BIG SKY SECRETS 01: Final Exposure

by Roxanne Rustand

  They were just heading out the door when Grace called Erin’s name. “I knew there was something I wanted to tell you, but I plumb forgot.”

  Erin stopped with one hand on the door and looked back with a smile. “What’s that?”

  “The nicest fella was here a while back, looking for you. Handsome as can be. He was asking all sorts of questions,” Grace added in a conspiratorial voice. “Like he was real interested, if you know what I mean.”

  Erin stilled. “Did he give his name?”

  Grace’s snowy brows drew together as she thought. “Can’t rightly say. I figured maybe he was an old beau of yours hoping to look you up.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Medium tall, nice face. Dark hair. Or maybe it was sort of sandy…Anyways, he was real proud to hear that you were running your grandpa’s store and said he would look you up one of these days. Just thought you’d like to know.”

  By the time they reached the cottage, Max and Charlie were both asleep in the backseat.

  Jack looked over his shoulder at them, then turned back to Erin. “I still don’t like the idea of you staying here all alone. You heard that woman—some guy has been asking a lot of questions. Maybe he’s the one causing all the trouble.”

  “I’ll make sure every door and window is locked tight. I’ve got a cell phone and I’ve got Charlie. I’m not going to let anyone scare me out of my own home.”

  He hesitated, then opened his door and got out. “Come on, then. I’ll go inside with you and check everything out.”

  “But, Max—”

  “As soon as you step out of the car, I’ll hit the locks. Max’ll be fine for a couple minutes, and I’ll only be a few yards away, at any rate.”

  She let Charlie out of the backseat and turned him loose in the yard, then unlocked the door of the cottage and reached inside to flip on the porch and interior lights.

  Jack insisted on going inside first.

  She watched from the doorway as he went from room to room and checked every closet, behind every door and under the bed, jiggling window locks and checking the back door as he went.

  “All clear,” he said on a long sigh, standing in the front doorway where he could keep an eye on his car and Max. “For now. Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?”

  “I’m sure. I’ll probably be up half the night, anyway, wading through invoices and such. I’ve got to regenerate a lot of bookkeeping for the store now that my laptop is gone.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’ll call you at ten o’clock just to check in. You’ve got my cell on your speed dial, right?”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I will put it in. Promise.”

  “And you won’t hesitate to call.”

  His eyes were warm and intense, searching hers as if he really, truly cared for her—as more than a landlord, a friend, an accidental neighbor. She felt a gentle sensation of warmth embrace her heart.

  “Believe me, I’m not a high-maintenance woman. But yes, I’ll call.”

  “Good.” His gaze flicked toward the car, then back to her. “Because you’re one of the most stubborn, independent women I’ve met, and it worries me. A lot.”

  “I can tell,” she teased. “Now go home.”

  He started down the short flagstone walk, then pivoted and came back. Holding her with one arm around her shoulders and the other braced high on the door, he brushed a single kiss over her mouth, then rested his forehead against hers. “Keep safe.”

  And then he was gone.

  TWELVE

  Before settling down to work on the books for the store, Erin searched for the missing laptop once more, praying she’d missed it the first time.

  She knew it would be wasted time. She’d searched every square inch of the place already. But finding it would mean that no one had broken into the cottage while she was at the church potluck. That no one had gone through her things.

  Just the thought made her skin crawl.

  But now, standing at the right angle, she could see shallow gouges in the sill of her bedroom window. She could imagine the tip of a crowbar working its way slowly, inexorably beneath the sash…and the window flying upward with a powerful jerk.

  And then, staring into the twisted face of an intruder coiling to launch himself into the cottage…

  She shook away the horrible images and snorted at her own foolishness. There’d been a theft. The guy had stolen the most valuable item in the cottage. So why would he bother to come back?

  She strode through the cottage, checking the locks on the windows and doors once again, then sat cross-legged on her bed with Charlie at her side, thankful for his presence—even if he’d been sleeping and blissfully unaware of all possible dangers.

  I guess he’s the one who got it right, Lord. I just need to let go and have faith that You’re here with me.

  Her cell phone burst into its musical ringtone and she jumped, startled by the unexpected noise.

  “Linda!” she managed, her voice shaking. “Good to hear your voice!”

  “Oh, no.” A pause, then Linda continued, “I wasn’t even thinking about the time. I just saw your message from earlier tonight and thought I’d return your call. I’m so sorry—I can call back at a decent hour.”

  “Please, don’t hang up.”

  “Is something wrong?” Linda’s voice grew cautious. Tentative. “Are you all right?”

  What did Erin say to that? The truth would only worry an old friend who could do nothing to help from so far away, anyhow. “Tonight I was studying the photos I took at your wedding. What a beautiful day that was.”

  Linda chuckled. “That’s why you called? Whew!”

  “Well…not entirely. I took a lot of shots of the park itself, so you’d have those, too. But I inadvertently ended up with quite a few that show some guy down by the river.”

  Linda was silent.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I was using a telephoto lens and hadn’t even noticed he was in the pictures until now. But I think he must’ve seen me, because I caught him looking straight at the camera, and he looks absolutely livid.”

