Dead Ringer & Classified Christmas

by B. J Daniels

  But that really wasn’t the point. She wasn’t doing this story for her career. This one was personal and she’d see it through till the end—no matter how difficult this was for Cade.

  Clearly he hadn’t moved on with his life since his wife had died. Once this was over, maybe he finally could.

  When Andi looked at it that way, she was doing him a favor.

  Nice spin, her irritating conscience noted sarcastically.

  “I haven’t gotten where I am today by backing down from a story,” she snapped, her words lost in a gust of wind and snow.

  Yeah, just look where you are.

  She told herself that she refused to feel guilty for doing her job and walked a little faster, the earlier chill no longer refreshing.

  By the time she reached the newspaper office her teeth were chattering. The air shimmered with snowflakes that whirled around her as if she was inside a snow globe.

  She opened the door and hurriedly ducked inside. Immediately she saw that she had the office to herself. Without sitting down at her desk, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Bradley’s number.

  “I’ve been on pins and needles waiting to hear from you,” he said without preamble. “Did he hear the tape? What was his reaction?”

  “He was devastated,” she said, surprised how close she was to tears. “Until he heard her voice, I don’t think he believed she was Starr Calhoun.”

  “So he really didn’t know?”

  “No. I just feel so badly for him.”

  “Let me guess. He’s ruggedly handsome.”

  She shook her head, smiling a little. “He’s good-looking, if that’s what you’re asking, but that has nothing to do with—”

  “You feeling sorry for him. Right?”

  “He loved her. From what I can gather, he hasn’t even dated since she died. Everyone in town who I’ve mentioned his name to has told me he became a recluse after he lost her.”

  “So you have a great story,” Bradley said.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Excuse me, that isn’t you getting emotionally involved, is it? Miss Hard-Core News Reporter.”

  “He’s a victim of the Calhouns. I can relate.”

  “Yes, I guess you can. I guess when the story breaks it will be a form of justice for you both then.”

  She smiled ruefully. She’d always suspected he knew her connection to the Calhouns. His comment confirmed it. “You always know what to say.” She spotted Shirley heading back to the office. “I have to go. I’ll call you.” She snapped off her phone and walked to her desk.

  It wasn’t until she was taking off her coat that she saw the envelope on her desk. Manila, with her name and address neatly typed on the front. Nothing else. Just like the last one.

  Chapter Five

  WITH CHARLOTTE STILL refusing to divulge the name of the baby’s father and Bo, it turned out, knowing little or nothing about his sister’s “friends,” Arlene was forced to do her own investigating.

  Four months ago her daughter had worked at the Whitehorse nursing home. Arlene realized that she’d been remiss in not visiting one of Old Town Whitehorse’s leading citizens. The Cavanaughs were as close to royalty as it came in Old Town, and Pearl Cavanaugh was the queen. A few months ago she’d had a stroke and had gone into the home for a while.

  Pearl’s husband, Titus, still ran Old Town and Whitehorse and half the county if the truth was known. He did everything from preach at the community church to organize every Old Town event. Arlene had heard that he spent hours at his wife’s bedside.

  Not prone to jealousy, Arlene still couldn’t curb her irritation. How had Pearl gotten a man like that when Arlene had gotten Floyd? Life wasn’t fair, that was for sure, she thought as she pushed open the door to the nursing home carrying the Christmas cactus she’d bought for Pearl.

  Arlene asked directions to Pearl’s room. She passed Bertie Cavanaugh who scowled at her as she slunk down the hall. The woman always looked guilty.

  As she passed Nina Mae Cross’s room, Arlene stopped to say hello to McKenna and Faith Bailey who were visiting their grandmother—not that Nina Mae had a clue who they were. Alzheimer’s, Arlene had heard.

  “I sent you an email,” Arlene told McKenna. “I’m still looking for the perfect man for you.”

  The cactus was getting heavy so she hurried on down to Pearl’s, anxious now to get this over with.

  She’d checked out the staff on her way and was disappointed to find that most of the people who worked here were female. The new doctor in town was practically a baby himself—and single. And the one male orderly was anything but her daughter’s type.

  To Arlene’s surprise, Pearl was sitting in a wheelchair by the window. When had she gotten well enough for a wheelchair? She turned as Arlene entered the room.

  “Pearl,” Arlene said loudly. “How are you?”

  “Her hearing is fine,” said a male voice behind her.

  Arlene turned to find Bridger Duvall standing in the doorway. He moved to Pearl’s side. “She can understand you but she’s having a little trouble talking, aren’t you, Pearl?” He took the elderly woman’s hand in both of his and gently stroked the pale skin.

  Pearl smiled, a lopsided smile but nonetheless a smile, shocking Arlene.

  “I didn’t realize you knew Pearl,” she said. After all, Bridger Duvall was a mystery. No one really knew who he was or why he’d come here. He’d opened a restaurant in town with Laci Cavanaugh, Pearl’s granddaughter.

  That, Arlene realized, must explain this odd friendship.

  “I brought you a cactus,” Arlene said to Pearl, enunciating each word carefully.

