by B. J Daniels
Nora seemed to give that some thought. “It’s been a while. Has something happened?”
Ella didn’t know how much she wanted to tell her. “If she should show up here, would you give me a call? It’s very important. Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the call to my mother.”
Nora looked uncomfortable. “Stacy is an old friend. I wouldn’t want to keep anything from her.”
She liked the woman’s sense of loyalty. “I’m afraid my mother is in trouble.” She realized she’d have to be more honest with Nora. “Did she ever tell you anything about her past? Something she only confided in you? It’s really important, or I wouldn’t be here.”
Nora shook her head, her expression one of sympathy. “She said she’d done some things she’d regretted, but haven’t we all?”
“I was thinking along the lines of one big regret.”
The woman met her gaze and hesitated. “She never told me, but...I got the feeling that there was something she didn’t want to come out because of you. So I know she wouldn’t want you to—”
“No.” Ella shook her head. “It’s too late for that. There is a homicide detective looking for her. When he called, she ran.”
Nora’s eyes widened. “Homicide?”
“Let me give you my number. She might call you, and if she does...” Ella looked up at the woman. “If you know my mother, then you know she has an impulsive side that comes out when she feels backed against a wall.”
Nora nodded and pulled out her phone so they could exchange numbers. Ella did the same.
* * *
From down the street, Waco watched the interaction. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could read a lot into the fact that Ella hadn’t bothered to go inside the house. Stacy Cardwell wasn’t there.
The discussion looked serious. He had no doubt that Ella was looking for her mother. To tell her the homicide cop wasn’t giving up?
He was pretty sure Stacy had figured that out on her own. It was why she’d taken off. So why was Ella looking for her? To warn her. No, to help her.
He thought about what he’d glimpsed in the young woman’s amazing green eyes. He knew that kind of determination well. But he’d also seen a need to protect her mother as if Ella had been covering for her for years. He wondered how much Ella knew.
While he found it admirable and even touching, he didn’t see what the daughter could do to help her mother—especially if Stacy was guilty. He felt bad about that, but it was part of the job.
Ella finished her conversation and headed for her pickup, after the cell phone number exchange. What had the woman told her? Something that had Ella moving again.
Waco considered sticking around and questioning the woman in the brightly colored caftan who now stood in the doorway watching Ella drive away. But he thought he had a better chance if he stayed with Stacy’s daughter.
He followed her all the way back to Bozeman. When she stopped at a grocery store along Main Street, he couldn’t find a parking place and was forced to drive around the block. There seemed to be more traffic than usual even for Bozeman.
His cell phone rang while he was caught in another red light. He saw that it was one of the investigators from the crime lab and quickly picked up.
“I sent a preliminary report of our findings in the well,” Bradley said. “But we just found something in the dirt taken from the well that we’ve been sifting through.”
He held his breath, hoping whatever it was would break this case wide open.
* * *
Dana was too restless even to bake after Ella left. She’d paced the floor, debating if she should call her husband or wait until he came home for lunch to tell him. This was something she’d decided she couldn’t keep from him. More than likely, the homicide detective would contact him anyway—if he hadn’t already, she told herself.
Finally, unable to sit still, she’d decided to head up the mountainside to Stacy’s cabin. She didn’t figure that she would find anything; after all, Ella had already looked. But she knew her sister. Maybe there was a clue as to where she had gone that Ella wouldn’t have recognized.
For years, Dana hadn’t butted into Stacy’s business. Yes, her sister took off every few months and didn’t return for days without any explanation. Dana had given her room and hadn’t questioned her after the first few times. All of them living on the ranch together, she knew, didn’t offer a lot of privacy. And she’d wanted to give Stacy space, which she’d apparently needed. But the homicide detective’s visit had changed that. If Dana could help find her sister, she had to try.
The breeze swayed the pines as she walked up the mountainside. There was nothing like summer in the canyon. The sky overhead was a robin’s-egg blue, with only a few white puffs of clouds floating above the high peaks still capped with snow. She could smell the pines and the river. It was a smell that had always grounded her.
Years ago, they’d built a series of cabins on the side of the mountain above the main ranch house for guests and family. Stacy had moved into one of them when she’d returned to the ranch when Ella was but a baby. At the time, Dana had thought it was temporary. She and Hud had offered Stacy land to build her own house on, but she’d refused.
“This cabin is perfect for one person,” her sister had argued. When Ella was grown, she’d moved out of her mother’s cabin into one of her own for those times she was home on the ranch. So, for years, Stacy had lived alone.
“It’s so small,” Dana had countered.
“I don’t need more room,” her sister had said. “I’m fine where I am. Anyway, it makes it easier for me to just come down the mountainside in the morning to help with the cooking and baking.” Before that, she’d helped with all the children, both theirs and the cousins’ kids who loved spending time on the ranch.
