Montana Connection

by B. J Daniels

  He glanced over at her. Sometimes her imagination amazed him. “It’s as good a theory as any I’ve come up with.”

  She smiled that killer smile of hers.

  “But if Nina is Angela, what does that do to your theory? Wouldn’t Daisy be delighted to see her daughter after all these years?”

  Charity shook her head. “Not if it would expose her affair. Also not if her daughter was blackmailing her.”

  He felt a sliver of ice run the length of his spine as he stared at Charity. It was one hell of a theory. What bothered him most was that it made a morbid kind of sense.

  “Of course, I have a counter-theory,” Charity said. “Wade got rid of the baby. Daisy knows it but can’t prove it. So now she’s living in seclusion with a monster she created. If she hadn’t flaunted her affair, Angela would be alive. So she holds herself responsible for what happened to Angela. But at least she has Desiree—and she’s still Mrs. Wade Dennison—and still living in the big house with all his money.”

  He smiled over at her. “A counter-theory, huh? Either way makes Daisy sound pretty callous. What if Angela was Wade’s?”

  “Even better,” Charity said. “He got rid of his own child. Imagine how that must weigh on her. The irony. And she has only herself to blame.”

  “Oh, I think Daisy would see Wade behind bars if she really believed he’d abducted her baby,” Mitch said, but both of Charity’s theories were as plausible as any he’d come up with.

  The Lost Creek Falls sign suddenly appeared in the patrol car’s headlights and he slowed, sorry he hadn’t locked Charity up in jail, rather than bring her along. He hadn’t seen another car in miles and he didn’t like the bad feeling he was getting.

  As he turned off onto the paved road to the falls, the fog grew thicker. The paved road ended a few miles later in a small parking lot at the top of the falls.

  Mitch stopped at the end of the paved road, rolled down his window and looked out.

  There were two sets of tracks in the muddy road past the falls. A motorcycle had gone in and come back out. And a truck by the look of the tread. If Nina’s car was down here, then it had been driven in before the rains began.

  As he looked down the road into the darkness of the rain and forest, he could see his breath in the chilly air. His brother, Jesse, wasn’t the only one who owned a motorcycle, he told himself.

  He rolled up his window, suddenly sick with worry as he started up the muddy narrow logging road.

  “What a great place to dispose of a car,” Charity whispered as limbs scraped the top of the patrol car and the tires kicked mud up under the wheel wells. “Or a body.”

  “Perfect place for an ambush, too,” Mitch said.

  Charity shot him a look, then locked her side of the car, making him smile. Sometimes the woman showed enough sense to endear her to him.

  The headlights cut a swatch through the darkness. The only sound was the whap, whap of the wipers and the rain pounding the roof.

  Half a mile in, the headlights picked up something through the rain. The shine of a chrome bumper. He felt Charity tense beside him as he slowed.

  The red car had gone down a steep slope, ending up at the bottom of the ravine, partially hidden under the limbs of a large pine.

  Mitch slowed to a stop, put on the emergency brake and pulled his binoculars from the glove compartment. He opened his door and stepped out into the rain and growing darkness. The car had torn through the thick vegetation along the slope to come to a crashing halt against the large pine.

  He wiped moisture from the binocular lens and looked again, trying to decide if he should go down there now, with so little daylight left. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Charity alone, and he knew that the compact had been driven in here days ago, before the rain. That meant Tuesday, the night Nina had disappeared, or early the next morning before the rain began. Could Nina still be alive if she’d survived the crash?

  He didn’t know. But it was the reason he couldn’t put off going down there until morning.

  * * *

  THROUGH THE RAIN, Charity could see the rear of the red car where it had come to rest under the tree. Hugging herself, she looked over at Mitch as he got back into the car. “You’re going to think I’m as deluded as Florie, but I’m picking up really bad vibes here.”

  He smiled reassuringly at her, his gaze meeting hers. “I won’t be long.”

  “And if I never see you again?”

  “The patrol car is four-wheel drive. If you go slowly, you’ll be able to get out of here—if I don’t come back.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m just covering all the bases.” He climbed out again and went around to the back of the patrol car.

  Against her better judgment, she climbed out, too, and watched as he pulled on a pair of overalls he’d taken from the back, along with a pair hiking boots.

  “Shouldn’t you call for backup?” she asked. It was getting dark and she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them.

  “We’d have to drive out to the highway to get the radio to work. And it would take several hours for the state police to get here. We only have about an hour left of daylight as it is. I’m not even sure it’s Nina’s car or I would have you drive out and call for backup.”

  She hated it when he was so logical. She glanced tentatively over the side of the steep ravine. It made her dizzy and sick to think he was actually about to go down there.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll walk around to where it isn’t so steep. It could take me a while, though. I want you to stay in the car and lock the doors. Give me until half an hour past dark. If I’m not back by then, drive out until the radio works and call for help.”

  He swung a backpack over one shoulder and looked at her as if he was afraid to leave her alone. That made two of them.

  “I have my gun and pepper spray,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah.” He made it sound like she had a poisonous snake in her purse. “And handcuffs. Don’t forget those.”

