by Alice Sharpe
In the Westin family, at least in this generation, his brother Pierce had been the one who got himself in all sorts of trouble as a teen. In fact, their father had grown so annoyed with Pierce’s repeated run-ins with the law that he’d thrown him off the ranch. Pierce hadn’t come home for more than a visit in the fifteen years following that event. It was only a couple months ago when he’d really rejoined the family.
But maybe Pierce had managed to pull himself out of his downward spiral because he’d had a strong family behind him with expectations that he would find his way. That was something that Dennis didn’t have and likely never would. How would a kid like that ever get a decent break, especially around here where his family’s menfolk were legends—and not the good kind?
Adam realized he’d been staring after the ambulance doing what his grandfather used to call woolgathering. He tried rolling his bad shoulder and found the pain had subsided. He went back inside.
He found Echo and Cody down on the floor carefully picking up pieces of broken glass and depositing them in a metal bucket.
The sheriff had also stayed behind and was standing with his back to the room, gazing out the window toward the dark lake beyond. The fact he hadn’t gone with his men seemed ominous to Adam.
The house smelled terrible. Adam left the door open to let in what little air stirred the summer night. On further thought, he crossed the large room and opened the patio doors. Might as well try to catch a cross breeze.
Then he looked at the sheriff. “How did you and Cody just happen to show up when you did?”
“Pure coincidence,” Inkwell said.
Cody dropped the neck of the broken bottle into the bucket as he looked up from his chore. “The sheriff came to the house after you left. I was still outside. He asked me to come over here with him.”
“What about Dad and Uncle Pete—”
“I’ll talk to them later,” Inkwell said. “Wanted a chance to talk to you two first. Alone.”
“Should I leave?” Echo asked.
“No, Ms. De Gris, I think you should stay.”
Adam’s gut seized for about the tenth time that evening. How many times in her short visit had Echo’s life been threatened, and mostly because of him? He caught her gaze. Her eyes looked a little glassy.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think I’m getting a buzz from the fumes.”
He offered her his good hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll finish this later. Let’s hear what the sheriff has to say.” He led the way to the dining alcove. It was far enough removed from the living area that the air was a little less toxic.
Inkwell sat in the chair at the head of the table Adam had finished last winter. He’d crafted it out of a single slab of hand-planed black walnut, carving Wyoming state’s flower, the Indian paintbrush, on each massive supporting leg. A hint of dark orange stain went on the flowers then lots of varnish so the design all but disappeared unless you knew to look for it.
The sheriff gazed pointedly at Echo, who sat to his right with Adam on her other side. Cody sat across from them.
“You should be aware, Ms. De Gris,” Inkwell began, “that Hank Garvey was ranting and raving as we arrested him. I gather from his gibberish that you’ve finally recalled what his father said. Would you share that with me, please, or should I wait until Hank sobers up and have a go at him?”
Echo took a deep breath. Her left hand rested right beside Adam’s on the bench seat and he covered her fingers with his. “No, I’ll tell you,” she said, her voice shaking. “Willet Garvey did have dying words and I did hear them. He said, ‘Westin. Tell Den…hat… Westin…’ I didn’t see how it could do anything but incite everyone so I decided to keep it to myself. When Adam figured out I wasn’t being truthful with you, he insisted I come clean. I was going to tell you. I’m sorry I lied.”
The sheriff sat back and sighed. “Well, now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He sounded like a big old teddy bear. Adam didn’t buy it for a minute but Echo smiled, relief evident on her face.
And yet…
She’d been about to add something else when Hank Garvey interrupted her. He met her gaze and she looked away so quickly it was hard to believe no one else saw she was still equivocating. Uh-oh…
Cody thumped the table with a fist. “We all know Adam couldn’t have killed Willet.”
“Well, now, he isn’t the only Westin, is he?” said the sheriff. “There’s your pa and your uncle and your brother Pierce and then there’s you.”
“Pierce is half a world away. Besides, none of us would—”
“’Course you wouldn’t,” the sheriff interrupted. “Let’s just leave that for now. But the word hat is a little odd, isn’t it?”
“Tell us about the cave,” Adam said. “Did you figure out who’s down there?”
The sheriff’s smile slid away as he reached into his shirt pocket. He took out a small brown bag and carefully slid something glittery into his hand.
Cody and Adam both gasped.
ECHO LOOKED FROM ONE BROTHER to the other. “What is it?”
It was a dumb question. The object’s identity was obvious. A locket, constructed of what appeared to be a mother-of-pearl oval ringed with diamonds, a little bigger than a quarter, a gold chain puddled around it.
“May I?” Cody whispered as he stretched out his hand. The sheriff handed it over very gently.
“Is it hers?” Adam asked. Echo had never heard that tone in his voice before.
Cody swallowed hard and nodded.
“Whose?” Echo asked, although as soon as the word left her mouth, her memory flashed back to a winter day when she was very small. Her mother had been ill, bed-bound actually, but Echo sat cradled on a woman’s lap, sitting in front of a fire, drowsy and too warm, her fingers curled around something smooth, something that glowed and twinkled at the same time.
