One Hot Forty-Five

by B. J Daniels

  “See that building,” Violet said, pointing at a large structure next to the schoolhouse. “That’s the Whitehorse Community Center.”

  “I thought Whitehorse was to the north,” Roberta piped in.

  “This was the original Whitehorse. Then the railroad came through and everyone moved north to be next to it,” Violet said, scowling at Roberta. “My family settled this land.”

  “Fascinating,” Roberta said and yawned.

  Violet seemed to clamp down on her temper, but Dede could tell it took a lot of effort. “We’re going to wait until those people decorating for the wedding are finished, and then we are going down there to redecorate.”

  “That seems a little childish,” Roberta pointed out. “I thought we were going to stop the wedding. That doesn’t sound like it will do—”

  “Shut up!” Violet screamed, making Dede jump. “Do you believe this bitch?” she asked, turning to look back at Dede. “This is my show. You’re just along for the ride. So shut the hell up.”

  Roberta pouted, and the inside of the SUV fell silent. Dede didn’t dare move for fear Violet would turn on her.

  The vehicles that had been parked in front of the community center began to leave.

  But Violet didn’t move. She sat staring down at the town her ancestors had helped found. When she finally did start the SUV, she didn’t head for Old Town Whitehorse, and Dede had a bad feeling that this might be the end of the ride for both herself and Roberta.

  “LANTRY!” JUANITA WAS THE first to see him when he walked into the main house at Trails West Ranch. As usual, there was something cooking in Juanita’s big kitchen.

  She clasped both of his hands. “I am so glad you’re all right. We have been so worried.”

  “Thank you.” He followed her down the hall to the large living room with huge windows that looked out over the ranch. He hadn’t even stopped at his cabin, some distance from the main house, to clean up. He knew Shane had called the family and they were waiting for him.

  They were. Everyone turned as he came in. His brothers Russell, Dalton and Jud and their wives, as well as his father and his father’s wife, Kate. The relief he saw in their faces made him feel guilty for making them worry. He felt responsible for at least some of this, given his chosen profession—and how callous he’d been about his clients and their exes.

  “I’m fine,” he said to the crowd, his gaze settling on his father. Grayson smiled and nodded.

  “We heard you’d been taken at gunpoint by a crazy woman,” Kate said and rushed to hug him. “We were so worried.”

  “I’m fine, and Dede Chamberlain wouldn’t have harmed me.” His words surprised him in that he believed them to be true. Even as angry as she’d been at him.

  “You’ll join us for dinner, won’t you?” Grayson asked. His father loved having his entire family at the ranch’s large dining-room table. That’s when he seemed the happiest.

  But eating with his rambunctious family was the last thing Lantry could do right now. “Thank you, but I need to get a shower, a change of clothes and take care of some things.”

  “Of course,” Grayson said amicably as he looped an arm around his son’s shoulders. “You probably need some time alone to take all this in. Juanita will save you some dinner. It’s just good to have you home.”

  Home. Lantry didn’t think of Trails West Ranch or Montana as home. And yet he didn’t think of his condo in Houston as home, either. The only place he’d ever really felt at home had been the family ranch in Texas. But Grayson had sold that after marrying Kate and moved lock, stock and barrel to Montana.

  “I just wanted you all to see that I’m fine,” he said, excusing himself. As he left, he heard his brothers horsing around and their wives trying to intercede. Everything was back to normal with the Corbetts.

  All of them except me, he thought as he drove down to his cabin by the creek. His father had ordered a half-dozen cabins built for his sons for when they visited Montana.

  Now, with three of them married, houses were in various stages of construction on the ranch, with everyone still living in the cabins spread out in a half-moon shape some distance from the main house.

  Lantry knew that even when his brothers’ houses were completed, they would spend most of their time at the main house. Just as Grayson had hoped. Just as the brothers’ deceased mother had wanted and specified in a letter she’d written before dying.

