Reunion at Cardwell Ranch (13 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Sid had little to thank her sister Zander for, and yet tonight as she climbed on her snowmobile, pulling the ski mask down over her face, she was thankful for the part of Zander that loved breaking the rules. Her sister had acquired a talent for breaking and entering at a young age. A couple of times she’d dragged her unsuspecting little sister into her mischief. When Sid had gotten caught, she hadn’t told on Zander.

Instead, Sid had used that leverage to force her sister to teach her the tricks. Since then, she’d picked up a few of her own thanks to the internet. That and making the right friends. Her childhood friend Maisie had been quick to help with Sid’s plan by coming to Big Sky and getting the job at the security company.

Along with being able to shut off the power to a house for up to ten minutes, Maisie was also able to give Sid computer access to the cameras Laramie had installed. She could see him coming and going that way. Her computer beeped whenever the camera was activated.

Earlier, she’d watched on screen as Laramie came out of the house, all dressed up and carrying a bottle of wine as he got into his rental SUV and left. No doubt headed for Cardwell Ranch. She felt a pang of regret. If only she was going with him. She thought about the horseback ride and the kiss. There was something about this Texas cowboy that tugged at her heartstrings—the worst thing that could happen to her right now.

As she drove her snowmobile up the mountain, she told herself that Laramie Cardwell’s only interest in her was as an art thief. If she thought it was more than that—which she wanted to be true—then she was setting herself up for a heartbreak.

Zander had called earlier asking about what kind of wine Sid preferred.

“Seriously?” Sid had said.

Zander had laughed. “So you’re still a beer drinker. You’re such a Montana girl. Okay. I can’t wait for tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll drop by a few things I’ve picked up later tonight. Would that be all right?”

She’d said she had to go out for a while. “But I trust you know how to let yourself in.”

Her sister had chuckled. “See you later, then.”

Sid hoped she had plenty of time to get this job done and return before her sister showed up. She didn’t like the idea of Zander having too much time alone in her cabin.

Taking the back trails she knew so well, she put the Texas cowboy out of her mind. She was on a job. Just business—plain and simple. She would get in and out. And that would be the end of it. If Laramie suspected she was the one who’d taken the painting, well...let him prove it. Not even Laramie Cardwell could seduce the truth out of her. But she would like to see him try, she thought for only an errant moment.

If he was merely trying to catch a thief, then once she had the painting, he would lose interest in her. It would be over. She’d have the proof she needed about his feelings for her. That thought did little to warm the cold winter night.

She stopped a short distance from the house and killed the engine. Working her way through the snow up to the side of the house, she checked her watch and waited until the outside light behind the house blinked out.

A few moments later, she was climbing up the side of the house onto the roofline. She went in the same way she had the first time—through an upstairs window. She’d disabled the lock the first time she was there and doubted Laramie had noticed. Most windows this high above the ground were never locked anyway.

Lowering herself by the rope she’d attached to the chimney, she dropped down to the window, opened it and slipped inside. As long as she moved quickly, no one would be the wiser. In and out. Five minutes tops.

As she slipped into Laramie’s master bedroom, she dropped to the floor and checked her watch. She waited a moment, listening, before she turned on her penlight.

* * *

“I
T
WAS
GOOD
to see you, son,” Laramie’s father said as he left. “I hope you think about spending even more time up here now.” It was what Angus always said. It was no secret that he hoped all of his sons would return to Montana.

Once outside, Laramie breathed in the cold night air and headed for his SUV. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Sid would hit his house tonight. The cameras he had installed would prove it. But he knew that what he needed more than anything was to catch her in the act.

Maybe then he could get some answers out of her. And then he could corral these feelings he had for her.

But it was still early. He told himself she wouldn’t attempt the theft until later—just as she had done last time. Laramie knew he was hoping he was wrong about her. Maybe she really was busy tonight—doing something other than robbing him.

It had begun to snow again as Laramie drove toward Sid’s cabin. Huge lacy flakes spiraled down from the darkness in a dizzying white. He told himself he was on a fool’s errand. He would find her in her cabin wrapping presents, visiting with friends over a bottle of wine, possibly even spending a quiet evening with another man.

That thought jolted him hard. He hadn’t even considered that there might be a man in her life. A woman who looked like her? Of course, there would be a man.

Or not, he thought. Wouldn’t a man have to know what Sid did late at night? The man would either have to be in on it or...

He found her cabin from the directions the waitress who knew her at Texas Boys Barbecue had provided.

“You can’t miss it. Small cabin, stuck back in the woods. It’s the last place on that road.”

