Deadly Silence

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Deadly Silence Page 11

by Lindsay McKenna


  Focusing on the future, he looked forward to tonight’s gala at the museum. It would be all rich Republicans there. No paltry, middle-class Democrats, for sure. This gala was done yearly and had been a smashing success last year. He was pleased with how Clarissa was using her money, power and name to help him raise money for his next senate run in two years. She didn’t love him. No, theirs was a marriage of convenience: she wanted the power and prestige and he wanted her beauty, brains and drive.

  The sky was threatening either rain, sleet or snow. As he moved onto the highway, Carter relaxed. He was the scion of a family that included some of the most powerful financiers in Wyoming. He felt the power of that knowledge flowing through him. It was an aphrodisiac that Carter absorbed like an addict. Money was power. Greed was good. The whole country was reeling from a depression that was being touted as a recession. Chuckling, Carter indulged himself in some irony: his own family’s banking system had relied heavily on derivatives and in the end, would have failed. However, the feds had pumped it up with billions of dollars to rescue it. Now he was richer than ever, thanks to the taxpayers of America. Yes, life was good. Damn good.

  “CASEY,” CHARLEY SAID, coming into her cubicle at the USFS headquarters, “I want you to represent us tonight at Senator Peyton’s fete over at the museum. You interested?”

  Surprised, Casey said, “Of course. It would give me a chance to meet some more of the people who live here in Jackson Hole.”

  Charley nodded and said, “I know Matt Sinclaire has just been ordered by his chief to attend. You got any problems hooking up with him? The fire department always sends a representative to this fete, too.”

  Swallowing, Casey asked, “Do I go officially? In my uniform?”

  Chuckling, Charley said, “No. Those highbrows don’t like mingling with us poor folk. You are there officially to represent us. No need to make yourself obvious. If you get drawn into conversations about us, then you can contribute. You strike me as a diplomat and this is what this fete requires. Besides, it will make you aware of the big money floating around this town, the kingpins, the politicos, the Hollywood stars and anyone else who lusts after pure power.”

  Grinning, Casey said, “Sounds like fun.”

  “It can be,” he said. “Just don’t get drunk and make a fool of yourself. The fete starts at 8:00 p.m. I’d arrive about 8:30 p.m.—fashionably late. If you happen to eavesdrop and hear anything of interest, drop by my office first thing tomorrow morning and let me know.”

  “But you’re the supervisor, sir. Why wouldn’t you and your wife go?”

  Charley grinned and rubbed his chin. “Oh, let’s say I’ve made a bad name for myself by taking on some of the big shots around here. I’m not on their A-list anymore because I’m not diplomatic or political enough.” His grin widened into a full smile, showing his large teeth.

  Nodding, Casey said, “And they are expecting us?”

  “Yep. You and Matt are on their A-list. Just give your names to the doorman after you’ve hung up your coats in the coatroom.”

  “I got it. Be discreet, diplomatic, ears and eyes open and saying little.”

  He gave her a nod. “That’s it, in a nutshell.”

  “What do they wear at this fete?” Casey was beginning to panic. She knew already that Jackson Hole was considered the Palm Springs of the Rocky Mountain states. Indeed, Hollywood had a hefty presence here, as did most billionaire corporate heads, and millionaires were as common as robins on a spring lawn.

  Waving his hand, Charley said, “My wife, Judy, always wore a fancy pantsuit. Now, you’re gonna find some decked-out women there, but don’t worry about it. Clarissa Peyton is a real blue blood. She’s the senator’s new wife. Nice lady, actually, and her heart’s in the right place. She’s high end, and you’ll find most of ’em in cocktail attire with enough rocks around their neck to pay off the national debt.”

  Liking Charley’s laid-back country ways, Casey said, “Yes, sir, I think I can handle this assignment.”

  Charley got more serious and lowered his voice. “Now, as to this bullet. I just heard back from forensics and the shell casing does not match the other one from last year.” He refrained from telling her it was a sniper’s bullet.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sending out two of my rangers tomorrow to start combing the area to see if we can find any footprints or anything else.”

  Alarmed, Casey said, “Sir, I just can’t believe this person was shooting at me.”

