Stone Cold Case

by Catherine Dilts

  “I didn’t kill that girl.”

  “You told me it was an accident.” Chase’s voice trembled. “That Carlee fell. No one would believe you, and you’d go to prison. I was just a kid. I had to believe my father. Keep my mouth shut.” He wiped his sleeve across his face. “I kept quiet for sixteen years. It’s time now. Time to get the whole story out in the open. The truth. Quit hiding behind secrets.” Chase held out his hand. “Give me your gun, Dad.”

  Harlan clutched his gun tighter.

  “You’ve been whining about me playing favorites since you could talk,” Harlan said. “Your sister was always more of a man than you. She didn’t ever shrink back from doing what needed to be done.”

  “Are you saying Mia killed Carlee?” Kurt asked.

  “Naw,” Harlan said, “nothing of the sort. She only made the phone call telling Carlee that I knew where Camille ran away to. Said I could give her the address, if she’d meet up with me. And Carlee came, even after her sister had betrayed her. See what forgiveness gets you?”

  “But Dad, why? I don’t understand. What did Carlee ever do to you to deserve—” Chase shook his head. “No.”

  “Face it, son, you’ve got no potential. Jade, now, he could go all the way to the White House. Jade needed my help to escape those Kruger girls. See how well he’s done with Mia? It’s all been worth it, and everything was right on schedule. I can depend on my daughter, unlike her pansy-ass brother. Can’t even commit a simple little arson for his old man.”

  Chase pushed words past his clenched jaw. “All these years I hoped your story was true, but you lied to me.” His face twisted in anguish. “You did murder Carlee. So you could give Jade to Mia, like you gave her everything else she ever asked for. Is Jade the son you always wanted? The one who’ll obey your commands? Live his life for you, instead of himself?” Chase pointed his gun at his father.

  “Chase,” Kurt said. “Don’t.”

  But he ignored Kurt, his attention focused on his father with a white hot rage. Dog looked from one person to the next, like a spectator at a tennis match, then focused on Morgan, as though waiting for a signal. She didn’t dare make a move. Harlan kept his gun pointed in her direction, encompassing Morgan, Bernie, and Kurt as his potential targets.

  “Drop your gun,” Harlan said, “or I kill them.”

  Chase hesitated, then lowered his arm. “Okay, Dad. Slow and easy. See, I’m doing what you want.”

  Cooper watched his son. “Too little, too—”

  Kurt lunged forward, tackling Harlan.

  “Go, Dog!” Morgan yelled.

  She grabbed Bernie’s arm and pulled her down the soft mound of dirt inside the pit. They dropped onto their stomachs and peeked above the edge.

  Kurt and Harlan wrestled while Dog pranced around them, nipping and growling. Chase grabbed his gun and aimed at the men, his shoulders dipping first to the left, then the right, as he seemed to wait for a clear target. Another shot went off, this one muffled. The wrestling stopped abruptly.

  Kurt heaved Harlan off him. Blood stained the front of his shirt. Harlan lay face down, motionless.

  “You shot him.” Chase staggered back a step, his gun shaking. “He’s dead.”

  “I didn’t mean for—” Kurt began. “Chase, give me the gun.”

  “I didn’t finish.” Chase choked on a sob. “Didn’t finish what he told me—”

  Chase swung around wildly. He lifted his arm, aimed at the stars, and fired three shots. Then he let the gun slip from his hand and drop to the ground. Kurt picked it up. Morgan and Bernie crawled out of the pit.

  Chase dropped to his knees beside his father, his shoulders shaking with silent, dry sobs. He rolled Harlan onto his back. Morgan knelt beside Chase. Harlan’s turquoise eyes stared at the night sky, empty of life. Blood oozed out the hole left in his chest by one of his own hollow-point bullets. He was beyond the aid of CPR.

  Kurt seemed to be the only one not in shock. His voice was calm as he called Deputy Parker, and then was transferred to the Granite Junction police, who were already at the rock shop. They had heard the gunfire and were racing across the pasture. Vernon Dalton appeared on his yellow palomino, his rifle glinting in the moonlight, as he guided the police to the pit. Questions flew. Answers stuttered past lips frozen with the chill night air and shock.

