The Legacy of Copper Creek (22 page)

They trooped down the hall, and Willow was parceling out rifles and sacks of bullets when Griff came running into the office with a look of alarm.

“There's a truck missing.”

Whit's eyes narrowed. “You sure of that?”

“I am.” He turned to Brady. “We took four trucks up to the hills, leaving six in the barn. There are only five now. And while I was checking, I stepped on this.” He held up a cell phone. “Didn't Carter say his phone was lost?”

“In the barn.” Brady nodded. “It makes sense. If someone, whether it was Cara or someone else, was making plans and got in there overnight, it would have been an easy matter to slip Carter's phone out of his pocket.” He gave a deep sigh of disgust. “I hope to heaven it isn't Cara. But whether she's guilty or not, we've been set up from the beginning.”

At a sudden thought, his head came up sharply. “Do you think this could have been set into motion by that scum ex-boyfriend…” He looked toward Whit to supply a name.

“Jared Billingham.” Whit spat the name from between clenched teeth.

“I guess we'll only know the truth when we find Cara. Finding her is the only way we'll have our answers.”

Their faces were grim as they marched out of the office, weapons in hand, and headed toward the convoy of trucks idling outside.

C
ara couldn't stop thinking about Myrna. Sweet Myrna, treating her with so much love. Opening her heart and her kitchen to someone she didn't know but trusted without reservation. And now that trust had been so cruelly betrayed.

She shuddered at the image playing through her mind. Myrna, innocently walking into a trap and now lying dead on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood. So much blood. Tears ran down Cara's cheeks and she knew she would never be able to erase that image.

Hadn't she known, the first time she saw this man's evil eyes, that he would stop at nothing to have what he wanted? But what did he want from her? She had nothing. And she knew nothing, except threatening words she'd overheard. How could she possibly be a threat to him?

She knew she had to brush aside any distractions and concentrate on the trail they were taking through this wild tangle of forest.

She forced herself to note landmarks. An odd-shaped boulder. A gnarled, twisted ponderosa pine. A cluster of trees in the middle of a high meadow forming a huge horseshoe shape.

She clenched her fists, desperate to free herself of the plastic restraints that cut into her flesh. She wouldn't let him take her without a fight. If she saw even the smallest window of escape, she would risk it. She knew, without a doubt, that this stranger intended to kill her and leave no trace of his evil deed to be discovered. She would be left in an unmarked grave in the wilderness, and no one would ever know the truth about how she had disappeared or what had become of her. She would be, as he'd promised, a cold case, never to be resolved.

Forgotten. A nobody.

“Check in with me every half hour,” Chief Pettigrew said sternly as the MacKenzies started toward their trucks. “I have a direct line to the state boys. Since they've now updated their search for a ranch truck, they'll need to know where you are at every turn so they don't mistake any of you for the one they're chasing.”

There were nods of agreement all around before they pulled open truck doors in preparation for their search.

Ash caught hold of Whit's arm. “I thought I'd ride along with you.”

Whit gave a quick shake of his head. “It makes more sense if we take as many vehicles as possible and fan out in different directions.”

“Look, bro. I know what you're going through. I don't think you should be driving.”

Whit shot him a cool look. “I'm driving. And I'm going to find Cara.”

He slammed the door shut and put the truck in gear.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Ash walked to a second truck. He hadn't just been mouthing platitudes. He knew all the emotions his brother was experiencing right now. Hadn't he been half mad with worry when Brenna's life was in danger?

Still, he hated the thought of Whit dealing with this alone. Sometimes just having someone to talk to could ease the fear gnawing a hole in his heart.

He watched the cloud of dust from Whit's truck and sighed. If Cara wasn't found, and soon, his little brother would be inconsolable, and true to MacKenzie tradition, would become a dangerous hothead.

While the other trucks fanned out, taking the back roads as well as the highway, Whit turned his vehicle toward the hills. He'd made up his mind to try his best to think like a cold-blooded killer. He knew in his heart that whoever pulled the trigger and shot Myrna was heartless and beyond cruel. That sort of person would avoid civilization and flee to the wilderness, where he could do his dirty work in secret.

