by Marlow Kelly
She stepped closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” Damn, she sounded desperate.
“I screwed up.” He picked up the sketch of the bear.
“Why’d you skip school?” She tried to control the accusation in her voice. Next year he would be in grade eleven. She wanted him to graduate and have a future that didn’t involve drugs and stealing.
“Tim told me not to run. He said the bear would chase us…”
“And?” She allowed him to change the subject. Maybe it was wrong to use police interrogation techniques on her son, but if she wanted to understand him, she had to let him talk. Later she would circle back to her original question.
“It did. I was down the hill. He was still up there, facing the bear. I was a coward.” His head drooped forward so his long blue hair covered his face. She didn’t need to be a cop to know her son was ashamed of his behavior.
She sat on the bed next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself.”
“Tim called me a bastard.”
“He what?” She ground her teeth as she tried to control her rage. The man who had torn her family apart had the nerve to judge her son. If he were in the room now, she would break his handsome face.
“I suppose, technically, I am, but that wasn’t what he meant. He was angry because I ran.”
“Where were you going when you started running?”
“To his ATV at the bottom of the mountain. He gave me the keys.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Why had he given the keys to someone who was little more than a child? Then another question occurred to her. “What mountain? Where were you?”
“I was on Molly’s Mountain. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. All the kids in school were arguing about it, and I have no idea what’s going on, so I went out to take a look.”
“Is that why you skipped school?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you ask me? I’m a cop. I could’ve given you an overview and asked Ben if we could take a tour.”
“I wanted to see for myself and make up my own mind.”
She inhaled, reminding herself that becoming independent was a natural part of growing up. “So what did you decide?”
“I don’t like the idea of some mining company coming in and forcing Ben off his land.”
“Yeah, they’re using a law called Eminent Domain. They own the mineral rights to whatever’s beneath Molly’s Mountain.”
“How can they own what’s beneath the land if it belongs to Ben?”
The microwave dinged. Her food was warm, but she ignored it. “Back when Montana was being settled, the government sometimes severed the surface estate from the mineral rights, which means, even though you own the land, someone else might own what’s beneath it.”
“So what has emin-eminent—?”
“Eminent Domain is a law that says the government can take your land to build roads, schools, and for economic development. But they have to give you fair compensation for it. They can’t just take it and give you nothing.”
“So basically the government is trying to buy Ben’s land, but he doesn’t want to sell.”
“In this case, Third Estate Mining is working on behalf of the government, and yes, you’re right, Ben doesn’t want to sell. He says the surface and mineral rights were never severed, and he owns what’s above and what’s beneath the ground.”
“And that’s why people are camped out at the entrance to his property?”
“Yes, some of them support Ben. They think forcing him off his land is a criminal act and should be stopped. Others want the work a mine will bring. Hopefalls could do with some good paying jobs. It’ll keep the town alive and stop people from leaving.”
“What do you think?”
She stood and headed for the door. “I think I’m a cop who’s not allowed to take sides.” It was an evasive answer, and she knew it. “But I want you to stay away from the protesters. People can get pretty worked up over stuff like this. Sooner or later, someone’s going to get hurt, and I don’t want it to be you.”
“Someone already did get hurt. Do you think the mining company had Ben killed?”
She stopped at the entrance to his room. “Why would you say that?” Booley had been so fixated on Timothy Morgan, he couldn’t see anyone else, but even her fifteen year old could consider other suspects.
Logan stood. His pale blue gaze, so like his father’s, held hers. “I don’t think it was Tim. He could’ve walked away and let the bear eat me. No one would’ve known, but he didn’t.”
She strode to the kitchen to retrieve her dinner. “We don’t know anything about him, let alone if he’s capable of murder. Besides, I don’t think you have to worry. By the look of it, he has rich friends and a high-priced lawyer.” She pictured Detective Ramirez shaking hands with the scarred man. Quinn, yes, that was his name. The detective knew him. Come to think of it, the couple looked familiar. She’d seen them somewhere before. The way the detective greeted them suggested they weren’t criminals, but Quinn seemed too dangerous to be a civilian.
Logan paced after her. “Do you think Tim killed Aunt Alice?” She sensed his tension and uncertainty.
“I don’t know.” She collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. The past and present seemed to have collided into one big mess. She didn’t know what had happened on that mountain road west of Hopefalls. All she knew was that her aunt had died, and the person responsible had never been brought to justice.
Logan grabbed a glass of water and headed for his room.
“I don’t want you to skip school again. Do you understand?”
He stopped at his bedroom door and gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”
She rested the casserole dish on a pile of papers and then bit into a mouthful of chicken without tasting it. Her son would do whatever he pleased. It wasn’t like when he was small and she could punish him by taking away a toy or giving him a timeout. He was older now. In a few short years, he would be a man. She needed to find a way to reach him, and getting angry wasn’t going to achieve that. “I want you to graduate high school, have options, and not flunk out,” she shouted, not knowing if he could hear her or if he had his ear buds in and music playing.
“There’s no point. I’m not good at anything. I can’t even do shop,” he shouted back.
