“You’re my angel. Do you want me to hang you up there?”
Geneva giggled. It was a sound he was hearing more and more these days. The most joyful sound in the world.
“How long until Grandpa gets here? I want to show him our tree.”
“Not for a while, honey.” His dad had promised to bring a box of ornaments from the attic to help fill out the tree. And then they’d have lasagna for dinner—Justin had bought a frozen one on his last big grocery shop.
“If we take Dora for a walk, the time will go by faster.”
“If we run will it go even faster?”
Oh, God. Kids. Sometimes Justin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He felt sorry for Willow missing moments like this. But then, she’d made her choice. A package had come by courier from her yesterday afternoon, shipped from Amazon. Inside were two gifts for Geneva. But no note.
Time was running out to explain his cancer to Geneva. With the donor clinic happening next week, the news was all over town. It was possible some of the kids at the day care had already heard their parents talking about it.
He needed to prepare her.
He hoped being outdoors, in the sunshine, would make the news seem less scary.
But it was so cold Justin changed his mind about having his serious chat with Geneva outside. They raced around the block with Dora, then hurried inside for hot cocoa and cookies. While they were at the kitchen table, stirring marshmallows into their drinks, Justin said simply, “The doctor told me I’m sick. I’m going to be sick for a long time.”
Geneva looked puzzled. “Why aren’t you in bed if you’re sick?”
“This is a different type of sickness. It’s called Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a kind of cancer.”
The word meant nothing to Geneva.
“Grandpa’s a doctor. He can give you some medicine.”
“I have to go to a different kind of doctor. A specialist.”
“But he can make you better, right?” Geneva was starting to look worried.
What did you say to a four-year-old? She’d been faced with too many broken promises already in her short life. He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t burden her with complexities, either.
“It’s going to take a long time.”
“How long?”
“By the time you start kindergarten, I should be better.”
“That’s a really long time.” She pushed out her bottom lip, chewed it a moment, then patted his hand. “But that’s okay, Daddy. I’ll look after you.”
Wednesday, December 6
Zak set aside the report he was writing when Clayton and Vanessa Stillman stepped into the office shortly after eleven on Wednesday. They both looked anguished and worried and exhausted.
“We need to talk to the sheriff,” Clayton said.
Ford opened his door. “I’m here. Been on the phone all morning checking with local law enforcement across Montana. No one’s seen Nikki or her truck so far.”
Vanessa threw up her arms. “This is crazy. She couldn’t just disappear.”
Zak felt for her and her husband. He hadn’t had a solid night’s sleep since Nikki had been reporting missing, either, but it must be absolute hell for the family. With Clayton standing right in front of him, he was sorely tempted to ask about the loan, but Luke had sworn him to secrecy.
“Can you think of anything that might have been bothering Nikki? Something that would prompt her to disappear for a while?”
The couple exchanged a glance that was long enough to make Zak wonder if the bank had sent a second letter to Clayton Stillman’s house, a letter Nikki might have intercepted and which could have sent her into a tailspin.
If that was the case though, neither Vanessa nor Clayton was ready to admit it.
“There’s nothing,” Vanessa said.
“Nikki’s life revolves around the ranch and her family,” her husband added. “It’s completely out of character for her to take off like this. It’s been more than a week. Someone must have taken her. Maybe...hurt her.”
The grim lines around Vanessa’s mouth tightened. Automatically she leaned toward her husband, who clasped his arm protectively around her shoulders.
“There’s no evidence of any foul play,” Ford was quick to point out. “No sign at all that Nikki has come to any harm.”
“I wish I could share your confidence, Sheriff.” Vanessa’s eyes were filling with tears. “There must be more that you can do.”
“Butterfield is supervising the ground search. We’ve got the copter out again today and an APB for Nikki and her Jeep. Deputy Black and I are working the phones, checking in with the neighboring counties. We’ll hear something soon,” Ford predicted.
“God, I hope so,” Clayton said. “Phone us tonight, would you? We’d appreciate an update.”
“You bet.” Ford walked them to the door.
Zak imagined metaphorical sweat gathering on his brow. The Stillmans had a lot of sway in this county, both financial and otherwise. If this didn’t end well, with Nikki back at the Lazy S in time for Christmas, Ford’s re-election campaign was going to be dead in the water.
“Goddamned kids,” Ford said a few moments later. “With all their phones and iPads, you’d think they could take the time to send a few messages to the folks who pay for all their fancy toys.”
“Nikki’s twenty-five,” Zak pointed out. “She’s been working on that ranch all her life. I’m sure she pays for her own toys by now.”
The sheriff grunted. “Then she’s old enough to know better than to take off like this.”
Zak agreed. That was the fact that worried him most.
The sheriff fetched a stack of rough notes from his office. “I need you to write these up into reports for me.” He tossed the papers onto Zak’s desk.
Zak had been about to put on his coat. “I’ll get right on that when I finish at the donor drive.”
“What?” The sheriff frowned. “You mean the one for Justin Pittman?”
“Yup.” He wanted to get in before noon, to beat the rush.
