Dark Signal

by Shannon Baker

  I mimed a zipper on my lips.

  Emily leaned back and surveyed the house. “I love this little house, don’t you? I mean, at first, you think, ‘How could anyone live here full time?’ It’s more like a quaint cabin, really. But having everything just a few steps away is nice.”

  “How is Meredith holding up?” Stupid question, but I wanted to pry some sisterly gossip from Emily, so I eased into it.

  Emily glanced behind me and lowered her voice. “Honestly?”

  I nodded. That was easy.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “All the tears and drama are over the top. Even for Mere.”

  I’d seen more drama from Grandma Ardith when she napped than what Meredith showed today. “Losing a loved one is difficult.”

  Emily kept an eye out for eavesdroppers and continued in conspiratorial mode. “Oh, please. Until today she’s been bawling and carrying on. Now it’s all sighs and tragic looks, tears hanging in her eyes. Manufactured to get sympathy. Mere loves being the center of attention.”

  I felt like a schmuck for egging her on, but I wanted to hear more. “It can feel good to be the star. Even if you have to fib a little.”

  “Right?” Emily’s enthusiasm grew. “She’s always liked to lie, even when the truth works. It’s like her telling you the other day that Daddy gives her money to buy art.”

  “He doesn’t?”

  Emily laughed. “The last time Daddy spent money on either of us was our weddings. He gave our husbands the same speech, basically, ‘She’s yours now.’ And he meant it.”

  The paintings and bronze sculpture captured light from the southern windows. All of this on Chad’s salary? “She didn’t have an inheritance?”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Not yet. We’ll both inherit when Daddy and Mother pass, but we’ll probably be too old to enjoy it.”

  “She has some nice things.” I let that hang with a touch of bitterness to fuel Emily.

  “Meredith always had expensive tastes. That’s why she went into engineering in college.”

  Engineering? Interesting. “So she could earn a good living?”

  Emily tossed her head back and laughed. “You don’t know Mere very well at all.”

  My questioning look prompted her.

  “She went into mechanical engineering to find a husband. She’s not smart enough to pass those math classes. It’s the same reason I went into pre-law.”

  Emily laughed at what must be a horrified look on my face. “We were raised to be professional wives. In the old days, we’d have gone to finishing school. Now. Well, now we have to be more clever about it.”

  I might have been more tempted to pass judgment if I hadn’t married Ted. I maintained I didn’t marry him because I’d get to live and work Frog Creek. It was a real perk for me, though. “But Meredith ended up marrying a railroader. That’s not known to be real lucrative.”

  Emily emphasized her words with big eyes. “I know!”

  “Then she must have loved Chad.”

  “You aren’t listening. Mere is all about the drama.”

  “And the railroad is drama?”

  Emily shook her head and leaned in again. “No. It’s Daddy.”

  She’d galloped off to a whole other pasture, and I hadn’t even opened the gate. “I’m not following.”

  She sighed. “In college, Mere was in the engineering school at the University of Nebraska. Daddy was already at his limit with her because she’d flunked out of Creighton, where there are more of the people…,” she hesitated as if searching for the polite way to mention wealth, “who are like us. So she’s slumming at UNL until next semester when Daddy can pull some strings and get her into a better school. And she meets this other engineering student, Josh Stevens. They start dating and get all serious.”

  A jolt of electricity shot through me. “Josh Stevens from here?”

  Emily nodded. “I saw you talking to him. Almost didn’t recognize him. I mean, when Mere dated him, he was, like, alive and happy. Now he looks mad and sad and so skinny. But back then, he was the bomb.”

  “What happened with Meredith and Josh?”

  Emily considered her story. “Everything was good until they got engaged.”

  Wow. Josh and Meredith, both with an engineering education. Engaged.

  Emily continued, “Naturally, Daddy did a background check on him. Found out he came from here and that his parents weren’t anything. He forbade Meredith to date Josh.”

  I couldn’t imagine that kind of parental interference. Mom and Dad believed in letting us all tie our own nooses.

  “Oh my God. You can’t believe the tears and slammed doors and hysterics. No one does drama better than Meredith.”

