This person had lied to them. Had hired them to find Charlie because she’d gone into hiding. Staring out the window at the pristine lake reflecting the mountains, he hoped the view would soothe him but was disappointed.
Why, God? Why is this happening? Heath wanted to trust Austin. He needed to trust his brother. Except he wasn’t sure he could count on Austin to track with him on this. How pathetic was that? He’d wanted this reconciliation with Austin. Hoped to see him around more often—but now he found himself on the opposite side of their search. He never imagined he’d find himself in this kind of jam. He would love to give Austin the benefit of the doubt, but how could he do that without jeopardizing Charlie’s safety?
“You all right, Heath?” Austin asked.
Willow had begun to help Evelyn by stacking the dishes. Heath wanted to tell Evelyn he’d do the dishes later so they could have some privacy, but he couldn’t do that without hurting her feelings. She didn’t want anyone in “her” kitchen anyway.
“I was thinking about the young woman. If she’s even still alive, she has a life now. Has friends and hobbies and a family. Why destroy her life with the revelation that her mother isn’t her real mother?” He knew that was just a lie—a big fat lie—to fuel the search. Heath turned on them and eyed Willow. Her eyes grew wide from the intensity coming off him. He should tone it down, but he couldn’t rein in the confusion and anger. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the man he thought he was if he couldn’t control this. This so-called mother could be the one who murdered Marilee and wants to find and kill Charlie.
“Have you considered that the woman you’re looking for doesn’t want to be found?”
Chapter thirty-seven
FRIDAY, 5:59 P.M.
BRIDGER-TETON NATIONAL FOREST
She didn’t want to be found.
A dense copse of spruce trees kept Charlie hidden as she stood next to the horse. She’d ridden Amber to her house, picking her way through the back trails. She ran her hand over the soft hair of Amber’s lightly freckled neck, the familiar scent of evergreen needles and musky horse comforting her. Then she lifted a pair of binoculars to her eyes. Mack hadn’t minded that she’d wanted to take Amber for a long trail ride. One day she’d have to pay him back for his generosity and willingness to keep her secret. The man was nothing if not trustworthy and honorable, even if he’d been a little pushy about his religion. She was glad she’d listened to him on that point.
After spotting Clyde driving up to her house, she couldn’t afford to park Bronc there and take her time searching. She thought her house would’ve fallen off his radar by now. That she would’ve fallen off his radar. What had brought him back to the house? Trying to cover his tracks in case someone decided to dig deeper?
She’d wanted to get in there and dig first, but she hadn’t wanted anyone to know she’d stuck around. If everyone—including her mother’s killer—thought she was long gone from here, then she would be safer. Some might think that disguising herself and staying off-grid was overkill, but they hadn’t watched their mother get murdered. Hadn’t gotten their own lives threatened. She knew with a piercing certainty that he wanted to find and kill her. She had to find him first.
“No, please don’t do this. I’m sorry . . . I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have asked for more . . .”
What had her mother meant by those words?
Charlie would get justice. The Hoback County Sheriff’s Department had their hands full when the region exploded with tourists. Ongoing search and rescues. The list went on. She didn’t know where the state police were on her mother’s case, if anywhere. All she knew was that nobody cared as much about finding Momma’s killer as she did.
Her vision blurred as the tears came. She swiped furiously at them.
“Oh, Momma, I miss you.” Lowering the binoculars, she pressed her face against Amber’s pink muzzle. Rubbed the horse’s neck. Thought about her mother.
Momma never made much money from her job. But that didn’t keep her from talking about the two of them taking a trip to Europe when Charlie graduated college. But Charlie didn’t want to travel. All she wanted was to ride horses. She dreamed about them all the time and drove Momma crazy. On Charlie’s fifteenth birthday, Momma finally took her to ride a horse. Then three years ago she met Mack and started to work for him on his ranch in the summers.
Pull it together now, girl. “You were meant for great things.” She could hear Momma’s words.
Now . . . now she was all alone in the world.
Mack was the only one she would trust. He’d been her only friend when her world fell apart. Well, Mack and Rufus, until the dog had run back to Mack. A man’s best friend, sure. But apparently not a girl’s best friend.
“That’s okay.” She slid her hand along Amber’s neck, running her fingers through the coarse hair. “You and I understand each other, don’t we?”
The horse chuffed.
Charlie loosely tied Amber’s reins around a tree. “You stay here until I get back. I won’t be long, I promise.”
Riding Amber in was a good plan. She wished she’d thought of it sooner. She could enter through the back of the house. If anyone approached, she would hightail it out the same way, like she’d done the night she’d escaped certain death. She would run for Amber, who would carry her off into over three million acres of Bridger-Teton National Forest.
Charlie kept to the edge of the woods until she had to cross two acres of meadow and then made her way to the back of the house.
God, please keep me safe. Odd that the prayers came more often now. Momma hadn’t been much of a churchgoer, and just when Charlie wanted to go to church, she couldn’t. Not yet. At least Mack had loaned her a Bible.
Please help me find something tonight.
Chapter thirty-eight
FRIDAY, 6:33 P.M.
