“Jen,” she whispered, glad Steve had left the room. “I’m going to run an errand, but I don’t want you to freak out when I tell you what it is, all right?”
Jennifer’s large brown eyes widened even more. “Oh brother. This doesn’t sound good.”
“It’ll be okay,” she said as much to convince herself as Jennifer. “I’m driving out to Stackhouse’s ranch in a few minutes. I’ll be back by dinner.”
“Why? I thought you guys talked to him already.”
“We did, but both Steve and I could tell he was lying when he said he really didn’t remember Helen. I think he remembered her a lot, judging from the look in his eyes.”
“So?”
“So, I want to ask him some more questions. Maybe he remembers something from the past that might help.”
“There’s something you’re not saying. I can tell.”
“Yeah,” Kelly admitted. “I want to see the expression on his face when I ask him about Martha.”
“Are you crazy?” Jennifer retorted, clearly horrified by Kelly’s plan. “What if he’s the killer?”
“Well, I’ll play stupid and jump in my car and drive home fast,” Kelly joked, hoping to deflect Jennifer’s objections and ease her own fears.
Jennifer glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Yeah? And what if he doesn’t let you? What if he attacks you this time? Face it, Kelly, somebody was out to hurt you this morning.”
The overwhelming sense of Jennifer’s objections began to override Kelly’s bravado. Frustration and anger and determination had all boiled together this morning while she’d showered and dressed. Adrenalin kicked in as well as she formulated her scheme. Perhaps it was crazy, but at least it had helped bury the grief and guilt over Martha’s death. Now, they were shoved down deep where Kelly couldn’t feel them.
She let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I’ve thought of that, too,” she admitted.
“Good. Now I know you didn’t get stupid overnight. You’d be crazy to go over there alone. If you want me to, I’ll go with you.”
“No, he’d probably clam up—” Suddenly Kelly got a new idea. “Wait a minute, I know! I’ll take Carl with me. I’ll have him on his leash. Nobody in his right mind would try to attack me in front of my dog.”
Jennifer opened her mouth as if to object, then closed it again. “Okay. But he’s gotta be on his leash right beside you. Promise?”
“Promise,” Kelly agreed with a grin and put her knitting back into its tote bag.
Carl shoved his smooth black head right beside Kelly’s as she headed down the road to Stackhouse’s ranch. She reached up and stroked a smooth ear. “Hold on, boy, we’re almost there,” she promised her excited dog. Carl had been pacing the back seat since they left. Pacing and falling flat, of course. Every time she turned a corner, he’s slip on the upholstery and lose his footing. Doggie wipe-out.
Approaching the open barnyard area, Kelly scanned the outbuildings for Stackhouse. His huge black truck was parked on the graveled spot, so she figured he was home. But what if he wasn’t? Would she turn around and head back into town? Kelly admitted she didn’t have an alternate plan.
Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary. Stackhouse appeared in the barn door, watching Kelly bring the car to a stop nearby. Parking swiftly, she grabbed the dangling end of Carl’s chain lease. With a dog as strong as Carl, she used an industrial-strength metal leash. “You have to behave, Carl,” she admonished him as she stepped out and opened the door for her dog. Carl bounded from the car, yanking Kelly at least two feet. She reined him in, glad she was strong, otherwise she’d be lying face first in the dirt right now.
Kelly saw Stackhouse slowly approaching, so she went into the routine she’d practiced on the drive over. She hoped it sounded convincing.
“Hello, Mr. Stackhouse,” she called cheerfully, waving her hand as she went to meet him.
“Afternoon, Miss, uh, Ms. Flynn, isn’t it?” he replied, stopping a few feet away. “Nice dog. What’s his name?”
Kelly noticed a wary expression on the rancher’s weather-beaten face, so she ramped up the wattage of her smile. “This is Carl, and I wanted to bring him out so he could see this gorgeous place you’ve got here. I can’t wait till Stevie and I can have some acreage of our own like this.” She glanced around appreciatively. Carl took one look at Stackhouse and pulled forward, clearly anxious to do a meet-and-sniff.
