by Pat Warren
She picked up the tray, thinking she’d been gone so long that the man must be wondering if she’d run out the back door. An idea, she silently admitted, glancing one last time at her robe, that actually held a lot of appeal about now.
“Here we are,” she commented inanely, setting the tray down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Carefully, she poured his tea, refilled her own cup, then turned to poke at the fire.
Jack doubted that Rachel realized that her obviously old and well-washed robe tied so tightly around her slender frame revealed more of her womanly curves than almost anything she could have worn. He crossed his long legs, enjoying the view and wondering when she’d light somewhere. The woman wasn’t merely nervous, she was a bundle of nerves. All right, so he should have called, but after he’d checked in to the Whitehorn Motel, he’d decided he’d drive his rental car around a bit, maybe see where the Montgomerys lived. Once out front of the brick two-story with its gabled roof, he’d seen someone in the living room, her back to the picture window, and on impulse had walked up to the front door and rung the bell.
That was when she’d literally fallen at his feet, he thought, hiding another grin as she turned, rejected the couch and sat in a wing chair to the left of the coffee table.
He sent her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Gina told me a little about the case, but I’d like to hear your version, if you’re up to talking about your sister.”
“I guess so. What would you like to know?”
Jack leaned forward, picked up his cup and tasted the tea. Hot and strong, not so bad. A shot of whiskey would have been an improvement on such a cold night. “Well, for starters, what kind of person was Christina? Who were her friends? What were her habits? Things like that. If you decide you want me to work on the case, I’ll check with the sheriff’s department tomorrow and get specific details of how she died. I’m told they’re handling the investigation.”
“Yes, they are. Frankly, although they’re decent men I’ve known for years, I don’t have much faith in Sheriff Rawlings and his little band of deputies. Christina was missing for three months and they didn’t come up with one clue. They found her strictly by accident. There aren’t a lot of homicides around here, which is why I don’t feel they’re very experienced.”
Jack sat back and stretched an arm along the top of the couch. “Is it the murderer you want me to find, or your sister’s baby?”
Rachel sipped her tea, watching him over the rim of her cup, studying his expression, trying to gauge the type of man he was. She had no interest in working with someone who thought her request frivolous, one who felt she should leave such things to the professionals, as her father did.
“The baby is of primary interest to me. I don’t know how much Gina told you, but neither my father nor my brother has much interest in the child, so it’ll be strictly me you’d be working for. Do you have a problem with that?”
His brows shot up. “You mean, because you’re a woman? No problem here.” Jack smiled to reinforce his remarks.
He had a killer smile, his teeth very white in his tanned face, Rachel thought. And she’d bet he knew it.
“How about you?” he asked. “Think you’d have a problem working with me?” His tone seemed to imply that might be the case.
Rachel squared her shoulders. “None whatsoever.” In her career, she’d worked with all sorts of men and women; she certainly could handle a private investigator, even if he was tall, good-looking and a little off-putting.
She set her cup on the coffee table and got down to business. Since he was here, they might as well get started. In short order, she gave Jack a little background about Christina as a sweet child, then becoming somewhat wild as a teenager, having lots of boyfriends, being irresponsible. “She liked to have fun, you know. But all that aside, she was a nice girl with a good heart who was looking for love and friendship and got in with a rough crowd.”
Jack nodded thoughtfully. It had been his experience that relatives couldn’t always give the best analysis of a troubled person, especially a sister who’d been gone for nine years. “Living in Chicago as you have been, you probably don’t know many of her friends, then, right?”
“No, but I’ll find out and make up a list. Whitehorn’s a small town, one where nearly everyone knows everyone else. While it’s true I’ve been gone, most of the same people live here as when I left, with a few new arrivals, of course.” She picked up her cup and drank more tea, glancing at him again. “Do you need to take notes or anything?” She wasn’t sure how P.I.s worked, but surely he didn’t rely on his memory?
