At that, Scott laughed. “You must’ve talked to my old boss.”
Hal grinned in return. “I did hear about your fourteen-plus-hour days when you were on a tough case back home, but that’s not what I’m after here. We need any help we can get. But to bring in someone with your expertise, we’d be even more grateful.”
Scott sighed. “Well…”
“Short-term. Change your mind, and you can quit. No hard feelings.”
“I’ll agree to a strict consultant basis, for assisting with the current murder investigation.” Scott leveled a look at Megan. “And also as backup if needed—so your officers will be safer.”
Megan stared at him, horrified, as the implications grew clear. He was planning on watching over her. Getting in the way of what she needed to do, out of some misguided chivalrous code. “I think that’s a bad idea. We just need someone to take over twelve-hour shifts that aren’t being covered right now.”
Hal chuckled. “Actually, I think this is just about perfect. Anders, I’ll talk to the county supervisors first thing tomorrow about the pay, and how we can handle the personnel details. With luck, we can have you on board in no time.”
At the sharp rap on the door frame leading to the deputy’s shared office area, Megan looked up, thankful for the interruption after working on the computer all morning. “Heading out for your lunch break, Betty?”
The gray-haired woman shook her head as she handed over a pink phone message slip. “We just got a call. Arnold Lane never showed up last night at the ranch. He was driving the ranch semi, and the owner is really concerned. I tried calling the sheriff but he isn’t answering his cell.”
“Have you talked to the highway patrol?”
“I just called them. No accident reports have come in on any semis within the last twenty-four hours. No traffic stops on a truck with that license plate, either.”
“So maybe the man was too tired to drive all the way back, and just took a nap somewhere. Or he checked into a motel.”
“The owner of the ranch doesn’t think so. Lane has made the same trip dozens of times and is always back before dark. The ranch hands told him that a deputy was out there yesterday asking questions about Lane, and now he’s concerned.” She pulled a face. “And that’s putting it mildly. This is one unpleasant man.”
The Halfway House Tavern was fifty-six miles away, and the ranch was twenty miles south of that. It couldn’t be farther from the sheriff’s office and still be in the same county, and a trip there would take the whole afternoon. But that was infinitely more appealing than being cooped up in the sheriff’s office doing busy work.
“Where is Hal, do you know?”
Betty’s face filled with concern. “At one of his wife’s doctor’s appointments. He tries to be with her every time, you know. That’s probably why his phone is off.”
“Then I’ll follow up on this. Everyone else is busy.”
“But—”
“Just let him know when he comes back in.”
“Wait—he said you have to take Scott along if you go out on something like this. Remember?”
“I’ve been in this job for a lot of years, Betty. I can handle it.”
She pursed her lips. “It isn’t about you. Hal wants the new guy acclimated to what’s going on. He was adamant about it—he told me himself.”
Megan hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll call Scott and see if he’s available. If not, then I can at least say I tried.”
Already feeling the adrenaline flowing back into her veins, Megan grabbed her service belt and keys and headed out the door.
Sam Fillmore, owner of the K Bar L, met Megan and Scott at the door of his sprawling, hacienda-style home. Scott stood back and let Megan take the lead.
“Second time in two days that the law has been here,” Fillmore growled. “And now my foreman, semi and a sale barn check for a load of cattle are missing. Mind telling me what’s going on?”
From the massive ranch sign hanging above the ranch road to the well-kept barns and fences, he appeared to be a successful rancher, but his face was heavily lined and weathered to an ageless, almost mummified state of preservation, and his mouth appeared set in a permanent scowl.
“You still haven’t heard from him, then,” Megan said.
He swore under his breath. “If I had, I wouldn’t have called the sheriff, and you wouldn’t be standing here.”
Megan had told Scott about Betty’s low opinion of Sam Fillmore on the long drive out here, and the older woman’s assessment was right on.
“I checked with the highway patrol just a few minutes ago, and they’ve put out a bulletin on your truck,” Megan continued. “None of the patrolmen remember seeing it in the last day or so, and your K Bar L logo is certainly memorable. I’ve seen it in the past and you can’t miss the white-on-red design.”
“Why did that other deputy come out yesterday to ask about Lane before he even disappeared?”
“To ask him a few questions, but maybe I could ask you a couple more and save us all a third trip. I understand Lane has a sister in Rawlins. Have you met her?”
Fillmore snorted. “He doesn’t have a sister. No family at all, far as I know.”
Megan looked up at him sharply. “You’re sure?”
“That’s what he wrote on his application form for next of kin when I hired him. Why would he lie?”
To make himself harder to trace? “Good question, sir,” Scott said. “Did he have references when he came here?”
“Sure. A couple of cattle ranches in the Sand Hills of western Nebraska. A horse ranch in southern Colorado. I called ’em all.”
Megan tapped her pen against her clipboard. “Do you have those numbers in a file somewhere?”
“This ain’t some big corporation, ma’am. Somebody gits hired, they work hard, and they stay. If they don’t work out, they’re gone. I don’t need to keep some fancy file on everyone. Simple, but it works.”
“So he’s been a good, dependable employee. What about friends? Enemies?”
