by Cassie Miles
“At least, it wasn’t drugs.”
“As far as we know.” He adjusted the steering to swoop toward the left. “The sheriff agreed with me. Aspen Jim has all the girlfriends he wants. He’s a sleazy guy, but he doesn’t fit the profile for a serial killer.”
Though she respected the psychology that went into profiling, she didn’t consider it proof. Serial killers came in all sizes and shapes; they didn’t have to look like depraved, drooling monsters. The infamous Ted Bundy had been a handsome, educated, socially adept man who brutally murdered more than twenty women.
When she met Aspen Jim, she’d thought he was mean spirited. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. His whitened teeth and sun-bleached hair didn’t mean he was innocent.
“Anything else?” she asked. “How about the autopsies?”
“The coroner’s office in Billings won’t get around to a full autopsy for a couple more days, and they’re going to start with Ellen Jessop. All the branches of law enforcement—state, local and tribal—are worried about the possibility of a serial killer. There’s been talk of calling in the FBI.”
She understood why the murder of David Welling wasn’t as high priority, but the lack of investigation didn’t relieve the stress on Misty. She really wished that she and Aiden could find evidence that would take his sister off the list of suspects. “If David’s murder was somehow connected to the others, it would be more important. The sheriff seemed pretty sure that Misty’s watch was some kind of evidence.”
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “In a small town, everybody knows everybody else’s business. There’s just not much population, and it’s hard to believe that there’s more than one homicidal individual on the loose.”
“That points to one killer.”
“But David’s murder was nothing like the others. He was shot, not strangled. He wasn’t held prisoner, wasn’t tied up and—most of all—he wasn’t a young, blonde woman.”
Earlier, Aiden had referred to a murder of opportunity. “What if David knew something about the serial murders? The killer would want him dead.”
He turned toward her and gave her a long, hard stare. This scrutiny wasn’t like his earlier friendly glances. He seemed to be looking deeper and with more concern. “You’re a little too smart for your own good.”
“I’m on to something, aren’t I?”
“We found evidence of a connection,” he said. “One of the deputies and I did a flyover in the Spring Creek area where Ellen Jessop’s body was found. We spotted tire tracks not far from the crime scene. The tread matched David’s van.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, she swallowed hard. Playing at investigation was fun. The idea of finding the truth about these terrible crimes was like turning over a rock and seeing a rattlesnake. “Do you think David was the serial killer?”
“There’s a good chance his van was used by the killer. The sheriff took the vehicle to check it out, over the objections of Bert Welling who said the van belonged to him. There were blood traces inside. They’ll be checking for a DNA match to Ellen.”
As she stared through the windshield at the star-lit skies, a horrible thought occurred. “David might have been following Misty because she was next on his list. But if David was the serial killer, who shot him?”
“Other people used that van,” he said. “It was a kind of party bus.”
The chopper hovered over her grandma’s house, and Aiden turned on the spotlight in order to locate the best landing spot. She looked toward the lights of the nearby homes of the Martin and Tall Grass families, and Tab regretted the whirring noise of the rotors that would surely waken everybody inside and disturb their livestock.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the tire tracks?” she demanded.
“I just told you everything I know.”
“But I had to pry it out of you.” He couldn’t honestly claim that he’d been immediately forthcoming. “Were you trying to protect me again?”
“It didn’t seem important.” He eased the chopper into a smooth descent, constantly checking the ground below. “We can’t pinpoint who used the van. The evidence isn’t conclusive.”
“And that comment about me being too smart. What did you mean by that?”
“Would you feel better if I said you were dumb?”
It wasn’t like she was asking for a badge and a gun with a license to kill. She just wanted to be kept in the loop. He needed to trust her.
“Were you playing me?” she asked. “When you were asking questions about Connie, was that a ruse to keep from telling me about the investigation?”