As the cabin appeared in his headlights, he saw that there was no light behind the windows. He slowed, aware that he would now have to turn around. What if she was home...and sitting in the dark, waiting for him to drive by to check on her? He shook off that ridiculous idea.

She wasn’t home, he told himself as he turned around. Probably out on a date. Or shopping for groceries. Or out on a date. Or finishing up her Christmas shopping. Mentally he kicked himself. What was wrong with him? He’d never acted like this with any other woman.

But when he stole a look in his rearview mirror as he pulled away, he knew that Obsidian “Sid” Forester was like no other woman he’d ever met. He also realized as the dark cabin disappeared from view, that it was probably no coincidence that she lived on such an isolated road. He couldn’t see any other cabins near hers but it was dark and the pines were thick on the mountain behind her cabin. Maybe this place wasn’t as isolated as he thought, but he wouldn’t have bet on it.

The snow was falling harder now. It blew past horizontally on a gust of wind, shaking the SUV, shaking his thoughts. Sid wasn’t out buying groceries or last-minute Christmas presents. Nor did he believe she was on a date.

No, if he was right about her, she was at his house right now stealing the painting like the thief she was.

* * *

J
ADE
CALLED
RIGHT
as Rock was pulling around the back of his studio. “I’m on my way.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked, sounding pouty. “I’m already on my third drink.”

Just what he needed—her sloppy drunk before he rescued her. “I forgot to ask. How was the spa treatment?”

“Wonderful.”

“Good. Sip that drink. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He disconnected, pocketed his phone and got out. Even with darkness upon him, the temperature was in the forties. He loved a good holiday thaw when the snow disappeared at lower elevations and he didn’t have to be bundled up as much. He was sick of winters. Maybe he and Jade should move south. They could get a place in Arizona. Jade might like that.

He unlocked the back door of the studio again and stepped in. The room smelled of chemicals and the odor hit him like a two-by-four in the face. He quickly moved to the windows and opened them even though this thaw couldn’t last much longer.

Breathing a little easier, he looked around the room for what he might have forgotten. Maybe he was just being paranoid. No, he realized as he spotted it. He’d forgotten to clean up the garbage with the empty bottles of acetone and bleach, masks and gloves. He shook his head at how close he’d come to blowing it. Pulling out a garbage bag, he quickly filled it and spun around as a shadow filled the open doorway.

Alarmed, he dropped the bag. “Oh, you startled me there for a moment.” He reached for the garbage bag, telling himself to play it cool. “I was just leaving, but maybe we can talk—” The rest died on his lips as he saw the gun. “Wait a minute.” He held the full garbage bag in front of him as if it would stop a bullet, and he took a step back, his mind racing. “This is a mistake. You don’t want to—”

The first shot caught him in the chest at heart level. He barely felt the second or third or even fourth shots as he fell to the concrete floor.

* * *

L
ARAMIE
DROVE
ONLY
partway up the mountain to his house. He hadn’t seen another soul on the road tonight once he’d left Meadow Village, other than the faint light of a snowmobile through the falling snow shortly after he’d turned around at Sid’s cabin.

In a wide spot where the snowplow had turned around, he parked and got out. The walk up the mountain had him breathing fairly hard. Even though he was in good shape, he still wasn’t used to the altitude.

As he reached the top of a rise, he slowed. Fortunately there was no moon tonight and clouds obscured even the stars. The darkness would have been complete if not for the blanket of reflective snow that covered the ground.

That gut feeling he’d had earlier at dinner had proved right, he thought as he looked toward the house. A tiny light bobbed in the master bedroom.
Sid was here.

His heart began to pound with both excitement at finally catching her—and disappointment. He realized he’d been hoping he was wrong all this time. Or that there was a good explanation. Clearly he didn’t know this woman. For that reason, he felt a sliver of concern that he might be walking into something more dangerous than he thought.

His plan on the way up the mountain had been to catch her in the act. Now that he was almost to the house, he realized she could be armed. He thought of the woman he’d kissed. She wouldn’t shoot him, even if she was armed, he told himself.

You’d stake your life on a kiss?
It was Austin’s cynical voice in his head. He knew his brother had staked his life on even less.

Laramie reached the side door, unlocked it and stepped in. He had only a matter of seconds to disarm the silent security system. Or had she already disabled it? He couldn’t take the chance that it might go off and alert her.

As quietly as possible, he stepped to it to punch in the code and saw that the system was off. He looked toward the stairs.

* * *

S
ID
PICKED
UP
the painting and hesitated. Why had he left both of the paintings here together? Because he knew she would be back for one of them. She slid the light over the canvas of one and then the other until she found what she was looking for.

