Burnt River

by Karin Salvalaggio

  Jessie noticed the knife lying on the floor next to the skirting board and picked it up. It was from a set in the kitchen. “What is this doing here?”

  Jeremy tried to sit up. “Your mother threatened me.”

  Jessie handed the knife to Aiden. “Please take it.”

  Her father was still trying to get up. “Lots of witnesses this time.”

  Jessie closed her eyes. Over the years she and John had had ringside seats. “There have always been witnesses.”

  The windows rattled. A helicopter was setting down somewhere nearby. The front door was wide open and warm dust blew straight into the house. Paramedics soon followed. Jessie leaned against the wall with her T-shirt pulled down over her knees. She didn’t realize she was crying until Aiden handed her a tissue.

  “Where are you taking my mother?”

  “I’ve called the psychiatric ward at Collier County Hospital. We’re lucky they have a bed available.” He took hold of her arm. “You need some fresh air.”

  “I have to get dressed.”

  “I’ll wait outside your room.”

  Jessie struggled with the buttons on her shirt, pulling it off and grabbing another when she couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking. She stuck her head out the open window and took a deep breath. Through the trees she could see her daughter moving back and forth in a graceful arc. The rope swing hung from one of the oak trees on the western side of the house. Tara’s long black hair flowed behind her like a cape and her mouth was wide with laughter. Jessie didn’t recognize the redheaded woman pushing her. She called Aiden into her room.

  “Who’s with Tara?” she said, pulling on a pair of shorts. She was so thin, her hip bones protruded like stones.

  “She’s the special investigator the state sent up from Helena. She seems okay.”

  “Seems?”

  “I don’t really know her that well so I’m mostly going by what I hear. She’s good at her job.”

  “Why has someone come all the way from Helena?”

  “Your father called the governor.”

  “That’s just like him.”

  “He means well.”

  Jessie tied her dark hair in a tight ponytail and sat down on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t think what she was supposed to do next. In a matter of hours her world had tilted on its axis. She swallowed back the sick that kept building in her throat.

  “It’s too much. I can’t do this.”

  Aiden sat next to her. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. If it helps, think of Tara. Stay strong for her.”

  Jessie covered her face in her hands. “Why John?”

  “We’re trying to figure that out.”

  “He was home. He was safe.”

  “I want you to think very carefully, Jessie. Do you know of any reason why someone would do this?”

  Jessie inhaled like she was taking a hit. The imaginary smoke curled through the contours of her lungs like birds riding a slipstream. She wanted to vanish into the horizons that usually followed.

  “You and John were close. He would have told you if something wasn’t right.”

  She held her breath. She wasn’t ready to let go of her need just yet.

  Aiden shook her. “Keep that up and you’re going to pass out.”

  Her vision blurred. She felt light-headed. She exhaled.

  “Think, Jessie.”

  She focused in on John’s photo and felt his pale eyes on her.

  “He’s been different since he got back.”

  “Different how?”

  “He never talked to me about it. He never said why. I thought it would be okay given time, but now there’s no time. I tried to discuss it with Jeremy but you know what he’s like. He said I was just trying to get attention. After the shit I’ve pulled, I can’t blame him.”

  “Stop beating yourself up. You’re clean now. And you worked damn hard to get that way. No backsliding.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m scared.”

  “We all are.”

  “I don’t want you to take my mother away.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really don’t have a choice.”

  4

  Tara Dalton’s bare feet brushed against the low tree branches. She twisted in the swing and asked Macy to push her higher. Too tired to argue, Macy obliged. She’d felt ill on the drive up to the ranch. Aiden’s easy manner was reassuring, but his long, drawn-out way of talking left her feeling trapped. She had to stop herself from finishing his sentences. She was worried he would bring up the night they met in Las Vegas five years earlier, but he’d not referenced it once. That made her anxious for other reasons. They’d both been attending the same law enforcement training conference and had met at a bar. There’d been a misunderstanding. She hadn’t realized he was married, but he hadn’t exactly advertised it either. She’d been indignant. Fast-forward five years and now she was the one in a questionable relationship with the truth. After eight months of repeatedly saying he was separated, Ray Davidson didn’t seem any closer to ending his marriage. Macy was beginning to think he was lying to her.

  Macy had held tight to the handle above the door as Aiden swung the patrol car onto the long drive leading up to the ranch. They’d found Tara Dalton crying on the front porch of the main house.

  Granny is mad at me, she’d said.

  Jeremy Dalton hadn’t taken much notice of his granddaughter. He’d brushed his fingers through her hair like it was nothing more than seed heads on a crop of barley. His wife Annie had stood in the door leading to the kitchen. After calling for his daughter, Jessie, a couple of times, Jeremy walked toward Annie, hitching up his trousers as he went. Her features had sharpened as he approached. A knife’s blade glinted in her hand. Macy hadn’t waited to see what would happen next. She’d yelled a warning, grabbed the kid, and walked away.

  Macy had introduced herself to Jeremy’s granddaughter and let her hold her badge.

  I’m one of the good guys.

  Tara Dalton wouldn’t believe anything Macy said until she saw her gun. Macy had unloaded the pistol before placing it on the table between them.

