BIG SKY SECRETS 01: Final Exposure

by Roxanne Rustand

  And she had an idea who it could be.

  TWO

  At the end of her first day of business Erin wearily checked the dead bolt on the front door, tallied the cash and checks in the cash register then prepared the money bag and deposit slip.

  She moved to the back of the store, then opened the door to the kitchen and flipped on the lights to survey the room before stepping inside.

  In every shadow she imagined an intruder. Coiled muscles. Narrowed eyes.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Waiting until no customers were around who could hear her scream.

  But no one was lying in wait for her, and this morning’s moment of panic had probably been her imagination, as well, not born of a flesh-and-blood threat.

  It wouldn’t be anything new. Frightening images had been a part of her dreams for fifteen years, because sweet, giggly, impetuous Laura had likely actually lived every terrible second of Erin’s nightmares during her last moments on earth—until her captor sliced her throat and buried her before her body was even cold.

  Years of counseling and prayer and determination had helped Erin move on, into college and a career and even some romantic relationships, though they were doomed from the start. She’d never been able to forget. Laura’s killer had made sure of that.

  But she was done running from her past, a past branded by fear and grief and faith that hadn’t been strong enough. God, I know you’re with me…that I can trust in You.

  Taking a steadying breath, she stepped into the kitchen and lingered in front of the upright freezer, debating before pulling out five pounds of premium, apple-smoked bacon to thaw in the fridge overnight.

  Early September marked the waning of the tourist season, though a few travelers usually filtered north to enjoy the glorious fall colors. But even this first weekend of the month had been slow. Of course, maybe the word had spread when the store was closed for a few months. But even so, there’d been just a handful of customers all day.

  She’d recognized only two of them—Martha, the silver-haired postmistress who had been in town since the Dark Ages, and Isabelle Jane Swanson, an elderly, overweight retired schoolteacher who’d been a lifelong friend of Grandma Millie’s.

  The other customers had been unfamiliar and mostly male, and she’d felt an inward shiver every time one of them walked in the door.

  Anyone could stop in on the pretext of buying a fishing lure or a pack of gum. Case the place. Come back after dark. Evil could be hidden behind a casual smile and a bit of innocuous conversation.

  Oh, Grandpa Pete, maybe I shouldn’t have come back here, after all.

  But Gramps was now living in Florida with his elderly sister, finally enjoying life after too many hard, lonely years of running the store by himself, and those were words she would never say to him. He’d come back in a flash and insist on tearing up the contract she’d signed. He would give up his last chance at happiness for her, and that was something she would never allow.

  She was grown up now.

  Fifteen years had passed since Laura’s death, and almost ten since Erin received the last of the eerie, anonymous notes that had arrived every year on the anniversary of the murder. DON’T TELL.

  Don’t tell what? Erin hadn’t seen or heard anything that could help with the case, but those ongoing messages had haunted her dreams for years.

  Kris and Megan had received them, too, until the murderer apparently committed suicide in an isolated cabin while the sheriff and his deputies were closing in on him. A note with the body confessed to a number of murders—in the sort of grisly detail only the real killer would know.

  God was all-powerful, and He granted grace and forgiveness to His children. Erin still clung to the power of faith.

  But no matter how hard she tried, she could not forgive the ruthless animal who had stolen Laura’s future and the innocence of her best friends with that one, savage act.

  The investigators had closed the case. But that hadn’t stopped her nightmares or eliminated her fear of being alone outside at night…where shadows loomed and coalesced into frightening specters that threatened to leap out and drag her away. For years she’d felt her heart pound and her palms go damp if she had to cross a darkened parking lot.

  I’m finally beyond that now, God. It’s all in the past.

  “But tomorrow,” she muttered to herself, “I’m definitely getting a dog.”

  The phone rang shrill and loud.

  Startled, she spun around on her heel and caught the edge of a saucepan with her elbow. It crashed to the floor, bouncing and rolling drunkenly. The deafening noise reverberated through the store even as she picked up the receiver.

  The voice on the line was one she hadn’t heard in a long, long time. “Megan?”

  “Believe it or not.” Her cousin’s husky laugh brought back a flood of memories of the childhood they’d shared. “I’m not the best at keeping in touch.”

  “No kidding. I haven’t heard from you since last Christmas.”

  “With all the cutbacks, we’re down to just three full-time deputies. The overtime is great, but I’ve pretty much given up on a personal life. I couldn’t believe it when I got your note about moving back to Montana, by the way. I didn’t think that would ever happen.”

  “I’m glad to be here.” Erin hesitated. “It took me a lot of years to even entertain the thought, but it was time. And it was good timing for Gramps, too.”

  “He should’ve retired a long time ago. But like everyone else in this family, he’s just too independent and stubborn for his own good.”

  “So how about you?” Erin forced a teasing note into her voice. “Are you still busy being the scourge of the bad guys in Marshall County?”

  “Until my last breath.”

  And from the steel in those words, Erin knew it was true. “Would you have even dreamed of being a cop if Laura hadn’t died?”