From all that Cara had told him about Jared Billingham, the jerk fit the description of heartless. But could a millionaire living the good life in his fancy ski resort be depraved enough to kill a helpless old woman just for the sake of revenge? After all, Cara may have rejected Billingham, but such a thing didn't warrant this kind of cruelty.

But if not Jared Billingham, who?

He thought of the words Chief Pettigrew had spoken. Though they'd made his blood boil, he couldn't fault the chief for saying them. There were plenty of lovers who woke up one day to learn they'd been betrayed. That's what made prenuptial agreements so popular. Hell, even Cara had been betrayed by a guy she'd trusted.

But that didn't mean he had been persuaded to lose faith in her.

He knew her heart. Knew the goodness in her. A goodness that couldn't be faked. And knew, without a doubt, that someone had forced her to flee. Someone evil.

Evil eyes.

The words leapt into his mind, chilling his blood.

He pressed the speed dial that held the police chief's number.

At the sound of that deep, businesslike tone, his own voice was suddenly breathless. “Ira, do you remember when you followed up on Cara's story about the suit-and-tie guy and the old rancher?”

“Of course I do, Whit.”

“Do you remember what she said about him?”

Ira didn't even hesitate. “She knew he was a villain because he had evil eyes.”

“Exactly. She didn't think or wonder. She knew. Because she could see the evil in his eyes.” Whit paused, feeling his throat go dry. “Did Sheriff Hack over in Red Rock ever identify Suit-and-Tie?”

“No.”

“Is that case closed, then? The nephew is guilty?”

“I thought so. But Sheriff Hack met with the lawyer who inherited old Abe's ranch. He let him know that even though the nephew doesn't have an alibi for the night his uncle was shot, enough of his neighbors have come forward to vouch for his character that the authorities are having second thoughts. Sheriff Hack was hoping Abe's lawyer might have insight into what was going on in the old man's mind and might have some idea of anyone who would want old Abe dead.”

“So this makes two unsolved murders in our territory within a year.”

Ira uncharacteristically swore. “Don't remind me, son. Every morning, as soon as I'm awake, that fact lies heavy on my heart.”

“Ira, what if Evil Eyes got some inside information that the nephew is no longer under suspicion and wants to make certain the only witness against him is eliminated?”

There was a long, silent pause before Ira let out a breath. “Weren't you the one who told me you couldn't be sure if Cara's story was true or just a figment of her wild imagination?”

“Yeah. But now…” Whit clamped his jaw tight as he considered the implications. “Now I think there are just too many coincidences.”

“You listen to me, son. Just keep searching. Right now, I'm open to believing anything.”

As Whit gunned the engine, it occurred to him that throughout his lifetime he'd almost never been afraid of anything. His friends and family had teased him about being not only foolish, but also fearless. He'd taken brutal spills from the saddle, once even falling under the thunderous hooves of a stampeding herd, and had emerged feeling a rush of adrenaline rather than the fear that was natural to most men. He'd once slit open his leg from ankle to thigh on razor-sharp barbed wire and had driven himself more than fifty miles to the clinic, wrapped in a dirty towel, without losing hope or losing consciousness.

But right now, thinking that Cara could be in the hands of a desperate killer, the cold, hard pit of fear clawed at his insides, leaving him shaken to the core.

Willow rode shotgun while Brady drove. They'd taken back roads in the belief that anyone on the run would prefer them to the highway, even though the trail would be slow and possibly fruitless.

Willow's voice was muted, as though feeling her way through too many conflicting feelings. “I know how it all looks. The confession, the bank withdrawal slip…Myrna.” She shuddered before taking in a long, slow breath. “But I just can't bring myself to believe that Cara would do any of this.”

She turned to study Brady's stern profile. “You're a good judge of character. What do you think?”

He gave her a quick glance before returning his attention to the bumpy dirt road. “I'm inclined to think she was set up. None of this fits the girl we know.”

“Of course, we have to take into account what Ira said back there.” Willow clasped and unclasped her hands. “Nobody ever really knows the deepest, darkest secrets of others. Even the people we've known the longest.” She turned to stare out the side window. “It never occurred to me that Bear had a relationship with someone while I was out of the country.”

Brady laid his big hand over hers, stilling her movements. “What's important is this. Bear was a good man. So good, so true to his basic morals, he provided for a son he never even knew about, treating him as fairly in his last will and testament as the sons you and he share.”