The difference between the two paintings was impossible for anyone else to discern. But she knew where to look. She picked up the forgery and, her penlight guiding the way, started toward the window with time to spare.

But still her footsteps faltered. Laramie would know she’d taken it. He’d been waiting for her to return. He’d had the cameras installed so he could catch her. She remembered his lips on hers, the taste and feel of him.

She shook off the memory. All the kiss had been was a ruse. Him making her doubt he was onto her. She mentally shook herself, telling herself she had known the score from the beginning. It wasn’t as if she’d fallen for it. The irony didn’t escape her. She was the thief, the liar, the one who wasn’t being honest with
him
.

Sid wasn’t sure if she heard or just sensed something.

Someone else was in the house.

She froze, listening. A faint sound two floors below. All houses had their own unique sounds, but this was human.

Her gaze shot up to the cameras. No light. They weren’t on yet. She checked her watch. Time was running out. She had to move.

Hastily, she snapped off the penlight and slipped it into her pocket. As she started to step out the window into the falling snow, Sid belatedly realized the mistake she’d made in her hurry. The penlight, not all the way into her pocket, fell out, dropped to the floor and clattered on the hardwood.

* * *

L
ARAMIE
LOOKED
UP
as he heard the sound. She was here, on the top floor. He felt his heart take off at a gallop at the thought of catching her red-handed. They could quit playing this game of cat and mouse.

The thought should have brought him more satisfaction. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted since that first night? No, he thought as he turned toward the stairs. At first all he had wanted was to find the woman—not fall for her. Had he found her in Obsidian “Sid” Forester? He was about to find out.

He took a step toward the first stair, telling himself it would be over soon, one way or another. Behind him, he heard a floorboard creak and frowned in momentary confusion. Until that moment, he hadn’t considered that there might be more than one of them.

As he spun around, he had only a moment to take in the person before him. “Sid?” The glare of the falling snow outside the window lit her face. Too late he caught the movement of her arm—and the weapon in her hand.

Instinctively, he tried to step back, bumping into the stairs. The blow to the side of his head staggered him. He fought to keep his balance, but his eyesight was dimming to nothing more than a pinpoint.

He felt himself falling, blackness filling his vision, filling his head. The last thing he saw was her standing over him with the weapon in her hand.

Chapter Fifteen

“You hit him too hard,” Sid said with a curse as she knelt down beside Laramie. She hadn’t known what was going on downstairs and had been shocked to find her sister standing over him.

“I had no choice. He would have caught you.”

Sid quickly felt for a pulse and then checked his pupils. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I thought you might need my help. When I saw him come by the cabin...”

She shot her sister a look over her shoulder. The last thing she needed was help. In a few more seconds she would have been out the window and gone.

“He saw me,” her sister said, raised her hands in surrender when Sid turned to glare at her in disbelief. “Don’t worry, he thought I was you.”

“Great. That’s perfect.”

“Maybe he won’t remember anything,” Zander offered.

Sid shook her head in exasperation as she turned back to Laramie. “Get me a cold cloth out of the kitchen.”

Zander returned a few moments later. “Here.” She thrust the cold wet cloth into Sid’s hand. “So what are
you
doing here?” Her gaze went to the painting leaning against the wall where Sid had dropped it. “Is that one of them?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Sid didn’t bother to answer as Laramie moaned, his eyelids fluttering.

“You should get out of here before he wakes up.”

“We both should,” Zander said, her eyes riveted to the painting. “And why all the concern over this guy? Is there more going on here than even I think?”

“Wait for me at my cabin. We can talk later.” Zander still hesitated. Laramie moaned again. “Go! I don’t want him catching both of us here.”

Her sister finally moved, slipping out into the night. Laramie was coming to.

* * *

L
ARAMIE
WOKE
WITH
a killer headache. He tried to get up from where he lay on the floor, but he settled for sitting on the lower step until his head cleared a little. He had a bump on his temple that throbbed and hurt like hell when he touched it.

At the sound of footfalls, he looked up, shocked to see he wasn’t alone. “What did you hit me with?”

“I’m sorry about your headache.”

“Are you?”

“How’s your head?” she asked, ignoring the question.

“It hurts.” He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to understand what she was still doing here. Why hadn’t she just taken the painting and left? “I figured you’d be long gone.”

She nodded. “So did I.” She took a step toward him. “Here, I found these in your medicine cabinet. I’ll get you a glass of water.” She dropped two white pills into his open palm.

He stared at them.

“They’re just aspirin,” she said.

