by B. J Daniels
But Maggie thought once she was moved in, they would definitely get the locks changed and start locking the doors.
The afternoon sun was casting long shadows. It had been a mild fall. But the weatherman was forecasting a white Christmas. She glanced toward the dark pines and felt a shiver. That feeling that someone was watching her made her turn to look back up the road. She saw no one, but still couldn’t shake off the feeling that she wasn’t alone.
As the door swung open, she started to step in, but stopped to look down into the pines again. The breeze stirred the trees. The boughs moaned softly and cast dark shadows on the ground.
Hurrying now, she stepped inside. She started to lock and bolt the door behind her, but she had more things to get from the car. She knew she was being silly. If Flint could see her now, he’d have second thoughts about her moving in. Tossing her purse on the table by the back door, she pulled out her phone and smiled, anxious to hear Flint’s voice.
The call went straight to voice mail. Disappointed, she almost hung up, but at the last minute, she decided to leave a message. “Hi, it’s me. I’m at your house. I should warn you. I ran into Celeste earlier. I’m pretty sure she overheard me telling you that I’d changed my mind and I was going to move in with you. Oh, and I got something for our...” She realized that she’d run out of time on the message. Not that it mattered. She’d been babbling anyway.
She disconnected and realized she’d almost told him about the dinner she had planned as a surprise for him later. But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, huh.
Maggie pocketed her phone. She was still smiling at the thought of their first night together there when she heard a sound behind her and spun around. Her smile vanished as her heart began to pound. She took a step back as she fumbled for her cell phone with trembling fingers. “What are you doing here?”
CHAPTER THREE
“MAGGIE?” FLINT CALLED as he opened the back door to his house. He’d been thrilled when he’d gotten her message. But just seeing her car parked in the drive made it seem all the more real. He couldn’t wait to see her. He had no idea why she’d changed her mind; he was just glad that she had, especially since he would be giving her the ring this weekend.
Her deciding to move in only made him all the more sure about asking her to marry him. It was time. They’d come through the worst of it, he told himself, remembering the message she’d left him about running into his ex.
Flint could imagine how unpleasant it was for Maggie. Every time he crossed paths with Celeste, it ruined his day.
He noticed that the passenger-side door of her car was open as if she was still in the process of moving a few things in. He thought about checking to see what else needed to come in, but he was too anxious to take her in his arms. After her call, he’d decided to come home early. He’d had to make one stop after hearing that his father had been seen coming out of the mountains. Not that he’d found him at his cabin. He told himself he’d deal with Ely later. He was too anxious to see Maggie.
He had big plans for tonight, he thought with a smile. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to wait until this weekend to ask her.
“Maggie?” He started to step deeper into his house when he saw the overturned bookcase. Books were strewn across the floor. The lamp that had been next to it lay on the floor, the globe shattered. “Maggie?” Goose bumps rippled over his skin as the hair on the back of his neck quilled. “Maggie!”
He rushed toward the kitchen even though the lawman in him told him not to. This looked like a crime scene and if it was... She wasn’t in the kitchen or the dining room. He headed for the stairs at a run, all the time telling himself he might be destroying important evidence.
Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached the landing. “Maggie!” No answer. The silence of the house had an ominous feel to it. “Maggie!”
She wasn’t in any of the bedrooms or the bathrooms. She wasn’t there, and yet all the way he’d been praying that, yes, there’d been an accident, but she was all right. They could buy another lamp. He could clean up the mess. Everything was fine.
But in his heart he’d known the moment he saw the overturned bookcase and the broken lamp. There’d been a struggle—and Maggie had lost.
Trying not to panic, he stopped on the landing and called her cell phone. As he waited for it to ring, he told himself there was an explanation, one completely different from the scenario playing in his head right then.
The sound of a phone ringing drew him back down the stairs and into the living room again. He stepped closer to the fallen bookcase, his pulse in overdrive. There, poking out from under one of the books, was her phone. He bent down and instinctively reached for it, but stopped himself. The screen was smeared with blood.
Half-blind with fear, he stepped back and keyed in 9-1-1. “I need Mark over at my house right away,” he said to the dispatcher. His undersheriff, Mark Ramirez, had a cool head in emergencies and right now he needed that. He hung up, desperately wanting to put out a BOLO on Maggie right away. Just as he wanted to call in the experts from the Division of Criminal Investigation out of Billings. All his instincts told him that he had to find Maggie and fast.
But even as a law-enforcement officer, he couldn’t call in the cavalry until he knew for certain that she was even missing. He also had to stop thinking like Maggie’s boyfriend. He needed to be the lawman he was.
From where he stood, he could see drops of blood on the wood floor. They were still wet. He looked at his watch. Whatever had happened here hadn’t happened very long ago.
Telling himself not to jump to conclusions, he called the hospital. It was possible there had been an altercation and the other person involved had taken Maggie to the emergency room. It took everything in him to remain calm and wait for the phone to be answered.
“Hello, yes, this is Sheriff Cahill. I need to know if Maggie Thompson was admitted to the emergency room. Yes, I’ll wait,” he said even though he wanted to beg her to hurry. He knew that if his instincts were right, every minute counted.
