by B. J Daniels
With Rourke...the only time she’d felt anything was when he’d lied, and that could have been simply her instincts kicking in, since the flash she’d felt had been so weak. She pushed away the memory, not wanting to think about it.
She couldn’t believe how excited she was about this date. She and Rourke had had fun at the lake. She liked him and was looking forward to this dinner. She was grateful she didn’t know what he was thinking, what he was really doing in town or why she still had that dull headache that foretold of something bad to come.
Wasn’t it all right to believe in the best for once? Wasn’t it possible that he was just who he said he was and that maybe there was a chance...?
She refused to let her thoughts go any further. For tonight, she was going to enjoy herself having dinner with a handsome, charming cowboy. She’d deal with whatever was coming when it happened. Nothing was going to ruin her night, she thought as she looked out the window, hoping to see him drive up.
But at the back of her mind she was thinking, Don’t disappoint me, Rourke, as she spotted Carson Grant’s truck parked down the street. She couldn’t tell if he was in the truck, but she had a bad feeling he was and that he was watching her apartment. He was too far away for her to pick up anything from him psychically. But hadn’t she known he’d meant what he’d threatened, that it wasn’t over between the two of them? Carson was determined that she was going to go out with him, no matter what she or even Rourke had to say about the matter.
Just then, he pulled up in his rented SUV. She pushed Carson out of her thoughts. She would deal with him when she had to. Thinking only of her date, she found herself smiling as she watched Rourke get out of the SUV. No man looked better in a Western sports jacket, jeans and boots than he did, she thought as she watched him make his way to the stairs. She checked herself again in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and shining. She couldn’t help smiling at how giddy she felt.
It’s just dinner, she told herself, then whispered, “Yes, but please let me have tonight. Just this one night.”
She’d heard that a winter storm was blowing in. It was all the ranchers in the café had been talking about today. A few years ago a storm had blown in and killed thousands of head of cattle just over the border in North Dakota. It could just as easily have happened in Montana, since not even the weathermen had predicted the severity of the storm. So she could understand why the ranchers were concerned.
Her, personally? She would love it to snow and make this an even more magical evening. Callie only wished she could blame the dull throb at the base of her skull on the impending storm. But she knew that whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t far off, and that it would be bad. It always was.
* * *
“YOU LOOK AMAZING,” Rourke said, his dark eyes shining as he held Callie at arm’s length and took her in. She wore a blue dress that slipped like a warm breeze over her curves. Her dark mane was down, floating around her shoulders. She looked like an angel.
As he helped her on with her coat, he thought of what Edwin had told him about her childhood and felt a well of sympathy. It was amazing that she’d survived that life. He thought of the small child who’d witnessed a gruesome murder and hadn’t spoken for who knew how long. It broke his heart.
But at the back of his mind, he worried. What had it done to this beautiful woman? He hated to think. Maybe he would find out the truth tonight and, hopefully, live to tell about it.
He was no fool. He was carrying tonight under his Western jacket. Nor would he have been surprised to hear that Calllie had her pistol in the large purse she’d brought along. While looking at this woman, he couldn’t believe she was a killer. But he wasn’t taking any chances, no matter what Laura thought.
Laura. He was still upset from her earlier visit. He’d had no idea she was in love with him. Was he that blind to everything around him? He questioned whether he had any business being in law enforcement.
“Is everything all right?” Callie asked.
“Sorry, I’m worried about a friend of mine,” he said. “But this night is too special to be worrying. Let’s go have some fun.” He opened the apartment door, holding it for her, as they left. “I love nights like this,” he said as they descended the stairs.
A cold wind blew down out of the mountains. Earlier, he’d seen cattle gathering together, a sure sign that a storm was blowing in.
At the bottom of the stairs, Callie stopped to look up at the Crazies. The mountains towered over the town, a deep purple against a sky that seemed to sparkle a midnight blue.
“It really is going to snow,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I can smell it on the air.”
“You like winter?” he asked, a little surprised.
She glanced over at him. “Don’t you?”
“I haven’t seen a real winter storm since I was a kid in Wyoming,” he said, realizing that he had missed it in Seattle. “In Wyoming, the storms often came with gale winds that whipped the snow into art sculptures in the yard and made the ranch into my own private wonderland. A lot of times the bus couldn’t get through the drifts, so there wouldn’t be school for days until the plows could get to us. The neighbor boys would hop on a tractor and come over to play. If the drifts were high enough, we’d jump out of the barn. If not, we’d leap into the ones next to the shed.”
“A few storms like that came through Beartooth last year where the snow blew in around the buildings. It was so beautiful. I don’t mind the snow, especially on those nights when the huge flakes float down. It’s...mesmerizing.”
She was mesmerizing, he thought as he watched her turn her face up to the approaching storm.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I made a snowman last winter,” she said with a laugh as they walked to his SUV and he opened her door.
“Why wouldn’t you want anyone to know?”
“Because I’m thirty years old, and here I am, out in the dark, pushing huge balls of snow around.”
