by B. J Daniels
Jack looked up and saw a car pull out on the other side of the river. It was a large, dark-colored, American-made car and its driver seemed to be in a hurry.
He started the Jeep and, without siren and lights, took off after it. The car was so plain. So nondescript. Just like detectives used for undercover work.
He raced across the bridge and down a side street, hoping to cut off the vehicle, but it had disappeared as if into thin air. Jack suspected the car and driver were sitting in a dark garage somewhere. Safe.
JACK DROVE TO the hospital, wanting to talk to Denny about the car he’d seen, the suspicions he couldn’t keep to himself any longer. He couldn’t be sure it was a cop car. Couldn’t be sure of anything, including that the driver had fired the shot. Nor could he not listen to his instincts. But he needed Denny to bounce them off. He and Denny often did that at the bar after work. Right now, Jack needed his friend to tell him he wasn’t crazy.
But when Jack reached the hospital, the nurse informed him that Denny Kirkpatrick had checked himself out without telling anyone.
“Was he well enough to do that?” Jack asked, surprised.
“No,” the nurse said. “I hope he isn’t driving. That could be very dangerous with his injury. But maybe his female visitor drove him.”
“Female visitor?” Big surprise. Even laid up in bed close to death Denny could attract women. “Do you happen to know who the woman was?”
The nurse smiled. “As a matter of fact, I recognized her from the photo in the newspaper.” She saw that Jack didn’t know what she was talking about. “The one from Saturday’s feature page. About a sweet-sixteen birthday party at the carousel.”
Sweet sixteen. The same age as Denny’s daughter. “The woman was in the photograph?”
The nurse nodded. “With her daughter.”
“Do you still have that newspaper around?” Jack asked.
She reached behind the desk and pulled out a battered copy of the Missoulian.
Jack quickly thumbed through it, stopping abruptly at the smiling faces of mother and daughter on brightly painted wooden carousel horses.
“Annette Westbrook?” Jack asked, his blood ringing in his ears. Baxter’s sister. He’d met her once at some party when Baxter had first taken over as captain.
His instincts had been right! All his suspicions confirmed. Baxter!
But what made Jack’s heart threaten to bust out of his chest was the girl with Annette in the photograph. Danielle Westbrook, sixteen, was the spitting image of Liz Jones except for her hair and her eyes. Both were dark—just like Denny’s.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jack found Detective Captain Brad Baxter at his home on North Street near the University of Montana. Baxter seemed surprised to see Jack. Or maybe it was the weapon Jack held. A police special. Denny’s.
“You can’t threaten me. I know my rights,” Baxter said.
Jack laughed as he shoved the pistol into Baxter’s face and backed him into the living room. “Did you think I was here to arrest you? Have you forgotten? I’m not a cop. You suspended me. Threatened to have me thrown in jail. I’m just here as an interested citizen who’s going to kick your hide if I don’t get some answers.”
Baxter glanced toward the phone.
“Want to call the cops? Go ahead. But it really isn’t necessary. They’re already on their way.”
He seemed to hesitate, probably thinking Jack was bluffing. “What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”
It was all Jack could do not to grab the man by his collar and slam him against the wall. But he wanted answers more than he wanted vengeance. Although that could change, if he found out Baxter had been the one who’d tried to kill Karen.
“Because,” Jack said between gritted teeth. “I think you’re a lot of things, Baxter, but not stupid.”
His look of apprehension gave Jack guilty pleasure as Jack motioned for him to take a seat. He saw Baxter glance toward the coffee table, but head for a chair away from it.
The gesture made Jack suspicious, which was his nature, God knew.
Jack stepped closer, his pulse a hammer. On the coffee table was a county map. A red line on the map had been drawn from Missoula to Jack’s ski lodge. Directly to Karen.
He looked up at Baxter, fighting an urge to harm the man. But no matter what Baxter had said or done, Jack was a cop and he didn’t believe in taking justice into his own hands. Lucky for Baxter.