  I’ll bet Roxy could be a contender.

  “Mere was all, ‘He’ll provide for me.’ Because of being an engineer and all of the opportunities. But Daddy didn’t listen. In fact, he ignored her. So that’s when she suddenly announced her engagement to Chad.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. If your father wouldn’t accept Josh, why would he feel any differently about Chad?”

  Emily’s gaze drifted toward the living room where Meredith endured Twyla’s embrace. “Sometimes she just gets crazy. I don’t know what it is. Personally, I think she’s got like a real mental disease. But she’ll do things to hurt herself just to hurt someone else.”

  “My grandmother would say she cuts off her nose to spite her face.”

  Emily nodded sagely. “Exactly.”

  “So she married Chad to spite your father?”

  Emily gave a sorrowful click to her tongue. “Yes. I think that’s exactly what she did. I mean, Josh was bad enough. But he’d have a good career. She might have to tone down her life a little, like not the biggest house and stuff, but he’d do okay. But Chad, he was in agronomy or something. I think he wanted to be an FFA teacher like his father. We all thought it was hopeless.”

  “She seems to be doing okay, though. New house, nice art, expensive car.” Not to mention a big refrigerator and all those other sexy appliances.

  Emily looked puzzled. “Yeah. She says they made some good investments and the cost of living out here is really low.”

  “Josh didn’t become an engineer, though.”

  Emily’s eyes sparkled at this twist. “Right after Chad and Meredith got married, Josh quit school and came back here. He loved her so much he just couldn’t go on there.”

  For the last eight or nine years Josh had been living only a few miles away from his college sweetheart, selling them land that had been in his family for generations.

  I probed, “People say Chad and Meredith were devoted to each other.”

  Emily twirled a strand of smooth blonde hair. “That’s just Mere’s way. She wants everyone to think she’s got the best of everything. She’d never let anyone know things weren’t amazing between her and Chad. But I know the truth because I’ve seen them together.” She leaned in closer to me. “They slept in separate rooms.”

  “Maybe they hit a rough patch, the seven-year itch. They could have been working it out.”

  Emily eyed me. “They’ve been itching for way longer than that.”

  Nobody knows what really goes on in someone else’s marriage. In my case, sometimes you don’t even know what’s going on in your own. “If Meredith didn’t love Chad and wasn’t happy about living in the Sandhills, why did she stay?”

  Emily acted as if that were the dumbest question ever. “Money.”

  The house was nice, sure. The art and car, but she’d get spousal support and would have a chance to find an even better financial ride if she got back to a city. “Chad couldn’t be making that much.”

  Emily laughed. “Oh, not Chad’s money. Daddy’s.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Emily gave an annoyed click with her tongue. “We all knew Meredith married Chad out of spite and assumed she’d divorce him after a year or so. After Chad, Josh would look good by Daddy’s standards, and he would give
her his blessing. But don’t ever try to outsmart Daddy.”

  She gathered up my coffee cup and placed it in the sink. She had a cagey smile, and I figured she wanted me to ask.

  “Why is that?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Right after the wedding, when we had a little tea at Mother’s to open the gifts, Daddy brought us girls into his office and sat us down. We thought maybe he was going to give us a portion of our inheritance. With Meredith’s marriage and me practically engaged, we both could have used a pile of cash.”

  “And did he?”

  She shook her head in irritation. “The opposite. He showed us the investments and the accounts he’d set up for us, still in his name, of course. Then he said that if either of us ever embarrassed him by divorcing, he’d change the plan and leave our portion to charity.”

  So if Meredith divorced Chad, she’d be cut off from all that gooey, sweet money. Her next-best option was to play house with Chad and enjoy an affair with Josh, her hunky, brooding neighbor.

  But maybe the pretense was too much for them. They killed Chad, and after a suitable time, they’d hook up and, with Daddy’s blessing, live in marital bliss, holding out for the cushy inheritance.

  I fought the evidence, circumstantial though it may be, that planted Josh six feet deep in the suspect field. But even with Dad’s endorsement, it was hard to ignore that he had motive and means. Not to mention that damned injured hand.