  That letter, and the five letters she’d left for each of her sons to be read on their wedding days, had come as such a shock that Lantry and the others had drawn straws to see which of them honored their mother’s memory by marrying first.

  Lantry had gone along with it just to keep peace in the family. His brothers knew he was never getting married, so it would come as no surprise when he reneged on the pact. He figured by that time the others would be married and too busy to care.

  At his cabin, he stripped, showered and changed. Shane still hadn’t called. Did that mean they hadn’t found Dede and the others? If there had been a shooting, it would take his brother longer to call him.

  Shane had told him to stay at the ranch, but he couldn’t do that. Lantry grabbed his pickup keys. As he stepped out on the small cabin porch, he realized he’d left his cell phone inside and started to turn back when he heard the thwack of something striking the log next to his head. Bark and bits of wood flew into the air, several splinters embedding in his cheek.

  He dove back into the house, but not before two more shots were fired—one hitting the door, another taking out the lamp on the table behind him. He slammed the door and belly-crawled over to his cell phone.

  “Someone just tried to kill me,” he said the moment his brother Shane answered.

  VIOLET DROVE ONLY A SHORT WAY before she stopped again. The area looked desolate, but this whole country did. For miles there was nothing but snow, broken occasionally by a house or tree.

  “You aren’t going down there,” Roberta said from the front passenger seat.

  Dede looked to see what Roberta was referring to. An old farmhouse sat among some outbuildings in a gully nearby.

  “I need to see my mother,” Violet said in a strange, little-girl voice that made both Dede and Roberta look over at her in alarm. “I know she’s down there.”

  “Your mother will call the cops, and we’ll all be caught,” Roberta said, getting angry. “I thought we were going to—”

  Violet pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened her door. “You don’t like it, take a hike,” she said as she got out.

  “That woman is crazy,” Roberta said as Violet slammed the door and headed off down the hill toward the house where apparently she’d grown up.

  Roberta slid down in her seat and closed her eyes as if planning to take a nap.

  Dede saw her opportunity and began to work at freeing her hands. Violet had tied her with cotton rope that was now cutting off her circulation. With both her wrists bound, she had no chance of getting away from these two, and she hated to think what would happen if she stayed with them much longer.

  She had to agree with Roberta. It was crazy, Violet going down there. No matter how it went, Dede worried it would go badly for Violet’s mother. Or Violet.

  And if Violet’s mother called the cops, Dede and Roberta would be caught, as well.

  “You know she talks to her grandmother who’s been dead for years,” Roberta said sleepily.

  Dede knew Violet talked to someone who wasn’t there. “She must have loved her grandmother.”

  Roberta laughed so hard the SUV shook as she sat up a little. “Her grandmother is the one she really wants to kill, but it’s tough to kill someone who’s already dead, you know? That old hag must have been a real piece of work. Violet’s still scared of her.”

  Through the frost-rimmed window, Dede watched Violet approach the house. “What do you think her mother will do?”

  Roberta shrugged. “What would you do if the daughter who’d tried to kill you came
calling?”

  Run like the devil, Dede thought.

  Roberta seemed to realize that Dede was up to something. She glanced back at her.

  “Could you untie me? This is really uncomfortable.”

  Roberta frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  “We’re all in this together.”

  “Not even close. I’m not sure how you ended up in the loony bin, but you’re not one of us.”

  “Please. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Uh-oh,” Roberta said, turning her attention back to the farmhouse below them. “Did Violet just walk in the house?”

  Violet was nowhere in sight, and Dede could make out movement behind the curtains. She listened for the sound of a gunshot, closing her eyes, wishing she was anywhere but here.

  Lantry popped into her thoughts, bringing with him the memory of the kiss. She’d made a mistake not staying with him and taking her chances.

  Sure. By now she’d be locked up at the local jail or on her way back to the hospital.

  No, as crazy as it seemed, she had a better chance with Violet and Roberta than she did with Lantry Corbett. But that didn’t stop her from working at the rope binding her wrists.

