by BJ Daniels
That sounded just fine with Emma. She’d missed her husband. Ahead she could see the main house at Chisholm Cattle Company. All Emma wanted to do was get home, go upstairs with her husband and make love. She said as much to Hoyt.
He swore under his breath. She thought that was his reply to her suggestion. Instead he was staring at the house as he pulled into the yard.
Emma turned to see that the front door was standing open, no other vehicles around and since Marshall’s brothers, other than Tanner, were now all at the hospital…
“Stay in the pickup,” Hoyt ordered as he pulled down the shotgun from the rack behind the pickup seat. Grabbing a handful of shells, he carefully closed the truck door and hurried toward the house and the open doorway.
Emma, who had never been good at taking orders, especially from a man, was hot on his heels. As she hurried up the steps and crossed the porch, she heard Hoyt moving cautiously through the rooms.
She would have followed him farther into the house, but she stopped just inside the door pole axed, her heart pounding as she breathed in the familiar scent of Aggie Wells’s perfume.
The insurance investigator was no longer missing. She’d been in this house again, which meant she was alive even though her car had been found abandoned and the sheriff suspected foul play.
But it was the second realization that panicked Emma. Aggie Wells was still determined to prove Hoyt Chisholm a murderer—even if it was her own “murder” he went to prison for.
“BILLIE RAE?” There was now a sharp edge to Duane’s voice.
“I’m still here,” she said into the phone. She told herself to just breathe. She could do this.
“Right, and where exactly is here?” he asked as if she was a disobedient child. It was the same tone he’d used with her since she’d said, “I do.”
“I’m broke down near a town called Fort Benton.”
He swore. “Of course you are and now you need my help.” There was smug satisfaction in his voice. She knew he was smiling and that, she’d learned, was when he was his most dangerous.
“How long will it take you to reach me?” she asked, needing to know where he was and how much time she had to prepare.
“I’m leaving Whitehorse now.” She heard him put down his car window. A moment later a siren came on. He’d put the portable cruiser cherry light on the roof. “Give me the directions.”
She told him how to get to the dead-end river road she’d seen on the map.
“How could you be so stupid as to go down a dead-end road?” he demanded, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. The two to three hours you’re going to have to wait for me will give you time to think about what you’ve done and how you intend to make it up to me.” He hung up.
Billie Rae snapped the cell closed with trembling fingers, then went back inside the motel room for the phone book. She found the first address she needed, then checked the Great Falls map at the front and started the car.
She shuddered at the thought of facing Duane and feared she wouldn’t have the courage to carry through with her plan. But she knew that if she showed any sign of weakness, she was a dead woman.
What sustained her was the knowledge that if she didn’t make her plan work, Duane wouldn’t end it there. He would still go after Tanner. In his mind, Tanner would be to blame for all of this.
Pushing the thought away, she concentrated on what she had to do. Tanner would be waiting for her at Northern Winds casino. He should be safe there. Just thinking about him made her feel stronger as she drove to the first shop on her list.
SHERIFF MCCALL CRAWFORD was just leaving the hospital after putting out a warrant on Duane Rasmussen when her cell phone rang.
“We have a positive identification on the remains found buried out by the river,” Coroner George Murphy said.
McCall braced herself because she had a bad feeling she already knew.
“The remains are those of Krystal Blake Chisholm,” George said.
Hoyt Chisholm’s third wife, the one who disappeared almost thirty years ago.
“Cause of death?” she asked.
“A blow to the back of the head, according to the crime lab doctor who did the autopsy. It’s all in the report, but I know you can never wait for the report, so I called you.”
McCall smiled. “You know me too well. Thanks.” Krystal Chisholm’s murder cast a whole new light on the deaths of Hoyt Chisholm’s other two wives who had died under questionable circumstances—and now insurance investigator Aggie Wells’s disappearance.
“We found something among the remains in the tarp I think you’re going to want to see,” George said.
“I’ll be right there.”
As she walked into the autopsy room a few minutes later, she pulled on latex gloves and stepped over to where the box of weather-rotted scraps of canvas tarp and the remains had been placed on a gurney.
George handed McCall a piece of silver jewelry.
“The victim’s?” she asked, wondering why he’d wanted her to see this.
He shook his head. “My best guess? It’s part of a men’s bolo tie.” A lot of western-dressed men in this part of the country wore a bolo tie. It was as dressed up as they ever got. The tie consisted of two thin cords that formed a loop with the ends dangling down from some sort of decorative clasp that held the tie together.
“How would it have ended up with the body?” she asked just wanting his take on it. She already had her own theory.
“The killer has the woman down, she reaches up and grabs the bolo tie, the silver clasp slides off.”
Her thought as well. “Wouldn’t the silver be more tarnished, though, if it had been with the body for the past twenty-five to thirty years?”
“Silver reacts badly to just about everything, latex gloves, ammonia, chlorinated water, air pollution, perfumes, hair sprays, even some foods like onions and eggs, anything salty unless the silver is plated with a thin layer of metal protection, which older jewelry wasn’t,” George said and then seemed to notice her looking at him sideways. “My sister works for a jeweler.”
