by B. J Daniels
* * *
WHEN FLINT REACHED the farm, Anvil was sitting on the porch swing, his face in his hands.
He looked up as Flint got out of his patrol SUV and walked toward him. The man’s expression made Flint think the worst. Anvil had aged years in the hours that Jenna had been missing.
“What’s going on?” Flint asked, dreading what Anvil had supposedly found.
Without a word, the farmer led him into the house, through the kitchen and down a hallway to what was apparently Jenna’s sewing room. When Anvil opened the closet, Flint braced himself, not knowing what to expect—evidence or something worse.
Instead, he found himself looking at trinkets, all still wrapped in plastic, still marked with price tags. There must have been a hundred different items crammed in the back of the closet, including unopened perfume, nail polish, tiny ceramic dolls, candle holders and candles. None of the packages appeared to have been opened or used.
Flint looked to Anvil. “What is this?”
The man shook his head.
“Could they be presents she was stocking up?”
“Presents for who?” Anvil demanded.
Flint had no answer. He thought about what the clerk had told him at the big-box store and had a bad feeling Jenna’s life of crime had been going on for some time.
But what, if anything, did that have to do with her disappearance or her confession that there was someone else in her life?
He wondered if the confession had been as bogus as her “shopping.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Anvil.” He didn’t see any reason to share his theory with the man. He figured Anvil had come to his own conclusions, since he hadn’t given her money for these things. It was clear that Jenna had a life that her husband had known nothing about.
“Anvil, I put out a missing person’s report on Jenna,” he said. “It’s gone statewide, so if she’s out there somewhere...”
Anvil nodded.
It had been a long day. He asked Anvil to hang on to the stolen items for now and drove back to town. Glancing at his watch, Flint realized he had to hurry if he was going to make his dinner date with Maggie. Just the thought of spending the evening with her made him smile.
Tonight, he hoped they would make love. They’d taken it slow for long enough. He was sure Maggie was as ready as he was. It had been four years since his divorce from Celeste. Maggie had a more recent breakup with a man she’d lived with for a while. But he could tell they were both ready now to take the next step. He smiled, realizing something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He was happy.
Maggie sounded as happy as he felt when he called her to tell her he was running a little late and had to stop by his office before he went home to change.
“Take your time. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting.”
Flint pulled into the parking lot at the sheriff’s office building and hurried inside. Once behind his desk, he connected his cell phone to his desktop to retrieve photos he’d taken out by the missile silo. Still smiling, thinking about his call with Maggie, he scanned through the photos.
He stared at the images on the screen. Just as he’d thought. He recognized the prints from a tanker spill some years ago. Whoever had made the huge footprints out by the missile silo had been wearing a hazmat suit.
Flint glanced at his watch, hating how late he was running. Still, he had to make the call before he could leave. Picking up his desk phone, he dialed the local air force commander, a man named Bruce Smith. They weren’t exactly friends, but they’d caught a few trout at the local stream together on more than one occasion.
“What can I do for you, Flint?” Bruce asked, no doubt thinking this was a personal call.
“I know there were men out at the missile site on my family’s ranch the other night. They were wearing hazmat suits. They left tracks in the dirt.”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“If there is a problem out there, I’d like to at least have a heads-up,” Flint continued.
“Sheriff, I shouldn’t have to tell you how this works.”
“That military trumps local law enforcement every time,” the sheriff said. Bruce was right. He knew exactly how this worked. It was hands off anything military. “That missile silo on our ranch is the closest one to town. I know there have been problems before out there. If there is a problem and you don’t let me know so I can get residents on that side of town evacuated—”
“You know I can’t do that. Anything at the sites is classified.”
“I’m familiar with other missile sites where civilians have died because the military was trying to keep the problem classified.”
Bruce cleared his voice. “Sheriff—”
“I just want you to know. I’m going to be watching that site, and if I see any more hazmat suits, I’m going to start evacuating residents and you can explain to the press what’s going on.”
He heard a smile in Bruce’s voice when he spoke. “See you on the stream, Flint.” With a click, the commander was gone.
* * *
TRASK FELT THE darkness slowly envelop the mountainside. He breathed in the cold sweet scent of the spring evening, surprised how good it felt. He couldn’t imagine ever leaving there, but prison still hung over his head.
It was why he had to find out the truth. He was finally ready. He hadn’t wanted to stay away so long, but he knew he couldn’t come back until he’d made his fortune. It wasn’t the money. He’d had to prove himself. Nine years ago, he’d been exactly what Gordon had called him, a saddle tramp with an attitude.
The years of hard work had been a discipline that he’d needed. Before that he hadn’t been able to control his temper. Now, though, he thought before he spoke in anger. Now he could walk away from a fight. He’d become the man he wanted to be. A man who was ready to deal with the past—and win back the woman he loved.
Except the woman he loved was now on a date.
