Return to the Black Hills

by Debra Salonen

The dispatch person hesitated. “Hold on a moment.” Jessie waited, trying not to read too much into the request.

  “Ms. Bouchard? It’s Hank Miller. Is Cade around by any chance?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “I understand your sister isn’t there right now, and I think you should be here when we interview your friend J.T. He was stopped for speeding near Custer. They just brought him in. If Cade’s available, would you mind catching a ride into town with him? We’re a little shorthanded this morning or I’d send a car for you.”

  J.T. had been arrested? No wonder he wasn’t answering his phone. “Um, sure. If he doesn’t mind. Do you have his number?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

  She ended the call and sat a moment. Her gaze returned to the big-screen TV. Emergency vehicles had surrounded the mangled race car. Two EMTs were kneeling beside the squashed window where the driver was trapped.

  She could remember only bits and pieces of what happened after her accident. The doctor said that was due to the trauma of her concussion. She rubbed her temple, wincing slightly. Hopefully, this driver, who, unlike her, was wearing a crash helmet, would emerge unscathed.

  She hit the off button.

  She couldn’t wait around to see. She needed to change. And getting dressed, she’d discovered that morning, was no easy task.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I NEVER TOUCHED those ropes. I’m not good with heights. Ask Jessie, she’ll tell you. I’m a videographer, not a stunt person.”

  Cade looked at Jessie to gauge her reaction to the man’s claim. In profile, he saw her lips pressed together, her brow gathered. She’d pulled her hair into a loose twist that allowed wispy tendrils to frame her face. Her baggy tan cargo shorts and loose, outdoorsy-looking shirt—white with silver stitching—were uniformly wrinkled.

  She’d apologized for not looking more presentable when he knocked on her door after getting Hank’s call. Cade had been planning to meet with his foreman for a couple of hours while Shiloh was off shopping with Remy, but he changed his mind. Getting to the bottom of what happened to her rigging was important. He knew if it were him, the not knowing would be eating away at him.

  “Is he telling the truth?”

  She turned to look at him. There was a wall of one-way glass separating them from J.T. and Hank, who was conducting the interview. Hank had made it clear that this was not an interrogation and J.T. was not under arrest.

  “Sounds like it.”

  He could appreciate her frustration.

  Hank leaned forward to rest his elbows on the gunmetal-gray table. “Two of your friends—Eerik and Marsh—said you were making threats. Something about Miss Bouchard knowing she needed you. That sounds like a spurned lover looking for some kind of revenge.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant. Jessie keeps people at a distance. Even the people closest to her, like me and my mom. She turned my mom—her own business partner—in to the cops without even calling Mom to get her side of things. What I meant was Jessie couldn’t start a firestorm then walk away unscathed. Her reputation, for one thing, was going to wind up tarnished. My mother has a lot of friends in the business. A lot more than Jessie because Jessie doesn’t think she needs anybody. She’s wrong.”

  Jessie’s upper lip pulled back in a sneer. “Yeah, Dar is loved. But she won’t be as highly revered when people learn she stole money from Girlz on Fire.”

  The man, her ex-boyfriend—lover?—went on. “If Jessie had talked to my mother first, all this could have been cleared up. Yes, Mom made a mistake and borrowed from the company without telling Jessie, but only because Jessie made big promises she didn’t come through on. Mom covered for Jessie after Jessie blew it in Japan. Her mother died. We got that, but you don’t immediately turn around and attack someone who has been like a second mother to you a few months later. That was crazy. Unhinged. I wouldn’t put it past her to sabotage her own stunt for the sympathy.”

  Jessie came out of her chair and flew at the window, fists ready to pound her way through the glass. Cade got there first, catching her wrists. Her weak foot gave out and she fell against him, struggling and twisting. “Let me go. He’s insane. Why would I do that? He’s trying to spin this away from his mother. And himself.”

