Читать книгу Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch - B.J. Daniels - Страница 14

Long after Rupert came up out of the well neither he nor Hud said anything. Snow whirled on the wind, the bank of clouds dropping over them, the sun only a memory.

Hud sat behind the wheel of the SUV, motor running, heater cranked up, drinking coffee from the thermos Rupert had brought. Next to him, Rupert turned the SUV’s heater vent so it blew into his face.

The older man looked pale, his eyes hollow. Hud imagined that, like him, Rupert had been picturing what it must have been like being left in the bottom of that well to die a slow death.

The yellow crime scene tape Hud had strung up now bowed in the wind and snow. The hillside was a blur of white, the snow falling diagonally.

“I suppose the murder weapon could still be up here,” Hud said to Rupert, more to break the silence than anything else. Even with the wind and the motor and heater going, the day felt too quiet, the hillside too desolate. Anything was better than thinking about the woman in the well—even remembering Dana’s reaction to seeing him again.

“Doubt you’ll ever find that gun,” Rupert said without looking at him. The old coroner had been unusually quiet since coming up out of the well.

Hud had called the sheriff’s department in Bozeman and asked for help searching the area. It was procedure, but Hud agreed with Rupert. He doubted the weapon would ever turn up.

Except they had to search for it. Unfortunately this was Montana. A lot of men drove trucks with at least one firearm hanging on the back window gun rack and another in the glove box or under the seat.

“So did he shoot her before or after she went into the well?” Hud asked.

“After, based on the angle the bullet entered her skull.” Rupert took a sip of his coffee.

“He must have thought he killed her.”

Rupert said nothing as he stared in the direction of the well.

“Had to have known about the well,” Hud said. Which meant he had knowledge of the Cardwell Ranch. Hud groaned to himself as he saw where he was headed with this. The old homestead was a good mile off Highway 191 that ran through the Gallatin Canyon. The killer could have accessed the old homestead by two ways. One was the Cardwell’s private bridge, which would mean driving right by the ranch house.

Or…he could have taken the Piney Creek Bridge, following a twisted route of old logging roads. The same way he and Dana used when he was late getting her home.

Either way, the killer had to be local to know about the well, let alone the back way. Unless, of course, the killer was a member of the Cardwell family and had just driven in past the ranch house bold as brass.

Why bring the woman here, though? Why the Cardwell Ranch well?

“You know what bothers me?” Hud said, taking a sip of his coffee. “The red high heel. Just one in the well. What happened to the other one? And what was she doing up here dressed like that?” He couldn’t shake that flash of memory of a woman in a red dress any more than he could nail down its source.

He felt his stomach tighten when Rupert didn’t jump in. It wasn’t like Rupert. Did his silence have something to do with realizing the woman in the well hadn’t been dead and tried to save herself? Or was it possible Rupert suspected who she was and for some reason was keeping it to himself?

“The heels, the dress, it’s almost like she was on a date,” Hud said. “Or out for a special occasion.”

Rupert glanced over at him. “You might make as good a marshal as your father some day.” High praise to Rupert’s way of thinking, so Hud tried hard not to take offense.

“Odd place to bring your date, though,” Hud commented. But then maybe not. The spot was isolated. Not like a trailhead where anyone could come along. No one would be on this section of the ranch at night and you could see the ranch house and part of the road up the hillside. You would know if anyone was headed in your direction in plenty of time to get away.

And yet it wasn’t close enough that anyone could hear a woman’s cries for help.

“Still, someone had to have reported her missing,” Hud persisted. “A roommate. A boss. A friend. A husband.”

Rupert finished his coffee and started to screw the cup back on the thermos. “Want any more?”

Hud shook his head. “You worked with my father for a lot of years.”

Rupert looked over at him, eyes narrowing. “Brick Savage was the best damned marshal I’ve ever known.” He said it as if he knew only too well that there were others who would have argued that, Hud among them, and Rupert wasn’t going to have it.

