. When he neared it, he saw that Zack was awake and looking out the window, his eyes huge.

  “What’s wrong with her?” the boy cried.

  “She’s all right,” Will said as he slid Sam into the front seat. Zack climbed up to sit beside her.

  She murmured something in her sleep, a groggy, almost drunken sound. That and her apparent lack of visible injury lead him to believe she’d probably been drugged. Something mild enough that she was already starting to come out of it.

  “She’s just sleeping,” he assured Zack.

  The boy looked skeptical. He was no dummy.

  Will climbed behind the wheel, not sure where to take her. Someplace warm and dry, for starters. He would prefer to take her to the hospital, but he knew he’d be risking a possible brush with the authorities. The last thing he wanted to do was get Samantha in trouble with the law. Like she wasn’t already. And considering the alternatives, he felt Zack was safer with Sam and him than with anyone else right now. At least, until they could find his father and get to the bottom of all this.

  He reminded himself that he was now neck deep in it. That should have shocked him. Scared the hell out of him. At the very least, worried him. What had he gotten himself involved in? Had he lost his mind?

  “She’s going to be okay,” he said, wondering whom he was trying to reassure—Zack or himself. He squeezed the kid’s narrow shoulder, then reached over to smooth Samantha’s hair back from her face, the bruise on her cheek from earlier now dark against her suntanned skin. She sighed in her sleep, and he felt a terrible weight on his heart that he feared would never go away.

  He found a motel on the edge of Butte where he could hide the Bronco from view of the highway, then carried Samantha into the room, Zack in their wake. She was starting to come out of it. In the distance he could hear sirens.

  He put her down on the bed and began to take off her boots. Zack stood guard over her, a determined look on the kid’s face. Once Will got her coat and boots off, he covered her with a blanket, trying not to think about her in that bag. Or the two people who had drugged her and put her there. He hadn’t gotten a good look at either the man or the woman because of the hooded coats they wore and the snow. Just an impression of evil.

  Samantha mumbled softly, her eyelids flickering. He got up and went to get a cold washcloth. When he came back, Zack was sitting next to her, holding her hand. The scene squeezed his heart like a fist.

  “Here, put this on her forehead,” he said, handing the washcloth to the boy.

  Zack did as he was told, then sat studying Samantha’s face.

  “We probably should just let her sleep for a while,” Will told the kid. He glanced toward the second bedroom. “I think there’s a TV in there. I’ll holler when she wakes up.”

  Zack seemed reluctant to leave Sam, but finally agreed. A few moments later, Will heard the sound of the TV.

  He turned his attention back to Samantha, only to find her looking up at him, her eyes wide and pupils dilated.

  * * *

  SHE SAT UP too fast. Everything started to spin, and she fell back, closing her eyes against a wave of nausea. “Where am I?”

  “In a motel room.”

  “Zack—” Her eyes flew open as she tried to get up again.

  Will gently pushed her back down. “Zack is fine. He’s in the other room watching TV.” He sat down on the side of the bed. “He’ll be glad to see that you’re awake.”

  She focused on Will as she tried to still the nausea. Her head hurt and she felt sick. But still, he was the best-looking thing she could ever remember seeing. “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember?” he asked softly.

  Something dark at the edge of her memory shoved its way in. Oh, God. She closed her eyes again as everything came back in nauseating waves of fear and revulsion. Al’s body behind her desk. Someone at the window. The blow to her head. The prick of a needle in her thigh. And the bag. Oh, God, the smell and feel of the rough fabric of the bag covering her face—

  Her eyelids snapped open again. She tried to sit up; something cold and damp slid over her face. A washcloth. She caught it before it fell to her lap, vaguely registering that Will had gotten a cloth for her.

  “I found Al in my office. He’d been shot twice in the chest. And then I heard something at the window—”

  He took the wet cloth from her and pressed it to her cheek.

  She covered his hand with her own and closed her eyes. “I heard someone behind me—” she could feel the lump on the side of her head throbbing “—someone hit me and drugged me.” She opened her eyes, the horror too real. “The bag. They put me in a bag.”

  “Forget about it,” he said gently. “It’s all over now. You’re safe. Zack is safe.”

  “But how—” She spotted Will’s coat over by the door, still dripping with melted snow, his boots soaked as well. She looked up at him. Water droplets still clung to his hair.

  He’d come after her. He’d saved her.

  Tears welled in her eyes, emotions rushing over each other. Gratitude that he hadn’t listened to her and come after her when he had. Fear that something could have happened to him and Zack. And disappointment in herself. She’d needed him—and she didn’t want to need him.

  “Did you see who did it?” she asked, trying to pull herself together.

  “A man and a woman. That’s all I can tell you. I didn’t get a good look at either of them. It was dark and snowing so hard. They were bundled up. She was slight in build. The man was medium height, medium build. Sorry I can’t give you more.”

  The descriptions could fit anyone. Except, she distinctly remembered seeing a flash of blond hair just before she was hit. Cassie. And the man Sam had heard in the background on the phone? Lucas? The thought rattled her. She forced it away as she pulled the washcloth from her cheek and balled it in her hands to still the shaking.

