Big Sky Lawman

by Marilyn Pappano

  Rafe started to walk away and gestured for Sloan to follow, but the D.A. stopped them both. “Let’s not get into any jurisdictional arguments here, Sheriff, Chief. Right now we need to worry about damage control. I want to see both of you in my office. Deputy, you come, too.”

  Sloan held the D.A.’s gaze for a moment, then walked off, pushing his way past officers and reporters alike, ignoring their comments and questions. He made it back to his truck in record time, climbed behind the wheel and simply sat there, head bowed. Crystal’s scent still lingered faintly in the air, and it hit him with the force of a blow to the gut.

  This was twice he’d made her a promise. Twice he’d broken it. He prayed to God she would find it in her heart to forgive him one more time.

  But this time he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself.

  The news of the discovery of Christina Montgomery’s body spread through town like wildfire. It was the sole topic of conversation in the Hip Hop all day long. Emma Stover had already heard the bare facts more times than she could count, along with a dozen or so embellishments. The customers were saying Miz Cobbs’s niece Crystal was psychic, like Winona, and that she’d been the one to find the body. If it was true, Emma wondered grimly if Crystal might be persuaded to take a look into her future and give her answers to a few questions.

  Like whether to visit her mother. Whether Lexine was as guilty of murder as the juries had believed. Whether she cared at all about the daughter she’d given away so many years ago. Whether meeting her at last would be the end of Emma’s search…or the beginning of more heartache.

  She’d gone round and round on the subject for so long that it hurt her head to think about it, but most of the time it was all she could think about. Even the details of discovering the missing girl’s body couldn’t distract her after hearing about it for the twentieth time. She was sorry the girl was dead, really she was, but she hadn’t known Christina, and she had problems of her own.

  She was distractedly pouring refills for a tableful of regulars, old men who lived for gossip, when a hush spread over the dining room. Along with everyone else in the place, she looked up to see Ellis Montgomery’s children, Max and Rachel, heading for a table at the back of her section. She gave them a moment to get settled, then approached with menus. Rachel waved them away. “We’d just like coffee, please.”

  Emma nodded and left to get mugs and a pot of fresh coffee. Rachel looked as if she’d been crying, and Max…Max didn’t look as if he felt a thing. But Emma knew from experience people could feel things deeply but never let them show.

  After serving them, Emma retreated to the end of the counter, totaling tickets and taking a breather before making the rounds of her customers. Though she tried to ignore the Montgomerys’ quiet voices, it was impossible to not overhear their conversation.

  Rachel began, her tone determined. “We have to try to find the baby.”

  “We don’t even know for sure there is a baby,” her brother replied.

  “There’s a baby. Everyone suspected Christina was pregnant except you and Dad.”

  “And that’s our fault?”

  Rachel’s patience-seeking breath was clearly audible. “It’s not anyone’s fault, Max. But Christina’s baby is out there somewhere, and we have to find it.”

  “You heard the sheriff. They don’t know even know where to look. Whoever killed Christina—” Max’s voice quavered just the slightest bit “—might have taken the baby or even killed it, too.”

  “We have to have faith that the baby is all right. I want to hire a private investigator,” Rachel said earnestly. “The sheriff’s department can’t give a search like this the time and attention it deserves. I want to hire someone who will devote all his time and energy to finding Christina’s baby and bringing it back home to her family, where it belongs.”

  “We can discuss this further some other time. After we bury—” Max broke off in a quiver that made Emma wish she was anywhere else at that moment, even at the women’s prison in Billings.

  Searching. Everyone was searching for something—the Montgomerys for their sister, now for some sense from her death, and for her baby. The authorities for her killer. Emma for her mother. At least she knew where to look, if she could just find the courage. But she didn’t have to decide tonight. It wasn’t as if Lexine was going anywhere.

