Renegade's Pride

by B. J Daniels

  “Not me, either, I have to go.” Lillie had done her best to pretend that everything would be fine, but there was no way that seeing the only man she’d ever loved after all this time hadn’t turned her life upside down—no matter how it ended.

  She couldn’t just sit around waiting, wondering when she would see him again. If it could be in another nine years. Or any minute.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FLINT DROVE THE ten miles out to the North Ranch. The main house sat back against the mountainside overlooking the valley. As he parked and got out, he told himself that Jenna Holloway’s disappearance and possibly Angie North’s weren’t connected. Both women lived out of town, but that was where the similarities ended. Angie was a small, thin nervous woman who lived in a nice, new house, married to a well-to-do rancher. Her hobby, other than getting her hair done once a week, seemed to be shopping. Flint had seen her in town numerous times coming out of the dress shop or the grocery store or the drugstore, loaded down with packages.

  He rang the doorbell and waited. When Bob North came to the door, he had his cell phone in his other hand. Flint had a second to hope that Angie was on the other end of the line before Bob motioned him inside.

  “Well, if you see her, please tell her to call me at once...Yes, that’s right. I have the sheriff here...Okay, I’ll let you know.” He disconnected and turned toward Flint.

  “I take it none of her friends have seen her?”

  “No, and she didn’t show up for her hair appointment and I can’t reach her on her cell phone.”

  “You saw her leave this morning?”

  Bob ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “No, I was in the stables checking one of the horses. But heard her leave.”

  “And she was alone?” Flint asked.

  “Of course. Why would you even ask that?”

  “Why don’t we sit down.” He followed Bob into the kitchen.

  “Coffee?”

  Flint nodded, thinking it would give Bob a chance to calm down some. He watched the man fill two cups with trembling hands. He took the cup he was offered and sat down at the kitchen table. Bob remained standing, appearing too nervous to sit.

  “So when was the last time you saw her?”

  “At breakfast.”

  “How did she seem?”

  Bob shrugged as if he hadn’t noticed, but then changed his mind. “Distracted. I thought it was because of her hair appointment. She likes to go in early. She seemed a little put out when I asked her to fix me some eggs and bacon this morning.”

  “Bob, I’m trying to understand why you’re so upset. You saw your wife several hours ago. What makes you think she’s missing?”

  “I always call her to make sure she got into town without any trouble. I usually check with her to see when she will be finished with her hair appointment. She always answers her phone. But when I called this morning, it went to voice mail.”

  “Okay. Maybe her phone isn’t working.”

  “Oh, it’s working.” Bob reached over on the counter and picked up a cell phone. “It’s right here. You see? She didn’t even take her phone.”

  Flint stifled an impatient sigh. “She forgot her phone, which explains why she isn’t answering your calls.”

  “She never forgets her phone. I always remind her to take it because she knows I am going to call her and it worries me if she doesn’t answer.”

  “Apparently, she forgot it this time.”

  “Fine, let’s say that is the case. Then why hasn’t she shown up for her hair appointment?”

  Bob had him there. “You said she was distracted, which could explain her forgetting the phone and even forgetting her hair appointment.”

  “No. You don’t understand. This isn’t like her.” His words echoed Anvil’s.

  “I can’t put out a missing person’s alert on her until she’s been gone for twenty-four hours. At this point we have no reason to believe she’s in trouble.”

  “I know she’s in trouble.”

  Flint felt a stab of worry. “Based on what? You need to tell me if there is something more going on here.”

  * * *

  LILLIE’S HEAD THROBBED as she drove away from the Stagecoach Saloon. She’d awakened with a killer headache, which she blamed on Trask. She was furious with him, but just as much with herself. She’d let him drag her back into his life, this man who’d hurt her more than she would ever admit.

  She felt the push-pull of Trask’s presence. She’d wanted to rush into his arms. She’d also wanted to shoot him. He’d left her. She could never forgive him for that. He’d told her he would take her with him and then hadn’t. What made it worse was that this was the last place she ever wanted to leave. She had only agreed to go with him because she’d felt she couldn’t live without him.

  But she had lived without him. It had hurt, still did, but she’d survived. She’d even thrived without him. If anything, she was stronger because of it.

  Which was why she couldn’t let him back into her life. How could she ever trust him again?

  At the same time, she couldn’t let him go to prison for a murder he hadn’t committed.

  That was the thought that kept coming back to her.

  That and the change she’d seen in Trask. The years had filled out his slim body. Hard work had built a taut physique. He was stronger in other ways, as well. But the biggest change was his quiet confidence.

  Trask had always been cocky as a boy. He’d hidden a lot of pain behind that charming grin of his. Somehow, he seemed to have dealt with the pain of those years growing up with his sketchy background. The Trask who’d visited her last night had become his own man. A man who’d come back to do exactly what he said he was going to do—clear his name if not win her back.

  But how after all this time?