“I wish I could have seen it,” he said as she slipped into the passenger seat.
As he climbed behind the wheel, she laughed and said, “I think Kate knew I was the one who made it because I borrowed a carrot from the kitchen. Someone left an old floppy hat in the café months before that, so I used it and tied on a scarf.”
He saw her smile to herself at the memory. “I bet he was beautiful.”
“She was,” Callie corrected. “She was very regal. I was sad when she melted.”
He saw her glance down the street to where he’d seen Carson parked earlier. The pickup was no longer there, and he sighed with relief. When he’d seen Carson’s pickup, he’d hoped there wouldn’t be trouble tonight.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said as he drove toward Big Timber.
“I’m always hungry. You’re going to be sorry you invited me to dinner. I’m not one of those women who eats like a bird.”
“Good, because we aren’t having birdseed. I thought we’d go to The Grand. I hear they have good food. I’m hankering for some Montana beef, rare.”
“I took you for a rare-beef kind of guy.”
He laughed at that. “I took you for a tofu kind of girl.” He cut his gaze to her as he drove, thinking of her living those three years in Seattle. “Granola all the way.”
“So you think you know me,” she said and smiled as she settled back against the seat.
“Not yet.”
* * *
THE LAND FELL away from the Crazies to the Yellowstone River. In the headlights she caught glimpses of the summer-dried shades of pale yellow to faded grays and soft brown.
Callie loved the way the seasons changed here. In the spring, this lush farmland would turn into bright green pasture, dark green alfalfa or waves of golden grain. Summer, the creeks and rivers would run clear, cutting through willows and ch
okecherry bushes heavy with fruit along their edges.
During the summer, she had soaked up the heat, trying to capture as many warm hours as possible during the fleeting days. Fall always blew in as if waiting anxiously in the wings. The aspens would suddenly burst with bright red and orange leaves that fluttered in the breeze.
Old Man Winter, though, was never far behind. Its winds stripped the leaves from the aspens, whirling them in the air so the days smelled of earth and decay. And one day she would look out, and all she would see were the bare branches, spindly and gnarled, etched against an ominous sky.
“I’ll be glad when winter comes,” Callie said, looking out the window. “I’ve never liked fall. There is something...sad and depressing about it. It always feels like an ending to me.” She felt him shoot her a look. “Winter can be cold but beautiful. It’s as if the snow purifies everything, you know?”
He nodded, but she didn’t think he did.
“It’s the in-between that I don’t like.”
“Well, you aren’t going to have to wait long now. There’s definitely a snowstorm coming in tonight.”
* * *
ROURKE DROVE, THINKING about what she’d said. Worry worked at him, making him anxious. He didn’t have to wonder what Laura would have made of Callie’s “confession” about fall. He reminded himself that her mother had died in the fall. All the terrible things that had happened to her had happened in the fall, which only made him more anxious to know this woman. Know what she was feeling, thinking and, more important, what she was going to do next. His need to know more about the woman in the seat next to him only increased his anxiety. He fought the urge to question her on the twenty-mile drive into Big Timber, but restrained himself by turning on some music. “I hope you don’t mind country.”
She shook her head and began to sing along with the song on the radio, clearly no stranger to the music genre. She had a good voice, clear and sweet. He felt himself relax a little and almost regretted that he’d brought his gun. He’d foolishly also picked up his badge and stuck it in his coat pocket.
Was he worried that he might have to use it tonight? Technically, he wasn’t even a U.S. marshal. But he was still the law, and that he’d even grabbed the badge showed him how much he wasn’t ready to give it up.
The Grand was an old hotel and restaurant on the main drag of Big Timber. Rourke parked diagonally out front and went around to open her door. The night had gotten colder, the wind kicking up dust and debris, a prelude to the icy bite from the approaching snowstorm. He quickly hustled her inside, where it was warm and cozy.
The warmth and smells seemed to welcome them as they stopped at the door to take off their jackets before moving down the bar to one of the booths at the back. Fortunately, the place wasn’t packed. There were only a few people eating, a few more at the bar. The approaching storm must have kept a lot of people away. It was also early.
“I’m curious,” Callie said after they’d ordered drinks and an appetizer. “Tell me more about Rourke Montgomery.”
He smiled, hating the reminder of his lie. “I’m just as curious about you. I’ll tell if you will.”
* * *
“YOU FIRST,” CALLIE said after their drinks and appetizer were served. She leaned forward, smiling as she took a sip of her beer. “Tell me who you are, the real you.”
Rourke shrugged and took his time. “I was born in Wyoming. My parents owned a ranch, like I told you. They eventually sold it.”
“You didn’t want it?” she asked, sounding surprised.
He seemed to think about that for a moment. “I couldn’t see myself back in Wyoming. I’d moved on.”
“Moved on doing what? You never said what you do for a living.”
Rourke shook his head. “No, you don’t. It’s your turn. Give,” he said. “Tell me about the real you.”
“There really isn’t much to tell. I grew up in Montana.”
