by B. J Daniels
“I know. I should have made an effort to get up to Seattle more often,” Charity said. “Just tell me what I can do to help your dad.”
“There is nothing at this point except mention him in your prayers.”
“You got it. So you and Ford are looking for some sort of evidence that it wasn’t an accident.”
Ford had warned Roz not to mention to anyone that her father might have found something in the woods that might be Bigfoot bones. If word got out, everyone and his brother would be up there looking, trying to solve the mystery and making it even harder for her and Ford. There were enough people in town looking for Bigfoot as it was.
“We just want to take a look,” Roz said. “I’m not convinced but it gives me something positive to do while I’m waiting for Dad to regain consciousness. I’m sure once he does, he’ll be able to tell us what happened.”
Charity nodded. “Hopefully, he just fell and that’s all there is to it. I’d hate to think anyone would hurt Liam.”
“Me, too.” Roz had left her cell phone number with the hospital. Now she gave the number to Charity.
Betty slid the breakfast special in front of Roz, and refilled her coffee cup and Charity’s diet cola. The café was filling up fast so Betty only visited for a minute and was gone.
“It must be hard for you to come back here, especially to stay in the house,” Charity said.
Roz nodded, tears stinging her eyes. “I miss Mom so much. Being in that house just makes me wonder why she did it, you know?”
“Yeah. That is one of the hardest things about a suicide when there is no note. You always wonder why.”
Roz wiped her tears and looked toward the street as a bright red sports car swung into a parking space out front and a young dark-haired woman emerged. She stalked toward the café, flinging open the door, and charged toward their booth, the bell tinkling wildly behind her.
Roz watched in shock as the woman stormed over to them, gaze locked on Charity, a newspaper rolled up in her hand.
“Stop printing lies about my father!” the woman screamed, throwing the rolled-up paper at Charity. “I’ve warned you. If you say another word about my father I’ll…I’ll burn that stupid newspaper of yours to the ground with you in it!”
The woman turned and stormed back out. Roz watched in amazement as the brunette climbed into the red sports car and sped off, tires squealing. “Who was that?”
Charity was busy ironing the wrinkles out of the newspaper on the café table—and smiling. “You didn’t recognize her? No, I guess you wouldn’t since she went to private school and was seldom home during her formative years. That was Wade Dennison’s daughter, Desiree.”
Roz stared at her friend. “Dennison Ducks?” She looked after the red sports car, then down at the headline in today’s paper.
Turning the newspaper so she could read the first part of the story, Roz learned that Wade Dennison’s gun had been used to kill his foreman Bud Farnsworth, and that Farnsworth had allegedly been involved in the kidnapping of Angela Dennison and responsible for the murder of Nina Monroe, one of the decoy painters at the plant.
“Charity? You were almost killed?”
She nodded, then said conspiratorially, “There are some people in this town who believe Wade shut Bud up before he could implicate him in the kidnapping.”
Roz was shaking her head in disbelief. “You think Wade was involved in his own daughter’s kidnapping?”
“I said ‘some’ people.”
“Right.” Roz wished she didn’t know her friend so well. “Charity, Desiree just threatened to burn down your newspaper with you in it. I think you should call Mitch and tell him.”
Charity’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe you’re right about calling Mitch.” She smiled and toyed with the bracelet on her wrist.
“A gift from Mitch?” Roz asked, admiring the bracelet.
Charity nodded shyly.
Roz felt a stab of envy. Charity had never wavered when it came to her love for Mitch. Roz had never known any man who could make her look like that, and her fear was that she never would. Hearing the café door open again, she turned and realized she was hoping to see Ford Lancaster fill that doorway.
* * *
MITCH SPOTTED the dark blue pickup parked in the lot at Lost Creek Falls as he pulled in. He parked his cruiser and walked to the top of the falls in time to see Ford Lancaster clambering up the steep side of the creek gorge.
Lancaster didn’t seem in the least surprised to see him. But he did look guilty—something Mitch had come to recognize after ten years as a sheriff in a remote part of Oregon.
