Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“S TUART —”

The sheriff shoved back his chair and rose abruptly to his feet. “I don’t want to know.” A lie. He’d spent his life wanting answers as to what happened to her. But he also wanted to know if the nightmares he had about her were real or just a child’s fear of monsters manifested out of nothing.

The last thing he was going to do was ask Bailey about his mother. That was a deep, dark well he couldn’t go near, not now, maybe not ever. This certainly wasn’t the time. He had enough on his mind that he feared he couldn’t handle the truth.

Nor did he need anything distracting him. He had a killer to find. A killer who had only today reminded Bailey that he was still close, still coming for her. That was enough to deal with. He hadn’t been in the greatest head space when this had all started. The only reason he was still sheriff was Bailey.

“I want you to know,” she said, sounding worried, “I didn’t set out to do this, I swear. I just wanted to find him, but the more wives and girlfriends and daughters I talked to, the more I realized that he couldn’t have gotten away with what he did to me without their help.”

“We should get some rest,” he said, glancing at the time. Where had the night gone? He could feel the weight of everything she’d told him. It dulled the memory of their kisses, their embrace. “Promise me you’ll stay in the guest room and won’t leave on your own before it gets light.”

B AILEY NODDED , FEELING BEREFT . This is why I didn’t want to tell you. She thought about earlier, throwing herself at him, safe in his warmth and the solid shelter of those arms, his chest pressed to hers, their heartbeats in tandem. It had felt so right. Just like their dinner in the kitchen tonight. She remembered thinking how she never wanted it to end.

“I promise I’ll stay.” She watched him turn his back on her, go into his bedroom and close the door, surprised by the ache of longing knotting in her chest. Tears burned her eyes. All those months she’d come here, keeping Stuart at arm’s length, she’d known in her heart he was here for her unconditionally. She’d felt she could always depend on him.

But right now, she wasn’t so sure about that. He had planned to resign as sheriff. He’d only changed his mind because of her. She wondered if he was regretting that decision at this moment. He’d been through so much, almost dying. Maybe he wasn’t up to this. She knew that she often felt she wasn’t.

What if she’d dragged him into this only to get him killed? The thought was like a blow to her chest, stealing her breath and making her heart race. He was risking his life for her , and she’d never asked him why he had wanted to resign, why maybe he needed to step away.

She certainly longed to put the past behind her. For so many years, she’d believed that she could—once she found the man and stopped him, once she told the world what he’d done, what she’d done, because she planned to kill him.

But would it ever truly be over?

She’d promised Stuart she would stay the night, but going to the spare bedroom was harder than it had ever been, knowing that he was only in the next room. She desperately wanted to go to him, to curl against him, to hold on to him as if their lives depended on it.

Instead, she lay down on the spare bed, listening to the night sounds. He was out there. He’d left her a reminder that he wasn’t far away, that he was watching her and could get to her at any time.

You’re safe here. The thought rang truer than any she’d had.

S TUART EXPECTED B AILEY to be gone the next morning. He didn’t expect to see her making French toast and bacon for breakfast. He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t had bread or eggs or bacon in the house.

“I called my brother Brand. He just happened to be on his way into town,” Bailey said. “He was happy to help since apparently he’s been worried about me.”

With good reason , the sheriff thought. “How fortunate for me,” he said, and sat down in the chair she indicated while she poured him a cup of coffee. “He wasn’t curious about you being here, cooking us both breakfast?”

“Apparently he’d already ready heard about your declaration of love,” she joked as she handed him the full cup of coffee and sat down.

“Holden,” he said with a shake of his head as he studied her. She’d been shaken last night, first after finding out that Norma Jones had been following her and then seeing what the man had left for her in her car.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. “I don’t normally eat breakfast,” Bailey said.

“Me either. But waking up to this—” he took her in “—was a special surprise.”

She grinned. “I promised I wouldn’t leave last night. But Stuart, you wanted to resign, and I never asked you why you—”

“I’m not going to stop looking for the man,” he said, and met her gaze. “And neither are you, and I couldn’t stop you even if I tried.”

She held her fork in the air. “I guess that about covers it.”

He nodded, averting his eyes as he cut off a piece of French toast on his plate. “What do you make of the package he left you?”

Clearly, she’d expected him to want to talk about her tell-all book or his mother or why he’d wanted to resign. Those were the last things he wanted to talk about.

He watched her consider him for a moment before she said, “He wanted me to know that he can get to me—and will when he’s ready.”

“You don’t think he’s ready yet.” That surprised him, because he was thinking the same thing. The man had taken a chance leaving the bundle for her right there on the main drag of Powder Crossing. “Did you see anyone around when you went back to your vehicle?”

She shook her head. “Town wasn’t busy at that hour. Even if it had been, I doubt anyone would have noticed.”

“Except for one person—Norma, who’d been facing in the right direction to see it.”

Bailey stared at him. “I’ll drive out to her place and talk to her.”

“Might be better if I questioned her, under the circumstances.”