“I know that, Brady. And I agree that he was a good man. But it certainly proves that even the ones we know intimately can harbor secrets.”

“That doesn't make Cara a killer.”

Willow gave him a weak smile. “We've known her scant weeks.”

“And she's been honest about her tough childhood and the mistakes she's made along the way.”

Now it was Willow's turn to place a hand over his. “I'm sorry, Brady. I didn't realize what I was saying…This has to bring back so many memories of your own childhood.”

He nodded. “Not all of us are lucky enough to grow up in a loving family like yours, Willow. We don't get a choice in the cards we're dealt. But we do get to say how we'll play those cards. I never told you, but Whit found an envelope in the range shack bearing Cara's signature and fifty-seven dollars and twenty-five cents. All the money she had left in the world. And she was leaving it to pay for her room and board, even though she could have walked away without anyone ever knowing she'd been there. You don't find that kind of integrity every day. Cara Walton strikes me as a wounded bird desperate for a second chance to fly.”

Willow blinked back the tears that threatened. “Now you've done it.”

He shot her a questioning look.

“When did my ranch foreman become a poet?”

His handsome face relaxed into a smile. “That's me. The poet of Copper Creek, Montana. Though most of your wranglers would prefer to call me a badass.”

“That's just a façade. Now that I've spent enough time with you, I know you're really a good, tenderhearted man who sees the goodness in everybody.”

“Careful. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me you're starting to fall for me.”

She turned away and watched the line of trees along the roadside. But though she pretended to be searching for the missing ranch truck and its occupants, the truth was, she could barely concentrate on the matter at hand.

…starting to fall for me.

Could Brady see? Was she so transparent, her entire family could see? Were they all tiptoeing around her, pretending not to notice the way she was drawn to him like a magnet?

Oh, sweet heaven. What was happening to her?

Bear had only been gone a year. His murderer was still walking free.

Her youngest son had gone off like a madman, chasing after a young woman who might easily break his heart this very day.

Her dear friend and housekeeper was fighting for her life.

And she was allowing herself to think about her foreman, and Bear's best friend, in a way that shamed her.

Maybe Brady was wrong. Maybe it was much more than “starting to fall for him.” Maybe she'd gone way beyond that and was just too much of a coward to admit it, even to herself.

M
ad. Can you hear me?”

Chief Pettigrew's voice boomed over Mad's speakerphone.

“Half of Montana can hear you,” Mad shouted over the drone of the Cessna's engine.

“I'm notifying everyone involved in this search to change your frequency to the following.”

After giving the state police frequency, Ira instructed each family member to identify themselves and their current locations.

Once Mad had changed the frequency of the Cessna, he and Juliet listened in silence as all members of the search party were brought on board and up to date.

For long minutes, Mad and Juliet remained silent, too shocked and stunned to process all the information that had been released.

Mad shook his head at the news. Sweet old Myrna shot and fighting for her life at the hospital. A bank withdrawal slip for a huge sum of money, bearing an excellent forgery of Willow MacKenzie's signature. Carter's cell phone stolen and used to send a text urging help with the herd in the highlands, presumably to ensure that the household would be empty and vulnerable. One of the ranch trucks stolen from the vehicle barn. And finally a note composed of pasted words and letters, left behind and claiming to be a confession from Cara Walton.

“I'll not believe it,” Mad muttered as he began a slow circle above the ranch. “Are ye listening down there?” He knew every word was being monitored by the police as well as his own family. In his agitated state, his Scottish burr thickened. “Until I hear the lass admit it in her own words, I'll not be persuaded that she had a hand in any of this.”

Juliet studied the ground below them. “What about the confession?”

Mad's voice rose. “Any criminal can paste words on a paper. But if the criminal doesn't have access to her handwriting, there's no way to forge her signature.” He softened his tone somewhat. “So you listen to me, Whit, wherever you are. Whoever this clever hoodlum is, he had to resort to words cut out from magazines, because it was the only way he could try to incriminate the lass.”

Ira's voice came over the plane's intercom. “I wish I could afford your luxury of emotion right now, Mad. Willow saw the signature on the bank withdrawal slip and pronounced it a fine forgery.”