Brick Savage was a lot of things. A colorful marshal, loved and respected by supporters, feared and despised by his adversaries. Hud knew him as a stubborn, rigid father who he’d feared as a boy and despised as a man. Hud hated to think of the years he’d tried to prove himself to his father—only to fail.

He could feel Rupert’s gaze on him, daring him to say anything against Brick. “If you’re right about how long she’s been down there…”

Rupert made a rude sound under his breath, making it clear he was right.

“…then Brick would have been marshal and you would have been assistant coroner.”

“Your point?” Rupert asked.

Hud eyed him, wondering why Rupert was getting his back up. Because Hud had brought up Brick? “I just thought you might remember a missing person’s case during that time.”

“You’d have to ask your father. Since no body was found, I might not even have heard about it.” Rupert zipped up his coroner jacket he’d pulled from behind the seat of his truck. “I need to get to the crime lab.”

Hud handed Rupert the coffee cup he’d lent him. “Just seems odd, doesn’t it? Someone had to have missed her. You would think the whole area would have been talking about it.”

The coroner smiled ruefully. “Some women come and go more often than a Greyhound bus.”

Hud remembered hearing that Rupert’s first wife had run off on numerous occasions before she’d finally cleared out with a long-haul truck driver.

“You think this woman was like that?” Hud asked, his suspicion growing that Rupert knew more than he was saying.

“If she was, then your suspect list could be as long as your arm.” Rupert opened his door.

“You almost sound as if you have an idea who she was,” Hud said over the wind.

Rupert climbed out of the truck. “I’ll call you when I know something definite.”

Hud watched the older man move through the falling snow and wondered why Rupert, who was ready to bet on the bones earlier, seemed to be backpedaling now. It wasn’t like the old coroner. Unless Rupert suspected who the bones belonged to—and it hit a little too close to home.

THE PHONE was ringing as Dana walked through the ranch house door. She dropped the stack of mail she’d picked up at the large metal box down by the highway and rushed to answer the phone, not bothering to check Caller ID, something she regretted the moment she heard her older brother’s voice.

“Dana, what the hell’s going on?” Jordan demanded without even a hello let alone a “happy birthday.” Clearly he had been calling for some time, not thinking to try her at her new job.

“Where are you?”

“Where do you think I am?” he shot back. “In case you forgot, I live in New York. What the hell is going on out there?”

She slumped into a chair, weak with relief. For a moment she’d thought he was in Montana, that he’d somehow heard about the bones in the well and had caught a flight out. The last thing she needed today was her brother Jordan to deal with in the flesh. Unfortunately it seemed she would have to deal with him on the phone though.

Her relief was quickly replaced by irritation with him. “I’m fine, Jordan. Thanks for asking, considering it’s my birthday and it’s been a rough day.” She’d seen the sheriff’s department cars go up the road toward the old homestead, making her even more aware of what was happening not a mile from the ranch house.

Jordan let out a weary sigh. “Dana, if this is about the ranch—”

“Jordan, let’s not. Not today. Is there a reason you called?”

“Hell yes! I want to know why the marshal thinks there’s a body in a well on our ranch.”

Our ranch? She gritted her teeth. Jordan had hated everything about the ranch and ranching, distancing himself as far as he could from both.

How had he heard about the bones already? She sighed, thinking of Franklin Morgan’s sister, Shirley, who worked as dispatcher. Shirley had dated Jordan in high school and still drooled over him whenever Jordan returned to the canyon. Well, at least Dana didn’t have to wonder anymore how long it would take for the word to get out.

She didn’t dare tell him that it had been Warren who’d found the bones. Jordan would never understand why Warren hadn’t just filled in the well and kept his mouth shut. “I found some bones in the old dry well at the homestead.”

“So?”

“I called the marshal’s office to report them.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

“Because it’s both legally and morally the thing to do.” She really wasn’t in the mood for Jordan today.

“This is going to hold up the sale of the ranch.”

“Jordan, some poor soul is in the bottom of our well. Whoever it is deserves to be buried properly.”