  “Can’t you just delete the pictures?”

  “Sure, but I’ve got this uneasy feeling that won’t go away. He just looks…guilty, somehow. So I’m wondering if you remember anything about the local news that day. If anything bad happened in the area, for instance.”

  Another long silence.

  “Linda?”

  “I’m just thinking, but I guess I can’t be much help. I left for the Caribbean with Carl on the afternoon of the wedding, and I wasn’t paying attention to the news for days before that. So I don’t have a clue. My advice? Delete those photos and forget about them.”

  “Well…maybe so.”

  “Or if you’re still concerned, check the newspapers online. I’m pretty sure the local papers are archived.” A male voice rumbled in the background. “Sorry—Carl says he needs the phone. But I’ll call you back later, okay? Thanks a million for taking the pictures. I can’t wait to see them!”

  Ollie showed up in Millie’s at eight in the morning and swept the store with painstaking care as always, then beamed down at her as he handed back the broom. “Good?”

  “Very, very good. Thanks.” She followed him into the café and served him his two caramel rolls and coffee. “I have something for you, Ollie. Have you had a paycheck before?”

  His brow furrowed. “I got rolls.”

  “Well, those are kind of an extra. A bonus. But I need to pay you and I should do it properly even if it is for just an hour or less a day. But I don’t have your Social Security number. Do you have an account at the bank where you could deposit a check?”

  He stared at her blankly. “Barry pays me sometimes.”

  “So he would know all this?” She flicked a glance at the clock. The weather had warmed up and now it was raining, a steady, dreary drizzle that had turned the snow to slush and chilled the bones, apparently
keeping her usual morning customers at home. “If you could either wait or come back in an hour or so, I could close for a bit and we could run up to the greenhouse to talk to him. Is that okay with you?”

  Ollie nodded, already blissfully in the thrall of his favorite confection.

  “And then maybe we could check on a different coat for you. There’s a nice consignment shop in town and—”

  Her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, glanced at the incoming area code and flipped it open as she headed for the privacy of the kitchen. “Grandpa Pete! It’s great to hear from you.”

  He chuckled. “I was off on a weekend cruise and just got back. Whoo-ee, I got more sun than I bargained for. I’m red as those Indian paintbrush flowers you always liked. So how’s everything at the store?”

  He sounded so relaxed, so happy, that she hesitated. “Fine, all fine. Though I was wondering…how well you know Barry Hubble?”

  Gramps was one of the strongest Christians she knew. He took his faith seriously, walked the walk every day and had always been careful not to judge others.

  Judge not, lest ye be judged had been his familiar refrain to her, delivered with a sad shake of his head whenever a customer walked out of the store after uttering a tidbit of spiteful gossip.

  Now, his silence told her that he was trying to come up with the right answer within the bounds of his personal code of honor, and that with Barry, it wasn’t easy.

  “Be careful,” he said finally.

  “Why?”

  “Just trust me.”

  “Can you be just a little more specific?”

  “He’s a man,” Gramps said at last, “who doesn’t hesitate to go after what he wants.”

  “You mean he’s dishonest?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But he might not stop at ordinary means to get what he’s after?”

  “Maybe. He isn’t one to take no for an answer.”

  “And what about Ollie?”

  “Not a mean bone in that man’s body. And despite all his struggles, he’s as happy one day as the next. We should all be that lucky. I only wish he’d let the county help him out more.”

  “With food? Medical care?”

  “All of that. I’m also afraid that some winter he’s going to freeze to death in that drafty old house of his, but he’s just too stubborn to move.”

  “There,” Ollie said, pointing a stubby finger at the road ahead. “Go there.”

  “Thanks. I don’t think I’ve been here before.” She slowed, turned and made her way past a discreet, elegant sign for Mountain View Florist.

  The lane wound through a stand of pines, then opened up into a meadow with a long, single-story log building in the middle, and three greenhouses to one side. Several cars were parked in front.

  The rest of the area was neatly divided into split-rail fenced sections for separating types of nursery stock, though only a few forlorn trees remained.

  Surprised, she surveyed the well-kept facilities. “I didn’t expect this,” she muttered under her breath.

  Ollie nodded. “Barry’s.”

  When she’d first seen Barry at Millie’s, he’d looked like an ex-con. Like someone who spelled trouble, and after his gruff announcement that he’d been trying to buy her grandfather’s property, she’d let her imagination run a little wild about what he might do to get it.

  Now all of those preconceptions were beginning to fade.

  A woman stepped out of the log building with a large flower arrangement swathed in plastic, and then Barry himself came out in a yellow slicker with the hood pulled up to help her maneuver the flowers into her car.

  Mission accomplished, he strolled over to Erin’s car. “Can I help you?”

  She rolled down her window and blinked at a gust of rain that blew in. “I just have some questions, if you have a minute.”

  He braced a hand on the roof and leaned down to peer inside her car at Ollie. “What’s happenin’?”

  “Got a job. With money.”

