by Cassie Miles
“All I heard was ‘fingerprints,’” she said.
“The prints found at your grandma’s house belong to Clinton.”
She gaped. “I can’t believe it. Clinton shot Wally?”
“It seems like that.” He glanced longingly at the coffeemaker. “I have twenty minutes to find Clinton and get him ready to turn over to the sheriff.”
“I’m coming with you. Don’t even think about arguing with me. I’ll be ready before you have your boots on.”
Regretfully, he watched her pivot and run back through the house toward the staircase. His hope for a sweet, peaceful morning was gone.
* * *
AFTER A PHONE CALL to Blake, Aiden learned that Clinton hadn’t spent last night in the bunkhouse. He hadn’t showed up for work yesterday. His Jeep was nowhere at the ranch. He’d run away, which was absolutely the worst thing he could do. Fleeing was considered the desperate act of a guilty man.
The best way to find Clinton was through Misty. As Aiden hurried toward the main house with Tab at his side, he checked his watch. “I’ve got eight minutes.”
“I still can’t believe that Clinton is a killer.”
“Look at the facts,” he said. “Clinton had access to the gun when David was shot. It’s only his word that he was unconscious. Then, he had a fight with Ellen Jessop. Now, his fingerprints are at your grandma’s house.”
“That’s what you call ‘circumstantial evidence,’ right? Clinton has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that doesn’t make him a serial killer.”
He sure as hell hoped not. It bothered him that the father of Misty’s baby might be capable of such heinous violence. Approaching the front porch, he said, “I’m going to talk to Misty alone. This isn’t a time for worrying about her stress level. I need answers about Clinton, and I need them now.”
“Should I explain to the others what’s going on?”
“That would be wise.”
He charged through the front door and went to the kitchen where his mom sat with Maria Spotted Bear. “Where’s Misty?”
“Still in bed,” his mom said as she rose to her feet. “What’s the matter?”
“Tab will explain.”
He pivoted and rushed to the staircase. In less than five minutes, the sheriff would be here. Without knocking, Aiden opened the door to Misty’s room.
She sat in a pink upholstered chair by the window, fully dressed with her hands resting on her belly. Her eyes were red as though she’d been crying, and her expression was uncharacteristically grave.
“Where’s Clinton?”
“I don’t know.”
“He didn’t come to work yesterday. Did he contact you?”
Hesitantly, she said, “I’ve talked to him. And he sent me text messages.”
“If you really want to protect him, you’ll tell me where he is. Running away like this makes him look like he’s got something to hide.”
“He knew what it would look like,” she said. “That’s why he took off.”
“The sheriff is going to be here in a couple of minutes. If you’re hiding Clinton, you’ll be arrested as an accessory. Misty, you could go to jail. I know you care about Clinton. But he’s not worth it.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Fine,” he said. “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain what Clinton was doing at Maria Spotted Bear’s house.”
“He was playing detective. He thought Wally the Buffalo Man might know something and went looking for him. But Clinton wasn’t the only person who was searching for the old man. He saw somebody else.”
“Who?”
“A guy in a ski mask. Clinton thought it was Aspen Jim, but he wasn’t sure.”
“And then?”
“He followed them to Maria Spotted Bear’s house. He saw the guy shoot Wally and run away. Clinton tried to use his phone to call 911, but he couldn’t get a signal from inside the barn. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Tab about that. She’s told me that it’s hard to get a signal. She said—”
“Stay on track, Misty.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I don’t want to go to jail.”
“I don’t want that, either.” He leaned over her and patted her hand. “You have to cooperate and tell the truth. Then, it’ll all work out okay.”
“The truth hasn’t worked out for Clinton. He knew it wouldn’t.”
“He must have seen us arrive in the chopper.”
“Right,” she said.
“Why didn’t he approach us?”
“He was afraid you’d think that he shot Wally. Everything is working against him. He looks guilty. So, he made sure that Tab saw him at the window, and then he ran and led you to the barn where you could help Wally.”
The story she told was too stupid to be made up. “I believe you.”
“Do you, really?” She looked up at him with wide eyes.
From the moment they found Wally, Aiden had been bothered by the fact that the supposed intruder at Maria Spotted Bear’s house had directed them toward the injured man. And Tab had mentioned that someone else used compression on the gunshot wounds. She’d thought it was Wally himself, but Clinton might have applied first aid.
He stared hard at his sister. “If you know where Clinton is, you’ve got to tell.”
“I don’t know,” she said miserably.
“The sheriff is going to start a manhunt. If what Clinton told you is true, the sheriff isn’t the only person who wants to find him. The killer will be looking, too.”
“You can check the text messages he sent to me. He never says where he is.”
Red and blue lights flashed through her window as the sheriff’s vehicle pulled up to the house. The sheriff wouldn’t want to leave without taking someone into custody. Aiden would have to do some fast talking to keep his sister out of jail.
* * *
THE TEXT MESSAGES SAVED Misty…for now. With the sheriff looking over his shoulder, Aiden read the messages on his sister’s phone—touching little notes from Clinton, talking about how much he loved her and their baby and apologizing for making mistakes. He never mentioned anything about a location.
