by B. J Daniels
* * *
MARJORIE CLINE LIVED at the local nursing home in Lewistown, Montana. She was a tiny, frail woman with a head of stark white fuzzy hair like a halo. The moment she saw Edwin, she burst into a big smile, her blue eyes sparkling.
“Well, look who’s here!” she cried excitedly.
At his confused expression, a nearby nurse came over. “Are you here to see Marjorie?”
“Yes, but—”
The nurse nodded and smiled sympathetically. “She thought you were her son. It’s all right. She has Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” The nurse couldn’t imagine how sorry. “I had hoped to talk to her about—”
“Let me guess. Westfield.”
Edwin blinked in surprise.
“I’m surprised that it took this long for someone to finally be interested in what apparently went on up there. It was all Marjorie talked about when she first came here.”
“Maybe you could help me, then.” He showed her his credentials and asked if she could spare a minute to talk.
“I was just getting ready to go on break. I can tell you what Marjorie used to go on about. I’m not sure how much I remember.”
As it turned out, she remembered a lot. Edwin listened to horror stories about the filth, the lack of food, the corruption.
“They should have strung up that woman who ran the place,” the nurse said.
“Did Marjorie mention the woman’s name?”
“Gladys McCormick. I heard after the state closed down the place that they tried to find the woman, but apparently, she had skipped the state, disappeared.” The nurse shook her head. “Marjorie said there is a graveyard behind the place. That’s where they put those poor girls since no one wanted to pay to have them buried properly, let alone in the city’s cemetery.”
He thought of the one crude gravestone and the angel out in the field, away from the others.
“Before Marjorie got as bad as she is now, that’s been a couple of years ago, she went on a trip to Yellowstone with her son. On the way, she swore she saw Gladys McCormick. She made her son stop so she could confront the woman, who said she was mistaken. I think it was very upsetting for her son. He didn’t take his mother anywhere after that, doesn’t come to visit at all anymore.”
Edwin couldn’t bear to look at the sweet, little old woman anxiously watching the main door. “Where was this that she thought she saw Gladys McCormick?”
“Oh, Marjorie swore it was her and that the woman lied through her teeth. It was in Harlowton.”
“If the woman wasn’t Gladys McCormick, did she tell them the name she was going by?”
The nurse shook her head. “I don’t think Marjorie thought to ask, and of course her son didn’t. Marjorie even called the local police and wanted them to go arrest the woman for the murders.”
“Murders? There was more than one?”
“Oh, I know the grizzly one made the news, but Marjorie swore there was another one. Of course, no one had ever heard of that one.” The nurse looked away for a moment and sighed. “That was another reason no one believed her. Marjorie swore Gladys covered up the second one. She said it was one of the girls.”
Edwin thought of Caligrace’s mother. Was it possible Gladys had found out that she was the one who had contacted the deputy the first time blood was shed inside that place and made sure Caligrace didn’t talk again?
“Did you tell the police this?”
“I called them and told them the story Marjorie had told me. They came here and spoke to Marjorie, but they caught her on one of her bad days. She wasn’t making a lot of sense. Then they talked to her son. He swore that he didn’t know what his mother was talking about. That they didn’t even see anyone in Harlowton, let alone accost some poor woman.” The nurse made a face. “As far as I know, the police never tried to find the woman Marjorie swore she’d seen.”
* * *
ROURKE FINALLY REACHED Laura late in the afternoon. She sounded as if he’d woken her up, and he mentally kicked himself. She must be exhausted from the late-night drive, not to mention the stress of her mother’s condition. No wonder she hadn’t been answering his calls.
“I just wanted to make sure that you made it to your mother’s all right,” he said.
“You really don’t need to worry about me.”
Rourke feared that he did. “Look, you have enough on your plate right now. I don’t want you to worry about—”
“Don’t. I need something to keep my mind occupied, especially right now. Have you discovered a possible male co-killer?”
He hesitated. “There are two cowboys.”
“Give me their names and I’ll see if I can find a connection between them and Callie.”
“I’d appreciate that, if you’re sure—”
“I’m sure.”
“Carson Grant and Johnny Franks. Carson is apparently from the area. Johnny hasn’t been here long.”
“I’ll see what I can find out about them for you. Also, I’m working on the profiles.” He heard a door slam, then the rev of a motor as she apparently went outside.
She sounded more like the woman who’d been his partner for those years on the Seattle P.D. Maybe there wasn’t any reason for concern. “That’s great. Thank you. How is your mother?”
“Dying. How is Callie?”
Callie. “I’m making some progress. She’s...complicated.”
Laura made a disparaging sound. “Don’t lose sight that she could be the person who cut up those other men.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I should mention, Carson Grant has been hitting on Callie. She keeps turning him down, but—”
“But you think there could be something there.”
He hated to admit it. “Thanks for your help, but do me a favor. Keep in touch. I don’t like to have to worry about you.”
“Then don’t,” she said, but he could hear it in her voice. She was touched. He realized he should have been making these calls a lot more over the past year.
