Dark Signal

by Shannon Baker

  Except Meredith had just said to put them in her own car.

  Emily’s right eyebrow twitched, and then she smiled. “Why don’t I make some coffee?” She backed out of the room.

  A distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair, beige twill pants, and what might be a cashmere sweater stepped out of a room to the right of the stairs. “Damn it, Meredith. My cell keeps going in and out.”

  Meredith closed her eyes briefly and inhaled, as if asking for patience. “Daddy, this is Kate Fox.”

  His eyes brushed me, and a polite, uninterested expression landed on his face. “Good of you to stop by.” He turned to Meredith. “Can I use your phone?”

  “It’s on the desk.” She directed the last word to his back. To me, she said, “Daddy is in the middle of settlement negotiations. He’s an attorney.”

  An older, and every bit as elegant, version of Emily rounded the corner from the kitchen. She hurried to me in her three-inch black boots and designer jeans. Her blue sweater looked so soft I wanted to stroke it. She held her hand out. “I’m Meredith’s mother, Mrs. Sterling. You’re the first to bring condolences, and I’m afraid we’re not organized, but Emily is brewing coffee so we can at least offer that.”

  I shook her hand. “Thank you. I won’t stay long.”

  Although she spoke welcomingly, Mrs. Sterling didn’t seem thrilled to have me. “Please excuse me.” To Meredith she said, “So far I’ve been able to arrange my caterer to deliver the platters to Aunt Francis, and she’ll bring them before the service.”

  Meredith’s jaw tightened for a split second, then she smiled. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Sterling clicked toward the kitchen. “I can only find the stemware. Do you have the old-fashioned glasses from Grandmother? Oh, and the pastor can only do a morning service.”

  Again, Meredith blinked. “That’s fine, Mother. Thank you.”

  Every family, every individual, deals with grief in their own way. But the whole atmosphere felt wonky. Meredith’s family must have been roused from their beds and hit the road before daylight. Meredith herself couldn’t have slept more than a couple of hours at best. Yet everyone acted like this was a normal day, scurrying around. Keeping busy dealing with death.

  Meredith hesitated a second as if casting around for polite options and not finding any good way to get rid of me. She indicated we go to the living room. Still a comfortable space, it felt chilly without the crackling fire.

  I sat in a leather chair, and she settled herself on a wooden pew next to the cold fireplace, perching on the edge to give me a clear signal she didn’t intend our visit to last long.

  One big inhale to get me started, and I said, “We suspect Chad’s death wasn’t an accident.”

  If the news blindsided her, I couldn’t tell. She didn’t even blink. “Why is that?”

  “Someone hung a railroad tie from the overpass, and it smashed through the windshield.” I was thankful she couldn’t see the image that ran through my mind. Chad’s body a lump of gore. She didn’t twitch or even seem to breathe. We sat in silence for several minutes, and whatever went on in her head stayed hidden from me.

  “Have you found out anything more?” she asked, a quick glance to the kitchen as if hoping we’d get our conversation over before Emily returned.

  “We’re really just gathering information right now.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice, leaving the decision to inform her family of Chad’s suspicious death up to her. “Right now we don’t know if the killer intended it for Chad or for any railroad crew that happened to be running that train.”

  No one knows how they’d react to shocking and tragic news. But I’d have expected a catch of breath, clutch of fingers, at least tears or confusion. Meredith did none of that.

  She jiggled her leg, hands stuffed into her lap. “No one has a grudge against Chad, and there just isn’t anyone. He was the sort of guy everyone liked.”

  That popped out as if she’d been thinking about it for a while, not as if she’d just learned our suspicions. I waited for her to continue, figuring her nerves would win out.

  They did. “I mean, you can ask his boss at BNSF. Clete Rasmussen will tell you. Chad always helped out, and the work he did for the union was well known.”

  She glanced at the kitchen again, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear us. “I think it was a random thing, you know. Like some kids causing mischief. They probably didn’t think it would amount to much.”

  That sounded pretty close to what Clete said. “What about Josh Stevens?”

