Читать книгу Hitched! - B.J. Daniels - Страница 9

Deputy Sheriff McCall Winchester had been back to work for only a day when she got a call from a fisherman down at the Fred Robinson Bridge on the Missouri River. Paddlefish season hadn’t opened yet. In a few weeks the campground would be full with fishermen lined up along the banks dragging huge hooks through the water in the hopes of snagging one of the incredibly ugly monstrous fish.

This fisherman had been on his way up to Nelson Reservoir, where he’d heard the walleye were biting, but he’d stopped to make a few casts in the Missouri as a break in the long drive, thinking he might hook into a catfish.

Instead he’d snagged a piece of clothing—attached to a body.

“It’s a woman,” he’d said, clearly shaken. “And she’s got a rope around her neck. I’m telling you, it’s a damned noose. Someone hung her!”

Now, as McCall squatted next to the body lying on a tarp at the edge of the water, she saw that the victim looked to be in her mid-twenties. She wore a thin cotton top, no bra and a pair of cutoff jeans over a bright red thong that showed above the waist of the cutoffs. Her hair was dyed blond, her eyes were brown and as empty as the sky overhead, and around her neck was a crude noose of sisal rope. A dozen yards of the rope were coiled next to her.

McCall studied the ligature marks around the dead woman’s neck as the coroner loosened the noose. “Can you tell if she was dead before she went into the water?”

Coroner George Murphy shook his head. “But I can tell you that someone abused the hell out of her for some time before she went into the water.” He pointed to what appeared to be cigarette burns on her thin arms and legs.

“Before he hung her.”

“What kind of monster does stuff like that?” George, a big, florid-faced man in his early thirties, single and shy, was new to this. As an EMT, he’d gotten the coroner job because Frank Brown had retired and no one else wanted it.

“Sheriff?”

McCall didn’t respond at first. She hadn’t gotten used to being acting sheriff. Probably because she hadn’t wanted the job and suspected there was only one reason she had it—Pepper Winchester.

But when the position opened, no one wanted to fill in until a sheriff could be elected. The other deputies all had families and young children and didn’t want the added responsibility.

McCall could appreciate that.

“Sheriff, we found something I think you’d better see.”

“Don’t tell me you found another body,” the coroner said.

McCall turned to see what the deputy was holding. Another noose. Only this one was wrapped around a large tree trunk that the deputies had pulled up onto the riverbank.

As McCall walked over to it, she saw two distinct grooves in the limb where two ropes had been tied. Two ropes. Two nooses. The thick end of the dead branch had recently broken off.

She looked upriver. If the limb had snapped off under the weight of two people hanging from it, then there was a good chance it had fallen into the river and floated down to where the deputy had found it dragging the second noose behind it.

“Better go upriver and see if you can find the spot where our victim was hung,” McCall said. “And we better start looking for a second body in the river.”

PEPPER WINCHESTER RUBBED her temples as she paced the worn carpet of her bedroom, her cane punctuating her frustration.

The first of her grandchildren had arrived—with a new wife. She shouldn’t have been surprised, given Jack’s lineage. None of her sons had a lick of sense when it came to women. They were all too much like their father, suffer his soul in hell. So why should her grandsons be any different?

Her oldest son Worth—or Worthless, as his father had called him—had taken off with some tramp he met in town after Pepper had kicked him out. She would imagine he’d been through a rash of ill-conceived relationships since then.

Brand had married another questionable woman and had two sons, Cordell and Cyrus, before she’d taken off, never to be seen again.

Angus had knocked up the nanny and produced Jack. She shuddered to think how that had all ended.

Trace, her beloved youngest son, had gotten murdered after marrying Ruby Bates and producing McCall, her only granddaughter that she knew of.

Pepper stepped to the window, too restless to sit. When she’d conceived this plan to bring her family back to the ranch, she wasn’t sure who would come. She’d thought the bunch of them would be greedy enough or at least curious enough to return to the ranch. She didn’t kid herself that none of them gave two cents for her. She didn’t blame them, given the way she’d kicked them all off the ranch twenty-seven years ago and hadn’t seen one of them since.