  The door to the observation room opened and Hank walked in. Cade let go of Jessie’s hands. She spun about and took a step back, colliding with him. A muffled grunt of pain made him take her elbow, giving her time to catch her balance. He could feel her fury and frustration, but to his surprise, her voice was composed when she said, “There is no way in hell I would risk getting injured to make a point. Sympathy sucks. Just ask anybody who’s been on the receiving end. His mother should know that, too, but apparently she enjoys playing the victim.”

  Hank closed the door and waited for Jessie to sit before he said, “He gave us permission to search his car. We didn’t find anything resembling a lubricant. The lab won’t have the results for us until sometime tomorrow, but I don’t have anything to hold him on.”

  “He could have ditched the bottle. He’s not an idiot,” Cade said, glancing at the glass wall. The man was sitting perfectly still, hands folded on the table, his head down. His body language said he was unhappy. Because he’d been caught? He certainly hadn’t displayed any concern about his ex-girlfriend.

  “Yeah, I know. Running away is suspicious behavior in my book. He’s had twenty hours, more or less, to work on his story. That means he’s still a person of interest. I’m going to tell him he needs to stay in the area until we’ve had a chance to talk to the other missing stuntman.”

  “Does J.T. know where Zane is?”

  Hank shook his head. “He says no. I asked to examine his cell phone but he claims to have lost it. Said he bought a cheap disposable one yesterday to call his mother. Plus, he said he’d planned all along to drive back to California for some project he said you knew about.”

  “He might have mentioned that. We haven’t been close for a long time for obvious reasons.” She looked at Cade. “Can we go now? My ankle is starting to throb.”

  “Of course.”

  Hank stepped into the hallway and waited while Jessie maneuvered sideways on her crutches. “Thanks for coming in.”

  “I don’t know what happened yesterday. I’ve gone over and over it in my head. It should have been a simple slam dunk. J.T. felt like the one loose end that didn’t make sense, but, honestly, I couldn’t see him scaling the tower without someone noticing. I wish I could be more help.”

  Hank nodded supportively. “We’ll keep you posted.”

  She was bummed. Cade could read that clearly enough. He checked his watch. Shiloh and Remy wouldn’t be back for another hour. Shiloh had texted him, asking permission to drop by the mall to buy something. He knew what without asking. A bra. All her friends were wearing them. He’d responded, “OK.”

  “I need to ask you something important.”

  She looked at him.

  “Where do you stand on root-beer floats?”

  One corner of her lips twitched in the most beguiling way. “You drink root-beer floats, you don’t stand on them.”

  He chuckled appreciatively. Quick wit was a sure-fire way to his heart. “Well, I just happen to know a place that makes the best, hands-down, anywhere in the country.”

  “Are you bragging or inviting?”

  “Inviting.”

  “I’m in.”

  The Dairy Barn was everything an old-fashioned soda fountain ought to be—plus, it was open seven days a week. He found a parking spot close to the door.

  “This is cute,” Jessie said, slowly making her way to an open table.

  The place resembled a 1950s diner, with bright red vinyl stools at the polished chrome bar. White wrought iron tables and chairs were scattered across the black-and-white checkerboard floor.

  “Let me grab an extra chair so you can elevate your leg,” Cade said, once she was seated.


  A waitress in a Sandra Dee ponytail and popping a big wad of pink bubble gum came to take their order. Two floats with chocolate syrup. “Chocolate syrup?”

  “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he cautioned, holding out his hand for her crutches. “Let me store these over by the umbrella rack so nobody trips over them.”

  Her gaze followed him to and from. She couldn’t help it. His body type was one of her favorites: lean and lanky with a hip-rocking gait that had her thinking of things she shouldn’t be thinking about. And his grin when he caught her staring was enough to make her heart do a few backflips of its own.

  He reminded her of a slightly more mature Ashton Kutcher, she decided. She’d met Ashton on set once. He was a real person, despite all the hoopla surrounding his personal life. But he didn’t have Cade’s blue eyes. Bedroom eyes, her mother would have called them, because more often than not a sexy pair of eyes was enough to open that door where Mom was concerned.

  “You asked about my family, can I ask about yours?”

