by Dana Mentink
“And you’d prefer to think it’s Sheila’s son, rather than the stranger who blows into town in time to inherit a property?”
“I’m looking at the facts and motives.”
Bentley’s mouth tightened. “How about this? How about you leave the investigation work to me, okay? Facts and motives are my department and, last I looked, you weren’t wearing a badge. Stay out of the way.”
“I will, as long as Isabel’s not being used as a scapegoat.”
Bentley scowled. “This whole area is off limits now. The girl can stay in the cabin. You get off the property.”
Logan jerked his head at the graveled road. “I’ll move my rig a half mile that way, if it makes you happy.”
“I said, get out of here.”
“As I said, a half mile. Cassie’s property line ends there and it’s public parkland on that side. All campers welcome.”
Bentley’s jaw clenched and Logan thought for a moment he was going to swear. “All right. Keep your trailer where it is, but if you get in the way at all, you’re going to jail and that isn’t going to look good for a pararescueman, is it?”
He stalked off.
Logan made his way to Isabel, who sat on the top rail of the fence. “How are you holding up?”
“I should be horrified, but I don’t feel much of anything. I think I’m becoming numb after so many shocks. Do you think that’s the body of Nora Baker?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You went there too, huh?”
She shrugged. “The girl went missing around here, and Bill couldn’t find any trace of her in Europe. Who else could it be? But does this make things better or worse?”
He had the urge to give her a noncommittal answer, something soothing and bland. Instead he gave her the truth. “To be honest, I don’t know. It looks pretty damning for John Trigg, but the fact is Bentley doesn’t want to look at that option because of what it will do to Sheila. Forensic evidence may help, but it’s been three years.” He gestured to the sky. “Three summers of storms and winter freezes. The body may not have much to tell at this point.”
“So it’s two women murdered on this property and the police still can’t pin it on John?”
“Not so far.” He took a breath. “However, it does support my earlier position that you shouldn’t…”
“I’m going on the ride tomorrow.”
“There’s a murderer at large. Possibly two.”
“If Autie was hired to keep me from discovering the body, it’s too late. He failed. Now there’s no reason for him to keep after me.”
Logan pictured Autie’s face, lit with some strange inner fire after Logan shot him. “I can think of one.”
She raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Because Autie finishes his missions. He will not accept failure.” Logan’s insides twisted. “Like me.”
“So if he was hired to make me disappear…”
The truth cut an icy path inside him. “He won’t stop until he’s done it.”
Logan walked Isabel inside and returned to watch the search team, sitting far enough away to let his thoughts run their own course. It took him a few minutes to fix on the detail that bothered him. When Autie had scared Sheila the previous day, he’d been standing there, out in the open, watching.
If his mission was to keep the body from being discovered, why hadn’t he stopped Logan from clearing the ravine? He could pick one of many vantage points and get off a decent shot. One bullet and the work stopped. No one would likely find Nora’s body until some future date, if then. If Logan hadn’t cleared that ravine, chances are the body would have remained undiscovered indefinitely.
So why hadn’t he stopped Logan? Or at least attempted to?
Had the plan changed? What new evil was Autie plotting?
The thought followed him the rest of the day. Before the rain began to fall, the search team cordoned off the area and left with their grisly load, leaving one officer behind to finish up.
Logan watched them go. Was it the end? Nora’s terrible death brought to light and John’s future come to a horrific stop? Sheila would not let things go gently, he knew. She’d come out fighting and clawing and hire the best lawyer possible if charges were brought. If it wasn’t John, then some unknown killer had taken Nora’s life and tossed her away like a piece of trash, devastating John and stoking the anger that seemed to perpetually rage inside the man.
Try as he might, Logan could not resolve the crux of the matter. Was John a victim or a murderer?
The next afternoon Isabel tried in vain to take a nap, curled under a sheet, listening to the building wind. It was so like the night she had first arrived, when her life had spiraled into chaos.
