Bitter Truth

by C. J. Carmichael

  Zak was normally a sound sleeper but Nikki’s disappearance magnified the unease he felt about Lacy’s death. Yesterday he’d broken his own rule and suggested to the sheriff there might be a link. Ford told him to stick to answering the phone and filing papers, stuff he was good at.

  Of course Nadine had been in the room, had witnessed his humiliation.

  Zak couldn’t afford to worry about his own ego though. Finding Nikki was now even more important than figuring out if Lacy had been murdered.

  If Nikki decided to go for a drive after she dropped off Luke, and had an accident of some sort, her truck should have been found by now. That hadn’t happened.

  Which left two other possibilities. One, she’d run off for her own reasons, or, two, someone had taken her—and either used her Jeep to do it, or stashed her Jeep somewhere.

  Zak favored the first theory. He could see no logical reason for Nikki to be abducted. Her parents and uncle might be pressuring her to approve that land sale, but he couldn’t believe they would try to scare or threaten her into changing her vote. And the odds she’d been abducted by a random rapist or killer were remote.

  But what if he was wrong?

  Even a small chance that Nikki could come to harm was too much to risk.

  He thought of yet another possibility. What if she’d been abducted, but it wasn’t random? Supposing Lacy had been murdered—Nikki might have seen something, heard something, the killer considered dangerous. In the very worst case scenario, Nikki could have been killed herself to tie up this hypothetical loose end.

  Zak skipped his morning run and instead used the time to call Luke. His friend answered quickly. “Any news on Nikki?”

  “No. Sorry. I just have a few questions for you.”

  Zak could hear cows mooing in the background as Luke admitted, “I couldn’t sleep last night. Damn but I wish that cousin of mine would turn up.”

  “Could you give me a list of friends we could check with? I know you’ve probably contacted them already, but it might help if we talked to them as well.”

  “Nikki prefers the company of animals to most people, but she does have one friend she hangs out with quite a bit. Sophie Johnson, she’s an elementary teacher in Sula. I’ll send you her contact information if I can find it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pass that on to the sheriff. I’m sure he’ll want to follow up.” Zak would make sure that he did.

  “Appreciate everything you guys are doing. We’ve all been searching the ranch, but it’s a big place. Me and Dad, Uncle Clayton and Tom are heading out on the horses once chores are done. Nikki’s Jeep is all-wheel drive. She could be almost anywhere.”

  The prospect of searching over eighty thousand acres sure was daunting. “Good luck. Let us know if you find anything.”

  While he waited for his steel-cut oats to cook, Zak called Sophie. She hadn’t talked to Nikki since Lacy’s funeral, but she gave him the name of three other friends, and soon Zak had a list of ten people to be questioned.

  When he finally arrived at the office, Zak was tired and out of sorts. He usually relied on his morning run to clear his head. This morning it would have to be coffee.

  By the time the sheriff showed up, making a beeline to his office with his usual grunt instead of hello, Zak had added addresses and contact numbers for all the names on his list. He took the sheet of paper into the sheriff’s office along with some reports that needed signatures.

  “I have the list of Nikki’s friends.” He made it sound like this was something that had been asked for.

  The sheriff hesitated a long moment before holding out his hand for the paper. “Guess I should talk to them. See if any of them have any ideas where she is.”

  The sheriff was already getting to his feet. To forestall him, Zak handed over the reports he’d been carrying in his other hand. “If you could sign these first so I can file them...”

  The sheriff grunted, but settled his weight back into his chair and picked up his pen.

  He barely glanced at the report Nadine had written about the vandalism at Cora Christensen’s house. He slashed out his signature, then set it aside, working his way through the other documents in a similar fashion, finally pushing away the last one as if its very existence was annoying to him.

  “I’ll be out most of the day with this.” He held up the sheet of names. “And Butterfield will be patrolling, widening his search area. Since it’s been a few days we can put out an APB on Nikki’s vehicle. And you should also arrange for a helicopter search of the area around the ranch, any place she might be able to get to in her truck.”