“You’re good at art,” she said, grasping at the one thing she knew he loved.
“There’s no money in art, and Grandpa said it’s not a real job.” She cursed under her breath. Her father had put the idea in Logan’s mind that art wasn’t for real men. He wanted Logan to follow in his footsteps and become a firefighter. Her father’s negative attitude had done a number on her son and was another reason why moving to Hopefalls was a well-needed change.
She left her food in the kitchen, walked to his bedroom, and stood at the door. “You know your grandfather can be wrong. I got pregnant with you when I was your age. I missed a lot of school and graduated a year late. I would rather you didn’t have to go through that.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t get pregnant.”
“Smartass, and if you do get a girl pregnant, you’re going to support her.”
His brow crinkled as he considered his answer. “Not like my dad.”
Dana suspected his father’s abandonment had hurt Logan in ways he couldn’t explain. Her ex hadn’t just dumped her as a pregnant teen. He’d left his child, too.
Her voice softened. “You’re a better man than he ever was. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.” He gave her a small smile.
She returned to the kitchen table, grabbed her dish of chicken, and made her way to the shabby living room. If she kept the avocado green carpet and dull-brown, overstuffed furniture another twenty years, they might come back into fashion. That would save her a lot of work.
She picked up the remote for the small flat-screen TV but didn’t tur
n it on. A face flashed in her mind—Alex Rowe. She remembered his body slumped in a heap on the ground, blood pooling from a wound to his chest. As far as her superiors in the Spokane Police Department were concerned, her actions had been justified, but his face was the last thing she saw every night as she drifted off to sleep.
Logan’s shoplifting and her “incident” had happened in the same month. She hadn’t just moved to Hopefalls for her son’s well-being. She’d come here to put some distance between herself and the memories that had altered her perception of who she was. Gone was the confident, able policewoman who could analyze situations and act decisively to protect the public. She hoped that being in a small town where she wouldn’t be required to draw her weapon would help her conquer her uncertainties about her reactions and decisions because, if she couldn’t overcome her doubts, she couldn’t be a cop anymore.
She switched on the TV and turned up the volume. Leaving it on, she rose slowly, crept to the kitchen, and placed the dish of chicken on the table. Then she peeked around the wall that separated the kitchen from the hallway. Logan had closed the door to his room and probably had his ear buds in, but just in case he could hear, she tiptoed to the linen closet in the hall. Very carefully, so as not to make a sound, she extracted a bag of chips from under a pile of towels. Then she snuck into her room. She popped open the bag. The smell of potato, fat, and salt made her sigh. Logan didn’t approve of her junk food habit, but sometimes a woman just needed to cut loose and have a bag of chips.
Her move to Hopefalls wasn’t working out the way she’d planned. She’d wanted a better life for herself and her son, but what constituted a better life? Logan was unhappy here and she went to work every day unsure of her abilities. The problem lay with her. She was off-center. Her doubts about herself leached into every part of her life, and she didn’t know how to overcome them. There were times when she felt so alone. She’d become an expert at putting on a brave face and carrying on, but there were moments when she wished she had someone to talk to, someone she could count on.
She hoped for a future where her world had balance, and not only in her work, but in her personal life as well. She’d planned to start dating once Logan finished high school and moved out. She was still in her early thirties. There was time for her to have more children. She pushed the thought aside. Her last boyfriend had told her she was the most unfeminine woman he had ever met. The trouble was she couldn’t argue the point with him. She hated cooking and housework, and she never wore dresses. She liked working out and investigating crimes. She used to enjoy going to the firing range and had worked hard to ensure she was an accurate shot and could hit center mass every time. Those weren’t desirable qualities in a woman. She stuffed a few more chips into her mouth. She didn’t need a man. She needed to get her act together. Once she was no longer haunted by the past, she could look to the future.
She finished her chips and lay on the bed. Maybe she’d get lucky and wake up tomorrow with amnesia. Then she could forget about homicide, manslaughter, her fears, her son’s truancy, and the incredibly attractive Tim Morgan who was suspected of murder.
Chapter Ten
Tim’s stomach tightened as he turned onto the Hopefalls Highway. Leaving the ranch always filled him with a sense of loss, but today it was gut-wrenching. Yesterday had been a kick in the teeth. All his years of proving his worth and becoming an upstanding human being had gone down the drain. In the eyes of the residents of Hopefalls, he was still a fifteen-year-old boy who had gone up to Wind Ridge to think. He hadn’t stolen the stop sign, but that didn’t matter. Booley had latched on to him like a pit bull and wouldn’t let go. Then Tim had made the worst mistake of his life. He ran away, and that had made him appear guilty.
He hadn’t slept well. His dreams had been filled with Officer Dana Hayden. He had been slammed with an almost euphoric high at their immediate physical attraction. All that had been lost the minute she had heard his name. He’d seen shock in her startled gray eyes, which then turned to suspicion as she pushed Logan behind her, shielding her son from his presence.
He reached the gate that marked the long drive up to Ben’s cabin. There was only one tent left. It wasn’t surprising. The pro-jobs group were mostly locals who could go home at night, and the environmentalists, who normally camped out, had probably scattered with the announcement of Ben’s death. The news there was a bear in the area had given any stragglers the final push they needed to leave.