“He don’t even hang out with the other ranch hands, much less anyone else. And I don’t pry into his personal business.”
“If he shows up so I can ask him some questions, he’ll give me straight answers?”
“I expect so. Like I said, if he was a troublemaker, he’d a been outta here already.” Fillmore’s gaze flickered. “But I can’t rightly say where he goes or what he does on his time off. If you find out anything bad, I want to know. I can’t afford to keep someone on I can’t trust.”
After jotting down a few notes, she looked up at Scott. “Anything you want to add?”
“What about gambling? Do you know if Lane has any heavy debts?”
Fillmore shook his head.
“Alcohol? Drugs?”
“If he was an alcoholic or used drugs and I caught him, he would’ve been tossed off the ranch on his ear,” the rancher snapped.
Scott ignored the man’s surly tone. “What about new friends? Anyone who started hanging around or calling? More mail than usual, boxes being delivered? Any unusual travel recently?”
“Nada. Look, if the guy has disappeared, there’s nothing I can do about that. Far as I’m concerned, he’s already fired. The sales barn stopped my missing check, but I want that semi back…and I want it back in one piece.”
“If it turns up, you’ll be the first to know.” Her mouth compressed in a firm line and her voice flinty, Megan handed him her business card. “Contact us if you learn anything, as well. I can assure you that we want to solve this as much as you do.”
“Really.” The rancher’s voice dripped acid. “When you’ve got a forty-thousand-dollar rig missing, then maybe I’ll believe you.”
“That man is obnoxious.” Megan fumed on the way back to Copper Cliff. “I’m surprised anyone would ever want to work with him.”
Scott looked over at her, amused. “Makes me wonder how long any of his ranch hands stay. The ones who do might well band togethe
r…sort of an ‘us against the boss’ camaraderie.”
She glanced over at him, then turned her attention back to the stretch of empty highway ahead. “Since Lane went missing right after Wes had stopped out at the ranch to ask about him, maybe the other hands alerted him to stay away?”
“Though that begs the question of how he could imagine that he could lie low for any length of time with a fire-engine-red rig emblazoned with K Bar L on the side. It doesn’t make sense…unless he’d stashed a personal vehicle somewhere, or had friends he could count on.”
“Good point.” Megan picked up the mike and radioed Elaine. “I need you to check on any vehicles registered to Arnold Lane.”
In seconds Elaine was back on the radio. “Red ’82 Chevy pickup. Montana plates.”
Scott grabbed a slip of paper from a tablet affixed to the dash and wrote down the license plate number.
“Put out an alert on the vehicle, will you?” Megan added. “Let me know what you hear.”
Then she picked up her cell phone and punched the speed dial for Wes. He answered on the third ring. “Hey, you were going to check on Barbara Lane, down in Rawlins. Any luck?”
“I found over fifty Lanes in Montana. None live in Rawlins. I’ve been able to talk to forty-three of them already, and the others are either too elderly or have recently deceased.”
“So did you come up with anything?”
“None of the women I talked to had even heard of Arnold Lane, or the K Bar L Ranch.”
“I was afraid of that. It confirms what his boss just told me.” Megan disconnected the call. “But why would Lane lie? What’s the point?”
“He could have some woman he’s been seeing…or maybe he goes off drinking. Or it could be something much worse…which is looking more likely all the time.”
“I don’t know what this guy is up to, but whatever it is, he definitely has something to hide.” She bit her lower lip. “Once you start adding things up, he could even be our Full Moon Killer.”
“If he is, we’ve got about fifteen days before the next full moon to find him, and he already knows that we’re on his tail.”
She nodded. “This state has more wilderness than we could ever cover. If we do find him in time, it will only be through the grace of God.”
TWELVE
Back in Copper Cliff, Megan took a detour and pulled to a stop in front of the Marshall County regional hospital. At just fifty beds, the L-shaped, one-story brick building held a thirty-bed long-term care unit, a ten-bed skilled unit and ten hospital beds, though the more critical cases were airlifted to Billings or Bozeman.
She said a silent prayer before she walked inside and stopped at the front desk. “Is Carl Wilson still here?”
The receptionist looked up from her computer. “Hi, Officer. He is, but—” She hit a few keys and studied the monitor. “This says he is to receive no visitors.”
“Is he worse?”
She smiled. “We can’t release information. You know that.”
“I’m not exactly a visitor. I’d need to talk to him, if he’s able.”
The receptionist’s smile slipped. “I really can’t let you go back there. You could talk to the nurse, though. Or his daughter, if she’s still here. She might’ve slipped out for a bite to eat. Just hold on, and I’ll page the unit.”
“This is important.”
The woman picked up the phone, spoke to someone, then waved Megan toward the north wing. “Stop at the nurse’s station.”
Nodding her thanks, Megan strode to the nurse’s station, where a middle-aged nurse stood behind the desk. “I hear you want to talk to Carl, but I’m afraid he’s in no shape to visit.”
“I know he was in a coma when he arrived Sunday night, and that he’d had a heart attack en route. So there’s no change?”
“You aren’t actually a relative…” The nurse smiled apologetically.