She shook her head. “I can handle it.” She took a sip of her coffee as his phone rang.

The moment he answered, Deputy Dodson said loudly and excitedly, “I think I found where he did it. Where he assaulted Willow. There are pieces of cut rope, some torn clothing, the remains of a small fire in one corner and what looks like dried blood.”

Stuart stepped into the other room as the deputy gave him directions to an old outbuilding some distance from the house Willow had been renting. “Okay, stay in your vehicle. Don’t go back inside. Stay there until the crime team gets there.” He disconnected and turned to see Bailey standing in the doorway.

“You found where he assaulted her,” she said. “Can you find out if there was a gas can there? He told me he was going to kill me and then burn down the cabin. He’d brought a small can of gasoline. He was going to destroy any evidence and make his escape back into the barbecue crowd as if he’d never been gone. That old cabin would have burned quickly. When my body was found...”

“He would have covered his tracks. But he underestimated you.”

“I got lucky,” she said with a shake of her head. “I know the area you told the crime team to go to. That outbuilding is back off the road, isolated, perfect for what he had in mind. So why did he take Willow to the river? Why move her at all? Why take the chance? If she hadn’t drowned...”

He saw what she was getting at. “He changed his routine.”

“Or something or someone forced him to. If the gas can is there, then he might have been interrupted and, for whatever reason, he was afraid to go back there to clean it up.”

Stuart quickly called his deputy, asked about a small gas can, then hung up. “It was there,” he told Bailey. “Which means we might have gotten lucky,” he said, hoping it was true.

W HEN P ICKETT SPOTTED the remains of a pregnancy test in the trash that morning, he felt instant heartbreak. If the pregnancy test had told Oakley what they both wanted to hear, she could have told him before she left earlier, saying something about the last-minute preparations for the baby shower.

Why did Oakley put herself through this constantly? Put him through it? If only she could just give it time and relax. He had no doubt that it would happen. He wanted children as much as she did, maybe more. He’d been an only child. He couldn’t wait for the patter of little feet racing through the home they were building. He had to believe that they would conceive.

Not that he’d proven to be very good in the parenting department. He’d certainly bombed out with at least one thirteen-year-old he knew. Holly Jo wasn’t quite as mad at him after he gave her the phone, but when he reached the arena, he found her horse still out to pasture and no sign of her.

“She must have forgotten,” Elaine had told him when he stopped up at the house and found out she wasn’t home. “Or it skipped her mind since she’s gone with her friends to decorate the gym for the dance tonight.”

It hadn’t been all that long ago that trick riding was the only thing Holly Jo was interested in. Now it was Buck Savage and a dance. He tried not to take it personally, but he couldn’t help it. He and Holly Jo had been buddies. He’d loved working with her. She was a natural. He loved seeing her talent, enjoying her sense of humor, feeling like he had what it would take to be a dad.

“She’s mad at me because I told Holden about the boyfriend.”

“He’s glad you did. If it makes you feel better, she’s avoiding him too,” the housekeeper said.

It didn’t.

“Actually, she’s probably going to be much angrier with him than you. He went over to the Savages’ and told them what Buck had been up to.”

Pickett groaned. “I wish he hadn’t.”

“You aren’t the only one,” she said with a sigh. “It will blow over. At her age, things can change in an instant.”

That was what he was afraid of. “What about the dance? She sounded like she was really looking forward to it.”

Elaine nodded. “Holden said he would drive her to the school, then pick her up afterward. She declined in tears, and he relented and said Buck could pick her up and bring her home. But that if she missed curfew... I’m sure you know the rest.”

Pickett couldn’t help feeling somewhat responsible. Maybe he should have kept it just between him and Holly Jo. He was just a ranch hand on this spread, and she wasn’t his responsibility. But she was only thirteen. This boy was older. If she got into trouble, he didn’t think she’d call Holden or even Elaine. Pickett wanted her to know she could call him, because he remembered being a boy about that age.

B AILEY DROVE OUT to the Jones Ranch, hoping to talk to Norma alone. She was glad to see that the dark-colored SUV was parked in front of the house, but it appeared Ralph’s pickup was gone.

Getting out, she walked to the front door, not sure what kind of reception she was going to get. Norma was often as sweet as the fudge she made, too sweet for Bailey. But she’d definitely seen another side of Norma yesterday evening.

The woman who answered the door was wearing an apron over her house dress. Norma prided herself on being old school from her neatly trimmed nails to her perfectly coiffed helmet of brown hair. If she was surprised to see Bailey, she didn’t show it.

“You’re timing is perfect,” Norma said brightly. “I’m about to take rhubarb muffins from the oven, and I always have a pot of coffee on for unexpected guests.” She stepped back to let Bailey enter.

“Actually...” Bailey hesitated. She didn’t want muffins. All she wanted was to ask Norma if she’d seen the man who’d put the bundle in her SUV yesterday evening. But she found herself stepping into the house as the timer went off on the oven and Norma disappeared into the kitchen. She followed the scent of rhubarb muffins, coffee, and whatever perfume Norma was wearing.

