by B. J Daniels
“It’s true,” he said and picked up his beer as he broke eye contact with her. This part had to be the most convincing, so he took his time. “That’s another reason I wanted to see you before I left.” He took a drink and set down his glass to turn to her. “Rachel, I don’t know how to tell you this.” He could see that she was nervous and trying very hard not to show it. “Hitch, well... I suspect you already know that she doesn’t believe your story.”
“It wasn’t a story,” Rachel said automatically and looked as if this wasn’t news. She seemed to remember something. He saw her look around and frown. She was looking for her phone. He saw her glance toward the kitchen.
“Hitch says she has solid proof,” he said, drawing her attention again. “That’s why I wanted to see you, because I want you to know. I would do anything for you. I don’t think it’s a secret how I’ve always felt about you.” He looked down as if embarrassed by his confession. “I always thought you and I...” He heard her move before he felt her hand on his arm.
“Ford. I’ve been so stupid from the very beginning. You were one of the few people who knew about my background, how poor I was, how scared I was of not having anything to call my own. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished it had been you instead of Humphrey.”
He looked into her eyes. The woman was amazing. So beautiful with her lips trembling like that and her eyes shimmering in tears. He’d always been so taken with her, never looking too deeply below the surface. Otherwise, he might have realized what an astonishing liar she was, he thought as he pulled her into his arms.
* * *
HITCH CAUGHT HERSELF pacing the floor as she read over the list of phone numbers she’d received from DCI of Rachel’s calls to and from her cell phone as well as Humphrey’s in the days that led up to the shooting.
No surprise, there were mostly calls to Humphrey’s number and vice versa. Also, a lot of calls to her friend Shyla, who Ford had told Hitch about. She couldn’t concentrate after Ford’s message saying he was going out to the ranch. He would try to get Rachel to confess on his phone. Did he have any idea how dangerous that could be if he got caught? She’d called him the moment she’d gotten the text, but his phone had gone straight to voice mail.
She kept thinking of the danger he was putting himself in. She should have stopped him. Or at least tried harder to talk him out of what he was doing.
Rationally, she knew she couldn’t have done either.
But she also couldn’t sit around waiting to hear from him. After seeing all the calls to the same number, she’d realized that she should talk to Shyla Birch, allegedly Rachel’s best friend. Not that she expected to get anything from the woman. But she had to do something.
Birch, who’d married a local deputy in town, lived in a small house just outside of Big Timber. As Hitch crossed the Yellowstone River, she caught sight of the house and a flock of geese etched against the evening sky. She hadn’t called to see if Shyla was home, deciding to take a chance. She had, however, called to see if the woman’s husband was working tonight. He was. She doubted Shyla would be forthcoming if there was a deputy in the room.
Parking, she got out and headed for the front door. She could smell the river. The night air had a wonderful summer-is-coming feel to it. In Montana, summer usually arrived somewhere before the Fourth of July and ended shortly thereafter.
The woman who opened the door wasn’t what Hitch had been expecting. She was wearing a too-large T-shirt and shorts. Her red curly hair formed a halo around her head, accentuating large brown eyes. Her feet were bare and she was holding a bowl of what smelled like buttered popcorn.
“Shyla Birch? I’m state medical examiner Hitch—”
“I know who you are,” the woman said, tucking the large bowl of popcorn against her hip.
“Ford suggested I talk to you.”
Surprisingly, those words seemed to do the trick. Hitch saw the woman hesitate and then sigh before she said, “Come on in, then.”
The house smelled of stale cigarettes and popcorn. Shyla motioned to a chair by the couch as she grabbed the remote and muted the television before curling back under the blanket lying on the couch, with the bowl of popcorn in her lap. “Ford tell you that I’m Rachel’s friend?”
“He said you were her best friend.” That seemed to please her, Hitch saw, as she took the chair. “That’s why I wanted to speak with you.”
“I wondered when you’d get around to me.” She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“You probably know, then, what I’m going to ask you,” Hitch said.
“Did I know he was abusing her? Did I see bruises? Did she ever talk to me about it?”
“And?” She waited for the young woman to answer.
Shyla pulled a face and put down the bowl of popcorn on the couch next to her as she picked up her cigarettes from the end table next to her. Hitch watched her light one and take a long drag before tilting her head back to let out a stream of smoke.
“She didn’t tell me, but I saw bruises once or twice. She always had a story for how she’d gotten them. Looking back, though, oftentimes Humphrey would be there when she told me, so she was clearly covering for him and he was letting her.”
“So you weren’t surprised when you heard what had happened.”
“Actually...” Shyla stared down at her cigarette for a moment. “I was shocked. I thought they were happy—in their own way. Did Ford tell you that I met my husband through Rachel?”
“No, he didn’t. How did that come about?” she asked, trying hard not to sound like a medical examiner on a case. She must have succeeded, because Shyla seemed to relax a little, loosening up.