  “You aren’t making fun of me, are you?”

  “You know me better than that.”

  “You should be glad I’m armed and can protect myself.”

  He didn’t seem to take comfort in that. “We’ll discuss the legality of carrying a concealed weapon without a permit when I get back.”

  “It will give us something to talk about on the ride back to town,” she said sarcastically.

  He pointed to the patrol car, apparently waiting for her to get in it before he left.

  She marched to the driver’s side, opened the door and slid in, then locked the doors. As he started past to head up the road, he hesitated as if he might stop and say something more to her. It was one of those times that “I have always loved you” would have been appropriate.

  Instead, he continued up the road, his back to her.

  Impulsively she rolled down her window and yelled after him, “In case you never come back—” he slowed, his back still to her “—I’ll miss you!”

  He continued walking as if he hadn’t heard her. But she knew he had. Why hadn’t she said that she loved him?

  Because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, she told herself as she rolled up her window and settled in for a long wait. She put the loaded Derringer on the seat beside her, the pepper spray within reach. The keys were in the ignition.

  It began to rain harder. The windows fogged up instantly. She thought about starting the car, letting the heater run, clearing the windows, but feared using up the gas. She might need it more later.

  It made her nervous, not being able to see what was just outside the car. She wiped at the fogged-over glass, and the surface instantly skimmed over again with condensation. When she looked at her watch, she realized Mitch had only been gone five minutes.

  * * *

  MITCH WALKED down the road until he found a game trail that dropped down the steep wet slope. He cautiously descended, then worked his way through the wet sli
ck vegetation.

  It was getting dark fast and the rain wasn’t letting up. Thick fog began to fill the ravine. He tried to move faster, thinking of Charity up on the road waiting for him, worried what she might do. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but then, he should never have brought her. Maybe she would have been safer back in town. With Charity, it really was a toss-up.

  Ahead, he thought he caught a glimpse of chrome. He pulled the flashlight from his backpack and shone it into the dense foliage. It flickered off a piece of chrome trim.

  He worked his way closer, his breath coming out in white puffs. The fog was growing denser, the slit of sky overhead darker.

  A chill crept up his spine as he shone the flashlight through the branches and saw the red compact.

  The car had come to rest at an odd angle at the base of a pine tree among the rocks. The front end was tilted down, the rear barely visible beneath the limbs of the pine tree.

  He wondered again how the anonymous caller had found the car, fearing the only person who knew where Nina’s vehicle was the one responsible for its being there. He recalled the motorcycle tracks in the muddy road.

  As he neared the rear of the car, he could see that the trunk was open—and empty. The branches of the tree completely blocked the driver’s side of the car. He worked his way a little more deeply into the ravine and climbed under the pine boughs on the passenger side. By standing on a rock, he was the same height as the passenger-side window.

  He shone the light into the car, bracing himself.

  The driver’s seat was empty.

  But there was something on the floor. He pulled himself up to get a closer look. In the beam of his flashlight he saw a Dennison duck decoy. The duck had been only partially painted; the rest appeared to be covered in dried blood and bits of human tissue.

  He shone his flashlight into the back seat, already knowing what he’d find. Nina Monroe’s bludgeoned body.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Friday, October 30

  It was morning by the time the state police were able to get Nina’s body into the coroner’s van and secure the area. The forensics team arrived at first light to go over Nina’s car.

  From the car’s registration in the glove compartment, the body was identified as Nina Bromdale. The same last name as the woman who’d been Angela Dennison’s nanny twenty-seven years ago.

  Mitch could feel the pieces coming together. According to Charity, Alma Bromdale had died in mid-September. Right after that, Nina had showed up in Timber Falls and gotten a job painting decoys at Dennison Ducks.

  He glanced over at Charity as they passed Lost Creek Falls. She looked tired and pale, the night’s events taking a toll on her, but incredibly beautiful. He knew she must be starving. He’d offered to drive her home but she’d wanted to stay with him—and he hadn’t wanted to leave the crime scene unprotected.

  “I’ll buy you breakfast in Oakridge,” he said.

  She shot him a look. “We’re going to Coos Bay to talk to Alma Bromdale’s sister.”

  He’d seen the wheels turning in her head from the moment he’d told her Nina’s real last name.

  As they neared the highway, he saw a car pull up next to the deputy’s vehicle blocking the road. Wade Dennison got out of the car and approached the deputy.

  Wade looked up as Mitch stopped the patrol car and got out. “Stay here, okay?” he said to Charity.

  She was looking at Wade. Mitch saw her shiver. “No problem.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Wade yelled through the rain the moment he saw Mitch coming toward him. “This damned deputy won’t tell me a thing.”

  “Let’s talk in your car,” Mitch said as he walked to Wade’s Lincoln and got in. The engine was running, the inside of the vehicle warm and spacious.

  Wade climbed behind the wheel, breathing hard from the fury he had going. And maybe from fear, Mitch thought.

  “We found Nina’s car,” he said.

  Wade’s head jerked around. It was clear he’d feared that was the case.