  “Yes, Sheriff.” He’d already set both into action first thing that morning—the approvals had been among the papers Ford had just signed.

  Not long later, Ford was out of the office, leaving only Zak and Nadine. Nadine, scheduled to give a talk at the grade school in Sula an hour from now, was reviewing her talking points.

  “There’s a woman missing in our county and I have to give a speech to a bunch of snotty-nosed kids. I hate public speaking,” she muttered.

  “Eight-year-olds are easy. Show them your badge. Let them try on handcuffs. They’ll be cool.”

  At his desk, Zak pulled Nadine’s report from the pile the sheriff had just signed. He was halfway through reading it when he had the sense of being watched.

  Sure enough, Nadine was leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed and a partly smug, partly annoyed smile on her face.

  “I thought you were supposed to file that. Not read it.”

  “I was curious.”

  “I guess I should be glad someone’s interested. I bet the sheriff didn’t even skim it before he signed it.”

  Zak shrugged one shoulder, meaning What do you expect? Nadine had worked here long enough to know the drill. He glanced back at the photograph of Cora Christensen’s door copied in the report. It took a much different mind-set to spray the word “Slut” in dark red paint on someone’s door than it did to throw a few eggs at a window.

  Reading further in the report, he saw that Nadine agreed with him.

  “So you ruled out Trevor Larkin and his friend?” Fourteen-year-old Trevor was not a bad kid, just a little wild. His inadvertent witnessing of a serious crime last Halloween had probably stripped him of some of that.

  “Trevor’s Monday night is accounted for and his parents back him up. He got home from school at the usual time, did his homework and ate dinner, then his dad drove him to and from hockey practice, which he also helped to coach. Of course, Trevor could have snuck out of the house after his parents were asleep. But he seemed genuinely surprised about the door when I questioned him.”

  “Kids have been pulling pranks on Miss Christensen for as long as I can remember, but none of them ever dared to call her names, let alone ‘slut.’”

  “You think this is connected to her affair with Jack Stillman becoming public knowledge?”

  Zak swiveled his chair so he faced her. Arms on his legs, he leaned forward and studied her keen blue eyes. She was smart. No hand-holding or gentle guidance needed here.

  “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I know who did the painting—or smearing might be a better word. Cora’s got a lot of pride. Being publicly labeled a slut would have stung.”

  “She had a sheet draped over her door when I arrived. And a painter booked to scrap the door later that afternoon.”

  “Is that right?” Zak had to smile. Cora had guilted him into cleaning the dried egg off her window last month. But clearly she had the resources to solve her own problems when sufficiently motivated.

  “Do you think someone from the Stillman family is responsible?”

  “They’re the obvious suspects. But I can’t see any of them stooping this low.” As soon as he said this, Zak questioned his assumptions. He and Luke were friends, but they’d never been especially close. He knew the rest of the family even less.

  “Here’s another question for you.” Nadine’s eyes were glistening, a hu
nter with eyes on her prey. “Is it a coincidence Cora’s door was vandalized the same night Nikki Stillman disappeared?”

  Zak had been wondering if he was the only one who noticed that. “I wouldn’t think so.”

  “Me, either.” Nadine checked her watch, then sighed. “Time to face the kids. But when this is over I’m going to head back to the Lazy S and do some looking around.”

  “You’ll have to clear that with the sheriff.” On his way out that morning, Zak had seen Ford dump a stack of paperwork onto Nadine’s desk.

  Nadine swore. “Right, and fat chance he’ll listen to a word I say.”

  She put on her jacket, jammed her talking notes into one of the pockets. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stomach working for that fool.”

  He sensed this wasn’t idle talk, and felt a jab of worry. Despite the way she kept him slightly off balance, Nadine was the best thing that had happened to this department. Ever. “You and me both. But there are ways of working around him.”

  “Thank God there’s an election coming up next year.”

  “You think that’ll make a difference? No one’s ever challenged Archie Ford for this office.”

  “Maybe not so far.” Nadine placed both of her hands on his desk and leaned forward until their eyes were less than a foot apart. “But someone should.”

