by B. J Daniels
“You’re up early,” he said to his father without turning around as Hud came up behind him.
“I could say the same about you. I thought you and I should talk.”
“Isn’t that what we did at dinner last night?” Hank asked sarcastically. His father hadn’t said ten words. Instead his mother had filled in the awkward silences.
“I’m glad you came back,” Hud said.
He turned finally to look at his father. The sun glowed behind the mountain peaks to the east, rimming them with a bright orange glow. He studied his father in the dim light. They were now both about the same height, both with broad shoulders and slim hips. Both stubborn to a fault. Both never backing down from a fight. He stared at the marshal, still angry with him after all these years.
“I’m not staying long.”
Hud nodded. “That’s too bad. Your mother will be disappointed. So am I. Son—”
“There really isn’t anything to talk about, is there? We said everything we had to say three years ago. What would be the point of rehashing it?”
“I stand by what I did.”
Hank laughed. “I’d be shocked if you didn’t.” He shook his head. “It must be wonderful to know that you’re always right.”
“I’m not always right. I just do the best I can with the information and evidence I have.”
“Well, you’re wrong this time,” he said and turned back to the horses. One of the mares had come up to have her muzzle rubbed. Behind him, he heard his father head back toward the house and felt some of the tension in his chest release even as he cursed under his breath.
* * *
DANA HAD INSISTED on making them breakfast. After a stack of silver-dollar-sized pancakes swimming in butter and huckleberry syrup, a slab of ham, two eggs over easy and a tall glass of orange juice, Frankie sat back smiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten so much or liked it more.
No matter what happened on this visit to the ranch, she planned to enjoy herself as much as was possible.
“I thought dinner was amazing,” she told Dana. Hank’s favorite meal turned out to be roast beef, mashed potatoes, carrots and peas and homemade rolls. “But this breakfast... It was so delicious. I never eat like this.”
“I can tell by your figure,” her host said, beaming. Clearly Dana equated food with love as she looked to her son to see if he’d enjoyed it. He’d cleaned his plate, which seemed to make her even happier. “So, what do you two have planned today?”
“I thought I’d show Frankie around Big Sky,” Hank said.
“Well, it’s certainly changed since you were here,” his mother said. “I think you’ll be surprised. Will you two be back for lunch? Your father still comes home every day at twelve.”
“I think we’ll get something in town, but thanks, Mom. Thanks for everything.”
Tears filled her eyes and her voice broke when she spoke. “I’m just glad to have you home. Now, plan on being here for supper. Your dad’s doing steaks on the grill and some of the family is stopping by. Not everyone. We don’t want to overwhelm Frankie.”
“I appreciate that,” he said.
Frankie offered to help with the dishes, but Dana shooed them out, telling them to have a fun day.
Fun was the last thing on the agenda, she thought as she left with Hank.
* * *
HANK HAD BEEN restless all morning, but he’d known that he couldn’t get away from the house without having one of his mother’s breakfasts. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. It would be bad enough when she learned the truth.
Pushing that thought away, he concentrated on his driving as he headed downriver. He’d grown up with the Gallatin River in his backyard. He hadn’t thought much about it until Frankie was doing her research and asked him, “Did you know that the Gallatin River begins in the northwest corner of Yellowstone National Park to travel one hundred and twenty miles through the Gallatin Canyon past Big Sky to join the Jefferson and Madison Rivers to form the Missouri River?”
That she found this so fascinating had surprised him. “I did know that,” he told her and found himself studying her with renewed interest. The river had been part of his playground, although he’d been taught to have a healthy respect for it because of the current, the deep holes and the slippery rocks.
Now as he drove along the edge of the Gallatin as it cut through the rocky cliffs of the canyon, he caught glimpses of the clear green water rushing over granite boulders on its way to the Gulf of Mexico and felt a shiver because he’d learned just how deadly it could be.
A few miles up the road, he slowed to turn onto a dirt road that wound through the tall pines. Dust rose behind the pickup. He put down his window and breathed in the familiar scents. They made his heart ache.
Ahead, he could see the cliffs over the top of the pines. He parked in the shade of the trees and sat for a moment, bracing himself.
“This is the place?” Frankie whispered, her gaze on the cliff that could be seen over the top of the pines.
He didn’t answer as he climbed out. He heard her exit the pickup but she didn’t follow him as he walked down through the thick pines toward the river, knowing he needed a few minutes alone.
An eerie silence filled the air. When he’d first gotten out of the truck, he’d heard a squirrel chatting in a nearby tree, a meadowlark calling from the tall grass, hoppers buzzing as they rose with each step.
But now that he was almost to the spot, there was no sound except the gentle lap of the water on the rocks. As he came out of the pines, he felt her—just as he always had. Naomi. It was as if her soul had been stranded here in this very spot where she’d died.