  “Maybe not. But every person I put behind bars makes me feel…well, like I’m doing something for her.” Megan gave a self-conscious chuckle. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

  “That night changed us all. Krissie married too young—”

  “To the wrong guy.”

  “So true. And I moved far away as soon as I could. But you—you turned into the family’s superhero.”

  “A deputy in a sparsely populated county hardly qualifies for that, hon,” Megan said dryly.

  “From what little you’ve told me over the years, I think it does. You take way too many risks.”

  “It’s my job. So how’s the store? Do you have it up and running again?”

  Erin smiled at Megan’s swift change of topic. “Yes, but things are pretty slow. I do have someone renting the house, though, to help with expenses.”

  “So it’s all good, then.”

  “Not exactly. I…um…think I might have had an intruder.”

  “When?” Megan’s voice instantly transformed to cop mode.

  “Early this morning. I went inside to start baking and thought I heard someone.”

  Megan ticked through a dozen probing questions, her voice laced with concern. “So what are your plans for improving security at that place? I’ll bet an eighty-year-old granny could kick through that front door.”

  “I’m going to check on security systems, and I’ll look into getting a steel entry door for the back. I’m also thinking about getting a dog.”

  “Good idea.” Megan said briskly. “An adult dog, one with a big bark. I think there’s still an animal shelter up in Battle Creek.”

  “I’ll definitely check it out.”

  “I can guess what you’re thinking.” Megan hesitated, then her voice gentled. “Given those anonymous notes we all got after Laura died, you might be wondering if her killer is somehow still alive. If he’s now coming after you.”

  Erin stilled.

  “I looked into our old case when I first took this job. The guy really did die in that cabin. The fingerprints matched. He’s no lon
ger out there watching us…trying to scare us into silence. So don’t get spooked over that breakin, hear? Forget it and move on.”

  Dear, forthright Megan, who’d never been daunted by any challenge in her life. Who always knew what to say, no matter what. “I know. But it’s still good to hear a reminder.”

  Something crackled in the background. Erin could hear the muffled words of a dispatcher—probably on the patrol-car radio.

  Then Megan came back to the phone. “I’ve gotta go—there’s an accident out on the highway, and we’re short-handed. Take care, you hear? Let’s plan on Christmas together, okay?”

  “Definitely.” Erin cradled the receiver, wishing Megan wasn’t several hours away. She remembered the golden days of the childhood summers they’d spent together, when the only worries were cloudy skies and the looming first day of school.

  But Megan was right. Coming back to Montana might have briefly revived Erin’s old fears, but the past was over. With improved security measures and a noisy dog, she’d be perfectly fine.

  And nothing—not old memories and not some two-bit vandal—was going to stand in her way.

  Erin set her alarm an hour earlier than usual, finished a batch of fragrant caramel rolls and left a note on Millie’s front door saying she’d be open at ten.

  By air, the trip to the small town of Battle Creek might’ve been ten miles at the most. But with the foothills rising into the steeper grades of the mountains, the trip involved thirty-six miles of winding road through a breathtaking example of God’s glorious hand.

  In Battle Creek, a touristy village of fifteen hundred, she hung a right at the single major intersection in town and drove along the boulder-strewn shore until she spied a faded sign for the Bear Island Lake Rescue Shelter.

  As a child, she’d come here with her parents to look at the puppies and kittens. Then, with crisp, white paint and a squadron of volunteers, the place had been impressive to a young girl eager to select a new pet.

  Now, the paint was faded and peeling, the chain-link fences sagged with age and the dog runs were choked with weeds. Had the shelter moved to new quarters sometime during the years she’d been gone?

  With a sigh, she started a three-point turn. Maybe someone in town would know—

  At a flash of movement by the kennel building, she hit the brakes.

  “Wait!” A tall, vaguely familiar woman waved to Erin as she jogged across the parking area. “Can I help you?”

  If it had been a man headed her way in this lonely and desolate place, Erin would’ve kept going. Fast. But the middle-aged woman’s face was open and friendly, and with a bandanna tying back her hair and the dirt smudge on her cheek, she looked as if she’d been hard at work.

  “I should’ve called ahead,” Erin admitted. “I just assumed the shelter would still be open.”

  “The place closed three weeks ago. Most of the animals have been sent to shelters in the surrounding counties.”

  Erin sagged against the back of her seat. “There aren’t any others in Latimer County?”

  “Nope. And this place, as you can see, has gone to ruin. Our county funding dried up, and keeping it going with donations was impossible. Today I’m picking up the last few animals so I can padlock the doors. I was the director, by the way. Polly Norcross.”

  Erin accepted the woman’s brief handshake through the window of her SUV. “What do you have left?”

  “A few hard-luck cases. An old, sick collie. A diabetic cat. And Charlie.”

  As if on cue, a haunting, mournful howl rose from the kennel that made the hair lift at the back of Erin’s neck.

  “And that’s him.”

  Erin sat up straighter. “He sounds huge.”

  Polly nodded. “He will be, which is a big strike against him with prospective owners. That and all the hair.”

  “What on earth is he?”

  “We think he’s Great Pyrenees, with a dash of Bernese mountain dog and maybe a little border collie. He’s around seven months old and he’s already above knee-high and at least fifty pounds. With all that hair, he looks even bigger, and he’s…um…just a tad rambunctious.”