  Her eyes opened wider still. “Josh? He’s a good friend. He and Chad were roommates at UNL.”

  “Are you and Josh friends?”

  She nodded. “Of course. He’s the only person I knew when we moved here.” She fidgeted. “I don’t want to disparage the Sandhills, but you’ve got to know it’s difficult to make friends when you haven’t lived here all your life.”

  She waved a hand at me. “I mean, you’ve been to college, seen a little bit of the world. But so many of these people are so, so…” She exhaled and shook her head. “It’s hard, you know? It might have been different if Chad had family around here or if he’d lived here his whole life.”

  We tended toward cliquishness, for sure. But plenty of people had come from other places and fit in just fine. Mom didn’t fit in because she didn’t want to. I suspect she wouldn’t fit in anywhere, and she didn’t care.

  It could be Meredith didn’t make friends because she thought she was too sophisticated for the likes of us.

  Or maybe we did hold her off some. With her rigid social standards, some Sandhillers might feel uncomfortable and judged, where she never intended any such thing.

  “So, you and Josh are good friends?” I asked again.

  Emily’s appearance with a tray holding three tea cups and saucers, a creamer and sugar bowl in white china made Meredith tense even more. “Really, Chad and Josh were friends. I was sort of the third wheel.”

  Emily’s eyebrow twitched again.

  My phone rang, I answered it. “Sheriff’s … Sheriff.”

  Betty Paxton gave me a gushing hello, the tinny sound of Jennifer Nettles complaining about lost love whining from her radio in the background. “Can you come to the courthouse today? Bill Hardy’s got a pickup he bought in Spearfish. Needs inspection before I can give him plates.”

  “Give me a half hour.” I signed off. “I’ve got to go.”

  Emily set the tray down. “Oh please, you must stay for one cup.”

  She didn’t leave me an option short of being rude, and Dad would know. He was like God that way. Even though she filled the cups with coffee, none had sloshed to the saucers. That might be an admirable feat in some circles. Emily handed me a saucer with the cup balanced. “Cream and sugar?”

  While I preferred the fixins, I didn’t want to try to manage more. The rattling cup on the saucer was enough of a challenge for me. I studied a painting over the fireplace. A herd of mustangs raced through a dusty arroyo. I squinted and looked at Meredith. “Is that an original Jack Sorenson?”

  Emily poured a splash of cream into another cup and deftly handed it to Meredith. She added cream and a smidgeon of sugar to her own cup, a tiny spoon stirring soundlessly.

  A drip of coffee sloshed over the rim of Meredith’s cup and dribbled onto the saucer. “Oh, no.” She laughed. “I couldn’t afford an original. It’s a giclée. A print, you know, with texture so it looks like an oil painting.”

  Yeah. I was raised by an artist. I knew what giclée was.

  Emily twitched an eyebrow at the painting. “Are you interested in Western art?” she asked me.

  I started to shrug, remembered the delicate balancing cup and sat still. “I’m no expert but, yeah, I like paintings of the West.”

  Meredith’s eyes darted to a large canvas between the kitchen and living room. It looked like a Frank McCarthy. That most definitely was a giclée, and even then, would cost in the tens of thousands.
>
  I knocked back a swig of coffee, grateful it wasn’t too hot and I could lower the level so I wouldn’t spill. How the hell could they afford that art on Chad’s railroad salary?

  Meredith set her cup on the coffee table. The polished wood surface was inlaid with streaks of turquoise. She must have read the question in my face. “We were lucky to grow up around nice things. Mother’s tastes run more toward seascapes and impressionists.”

  Emily giggled. “All those heavy gilt frames and the lights aimed just right.”

  A ghost smile acknowledged Emily’s disdain. “I thought this house needed something more appropriate. I feel blessed that Daddy is generous in our inheritance.”

  Emily’s eyebrows did a tango. I loved Emily and her lie-detecting twitch.

  9

  On my way back to town I called Sarah. “When I talked to Robert earlier he said you’re sick.”

  She sounded chipper. “I’m feeling better. But you’re in deep shit with Louise.”