Stackhouse smiled, just a little. “Hey, fella, how’re you doin’?” He held out his hand close enough for Carl to sniff.
Carl sniffed thoroughly, then slurped with his long pink tongue. Stackhouse chuckled. Kelly took note that he’d passed her dog’s test. Carl was a good judge of character.
“Don’t slobber on Mr. Stackhouse, Carl.”
“That’s okay, Ms. Flynn.” Stackhouse caught her gaze. “Surely you didn’t drive all the way out here to show your dog the scenery. Is there something else, Ms. Flynn?”
Kelly took a breath and plunged in, hoping she’d find her way. “Well, yes, Mr. Stackhouse, I, uh, well . . . I wanted to ask you again about my aunt, Helen Flynn Rosburg. You see, I kind of got the impression when we spoke last week that you really did remember her. But something was holding you back. Or maybe you were embarrassed or something.”
She was desperately hoping Stackhouse would volunteer a comment at that point, which she could use to bounce off of, but he didn’t. He stood there, observing her with his Stetson pulled low over his eyes, shading his face. He said nothing. So Kelly stumbled on.
“You see . . . I’m trying to find anyone that might have known my aunt all those years ago. I’ve got this . . . this strong feeling that her death was caused by something in her past. Perhaps something that happened.”
Still no reply from Stackhouse. He stood like a cowboy statue, staring at her. Kelly felt the sweat start to bead on her forehead. She distracted herself by patting Carl’s side. He was busily checking out ground smells. A lot more than squirrels lived in these pastures.
To her immense relief, Stackhouse finally spoke. “That was a long time ago, Ms. Flynn. What makes you think I know anything?”
Kelly met his steady gaze and gambled. “Instinct, Mr. Stackhouse. My gut tells me you did know Helen. I saw it in your eyes,” she said, hoping blatant honesty might earn her a few points.
Stackhouse held her gaze for an excruciating minute, then glanced toward the forest edging his pastures. “You’ve got good instincts, Ms. Flynn. I’ll give you that.”
Kelly blinked, surprised that her honesty had been matched. “You knew Helen, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Ms. Flynn, I knew her. In fact, I’ll never forget her. She was the first girl I ever fell in love with. And the only one to break my heart.”
This time, Kelly couldn’t contain her surprise. Stackhouse clearly noticed, and a wry smile tugged at the rancher’s mouth. “Why don’t we take a walk,” he suggested, pointing toward the pasture. “That way Carl can chase what he’s smelling.”
He led the way into his open pasture, Kelly and Carl following. Now that she was knee-high in the spring grass, she noticed the varied shadings of early green, from chartreuse to lime. Approaching a small clearing, Stackhouse stopped and grabbed a stick at his feet. He held it up to Carl. Carl was already two steps ahead of him and began to yelp, eager to play.
“You want this, Carl?” Stackhouse tempted. “Go get it.” And he tossed the stick in an arching throw.
Not a bad throw, Kelly had to admit, and released the leash just as Carl lunged forward. Watching her “protection” race off into the high grass, Kelly hoped this new feeling she had about Stackhouse was correct. There was an honesty coming off the man, and she didn’t think he was faking it. Her antennae were sharp, and she had yet to pick up any uneasiness or deception on his part.
That surprised her. She’d convinced herself all morning that Stackhouse’s wary expression last week signaled something dark. Now that she was here, she felt no threat whatsoever.
She’d better be right, because Carl had disappeared into the grass now. If Stackhouse really was a clever killer, he could dispose of her out here in the pasture. No one would find her in the grass, save Carl and the ravens. The memory of the huge bird’s warning caused a secondary pause.
She decided to break the ice, hoping Stackhouse would explain his tantalizing comment. “That sounds like you and my aunt had some, uhh, shared history together.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “We shared a few moments of history, you might say. I wanted a lot more than that, but Helen didn’t.”
This time it was Kelly’s turn to stare silently, waiting for Stackhouse to continue.
