Unmasking Evil

by Desiree Holt

  “A fucking shame indeed,” he agreed. “And I can’t help feeling that somehow it’s my fault.”

  She stared at him. “How is that possible? I’m pretty sure you didn’t do this.”

  He shook his head. “She came to me, terrified, but determined to report it anyway. I should have found a way to put her in protective custody.”

  “And how would you have managed that?” Miranda demanded. “What would you use as an excuse to her parents? And where would you have set her up, anyway?”

  He knew she was right. In a sparsely populated county, with a small town for the county seat, there were no secrets, no matter how you tried to hide things. But that meant someone had been keeping an eye on the young girl, since he had arranged to meet her away from his office at a distant location. Either that or his house was bugged. If that was the case, he had bigger problems than he thought.

  So here he was, barely five weeks into the job, doing his best to transition from the high-pressure life of a SEAL to a supposedly quiet job as a county sheriff, with a murder on his hands tied to an evil that continued to grip the area. He did have one thing, however, that no one knew, and he planned to keep it that way. Holly had given him a small paper sack containing her torn panties. When the rapist had pulled out of her, the condom had torn, and although he had taken it with him, there was enough semen spilled on the inside of her thigh to scoop it up with her underwear. Alex had taken it home with him and locked it in his private safe. Not yet knowing if he could trust everyone on his staff, he was keeping that sucker under wraps until hopefully it could be used.

  “Well.” Miranda sighed. “The coroner’s here, and Chad Jenkins has finished taking pictures. Do you want to preserve the crime scene for any reason? I can’t imagine that there are traces of anything with all the dirt and leaves.”

  Chad served as the crime-scene photographer for the office, along with some other duties.

  “Let’s do it anyway. I want to come back out here with the pictures Chad shot and go over everything myself. There’s probably nothing, but I want to satisfy myself that’s the case.”

  “Got it. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Oh, and Jenna Donovan is still around here.” She chuckled. “Married that hunky bodyguard of hers. Hell, I’d stay around for him, too. Ask Hank Patterson to hook you up with them. Scot Nolan still works for Brotherhood Protectors.” She studied him for a moment. “Bet you thought it would be a little dull here after the SEALs.”

  Alex barked a short laugh. “Actually, a little dull wouldn’t be bad after all those years in one conflict after another.”

  “Hope it works out. We, uh, sort of like having you here.” She grinned.

  “Thanks.” He glanced over to where the body still lay. “I see the coroner is getting ready to bag her and take her to his lab. Let’s walk over there. I want Chad to get pictures of the site without the body.”

  The coroner gently moved the body into a black bag for transport before moving it into his van.

  “I’m pretty sure nothing new will turn up,” he told Alex, “but I’ll move it up to the top of my list. Expect something preliminary by tomorrow.”

  Alex nodded. “Appreciate it.”

  Then he watched Miranda and another deputy string yellow tape around the perimeter of the area where the body was found and waited while Chad grabbed a bunch of shots of the area without the corpse.

  “Keep a lid on this until I get back to the office,” he told Miranda. “Find out where her parents are, so I can do the notification. You know stuff before anyone else does.”

  “I don’t know if Gavin Martino will be home,” she told him. “He’s some big deal in the state cattlemen’s association and is always flying that plane of his back and forth to Butte and Helena, or Great Falls or someplace.”

  “Check on it for me, will you? Without giving away why I want to know? And see where his wife is.”

  “That’s easy. It’s Tuesday. Celeste Martino will be at The Promenade, the ritziest place in town. She’s chairing the upcoming fashion show to raise money for an addition to the local clinic.”

  “So they’re both pretty big on the political scene?”

  Miranda snorted a laugh. “If it gets them publicity, they manage to be part of it.”

  “Do me a favor,” he said. “I’m sure you know who her friends are. Get hold of one of them, let them know what happened, and have them bring Celeste to my office. Let me know when she’s on her way. And check on her husband’s whereabouts.”

  “Got it.” She strode off toward her SUV.

  Alex hung back as everyone else left. He wanted to get the feel of the area without another human being around.

  If anyone wanted to commit a murder, he thought, this was the place to do it. The Crazy Mountains as a range were forty miles long and almost completely surrounded by private land. That limited the access of strangers to the area, which meant any crime committed was usually laid at the feet of some resident. It also meant that the people living in the Crazy foothills were sharp enough to be careful and not get caught.

  And rich. It had to be some of the obnoxiously wealthy assholes who were used to buying their way out of anything and controlling their environment and anything that happened in it. He’d seen enough people like that in his lifetime, once to his great sorrow. They were the wealthy and privileged who thought they could get away with anything because rules did not apply to them. Because power was what it was all about. Plus, their money could cover up anything.

  When everyone had left the scene, he walked over to Holly’s body and studied it carefully. They hadn’t found the tire tracks of any kind of vehicle, not even the four wheelers so many of the ranchers used to get around. So, how the hell had whoever it was brought her up here? On horseback? Always a possibility. God knew this wasn’t what you’d call an area of heavy traffic. Or any traffic, for that matter.