  “I can’t, either. You’re new here.” Rubbing his chin, Charley said, “In the past we’ve had some really pissed-off ranchers who were used to taking down deer and elk as they pleased, no matter what time of year it was. When I got here twenty years ago, I made a lot of enemies. There were a couple of times when I or some of my rangers would be shot at. No one was killed, but it was meant as a warning for us to back off and leave them alone. We didn’t. Eventually, I ended up putting a couple of big-time ranchers around here in prison for five to ten years. That really put the lid on out-of-season deer-and elk-killing. There’s a lot of history around here, Ranger Cantrell, as you can tell.”

  “Yes, sir. I never realized…” She frowned. “But who would want to take a shot at me? I haven’t arrested anyone yet to get them riled up. This doesn’t make sense, sir.”

  “No,” Charley agreed, “it doesn’t.” His gray-and-white brows fell. “But we have to take this seriously. For all we know, we might have a mentally unbalanced person running around out there taking pot shots at tourists.” He grimaced. “I’m hoping we can find some evidence, maybe some other hikers who were out there at that time, and ask them some questions.”

  It seemed hopeless to Casey. “Do you want me to change my habits at all? Or is it safe for me to be outside?”

  “No, you go about your business. Right now, I want you close to HQ. I’m assigning you permanently to the visitor’s center until we can get a handle on what went down. I don’t want your life in jeopardy.”

  “But,” Casey protested, “I was promised some work with the river otters in the Snake River. I need to—”

  Holding up his hand, Charley Davidson said, “Whoa, Ranger Cantrell. You got a whole career ahead of you. I worry more for you than you do yourself. Those river otters will be there today, to morrow and the next season, so pull on the reins a little here.”

  Chastised, Casey nodded, swallowing her disappointment. “Yes, sir, you’re right, of course.”

  Brightening, Charley said, “What I would like you to do is divide your time between the center and the field station next to HQ here. Team up with Jackie Gifford, the head of our wildlife biology department. She needs some help over there.”

  Maybe her supervisor wasn’t completely insensitive to Casey’s need to be out in nature. “Thank you, sir. That’s wonderful.”

  “Yeah,” Charley chuckled, “you’ll get to go through otter scat and check its DNA through a microscope.” He sauntered out of her cubicle. “That would make my day.” He laughed as he disappeared down the hall.

  Casey turned and tapped her pencil against the report she was working on. A fete. She knew from her mother’s many big charity activities in San Francisco that a fete was more or less just a reason to get monied people together to donate to a good cause. Casey had been at many of them and knew how to conduct herself. Charley didn’t know that, but she felt he’d made a good choice.

  And then, her heart turned to Matt Sinclaire. He would be there. Suddenly, the night looked promising.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “KAM!” CASEY CALLED OUT. Her cousin Kamaria Trayhern was with her fiancé, Wes Sheridan. Casey was just waiting at the coat check when they walked in. She saw Kam’s face light up and she grinned.

  “Hey, cuz! I didn’t know you’d be here.” Kam rushed forward and embraced Casey. Turning, she introduced Wes to her.

  “Casey, good to meet you. I know you and Kam are thicker than thieves.” W
es grinned and shook her hand. He took off his black Stetson and handed it to the woman in the coatroom.

  Casey thought they looked wonderful together. Kam’s left hand bore the engagement ring that Wes had recently given her. “Nice to meet you finally, Wes. Kam is always going on about how wonderful you are.” She saw Kam flush as she handed the woman her long, black wool coat.

  “Oh, cuz, now don’t embarrass us!” Kam said, linking her arm through Casey’s. How did you manage to get an invite?”

  “My boss asked me to attend,” Casey told her. Wes caught up with them and they presented their invitations to the man at the entrance. “I didn’t have time to call you to find out if you would be here.”

  Kam released Casey’s arm and held hands with her fiancé. “Oh, I don’t think anyone is going to ignore the Elk Horn Ranch. It’s the largest spread in the valley.”