His knees went weak and he had to sit down on one of the large boulders along the shore. He put his head in his hands, unaware of time passing. Unaware of anything but his pain.
Like coming out of a daze, he lifted his head and looked across the river to the deep pool beneath the cliff. Sunlight glittered off the clear emerald surface. His heart in his throat, he lifted his gaze to the rock ledge high above the water. Lover’s Leap. That was what it was called.
His gaze shifted to the trail from the bridge downriver. It was barely visible through the tall summer grass and the pines, but he knew that kids still traveled along it to the ledge over the water. The trick, though, was to jump out far enough. Otherwise...
A shaft of sun cut through the pine boughs that hung out over the water, nearly blinding him. He closed his eyes again as he felt Naomi pleading with him to find out the truth. He could feel her arguing that he knew her. He knew she was terrified of heights. She would never have gone up there. Especially alone. Especially at night. Why would she traverse the treacherous trail to get to the rock ledge to begin with—let alone jump?
It had made no sense.
Not unless she hadn’t jumped to her death. Not unless she’d been pushed.
Hank opened his eyes and looked up through the shaft of sunlight to see a figure moving along the narrow trail toward the rock ledge high on the cliff. His throat went dry as shock ricocheted through him. He started to call to her even as he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him. It wasn’t Naomi.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out and he stared frozen in fear as he recognized the slim figure. Frankie. She’d walked downriver to the bridge and, after climbing up the trail, was now headed for the ledge.
* * *
HUD HEAVED HIMSELF into his office chair, angry at himself on more levels than he wanted to contemplate. He swore as he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the file. That he’d kept it for three years in the locked drawer where he could look at it periodically was bad enough. That he was getting it out now and going over it as he’d done so many times over those years made it even worse.
He knew there was nothing new in the file. He could pract
ically recite the report by heart. Nothing had changed. So why was he pulling it out now? What good would it do to go over it again? None.
But he kept thinking about Hank and his stubborn insistence that Naomi hadn’t committed suicide. He didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell him that suicide was the most perverse of deaths. Those left behind had to deal with the guilt and live with the questions that haunted them. Why hadn’t they known? Why hadn’t they helped? Why had she killed herself? Was it because of them? It was the why that he knew his son couldn’t accept.
Why would a beautiful young woman like Naomi Hill kill herself? It made no sense.
Hud opened the file. Was it possible there was something he’d missed? He knew that wasn’t the case and yet he began to go over it, remembering the call he’d gotten that morning from the fisherman who’d found her body in the rocks beneath Lover’s Leap.
There had been little doubt about what had happened. Her blouse had caught on a rock on the ledge, leaving a scrap of it fluttering in the wind. The conclusion that she’d either accidentally fallen or jumped was later changed to suicide after more information had come in about Naomi’s state of mind in the days before her death.
Add to that the coroner’s report. Cause of death: skull crushed when victim struck the rocks below the cliff after either falling or jumping headfirst.
But his son Hank had never accepted it and had never forgiven his father for not investigating her death longer, more thoroughly. Hank had believed that Naomi hadn’t fallen or jumped. He was determined that she’d been murdered.
Unfortunately, the evidence said otherwise, and Hud was a lawman who believed in facts—not conjecture or emotion. He still did and that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Chapter Four
Hank felt dizzy and sick to his stomach as he watched Frankie make her way out to the edge of the cliff along the narrow ledge. She had her cell phone in her hand. He realized she was taking photos of the trail, the distance to the rocks and water below as well as the jagged rocky ledge’s edge.
As she stepped closer to the edge, he heard a chunk of rock break off. It plummeted to the boulders below, and his heart fell with it. The rock shattered into pieces before dropping into the water pooling around the boulders, making ripples that lapped at the shore.
He felt his stomach roil. “Get down from there,” he called up to her, his voice breaking. “Please.” He couldn’t watch. Sitting down again, he hung his head to keep from retching. It took a few minutes before his stomach settled and the need to vomit passed. When he looked up, Frankie was no longer balanced on the ledge.
His gaze shot to the rocks below, his pulse leaping with the horrible fear that filled him. There was no body on the rocks. No sign of Frankie. He put his head back down and took deep breaths. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that before he heard the crunch of pine needles behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Frankie said. “I should have known that would upset you.”
He swore and started to get to his feet unsteadily. She held out a hand and he took it, letting her help him up. “I’m usually not like this.”
She smiled. “You think I don’t know that?”
“You should have told me you were going up there,” he said.
“You would have tried to stop me,” she said and pulled out her phone. “I needed to see it.” She looked up from her screen. “Have you been up there?”
“Not since Naomi died, no.”
She frowned, cocking her head. “You’ve jumped from there.”
“When I was young and stupid.”
Nodding, Frankie said, “You have to push off the cliff wall, throw your body out to miss the rocks and to land in the pool. Daring thing to do.”
