by Lisa Jackson
“Hmmm . . .” Alvarez shook her head in disgust. As they reached the base of Boxer Buff her cell phone went off. “Alvarez,” she answered. “Yeah . . . where? You’re sure?”
Pescoli glanced over at her partner.
Yeah . . . okay. We’ll be right there.” Alvarez hung up and said, “We got lucky.”
“What?”
“Calypso Pope’s purse. Found by a teenager on the rocks near the falls. All her ID intact. Credit cards, too, or so it seems on first inspection. No cash. Anyway, he turned it in at the station. It’s at the lab already and they’re processing it, checking for trace evidence, fingerprints.”
“Needle in a haystack.”
“Maybe, but it’s something.”
“Yeah.”
“Lars Bender, the kid who found it, claims there wasn’t a dime in it,” Alvarez said. “He’s already asking about a reward.”
“Figures.” Pescoli cranked on the wheel and turned up the hill behind a tow truck with a crumpled midsized sedan on its bed. “You never go wrong being disappointed in human nature.”
With his gaze on the GPS monitor, Ryder followed the woman he was certain was Anne-Marie Calderone. He drove a mile or two behind her outside of town, past a smattering of houses on the fringe of Grizzly Falls, and into the rolling hills of farmland. The road was getting chewed up from traffic, but the pastures that spread beyond the fences were still covered in a white, pristine mantle, sunlight bouncing off the icy crystals of snow so that he was forced to squint and finally find an old pair of sunglasses he kept in the glove box.
Slipping on the polarized lenses, he kept driving, meeting a few other vehicles, checking his mileage and finally guessing where she was heading. Sure enough, he passed a long driveway and saw from the small monitor’s screen that she’d turned into the lane. No surprise the oversized mailbox had the name GRAYSON written across it.
Some things never change.
He told himself it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t help wondering why she’d decided to go to Cade Grayson. Was he the real reason she’d taken this winding path from Louisiana to Montana? The end piece of her game? Ryder drove past the place and turned around about a mile up the road. Then he waited, wondering what she was doing, thinking that after meeting with Grayson she might take off again.
He’d have some time, though. She hadn’t packed up.
Yet.
He’d been watching, feeling every bit the voyeur as he’d sat in his dive of a motel room, sipping beer and staring at the monitor of one of his laptops, the one that had been hooked up as a receiver to the wireless transmitter he’d left on her property. The second one he used for research and communication.
He’d nearly collected enough evidence, and after today, it would be time to execute phase two of his plan.
His lips twisted a little at that thought.
Seeing Anne-Marie face-to-face for the first time in months would give him a small degree of satisfaction. But then telling her what he was going to do with her, that was going to be difficult because like it or not, he still felt a connection to her, that same old attraction that hadn’t quite let go, despite everything.
She deserves what she’s getting, he told himself. It’s only right that it comes at my hand. This will all be over soon. He took heart that once the job was finished, he could forget about Anne-Marie Calderone forever.
Never in a million years would Cade have expected Anne-Marie to be standing on his doorstep, on the ranch in Montana. “A long way from New Orleans,” he said, rubbing his chin and eyeing her from across the room. He’d offered her a seat in the living room that didn’t get used much and was still filled with memorabilia and furniture from the days over a decade earlier when his mother had still been alive.
“I know. Cade, I’m sorry about your brother.”
She appeared sincere, but he didn’t trust his instincts around her. They’d always been off a bit. She’d come to his home in a disguise, and he couldn’t read her eyes as they’d been darkened with contact lenses. She was still wearing some kind of padding. Her body didn’t fit her head now that she’d removed whatever it was that had changed the contour of her cheeks and the look of her teeth. That she’d shown up out of the blue with no word for years, her beauty intently played down, wasn’t a good sign.
“I doubt you came all the way up here to give me your condolences.”
“No,” she admitted, clearly nervous. She glanced away for a second, and he wondered if she was concocting her story, trying to think of a way to make it plausible. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“You said it was life or death.”
“I think so, yes.” Though she was nodding as she balanced on the edge of the dusty couch, she didn’t seem so sure of herself. It was as if she were suddenly second-guessing her arrival on his doorstep.
He decided that was just desserts. He owed her nothing.
“Look, Cade,” she said, one hand nervously plucking at a bit of fabric on the couch. “Years ago, you said if I was ever in trouble . . . you know, with the law, that I could count on your brother, that . . . he would help.”
“You came up here to talk with Dan?”
“Yes,” she admitted weakly, “and then, well, I heard that he’d passed.”
“Killed,” Cade corrected. “He was murdered in cold blood. A bastard he knew and trusted laid in wait and pulled the goddamn trigger. That’s what happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So you said.” He closed his eyes for a second and tried like hell to tamp down the rage that overtook him every time he thought of his brother’s death. That the son of a bitch who’d taken Dan’s life was still alive pissed him off. Forcing his eyes open, he stared at her and asked, “What is it?”
“I think,” she started as if unsure of herself, “he’s followed me here. I think he might be behind the attacks on the other women who were killed. I don’t know, but . . .” She let out her breath slowly.