“I’m sorry, Sheriff. We have no record of her being in the ER. No one here has seen her.” The hospital was small. Gilt Edge had only a couple of doctors. “Her family doctor is here doing rounds. He said he hasn’t seen her, either.”
“Thank you.” He quickly dialed Just Hair, the salon that Maggie owned. Daisy, the only other stylist, hadn’t seen or heard from her. Neither had her best friend, Belle. He was just disconnecting when he heard a vehicle pull in.
All his fears rushed back. His first instinct was right—just as he’d known in his gut. He hurried to the front door rather than the back and stopped, the lawman in him kicking in again. The lock didn’t appear to have been jimmied. He hadn’t checked the back door, hadn’t taken the time to do anything but search the house for Maggie.
Using his shirtsleeve, he carefully opened the front door. The last thing he wanted to do was destroy any fingerprints that might have gotten left behind. The action felt foolish. Whoever had taken her had used the back door, the one he was sure he’d left unlocked.
Not that he didn’t already know who had done this. He knew who had Maggie. That was why he was so terrified.
“Come in this way,” he called to Mark as the undersheriff got out of his patrol SUV.
The moment Mark saw his face, his eyes widened in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“There appears to have been a struggle. Maggie’s missing.” His voice broke. He waved Mark in and pointed toward the scene near the back door. “She was moving in today. Her car door is still open. Her purse is on the table by the door. She must have been surprised by someone.”
Mark pulled out his phone and began shooting photos of the room as he moved cautiously toward the fallen bookcase. “I saw Maggie’s car by the back door. You’re sure no one stopped by, maybe took her to the emergency roo
m for stitches? Maybe she called to a neighbor?”
“She hasn’t been admitted to the hospital. I called while I was waiting for you. Nor has her doctor seen her.”
His undersheriff nodded as he knelt down to get a closer shot at something on the floor. Even from where Flint was standing, he could see that Mark was shooting the blood splattered on the floor and on the spilled books. Too much blood and yet not enough to indicate that she was mortally wounded. He tried to find hope in that.
“Maggie’s friends and associate?” Mark asked calmly.
“No one has seen her.” Flint was surprised how calm he sounded. His heart pounded so hard he could barely hear himself think. He felt as if he was shaking all over. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but all his instincts told him Maggie had been taken. It made no sense and yet...
“I know who has her,” Flint said. “Maggie left me a message earlier. She ran into my ex. She thought that Celeste overheard her on the phone telling me she was moving in with me. I don’t have to tell you that Celeste has done everything possible to keep us apart. If she is as determined as I think she is...”
The undersheriff nodded. “I can see why you would suspect Celeste, but let’s wait until we have all the facts, okay?”
At least Mark hadn’t said, “Try not to panic.” The words would have been wasted on him. He was panicking and with good reason. The scene in his living room showed a struggle. Maggie had been injured. Her cell phone smeared with blood indicated that she had possibly tried to call for help.
“I’m going to run over to the neighbors and see if they saw anything,” Flint said. His closest neighbor, Alma Ellison, lived kitty-corner from him down the street. She was smiling as she came to the door. He quickly asked her if she’d seen Maggie.
“I saw her when she arrived at your house. Is something wrong?”
“Did Maggie seem all right?”
“Yes. She waved and I waved back.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
Alma thought for a moment. “You know how little traffic we get out here. I did notice a brown van go by. It was driving so slow, I knew the driver must be lost. And there was one of those large dark SUVs. I can’t say if either of them stopped at your house since I got busy after that. Is Maggie all right?”
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to find her,” he said. “If you think of anything else...” She promised she would call him.
Back at the house, he told Mark what Alma had said. “Celeste drives a large dark SUV.”
“I’m going to have a deputy go by Celeste Duma’s house,” the undersheriff said.
From the moment he’d walked in and seen the mess and couldn’t find Maggie, he’d wanted to race over to Celeste’s house and demand to know what she’d done with Maggie. “I’ll go.”
Mark stopped him. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I can’t let you do that. With you, it would be confrontational. Please, let me handle this. You called me because you know you are too emotionally involved. This is now considered a crime scene. We’re going to treat it as such and pray that we’re wrong.”
Flint knew Mark was right. It was why he’d called him. He’d been afraid of doing something that would put Maggie in even more jeopardy. He listened to Mark on the phone for a moment and then stepped outside, needing the air.
He could tell that Mark was as worried as he was. The question was, where was Maggie now? His hand went to the small velvet box in his pocket. Why had he waited so long to ask her to marry him? What if...? He couldn’t bear to let himself even think it. He had to believe that she was still alive and that they would find her, he told himself as he stepped back inside the door. Mark was still on the phone.
“The only deputy close to town is Harp,” Mark said, covering the phone with his hand and making an it-will-be-all-right face. The county was large and the sheriff’s department was small. It meant stretching law enforcement to its limits sometimes. It was one reason Flint would love to get rid of Harp and get a better deputy.