No, she thought. That happened when she ran away and married Rawley. Life had only begun to right itself again when she sent that letter to Cassie. Lying there in Cassie’s bed, as early drops of rain brushed the window, she felt grateful.
How odd, to be glad to have come to a place where someone was trying to kill her and her sister’s murder had been revealed. Yet she was glad, deep down. No matter how it turned out, she had become a part of Cassie’s life again, her hopes and passion. God led her out of hiding and reconnected her with her sister through the windswept piece of land that was home to six misfit horses.
And Logan.
When he left, she would feel the loss forever, as she would her sister’s.
But she was grateful to have met someone to…
Her heart filled in the rest.
To love?
The idea was too crazy to contemplate. In the middle of a murder investigation with a crazy man stalking her and a herd of horses to tend, it was not the time to have any fanciful notions about love, especially with a man destined to leave at any time.
She got out of bed and left the crazy thoughts amid the tangled blankets, determined to focus on making the Moonlight Ride a success. Logan was leaving and the only thing she could do to make that easier on both of them was to find homes for the horses.
She found Logan at the horse trailer, readying it for the horses that the guests would ride. Len, a volunteer from the Range Rustlers, agreed to drive it to town while Logan and Isabel rode Blue Boy and Echo.
Logan looked up from his work, face serious. He wore a backpack that she knew probably contained his gun. He didn’t smile.
“Last chance to make a rational decision here. I can get Len to ride Blue Boy.”
“Len hasn’t ridden Blue Boy before. It’s better for me to do it.”
He sighed and handed her a protein bar. “Here. At least keep this with you in case your blood sugar drops.”
She smiled. “I’ll put it in my saddlebag. Come in for a sandwich. Sort of a last supper.”
He grimaced. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“Do you think the storm is finally coming in?” she asked as they ate ham-and-cheese sandwiches.
“Yes. Rain likely, maybe heavy, but the Moonlight Ride is on, rain or shine.”
“Where’s Tank?”
“I took him back to the condo. It’s a no-dogs event. Too bad, I’d feel better having him along.”
Her efforts to engage him in light conversation were unsuccessful. As the sun began to wane, he loaded the horses while she saddled the other two, putting her protein bar and extra water in the saddlebag.
Blue Boy’s ears swiveled in anticipation. “Be on your best behavior and maybe you’ll wind up adopted,” she whispered in his ear. “Don’t worry. If they’re not great people, the deal’s off.”
Bold words. How many more chances would there be to find homes for them? Folks weren’t going to be anxious to visit a ranch where there had been two murders. She hoped the couple they were meeting tonight hadn’t heard any of the rumors circulating the town. Bad enough the whole place was crisscrossed with yellow police tape.
The trailer went on ahead.
Logan put on a hat. “So you’ll stay behind me, but close. Any sign of trouble and you yell.
Got it?”
“Got it.” She climbed into the saddle and they set off through the thickening darkness with an eye on the sky. Unless the clouds dissipated, there would be no moon at all on this Moonlight Ride. They rode at an easy pace to the gathering area, a wide field with cliffs hemming it in on two sides. Logan pointed to a gently sloping trail. “Red Rock Pass. That’s our assigned route.”
Mr. and Mrs. Spencer Quinn met them. They had the weathered look of people who spent their lives outdoors. Mr. Quinn wore a battered baseball cap and Mrs. Quinn a down jacket in a sizzling yellow color. They examined the horses with enthusiasm.
“We’ve got a hundred acres in Wyoming. We take folks on overnight riding tours and we’re looking to add to our herd.” He stroked Blue Boy and looked at his teeth. “Good riders?”
“Very smooth,” Isabel said. “They are all pretty good under pressure.”
No need to mention that Echo and Striker had come within yards of a killer near the hunting blind and hadn’t taken off at the sound of Logan’s pistol shot. She left the couple to their inspection as she caught sight of Sheila standing away from the throng, a phone pressed to her ear. As she walked over, she noticed Carl, slouched in the passenger seat of an SUV parked nearby.