“We went through high school together.” He stared off into the grass, where Carl’s head bobbed occasionally. “And I had a crush on her the whole four years. I must have asked her out a thousand times. Helen would laugh and tease me, but never say yes to a date. In fact, I don’t think she dated anyone. I never saw her with any other boys, either.”
Kelly kept her silence, not wanting to interrupt the reminiscence. Obviously, Aunt Helen had cleverly concealed her real affections from everyone.
“But, I sensed there was someone else. I’d swear to it.”
“What made you think so?”
He turned to Kelly with a wide smile. “Instinct, Ms. Flynn. Same as you.”
“Did she drop any clues about this person?”
He shook his head. “Nope, not a one. But I got the feeling that she was protecting him for some reason. Can’t explain it. Just a hunch.”
“And you never saw her dating any of the other boys?”
“Nope. She’d flirt with some of them, but nothing more. Hell, she wouldn’t even talk to most of the boys. I felt kind of special. Helen liked to talk to me. She’d let me walk her to and from class. I don’t know why she picked me and none of the others.”
“I do,” Kelly declared with a grin. “I saw your photo in the high school yearbook. You were a handsome devil, Mr. Stackhouse.” She figured Lizzie’s vocabulary would come in handy about now. “Matter of fact, you’re still handsome.”
Stackhouse slanted a look her way. “You’ve got your aunt’s charm, that’s for sure. And you can call me Curt. I don’t stand on much formality.”
“Kelly,” she offered in kind.
“You even resemble her, you know? There’s a look that comes in your eye that’s pure Helen.” He grinned. “Maybe that’s why I’m talking like a damn fool right now.”
“It’s never foolish to admit falling in love, Mister, uhh, Curt. And I find your honesty refreshing. Some boys would have dropped a girl like Helen once she turned them down. Yet, you two stayed friends.”
Stackhouse gazed past Kelly’s shoulder toward the sprawling ranch house in the distance. “We were close until summer of our senior year, then she stopped talking to me.”
Kelly did some mental arithmetic. Early spring would have been when Helen conceived the child she later gave up. “What happened to change your friendship?” she probed.
Stackhouse stared into the pasture for a long moment. The only thing that broke the silence were the cries of annoyed birds that Carl had unwittingly flushed. “I guess it won’t be disloyal to talk about it,” he said in a subdued voice. He drew in a breath. “We . . . well, we became intimate one night. The night after graduation, in fact.” He shook his head. “I still remember as if it were yesterday. It was a warm spring night in late May.” He gazed off toward the mountains this time, clearly reminiscing.
Kelly, meanwhile, was making an effort not to let her jaw drop. She hadn’t expected to hear this, especially after he’d emphasized that Helen refused to even date him. Waiting as politely as she could while Stackhouse enjoyed his memories, Kelly couldn’t hold her curiosity a moment longer. “Wow. That’s quite a bombshell, Curt. I trust you’re planning to explain Helen’s sudden change in behavior. You can’t just leave me hanging like this.”
He looked up and grinned sheepishly. “Well, I reckon I owe you an explanation.”
“Damn right.”
He laughed. “You get more and more like Helen the longer I talk to you. She didn’t mince words, either.”
Remembering her aunt’s occasional “salty” language, Kelly smiled. “Thanks, but get back to explaining. What made Helen change her mind? She wouldn’t even date you before. Did something happen at graduation?”
“Not that I remember. It was just all us kids surrounded by our families, posing in those caps and gowns, feeling awkward and proud at the same time.”
“Did you see her there with her family?”
“Yep, she looked happy like everyone else, posing for pictures.”
“How’d you get together that night, then? Did you call her or meet her?” Kelly prodded.
“Nope,” he said with a bemused expression. “That was the strangest part. She came over to see me. Drove over in her father’s old Ford truck. My family had just returned from the high school as I recall. Then, there’s Helen ringing our doorbell. You could have knocked me over with a feather.”
“What’d she say?”
“She didn’t say much. It was her face that did the talking. I could tell she was angry. And she’d been crying, because her eyes were red. She never admitted what was bothering her, but I could tell it was something really important. To her, at least.” He paused. “She wanted to go out for a drive and talk, so we did.”