  The sky was sapphire blue, the trees frosted with silver as Tiff drove toward the Lazy S with two trees strapped to the roof of her SUV. But she no longer had the uplifting “all’s right with the world” feeling she’d woken up with.

  Far from it.

  Nikki had been missing two days now. That was worrisome enough, but Tiff’s growing sense of unease had more to do with the situation at home.

  Was Kenny right? Was her aunt taking advantage of Tiff’s mother’s mental instability? Tiff had to admit there was a weird dynamic between the two sisters. She couldn’t say exactly why, but something did feel off.

  It took a total shift in perspective for her to see her aunt in any sort of bad light, though.

  For as long as she could remember, her aunt had been her champion, making it possible for Tiff to go to college, to take a job in Seattle, to have a boyfriend and live a life unencumbered by the baggage of her past. Her aunt had put her own needs second. She’d sold the cute house she’d lived in before Tiff’s father died. And put marriage to Dr. Pittman and the possibility of her own children on hold, as well. She’d done these things for the sake of her sister and the niece she adored...

  Or, was the truth the complete converse?

  Was it possible her aunt actually wanted Tiff out of the way so that she could be the mistress of her family home? As Rosemary’s power of attorney, it was Marsha who ran the house and Raven Farms, Marsha who controlled the money, Marsha who made all the important decisions...

  Marsha and Rosemary had grown up together on Raven Farms. Had Marsha resented the fact that the house and land had been left entirely to her younger sister and her husband?

  Tiff wished she could simply ask her aunt that question. In the past she’d been able to talk to Aunt Marsha about anything. Lately though that wasn’t the case. When she’d asked her about Gwen, then about Dr. Pittman’s late night visit, Marsha had acted annoyed and avoided answering.

  The relationship between them was changing. Tiff wished she understood why.

  All was quiet when Tiff approached the main gate to the Lazy S. She slowed to a crawl at the cattle guard, not wanting the trees to fall off her roof. Not even a dog greeted her as she pulled up at Eugene and Em’s home. No doubt they were looking for Nikki. She knocked at the door to be sure, but no one answered.

  So much for finding out what was going on.

  She untied the shorter of the two trees and shifted it to her shoulder. She carried it as far as the front porch, then eased it down and propped it against the stairs where it would be easy to carry into the house.

  Next she drove to Clayton and Vanessa’s place.

  Christmas lights had been wrapped around the three pine trees in the front lawn, as well as along the roof-line of the ranch house. When had Clayton found the time to do this—before Nikki’s disappearance or after?

  As soon as she opened her vehicle’s door, she smelled a delicious aroma of apples and cinnamon. Someone was home. And they were baking.

  First she untied the tree. This one was taller and more awkward to carry, but she managed to half-carry, half-drag it to the porch. She was about to rest it on the railing when the front door opened.

  “Don’t put that tree there! It’ll scratch the paint.” Vanessa Stillman tiptoed out to the porch in bare feet. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing leggings and a fitted tank top. Her skin glowed and she didn’t have a spare pound on her tall, small-boned frame.

  “Okay.” Tiff shifted the weight back to her shoulder, then eased the tree down on the snowbank next to the walkway. “Is this good?”

  “Tiffany Masterson. What in the world? Since when does Raven Farms deliver Christmas trees?”

  Tiffany brushed her gloved hands together, dislodging a few needles. “We don’t usually. But I promised Nikki I would set aside a nice sixteen-foot noble fir for her. She wanted it to be here when you got back from your trip.”

  Vanessa frowned and then shivered. She glanced at Tiff’s vehicle, then beyond it, to the road. She seemed to be weighing options, none of which were good. Finally she nodded her head toward the interior of her home.

  “It’s too cold to talk out here. Come inside. I assume I need to pay you for the tree?”

  Before Tiff could answer, Vanessa disappeared inside and Tiff was forced to follow. She scraped her boots on the outdoor mat, then stepped into the foyer and closed the door.

