Hard Evidence (16 page)

She jogged up the hill and met Lauren and Ian who were coming down, side by side. She hid a smile at their budding friendship. “What’s up?”

“Ian’s dad wants him to choose the colors for his room at the house in town before the hardware store closes. Is it all right if I take him? I’m nearly done for today, anyhow.”

“Not a problem. Afterward, maybe you can even have some fun—go inner tubing on one of the creeks, or go to Tessa’s and sign up for a trail ride. Just be sure to let Ian’s dad know.”

“Thanks!” The two broke into a run and raced down the hill, Ian’s limp far less obvious than it had been before. His tough shell of defiance had faded, and yesterday, he’d even joined them all in a mealtime prayer.

Progress,
she thought.
In so many ways. Thank you, Lord, for how you take care of your children.

She found the mud-caked object where she’d left it earlier. A faint, dull bit of gold color showed through the dirt, and she smiled at Rylie’s “treasure.”

It was probably a child’s piece of cheap, dime-store jewelry. Something out of a gumball machine. But to Rylie, it would always be special because she’d come across it in such an exciting way.

Gingerly picking it up, Janna took it back to the lodge and dropped it into a bowl of hot, sudsy water.

But when she withdrew it a half hour later, she blinked.

Held it up to the light. Grabbed a terry cloth dish towel and vigorously polished it, then stared at it again.

Possibilities raced through her thoughts at what Rylie had found…in dirt that had been excavated not more than 100 yards from where Maggie had found the bones.

It was a woman’s ring.

A college ring, in heavy gold with intricate scrollwork and an incredible opal with dazzling fire. The kind of ring that had probably cost the earth, and it had come from an expensive private college out East.

It was the kind of ring that one would search for endlessly until it was found.

So what was it doing in a pile of excavated dirt? The most likely scenario was that someone simply lost it, but an uneasy chill of foreboding swept through Janna all the same.

The delicate script on the side said 1990. The approximate year of the murder.

What if its owner had come here—and never left?

J
anna moved to a sunny window in the kitchen and held the ring up to the light once more. It was the loveliest class ring she’d ever seen. A wave of unspeakable sadness swept through her over the secrets it might hold.

She left a message on Michael’s cell phone, then called the sheriff’s office. The secretary said he was helping the highway patrol with a major accident outside of Salt Creek and might not be back for another hour.

He planned to paint some rooms in his house tonight, so Janna might not even see him until tomorrow.

But since the moment she’d seen the ring, a small, insistent voice in her head had started a litany that would not stop.
Don’t wait…. don’t wait
…

Frowning, she glanced at the late-afternoon shadows lengthening across the yard. The hair at her nape prickled.
Foolishness,
she admonished herself.

Yet…if she went to town, she might see Michael sooner, and she could certainly use a run to the grocery store for more supplies. If she made it in time, she could even pick up her limited-liability document at the lawyer’s office, so it could be framed and posted at the lobby registration desk.

She pocketed the ring, grabbed her purse and locked up the lodge, but out on the porch she hesitated, then withdrew the ring and tried it on several fingers until she found a perfect fit. “I don’t want to lose you,” she murmured.

With a last glance at her watch, she hurried to her truck.

Connie, the pretty secretary in the sheriff’s office, had been a few years ahead of Janna in school. She smiled in welcome when Janna walked through the door.

But she shook her head when Janna asked if Michael was on his way back. “Fatalities,” she said grimly. “And there’s a chemical spill all over the highway. The environmental people aren’t even there yet.”

“Can I leave him a message?” When Connie handed her a pad of phone message forms, Janna wrote a quick note about finding something that might be evidence and passed it back. “It’s not an emergency. I’d just like to talk to him today if possible. Have you seen his son recently?”

“He met his dad here just before that 911 call came in. I believe he and Lauren Young arranged to go out to your sister’s place for some sort of a moonlight trail ride and cook-out.”

“Sounds like fun.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall. The law office would be closing in five minutes, the grocery store in a half hour. “Oops, I’d better run. Thanks!”

She crossed the street and hurried several doors down. The sign in the large plate glass window of the law office said Closed, but she could see Wade standing behind the open blinds, reaching for the cord to shut them.

She waved and made a pleading gesture with her hands. He motioned her toward the front door, unlocked it and ushered her in.

“I saw you headed this way and thought I’d better wait.” He gave her a benevolent, gentle smile. “Your liability statement, right? It’s on my desk.”

She followed him back to his office, where he settled into his chair and sifted through a stack of papers. He handed over the document, with an invoice paper clipped to it.