“Morning, Sheriff,” Lancaster said casually enough. He was younger than Mitch had expected, and reminded Mitch a little of his older brother Jesse. There was a wildness about him that Ford Lancaster seemed to keep well hidden behind his no-nonsense scientist veneer.
What worried Mitch was that Ford seemed to have already conned Roz. And now Ford Lancaster was at the site of an alleged suicide. What was he doing here? More to the point, what was he doing back in Timber Falls? And just how involved was he with Roz—and Liam Sawyer? Enough that he thought Liam needed protection. Now why was that?
They were all answers Mitch planned to get. “Looking for something?”
“Same thing you are.” Ford’s pale aquamarine eyes gave nothing away.
Mitch would have distrusted him just based on what he knew of him. He definitely didn’t like him hanging around Roz.
“Did you find the body?” Mitch asked. Which begged the question, why Ford Lancaster would risk his neck to climb down into the gorge to look for a body to begin with when he’d already said he didn’t see anyone jump and thought Rozalyn Sawyer had just imagined it.
“There is no body.”
“Is that right?” Mitch marveled at the man’s arrogance. “What makes you so sure of that?” Bodies often got caught in the rocks or in tree limbs and didn’t come up for weeks, even months.
“I found this.” Ford stuck his hand in his pocket.
Mitch was startled to see what he withdrew. A mannequin’s hand, the painted bright red nails chipped.
“There are broken parts all down the creek about a quarter mile.”
Mitch took the piece of plastic and turned it in his fingers. “You think this is what Roz saw last night? A mannequin falling off the top of the falls?” He frowned down at the slightly curved fingers.
“Someone hid in the trees at the top of the falls and pushed it off, yes, that’s exactly what I think.”
Mitch glanced toward the large old pine that grew out over the rocks at the top of the waterfall. “It was pouring last night. Odd time for a prank.”
Ford nodded as Mitch shifted his gaze back to him. “There was a detour sign in the middle of the highway at the falls turnoff. Whoever planned this knew about what time Rozalyn would be coming up that road.”
“Someone staged this explicitly for her?” Mitch asked in surprise. “Why?”
Ford shook his head. “All I know is that I found some footprints where I think he waited for her to drive up. He already had the mannequin hidden in the trees at the top of the falls. When she started to turn around, he rushed through her headlights wearing a bright yellow raincoat so she couldn’t miss him.”
“Roz said she thought the jumper was a woman,” Mitch pointed out.
Ford nodded. “If you ask Rozalyn, I’m willing to bet she’d tell you the person had the hood up on the raincoat the first time she saw him or her. Anyway, as I was saying, the person rushed to the top of the falls, made the switch behind that tree, putting the raincoat on the mannequin and pushed it off, staying hidden in the trees and darkness. I think he or she stayed hidden long enough to witness Rozalyn’s reaction—or lay in wait.”
Mitch shook his head. “Don’t tell me. He planned to push Roz off the falls.” This man seemed to have all the answers.
Ford shrugged. “I don’t think the person who did this expected me to be on the ro
ad last night—let alone that I would race back to save her. I was starting to drive off. If I hadn’t glanced in my side mirror and seen her go tearing over to the falls, who knows what would have happened.”
“That makes you a hero,” Mitch said. Not likely.
Ford made a face as if he couldn’t see himself a hero any more than Mitch could. “It’s just my theory of what happened.”
Mitch nodded. “And a damned interesting one, too. You seem to have it all worked out. Lucky for Roz that you were here.” Or was it?
* * *
FORD COULD HEAR the accusation in the sheriff’s tone. He’d known what he was up against. He was an outsider in this close-knit community. Worse, his name seemed to be legend.
“As a scientist, I’ve uncovered my share of hoaxes,” he said.
“Yes, I recall that about you. Handy that when we find your prints on this hand you have an explanation for that, too.”
