Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

S TUART FOUND HIMSELF looking at the ranchers’ boots as he and Bailey headed for the bar. If she was right, the man was arrogant enough to think he could get away with it again and might not even change the way he’d been dressed before.

But would the man really wear the same boots and would Stuart be able to tell if they were black crocodile buckaroo boots, tall, with the cut heel. All he could do was look for expensive black ones, in case the man was as cocky as Bailey thought. Most of the ranchers had worn their dress boots, so looking for expensive ones in this crowd was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

The crowd undulated along with the low rumble of voices. The sheriff saw AJ Plummer with a drink in his hand, talking to Holden. Next to him was his wife, Faith. She looked uncomfortable. Probably because everyone knew that she and AJ had been separated. Were they back together? She had a drink and seemed to be searching the crowd for someone.

A burst of laughter close by startled Stuart. He turned swiftly to see Jay Erickson’s wife, Angie, entertaining a small group of men with a bawdy story. From the way she was speaking, she’d already had a few drinks before she got to the barbecue. Jay stood nearby, looking bored.

Stuart got a bottled water from the bar for Bailey, but when he looked back, she was gone. For a moment, he panicked, afraid someone in the crowd had grabbed her. With relief, he spotted her. Annette Cline had hold of Bailey’s arm and was leaning toward her as she spoke intently.

He began to make his way toward the two, curious what Annette was telling her and why she seemed to be drawing Bailey away toward the trees.

“I brOUGHT YOU some bridal magazines I kept from when Dickie and I got married,” Annette was saying. “I thought of you right away when I heard about your engagement to the sheriff. I have them in the truck if you want to escape this madhouse for a minute. We can go get them.” She chuckled. “I almost didn’t come, figured everyone would be talking about me. I was surprised when Dickie insisted. These things give me a headache.”

Bailey smiled as she thought of a line from a line from some old movie. “The one who comes to you with a deal is the traitor.” But bridal magazines? “Where’s your truck parked?” she asked, curious.

“Since we were some of the last to arrive—my fault, it takes me forever to get ready, Dickie says—we’re parked almost to the county road. But we can cut through the trees. It’s such a beautiful day, I wouldn’t mind following the river.”

“You know, Annette, I really appreciate—”

“Here’s your water,” Stuart said, joining them. “Talking wedding plans?”

“Don’t you know it,” Bailey said. “Annette brought me some bridal magazines from when she and Dickie got married. We were just discussing going to her pickup to get them.”

“That’ll have to wait,” the sheriff said. “Your father’s about to make an announcement. He wants us front and center.”

“Well, maybe later,” Annette said. “It was just a thought. I better find Dickie. He’s lost without me.”

“Maybe I should have gone with her,” Bailey whispered as Stuart led her toward the house. “She wanted to go through the trees along the river.”

He swore. “I’m surprised after what happened with her boyfriend that she and Dickie even showed up today. I’d heard he’d been released on bail. I’d like to think both of them are harmless, but I’ve been in this business too long to believe that.”

“If this was about him, then she’ll try again, maybe more forcefully next time,” Bailey said.

“Pleasant thought,” Stuart said, shaking his head. “How did I ever let you talk me into this?” He realized Bailey had stopped walking and was looking back at the crowd.

“It’s probably nothing, but Annette said she was going looking for her husband. Instead, she went straight to AJ Plummer.”

The sheriff glanced back. Annette and AJ seemed to be having a serious talk before he walked away from her and joined his estranged wife, Faith, at the bar.

H OLDEN FINALLY GOT everyone’s attention as Bailey and Stuart joined him. He had tried to write up something last night but couldn’t make himself. This wasn’t a real engagement party. What did you say when the happy couple believed the killer was out there in that crowd, drinking McKenna Ranch booze, and would soon to be eating his food? The thought made him sick to his stomach.

But he’d known once he’d heard what the man had done to his daughter that he would do whatever it took to catch the bastard. He just wasn’t sure this was the best way. It was definitely the most dangerous, though.

He cleared his throat as everyone began to settle down. “Thank you all for coming here today to celebrate with us.” He told stories about Bailey growing up, her love for horses and the ranch, how glad he was that she’d come back, and how he hoped she would always stay here. “I know she and Stuart will be happy. I’ve seen how much they care about each other. Everyone needs the love of their life to complete them. Bailey,” he said, his voice breaking, “I’m glad you’ve found yours. Here’s wishing you many, many years together.”