He tried not to think about it. After today and what she’d told him, he had more hope that he could find the real killer. He couldn’t help being touched that Lillie wanted to help him. That had to be a good sign, no matter what she said about it being strictly friends.
Trask tried to concentrate on how to find Gordon Quinn’s killer. He’d had years to think about it. When he’d heard that Gordon had been murdered, he’d told himself that he just needed to get out of town until the real killer was caught. He’d thought it was just a matter of time.
But that hadn’t happened. As far as Sheriff Flint Cahill was concerned, Trask was still responsible for Gordon’s death and there was no statute of limitation on murder.
Well, now he was back. He needed to track down everyone who hated Gordon enough to kill him. He suspected that list was long. He’d put Caroline, Gordon’s wife, at the top of that list, then Gordon’s partners in the construction company, where Johnny still worked.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t depend on Johnny’s help. He was on his own. Except for Lillie.
But now she was on a date.
He threw another log on the campfire to chase away the dark beyond it. At the sound of a twig breaking, he picked up the rifle lying next to his bedroll.
All his instincts told him it wasn’t Johnny.
* * *
ELY CAHILL LIT the lantern as darkness blanketed his cabin. He hadn’t wanted electricity, could get water from the creek behind his house and liked his outhouse just fine. He needed to live simply and couldn’t explain why, not even to himself.
The lantern light made the small cabin glow warmly. Earlier, he’d walked the perimeter of his yard making sure he was alone.
Now inside his cabin, Ely pulled the leather-bound notebook from its hiding place along with the pen.
Sitting down, he opened the worn leather t
o a clean page. He’d started writing down what he knew about the missile silo and the aliens years ago, looking for a pattern. Now putting down what he’d seen wasn’t just a form of therapy. He planned to make sure this notebook got into Flint’s hands. Once Flint read it, he’d finally see what Ely had known for years.
The military would try to gloss it over like they always did, but with what he had in this notebook, maybe, just maybe, it would save his family.
He set about writing in his small, tight script about what had happened the night he’d come out of the mountains and what he’d seen. Then he sketched what he’d seen and signed and dated it. Toward the end, his hand shook some. He was still scared.
After he finished, he glanced through the notebook, checking the dates of other sightings. A chill raced through him as he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. The visits were getting closer together. Not just that. It appeared that while he’d been tracking what was going on at the missile silos, someone had been tracking him. The sightings had all been when he came out of the mountains. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
They knew when he came out of the mountains. He dropped the notebook, his heart pounding. They must have implanted some kind of tracking device under his skin. For a moment, he almost headed down to the main ranch to tell his sons. Fortunately, he came to his senses first.
Flint thought he was losing his mind. Ely had heard him pushing Lillie on doing something about him. It would be a cold day in hell before he went into some kind of old folks’ home.
He had to believe that once Flint saw the accounts in the notebook, it would change his mind about his old man. But by then, Ely feared he would be dead. If they were tracking him, then they must know he was a danger to them.
Putting his notebook back in its hiding place, he told himself that enough people thought he was crazy that he had to keep this to himself as long as possible. He couldn’t let the military get hold of the notebook. Or worse, the aliens.
He sat for a long time considering what he now knew. Maybe he could use the tracking device inside him to his benefit. Wherever he went, they would be watching.
He still didn’t know who they were—just that they were out there and they must be worried about what he was going to do next.
* * *
FLINT AND MAGGIE had just gotten to his house after dinner when his cell rang. As a small-town sheriff, he didn’t have the luxury of ignoring the call. He checked to see if it was his office. To his surprise, he saw that the call was from his ex-wife, Celeste. He let it ring again but then worried that something had to be wrong for her to call. He said to Maggie, “I need to take this,” and stepped away.
In the next room, he answered it on the fourth ring. “Celeste?”
“I was getting ready to hang up.”
He heard fear in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re going to think I’m crazy. Wayne is away on business and there’s someone outside my house.”
“You should have called 9-1-1.”
“Isn’t that only for emergencies?”
He glanced back into the other room. Maggie was looking through his books pretending not to listen.
“Is the man still out there?”
“Yes. Next to the shed. He seems to just be standing there, watching the house.”
“I’ll send a deputy over. Stay inside and keep your doors locked.”
“Do you have to send a deputy? I thought since you are only a few blocks away...”
He cursed under his breath.
“I’m sorry. You’re probably busy. Maggie is probably there. I shouldn’t have called you.”
Flint told himself he wouldn’t be able to relax and enjoy his night until he knew Celeste was all right. Like she said, she was only a few blocks away.
“I’ll be right over.” He disconnected and looked back at Maggie.
“Celeste.”
He nodded as he walked back into the living room. “She says there’s someone outside her house.”
“I heard. You should go. Maybe you could drop me off on the way.”
He stepped to her, taking her shoulders in his hands. “This is not the way I wanted this night to end.”