“Sorry, as you were saying…”
“Humidity alone can cause silver to tarnish.”
McCall nodded. “So who knows how tarnished it would be, is that what you’re saying?”
“Something like that,” George said. “What do you think of the design?”
While he was squeamish about the violence of murder and what it did to the human body, he seemed to be getting into the investigation part of his job a lot more than when he first started, she thought.
She’d been turning the piece of silver in her fingers. If you turned it one way it appeared to be three tiny silver horseshoes welded together.
If you turned it the other way, it looked like three small C’s.
She held it up. “One of a kind, I’d say.” She was waiting for George’s opinion, which she knew he was dying to give her. “Probably someone had it specially made at a jewelry store. Could be tiny horseshoes or—”
“We both know that it is three C’s and that those three C’s are for Chisholm Cattle Company,” George said, losing his patience with her.
She laughed. “Why do I get the feeling you have something to back up that statement?” George was all about facts.
“In fact I do,” he said stepping over to the laptop computer on a nearby desk, “I thought I’d seen Hoyt Chisholm wearing this very piece of jewelry and I was right.”
McCall stepped over to look at a photograph of the cattleman taken at Whitehorse Days twenty-seven years before. Hoyt was wearing the bolo tie with the silver clasp, and he was with a woman. The cutline under the photo identified the woman as Krystal Chisholm.
DUANE HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT Tanner Chisholm after Billie Rae’s call. He’d been so excited at the prospect of getting to his wife that Tanner Chisholm had been the last thing on his mind.
That was, until he heard the soft beep from the tracking device on the seat next to him.
“What the hell?” he said as he saw Tanner’s location. “The son of a bitch is following me?”
He almost ran off the road he was so busy staring at his cell phone screen. How was this possible? The cowboy had left Whitehorse before him. He must have stopped for gas or something. How else could Duane explain it?
Unless he was right and the bastard was actually following him.
All he had been thinking about after Billie Rae’s call was getting to her. It was so like her to call—after she’d gotten herself into a pickle. Just the sound of her voice had gotten his blood boiling.
He chewed at his cheek for a moment now, giving this change of events some thought. Did he really give a damn about this cowboy? Wasn’t getting to Billie Rae and settling this all he should concern himself with?
As anxious as he was to reach Billie Rae—there was always the possibility that she would get some wild idea to take off again—especially if someone encouraged her. He realized he couldn’t let the cowboy follow him to her.
Another thought breezed past. What if Billie Rae had also called her cowboy savior, covering all her bets?
Duane swore. He was going to have to take care of Tanner. He watched the highway ahead looking for the perfect place to wait in ambush.
Chapter Ten
All it took was a couple of calls to jewelers in Glasgow and Havre. McCall hit paydirt on her second try.
“Chisholm, sure, I know him well,” the elderly sounding jeweler said.
She described the clasp for the bolo tie.
“Yep, I made that, but not for Hoyt. It was an anniversary present I made for his wife to give to him,” the jeweler said.
“His wife?”
“What was her name? Just a minute. I can look it up. I keep records back to when I started this business.” She heard him digging in a file. A moment later he came back on the line. “Just as I remembered. An anniversary present, the clasp for the bolo tie and a set of cufflinks. Three tiny silver C’s for Chisholm Cattle Company. I made them for Krystal Chisholm, October 16, 1984.”
Twenty-seven years ago. Just about the time that Hoyt had married Krystal, McCall thought.
She asked if the jeweler could fax her a copy of that order, thanked him and hung up.
Earlier at the hospital, Hoyt Chisholm had assured her he knew nothing about Aggie Wells’s disappearance. He’d sworn he hadn’t seen her since the night she’d come out to the ranch to have dinner.
But given what she knew now, she wondered how long it would be before they found her body as well.
McCall sat for a moment before she placed the call to the county attorney. It was time to bring in Hoyt Chisholm before another wife ended up dead.
“AGGIE WAS HERE,” EMMA SAID when Hoyt returned to where his wife was still rooted just inside the door.
“There’s no one in the house. The front door probably blew open,” he said as if he didn’t hear her. He started toward her to put his shotgun back into his pickup.
“Did you hear what I just said to you?” she demanded. “Aggie was in the house again.”
He stopped in front of her and frowned. “Emma—”
“Didn’t you smell her perfume when you entered the house?”
He looked at her, shook his head and swore under his breath. “Where are you going with this?”
Did he think she was making it up? Imagining it? “I know what I’m talking about. Don’t you see what she’s doing? She’s trying to frame you for murder.”
“She’s been doing that for years,” he said as he tried to step past Emma.
“Hoyt, I’m telling you she set this whole thing up, her disappearance, her car being found, the blood on the seat, the whole thing to make it look as if you killed her.”
He shook his head. “I really don’t want to talk about this.” He pushed past her and headed for his truck.
“Hoyt Chisholm, do not treat me like I am imagining things,” she said following him as far as the porch. “I smelled her perfume. She’s been in our house again while we were gone. It’s as if she knew we were all going to be at the hospital and—”
“And what, Emma?” he demanded as he turned from hanging up his shotgun on the rack behind the seats. He slammed the pickup door before he turned back to her. “Emma, why would she be sneaking around our house? For what possible reason?”