So why was she surprised that Jack wasn’t what she’d expected? The same could be said for his wife. She wasn’t sure what to make of either of them yet.

She pulled back the curtain and stared out at the land. Her land. She remembered the first time she’d seen it. She’d been so young and so in love when Call had brought her back here after their whirlwind love affair and impromptu marriage.

He hadn’t known any more about her than she had him.

How foolish they both had been.

It had been hard at first, living on such an isolated, remote ranch. Call had hired a staff to do everything and insisted no wife of his would have to lift a finger.

Pepper had been restless. She’d learned to ride a horse and spent most of her days exploring the ranch. That was how she’d met neighboring rancher Hunt McCormick.

She shivered at the memory as she spotted movement in the shadows next to the barn. Squinting, she saw that it was Enid and her husband, Alfred. They had their heads together and their conversation looked serious. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught them like that recently.

What were they up to? Pepper felt her stomach roil. As if her family wasn’t worry enough.

JOSEY STUDIED JACK. He seemed nervous now that they were here at the ranch. Was he realizing, like her, that his grandmother had gotten him here under false pretenses?

“As you’ve probably gathered, my mother was the nanny here as well as the mistress of Angus Winchester, my father,” Jack said distractedly, as he moved to look out the window. “According to my mother, they had to keep their affair secret because my grandmother didn’t approve and would have cut Angus off without a cent.” He turned to look at her. “As it was, Pepper cut him and the rest of her family off twenty-seven years ago without a cent, saying she didn’t give a damn what they did. When my father died, my grandmother didn’t even bother to come to his funeral or send flowers or even a card.”

“Why would you come back here to see your grandmother after that?” Josey had to ask.

He laughed at her outraged expression. “There is no one quite like Pepper Winchester. It wasn’t just me, the bastard grandson, she washed her hands of after her youngest son disappeared. Trace Winchester was her life. She couldn’t have cared less about the rest of her offspring, so I try not to take it personally.”

Shocked, she watched Jack study an old photograph on the wall. “If the only reason you came here is because you thought she was dying—”

“It isn’t the only reason, although I’ve been hearing about the Winchester fortune as far back as I can remember.” Jack smiled as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “She looks healthy as a horse, huh? I wonder what she’s up to and where the others are.”

“The others?” she asked.

“My grandmother had five children. Virginia, the oldest, then Worth, Angus, Brand and Trace.”

“You haven’t mentioned your grandfather.”

“Call Winchester? According to the story Pepper told, he rode off on a horse about forty years ago. His horse came back but Call never did. There was speculation he’d just kept riding, taking the opportunity to get away from my grandmother.”

Josey could see how that might be possible.

“When Trace disappeared twenty-seven years ago, it looked like he was taking a powder just like his father,” Jack said. “I would imagine that’s what pushed my grandmother over the edge, and why she locked herself up in this place all the years since.”

“So what changed?”

“Trace Winchester’s remains were found buried not far from here. Apparently he was murdered, and that’s why no one had seen him the past twenty-seven years.”

“Murdered?”

“Not long after his remains were found I got a letter from my grandmother’s attorney saying my grandmother wanted to see me.” Jack walked over to the window again and pushed aside the dark, thick drape. Dust motes danced in the air. “It was more of a summons than an invitation. I guess I wanted to see what the old gal was up to. Pepper Winchester never does anything without a motive.”

His grandmother had suffered such loss in her lifetime. To lose her husband, then her youngest son? Josey couldn’t even imagine what that would do to a person. She could also understand how Jack would be bitter and angry, but it was the underlying pain in Jack that made her hurt for him. She knew only too well the pain family could inflict.

The last thing she wanted, though, was to feel anything for Jack Winchester.

Nor did she want to get involved in his family drama. She had her own problems, she reminded herself. She pulled her backpack closer, then with a start realized there was someone standing in the doorway.

The housekeeper Jack had called Enid. Josey wondered how long the woman had been standing there listening. She was one of those wiry old women with a scornful face and small, close-set, resentful eyes.

Enid cleared her throat. “If you’ll come with me.” She let out a put-upon sigh before leading them back to the staircase.