“It’s probably just animal bones. I’m flying out there to see what the hell is really going on.”

“No!” The word was out before she could call it back. Telling Jordan no was like waving a red blanket in front of a rodeo bull.

“You’re up to something. This is just another ploy on your part.”

She closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. “I just think it would be better if you didn’t come out. I can handle this. You’ll only make matters worse.”

“I have another call coming in. I’ll call you back.” He hung up.

Dana gritted her teeth as she put down the phone and picked up her mail and began sorting through it. All she needed was Jordan coming out here now. She thought about leaving so she didn’t have to talk to him when he called back.

Or she could just not answer the phone. But she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything other than making him more angry. And Jordan wasn’t someone you wanted to deal with when he was angry.

She opened a letter from Kitty Randolph asking her to help chair another fund-raiser. Kitty and Dana’s mother had been friends and since Mary’s death, Kitty had seemed to think that Dana would take her mother’s place. Dana put the letter aside. She knew she would probably call Kitty in a day or so and agree to do it. She always did.

She picked up the rest of the mail and froze at the sight of the pale yellow envelope. No return address, but she knew who it was from the moment she saw the handwriting.

Throw it away. Don’t even open it.

The last thing she needed was to get something from her sister Stacy today.

The envelope was card-shaped. Probably just a birthday card. But considering that she and Stacy hadn’t spoken to each other in five years…

She started to toss the envelope in the trash but stopped. Why would her sister decide to contact her now? Certainly not because it was her birthday. No, Stacy was trying to butter her up. Kind of like good cop, bad cop with Jordan opting of course for the bad cop role. Her other brother Clay was more of the duck-for-cover type when there was conflict in the family.

Dana couldn’t help herself. She ripped open the envelope, not surprised to find she’d been right. A birthday card.

On the front was a garden full of flowers and the words, For My Sister. Dana opened the card.

“Wishing you happiness on your birthday and always.”

“Right. Your big concern has always been my happiness,” Dana muttered.

The card was signed, Stacy. Then in small print under it were the words, “I am so sorry.”

Dana balled up the card and hurled it across the room, remembering a time when she’d idolized her older sister. Stacy was everything Dana had once wanted to be. Beautiful, popular, the perfect older sister to emulate. She’d envied the way Stacy made everything look easy. On the other hand, Dana had been a tomboy, scuffed knees, unruly hair and not a clue when it came to boys.

What Dana hadn’t realized once she grew up was how much Stacy had envied her. Or what lengths she would go to to hurt her.

The phone rang. She let it ring twice more before she forced herself to pick up the receiver, not bothering to check Caller ID for the second time. “Yes?”

“Dana?”

“Lanny. I thought it…was someone else,” she said lamely.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

She could picture him sitting in his office in his three-piece, pin-striped suit, leaning back in his leather chair, with that slight frown he got when he was in lawyer mode.

“Fine. Just…busy.” She rolled her eyes at how stupid she sounded. But she could feel what wasn’t being said between them like a speech barrier. Lanny had to have heard that Hud was back in town. Wasn’t that why he’d called?

“Well, then I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight,” he said.

“Of course.” She’d completely forgotten about their date. The last thing she wanted to do was to go out tonight. But she’d made this birthday dinner date weeks ago.

“Great, then I’ll see you at eight.” He seemed to hesitate, as if waiting for her to say something, then hung up.

Why hadn’t she told him the truth? That she was exhausted, that there was a dead body in her well, that she just wanted to stay home and lick her wounds? Lanny would have understood.

But she knew why she hadn’t. Because Lanny would think her canceling their date had something to do with Hud.

ONCE THE TEAM of deputies on loan from the sheriff’s department in Bozeman arrived and began searching the old homestead, Hud drove back to his office at Big Sky.

Big Sky didn’t really resemble a town. Condos had sprung up after construction on the famous resort began on the West Fork of the Gallatin River in the early 1970s. A few businesses had followed, along with other resort amenities such as a golf course in the lower meadow and ski area on the spectacular Lone Mountain peak.