“Me neither. But you’re the sheriff and Celeste is...Celeste.”
“Wait here or come with me. This shouldn’t take but a minute—”
“It’s late and I have a color appointment first thing in the morning.”
He kissed her. “Let me make it up to you tomorrow night.”
She smiled, but he could tell she was upset. “We’ll see.”
He dropped Maggie off with a quick kiss and drove over to Celeste’s. She lived in a huge, old three-story house on the outskirts of town that took up two city blocks. As he parked and got out, he saw that all the lights in the entire house seemed to be on.
Maybe she really was frightened. Or maybe she had just wanted to interrupt his date. He hated that uncharitable thought. Since their divorce, he’d done his best to put all the hurt and anger behind him. Celeste could be manipulative, but she wouldn’t do something like that.
Still, like today on the street, he swore it was as if she couldn’t stand him moving on, which made him wonder where her head was—let alone her heart. She’d been the one who wanted out of their marriage. He hadn’t known it at the time, but she’d been seeing Wayne Duma behind his back. He’d been so oblivious that he hadn’t even suspected there was another man.
In his more uncharitable moments, he damned well knew what she saw in Wayne: money, security, a husband with an upstanding role in the community. He thought of that old Elvis song about a house without love. Was that the problem? Was she sorry now?
He unsnapped his holster even though he doubted he was going to have to use his gun. But that was the thing about being the law. You never knew when you were going to need your weapon. Better to be prepared than caught off guard.
Unfortunately, he was already angry at himself for giving in to Celeste and coming over here. A man in that state of mind could make a mistake and get himself killed.
* * *
TRASK TENSED AS another twig snapped, closer by. He stared at the crest of the hill, waiting for whatever it was to show itself. As something dark emerged, he lifted his rifle.
“Don’t shoot!” came a once familiar male voice. “I come in peace.”
Trask swore under his breath. His former not-legally stepbrother, Emery Perkins, was the last person he’d expected to see on this mountain. His mind raced. How could Emery have known he was back in Montana, let alone that he’d be hiding out up there?
Because, he realized with a curse, he and Emery had camped up there one time years before. But that still didn’t explain how his stepbrother knew he was back. Maybe Lillie had changed more than Trask thought.
“No need for that,” Emery said as he stopped a few yards away. His dark, close-set eyes looked from Trask to the rifle and back again. “Would you shoot your own brother?”
“You’re not my brother.”
“Stepbrother by almost marriage,” he said with a laugh.
“Almost only means something in horseshoes and shit throwing.”
“Just cuz my old lady and your old man didn’t officially tie the knot. We’re still brothers. Hell, we were a family for a while.”
“A very short while.” At first he’d been glad to have a brother. Until he got to know Emery.
“By the wayside, heard from our mom lately?” He laughed at his joke, exposing a few black spaces where teeth should have been. After Trask’s so-called stepmother had left with Emery, he’d never heard from her again.
“How did you find me?” Trask asked.
“Well, that’s a funny story.” He took a toothpick out of his shirt pocket and stuck it into the corn
er of his mouth. “Ya put down that rifle and I’ll share it with ya.”
Trask hesitated, but only for a moment before he set the rifle aside, keeping it close enough that he could go for it if he had to.
Emery moved closer to the fire. “Remember Vernon?”
“Vaguely.” Vernon had been some kid Emery’s mother said was a cousin. But they all suspected the teen had been her lover. Vernon only showed up when Trask’s father was on the road with the carnival.
“Well, he seen ya over in North Dakota and he happened to mention it.”
“So you came looking for me.” Trask felt a wave of relief. It hadn’t been Lillie. He also understood why his so-called stepbrother hadn’t gone to the sheriff with the information.
Emery’s face lit up like he’d just won the lottery. He probably thought he had. “When they said you’d quit yer job for that oil company in North Dakota after nine years, I just had this sneakin’ suspicion that you’d come back here. I always wondered how ya could leave behind a babe like Lillie Cahill.”
He winced at the word babe but let it go. He figured Emery had just begun to piss him off. He might as well wait until he was good and mad. “So you found me.”
“Yep, remember ya and me come up here one time when we was boys. It was your special place. Nice view. Should be able to see anyone headin’ up the mountain.” His grin widened, exposing more dark holes. “’Course, I knew that, so I come over from the ravine to the east.”
He could see how proud Emery was of surprising him. Trask fought the urge to push Emery for the point of his visit, not that he didn’t already suspect what was coming.
“Kind of a long walk up the mountain to talk old times,” Trask said after a few moments of watching Emery chew on his toothpick.
“Sure was. Made me downright thirsty. Ya wouldn’t have any beer, would ya?”
“Afraid not. There’s water in the creek, though.”
Emery glanced back in that direction and for a moment Trask feared the man hadn’t come alone. That would definitely complicate things and make Trask a whole lot less congenial.