As they climbed, Josey took in the antique furniture, the rich tapestries, the thick oriental rugs and the expensive light fixtures. She tried to estimate what some of the pieces might be worth. Maybe there was money here—if the ranch wasn’t mortgaged to the hilt. She feared that whatever had brought Jack here, he was going to be disappointed.

Jack looked around as they climbed the stairs, his face softening as if he was remembering being a boy in this place. There must be good memories along with bittersweet ones during his four years here.

Josey felt a sudden chill along with a premonition. She tried to shake it off. Why would there be any reason to be afraid for Jack?

They were led down a long, dark hallway to an end room. “Since you’re newlyweds,” Enid said. “This way you won’t disturb the rest of the household.”

Jack arched a brow at the old woman behind her back.

“I’m sure you’ll ring me on the intercom if you need anything.” Enid let out an irritated snort. “Dinner is served at seven on the dot. I wouldn’t be late if I were you.” With that she left them standing outside the room and disappeared into the dim light of the hallway, her footfalls silent as snowfall.

“That woman is scary,” Josey whispered, making Jack chuckle.

“Let’s do this right,” he said, surprising her as he swung her up into his arms. “In case anyone is watching,” he added in a whisper.

She let out a squeal as he carried her over the threshold, making him laugh. His laughter was contagious and she found herself caught up in the moment as he kicked the door shut and carried her into the bedroom.

The room was huge, with a sitting area furnished with two chintz-covered chairs in front of a stone fireplace. Josey caught a glimpse of a large bathroom done in black-and-white tile, sheer white drapes at the open French doors to a small balcony and, at the heart of the room, a large canopied bed.

Jack slowed at the bed, and as he gently lowered her to the cool, white brocade spread his gaze met hers. The sheer white curtains billowed in, bringing with them the sweet scent of clover and pine.

She felt as if she’d been saved by a white knight and brought to the palace for safekeeping. It would have been so easy to lose herself in the deep sea-blue of his eyes as he leaned over her. Jack was incredibly handsome and charming. Everything seemed intensified after what she’d been through. The hard feel of his chest against her breasts, the slight brush of his designer stubble against her cheek, the oh-so-lusty male scent of him as he lowered her to the soft bed.

She wanted desperately to blot out everything but this. It would have been so easy, with her gaze on his sensual, full mouth, to bury her fingers in his a-little-too-long blond hair and drag him down until his lips, now just a breath away from hers, were—

“You’re not thinking about kissing me, are you?” he asked, sounding as breathless as she felt. “Because that wasn’t part of the bargain. Unless you want to renegotiate?”

Josey realized that he’d been about to lose himself as well, and, for whatever reason, he’d stopped himself. And her. She shouldn’t be feeling safe. She should be thinking of the consequences of losing herself even for a little while in the arms of this man. Jack was making it clear what was going to happen if she opened that door.

She squeezed her hands between their bodies, pressing her palms to his muscular chest, but she didn’t have to push. Jack eased slowly back to a safer distance, though it seemed to take all of his effort.

“Didn’t Enid say something about dinner at seven?”

she asked, her voice sounding strange even to her ears. “I have just enough time to take a bath first.”

Jack glanced toward the bathroom. He must have been wondering why she needed another bath since she’d had a shower in town.

“I can’t resist that tub.” A huge clawfoot tub sat in the middle of the black-and-white tiled floor.

His blue eyes darkened again with desire, and she saw both challenge and warning as he glanced from the tub to her. They were alone at this end of an empty wing pretending to be husband and wife. Unless she wanted the marriage consummated, she’d better be careful what signals she sent out.

Josey slid from the bed, grabbed her backpack and stepped into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. The room was large. Along with the tub there was an old-fashioned sink and dressing table, and enough room to dance in front of a full-length old-fashioned mirror.

Josey set down her backpack and stepped to the tub to turn on the faucet. Enid had left her a bottle of bubble bath, bath soap and a stack of towels. As the tub filled, bubbles moved in the warm breeze that blew in from an open window in the corner and billowed the sheer white curtains.

