Montana Connection

by B. J Daniels

  She hugged herself, biting down on her lower lip. “Someone talked me up into the attic and out onto the widow’s walk?”

  “It certainly would appear so.”

  “Drew?”

  “I doubt Drew would have left the note if he’d been the one to drug the chocolates,” Ford said.

  Anyone in the house could have known about what time Rozalyn would be coming up the road. He sighed. “If Emily is behind this, she’s doing more than just trying to scare you away. And what bothers me is Liam’s accident. He obviously was attacked somewhere else and his assailant didn’t want anyone to know where.”

  “Why, if not because of Bigfoot bones?” she asked.

  All Liam had said was bones. But what other kind of bones were there?

  Human bones.

  Ford sped up the SUV.

  “I just don’t understand why the person who attacked my father would take him to the hospital,” she said.

  “To be able to tell the story about him being found under the cliff and take away any suspicion,” he said. And to make sure he died, Ford thought as he turned down the street toward the hospital, tires screeching.

  Roz had Liam’s backpack in her lap. She’d been going through it and looked worried and scared. “The digital camera isn’t in the pack. But the usual things he always takes on his day trips like his GPS and binoculars are.”

  “Maybe the camera was stolen from the backpack before we got there.”

  “But the thief would leave a GPS and a pair of expensive binoculars.” She shook her head. “I don’t think the digital camera was ever in here.” She turned to stare out the window, looking as scared as he felt.

  “Who told you that your father had gone up into the mountains?”

  “Emily, when I called the house.”

  “Your father has money. Who gets it if something happens to him?” Ford asked.

  She stared at him. “My father insisted Emily sign a prenuptial agreement with me getting the bulk of his estate.”

  He nodded. “And if anything happens to you?”

  “Since I’m not married and have no children it would go to…my father’s wife, I guess,” Rozalyn said.

  Ford nodded as he swung into the hospital parking lot.

  * * *

  WHEN SHERIFF Mitch Tanner returned to his office, the information he’d been awaiting was on his desk.

  All of Wade Dennison’s and Bud Farnsworth’s financial records from twenty-eight years ago. He sat down in his chair, surprised the express package wasn’t thicker. Then again, twenty-eight years ago, Wade was just starting out, Dennison Ducks had only begun to establish a name for itself in the decoy world and Wade and Daisy had only been married three years. Even though Daisy had spent Wade’s money as if there was no tomorrow back then, there wasn’t the wealth there was now—or the paperwork.

  Mitch’s cell phone rang. He almost didn’t answer it, anxious to see what he’d find in the finances of the two men. “Hello?”

  “Mitch, it’s Charity.”

  As if he didn’t know that. Just the sound of her voice warmed him in a way that could only get him into trouble. He couldn’t believe he’d suggested they move in together. Actually, he’d been just short of suggesting something much more permanent. Thank God, Roz had shown up when she did.

  “I need a huge favor. Would you run the name Lynette Hargrove for me,” she said. “I need it ASAP.”

  “Of course you do,” he said and thought about arguing that his computer wasn’t for the use of nosy reporters but that would have taken more time than just typing in the name. He moved the financial package aside. “Spell it for me.”

  Lynette Hargrove. He curbed his curiosity. Even if Charity told him the real reason she wanted the name run, which was doubtful, it would be a long, involved explanation because it was Charity. He’d just wait and see what came up on the computer screen.

  “It’s going to take a few minutes,” he said glancing toward the package. “Can I get back to you?”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  She hung up before he did. That was odd. Not like Charity at all. He sighed and reached for the package.

  As he tore it open and pulled out the papers, he put Charity’s call out of his mind.

  “You need anything else before I call it a day?” Sissy asked from the doorway.

  He didn’t look up, just shook his head and after a moment, the clerk closed the door. He knew she was dying to know what was in the package from the bank. So was he.

  It didn’t take long to find the first large cash withdrawal made from Wade and Daisy Dennison’s personal joint checking account. Ten thousand dollars.