But when she accepted it, his gaze fell on her hand, and he gave a low whistle. “That’s quite an opal,” he marveled. He took her hand and drew it farther over his desk to admire the stone. “So much fire. My mother adores them, so I’m afraid I ended up quite the connoisseur.” Again, the soft, almost obsequious smile. “I don’t suppose you’d consider parting with this one? For a fair price, of course. I could have it reset for her.”

“Probably not. But I’ll certainly let you know if I ever do.” Uncomfortable with the awkward position of her arm, Janna withdrew her hand and pulled her checkbook out of her purse.

He shook his head. “Please, don’t bother right now. You’ve got thirty days, and I’ve already closed out my books for the day.”

Surprised and grateful, she rose. “By then I’ll have regular cabin guests arriving, so that will be perfect. Thanks!”

He walked her to the door and opened it for her. “So things are going well?”

“Very. Almost on schedule, too.”

“Almost?”

“We still need to correct the septic problems, and Earl’s backhoe broke down.”

He shook his head. “Good luck. I sit on the county board and have coffee with some of the county guys every Monday morning. I’ve heard that some of Earl’s clients had to hire someone else after he botched things up and couldn’t get past the inspections. Cost those people a ton of money for the work and the legal fees.”

Janna felt her heart sink. “He seems like a nice man.”

“But he could end up costing far more than you expected, and that’s a fact. The question is—just how deep in debt do you want to go with that place?”

The question rankled, but she forced a breezy smile and turned for the door. “Whatever it takes, I guess.”

“Well, I’d just be careful, if I were you.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “And not just with that money pit.”

She froze, halfway out the entrance. “Why?”

“There’s just some talk, you understand. But it had to start somewhere.” He looked over her shoulder at the empty sidewalk before continuing. “My housekeeper’s son is a wild one, and he told her about some guy out at the Hilltop Tavern last weekend. Drunk as a skunk, bragging about how the McAllisters were going to be sorry they ever messed with him.”

Lowell Haskins?
Or the shadowy figure she’d seen in the woods a month ago? They could even be one and the same, which would make perfect sense. Janna’s stomach tightened. “Did you hear his name?”

“No, but it sounds like he was either an employee or did business with your family.” Wade’s brows knit together in a worried frown. “I still worry about you living out in the middle of nowhere, with someone like Lowell on the area. I saw him in front of the tavern not an hour ago, so be careful.”

“I will.” She smiled and patted his arm on her way out, thankful for his concern. “I do know my way around a shotgun, and definitely won’t hesitate to use it.”

Janna hesitated in front of the grocery store, then turned on her heel and sauntered down toward the tavern. Sure enough, Lowell was lounging in front with a couple of other cowboys, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He blew out a cloud of smoke and eyed her, his mouth twisted in a sneer. “If it isn’t a McAllister. We should be honored.”

The other two laughed, then vanished into the tavern, leaving her face-to-face with a man who clearly despised her simply for who she was.
Please, God, help me find the right words. I don’t want to make things worse.

He drew deeply on his cigarette, then dropped it to the sidewalk and ground it into the cement with the heel of his boot.

She eyed the cigarette, wanting to grab it for evidence. Wondering how she could manage without being too obvious.

He followed her gaze, then picked it up himself and, fixing a cold stare on her face, rolled it between his fingers until it crumbled to shreds of tobacco. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I—I’m just trying to understand.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t know even know you, yet this is the second time you’ve been rude. And now I hear around town that you’ve been threatening us.”

“Have I?” He shrugged. He pulled a near-empty pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and shook one out, his palm covering the brand name on the package. “Now, what could an old, broke cowboy like me do to the likes of you? And why would I care?”

He lit the cigarette.

Dropped the match.

Then touched the brim of his hat in a mocking gesture. “See you around, Ms. McAllister. I’m just real sure I’ll see you around.”

During her fast trip through the grocery store, Janna sorted through the possibilities.

It had been weeks since she’d seen anyone lurking out in the woods, but the problems at the lodge had been escalating. Slowly. Inexorably.

Just how far would this enemy go, and what was the culprit after?

Given the speed of small-town gossip, everyone in town knew about the bones by now, and knew it could be a year or more before there were answers. Plenty of time for a killer to pack up and leave town if he feared that the DCI might find some sort of identifying evidence.

So, if Lowell—or someone else—had anything to do with the murder, why wouldn’t he or she flee to some distant state?