“Helps if you’re young, stupid and with other dumb kids who dare you,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, Naomi knew I’d jumped off the ledge. She was terrified of heights. She couldn’t get three feet off the ground without having vertigo. It’s why I know she didn’t climb up there on her own. Someone made her.”
“Sometimes people do things to try to overcome fears,” Frankie said and shrugged.
“Naomi didn’t. She was terrified of so many things. Like horses. I tried to teach her to ride.” He shook his head. “I’m telling you, she wouldn’t have climbed up there unless there was a gun to her head. Even if she’d wanted to kill herself, she wouldn’t have chosen that ledge as her swan song.”
With that, he turned and started toward the truck, wishing he’d never come back here. He’d known it would be hard, but he hadn’t expected it to nearly incapacitate him. Had he thought Naomi would be gone? Her soul released? Not as long as her death was still a mystery.
Frankie didn’t speak again until they were headed back toward Big Sky. “At some point you’re going to have to tell me why your father doesn’t believe it was murder.”
“I’ll do one better. I’ll get a copy of the case file. In the meantime, I’ll show you Big Sky. I’m not ready for my parents to know the truth yet.”
She nodded and leaned back as if to enjoy the trip. “I timed how long it took me to walk up the trail from the bridge to the ledge. Eleven minutes. How long do you think it would have taken Naomi?”
“Is this relevant?”
“It might be.” She turned to look at him then. “You said the coroner established a time of death because of Naomi’s broken wristwatch that was believed to have smashed on the rocks. We need to examine the time sequence. She left you at the ranch, right? The drive to the cliff took us ten minutes. She could have beat that because at that time of the evening in early fall and off season, there wouldn’t have been as much traffic, right?”
He nodded.
“So if she left the ranch and went straight to the bridge—”
“She didn’t. She met her killer at some point along the way. Maybe she stopped for gas or... I don’t know. Picked up a hitchhiker.”
Frankie shot him a surprised look. “From what you’ve told me about Naomi, she wouldn’t have stopped for a hitchhiker.”
“It would have had to be someone she knew. Can we stop talking about this for just a little while?” He hated the pleading in his voice. “Let me show you around Big Sky, maybe drive up to Mountain Village.”
She nodded and looked toward the town as he slowed for the turn. “So Big Sky was started by Montana native and NBC news co-anchorman Chet Huntley. I read it is the second-largest ski resort in the country by acreage.” She gazed at Lone Mountain. “That peak alone stands at over eleven thousand feet.”
He glanced over at her and chuckled. “You’re like a walking encyclopedia. Do you always learn all these facts when you’re...working?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling. “I find it interesting. Like this canyon. There is so much history here. I’ve been trying to imagine this road when it was dirt and Yellowstone Park only accessible from here by horses and wagons or stagecoaches.”
“I never took you for a history buff,” he said.
She shrugged. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
He didn’t doubt that, he thought as he studied her out of the corner of his eye. She continued to surprise him. She was so fearless. So different from Naomi. Just the thought of her up on that ledge—He shoved that thought away as he drove into the lower part of Big Sky known as Meadow Village. His mother was right. Big Sky had changed so much he hardly recognized the small resort town with all its restaurants and fancy shops along with miles of condos. He turned up the road to Mountain Village, where the ski resort was located, enjoying showing Frankie around. It kept his mind off Naomi.
* * *
“SO YOU MET the woman Hank brought home?”
Dana looked up at her sister, Stacy. They were in the ranch house kitchen, where Dana was taking cookies out of the oven. “I thought you might have run into them this morning before they took
off for some sightseeing.”
Her sister shook her head. Older than Dana, Stacy had been the wild one, putting several marriages under her belt at a young age. But she’d settled down after she’d had her daughter, Ella, and had moved back to the ranch to live in one of the new cabins up on the mountainside.
“I stopped over at their cabin this morning to see if they needed anything,” Stacy said now, avoiding her gaze.
Dana put her hands on her hips. She knew her sister so well. “What?”
Stacy looked up in surprise. “Nothing to get in a tizzy over, just something strange.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t want to be talking out of turn, but I noticed that they slept in separate bedrooms last night.” Her sister snapped her lips shut as if the words had just sneaked out.
Dana frowned as she put another pan of cookie dough into the oven and, closing the door, set the timer. Hadn’t she felt something between Hank and Frankie? Something not quite right? “They must have had a disagreement. I’m sure it is difficult for both of them being here after what happened with Naomi. That’s bound to cause some tension between them.”
“Probably. So, you like her?”
“I do. She’s nothing like Naomi.”
“What does that mean?” Stacy asked.
“There’s nothing timid about her. She’s more self-assured, seems more...independent. I was only around her for a little while. It’s just an impression I got. You remember how Naomi was.”
Her sister’s right brow shot up. “You mean scared of everything?”
Dana had been so surprised the first time Hank had brought Naomi home and the young woman had no interest in learning to ride a horse.