  Mitch unlocked his desk drawer, pulled out the Angela Dennison file and flipped through it until he found her birth date. May eighth. The first withdrawal was made on August thirtieth the previous year. Like clockwork, there was a withdrawal on the thirtieth of each month. The final withdrawal was made on April thirtieth—just days before the kidnapping and unlike the others, it was for twenty thousand, for a total of one hundred thousand dollars.

  “Hot damn,” Mitch swore as he leaned back in his chair. “One hundred thousand dollars.” He thought about the shopping trips Daisy used to take. The expensive horses Wade bought her. All of that seemed to be accounted for. This hundred thousand wasn’t.

  He picked up Bud Farnsworth’s bank records telling himself Bud wouldn’t be stupid enough to put the money in the bank.

  Wrong. There it was, deposited each month just a couple of days after the money left the Dennison’s private account.

  “Oh man, Charity was right.” Wouldn’t she love to know that? She’d said all along that Bud Farnsworth never would have come up with the kidnapping idea by himself. Still, it was circumstantial evidence and Mitch was sure Wade would try to explain it away. But there was little doubt that Bud Farnsworth had been paid to kidnap Angela Dennison.

  The bad feeling hit him like a brick almost doubling him over. All this information had been there twenty-eight years ago. It would have been even easier for Mitch’s predecessor, his mentor, the man he’d spent his life trying to emulate. One of the first things Sheriff “Hud” Hudson would have done was check the bank records.

  Mitch swore, sick at even the thought that Hud could have been bought off. It wasn’t possible. So why hadn’t this come out all those years ago? Why not until now?

  Was it possible that Wade had accounted for the money? Is that why nothing had ever come of it?

  He glanced up at the computer screen, having forgotten his promise to Charity. The information on half a dozen Lynette Hargroves had come through.

  Frowning, he clicked on a link to a newspaper article about a Lynette Hargrove who’d been a nurse in Timber Falls ten years ago. That caught his attention. She was wanted for questioning in the disappearance of the doctor she’d been employed by at the time—Dr. James Morrow, a doctor who specialized in hypnosis.

  He clicked on another link. Lynette Hargrove had been killed, her body burned beyond recognition after her car left the highway and rolled near Portland. The article said she had been wanted for questioning in a missing person’s case. He looked for newspaper articles on Dr. Morrow. As far as Mitch could tell, Dr. Morrow had never been found.

  This had to be the Lynette Hargrove that Charity was interested in. He wondered what Charity’s interest was. It was better than thinking about Sheriff Hudson. Could Mitch have been that wrong about the man?

  Why was Lynette’s name coming up now after all these years? After Ford Lancaster had asked him to check Anna Sawyer’s case file? After Mitch had seen that Lynette Hargrove had been questioned by the former sheriff about Dr. Morrow’s visit to Anna Sawyer just before her suicide? Lynette had said she knew nothing about the visit, that she hadn’t even been in town.

  His phone rang. He flipped it on without looking to see who was calling, expecting it was Charity. “I hadn’t forgotten to call you.” A lie.

>   “Sheriff, it’s dispatch. I have an urgent call from Daisy Dennison.”

  He sat up, surprised as Daisy was connected and he heard fear in her voice.

  “Wade just phoned me. He sounded as if he’d been drinking. He said he was on his way up here. He…he threatened to kill me and I’m afraid—”

  “Lock your doors, I’m on my way,” Mitch said, as he dumped everything into the drawer, locked it and took off for the Dennison house.

  * * *

  FORD THREW OPEN his car door and ran toward the emergency room entrance, Rozalyn at his heels. Let me be wrong. Please, let this be one of those times I’m wrong.

  But he couldn’t shake the bad feeling that twisted his insides.

  Rain pounded the pavement. A breeze stirred the nearby trees emitting a low moan. Chilled, Ford pushed open the door, hoping to see that nice older nurse at her station.

  The nurse’s station was empty. No lights had been turned on yet, making the hallway dark. An eerie quiet moved ghostlike through the place.

  Ford broke into a run again. As he burst through the door to Liam’s hospital room, the first thing he saw was a water glass on its side on a dinner tray at Jesse’s feet—the food on the tray floated in a sea of pink as a blob of red gelatin slowly melted.