The woman sang to her, smoothed her hair…?.
Aunt Melissa…
“It’s your mother’s locket, isn’t it?”
Cody turned it over in his hand. He studied the back of the gold case for a second, closed his eyes, then handed it to Adam. Echo saw the initials MBW scrolled in the gold on the back of the case. Melissa Browning Westin.
Adam flicked it open with a fingernail. A young Birch Westin stared up from one side of the locket looking so much like Adam that Echo gulped. Three tiny boys grinned into the camera on the second side.
Cody’s voice, when he spoke, was reflective. “Dad gave her this locket on their wedding day.”
Adam cleared his throat. “Where did you find it?” He snapped the locket shut. Echo held out her hand and he passed it to her. It felt smooth and warm to the touch, just as she remembered.
“I got something to tell you boys,” the sheriff began, and his voice held a compassionate note that chilled Echo to the bone. “We found your mother’s locket down in the deepest part of that chasm. It was there along with a lot of other bones. I guess that French fellow was right. An earthquake must have shook the first body apart, leaving the skull and some random bones on the uppermost ledge. The others fell down to the bottom.”
“The first body?” Adam said, leaning forward. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no easy way to say this.” He took a deep breath. “It’s true there’s a man’s skull with a bullet hole in the head on the first ledge. But there’s another skeleton down at the bottom along with some rotting clothes. I’m sorry, but that locket was still around the neck of the second skeleton.”
Echo’s hand flew to cover her mouth. Beside her, Adam stiffened.
Cody’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. What are you saying? That our mother is in that cave? That she’s been there all these years?”
“Dr. Wilcox said we won’t know for sure until we get her dentist to compare ante-mortem and postmortem dental records, but that’s the way it looks right now.”
Adam stood abruptly. “This is crazy. It’s impossible. We got
a postcard from her from Toronto. Ask Dad, ask Uncle Pete.”
“I plan to,” Inkwell said softly.
ADAM SAT IN A CHAIR IN THE living room of his father’s house, his mind drifting from one disaster to the next. The sheriff was using the office phone, his father was next door rousing Pete. The clock on the mantel reported it was two-fifteen. For a second he tried to remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep and couldn’t.
She was here all the time. She never left.
Echo perched on the edge of the big square coffee table and offered him a red mug. “It’s herbal tea,” she said softly as though there’d been a death in the family and the house was one of mourning.
Which was exactly on point.
He took the tea, had a sip. It tasted like brewed weeds. “Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She leaned forward and ran her warm fingers down his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know.”
“In a way, though, isn’t this a good thing?”
Leave it to Echo to shake him out of himself. He furrowed his brow as he set the cup on an end table. “A good thing? How do you see that?”
“Well, your mother didn’t really run out on your family.”
He took her hands in his and lowered his voice in case the sheriff came into the room. “Listen to me. Someone apparently killed my mother and the man she was rumored to be running around with. His has got to be that skull with the bullet hole. Someone buried both of them in a cave that not many people knew about. Take a guess at who is going to be suspect number one. Her husband, that’s who. My father.”
“Oh, Adam,” she said, clutching his hands. “All along you’ve been convinced he was incapable of murder. Don’t give up on him now.”
“I won’t,” he said and hoped he could live up to that conviction.
She squeezed his hands and released them. “Where’s Cody?”
“Rummaging around in the attic. He said he wanted to look for a picture of Mom. He’s the oldest, you know, he has the most memories of her. To me she was just a shadow. Sometimes I almost hated her. And all the time she was rotting away at the bottom of that damn cave.”
Echo wiped a tear from her own cheek.
“I want you to leave as soon as you can,” he said softly.
“But—”
“Promise me. You’ve cheated death over and over again since you got here. The two older Garveys are in jail and Dennis seems like a decent kid, but he’ll bend to the will of his brothers. It’s not safe here.”
“You’ve been in more danger than I have.”
“This mess is my mess, not yours. I can’t walk away. You can.”
The familiar flash of annoyance sparkled in her eyes. “Okay, I get it. You don’t need me. Message received. But maybe I have other reasons for sticking around. Have you ever thought of that?”
“Does that reason include the fact you’re still hiding something about Willet Garvey’s death?”
She opened her mouth and closed it. The room was suddenly full of people. The sheriff came out of the den at the same time Adam’s father and uncle burst through the connecting kitchen door. Pauline arrived a moment later and for once, she looked all of her sixty-plus years.
“So, Clayton, you hauling me off to jail?” Birch Westin snarled as the sheriff tucked his cap under his arm.
“You know I’m not. There’s still a lot to do out at that cave. I just want you two to go over what happened the night Melissa went missing.”
“Hell, I told you decades ago,” Birch grumbled. “Several times, as I recall.”
“I was a new deputy at the time. Refresh my memory.”
“Do you know for sure it’s her?” Pete asked. He looked gray and unbelievably weary. “Do you know it’s Melissa?”
“Not for sure. We will by tomorrow, though. Birch said her dentist is still practicing in Woodwind.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Birch said.
