by B. J Daniels
“I don’t think so,” Lillie interrupted. “If I can prove that Gordon was leaving the partnership—”
“Why would you want to do that?” J.T. demanded.
“It gives you both a motive to want your partner out of the picture before he pulled the plug on the company he’d started. Trask didn’t kill Gordon. So maybe one of you—or both of you—did.”
The men exchanged a look. “That’s ridiculous,” J.T. said. “It sounds to me like you’re just stirring up more trouble than you can handle.” Even though he hadn’t outright threatened her, she heard something in his voice that made a chill creep up her neck.
She’d come in here hoping to get a reaction to her bluff. But she hadn’t expected one quite like this. Suddenly, she wanted out of this small cramped office, but J.T. was blocking the door.
“If the two of you have nothing to hide...” She moved toward the door to leave. J.T. didn’t budge. Her hand snaked into her pocket and closed on her phone. She pulled it out, ready to hit 9-1-1. “Maybe we should get the sheriff over here to see what he thinks.”
“We have nothing to hide,” J.T. said and stepped back. “You’re wasting your time.”
She didn’t think so as she left, her heart pounding.
CHAPTER NINE
FLINT TRIED NOT to worry about his sister. He had two missing women he had to find. In a place with so little crime, this was a rarity. He wasn’t as worried about Angie. He thought she’d turn up soon. He drove through town, which didn’t take long, looking for Angie’s little red convertible. If she was parked along the main drag, he figured she would be easy to find.
But there was no sign of her car or her. Pulling into the parking lot, he got out and went into the post office. There were only a couple of places in town where everyone turned up at some point or another: the post office and the grocery store.
He asked the postal clerk, an older woman who’d been behind the counter for as long as he could remember, if she’d seen either woman and got the same answer before walking over to the local grocery.
Flint had just entered when his cell phone rang. He saw that it was Maggie and stepped back out onto the sidewalk. “Hi,” he said and found himself smiling.
“Angie North just walked in. She had a flat tire, forgot her cell phone, tried to fix it herself. She said a man from Wolf Point stopped and helped her. She’s a little worse for wear, but she’s fine. I just wanted you to know.”
He let out a relieved sigh. “Did she call her husband?”
“First thing. Got a lecture and now she’s in my chair and about to get her hair done, so all is well.”
Flint laughed. “You’re like a stylist and a psychiatrist all rolled into one.”
“Yep, that’s me,” she said and laughed.
He loved the sound. He also loved that Maggie never took herself too seriously. He lowered his voice. “I can’t wait to see you later.”
“Me too.”
As he disconnected, smiling from ear to ear, he turned to find Celeste standing behind him. One look at her face and he knew that she’d heard most of the conversation, especially the last part.
“That’s how it is with you and Maggie?” she said, her eyes shiny with tears.
He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.
She gave him a brave smile. “I’m happy for you. Really.” A tear caught at the corner of her eye. She reached up and wiped at it. “Allergies. Always get them this time of year. Have a wonderful night.” And with that she was off down the street, leaving him wondering what that had been about, since she’d been the one to leave him. Maybe she really was having regrets? He realized that he didn’t know how he felt about that.
* * *
LILLIE HADN’T GONE far when she had to pull over, she was shaking so hard. J.T. and Skip had something to hide, there was no doubt in her mind. But murder? She thought either of them was up to it. Maybe J.T. more than Skip.
After her run-in with them, she felt shaken and even more afraid. She had to see Trask. Last night, he hadn’t given her any idea when she would see him again. Nor had he mentioned a way they might communicate now that he was back.
When she was talking to Flint earlier, she’d remembered something. In high school, she and Trask used to leave messages in the hollow of an old tree on the ranch. Ely hadn’t been around much. But Flint had made his feelings about Trask clear from the beginning. So they’d sneaked around.
She’d always thought that Flint hadn’t been fair to Trask, who’d never had much, had worked since he was a boy, and as tough as things had been he’d managed to survive on his wits. Something Lillie had always felt her family didn’t give him enough credit for.
Back when she wasn’t supposed to be seeing him, they’d leave messages in the hollow when they needed to reach each other. If she knew this Trask who’d returned, then there would be a message waiting for her this morning.
She couldn’t trust Trask with her heart, but she also couldn’t desert him when he needed her help, she thought as her pickup rumbled down the dirt road toward Cahill Ranch.
The ranch was small by Montana standards. But it sprawled across the rolling foothills east of town to the edge of the national forest in the Judith Mountains. Two creeks meandered through the spring-green grass. In the distance, she could make out the brown and white of Herefords dotting the hillsides. Closer to the house, a huge red barn loomed up. Next to the road, a half-dozen horses took off, their manes blowing back as they ran with the wind.
Lillie pulled into the ranch where she’d grown up. It was only a few miles up the road from the stagecoach stop. As she parked, she was relieved to see that both Hawk’s and Cyrus’s pickups were gone. Out doing chores? Or maybe off somewhere for supplies or a new bull?