  Through it all, Kurt remained unnaturally calm. Morgan wondered if his training as a reporter gave him that poise in the face of trauma. When he finally helped her off the truck’s tailgate and led her to a police SUV for the ride back to Golden Springs, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick hug. He felt as cold as a stone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  * * *

  The rest of the night and well into the next day, events blurred together. Questions, the ambulance to Granite Junction, more questions, and finally sleep, aided by something the nurse gave her. The greatest fear the doctors had, she learned later from Beatrice, was that she or Gayle would suffer brain damage from breathing the paint-thinner fumes. Although their exposure had been intense, it had also been brief.

  Kurt called while she was asleep. He left a message that he would try his best to visit her later, but he would definitely be in Sunday to give her a ride home. His voice sounded mechanical, but Morgan told herself everyone sounded funny in voice mail. The next morning, she eagerly anticipated Kurt’s arrival, surprised at how much she wanted to see him. But a stream of visitors arrived before she had any sign of him. First Bernie, Rolf, and Stacie. The baker had some cuts and bruises that had been bandaged up in the emergency room early that morning. The three of them clung to each other as though afraid of ever being parted.

  Then the church ladies came with a bouquet of spring flowers containing no elephant heads, and get-well-soon cards with dozens of signatures. Teruko tucked a bear with angel wings into Morgan’s arms. The nurse scooted them out for another check of Morgan’s vital signs. Gerda and Camille entered her room next.

  “I will never be able to repay you for what you have done for my family,” Gerda said in her terse German accent. Her voice faltered slightly as she continued. “You saved my granddaughter. My words cannot express what I feel.”

  Camille wrapped an arm around Gerda’s sturdy shoulders. “It’s okay, Mom. Morgan knows what you mean.” Tears spilled down Camille’s cheeks. She pulled a tissue from the box beside Morgan’s bed and mopped them up. “When I think of what that man put our family through—Maybe it’s wrong of me, but I’m glad Kurt killed him.”

  “Kurt didn’t mean for that to happen.” Morgan reached for the woman’s hand. “The gun went off while they were fighting.”

  “Harlan Cooper would have murdered five people before the night was over if Kurt had not stopped him,” Gerda said. “He might have gotten away with it, too.”

  “He wanted me to get rid of my baby. And sixteen years later, he tries to kill her again.” Camille started to say more, but she broke into sobs. Gerda wrapped her in a fierce hug.

  “Gayle tells us she would not have survived without your help,” Gerda said, the stiffness returning to her words. “Kurt Willard pulled the trigger and rid us of that monster, but that would mean little if I had lost another family member to a Cooper.”

  That fact remained to be processed. Maybe if Cooper had been a stranger, his death wouldn’t have weighed on Morgan. She had spent a day at his home. She knew his name, his family, his connection to the community. How would Chase deal with the loss of his father? Mia would hate them all forever. Would the daughter face charges for her involvement in Carlee’s death? And poor Marlene. Had she learned truths about her family that made it unbearable to live? Or was she complicit in their sins, and sought to escape justice in the coward’s way?

  Professor Esteban dropped by with flowers. The geology professor pulled a chair beside Morgan’s hospital bed.

  “Vernon Dalton called. He asked me to arrange a survey of his property.”

  “Looking for the ammolite?” Mor
gan asked.

  “I took a quick look at the pit where the Coopers were digging,” Esteban said. “There is no ammolite there, but I think there is a promising site closer to the road.”

  “That’s good news,” Morgan said. “The Daltons are struggling to get by. If they have valuable gems on their place, they could be the boost that helps them keep their ranch.”

  “If I am right, and there is a seam containing ammolite, it runs from the Dalton ranch, under the road, and onto your land. As long as I am conducting a survey, I should take a look at your property.”

  Morgan shook her head. “I don’t know that I want anything to do with ammolite. It caused so much trouble. In the end, I didn’t learn whether Harlan Cooper—” She paused. Tried to focus on the flowers on her bedside table, not the image of Harlan’s dead eyes. “If he didn’t know where the ammolite was, then someone else was digging it up.”

