Big Sky

by Stacey Coverstone

  “With all that going for her, why would Jamie kill herself? I’m thinking Mama has reason to be suspicious.”

  “You’re right. Things don’t add up.”

  She was comforted to hear he agreed. “That’s why I’ve told Mama I’d stay on a while and play detective, but I honestly don’t know what I can do. Who would want to kill Jamie? What would be the motive? How on earth do I begin to conduct an investigation?” She snapped her fingers. “I should hire a detective.”

  “You’d probably have to drive fifty miles to find one of those. If your mother has suspected foul play for two months, why hasn’t she gone to the police? Or hired a detective already?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want to go behind Will’s back. Or he could have forced her to drop it since he claims the coroner’s report clearly states drugs and alcohol were found in Jamie’s blood.” It was obvious to Taylor that Mama and Will were having marital problems, but she didn’t want to bring that up to Brett. It wouldn’t be appropriate for her to gossip about Will with one of his employees.

  Brett downshifted and the truck shuddered as they went around a sharp bend in the road. “Did you see that coroner’s report?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’ll get it from my stepfather. What do you think I should do after that? Should I talk to the police?”

  Taylor didn’t realize they were so close to the ranch until they drove through the gate. They passed by the corral. The ranch hands were nowhere in sight.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t go to the police unless you have something concrete to show them, or tell them,” Brett offered, parking in the driveway at the back of the house. He slammed the gear shifter into park and cut off the engine. The pickup vibrated like a dog shaking off water and then died. He turned in his seat to face her. His face was suntanned, and the blue checks in his shirt drew out the vibrancy of his shining eyes. “This is a serious accusation your mother is making. Don’t do anything rash or no one will take you seriously.”

  Taylor nodded, recognizing the gravity of what she was preparing to undertake. Was she emotionally equipped to delve into Jamie’s life based on Mama’s intuition alone? What exactly would she find if she started digging? A woman who had truly changed and had wanted a second chance at making things right? Or had Jamie fooled Mama, the way she’d fooled other people in her life? Perhaps Jamie had still been taking drugs. Maybe she’d lied to Mama about an art exhibit, and about a nice boyfriend. God knew she’d been a liar most of her life.

  “Maybe I should just stay out of it and go back home,” Taylor grumbled, feeling torn. “I don’t owe Jamie anything.”

  “What about your mother? You two must have worked out whatever had gone wrong between you.”

  Taylor met his sympathetic gaze. “We did, and I’m happy about that.”

  “Then do this for her,” Brett suggested. “If you’re still unsure about your feelings for your sister, center your attention on your mom and what she must be going through as a parent who has lost her child. Talk to a few people who knew Jamie and gather some information. If it’s as Will believes, you’ll learn there was no mistake in the coroner’s report. And if your mother has to hear the bad news for the second time, wouldn’t it be better for her to hear it from you? That way, she can let her suspicions go and hopefully find some peace.”

  First impressions were never to be counted on, Taylor thought. And that included this man. Brett was far more intelligent and thoughtful than had been apparent in their initial meeting. His reasoning made good sense. It sounded like he understood what it would feel like to lose a child.

  “That’s a good idea,” she said, pushing open the squeaky door and lifting out her shopping bag. “Thanks for listening and giving me some input.”

  “You’re welcome.” Even though it wasn’t necessary, he exited the truck and came around to her side. “I’ll see you at supper tonight,” he said, closing the door behind her.

  She’d forgotten. “Right. Six o’clock. I appreciate your driving me to town and keeping me company.”

  He removed his hat and drove a hand through his sandy locks and then jammed the hat back onto his head. “Do you want to kick a tire before you go?” he asked with a big grin.

  She returned his smile. “Sure. Why not?” Taylor kicked the front tire with the toe of her boot and then gave the back tire a kick for good measure. “Sorry, Gus,” she apologized to the truck. “See you in a few hours, Brett.”

  She admired his tight backside as he strutted back to the driver’s side and hopped into the truck. He hollered out the open passenger window, “I’m looking forward to it. Maybe you can show me those rodeo awards after supper.”