Ford gritted his teeth, curbing his impatience. “You have a better theory than mine?”
“Not yet. Where was this person’s vehicle?”
“I would imagine it was hidden in the trees. I found an old logging road up that way.” He pointed to the south. “It’s practically grown in. The driver would have had to know it was there.”
“Someone local then?”
Ford shrugged. “Or someone who had a map of the old logging roads around here.” That definitely opened up the possibilities.
“How many people knew what time Roz was supposed to arrive?”
“I wouldn’t know, Sheriff.” But he knew someone had laid in wait for Rozalyn Sawyer up here last night. He didn’t have an ounce of solid proof. The mannequin, the footprints, all circumstantial. But he knew in his heart that this whole show had been for her.
What he didn’t know was why. Or if it had only been to scare her—or kill her. He’d know that when he got the results from the urinalysis. If the chocolate she ingested last night was drugged…
“You’ve certainly taken an interest in Roz’s well-being as well as her father’s.”
Ford smiled. “Don’t beat around the bush, Sheriff. You want to know why I just happen to be there every time Rozalyn needs me?” He shrugged. “I wish I knew. Just lucky, I guess.”
“Let’s try a question you can answer. What are you doing in Timber Falls?”
Ford hesitated. He wished now that he’d let the sheriff find the mannequin downstream on his own and come up with his own conclusions as well. “Isn’t it possible I just came to town to investigate the Bigfoot sightings and got caught up in the Sawyers’ lives?”
“No,” Mitch said. “You’re holding out on me, Lancaster. I’m thinking I should run you in for further questioning.”
Ford looked toward the falls. He needed his freedom, whatever price it took. “You’ll hear about this sooner or later anyway. Liam’s best friend was my father.”
“John Wells?” Mitch asked, in obvious surprise.
Ford explained how his parents had divorced when he was young, how his mother had remarried, his stepfather had adopted him and he hadn’t seen much of his biological father—until two days ago when he’d been with him when he died.
“I guess that explains the article you did on Liam,” the sheriff said.
“I guess.”
“Great job you have, making fools of people in print.”
“It pays the bills,” Ford said with a shrug.
The sheriff didn’t even try to hide his contempt. “It still doesn’t answer my question.”
“My father just passed away. Before he did, I promised him I’d try to make amends with Liam for what I did.” Lying was becoming almost too easy.
The sheriff studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll keep this if you don’t mind,” he said, pocketing the mannequin hand.
As if Ford had a choice. “There’s more of the body downstream about a half mile.” He hesitated, then jumped in with both feet. “Do me a favor. Take a look at Rozalyn’s mother’s suicide.”
The sheriff frowned. “Why?”
Ford shook his head. “Just a feeling.”
“You have a lot of those, don’t you?” His gaze seemed to soften. “This is about Rozalyn, isn’t it?”
Ford looked toward the falls again but said nothing. He hated being so transparent. He wanted to give Rozalyn some peace of mind. Had Anna Sawyer gone up those stairs, climbed out on that widow’s walk and taken a dive all on her own? Worse, was it possible Rozalyn might have done the same thing last night—if he hadn’t stopped her? He wished the lab would call back. He found himself praying there were drugs in that chocolate. He didn’t want to even think about the alternative.
“I’m just curious about the case, all right?” he said at last, kicking himself mentally for getting involved with the woman. But involved he was. And in ways he didn’t even want to think about.
“What specifically am I looking for?” Mitch asked.
“Inconsistencies. You remember the case?”
Mitch nodded. “I was undersheriff then, getting ready to take over for our sheriff who was retiring. But all of that information is confidential.”
Ford nodded, knowing the sheriff would pull out the old file and, if there was something there, would use it to help Rozalyn. Mission accomplished.
Without another word, Ford turned and started toward his pickup wondering if the sheriff was really going to let him walk that easily. He had a piece of the mannequin’s face in his pocket that he’d saved to show Rozalyn and that he didn’t want the sheriff to know about.