“Rick had gone out to the ranch after Rachel had called about a possible break-in. She’d come home and the front door was standing open. Humphrey was in New York on business and she was scared out of her wits. She called me to come out while she was waiting locked in her car.” Shyla chuckled. “And the rest is history, as they say. Although I never thought I’d fall for a lawman.” She rolled her eyes. “No offense.”
“None taken. So had the house been broken into?”
“That’s what’s so weird. The door must have not been locked properly and had simply blown open. Rick had been going off shift when he got the call, so he stayed around to keep us company. Rachel made us some drinks. Humphrey came home and it kind of turned into a party. By the end, I was in love.”
“Sounds like it was meant to be.”
Shyla nodded, finished her cigarette and stubbed it out. “I heard that you think Rachel planned the whole thing.”
There was something in the way she said it that made Hitch wonder if she also had thought the same thing. “I suspect she might have.” She waited for a few moments before she added, “What do you think?”
Reaching for the popcorn bowl, Shyla took her time picking out a few kernels before she finally answered—instead of instantly defending her best friend.
“Rach is amazing. She really is. Did you know that she came from nothing? I mean, we were poor. Well, maybe not poor poor, but my parents both worked. They paid for my college, though, not like Rachel, who was on loans and scholarships. I don’t blame her for wanting more than she got out of life, you know?” Hitch nodded. “But...” She looked down at the piece of popcorn in her fingers and tossed it back into the bowl, wiping her hand on the hem of her T-shirt, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. “I never thought she really loved Humphrey. Oh, she wanted him, but if you’ve ever been in love...”
Hitch remembered being in Ford’s arms. It was an unexplainable feeling, an amazing, scary-as-hell feeling.
“But that doesn’t mean she planned the whole thing,” Shyla said, looking uncomfortable.
“No, possibly not,” Hitch agreed. “I suppose you know about the prenuptial agreement she signed?”
“That was Humphrey�
��s father’s doing. Bart never liked Rachel. He thought she was a gold digger.”
“Still, the agreement aside, Rachel could have divorced her husband and walked away with a lot of money.”
Shyla let out a bark of a laugh. “Not near enough for that woman’s tastes.” She seemed to bite her tongue. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. I’ve seen her closet.” An uneasy silence filled the room. “I have just one other question. I really appreciate your candor, and nothing you’ve said will go beyond this room. Is Rachel capable of putting together a plan to get rid of her husband and make it look like he was trying to kill her?”
Hitch knew she was putting the woman on the spot. Shyla’s first instinct would be to protect her friend. And yet there was something refreshingly honest about the young woman.
“I’m not saying that’s what happened,” Shyla said carefully. “But Rachel... Well, she’s always gone after what she wanted and not let anything stand in her way. She’s definitely capable of doing anything she sets her mind to. She’s got that kind of personality. But would she purposely kill her husband?” She gave a shake of her head. “Who does that?”
Someone cold-blooded enough that she wanted out but refused to give up the money, Hitch thought as she thanked Shyla and got to her feet. As she started toward the door, she heard a vehicle pull up. The front door flew open before she reached it and a handsome, broad-shouldered man in uniform came in and stopped dead at the sight of her.
“Rick, this is the medical examiner. She’s looking into Rachel’s case,” Shyla said as she came off the couch. She sounded embarrassed and a little too anxious. “She was just leaving.”
Rick Birch’s brow furrowed. “Did you tell her that we’re good friends with Rachel? With her husband, too, before all this?”
“Of course,” his wife said quickly.
“Nice to meet you, Deputy Birch,” Hitch said and started to step past him. He didn’t move for a moment, blocking the doorway out. She continued toward him until he had to make a choice. He moved aside, but he didn’t look happy about it.
On her way out the door, she heard him say, “What did you say to her?” before the door closed behind her.
Hitch walked to her car, thinking about everything she’d heard—and felt—from Rachel’s best friend. Shyla had her doubts. Hitch wasn’t the only one who suspected Rachel of far more than shooting her husband during a domestic dispute.
Climbing into her SUV, she started the engine and checked her phone, anxious to hear from Ford. She was getting even more worried after her talk with Shyla. She was about to pull out when her headlights glinted off something in the garage. She hit the brakes and stared at the small single-car garage attached to the Birch house. The garage door had a chunk missing where it appeared someone had driven into it. Through the opening, she saw what looked like the chrome of a cattle guard on the front of a pickup.
Putting the SUV into Park, she got out and walked to the garage door to look inside through the large hole. A pickup was parked inside. The large grille-guard bumper on the front was what had caught her eye. She stared at it, recognizing the design. It was exactly like the one that had nearly hit her the other night.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rachel hugged him, pressing her breasts against him. He felt her hand move across his chest around to his side, down to his hip. He realized with a start that she had checked him for a wire. Then her hand slipped into his pocket of his jacket. It came back out with his phone.
She drew back, looked down at it in her hand and touched the screen. “Oh, I’m sorry. This is yours. I thought my phone must have slipped down between the couch cushions.” She didn’t hand the phone back as she moved to the middle of the couch and reached for her wineglass with her free hand. She took a sip before she set his phone down between them.
