by Nora Roberts
"Yes. So the sheriff will find something."
She jumped at the sound of footsteps outside.
"Probably him now." Brody said easily and slid off the stool to answer the door himself.
* * *
Chapter 7
"BRODY." Rick removed his hat as he stepped inside. "Reece." His gaze skimmed over the counter. "Sorry to interrupt your dinner."
"We're finished. It's not important." Though her knees shook, Reece slid off the stool to stand. "Did you find her? '
"Mind if we have a seat?"
How could she have forgotten the ritual when cops came to call? Ask them to come in, to sit down, otter them coffee. She'd stocked coffee in those days, for friends. For police.
"Sorry." Reece gestured to the sofa. "Please. Can I get you something?"
"I'm just fine, thanks." After settling on the sofa, Rick set his hat on his lap and waited for Reece to sit. As he had earlier in his own cabin, Brody remained leaning against the counter.
She knew before he spoke, saw it in his face. She'd learned to read the carefully neutral expression police wore.
"I didn't find anything."
And still, she shook her head. "But——"
"Let's just take it slow." Rick interrupted. "Why don't you go over what you saw for me again?"
"Oh God." Reece rubbed her hands hard over her face, pressed her fingers to her eyes, then dropped her hands in her lap. Yes. of course. Go over it again. Another part of the ritual. "All right."
She recited it all. everything she remembered. "He must have thrown the body in the river, or buried it, or—"
"We'll look into that. Are you sure about the location?" He glanced at Brody as he asked.
"I showed you the place on the map where Reece told me she saw it happen. Right near the little rapids."
"Other side of the river." Rick said to Reece, with his tone as neutral as his face. "That kind of distance, you could've been off. Considerably off."
"No. The trees, the rocks, the white water. I wasn't off."
"There wasn't any sign of struggle in that area. There wasn't any I could find when I branched out from there."
"He must've covered it up."
"Could be." But she heard the doubt in his tone, a slight slip out of neutral. "I'm going back in the morning, once we've got some light. Brody? Maybe you want to go on out there with me, make sure I've got the right area. Meanwhile, I'm going to make some calls, see if any female tourists or residents are missing."
"There are some cabins scattered around that area." Brody picked up the wine he'd left on the counter.
"I went by a couple of the closest ones. Got my own. Joanie's got a couple. Rental places out there, and this time of year, they don't get much business. Didn't see anyone, or any sign they were being used. I'm checking on that. too. We'll get to the bottom of this. Reece. I don't want you to worry, Brody? You want to take a ride out there with me in the morning?"
"Sure. I can do that."
"I can go downstairs now, ask Joanie for the morning off and go with you," Reece began.
"Brody was right there. I think one of you's enough. And I'd appreciate it it you wouldn't say anything about this to anyone else. For the time being. Let's get this checked out before the word spreads." Rick pushed to his feet, nodded at Brody. "How about I come by your place and pick you up about seven-thirty'"
"I'll be there."
"You try to enjoy the rest of your evening. Reece, put this out of your mind for a while. Nothing more you can do."
"No. No, nothing I can do." Reece stayed seated as Rick settled his hat on his head and went out.
"He doesn't believe me."
"I didn't hear him say that."
"Yes, you did." Helpless anger bubbled up. "We both did, under it."
Broy set his wine dow n again, crossed to her. "Why wouldn't he believe you?"
"Because he didn't find anything. Because no one else saw it. Because I've only been in town a couple of weeks. Because, because."
"I've got all that same information and I believe you."
Her eyes stung. The urge to pop up, press her face to his chest and just let the tears roll was overwhelming. Instead, she stayed seated, gripping her hands together hard in her lap. "Thanks."
"I'm going to head home. You might try to take the sheriff's advice and put this out of your head for a while. Take a pill, go to bed."
"How do you know I have any pills to take? "
His lips curved, just a little. " Take an Ambien and tune out.. I'll tell you what's what—one way or another—tomorrow."
"Fine. Thanks." She got up to walk over and open the door herself. "Good night."
Satisfied he'd left her annoyed rather than depressed, he strolled out without another word.
She locked the door, checked it. checked the windows. Habit made her start toward the kitchen first to clean up the dishes and pots, but she turned instead and booted up her laptop.