The sheriff gestured at the massive leather furniture. “Let’s sit down—”
“No thanks,” Birch said. He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m fine just like this.”
“Suit yourself,” Inkwell said. “Me? I’m bushed.” He sank into a wingback chair and settled his hat on his knee while Uncle Pete took the companion chair. Pauline leaned with her back against the wall, well out of the way.
“Go on,” the sheriff coaxed. “This is informal, just refresh me. Unless you want your lawyer present.”
“Are you charging me?” Birch snapped.
“No, no. Just advising you. Go on.”
The old man rubbed his face with his hand and took a deep breath. “It’s no secret Melissa and I had a fight the night she left.”
“About?”
“Nothing important. The usual stuff.” He started pacing. “We’d had a party. It was after market and we were all happy to see the end of a difficult season. Melissa loved parties. She got a little tipsy. Hell, we both did. After the house emptied out, we got to fighting.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know. Me telling the same jokes for the hundredth time, her flirting with Del and J.D., something, anything.”
“If I remember correctly, you said at the time it turned into a screaming match.”
“She could make me insane, I don’t deny that. Never met a woman like her. One minute you wanted to kiss her, the next you wanted to throttle her.”
His words hung there like a self-indictment.
Birch looked around the room, his gaze falling on Pete. “Hell, you know what I mean. You were in love with her, too. So were half the men in the county.”
Adam stared at his uncle, who had dropped his gaze to his hands. Echo was watching him, too, her expressive eyes narrowed.
The sheriff finally spoke again. “Melissa was rumored to be carrying on with David Lassiter.”
“Melissa knew the difference between flirting and adultery.”
“But did Lassiter?”
Birch shrugged. “He was a good-looking guy, real chatty. They just seemed to hit it off.”
“Did you fight over her attentions to him?”
Birch glared down at Inkwell. “He wasn’t even at the party.”
“But before that night had you fought about David Lassiter?”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember. What matters is the night she disappeared and that fight wasn’t about any one man. I lost my temper, she stormed off. She’d done that before. Earlier that year she was gone for a whole month and during calving season, too.”
“But this time she didn’t return.”
“No.”
“And you didn’t try to find her?”
“Hell, no. If she needed to blow off steam, I figured let her. I knew she’d come home. She always did. She’d left three little kids here. Four, if you count Echo whose own mother was sickly.”
“And when she didn’t return? What then?”
“I called you. You people came out here and more or less accused me of doing something terrible to her or do you forget that?”
“No, I remember. By then we’d gotten word David Lassiter was missing, too. Sounded mighty fishy.”
“He was a drifter. Men like him came and went with the wind. Hell, three of them left without notice that year. Near as I could tell, he never planned on staying around for long.”
“Yeah, that’s what you said. We never could find any of his family.”
“Actually, a guy came by a few months later, claimed to be Lassiter’s cousin.”
The sheriff furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember hearing about that.”
“By then we’d heard from Melissa and you guys were no longer hounding me.”
“What did this cousin want?”
“He said he hadn’t heard from Lassiter since receiving a letter back when he worked on the Open Sky. Wanted to know if I could help find him. I couldn’t so he went on his way.”
“Did he leave you a name or an
address?”
“I don’t remember. By then I’d—I’d given up on my wife. I’d decided to go on without her. If she’d made a new life, what was I supposed to do about it?”
“Did you ever try to track her down?”
“Run after her? Hell, no. A man has his pride.”
Adam looked away from the raw pain in his father’s eyes.
“Let me ask you this, Birch. She didn’t take her purse or her wallet or any clothes—how did that make sense to you?”
“It didn’t,” he said.
“Unless,” the sheriff offered, “she took off steaming mad and refused to return for her stuff so she wouldn’t have to see you. But for that to work, she would have had to be with someone else, someone with money and a car—someone like Lassiter.”
Birch shook his head. Adam finally realized the truth of the sheriff’s observation and also that his father had apparently denied this basic truth for nearly three decades.
Inkwell turned to Adam’s uncle. “How about you?”
Pete’s shoulders jerked. “Me and my family were living out in the old house our parents raised us in,” he began. “It’s been torn down since then. I didn’t know Melissa was gone until the next morning. I’m not sure when Lassiter took off. It was the end of the season, the time when drifters tended to move on and they often didn’t tell anyone.”
“It never crossed your mind they’d gone away together?”
Adam caught Pete’s swift glance at Birch before he said, “No.”
The sheriff turned back to Adam’s father. “Tell me about the postcard.”
His dad was on the move again, taking jerky steps back and forth in front of the fireplace. “What do you want to know? The picture was of some building up there in Toronto. The message was in Melissa’s handwriting and it said the same thing she’d said before. She needed space. She loved me and the kids.”
“Did she say she was never coming back?” the sheriff asked.
“No. Time just kept passing…?.”
“Do you still have the postcard?”
“Heck, I don’t know. I doubt it.” He stopped abruptly in his tracks. “My God, if it’s really Melissa down in the cave, who sent that card?”