  Not the first time and definitely not the last. “She’s outright forgiven me.”

  “That’s good because she was in a state last night. She made us eat in a hurry, banged spoons and Tupperware around while she divided up the leftovers. She punished you by not leaving any food for you.”

  I laughed. “I hadn’t noticed. The banner was nice.”

  “Oh that! She had the kids make that while we cleaned up the kitchen. She wanted you to feel guilty.”

  I did, but only a little.

  That out of the way, I plunged in. “What do you know about Meredith and Chad Mills?”

  One thing I love about Sarah is her willingness to cross pastures with me without all the gates being opened first. For instance, if I’d asked Louise, she’d want to know about Chad’s death, and I’d have to field a whole bunch of questions. Sarah considered a moment. “I invited Meredith for a Pampered Chef and a lingerie party. She never came, never called. That’s about it.”

  I searched the sky for any sign of sun. “She’s lived out here for five or six years, but I don’t see her around very often.”

  Sarah jumped the fence from my pasture to her own. “Gordon Haskett told me he’s looking to sell his town house. Thought you might be interested.”

  What was I just thinking about Sarah always staying with me? “Isn’t that in Danbury?”

  “Yeah. The one a couple of blocks off Main. His kids graduated, and he doesn’t need it anymore.”

  She couldn’t see me roll my eyes at her not-so-subtle hint for me to move. “Danbury is too far from the courthouse.”

  Apparently, Sarah wasn’t done. “It’s not as far as Frog Creek, and Ted managed that fine. It’s got a fenced backyard so you could get a dog. Michael and Lauren have a couple of pups they haven’t given away.”

  My brother’s wife, Lauren, took life in gulps. With two young daughters, she managed to always have several projects going at once, most of them dealing with livestock on their ranch. Currently, she kept a huge flock of chickens and sold eggs, not to mention goats she intended to use for cheese. She’d wanted to keep all the puppies to add to her menagerie. But ever-practical Michael quashed that plan. “I don’t need a dog.”

  “I met the new vet in Hodgekiss. Heath Scranton. He’s hot.”

  A house? A date? Come on. Et tu, Sarah? “If you’re going to play Louise, you need to be about forty more pounds and a lot more bossy.”

  She took off the gloves. “You’re living at your parents’ house. You keep finding things wrong with every place you look at. You won’t date, despite the opportunity.”

  I could count on one hand the times Sarah and I had fought. When the sibs came down on me, she always had my back. “Why are you riding me?”

  She let out a sigh. “Because you’re on cruise control. It was okay for a while. You needed to take a breath after the whole Ted and Roxy mess. But it’s been long enough.”

  I passed Dwayne and Kasey Weber’s place on the right. The barn stood outlined against the pale winter sky. A horse with a thick coat milled in the corral. The few leaves clinging to the oak shivered in the afternoon stillness.

  I knew about squabbling. It fluttered around me my whole life with one sibling or another at odds with something, someone, or each other. But not with Sarah. A terrible seismic shift shook me, and I got plain owly with her. “Since when do you get to decide how I ought to live my life?”

  Her voice carried a knife’s edge. “Be miserable, then. That’ll show Ted and Roxy.”

  “Sheriff’s phone is ringing,” I lied. “I gotta go.”

  Sarah’s tone didn’t match her words. “Happy belated birthday.”

  “Glad you’re feeling better.” That’s it. My mood swung low as I stopped off to change into a freshly washed uniform. I forced myself to strap on my gun.

  The freezing air chilled me before I climbed back into the still-warm Charger, again reminding myself to get that pine deodorizer.

  I pulled up at the courthouse and hustled up the back stairs. Steel guitar wound its way from Betty’s radio into the quiet hallway as I went in search of Bill Hardy.

  Clete was sitting in the commissioner’s room when I passed on the way to my office. I stopped in the doorway. “I’m on a hunt for Bill Hardy.”

  He jerked as if I’d jumped him in a dark alley. “Said to tell you he’d be back. Had to go to the bank.”

  I backed up to go to my office and ran smack into Ethel Bender, sending her tottering backward into the wide corridor. She clutched her coffee mug to her sagging breasts and frowned at me with her lipless mouth. “Honestly.”