  She smiled. There he was, flirting again. Was he actually interested in seeing her medals, or was that code for something else? Similar to when a guy asks a girl if she wants to see his etchings?

  Although she wasn’t even close to being old enough to experience a hot flash, Taylor’s body ignited and flamed at the possibility of having a fling with the sexy cowboy. As she watched him drive away, she considered the prospect. They were both consenting adults. If they were attracted to each other, what would it hurt to hook up a few times while she was here? With no strings attached, of course.

  It had been a long time since she’d found a man so charming and downright masculine. Most of her time was spent with celebrities who were physically appealing and charismatic, but as for the males, there were only a handful of them who were down to earth and real—and heterosexual.

  It was hard to date in Los Angeles, especially with her time-consuming schedule and the demands of her job, which was why it was easier to avoid the whole dating scene altogether. But sometimes she longed for someone to come home to and share her day with. Not that she wanted to marry again, but she missed intimacy, in all its facets.

  Here in Montana, what you saw was what you got when it came to men. And she liked what she saw in Brett. But what would be the point in starting something, unless it was only a short fling? Once she went back to L.A., they’d probably never see each other again. Taylor wondered if Brett was the kind of man who would respond to that type of non-committed relationship.

  Suddenly, she realized she had an itch that badly needed scratched. Great looking, sweet, and with the body of a Greek god, she knew Brett Austin would be the perfect guy for the job—as long as he had no ties to anyone. He wasn’t married, but he hadn’t said whether he had a girlfriend or a lady friend he saw for the same purpose she was talking about. There was no way she’d get between two people already in a relationship—no matter what kind of relationship it was.

  Taylor entered the back door and stopped short. What had gotten into her? She hadn’t come to Montana to start something with some guy—any guy, no matter how short-lived it turned out to be. Why was she even thinking about going to bed with Brett? She wasn’t easy. Far from it. He probably wasn’t thinking about her that way. Hadn’t he told her he’d never mess around with the boss’s daughter?

  “Get a grip, Taylor,” she said out loud, tramping into the kitchen. She closed the laundry room door behind her and swung around. The shopping bag slipped from her hands and slumped to the floor the same time her mouth fell open.

  There sitting cross-legged on the granite counter was Jamie—or what again appeared to be a ghostly apparition of her. Taylor’s heart began to race like a thoroughbred horse. Since this was the third time seeing her, she knew she wasn’t hallucinating and decided to see if her sister could communicate.

  “Is that you, Jamie?” she whispered.

  Jamie smiled.

  Absolutely sure this was not a dream, because she could feel shimmering energy surrounding her like a warm, protective blanket, Taylor said, “That was you earlier, wasn’t it? Touching me on the staircase and sitting on the back of the couch?”

  Jamie nodded and Taylor nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Why are you showing yourself to me?”

  J
amie didn’t speak—didn’t even try. Maybe she couldn’t. But her luminous green eyes spoke volumes. She pled with a sort of psychic, non-verbal communication that pierced Taylor’s heart. “I’m sorry to be so direct,” Taylor began, “but I need to know something. Did you kill yourself? Mama needs to know the truth. You owe it to her.”

  Jamie’s smile faded and she slowly shook her red head.

  Taylor swallowed hard. “Were you…murdered?”

  With her eyes narrowing into pinpricks, Jamie’s gaze delved deeply into Taylor’s, and then she disappeared into a halo of light.

  Chapter Eleven

  Taylor snatched the shopping bag from the floor, hurried upstairs and quietly closed the door to her room before Will or Mama could see or hear her. Falling on her back onto the decades-old mattress, she slapped a hand over her forehead. No fever. She wasn’t sick. Pinching herself on the arm and feeling the sting, she knew she wasn’t dreaming. Somehow, Jamie was communicating with her from beyond. And she wanted Taylor to know she hadn’t committed suicide. Although Jamie hadn’t absolutely confirmed it before she disappeared, a deep pulling in Taylor’s stomach hinted Mama was right. Jamie had been murdered.