“I’m worried about Karen Sutton,” Baxter said, obviously seeing the murderous glint in Jack’s eyes. “I figured you had her hidden up there. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.”
So Baxter knew about Jack’s inheritance. How many other people did?
“You’re the man she saw with Liz at the Carlton, aren’t you,” Jack said, finally voicing his suspicions. “You killed Liz Jones.”
He lowered his head into his hands. “She was alive when I left her.”
Jack stared at Baxter’s bowed head, the pieces starting to fall into a pattern that, while didn’t necessarily make sense, fit.
“My God,” Jack cried. “Is that why you put me on probation when you did? You knew you were going to have to kill Liz and you wanted me out of the way?”
Baxter glanced up, that old condescension back in his eyes. “Are you so arrogant that you’d think I put you on probation because I was afraid you’d solve this case if I didn’t?”
Baxter must have realized the irony of it. Jack had solved the case. Or had he? Was this where it all ended? Or did he just want to believe the worst about Brad Baxter?
“Then why did you put me on probation?” he demanded. “Why now?”
Baxter looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell. Damn you, Baxter, I know your sister has Liz’s daughter. I know you’re involved with Vandermullen. You were trying to protect him. You killed Liz to keep her from finding out that your sister Annette Westbrook had her baby.”
Baxter wagged his head. “I didn’t know the baby was Liz Vandermullen’s. I thought I was getting a baby that an unwed teenaged girl didn’t want.”
Jack shot him a look of disbelief.
“My sister always wanted a baby, even when she was a little girl. It’s all she wanted. When she found out she couldn’t have children, she was devastated.”
“She could have adopted legally,” Jack suggested sarcastically.
“She has health problems that made her a poor candidate for adoption.”
“So you decided to get her a baby any way you could.”
“I heard about a doctor who sometimes helped put the infants of unwed mothers with families for a fee.”
“Dr. Vandermullen.”
Baxter nodded. “He said he had one that would be available in February or March. I had no idea it was Vandermullen’s own child.”
Did he really not know the baby was Denny’s?
“He got me all the paperwork, making it appear that Annette and her husband were the parents.”
“So Danielle doesn’t even know she’s adopted?”
Baxter nodded, looking more miserable. “Annette thought the baby came from an unwed teenager, just like I did. I hadn’t known until last week that Liz had been told her baby died. Nor that she hadn’t been able to have more children.”
That was news to Jack. “Then she didn’t want to give up the baby for adoption?”
Baxter shook his head sadly. “She found out that Vandermullen had drugged her and lied about the baby being born with its umbilical cord wrapped about its neck. He’d also done something to ensure that she’d never have any other children when he delivered the baby that night.”
Jack shuddered. “The sick bastard.” He must have realized it wasn’t his kid. That’s why he’d buried the doll in the grave with the cord around its neck. He’d wanted to hurt Liz. He’d sterilized her. He’d wanted to hurt the baby, but he hadn’t. Why? Because he could sell it and punish Liz even more by him knowing that her baby was alive and she
didn’t know it?
“So why didn’t she go after her ex?” Jack asked. “She must have wanted to kill the bastard.”
“She wanted to find her baby more than she wanted to get even with her husband, ex-husband,” Baxter corrected. “I think she was afraid of him.”
With good reason.
“That’s probably why she told Karen Sutton what she did,” Baxter said. “Except Karen thought Liz meant she’d found a secret lover through the personals.”
“Instead, she found you,” Jack said, seeing how Karen had been misled. Liz must have been afraid to tell Karen about the baby. Even to the end, she must have been trying to protect her and Denny’s baby. “She found you and she ended up dead. Coincidence?”
“You’re looking in the wrong place,” Baxter said. “Liz told me she thought Vandermullen had been following her. I didn’t take it seriously because I had…tailed her a few times. I saw her the day she met with Karen at the coffee shop.”
No wonder Baxter had looked so surprised to see Karen at the Carlton the night Liz was murdered. It hadn’t been the wine stain at all. He’d seen her before. With Liz. His confession only made Jack more sure he’d killed Liz.
