by B. J Daniels
Carter stared at his father in surprise. “Yeah. As I’m sure you read in my notes, a murdered man was found in the plane.”
Loren Jackson said nothing.
“Why don’t you tell me what you know about it,” Carter suggested.
“Me?”
“You going to also tell me you didn’t know a pilot from Glasgow who owned a Navion?” Carter pressed. “Couldn’t have been many Navions within an hour’s drive from Whitehorse.”
“What was the pilot’s name?”
“Herman ‘Buzz’ Westlake,” Carter said patiently, knowing his father probably knew far more than he did about this whole affair.
“Buzz, sure, I knew him,” Loren said.
“You ever fly his plane?”
Loren thought about that for a few moments as if deciding what answer might be best. “You know I think I did. Buzz took me up once. Let me take the controls. Nice plane.”
Carter could see he was getting nowhere. “Dad, if you know something—”
“Son,” Loren said, getting to his feet. “I just came home to see you and your brother. It had been too long. This plane being found…well, it’s just too bad. You’ll have everyone looking at their neighbors, suspecting each other. No good can come from this. Hell, boy, it was years ago. Who cares?”
“I do. Someone got away with murder. That someone might still be living around here.”
His father frowned. “Not very dangerous, since apparently he hasn’t killed anyone since.” Loren Jackson moved to the door and stopped, turning back to face his son. “You’ve seldom listened to any advice I’ve given you. This is the one time you really should. What’s past is past. Let this one slide. It’s best for everyone involved.”
Carter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “In case it’s slipped your mind, I’m the sheriff. I’m paid to uphold the law. I don’t let some murders slide. No matter how old they are. Or who’s involved.”
“That’s too bad, son. Because I’m afraid you’ll end up hurting the people you care about the most.” With that, he turned and left, leaving Carter fearing the same thing.
CHESTER BAILEY LOOKED UP as Eve walked into the café, his face instantly lighting up at the sight of her and making her feel all the more guilty for not making a point of seeing him sooner.
“Eve,” he said, getting to his feet to fold her in his arms. “It’s so good to see you.” He held her tight for a moment, then stepped back to look into her face and saw her tears. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “It’s just so great to see you.” For years her only visits had been quick ones, little more than overnight and she was gone again.
Eve had come home, against her mother’s protests, and moved into her Grandma’s little house since it was sitting empty.
“What would you want with that old house?” her mother had demanded.
“The house has a lot of possibilities.”
“Oh, Eve, you have no business back here. There are no possibilities for a woman your age,” her mother had said.
“What is it you’re so afraid of?” Eve had asked. “Why would my coming back threaten you so much, Mother?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lila had snapped. “I just don’t want this life for you. Your sisters are only home for the summer. I can’t imagine what would bring you back here.”
“Can’t you?” Eve had asked.
“You settling into your grandmother’s house all right?” her father asked now, as he motioned to the booth.
“Yes, thank you,” she said as she slid into the booth across from her father. He seemed smaller than she remembered, his shoulders a little more stooped, his hair much grayer and yet as he smiled across the table at her, he looked incredibly boylike.
“It’s what your grandmother would have wanted,” Chester said, then frowned as if wondering why she’d wanted the house, why she’d come back. “I’m glad you came home.”
“I thought Mother might need me,” she said, stumbling a little over the lie. “And you. How are you?”
“Just fine.” He picked up his menu. “The special is chicken-fried steak, but have anything you want. Susie makes a fine fried boneless trout.”
Susie? Just then a blond woman came out of the kitchen. She was small and slim, her face tanned and lined. Eve realized Susie had to be about her father’s age.
“This is my daughter, Eve,” Chester said.
Susie smiled at once. “Eve. I’ve heard so much about you. Your father is so proud of you. Maybe you could give me some tips on how to make this place look better,” she said with a laugh.
“Susie just bought the café,” Chester said. “I told her how you majored in interior design.”
Eve nodded, sensing how close her father and Susie had become. “The place looks great,” was all she managed to say. “I’ll take some iced tea and the special,” she said, without looking at the menu.
“I’ll take the same,” he said, smiling up at Susie as he handed her both menus.
The door tinkled behind them and Hugh Arneson from the lumberyard came in. “Eve,” he called, “glad to hear you made it out all right.”
Chester’s smile faded a little as he waved to Hugh and asked Eve what that was about.
“I spent the night in the Breaks,” she said. “A storm came in. It was just stupid on my part.”
Her father’s eyes widened. “When the hell did that happen?”
“Night before last. But I’m fine, really.”
“I can’t believe this is the first I’m hearing about this.” He sighed. “I’ve been putting in a lot of hours at work. I didn’t even get down to Whitehorse until today so I guess that explains it. But I would have thought your mother would have tried to reach me.”
“It wasn’t necessary,” Eve said, covering for her mother and wondering why. She lowered her voice. “Dad, what happened between you and Mom?”
He looked immediately uncomfortable. “Nothing happened. It’s just easier living up here with me working in Saco.”
Eve shook her head and looked out the café window. A half-dozen dirty pickups were parked along Main Street from the hardware store to the newspaper office.