  “Is that so.” Barry pursed his lips and nodded. “Come on in. I just have one other customer, and then I’ll be right with you.”

  Inside, the building was fragrant with the scent of flowers, pine and fresh black earth. A wall of glass-fronted coolers were filled with a variety of cut flowers and arrangements, while houseplants, garden supplies and lawn furniture took up the remaining space.

  Barry gestured toward a door behind the register, which opened to an office, then motioned them to the two chairs facing his cluttered desk.

  Erin told him about Ollie’s part-time job at the store, adding that she wanted to give him a proper paycheck.

  “Good luck.” Barry leaned way back in his chair and crossed one booted foot over the opposite knee. “I just give him cash. He doesn’t have a bank account and couldn’t keep it straight, anyway. I’m not even sure if he has a Social Security number. If you can track somebody down who the works for the county-welfare system, you can ask them, though.”

  “I’ll do that. It might be good for Ollie to learn these things.”

  Barry rocked forward and folded his arms on his desk. “So now you’re going to be Ms. Social Worker.”

  For all his nice surroundings, he was still the same creepy Barry she’d first met at her store. “I thought you’ve been his friend for a long time.”

  “I help him in my own way. He comes here when he wants to. I let him earn some money. But I can’t help every hard-luck case that walks in the door. Can you?”

  She had a feeling that when Ollie came here to earn money, the one who benefited the most was Barry. She stood. “I guess I’d like to make a difference, even if it’s just one person at a time. Ollie? Shall we go?”

  He looked back and forth between the two of them, chewing his full lower lip, then shook his head.

  “You don’t want a ride somewhere? I could take you home.”

  “And I’ll bet you don’t even know where that is,” Barry said. “Have you been there? Have you seen how he lives?” The man stared at her through narrowed eyes. “Take him home and take a good look. Security is everything when you have almost nothing—and the county does nothing for you. I oughta know—been there, done that, when I was a kid.”

  He picked up the pack of cigarettes on his desk and shook one out. “So take a good look, then ask yourself what’s better in his view—the devil you know or the devil you don’t? He’s been able to come here for years, if he needed. Do-gooders like you just come and go.”

  “My grandfather said he was worried about Ollie’s house during the winter—that it’s too cold.”

  Barrie shrugged. “He’s got a wood-burning furnace. He knows how to run it.” He gestured toward the door with a flick of his wrist. “Go with her, Ollie. Let her take you home.”

  Unsettled, Erin led the way to her car and opened the door for Ollie. “You can stay here if you want to, it’s your choice.”

  He gave her a hunted look. “Barry said.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to do what he says. Does he make you do a lot of things? Does he ever tell you to do things that you don’t want to do?”

  Ollie climbed in her car and averted his face.

  “If that ever happens, you can trust me. I’ll help you in whatever way I can. Understand?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Could it be possible, despite his apparently upstanding place in the community, that Barry might still be the one behind her problems at the store? Did he covet Gramps’s property enough that he’d try to drive her away using a simple, trusting man to do his dirty work in order to keep his own name clear?

  She glanced over at the gentle giant of a man sitting next to her, taking in the lines of worry etching his face.

  And hoped it wasn’t true.

  The farther she drove south of town, the greater her disbelief—and her uneasiness. “Ollie, are you sure this is the right way? You really live out this far? And yet you walk clear to the store?�
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  He nodded, not meeting her eyes.

  Thoughts of too-stupid-to-live characters in movies started flashing through her mind. The ones who would go down into creepy basements in the middle of the night, a fading flashlight in hand. Or climb rickety stairs to the attic of an abandoned house—and then meet their doom.

  Going this far out in the country with Ollie suddenly seemed like a remarkably bad idea, despite Barry’s challenge.

  She’d slowed, ready to pull onto the shoulder and turn around, when Ollie pointed a stubby finger at a crumbling house in the distance. “There.”

  Even from here, she could see that the front porch hung at a tipsy angle and most of the paint had peeled away. Junker cars were parked haphazardly in the yard. Worse, some of the windows on the second floor were broken, and she could see that Ollie had stuffed the holes with rags, then covered them with cardboard from the inside. Even if he closed off the upper floor, what must that house be like in the middle of a good Montana winter?

  Yet, as she drove on, she could see that an old-fashioned, hand-powered push mower was leaning against the house and that most of the weeds had been held at bay. And though the yard was like an automotive graveyard, there was no litter there, no trash heaped just outside the door.

  Despite everything, Ollie was trying to make the house a decent place to live.

  She pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway and stopped by the mailbox out front. “This is your home?”

  He nodded, flags of bright color staining his pale cheeks.

  “Do you live all alone?”

  A single nod.

  “Who cooks for you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Who brings you food?”

  “A lady, sometimes. Boxes and boxes.”

  “It looks like you must do a very, very good job with the grass in the summer. And you keep everything picked up, too. Could I see the inside sometime?”

  He vehemently shook his head as he opened the car door and climbed out.

  She watched him trudge up the rutted driveway. Four fat, gleaming cats appeared from behind a rickety shed and bounded over to him, winding through his ankles until they all disappeared into the house together.