She looked around again. “I thought I left my phone in here.”
“Your phone?” He pretended to look around for it, and as he sat up, he kicked the leg of the coffee table. “Oh, there it is.” He’d sent one of her fashion magazines sliding to the edge of the table, exposing the phone he’d put there. “Is that it?”
She stared at the phone. He could see her trying to remember where she’d laid it down and if it could have gotten covered by a magazine.
He took advantage of her momentary confusion to continue what he was saying. “Hitch has discovered incriminating evidence against you. I tried to find out what it is, but she wouldn’t tell me. I’m just afraid it’s going to get you sent to prison for the rest of your life.”
She picked up her phone, pocketing it before taking another sip of her wine. She grimaced as if it tasted bitter on her tongue and put down her glass. “Has she taken this evidence to the prosecutor?”
“I don’t know. Rachel, you know how I feel about you. Is there anything I can do?”
“Having you here, it’s meant so much to me. I’m surprised you’ve stayed this long.” She studied him for a moment. “I need more wine,” she said, getting to her feet. She picked up his empty beer bottle. “Can I get you another beer?”
“Sure,” he said as she headed into the kitchen. He realized that from here he could see her in the mirrored cabinets across from the sink. He watched her lean against the granite counter as if she needed it for strength. With a shaking hand, she refilled her glass and got another beer for him out of the refrigerator.
It was what she did next that stopped his heart cold. She opened the beer, poured some into a new frosted glass from the refrigerator’s freezer, and then she took a small vial from her pocket.
He watched in horror as she poured something into his beer, holding up the glass to the light to make sure it had dissolved. Calling from the kitchen, she said, “You know me so well. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. I can tell you the truth.”
She smiled as she picked up his beer and her wineglass. He watched her take a breath and then head into the living room.
* * *
IN THE LIVING ROOM, Ford quickly picked up his phone and hit Record. He put the phone back down where she’d left it and tried to still his breathing. His heart pounded so loudly, he feared she would be able to hear it. Of course Rachel was suspicious of his motives. But then again, he’d come running at the first sign that she was in trouble, reinforcing her belief that he adored her, that he’d always adored her, that he would always wish it had been him instead of Humphrey she’d fallen in love with. Did she think he was hoping for another chance with her, now that Humphrey was gone? Probably, knowing Rachel.
“Here,” she said as she came back into the room and handed him the glass of beer.
He set the frosted glass with the doctored beer on the coffee table. Rachel quickly reached to put a coaster under it. “Thank you,” he said but didn’t touch the beer.
She returned to the kitchen to snag a full opened bottle of wine, then returned to her place at the end of the couch, facing him. “Humphrey loved a chilled glass for his beer, but I guess I don’t need to tell you that. You probably remember.”
He nodded. “I’m so sorry things turned out the way they did.” She took a sip of her wine and didn’t look at him. “I mean it, Rachel. If there is anything I can do... You know I’m here for you.”
She looked up then, and their eyes locked for a few seconds before she said, “I wish there was, Ford. Having you here, it’s meant so much to me. How will I ever be able to repay you?”
He thought about what he’d seen her put into his beer glass. Was it something that would kill him? Or just make him deathly ill? Gut-wrenching poison or truth serum? With Rachel, he had no idea.
One thing was clear. She hadn’t bought his act.
“Remember the first time we met?” she was saying, a cheerfulness in her voice that didn’t quite ring true. “I wish I could go back to that day. If you had left me alone, that squir
rel would have eaten out of my hand.”
He smiled in spite of himself. “Because you wouldn’t have given up until it did. You were always like that. When you wanted something, you hung in until you got it.”
“Like with Humphrey,” she said, the cheerfulness gone. “You know he had second thoughts about marrying me, don’t you? Of course you did. You were his best man, his best friend. He would have told you. He wouldn’t have married me if it wasn’t for the pregnancy. You probably thought that I got pregnant on purpose so he didn’t get away. That’s what his father thought. After we got married, when I lost the baby, Humphrey was devastated. He wanted that child so badly.” She looked away as she took a sip of her wine. “I don’t know why I’m bringing all of this back up. Bad memories.”
“He loved you.”
She met his gaze again. “Yes, he did. But he never forgave me.” She let out a bitter laugh. “He would have left me, except that it would have proved his father right.”
He frowned. “Forgave you for what?”
“I didn’t lose the baby, because there never was one. His father hired a private investigator. I lied about the pregnancy. Humphrey didn’t find out until we’d been married almost a year.”
“What was the fight about the day he died?” Ford asked.
She looked away for a moment. “He found my birth control pills.” She laughed. “Stupid me. I never kept them in my purse.”
He stared at her in shock. “Why wouldn’t you want his child? Wouldn’t Bart have changed his mind about you if you’d given him a grandchild?”
“I wasn’t anyone’s broodmare,” she snapped. “I wasn’t ruining my figure, let alone having a child to take care of. That wasn’t the life I wanted.”