The crowd clapped and cheered, and the day dragged on. Holden knew his words probably wouldn’t have any effect on a killer, but he could hope, couldn’t he? He’d wanted to say out loud, Please don’t take my little girl from me, you monster! even as his heart cried out those words.

He saw Bailey on the edge of the crowd with Stuart and prayed the sheriff could keep her safe, because her father had failed her twelve years ago and feared he’d fail her again today.

S TUART FOUND HIMSELF watching four of the men at the barbecue—the four that Bailey had narrowed down on her list. He hadn’t been able to prove that one of them had assaulted Bailey and killed Willow. But he also hadn’t been able to disprove it.

Earl Hall still looked uncomfortable, his wife Iris dutifully staying right by his side. Jay Erickson stood in a group of men drinking silently as his wife, Angie, had become more vocal and argumentative the drunker she became.

Annette had danced with AJ Plummer and anyone else she could get onto the dance floor, while her husband Dickie stood morosely on the sidelines. Stuart figured that marriage had been doomed from the beginning when Dickie had married a woman so much younger than him.

He thought about Annette attempting to get Bailey to walk with her out to their pickup to get the bride magazines. Maybe she was just trying to be friendly. Maybe her husband had killed her lover, had assaulted and tried to kill Bailey, and had killed Willow. Would a man out on bail come to a barbecue planning to kill again? Anything was possible, and that’s what worried Stuart the most.

When AJ asked Bailey to dance, the sheriff couldn’t help but tense. He watched Bailey’s face for an indication something was wrong and saw none as they moved on the small dance floor. When the song was over, Bailey walked in Stuart’s direction.

Annette had started to ask AJ to dance when his estranged wife, Faith, came up to them. She only said a few words quickly and then walked away. AJ said something to Annette and then went after his wife, catching up to her as the chow bell rang.

The ranch hands served the barbecued beef and pork along with baked beans and coleslaw. As Bailey joined Stuart, he asked, “Hungry?” She shook her head. He could tell she was worried that they’d both been wrong. The man wasn’t going to make his move.

They got in line eventually, but barely ate anything on their plates. Next to them at a large table, ranchers were arguing about coalbed methane drilling. Bailey rose to take her and Stuart’s empty disposable plates to the trash. They hadn’t said two words to each other during the meal, no doubt both thinking the same thing. The man hadn’t taken the bait. This setup hadn’t worked. Which meant he would still be out there, waiting until he was ready to kill her. He’d seen through the trap.

Stuart had thought about what they would do now. He would resign. They’d leave town and go as far away from the Powder River Basin as possible. But even as he thought it, he knew they would always be looking over their shoulders—that’s if he could even get Bailey to go with him. Sometimes he forgot that the engagement wasn’t real. If she didn’t get closure, he wasn’t sure even their love could survive.

“B ATHROOM ,” B AILEY MOUTHED to Stuart, who was still sitting at one of the long tables where she’d left him. As she headed for the row of portable outhouses brought in for the party, she felt a strange mix of emotions. This barbecue had been a mistake, a waste of time and money, a too obvious ruse to draw the man out. She had thought that the man’s arrogance would make him take the bait. She’d been wrong.

She walked the line of toilets, looking for an empty one. Experience had taught her that the last one would be the least used. As she did, she saw that people were already leaving as the evening dimmed to darkness. Deep black shadows hunkered in the trees toward the river.

She hardly noticed the night slipping over her. She’d been so sure that he would strike today. Stuart hadn’t let her out of his sight. Was that why the man hadn’t made his move? She’d promised Stuart she would trust him. That she wouldn’t lie or keep anything from him. Not in words, but still a promise she didn’t want to break. She needed him, something that was hard to admit. She’d lost her trust in men after the attack. Stuart was more than a just a man she could trust. She loved him, but how could they move on? She couldn’t. Not until this was over.

Which made this all so much harder since she couldn’t lose him. She knew he would die trying to keep her safe, and because of that, she had to find the man before he came for her. She had to end this herself, but it might mean doing the last thing Stuart wanted her to do.