“Jesus. We’re overloaded with work and you’ve got time to give DNA samples?” The sheriff turned to Nadine, who had just stood up as well. “Don’t tell me you’re doing it, too?”
“This is a matter of life and death,” Nadine said. “It’s our civic duty.”
Other bosses might have commended them. All Ford said was, “This counts as your lunch break.”
Zak could live with that.
On the morning of the donor drive, Marsha asked Tiff for help wrapping her Christmas gifts. She’d bought something for everyone at the medi-clinic, as well as bottles of libations for Kenny and the other farm employees.
“I’ve already given out the Christmas bonuses.” Tiff placed the bottle of bourbon meant for Kenny into a gift bag. Then she stuffed several sheets of tissue paper around it.
“That’s fine, but this is more personal.” Marsha taped a handwritten label to the box she’d just wrapped.
Tiff couldn’t argue with that.
Once they’d finished with the gifts, Marsha pulled out Christmas cards. “We’re behind on these. Usually we send them to our customers right after Thanksgiving.”
Tiff felt like groaning. They had hundreds of names on their customer list. “The job would go a lot faster if I printed the addresses from the list onto the envelopes. I’d have to use the laser printer in the barn office.”
“Hand-written labels are more personal...but okay. Let me know when you’re finished and I’ll help stuff the cards.”
“I can do that in the office as well. Then I can take them straight to the post office.” She’d hit the donor drive at the same time.
“No need. I have some library books of your mother’s to return.”
“Let me take care of them.”
“Oh, no, it will give me a chance to say hello to Sybil. I haven’t seen her in ages. Just bring me the cards
when you’re done. And thank you. This is always such a big job—I really appreciate your help.”
“No problem.” Tiff suspected her aunt was keeping her busy to make sure she didn’t go to Dr. Pittman’s donor drive. Marsha had brought up the subject again last night at dinner, stating what a waste of time it was. The population in Lost Trail was statistically insignificant. Even if everyone in the suggested eighteen to forty-four age group participated, the chance was negligible that they’d find a match for Justin.
But Tiff couldn’t see it that way. If she had some rare blood disease, she knew she’d appreciate each and every person who tried to help.
Having known Justin and his father all her life, she simply had to go. Even Kenny, who had no history with the Pittmans, wanted to do his bit.
Once she was in the barn, Tiff texted him.
I’m going into town to the donor drive.
He replied almost instantly. Hang on, I’ll come with you. The other guys went earlier.
Let’s take your truck.
They didn’t talk much on the drive into town. Last night she’d gone by his cabin to share a drink and to vent about her inability to get any clients for her accounting business.
“How am I supposed to support myself? I’m too old to keep sponging off my family.”
Kenny had listened, but he hadn’t offered much in the way of advice. It had been frustrating. Now, as he parked as close as he could to the clinic, she turned to him.
“You didn’t say much last night.”
He stared straight ahead, his jaw annoyingly firm, his posture rigid. “What did you want me to say?”
“I’d like to know what you think. Did I make a mistake moving back here?”
After a few seconds he turned and gave her a long steady look. “That’s something only you can answer.”
Then he got out of the car.
Inside the waiting room was jammed and they had to take a number. Zak and Nadine were on their way out.
“We got here before the rush,” Zak said. “Derick and Aubrey were here earlier as well. They missed each other by less than five minutes.”
“I wonder what would have happened if they’d seen each other. Do you think Aubrey will ever forgive him?” Tiff asked.
Zak shrugged. “Would you?”
Tiff doubted anyone could answer unless they’d been in the same situation. Derick had been motivated by love, wanting to make his wife happy. But he’d deceived her, and participated in something illegal. So...
“I don’t know.”
Just then Farrah Saddler called out Tiff’s number. The process was remarkably efficient. Within twenty minutes she and Kenny filled in their paperwork, provided their cheek swabs and were leaving the clinic. On the way to the truck, they crossed paths with Debbie-Ann from the day care. She nodded at Tiff.
“Did you just get tested?”
“We both did. And you?”
“I’m on my way in. Sybil’s filling in at the day care for me so I can do my part.” She waved her hands at all the vehicles parked around the medi-clinic. “Isn’t it wonderful how many people are coming to get tested?”
“A lot of people care about Justin. I can’t imagine this town without him.”
When Zak returned with Nadine from the donor clinic, the sheriff’s office door was closed. His muffled voice was audible in short bursts, suggesting he was on the phone.
Nadine threw her coat onto the rack by the door. “If your stem cells are a match—will you go ahead with the donation?”
“A match for Justin, you mean? Yeah, of course I would.” He leafed through the stack of papers the sheriff had dumped on him. By now he was proficient at interpreting Ford’s sketchy notes. This wouldn’t take long.
“What if you turn out to be a match for someone you don’t know?”
“Same answer. How could I say no? When someone needs a stem-cell transplant, we’re talking life and death. And matches are rare.”
Nadine nodded. “That’s what I figured you’d say.” Her gaze darted to the sheriff’s closed door. “If he hadn’t been too old to be tested, do you think he would have done it?”