“Who?” he asked, but he felt it, that chill of premonition that warned him that bad news was coming his way.
“My husband,” she whispered softly. “I think he followed me here.”
Chapter 17
“Your husband?” Cade repeated, his expression guarded, suspicion visible in his eyes as Shad settled into a dog bed near the fireplace.
Too late, Jessica realized she’d made a big mistake in going there, in hoping he might be able to help her. But she was in too deep to backtrack. “I’ve been hiding from him.”
“Here? In Grizzly Falls?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m dressed like this.” She made a sweeping gesture to include her whole body. “When I drove here, I didn’t know about Dan, about what had happened to him. I was just desperate. You’d said once that if I were ever in serious trouble that your brother was someone I could trust, a fair officer of the law. And I thought, hoped, that I could explain to him what happened and . . . and that he would believe me and trust me and help me.”
“You think your husband is out to kill you?” Cade asked dubiously.
“I know he is,” she said, shivering inwardly. “He tried once, thought he’d gotten rid of me, but I managed to survive. And now he has to make sure.”
He regarded her suspiciously. “You have family.”
“Who have disowned me.”
“And why is that?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. They both knew why. “Look, Cade, even if I contacted them and told them my story, they wouldn’t believe me. Because . . . because . . .”
“Because you’ve cried wolf one too many times.”
“Essentially.” She was nodding. “Yeah, that’s about it.”
“Let’s just tell it like it is. You’re a liar, Anne-Marie. You lied to your family, you lied to me, hell, you probably lied to your damn husband. Christ, I know you did. So now you’re on the run and you wind up here and you expect me . . . me . . . to believe you and do what? Take you in? Hide you out from so
me imagined threat? Start something up again.”
“No!”
Obviously, he wasn’t buying it. “Jesus H. Christ. You’re unbelievable. And you can take that literally.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“That’s the trouble with compulsive liars; they start believing their own shit.”
“Cade. Trust me, I’m not—”
“Trust you?” he threw back at her. “That’s a laugh. You expect me to trust you.” He was angry, his jaw hard, but it wasn’t the raw, passionate fury she’d witnessed in him before. No, this was cold and deep, the kind of wrath that has had time to burrow and fester. It was obvious he wasn’t buying her desperate pleas and she knew that he had good reason.
“I made a mistake coming here.”
“You got that right,” he said, his glare cutting through her. “I don’t know what you’re involved in and I don’t care. If you seriously believe someone is out to kill you, whether it’s your husband or someone else, then you need to go to the police. Immediately. No matter how wild a tale you spin, they’ll look into it.”
“I’d planned to, but then—”
“I know. Dan died. Jesus, don’t you know I’m painfully aware of that fact,” he said.
She shrank back. “I didn’t mean—”
He waved off her apology. “Whatever it is you think you’re involved in, it has nothing to do with me.” A muscle worked in his jaw as if he were trying and failing to rein in his anger. “Just go down to the station and tell your tale. They’ll ask you some questions and that’ll be it. Maybe they can sort out what’s real and what’s all in your head.”
“I’m not making this up.” She was on her feet. “You think I drove all the way from New Orleans to seek you out because of some convoluted, sick fantasy? Have you noticed women are being killed?”
“I don’t really see how they’re connected to you. Did you know them? The first girl’s been IDed, some woman from Utah, I think, and the second one”—he shrugged—“I haven’t heard.”
“You’re the only person I knew in Grizzly Falls before I came here. But I think he followed me somehow.”
“As I said, tell it to the police. I don’t know the new sheriff or much about him, but someone thought he was fit for the job, so go and tell him your tale.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Anne-Marie said.
“Why not?”
She remembered the acting sheriff, how when she’d spilled coffee on him, he’d turned his attention on her like a laser.
“If you’re serious about this. If you really think that you being here in Montana has cost two women their lives, you have to go to the police. It’s your moral obligation.”
She felt her back go up. “Moral obligation? You’re a fine one to lecture me on morals.”
“I wasn’t the one who was married,” he said.
She saw in his eyes that he was daring her to tread farther, into dangerous emotional territory which, she knew, would be unwise. “Okay. I get it,” she said, deciding it was time to leave just as she heard the muted rumble of an engine. Shad was on his three feet in an instant, howling and barking and running into the kitchen.
She glanced through the window and saw a massive pickup had pulled into the empty bay of the garage. Zed’s truck. Her heart sank as she watched the Grayson brother climb out of his king cab.
“I should leave,” she said, reaching up to twist and pin her hair onto her head. Quickly she donned her wig again, uncaring that it wasn’t on perfectly. Then, she slid her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose. She started for the front door but looked over her shoulder. “I know it’s a lot to ask. And God knows you don’t owe me any favors, but please . . . don’t give me away until I talk to the police.”
“You’re going there?”
“I will . . . just not right now.” She drew in a long breath.
“When?” he asked as she noticed Big Zed squinting at her car as he walked toward the back of the house.
“This week.”
“And if you don’t?”
“You won’t have to worry about me. I’ll be gone and . . . and he’ll follow.”
“To kill again,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re trying to get me to believe.”