“So, you’re from here. I didn’t realize that. From Beartooth?”
“I lived all over the state, moved around a lot. It’s such a beautiful state, I just wanted to see it all.” That wasn’t quite true, but she doubted Rourke was telling her everything either.
“So, you’re a native Montanan. I’m jealous. I love the state—at least what I’ve seen of it so far.”
She smiled. “Even Beartooth?”
“Especially Beartooth and Saddlestring Lake.” He grinned at her, then asked, “Do you still have family here?”
“No. Your turn. So, what do you do?”
“I’m kind of in between jobs right now,” he said, almost looking embarrassed, she thought. “I’ve done all kinds of work, from wrangling to training horses. Truth is, my parents’ ranch was fairly large. I got quite a bit of money after they sold. I don’t have to work.” He cringed. “I hate to admit that.”
“There is nothing wrong with being lucky,” she said, even though she couldn’t see him just hanging out with nothing to do. He didn’t seem the type. She studied him openly for a moment, surprised that she was wishing she could read him. But so far, she believed he was telling her the truth.
She hated being such a suspicious person, but it came with the territory, didn’t it?
“Your turn,” Rourke said.
“I’m a waitress,” she said and laughed. She was grateful when their meals arrived because she could tell that Rourke was still curious about her—just as she’d sensed he’d been the first day she’d laid eyes on him.
Too curious for a man who was probably just passing through, she thought as she watched him cut into his steak.
* * *
EDWIN FROWNED AT the knock on his hotel-room door. He glanced at his watch. Eight. He couldn’t imagine who it could be. He realized that he hadn’t called Rourke again since he’d only just returned to his room. Had the U.S. marshal decided to pay him a visit?
Moving to the door, he started to open it, when he got a strange feeling of dread. He laughed it off. He didn’t scare easily, but this whole case had left him uneasy, even a little paranoid.
“Who is it?” he asked through the door.
“Housekeeping.”
Housekeeping at this hour of the night? He unlocked the door and opened it to find a young dark-haired woman holding a stack of towels.
“Sorry to bother you so late,” the woman said.
He wasn’t sure what registered first, her voice or her face. He was already reaching for the towels, when he recognized her. The dark hair had thrown him since the last time he’d seen her, she’d been a blonde. There were those few seconds of confused, then alarmed recognition as she placed the towels into his hands and grabbed his wrist. He felt a shock of surprise an instant before he felt the needle.
Flinching, his gaze flew up to meet hers as the towels fell to the floor at his feet. “You’re—”
“Catherine McCormick. I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
Before he could react, she shoved him back, kicking the towels into the room as she entered and closing and locking the door behind her.
Edwin stumbled back, tripping over the edge of the bed and almost going down. His mind spun as some powerful drug raced through his bloodstream.
His gun. He had to get his gun.
She was on him before he could take two steps, surprising him with how strong she was. He opened his mouth to speak. Or to cry for help? It didn’t matter. Nothing came out. Whatever she’d drugged him with had quickly rendered him mute. He could feel his body becoming numb.
As she pushed him down on the bed, she still hadn’t spoken a word. He stared at her face, terrified by what he saw in her eyes. Dark evil. His cell phone rang over on the table by the window. She let it ring as she proceeded to undress him, stripping him of all his clothes until he was naked.
His fear esc
alated into sheer terror. He knew enough about this case that the last thing he wanted was to end up naked and tied to a bed.
When she tried to pull him to his feet, he couldn’t stand. She pushed him off the bed, then grabbed his arms and dragged him across the carpet and into the bathroom.
A cell phone rang as she lifted him into the cold empty tub. Her cell phone this time, he realized. She glanced at him as if seeing him for the first time and then stepped out of the room to take the call.
He lay in the tub, his head resting against the edge. His mind screamed for him to do something. But it was useless. His muscles didn’t respond. He was helpless. Worse, he had no doubt that he was about to die. His only hope was that it would be quick.
* * *
ROURKE HADN’T LEARNED anything about Callie that he didn’t already know. She’d been vague at best. But could he blame her for wanting to hide her past? Her mother had been sixteen, pregnant, unmarried and living in a girls’ home where horrible things happened.
How much would a five-year-old remember of that? Enough that the girl had taken the name of the place, he reminded himself with a chill. A part of her was still tied to that past. Did that include murder?
“So, how did you end up in Beartooth?” he asked after they’d taken a few bites of their food.
“I had no plans, really. I was just driving down the interstate when I saw the Crazy mountain range. It was so beautiful that I took the first road I came to that headed in that direction, and it brought me to Beartooth. Fortunately, I’d had some experience waiting tables, and Kate just happened to be looking for a waitress. I like to think it was fate. Like you, I’ve done a lot of odd jobs in my life.”
“I did some traveling around for a while after college. I liked just seeing where the road would take me. Did you go to college?”
“Tried a few colleges, learned a lot. I never saw the need for a degree. I couldn’t see myself staying in one place long enough to grow roots.” She shrugged almost apologetically. “I guess I’m just a free spirit.”