  “Is he mean?”

  “Anything but. Though he does tend to bark incessantly when outside, and he wants to maul people with sloppy kisses. He mysteriously appeared at our door just a couple weeks ago, tied to the fence with twine and thin as a rail.”

  Erin’s heart lifted. Big. Noisy. Friendly. He sounded perfect. “Can I meet him?”

  “Maybe when he gets to the Marshall County shelter. I can’t process any more adoptions here, because we’re closed.”

  “But if he isn’t adopted, then he eventually could be put down?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “While you have an eager person right here? Can I just see him?”

  “Well…”

  “I’ve just moved back to the area, and I live alone. I really need a dog for companionship, and I like that he’ll be big.”

  “You’re from the area?”

  “I’m Bill and Jan Cole’s daughter. I grew up in—”

  Polly’s face blanched. “Lost Falls. I babysat your cousins when I was in high school.”

  Erin studied the woman, and again felt a vague sense of recognition. “It’s been such a long time…”

  A shadow crossed Polly’s expression. “I was Laura Warner’s neighbor.”

  Even after fifteen years, connecting with someone who was part of that terrible past had the power to suck the air from Erin’s lungs. “I…I still think about her so often.”

  “A child’s death is so devastating. And when it’s someone close to your own age, well…it’s something that changes you forever.” Polly rested a comforting hand on Erin’s shoulder.

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Makes it harder to be alone, too.” Again, Charlie’s mournful howl sounded from inside the dilapidated building, but this time, Polly gave Erin a long, measuring look. “Every time I hear a noise at night, I jump. I still have an obsession over crime reports on the news.”

  Erin nodded. The knowledge that life could be snuffed out in an instant—with just the happenstance wrong turn, or wrong encounter—was a hard lesson when one was young and blissfully naive. She sighed as she firmly shelved the memories and dredged up a smile. “I’d better let you finish here. Thanks for your time.”

  “You know, I haven’t been on the payroll for the last month, because there was barely enough money for dog food,” Polly mused aloud. “So technically, I’m just a concerned volunteer. If you’d like to meet Charlie, maybe we can work something out.”

  “Well, buddy,” Jack said with a smile. “Looks like another beautiful day. What do you think of this place?”

  “Kay.” Max looked up from a pile of Lego blocks on the hardwood floor, his eyes brimming with tears. “I want Mommy here. And Daddy, too.”

  “Me, too, buddy. Me, too.” Jack eased down onto the floor next to him and opened his arms to welcome the boy into his lap for a comforting hug, but Max just bowed his head and stared down at the Lego piece in his hand.

  Jack’s heart twisted as he realized that he needed a hug as much as Max did, but still didn’t know how to reach past the child’s wall of lonely grief. He reached for a couple of yellow blocks and snapped them together. “Can I help you make something?”

  “A barn?” Max rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “And a truck?”

  “You bet.” Jack started putting pieces together, forming first a red truck, then a barn in yellow, while Max worked on something that looked like a tower.

  Their second night here had been better than the first, without any dramatic interruptions from the store next door. Max had awakened just once but then went back to sleep, and he’d even slept until ten this morning.

  Jack, on the other hand, had stared at the gnome-like swirls and knotholes in the pine paneling of his own room until almost dawn.

  In the old days, he’d been able to turn his worri
es over to God and had felt an abiding sense of peace no matter what was going on in his life, but that sure wasn’t working anymore.

  Janie and Allan’s car accident, coupled with the problems back at his investment company, seemed beyond the realm of faith.

  “I have to work on the computer for a while today,” he said as he finished a crude approximation of a barn. “Would you like to go next door for some breakfast first?”

  Max looked up from the colorful castle he’d started building. “Sticky rolls?”

  “Ahh, the caramel rolls. Maybe we can split one after you have something a little healthier.” Jack tousled the boy’s hair. “I think the store has movie rentals, so maybe you can pick out something to watch while I’m working this morning. Does that sound okay? And then we’ll go have some fun this afternoon.”

  Max nodded.

  The child looked angelic, with his pale blond curls and those bright blue eyes framed in long, dark lashes. So angelic and broken and lost that once again a familiar pain settled in Jack’s heart like a heavy, cold weight.

  Would Max ever again be the happy little boy who’d once romped through his parents’ home, innocent of every terrible thing life had to offer? Was it even possible?

  Max dutifully got dressed and followed Jack to the store. Again, the warm aroma of caramel rolls wafted through the door as they stepped inside, along with the smoky-sweet scent of bacon.

  This time, three of the six small tables in the tiny café area were filled. The other patrons—burly, older fellows who didn’t look comfortable in the fanciful, wrought-iron chairs—were bent over steaming cups of coffee, talking about elk hunting and the tinder-dry conditions up in the high country.

  As one, their attention swiveled to the newcomers and they nodded in greeting before falling back into their respective conversations.

  Jack rested a hand on the boy’s thin shoulders. “Wow, I’m hungry. How about you?”

  Max nodded silently as he climbed into a chair at the table by the front window.