Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

S TUART WAS EVEN more discouraged as he watched the chief of police lead Dickie Cline away. There had been sign of a burn on his shoulder. Nor was there any sign of an old wound on his left leg. He’d been the last man on Bailey’s list, and Stuart had struck out.

It had seemed simple since she had wounded the man. Even after twelve years, there should have at least been a scar. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t found Bailey’s attacker and Willow’s murderer.

Most ranchers had scars because of a lifestyle that exposed them to dangerous situations. A horse putting them into barbed wire or dumping them onto the rocky ground. Using equipment that maimed. Or growing up trying to ride the wildest horses and bulls.

Stuart had found injuries, but none that corresponded to those Bailey had left on the man. Certainly not a brand in the shape of a small horseshoe. It had seemed so easy. Too easy. What he hadn’t realized until he’d done a little research was that in order for the brand to be permanent, the hot branding iron had to be pushed down hard for three to five seconds so it burned through the first two layers of skin and grazed the third.

He doubted Bailey had been able to hold the iron on her attacker that long. Depending on what the attacker had done after being burned with the iron, he could have known what to use on it to make the scarring less noticeable too. Otherwise, after twelve years, there might not even be a scar.

Like the others he’d checked, Cline didn’t have a brand on his shoulder. Like the others, he had scars, but none Stuart could definitely say were from a knife wound, since clearly the wounds hadn’t killed the man.

On top of that, the crime lab had been unable to obtain any fingerprints from Bailey’s door handle or the horseshoe wrapped in the bloody towel. Nor was it a surprise that the blood on the towel matched Willow Branson’s.

Stuart realized that the only man he hadn’t checked for a shoulder tattoo was Earl Hall. The condition the man had been in when he’d stopped by his house had led him to believe that the man couldn’t have killed Willow. But maybe that was what Hall had wanted him to believe.

He told himself he’d go back out there tomorrow. Tonight, he just wanted to go home. All his insecurities about not being able to handle this job taunted him. He was no closer to finding the killer who, if the bloody towel and horseshoe were any indication, was coming for Bailey soon.

Stuart hated what he’d see in Bailey’s face when he told her the news.

B AILEY HAD SEEN right away that the sheriff had had a rough day. She knew the feeling. She’d been sick for a few hours, but was feeling better. She could tell that Stuart had hoped Dickie Cline was the man—especially after he’d been seen coming out of his dead wife’s lover’s motel room.

“It wasn’t him,” he said as he took the beer Bailey offered him and joined her on the couch.

“But the crime team found evidence left in the outbuilding, right?”

He nodded. “They think there’s a chance they might get lucky and find some fingerprints or DNA at the site. Hopefully enough to tie the man to Willow Branson and her murder. We just won’t know for a while. How are you doing?” he asked, studying her. She knew she was still a little pale after heaving her guts out.

“Better. I went out and talked to Norma. She insisted I have coffee and one of her muffins straight from the oven so she could drug me.”

“What?” he demanded, looking upset.

“Eye drops in my coffee. Made me sicker than a dog, but the good news is that she did see someone put a bundle into my SUV the night before. She swears it was Annette Cline.”

Stuart shook his head. “Do you believe her?”

“I do, and yet she also said she believed me that I didn’t want anything to do with her husband. I suspect that was a lie. Otherwise, why drug me?”

He swore. “I always suspected there was something amiss under all that sweetness, you know?”

“I do. I should have been smarter about eating or drinking anything at her house. She was once questioned for trying to poison her first husband,” Bailey said. “It’s all in my book.” She saw his expression change and wished she hadn’t mentioned the book.

“I didn’t realize that she’d been married before,” was all Stuart said about it though. “Annette Cline? Norma’s sure?”

Bailey shrugged. “Don’t forget, she drugged me. She could have been lying. Annette was having an affair. Norma, in all her righteousness, might have wanted to get her into trouble because Annette was doing something she shouldn’t, sleeping with a man who wasn’t her husband. Who knows what Norma would have done if she really believed I was messing around with her husband?”

“I pity anyone who was after Ralph,” the sheriff said. “He took Willow’s death hard. He might have been the one plying her with Norma’s peanut butter fudge.”