EMERALD M RANCH
Growing up, Austin had spent as much time as he could in these woods, pretending he was someone else. Pretending he was safe. As if on a mission, he dragged Willow deeper into the dense forest. The familiar surroundings ignited memories, both good and bad.
Tensions had mounted at supper, given their conversation and Heath’s question. His brother’s words had disturbed Willow. Austin wanted to get her away from Heath so they could talk. So while Evelyn prepared a special dessert at Austin’s request, he’d taken the opportunity to bring Willow to his woods. They always calmed him.
Maybe it had been a bad idea to stay at the house. He’d question Heath about his sudden agitation later. Austin was tired of secrets. Now that he suspected Heath was hiding something, Austin better understood how Willow had felt when he had closed himself off from her.
She tromped behind him. “How much farther?”
“We’re here.” Austin pointed at the small brook he’d wanted to show her, along with the remnants of a fort he and his brothers had built when they were kids. He was surprised any part of it remained. “Here’s where I came to hide when Dad was drinking.”
Even though he was much too late, if he was going to open up, now was the time. Would she want to hear it? By the look in her eyes as she took in the crumbling fort, he was making the right decision. He wished he hadn’t waited so long.
Willow reached out and touched the rudimentary structure. “I’m sorry your life was so awful you felt you had to hide, but I’m glad you had a place to go.”
Leaning against a tree, he felt the bark press into his back. He focused on that pain instead of the prick at his heart. “Before the fire. She left our father.”
“Wait. Are you saying your mother left you behind with him?” A deep sadness interlaced her understanding tone.
That could undo him.
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. She couldn’t take us with her. She couldn’t afford three boys on her own. So she left us.”
It felt good to open up, to let himself be vulnerable. To be seen and heard.
Willow drew near. Mosquitoes—the only thing he hated ab
out these woods—buzzed around them, apparently only slightly deterred by the insect repellent they’d put on.
“I lost my parents in a car accident, but it has to hurt even more to know that your mother chose to leave you.”
“He was harder on her. She thought we could take it. And we did. We made it through with only a few scars.” The emotional scars took the longest to heal. “She came back to try again and the fire took her.”
He expected to see pity but instead tenderness shone in Willow’s eyes. Austin wanted to pull her close. He wanted to do so much more with her. But he shouldn’t. He needed to protect himself. He didn’t want to get hurt again. Nor did he want to hurt her. Emotionally, he was damaged goods. Opening up and being vulnerable to her might not have been such a good idea, after all.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
Could he be that completely honest with anyone? His heart beat erratically at the thought of actually telling her. “I wish I could erase my past and knock down the walls that I built. I wish that you and I could start over.”
Oh man. He’d said that out loud. His pulse pinging around inside, he held his breath. Longing poured from her eyes. Longing mixed with indecision. He knew exactly how she felt—he was feeling the same.
He thought he’d gotten over her, grown past his feelings for her, but he’d lied to himself. He leaned in, brushing the top of her head with his thumb, and down her soft cheek, to move her hair behind her ear. She inched her face up ever so slightly, and that was all the invitation he needed. He cupped her cheeks. All conscious thought left his mind.
Eyes closed, his lips touched hers—soft, supple. Needy. He drew in her essence, all that was Willow—a reminder of all he’d lost. All he could have had with her. His mind emptied of even his loss as he savored beautiful Willow, pulling her into his arms and deepening the kiss. Tonight he’d opened up his heart until she’d touched it. And now the world quaked beneath him. He had never kissed her like this.
It thrilled him.
It terrified him.
A low growl rumbled, morphing into a high-pitched, piercing shriek.
Willow startled and stepped away, but he caught her before she stumbled. She pressed into him as though afraid. “What is that?”
Austin held her nice and tight. “An elk. The sound of a bull elk bugle.”
“A what? It sounded like a Ringwraith from Lord of the Rings.”
He chuckled.
The elk bugled again, the sound bringing back memories. Willow appeared riveted as they listened. When it ended, she stepped from his arms, looking dazed. Was that from the elk or the kiss?
She put distance between them. Should he apologize? His throat thickened.
The walls were quickly going up around his heart—a defense mechanism, he knew. Should he even be considering a relationship with her again? He wanted to ask her, but maybe now wasn’t the time. He feared what she might say. Willow had always been the open one, wanting to talk it out, and now here she stood, holding it all in.
That bewildered him. He never knew confusion could be so painful.
She touched the structure that had barely remained over the years. “You said you’d come here to hide.”
“Yeah.”
“I keep thinking about what Heath said. What if he’s right? What if Charlie doesn’t want to be found? What about her rights? If given a choice, would she want to know about her birth mother? What kind of torture would that bring to someone if they’d grown up believing their parents were their real parents? In searching for the truth about ancestry, there’ve been plenty of times we’ve come across discrepancies about relationships. It’s never pretty. In fact, we learned my grandfather on my father’s side fathered a child outside his marriage. So Dad had a half brother. He and Mom were on their way to find him when they died in the car accident.”
He wanted to reach for her again. Comfort her. “Did he know they were coming?”