“Honey,” her dad said, reaching over to cover her hand with his. “Your mother and I just need a little time alone.”
“Then you aren’t getting a divorce,” Eve asked in a whisper, her voice cracking with emotion. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she didn’t want them to divorce.
“No, of course we aren’t getting divorced,” Chester said, then looked even more uncomfortable as Susie appeared to place two tall glasses of iced tea on the table. Susie had heard what he’d said. Her cheeks flamed with color and she quickly excused herself.
Eve had trouble catching her breath. Clearly her father was seeing Susie and at least Susie had thought Chester and Lila were getting a divorce. Eve took a long drink of the iced tea, knowing she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of her dinner.
Some more locals entered the café, all coming over to tell Eve how glad they were that she was all right. She thanked them, seeing that her father was getting more upset by the moment.
“I still can’t understand why your mother didn’t call me,” he said.
Well, she’s been kind of busy with another man. That and running off to funerals in Great Falls.
Did her father know about Errol Wilson? Is that why he’d moved out?
It dawned on Eve that she hadn’t seen her mother take any clothing when she left the house earlier. Had her mother just come up with the funeral in Great Falls after she’d found the brown coat missing? Or had she gone to the Whitehorse Sewing Circle, then planned to pick up clothing for the funeral and leave? And was Errol Wilson going with her?
Their dinners came and they ate, making small talk about Old Town and Whitehorse. Eve managed to choke down some of her meal. The rest she moved around her plate until her father was through with his.
“I should get goin
g,” Eve said. “I want to stop by and see Grandma before I go home. Thank you for dinner.”
“Let’s do it again. Soon.”
She nodded and rose to leave. “Take care of yourself,” she said as he rose and gave her a hug.
He nodded, his attention following Susie as she went to a table of some local men.
“If you get down to the ranch, you should come see what I’m doing with the house,” she said.
He nodded distractedly. “I don’t get down that way much anymore.”
AFTER HIS FATHER LEFT, Carter sat in his office wondering if a child ever knew his parent. It was late, but he wasn’t ready to go home. He’d never thought of his old man as someone who harbored secrets. But now Carter felt he’d only touched the tip of the iceberg when it came to Loren Jackson.
The thought scared him more than he wanted to admit.
Had his father tried to warn him off this case because he was the pilot of that plane? Thirty-two years ago his father would have only been twenty-four. Loren Jackson could have been flying that plane.
But so could his father, Martin “Ace” Jackson, who’d flown in WWII. So who was his father trying to protect? Himself? Or Ace?
Carter swore. Did he really believe that his father or grandfather could be murderers?
He picked up the phone and called to see if either of the deputies had had any luck finding Glen Whitaker. Neither had. Carter just hoped that nothing had happened to the newspaper reporter.
At the sound of a footfall, he looked up to find Maximilian Roswell standing in his doorway holding a large plastic container.
“Evidence from the plane,” Max said, and stepped in, kicking the door closed behind him as he set the container on one of the chairs across from Carter’s desk.
Carter felt a moment of panic as he stood and watched Max slide open the container, revealing at least a dozen evidence bags. “You might want to sit down, Sheriff. What I have to show you could come as a shock.”
Chapter Eleven
Glen Whitaker came to in a barrow pit with the taste of coconut in his mouth. He was cold and confused, his legs weak, his head aching.
He managed to stumble to his feet. The landscape was flat and went on forever. He had no idea where he was.
But he could see his car in the opposite ditch, the front fender crumpled around a wood fence post.
He swore and tried to remember wrecking his car and couldn’t. He took a step, surprised by how feeble he felt. His hand went to his forehead and he touched the double goose egg where he must have smacked his head on something when he hit the fence post. His body ached all over as if he’d been beaten.
Is that why he couldn’t remember anything?
He stood, dizzy and dazed, and realized the last thing he remembered was waking up in his bed and wanting pancakes. When was that? This morning? Or yesterday morning? He stared at the horizon. If the sunset was any indication, he’d lost an entire day. Maybe more.
As he headed for his car, hoping it would at least get him to the nearest ranch house, he grimaced at the taste of coconut in his mouth and the smell of too-sweet perfume on his shirt.
What had happened to him?
THE NURSE STOPPED Eve as she entered the rest home. “It took us an hour to calm your grandmother down after you left. Whatever the problem was, let’s not have a repeat of it this evening.”
Eve promised she wouldn’t upset her. But as she started down the hallway to Nina Mae’s room, she wondered if she could keep that promise. Maybe just the sight of her would set her grandmother off again.
As she came around the corner of the hallway, she saw a man coming out of Nina Mae’s room. He had a photograph in his hand and was looking at it. He must have heard Eve’s approach, because he quickly turned, pocketing the photograph as he did and went out the side door, setting off the alarm.
Several of the nurses came running. Eve realized she hadn’t moved. She’d been too caught up in wondering why he was in her grandmother’s room—and trying to place him.
He was tall, nice looking with dark hair and eyes. She’d seen him before, but she couldn’t recall where.
