by B. J Daniels
“Sounds like she and her husband were having some marital issues,” the marshal said.
Austin nodded. “The trouble is I think it’s more than that. She had bruises on her arms.”
“Couldn’t the bruises have been caused by the accident?”
“No, these were definitely finger impressions. More than that, she seemed scared of her husband. Actually, she told me she wasn’t Rebecca Stewart, which would mean this man wasn’t her husband.” He saw skepticism in the marshal’s expression and admitted he would have felt the same way if someone had come to him with this story.
“Look,” Austin said. “It’s probably nothing, but I just have this gut feeling...”
Hud nodded, as if he understood gut feelings. “What would you like me to do?”
“First, could you run the name Marc Stewart. They’re apparently from Helena.”
“If it will relieve your mind, I’d be happy to.” The marshal moved to his computer and began to peck at the keys. A moment later, he said, “No arrests or warrants. None on Rebecca Stewart either. Other than that...”
Austin nodded.
Hud studied him. “There’s obviously something that’s still worrying you.”
He couldn’t narrow it down to just one thing. It was the small things like the older-model car Rebecca had been driving, the baby seat in the back, the woman’s adamant denial that she was Rebecca Stewart, the look of fear on her face when he’d told her that her husband was on his way to the hospital, the way she’d cried when he’d put that ring back on her finger.
Then there was that expensive diamond watch. To Gillian with all my love.
He mentioned all of this to the marshal and added, “I guess what’s really bothering me is the inconsistencies. Also she just doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who would leave her husband—let alone her baby—right before Christmas, no matter what the argument might have been about. This woman is a fighter. She wouldn’t have left her son with a man who had just gotten physical with her.”
Hud raised a brow as he leaned back in his chair. “You sure you didn’t get a little too emotionally involved?”
He laughed. “Not hardly. Haven’t you heard? I’m the Cardwell brother who never gets emotionally involved in anything. Just ask my brothers, or my former girlfriend, for that matter.” He hesitated even though common sense told him to let it go. “There’s no chance you’re going into Bozeman today, is there?”
Hud smiled. “I’ll stop by the hospital and give you a call after I talk to her and her husband.”
“Thanks. It really would relieve my mind.” Glancing at his watch, he saw he was late for a meeting with his brothers.
He swore as he hurried outside, climbed behind the wheel of his rental SUV and drove toward the small strip shopping mall in Meadow Village, all the time worrying about the woman he’d left in the hospital.
* * *
THE BUILDING WAS wood framed with stone across the front. It looked nothing like a Texas barbecue joint. As Austin climbed out of the SUV and walked through the snow toward the end unit with the Texas Boys Barbecue sign out front, he thought of their first barbecue joint.
It had been in an old small house. They’d done the barbecuing out back and packed diners in every afternoon and evening at mismatched tables and chairs to eat on paper plates. Just the smell of the wonderfully smoked meats brought people in. He and his brothers didn’t even have to advertise. Their barbecue had kept people coming back for more.
Austin missed those days, sitting out back having a cold beer after the night was over and counting their money and laughing at what a fluke it had been. They’d grown up barbecuing so it hadn’t felt like work at all.
As he pushed open the door to the building his brothers had bought, he saw by the way it was laid out that the space had started out as another restaurant. Whatever had been here, though, had been replaced with the Texas Boys Barbecue decor, a mix of rustic wood and galvanized aluminum. The fabric of the cushy red booths was the same as that on the chairs, and red-checked tablecloths covered the tables. The walls were covered with old photos of Texas family barbecues—just like in their other restaurants.
Through the pass-through he could see a gleaming kitchen at the back. Hearing his brothers—Tag, Jackson, Laramie and Hayes—visiting back there, he walked in that direction.
“Well, what do you think?” Tag asked excitedly.
Austin shrugged. “It looks fine.”
“The equipment is all new,” Jackson said. “We had to add a few things, but other than that, the remodel was mostly cosmetic.”
Austin nodded. “What happened to the restaurant that was here?”
“It didn’t serve the best barbecue in Texas,” Tag said.
“We’d hoped for a little more enthusiasm,” Laramie said.
“Sorry.”
“What about the space?” Hayes asked.
“Looks good to me.” He saw them share a glance at each other before they laughed and, almost in unison, said, “Same ol’ Austin.”
He didn’t take offense. It was actually good to see his brothers. There was no mistaking they were related either since they’d all inherited the Cardwell dark good looks. A curse and a blessing. When they were teens they used to argue over who was the ugliest. He smiled at the memory.
“Okay, we’re opening a Texas Boys Barbecue in Big Sky,” he said to them. “So buy me some lunch. I’m starved.”
They went to a small sandwich shop in the shadow of Lone Mountain in what was called Mountain Village. As hungry as he was, Austin still had trouble getting down even half of a sandwich and a bowl of soup.
During lunch, his brothers talked enthusiastically about the January 1 opening. They planned two grand openings, one on January 1 and another on July 4, since Big Sky had two distinct tourist seasons.