  Now do you believe me?

  Tara had inspected it like a pro. My uncle John has the same one.

  Macy hadn’t said that she already knew all about her uncle John’s gun. She’d just reloaded her own and returned it to its holster. There were muffled shouts coming from the house, but Tara hadn’t seemed to notice. She’d gone about making an imaginary breakfast using a selection of expensive broken crockery that Macy imagined had once been used as weapons. Macy had been trying to get her bearings. She’d had to admit she was thrown. She’d expected the Daltons to be the quintessential all-American family. She should have known better. It made her think she was losing her touch. Motherhood was making her soft. She’d opened her eyes a little wider and taken a good look around.

  From its raised position, the ranch house had sweeping vistas across the northern Flathead Valley. The Daltons had fifteen thousand head of cattle on twenty thousand acres of land. This wasn’t a family home. It was a business. She wondered if the property was still in Jeremy’s name. His marriage to Annie might have been financially motivated. According to what Aiden had told her on the drive, Annie came from a wealthy East Coast family. She’d been drawn to Montana from what she saw in films and on television, and ended up falling in love with a rancher. Annie Dalton would have found the reality of life in Montana tough. It wasn’t all horse-whispering and fly-fishing. The ranch was miles from town, and as an outsider, Annie would have found it difficult to make friends. She’d attended Harvard and had a Ph.D. in English literature. Macy had glanced up at the house again. It was so isolated. There was such a thing as having too much time to read.

  The tennis court was missing its net. Someone had been using it as a shooting range. Smashed beer bottles glistened on the pavement and weeds grew up through the cracks. The court was less than fifty feet from the house. The noise would have been deafening
. An old sofa sat next to the swimming pool, and someone had pulled an oversized barbecue right up to the edge. An inflated alligator floated on the surface. Pink flamingos dotted the lawn. A few had bullet holes. Some of the heads were blown clean off.

  Several horses had gathered near the fence surrounding the paddock. They’d seemed to be watching her. Macy had closed her eyes. On average these days she slept less than five hours a night, and it was starting to take its toll. She couldn’t focus. Everything ached. Tara’s voice had prattled on, making her miss her son even more. She didn’t want to be in the Flathead Valley. She wanted to be back at home. Macy had scrolled through photos of Luke on her phone until she found one of him sitting on the front porch. Sometimes he’d wait there for Macy to come home from work. She often found him asleep with his head on his grandmother’s lap.

  Tara’s voice had been in her ear. She’d pointed at the phone. Her fingers were stubby. She smelled of soap.

  Who’s that?

  My son.

  What’s his name?

  Luke.

  Tara had taken Macy’s hand in hers and inspected her ring finger. You’re not married.

  Nope.

  Just like my mommy.

  I suppose we have that in common.

  Tara had held a few strands of Macy’s hair so she could look at the color in the sunlight. I like your hair. It’s like fire.

  I like yours too.

  I don’t.

  Macy had raised her teacup so Tara could pour. Why wouldn’t your granny let you watch television?

  Tara had bit her lip. She said Uncle John was dead and it wasn’t right to watch TV when people die.

  Oh, I don’t think it can hurt. Do you?

  She’d shrugged. John liked TV.

  Were you good buddies?

  He used to take me for drives in his truck.

  Where did you go?

  Lots of places. He said we’d drive until we had to go home.

  Sounds like fun.

  She had a singsong voice but breathed through her mouth. We used to do things like have ice cream for dinner. He said to keep that secret from my mommy because she’d be angry.

  Did he tell you to keep other secrets?

  Her chin had bobbed up and down. Once there was a man.

  Go on?

  A shrug. He and John didn’t like each other much. He called my mommy bad names.

  When was this?

  It was a long time ago. I think when I was still five. She’d grabbed Macy’s arm and dragged her toward the swing. Can you push me?

  Macy had watched a helicopter approach from the northwest. Even from a distance, she’d recognized the markings. Apparently, someone in the house needed rescuing. The helicopter landed on the far side of the building, but Tara hadn’t been interested in going to see it. She’d pointed at the swing.

  John built it for me.

  So Macy had pushed the swing and Tara had been swept up to the sky, her bare feet pointed into the blue. She’d grinned from ear to ear. Macy was just about to go looking for Aiden when he appeared on the back porch with a young woman. She was about Macy’s height, but unlike Jeremy and John, who were fair, she had dark eyes and thick black hair. She was also far thinner. Her limbs were as substantial as kindling. She wore loops of bracelets around her wrists, a pair of tiny cutoff shorts, and a T-shirt with a band’s logo on the front. Although she looked nothing like her twin brother, Macy guessed that the woman was Jessie Dalton.

  Tara tried to stop the swing by dragging her feet on the ground. Macy took hold of the ropes and the girl slid from the seat and ran toward her mother.

  Macy brushed off her hands and went over to say hello. Jessie had lifted Tara onto a hip. Jessie might have been slim, but she was far from emaciated. Braided muscle ran down the length of her arms. There was a crude tattoo of a rose on the back of her hand. It looked like it was bleeding.