  The doctor returned and gave Morgan the okay to check out. Still no Kurt. The nurse pushed a wheelchair into her room. Morgan was dialing Bernie’s cell phone, hoping she was still near enough to the hospital to catch a ride with, when Kurt rushed in.

  “I was about to give up on you.”

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  He barely spoke as they rode down the elevator to the parking valet. His vintage car pulled up.

  “Cool car, man,” the valet said.

  Kurt gave it a cursory looking over, then handed the valet a five-dollar bill. Morgan smiled. If he was still that concerned about his car, he must have recovered from their terrible night. He helped Morgan out of the wheelchair and held the door for her. From his grim silence, she was beginning to think he had decided to dump her in favor of the cute reporter from the Granite Junction Times. They were nearing the outskirts of the city before he spoke.

  “I apologize. You must think I’m a terrible boyfriend, abandoning you in your time of need, but I knew half of Golden Springs would be looking after you.”

  So now he was her boyfriend. Morgan smiled.

  “I had visitors this morning,” Morgan said. “But I really wanted to see you.”

  “You’ll forgive me when I tell you what I learned.”

  Kurt reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. Warmth filled Morgan, and for a moment the stress of the past week dropped away. But Kurt stared straight ahead through his windshield as they drove up Topaz Pass.

  “What’s your news?” Morgan asked.

  “Let’s wait until we get to my house.”

  The silence became increasingly unbearable until they were settled in Kurt’s living room, seated on an upholstered antique love seat.

  “I went to the city jail to visit the mountain man,” Kurt said. “His name is Evan, by the way. Doc Drewmoore said he’s lucky to be alive. Under the heavy canvas coat he stole from Del, Evan wore his Kevlar vest from his time in the Army. A Sasquatch in a Kevlar vest.” Kurt shook his head. “Evan’s vocal cords are definitely rusty from lack of use.”

  Morgan started to speak, but Kurt held up a hand.

  “Hang on. This might answer your questions.”

  He showed her the legal pad covered with page after page of Kurt’s mixture of cursive and blocky print, and a loopy scrawl by Evan, alias Sasquatch.

  “Evan Howe,” Kurt said, watching Morgan’s face. “Ring a bell?”

  “Evan,” Morgan repeated. “Big guy.” She grabbed Kurt’s sleeve. “No! The prom king?”

  “It gets better. Or worse, depending on your perspective.”

  Then Kurt told her the story of the Golden Springs high-school student who returned from a brief stint in the Army after sustaining a head injury. His career as a soldier at an end, he decided to make his fortune digging gemstones out of the Colorado mountains. When he found gem-quality ammolite, he made the mistake of showing it to Harlan Cooper, a man he trusted. They entered into an uneven partnership, with Cooper blackmailing Evan into selling the fossil gems cheap because the ammolite came from private land not owned by Evan.

  “The Dalton ranch?” Morgan asked.

  “He didn’t give me the specific location. I’m not sure he remembers where it is.”

  Evan’s stash of ammolite went missing from his cabin near downtown Golden Springs. He confronted Harlan Cooper, who told Evan to just go dig some more. Evan suspected Cooper of stealing the ammolite, and was devising some way to shake himself of their business relationship.

  Morgan couldn’t stop herself from interrupting. “I think Chase was the thief. He must have known about Evan, stolen the ammolite, and made a necklace for Carlee.”

  “That could be. Through all this, Evan admitted he liked to drink a little. Cooper took him to a local watering hole one evening, and kept him supplied with whatever he wanted until closing time. Cooper tried to pry the location of the ammolite mine from Evan, but he wouldn’t reveal it. They walked outside, and that’s all he remembers. He woke up the next morning at the dugout with a hangover, a lump on his head, and a dead girl.”

  “Carlee,” Morgan said. “Only Evan Howe didn’t kill her. Cooper did. He set up Evan.”

  “And it worked,” Kurt said. “Evan believes to this day that he killed Carlee. When Cooper ‘discovered’ him at the dugout, he told him he’d better stay out of sight or he’d be hanged for murder.”

  “Hanged? Really?”

  Kurt turned to a page of the notepad. “That’s what he wrote.”

  “Good grief. The poor guy must really be unhinged.”