  The man at the door smiled and handed back their gold engraved invitations and gestured for them to enter the huge round room. The walls were sheathed in glowing gold and red cedar. The museum had hung western wildlife art on the walls. Casey hadn’t yet had time to come to the wildlife museum. Now, looking at the world-class art on the walls and the bronze statues placed here and there, she could see why this was a sportsman’s jewel in Jackson Hole.

  “What’s the protocol here?” Casey asked as they took glasses of champagne from a waiter.

  Sipping the champagne, Kam said, “My father said just to mingle. We’ve brought the ranch donation check to give to Clarissa, who is the fundraiser. My father likes supporting her charity work.” She turned to look up at Wes. “Wes, do you want to do the honors and give this to Clarissa?”

  He took the check. “Yep, be right back.”

  Casey waited until he was out of earshot and learned over toward to her cousin. She sighed. “Wes is a hunk, cousin.”

  “Oh, yes.” Kam sighed. “He’s an incredible person. Did you know that his mother signed over the Bar S Ranch to him? After his dad died of a heart attack recently, she didn’t want to run it by herself. Now he’s the owner.”

  “What do you do? Divide your time between here and Cody?” She knew Wes’s ranch was in Cody, Wyoming. There were at least a hundred other people in the rotunda and the chatting was constant, like a hive of bees connecting with one another. Most of the men were in business suits and the women looked like glittering jungle birds in their cocktail dresses. Charley had been right about the jewelry. As Casey scanned the well-coifed women, the gemstones glittered like flashes of fire and light. Casey had plenty of experiences with charity events like this because she helped her mother put them on all over San Francisco. Truly, this was a very rich and powerful crowd.

  Kam shrugged. She tugged at her black wool jacket and smoothed down her wool pants. “We do. My father has already put in his will that I’m to get the Elk Horn when he’s ready to sign off on it. Iris, my grandmother, is all for it.”

  “How can you run two huge ranches?”

  “We can’t. Wes is actively looking for a great manager that he can assign to the Bar S and he’ll remain here at the Elk Horn with me.”

  “And right now he’s splitting time between Jackson Hole and Cody?” Casey knew that was a long trip for anyone. They had to drive through Yellowstone in order to get to Cody, east of the national park.

  Rolling her eyes, Kam said, “Yes. Not the best of situations, is it?” And then she smiled and pushed her black hair off her brow. “But, this, too, shall pass.”

  “What I’d give to love someone like Wes. He’s so nice, Kam.” Casey gripped her cousin’s arm and squeezed it gently. “You deserve someone like him.”

  “Thanks, but so do you,” Kam whispered. “All you’ve gone through… I never prayed so hard as when you were in that coma. I’m glad all our prayers were answered. You look as if nothing had ever happened to you.”

  Frowning, Casey whispered back, “My scars and wounds are worn on the inside of me, not the outside.” She touched the scar on her left temple. “Most people don’t even see this.”

  Wes came back. “Hey, Clarissa wants to see us. Ready?”

  Casey followed the happy couple. She was glad to be with them because everyone looked up to see who they were. That’s the way fetes were in Casey’s experience. The richest always looked to check out who was present. Was it someone they should know? How rich were they? Make a connection with them or not? She could literally feel the energy of the powerful and rich in the room jockeying for unseen positions. Class consciousness was alive and well at this level, she thought.

  “Welcome,” Clarissa sang out. She stepped forward and offered a quick air kiss to Kam’s cheek. “And thank your dad for his generous donation, Kam.”

  Casey stood back and took in Clarissa. Her red hair was held up by a gold tiara with diamonds. She wore a bright red svelte Vera Wang cocktail dress with matching Jimmy Choo high heels. Casey noticed the simple but sparkling single strand of diamonds and rubies around her throat. She was beautiful and Casey liked the woman. Clarissa, she had discovered at Quilter’s Haven, had a cousin who was a famous quilt designer. And the senator’s wife was always over there buying the latest fabric that came in for her. That was a nice and thoughtful thing to do in Casey’s world.

  “This is my cousin, Casey Cantrell, Clarissa. She works for the Forest Service out at the national park. Casey, meet Clarissa Peyton.”

  Casey gently shook Clarissa’s red-fingernailed hand. There wasn’t one callus on her palm as there were on her own. “Nice to meet you, Clarissa.”