  “You’re all right now,” he said. His fingers glided like a breath over her cheek. He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face, his gaze kind and caring, and almost her undoing.

  She sat up a little, leaning back against the pillows he’d plumped behind her head. She sucked in deep breaths, trying desperately to corral her emotions.

  “They were going to kill me,” she whispered, the fear so real she could still smell the bag over her head, the tape covering her mouth.

  He took the washcloth from her and put it on the nightstand. “If they wanted to kill you, they’d have shot you like they did the kidnapper. I don’t think they wanted to kill you. I’d say the bag was probably meant for Al.”

  She shivered. Maybe the bag had been for Al. Because if it had been for her, they would have known beforehand that she would stop by her office. And the only way they could know that was if they knew she was supposed to meet Cassie tonight.

  Cassie could have been the woman whom Will had described and whose name Al had tried to write in his blood. CA—What more evidence did she need? But the man—Not Lucas. She couldn’t believe he’d burglarized the company he worked for. Let alone that he was involved in—Murder.

  She closed her eyes. They’d put her in a bag. They’d had some plan for her. Dear God.

  “I should call the police,” she said, knowing that was true. A man had been murdered in her office.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  She opened her eyes, unable to believe Will Sheridan had said that.

  He shook his head and smiled a little at her shocked expression. “You were right originally to protect Zack by not going to the authorities. Someone wants that boy,
and until you find out what’s going on, I think he is safest with us.”

  Us. She loved the sound of that word falling from his lips.

  “Samantha?” Zack asked tentatively from the doorway between the two rooms.

  She smiled and held out her hand to him. He seemed to hesitate, but only a moment. He came to her, and she drew him into her arms, hugging him tightly.

  “I’m all right,” she said, realizing it was true.

  “I was going to order a pizza,” Will said.

  Zack lifted his head from her embrace. “Pizza?” His eyes lit up.

  “That’s a great idea.” She knew he was just trying to keep things normal for Zack. She licked her dry lips, her face sensitive where the tape had been. Here with Will and Zack, things did almost feel all right. Temporarily. She didn’t kid herself that it would last.

  “Get the phone book and find us a pizza joint,” he said to Zack. “How about a hot bath?” he suggested to her, as the boy went into the other room to look for the phone book. “Might make you feel better.”

  “Yes.”

  He insisted on carrying her into the bathroom. She rested her head against his strong shoulder, relaxing in the warm, safe feel of his arms around her, listening to the steady, sure beat of his heart and breathing in the male scent of him.

  She felt intoxicated as he set her down while he drew her water. Her inebriation had nothing to do with being drugged.

  “I can manage now, thank you,” she said, when he’d filled the tub. “Thank you,” she said again, this time for a lot more than the bath, knowing there weren’t words to thank him enough for saving her life. She looked into his blue eyes, bright behind his glasses. “Are you sure, Will?” she whispered, so close to him she could barely catch her breath. “Now that we know just how dangerous it is.”

  He took off his glasses to wipe the steam from them with his shirttail. “My heart is set on seeing Seattle.”

  She nodded, feeling tears of gratitude rush to her eyes. “You must think I’m not much of a private investigator,” she said, biting her cheek as she watched his face.

  He shook his head and smiled. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You were just outnumbered. In a fair fight, I’d put my money on you anytime, Sam.”

  Sam? He’d called her Sam. Her heart leapt foolishly in her chest. No one had ever made those three letters sound so intimate.

  He cupped her face with his hand. The strong, capable hand of a man who worked for his living. Maybe they had more in common than she’d first thought. She touched his hand.

  “You sure you’ll be all right in here by yourself?” Will asked her, his blue eyes dark with obvious desire. “I could wash your back.”

  She swallowed, consumed with the thought of the two of them in the tub. The temptation was almost too much.

  “I thought we were going to order a pizza,” Zack said from the doorway behind them. He held the phone book in his hands.

  “I assume you’ve already decided what kind you want,” Will said.

  “Pepperoni-and-sausage with extra cheese,” Zack said still waiting in the doorway.

  “You’d better see to Zack.” She smiled.

  He nodded and smiled back at her. “Maybe another time,” he whispered. “Just holler if you need me.”

  Oh, she’d needed him, all right. But she hadn’t hollered. He’d just been there, saved her, and she’d probably never know exactly how he’d done it. She didn’t want to need him. Couldn’t. When the time came and he was no longer around—She didn’t want to think about that now.

  All she knew was that she’d underestimated this man.

  Just as she’d underestimated just how dangerous this case was. She wouldn’t make either mistake again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  By the time she came out of her bath, she felt a little better, though still shaken, still confused. But more determined than ever to keep Zack safe and find out what was going on.

  And yet she couldn’t shake the memory of the kidnapper lying in his own blood, having tried desperately to leave a message. Where was Cassie? And Lucas? They both seemed to be missing now.