  “How thoughtful,” Bridger said, taking it from Arlene to place the plant over by the window.

  “She’s certainly doing well.” The last Arlene had heard Pearl was paralyzed and unresponsive. Now she looked alert. But then Pearl Cavanaugh had always been a sharp old broad.

  “I just stopped by to say hello,” Bridger said, returning to Pearl’s side. “Laci and I are cooking for parties all month. Not that we’re complaining. Business has been good.”

  Pearl smiled up at him and said something Arlene couldn’t understand.

  “I’ll give Laci your love. She’s busy baking Christmas cookies. She’ll be bringing some down to the staff. You know how she is.”

  What could have been a chuckle arose from Pearl.

  As Bridger started to leave, Arlene said, “I’ll walk out with you.” She waved over her shoulder at Pearl. “Glad to see you’re doing so well.”

  Once out in the hall, Arlene said to him, “You spend a lot of time here? You might know my daughter, Charlotte.”

  He nodded.

  “I was wondering if you’ve seen her with anyone, you know, a man, romantically, you understand?”

  From the look on his face, he understood perfectly. “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t know anything about that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  As Arlene watched him hurry away, she looked back at Pearl. The old gal had a sympathetic look on her face. There was nothing Arlene Evans hated worse than pity, she thought, as she hurried down the hall and out into the cold December day.

  * * *

  ANDI STARED AT the envelope on her desk for a long moment. Then she put her coat on the back of her chair and, rubbing her freezing hands together, sat down. Like her coat and boots, her gloves were a thin leather that had been perfect for winters in Fort Worth.

  Gingerly she picked up the envelope, turning it in her fingers. No return address, of course. No clue as to who might have sent it.

  Shirley, the newspaper receptionist/bookkeeper, had stopped outside to talk to a passerby.

  The newspaper had little staff, just Shirley and several columnists who stopped by
on occasion. The only time the office was busy was when the publisher and his oldest daughter put the paper together the night before it came out.

  Shirley was a grandmother who only worked part-time. Most of that time she was next door at the coffee shop. Apparently everyone in town knew where to find her if they needed anything.

  With a sigh, Andi took out her letter opener and sliced the envelope open. Inside was another newspaper clipping. Andi unfolded it, flattening it, then turned the clipping over, frowning.

  On one side was an article about Kid Curry’s last holdup in the Whitehorse area. On the other side was an ad for tractors. What could this possibly have to do with Starr Calhoun or Grace Browning?

  Shirley entered with a latte and fry bread from the shop next door. “Oh, if I’d known you were here I would have brought you something.” She was tiny with white hair and small brown eyes.

  “Thank you, but I’m fine,” Andi said.

  Shirley saw the article lying on the desk and smiled. “You like our colorful history?” she asked. “Kid Curry and his brothers hung out up here for a while. Had a place to the south.”

  “Really?” Andi couldn’t imagine what that had to do with Starr Calhoun and the missing bank robbery money.

  Shirley quickly warmed to her subject. “This area was home to many an outlaw. It was the last lawless part of the state. You might be surprised how wild this town used to be. Why, one of the outlaws’ six-guns is on display at the museum. Can’t think of his name right now and my fry bread is getting cold, but you should check it out.”

  “I’ll do that,” Andi promised.

  As Shirley hurried to her desk in the back, Andi dug out the first envelope she’d received. She compared the type on both. Identical. Sent no doubt by the same person. Both postmarked Whitehorse.

  But what was the connection to Kid Curry? Other than they were all outlaws?

  A thought struck her and she wondered why she hadn’t considered it before. Was it possible Houston was still in Whitehorse? He could have done what Starr did, found someone, gotten married under an alias and was still living here.

  Although if Houston was behind this, she had to wonder why he’d waited six years. Lubbock had been in prison until just recently so the timing made more sense.

  She told herself that she didn’t care who was pulling her strings. All she cared about was the story. But even as she thought it, she knew that eventually she’d find out who was behind the information being fed to her. And what that person wanted from her.

  Folding up the newspaper clipping she shoved it back into the envelope and put it with the other one in her drawer.

  “Shirley?” Andi called as she reached for her coat. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be at the museum learning about Whitehorse’s infamous past.”

  * * *

  CADE COULDN’T MOVE, couldn’t breathe. He dropped into a chair at the table and covered his face with his hands, telling himself this wasn’t happening. Not after six years of grieving. Not after he was finally coming to grips with losing Grace.

  Too stunned to hear or feel anything, the hammering at the front door of the shop didn’t register for a while. Not that he would have opened the door even if he had heard it before the knocking abruptly stopped.

  He stared at the tape player but didn’t touch the play button. Not after hearing it three more times. Each time he thought the voice wouldn’t be Grace’s. Each time, he prayed it wouldn’t.

  Each time it was.

  He heard the crunch of snow outside, then the rattle of the knob as someone tried the back door only to find it locked, something nearly unheard of in Whitehorse.

  “Cade?”

  At the concern he heard in his brother’s voice, Cade rose and went to unlock the door.

  One glance at Carter’s expression and he knew he must look like hell.

  “What’s wrong? It isn’t Dad, is it?”