She would write it all out, everything, in her journal.
As Reece sat down at her keyboard, Rick let himself into the sheriff's office, switched on the lights. He hung up his hat, his coat, then went back to the small break room to brew a short pot of coffee.
While it brewed, he called home. As he expected, his oldest girl answered on the first ring. "Hey, Daddy! Can I wear mascara to the Spring Fling? Just a little, everybody else does. Please?"
He pressed his fingers to his eyes. Not yet thirteen and already it was mascara and school dances. "What did your mother say?"
"She said she'd think about it. Daddy—"
"Then I'll think about it. too. Put your mama on, baby."
"Can't you come home? We could discuss this."
God save him. "I have to work late tonight, but we'll discuss it tomorrow. Put your mama on now."
"Mom! Daddy's on the phone. He has to work late, and we're going to talk about me wearing mascara like a normal person tomorrow."
"Thanks for the bulletin." Sounding more amused than harassed— how did she manage it? Rick wondered—Debbie Mardson chuckled into the receiver. "I was hoping you were on your way home."
"Stuck here at the office for a while. Can't say how long. Why the hell does that girl have to wear mascara? She's got your eyes, longest lashes in Wyoming." He could see them, that long sweep, the bluebonnet eyes under it.
"Same reasons I do—light lashes. And it's a basic female tool."
"You're going to let her?"
"I'm considering."
Now he rubbed the back of his neck. He was a man woefully outnumbered by females. "First it was lipstick."
"Gloss," Debbie corrected. "Lip gloss."
"Whatever the hell. Now it's mascara. Next thing she'll be wanting a tattoo. It's the end of the world."
"I think we can hold back the tattoo awhile yet. You want to call before you leave? I could have your dinner warmed up."
"May be late. I picked up a meatloaf sandwich at Joanie's. Don't worry about it. Kiss the girls for me."
"I will. Don't wear yourself out, so you can come home and kiss me."
"I'll be sure to do that. Deb? Love you."
"Love you back. Bye."
He sat for a time in the quiet, drinking his coffee, eating his sandwich, thinking of his wife and three daughters. He didn't want his baby wearing makeup. But she'd wear him down on it, he already knew. His oldest had his mother's tenacity.
With a sigh, he stuffed the paper napkin in the take-out bag, tossed it away. And pouring a second cup of coffee, he went over Reece's statement in his head, winding his way—again—through the details, the timing. With a shake of his head, he added powdered creamer to his coffee, carried it back to his office.
He, too, booted up his computer. It was time to find out more about Reece Gilmore than she had no criminal record and came from Boston.
He spent several hours searching, reading, making calls and taking notes. When it was done, he had a file and, after some internal debate, store
d it in the bottom drawer of his desk.
It was late when he left the office for home, wondering if his wife had waited up.
And when he drove by Angel Food, he noted that the light still burned in the apartment upstairs.
AT SEVEN-THIRTY in the morning while Reece was struggling to concentrate on buttermilk pancakes and eggs over easy, Brody armed himself with a thermos of coffee and climbed into Rick's car.
"Morning. Appreciate you going out with me, Brody."
"No problem. I'll think of it as research."
Rick's smile came and went. "Guess you could say we've got a mystery on our hands. How long again did you say it was from the time Reece said she saw this happen until you got back there with her?"
"I don't know how long it took her to get down to me. She was running, and I was already heading up the trail. No more than ten minutes, at a guess. Five minutes, I'd say, before we headed back, maybe another ten, fifteen to get to where she'd stopped."
"And her state of mind when you saw her?"
Irritation crackled. "Like you'd expect it to be when a woman sees another woman strangled to death."
"All right now. Brody, don't go thinking I don't understand the situation. The thing is, I have to look at this differently. I want to know if she was coherent, if she was clear."
"After the first couple minutes, yeah. You take into consideration that she was miles from help, from any way to get help—other than me— that it was her first time on that particular trail. That she was alone, shocked, scared and helpless while she watched it happen."
"Through binoculars, across the Snake River." Rick held up a hand. "Might've happened just the way she said, but I have to factor in the circumstances, and the lack of evidence. Can you tell me you're sure, without a doubt, she wasn't mistaken? Maybe saw a couple of people having an argument, even saw this man she says she saw hit this woman."