  But maybe the Montgomerys had thought that about Christina. No need to make time for the spoiled kid sister, the demanding daughter, the needy young woman. Their lives were busy with other responsibilities. Christina was young, and she wasn’t going anywhere. They could always find time for her later.

  But now later would never come.

  Emma didn’t want to find herself at some point in the future lamenting the later that would never arrive. According to the letter from the prison, all she had to do was write to her mother and request that Lexine add her to her visitors’ list. It was that easy. And that hard.

  But she would do it.

  Crystal waited the rest of the morning and all afternoon to hear from Sloan. Finally she called his cell phone, but got his voice mail. Shortly after shift change at four o’clock, she called his apartment and got his machine. She tried to tell herself that he was busy, that working a murder scene was a complicated, time-consuming job. She assured herself that he would call or come by just as soon as he could. She promised herself that nothing was wrong.

  But something was wrong. She felt it in the pit of her stomach, in the tightness in her chest that made taking a deep breath impossible. Something was terribly wrong.

  Finally she called the sheriff’s department and asked for Rafe. After taking her name and putting her on hold, the dispatcher told her that he was in a meeting and couldn’t take any calls, but he did give her a message. If she was looking for Sloan, she should try the Hip Hop Café. He’d sent him over there with Deputy Elkshoulder to finally get some food.

  The relief she should have felt didn’t come. Instead of going back to waiting, or calling the restaurant, she borrowed Winona’s truck and drove into town.

  The Hip Hop was more crowded than usual. Of course, it was Gossip Central, according to Winona, and the discovery of Christina’s body was juicy gossip. The fact that it was the day after Thanksgiving, another holiday for a lot of folks, and that most of them had eaten all the turkey they could stand probably didn’t hurt business any, either.

  She paused inside the door to peel off her gloves and unbutton her coat, then looked around for Sloan. Slowly she became aware that the diner had gone silent—completely, utterly silent—and everyone was staring.

  At her.

  She’d heard those silences before, had felt those stares before. Some were curious, some repulsed, some just a bit frightened. They knew. Oh, God, they knew! It was Boonesville all over again.

  She didn’t know whether to turn and run, or to walk on into the place and look for Sloan. Her strongest impulse was to run, exactly the way she’d run from Boonesville, to race back to Winona’s, pack a suitcase and catch the next plane leaving Montana. But there was no place for her to run to. No other loving relative out there willing to take her in and help her make a new life. No other man like Sloan out there to accept her the way she was and love her anyway. No other place she wanted to be, no other place she wanted to call home.

  As she slowly began moving away from the door, the silence gave way to whispers, murmurs. She heard the sibilant S’s and the hard K’s—psychic, strange, kook, freak, crazy—and they nearly drained her of the strength to keep walking. But a glimpse of Deputy Elkshoulder in a distant booth kept her moving. Even if Sloan wasn’t with him, perhaps he could tell her where to find him.

  Sloan was still with him. He sat facing the wall, a plate of food untouched in front of him, and he looked… Lost. Distraught. Hopeless. When she stopped beside the table, it took him a long moment to realize she was there, even longer to bring his gaze to her face. The look in his eyes turned bleaker and sent a chill throug
h her. “Sloan, what’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Aw, you should know that.” The answer came from behind her and made Sloan stiffen. “After all, you’ve got the power.” The last word started in a low, spooky tone, then exploded into the last syllable.

  She didn’t spare a glance for the detective. “Sloan?”

  “You’ll have to excuse Deputy Ravencrest’s manners,” the second detective said. “He got suspended from the department this afternoon, and he’s pouting.”

  Finally she did look at the men. “Suspended for what?”

  “Gee, where shall we start? Bringing a civilian into a criminal investigation without proper authority. Tainting the case against Christina Montgomery’s murderer. Subjecting the department to public ridicule.” The man leered at her. “How does it feel to be the one responsible for ‘public ridicule’?”

  She held his gaze for a moment, then quietly, clearly said, “Go to hell.” She started to turn back to Sloan, but the man’s next words left her frozen.