  “Nina was inside. She’s dead, Wade.” He wasn’t sure what reaction he’d been expecting. Certainly not the one he got.

  “No.” It came out a wail. Wade fell over the steering wheel, his head on his arms, his body racked with sobs.

  Mitch waited until Wade got himself under control again. “Nina wasn’t just your employee.”

  Wade wiped his eyes. “I can’t talk about this now.” His voice sounded hoarse, raspy.

  “Wade—”

  “Get out of my car. Please, Mitch. I can’t just now, all right?” Wade had never called him by his first name. It was always Tanner. Or Sheriff. And Wade sure as hell had never said please.

  Mitch could see that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Wade right now. He got out, then watched as Wade took off, driving too fast. Headed for Timber Falls.

  Mitch turned and walked back to the patrol car and Charity.

  “What kind of reaction was that?” she asked, no longer looking tired or scared as the reporter in her came out.

  “Odd.”

  “Did he tell you what was up with him and Nina?”

  Mitch shook his head. He didn’t even want to admit to himself just how scared he was that Nina’s death had started a chain reaction of events that would change Timber Falls forever.

  He looked over at Charity, studying her as if he’d never seen her clearly before. The rain had stopped. Droplets glistened in the sunlight all around them. The flecks in Charity’s eyes shone golden, her hair a wild flame of color.

  She wasn’t just beautiful. There was something so alive about her. So filled with energy and excitement and life. He realized he was glad right now that she was so…Charity.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head and smiled. “I was just wondering if we’re going to be able to get pie in Oakridge.”

  * * *

  HARRIET BROMDALE lived in an old farmhouse just outside Coos Bay. The house had once been white just like the picket fence, but the sea air had turned it gray over the years. Several pots of petunias still bloomed on the sidewalk beside the door as Charity waited beside Mitch for someone to answer his knock.

  He’d been acting strangely all morning and she still couldn’t believe he’d let her tag along. He hadn’t even said the words “off the record” once.

  An elderly woman wearing a striped waitress’s uniform and worn white shoes answered the door. Her hair was pulled back from a face wrinkled and lined. She looked too old even to be Alma’s older sister.

  “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.” She started to close the door.

  “I’m Sheriff Mitch Tanner from Timber Falls,” Mitch said, flashing his badge.

  “Timber Falls?” Harriet shook her head. “What’s she done now?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nina.” She squinted at them. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  “Then you do know Nina,” he said.

  “Know her?” The woman let out a harsh laugh. “I raised her. Not that she listened to anything I ever had to say.”

  “So you’re her…”

  “Aunt.” She squinted at him. “Isn’t that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Yes. I also wanted to ask about your sister, Alma.”

  Harriet pursed her lips. “Like mother, like daughter.”

  Charity felt Mitch’s gaze on her. “Nina was Alma’s daughter?” Charity asked.

  The older woman looked at her, then Mitch. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “Would you mind if we came in for a few minutes?” Mitch asked.

  Harriet hesitated, eyes small and hooded like a snake’s as she looked at him. “I have to get to work soon.”

  “We won’t take up any more of your time than we have to,” he said, and she stepped back to let them in.

  The house was dark inside and had that old closed-up smell, heightened by the odor of stale cigarette smoke
. Harriet led them into a living room, motioning to a broken-down couch covered in what looked like the original plastic from when it was purchased probably fifty years ago.

  Harriet sat in a threadbare recliner across from them, shook a cigarette from the pack in her uniform pocket and touched the flame of a lighter to the end. She took a deep drag, exhaled and squinted at the two of them through the smoke. “So what’s Nina done now?”

  Mitch had taken off his hat and now held it in his hands. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that she’s dead. Apparent homicide.”

  The older woman let out a snort. “I’m not surprised. The boyfriend do it?”

  “What boyfriend would that be?”

  Harriet shrugged. “Some no-count. She sure could pick ’em. They never lasted long enough for me to get their names.”

  “When was the last time you saw Nina?”

  “A month ago. I told her not to go to Timber Falls. Look what happened to her mother up there.”

  Charity figured Harriet was referring to Angela Dennison’s abduction—and Alma’s subsequent firing, but Harriet added, “Ended up pregnant.”

  “Alma was pregnant when she returned from Timber Falls?”

  “Dropped off a baby for me to raise,” Harriet said.

  “You’re sure it was her baby?” Charity had to ask, thinking of Angela. She could feel Mitch’s gaze and belatedly remembered her promise just to sit quietly and let him do the talking.

  The old woman frowned. “Of course it was her baby.”

  “You said you raised Nina? Do you have her birth certificate?” Mitch asked.

  “I got a copy. You’re wondering who the father is, right? Well, it wasn’t on the birth certificate, and Alma would never tell. He was married. Why else would he give her all that money unless it was to keep her mouth shut?”

  Charity shot Mitch an I-told-you-so look.

  “Alma ran off right after dropping that bawling baby off, leaving me to raise the brat,” Harriet was saying. “You think it’s easy raising a kid by yourself? Did Nina appreciate the sacrifices I made? Ha. She always thought she deserved better.”