by Cassie Miles
“I don’t know the boundaries. We might have gone there.”
“Did anybody see you leaving town or coming back?”
Aspen Jim lowered his chin, and his sun-bleached bangs flopped over the frames of his sunglasses. When he looked up, his glistening smile had vanished. “I wasn’t with David when he got killed, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out.”
“Tell me what happened.”
Tab was duly impressed with Aiden’s questioning. Though he didn’t have the credentials to demand information, he showed enough authority in his voice and manner that Aspen Jim was beginning to sweat.
“Me and David took the van with the bikes out in the morning after we had pancakes at the café with Woody and Chuck. We rode the bikes for a while, and then headed back to town. David was kind of mopey.”
“Why?” Aiden asked.
“He couldn’t decide whether he should stay here in Henley, or go back to Billings and live with his dad. Then he spotted Misty in Clinton’s Jeep, and he said it was a sign. He was going to talk to her. If she said he should stay, he would.”
“But he didn’t have that kind of relationship with my sister. They didn’t chat, didn’t text each other.”
“Only in David’s head,” Aspen Jim said. “He was always planning to talk to Misty. She was his dream girl.”
“So he followed the Jeep,” Aiden said.
“That was his plan. I didn’t stick around. I took one of the bikes and rode the rest of the way home.”
“Did you hook up with Woody and Chuck again?”
Aspen Jim shook his head. “It was my day off. I took a long shower, watched some TV, played a couple of computer games. Then I brought the bike back here and left it with Bert.”
“What time was that?”
“Maybe three o’clock, I don’t remember. Bert probably can tell you down to the minute. He’s precise.”
Tab was disappointed to hear that he had an alibi. If Aspen Jim was here at the gas station, he couldn’t have committed the crime. Too bad.
“When you dropped off the bike,” Aiden said, “was David’s van here?”
“No, it wasn’t. That’s why I handed the bike over to Bert. I didn’t hear what happened to David until around seven when I went to the Last Stand Tavern.”
“You should have gone to the sheriff right away,” Tab said. “Your information might have been useful to him.”
“I don’t much care for the law. I don’t have anything to hide, but I don’t want anybody getting into my business.”
“But you’re willing to talk to me.”
“That’s correct.” He stuck out his chest. “I’m glad for this opportunity to meet you.”
“Is that so?”
“I have a business opportunity you might be interested in. I’m looking for investors.”
Disgusted, Tab rolled her eyes. Aspen Jim really was a piece of work. His friend hadn’t been dead for twenty-four hours, and he was figuring out how to cash in. Brusquely, she said, “We don’t have time for this.”
“Here’s my idea,” Aspen Jim said. “I want to provide river rafting expeditions on the Little Big Horn. When the tourists show up for the reenactment of Custer’s Last Stand, this gives them something else to do.”
“There’s white-water rafting on the Yellowstone,” Aiden said, “because that river actually has rapids. The Little Big Horn rolls along, slow and lazy.”
“So it’s perfect for families. Hey, here’s a thought. We could hire locals to stand on the banks and act out scenes from the Old West.”
Tab groaned.
Aiden asked, “How much do you know about rafting?”
He flashed the super-white smile. “I worked as a guide with a rafting crew on the Arkansas River near Aspen. Think about it, Aiden. With your cash and my expertise, we could have the business up and running by next summer.”
Tab had heard enough. She clamped on to Aiden’s arm. “We really have to go. Now.”
They left Aspen Jim standing by the van, paid for the oil change and climbed into the truck. As soon as they were under way, she let loose. “Do you believe that guy? I think he was lurking around, waiting to pounce the minute he saw you. Rafting on the Little Big Horn? Acting out scenes on the banks? Oh, please, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“But now we know why a flashy guy like him is hanging around in Henley.”
“He wants to con somebody into being his partner. What a jerk! I’ll bet he’s already screwed up his big money contacts in the ski areas.”
“He worked as a guide for a white-water rafting company. That means he knows about nautical knots.”
She wasn’t sure where Aiden was going with this. “So?”
“When I was talking to the sheriff…” His voice trailed off. “I shouldn’t tell you about this, Tab. But you’re the only one I can talk to, and I respect your opinions.”
Now they were making headway. He wasn’t shutting her out of his investigation anymore. “What’s important about the knots?”
“Both of the women who were killed were bound with bowlines and figure eights. Nautical knots.”
She hadn’t expected this twist. “Do you think Aspen Jim is the serial killer?”
“Knowing about knots isn’t enough to accuse him,” Aiden said. “But he did know Ellen Jessop. They worked together at the feed store.”
Staring through the windshield at the dried prairie grasses on rolling hills, she recalibrated her thinking to include the serial murders. Their trip into town to see Bert had been focused on David’s death, but they couldn’t ignore the possible link. Misty was clearly connected to both since she had argued with Ellen and had witnessed David’s murder.
“Next time you talk to the sheriff, you definitely need to mention Aspen Jim as a suspect.”
“Sheriff Fielding is already looking at Aspen Jim.” He shrugged. “I don’t think he seems like the serial killer type. He wouldn’t have a problem getting dates. A lot of women might like that sun-bleached hair.”
