Chapter Seventeen

Saturday, October 5th.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

My alarm went off and I could hardly drag my tired ass out of bed. I wasn't a good flyer. Found that out. Didn't seem to bother Virge none. Next to him I felt like an old man.

Doing the barn chores, we gave the horses extra attention because we'd been missing them a lot. While we were at Mom's ranch, she gave Virge a horse and he was pretty excited he'd soon be riding with me and Dad.

His horse was an Appaloosa gelding named Desert Sun. Annie said the boys running her horse operation called him Sunny and Virge liked that name.

My brother loved Annie in a big way. He'd never had a mother before and grew pretty attached to Annie in a big hurry.

Tammy's horse, Bonnie Grace, stood in her stall and it was easy to tell she was missing Tammy. Me and Virge both gave her extra love and extra carrots to cheer her up some.

We washed up after chores and hurried to the kitchen to find out nothing was going on. Billy and Travis were drinking coffee at the kitchen table, staring at each other. There was no food in the pantry or the fridge and nothing for breakfast.

Travis filled mugs with coffee for me and Virge and said, "We'll have to get breakfast at the diner this morning, boys. I haven't had time to do any grocery shopping and the house is a fuckin mess along with all of our lives."

Dad sounded so down I got worried about the PTSD thing again. "Virge and me can do shopping today, Dad. You'll be at the hospital."

"I'm going to Cut Bank as soon as visiting hours start. I wish they'd tell me something. They won't even tell me how she is."

"I'll call and say I'm her brother," said Billy. He pressed the contact number and put the call on speaker. "Intensive care, please."

"Nurse Elwood speaking. How can I help you?"

"This is William Best and I'm calling about my sister, Olivia. Can you tell me how she's doing this morning?"

"Certainly, Mister Best. Your sister is heavily sedated after her surgery, and we don't expect her to wake before perhaps one o'clock this afternoon."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Billy. "I appreciate the update."

"Okay," said Travis. "I'll go to the hospital at noon. We'll get breakfast in town and get some work done this morning."

Before we left for the station, I checked the shelves in the pantry and looked in the fridge and made a huge shopping list. I stuck it in my pocket for later. We couldn't live on just beer and cigarettes.

Sheriff's Office. Coyote Creek.

Travis and the boys arrived at the station a little earlier than usual and he sent Harlan and Virge across the street to eat breakfast at the diner. They'd bring food back for the two prisoners and for Billy and Travis too.

Molly usually got the food from the diner and fed the prisoners, but she didn't work on the weekend.

While Travis nursed a coffee in the break room, deciding how to handle Wyatt Thompson, Doctor Olsen called from the morgue in Cut Bank.

"Morning, Doc. How's it going?"

"I'm finally caught up and just finished Paula Fleming's autopsy."

"Anything unusual besides the strangulation?"

"Yes, there is something else, Travis. Paula Fleming was pregnant. About six weeks, I'm estimating. I took DNA from the fetus, and we'll see. The results will take about a week to come back but if the father isn't in the system the test will be pointless and money wasted. I thought I should let you know."

"Six weeks," said Travis. "Let's see where that puts us, Doc. I find it interesting. Thanks for the info. It's definitely something I can work with."

"I'll send the full report to Molly by the end of the day."

"Appreciate the news, Doc. I'm working with next to nothing here."

The boys had eaten a good breakfast and the prisoners had been fed and given coffee. That over with, Travis called the boys into the break room.

He used the table in there for his desk because Billy needed the comfortable swivel chair in the office because of his bad leg. And in return, he handled nearly all of the paperwork.

"Ted's off today and we shouldn't be working either, but because we have two suspects locked up in the run, we have an opportunity. I want y'all to search Dave Turcotte's ranch house, Paula Fleming's house in Valier and Wyatt Thompson's place in Cut Bank. Get tags in while y'all are there and tag their vehicles too."

Billy nodded.

"Way y'all go," said Travis. "Split up the work anyway y'all want and I'll work on the prisoners while y'all are gone."

"Copy that," said Virge. "I'm happy to be working again, Dad."

Travis smiled. "Go find me a killer, Virgie."

Fleming Residence. Valier.

Me and Virge took Paula's house while Billy drove down to Big Dave's ranch south of town. Dad was already going to the hospital at noon, so he said he'd take Wyatt's house in Cut Bank.

Because it was a crime scene, we had keys to Paula's house in the office. Virge pulled one end of the yellow tape off while we opened the front door and went inside.

It was quiet without Paula's big growly Rotties watching us. Her next-door neighbor, Mrs. DeGrille had adopted them.

Room by room, we did a thorough search of the house, and we looked in her car too. The only thing of interest we found was a plastic Ziplock bag of weed and a nearly new pack of condoms in the drawer of Paula's nightstand.

Virge found the used pregnancy test in the trash container in the bathroom, and it was positive. He bagged it and marked it. Might be useful.

Her clothes hung in the closet and the dresser drawers were full of neatly folded underwear, shirts and t-shirts. Everything just like she left it.

Sheriff's Office. Coyote Creek.

After Billy and the boys left to do the searches, Travis sat in the squad room at Molly's desk and tried to catch up on the details of the accident from the day before.

Max and Sarge lay under Molly's desk while Travis worked, and they seemed to be more content now that the boys were home.

A woman appeared at the front door of the station, and she startled Travis when she stormed into the squad room. They didn't have many walk-ins.

Stacey Croft zeroed in on him with a pissed-off look on her not-so-pretty face. "I heard you locked Wyatt up for no good reason, Sheriff Frost, and I want to see him."