Dana had often wanted to ask her sister if she was happy, but she’d held her tongue. Stacy was so hard to read. She’d seemed content, which had surprised Dana. Growing up, there’d been so much restlessness in her older sister. Wasn’t that why Stacy had run off and gotten married the first time at such a young age?
Their mother used to say that Stacy would be the death of her. By then, Mary Cardwell had been divorced from her husband Angus. She’d done her best with Stacy, but had always felt she hadn’t given her oldest daughter enough love, enough attention, enough discipline. She’d blamed herself for the way Stacy had turned out.
But when Stacy had come home years later, after their mother’s death, Dana had seen a change in her. Stacy had baby Ella and had stayed on to help with Dana’s four children. Their brother Jordan had also returned to the ranch, reuniting them all. Now Jordan lived with his wife, Liza, and their children in a home they’d built on the ranch.
Dana loved having her family so close. The only one who didn’t live on the ranch was her brother Clay. He lived in California, where he was involved in making movies, and only got home occasionally.
As she reached Stacy’s cabin, Dana slowed, reminding herself how blessed she was to have had her sister here all these years. She couldn’t lose her now.
Like most doors on the ranch, this one wasn’t locked. She turned the knob and let the door slowly swing open.
She heard a sound from deep inside the cabin.
“Stacy,” she called, flushed with instant relief. She had returned. No doubt her sister had realized how foolish it had been to run. Stacy must have driven in along the road that ran behind the cabins, hoping no one would be the wiser about her leaving—and coming back—the way she had.
“Stacy!” Dana called out louder as she stepped inside. The shadow-filled cabin felt cool even though it was past noon on a bright sunny day. The large pines sheltered the cabins, providing privacy as well as shade.
Dana stopped in the middle of the living room as she realized that whatever she’d heard, it had stopped. Had
she only imagined the sound? She stared at the normally neat-as-a-pin cabin in shock. It looked as if a whirlwind had come through. Drawers stood open, even the cushions on the couch had been flung aside, as if someone had been searching for something.
Had Ella done this? She wouldn’t have left such a mess. Dana’s heart began to pound. But if Ella hadn’t—
She jumped as the door she’d left wide open behind her caught the breeze and slammed shut. Startled, she tried to laugh off her sudden fear. But her laugh sounded hollow. “Stacy?”
Surely her sister had heard her. Was it possible she was in the shower? As Dana stepped toward the back bedroom where she’d heard the sound coming from, she saw that the door was partially closed. Did she just see movement behind it?
“Stacy?” She hated the way her voice broke. “Stacy!”
She was almost to the room when the door flew open. A dark figure filled the doorway an instant before rushing at her, knocking her down, as he fled.
Dana lay on the floor, dazed and gasping for air. She heard what sounded like a motorcycle start up behind the cabin. Her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest at the sudden shock. She tried to move. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t badly hurt—just her ego bruised and battered.
Sitting up, she pulled out her cell phone and called her husband.
Chapter 7
On the way back from Gardiner, Ella remembered that her aunt had mentioned they were out of lemons. She stopped at the market on Main Street in Bozeman, wondering if she was still being followed by the detective as she went into the store.
When she came back out to her pickup, she couldn’t see him. But there was a woman with a wild head of brown curly hair and wearing a leopard-spotted poncho leaning against her truck.
“Can I help you?” Ella asked and then realized she’d seen the woman before. An old memory nudged at her.
“You’re her kid, right? Ella Cardwell. You don’t look like her.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m Mercy Hanover Davis. Your mother used to be married to my father.”
Ella nodded, taking in the woman as she wondered what she wanted. It had been years since she’d seen Mercy Hanover, but the woman hadn’t changed all that much. Like today, she’d been waiting by their vehicle then, too.
Only years ago, she’d been angry and much scarier. “Where’s our money?” she’d demanded of Ella’s mother.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother had answered.
“Like hell you don’t, Stacy. You think we don’t know what you’ve done?” The woman’s laugh had scared Ella more than her anger. “What did you do with him?”
“If you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to call the police.”
The woman had laughed harder. “Sure you are.”
Stacy had shoved the woman away, and she and Ella had gotten into their pickup and driven away.
When Ella had asked who the stranger was, her mother had said she was some poor demented person who was confused. Stacy had claimed that she’d never seen Mercy Hanover before.
Ella knew better now. She decided to wait Mercy out even though she was anxious to hear what the woman had to say.
“We should have coffee.” Mercy looked around, spotted a coffee shop. “You drink coffee, don’t you?”
Ella was anxious to find her mother, but so far, her attempts had come to a dead end. “Why not?”
Neither of them said anything as they walked the short distance to the coffee shop.
“I’m buying,” Mercy said once inside. “What do you want?”
“Just plain coffee.”
The woman gave her a disbelieving look, as if buying plain coffee at a coffee shop was a total waste of money. “Whatever.” She stepped up to the counter and ordered a caramel mocha latte and a plain cup of coffee.