  “I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO STAY back at the cabin,” Shane snapped at his brother as Lantry joined him on the small hill overlooking the cabin.

  Lantry stared at the spot where the shooter had hunkered down. There were indentations in the snow where the marksman had used a tripod to steady his rifle.

  “He settled in to wait for me to come out of the cabin,” Lantry said more to himself than his brother. “So he knew I’d returned to the ranch.”

  “It’s this damned local grapevine,” Shane said angrily.

  Lantry looked over at his brother. “This proves that Dede was telling the truth.”

  “Unless Dede is the one who took the potshots at you.”

  “Right. She just picked up a rifle somewhere.”

  “Are you sure there wasn’t one at the farmhouse you broke into?” Shane asked and nodded as he saw Lantry’s expression. “That’s what I thought.”

  “It wasn’t Dede. You said yourself she was seen with the other two escapees,” Lantry pointed out, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t believed that sighting.

  “They were seen in this area. Her friends could have dropped her off and picked her up down the road.”

  Lantry shook his head.

  “You’ve put your trust in a woman who seems pretty capable of taking care of herself.”

  “If she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself, she’d be dead right now,” Lantry snapped. “She had plenty of opportunities to kill me back at the farmhouse. She didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, consider this. How many killers use a tripod to steady the gun and then miss three times? If someone wanted to convince you that your life was in danger, they did one hell of a good job of it, didn’t they?”

  Lantry hated that Shane had a point. Even a hunter could have made that shot without any trouble given the short distance he’d set up from the cabin.

  “Did you check on the things I told you about the Fallon robbery or Frank’s old associates?” Lantry demanded.

  Shane sighed. “Dr. Eric Fallon reported his wife missing four days ago—the same time Frank was murdered. Her body was found floating in a canal not far from where Frank and Dede lived. Texas is waiting on a positive ID from the crime lab. She was beaten beyond recognition—much like Frank. So not only is Dede’s ex dead, but her ex’s girlfriend. It looks really bad for Dede, Lantry. I think it’s time for you to face the fact that this woman can’t be saved. Not even by you.”

  He didn’t give Lantry a chance to answer.

  “I’ve got to go talk to the folks,” Shane said. “I think the shooter made his point and won’t be coming back, but just to be safe, keep your head down. Maybe you should move up to the main house.”

  “Sure, and put the family in the line of fire?” Lantry shook his head. “I think the best thing I can do is get as far away from the ranch as possible.”

  “Don’t be a damned fool. Just because you didn’t get yourself killed this time doesn’t mean that your life isn’t in danger. This woman wants something from you. You’d best consider what will happen if she doesn’t get it. Or, maybe worse, what happens if she does and no longer needs you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Violet felt her heart lodge in her throat as she stepped into the house and saw her mother.

  Arlene didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She just stood there, her eyes brimming with tears. And Violet knew that her mother had seen her coming. Had expected her.

  Why hadn’t she locked the door? Or gone to her fiancé’s house to stay where she’d be safe?

  Was her mother insane? Probably. Didn’t it run in families, this mental-illness stuff she’d read so much about?

  “I—I—” Violet’s voice broke, and she felt her own eyes fill with tears.

  “I was hoping to see you,” Arlene said quickly. “It’s been too long.” Her mother was acting as if this was just a visit from her oldest daughter.

  “You haven’t seen me because you haven’t come up to the hospital,” Violet said, even though she knew that wasn’t true.

  “You always refused to see me,” Arlene said quietly.

  “I’ve been dealing with some things.” She looked around the house for a moment, her throat tight, that old pain in her chest making it hard to breathe. “You got rid of my room, my things….” She cleared her throat, the dam of hot tears breaking and rolling down her cheeks.

  “I packed up all your things and put them in storage. I didn’t think you’d ever want to come back to your room,” Arlene said. “You can get them out anytime you want. I have a key for you.”