  Cade shook his head. “Everyone’s fine.”

  His brother came in, closing the door behind him. “Everyone’s not fine. You were acting weird at breakfast. And now you look like your best friend died. What’s going on?” He glanced toward the large black tape player on the table, the worry in his expression deepening.

  “I need a favor,” Cade said, knowing his brother. Carter would keep after him until he gave him at least a plausible explanation.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  He shook his head. “A couple of favors actually. There’s a new reporter in town from Texas. Her name’s Miranda Blake. She goes by M. W. Blake.”

  “This is about a woman?” Carter asked incredulously. He laughed, looking relieved.

  “I hate to ask but could you see what you can find out about her?”

  Carter was smiling. “You had me scared. You looked so horrible, I thought...” He quit smiling and shook his head. “I thought for sure someone had died.”

  “There is something else,” Cade said. “It’s about Grace.”

  His brother instantly looked worried. “Grace?” He seemed to be holding his breath.

  Carter had once asked him what it was about Grace that Cade couldn’t forget. “Everything,” he’d said. “Everything.”

  “I want to close that chapter on my life,” Cade said now, meaning it more than he thought possible.

  His brother’s relief was palpable. After the first couple of years when Cade couldn’t seem to get over Grace’s death, Carter had become concerned.

  “I’m worried about you,” he’d said. “I’m afraid you’re never going to get over this.”

  Cade had smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I am.”

  “In order to move on,” Cade said now. “I need to find out if Grace’s parents are still alive.”

  “I thought she said they were dead?” Carter asked in obvious surprise.

  “That’s what she told me, but I learned something recently that makes me wonder,” he said. “Could you see what you can find out? I don’t want to contact them, I just want to find out if what Grace told me was true.”

  “Grace have a middle name?” Carter asked, pulling out his notebook and pen. Cade had known his brother would do anything to get him to move on with his life.

  “Eden,” Cade said.

  His brother looked up. “Eden? Like in Adam and Eve?”

  Cade shrugged. “I guess so. Her birthday was July 4, 1974.”

  “Birthplace?”

  “Los Angeles, California.”

  Carter looked up and frowned. “No kidding? I always thought she was born in the South. I wonder where she picked up the accent?”

  “Accent?”

  “You never noticed her accent?” Carter laughed. “It only came out when she was upset. Like that time you got thrown from the horse. When we were at the hospital waiting for the doctor to tell us how bad it was, I could really hear her Southern accent.” He frowned. “Wait a minute. This new reporter...” He glanced at his notes. “She’s from Texas?” He swore. “She’s got a Southern accent, too?” He looked at Cade with suspicion.

  “She’s nothing like Grace,” Cade said quickly. “And anyway, Grace didn’t have a Southern accent.”

  Carter raised a brow. “You never noticed it?”

  “No.” He realized that wasn’t quite true. A few times he had picked up an accent, but she’d said her father was in the military and they’d spent some time in Alabama when she was young. He’d noticed after that how she seemed to do everything she could to hide it.

  Carter put away his notebook and pen and placed a hand on Cade’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bro. I’ll find out what I can. You didn’t say what you heard that made you think Grace’s parents were still alive.”

  Cade shook his head, hating that he was lying to his brother. But he wasn’t rea
dy to talk about this. Maybe he was still holding on to the hope that there had been a Grace Browning. Another woman besides Starr Calhoun who looked and sounded just like his wife.

  “I saw a couple on CNN,” Cade said. “Their name was Browning. They lived in Los Angeles and were about the right ages. I swear they looked enough like Grace that they could have been her parents. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence. I know it’s crazy.”

  He saw that his brother agreed. “Heck, why not check it out? I’ll let you know what I find,” Carter said as he headed for the door. He stopped and glanced back at Cade. “Does it matter if her parents are still alive or not? I mean, are you sure you want to dig up the past?”

  “To me Grace was perfect, you know? But the truth is I sensed that she wasn’t telling me something about her past. I guess if I found out that she’d lied about her parents being dead it would make it easier to let go for good,” Cade said, knowing his brother would buy this explanation.

  Carter nodded. “Speaking of favors... I have one to ask of you.”

  Cade braced himself. He hoped this wasn’t about Christmas. He wouldn’t be having any happy holidays this year.

  “The families are getting together Christmas Eve at Northern Lights restaurant,” Carter said. The families being the Jacksons and the Baileys.

  “Yeah, about that...” Cade said quickly. “I’m probably not going to make that.”

  Carter looked upset. “Not good enough. Not this year. You have to come.”

  “Maybe I could drop by—”

  “Cade, you’ve missed Christmas now for six years. You can’t this year. It’s important. The truth is I need you there.”

  Cade stared at his brother. “You’re going to ask Eve to marry you.”

  Carter gave an embarrassed laugh. “Am I that transparent? Yeah, I am and I need as much of the family there as I can get. Less chance she’ll say no.”

  “She won’t say no. She loves you.”

  “I mean it, Cade, I need you there. You can bring the reporter if that’s what you want.”

  Cade swore silently. “Naw, that’s all right. I’ll be there.”