Given how grudgingly Ford had given his permission for them to take time off to go to the clinic, and given everything else Zak knew about the man, he doubted it. But he decided to be generous and say he wasn’t sure.
“Well, I am. Ford wouldn’t have bothered. And neither would Butterfield.”
She looked like she had more to say, but was interrupted by the ringing of her phone.
“Sheriff’s department, Deputy Black here.” She automatically reached for a pen. Within seconds her spine snapped straight and she began scribbling madly.
From her end of the conversation Zak could tell the call was about Nikki. Finally, a break. But by the time she’d hung up, the starch had gone out of Nadine’s posture.
She circled something on her pad of paper, then looked up at him. “That was the police department in Great Falls. One of their officers reported seeing a blue Jeep Compass an hour ago being driven by a young woman with brown hair in a braid over her shoulder. The license plate was muddy but at least two of the numbers matched. Unfortunately the officer was driving in the opposite direction on a road with a broad boulevard. By the time he circled around, he lost sight of the truck.”
“Damn. That’s bad luck. But if it was her, at least we know she’s alive and well enough to drive. Though with only two matching numbers...that’s not much to go on.”
“It’s the best we’ve had so far.” Nadine eyed the sheriff’s closed door cautiously. “I guess I better tell him.”
“Yup. It’s the first hopeful sign since she disappeared. He’ll want to be the one to call the Stillmans.”
Chapter Fourteen
At home that night Tiff watched as her aunt silently put together a dinner tray for her mother. Tiff was worried, not only about her mom who’d spent the entire day in bed, but also about her aunt.
For most of Tiff’s life Marsha had been her one true ally, her only sane relative, the rock she could count on. Marsha had showered her with the sort of love she might have given to her own child if she’d had one.
Lately though, her aunt seemed tense and easily annoyed. Maybe the role of caregiver was finally getting to be too much.
“Aunt Marsha, when is the last time you took a holiday? A real vacation?”
Her aunt snorted. “Like Vanessa and Jen’s spa retreat you mean? No thanks.”
“What about a few weeks on the beach in Hawaii or Florida? Does that appeal?”
“A beach isn’t everyone’s idea of a good time.”
“Well how about a few weeks in New York? Or maybe a European tour?”
Her aunt swung around. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“That’s—not what I meant at all.” Tiff didn’t understand this confrontational attitude. “I’m trying to be considerate. You’ve been looking after Mom and the farm for so many years. If anyone deserves a holiday, it’s you.”
“I was perfectly happy with the status quo. Then you decide to come home. You question my administration of your mother’s medications, you go behind my back to talk to Dr. Pittman, you push to get your mother to see specialists. You act like you have all the answers.”
The verbal attack took Tiff’s breath away. She couldn’t speak. Wide-eyed she stared at her aunt as the assault continued.
“I’m a nurse. I’m your mother’s sister. You show no respect for any of this.”
Tiff’s instinct was to apologize, but her aunt kept speaking.
“No one asked you to move home. You took it for granted you’d be wanted. Can’t you see it upsets your mother to have you around?”
“Do you really believe that?” Tiff’s voice came out small, laced with hurt.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why there are no current photographs of you in the house? Time stopped for your mother when Casey and your dad died. Is that healthy? No. But it’s the only way Rose
mary manages to go on.”
The words were hurtful, but they rang true.
Tiff sank onto a stool and stared down at her hands. She felt empty, smashed.
When her aunt spoke next, her voice was kinder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. But the truth does hurt sometimes.”
It certainly did.
Her aunt picked up the tray of food. “I’m taking this to your mother then I’m going to my book club meeting. We can talk later when you’ve had a chance to think things through. Whatever you do, though, please don’t upset your mother by discussing this with her.”
After her aunt left the house, Tiff went upstairs to check on her mom. She was asleep on her back, a troubled expression on her pale face. Tiff picked up the framed photos of herself and her brother from the bedside table. What a carefree kid she’d been back then.
This was the Tiffany her mom wanted to remember. Casey and her dad had been frozen in time. Only she had the bad taste to continue living.
Tiff carried the tray of cold food downstairs, cleaned the dishes, then turned out the lights. From the window she looked across the snowy landscape to the guest cabin.
Icicles hung from the snow-laden roof, but a warm light glowed from the windows and smoke chugged out the chimney. Kenny must be home.
An overpowering urge to see him washed over her.
She went to the mudroom, slipped on her boots and coat. She wouldn’t go for long. Just a quick drink with Kenny.
The cold air felt good, like pressing a reset button after a meltdown. She filled her lungs and ran along the path that wound through her mother’s gardens.
When she rapped on the cabin door, Kenny didn’t answer right away. Maybe she should have sent him a text first. He could be in the shower for all she knew. She knocked again.
“Hey! It’s cold out here!”
The door opened. Kenny blocked the entry, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet bare. He didn’t look welcoming.
“I’m kind of busy.”
She looked past him, saw no sign of company, only Spade asleep on the rug by the couch.
“I need to talk about something.”
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