Janna stowed her groceries in the back of her pickup and drove to the edge of town. She eyed the cheerful sign for a small B&B, and for the first time she hesitated about going home. Everyone was gone. She’d be alone until Michael and Ian returned to their cabin late tonight. If the painting project took longer than expected, maybe Michael would even call Ian and have him come back into town after the trail ride, rather than risk driving the narrow mountain roads leading up to the lodge.

But there was also the possibility that Lauren could drop Ian back at the cabins, and then he would be there alone.

Janna had to go back.

Throwing the truck into gear, she drove through the low, flat floor of the valley, then turned up the gravel county road leading to Snow Canyon. The sun disappeared behind a heavy bank of clouds and the air grew ominously still. Not a blade of grass moved.

Then the sky turned to indigo and a stiff wind came up, pelting the side of the truck with rain and swirls of gravel.

She hunched forward to make out the road ahead between swipes of the wipers that couldn’t keep up with the deluge. She debated about pulling over, but the road was narrow, and vehicles coming in either direction might mistake her for a moving vehicle and plow right into her.

Several times she caught a glimpse of distant headlights in her rearview mirror, so it was a possibility.

The road wound higher and higher up the side of the mountain. From a single, clear vantage point on a hairpin turn she could see a dark vehicle, illuminated for just a heartbeat by the flash of lightning.

Odd. She was driving at a snail’s pace. Most locals drove like they were on a speedway despite the dangerous roads, but this car was keeping a steady distance behind her. A vacationer, maybe, frightened by the terrain and the weather. Or…

She came around another bend in clear view of the road below and stopped. The other vehicle went slower, then eased to a halt, as well. Was he
following
her?

Wade’s warnings ran through her brain, faster and faster. There were sheer drop-offs along this section of road. A thousand feet. Fifteen hundred feet or more. They led down to rocky, brush-strewn creek beds. Piles of boulders. Stands of pine and birch. Years ago a traveler had disappeared up here one autumn, and his car—with him in it—hadn’t been found until spring melt.

If someone wanted retribution against the McAllisters, this would be a perfect place to run a car off the road.

Her pulse raced as she stepped on the gas, easing along faster. The truck fishtailed precariously close to the edge on the next rain-slickened curve, sending her heart rocketing into her throat.

She eased up on the accelerator, breathless and shaking. Afraid to risk looking back again.

Five curving miles ahead, the road snaked down into a valley before rising again, and there she would have cell-phone reception.

Halfway up that next hill was the turnoff to the lodge—where she had weapons locked away.
If I can just get there, Lord, I’ll be safe. Please help me….

Gripping the steering wheel even tighter, she blinked at the pouring rain. Maybe it was all just her imagination. The stuff of suspense movies. But when she began the descent into the valley, those headlights were still behind her.

Now they were
closer,
looming larger in her rearview mirror like some predatory animal, stalking its prey.
It’s just my imagination. It’s just my imagination. Surely nothing more than that.

But even when the road flattened out, offering a good four-mile stretch of straight road and clear vision, the car behind her made no move to pass.

Her hand trembling, she speed-dialed Michael. No answer. She took a steadying breath. Left a voice message.

Then she punched in 911, but the signal faded while she was giving her name location. Dropping the phone into her lap in frustration, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands just in time to negotiate the first of the hairpin turns leading up out of the valley. The other car was with in thirty feet of her bumper.

Twenty.

Fifteen.

Like a mountain lion tensed and waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

She barely slowed for the entrance to the lodge grounds, but here she surely had an advantage. She knew each curve, each slope.

She accelerated, the wheels slipping on the wet gravel, taking the first curves like a race driver. Then she floored the accelerator for the straight run up to the lodge, where she circled behind the building, threw the truck into park and took off running, the door key ready in her fist.

Her leather-soled boots slipped and slid on the wet grass, and she nearly went down, then struggled to her feet and kept going, half running, half falling.
The rifles are inside. I’ve got to get to the rifles.

Her lungs burning and muscles screaming, Janna closed the distance to the back door and nearly collapsed against it, fumbling frantically with the key—

A viselike grip encircled her from behind and lifted her off her feet. She kicked and fought, trying to reach behind to claw at her attacker. She sank her teeth into the hairy forearm clamped across her collarbones.

Her assailant grunted and tightened his grip until she could no longer breathe—then slammed her to the ground. She tried to scramble away, but the pouring rain obscured her vision, and her wet, muddy hair hung in front of her face like a dark curtain.

He caught her arm in a vicious grip that instantly turned her hand numb, then jerked her around, and shook her until her head snapped back.