The marshal’s office was in the lower meadow in a nondescript small wooden building, manned with a marshal, two deputies and a dispatcher. After hours, all calls were routed to the sheriff’s office in Bozeman.

Hud had inherited two green deputies and a dispatcher who was the cousin of the former sheriff and the worst gossip in the state. Not much to work with, especially now that he had a murder on his hands.

He parked in the back and entered the rear door, so lost in thought that he didn’t hear them at first. He stopped just inside the door at the sound of his name being brandished about.

“Well, you know darned well that he had some kind of pull to get this job, even temporarily.” Hud recognized Franklin Morgan’s voice. Franklin was the nephew of former marshal Scott “Scrappy” Morgan. Franklin was a sheriff’s deputy in Bozeman, some forty miles away.

Hud had been warned that Franklin wasn’t happy about not getting the interim marshal job after his uncle left and that there might be some hard feelings. Hud smiled at that understatement as he heard Franklin continue.

“At first I thought he must have bought the job, but hell, the Savages haven’t ever had any money.” This from Shirley Morgan, the dispatcher, and Franklin’s sister. Nepotism was alive and well in the canyon.

“Didn’t his mother’s family have money?” Franklin asked.

“Well, if they did, they didn’t leave it to their daughter after she married Brick Savage,” Shirley said. “But then, can you blame them?”

“Hud seems like he knows what he’s doing,” countered Deputy Norm Turner. Norm was a tall, skinny, shy kid with little to no experience at life or law enforcement from what Hud could tell.

“Maybe Brick pulled some strings to get Hud the job,” Franklin said.

Hud scoffed. Brick wouldn’t pull on the end of a rope if his son was hanging off it from a cliff on the other end.

“Not a chance,” Shirley said with a scornful laugh. “It was that damned Dana Cardwell.”

Hud felt a jolt. Dana?

“Everyone in the canyon does what she wants just like they did when her mother was alive. Hell, those Cardwell women have been running things in this canyon for years. Them and Kitty Randolph. You can bet Dana Cardwell got him the job.”

Hud couldn’t help but smile just thinking how Dana would love to hear that she was responsible for getting him back to town.

Franklin took a drink of his coffee and happened to look up and see Hud standing just inside the doorway. The deputy’s eyes went wide, coffee spewing from his mouth. Hud could see the wheels turning. Franklin was wondering how long Hud had been there and just what he’d overheard.

Norm swung around and about choked on the doughnut he’d just shoved into his mouth.

Shirley, who’d been caught before, didn’t even bother to look innocent. She just scooted her chair through the open doorway to the room that housed the switchboard, closing the door behind her.

Hud watched with no small amount of amusement as the two deputies tried to regain their composure. “Any word from the crime lab?” Hud asked as he proceeded to his office.

Both men answered at the same time.

“Haven’t heard a word.”

“Nothing from our end.” Franklin tossed his foam coffee cup in the trash as if he suddenly remembered something urgent he needed to do. He hightailed it out of the office.

Deputy Turner didn’t have that luxury. “Marshal, about what was being said…”

Hud could have bailed him out, could have pretended he hadn’t heard a word, but he didn’t. He’d been young once himself. He liked to think he’d learned from his mistakes, but coming back here might prove him wrong.

“It’s just that I—I…wanted to say…” The young deputy looked as if he might break down.

“Deputy Turner, don’t you think I know that everyone in the canyon is wondering how I got this job, even temporarily, after what happened five years ago? I’m as surprised as anyone that I’m the marshal for the time being. All I can do is prove that I deserve it. How about you?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly how I feel,” he said, his face turning scarlet.

“That’s what I thought,” Hud said, and continued on to his office.

He was anxious to go through the missing person’s file from around fifteen years back. But he quickly saw that all but the last ten years of files had been moved to the Bozeman office.

“We don’t have any records back beyond 1994,” the clerk told him when he called. “That’s when we had the fire. All the records were destroyed.”

