by B. J Daniels
“What?” AJ thought of the woman she’d met at the café. A gold digger. She didn’t believe for a moment that Juliette had fallen in love with Cyrus or vice versa. It must have come as a shock to her though when she realized the Cahills weren’t rich. Far from it. They were what was known as land-poor. Everything was invested in the land. “But all the money is tied up in property.”
“Trask said she could force the family to sell the ranch to buy her out,” Lillie said. “And her name. Juliette. Juliette,” Lillie repeated as if that explained anything. “She keeps pestering us about the funeral. She tried to get me to go to lunch with her.” Lillie was crying now. “She says she needs to be with her husband’s family. She told me that she had Cyrus’s death certificate in her purse!”
It all felt suddenly too real. For a moment, AJ wondered what she was doing flying off to some island. Shouldn’t she be there trying to help the family against this woman? But under Montana law, Juliette had a right to one-sixth of the ranch and all of his personal wealth.
There would be only one way to stop her. If Cyrus was alive... Was she merely in denial? Unlike the Cyrus she’d known, she’d always been impetuous. Why couldn’t she accept that he was gone? Because of some crazy feeling like an extra heartbeat?
“I’m sorry,” Lillie said. “I didn’t call to upset you too. I heard you’re on your way to the Caribbean to look for him. You have to find him.”
“If he’s alive, I’ll find him.” The flight attendant announced that all cell phones and computers should be shut down for takeoff. “I’m glad you called. But right now I have to get off the phone. We’re about to take off.”
“Call me when you get there,” Lillie said.
“I will.” She disconnected and put her phone on airplane mode before settling back in her seat. Closing her eyes, she thought of Cyrus—the one she’d known, not the one Juliette had told her about. That feeling deep inside her that he was alive—and in trouble—felt so sharp for a moment, it took away her breath. She opened her eyes. She was doing this.
* * *
FLINT HUNG UP from talking to the family lawyer again and swore. Earlier Lillie had been in his office. She already knew what was going on. He realized he couldn’t keep it from the rest of the family any longer—that’s if Lillie hadn’t already called them. Picking up the phone again, he called Maggie and asked her if she would mind setting up another family meeting.
“Have they found Cyrus?” she asked.
“No, sorry. It’s about Juliette.”
Maggie made a dismissive sound. “Maybe we should have the funeral so she’ll leave town.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t do any good. How about four tomorrow afternoon at the saloon? Make sure everyone comes.” He hung up and stared for a moment at nothing. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse.
His phone rang. He hesitated, no longer hoping for good news. Now when his phone rang he expected more bad news. He picked up on the second ring. “Sheriff Cahill.”
“We’ve got an altercation down here at the bar,” Deputy Harper Cole said.
He sighed. “I’m sure you can handle it, Harp.”
“It’s your father. I’ve never seen him like this.”
Flint swore under his breath. He knew what must have happened. His father had come out of the mountains and no doubt heard about Cyrus. Maybe they should have gone up in the mountains and tried to find him and tell him. Flint hated that their father had found out this way.
When their mother had died, Ely had turned the ranch over to his sons and daughter and headed for the hills. He spent most of his time up there panning for gold, trapping, living like a mountain man.
But every few months, he would show up in town and get rip-roaring drunk and cause trouble. Today wouldn’t be the first time Flint had to lock his father up in jail. “I’ll be right there,” he told Harp. “Let me handle him.”
* * *
AJ SAT IN the uncomfortable chair in the St. Augusta Island Police Commissioner’s office. A small overhead fan turned noisily and so slowly that it barely moved the hot evening air. When the commissioner returned with the papers she’d asked for, she quickly rose, anxious to read them alone in an air-conditioned hotel. After Montana’s winter weather, this heat felt unbearable.
“I hope this answers all of your questions,” the commissioner said as he handed her the latest report. “If not...”
AJ stared at the updated report in her hands. The word blood had leaped off the page. Her hand began to shake, making it hard to read the typewritten statement. She knew blood had been found on a lower railing where the surveillance camera had witnessed Cyrus falling. The FBI had taken a sample to compare with Cyrus’s DNA. Her heart dropped like an anchor into the well of grief she’d been fighting since hearing the news. The DNA report had come back.
The blood had been his. Cyrus had definitely been hurt before he’d gone into the water. Bleeding in an ocean full of predators?
She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut to hold back the tears.
“I’m so sorry,” the police commissioner said not for the first time.
AJ forced her eyes open and brushed angrily at her tears. She’d been hoping the blood wouldn’t be his. Every turn, common sense demanded she give up this quest. Cyrus was gone. And yet even now, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
“I understand a toxicology screen was also done on the blood found?” she asked.
He looked surprised and at a loss for words for a moment. “I haven’t seen the results for that. Nor was I aware one had been done. I’m sorry. You have reason to believe he was on drugs?”
She shook her head. “Just covering all the bases.”
The commissioner sat back in his chair as if he only then remembered that she was a lawyer. He leaned forward, picked up his phone and began to dial.