  “Sure. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to say. Buck, you know about. And Kat, you’ve met. My mother died when I was eight. And my older brother, Charles, was killed in a training accident. He was a marine. My sister lives on the East Coast. For all practical purposes, she divorced herself from the family—Dad mostly, but me, too, I guess. I didn’t even hear from her after Faith died.”

  “Wow. That’s harsh.”

  He shrugged. “She hated living on the ranch. In fact, after Dad married Helen, Renata—that’s my sister’s name—ran away from home. She was fourteen. Just two years older than Shiloh,” he said, as if doing the math for the first time. “She moved in with a friend until the end of the school year, then she gave Buck an ultimatum. Let her go to boarding school on the East Coast or she’d accuse his new wife of abuse.”

  Jessie winced. “She obviously knew what she wanted.”

  “A few years ago, Buck decided to put his affairs in order. He had his attorney call Renata to discuss the matter. She told him she wanted nothing to do with Buck or the ranch. If Buck wanted to give her a share, he could donate the value to her alma mater.”

  “What about you? You’re her brother. And Shiloh is her niece.”

  He looked away. “Here come our floats.”

  She figured that was his answer—he didn’t want to talk about it. But after the waitress had deposited two of the biggest, frothiest soda-fountain drinks she’d ever seen, he said, “My sister was a lot like Mom. Emotionally fragile but as stubborn as any person you’ve ever known. She made up her mind that Dad killed Mom.”

  “Murder?”

  “Neglect. Mom died of complications from an eating disorder. I was too young to understand, but I remember some of their fights. Frankly, I think Dad blamed himself, too. Renata used his guilt against him to get her way.”

  He unwrapped his straw and used it to stir his drink. “I was kind of a quiet kid. She was a bit of a prima donna. We never really bonded. Then Kat was born. She was the sister I wished Renata could have been. That probably didn’t help.”

  Jessie took a pull on her straw. Her mouth positively sparkled with flavor—sweet, cold, delicious. “Oh, yum,” she said, smacking her lips. “This is amazing. Definitely the best I’ve ever had.”

  Cade smiled with obvious satisfaction.

  They enjoyed their drinks in silence a few minutes, before Jessie’s curiosity got the better of her. “And your older brother died, too.”

  A lock of wheat-colored hair fell across his brow when he nodded. She really liked his hair. She wished she was brave enough to reach out and brush it back. Not that she felt entitled to take such liberties, but it was tempting.

  “Your poor dad. And you. That must have been pretty rough.”

  He nodded. “Charles was a lot older than me. I’m sure we’d have been good friends if he’d lived, but, at the time, I can’t remember feeling anything but dread. Buck’s response to problems of any kind was to get blind drunk and smack around anybody who got in his way.”

  A telling revelation, she thought, giving her attention to her drink. Not surprising Cade moved away and started his life somewhere else, she thought. Bing’s first husband had been a violent alcoholic. Jessie understood all too well.

  “Do you miss Texas?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been too busy. Buck and I had a lot of paperwork to get through to make this official. Shiloh seems to swing from one extreme to the other. She either loves the Hills and plans to make this her home forever, or she misses Texas and her friends and her school so much she thinks she might die. Most days it pretty much sucks to be me,” he said, adding a little half laugh to make her think he was kidding.

  But she knew the feeling. Lately, it hadn’t been too pleasant being Jessie Bouchard, either. His honesty made her decide to share a little bit of her own past. Quid pro quo, she thought. Plus, visiting this soda parlor had gotten her mind off J.T.’s distressing accusation. Stage her own accident. Ridiculous.

  “My sisters and I used to call Mama the Queen Bee. Her beauty parlors—Marlene’s House of Beauty, One, Two and Three—were her hives. The operators who worked for Mama worshipped her. Some of her customers were so loyal to Mama they became like members of our extended family.”

  “That’s impressive. She sounds like a good business-woman.”

  Jessie used her spoon to scoop up the last remaining barge of ice cream. She closed her eyes to savor the flavor. When she opened them, she found herself staring into Cade’s baby blues. A shiver that had nothing to do with ice cream passed through her body. She licked her lips unconsciously. His gaze followed and lingered.