“Right.”

“If I was going to drug you, don’t you think I already would have?”

“Quite frankly, I never know what to expect with you,” he said.

He took the two white pills she handed him and stared at them while she went into the kitchen. They looked like two over-the-counter pain pills.

She handed him a glass of water. He met her gaze, held it for a moment and downed the pills and the water.

“So are we going to be honest now?” he asked. When she didn’t say anything, he added, “I hope you aren’t going to tell me that the real cat burglar was the one who hit me.”

“It’s a long story.”

“One I’m dying to hear.”

“Maybe we’d better go into the living room where it is more comfortable, then,” she said.

He got up from the step, still feeling woozy, but anxious to hear any explanation she had to give.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Sid said when they were seated across from each other.

“Why don’t you start with why you need that painting so much,” he said pointing to it where she’d left it by the stairs.

She sighed and looked away for a moment. When she looked at him again, he saw that her beautiful eyes had filled with tears. “I need it to catch the men who murdered my father.”

Laramie felt a start. Her father was
murdered
? “Who was your father?”

“H. F. Powell.”

* * *

L
ARAMIE
STARED
AT
HER
. “You’re his
daughter
? So Forester is your...married name?”

She shook her head. “My parents never married. I told you it was a long story.”

His head ached. He rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of this. “You said your father was murdered? I hadn’t heard anything about that.”

“Because his death was ruled an accident. The investigators believed my father had started the fire that destroyed his studio and everything in it—including him.”

“But you think it was murder?”

“I
know
it was murder, and I’ve been working to prove it.”

He sat up a little straighter. While his brain probably wasn’t functioning as well as it could have been under the circumstances, he couldn’t help suspecting he was being conned.

“Excuse my skepticism, but I don’t see how stealing paintings will help you solve his...alleged murder.”

“At first, I thought that the investigators were right and that my father
had
started the fire,” Sid said. “Until the forgeries started showing up.”

“Maybe it’s my headache, but I’m having trouble—”

She sighed again and got to her feet to pace. “You have to understand. My father was an eccentric genius and because of that he made enemies.” Sid waved an arm through the air as if that was putting it mildly. “Admittedly, he was often his own worst enemy. He wasn’t...conventional. He hated rules. Which is probably one reason he and my mother never married. He’d married once before and the woman had left him. My father also didn’t make the best husband—or father, for that matter. He would lock himself in his studio for days on end until he was too exhausted to paint.”

Laramie said nothing, just letting her talk, as he tried to make sense of what she was telling him.

“When the Old West Artists Coalition was started, my father just assumed they would invite him to join.” She stopped pacing to let out a laugh. “He would have turned them down flat. He
hated
organizations. But instead, they shunned him, saying that while his paintings were all right, his character was lacking.”

Laramie thought he could see how that might affect a man like the one she’d described. “He was angry?”

Sid barked out another laugh. “He was
furious
. He swore he would show them that he could paint so much better than any of them that they wouldn’t be able to tell his forgeries from their own work.” She nodded. “He became obsessed. He quit painting his own work, determined to show them up.”

“They found out and tried to stop him,” he guessed.

“He must have bragged to someone about what he was doing. He planned to expose them at their annual conference.”

Laramie saw where she was headed with this. “The forgeries were in the studio the night of the fire?”

She nodded. “I’ve always questioned why he would go to all the trouble of painting the copies only to change his mind and destroy not just them, but also himself.” Sid met his gaze. “That’s just it. He wouldn’t have.”

“So whoever took the forgeries...”

“Killed my father.”

Laramie blew out a breath of air as he leaned back. “And you think you know who took them. If you’re right, then you do realize how dangerous this pursuit of yours is, don’t you?”

She smiled at that.

“Right,” he said, feeling foolish. This was a woman who ran along rooflines in the middle of the night, broke into houses, chancing everything to get these forgeries back. This was his cat burglar.

“So have you figured out who is responsible?”

“I suspected it was one of the four founders of OWAC, but now I’m thinking all four of them were behind it. They are the ones who kept my father out of organization, the ones he despised the most. They are the ones who had the most to lose by his plan to expose them and their organization. They’d been pulling some fast ones, using the organization to raise money for charities and pocketing most of it. They had reason to fear him. By then my father was being recognized as a great artist. Once he revealed the forgeries, there would have been a lot of bad publicity that would have hurt them and shone a light on their organization. They would have been lucky if they hadn’t ended up in jail.”

Laramie closed his eyes for a moment, glad that the aspirin seemed to be doing the job of relieving his headache a little. “What I don’t understand is why did the person who killed your father take the forgeries? Why not leave them to burn?”