She finished and pushed open the outhouse door, determined to put some space between her and the sheriff. She desperately wanted this to end today, one way or the other. She couldn’t keep living like this.

Her mind on drawing out the killer, she stepped out of the portable toilet and collided with Norma Jones, who must have been about to try the door and had been standing too close. The older woman grabbed her arm as if for support, bony fingers and nails biting into Bailey’s flesh.

“We just keep running into each other, don’t we,” Norma said, hanging on as she seemed to have trouble regaining her balance. Had she been drinking? “You have been the bane of my existence for such a long time. I watched you grow up, saw how the men all buzzed around you like bees to honey.”

“Norma, if this is about Ralph again—” She tried to pull free, but the woman’s talons were embedded painfully in her flesh, making her wince in pain.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know how Ralph feels about you,” she snapped.

Bailey was glad no one was around to her the woman’s wild accusations.

Norma dug in deeper as Bailey tried to pry her fingers off her arm. The woman’s grip was so strong that Bailey stumbled as Norma tried to pull her into the nearby trees, away from prying eyes and ears of anyone who might come along.

Bailey finally yanked the woman’s fingers off her arm, having enough of this. As she did, she noticed the deep cuts she’d left. She rubbed at them. “How many times do I need to tell you?”

“That you didn’t tempt my husband? That it’s not your fault you’re all he’s thought about for years?” Norma’s voice broke with emotion. “You put a curse on him. Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Bailey was beginning to wonder if the woman was in her right mind.

The cool breeze here in the trees felt good since Bailey realized that she was sweating and a little lightheaded. “Norma, there is nothing I can say since you aren’t going to believe me. I need to get back to—”

“Your fake engagement?” Norma asked, the tone of her voice seeming to change as she studied her long fingernails. Speaking of fake, those nails looked so odd on the woman, who, as far as Bailey knew, had never worn them before. She tried to remember if Norma had been wearing them at the house when she’d drugged her.

She raised her gaze to the older woman’s face. Had she gotten fake nails just for the party? That seemed so out of character for this conservative, matronly ranchwoman.

Bailey took a step, stumbled, and had to grab a tree for support. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. She tried to lick her lips, but she could no longer feel them. “What did you do?” The words came out slurred, barely audible. Realization struck her hard as she became aware of how much her arm burned with a strange fire where Norma had drilled her fingernails into her flesh. Worse, she couldn’t move. Her legs didn’t even feel as if they would hold her up much longer.

Norma was smiling. “Let me help you, dear,” she said as she took hold of Bailey’s arm. She pulled her further into the trees and whispered, “It will be over soon. Ralph will get you out of his system for good. Ralph’s a good man who lost his way. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help himself. If he’d killed you the first time...” She tutted. “We won’t let that happen again, will we.”

She tried to shake the woman off her, but her limbs no longer worked as Norma drew her deeper into the growing blackness of the trees. “I’d hoped killing the other one would release your hold on him. But even when I got Willow to change her hair color, it didn’t work. I argued against it at first, but Ralph’s right. The reason Willow didn’t work was because it takes you to break the curse. Once you’re dead, he’ll be free of this sinful need inside him, and we can finally live in peace like we were meant to.”

She didn’t even hear him come out of the woods. Suddenly he was there, taking hold of her, lifting her off her feet as he had before and taking her into the woods. The sounds of the barbecue grew more distant. She could hear the river, the sigh of the breeze in the drying leaves of the cottonwoods, the sound of Ralph’s heavy breathing. She recognized it and felt her heart pound even harder than it already was.

Ralph Jones was going to kill her, and his wife, Norma, was going to help him.

S TUART HAD LOST track of time, he realized. Bailey hadn’t returned from the portable outhouses. He’d assumed when she didn’t come right back that she’d had to wait for one. He could see that a line had formed at this end.

He’d been about to go check when he heard a disturbance break out. Angie. Jay was trying to help her up from where she’d fallen on the dance floor. At the same time, Stuart saw Pickett hurrying over to another dining table where Holden was sitting. Stuart watched him lean down to whisper something to the rancher. At once, Holden was on his feet.

“What’s happening?” the sheriff asked, getting up to rush over.

“Tilly. She’s in labor,” Pickett said. “Cooper’s taking her to the hospital, but he needs some vehicles moved so he can get out.”