  “He was using you, you know. Using you to get ahead. To score points with his boss. Maybe get a promotion, a better job, more respect. He knew about you and that murdered girl in Georgia. He figured the freak did it once. Maybe she could do it again. And, hell, even if she couldn’t, he’d get something from her for his efforts—a few hot nights, a little fun.”

  The other one took it up then. “But damned if you didn’t come through for him. You must be the queen of freaks, Crystal, you and your crystal ball.”

  They were lying. Crystal repeated the words in her head as if they were a mantra that might save her from this public humiliation—or was it public heartbreak? They must be lying! Sloan hadn’t had a clue about her psychic abilities until Winona had let it slip…or had he? He was a good deputy. If he’d wanted to find out everything about her before he’d come to the Stop-n-Swap that first day, it would have taken only a few phone calls. Plenty of people back in Boonesville would have been eager to share all the sordid details with him. He would have learned enough to know how to approach her, how to treat her, how to talk to her. He certainly would have learned that romance and acceptance were the ways to gain her trust, and once he had her trust…

  Hell, there was nothing she wouldn’t have done for him. Nothing she hadn’t done for him.

  And he looked so damned guilty right now.

  “What’s wrong, Crystal-ball?” one of the men taunted. “You get visions of other people’s lives, but you can’t foretell the betrayals in your own life?”

  She wanted to cry, to hide, to beg Sloan to tell her it wasn’t so. But she’d cried in Boonesville. She’d hidden, and she’d begged James and her parents not to destroy her, and she’d been destroyed anyway. She wouldn’t give these two bastards the satisfaction of watching it happen again.

  She straightened her spine and gave them her coldest, most invulnerable look. “You’re right. I came through for him, while you tried and failed in your pathetic attempts to frame Homer Gilmore. Even poor, harmless Homer came out of this looking smarter than the two of you.”

  A few titters and chuckles agitated both men. “Oh, yeah?” one of them blustered. “Finding the body’s not even half the case. Why don’t you go crystal-balling again and tell us who murdered Christina?” He poked the other man in the ribs. “Get it? Crystal-balling and balling Crys-”

  Sloan stood up, looking darker and more dangerous than Crystal had ever imagined he could. His voice sent chills down her spine. “Go ahead and say it. Give me an excuse.”

  Neither man had the courage to speak.

  After staring them down a moment longer, Sloan laid his hand at the small of her back. “Let’s get out of here.” He shoved both men out of their way, then guided her toward the door and onto the street.

  They walked one block, then another, his long legs eating up the sidewalk practically faster than she could keep up. In that one small contact with his hand, even through her coat, she could feel the tension in him and guiltily wondered if it was because what the men had said was true. Had he been using her from the start? Had he given her his time, his attention, his gentleness, his kisses, his patience, all for the sake of his investigation? Which was easier to believe—that he’d wanted something from her, or that he’d honestly fallen in love with her?

  No one but Winona had ever loved her. Not her parents. Certainly not James. Why should Sloan be any different?

  The first tear slipped down her cheek unhindered. When the second fell, she wiped it away, then refused to be pushed along one step further. She came to a sudden stop, holding her ground when he bumped into her, waiting until he’d taken a step back before she looked up and helplessly asked, “Is it true?”

  His laughter was stunned and bitter. “Well, hell. That makes it pretty clear what you think of me,” he said scornfully. “Do you think I used you, Crystal? Do you think I made love to you and took you into my family so you would help me?”

  She gazed at him, at his handsome face and sexy mouth and wicked dark eyes, and searched inside herself for the best, most honest answer she could give. Once she got past the embarrassment, the reality of her worst nightmare coming true again, the old insecurities and wounded feelings, it was an easy enough answer to find. “No.”