“Not me,” she said. “Aspen Jim is a misogynist, the kind of guy who hates women. Didn’t you hear what he said about pregnant ladies?”
“I sure as hell heard what you said.” He glanced at her and grinned. “Pregnant sex is spectacular?”
“So I’ve heard.” At the time she’d spoken, she’d been trying to make a point that an idiot like Aspen Jack would understand. She hadn’t considered how embarrassing her statement would sound. “I’m not an expert.”
“You’re a surprising lady, Tab. I’m learning that I don’t know much about your world and the work you do.”
When guys asked about her work, she usually retreated into her shell. They weren’t really interested, just being polite. But Aiden was different, and she wanted him to understand her. “How much do you want to know?”
“Everything,” he said.
“Starting with the sperm and the egg?”
“Especially about that part.”
When it came to flirting, her skills were nonexistent. She preferred saying exactly what she meant, but it was fun to play with Aiden. She keyed her voice to a low, sexy level and said, “I have a feeling that you already know a little something about the fertilization process.”
“I like it when you talk dirty.”
His jaw twitched as he struggled to keep from laughing out loud. When she punched his arm, he chuckled, and she joined in. A sense of humor wasn’t something she associated with the super-responsible Aiden, but here they were…joking around with each other.
It would have been nice to extend this time together. She almost wished she didn’t have to go to work, but there was no way to reschedule her client’s labor. The truck was already approaching the crossroads that led to Gabriel Ranch, and she’d have to jump into her van and leave immediately.
“We don’t have much time,” he said. “I wanted to get your impressions of Aspen Jim’s account of what happened yesterday.”
; “It sounded pretty straightforward. And he’s got a solid alibi with Bert. The real question is who drove David’s van back to the gas station?”
“Chuck and Woody might have known where they were headed. It could have been one of them.”
“Could be.” Neither Chuck nor Woody seemed dangerous to her. Last night when they were forced to stop the truck, they both surrendered without hesitation. “Why would one of David’s friends shoot him?”
“We don’t know enough about David to come up with a motive.”
Aiden took off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. When he gazed toward her, his eyes gleamed. For a moment, she forgot about investigating and murders and the baby she was about to deliver. His nearness consumed her, and she couldn’t think of anything else.
Until now, she’d done a pretty decent job of acting like an adult instead of a love-struck teenager. But there were these moments when she was with him that she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“What were we talking about?” she asked.
“Motives.”
“I’ve got nothing.”
He slapped his hat back onto his head and turned his attention to the road. “What if David was killed because he knew too much? He might have figured out the identity of the serial killer and was threatening to tell the sheriff.”
She nodded. “That doesn’t tell us who the killer is.”
“But it limits the field.”
For the first time, she acknowledged to herself that there might be danger. If David knew the killer, so did Misty. And it was likely that Tab had met him. She didn’t know his identity, but he knew hers.
Chapter Twelve
The birthing had gone well. A little before eight o’clock, Tab parked her van outside the Gabriel Ranch, hopped out and strode toward the house. When she saw Aiden occupying the rocking chair on the porch where her grandma had been sitting this morning, she couldn’t help grinning. He’d been waiting for her. Sweet.
As she approached, he stood and sauntered down the stairs. The porch lights shone behind him, silhouetting his long, lean body, wide shoulders and cowboy hat. She had the sense that she was coming home to him, to her perfect man.
“You look happy,” he said.
“I love my job. There’s nothing as exciting as bringing new life into the world. When I hold the wiggly baby for the first time and hear the first cries, I feel privileged to be part of a miracle. Seven pounds and two ounces, the baby’s name is Rosalie.”
“Pretty name.”
“Pretty little girl.” She wanted to hug him and share the thrill but held herself back. The Gabriel Ranch wasn’t really her home. Aiden didn’t belong to her, and she didn’t have the right to grab him whenever she had the urge. “You’ll see. When Misty has her baby, you’ll see what it feels like.”
“I’ve been around babies before.”
“Trust me. A newborn is different.”
“Are you tired?”
“I should be after six hours of labor. Not that I did any of the heavy-duty exertion, but the process is a strain.”
“How so?”
She tried to think of a metaphor that he’d understand. “You played football, didn’t you?”
“Henley High,” he said. “Go, Bobcats. And in college.”
“Think of a football game, and think of me as the coach. I don’t actually run down the field with the ball, but I call the plays and I strategize.”
“I don’t reckon you choose to punt too often.”
“Very funny.” The football comparison might have been a bad idea.
“Go on. Tell me what happens after the huddle.”
“Mostly, it’s about making the mom comfortable, giving her water or tea or sometimes a snack. Some women have pressure on their lower spine, and that means a lot of back rubs. Sometimes, I’ll get the mom out of bed and walk around. The last phase of labor, which is called transition, can be intense. That’s the dramatic part that you always see in movies.”
“When the baby comes out, that’s your touchdown.”
“But I never spike the baby in the end zone.”