  Jesse was in his chair, slumped, chin to chest, his feet at an odd angle.

  Ford’s gaze shot past him to Liam lying on the bed. A startled Dr. Harris turned in surprise from where he stood over his patient, the pillow he’d just lifted off Liam’s face still in his hands.

  Ford didn’t break stride as he dove across the bed at Harris. He hit the doctor chest high, driving him into the wall. The pillow fell to the floor as Ford punched the doctor in the face with an uppercut that put the man’s lights out.

  As Dr. Harris slid down the wall to the floor, Ford swung around to check Liam, afraid he was too late.

  Liam’s eyes were open, unblinking.

  Ford swore and threw back his head, wanting to howl out his pain. He’d failed Rozalyn. Failed.

  At a sound behind him, he swung around expecting to find Rozalyn in the doorway. Nurse Kate Clark blinked in confusion, a box of donuts in her hands.

  “Call the sheriff, hurry,” Ford barked as he ripped off his belt and grabbed some tubing from the tray next to the bed and began to tie up the doctor.

  Kate dropped the donuts and picked up the phone in the room, fingers trembling as she beat out 9-1-1.

  Ford heard Jesse groan in the corner. Kate was on the phone with the dispatcher. The sheriff was on a call, Kate told Ford. The dispatcher would get word to him as soon as she could.

  Ford looked to the hospital room doorway. Still no Rozalyn. She must have seen Dr. Harris holding the pillow over her dad’s face, must have known they were too late and taken off in her grief.

  And yet, even as Ford thought it, a part of him knew she wouldn’t do that. He hurriedly finished tying up the doctor, anxious to find her and comfort her, upset with himself, afraid for her. Why the hell would Harris want Liam Sawyer dead? It didn’t make any sense. If he hadn’t seen the doctor holding the pillow over Liam’s face—

  And hadn’t been suspect of the doctor’s story that Liam had been dropped off at the hospital by some out-of-town Bigfoot hunters.

  “The doctor sent you to get donuts?” Ford asked the nurse as she hung up the phone and reached to take Liam’s pulse.

  She nodded distractedly. “He said he should have gotten something to eat when he brought the tray for Jesse, but that he craved jelly-filled donuts and could I—”

  “What the hell?” Jesse said as he looked over at the doctor on the floor, then tried to sit up and doubled over to be sick.

  “Kate, did you see Rozalyn when you came in?” Ford asked as he finished securing Dr. Harris. “Did you see which way she went?”

  Behind Ford, Jesse struggled to his feet and seemed to take in the situation quickly. “Son of a bitch. The bastard drugged me.”

  “Did you see Rozalyn, Kate?”

  The nurse shook her head. Her gaze transfixed on Liam.

  Ford reached across the bed to get her attention. Bony fingers closed over his wrist.

  “You look like John,” said a raspy voice from the bed.

  Ford blinked, then focused on Liam and the hand gripping his wrist.

  “Where is Roz?” Liam whispered.

  Ford shook his head in disbelief, then turned, hoping again to see her standing there. “Rozalyn!” No answer. “Rozalyn!”

  “I saw her on my way in,” Kate said.

  And Ford breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Find Roz. Not Emily,” Liam whispered and Kate gave him a little water, his lips dry and chapped. “Lynette.”

  Ford frowned down at the man. Who was Lynette? Liam wasn’t making any sense.

  The old man was frantic now, gripping Ford’s arm. “They’ll…kill her. The…bones.” He fell back, exhausted, his fingers falling away from Ford’s wrist.

  “I knew it!” cried a thin female voice from the doorway.

  Ford swung around to find an elderly woman in a bright-colored caftan, her red hair piled high on her head, turquoise eye shadow over shining blue eyes, standing in the doorway. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “Emily. You fool. She’s really Lynette Hargrove and she’s a killer!” the woman said rushing to Liam’s side.

  “Florie Jenkins,” Jesse said by way of introduction. “She’s harmless. Thinks she’s psychic.”