  She inhaled deeply to refocus. What were they talking about? Oh, yes, her mother. Her mother? She never talked about her mother.

  “One, Two and Three,” she said, mostly to herself. The beauty parlors. “Actually, Mom’s real gift was understanding people. She was terrible with numbers. If she hadn’t watched, her stylists would have robbed her blind.” She fiddled with her straw, her appetite strangely gone. “My sister claims that’s why Mama couldn’t spend more time with me when I was in the hospital. She had four other mouths to feed, and three hives to tend. So to speak.”

  “Why were you in the hospital?”

  She’d known the question was coming. She’d brought the subject up herself. She couldn’t back out of the discussion now. “There was a fire in our house when Remy and I were seven. Mama was out back with her new beau. She didn’t realize what was happening until she heard the sirens.”

  “You were burned?”

  She watched his gaze skim across her bare arms. He even looked at her legs. No scars. She was lucky that way.

  “I pushed Remy out the window right before a hunk of curtain fell. The back of my nightgown caught on fire. Mama saved my life by tackling me when I started to run, but the material of the gown had already melted into my skin.”

  He took in a sharp, harsh breath. “How long were you in the hospital?”

  “The first stay was about five months, I think. I had to go back a couple of times for grafts and some corrective surgeries as I grew.”

  He pushed his glass away and reached out to take her hand. “That explains a lot. Thank you for telling me.”

  She looked at him, baffled. “Explains what?”

  His fingers squeezed hers gently but firmly. “Now I know how you got to be so brave.”

  “Brave,” she repeated under her breath. Most people called her foolish.

  “How could you be so stupid to temp Fate again and again and again?” her eldest sister had screamed at her after Mom’s funeral. “You know Mama hated your job, and you even let that ridiculous job keep you from coming home when she needed you the most.”

  “Are you ready? I didn’t bring any pain pills,” Jessie said now.

  He jumped to his feet and quickly retrieved her crutches. He paid the bill in the time it took her to walk to the door. The high-gloss floor looked like a stunt waiti
ng to happen and she wasn’t in the mood to show off.

  They’d barely taken two steps toward Cade’s truck when a familiar voice said, “Jessie? Can I talk to you a minute?”

  Jessie froze. “J.T. How did you find us?”

  “I overheard your friend ask if you liked root-beer floats. I did an online search of places that serve them. This is my third stop. Looks like I got here just in time.”

  She looked at Cade, then at J.T. “What do you want? Wasn’t it enough to try to throw off the sheriff by making him believe we Hollywood types are a bunch of publicity-starved freaks who would rather injure ourselves than miss out on a chance for a viral video clip?”

  J.T. had the decency to look ashamed. “That was Mom’s idea. I’m sorry.”

  “Dar told you to say that?”

  “Payback. For what you put her through.”

  Jessie wished she could cry. The hurt was intense, but she used anger to deflect it. “For what she put herself through.” Her fingers tightened around the rubber grips of her crutches. “I didn’t make her embezzle money.”

  “You made it so she had to, Jessie. To pay the mortgage. To keep a roof over her and Dad’s heads. You know she took the bare minimum in salary and then you messed up in Kamikaze, plus took off time after your mom’s funeral. There weren’t enough donations to cover her wages. She sold off some of the equipment that wasn’t being used.”

  “And used the money to gamble with.” She didn’t know to what extent, but the accountant she hired said Dar had several charges in the tens of thousands to an area casino.

  “No. Mom said that was seed money for an exhibition you and Team Shockwave were supposed to put on, but you reneged on that, too.”

  Oh, my God, Jessie thought. Dar is doing exactly the same thing Mama used to do to get out of taking responsibility for something. She would spin the fact to make it someone else’s fault. Once again, it all came down to rest on Jessie’s shoulders.

  “None of that has anything to do with why someone tampered with my ropes. And you know me well enough to know I wouldn’t have done that.”