She stripped off her clothing and, with a start, caught her reflection in the full-length mirror behind her. She looked so different. Slowly, her heart in her throat, she studied her face, then the bruises she’d been able to hide under her clothing. The raw rope burn on her neck made her wince at just the sight of it. What had she been thinking earlier with Jack? Had she lost herself in him, he would have seen—

She shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t let that happen. It wouldn’t be easy to keep her injuries covered so no one saw them until she had a chance to heal. But that would be easier than trying to explain them if she got caught.

Josey turned away from her unfamiliar image, anxious to climb into the tub of warm, scented water. She knew she couldn’t wash away her shame any more than she could wash away the memory of what had happened.

As she stepped into the tub and slowly lowered herself into the bubbles and wonderfully warm, soothing water, she listened for Jack. Had he left the room? Or was he just on the other side of the door?

Against her will, her nipples hardened at the thought. She reminded herself that Jack was just a means to an end. A safe place to hide out until she could decide what to do. As Jack had said, the Winchester Ranch was in the middle of nowhere. Her past couldn’t find her here.

Once she knew her mother was safe …

She lay back in the tub, the breeze from the window nearby stirring the bubbles, but the chill Josey felt had nothing to do with the warm spring air coming through the window.

Was she really safe here? There was something about this place, something about Jack’s grandmother, definitely something about the Hoaglands, that gave her the creeps.

Josey shivered and sank deeper in the tub, realizing the most dangerous person in this house could be the man she’d be sleeping in the same room with tonight.

VIRGINIA WINCHESTER STOOD at the window where she’d watched the Cadillac convertible drive up earlier. She hadn’t been sure which nephew it was and hadn’t cared. All she knew, and this she’d had to get from Enid since her mother wasn’t apt to tell her, was that three nephews had confirmed that they would be arriving over the next few weeks.

She wouldn’t have recognized any of them. The last time she’d seen them they’d been sniveling little boys. She’d had no more interest then than she did now.

By now there could be more. She shuddered at the thought.

She did, however, wonder why her mother hadn’t just invited everyone back at the same time. Pepper had her reasons, Virginia was sure of that.

She herself was the fly in the ointment, so to speak. The letter had specified the time her mother wanted to see her. She assumed everyone else had also been given a specific time to arrive.

Virginia wasn’t about to wait. She wasn’t having it where her mother invited her favorites first. Virginia planned to be here to make sure she wasn’t left out. So she’d come right away—to her mother’s obvious irritation.

Growing up on the ranch, she’d felt as if their mother had pitted them all against each other. The only time she’d felt any kind of bond with her siblings had been their mutual jealousy, distrust and dislike of their younger brother Trace—their mother’s unequivocal favorite.

Now Virginia worried that just because two of her brothers had produced offspring—at least that she knew of—the Winchester fortune would be divided to include them.

As the only daughter and oldest of Call and Pepper Winchester’s children, she deserved her fair share, and she said as much now to her mother.

Pepper sighed from her chair nearby. “You always were the generous one. Of course you would be the first to arrive and completely ignore my instructions.”

“I came at once because.” Her voice trailed off as she caught herself.

“Because you thought I was dying.”

The letter had clearly been a ruse to get them all back to the ranch. Virginia saw that now. Pepper Winchester didn’t even look ill. “The letter from the attorney …” She floundered. There had never been anything she could say that had pleased her mother.

She’d been torn when she’d received the letter from the attorney on her mother’s behalf. Her mother was dying?

The thought had come with mixed emotions. It was her mother. She should feel something other than contempt. Pepper had been a terrible mother: cold, unfeeling, unreachable. Virginia hadn’t heard a word from her in twenty-seven years. What was she supposed to feel for her mother?

“I’m just asking that you be fair,” Virginia said.

“I suppose you’d like me to cut out my grandchildren?”

Like her mother had ever been a loving grandmother. “Those of us without children shouldn’t be penalized for it. It’s not like you would even recognize your grandsons if you passed them on the street,” Virginia pointed out.

“I also have a granddaughter.” Virginia turned from the window to stare at her mother.

“McCall. Trace’s daughter. She’s with the sheriff’s department. She’s the one who solved your brother’s murder and was almost killed doing so.”