She knew they weren’t still out on all-night dates, since neither courted. Talk about a family with intimacy issues, she thought. And wasn’t it ironic that the one person in the family everyone thought was crazy had stayed married for more than thirty years before losing his wife.
Getting out of her pickup, she was glad both of her brothers were gone. She didn’t want anyone to know what she was up to. If they saw her checking the tree, they would know that Trask must be back. She was in no mood to argue about it.
The day was warming up as she walked behind the main house to where the creek widened into a clear, green pool. The smell of the creek and the cottonwoods around it brought back memories of hours spent back there as a young child with her brothers and their friends.
She’d had an idyllic childhood. Growing up there meant being outside most of the time. All that wide-open space had been their playground and they’d never grown bored with it.
Lillie found the tree easily even though it had been almost a decade since she’d checked the hole for a note. She’d come the morning after Trask had left her waiting for him. She’d been so sure he would have left her a message. He wouldn’t have left without telling her why he hadn’t come for her.
The memory of that disappointment made her hesitate. He’d let her down nine years ago. Was she strong enough to go through it again? What if she helped him find out the truth and the truth was that Trask really was guilty?
Her heart in her throat, she reached into the hole in the tree. Her fingers found dead leaves. Nothing else. She dragged them out, surprised at her disappointment. Apparently, either Trask hadn’t remembered the tree or he hadn’t left her a note.
As she brought out the last of the dried leaves, her fingers brushed against paper. She felt light-headed with joy as her hand closed on what was clearly a note—one that had been hidden under the dry leaves but not for nine years.
She pulled it out, cupping it in her palm and simply breathing her relief. Trask wasn’t a stranger. She knew him. Knew that he was innocent.
Taking
a breath, she slowly opened the paper. At Trask’s neat printing, her heart did a little leap. She couldn’t help but remember the beautiful love letters he used to write her.
She took a breath and read what he’d written. Then read it again.
What had she expected?
I’m sorry about last night. If you need to talk, leave me a note here. Or I will be at our meeting spot this afternoon until dark. Otherwise, I’ll know you don’t want to be bothered and I’ll leave you alone. For now.
She balled up the note in her hand. She wouldn’t leave a note. She hadn’t brought anything to write with anyway, since she’d left her purse heavy with the crowbar in the pickup. Also, she didn’t know what she would have written.
Not just that, she didn’t like the idea of Trask sneaking onto the ranch. All he had to do was get caught by one of her brothers.
As she started to step away, her cell phone rang. The name Junior Wainwright came up. She groaned and checked her watch. She had time to meet Trask before her deadline. Of the three dresses she’d told Darby that she owned, none of them were appropriate for tonight. She so seldom wore a dress that the ones in her closet were ones she’d bought to wear for Trask.
She let the call go to voice mail and then listened to the message.
“Just wanted to check and make sure we were still on for tonight. Six?”
She texted back. See you at six.
With a sigh, she headed for her pickup. She didn’t know what she wanted to say to Trask right now anyway. She’d go shopping for her date, since, if she knew Wainwright, which she did, he’d be dressed up. So jeans were out.
It took her a while at the only clothing store in town to find a dress for the date. Her heart wasn’t in it. She kept thinking about Trask’s note.
Finally, she found a dress that was anything but sexy, bought it and headed for her pickup. The sun was setting. It wouldn’t be long before it was dark. She sat behind the wheel of her pickup for a moment before she slipped the key into the ignition.
She’d known where she was going, since she’d found the note in the tree. She’d fought it, spending hours looking for a dress. But as she drove out of town, she knew she had to see Trask. At least one more time.
* * *
CUSSING HIS LUCK at running into Celeste yet again, Flint pushed her out of his thoughts and entered the grocery store. Angie North had turned up. He was hoping Jenna Holloway would too and soon.
He knew the two checkers working by name. It was that small of a town. Betsy was a heavyset woman with a perpetual smile.
“Hey, Sheriff,” she said. He’d realized he was out of milk at home, so he grabbed a quart. “This it for you?”
He nodded and tossed down a couple of dollars. “You haven’t seen Jenna Holloway around, have you?”
Betsy frowned and looked over at the other cashier, who was leaning over the wall that divided them as if not to miss anything.
Lyla was a nice woman, tall and thin with a bunch of kids. Townies remarked she had teeth like a horse, but only in the best way because she had an easy smile. “I haven’t seen her for a week or so, I’d say.”
“Have you ever seen Jenna in here with anyone?”
“Like who?” Betsy asked, lifting a brow.
“A man who might have been paying attention to her or her to him?” Flint knew this would get the rumor mill going for sure, but he couldn’t see any way around it. These women saw people come through their lines every day. They were the heart of the town, since the one thing that everyone needed was food.
“A man?” Lyla scoffed at that and turned back to take the customer who’d walked up.
Betsy lowered her voice. “I saw her once talking to our former butcher, George Fisher, if that helps, but other than that...”
Last he’d heard, George was still in town managing a motel on the outskirts. The kind of motel Jenna Holloway might have gone to after the fight with her husband.