"Sorry, ma'am. We don't have visitation here. No facilities for it."

"I demand to see him," snapped Stacey. "People have rights, Sheriff Frost. Even wrongly accused prisoners have rights."

"Yep, they do. Wyatt will be arraigned on Monday morning, and you can see him at the county courthouse. Best I can do."

"Your best is not good enough, Sheriff. I'm hiring a lawyer for Wyatt, and I'll be back. You may be facing a lawsuit."

"Bring it, ma'am." Travis smiled. "Looking forward to it."

She turned her back as she headed for the door and Travis called after her, "Miss Croft, did you know Paula Fleming was pregnant when she was murdered?"

"What?" She spun around and took a stance in front of Travis. "How would I know that?"

"Because y'all were such good friends from high school n'all, I thought she may have told you."

"No, she did not tell me. I didn't know."

Travis gave her a little wave. "I'll tell Wyatt you stopped by."

Stacey stormed out and Travis thought about her reaction when he told her about the baby.

She knew about the baby, and she knows more than she's letting on.

He picked up his cell and called Harlan.

"Hey, Dad."

"You guys nearly done at Paula's house?"

"Yep, just leaving. Virge is putting the tape back across the door."

"Stacey Croft was just here, and I want you and Virge on her for the afternoon. See what she's up to. Write this address down."

"Got it," said Harlan.

"I'm going to the hospital now and then I'll be at Wyatt's house in Cut Bank if you want me."

"Copy."

Turcotte Ranch. South of Coyote Creek.

Billy picked the lock and entered Dave Turcotte's ranch house through the front door. The smell of cigar smoke filled the air as he walked through the house looking for anything that might prove to be evidence or even a clue to the murders.

Nothing much to find. Dave was a neat person and his house smelled of pine cleaner under the cloud of cigar smoke.

Billy took a couple of items for DNA testing now that a baby was involved in the case. Billy thought Big Dave was a hothead, but not a murderer.

Cut Bank Hospital.

Travis enquired at the nurses' station outside the intensive care unit and asked to see Olivia Best.

"She's not awake, Sheriff, but you can see her for five minutes."

"Thanks. I'll just sit with her."

"It must have been a terrible car accident," said the nurse. "The doctor doesn't think Miss Best will recover."

The breath left Travis's body as he walked through the glass doors into the unit. He sat down next to Olivia's bed before he collapsed onto the floor with the weight of the guilt pressing down on him.

There were only three patients in the unit. The rest of the beds were empty. Small hospital in a sparsely populated area of Montana.

Olivia's eyes were closed. Her beautiful face had turned shades of purple and dark blue. Black around both of her eyes. All of that damage from the airbag. Travis had no idea what the emergency surgery was for, and no one was forthcoming with information.

As Sheriff, he might be able to use his position to get more information from the doctor. He intended to leave a message at the nurses' station on the way out.

During Travis's five-minute vigil, Olivia didn't move and didn't wake up. Travis leaned down and whispered, "I'll be back. Wait for me."

Thompson Residence. Cut Bank.

Travis parked the squad in front of Wyatt Thompson's house on a quiet back street in Cut Bank. Two-story brick with a six-foot hedge on three sides of the large property.

A fancy home for a guy who claimed to be barely making ends meet running the local newspaper. Where was the money coming from?

Using the paved pathway, Travis walked down the side of the house to the back gate. He passed through the landscaped yard and let himself in the back door.

The silent house had a creepy feel to it. Travis could almost taste death in the house. Someone had died there recently. He was sure of it.

Was it Paula Fleming, and Wyatt had taken her home to Valier and placed her in her own bed?

He began his search in Wyatt's home office. Looking for notes on the desk, address books in the desk drawers—anything to hint at Wyatt's life and his recent activities.

Staring at the computer for a minute, Travis wondered if it would hold a clue. He didn't know much about computer technology, but he figured he could turn it on and see what happened.

After he pushed the on button, he expected to be asked for a password and that's where he'd be stuck, but this one didn't seem to need a password.

The first screen that came up was filled with kiddie porn.

Travis could barely look, and he didn't. He turned the laptop off, unplugged it and closed it up to take it with him.

After he finished the office and didn't find anything else worth bagging, he moved on and did a meticulous search of every other room in the house.

Nothing else incriminating, but Travis gathered up a hairbrush and a toothbrush and bagged them both for DNA testing. He took the laptop and left.

He placed the laptop on the passenger seat of the squad thinking Harlan could find out what Wyatt the Weasel was doing with those disgusting pictures.

Wyatt is turning from a weasel into a goddamned pervert right before my eyes.

Nashville. Tennessee.

After a long day of peddling his songs, Ray was pumped that he actually sold one. Bobby had enjoyed his day hanging around on the music scene and he was happy for his new friend.

They cabbed it back to the truck stop and went into the restaurant for dinner.

After a long talk about their futures, Bobby decided to sell both of his houses and the Freightliner, and he'd retire in Tennessee. They'd get a place in a nice trailer park and Ray could work the Nashville scene while Bobby worked on getting well.

After having so many days when he was close to death, Bobby wasn't afraid of dying or being arrested any longer. It just didn't matter. If he went to jail, he could do the time. He was sure of it.

He'd get a new ID, change his appearance and take his chances in Tennessee. It was where Ray needed to be, and Bobby didn't give a flying fuck where he lived any longer. It just didn't seem important. After surviving Tammy, nothing mattered but living one day at a time.