As she did, Bailey couldn’t help but feel a sliver of concern. Had she convinced the woman that there had never been an affair between her and Ralph? Or was she going to come around the corner into the kitchen to find Norma armed with a butcher’s knife?

At the kitchen doorway, Bailey stopped short at the sight of Norma filling two cups of coffee. She’d already put a muffin on a plate along with a fork. She carried the cups of coffee over to a table. The table, Bailey noted, had a lace tablecloth on it, along with a vase filled with the last of the flowers from her garden, no doubt. It was no secret that Norma prided herself on making a cozy home for her hardworking husband. She taught a class on it at her church, stressing the part about honoring and obeying the man of the house.

“Sit,” Norma said as she motioned to a chair and took one across from Bailey. “Isn’t this nice.”

“I suppose you’re wondering why I came to see you,” she said.

“You must try the muffin while it’s still warm. Would you like butter on it?” She started to get up before Bailey told her no, it was fine as it was.

“It’s about yesterday evening in town,” Bailey said after humoring the woman by taking a bite.

“How is it?” Norma asked, leaning toward her. “That’s rhubarb from my garden.”

“Delicious.” She swallowed the bite, determined to get to the point. “I want to know if you might have seen someone put a package into my SUV.”

Norma frowned. “A package?”

“Actually, something bundled in a stained white towel.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why would someone leave you a stained towel?”

“You were facing in the right direction. Do you remember seeing anyone near my SUV? They left the door open after they tossed it in.”

“Was that your SUV? Yes, I guess it was. I’d forgotten what color it was. Is it supposed to be a green?”

“Norma, it’s important that I find the person who got into my car.”

“I would think so. A stained towel.” Her nose wrinkled again. “I did see someone. I didn’t know what she was doing. I just assumed she was putting something into her own car.”

“Her?”

“Annette. She seemed to be in a real hurry. Looked right at me after she tossed it in. I thought it was so rude to leave the door open as she hurried away.”

“Annette Cline ? Dickie’s wife?”

“Why would a grown man call himself Dickie?” Norma said, and motioned for Bailey to finish her muffin.

Bailey had no idea. She ate the last of the muffin and washed it down with coffee. “Do you need to talk about our conversation from yesterday?”

Norma blinked. “You said you weren’t interested in my husband. That conversation?”

“Yes. It’s true. I’m with Stuart Layton and have been for some time. I have no interest in your husband, nor does he have any in me.”

The older woman nodded and smiled. “So glad we have that cleared up,” she said, getting to her feet and scooping up Bailey’s plate and empty coffee cup. The muffin had been dry, not that she would have told Norma that to save her life.

Dismissed, Bailey rose. “Thank you for your help and the muffin.”

Norma waved it off. “I’m just glad you stopped by. If you don’t mind seeing yourself out, I have a lot to do today. A woman’s work is never done.”

“So true.” She left and almost made it off the Jones Ranch before her stomach began to roil. She was throwing up beside the road by the time she reached the edge of Powder Crossing and remembered something that had seemed out of place in Norma’s ultra-clean kitchen. A small plastic bottle of eye drops next to the coffeepot. That evil woman, Bailey thought as her stomach cramped again.

D EPUTY D ODSON HAD called to say the crime team had arrived when the dispatcher told Stuart there was an urgent call from a woman, but she wouldn’t give her name.

The moment he answered the phone, Stuart could hear a woman crying hysterically. “Take a breath,” he ordered even as his pulse began to pound. Bailey had said she was going out to see Norma Jones. “Tell me your name and what’s wrong.” He could hear her struggling to gain control of her sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand what she was saying and felt his frustration rising.

Then he heard what she was trying to tell him. “He’s dead,” Annette Cline sobbed. “He’s dead.”

“Annette, tell me what’s happened? Is it Dickie?”

She sucked in a breath on a sob. “It’s...it’s my friend Brock.”

Brock Sherwood, the Wyoming man Stuart had seen driving to her house when Dickie was gone.

“He’s dead .”

“Where are you?” the sheriff asked, and listened as she told him the name of a motel in Miles City. She went on to say that she’d gone to get them something for breakfast before they had to leave, and when she came back...

“I opened the door and...” She began sobbing again. “It’s so awful.”

“You’re sure he’s dead?” She was.

“He’d been worried, thought someone had been following him and was afraid, but I didn’t really think...” She broke up again.

“Don’t touch anything. Just stay there. I’m sending help. Where is Dickie?”

Between sobs, she told him that Dickie had called yesterday to say he was on his way home, but since she hadn’t gone to the house yet, she hadn’t seen him. Dickie’s return explained the motel in Miles City.

Stuart disconnected and called the police in Miles City. He’d just hung up when the dispatcher said Dickie Cline was on the line.

“I got a text from Annette to call you when I got home,” Cline said.

“Are you going to be at the ranch for a while?” the sheriff asked.

“I guess so. What’s this about?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”