  Why? Who would want to murder her? The wife of some man she’d slept with? Someone Jamie owed money for drugs? Maybe the new boyfriend didn’t play nice. Taylor’s head began to spin with possible scenarios.

  She sat up in bed. First thing she had to do was see the coroner’s report for herself. Then she’d talk to the police and try to find Adam Echo Hawk, in that order. It wasn’t much, but at least it was a start. All thoughts of bedding Brett dissolved as Taylor lay back down and curled her knees to her chest. It had been a long day of traveling, emotional ups and downs, and surprises. She was beat. Before long, she felt her eyelids drift shut.

  When she woke a couple of hours later, she had just enough time to shower, reapply her makeup, and dress for supper. Mama was downstairs on the couch when she descended the stairs.

  “Hello, honey,” she greeted, motioning for Taylor to join her. “Did you have a nice afternoon reacquainting yourself with town?”

  Taylor glanced all around the room, half expecting to see Jamie stretched across the fireplace mantel or dangling from the antler chandelier above them. She sat next to her mom. “How did you know I went to town?”

  “I told her.”

  Brett’s velvety drawl drew her attention. His solid frame filled up the entry to the hallway leading to Will’s office. A thrill raced up Taylor’s spine. Decked out in what looked like freshly ironed black jeans, a gray striped shirt and polished boots, she remembered why she’d been fantasizing about him earlier. And without the Stetson on his head, she had her first real glimpse at his wheat-colored hair. Shiny and soft looking, she might have had to hold herself back from running her hands though it if she were standing closer.

  “Come on in and sit with us, Brett,” Nancy said, beckoning to him. “Supper will be served soon.”

  “Thanks for inviting me, Mrs. Banner,” he said, taking a seat on the couch across from them. His gaze met Taylor’s and caught. After flashing her a smile, he said to Nancy, “Are you still getting up and down the steps okay?”

  “I was just going to ask you that myself, Mama.” Taylor cut a glance at Brett wishing he hadn’t beaten her to the punch. It made her look bad.

  “I’m doing fine. Just fine,” Nancy said, patting Taylor’s kneecap. “Chelsea is working miracles with me. She started working with me in the hospital and told me I had to get on my feet as soon as possible. Physical activity is apparently the best therapy for a broken hip. And she was right. I feel so much better knowing I can get out of that blasted bedroom and enjoy the rest of my home anytime I want.”

  “Where is Chelsea?” Taylor asked. “Is she joining us for supper?”

  “No. She left. I told her I’ll have plenty of help getting me back up the stairs tonight, if I need it.” Her eyes shone bright, obviously proud of what she’d accomplished.

  “I’m glad to see you making so much headway in a short time, Mama.” Taylor glanced at Brett again and he smiled. “Is Will in his office?” she asked him, since it was apparent he’d come from there.

  “Yes. He said he’d be right out.”

  Taylor stood up. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to speak to him for a moment. Be back in a jiffy.” Just then, the cook entered the great room and announced supper was ready. Taylor didn’t recognize the heavyset Mexican woman. “You two go on into the dining room. I’ll get Will and we’ll be in shortly.” She saw Brett offer his hand to Mama and then she scurried down the hall. Will’s office door was closed. She rapped on the wood and heard him say, “Come in.”

  His steel-gray eyes glinted when she entered the room. He sat behind the big oak desk that had been her daddy’s, with a pile of papers in front of him, which she noticed he covered with a large folder as she approached. “Come on in, sweetheart. I was just on my way to the dining room. It must be about time for supper.”

  The grandfather clock in the corner chimed out the hour the moment the words left his mouth. When it had finished, Taylor said, “Your cook just made the announcement. Who is she?”

  “A lady from town we hired a few years ago. I doubt you know her. She isn’t from around here originally. Her name is Anita Sanchez.”