  This case had gone from what she thought was a simple abduction by a parent to…murder. Every instinct told her to turn this over to the authorities. Legally, she was required to come forward. She could lose her P.I. license, maybe even go to jail, if she didn’t. But she also couldn’t take the chance that the authorities would give temporary custody to Zack’s birth mother. There was no hard evidence against Cassie. Yet.

  Because of that, Samantha couldn’t be sure that Cassie wouldn’t avoid arrest and somehow get her hands on Zack.

  But she couldn’t forget the glimpse of blond hair she’d seen just before someone had hit her, drugged her and stuffed her into that bag. She hugged herself, chilled to her soul by the memory. Cassie was slightly built, blond, and had said she would stop by Sam’s office if she missed Sam at the mall. And hadn’t Sam known as well as anyone what Cassie was capable of?

  But murder?

  “Do you want some pizza?” Zack asked, looking at her with concern as she came out of the bathroom.

  She smiled to reassure him and went over to see what kind of pizza they’d ordered. Loaded. She took a slice to be polite and prove that she was fine. Even Zack didn’t eat with his usual enthusiasm. He appeared worried about her, and her assurances didn’t seem to help.

  “Can I watch TV in my room?” he asked, leaving some pizza uneaten.

  “Sure,” Will said, and ruffled the boy’s hair as he passed.

  Zack tossed a smile at him over his shoulder as he went into the other room, jumped on the bed a few times, then settled down to watch whatever was on the tube.

  “You’re good with him,” she commented.

  Will laughed. “Believe me, I’m just winging it. I know nothing about kids.”

  “But you’ve always wanted some of your own.”

  Subtle, real subtle.

  He looked away. “Oh, yeah. Someday.”

  A heavy silence fell between them. She wondered what she’d said wrong. “Well, you’re a natural. You should have a half-dozen.”

  He began to clean up the pizza mess. She watched him, wondering about his sudden evasiveness. There was so much to wonder about Will. He’d saved her life. But she felt a lot more than gratitude. Not good. Will wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever let himself fall for a P.I.

  And that’s what she was, wasn’t she? She reached for her purse and dug out her cell phone. When the dispatcher at the police department answered, she asked for her father.

  “Where are you?” he demanded, obviously trying to keep his voice down.

  She heard him shut his office door.

  “I’ve been worried sick about you,” he said in a more normal voice.

  “Why, what’s happened?” she asked innocently.

  “A man was murdered tonight in your office.”

  Someone had called the police. “You’re kidding.”

  “Where are you, Sam?” her father asked again.

  “On my way to Seattle. Is Andy—”

  “He’s fine. He wasn’t there at the time, fortunately, and he says he doesn’t know anything.”

  “Who called it in?” she asked, ignoring her father’s skepticism.

  “Anonymous caller.”

  Big surprise. “Any idea who the dead man is?”

  “Al Knutson, better known as Al the Ox, a former professional wrestler turned small-time crook. I assume you didn’t know him?”

  “No.”

  “He’s from the Seattle area. But we didn’t find any vehicle around your office. Pretty odd, since no one in his right mind would walk around in that neighborhood at night. Sam?”

  She braced herself. “Yes, Dad?”

  “You’re sure you don’t know anything about this?”

  “It’s a mystery to me,” she said truthfully. She hated not being more honest with him, but she couldn’t put him in
a position where he’d have to keep anything from his chief, and she wasn’t going to turn Zack over to the cops. Not yet. Especially now that she feared Cassie was involved.

  “But I’ll keep in touch, Dad. I should be back in a few days.” What were a few days, anyway? Then she’d tell him everything. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but soon she’d have some answers. At least, more than she did now. “I’m sure Andy can handle anything that comes up.”

  She hung up and looked at Will. He was waiting expectantly. “Someone called the cops. They know about Al.” She took a breath. “Can you drive?”

  “Seattle?”

  She nodded. “It’s the last place Lucas was seen.”

  And Lucas was the key to this mess. “But first we need a different vehicle. We’ll borrow my cousin Tommy’s pickup.”

  * * *

  THEY WERE OUTSIDE Missoula, the wind howling, snow turning to rain and splattering on the windshield, when her cell phone rang.

  She shot a look at Will. He frowned. Almost afraid, she answered it before it could ring again and wake up Zack.

  “Hello?”

  Silence. “Sam? Oh, thank God, you’re all right,” Cassie cried. “I was so scared when I saw the police cars and heard there had been a murder.”

  Samantha looked at Will and mouthed Cassie. “I missed you at the mall,” she said into the phone, unable to keep the accusation from her voice.

  “I was there at eight,” Cassie said quickly. “When you didn’t show up by eight-fifteen, I got scared and left. Is Zack all right?”

  “He’s fine. Where are you now?” she asked tersely.

  “You don’t think I had anything to do with what happened at your office?” Cassie sounded flabbergasted by even the notion.

  “You admitted you were there tonight.”

  “No—I mean, yes, I went by there.”

  “Alone?” Sam asked.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I went to my office because you said you’d check there if you missed me at the mall. I found a man dead behind my desk.” She didn’t mention the letters Al had written in his own blood. “Someone attacked me. The attackers were a man and a woman. A woman with blond hair.”