The chopper touched down, and he turned off the engine before looking at her. “My interest in your work is genuine. I wasn’t trying to trick you or divert your attention. I don’t play games like that. I say what I mean.”
In the light from the instrument panel, she studied the lines of his face, not allowing her thoughts to be diverted by the pleasing symmetry of his features. She knew he was an honest, responsible man, but he was also clever like the coyote in the stories her grandma used to tell when she was growing up. The coyote behaved in all kinds of unexplainable ways, getting the other animals to do his bidding. But there was almost always a moral to the story that showed the coyote was actually helping. Aiden was coyote clever but also good. And she knew he would never intentionally hurt her.
“I trust you,” she said.
He reached toward her and lightly stroked her cheek. “That’s all I can ask for.”
“Let’s gather up these things and get out of here.”
He nodded toward Grandma’s house. “The lights are on. Is that how you left the house?”
“I think so.” When she and Grandma set out for the Gabriel ranch, it had been after dark. “Our neighbor, Sam Tall Grass, has been over here taking care of things.”
“Does he have a key?”
“Grandma doesn’t usually lock up.” She swung open the chopper door. “We’re so isolated out here that if somebody wants to break a window and get inside, there’s not much to stop them.”
He didn’t have to lecture her about the need for security. Tab had spent most of her life in cities where doors were locked and deadbolts fastened. She climbed out of the chopper and headed toward the sweet little cabin that had been her grandma’s home for as long as she could remember.
She liked to think that the house was protected by Grandma’s reputation. Nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of Maria Spotted Bear. Still, Tab was reassured when she noticed that Aiden joined her on the porch, and she saw that he’d armed himself. He wore a holster at his hip.
He touched the butt of his gun. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Agreed.”
Inside the house, she sent Aiden to the kitchen to pick up Grandma’s cooking supplies and put them into a cooler. Tab concentrated on the bedrooms, where she packed her clothes and those her grandma requested into two suitcases. Though tempted to take everything, she held back. Tomorrow or the next day, she’d be returning here to pick up Shua.
In a matter of minutes, she had the suitcases ready. As Aiden loaded them into the chopper, she checked the list her grandma had given him.
“Grandma’s sneakers,” she said with a groan. “I forgot them. I have to go back.”
“Not a problem.” He fell into step beside her. “I like the way your grandma’s house smells.”
“I know.” The natural fragrance of the many herbs her grandma gathered and also cultivated mingled with years of baking and cooking. “If she could bottle that scent, she’d make a million dollars.”
“I never thought your grandma was interested in money.”
“That’s cute, Aiden. Everybody needs more money.” On the porch, she turned to him. “I’ll run in and grab the shoes. You go to the horse barn, and I’ll meet you there.”
She didn’t bother turning on lights as she hurried through the house. Tab knew where every chair and table was placed. In her grandma’s bedroom, she kn
ew she’d find the sneakers under the bed on the left side. Ducking down, she grabbed them.
When she stood, she looked directly at a window. She saw a shape outside the glass. Moonlight outlined the shoulders and head. Someone was out there. A man stood at the window, staring in at her.
Chapter Thirteen
Aiden had just stepped off the porch when he heard Tab yell his name. There was panic in her voice. She needed him.
He pivoted and ran back to the house, snatched the gun from his holster, dove inside. The lights were off. Turn them on? No, his eyes were already accustomed to the dark.
Tab burst from the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Her grandma’s white sneakers were in her hands.
“I saw someone at the window,” she said. “He ran off. Toward the barn.”
“Did you see his face?”
“No. He had on a hoodie.”
The threat was clear. An intruder had been waiting here. Waiting for Tab? Why, damn it, why? Aiden needed to catch this guy. At the same time, he had to protect Tab and couldn’t leave her alone. His decision came quickly.
“Follow me,” he said. “Stay close. If you hear gunfire, hit the ground.”