“Then Liz did come back to Missoula looking for her daughter?” Jack said.
“She’d remembered seeing me that night with the baby but it had all been like a dream because of the drugs. She came looking for me after she’d somehow learned that the baby really hadn’t died. She put the ad in the paper.”
“So why didn’t you just not answer it? Ignore it?”
“I don’t read the personals, but my sister Annette noticed it and called, thinking it odd that it was the same day as Danielle’s birthday. I knew the moment I saw the ad. I guess I’ve always feared something would come of the…adoption. I knew Liz would find me eventually. See my picture in the paper or see me on the street. I thought if I met with her and explained—”
“So you met with her, secretly,” Jack said.
“She wanted to know about her daughter. I told her Danielle was with a good loving family, had a wonderful life and that she didn’t know she was adopted. I begged Liz to leave it alone because of all the lives she’d ruin if it came out. I knew what it would do to Annette and Danielle.”
“But you couldn’t convince her.” So you killed her.
“That’s just it, I did convince her.”
“Then why did she call Karen and say she’d found out everything and was demanding answers the night she was murdered?”
“She saw a photograph in the newspaper of Danielle’s sixteenth birthday,” Baxter said with a groan.
The same one Jack had seen. Just a wild shot a photographer had taken at Danielle’s birthday party at the city carousel. Like him, Liz must have recognized her daughter. It didn’t take much to figure out that Annette Baxter Westbrook was Captain Baxter’s sister.
“This time she wasn’t so easy to convince,” Jack said, starting to see the whole picture. “So you had no choice but to kill her.”
Baxter looked away for a moment. “Do you want to hear the truth or not? You seem to have already made up your mind that I’m guilty.”
Jack had always thought of himself as a good cop. A fair cop. Baxter hit a chord. “All right.”
“I asked her to give me time to tell Annette so I could prepare her and Danielle. I promised to call Liz the next day and let her know when she could meet her daughter. But I never got the chance before the call came about the murder.”
Jack shook his head. “It’s a little too neat. With Liz dead, your secret should have died with her. Except for Karen. You couldn’t be sure that Liz hadn’t told Karen about you and Vandermullen and the child the two of you stole from her.”
“You don’t believe me,” Baxter said simply.
“No. You put Karen in a safe house only to have it blow up. How do you explain that?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. The killer found out somehow.”
“Right. What about the second stakeout? You pulled everyone off when you saw Karen near the carousel, realizing you’d missed killing her at the hotel.”
“I called them over to the hotel because I thought Karen was inside,” Baxter said angrily. “How was I to know she’d tricked the officers guarding her?”
He could have found out from those same officers that Karen had gotten away. Baxter would have surmised that she’d head for the second stakeout, as stubborn as she’d proven to be about helping solve the murder.
“Did you know that Danielle’s father wasn’t Vandermullen?” Jack asked.
From Baxter’s shocked expression Jack figured he really hadn’t known. “Then who—?”
“Denny Kirkpatrick is the father,” Jack said, enjoying Baxter’s shock.
“No, my God,” Baxter said, taking it even harder than Jack had expected. He knew there was no love lost between Baxter and Denny but the captain looked more than shocked. He looked…sick. “I just didn’t want my sister and Danielle hurt.”
Jack stared at him. Was there something more to this?
“Didn’t you realize that killing Liz would hurt them?”
“I’m a cop,” Baxter said quietly. “I’ve made mistakes trying to protect my family, but I’m not a murderer. Why do you think I’ve told you all this? You think you have your killer and that this woman you care about is safe. You’re wrong, Jack. The killer is still out there and will kill Karen Sutton if you foolishly think this is over.”
“Then who does that leave?” Jack asked.
“Vandermullen,” Baxter said without hesitation.
Suddenly he was no longer trying to protect the good doctor. “With your testimony, Vandermullen will be picked up,” Jack assured him. Just not for Liz Jones’s murder. Not without proof. Nor would Baxter go to prison for Liz’s murder without proof.