He stopped as a muscular, bearded man in a wool cap held up a sign that read Save the wilderness. What was left of the campground was a mess. Garbage was strewn everywhere. A small camp stove sat on a table next to the tent. There were large rubber containers lined up neatly next to the table and two red jerry cans sat on the ground between the table and the tent.
Tim rolled down the window. He smelt pancakes and maple syrup. “Hi, I’m Tim. I own the spread next to Ben’s.”
The man nodded. “Ethan Moore.”
“Have you heard there’s a grizzly bear with cubs in the area? I encountered her yesterday. It was pretty scary.”
Ethan scowled. “Are you trying to scare me off?”
“No, but you seem to be doing everything you can to attract a bear. Your food should be cooked and stored at least a hundred yards away from your tent.” He pointed to the jerry cans. “Any strong smells, even gasoline, will bring her here.”
“That’s a pile of shit,” Ethan spat. “The smell of gas will scare her away. I was going to pour it around the tent.”
“Don’t do that.” Was he trying to get eaten alive? Tim sighed, reigning in his reaction. Ethan was already confrontational. Tim didn’t want to fight with him. All he wanted to do was warn him. Then he could leave with a clear conscience. “When I go into the mountains, I have to cache my food and gas at least twelve feet above the ground so they don’t get it.”
Ethan cocked his head to the side. “The food I can see, but there’s no way a bear will eat gas.”
“They don’t eat it. They’re attracted to the smell. If you don’t believe me, look it up on the Internet and then get yourself some bear spray.”
“I have a rifle.” That comment seemed wrong, but Tim couldn’t figure out why. He dismissed it. He hadn’t stopped to assess some random protester’s character.
“Statistics show that you have a better chance of survival with spray. If you use your rifle for defense, you need to kill her with the first shot. You’d have to be a marksman with ice water in your veins to do that.”
“You’re making this up to scare me.” Ethan smiled, but his eyes remained cold and emotionless.
“No, if it’s any consolation, I hope you win. My property won’t be worth as much if there’s a mine next door.” He rolled up the window and put his truck in gear, aware that Ethan was watching him as he drove away.
There was something about the activist that made Tim’s hair stand on end. It was like the itchy feeling he got in combat the moment before they hit an IED.
No, he was just being paranoid. He was shaken up because Booley had rattled his cage. He had to get a grip. Ramirez was in charge, and the detective had told him there was nothing to suggest he would be arrested.
Did one of the protesters kill Ben? He shook away the thought. It wasn’t his job to play detective, and he’d always been lousy with puzzles.
The small town of Hopefalls seemed to spring up out of the forest. There were only two main roads in town. The Hopefalls Highway, which ran from the Cabinet Mountains and the Kootenai National Forest in the west through Hopefalls to Granite City. And the secondary road that ran north to south. They intersected at a four-way stop in the center of town.
Evergreens lined the streets and popped up between the police station, the town hall, the post office, Crawley’s general store, and the diner. This wasn’t like the tree-lined streets of suburban America. It seemed as if the town had been hacked out of the forest. Even the northbound road up to the exclusive part of town known as T
he Heights seemed untamed. As if the wilderness had only loaned the land to the citizens of Hopefalls.
Tim turned his gaze toward The Heights. Although he’d never been up there, he’d heard it was a newer development that boasted sprawling mansions that sat on acres of land. It was said that each residence had a panoramic view of the mountains. From what he could tell, it wasn’t a subdivision for the locals, who were generally of modest means, although it was rumored the mayor’s home was located in The Heights.
This would be the first time he’d stopped in town since his mother’s funeral. On that occasion, he’d worn his dress uniform. Luckily, Booley had been away and the residents had left him alone. He wasn’t sure if that was out of respect for his parents or the regiment.
He parked in front of the Hope Junction Diner. Frank and Eva Bryant were his childhood friends. They hadn’t stayed close, but he’d heard through Mrs. Anderson that Frank had recently passed away from pancreatic cancer. He had only lasted three months from the date of diagnosis. Tim hadn’t attended Frank’s funeral. Booley was Eva’s uncle, and she had enough on her plate without him starting any trouble.
The diner had seen better days. Red paint peeled off the doorframe and windows. The black and white tiled floor was cracked, and the red vinyl seats were frayed and had been repaired with electrical tape. A few locals sat in the booths. Tim recognized the faces but couldn’t remember their names. They eyed him with blatant suspicion, which wasn’t a surprise.
Eva stood behind the counter. She seemed to be the only person working. He remembered her at fourteen. She had been young and pretty with a figure that left all the boys panting, but she’d only had eyes for Frank. Confident, happy-go-lucky Frank who wanted nothing more than to stay in Hopefalls and make a life with the girl he loved.
Eva’s hips had grown wider in recent years, her light brown hair was tied in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and fine lines etched her eyes and mouth, but for all that, she was still a very attractive woman.
“Good morning.” Tim smiled. “Can I have a coffee to go?”