Gun in hand, he charged out the door and ran toward a couple of scraggly pine trees between the house and barn. Adrenaline surged through him. His senses sharpened. Through the shadows, he saw movement. A man was running parallel to the corral fence, heading toward the horse barn.
“Stop,” Aiden called out. “I’ll shoot.”
The man disappeared around the edge of the barn. From this distance, Aiden couldn’t get any kind of description other than hooded sweatshirt and jeans. He didn’t know if the intruder had entered the barn or not.
Likely, he’d gone through the side door. Why else would he have headed in that direction? At the front of the barn, he halted and turned to Tab, who stood close behind him. She wasn’t even breathing hard. The woman really could run.
“How many entrances to the barn?” he asked.
“Three. The big double doors on the front and back, and the regular-size side door.”
He didn’t like the idea of rushing through the side door without knowing what he’d find on the other side. The intruder could be armed. He could be setting up an ambush, aiming his weapon at that door, prepared to shoot as soon as Aiden came though. From inside, he heard Shua give a nervous whinny.
Tab swore. “If he hurts my horse, I’ll kill him.”
Aiden went to the big double doors at the front and unfastened the latch. “When I open this door, I want you to hide behind it. Stay low.”
“I’m coming with you. That’s my horse.”
“No time to argue. I won’t let him hurt Shua.”
She stamped her foot once. Frustration was evident on her face. “Okay, I’ll stay out here. But let me open the door. That leaves your hands free. Aiden, you’ve got to hurry.”
The double doors were wide enough for a truck full of hay to pull inside. And they were heavy. As Tab grabbed the bar and pulled, he rushed inside and went to the left, ducking behind the edge of the first stall. A few bare bulbs cast a dim glow. Moonlight from the open door spilled onto the packed dirt floor. The side of the horse barn opposite the stalls was two stories tall with a hay loft above. The area below held rough work benches and racks for storing tack and other tools.
Aiden scanned the hay loft in the high part of the barn and listened for the sound of footsteps creaking in the rafters. He heard nothing, saw no sign of movement. If the intruder had climbed the ladder to the loft, he had the best vantage point. But it also meant that he was trapped; there was only one ladder.
Still keeping an eye on the loft, he peeked around the edge of his hiding place. Aiden counted four stalls with closed half doors. The farthest was occupied by Shua. The black horse poked his head through the half door and nickered. Nobody could have been hiding in the stall with the horse. Shua would have been more agitated.
A groan came from the stall beside him. Had the intruder injured himself? A rusty voice called out, “Help me.”
Moving carefully but quickly, Aiden came around the edge of the stall and peered over the half door. Curled on the floor was a man with an arm outstretched. “Help me.”
As soon as Aiden opened the half door and entered the stall, he was aware of movement at the far wall. The side door whipped open and cracked against the wall. The intruder was getting away, and there was nothing Aiden could do about it.
He wanted to give chase, but he couldn’t abandon the person in distress. “Are you injured?”
The answer was a groan.
Aiden dropped to a squat and pulled aside the heavy buffalo robe. On his side with his shoulders hunched, Wally clutched the front of his blood-soaked shirt.
His wound looked more serious than anything Aiden could handle. Lucky for Wally, he had a nurse with him. “Tab,” he called to her. “I need you.”
In seconds, she appeared at the door of the stall. “I saw the guy in the sweatshirt. He’s running downhill, toward the road.”
Even if Aiden could sprout wings and fly in pursuit, he wouldn’t be able to catch the intruder and help Wally at the same time. “We’re going to have to let him go.”
She sank down beside him. Efficiently, she adjusted Wally’s position so he was on his back.
The old man let out a groan. “It hurts.”
Tab murmured words of assurance as she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the fabric aside to get a better look at the wound on his upper chest. Breathing in frantic gasps, Wally clawed helplessly at her hands. His pale, scrawny chest heaved. His ribs stood out like a skeleton.
“He’s been shot,” Tab said. “I need a compress, something to hold against the wound to stop the bleeding.”