Twelve years ago. He’d completely forgotten about the fire. He hung up. All he could hope was that Rupert was wrong. That the woman hadn’t been in the well more than twelve years. Otherwise… He swore.

Otherwise, he would be forced to talk to the former marshal. After all this time, the last thing Hud wanted was to see his father.

“I’M TAKING THE FIRST flight out,” Jordan said without preamble when he called Dana back. “I’ll let you know what time I arrive so you can pick me up at the airport.”

Dana bit down on her tongue, determined not to let him get to her. He seemed to just assume she wouldn’t have anything else to do but pick him up at Gallatin Field, a good fifty miles away. “Jordan, you must have forgotten. I have a job.”

“You’re half owner of a…fabric shop. Don’t tell me you can’t get away.”

She wasn’t going to chauffeur him around the whole time he was here, or worse, let him commandeer her vehicle. She took a breath. She would have loved to have lost her temper and told him just what she thought of him. He was in no position to be asking anything of her.

She let out the breath. “You’ll have to rent a car, Jordan. I’ll be working.” A thought struck her like the back of a hand. “Where will you be staying in case I need to reach you?” Not with her. Please not with her at the ranch.

She heard the knife edge in his voice. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stay at that old rundown ranch house with you.”

She almost slumped with relief. She’d suspected for some time that he was in financial trouble. Ever since two years ago when he’d married Jill, an out-of-work model, Jordan had seemed desperate for money.

“I assume Jill is coming with you?” Dana said, assuming just the opposite.

“Jill can’t make it this time.”

“Oh?” Dana bit her tongue again, just not quick enough. Jill had set foot in Montana only once and found it too backwoodsy.

“You have something to say, Dana? We all know what an authority you are on romantic relationships.”

The jab felt all the more painful given that Hud was back in town. “At least I had the sense not to marry him.” Instantly she wished she could snatch back the words. “Jordan, I don’t want to fight with you.” It was true. She hated how quickly this had escalated into something ugly. “Let’s not do this.”

“No, Dana, you brought it up,” Jason said. “If you have something to say, let’s hear it.”

“Jordan, you know this isn’t what Mom wanted, us fighting like this.”

He let out a cruel laugh. “You think I care what she wanted? The only thing she ever loved was that damned ranch. And just like her, you chose it over a man.”

“Mom didn’t choose the ranch over Dad,” Dana said. “She tried to make their marriage work. It was Dad who—”

“Don’t be naive, Dana. She drove him away. The same way you did Hud.”

She wasn’t going to discuss this with him. Especially today. Especially with Hud back. “I have to go, Jordan.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “At least I have someone to warm my bed at night. Can your precious ranch do that?”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Dana snapped. “Jill will be long gone once you don’t have anything else you can pillage to appease her.”

She knew at once that she’d gone too far. Jordan had never liked to hear the truth.

Dana smacked herself on the forehead, wishing she could take back the angry words. He’d always known how to push her buttons. Isn’t that what siblings were especially adept at because they knew each others’ weaknesses so well?

“Jordan, I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it.

“I’ll have Dad pick me up. But, dear sister, I will deal with you when I see you. And at least buy a damned answering machine.” He slammed down the phone.

She felt dirty, as if she’d been wrestling in the mud as she hung up. She hadn’t wanted the conversation to end like that. It would only make matters worse once he hit town.

She told herself that with luck maybe she wouldn’t have to see him. She wouldn’t have to see any of her siblings. The only one she’d been even a little close to was Clay, the youngest, but she wasn’t even talking to him lately.

And she didn’t want an answering machine. Anyone who needed to reach her, would. Eventually. She could just imagine the kind of messages Jordan would leave her.

She shuddered at the thought. As bad as she felt about the argument and her angry words, she was relieved. At least Jordan wasn’t staying at the ranch, she thought with a rueful smile as she went into the kitchen and poured herself of a glass of wine.

As she did, she heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the road to the house and groaned. Now what?

Glancing out the window she saw the marshal’s black SUV barreling toward her.

This day just kept getting better.