After taking his milk home to the refrigerator, Flint stopped by the motel even though George was a long shot for Jenna’s boyfriend. But the fact that he was now apparently managing the motel could at least answer one question. Jenna would have had a place to stay.
George was a big beefy man with heavy shoulders and arms. Flint guessed his age at somewhere around fifty. His face was flushed red and he was sweating profusely as if it was hot back in the apartment directly behind the registration desk. Flint tried to see what Jenna Holloway might have seen in the man. Maybe it was enough that he was the opposite of Anvil physically. George certainly didn’t look any more fun, though. Nor did his prospects seem like much of an improvement over what Jenna had.
“A word?” Flint asked, and without hesitation George waved him behind the counter and into the small cramped apartment.
“I was about to have lunch,” George said. On the apartment-sized stove a large hamburger patty wallowed in a pan filled with hot grease.
“Have you seen Jenna Holloway in the past few days?”
“Who?” The man looked genuinely confused.
“Jenna Holloway.” He gave him a quick, more flattering description than was actually true of Jenna.
“Doesn’t really ring a bell.”
“She shopped at the grocery when you worked there.”
“If you could tell me what she had me cut for her, I might remember her.”
Flint had no idea. He thought of the run-down farm. “Something...inexpensive and probably never more than two of each cut.”
“Farmer’s wife, right? Wait. Two pork chops, cut paper thin. Said her husband didn’t eat pork. She always acted guilty for buying them for herself.” He shrugged. “I might have given her a deal on them. Felt sorry for her. Is that what this is about?”
“Is that why you aren’t at the grocery anymore? Too many deals?” Flint asked.
George looked angry for a minute but then checked his expression. “I got sick of cutting meat. This gig is a lot better.”
Flint doubted that but didn’t argue. “Was that the only time you and Jenna talked?”
“Talked? You call that talking? She’d ask for two very thin pork chops, I’d cut under her watchful eye and tell her to have a nice day. You call that talking, okay.” He frowned. “What are you getting at, anyway?
“You’d remember if Jenna checked into the motel in the last couple of days,” Flint said.
“You think she checked in here?”
“Did she? I can get a warrant to check the register if I have to.”
“No, she didn’t check in here. A warrant? What’s going on?”
“She’s missing.”
“Missing?” he repeated. “And you thought she’d come here?”
“She might have been seeing another man.”
George let out a bellow of a laugh. “Me and the pork chop? Not a chance in hell. I’m insulted.” He looked insulted.
“If you see her, would you give me a call?” Flint turned to leave.
“I’m not going to see her. I don’t even know why you would ask me about her. It’s that busybody Betsy at the grocery. She was always starting rumors based on what people had in their baskets. A bottle of wine? A nice couple of steaks? A carton of the good ice cream and she had them having some illicit affair. But me and Pork Chop? Seriously, I’m pissed.”
* * *
FLINT CALLED THE only other two motels in town, asked if they knew who Jenna Holloway was and if she’d checked in. He had to describe the woman, since apparently few people knew her. She hadn’t stayed at either motel.
He then went by the gas station where she bought gas. The only person working was a teenager, pimply and too busy playing video games on his cell phone to be having an affair with an older woman. His boss, who Flint found working under a car in the garage, didn’t
know who Jenna was.
That left the town’s only clothing store. The woman behind the counter said to her knowledge that she’d never seen Jenna Holloway in the store. She suggested that if Jenna had bought a dress recently maybe she’d gone to the not-so-big big-box store just outside of town.
“Sure, I’ve seen her,” the girl at the cash register told him at the small big-box store. “She usually just wanders around looking at stuff, then leaves without buying anything.”
“Have you ever seen her buy makeup?” he asked.
“Makeup?” the girl scoffed. “I’ve never seen so much as lip gloss on her.”
He had a thought “You’ve never seen her looking at makeup?”
That stopped the girl. “It was strange. She would pick up stuff like mascara and read the container, then put it back. I didn’t pay much attention because she always left without spending a cent.”
According to her husband, Jenna had been wearing makeup. She had to get it somewhere and this would be the most likely place. Would she be too embarrassed to buy it, thinking people would talk? “How often does makeup get shoplifted?”
The girl’s eyes widened in alarm. “You think she stole it?”
“No, I’m just asking. Would you have known?”
The girl shook her head. “Makeup items are our biggest losses because they are so easy to stick in a pocket or a purse. I wouldn’t have noticed if she’d taken anything nor would any alarms have gone off at the door if she had. Do you think she’s been stealing stuff this whole time?”
He didn’t know. “I’m just asking questions. I don’t know that she stole anything ever from the store.” But he had a gut feeling that it was exactly what the prim-and-proper Jenna Holloway had done.
The beginning of a life of crime? Or at the very least, a life of lies?
When Anvil called, Flint thought for sure it was to say that Jenna had returned, that they’d patched up their differences and all was well again out on the farm.
“I found something I think you need to see,” the farmer said, sounding upset.
Flint’s first thought was evidence. “Don’t touch anything. I’m on my way.”