“Not just yet. Do you know offhand if your sister had any enemies?”
Rachel winced at the thought. Obviously someone had struck that fatal blow to Christina’s head, or so the sheriff’s department insisted. It was just hard for her to imagine anyone disliking Christina enough to want her dead. “Actually, I don’t. She was an even-tempered person, not really argumentative.”
“A party girl? One who drank, maybe too much occasionally?”
Rachel pressed her lips together, annoyed at the question and annoyed because she didn’t know the answer. “I suppose that’s possible,” she admitted, fighting the well of tears building at the back of her eyes. “As I said, she liked to have fun, but that’s no reason for someone to kill her.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat and quickly lowered her gaze to the cup in her hand.
She had beautiful eyes, he thought, an interesting blue, very expressive. Right now, tears swam in them, ready to fall. Jack decided to change course. “Would you happen to know who fathered her baby?”
Sadly, Rachel shook her head. “No, I don’t. If she was seeing someone regularly, I don’t know that, either. I’ve talked to a few people, including a woman who’s known around here as something of a psychic.” She looked up, but his expression hadn’t changed. “I imagine you find that a bit odd, and so do I, actually. But Winona Cobbs’ predictions have often come true. And her niece, Crystal, was the one who had a vision as to where the body might be located.”
What had he gotten into here? Jack asked himself silently. He regarded the woman in front of him. Despite the grandmotherly attire, she was softly pretty with intelligent eyes and an oval face that seemed to reveal her every emotion. And she had plenty of them skittering across her features tonight.
Yet he could see that Gina, though she’d just met Rachel, had pegged her pretty well. Rachel was hesitant, reticent, as well as vulnerable, which wasn’t surprising given the circumstances. She was struggling with grief over her sister’s senseless death and anger at the perpetrator as well as concern for Christina’s child. He also thought he sensed a bit of guilt over her not being available to watch out for her sister.
“Do you believe in visions?” he asked softly.
Rachel sighed, feeling indecisive. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to argue with success though, even if it’s only occasional.”
“That’s true.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “So, Christina’d been missing since late August, no one apparently knew if she was involved with anyone, yet she died shortly after giving birth to a child. She didn’t live here with your father and though he knew she was expecting, he didn’t know who she was seeing. Your brother Max lives not far away and wasn’t close to Christina, either.”
Rachel crossed her arms over her chest. “You make it sound as if no one in the family cared about her, and that isn’t so. After Mom died, Christina changed, became moody, headstrong, difficult. She moved out, began running with a wild crowd. I tried talking with her by phone and on my visits. I even invited her to live with me in Chicago. She told me she was having too much fun just now to leave.”
Jack didn’t comment, just filed all that away. He’d pushed her a little and gotten her to open up, to reveal more of the truth. Up to then, it had sounded as if Christina Montgomery had been some sort of flawless saint that someone had accidentally, senselessly killed. She may have been well liked
, but someone hadn’t cared for her, he thought. Someone had killed her.
But he’d heard enough for one night, and he didn’t want to upset Rachel further. “I’d like to work on the case, if you want my services.”
Jack was a little rough around the edges. But then, Gina had said he’d been a cop in L.A. for years. Rachel would have much preferred an older man with a lived-in face and a paunch, one far less attractive. Not that she was ready to fall at his feet—again—but working with a middle-aged man was less distracting. However, she didn’t have a lot of choices.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“All right, then. I’ll start tomorrow. I’ll want to talk with your father and brother, and hopefully you’ll have that list of her friends for me by then.” He rose, ready to leave, to go back to the motel to think things through.
Rachel remained seated. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, I intend to work with you. I plan to call Chicago and arrange a leave of absence. This baby is very important to me. I also know this town and nearly everyone in it. The investigation will go more quickly if we work together.”
Jack turned to face her. “Perhaps you didn’t understand. I work alone. Even when Gina was at the agency, we had our separate cases.”