“I’m really sorry about your mom. I’ll come up for the funeral—”
“There isn’t going to be one, but thanks. I need to go.” And just like that, she was gone.
Rourke tried to put his worries about Laura out of his mind as he went over the murder files. He kept thinking he was missing something. Either that or he was on a wild-goose chase.
It was late when he finally wandered outside to the cabin porch for some fresh air. Through the pines, he could see the café. The night was cold and clear, the sky alight with stars. The moon was just coming up, a golden orb peeking over the tops of the trees.
At the sound of a vehicle, he glanced toward the café in time to see Callie driving away in her pickup. Where was she heading for the second night in a row?
This time, he was going to find out.
* * *
CALLIE HAD GONE upstairs to her apartment and tried to sleep, praying it would lessen the headache. Or at least keep her from thinking about Rourke Montgomery. If that was even his name. He’d lied about something when they’d met, which was no more shocking than the fact that she’d gotten the small, dim flash.
Why would a complete stranger feel the need to lie to her? That was the question that nagged at her and kept her from sleep. That and the headache.
When she finally couldn’t stand the confines of her apartment over the café any longer, she’d gotten up. It was after midnight. The town outside her apartment was dead quiet. But she couldn’t stand being hemmed in by the four walls any longer. Her head was still throbbing. If she was right and the stranger in town was the cause of her headache, then putting distance between herself and the town could help.
She’d changed into jeans, boots, a flannel shirt and coat and headed for her pic
kup. The moon had come up and now glazed the Crazies in an icy cold silver. It cast the quiet Beartooth in an eerie pale light. Callie loved this time of night. She’d always been a night owl, requiring little sleep.
As she pulled out to the main drag, she debated where to go. Left would take her to Big Timber on the paved highway. The last thing she needed, though, was another town with people. She turned right and drove along the main street, passing the remains of what had once been a thriving mining town. Stone buildings still stood, though most had been empty for years and were in need of repair. But she could see that work had begun on the old hotel. Another reminder of the change that had blown into her life.
At the edge of town, the pavement ended, and she turned toward the Crazy Mountains, her headlights cutting through the tall pines. The dirt road wound back through dense pines broken only by groves of aspens. Some still had an array of gold, red and orange leaves that glowed in her headlights. The farther she went, the more narrow and twisted the road became until it topped out, then dropped in switchbacks to the blue-green lake below.
This was one of her favorite spots. She’d found the lake by accident and now came here many nights. Soon winter snows would drift in the road, closing it until late spring. That made her sad because she feared she would be gone by spring.
She pulled to the edge of the lake, parked and got out. Few people came here even during normal daylight hours. This time of night, she always had the place to herself. The high mountain lake was surrounded by towering green pines. Moonlight played off the crystal clear icy cold water as the large boulders left from the glacier age formed pockets of shadows along the edge.
Tonight the lake glistened in the warmth of the moon, the sky around her so filled with stars that it almost felt like daylight. The fresh cold fall air filled her lungs. As she released it, she realized she felt better. She’d been right to escape town, which told her she was just as right about Rourke.
So who was he and what was he doing in Beartooth? She feared she would know soon enough.
At the sound of a vehicle approaching, she turned. Headlights bobbed on the road. She couldn’t see the cowboy behind the wheel as the vehicle grew closer, but she sensed him.
Her head began to pound. If she’d had any doubt, she didn’t anymore. He was the source of her headache. He’d followed her, and now here she was, in the middle of the night at an isolated lake in the mountains, alone with him.
* * *
ROURKE WAS SURPRISED as he came over a rise and spotted the blue pickup—and the lake at the end of the road.
He’d stayed back, keeping his distance as he’d followed her out of town. This time he’d seen which road she’d taken back into the mountains. Now, though, he was caught. She’d seen his lights as he came down the road. He decided he would have to talk his way out of this. Or at least try.
Driving on down to where she was parked, he pulled in, cut his lights and climbed out. Callie was leaning against the side of her truck as if waiting for him as he approached. If she’d come here to meet someone, the person hadn’t arrived yet.
“Hey,” he said, closing the distance between them.
“Hey.” There was a distinct edge to her voice.
“I’m sorry. You probably wanted to be alone.”
“But you followed me anyway. Why is that?” she asked as she reached inside the open window of the pickup and came out with a handgun.
He raised his hands as she pointed it at his chest. “Are you going to shoot me?”
“Am I going to have to?”
“Not if I can help it,” he said, trying to decide if she would actually pull the trigger. She seemed comfortable with the gun, holding it as if she was no stranger to the weapon. He thought again of Laura’s argument that some female serial killers used weapons like guns and knives.
“Again, why did you follow me?”
“I was worried about you. I was afraid you were walking in your sleep.”
“I wasn’t walking,” she pointed out.
“Actually, there have been cases of sleepwalkers driving some distances then returning home with no memory of it.” He glanced back at the road cut into the rock cliffs they’d driven down. “Dangerous place to be sleepwalking—or sleep-driving.”