  Raising her finely arched brows, Clarissa tilted her head as she released Casey’s hand. “Hmm, you look familiar. By any chance are you related to Alyssa Trayhern-Cantrell of San Francisco?”

  Grinning, Casey said, “I’m one of her daughters.”

  Instantly, Clarissa’s demeanor changed from cool casual to enthusiastic. “Oh, my! Truly, you are her daughter? Why, Alyssa is famous for her charity work in San Francisco!” Reaching out, Clarissa gave Casey’s cheeks air kisses, too. Casey had now moved up to a higher echelon of importance here. She was sure others noted it, too. That’s how it went in high society: the powerful and important versus those who wanted to be in that heady sphere.

  Casey smiled and remained low-key. “Yes, I am her daughter. I remember my mother talking very highly of your work here in Jackson Hole. She said you were a major fundraiser for the poor.”

  “Oh.” Clarissa sighed, smiling warmly. “I’m nothing compared to your mother. She’s raised millions for the poor and needy around the world. I’ve got a long way to go to catch up with her.”

  That was all true. Casey loved her mother fiercely for all her hard work and her focus on those who had much less than they did. Casey had grown up working in soup kitchens on Thanksgiving and Christmas and helping to build homes for Habitat for Humanity during her summer breaks. Alyssa’s passion was always education for those who had less. She had built a global network of Fortune 500 corporations and could raise millions by simply going to them with her latest project—drilling wells for clean water or building schools to educate the children. Casey thought she saw a bit of jealousy in Clarissa’s large green eyes along with admiration for her mother.

  “Well,” Casey said soothingly, “my mother thinks you rock, Clarissa. She admires all you do out here in Wyoming.”

  Coloring, Clarissa touched her cheek and smiled. “Really? She has mentioned me? That’s incredible!” And then she turned to Kam and Wes and whispered, “Alyssa Cantrell is the fundraiser in the U.S.A.! We all aspire to do as much as she does.” Turning, Clarissa reached out and lightly touched Casey’s shoulder. “My dear, we must do lunch! And soon. I’ll have my secretary call you and we’ll set up an appointment…”

  “I’d like that,” Casey lied. She hated small talk, even though her mother had schooled her to be diplomatic when necessary. “I understand you have a cousin who is a quilt designer?”

  “Yes, yes, I do.” Clarissa preened a bit. “Are
you a quilter?”

  “I’m a seamstress of sorts. I’d like to learn quilting and I’ve visited Quilter’s Haven. I think I’ll take a beginning quilting class from Gwen Garner one of these days.”

  “Gwen’s just the best!” Clarissa gushed. And then she looked around. “Oh, I must welcome more of my guests. Do excuse me, please.” She gestured toward the food table at the rear of the rotunda. “Help yourself to snacks and more champagne!” And with that, she flew off like a beautiful red bird to more arriving guests.

  Casey smiled a little. Kam and Wes looked at one another, their expressions unreadable. Gripping Kam’s arm, Casey said, “Okay, cuz, I purposely didn’t eat dinner and I’m starved!”

  “Oh, there’s the senator,” Kam said, looking toward the door.

  Casey halted at the buffet table and picked up a white china plate. She glanced in the direction of the door. Never having met Senator Carter Peyton, she was curious about the man. Clarissa was fluttering like a crimson tropical bird and he was somber-looking, handsome in his black tux and starched white shirt and crisp black bow tie, his gaze perusing the crowd like a predator. “I see,” she murmured, turning away. She was hungry, and Casey had seen her share of senators and congressmen over the years at her mother’s extravaganzas in San Francisco. She saw that Kam was properly in awe of the striking senator, who strode into the room as though he owned it and everyone in it.

  “Wow, that’s one powerful dude,” Kam murmured, standing next to Casey and picking up a plate. “I’ve heard a lot about him but had never seen him in person until just now. Charisma to burn, eh? Kind of reminds me of Caesar entering Rome after conquering the known world.”

  Shrugging, Casey murmured, “Don’t go gaga on me, cousin. He’s just a senator. People give politicians way too much power, in my opinion.”

 

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