He'd given it a lot of thought the night before. Gone over the details himself, point by point. And he remembered her face—clammy and pale, her eves huge, glassy and deep.
A woman didn't wear abject terror when she witnessed an argument between strangers. "I believe she saw exactly what she said she did. What she told me on the trail, and what she's told you three times in her statements. She hasn't veered off the details, not once."
Rick puffed out his cheeks. "You're right about that. Are you two involved?"
"In what?"
Rick snorted out a laugh. "I gotta like you, Brody. You're a smart son of a bitch. Are you two personally involved with each other?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Information always makes a difference in an investigation."
"Then why don't you just ask me it I'm sleeping with her?"
"Well now, that was an attempt to be sensitive and subtle." Rick said with the faintest of smirks. "But all right, then. Are you sleeping with her?"
"No."
"All right, then," he repeated.
"What if I said yes?"
"Then I'd factor that information in, like a good law-enforcement official. Your business is your business, Brody. Except, of course, that sort of business gets around town quick as a cat pouncing on a mouse. Nothing so interesting as sex, whether you're having it, or talking about someone else doing it."
"I'd rather have sex than talk about it."
"That'd be you." The smile came and went once more. "And me, come to that."
They drove awhile in silence until Rick pulled off the road.
"Easiest spot to cut through and reach the place by the river you showed me on the map."
Brody slung a small pack over his shoulder. Even for such a short hike, it wasn't wise to set out without the essentials. They moved through sagebrush and forest, where the soft dirt held tracks Brody recognized as deer, bear—and. he assumed. Rick's boots from the day before.
"No human tracks leading to the river," Rick pointed out. "Mine from yesterday. 'Course they could've come in from another angle, but I took a good look around. You got a body to deal with, you have to get rid of it. Throw it into the river, might he first instinct, first panic reaction."
He kept his gait slow, kept his gaze tracking ground and trees. "Or you'd bury it. There'd damn well be signs of that, Brody. No point dragging a dead body far, and it's a hell of a lot harder to dig a grave than you might think."
He set his hands on his hips, the heel of one hand resting idly on the butt of his service weapon. "It'd show, and the wildlife around here would find it pretty quick. You can see for yourself now, there's no sign anybody came in or out of this area yesterday. I'm going to ask you again, could you have given me the wrong location?"
"No."
Through the lodgepole pines, the huckleberry, the elderberry bushes, they hiked northwest toward the river. The ground was moist from the thaw, Brody noted. And should've held human tracks as well as it did the tracks of deer and moose. Though he saw signs animals had passed tins way, there were no human tracks. They skirted a thicket, and as Brody paused to look, crouched down to look for any signs it had been disturbed, Rick waited.
"I guess you did this yesterday."
"Did," Rick agreed. "Get some nice berries around here in season." he said conversationally, "Got your huckleberries, your bearberries." He paused, then looked toward where he could scent the river now. "Brody, if a man tried to hide a body in there, there d be signs of it.
And by this time, I expect, animals would have caught the scent and come exploring."
"Yeah."Brody pushed back to his feet. "Yeah, you're right. Even a city slicker like me knows that much."
Despite the circumstances. Rick flashed a grin. "You handle yourself pretty well in the backcountry for a slicker."
"How long do I have to live around here before I lose the slicker label?"
"Might wear off some after you've been dead ten, fifteen years."
"That's what I figured." Brody said as they began to walk again. "You weren't born here, either," he remembered. "Army brat."
"Being as my mother settled in Cheyenne before my twelfth birthday, I got a big leg up on you. Local-wise. Hear the rapids now."
The low rumble came through the quaking aspens, the cottonwoods and red willows. The sunlight grew stronger until Brody could see it reflected off the water. Beyond was the canyon, and the spot high up on the other side where he'd stood with Reece.
"That's where she was sitting when she saw it happen." Shielding his eyes with the flat of his hand, Brody pointed out and over to the rocks.
Cooler here. Brody thought, cooler beside the water, with the wind sighing through the trees. But it was bright enough that he pulled his sunglasses out of his pack.
"I've got to say, Brody, that's a fucking long way." Rick took out his field glasses and followed the direction Brody had indicated. "A fucking long way," he repeated. "Get some glare, too,