“She did it before.”
“Yes, no doubt to let me know she hadn’t given up sending me to prison.” He swore under his breath. “Aggie Wells is the last person I’m concerned with right now.”
“I smelled her perfume. She was in this house again.” But she was talking to his back for he had turned and was headed out to the barn where he always went when he was upset—or didn’t want to hear what she had to say.
As she started after him, Emma saw the sheriff’s patrol car coming up the road toward the house.
TANNER KNEW HE WAS DRIVING too fast. He’d made good time. Even after his stop at the bank to get more money for Billie Rae and gas in the pickup in Havre, he was going to beat Billie Rae to the casino parking lot.
The casino wasn’t far ahead. Just the thought of seeing Billie Rae again had his heart pounding with anticipation. He thought about the first time he’d laid eyes on her at the rodeo grounds.
He still couldn’t describe the effect she’d had on him. Love at first sight? How was it possible to fall in love with a complete stranger in a nanosecond? It was easier to believe they’d been together in a past life and had found each other again in this one.
Whatever it had been, it had happened. In that instant, Billie Rae’s face had lit up in a burst of fire works and he’d felt his heart skyrocket. The fireworks had showered down from Montana’s big night sky, the air smelling of summer and rodeo concession stand food. Music had played against the boom of the rockets exploding over their heads and he’d lost his heart.
That moment was frozen in time forever for him.
But as odd as it sounded, maybe it had been luck that brought them together. That is, if they could stop this maniac after her.
Ahead, Tanner saw a large black car parked at the edge of the road. His heart lodged in his throat. Had Duane somehow found out where Billie Rae was going to meet him?
The black car pulled out, turned in his direction and headed down the highway toward him. Past it Tanner could see the casino in the distance. His gaze shifted from the black car approaching him to the casino parking lot.
He didn’t see Billie Rae’s small red car. He hoped that meant she hadn’t arrived yet—and not that Duane had already stopped her.
His gaze shifted quickly back to the black car as it increased speed on the other side of the highway coming in his direction. The car was big and black, possibly a Lincoln like the one Duane drove, just as Billie Rae had described it and it was gaining speed quickly.
Tanner tried to see the face behind the steering wheel as it neared, but the sun was glinting off the windshield. He felt himself tense. He gripped the wheel tighter, bracing himself because he feared the driver of the black car was planning to swerve into his lane.
At the sped the car was coming, it would probably kill both of them if Tanner couldn’t avoid the crash, but then Duane Rasmussen was a psychopath, wasn’t he?
The car was within yards of him, still on the other side of the road. And then it was roaring by in a blur, throwing up dust and gravel on the edge of the highway. Tanner caught a glimpse of an elderly man behind the wheel with a shock of white hair as the car sped past.
Tanner had to hit his brakes to make the casino turnoff. As he fishtailed into the parking lot, his blood was still hammering in his ears. He’d been so sure the driver of the black car was Duane on a suicide mission that was going to take them both out.
Now as he brought the pickup to a stop in the parking lot, he had to take a minute to catch his breath. He glanced around the lot. Billie Rae wasn’t here yet. He hoped that meant she was still safe. Police officer Duane Ra
smussen was probably still back in Whitehorse. Or maybe already in jail.
Tanner tried to reassure himself that everything was going to be all right. Billie Rae would be here soon. He would talk her out of going anywhere near her husband. Somehow it had to work out because he couldn’t bear the thought that he might never see her again. Or worse, that Duane would find her.
DUANE SWORE AS HE STARED at the GPS screen. Tanner Chisholm had been right behind him, then he suddenly stopped when Duane had found the perfect place to finish the bastard for good?
He tapped the screen on his cell phone and looked down the highway in the direction Tanner had been heading until a few minutes ago. No sign of a Chisholm Cattle Company pickup headed this way. In stead it appeared the pickup had left the highway and was no longer moving. Why would he pull off?
Duane looked at his watch. Turn back and find him? Or wait? Or keep going and take care of Billie Rae and then worry about Tanner Chisholm?
He tapped the screen again, thinking something was wrong with the tracking device. Maybe it had fallen off the cowboy’s rig. The tiny icon representing the Chisholm Cattle Company pickup still hadn’t moved. The location appeared to not be that far back up the highway.
What if Billie Rae’s call had been bogus? What if she was meeting the cowboy back down the road? Duane tried to remember if there’d been a place back up the highway where Tanner and Billie Rae might have planned to meet.
With a jolt he remember seeing a large building set off the highway. A Native American casino.
Duane slammed the car into gear and, with tires throwing gravel, flipped the Lincoln around and headed back down the highway. If he was wrong about Billie Rae being with Tanner right now, he’d have to make this fast, which annoyed him to no end. He’d wanted to make the cowboy suffer enough that he wouldn’t be stupid like his brother and call the law on him.
On impulse, Duane called the cell phone number Billie Rae had called him from this morning. It went straight to voice mail.