“Do you have first-aid supplies in the house?”
“No time for that. We need to get him to a hospital. Give me your shirt.”
Aiden stood and stripped down to his undershirt, which he whipped off and handed to her. As he put his shirt and jacket back on, he stared regretfully at the open door on the side of the barn where the intruder had escaped. Why had he lured them to the horse barn? He must have known they’d find Wally and help him. It didn’t make sense unless he thought Wally was already dead.
Kneeling beside Tab, he grasped Wally’s hand and leaned close to his face. The stink from the old man was beyond disgusting. “Wally, can you hear me?”
His eyes wavered wildly. “Am I going to die?”
“You’re going to be all right,” Tab said. “We’re going to take you to the hospital in the chopper.”
To her, he said, “You told me I could visit Maria Spotted Bear. You said I could come here. Anytime.”
“It’s okay. I’m not angry.”
“Anytime, you said so.”
Tab placed Aiden’s white undershirt against the still-bleeding wound. “This will hurt. I’m going to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Do you have any other injuries?”
“On my noggin. I think he hit me.”
“Who hit you?” Aiden asked. “Did you get a look at him?”
“He was a two-face.”
“What?”
Tab grabbed his hand and placed it over his now-ruined undershirt. “I want you to keep applying pressure.”
“What’s a ‘two-face’?”
Ignoring him, she spoke to Wally. “Can you sit up? I want to look at your head.”
“A two-face,” Wally repeated. “Never look him in the eye. He’ll freeze your bones down to the marrow.”
Though Aiden had no idea what he was babbling about, Aiden played along. “Did the two-face say anything?”
“Said I saw too much. Talked too much.”
“Enough,” Tab said. “Wally, try to sit up.”
With her help, Wally dragged himself off the floor and immediately slumped forward. Dark blood matted the hair on the back of his head. His shoulders heaved. He began to wheeze.
“He might have a punctu
red lung,” Tab said. “Do you have a gurney or spine board in the chopper?”
“Both.” Wally’s cough convulsed his entire body. He didn’t look good. “But it’s going to take a while for me to get them unpacked. Is there time?”
“He’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t see an exit wound, which means the bullet is still in him. The sooner we can get him to the hospital, the better.”
“I’ll carry him.”
“It’s not the best procedure. The blow to his head might have caused spinal or neck injury.”
He understood her concerns and her medical professionalism, but if they didn’t get Wally to immediate care, he might not make it. This was an emergency situation. Proper procedure didn’t apply.
“I’m taking him.” Aiden slapped his gun into her hand. “If somebody comes after us, don’t hesitate to open fire.”
He wrapped the buffalo robe around the old man and lifted him like a child into his arms. He didn’t weigh much, but carrying him was clumsy. His old hands folded in against his chest. When his eyes closed, he looked half dead.
“Careful,” Tab said. “Don’t trip.”
“Trying not to.”
They left the horse barn and went past the house. Balancing Wally in his arms, Aiden got into a regular rhythm. As he strode toward the chopper, he heard that old song in his head. He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother. The Buffalo Man wasn’t family or even a close friend, but Aiden cared about what happened to the old guy. He ain’t heavy. He ain’t heavy.
At the chopper, Tab opened the rear door and jumped inside. She pulled a padded gurney down from the wall where it had been stowed. Aiden stretched Wally out on the padding. As he released his hold, the old man reached up and grabbed his arm.
Wheezing and gasping, he managed to choke out one word. “Goodbye.”
“You’re not leaving,” Aiden said. “We’re in this together. You and me and Tab.”
In minutes, the helicopter was airborne. Using the emergency frequency, he contacted St. John’s Hospital in Billings to let the E.R. know that he was bringing in a gunshot victim. There was a closer facility in Henley, but they weren’t as well equipped and didn’t have a helipad. The extra ten minutes to get to Billings was worth the risk for better surgeons and better possibility for transfusion.