  Taylor’s gaze swept across the room that hadn’t changed since the years she’d grown up in the house. The same knotty wood paneling covered the walls. The bear hide Daddy had bought from some hunter was stretched across the back wall behind the desk. The same deep green area rug lay under her feet. And the wing-backed upholstered chairs Mama had chosen so many years ago were parked in front of the desk. The space was more like a gentleman’s smoking room than an office, which is the way her father had wanted it.

  Curious as to why Will had never redecorated the office to suit his own style, Taylor thought to ask and then reconsidered. Decorating wasn’t what she’d come to talk about.

  “Will, I’d like to see the report from the coroner.”

  Frowning, he said, “I already told you what’s in it.”

  “I know, but I’d like to see for myself. The things Mama told me…well, they make some sense to me. My curiosity is piqued.”

  “It’s supper time. I’ll be glad to show you later.” He pushed an open desk drawer on the right side of the desk shut and flicked off the table lamp.

  Taylor placed both her palms on top of the desk. “Please, Will. Humor me. If you have the report here in the office, I’d really like to see it before we go to supper.”

  He drew a deep breath into his lungs and yanked open a drawer on the left side of the desk. His fingers thumbed through a hanging folder and then he handed her an envelope and retook his seat in the leather chair. She lowered herself into one of the wing-backed chairs and began to silently read the three-page report, most of which was full of medical jargon. After skimming through a lot of terminology she didn’t understand, she came upon the part she was looking for.

  The report stated that Jamie had been found on the floor next to her bed, partially clothed. However, there was no indication of sexual assault. Time of death: between eight and nine p.m. Cause of death: an overdose of the barbiturate Phenobarbital and head trauma. It further acknowledged that trauma to the brain had been as a result of a blow to the head. Jamie had apparently fallen and hit her head on the bedside table. That part was backed by a sentence stating traces of her blood had been found on the nightstand. Trace amounts of alcohol had also been found in her bloodstream. Final determination: suicide, with extenuating circumstances caused by the fall.

  Taylor slipped the pages back into the envelope and stared at it lying in her hands. There was no way she could tell Will she’d “seen” Jamie three times today and that, even though the information in the report seemed cut and dried, she held the same opinion as Mama. She didn’t believe the coroner’s conclusions. Or, rather, she didn’t believe Jamie had killed herself. What she
did believe was that it was possible someone had forced Jamie to ingest the drugs to make it look like suicide. But there was no need to share her opinion with Will at this time, especially since he seemed set on believing Jamie had never stopped using.

  “Thanks,” she said, handing him the envelope.

  With his eyebrows knitting together, he asked, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  She nodded. “It’s as you said. I just had to read it for myself. Surely you can understand that.”

  “Of course, honey.” Will returned the envelope to the folder inside the drawer, closed it, and locked all the drawers with a small key that hung from a keychain shaped like bull horns. “Shall we go to supper now?” he said, coming around the desk and draping an arm around her shoulder. “I’m surprised your mother hasn’t sent someone in for us by now. You know how she hates to be kept waiting.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Is Brett here yet?”

  “Yep. You know, in all my years living on this ranch, I don’t ever remember any of the hands taking a meal with us.”

  They stepped into the hall and Will locked the office door with another key hanging on the same keychain. Taylor found all that locking up curious. With the security measures he was taking, you’d think he was hiding government secrets in there. Will slipped the keychain into the pocket of his jacket.

  “I thought you’d enjoy Brett’s company,” he said, returning to the conversation. “And remember, he’s not a ranch hand, Taylor. He’s my foreman. There’s a big difference.”

  “Sure. Still, I don’t remember any of the foremen ever eating at our table either.”

  Will smiled and led the way to the dining room.

  “Where have you two been?” Nancy asked, as they entered.

  “Catching up,” Will explained simply. “Hey, Brett,” he said, acknowledging him with a friendly slap on the back.

  “Evenin’, Mr. Banner. Hello again, Taylor.”

  Hearing her name roll off his lips sent an adrenaline rush through her veins. She smiled. “Good evening. Again.”