She let out a nearly inaudible sigh and opened the door. “Believe whatever you want, Cade.” She heard another door open and didn’t wait any longer. She didn’t want to explain herself to Zed or anyone else, yet.
She followed her earlier tracks across the front yard to her car and wondered if Cade were watching her or if Zed was asking questions. Well, so be it.
She should never have shown her hand, never have driven there and tried to drag Cade into it.
Her hopes for help from anyone named Grayson had died with the sheriff.
It was time to come up with Plan B.
“Who was that?” Zed asked as he walked into the house and found Cade staring out the living room window.
“No one.”
“Like hell.”
“Okay. Someone I knew a long time ago.” He watched Anne-Marie drive off and thought, Good riddance. It surprised him that she’d tracked him down, but it didn’t surprise him that she’d shown up with some wild-ass story. She’d always been slightly off, one wheel not quite on the track. Yes, she’d been his lover and he still remembered how passionate she was in the bedroom, but he also recalled what a crazy and bona fide liar she was. The kind of woman best left alone. He didn’t know why she was in Grizzly Falls, but if it was to start something up again, he’d shut her down. Fast. It was over, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t interested. He was with Hattie and had her daughters to consider. He’d be a fool to risk losing his family, and he wasn’t about to do it with Anne-Marie Calderone.
“A woman.” There was a sneer in Zed’s voice.
Cade turned and faced his older brother. “Yep.”
“Women are always getting you into trouble.”
That much was true. Sex had always been Cade’s downfall. He liked women. All women. Lots of women. And he’d never been one to shy away from danger, especially if it involved a slightly over the top woman, the operative word being slightly. At least that’s how he’d reacted until recently, but Anne-Marie had been trouble from the get-go. He’d wondered then, as he wondered now, if she was missing a few vital screws. She’d always been attractive and sexy, but mentally a little unbalanced. And there was the lying thing; he hadn’t been kidding when he’d called her compulsive. It was as if she just couldn’t stop.
“She’s just a friend.”
“No such thing. Not with you.”
“Believe me,” Cade said.
“So how do you know that waitress from the diner?” Zed asked. To Cade’s look, he said, “That’s who it was. I saw her there.”
For a reason Cade couldn’t name, he felt suddenly protective of a woman he’d sworn to abhor. “Long story. Long time ago. Long over.”
Zed’s eyes thinned and he took a look out the window, but Anne-Marie’s car had disappeared. “Okay,” he said as if he didn’t quite believe Cade, but was willing to move on. “I was just at the funeral home. Everything’s a go for the service.”
Cade grunted. He didn’t want to think about Anne-Marie, true enough, but he also didn’t want to dwell on the fact that the brother he’d looked up to was gone. “Can you handle the night’s feeding?” he asked Zed.
“S’pose. Where you goin’?”
“Into town to have dinner with Hattie and the girls.” The darkness in his soul dissolved a little when he thought of Mallory and McKenzie, the twins he’d recently found out were not sired by his brother Bart, but by Cade himself. Had it changed how he felt about them? Not much. Since Bart’s death he’d thought of the girls as his, anyway. The new biological information had been a shock, but not an unpleasant one. Truth be known, it was a possibility he’d considered a couple times but had tossed aside while his brother had been alive.
“Hattie.” Zed snorted again. “She’s no good, y’know. I don’t know what your deal is, or was, with the waitress from the diner, but it sure as hell has to be a lot less complicated than the thing you’ve got going with Bart’s wife.”
“Ex-wife.”
“Or maybe even an excuse. The reason she was his ex might well be because of you.”
Every muscle in Cade’s body clenched. He was super-sensitive in that area. Hell, maybe they both were. “Let’s not go there, Zed. We’ve already lost two brothers. Now it’s just you and me.”
“And Hattie.”
And your whores, the one-night stands that don’t encumber you. “And Hattie,” Cade said, thinking of the woman he loved. Theirs was a complicated relationship and always had been.
“So why the fuck don’t you just up and marry her? That’s where this is all heading, isn’t it? To make it legal? That little thing you had going with your brother’s wife.”
Cade grabbed a piece of Zed’s work shirt in his fist and yanked. “I never touched Hattie while she was married and you know it.”
“I don’t know a damn thing,” Zed said, his eyes blazing, his lips barely moving.
“That’s the first thing you said that’s right.”
Zed punched him. Hard. In the ribs.
“Jesus!” Cade’s fingers released and he fell backward, barely catching himself.
Zed, his face red, warned, “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again.”
“Then stop all this shit-talking about Hattie, you got that? She’s the mother of my kids.”
“That’s the goddamn problem,” Zed growled. His hands balled into fists and he looked as if he were about to launch at Cade as they had when they were young bucks, always fighting. Kicking, punching, knocking holes in the walls, the four boys had all possessed hot tempers and become the hellions of town, much to their mother’s dismay. Though they’d grown out of their testosterone-charged teen years, that sibling rivalry always simmered just beneath the surface. They’d fight like hell for each other in public, then turn brother against brother when they were home, either fueled by alcohol or spurred by jealousy over a woman.