Though the sheriff was unconvinced when Misty explained how Clinton happened to be at Maria Spotted Bear’s house, he was glad to have another reason to look at Aspen Jim as a suspect. Nobody, except for Woody and Chuck, liked that con man. Maybe this time, Aspen Jim wouldn’t have an alibi.
After the sheriff left, Aiden knew they needed to investigate further. Not only did he have to keep Misty out of jail, but he had to clear suspicion from her idiot boyfriend, as well. If Clinton was arrested for these crimes, Misty would be next. She was the Bonnie to his Clyde.
Aiden and Tab were back in the chopper, headed to the hospital in Billings. The only person who could say definitively that Clinton hadn’t shot him was Wally, and the old man was close to regaining full consciousness.
As the helicopter swooped through a clear blue sky, Aiden looked over at her. Tab always seemed happy when they were flying. The lady liked to be in the air. He spoke into his headset. “Maybe we can catch dinner at a nice restaurant, someplace with candlelight.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. If we get any useful information from Wally, we need to act right away.”
He agreed. They hadn’t told the sheriff that they were going to the hospital, and Aiden was pretty sure that he and Tab were no longer welcome in the police investigation. “We’re too close to Clinton. If the sheriff finds out what we’re doing, he’s not going to be happy.”
“Unless the evidence we find makes things worse for him.”
“What the hell was Clinton thinking? Running around by himself? Trying to track down clues from Wally?”
“Come on, Aiden.” She punched his arm. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing right now?”
“It’s different.”
“I’m not saying that you have to like Clinton or welcome him into your family with open arms,
but he’s not a bad guy. He’s trying to find the killer.”
“And putting himself in danger.”
“Again,” she said, “isn’t that like you?”
Aiden didn’t want to admit that he and Misty’s boyfriend were similar in any way, shape or form. Still, he knew that Clinton had been trying to do the right thing and marry his sister. And, according to Blake, Clinton was turning out to be a decent ranch hand. And he loved Misty. “Okay. Maybe the kid isn’t so bad, after all.”
“Probably not a serial killer.” She leaned forward for a better look through the windshield and her long ponytail fanned out across her shoulders. “Of all the people we’ve talked to, there’s only one that makes me think he’s disturbed enough to be a psycho killer.”
“Aspen Jim?” he guessed.
“I could see him committing murder for money, like a hit man. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a rapist. But I don’t think he’s the type to abduct women, tie them up and dispose of the bodies on the rez. That takes a certain kind of horrible obsession. It reminds me of Bert Welling and his spotless jumpsuits.”
“But Bert has lived in Henley for at least ten years. Why would he start killing now?”
“This might not be the beginning. He might have a tidy stack of rotting corpses buried in his backyard.” She cocked her head to one side. Even while talking about dead bodies, she was beautiful. “There’s something dark in Bert Welling. My grandma would call it a curse.”
“And a profiler would call it obsessive compulsive.”
“Different words for the same thing.”
They flew over the chiseled rimrock formation toward the skyline of Billings. They couldn’t land at the hospital helipad because it needed to be kept clear for emergencies. Instead, he’d leave the helicopter at a local hangar and take one of the rental cars.
Aiden didn’t much care for trips into the city, but today the hive of activity beckoned to him. He wanted to share experiences with Tab, to see new places and taste new foods.
“I didn’t want to spend the day talking about serial killers,” he said. “Not after last night.”
“It would have been nice to spend some time alone, just being together.” Her eyes flashed. “Maybe making love.”
“Definitely making love.” He glided his hand down her arm. “This is kind of different for me. I like to take my time when I’m getting to know a lady. Things between us have been moving like lightning.”
“Not really. We’ve known each other for most of our lives. We played together when we were kids. And I spent that summer when I was sixteen with a major crush on you.”
“But I haven’t known you as a woman.”
She leaned forward so she could look him directly in the eye. “I think you like to go slow so you can keep everything under control. Neither of us expected to fall into bed together so quickly. It’s a little bit wild.”
“More than a little,” he agreed.
“It’s kind of exciting, isn’t it? I’m a practical, responsible person and so are you. I don’t get swept away by passion.”
“Any regrets?”
“None,” she said.
That was good enough for him. Starting today, he’d push his plans and concerns aside. Instead of responsible, he’d be spontaneous, letting life take him to places he’d never been before.
But first, they had to catch a killer.
Chapter Eighteen
Because Wally was under police protection, he had a private room at the end of the hallway on the third floor. Tab was glad to see that the old man was being treated well. As the only witness in a potential serial killer case, the local police ought to be taking real good care of him. The uniformed officer on guard duty outside his room knew her and Aiden from yesterday, and he was obviously happy to see them. The poor guy must be bored to death after sitting for hours in a sterile hospital corridor.
He pumped Aiden’s hand. “We’ve got some new information on the case. The autopsies.”
“Great,” Aiden said. “What did they show?”
Before speaking, he glanced up and down the hall. The Billings police were being careful not to alert the public to the possibility of a serial killer. They didn’t want a panic.