Apparently the entire canyon was excited about the Cardwell brothers’ brand of barbecue. His brothers Tag, Hayes and Jackson now had all made their homes in Montana. Only he and Laramie still lived in Texas, but Laramie would be flying back up for the grand opening whenever that schedule was confirmed. None of them asked if Austin would be coming back for that one. They knew him too well.
Austin only half listened, too anxious for a call from the marshal. When his cell phone finally did ring, he quickly excused himself and went out to the closed-in deck. It was freezing out here, but he didn’t want his brothers to hear. He could actually see his breath. He’d never admit it, but he couldn’t imagine why they would want to live here, as cold and nasty as winter was. Sure, it was beautiful, but he’d take Texas and the heat any day.
“I just left her hospital room,” the marshal said without preamble the moment Austin answered.
“So what do you think?”
“Apparently she has some loss of memory because of the concussion she suffered, according to her husband, which could explain some of your misgivings.”
“Did you see the bruises on her arms?”
The marshal sighed. “I did. Her husband said they’d had a disagreement before she took off. He said he’d grabbed her a little too hard, trying to keep her from leaving, afraid in her state what might happen to her. As it was, she ended up in a car wreck.”
“What does she say?”
“She doesn’t seem to recall the twenty-four hours before ending up upside down in her car in the middle of the highway—and even that is fuzzy.”
“You think she’s lying?” Austin asked, hearing something in the marshal’s voice.
Hud took his time in answering. “I think she might remember more than she’s letting on. I had some misgivings as well until Marc Stewart showed me a photograph of the four of them on his cell phone.”
“Four of them?”
“Rebecca and her sister, a woman named Gillian Coope
r, Marc and the baby. In the photo, the woman in the hospital is holding the baby and Marc is standing next to her, his arm around her and her sister.”
Austin sighed. Gillian Cooper. Her sister. That could explain the watch. Maybe her sister had lent it to her. Or even given it to her.
“The doctor is releasing her tomorrow. I asked her if she wanted to return home with her husband.”
Austin figured he already knew the answer. “She said yes.”
“I also asked him to step out of the room. I then asked her if she was afraid of him. She said she wasn’t.”
So that was that, Austin thought. “Thanks for going by the hospital for me.”
“You realize there is nothing we can do if she doesn’t want to leave him,” Hud said.
Austin knew that from experience, even though he’d never understood why a woman stayed in an abusive marriage. Disconnecting, he went back into the restaurant, where his brothers were debating promotion for the new restaurant. He was in no mood for this.
“I really should get going,” he said, not that he really had anywhere to go, though he’d agreed to stay until the opening.
Christmas was only a few days away, he realized. Normally, he didn’t do much for Christmas. Since he didn’t have his own family, he always volunteered to work.
“Where are you going?” Tag asked.
“I’ve got some Christmas shopping to do.” That, at least, was true.
“Dana is planning for us all to be together on Christmas,” Tag said as if he needed reminding. “She has all kinds of plans.”
Jackson laughed. “She wants us all to try skiing or snowboarding.”
“There’s a sledding party planned on Christmas Eve behind the house on the ranch and, of course, ice skating on an inlet of the Gallatin River,” Hayes said with a laugh when he saw Austin’s expression. “You really have to experience a Montana Christmas.”
He tried to smile. Anything to make up for missing the wedding so everyone would quit bringing it up. “I can’t wait.”
They all laughed since they knew he was lying. He wasn’t ready for a Montana Christmas. He’d already been freezing his butt off and figured he’d more than experienced Montana after crashing in a ditch and almost getting killed by a woman with a tire iron. However, never let it be said he was a Scrooge. He’d go Christmas shopping. He would be merry and bright. It was only for a few days.
“You know what your problem is, Austin?” his brother Jackson said as they walked out to their vehicles.
Austin shook his head although he knew what was coming. He’d already had this discussion with Tanya in Houston.
“You can’t commit to anything,” Jackson said. “When we decided to open more Texas Boys Barbecues in Texas—”
“Yes, I’ve been told I have a problem with commitment,” he interrupted as he looked toward Lone Mountain. The peak was almost completely obscured by the falling snow. Huge lacy flakes drifted down around them. Texas barbecue in Montana? He’d thought his brothers had surely lost their minds when they had suggested it. Now he was all the more convinced.
But they’d been right about the other restaurants they’d opened across Texas. He wasn’t going to stand in their way now. But he also couldn’t get all that excited about it.
“Can you at least commit to this promotion schedule we have mapped out?” Hayes asked.
“Do what you think is best,” he said, opening the SUV door. “I’ll go along with whatever y’all decide.” His brothers didn’t look thrilled with his answer. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to say?”
“We were hoping for some enthusiasm, something,” Jackson said and frowned. “You seem to have lost interest in the business.”
“It’s not that.” It wasn’t. It was his life. At thirty-two, he was successful, a healthy, wealthy American male who could do anything he wanted. Most men his age would have given anything to be in his boots.
“He needs a woman,” Tag said and grinned.