“Because that would be a penalty,” he said. “Well, Coach, I’m thinking you might need some rest.”
“I won’t be able to sleep.” After a birthing, she was energized. “My endorphins are rushing. I feel good all over.”
He reached toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder, setting off a whole different kind of pleasurable reaction. His touch soothed her and aroused her at the same time.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he said.
She really wanted to say yes, not to the sleeping part but to going to bed with him. Instead, she shook her head.
“I’d rather hop in the chopper and go to Grandma’s house.” She’d called earlier to let him know that she still needed to pick up a few things from home. “I won’t ride Shua back tonight, but I’d really like to have a change of clothes, my own nightshirt and toothbrush.”
“You’re sure?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Could it be that you’re the one who’s too tired?”
“Not me. My day hasn’t been action packed.” He slid his hand down her arm and linked his hand with hers. “Let’s go.”
Holding hands, they walked together through the moonlight toward the barn. She rubbed her thumb across the calluses on his palm. Rough hands were an occupational hazard for cowboys who worked with horses and cattle in all kinds of weather. When he squeezed her fingers, electricity jolted up her arm and raced through her entire body. Were they really holding hands?
A pine-scented breeze cooled her cheeks and ruffled the strands of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail. With her free hand, she pushed her hair back. “I must look a mess.”
“Not with that beautiful smile lighting up your face. You look great.”
His words warmed her but didn’t erase her self-consciousness. As her body heated up, she remembered that she hadn’t used deodorant after her shower this morning. A change of clothing was definitely needed. Though she’d slipped into comfortable scrubs for the labor and birthing, the shirt she’d worn for the past two days was getting a little ripe.
“After a big game,” he said, “I always liked to talk about the plays that worked and the slipups. Give me the rundown on what happened today with—what are their names? Connie and Carlos?”
“I will if you promise not to mention football again. Having a baby isn’t really the Wide World of Sports.”
“Promise.” He ducked his head to look into her eyes. “But I would like to hear about it. If I’m going to understand what you do, you’ve got to give me some details.”
“When I got to the house, Connie greeted me with a paintbrush in her hand. Apparently, the nursery needed another coat, and she wanted it done before the baby arrived.”
“Is that typical?” he asked.
“Different women handle the stress and hormones in different ways. Connie obsessed on cleaning. Even though Carlos promised to take care of the painting, she refused to get into bed. On the internet, she’d read that just because her water broke it didn’t mean she was in labor.”
“Was she right?”
“Obviously not,” Tab said. “I just delivered the baby. I encourage new moms to seek out prenatal information. The more they know, the less scared they are. The downside to that approach is that they think they’re experts. Connie felt a little twinge and announced that it was a Braxton Hicks contraction, false labor.”
“I’m beginning to feel sorry for Carlos.”
“He’s a really nice guy, but Connie was driving him crazy. When I finally convinced her to surrender the paintbrush and let me give her an exam, he whispered that I must be an angel sent from Heaven to keep his wife from killing him.”
“I’ve heard that women get mean during labor.”
“With good cause,” she said. “Having a baby isn’t easy.”
“What did you do next?”
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br /> She decided to skip the clinical description of how she assessed Connie’s dilation and effacement. Aiden’s interest in her work probably didn’t extend to all the gory details. “After I checked her out, I knew she was starting labor. Her pain started getting more intense, and we were off to the races. Six hours later, Rosalie came into the world.”
“Giving birth is easier with cows,” he said. “They give a couple of bellows and shoot the baby right out. If the calf is stuck, you just reach inside, grab and pull.”
“You might not want to share that comparison with your sister.”
They circled the barn, and the helicopter came into view. Last night when she’d been running hard, she hadn’t really appreciated the beauty of the machine. With moonlight reflecting off the rotors and long tail, the chopper looked like a giant mechanical dragonfly.
He gave her hand another squeeze before releasing it and digging into his pocket. He took out a sheet of notebook paper that was covered with tight scribbling. Handing it to her, he said, “Your grandma made a list of things she needs.”
Tab held the paper close so she could read it in the moonlight. “Half of this is kitchen equipment. Pots and skillets and spices. Why does she need this stuff?”
He opened the cockpit door. “Hop aboard. You know the drill.”
She strapped herself into the copilot seat, put on her headphones and prepared for the incredible sensation of swooping into the night sky. Their ascent tonight wasn’t as incredible as when she was a chopper virgin, but the thrill was undiminished. She didn’t think she’d ever become jaded about flying.
As they soared over the rugged landscape and approached the lights of Henley, she asked, “Did you do any more investigating today?”
“I spent most of the day with the sheriff. He’s leaning toward our theory of David being shot by an unknown companion who rode off on a mountain bike. But he still won’t dismiss Misty as a suspect.”
“What does he think of Aspen Jim?”
“It’s a shame Aspen Jim has an alibi. Nobody trusts him except for his teenage buddies, including Woody and Chuck, who think he’s a lot of fun. Remember how the Buffalo Man talked about loud parties in the deserted parts of the rez? According to Woody and Chuck, who were both feeling real bad after a night in jail, Aspen Jim provided the booze.”