“No. That was a tough decision, but they thought it was best to approach him in person, or at least to try.”
“So he still doesn’t know?”
“No, and I have to wonder what good it would do for him to find out now. What difference can it make, except when a medical history might play into it? So maybe my uncle doesn’t want to be found either. How can we know, Austin?” She looked up into his eyes. “How can we know if we’re doing the right thing?”
“A crime was committed. We were hired by the victim’s mother, herself a victim, to resolve a cold case. Still, I understand what you’re asking. It’s a hard question.”
“And if we keep going, we could get her killed.”
Or you, Willow. There had already been attempts on her life. JT had been murdered to stop the search. He thought about Michael Croft, whom he’d failed to save—of course, the man hadn’t wanted his services.
Two women’s lives were in danger now, and he wasn’t sure how to keep either of them safe.
Then there was his monumental failure at the FBI. He’d made a tough call, and a life had been lost. He could still remember the crushing wails. The sound had reverberated through his being.
A shudder coursed over him.
“I guess we should pray about it and trust that God will lead us down the right path,” she said.
Her faith was obviously stronger than his.
In the meantime, he’d talk to Heath and find out what had disturbed him. Suspicion coiled around Austin’s gut. Heath was hiding something.
That seemed to be the family curse.
Chapter thirty-nine
FRIDAY, 7:07 P.M.
BRIDGER-TETON NATIONAL FOREST
Darkness descended on the house. Charlie hadn’t wanted to use her flashlight, but she had no choice. She flicked it on and continued searching through the rolltop desk. She might not get an opportunity to come back. Not with Clyde searching the house too. She assumed that was why he’d returned here. He could have found what he needed and destroyed it by now. Had he already searched through the desk?
Why had she been such a coward? She should have come back sooner. As it was, she’d forgotten the key to the house. But it was easy enough to get in through the unlocked window.
Think, Charlie, think. Where would Momma have put her bank statements if they weren’t in the desk? Momma had told Charlie she had a trust fund from which she received monthly payments, although Momma’s will hadn’t said anything about her trust fund or named Charlie as the beneficiary. The lawyer didn’t know anything either. Until Momma’s death, Charlie had never considered it strange her mother would be the beneficiary of a trust fund. Until now, she had never even cared.
Charlie had gained access to Momma’s bank account and downloaded the statements from the last couple of years. Nothing unusual there. No money coming from said trust fund even before the date Momma claimed payments to her had stopped. She’d been livid.
And that was about two months before she was murdered.
Charlie wanted to know where the cash had come from—the father her mother never told her about? Some other family member? And why had it stopped? What did Clyde have to do with it?
That her mother’s murder had to do with money was a reasonable assumption.
Dusk looming outside, she shut the desk. She still had to ride Amber back. Mack would probably be wondering where she’d gone and would send out a search party of one if he noticed she hadn’t returned with the horse and he couldn’t get ahold of her.
She pulled out the two-way radio. “Mack, you there?” She waited. Nothing.
She sent him a text. If she caught a signal at some point, the text should go through. Cell signals were spotty in the region, if she could get one at all, but that’s why they used the radio. She had a SAT or satellite phone back at the cabin for emergencies only. She wasn’t bleeding, so it wasn’t an emergency. The phone was expensive and not much better than a cell phone anyway.
She shined the flashlight around the house as she crept to Momma’s
room. She was alone here, and it felt strange to be sleuthing in her own home.
Momma’s bedroom.
The peaceful lavender comforter remained just as it had been when Charlie left and belied the violence that had occurred in this house. How much or how little had the authorities done to find her killer, especially given the sheriff’s relationship to Clyde? Not nearly enough.
The closet door hung open. Charlie shined the light on Momma’s shoes at the bottom. Momma loved the kind of shoes that she couldn’t wear at her job as a nurse, while Charlie loved boots.
Shoes . . .
She dropped to her knees and pulled out the shoe boxes, dumping the pretty sandals and stilettos. No wonder Momma wanted to travel. Get out of town. She wanted to dress up but had no place to go. Charlie had been the reason she’d stayed. In the back corner she found the box that had contained her own favorite boots. Opening the box, she hit pay dirt.
Stacks of bank statements. Charlie hadn’t known about this account. There were other boxes. Why hadn’t the sheriff’s department done more in their investigation? Why hadn’t someone already discovered this? Unfortunately, Charlie knew exactly why. They didn’t want to find it.
Nausea rolled like waves in her gut. If she had brought Bronc, she could take all the boxes back with her.
Light flashed across the wall from one side of the bedroom to the other.
Someone was coming. Heart pounding, Charlie grabbed a handful of the statements, then moved the boxes back into the corner. Stacked more shoes and boxes on top.
For a moment she thought about making a stand. This was her house after all. But someone had walked into the house and shot Momma. Staying hidden and doing her own investigation was the only way open to her.
She peeked between the mini blinds.
Sheriff Everett?
He trudged toward the house, his chin lifted from left to right as he searched the area. The only reason for him to be at the house was to investigate her mother’s murder. Or to make sure any evidence that had been left behind was destroyed.
Never Let Go Page 19