  It was someone’s land, without a doubt. Most of the area around the Crazies was. Although a good bit of it was fenced, the rough terrain made it difficult for people not used to it to get around and so could be accessible only if you knew what you were doing. He’d have to check and see who owned this particular parcel, although he was sure whoever had killed Holly Martino hadn’t dumped her on his own land.

  Shit!

  Still, it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. Since it seemed he sucked at relationships, he lived a pretty solitary existence. Except for the few times he hung out with Hank and his wife, Sadie, and some of the other Brotherhood Protectors, his social life was a big fat zero. But that was good, he told himself. No chance to screw up again and all the time in the world to find the answers to this terrifying puzzle.

  Tomorrow, he had to stop by the Schroeder Ranch and see what Tom Schroeder wanted regarding the big party they had coming up this weekend. Miranda had told him that after Jeff Bartell was arrested, when anyone threw a party, they wanted law enforcement there, as if to let the world know they weren’t involved in the nasty business. Not, he knew, that it would stop someone if they were bent on rape. Apparently, over the span of two decades, these men had perfected their technique, even where timing and circumstance were concerned.

  His thought process was interrupted by the ringing of his cell.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sheriff, it’s me. Miranda. I’m calling you on your cell rather than having dispatch put through the message so we can keep it on the downlow.” Her voice dropped even more. “I have Celeste Martino in the office, and she’s demanding to know what the hell is going on.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way.”

  He wasn’t looking forward to the next hour at all.

  Chapter 2

  Michaela “Micki” Schroeder rolled down the last mile of the two-lane highway in her rented SUV and turned onto the long narrow road that led to her family’s home. It had been a long time since she’d thought of it as hers, also. Thought of any part of this area as home. Her visits had become more and more i
nfrequent, so much so that sometimes as long as two years would pass before she managed to spend a weekend there. Her mother was always on her about it but after a while had accepted the situation with great reluctance. She was, after all, involved in her own life.

  But even with the little time she spent there, Micki always had the same reaction. The moment she stepped into the house, a sudden feeling of nausea accompanied by chills would race over her skin, and every muscle in her body would tense. This time wasn’t going to be any better, regardless of the reason for her reaction. For a moment, she was tempted to turn the car around, head back to the airport in Billings, and get the hell out of there before she had to face her demons.

  Once, she’d loved this place, every inch of it. But that was before the evil thing had turned her from a young girl full of life to a scared woman trying to start anew far away from her nightmare. The one that had cast a permanent shadow over her life. It was still bad enough that it stopped her from getting too close to people and forming friendships like other women did. She was always terrified she’d get too comfortable and suddenly blurt out her horror story. And it certainly had made sex something to be endured rather than enjoyed. She had long ago stopped her sessions with a therapist, unable with even the best help to get past the one moment of nightmare in her life.

  She also got tired answering questions about why she didn’t have a steady man in her life. Why she never went out with anyone more than a few times. How could she tell people sex frightened her so much that the rare occasions she’d forced herself to give it a try had been unmitigated disasters. That one incident in her life all those years ago had created a solid barrier to forming any romantic relationships at all.

  One night, one brutal episode, had doomed her to remain personally and emotionally isolated for the rest of her life. Oh, she was great in court, probably because of that earth-shattering event. Each time she prosecuted a case, she pretended it was her attacker and she was getting her revenge. It only partially made up for the loss of intimacy in her life.

  Intimacy. The word itself made her shiver. Intimacy was something she’d never experience because…

  She clamped down on the thought. Better not dwell on it, or she’d never be able to get through the next few days.

  God. Could she even do this?

  Just get it over with, Micki. Then you can run back to Florida and pretend nothing ever happened.

  But in all these years that plan had never worked, so she had no expectation this trip would be different. This time her mother had guilted her into the trip by reminding her the big party was to celebrate her father’s sixtieth birthday. She’d do it. That was all. Get over it. Her rare visits home were never causes for celebration anyway. She and her mother had grown apart, and her father had been too busy with his own life to even acknowledge her. No wonder a predator thought she was ripe for the picking.

  Absently, she touched the charm bracelet she’d worn all these years, ran the tip of one finger over the space where once a tiny letter M charm had hung. Her father had given it to her on her twelfth birthday, and she treasured it. She’d discovered the missing charm the next morning. In a panic, afraid it had fallen off on her spread when she was being violated, she’d scoured every inch of her room. Even checked the washer and dryer where she’d cleaned the bedding, but the M had disappeared. She’d kept hoping it would turn up because the other option was too nauseating to consider. That it had broken off the bracelet when the man had so roughly grabbed her wrist, he’d noticed it and taken it as some kind of trophy.

  At first, she’d taken the whole bracelet off, determined to get rid of anything that kept reminding her of that night. As if she’d ever forget. But then decided she’d wear it forever, as a reminder that you were never safe anywhere, no matter what. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, forcing back that image. She didn’t need it in her brain right now. She was here for one purpose only.