  Why couldn’t I have bumped into a grizzly bear instead? “Excuse me.” I stopped short of saying ma’am.

  Ethel glanced over my shoulder into the commissioner’s room where the coffee pot scorched thick coffee. “Nice of you to show up to do some county business.”

  Betty bustled out of her office, probably because she heard me and Ethel talking and she didn’t want to miss out.

  The feud between Betty and Ethel stretched back so many years no one remembered what started it. They might not even know. With not much county business, days could stretch on with no one in the courthouse but these two and the sheriff. Ted said they spoke to each other only when absolutely necessary.

  Betty, with her spikey hair, patted my shoulder. “I thought I heard you out here. Glad you made it back to inspect Bill’s pickup so quickly.”

  And the battle lines were clearly drawn. I got the treasurer on my side. The county clerk / assessor would bear watching. The two women stood still while awkward silence billowed around us.

  Ethel sent me a stink eye. “I understand the state patrol is taking over the Chad Mills investigation.” She plainly wanted to point out that not only was I not in the courthouse to take care of the good citizens with instant auto inspections; I was shirking everything else.

  I opened my mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak.

  Still not looking at Ethel, Betty said, “Kate is busy getting used to being sheriff. This investigation is beyond her scope.”

  Was that supposed to be in my defense? She evidently thought keeping Newt and Earl from killing each other and inspecting vehicles for auto registrations topped out my list of skills for sheriff. At least I’d been certified to carry a gun. “Actually, the state patrol is assisting me.”

  Ethel stared at the coffee station behind me. “No one’s asked me, but the idea of Chad dying in an accident is plain stupid.”

  Betty raised her eyes to the ceiling and murmured under her breath. “Here we go.”

  Ethel ignored Betty but shifted her burning eyes to me. “People like to ignore anything that makes them uncomfortable.”

  Betty put an arm around my shoulders and drew me away from Ethel. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to explain how the county budget works.”

  I’d rather stay and ask Ethel what she meant, but she’d already knocked into me to get to the coffee, like a cow on the way to the trough
.

  I tried to tune out the screech of some woman country singer on the radio and act interested as Betty showed me the ins and outs of fund accounting.

  After assuring Betty I’d grasped the concept of budgets—as if I hadn’t been running a ranch for years on two bits and a smile—I played my friend card, inviting gossip, something I’d spent most of my life avoiding but might have to embrace as an investigator. “Ethel seems gnarled up over Chad Mills’s death.”

  Betty pshawed. “She likes to stir the pot.”

  I leaned forward like a conspirator. “What do you mean?”

  Betty lowered her head away from me and straightened papers on her desk. “I’m sure I don’t know what foolishness she’s got herself worked into.”

  But I think Betty knew full well, and it obviously upset her. I thanked Betty for the information on county finances. I sauntered out of her office, and keeping my footsteps silent, crossed the hall into Ethel’s office.

  A counter created a narrow space just inside the door with a small reception area beyond it. The bulk of the assessor’s office was a vault with a thick door like a bank safe. All the county records lived in ledgers and files in the vault. Ethel worked at a desk inside the inner sanctum, which might account for her troll-like personality. Ethel’s clerk, Brittany Ostrander, a sometime girlfriend of my brother Jeremy, typed at a computer at the receptionist desk.

  She brightened and started to stand when she saw me. I didn’t want Betty to know I was in Ethel’s office because I suspected she’d feel two-timed. After all, I was her friend, where Ethel was obviously loyal to Ted. I waved at Brittany as I slipped behind the counter.

  I figured I could bluff Brittany that as sheriff, I had special privileges to go behind the barriers. “I just need to talk to Ethel.” I kept my voice low to imply private county business.

  Brittany nodded understanding and pointed toward the vault. “Sure. She’s at her desk.”

  The rust-colored industrial carpet masked my boots as I passed through the eight-inch vault walls into the silent, cave-like room. It smelled of old banana peels and baloney, what Ethel probably had for lunch.