In a low voice, the officer said, “The girl’s injuries were consistent with the other victim. We’re assuming that they were both killed by the same person.”
“Was there any indication that there might have been two killers?”
“Not that I heard about.” The officer raised an eyebrow. “Is that one of the theories? Two killers?”
“It’s been suggested.” Aiden shrugged. “What about David Welling?”
“Shot by a .30 caliber hunting rifle, but you already know that. We’ve got the murder weapon. Cause of death was internal bleeding. The bullet nicked his heart.”
“Anything else?”
“Let me see if I can remember.” The officer looked up and to the left. “Three cracked ribs, broken wrist, two broken fingers. Scars on his back and buttocks.”
Tab was surprised. “Was he beaten before he was shot?”
“These were all old injuries. Some from childhood. Others when he was a teenager.”
“He was abused.” Nothing enraged her more than the harming of an innocent child. Bert told them that David’s father was an alcoholic, but he hadn’t mentioned the abuse. “Are there criminal reports or records about David’s injuries?”
The officer shook his head. “None that we could find. David wasn’t taken to a hospital for treatment. The poor kid had to heal on his own.”
Bert Welling dropped a few notches lower in her estimation. He should have recognized that his nephew was being abused. He should have stopped it. Poor David had led such a terrible, unhappy life. No wonder Misty’s casual flirting became so important to him. He must have cherished any hint of love, no matter how small.
Aiden nodded toward the hospital room. “Has Wally been able to answer any questions?”
“He’s got answers, but they don’t make sense,” the officer said. “He just babbles about the moon and monsters with two faces.”
“The moon,” she said, “that’s new. What’s he been saying about the moon?”
“I don’t know. I just heard moon or moonlight.”
“Is it okay for us to talk to him?”
The officer stepped aside. “Knock yourself out.”
In the private room, a blonde nurse in blue scrubs checked Wally’s vitals. Most people look worse in the hospital, but Wally’s appearance was much improved in spite of the IV line, the monitor, the nasal cannula, the dressing that covered his chest wound and the bandage wrapped around his head. The ugly hospital gown was cleaner than anything she’d seen the Buffalo Man wear. His patchy beard was shaved clean.
With his eyes closed, he seemed to be having a pleasant nap. A blanket covered him up to his chest. Though it was only eleven o’clock in the morning, a tray with a half-eaten lunch was on the bedside table.
Aiden stood beside his bed. “Are you awake, Wally?”
The old man twitched his nose but said nothing. Tab was pretty sure that he’d heard Aiden but didn’t want to respond.
“I need to talk to you,” Aiden said. “I want to ask you some important questions.”
Wally pried one eyelid open and made a weak murmur that had Aiden leaning close so he could hear.
Tab turned to the nurse. Quietly, she said, “That looks like a lunch tray. Did he have a special order?”
“He wasn’t interested in breakfast. He wanted an egg salad sandwich and ice cream, so that’s what I got him.”
“That was nice of you. Out in the real world, Wally doesn’t have anybody to take care of him. I imagine he’s enjoying all this attention.”
The nurse cocked a cynical eyebrow. “Some people like being in a hospital.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Would you like to talk to his doctor?”
“Not necessary.” Tab knew t
hat waiting for the doc could take quite a while. “I’m more interested in his comfort level. Is he on pain meds?”
“He’s pretty well doped up and not coherent.”
“The officer said he mentioned the moon.”
“Half-moon,” she said. “He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand and says ‘half-moon’ as if we ought to understand what he means.”
“I have a pretty good idea.” “Half-moon” had to be a reference to the cave. “Thanks.”
She took a position next to Aiden at the side of Wally’s bed. It was better to let him do the talking because Wally knew him and trusted him. If the old man was going to say anything useful, he’d confide in Aiden.
Straining to hear Wally’s mumbling, she pressed against Aiden. He moved his arm, grazing the side of her breast, and she had to stifle a gasp. When she was close to him, all her senses sharpened. He didn’t wear cologne but there was a lingering scent of aftershave and another smell that reminded her of leather and wind across the prairie.
Making love last night had changed her in ways she couldn’t describe, except to say that she liked the feeling. She had a new confidence and strength, an awareness of herself as a woman. And she couldn’t wait until they made love again.
If that didn’t happen, if he didn’t want to be with her, she knew the rejection would hurt. She’d survive, but the pain of that loss would be so deep that she couldn’t stay in this area where she might run into him. She’d run away, go back to Missoula, find another home, another lifestyle, another life.
Aiden glanced at her and spoke quietly. “I’m not getting much from him. The same stuff about monsters in the night.”
“Ask him about Half-Moon Cave,” she said. “The nurse mentioned it.”
“That’s a start.” He looked toward the hallway. “We ought to get the officer in here. If Wally says anything significant, we need a witness.”
She went into the hall and motioned to the officer. “Aiden thinks he’s ready to talk.”
The officer pulled out a notepad and pen, followed her into the room and stood on the opposite side of the bed. Aiden gave him a nod as he touched Wally’s scrawny, pale arm. “What did you see at Half-Moon Cave?”