  “I’m clairvoyant,” Florie said, cradling Liam’s hand in both of her jeweled ones. “The woman was only after Liam’s money. Don’t just stand there,” she snapped at Ford. “Your destiny is with Rozalyn and I just saw her leaving.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. “When I saw her she was talking to her stepbrother Drew in the hallway—”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Charity found herself pacing. Mitch hadn’t called back about Lynette Hargrove. That wasn’t like him. Maybe there was nothing to find. Or maybe there was something. Something he didn’t want to see in print. That was more likely.

  She started to pick up the phone and call Mitch. Instead, she dialed one of the two numbers she’d gotten from the Portland directory. Neither line had answered earlier, not that she’d expected them to since Drew and Suzanne were both in Timber Falls.

  The number for Drew Lane rang and rang. She started to hang up, wondering why she didn’t just call Mitch when a young male voice said, “Hello?” He sounded breathless.

  “Andrew Lane?” Charity asked incredulously.

  “Yes?” Now he sounded suspicious.

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying to find the attorney’s son.”

  “My father is deceased.”

  “I’m not sure I have the right Andrew Lane. You have a sister Suzanne?”

  “Yes?” More suspicion in his voice.

  “Just tell me this. Has your mother Emily remarried?”

  “No,” he said. “What is this about?”

  “I do have the wrong number. Sorry.” Charity hung up with fingers shaking, as she quickly dialed Roz’s cell phone. Out of the area or turned off. Charity felt cold inside and scared. What were the chances that there was another hotshot attorney named Andrew Lane with a wife named Emily and two grown children named Andrew and Suzanne? None. Nada. Nil.

  Liam’s new wife hadn’t just passed herself off as Emily Lane, she’d brought along two offspring. Hers? Or had she just borrowed them from some actor’s school?

  And the big question: Why?

  For Liam Sawyer’s money just as Florie had suspected.

  Frantically, Charity started to dial Mitch’s number but then she saw his patrol car go racing by.

  Charity grabbed her purse and ran out to her car in hot pursuit.

  * * *

  THE LIGHTS of the patrol car cut through the darkness as Mitch raced up to the Dennison house. It was a huge house with white pillars, a Southern mansion in the wilds of Oregon. Wade had buil
t it for his young wife. Off to the back were stables from when Wade had bought Daisy expensive horses. Directly behind the house was a large indoor pool and recreation room larger than any hotel.

  The last time Mitch had been out here, the drapes had been drawn and he’d had to force Daisy Dennison to come to the door. She’d been a recluse for twenty-seven years. That was until a woman named Nina Monroe had come to town with a secret. Since then, Daisy seemed to have come back to life, kicking Wade out and, if local rumors were right, talking about filing for divorce, both of which had obviously set her husband off.

  And that’s what worried Mitch as he noticed this visit the drapes were open, all the lights on and the front door was standing ajar. The four-car carport off to the right was also open and empty except for Daisy’s SUV.

  On the way through town, Mitch had seen Desiree Dennison’s little red sports car parked in front of the Duck Inn bar. Today was the maid’s day off. She always went to Portland on her day off and was a creature of habit like none other Mitch had ever seen.

  That meant Daisy had been alone.

  Mitch swore as he parked beside Wade’s Ford Navigator, got out and started up the wide steps to the veranda.

  “Daisy? Wade? It’s Sheriff Tanner.” No answer.

  He stepped into the foyer, broken glass grating under his shoe sole. A pane of glass from the front door lay shattered on the floor.

  Mitch drew his weapon and moved deeper into the house. In the living room, he saw the remains of what appeared to have been a struggle. An overturned chair. A lamp base crushed on the floor next to it. More glass and—

  He froze, heart hammering. The wall was splattered with what at first appeared to be blood. A broken wineglass lay on the floor in a puddle of red the same color as the spots on the wall. Mitch took a temporarily relieved breath.

  “Daisy? Wade?” Still no answer. He continued through the lower floor of the house and had started up the wide staircase when he spotted the bright-colored scarf on the floor in front of a set of French doors that opened on the back of the house. Past it, he saw the lights were on in the pool house, shadows moving jerkily inside.