Sheila’s face was haggard and drawn. She snapped the phone shut when she saw Isabel. “We heard about the body.”
Isabel answered with a nod.
Sheila’s voice was almost a whisper. “I want you to know, my son had nothing to do with that girl’s death. All this terrible business will be straightened out, but you have to know John is not a killer. He’s crushed to hear about Nora.”
The darkness concentrated the desperation in her face into harsh shadows. Isabel did not know what to say. “The police will figure it out.” With Bentley in charge of the investigation, she had to wonder. “Are you and Carl riding together?”
Sheila shot a disgusted look at the SUV. “Carl is sick. He’s going to stay in the car until we return.”
Isabel saw the bleary look on Carl’s face. Memories of her father surfaced and she knew Carl’s illness was the kind that is only found at the bottom of a bottle. “That’s too bad.”
“Yes.” Sheila toyed with her hair. “Are you sure you want to ride tonight, honey? With all the talk…” She gestured to the crowd and Isabel noticed for the first time that several faces were looking in her direction.
The gossipers could just as easily be talking about the latest discovery in the ravine, which had nothing to do with her and everything to do with John Trigg. She raised her chin. “I’m going to ride.”
Sheila flashed Isabel a grin. “You’re a tough girl. I admire that. I’d better go saddle up.”
On her way back to the horses, Isabel was dismayed to see John Trigg headed in the same direction. She tried to draw back in the shadows, but he’d spotted her and came close, dwarfing her from his seat on the big mare.
He stared at her, jaw working. In the distance, Isabel saw Logan watching them carefully. John bent down a little, so close she could see the black stubble on his wide chin. “I don’t know what happened to Nora and Cassie.” His voice quivered. “All I know is you are not going to pin their deaths on me.”
Isabel’s heart thumped faster. She readied herself to run or shout if he got off his horse. “I’m not trying to pin anything on you. I just want the truth.”
In her peripheral vision she saw Logan sitting stiffly in the saddle, hands on the reins.
John’s voice was rough, hoarse. “Be careful, Isabel. You’re making a lot of enemies in this town.”
She bit her lip to keep from screaming.
Then he moved the horse away.
Logan relaxed in the saddle, but continued to follow John’s progress.
She watched John take his place in the group that would go ahead of them on the trail.
What was that old expression? Keep your enemies close.
John would be riding through the darkness, perhaps watching for an opportunity to split off and circle back behind her. The skin on the back of her neck crawled, but she marched back with as much bravado as she could muster.
Returning to her guests, she climbed up on Blue Boy. The Quinns needed no encouragement to mount and soon they were headed toward Red Rock Pass. They were one of three groups assigned to the trail. Laughter and shouted conversations filled the night air.
Just as Logan was about to lead the group up the trail into the darkness, he reached for his phone. Isabel watched his face as he pushed a button to retrieve messages. It was a tortured mixture of emotion that she could not fully read in the gloom.
He turned away and listened briefly before stowing it in his pack.
The lift of his shoulders and the quick pace at which he guided his horse along told her what she needed to know.
It was official.
The Air Force would sign him as a trainer.
Logan Price would return to his dreams and leave Isabel alone to build her own.
A sick ache started in her belly. She tried to shake it off.
You knew it was coming, Is. She had.
But the ache remained anyway.
SEVENTEEN
Logan wished he could dismount and follow Isabel on foot. Instead he was perched on top of a thousand-pound animal with a will of its own. He tried not to dwell on it as he started up the trail, the Quinns behind him and Isabel bringing up the rear. John Trigg was a half mile ahead. Logan liked it that way. Far enough in front where he could keep an eye on him. John was a powder keg waiting to explode.
And what about Autie? He was out there somewhere, too. Waiting.
