by B. J Daniels
“She told me her name was Ross.”
Rip shook his head. “She called herself a lot of different names. No, it was...Dunn. That was it. Dunn. I only remember because it was so close to the word dung.” He shrugged as if apologizing. “You two sure hit it off.”
Tucker said nothing.
“Madeline Dunn.” Rip chuckled. “I do remember her. I always wondered what happened to her.”
“You have any idea where she was from?”
“North of Denton, though that’s where she spent most of her time. Some town up there... Clark Creek. No, Clawson Creek, that’s it. Wow, I haven’t thought about her in years. You say she’s dead? Too bad. But then a girl like her...” He shook his head.
Tucker’s cell phone rang. He saw that it was Flint—and it wasn’t his first call today.
“I should let you get that. I need to get back to work, anyway,” Rip said. “Good to see you, Tuck. If you ever need any bodywork...” He raised his arms to take in the shop. “Hell, if you ever need anything, I’m your man.”
* * *
KATE DIDN’T KNOW that Peter had flown home with her father until the two came through the front door of the Helena ranch house. She went straight to her father.
“Don’t fuss over me,” Clayton Rothschild insisted. “It was nothing. I’m as strong as a horse. Isn’t that right, Peter?”
Peter had been standing off to one side. As she turned her gaze on him, she saw that he’d been staring at her.
“I’m going up to see your mother,” her father said. “Give you two a moment to talk.”
Kate could have told him that she and Peter had nothing to talk about, but she saved her breath. Her father had such high hopes that she and Peter would hit it off. After a few dates, it had been clear to her that was never going to happen.
“Glad to see you’re home,” Peter said.
“Only temporarily.”
He looked surprised—and clearly disappointed. “I thought with your father ill—”
“He just said it was nothing. Strong as a horse, remember?”
Peter stepped to the bar and poured himself a drink. He’d taken a gulp of it before he turned to offer her one.
She declined, annoyed that he treated this home as if it was already his. “My father was right about one thing. We need to talk. You might want to pour yourself another one of those because you aren’t going to like what I’m going to say.”
“If this is about the lamebrain idea of yours to investigate the woman your brother was seeing...”
She gritted her teeth, knowing without a doubt that her father and Peter had discussed this. Discussed her.
“I won’t be going out with you again. Even though I was honest with you, you’ve let my father believe that the two of us are—”
“Stop!”
His sudden outburst startled her. Before she could speak or move, he strode to her, grabbed her arms and gave her a shake. “You listen to me,” he said, his voice strained. “I didn’t come back all this way to argue with you. I came back to ask you to marry me.” He let go of her to fish a small velvet box from Tiffany’s out of his coat pocket.
“Stop,” she said. “I’m not going to marry you.”
His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet.”
“I don’t need to see the ring.”
He looked down. She could see him clenching his jaw in anger. “Is this about that cowboy?” He raised his gaze to hers, his eyes glittering with malice. “The one who shared a woman with your brother?”
She slapped him so hard that her hand stung. The sound echoed through the high ceilings of the room. Then she turned and rushed up the stairs toward her room. Behind her, she heard Peter pour himself another drink.
* * *
BILLIE DEE COULDN’T help being anxious after Henry told her his plan.
“Didn’t you say that Darby and Mariah go over to their new house most afternoons to see how things are coming along?”
She’d nodded. “He leaves me and Ashley Jo in charge.”
“All you have to do is text me right before he leaves.”
So she had. Five minutes later, Darby and Mariah left as Henry was coming in the back door with a carton of strawberries.
“Billie Dee making her shortcake?” Darby said with a grin. “Make sure she saves me some.”
As Darby drove away, Henry put down the strawberries and said, “Join me in the bar. I’ve never asked you if you drink.”
“Alcohol?” she asked as they walked down the hall and into the bar part of the building. There were only a couple of regulars at the bar visiting with Ashley Jo.
Billie Dee knew that Darby was happy with his hire. The young woman was personable, was always on time and did whatever she was asked.
“She has experience at both bartending and waitressing,” Darby had said the one time she’d inquired about Ashley Jo. “Mariah gave her a thumbs-up, as well.”
Billie Dee had smiled at that. “The Mariah seal of approval.”
Darby had looked hard at her then. “Why do you ask? Have you seen something I should be worried about?”
“No, no, not at all,” she’d said hurriedly. “She seems delightful. I haven’t had much chance to be around her so I was curious how she was working out.”
Darby had seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “I have to admit, I don’t trust myself. I thought Kendall was a great hire and look how that turned out.”
“Kendall was very good at what she did,” Billie Dee had agreed. “She’d pulled the wool over all of our eyes while having her hand in the till.” Was that why she was worried that Ashley Jo was hiding something?
“Well, if you see or hear anything, you’ll let me know, right?” Darby had asked. “I depend on you, Billie Dee. You’re family.”
Family. The word had cut her to the quick.