  “He spent his life hiding Carlee and hiding from the law, convinced he’d killed the prom queen in a drunken rage.”

  “And the elephant-head flowers?”

  “Evan remembered that Carlee had given a report in high school about them. He knew they were her favorite flower, so the first two years, he brought her a bouquet on her birthday. Later he transplanted the flowers to the dugout. He didn’t live there, by the way. He thought of the dugout as her crypt.”

  Morgan shivered. “What’s going to happen to Evan?”

  “He seems happy hanging around the jail until his paperwork clears to be admitted to the mental facility. Chief Sharp even unlocked his cell, but Evan only leaves to get coffee from the chief’s office and to play checkers with Deputy Parker.”

  “Poor Evan, if he thinks the chief’s coffee is worth drinking.” Morgan wrinkled her nose. “And poor Deputy Parker. Whew!”

  “Evan cleaned up. His hair and beard are still a ratty mess, but he’s gone through a few bars of soap. Evan asked about Hawthorne.”

  “Who?”

  “The mutt’s name is Hawthorne.” Kurt shrugged. “I assured Evan we’d look after him until he’s well enough to leave the hospital. If you don’t want the dog, I’ll take him.”

  “Hawthorne, hum? He likes running around.” Morgan looked around Kurt’s townhouse, full of antiques and breakables, and tried to imagine the rambunctious dog who couldn’t seem to sit still living there. “I think he’s better off at the rock shop for now.” Kurt looked relieved. “Did Evan say anything about Chase Cooper?”

  “According to Evan, Chase had nothing to do with Carlee’s death.”

  “But he was drunk, and then unconscious. He didn’t see what happened. And how could Chase not figure out what his father was up to? And Mia, and Marlene, his wife?”

  Kurt shrugged. “Happens all the time. A family member is a paragon of virtue by all public accounts, while leading a secret life. Cooper murdered Carlee, and although he might be a sleaze in his business dealings, he might never have killed again, at least until the past threatened to topple his little empire.”

  “If I hadn’t found Carlee, which set in motion Camille coming here with her kids, which drew Evan out of hiding . . .”

  Kurt held up a hand. “A man would have gotten away with murder,” he said, “and the Kruger family would never have found peace.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Kurt seemed to have run out of words. His normally ruddy cheeks were ashen, his eyes full of pain.r />
  “Camille and Gerda visited me at the hospital,” Morgan said. “They’re grateful you stopped Cooper. I think they will find peace now, thanks to you.”

  “I hope I can.” He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his forehead in his hands. “I just keep playing that scene over and over in my head, trying to find another ending.”

  “I can’t think of any way that would have ended without one or more of us dead,” Morgan said. “There was no other ending.”

  Morgan spent the rest of Sunday at Kurt’s townhouse. There was nothing romantic about their time together. Morgan suffered from a splitting headache all Sunday afternoon. She tried to focus as Kurt asked questions. He tapped on his laptop keyboard while they went over the events of Friday hour by hour, and minute by minute. While they waited for pizza to be delivered, Kurt made an announcement.

  “I’ve decided to run.”

  “For the City Council seat?” Morgan asked.

  “I registered at the last minute. I decided candidates shouldn’t run based on who’s most likely to win.”

  “I’m guessing Jade will drop out. The field of candidates will be more balanced.”

  Their conversation switched from murder to politics. Morgan was grateful for the change. After a pizza dinner, Kurt drove Morgan home. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before leaving her with Del and Hawthorne.

  The memorial service had been postponed from Saturday until Monday, allowing Gayle to attend. Kurt picked up Morgan and Del. As they drove to the church, Morgan still felt woozy, more from painkillers for her persistent headache than from the aftereffects of the paint thinner poisoning.

  Kurt offered Morgan his arm as they walked into the church. She didn’t care who stared, or which tongues started wagging. Holding on to Kurt Willard’s arm felt right. She began to make her way toward Bernie, Rolf, and Stacie, but Anna waved them to the church ladies’ pew. Beatrice turned to see who Anna was calling over, focused on Kurt, and frowned.

  “I hope you realize that sitting with us carries with it certain obligations,” she said, her tone all business.