  There was no sign of Vanessa in the grand entrance, or the living room opening off of it.

  The place looked like a magazine spread. Every detail was perfect—there was even a fire snapping and crackling in the river rock fireplace built into the bank of windows opposite.

  The scent of smoky hickory mingled nicely with the baking aromas she’d noticed earlier.

  “Take off your boots and come through to the kitchen.”

  Tiff did as asked, curious to see if the rest of the house would match up to this. The floor felt warm in her socked feet. Heated tile flooring. Nice. No wonder Vanessa was in bare feet.

  The kitchen was huge, with modern, flat-faced cabinets and impressive gray concrete countertops. The cooktop was built into an island that also had seating for six. Vanessa waved her toward one of the stools, just as a timer went off.

  Vanessa whisked a muffin tray out of the oven.

  Presumably she’d mixed these up this morning, but there wasn’t so much as a measuring cup or a dusting of flour to be seen on the counters.

  Vanessa turned the muffins into a basket lined with a linen napkin. “Would you like one? They’re gluten-free and low-fat.”

  “No thanks.”

  Despite the nods to mountain architecture, this house felt more like an upscale hotel than a ranch house. And instead of the distressed mother she’d expected to find, Vanessa was acting like a cross between a Stepford wife and a Martha Stewart clone.

  “Any word from Nikki?”

  Vanessa’s chest expanded on a deep breath. She held the air for a long time, perhaps it was a relaxing technique she’d learned at the fancy Arizona spa. When she finally expelled, some of the lines on her forehead and down the sides of her mouth disappeared.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry. You must be so worried.”

  Vanessa swept a tiny crumb from the counter, to her hand, then carried it across the room to the garbage, housed discreetly in a pullout cabinet.

  “It would be just like Nikki to pull a stunt like this to make us change our minds about selling some of her grandmother’s precious land. Only, it really isn’t in her character to defy us so openly.” Her gaze moved to the bank of windows facing the mountain view. “Or to worry us this
way.”

  And suddenly Tiff could see it. The bright gleam in Vanessa’s eyes, the slight tremor in her hands. She wasn’t being the perfect homemaker. She was stress-baking. And no doubt stress-cleaning as well.

  “Assuming she was upset about the idea of selling land...do you have any idea where she might go?”

  “If it was warmer, I’d guess Nikki drove down some remote forestry road and put up a tent in the woods. But it’s too cold for that. Her credit card is linked to the farm, so we’ve been able to monitor it and she hasn’t used it once since she left. So I don’t have a clue. Not a single clue.”

  Her eyes grew shinier. Just as it seemed a tear would escape and roll down her cheek, Vanessa blinked rapidly then bagged a few of the muffins and passed them to Tiff.

  “If you’re not hungry now, you can eat them later.”

  Tiff’s mother and Vanessa were such different people. Yet they both medicated pain and suffering with baking. Safer than drugs or alcohol, at least.

  “Thank you.”

  Vanessa waved her hand. “It gives me something to do. When Nikki was born I was so happy to have a daughter. I imagined baking cookies together, doing arts and crafts... But Nikki hates anything that keeps her inside. Even as a teenager she never wanted me to paint her nails for her or take her shopping.”

  Vanessa’s shoulders shrank as she said this. Suddenly Tiff saw the loneliness under her sophisticated veneer, and it reminded her of the look she caught on her mother’s face sometimes.

  “Right from the beginning Nikki was closer to her grandmother than to me.”

  Daughters disappointing mothers. It seemed to be a theme around Lost Trail. Was it true everywhere? Why did couples even have children, then?

  “The sheriff’s department is working hard to find Nikki. Hopefully she’ll be home soon.”

  “What if she’s left the county? She could be anywhere.” Vanessa took a cloth and began polishing the spotless sink. “It’s not even much land—only fifty acres. She’s such a silly, idealistic girl. That money could make all the difference for our family. And running away won’t help her position anyway.”

  “Why’s that?” Tiff pulled the bag of muffins closer. Despite the lack of gluten and fat, they did smell good.