“But I am.”
Megan turned and found a woman standing at the open door of a lounge. “You must be his daughter.”
She stepped forward with a strained smile. “Mona Wilson. Can I help you?”
“I’m so sorry about the accident. How are you holding up?”
Her dark brown eyes sheened with tears. “Not so good, I guess. I’m really worried about him because he isn’t showing any signs of improvement.”
“Has he been conscious at all?”
She shook her head. “He’s breathing on his own, thank goodness. But he hasn’t opened his eyes or spoken. H-he’s got tubes and wires everywhere.”
“Since they’re keeping him here, that must be a good sign.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I sit with him almost all the time, talking to him and hoping that he’ll wake up.”
“I’m sure he knows you’re here.”
“I—I think so. I feel so bad, though—I’ve got to leave in a few minutes and can’t be here all weekend.” A tear spilled down her cheek. “My daughter is coming home from a week with her father. I have to meet her plane, then get her set up and drive her to cheerleading camp.”
“The doctors and nurses will be only a phone call away, though.” Megan looked up at the nurse. “Right?”
“Absolutely. Your father has been stable. We’ll hope and pray that he does just fine while you’re away.”
Megan rested a comforting hand on Mona’s arm. “There’s one thing you can do for me when he does wake up.”
“Anything. If you hadn’t been there, he might’ve stayed down in that ditch all night. He could’ve died.”
“I have to be honest, though. If I hadn’t been in the area, the guy who drove him off the road might not have driven so erratically. He took one look at my patrol car and raced off.”
“Then he had to be guilty of something, even before the accident.”
“I’d really like to get him. There’ll be insurance and legal issues later, and if we can identify the guy it could be of financial benefit for your father.”
“B-but what can I do?”
“Before he passed out at the scene, he told me he would never forget the face of the man in the pickup. Call me right away when he starts talking, okay?” Megan handed her a business card. “With all he’s been through he may not remember anything at all. But I hope so, because the man I’m looking for may be responsible for some other…problems in the area.”
“Leave a card with the nurses, too. If Dad wakes up and there’s a chance he can describe the monster that did this to him and drove away, I want to make sure you get the message.”
Scott drove into Megan’s driveway and pulled to a stop next to her patrol car, then rested his wrists on the top of the steering wheel and studied the cabin.
On their long trip back to town from the Fillmore ranch, one topic had led to another. He’d somehow finagled a dinner invitation, though second thoughts about accepting it had been swirling through his mind since he’d left home. But now, he could see welcoming, soft light glowing through the open windows. And even from here, he could smell the aroma of something wonderful. Pie? Could it actually be peach pie?
But it wasn’t the prospect of a home-cooked meal that had brought him here. It was the woman herself. And that fact had warning bells clanging in his head.
What was he thinking? He’d left the police department and the rest of his tumultuous old life behind with a move halfway across the country, and he’d finally found a measure of peace. So what was he doing here—repeating past mistakes?
If nothing else, Olivia’s defection had taught him the value of being completely alone.
Jasper stared at him from the opposite side of the front seat and whined.
“You think it’s a mistake, too?”
The dog looked out the window and whined louder.
Now Scott saw the reason—Megan’s golden retriever was sitting in the shadows of the porch. The old dog woofed and Jasper answered with a series of eager barks.
“Traitor.” Resigned, Scott opened the door and
Jasper bounded out after him to race up the stairs and sniff noses with his new pal.
Megan appeared at the door a moment later, a voluminous white apron wrapped around her trim waist and a set of oven mitts on her hands. “Sometimes Buddy just sits out here at night and barks when the bats swoop by, but I thought I heard something different. Welcome.”
Her auburn hair was lit to a gold-edged nimbus by the light behind her, her voice was low and warm and inviting. And just like that, his doubts melted away. “I found you with Google Maps on the computer…sort of. Things got a little sketchy in the dark, though, once I got out in the country.”
“Everyone has trouble. It’s not the map program’s fault, it’s that the numbering system out here is a little wonky. And one of the roads got washed out last year but was never replaced. I hope you’re hungry.”
“More so by the minute. Something sure smells wonderful.” He walked up the steps to the broad covered porch. She’d set up a table out here, with a pair of flickering candles smelling of cinnamon and a bouquet of wildflowers in an old blue canning jar. A pair of faceted water glasses sparkled in the candlelight. “And this looks beautiful.”
“I don’t entertain very often. You’ll have to forgive my china—I have just a partial set of my grandmother’s so it doesn’t all match.”
He laughed at that. “I’m glad you haven’t seen my kitchen, then.”
She disappeared into the house and brought out pitchers of raspberry iced tea and lemonade.
“Let me help carry.”
“Nah, just pour. Tea for me, but I made both just in case. I’ll be right back.”
She returned in a few minutes with a big wooden bowl of raspberry and almond spinach salad. “I didn’t even think to ask you what you like. Please, don’t hesitate to turn anything down.” She looked up at him and grinned. “So have a seat. I’ll only be offended if you try to suffer in silence.”
He watched her serve the salad with deep pleasure. “Well, the first course is definitely a work of art.”
BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game Page 11