  Tara cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered something in her mother’s ear. Jessie’s voice wavered.

  “Yes, I can see that,” said Jessie, glancing past Macy toward the table. “Was it a nice breakfast?”

  Tara nodded her head vigorously.

  “I hope you saved some for me. I’m starving.”

  Tara took her mother’s hand and led her away. Macy couldn’t help but think Jessie looked relieved to be going.

  Macy watched them. “What happened in there?”

  “You missed a good show.”

  “I’m sure it was nothing I haven’t seen before. I just want to know if anyone else died.”

  “Thankfully, Annie dropped the knife before she could do any harm. It got pretty physical though. Luckily, they’re both still breathing.”

  “Why the helicopter?”

  “Jeremy is a big man with a bad heart. They’re flying him over to Collier County Hospital.”

  “What about the wife?”

  “She’s going by car. She’s being admitted to the psychiatric ward for evaluation. It’s up to the doctors to decide what happens next. As you can imagine, Jessie is in a bit of a state.”

  “Do you have her mother’s phone?”

  Aiden handed it to Macy. “I spoke to Jessie. She doesn’t seem to know anything. Apparently John has been very distant since he returned from Afghanistan. They barely talked. She has no idea why anyone would want to harm him.”

  “How long has she been clean?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Are you kidding? She could be a poster child.” She paused. “It may be relevant. Maybe she’s gotten mixed up with someone she shouldn’t have.”

  “Long shot. She’s been off meth for four years and everything else for at least three. Gave up drinking last summer.”

  “And what about the kid? Is there a dad?”

  “Jessie has no idea who he is. She did just about anything to get drugs. From what I hear, she was passed around a lot.”

  “Not exactly your all-American girl.”

  “It’s not exactly your all-American family.”

  “It’s not what I expected.” She glanced over at the rolling hay fields. “All this going for them and they seem as fucked up as any of us.” She read the text message Annie had received. “I’m sorry, Annie. John gave me no choice. He had to die.”

  “Whoever sent the message was showing remorse.”

  “I’ve never seen something like this. Why would the killer take the time to send a text? It makes me think they must know the family.”

  Aiden pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Or it could just be someone who’s done their homework. The Daltons have a high profile. It wouldn’t have been difficult to get information on them.”

  Macy scrolled through the calls and messages. “We really should have a court order before we look at this thing.”

  “That won’t be a problem. What were you doing out here all this time anyway? You kind of ran off.”

  “Someone had to get the kid out of there. Has Annie Dalton always been violent, or is this a symptom of dementia?”

  “There have been incidents over the years, but nothing this extreme. If you ask me, I’d say Jeremy and Annie being together was never a good idea.”

  “I asked Tara about her uncle.”

  “You want a court order for the phone, but you interviewed a child without permission?”

  “I’ve never been known for consistency.”

  “I’m getting that. Did you learn anything?”

  “It could be nothing, but one time when she was out with her uncle, they met a man. Tara said the man was saying stuff about Jessie that made John very upset. John told her to never tell anyone about it.”

  “Was this recent?”

  “Hard to tell. She said it was a long time ago when she was five.”

  “Well, I think she only just turned six, so it could have been recent. Anything else?”

  “She volunteered that much. It didn’t feel right to press her. She needs to be interviewed by a specialist.
I put in a call. They’re sending someone up from Kalispell.”

  “We should get back to town. The tech guy wants to walk us through the security video, and John’s friends are coming in.”

  “And Lana Clark?”

  “She’s on her way as well.”

  * * *

  Aiden pointed out the two-story building that housed the Wilmington Creek Police Department. It was only a block away from The Whitefish. He backed into a spot and pulled up the parking brake.

  Macy judged the distance to the murder scene to be less than a hundred yards.

  “Pretty bold to shoot a man within shouting distance of the sheriff’s office.”

  “I have to agree with you on that one. It’s the first time something like this has happened in Wilmington Creek. I’m afraid it will change things around here forever.”

  “Did you grow up here?”

  He scrolled through the messages on his phone. “I’m not sure I’m officially a grown-up so I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “Seriously, have you always lived here?”

  “Born and bred.” He pointed to the east. “My parents live about four blocks away.”

  “I couldn’t imagine it.”

  “Then try not to.”

  “It’s not that it’s not pretty.”

  He laughed. “You don’t need to apologize. I get it. Even I have my bad days.”

  “What do you do on your bad days?”

  “Drink a bit too much, look up job openings on the Internet. Contemplate applying. Fall asleep.”

  “Sounds like my typical Saturday night.”

  “At least in Helena you have options. You should get out more.”

  Macy reached for the door handle. “You sound like my mother.”

  “Don’t knock mothers. They’re usually right about these things.”

  “My life is complicated.”

  “A guy?”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  “If it’s complicated it’s not worth it.”

  “Sometimes it’s just a matter of being patient.”

  “I’ve heard my sister say that. It seems to be code for he’s married.”

  Macy’s expression darkened. She’d had enough sharing for one day. She walked toward the entrance. The sun was high in the sky. Heat reflected off every surface. Main Street was an oven.