She nodded indulgently. “That’s fine, but I need to do this with you.” She raised her eyes to his, imploring, beseeching. “I made mistakes with Christina, as you’ve probably guessed. I don’t want to mess up with her child. I will concede to you being in charge. But I won’t sit here and wait for results. I want to be with you on this every step of the way.”
Jack saw the determination in her eyes and something more. The vulnerability he’d spotted before. He would have turned down a stubborn, insistent woman needing to have her own way. But he, too, had made mistakes in relationships and knew he’d give a lot to be able to make up for them in some small way. He couldn’t deny Rachel a chance to make amends to her dead sister.
“All right, but let’s remember, we do it my way. I’m the one with the experience here. All right?”
She found her second smile of the evening. “All right.” She got up and walked to the door with him. She was reaching for his jacket on the wooden coat tree when a key turned in the lock and the door swung open.
Ellis Montgomery stepped into the vestibule, his quick glance taking in the tall, broad-shouldered stranger and his daughter wearing a nearly threadbare old robe and disreputable slippers.
“Well, good evening. Rachel, you didn’t tell me you’d be entertaining tonight.” His voice was cool and combative.
Rachel felt heat move into her face at her father’s quick critical judgment, as usual, without knowing the facts. “Dad, this is Jack Henderson, Gina’s brother. Gina’s married to Trent Remmington, you may recall.” She purposely mentioned Gina’s husband, who was a wealthy oil investor, knowing such things impressed Ellis. “Jack’s a private investigator from Los Angeles. I’ve hired him to try to find Christina’s baby and the person who killed her.”
Taken aback, Ellis still didn’t offer his hand, instead busied himself hanging up his coat. Ignoring the newcomer, he turned to his daughter.
“I told you to let sleeping dogs lie. The sheriff and his deputies are well qualified and will get to the bottom of all this. We don’t need outsiders here meddling in our personal affairs.” Ellis stroked his black hair, which his hat had smashed down, and glanced at Henderson. “Sorry to have you come all this way on a wild-goose chase. My daughter’s upset, as we all are. But we’ll take care of our own problems.”
Embarrassed at her father’s bad manners as well as his pigheadedness, Rachel touched his arm as he started to walk past her. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Dad, but I’ve hired Mr. Henderson and I intend to work with him until this matter is resolved.”
Watching the interplay between father and daughter, Jack had to admire Rachel’s spirit. She might be reserved, but she knew what she wanted and she wasn’t about to back down, even as her father glared at her.
Ellis made a disapproving sound. “Do as you please, but you’re wasting your money.” Moving to the stairway, he spoke to Jack over his shoulder. “You’d better be going back home. We have a tight-knit community here and they don’t open up to strangers.” He paused, his eyes examining his daughter from head to toe. “Rachel, maybe in Chicago women entertain men in their nightclothes, but I thought we’d taught you better.” With that, he marched upstairs and left them staring after him.
Furious at that last remark, Rachel nevertheless kept her cool. “Jack, I apologize for my father. He’s very set in his ways. I was afraid he’d react like this, but I should have warned you.”
She had lovely skin, Jack noticed, even flushed in anger. He wished he knew her well enough to at least take her hands and reassure her, but instead he shrugged into his jacket. “Don’t worry on my account. I’ve dealt with worse.” He stopped, studying her a moment. “Are you sure, in light of your father’s strong feelings, that you want to go ahead with this?”
“Absolutely.” She glanced up the stairs just as a door slammed. “I don’t know if Gina mentioned that Dad’s the mayor of Whitehorn. He’s every inch a politician, one who doesn’t want to ruffle any voter’s feathers. Questioning people around town, stirring things up, worries him. Heaven forbid he should lose a vote. But don’t worry, please. I can give you a rundown on the part my father played in Christina’s life without his cooperation. And, I should further warn you, my brother will react pretty much the same. Max is Dad’s clone.”