  She felt torn between the ache she always felt for Trask and the need to keep her heart safe. She couldn’t trust her heart to him again. She wouldn’t.

  While she wasn’t looking forward to her so-called date with Wainwright tonight, she realized it was the best thing that could have happened. Trask hadn’t believed that she’d moved on. He’d obviously known how little she’d dated since he’d left. But this date would convince him that it was true. She should have moved on years ago. It made her angry that she hadn’t. That she couldn’t.

  She drove to the sheriff’s office, debating what she was about to do. As much as she loved her brother Flint, they’d never understood each other. He thought he was so reasonable, so levelheaded, so sure that he was right. He’d never been in love like she had with Trask.

  Sure, he’d loved Celeste. Loved the idea of her, anyway. But he would never have agreed to take off with her and leave everything he knew behind. His hadn’t been that kind of love, so he couldn’t understand what she was going through now, let alone nine years ago.

  As she pushed through the door, she caught Deputy Harper Cole flirting with the dispatcher, a woman a good ten years his junior—not that age would slow the deputy down any more than a rut in the road.

  The door closed behind her, making Harp turn. “Hey, Lillie,” he said and smiled broadly as he started toward her. His black eye from Ely’s punch was open, but the skin around it was varying shades of yellow and gray.

  “Is my brother in?” she asked, looking past him to the dispatcher.

  “He’s out on a call,” Harp said, drawing her attention back to him.

  “I’ll wait in his office, then,” Lillie said and started past him.

  “Maybe I should wait with you,” the deputy said behind her.

  “I don’t think so.” She stepped into her brother’s office and closed the door in Harp’s face.

  * * *

  IT WAS CLEAR to Flint that his little sister hadn’t heard him enter
his office. She’d been too busy going through his files.

  “It isn’t in there,” he said behind her, making her jump as he closed his office door.

  She spun around. He could see indecision on her face as she struggled with whether to lie or tell him the truth.

  It took her a moment to make up her mind. He waited, expecting the lie.

  “I want to know everything about Gordon Quinn’s murder,” she said, planting her hands on both hips. “You owe me that.”

  He laughed, surprised she’d gone with the truth. Or at least part of it. “I owe you that?”

  “Yes, you know how I feel...felt about Trask Beaumont. I need to understand what happened and why you thought...still think he’s guilty.”

  “After all this time? Nine years? Now you need to know?”

  “Yes.” She raised her chin, her look defiant, and yet he could see how vulnerable she really was.

  “Mind if I ask what’s changed,” he said as he walked around his desk and lowered himself into his chair.

  “I think I can handle the truth now.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you what I can, since the case is still open. But it’s common knowledge that he lost his temper. We have witnesses that overheard his fight with Gordon, heard him threaten to kill the man and then hit him and knock him down.”

  “But you don’t have witnesses that saw him kill Gordon.”

  “No.”

  She seemed to breathe. “So you really don’t have anything.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Her face set in determination, she said, “I want to look at the file.”

  “You know I can’t let you do that.” He noticed her purse on his desk, the handle of a small crowbar sticking out of it. “Really, Lillie?” he asked, pulling out the crowbar. “Were you planning to use this on me if I just happened to be in my office?”

  “Fortunately, you weren’t,” she said, shooting him an impatient look that said she was joking. “I saw that your SUV wasn’t outside, so I assumed you were on a call. You’re not the only member of the family with detective skills.”

  “So you brought a crowbar to break into my files.”

  “I doubted you would open them for me. Anyway, growing up, you always told me to think for myself. I did.”

  “Cute. Sit down,” he said as he put the crowbar back into her purse.

  With obvious reluctance, she pulled up a chair. “I really don’t need a lecture. I need specifics. Just because Trask punched his boss after an argument in the stables, doesn’t mean he killed him.”

  “He threatened to come back and kill him. I have reason to believe he came back later, caught him in the stables and did just that. He was seen hurrying out just before Gordon’s body was found.” He saw that this was news to her.

  Flint had figured that nine years ago Trask had told Lillie his side of the story before he’d left town. He’d always been curious what Trask had admitted to her. Obviously, he hadn’t told her everything.

  “He didn’t mention that he’d gone back that night, huh?” he said.

  “It still doesn’t prove he killed anyone. That’s all the evidence you have against him? Circumstantial at best?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You watch too many crime shows on TV.”

  “Who is this eyewitness?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” Flint said. “I shouldn’t have told you as much as I have.” But if he could help her get over Trask, he’d bend a few rules.

  She waved that away. “Did you look at any other suspects at all?”

  “Of course I did.” Sometimes his little sister annoyed the hell out of him. “I did my job. I looked at Gordon’s wife, Caroline. Her alibi checked out.”

  Lillie mugged a face. “Did you consider that she might have paid someone to kill him while she was allegedly elsewhere?” Lillie had heard that Caroline was in Billings shopping. “Everyone knew she and Gordon weren’t getting along.”