AJ concentrated on breathing as she surreptitiously wiped at her eyes. It was Cyrus’s blood. She thought about what Flint had told her about Cyrus probably being unconscious by the time he hit the water. He would have drowned. Right now that seemed the most humane way he could have gone. If he was gone. She was clutching at straws. But if he’d been pushed...
“You’re right,” the commissioner said, sounding relieved. “A toxicology screen was done. Drugs were found in his system. That report has been sent to Sheriff Flint Cahill in Gilt Edge, Montana.”
He’d been drugged. She knew it had to be something like that. She rose to her feet. “Thank you for your help.”
The police commissioner nodded as he too rose to see her out. There had been only one thing in the report that could help her find Cyrus—the location of the ship at the stamped time on the surveillance video of Cyrus falling off the ship.
Unfortunately, the camera, on one of the lower decks, had caught only him falling past it. No camera had caught him on the deck from where he’d fallen. So there was no video of him sitting on the railing, climbing over it or possibly being pushed.
The police commissioner handed her his card. He’d already provided her with the number for the ship’s captain—and lawyer. “Again, my condolences.”
She’d had to tell a white lie to get the information she needed, saying she was the attorney for the Cahill family. Now she took the paperwork and once outside where the air was even hotter and more humid, she walked the few blocks to the hotel rather than brave another wild taxi ride. The one from the airport had been bad enough.
Once in her room, she stripped down, showered and sat to read what the commissioner had given her.
But there was little else new. She already had learned that the only thing harder than falling off a cruise ship was surviving the fall. It had happened in a few cases. Very few. She kept telling herself that if anyone could survive, it would be Cyrus.
* * *
FLINT HAD HIS father changed into clean clothes by the time he
drove a somber Ely out to the Stagecoach Saloon where everyone was already waiting the next afternoon.
“Dad,” Lillie cried when she saw him. She ran to him to throw her arms around him.
Darby poured his father a tonic water and put it in front of him. Most everyone else had opted for a real drink. They all hugged and cried and said they still couldn’t believe it. Ely looked pale and shaky from the shock.
“You have news?” Hawk said. “About Cyrus?”
Flint shook his head as he took a chair. Darby asked him if he wanted a drink but he declined. “Juliette’s lawyer contacted our lawyer concerning Cyrus’s portion of the ranch.”
“What?” Hawk barked as the others put up a similar uproar. All except Lillie. She sat dry-eyed and furious, having already heard. “We haven’t even buried him yet.”
Flint didn’t have to tell him or the others that they would be burying an empty casket at best. The chances of Cyrus’s body being found had dropped after the first forty-eight hours. Now it had been over a week. But he knew what Hawk meant. They hadn’t had time to even accept that Cyrus was gone.
“She wants the ranch?” Ely said, looking up a little blurry-eyed. “I would imagine that was what she was after all along.”
The room fell silent. By now, they’d all figured that had been the case. Juliette had somehow seduced Cyrus thinking he had money. Hell, he’d just purchased a three-hundred-thousand-dollar bull.
“Her lawyer has suggested that we buy her out,” Flint continued. “She wants a million and a half.”
This time the room erupted. He waited until they all calmed down before he said the obvious. “There is no way we can raise that kind of money.” The ranch was in debt, like most ranches. Also Lillie and Darby had borrowed against their share of the ranch to start the Stagecoach Saloon. The bull that Cyrus had gone to Denver to buy was on its way to the ranch, the deal done. Eventually, the bull would pay for itself and more. But everything about ranching took time and since none of the family had demanded their share, they’d put money back into the ranch by buying up more land.
“She’ll force you to sell it,” Ely said into the heavy silence. “You’ll have no choice.”
Hawk shook his head. He and Cyrus had been running the ranch while the others had chosen different occupations. “I can’t believe this is happening. There has to be a way to stop her.”
“Let her sue us,” Lillie said, “and see how far that gets her.”
“She would win,” Flint said. “She’s Cyrus’s legal wife. The marriage on the ship... She’s also suing the cruise line. I doubt she’s a novice at this, given how little time it took to send her lawyer after us.”
“AJ is going to find Cyrus and bring him home,” Lillie said emphatically.
No one said anything. Like Flint, they held little hope of that happening.
“Let’s at least hold Juliette off as long as we can,” Ely said. He looked even more pale and sick. Flint had hated to tell him this news on top of Cyrus being gone.
“You all right, Dad?” he asked his father.
Ely nodded and took a sip of his tonic water. He’d had a minor heart attack not that long ago. They all worried he’d have another one up in the mountains. But it was when he came to town that he seemed to have the medical problems.
“I hate her,” Lillie said, crying. “Can’t we...”
“Kill her?” Darby suggested and laughed. “Let’s not, sis.”
Ely said something that Flint didn’t catch only a few moments before he keeled over onto the table.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AJ COULDN’T BELIEVE the news when Lillie called. Her father had suffered another heart attack, this one serious. He was in the hospital, stable for the moment but still unconscious. There was even more bad news.