Flint groaned silently. Deputy Harper Cole was the last person he wanted to depend on right now. He knew why Mark couldn’t go himself. He was protecting the possible crime scene—and Flint. If the DCI became involved, the first suspect was always the boyfriend. He listened to him tell Harp what to do at the Duma house.
“Get inside. Be polite. Try to have a look around and see if anything appears amiss. If Celeste and her husband will let you search the place without a warrant, great. Nice if you could check her car. Just listen, please.” Mark sighed. “Maggie Thompson is missing. Yes, the sheriff’s girlfriend. Now listen. Look for blood. I can’t get into it right now. There could have been an accident involving Celeste and Maggie. Call me if there is any question.” He turned back to Flint as he disconnected. “Harp is actually the best choice right now. No one takes him seriously. If you’re right about Celeste, she won’t be concerned about Harp showing up and should let him in without a warrant. That will save us time.”
Flint tried to breathe a little easier. “Great. I’m forced to depend on the town hero.”
Mark sighed. “It is going to be all right.”
A few months ago, Harp had managed to save two people’s lives. One of those lives belonged to Flint’s brother Darby. The other was Darby’s now wife, Mariah Ayers Cahill. Flint had been ready to fire the deputy before that night and would have months ago if Harp hadn’t been the mayor’s son. He’d given him more chances because of it. But Flint had reached his limit. He’d told Harp that if he messed up again... Then Harp had come through that night and was now the town hero. At least until he messed up big-time again.
And that was why Flint wished it was anyone but Harp going over to Celeste’s house. He knew his ex-wife. If she was behind this, she would lie. Flint would know if she was lying. He doubted Harp would.
He raked a hand through his hair as he glanced toward the fallen bookshelf. As crazy as he thought his ex was, he never really thought she was capable of...of whatever had happened here.
“We don’t know for sure it was Celeste,” Mark said.
Just as they didn’t know that she’d vandalized Maggie’s salon and almost set her house on fire? “She’s certainly capable. But if she did something to Maggie...” Flint couldn’t continue.
Mark laid a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t even know that the blood is Maggie’s. One step at a time. We’ll find her.”
He nodded, but he knew the statistics. The first seventy-two hours were crucial. But that wasn’t if the missing person was injured. He had no idea how badly Maggie had been bleeding. Maggie hadn’t been missing long. If they could find her soon... Otherwise, he knew he might never see her alive again.
“Why haven’t we heard from Harp yet?” Flint demanded.
“He hasn’t even had time to get over there. You need to stay calm. We have to work this one step at a time. Is there anyone else who might want to harm Maggie?”
“No.” He’d answered the question too quickly. Mark was looking at him with concern. “I don’t know. The only person she’s had run-ins with that I know of was Celeste.” He realized he didn’t know if Maggie had had other problems with anyone. Maggie was so independent. He loved that about her, but now he wondered if she would have told him if she’d had trouble with anyone else.
Celeste was a different story since she was his ex. Maggie seemed to think that he could do something about her. Now he sure wished he had.
The undersheriff looked around the room for a moment. “You keep the doors locked when you aren’t home?”
He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he shook his head. “Also, I’ve never changed the locks from when Celeste and I lived here together. She probably still has a key.”
Mark gave him a disapproving look before he asked, “I’m assuming you didn’t touch anything?”
Flint heard something in his voice. “No—you know I didn’t. You aren’t thinking about kicking me from this case—”
“No, I can’t. As you know, in the state of Montana, the sheriff is an elected office. Not even the county commissioners can pull you off a case.”
“Only the Division of Criminal Investigation,” Flint said, suddenly aware of where his undersheriff was going with this.
“I’m hoping to know what we’re dealing with before we call in a DCI team,” Mark said. “You agree?”
A part of him wanted the criminologists on this as quickly as possible. But once they called in the DCI, the team might decide because Maggie was his girlfriend that he be put on a leave of absence. He’d be off the case. He couldn’t bear the thought. Silently, he swore. They had to find Maggie before he was locked out of this investigation. As it was, his house was now a crime scene.
* * *
DEPUTY HARPER COLE cruised down the street toward the Duma house. He wondered what this really was about. Maggie Thompson was missing? There had to be more to it than that. He had tried to ask, but the undersheriff had cut him off. Clearly both Mark and Flint still didn’t have any faith in his abilities. It pissed him off. He was a hero.
Well, at least everyone thought he was. Everyone but his pregnant girlfriend, Vicki. Why had he confessed everything to her that morning in the hospital after he’d almost died? He’d been feeling guilty, amazed he was still alive, and apparently he’d felt the need to confess to someone. But Vicki?
Now he was stuck with her. She could hold it over his head for the rest of their lives because if the truth about that night ever came out...
Harp shuddered at the thought. He would be the laughingstock of town instead of a hero. Worse, he’d be fired. He’d have to leave town. He might never get another job in law enforcement and he’d gotten damned attached to carrying a gun and being “the man.”
Now he slowed in front of the Duma house. Here he was again, dealing with something connected to the sheriff. Maggie Thompson was allegedly missing? So what was he doing here?