And Baxter knew it. Karen was the only one who could put Baxter at the hotel that night with Liz. That might be enough for a jury to convict him. But without Karen—
“There is one other person—” Baxter hesitated, his face contorted in pain. “My sister, Annette.” He sounded close to tears. “That’s why I got the map to your lodge, Jack. I’m afraid she might have killed Liz. That she might harm Karen.”
Jack stared at him. Would Baxter stoop so low as to finger his own sister for murder just to save himself?
“She was at the hotel that night,” he said, looking upset about what he was saying. “I saw her. She was very distraught. I tried to talk to her—”
Jack recalled that Karen said she saw a friend of her mother’s at the hotel that night—just down the hallway from Liz’s room. Could it have been Annette Westbrook? His blood ran cold. What if he was wrong? What if Baxter wasn’t the killer? “Could she have found out that Liz was looking for Danielle?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
Jack told himself that Baxter was just trying to shift the blame. To confuse him. To make him second-guess himself. But he couldn’t shake the thought that the killer might still be loose. Still out there.
Baxter looked up, almost in surprise, at the sound of a siren.
“You’re under arrest,” Jack said as he opened the front door to let the police officers in.
“Please read him his rights,” Jack said to one of the officers.
Detective Captain Brad Baxter sat quietly. Jack waited until the officers had cuffed and loaded Baxter into the back of a patrol car.
Then certain that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about Baxter, Jack climbed in his Jeep, anxious to get back to the lodge and Karen. But he had one stop he had to make first. Because his gut instinct told him he had to be sure he’d just had the right man arrested.
THIS EARLY in the afternoon on a nice spring day, Dr. Carl Vandermullen wasn’t in his office, just as Jack had guessed. But he was at the golf course. Jack found him in the clubhouse, drinking bourbon on the rocks.
“You son of a—” Jack jerked Vandermullen to his feet by his polo shirt. The o
ther two golfers at the table with the doctor started to get to their feet and come to Vandermullen’s defense. “Don’t even think about it,” Jack snarled.
“It’s a personal matter,” Dr. Vandermullen said quietly as he motioned for his golfing buddies to leave them alone. He freed himself from Jack’s hold. He was stronger than Jack thought he’d be. “Perhaps we could discuss this in one of the private dining rooms?”
Jack followed him into a quaint little room that looked out on the course and a stand of aspens. Along with a half dozen tables and twice that many chairs, it was furnished with a sitting area, complete with love seats and a bar.
“Care for a drink?” Vandermullen asked as if this were a social call.
Jack knew he had to keep his cool. The last thing he wanted to do was get arrested. He had to get back to the lodge and Karen. But he had to judge for himself if what Baxter had told him was the truth.
“I’ll pass on the drink,” he said between gritted teeth. “You lied about the baby.”
Vandermullen poured himself a bourbon and sloshed it around, the ice clinking softly on the glass. “I had to.”
“The same way you had to lie about drugging her, stealing her baby, selling it and pretending it had died?” Jack asked angrily.
Vandermullen stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Brad Baxter told me everything. How you drugged Liz, sold him the baby and then lied about it being born with the umbilical cord around its neck.”
The doctor shook his head. Either he was a great actor or—
“Liz was the one who wanted to give up the baby. Not me. I wanted a child. I knew I couldn’t have any of my own.” He nodded at Jack’s surprise. “I’m sterile.”
Jack frowned. “Then you knew Liz was carrying another man’s baby?”
“Johnny K’s.”
This wasn’t going anything like Jack had thought. “What about the grave, the stone, the doll—”
“Liz’s idea. It was rather her way of saying goodbye to the baby. She put one of her dolls in the grave with a cord around its neck.” The doctor made an unpleasant face. “I thought it was…morbid. But she insisted. She didn’t want anyone to know. Especially Johnny K. I guess you know him as Denny Kirkpatrick. She wanted the past put behind her. That’s another reason she insisted I sterilize her.”