“Juliette wants a million and a half dollars,” Lillie blurted. “There is no way we can raise that kind of money except to sell the ranch. Even then...”
AJ’s first thought was to come up with the money herself, but while she was what most people would consider rich, her money was tied up in the trust fund. Her grandmother had made sure that large sums of the trust couldn’t be taken out or borrowed against—just in case AJ fell in love with some lowlife who would try to bilk her.
“Don’t worry,” she told Lillie. “I’m going to find Cyrus. Let Juliette try to get the ranch then.”
Lillie hadn’t sounded all that relieved. “I hope you’re right about him being alive.”
“I am,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She hated getting Lillie’s hopes up when all of this was probably a wild-goose chase. “Try to hold Juliette off as long as you can. And please keep me updated on Ely’s condition.”
AJ disconnected and spread the map of the Caribbean out before her. When she called, the cruise ship captain hadn’t wanted to talk to her on the advice of his lawyers. Of course Juliette was suing the cruise line. Nothing the woman did should have been a surprise. She’d told the captain that she was Cyrus’s girlfriend from back home and that she believed he was still alive and was trying to find him. It was eerily close to the truth.
“I’m looking at the information you gave the police commissioner in St. Augusta. At the time Cyrus fell off the ship, you were miles from the nearest islands. But there was a storm that night, right? I just need to know about drift. Had he survived, where might he have ended up? Captain, if he is still alive, then his so-called wife won’t have as much ammunition to sue you. Help me. Please.”
She could tell that the captain felt sorry for her. He probably thought she was delusional. There were moments when she questioned it herself.
He explained about drift and how to estimate it. “Yes, there was a storm that night. The seas were rough. If he’d found something he could hang on to he might have been able to make landfall. That is a huge if.”
What he hadn’t said was that if Cyrus had been unconscious, he wouldn’t have been able to hang on to to anything. He would have drowned. And if he’d made it to shore, wouldn’t someone have found him, gotten him medical attention, called the authorities? She pushed those thoughts away since she didn’t need him to tell her any of that. She’d told herself enough times.
She thanked him, disconnected and studied the map. There seemed nothing else to do but check each island. She would start with the hospitals, morgues, police stations. If a man had been found, maybe unconscious, who’d washed up on a beach, wouldn’t one of them know about him She could do that by phone, but she knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she went to each of the islands and showed his photo around. She had all the time in the world.
What she feared was that Cyrus and the Cahill family didn’t.
* * *
JULIETTE SWORE AS she paced the hotel room, her phone pressed to her ear.
“You can’t get blood out of a turnip,” her attorney said.
Was she ready to settle for less? Not yet.
“When I spoke with the family’s lawyer, he indicated that they aren’t convinced that Cyrus is dead.”
“I have the death certificate!”
“I understand someone in the family is in the Caribbean looking for him,” the lawyer said.
AJ. Juliette groaned. Cyrus’s sister, Lillie, had called to tell her that AJ had flown down there to find him. What a waste of time and money, but apparently AJ Somerfield had both.
“There is no chance for that to happen,” she assured the lawyer. She knew the statistics. Out of eighty man-overboard incidents, only sixteen were rescued. And those had been within hours. The longest anyone had trod water was eighteen hours. It had been days now since Cyrus had gone overboard. He was dead. Probably eaten by sharks. If the Cahills were hoping for a body to bury, they were out of luck. He would never be found. Not after all this time.
But how long could she wait here? “Push for a payoff,” she sa
id.
“There’s something else,” her lawyer said. “Blood was found on one of the lower decks. A sample was taken at the time it was found and sent to a lab. A DNA test has been requested on it.”
“So?”
“If they determined the blood alcohol content at the lab, it could help with your lawsuit against the cruise line.”
“Would they have done that?” she asked, her heart in her throat.
“Depends on the lab and what law enforcement would have ordered,” he said.
“Would they have checked for drugs?”
“Probably, why?”
“Just curious.”
“Juliette, if he had taken drugs, that will kill any chance of reimbursement from the cruise line. The FBI has jurisdiction over any incidents on the high seas. If they suspect foul play—”
“Just find out what tests were run,” she demanded and disconnected, angry with herself. Nothing seemed to be going the way she’d planned it. She’d miscalculated on how much money the cowboy would be able to come up with should he meet a fate such as death. She could feel time running out.
Meanwhile, that foolish young woman was searching for Cyrus. Good, it would keep AJ out of her hair, she told herself. But at the back of her mind, worry nagged at her. What if the cowboy had somehow survived?
She told herself that it wasn’t possible. He’d hit the railing before he’d gone into the water. He’d gone right under and hadn’t come up. He’d probably been half-dead even before he hit the water. Once in the water, he would have drowned. Unless...
At the window, she moved the curtain aside to look out. There were piles of fresh snow everywhere and the weatherman was calling for more. She hated winter, hated this place, hated the reminders of her childhood. She had to get out of here.
Her phone rang. She let the curtain drop back as she turned to look at the dingy hotel room. She picked up her phone, saw who was calling. “You aren’t supposed to call me.”