  23

  I stopped at the house and changed into my browns and hiking boots. It may not be as swank as the Sterling women’s ensembles, but it was a darn sight warmer than the skirt and jacket. I considered rubbing a little Icy Hot on my sore back and arms but didn’t want to smell terrible all afternoon. My feet cuddled into thick wool socks. For good measure, I even pulled the brown ski cap on top of my waves.

  I would have welcomed a nice long nap, snuggled deep into my quilts. That wasn’t going to happen.

  At the courthouse, Trey Ridnoir huddled over pages of notes spread on the conference table in the commissioner’s room. He leaned back in the heavy wood chair when I walked in.

  I unzipped my coat. “What did you find out at Newt and Earl’s?”

  He shook his head. “Good God. They weren’t home, or else they were buried under so much junk we’d never find them without search and rescue dogs.”

  I should have known. “Did you find any computers?”

  He shook his head. “Even if I had a search warrant, I didn’t know where to start. We can go out there together tomorrow.” He pushed his notes aside. “What did you come up with?”

  I wandered over to the table and glanced at the pages. My head and gut wrangled. I knew the right thing to do was tell Trey everything, but I didn’t want to. “Meredith’s family is upper crust from Omaha with everything you’d expect. And yes, I know that’s stereotyping. But they’d be repressed even in Stepford.”

  Trey laughed. “People keep saying Meredith is stuck up.”

  I paced, still trying to work blood back to my feet. “You can’t rely on what ‘they’ say. Folks around here are skeptical of anyone who drinks wine with a cork.”

  “Same as in Ogallala. You went to college, though; how does that sit with everyone?”

  I waved that off. “I’m a Fox. We go so far back around here, most folks will overlook any eccentricity.” I paused. “Although my mother still rattles them from time to time.”

  “What’s wrong with your mother?”

  “She’s an artist. Around here, it’s a condition to be tolerated or even pitied, sort of like cancer of the common sense.”

  Trey leaned forward. “Your mother is Marguerite Myers?”

  I pivoted toward him. “How do you know Marguerite Myers?”

  He colored like a cute little boy. “I was an art major my first year at UNL.”

  I didn’t mean to, but I laughed out loud. “How does an art major wind up a state trooper?”

  “It’s a boring story. Ending with me realizing I wasn’t anywhere near good enough to make a living with art.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “It’s not the most stable profession.”

  “But my sculpting instructor was a huge Marguerite Myers fan. I think he loved the fact that she lived in a tiny Nebraska town and thought it would inspire us that she’d gained such success.”

  Mom could inspire a lot of people. She inspired Louise to be the perfect nurturer, she inspired Diane to go into corporate life with a definite career path. She even inspired me to follow my heart, which might have sent me on a murky road.

  Trey placed his bulky hands on top of the papers and grinned. “Wow. Marguerite Myers is your mother. Go figure.”

  He stared at me like I’d stepped from a genie bottle, so I blurted out, “Josh Stevens was out there.”

  Trey sat up, all fan-boy aura gone. “And?”

  “He seemed pretty shaken up by Chad’s death.”

  Trey huffed. “I’ll bet. It’s upsetting to kill someone.”

  I lowered myself to a chair, hesitating. Was I misguided about Josh? If I was going to keep believing in him, I’d need to come up with something solid quickly. “He and Meredith were in engineering school.”

  “For the railroad?”

  I pulled my hat off and rubbed my hair, probably making a mess, but it felt good. “Not running trains, mechanical engineering at the university. They were engaged before Meredith and Chad were married.”

  Trey plopped back in his chair. “Holy crap. And you still don’t think Josh killed Chad?”

  I balled my hat up in my fist. “I don’t trust the source. It came from Meredith’s sister, and I get the vibe that Emily has a gripe against Meredith.”

  He sat forward in agitation. “Vibe? Like this stubborn streak about Josh Stevens being such a great guy. You just don’t believe he could hurt someone?”

  “All right. Yes. I think Josh is a good guy.”