And then it came to her.
Bridger Duvall. He was the man who was renting the McAllister Place in Old Town. The mystery man.
At her grandmother’s door, Eve stopped and looked in. Nina Mae’s photo album was open on her lap and, even from the doorway, Eve could see a white spot on the page where another one of the photos was missing.
Did Bridger Duvall know her grandmother? Would Nina Mae have given him a photograph?
Her grandmother closed her eyes, the photo album sliding off her lap and hitting the floor. Nina Mae didn’t stir.
Eve stepped in and picked up the album, studying the photos on the page where the latest one was missing. With a start she saw that the other three snapshots on the page were of her grandmother and her when she was a baby.
What would Bridger Duvall want with a photo of her and Nina Mae? As far as she knew he didn’t know anyone in the area. But then why had he rented a house here?
Nina Mae opened her eyes.
“Grandma Nina Mae,” Eve said, closing the album and kneeling down beside her grandmother’s chair. She felt horrible for upsetting her earlier. “How are you doing?”
“Who are you?” she demanded peevishly.
This was so hard. Eve put her head down, bone weary. What had made her think coming home would give her peace? She ached all over and wished she was anywhere but here right now.
“I’m Eve, your granddaughter. I know, I don’t look anything like you,” she said, before Nina Mae could.
“Of course you don’t look like me,” her grandmother snapped. “You’re adopted.”
Eve froze. “What did you say?”
Her grandmother didn’t answer.
Eve raised her head slowly. Nina Mae’s expression had softened. She reached out with a hand and gently touched Eve’s cheek, her fingers cool and smooth. Tears sprang to Eve’s eyes. “You remember me, don’t you?” she whispered.
Nina Mae smiled, then closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair again. “Of course I remember you.”
Her sisters had told her that Grandma Nina Mae sometimes had lucid moments. Was it possible this was one of them? “I was adopted. That’s why I don’t look like any of you, why I feel so restless and incomplete, isn’t it, Grandma.”
“How should I know?” her grandmother answered without opening her eyes.
“Because you’re my grandmother.”
“You have me mixed up with someone else. Don’t you think I’d know my own grandmother?”
She’d said grandmother. Not granddaughter.
Eve rested her head against the arm of Nina Mae’s chair, fighting tears. Her grandmother didn’t know what she was talking about.
“She called earlier, you know,” Nina Mae said.
“Who?” Eve asked.
“Grandmother. She asked when I was coming to see her. I told her I couldn’t come for a while. I’m needed here.”
Eve felt goose bumps dimple her skin. The nurses said elderly patients often discussed talking to deceased relatives about going home just before they died. Eve didn’t want to lose her grandmother. But then she’d already lost her, hadn’t she?
She patted Nina Mae’s hand until she fell back to sleep and began to snore softly. Rising, Eve looked down at her grandmother and felt a chill, although the room was uncomfortably hot. Eve had been convinced moments ago that her grandmother knew her, knew what she was saying.
Just like those few moments when Nina Mae had held the rhinestone pin her husband Charley Cross had given her so many years ago. Eve had seen the look on her face. She’d recognized the pin and had been remembering the good times connected with it. At least for a while.
Of course the pin would also come with bad memories, given that Charley had run off and left her.
She had so many questions, and now Grandma Nina Mae could no longer provid
e the answers. Eve had waited too long.
Wasn’t it possible that Nina Mae spoke the truth without even realizing it? As a young girl, Eve had been convinced she was adopted. But, according to her birth certificate, she was born on February 5, 1975, at home. The local doctor, Dr. Holloway, had driven down from Whitehorse in a blizzard to deliver her.
With a start she remembered the date she’d found in the logbook from the crashed airplane. February 7, 1975. Just two days later.
On the way home, Eve got behind a rancher moving his tractor down the road to another field. She’d forgotten what it was like having farm implements on the highways, as well as ranchers often moving livestock in the middle of the road. But she hadn’t forgotten this slower-paced life or that she’d missed it. She’d missed home, and that surprised her. Missed the people, the place.
She thought of Carter. His divorce from Deena had nothing to do with her coming home. Nothing. He’d go back to Deena. He always had. She shoved him out of her thoughts.
Too bad she couldn’t do the same with the airplane she’d discovered in the gulch. Or the rhinestone pin. Or the fact that she believed her grandmother had been in that plane.
She thought of Bridger Duvall. She’d have to tell Carter about seeing him at the rest home. She was positive he’d taken the photo from Nina Mae’s album.
But why would he want a photograph of Grandma and her? It creeped her out that if she was right, Bridger Duvall had a photo of her as a baby.
Her head hurt from trying to understand what was going on. She’d planned to ask her father some questions, but the café had gotten too crowded and her father had been so…different.
She had a flash of the way he’d smiled up at Susie. Her heart spasmed at the realization that her father might be happier where he was now than on the ranch with her mother.
Had he found out about Lila and Errol? Is that why he’d left? Eve hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him if he didn’t know. Maybe, more to the point, she knew her father wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing it with her. He was a private man who kept things to himself.