“He’s president of the Whitehorn Savings and Loan, right?”
“Yes, the bank Dad started.”
“Maybe we should start by questioning him tomorrow. I like to interview family members first, not because they’re suspects necessarily but because they can give me insight into the victim’s life.”
Rachel sighed again, thinking there was apt to be a lot of dirty linen aired before all this was over. Well, so be it. She had to know what happened to Christina and, even more important, she had to find her sister’s child.
She held out her hand. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
He took her small hand in his much larger grip, acknowledging silently the softness of her skin, just as he’d suspected. “You’re welcome.” He held on a shade too long, then let go and opened the door.
Surprised at how the touch of his fingers on hers had her pulse speeding up, she stuck both hands into her pockets. “What time do you want to get started?”
“How would it be if I pick you up at eight? I’d like to have breakfast at this place called the Hip Hop Café. Gina tells me half the town stops in there almost daily. You could fill me in on anyone there who might be important to our case.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”
Despite the chilly air whirling in, Rachel kept the door open a crack as she watched him pull away in his rented Lincoln. First-class all the way, and on her expense account. She wondered if he was staying with Gina and Trent Remmington since they certainly had plenty of room, from what she’d heard. Or had he checked into the Whitehorn Motel? It was decidedly not first-class, but the only place around for miles. If she had to guess, she’d say the latter, for despite the lack of amenities, Jack Henderson struck her as the independent type who needed his own space.
Rachel cleaned up the tea things, checked the fire and set the coffeemaker to start at seven the next morning. Even though they were going to breakfast first, she’d need a little caffeine to jump-start the day. Besides, she told herself, Dad might want some. Though as angry as he was, he might just head out early.
Climbing the stairs, she went over the evening, feeling odd that Jack had learned a great deal about her and her family in a short time, and she knew absolutely nothing about him except his occupation and that he was Gina’s brother. Before this was over, she’d probably learn more, though why that should matter, she couldn’t say. Simple curiosity, most likely. And because Jack Henderson was differe
nt than anyone she’d ever met.
Nevertheless, theirs was only a business arrangement.
Rachel wandered over to the window and stood gazing out, something she was prone to in Montana and seldom ever did in Chicago. It was a cold, crisp night but it wasn’t snowing, even though the dark sky was heavy with clouds. Life was so different here, much slower-paced, more laid-back. She’d hated that as a young woman, impatient to get going, to experience life. But now, though she’d probably not admit it out loud, there was much appeal to a quiet way of life. Fight it though she may, nowhere else had ever seemed like home but this vast big-sky country.
Closing the drapes and getting under the covers, Rachel told herself that she just viewed her hometown differently after nearly ten years away. Not that she’d ever come back.
The Whitehorn Motel was like so many other inexpensive chain motels, Jack thought, entering his room. It was clean, spacious and comfortable. Luxurious it was not, with its TV bolted to a shelf attached to the wall, its skimpy towels and one small cube of soap. However, he’d stayed in worse.
He tossed his jacket onto the lone chair, his keys onto the bedside table. Gina had invited him to stay with her and Trent if he took the case, but he preferred an anonymous room. Sometimes things got hairy when he searched out killers, and he didn’t want to bring any trouble to their home. Also, he’d likely be coming and going at all hours, which would disturb them.
But he’d miss Gina’s homecooking, he thought. He’d had lunch in L.A. before leaving and thought he’d grab a bite somewhere in Whitehorn for dinner. But by the time he’d left Rachel’s, there was nothing open. He’d have to keep in mind that Whitehorn didn’t have the plethora of open-all-night eateries like L.A.
Stifling a yawn, he sat on the bed and picked up the phone to call Gina as he’d promised. She answered on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting for his call. “I hope I didn’t keep you up,” he said, checking his watch and noticing it was well past eleven.
“No, I’m watching Jay Leno. Can’t get to sleep because the baby’s really moving around tonight. How’d things go with Rachel?”