“You’re not planning to leave town for a while, are you?” the sheriff called after him.
Ford wanted nothing more than to get in his pickup and drive away from all of this—especially the lies. But as he opened his truck door, he looked back at the sheriff and the falls. It was too easy to imagine someone hiding in that warped old pine at the top. He couldn’t leave now. He was in too deep.
“Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’ll be here.”
CHAPTER TEN
Mitch hadn’t thought about the Anna Sawyer case in years. Sheriff Tim “Hud” Hudson had done all the real investigating on the case but he’d talked to Mitch about it. Several things had been troubling about it.
Anna hadn’t left a note, which wasn’t all that rare in a suicide. What had bothered Hud was a visit by the interim local doctor just minutes before Anna had committed suicide. Liam had passed a car driving going too fast on the road out, and had been forced to drive into the shallow ditch to miss it.
Liam hadn’t been able to see the person driving because of the sun glare on the windshield but he’d recognized the car. It was Dr. Morrow’s car, Anna’s physician.
Hud’s first thought was that the doc had come out to give Anna bad news, but that theory hadn’t panned out. According to Anna’s medical records, she’d been fine.
Liam had tried unsuccessfully to reach Dr. Morrow later only to discover the man had left town. Left two weeks earlier than he’d planned. Hud didn’t have any luck reaching the doc, either. He was told by the doctor’s nurse that Dr. Morrow had decided to take a trip and couldn’t be reached. Then Hud had retired and Mitch had taken over and that part of the investigation had fallen through the cracks.
Another thing that had troubled Hud was the fact that Rozalyn had been in the house the day her mother committed suicide. The then-teenager had been in her room with her stereo on. But later she recalled hearing voices in the attic and something heavy hitting the floor.
When Hud reached the house though, he found no sign that anyone else had been there other than the doctor—nor any sign of a struggle.
Hud had wondered if there’d been something going on between Anna Sawyer and the doc since Dr. Morrow closed up his practice and left town so suddenly. A love affair gone wrong? Hud hadn’t bought that since he’d known Anna and believed her happy in her marriage. But without talking to the doctor to see what he’d been doing there that day…
> Now ten years had passed. Even if there was something in the old file, it wouldn’t bring Anna Sawyer back. Nor would it necessarily give Roz any peace.
But Mitch knew he was going to have to take a look anyway.
* * *
ROZ WAS ONLY momentarily disappointed when the person coming in through the door at Betty’s Café wasn’t Ford Lancaster. She’d hoped he’d finished his errands early and had come to pick her up.
Instead it was Charity’s aunt Florie who came in a gust of wind.
“Brace yourself,” Charity said.
Florie was dressed just as Roz remembered: a flowing colorful caftan, dyed bright red hair wound turban-style around her small head, and blue eyes glittering beneath a smear of turquoise eye shadow. It felt so good to see that some things never changed.
Roz slid from the booth to hug the elderly woman.
“I couldn’t believe it when I looked into my coffee grounds and saw that you were coming back to town,” Florie said, holding her at arm’s length studying her a moment before sliding into the booth across from Roz, next to her niece. “Are you all right? I was worried about you. I’m sorry your homecoming hasn’t been a happy one.”
“Thank you,” Roz said, sitting back down across from them.
Betty called to Florie across the room. “Just coffee,” Florie called back and turned to Charity. “I have some news for you.”
Charity looked skeptical. “Tell me this news didn’t come via the stars.”
Florie made a face at her. “One of these days you’re going to take my sight seriously. One of these days soon,” she said ominously, “you’ll be begging me for a reading.”
“Uh-huh,” Charity said. “What news?”
“Daisy Dennison,” Florie said as if announcing the topic.
Clearly, she had her niece’s full attention now. “The last time I saw Daisy she was in a hospital in Eugene recovering from a gunshot wound,” Charity said.
Florie nodded. “Well she’s home and cleaning house.” Roz could almost hear the drumroll. “Daisy threw Wade out.”