As she joined Henry at the bar, she tried not to stare at Ashley Jo. The young woman laughed at something one of the regulars said. It was a musical laugh but one that chilled her because it seemed so familiar. Henry didn’t seem to notice her reaction to it.
Seeing Billie Dee and Henry, Ashley Jo excused herself and hurried down the bar. “My two favorite people,” the young woman said. “What can I get you?”
Henry looked to her and Billie Dee realized that she hadn’t answered his question.
“I’ll take a margarita, if you don’t mind making me a blended one?” she said.
“I’d be delighted.” Ashley Jo turned to Henry. “And what can I get you?”
“The same, please,” he said, smiling over at Billie Dee.
Ashley Jo went to work making their margaritas. She seemed quite adept at it; Billie Dee couldn’t help but notice. She herself had worked her way through college as a bartender. Not that something like that was hereditary.
“Are you all right?” Henry whispered.
She nodded but knew he could tell it was a lie. Until she knew for sure...
Henry was watching Ashley Jo carefully but managing not to stare. She had no idea what he was up to until she saw Ashley Jo take a sip of the cola she’d poured herself. It wasn’t until their margaritas were served and they’d each had a sip and assured Ashley Jo that they were amazing that the young woman started to take her cola back down to the other end of the bar.
Henry knocked his margarita off and into his lap, the glass breaking as it made contact with the floor.
Billie Dee jumped back in surprise. Ashley Jo turned and headed back. As she put down her cola glass, she grabbed a bar rag.
“Don’t touch that,” the young woman said to Henry. “Darby will have my head if there is any bloodshed before he comes back.”
Henry moved out of her way as she began to clear up what had slipped onto his bar stool. “I’ll get the broom and dustpan,”
Billie Dee announced.
When she returned, Henry was behind the bar. He stealthily slipped Ashley Jo’s glass into the plastic bag in his pocket. He replaced it with an empty dirty glass.
Billie Dee met his gaze. He was betting that Ashley Jo wouldn’t remember that she’d finished her cola in all the confusion.
But what if she did? What if she knew they were onto her and left?
She knew that made no sense. But if Ashley Jo was who she thought she was... Then she’d come here for a reason. She wouldn’t leave until she got what she wanted.
* * *
ONCE OUTSIDE THE body shop and in the sunlight and fresh air, Tucker took the call from Flint as he walked to his pickup.
“Tucker? Did you get my messages?”
He realized that he hadn’t checked his voice mail. “No, I just saw that you’d called a few times.”
“Are you in town? Can you stop by the office?”
Before, his brother’s request had been offhand, nothing to worry about. His heart began to pound. A note in Flint’s voice warned him that something had come up and it wasn’t good news. “Is this about Dad?”
“No, Ely’s fine, as far as I know. He’s up in the mountains. It’s about Madeline Dunn.”
Tucker held his breath for a moment before letting it out. “I’ll be right there.”
Five minutes later, he pushed open the door to the sheriff’s office. The dispatcher waved him toward Flint’s office. He found him sitting behind his desk, a frown on his face.
He stepped in, wondering if he shouldn’t be sitting for whatever news the sheriff was about to give him. He sat heavily in one of the chairs, bracing himself for the worst and yet unable to imagine what that might be.
“I’ve got some disturbing news. Madeline’s death wasn’t an accident,” his brother said. “The coroner found a .22 slug embedded in her skull. I’m now investigating this as a homicide.”
Tucker blinked. “She was murdered? Someone shot her?” He’d pictured her smacking into a tree limb hanging over the water as she was swept downstream. Hurt and dying, he’d seen her helped out of the water by whoever she was working with, stumbling up onto the bank, making it the few yards to the old creek bed before collapsing. And there was where she had been put to rest for almost twenty years.
That was how Flint had said the coroner suspected it could have happened. “Now you’re saying it wasn’t a head injury. Someone shot her?”
“The .22 slug was under the splintered wood. She was shot, then apparently struck with a limb, Sonny says. The one shot wasn’t probably enough to kill her so...”
“So someone finished the job with a tree limb.” Tucker couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“That isn’t all. You asked about a silver ankle bracelet?”
All he could do was nod.
“Harp found it along with shell casings for a .22.” Flint opened his drawer and brought out two plastic bags. One had the .22 slug in it and two shell casings. The other the bracelet. “Do you recognize the bracelet?”
He tried to swallow. He did. He’d given it to Madeline. His phone signaled that he’d just received a text. He reached into his pocket, saw that it was from Kate. His heart swelled just seeing it until he read what it said.
“I’m sorry, Tuck,” his brother was saying. “But you understand now why you can’t continue looking for Madeline’s family. This is now a murder investigation.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TUCKER CALLED KATE once he was back at the ranch and in his room alone. He was still shaken from what his brother had told him. Madeline had been murdered? Whoever was waiting for her downstream had apparently killed her. But why?
Kate answered on the second ring.
“Tucker.” She put so much into that one word it made him realize how much he’d missed her. He swore silently under his breath as he remembered what Darby had said.
“I got your text. Is everything all right?” he asked.