Ella took a seat out of the way. There were only a few people in the shop this late in the day, a man and a woman, and two women. All were looking at their phones.
Mercy returned, handing her a coffee before lowering herself into the chair opposite her.
“Thanks,” Ella said and took a sip. It was hot and not nearly as good as her aunt Dana’s.
Given the circumstances, Ella offered her condolences to Mercy. To which Mercy grunted in response.
“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” Mercy said, studying her over the rim of her cup as she took a sip and then put the latte down. “Not much like your mother.”
“I suspect you have something on your mind?”
Mercy bristled. “I just thought we should get to know each other.”
“Why?”
“We’re almost family. Your mother was married to my father.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch family-wise, don’t you think?”
Mercy looked surprised for a moment but then laughed. “Maybe you’re more like your mother than I thought. So let’s get right to it. Where’s your mother?”
“Why do you care?”
The woman sighed. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
Ella leaned forward. “What do you want with Stacy?” She’d called her mother Stacy when she was little because all the other kids did. Also, sometimes it was hard to think of the woman as a mother. Like right now, when she was missing and possibly wanted for murder.
“What your mother took from me. My father and his money—not in that order. She also stole my mother’s jewelry before she left.”
“My mother doesn’t have your money or jewelry, and we know where your father is. We just don’t know how he got there,” Ella said. “But since your concern seems to be money and jewelry over the loss of life, I’d say my mother isn’t the only suspect in his murder.”
Mercy sat back with a look of almost admiration. “You’re smart.”
“And not easily intimidated,” Ella said.
That got a smile out of the woman. “No, you’re not. Look, I know your mother ran the moment my father’s remains were found. What does that tell you?”
“That the law and your family would be after her—no matter her innocence.”
Mercy laughed. “Honey, your mother is far from innocent. She ran because she’s guilty.” Ella said nothing. The woman leaned toward her. “My father was a bastard. I wouldn’t blame your mother for killing him. But we need that money.”
“I don’t know anything about any money.”
Sitting back, Mercy said, “Maybe she already spent it.”
Ella shook her head. “My mother and I have never had any money. After I was born, she brought me to Cardwell Ranch and went to work with the rest of the family. Does that sound like a woman with any money?”
Mercy eyed her sharply. “How old are you?”
“Almost twenty-eight.”
“That wouldn’t have given her much time to spend the money.” The woman sighed. “If your mother doesn’t have the money, then who does?”
* * *
Hitch parked in front of the huge old three-story mansion. Faded letters on the mailbox spelled out the name Hanover. In its day, this place must have been something, she thought. The massive edifice, perched above the Gallatin River, had a view of the valley.
But its age had begun to show. More modern, more expensive houses had sprung up in the valley, eclipsing the Hanover house. It now looked like a place that trick-or-treating kids would avoid.
When Mercy Davis had demanded to know what had happened to her father’s fortune, Hitch had thought the woman was exaggerating. But maybe the man really had had a fortune at some point. Had Stacy gotten away with it? Maybe, since this place looked as if it was in need of repair and no one had done anything about it. Could the family no longer afford it?
Hitch walked up many steps to the wide porch with its towering stone pillars and raise
d the lion’s-head knocker on the large wooden door. She’d barely brought it down when the door flew open and she found herself staring at a man in his early sixties. He was wearing slacks, slippers and a velvet smoking jacket. Hitch felt as if she had stepped back in time.
His hair had grayed at his temples, frown lines wrinkled his forehead, appearing to be permanent, and his mouth was set in a grim line. He looked enough like his younger sister Mercy that she knew he had to be Lionel Hanover, the eldest of Marvin’s offspring.
“I’m State Medical Examiner Roberts,” she said. “Lionel Hanover?” He gave her a distracted nod. He seemed to be more interested in looking down the road behind her than at her. “I’m afraid I have some bad news—”
“I know. Mercy called. Is that all?”
She was taken aback by his abruptness, as well as his complete lack of interest regarding his father’s death. “Do you have any questions?” she asked almost tentatively, still standing outside with the door open. She reminded herself that he had probably let out any emotion he’d had about the news after Mercy’s call. And it had been thirty years since his father had disappeared.
She quickly did the math. Lionel, the oldest, would have been in his early thirties when his father died. His sister Angeline would have been a few years younger than Lionel, and Mercy would have been in her midtwenties. Not children by any means.
That, she realized, meant Stacy had been the age of Marvin’s offspring while Marvin had been the age Lionel was now.
A woman appeared from the shadows deep within the house, her wheelchair squeaking as she rolled into view. “Is this her?” asked a faint, hoarse voice.
Lionel didn’t bother to turn. “I’m handling this, Angeline.”
Hitch blinked as the woman wheeled herself into a shaft of light behind him. Her hair was black with a streak of white like a cartoon vamp. She was thin to the point of emaciation and, from the pallor of her skin, not in good health.