  Alrighty, then. She’d grit her teeth and do it. Get it over with and get out of everyone’s way. Maybe she could avoid ever coming back here again.

  She passed beneath the huge wrought iron arch with the words Schroeder Ranch welded into it then continued between the split rail fences to the main house that sat on a couple of acres of well-tended lawn. The house itself was a majestic two-story split-log building. She remembered sitting in the rocking chair on the long porch as a young girl, enjoying the scenery and the pleasure of life in the Crazy Mountains.

  Of course, that was before everything happened. Before she and some of her friends were subjected to a brutality none of them had been prepared for. Fear had kept them from talking to anyone about it except each other, and that was in secret. That same fear cast a pall over her high school years. She hadn’t even told her brother what happened. Somehow, she’d managed to convince her parents, despite their strong objections, to let her attend college in Florida, which was as far from Montana as she could get. Most vacations she spent with her roommate, and she attended summer school, graduating in three years. Then she’d gone on to law school, again hardly ever visiting her parents, always pleading the demands of her schedule. She was now a prosecuting attorney in Tampa who’d made a name for herself specializing in abuse and rape cases. Who better to fight for a victim than someone who had been a target herself?

  Of course, her social life was almost nonexistent. She could hardly bear to have a man touch her much less kiss her. The few times she had given in, even forced herself to have sex, had been traumatizing to say the least. Ice queen and cold bitch were the more flattering terms men used, before throwing out words like cock tease and frozen cunt. Finally, she reached a point where ’no man appealed to her enough to take a chance.

  All these years later, it still gave her chills to return to the place where she should have been the safest and hadn’t been. How badly she’d wanted to tell her parents or her brother. Her mother, at least. But she kept hearing that harsh whisper in her ear.

  “Tell one single person, and I’ll break every bone in your body. You know I can do it.”

  Then he’d ordered her to lie on the bed with her eyes closed and count to one hundred unless she wanted to meet with a fatal accident. She’d been so terrified she had actually counted to two hundred. Then she’d found their housekeeper, Jessie, and asked her to tell her parents she thought she had the flu and was going to bed. No way had she been able to go back to the party knowing he might be one of the ones smiling at her.

  She’d spent the next two days in bed, claiming she thought she had the flu, unable to face anyone. Especially her brother, Jason, who could read her like a book. He’d tried as gently as possible to ask what was really wrong, but all she kept saying was she was sick. At last, he left to finish his freshman year at college, and she did her best to make herself invisible.

  There were times during her rare visits home that she caught her father looking at her strangely, and she wondered if he had any idea what had happened. But then she convinced herself that wasn’t possible. Whatever he was, her father would not turn a blind eye to his daughter being raped in her own home. Right? Right?

  Jason was a lot harder to fool, but he was home as infrequently as she was, so the times they were together were limited to holidays and special occasions. And then there were usually a ton of people around, so she could hide in the crowd. Maybe she could do the same this time, if she could just get through the first twenty-four hours.

  Her last visit, after Jenna Donovan’s explosive article had appeared in national media, she’d sought the woman out, and they shared the devastation of their experiences. Jenna told her there were others, besides the young girls who’d been killed, but she protected their privacy, Micki understood that. She wouldn’t want her name dropped into a discussion, either. But the insidiousness, the fact it had gone on for years, made her physically ill. Who were these men? How had this whole thing started? Would it never end?

  Coming home always brought the incident back in vivi
d detail. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to come up with a logical excuse to miss her father’s huge sixtieth birthday bash. Her gut told her that whoever the rapist was would be at this party, joking and drinking and acting like the bigshot ass he was. Well, she was older and wiser now and had spent a lot of years perfecting the image she presented to the world. She only had to be that person for the next five days and not be alone anywhere in the house when the party was going on.

  As she got closer to the house itself, her stomach knotted, nausea bubbled up in her throat, and a clammy coldness skated over her skin. She was gripped again by an intense desire to turn the car around, race back to Helena, and catch the first plane out there, no matter where it went. How could she do this? How could she pretend for five days that she was fine? Act like a normal person in the place of her worst nightmare?

  Just do it. Just grit your teeth and do it.

  She stopped the car in the big parking area next to the house, where two ranch trucks and three cars already sat. Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she climbed slowly out of the car. As she popped the trunk to retrieve her luggage, a figure strode around the side of the house, making her catch her breath. What was her father doing home this time of day? She needed more time before seeing him.

  She steeled herself for his usually abrupt greeting, but this time he did something out of character. He hugged her. She held herself stiff as a board, wishing he would get it over with already. He took a step back, his hands still on her shoulders, and a look almost of pain on his face.

  “I’m glad you came home for the party, Micki. Really glad. Thank you.” His voice was laced with stress, and he seemed to be searching for more to say. “I probably haven’t been the best father, but I love you. Never forget that.”