“Which would give Norma motive for murder. You can’t think she killed Willow, though.”

He shook his head. “The first thing I’m going to do tomorrow is talk to Annette. Then I’ll go see Ralph and Norma.” He yawned. “Once the crime team gets through at the outbuilding, hopefully we’ll have him.”

Bailey nodded, but she feared it wouldn’t be in time.

He reached for her hand. “We’re going to find him. We’re getting closer all the time.” She nodded. “Don’t give up hope.”

That made her smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fighting right to the end.”

Those words seemed to send a chill through him. “Not alone,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Not alone.”

S TUART HAD BEEN looking forward to talking to Annette Cline, especially after what Bailey had told him. The police chief had released her yesterday, telling her not to leave the area. She’d claimed that she was only going home, that she had nowhere else to go.

That’s why he was surprised to get her call so late that afternoon saying she needed to talk to him. “I need to talk to you too,” he’d told her.

Now as he drove out to the Cline ranch, the sun dropping behind the mountains, he felt tired and anxious. If Norma was telling the truth, Annette had put the bloodstained towel bundle into Bailey’s SUV. Where could she have gotten it? Had someone put her up to it? The man Stuart was desperately searching for?

The woman who opened the door at the ranch looked nothing like the one only days earlier. Annette wore no makeup. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that appeared still wet from her shower. She wore a T-shirt and a pair of worn jeans. Her feet were bare.

She opened the door wide and motioned him in without a word. “Coffee?”

He declined, thinking of Norma’s coffee. “Why did you want to see me?” he asked the moment they were sitting at the kitchen table. Annette had both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as if she was cold on this fall afternoon.

“It’s about my friend, Brock.” She looked up, tears filling her eyes. “The one who was killed in Miles City.” He nodded. “He’s been driving up from Wyoming to see me. I guess you already know that. Well, this one morning...” She stopped to take a sip of her coffee as he felt his pulse jump at the thought that he already knew what morning she was referring to.

“He saw the killer,” the sheriff said.

“He wasn’t sure at first,” Annette said quickly. “The man was coming out of the river, fully clothed, soaking wet. He seemed surprised to see Brock drive past. They’d looked at each other for those few seconds. Brock didn’t think too much about it until he heard about Willow’s murder.” She sniffed and touched a paper napkin to her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

“Why didn’t he tell someone what he’d seen?” Stuart asked, not about to let her get distracted right now.

“He was scared. The man had seen him .”

“Did he describe the man to you? Or the vehicle? There should have been one parked close to the river’s edge.” The killer had carried Willow’s body out into the river. He would have parked as close to the bank as possible.

“Big, strong-looking. Scary, that’s all. Brock said he didn’t get a good look, just a glance in passing. He said the man’s truck was gray, but that’s all he knew.” Annette took another sip of her coffee.

There must have been fifty gray pickups in the Powder River Basin alone. “So Brock saw him again.” She looked up in surprise. “How else did he get the bloody towel bundle to give to you?”

She looked shaken. “How did you—”

“You were seen putting the bundle inside Bailey’s SUV.”

“It isn’t what you think.” He wasn’t sure what he thought. “Brock found it in his truck. It had a note on it saying he was to see that Bailey McKenna got it or he would get another visit—one involving his own blood.”

“He knew who left it for him?”

“He knew when he looked into the bag and saw the towel and the small horseshoe.”

So it was public knowledge about the brand, Stuart thought. Also, Brock Sherwood’s prints and DNA would be all over the towel and its contents. He swore under his breath. “How did he talk you into delivering the bundle to Bailey’s SUV?”

“Brock was scared. Dickie had called to say he was coming home. We decided to go to Miles City and get a motel for the night,” Annette said. “He still had the horseshoe wrapped up in the towel. I told him to get rid of it, but he said he was afraid that if he didn’t get it to Bailey, the man would kill him too. We were driving through Powder Crossing, and I saw Bailey talking to Norma. I had Brock pull around the corner, and I jumped out and took care of it. I didn’t think anyone saw me, and if they did, they wouldn’t think anything of me putting something in her car.”

She looked up at him. “I assumed that would be the end of it, but Brock was still scared. He said he was going to come talk to you, but...”

But he hadn’t lived long enough.