“What’d you talk about?” Kelly probed, hoping to keep Stackhouse remembering the pictures inside his head.
“You know, she didn’t say much. Just kept asking me questions the whole time she drove. What was I going to do after school? What kind of summer job? Had I decided which college? I wound up doing most of the talking, as I recall.”
It was clear to Kelly that Stackhouse had enshrined these memories of Helen, otherwise he wouldn’t have such clear recollections. “Where’d you drive?” she continued to probe.
“Up into Poudre Canyon late at night.” He shook his head, as if still amazed by the youthful bravado. “We drove past Rustic, then she pulled off the road. Wanted to take a walk, she said. It occurred to me then that she was headed somewhere.”
“Was she?”
“Yep.” He nodded. “Up through the trees there was a clearing and a cabin that just happened to be unlocked. It was a beautiful place, it truly was.” He smiled ruefully. “We stayed the rest of the night. Came back at dawn. I lied to my parents and told them Helen had dropped me off with some of my buddies after midnight. Didn’t want to add to the trouble I was sure she’d be getting when she got home.”
“Were her parents upset? Did you ask her?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t need to. Nice girls didn’t stay out all night in those days. It was a different time. I’m sure she caught hell from her dad. He was pretty strict.” Stackhouse stared past Kelly’s shoulder. “I thought that evening was a whole new beginning for Helen and me. Turned out to be the end.”
“Why? What’d she say?”
“Not much. In fact, she barely spoke to me after that. Acted like there was nothing between us, like nothing had happened. Even when I proposed to her, she’d just look away and say no, she couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.” He sighed heavily. “I must have asked her to marry me at least a hundred times.”
Kelly puzzled over the scene he’d painted. What was going through Helen’s mind for such erratic behavior?
“She was working at a soda fountain that summer, and I came over every afternoon after I finished working the fields. Must have consumed several gallons of cherry limeade talking to her.” The memory brought back his smile. “I’d go over, talk to Helen if she’d let me, drink cherry limeades, and propose. Just like clockwork every day. Until July.”
“What happened in July?”
“Suddenly one day, she was gone. The owner of the drug store said she had to go to Wyoming to help take care of her sick aunt and cousin. Her dad’s brother owned a cattle spread up there. I figured
she’d be back pretty soon, so I waited all summer and fall. When she didn’t return, I went to ask her family. They weren’t too friendly, and they said Helen was staying in Wyoming ‘indefinitely.’ That’s when I finally gave up. I realized she couldn’t really care for me, or she’d have tried to contact me. Write or something. But I never heard from her, so . . . I let her go. Had to.”
Kelly watched his face and the remembered emotions register there. His sincerity appeared genuine. Kelly swore she could feel it. But her skeptical side roused itself from the remembrances and shook awake with a question.
Was it possible Stackhouse was faking? Was he inventing this whole story to lead her astray and away from suspecting him from complicity in Helen’s death? That thought didn’t resonate inside, but Kelly felt compelled to follow it up, anyway. There was only one thing she had left to test Stackhouse, but she had to work up to it.
“When did you learn she was back in town?” she asked.
“When a friend told me she saw an engagement announcement in the paper that next year. I didn’t even contact her. By then, I’d finished my freshman year at the university. I was glad she’d found someone who made her happy. That made it easier for me, too.” He smiled. “I met my Ruth that fall.”
“You know, Helen’s cousin, Martha, came to live in Fort Conner a few years ago. Helen helped her start over after she left her abusive husband back in Wyoming.”
“Sounds like something Helen would do. How’s she taking Helen’s death?”
“Pretty hard,” Kelly answered. “That is, while she was still alive. She was the elderly woman who was just murdered in Landport the other day.”
Stackhouse stared at Kelly, shock written on his face. The last doubts Kelly had about his guilt disappeared. He couldn’t fake that reaction.
“My God,” he breathed. “What do the police say?”
“They’re looking into a connection between the deaths,” Kelly said, fervently hoping Morrison was doing exactly that.
Stackhouse scowled. “I thought police caught the man who killed Helen.”
Maggie Sefton Page 20