Logan had half a mind to turn the horse around and throw Isabel over his saddle to get her out of there one way or another. He didn’t for two reasons; she’d never forgive him and he didn’t have enough confidence in his horsemanship skills to pull it off.
So he gritted his teeth and moved on.
The phone in his backpack pressed into his ribs.
The message from the staff sergeant was clear.
Phone in, Price. Let’s talk details.
It was the chance he’d been waiting for since the day his pararescue career had ended in a splintering of bone.
They would let him rejoin.
Thank You, God. You’re giving me my family back. Though it was the moment he’d been craving for months, perhaps years, he didn’t feel the jubilation that he’d expected from the news. Probably the stress of the current situation.
He turned to check on Isabel. The hair had flown loose from her braid and whipped around her face. She looked so at ease on Blue Boy, as if they were a part of each other. But Blue Boy would be moving on soon, too.
He turned and refocused on the trail. The rain had begun to fall in warm droplets, splattering rocks scored with stripes of ochre and rust, soaking into the ground. Overhead, the clouds seemed to reach down and fill in the gorge into which they were headed, obscuring the moonlight almost completely.
He strained to make out John Trigg in the distance.
The narrow pass was scoured clean by a torrent of water long ago, leaving no boulders or scrub for anyone to hide behind. That was one thing working in their favor, anyway. Still, he wished Tank was along. The goofy dog was likely to get underfoot and pester the horses, but he had a deep-seated dislike of Autie and would know he was around before Logan could.
Logan checked his watch. Almost midnight. If everything went without incident, they would be back to safety by four o’clock. He could return the phone call after the pancake breakfast.
And then what? Would they want him immediately? If the Quinns didn’t take some of the horses, how would Isabel tend them herself?
She would do it, somehow. In spite of her life, her troubles, her tragedies, she had reconnected with her sister, even after Cassie was gone. She had a mission and a duty in her own corner of the world that was every bit as important as any he had ever carried out. She would save her sister’s dream to give those hor
ses a good home.
The rain fell harder, collecting in little pools that splashed under the horses’ hooves. Was Autie out there perched in the rocks somewhere?
The question kicked at him again. Why hadn’t Autie stopped him from clearing the ravine? Why watch? And wait?
Logan scanned the darkness, checking the possible ambush points. No sign of anyone.
“How about a stop for pictures?” Mr. Quinn called out.
Pictures were the last thing he wanted to do, but following the “customer is always right” philosophy he nodded and stopped. It gave him a chance to talk to Isabel, who took a few pictures of the Quinns together and held their horses while the couple climbed up a pile of rocks in search of the perfect shot.
He looked around, thinking about another kind of perfect shot.
She punched his arm playfully. “Hey, there. Enjoying the scenery?”
“No,” he said. “Too busy watching.”
She shivered, and he put an arm around her. “Cold?”
“Not really. Just got a chill up my spine. I saw you on the phone. Was it the call you’ve been waiting for?”
He wanted to change the subject, but her eyes searched his face with a startling intensity. In that moment he realized another truth. She loved him. He knew she would never say it, with too many scars from her past still aching. But there was love there, the kind of love he’d never seen in another human being, the kind of love that was big enough to let him go. Though he couldn’t believe it of himself, he knew he loved her, too.
He stared at the ground, hating himself in that moment. “Yes, it was.”
Her voice dropped. “I thought so. I wanted to say that if you need to go before, you know… If the Quinns don’t work out before you leave, I can take care of the adoptions. I’m strong enough to handle it.”
He squeezed her in the shelter of his arm. “Isabel, you’re plenty strong enough to handle it. In fact, you’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you choose to stay in the light. Even when there’s darkness so black it can kill you, you stay in the light.”
She rubbed her cheek to his hand. “Maybe I had to be in the bad stuff to make me recognize goodness when I see it.” She let go. “Anyway, let’s get this trip going. I know you have a lot to do when we get back.”