Annette’s eyes filled with tears as she reached for her coffee. “I can’t believe Dickie killed him.”

Yet she seemed to. “Maybe he didn’t,” the sheriff said. “Maybe it was the man who he saw coming out of the river the morning Willow Branson was murdered. The man who knew who Brock was and left him a present to give to Bailey.”

Her eyes widened in new alarm. “Does that mean he’ll be coming after me next? I didn’t see him, but what if he thinks Brock knew more than he did and told me?”

“You might consider staying with a friend or relative for a while,” Stuart suggested, although he thought it was a long shot that the man would come after her. Then again, if the man had killed Brock, he might indeed be afraid Annette knew more than she did.

On the way back into town, he called the Miles City police chief and told him what he’d learned. “Dickie Cline might be telling the truth.”

Unfortunately, Stuart had little to offer as to who had killed Willow Branson and possibly Brock Sherwood as well.

H OLLY J O COULD feel the housekeeper studying her in the large full-length mirror. She wondered what Elaine was looking for. She hated that everyone worried about her so much now. It made her feel uncomfortable.

“You look so pretty,” Elaine said. “I’m glad you decided to wear that dress. The one you borrowed from Tana was a little too grown-up, and I like your hair down. It’s so beautiful.”

She studied herself in the mirror, wishing that her mother could be here. Her mother would have made her wear the more grown-up dress and insist on putting her hair up for her first dance. But her mother wasn’t here. Nor did she know anything about Holly Jo or her life now.

The thought made her sad.

“I know you wish your mother was here,” Elaine said as if reading her mind. “You can always come to me if you—”

“I’m fine,” she said, moving away from the mirror.

“I should get downstairs.”

Elaine checked the time. “Yes, I would imagine Buck will be here soon. You told him what time you had to be home?” She nodded. “Maybe you could plan on getting home just a little early.”

“I know.” She couldn’t help being annoyed. How many times did she have to be told that if she was late, she wouldn’t be able to ride with Buck again? If HH had his way, she’d never be able to leave the house.

She thought about earlier, when Buck had talked her into leaving before the decorating was done at the gym. Tana had asked if Buck had kissed her yet. Not yet, but she’d been waiting. It would be her first kiss. She’d been so excited thinking it would be a rite of passage.

Buck had stopped on the way back from the ranch. She’d been excited anticipating this moment. He’d grabbed her, pulled her to him and kissed her. She’d been expecting something like in the movies.

When he’d put his tongue in her mouth, she’d jerked back, grossed out by how wet the whole kiss had been and unable to hide her disappointment.

“I need to get home,” she’d said as she’d turned to secretly wipe her mouth so he couldn’t see.

Buck had swore and started the car. “Some times I don’t know why I brother with you.”

For a moment, she’d been afraid he would change his mind about the dance, but he said nothing even as he’d dropped her off at her bus stop, staying he had to get home.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Elaine asked, still studying her.

“Just excited about the dance.” There was so much she didn’t understand. Her life right now felt confusing, scary and yet exciting. She wished she could ask Elaine about boys and kisses, but she couldn’t. She’d ask Tana maybe. She felt as if she had so much to learn.

At the sound of a horn, Holly Jo hurried down the stairs, only to have HH stop her.

“He’ll come in to get you,” Holden said. “Or you won’t go with him at all.” He stepped to the door and motioned for Buck to come to the house.

Holly Jo could almost imagine Buck rolling his eyes and driving off. But a few moments later, he appeared at the door.

“That’s the way a gentleman takes a lady on a date,” HH said as Buck walked her to his car and opened the door for her. But the moment her soon-to-be adoptive father turned his back, Buck gave him the finger and laughed. “What an old fart,” he said as he started the car and took off in a hail of gravel.

He put his free hand on her leg, pushing her dress up to get to her thigh as he grinned at her. “We are going to have fun tonight.”

She slid her dress back down as he reached into the glovebox and pulled out a flask and took a gulp before handing it to her. She hated even the smell of booze and quickly put the cap back on.

Buck didn’t seem to notice as he turned up the radio, then reached for her again. He’d made it clear earlier that she owed him after getting him in trouble with his dad. “You owe me big time tonight,” he’d said with a leer, then laughed.