“McCall?” That bitch Ruby had named her kid after Virginia’s father? Why wasn’t Pepper having a conniption fit about this? She should have been livid. “Surely you aren’t going to take the word of that tramp that this young woman is a Winchester.”

Her mother’s smile had a knife edge to it. “Oh, believe me, she’s a Winchester. But I knew the rest of you would require more than my word on it. I have the DNA test results, if you’d like to see them.”

Virginia was furious. Another person after the Winchester fortune. No, not just another person. Trace’s daughter. Virginia felt sick.

“So I have four grandchildren I don’t know,” her mother corrected with sarcasm. “And there could be more, couldn’t there?”

Virginia swore silently. “Why did you even bother to get the rest of us home?”

Pepper raised a brow. “I knew you’d want to see me one last time. Also I was sure you’d want to know the whole story about your brother Trace. You haven’t asked.”

“What is there to ask?” Virginia shot back. “His killer is dead. It was in all the papers.” Trace was dead and buried. “I would think that you wouldn’t want to relive any of that awfulness.”

She didn’t mention that Pepper had kept her other children away from Trace when he was young, as if afraid they might hurt him. Her protectiveness, along with her favoritism and love for Trace, was why they had no great love for their little brother. He’d come into their lives after they’d heard their mother couldn’t have anymore children. Trace became the miracle child.

“You weren’t at his memorial service,” her mother said.

Virginia couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Are you kidding? I didn’t think I was invited.” She started for the door, unable to take any more of this. “You should have warned us in the letter from your lawyer that this visit was really about Trace.”

“Your brother was murdered! I would think something like that would give even you pause,” her mother said, making Virginia stop in midstep on the way to the door.

Even her? As if she had no feelings. Her mother didn’t know. Her mother knew nothing about what she’d been through. As if Pepper was the only one who’d lost a child.

“I was sorry to hear about it,” Virginia said, turning again to face her mother. “I already told you that, Mother. What about your children who are still alive? The ones you didn’t protect when they were young? Aren’t we deserving of your attention for once, given what you let happen to us?”

The accusation hung in the air between them, never before spoken. Pepper’s expression didn’t change as she got to her feet. If Virginia hadn’t seen the slight trembling in her mother’s hand as she reached for her cane, she would have thought her words had fallen on deaf ears.

“You are so transparent, Virginia,” her mother said, as she brushed past. “Don’t worry, dear. Your trip won’t be wasted.”

MCCALL STOOD IN THE DUST, staring at the makeshift camp, hating the feeling this place gave her. Her deputies had gone only a few miles along the riverbank before they’d come across it and the tree where the limb had broken off and fallen into the water.

This was where they had camped. From the footprints in the mud and dirt around the area, there’d been three of them. One man, two women.

A breeze blew down the river, ruffling the dark green water. She caught the putrid odor of burned grease rising from the makeshift fire pit ringed in stones. Someone had recently cooked over the fire. A pile of crumpled, charred beer cans had been discarded in the flames and now lay charred black in the ash. Little chance of getting any prints off the cans, but still a deputy was preparing to bag them for the lab.

“We followed the tire tracks up from the river through the trees,” one of the other deputies said, pointing to the way the campers had driven down the mountainside to the river. “They came in through a farmer’s posted gate on a road that hadn’t been used in some time.”

“You think they lucked onto it or knew where they were going?” she asked. The narrow dirt road had led to this secluded spot, as if the driver of the vehicle had wanted privacy for what he had planned. If he’d just wanted to camp, he would have gone to the campground down by the bridge.

“If he knew about the road, then that would mean he could be a local,” the deputy said. “I say he lucked onto the road, figuring it ended up at the river.”

Like him, she didn’t want to believe whoever had hung two people was from the Whitehorse area. Or worse, someone they knew. Who really knew their neighbors and what went on behind closed doors?

McCall had learned that there were people who lived hidden lives and would do anything to protect those secrets.

She watched as a deputy took photographs of the dead tree with the broken branch at the edge of the bank, watched as another made plaster casts of both the tire prints and the footprints in the camp.

“Sheriff?”

She was starting to hate hearing that word. She turned to see the deputy with the camera pointing into the river just feet off the bank.

“I think we found the missing car.”