“Could be just as dangerous to follow someone here.”
He shook his head. “Not on a beautiful moonlit night. That is why you came here, isn’t it? For the view? Or maybe you’re like me and you just couldn’t sleep?”
She didn’t answer.
He looked out at the water. “I had no idea this lake was here. It’s so peaceful.”
“It’s usually peaceful here this time of the night because there is no one around,” she said, still sounding upset with him.
“I could leave.”
She sighed. Even holding a gun on him, she didn’t look dangerous. Thinking that, of course, could be his last mistake, though. The moonlight played on her face. She looked...beautiful. He was more aware of her soft rounded curves, more aware of her as a woman, and he quickly warned himself to be careful. He’d seen her effect on Carson Grant. Callie had the poor cowboy eating out of her hand.
Callie leveled the gun at his heart. “Tell me the real reason you followed me.”
He smiled. “It’s really no mystery. I couldn’t sleep. I saw you leave.” He shrugged. “I’ve been getting up the nerve to ask you out. I didn’t want to ask you at the café....”
She scoffed at that. “You are not the kind of man who has to get up his nerve.”
“You’re wrong about that. I’m actually pretty shy. But following you was a dumb idea.”
She seemed to relax a little.
“Could I put my hands down now?”
“First, tell me what you’re doing in Beartooth.”
“I’m looking for a small ranch to invest in.”
She considered that for a moment. “You know anything about ranching?”
“I should,” he said with a laugh as he looked past her toward the lake. It really was beautiful, but nothing compared to her in the moonlight. “I grew up on one in Wyoming.”
“That what you were talking to the sheriff about yesterday?” she asked. So, she’d seen them, had she?
He nodded. “I was asking about the area. Usually, the sheriff is a good person to ask. Sounds like there isn’t much crime here.”
“You might be surprised,” she said, but lowered the gun. “I guess no one has told you what happened at the general store the night it burned down.”
“I heard.” He was more interested in the woman standing in front of him. “What lake is this?” he asked, staying where he was so as not to spook her. She wasn’t going to shoot him, but she didn’t trust him either.
“Saddlestring.” She was still watching him, still wary of him, the gun dangling from her fingertips at her side.
“It looks cold and deep.”
“Were you thinking of going for a swim?”
“I would if you went in first.”
She chuckled. “Have you had any luck with this approach with women?”
“Not much.”
“That should tell you something.”
“But if I had asked you out yesterday morning at breakfast like I wanted to, what would you have said?”
“Thanks, but no, thanks.”
“See?”
She shifted on her feet, the gun at her side.
“I should go and let you enjoy the peace and quiet.”
Callie didn’t say anything as he tipped his Stetson, turned and walked toward his SUV. Laura would have given him hell for turning his back on a woman with a gun. Especially a possible serial killer.
“If you do this again another night, at least bring a couple of bottles of cold beer,” she called
after him.
He smiled to himself but didn’t turn. “I will.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CALLIE HAD EXPECTED to see Rourke at breakfast. When he hadn’t come in by lunchtime, she found herself watching for him.
“Anything wrong?” Kate asked, sounding amused.
“Nope.”
“No headache today?”
“Nope.” That wasn’t quite true. It was still there, a dull ache at the back of her skull. Whatever was coming was still on its way. She just never knew when the trouble would hit—just that it would.
“I haven’t seen your cowboy yet today,” Kate said.
“He probably left town,” Callie said as she began to clear dishes from one of the lunch-crowd tables.
Kate chuckled. “That’s probably it. Or maybe you scared him off.”
Callie smiled to herself. Not even holding a gun on Rourke Montgomery had scared him off. No, he was still in town. She could...sense him even though she wasn’t getting any flashes of information about him.
“Too bad you can’t scare off Carson Grant as easily,” Kate said. “You know, if he gets to be too much, I could talk to the sheriff—”
“I can handle Carson,” Callie said as she started past her with her arms full of dishes.
Her boss smiled. “Still, if you ever need my help...”
“Thanks. I appreciate it, but I’m fine.” Also not exactly true. Carson had been a real pain earlier. He just wasn’t taking no for an answer.
She’d known what he wanted from the first day she’d started work and he’d flirted with her. For months now he’d been teasing her, trying to get her to go out with him. Unfortunately, she could read him loud and clear—even if she hadn’t been psychic. There was a jittery nervousness to him, so from the start she’d known he was a man with demons other than his addictions, both gambling and alcohol.
If anyone had asked her, she could have told them that Carson Grant was just hanging on by the skin of his teeth. She suspected he would be falling off the wagon any day now.
The bell over the café door tinkled. Callie didn’t have to turn and look. She kept on heading for the dish room in the kitchen as Rourke came through the door. He brought the fall scents with him on the cold mountain air. She breathed it in and smiled, then quickly chastised herself as she felt the dull ache at the back of her head.