  Flint nodded. That was the joy of living in a small town. Secrets were hard kept. “If she paid someone to kill Gordon, there is no record of her doing so.”

  “Did she have a large insurance policy on him?”

  He groaned. “No. She barely got enough to pay off her husband’s debts. Are you happy now?” She didn’t look happy. She looked as if she might cry. He didn’t want that. “I also looked at his partners in the construction company.”

  “J.T. Burrows and Skip Fairchild? There was a rumor going around that Skip was sleeping with Gordon’s wife,” Lillie said. “Gordon was barely in his grave before Caroline and Skip were seen together.”

  Flint nodded and continued, “I looked at everyone associated with him, including his children, Patrick and Brittany. They were eleven and sixteen at the time. They too had alibis.”

  She set her jaw stubbornly. “Trask didn’t do it. Did you ever even consider that?”

  “Yes. Lillie, just between you and me, I looked for anything that might clear him. I knew how you felt about him. My feelings aside, I didn’t want him convicted of murder, for your sake—if not for his.”

  She sat back in the chair with a look on her face that broke his heart.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She nodded as if too close to tears to speak.

  Was she looking for closure or was there another reason for this now? The only other reason he could think of was that Trask had contacted her.

  “Lillie, if you hear from Trask—” he held up his hand before she could deny it “—tell him to give himself up. I will do what I can for him. He was young. With his family background—”

  She was on her feet. “I have to go.”

  He could see her jaw set and knew her well enough to know there would be no getting through to her. If Trask had been in contact, then Lillie would do her best to help him even though the man had broken his sister’s heart.

  Flint swore under his breath as she stormed out. For all these years there had been no word on him, even though there was a BOLO out on him. He’d thought about and analyzed Gordon Quinn’s murder for years. He’d lived with it hanging over his head, wondering if Trask was dead or if he’d turn up some day and he’d have to arrest him. The thought had made him sick to his stomach, because if that day ever came, he feared he would lose his sister.

  * * *

  LILLIE LEFT HER brother’s office telling herself that Trask wasn’t a killer and there had to be some way to prove it. She’d convinced herself that once she helped him clear his name it would release the spell he had on her. Then Trask would be free and she would get on with her life, as well.

  All the evidence made him look like a killer, though. There’d been an eyewitness who could put Trask at the stables at the time of the murder.

  How was that possible? There had to be another answer. Someone else had gotten away with murder. And if Trask was right, they were willing to let him take the fall for it. Maybe planned it that way after hearing about his argument with Gordon.

  Yet, she had to ask herself, how far would she go to help him prove his innocence?

  It was the answer to that question that had her determined to talk to Skip Fairchild. She remembered a rumor that had been going around nine years ago that Gordon was liquidating his assets. Did that mean he had wanted out of the construction company? There was only one way to find out.

  She tried Skip’s house first. When he wasn’t home, she swung by the construction site.

  Skip Fairchild looked up as she walked into his office without knocking. He blinked as if surprised to see her. Lillie hadn’t spoken more than two words to the man over the years. He seldom came out to the Stagecoach Saloon, and when he did, he would sit alone at the end of the bar, order two gin and tonics, drink them and leave.
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  He always looked...sad, like a man with a heavy weight on his shoulders.

  “Ms. Cahill,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “I need to talk to you about Gordon Quinn’s murder,” she said as she closed the door behind her and took a seat at his desk.

  He stared at her for a moment before lowering himself back into his desk chair.

  “Is it true that Gordon was pulling out of the construction company?”

  Skip leaned back, clearly taken aback by her abruptness. “What? Where did you hear that?”

  When she didn’t answer, he said, “He might have been talking about leaving...”

  “Who inherited his part of the company on his death?”

  Skip shifted in his chair. “That really isn’t any of your business.”

  “Is there some reason you don’t want to tell me?”

  Skip opened his mouth and closed it again as he leaned back in his chair. She could tell that he hadn’t expected her to be so direct or to know as much as she did. But she didn’t have time to beat around the bush. She could feel the clock ticking. Once Flint heard Trask was back in town...

  “We all know who killed Gordon. I can understand why you might want to throw suspicion on someone else other than your boyfriend, but—”

  “Trask didn’t kill Gordon.” She was on her feet. “I’m going to prove it.”

  Skip looked as if he didn’t want her to leave his office until he dissuaded her. He picked up the phone on his desk and said into the receiver, “You’d better step in here.”

  A few moments later, J.T. Burrows opened the office door behind Lillie. He was a big man, dressed impeccably in a dark suit and tie. That alone made him stand out in Montana, where only lawyers and morticians wore suits and ties.

  “What’s going on?” J.T. asked, glancing at Lillie in confusion before turning his gaze on Skip.

  “I’ve been asking about Gordon’s murder,” Lillie said. “My questions seem to have upset your partner.”

  “She heard that Gordon might have been leaving the company.”

  J.T. shot Skip a what-the-hell look. “That was only a rumor—”