  He didn’t believe her. He’d seen the doubts, and he wasn’t buying the change of heart. “The way you looked in there… All that bastard Wilkins had to say was, ‘He was using you,’ and you believed him. Four little words from a lying son of a bitch you don’t even know, and you looked at me like—” Breaking off, he compressed his mouth in a thin line and turned away from her, as if finishing the sentence was too painful.

  “You’re right,” she said quietly. “For a moment I believed him. I’ve been betrayed before. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been betrayed again.”

  He swung back around and hotly declared, “I love you! Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but it means everything to me!”

  “It means everything to me, too! That’s why I’m so terrified of losing it! Because I’ve lost before, Sloan. I know what it’s like to have nothing. I know that after having you, I couldn’t bear to not have you.”

  Even angry and hurt, he couldn’t not reassure her. That fact made her love him even more. “That’s never going to happen.”

  “Then why did you look so damn guilty in there?”

  He stared at her a moment, then got that sorrowful look again. “Because everybody knows. The cops. The D.A. The newspapers. The TV stations. Everybody in the whole damn town knows about you being psychic, about your part in finding Christina’s body, and they know because—” His voice broke, and he needed a deep breath before he could continue. “They know because I told them. I promised you I’d protect you, I promised I’d keep your name out of it, but when they asked, I told them.”

  She stared at him for a long time, at the guilt that shadowed his eyes and the regret that etched the corners of his mouth, and she gradually felt about a thousand pounds lighter. “You did no such thing.”

  He looked at her as if he thought she was so desperate to believe that she was lying to herself. “Sweetheart, I know what I did. I told them—”

  “You told me you would keep my name out of it as much as you could, but if anything came from my vision—any clues, any evidence—that you would have to include it, and me, in your report. Well, something came of it. I’d already told Rafe that the vision was mine. I knew there weren’t any secrets left to keep. I thought you did, too.”

  He was slow to understand. “Then…you’re not angry?”

  “How could I be angry? Sloan, you kept your word. You did exactly what you told me you would do. Even though you wanted to protect me, you did what was right—for your case, for you and for me.”

  “I saw the way those people looked at you. The way they whispered. The way Wilkins and Blakely talked to you.”

  “They weren’t talking to me. They were talking to the woman Deputy Ravencrest loves,” s
he said with a gentle smile. “The same Deputy Ravencrest who blew their case out of the water and made them look like the idiots they are. They don’t give a damn about me. They were just trying to get to you through me.”

  “I do, you know,” he said earnestly as he took a step toward her. “I love you so damn much.”

  “I know. I love you even more.” She met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his waist. “So tell me… What does a suspended deputy do with himself?”

  “If he’s a smart man—”

  “The smartest.”

  “—he takes his best girl home and makes love to her for, oh, sixty hours or so, until he has to go back to work on Monday.”

  She pulled back to look into his face. “Rafe suspended you for two and a half days? Two of them a weekend when you were already off?”

  He grinned. “I brought an unauthorized civilian into an investigation. That was a big strike against me. And she led me to the mayor’s missing daughter. That canceled out the strike.” He shrugged, his body pressing against hers in all the right places. “It’s all politics. So what do you say? Will you come home with me? Make love to me? Make me feel like the luckiest man alive?”

  Rising onto her toes, she gave him a kiss so needy, so greedy, that no words were necessary. She offered them, anyway, with a flutter of lashes and a dose of Georgia peach in her voice. “Why, Mr. Ravencrest, I would be honored to come with you…” She kissed his jaw. “Or before you…” Her next kiss landed on his cheek. “Or after you…”

  He caught her face in his hands and claimed her mouth with a fierceness that swept through her. “With me,” he commanded hoarsely. “Always. Until we die and beyond.”

  Until we die and beyond. The two of them together forever, in body, in spirit, in soul. The idea brought her a peace and security she’d thought she would never know. With warm satisfaction flowing through her, she linked her arm through his and they started walking once again. “Now that, Deputy Ravencrest, is a promise I’ll hold you to.”