“It is now. When my mother called, she said my father had a heart attack.” She groaned. “It turned out to be nothing more than indigestion. My mother probably gave it to him.”
“I’m so glad that’s all it was.”
“Is everything all right there?” she asked as if hearing something in his voice.
He had to tell her. Worse, this would only make her more determined to find the rest of Madeline’s family. Now Kate would be looking for a murderer—as if it hadn’t been dangerous enough before when they were merely looking for a con man or woman.
“You haven’t heard anything from any of the Dunns, have you?” he asked.
“No, why?” She sounded suspicious.
He could understand how she’d made a career as a reporter. “Just wondering. The thing about stirring up hornets is that they often come back to sting you when you least expect it.”
“Have you been stung?” More suspicion. He really needed to get off the line.
“Not yet, but I’ll tell you if I am. Do the same for me, okay?”
“Why not? You’re sure everything is all right there?”
“We can talk when you get back. You must be tired after driving all the way to Helena.”
“I am. But while I’m here, I thought I’d do some digging into the Dunn family, then I’ll be headed back there. You’ll still be around, won’t you? The party Saturday and all? Or whenever.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going without you.”
“Good. Thanks for calling.”
“Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
He waited until she disconnected first, then held the phone for a few moments longer. She sounded okay. If she’d heard from one of the Dunns she would have told him. He tried to assure himself of that but, knowing Kate, he doubted it. She was too much like him. She liked proving she could take care of herself and that worried the hell out of him because now she was dealing with a murderer.
Instantly he regretted keeping that information from her. She had to know what she was dealing with. He called her right back, but the phone went to voice mail. He hesitated. “Kate.” He was aware of the pleasant feel of her name on his tongue. “Kate,” he said and swallowed. “Madeline’s death wasn’t an accident. She was murdered. Call me.”
He’d barely hung up when his cell rang. Thinking it was Kate, he picked right up. “I’m glad you called me back.”
“Tucker, it’s me, Darby. Lillie is definitely in labor and going to have the baby sometime tonight. Now Mariah seems to be in labor, as well. I have to take her to the hospital. Can you close up the bar for me?”
“I’ll be right there.” He pocketed his phone and headed for the door.
* * *
KATE HAD BEEN so excited to see that she had a message from Tucker. But when she listened to it, she felt as if the ground had buckled under her.
Madeline had been murdered?
That wasn’t possible. Tucker had told her that the coroner said she’d hit her head on a tree limb and died because she’d underestimated the power of the river. That she’d paid the price for her arrogance.
Murdered? She hated the woman but for a moment she was overwhelmed by the waste of it. How many lives had been wasted because of this woman and whoever she was working with? Madeline had lost her life over money and so had Kate’s brother.
She fought the urge to scream, to cry, to feel worse than she had for nineteen years. So now she was looking for a murderer. Did Tucker really think that was going to make her stop? If anything, she was more determined than ever. She wanted to find this nest of vipers and expose them all.
Too bad, though. For years, she’d dreamed of confronting Madeline. But confronting one of her identical sisters would have to do.
“Karma is a bitch,” she said to herself as she thought of Madeline. And then wond
ered what Tucker’s reaction to the news had been.
* * *
TUCKER WAS IN such a hurry to get to the saloon as he’d promised Darby that he almost didn’t see the note tucked under this wiper blade. He swore and glanced around before he plucked it off.
Whoever had left it had the gall to come onto the ranch? He closed his fist around the note, smelled Madeline’s perfume and swore again as he started to throw the note to the truck floor.
As angry as he was, he knew he had to read it. He unfolded it and quickly read the words. This time, there was no doubt about it. Whoever had written this note wanted him to believe it was Madeline’s girlish flourish. You should run—before things get really rough. Take your girlfriend with you or she’ll be sorry, too.
He tossed the note aside and started his pickup, spraying gravel with the spinning tires as he tore out of the yard. He drove faster than he usually did, anxious to get to the saloon so Darby could get Mariah to the hospital—if they hadn’t already left.
Glancing over at the note, he realized it was time to tell Flint about the threats. This one was definitely that. And it didn’t just threaten him. This time, the writer had mentioned Kate. He thought about calling Flint, but as he came around a curve, he saw red and blue lights flash to his right and swore. A few moments later the sound of a siren filled the spring air as the sheriff’s deputy’s car came after him.
Unable to do anything else, Tucker hit the brakes, pulled over and jumped out, leaving his pickup door open.
“Stay right there!” a deputy ordered as he exited his patrol SUV. “I said stay there.”
Tucker stopped walking toward the officer. “My brother’s wife is in labor. I have to get to—”
“Return to your vehicle,” the deputy ordered.
“You don’t understand. My brother—”
“Sir, back up. Now!” The deputy’s hand went to the gun at his hip.
Tucker did as he was told, even though it was wasting valuable time. He climbed back into the pickup, the deputy on his heels.
“License and registration,” the officer ordered as Tucker put down his window. The name on his uniform read Deputy Harper Cole. Harp? The one his brother had told him about?