“I’ll find Bailey, and we’ll come help,” Stuart told them.

The two hurried off. Stuart couldn’t leave without Bailey. He turned back to the line of blue plastic outhouses, glanced at his watch, then frowned. Bailey should have been back by now.

As he made his way to the toilets, his heart began to pound. All of the doors were closed. He began trying them, starting with the first one and going down the line. Any with people in them, he yelled, “Who’s in there?”

Several men answered and one woman. Not Bailey. With growing urgency, he hurried down the row. Not Bailey. Not Bailey. He reached the last one. Not Bailey.

He looked around for her. Had she gone back to the dining area a different way, and he’d just missed her? He knew she’d been getting antsy, so invested in having this end here today. Had she done something reckless?

Stuart ran back out to where they’d been sitting earlier, searching the diminishing partygoers. No Bailey. People were leaving now that they’d eaten. Only the diehards would stay for the free booze until it, too, was cut off.

He looked around, aware that dusk was gathering and feeling his anxiety growing. Where was she? His heart had known even before he had started checking the toilets. She could have used going to the restroom as a ruse, daring the killer to finally make his move.

Still, he went back along the row of toilets, looking for a sign of a struggle, trying to think like the killer, because he didn’t want to believe Bailey had gone rogue. If the killer had grabbed her here, wouldn’t someone have noticed?

He hurried to the last stall and looked into the thick stand of cottonwoods. Golden leaves cascaded down in the breeze, ghostlike in the last of the daylight. He could smell the river but couldn’t see it. He looked down at the bed of leaves on the ground. There was no way to track her. Except for her phone.

He looked on his phone and then at the last outhouse in the row. The phone was inside there. As soon as the person came out, he checked and knew at once. It had been dropped down into the toilet hole. He swore.

Stuart thought he was being so careful, hardly letting her out of his sight. But he knew in his gut, in his heart. The killer had her—just as she’d known the man would come for her. Why hadn’t she called for help? What had happened after she’d disappeared around the corner along the row of portable toilets? Was it possible she’d dropped her phone into the hole so he couldn’t follow her? Not even Bailey would do that to throw him off her trail.

His mind raced as he felt seconds ticking by. Think. Where would the killer take her? He tried to remember who of the four men Bailey had suspected were still at the party. He’d seen all four of them just minutes ago, hadn’t he?

Through the low limbs of the cottonwoods, he could see nothing but darkness. If he was right and this was where she’d been grabbed, then where could he take her and not be seen? Not to get his valeted vehicle. He’d head for the river and the county road, where he’d either stashed another vehicle, or...

Or someone was picking him up.

The accomplice.

Making a quick call to the deputies he had standing by, he told them to stop any vehicle leaving the barbecue. Then he rushed back to the party to look one more time for Bailey. He felt as if he’d just missed her by a few minutes. But she was nowhere in sight. Because she was no longer here.

He was more convinced than ever that the killer would have taken her into the trees toward the river. But before he could move, he heard his name called and turned to see Holden rushing toward him. “If this is about Tilly—”

“No,” Holden said, sounding winded. Or scared. Stuart’s pulse jumped. “I saw her.”

“Bailey?” he asked hopefully, but the rancher shook his head.

“The woman who told me that one of our horses was out at the last barbecue,” Holden said, catching his breath. “I just saw her getting in her pickup and remembered. It was Norma, Norma Jones.”

Stuart stared at him. That wasn’t possible. Ralph Jones was the man? “Was Ralph with her?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“She was by herself and seemed to be in a hurry. Where’s Bailey?”

“Ralph Jones has her,” he said, even though he was having trouble imagining that Ralph was the man. But how else could he explain it? Unless someone else had told Norma to notify Holden about the horse twelve years ago.

Stuart couldn’t take the chance. “Don’t let anyone else out on the road, and if you see Norma, don’t let her leave. Or Ralph either.” Stuart turned and ran toward the stable, where a saddled horse was waiting for just this occurrence. They had tried to think of everything, knowing if the man wanted to get to Bailey, he would.

As he swung up into the saddle and spurred the horse toward the cottonwoods, he notified his deputies. “Stop Norma Jones and her husband, Ralph. Whatever you do, don’t let them get away.”