“I assume the killer was worried that the fire might be put out before all the evidence burned. Maybe they planned to destroy the copies. If I’m right and all four of them were in on it, then one of them must have been responsible for getting rid of the forgeries—but didn’t.”

Laramie nodded. “You’re sure these are forgeries that your father painted?”

“Yes.”

He thought about what Taylor West had told him. There was only one artist who was so good that he could make a forgery that even the artist believed was his painting—H. F. Powell. That explained why West got so upset once he realized the significance of the painting Laramie had brought to him. It was one of the forgeries.

“Still, it makes no sense,” he argued. “Why would one of them take the chance of letting these forgeries get back on the market?”

Sid shrugged. “Money, would be my guess. Also, maybe he thought enough time had passed that the duplicate paintings wouldn’t come to light.”

He studied her beautiful face, realizing what she’d been doing. “So you’re stealing back the forgeries.”

She didn’t deny it.

“So you have all of them?” Laramie asked.

“With the one you have, yes.”

“And with them, you’ll be able to prove who killed your father?”

She looked away. “I thought I would, but it isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. And now I have one more forgery that has turned up that I need to get. Unfortunately, I don’t have an original to trade.”

* * *

“W
AS
THAT
HIM
?”
Zander asked as Sid came in the back door. Her sister was sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bottle of wine on the floor next to her.

She was already furious with her sister. “What?”

“The man you’re falling for,” Zander said, grinning as she sat up. “Don’t try to deny it. I saw the way you were with him.” She shook her head. “I can’t see any way this is going to turn out well.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really. You never told me why you went there tonight.”

She had no patience for this. “Guess.”

“Another so-called forgery.” Zander shook her head. “I was hoping you had turned into a real cat burglar. I guess it was too much to hope for. Seriously, when are you going to stop this?”

“When I’m finished with what I started. Thanks to you, I didn’t get away clean tonight.” She turned her back to her sister, too angry to deal with her right now. “I had to tell Laramie what I was doing.”

Zander swore. “That was a mistake.”

“Maybe.” She trusted him, probably a mistake. But she’d had no choice, thanks to her sister.

“If you’d told me what you were doing, I could have helped you.”

Sid turned. “
Helped me?
You could have helped by staying away.”

“Isn’t it possible that I want justice for our father, too?”

“I thought you didn’t believe he was murdered?” Sid demanded. Then she saw her sister’s expression. “You
do
believe it.”

Zander’s gaze met hers. “Does it matter? I still can’t see how any of this is going to help. He’s gone. Nothing you do can bring him back.”

She didn’t want to argue about this. It wasn’t revenge. It was simple justice. But maybe it would end just as her sister had predicted and she wouldn’t be able to prove who killed him—let alone see that the men responsible got what was coming to them.

“Just let me finish what I started.”

Zander got up from the couch. “Tonight aside, you’re pushing your luck. I don’t even want to know what you told Laramie Cardwell after I left. If any of this gets out and the killer finds out you’re after him... The way I see it, you
need
my help.”

Sid would love to have argued that her sister was wrong. Unfortunately, if she had any hope of pulling off the next part, she could use Zander’s expertise.

Seeing her weaken, her sister smiled. “You know I’m good because I taught you everything you know.”

“Not
everything
. If I thought I could trust you...”

Her sister looked excited. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

“You might not be when I tell you my plan.”

* * *

L
ARAMIE
DIDN
’
T
KNOW
what to think after Sid left. She’d trusted him with her story. He’d believed her. And while he’d done his best to talk her into going to the marshal, she’d refused, telling him that while she had all the paintings, she didn’t have any proof. Yet. She made him promise he wouldn’t go to the authorities, either.

“I went to the police when the first forgery turned up,” she’d said. “I saw it at a gallery in Bozeman. The police didn’t believe me.”

“How can you be so sure it was one of your father’s?” he’d asked, hating how skeptical he sounded.

She’d gone to the painting she’d left leaning against the wall by the stairs and brought it over to him. “I know this looks identical to the original, but my father had too much ego to copy it exactly. He had to leave his mark on it.” She’d cocked the painting so the overhead light fell across it. “It’s very small but if you look closely,” she’d said pointing to a spot.

“It looks like a wolf’s face.”

Sid laughed. “Like I said, my father’s ego made him leave a little something of himself behind. The lone wolf. But it is camouflaged and easily goes unnoticed—unless you know what to look for and where.” She’d seen his still-skeptical expression and had left the painting to go upstairs to retrieve the original. “See for yourself.”