“That’s all I need,” Austin said sarcastically under his breath and thought of Rebecca and the way she’d reacted to her husband. What kind of woman left her husband and child just before Christmas?
A terrified one, he thought. “I have to go.”
“Where did you say you were going?” Hayes asked before Austin could close his SUV door.
“There’s something I need to do.”
“I told you he needed a woman,” Tag joked.
“Dana is in Bozeman running errands, but she said to tell you that dinner is at her house tonight,” Jackson said before Austin could escape.
All the way to the hospital in Bozeman, all Austin could think about was the woman he’d rescued last night. Rescued? And then turned her over to a man who terrified her.
Austin thought of that awful old expression: she’d made her bed and now she had to lie in it.
Like hell, he thought.
Chapter Six
When he reached the hospital, Austin was told at the nurses’ station that Mrs. Stewart had checked out already. His heart began to pound harder at the news, all his instincts telling him he had been right to come back here.
“I thought the doctor wasn’t going to release her until tomorrow?”
“Her husband talked to him and asked if she was well enough to be released. He was anxious to get her home before Christmas.”
Austin just bet he was. “He was planning to take her straight home from the hospital?” he asked and quickly added, “I have her purse.” He’d forgotten all about putting it into his duffel bag last night as the highway patrolman helped the woman down to his waiting patrol car.
“Oh, you must be the man who found her after the accident,” the nurse said, instantly warming toward him. “Let me see. I know her husband stayed at a local motel last night. I believe they were going to go there first so she could rest for a while before they left for Helena.”
“Her husband got in last night?” Austin asked in surprise. Helena was three hours away on Interstate 90.
“He arrived in the wee hours of the morning. When he came by the hospital to see his wife, he thought he’d be able to take her home then.” She smiled at how anxious the husband had apparently been. “He left the name of the motel where he would stay if there was any change in her condition,” the nurse said. “Here it is. The Pine Rest. I can call and see if they are still there.”
“No, that’s all right. I’ll run by the motel.” He realized Rebecca Stewart wouldn’t have been allowed to walk out of the hospital. One of the nurses would have taken her down to the car by wheelchair. “You don’t happen to know what Mr. Stewart was driving, do you?” She remembered the large black Suburban because it had looked brand-new.
The Pine Rest Motel sat on the east end of town on a hill. Austin spotted Marc Stewart’s Suburban at once. Austin had to wonder why Marc’s “wife” had been driving an older model car.
That didn’t surprise him as much as the lack of a baby car seat in the back of the Suburban. Marc had had the vehicle for almost a month according to the sticker in the back window. The lack of a car seat was just another one of those questions that nagged at him. Like the fact that Marc Stewart had gotten his wife out of the hospital early just to bring her to a motel in town. That made no sense unless he’d brought her there to threaten her. That Austin could believe.
The black Suburban was parked in front of motel unit number seven—the last unit at the small motel.
Austin didn’t go anywhere without his weapon. But he knew better than to go into the motel armed—let alone without a plan. He tended to wing things, following his instincts. It had gotten him this far. But it had also nearly gotten him killed last summer. He had both the physical and mental scars to prove it.
Glancing at the purse lying on the seat next to him, he w
ondered if all this wasn’t an overreaction on his part. Maybe it had only been an argument between husband and wife that had gotten out of control. Maybe once Rebecca Stewart’s memory returned, she wouldn’t be afraid of her husband.
Maybe.
He picked up the purse. It was imitation leather, a knockoff of a famous designer’s. He pulled out the wallet and went through it again, this time noticing the discount coupons for diapers and groceries.
He studied the woman in the photo a second time. It wasn’t a great snapshot of her, but then most driver’s license mug shots weren’t. Montana only required a driver to get a license every eight years so this photo was almost seven years old.
If it hadn’t been for the slight resemblance... He put everything back into the purse, opened the car door and stepped out into the falling snow.
Every cop knew not to get in the middle of a domestic dispute. This wasn’t like him, he thought as he walked through the storm to the door of unit number seven and knocked.
At his knock, Austin heard a scurrying sound. He knocked again. A few moments later, Marc Stewart opened the door a crack.
He frowned when he saw Austin. “Yes?”
“I’m Austin Cardwell—”
“I know who you are.” Behind the man, Austin heard a sound.
“I forgot to give Rebecca her purse,” he said.
Marc reached for it.
All his training told him to just hand the man the damned purse and walk away. It wasn’t like him to butt into someone else’s business—let alone a married couple’s, even if they had some obvious problems—when he wasn’t asked.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to give it to her myself,” he heard himself say. Behind the man, Austin caught a rustling sound.
“Look,” Marc Stewart said from between gritted teeth. “I appreciate that you found...my wife and kept her safe until I could get here, but your job is done, cowboy. So you need to back the hell off.”
Rebecca suddenly appeared at the man’s side. “Excuse my husband. He’s just upset.” She met Austin’s gaze. He tried to read it, afraid she was desperately trying to tell him something. “But Marc’s right. We’re fine now. It was very thoughtful of you to bring my purse, though.”