  “You’ve changed,” Violet said, making a swipe at her tears and trying to steady herself. “You cut your long hair.” Her mother had always worn her hair long and tightly pulled back from her face. Floyd, Violet’s father, didn’t believe in wasting money at the beauty shop. Neither did his mother, she thought bitterly, remembering arguing with her grandmother—and losing—for a salon cut.

  Arlene touched the soft curls and looked embarrassed. “I’ve been trying to change.”

  “Obviously it’s working. You’re getting married.” The unfairness of that formed a jealous, resentful bile in her stomach.

  “You’d like Hank,” Arlene said. “He’s a good man.”

  This whole conversation had taken on a surreal feel, and Violet wondered if she’d only imagined it—until she heard her dead grandmother speak up from where she was sitting on the couch.

  “Enough of this inane chitchat. Shoot her and get it over with,” Grandma snapped.

  Something in Violet snapped as well. She pulled the gun from the pocket of her coat and pointed it at her mother.

  Arlene didn’t react. If anything, she seemed calm, resigned.

  “You didn’t protect me from that old woman.”

  “She was your father’s mother. I was young. I…” Arlene shook her head. “I have no excuse. I should have protected you from her. I didn’t.”

  “Both of you are sniveling whiners,” Grandma said from the couch. “I tried to give you some backbone. But you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

  DEDE’S EYES FLEW OPEN AT THE sound of gunshots. Her stomach clenched with fear as Violet came racing out of the farmhouse on the hill below them, running through the snow, a gun clutched in her hand.

  “I hate to say I told you so,” Roberta said.

  “I’m not sure that would be a good idea right now,” Dede said tactfully, even though her heart was racing and she felt sick. “Violet seems a little upset.”

  A feeling of impending doom had settled like a rock in Dede’s chest as she watched Violet fall in the snow just yards from the SUV. Gut-wrenching sobs were coming out of her as she got to her feet and stumbled the rest of the way to them.

  Jerking open the driver’s side do
or, Violet practically fell into the driver’s seat. She was covered with snow but seemed oblivious to the cold as she stuffed the gun into her coat pocket and fumbled to insert the key into the ignition.

  Dede, fearing more bloodshed, prayed that Roberta kept her mouth shut.

  The moment the engine caught, Violet stomped on the gas. The SUV fishtailed through the deep snow and back onto the road.

  Violet glanced in the rearview mirror. But not at Dede. Then she just drove. For a mile or so no one spoke.

  “So, did you kill her?” Roberta asked.

  “Yes.” Violet’s voice sounded hoarse.

  “Good,” Roberta said. “Now you can get well.”

  Dede felt as if she might throw up. Violet looked over at her fellow inmate and actually smiled. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” But when she glanced in the rearview mirror, Dede saw her haunted, lost look. Violet didn’t believe it any more than Dede did.

  “Have you ever been to Mexico?” Violet asked Roberta. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to go there.”

  “I like Mexican food,” Roberta said. “In fact, I could use some right now.”

  “You can eat all the Mexican food you want once we get there,” Violet said, sounding dreamy. “It’s warm down there. We’ll never have to wear a coat again. Imagine that.”

  Roberta had opened the glove box and pulled out a couple of candy bars. She was busy unwrapping one. Neither she nor Violet seemed to be paying attention to the road ahead.

  Dede could see a stop sign ahead. They were coming to a four-way stop. Violet wasn’t slowing down. She seemed lost, as if in a daydream on some warm, sunny Mexican beach.

  Nor did either appear aware of the sheriff’s department cruiser racing toward them from the left. Or the other from the right on the crossroad.

  “Violet,” Dede said, but it was too late. Violet didn’t have time to react before one of the sheriff cars reached the intersection and skidded across the snowy road, blocking it. The second car came flying in, and suddenly Violet was standing on the brakes.

  Dede tumbled to the backseat floorboard as the SUV skidded on the snowy road. All she saw from where she lay was snow flying through the air. There was a sudden thud that slammed her into the backseats as the SUV came to a stop.