  Little ridges ran in parallel lines across his forehead. “Here’s what we’ve got: Josh mad enough at Chad he threatens to put a railroad tie upside his head. Josh is a trained mechanical engineer, someone capable of rigging up the tie. Josh is in love with Chad’s wife.”

  I didn’t want to say it but I needed to. “Josh’s right hand is wrapped.”

  Trey pounded a fist on the table. “As in the hand you smashed on the train last night?”

  I nodded. “He said he had an accident working at Shorty Cally’s yesterday. I called Shorty.”

  Trey zeroed in on me. “And?”

  “Not in. I left a message to call me.”

  Trey jumped to his feet. “Why do you have any doubt Josh killed Chad and is stealing from the railroad?”

  I folded my arms. “It’s easy to get hurt working cattle, and if Josh is stealing from the railroad, what’s he doing with the money? He’s living pretty simply.”

  “He’s probably saving for his getaway with Meredith.”

  Was I fighting so hard for Josh because Trey fought so hard against him? The Fox stubborn streak was a well-known joke among Sandhillers. As the clues piled against Josh, I dug my heels deeper into the sand. Josh’s injured hand ought to be the final barb on that wire. I opened my mouth and kicked more sand. “We need to see Olin Riek.”

  Trey dropped his hand to the table. “Really?”

  I shook open the hat I’d been squeezing in my fist and started out. Trey grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. “This is a waste of time.”

  No sense in arguing with him. The icy air battered me for the ten seconds it took to throw myself into Trey’s car, and then it pressed against the bare skin on my neck and cheeks. In May, I’d happily traipse up the hill and around the block to Olin’s bungalow. But today, if I could cut a few seconds off my time away from a heater, I’d do whatever it took.

  I directed Trey to the green-sided manufactured home. Olin’s wife, Jan, collected yard art. Although “art” was a loose term for the plastic whirligigs, plywood statues of silhouetted cowboys leanin
g on imaginary fences, and brightly painted metal Huskers signs that adorned the frozen yard.

  I hurried up the front walk and rang the doorbell before Trey even slammed his car door. Heavy footsteps lumbered toward the door, which was thrown open. Jan, an older woman with fleshy arms and hips like a double-wide trailer, unlatched the screen with a grin. “Katie! Get yourself inside here before you turn into a glacier.”

  Trey and I crowded into her foyer, and she slammed the door closed. It felt like Honduras after a rain. The hot, humid air blanketed me, and the smell of thousands of meals and cakes pushed into my head.

  Jan’s voice was that of someone hard of hearing. “What in the world happened to your face?”

  It’s always nice to feel pretty. “Ran into a door.”

  Jan seemed to buy that and started on a full gallop. “Oh my, what a cold snap. You know, we’re usually down in Ajo this time of year. Sure wish we were there now. Come in, come in. Let me get you some coffee. I baked rolls yesterday but they’re all gone now. But I have some cookies. Just you settle yourselves in the living room, and I’ll be right back.”

  I finally jumped in with a voice louder than hers. “That’s so nice, Jan. This is Trooper Trey Ridnoir. We really need to talk to Olin. Is he in?”

  She dropped her arms and her face fell. “You don’t have time to visit? Most folks don’t know we are wintering here this year so nobody’s been by.”

  Dad would brain me for not giving Jan a few minutes of my day. Just another brick of guilt. “I’m sorry. We’re really busy.” I thought about what she said. “Why aren’t you in Ajo this winter?”

  Her face fell even further. She eyed a hallway leading toward the back of the house and lowered her voice. “Olin didn’t make his usual commission this year. We couldn’t afford it, you know. It’s been hard, because my arthritis is terrible in the cold.” She brightened and clapped her hands. “Nothing to be done. At least we have central heat.”

  I glanced at Trey, lifting an eyebrow to comment on Olin’s obvious motive and opportunity. He remained deadpan.

  “Is Olin around?” I asked again.

  Jan fluttered both her arms, and her flab, hemmed in by a baggy cardigan, waggled back and forth. “Of course.” She turned and hollered, “Olin! Olin!”