“There you go, then.” Mad's voice was a growl of anger. “Whoever did this deed has access to Willow's signature, but not Cara's.”

Whit's voice came over the line and had all of them paying attention. “All right, then. At least some of us are in agreement that Cara simply isn't capable of committing the crimes she's accused of. Now let's find her. It's the only way she can clear her name. And the only way we can bring this monster to justice.” He paused before adding, “Ira, I think this eliminates from the list of possible suspects Jared Billingham, even though he's been sending Cara threatening texts. There's no way he would be able to closely duplicate my mother's signature.”

“I already have someone on it.” Ira's voice was amplified as it crackled over all their cell phones. “The state police are interviewing Billingham as we speak.”

“That's good.” After another pause, Whit said, “Mom, you need to think about how many people have access to documents bearing your signature. Maybe someone at the bank has a grudge against our family. Whatever the reason, someone has gone to a lot of trouble to steal a small fortune and make Cara appear to be the guilty one.”

While the conversation swirled around the cockpit, Mad turned to Juliet. “Keep a close eye, lass. Until the state police copters get here, we're their best chance of spotting that missing truck.” He sighed. “Unless, of course, it's already been ditched somewhere in the wilderness.”

Along the main highway, Ash was driving while Griff was using binoculars to scan the area beyond.

As they listened to the conversation on their cell phones' speaker systems, Ash drummed nervous fingers on the wheel. “I agree with Mad and Whit. I don't believe for a minute this was all orchestrated by Cara. I liked her the minute I met her. What's more, Brenna really liked her. And I trust my wife's instincts.”

Griff nodded. “Juliet and Brenna had a bet going as to how long it would take before Whit realized he was in love. They were both thrilled with the prospect of having Cara for a sister-in-law.” He turned to glance at Ash. “There's something to be said for a female's intuition. I just think our smart wives would have caught on if Cara was a phony.”

Ash checked the truck's navigation map. “So where is she now?” He studied the various routes in and out of Copper Creek. “If I wanted to hide my crime and dispose of a body without anyone ever finding it, I'd head to the hills right up there”—he touched a spot on the dashboard map—“and find the most isolated spot I could.”

His voice, carried over the entire network of family phones and police intercoms, declared, “Griff and I are leaving the highway and heading toward the hills. We think that's the most likely spot a kidnapper would go.”

Whit's voice came on instantly. “I agree. In fact, I'm already heading toward the west range. It's got everything a criminal would want. Wilderness, almost impassible trails, and because of the heavy forestation, little chance of being spotted from the air.”

He gave a sudden curse when he noted tire tracks in the soft earth where snow had melted. His heart started racing. A vehicle had gone this way, and recently. The tracks were fresh. “I've just come across fresh tire tracks in the damp ground. I'm no expert—they could have been made by any sort of vehicle—but I'm betting there weren't too many visitors to this barren stretch of landscape in the past few hours.”

Mad's voice joined in. “Juliet and I are over that area now. We'll keep a close eye, lad.”

Willow listened to the others before turning to Brady. “Do you agree with their choice of location?”

His eyes narrowed in concentration. “I do. But I'm not sure all of us should converge on a single location. If we're wrong, we could all be in one place while our crook is somewhere else, getting away with the perfect crime.”

“Not perfect.” Willow's voice was soft, to mask the pain. “If Myrna lives, we'll have a witness to what really happened.”

“That won't do Cara any good if he succeeds in carrying out his plan for her.”

“So you believe Cara has been kidnapped?”

He closed a hand over Willow's. “I do. Now more than ever.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if to block out the fear. “I agree.” Then she turned to him. “Whit spotted tire tracks. That's enough for me. Hurry, Brady. We need to get there.”

The foreman turned the wheel and left the dirt road, heading across a flat stretch of MacKenzie land before starting up to the ridge of a high meadow.

Cara struggled to spot landmarks as the truck continued a slow, steady climb.

She turned to the surly driver. “Are we still on MacKenzie land?”

He shot her a dark look and held his silence, breaking it only to mutter a fierce oath as their vehicle jerked over a hidden boulder. For a moment the truck listed to one side, and Cara was unable to stop the momentum that had her sliding across the seat and slamming against him.

He gave her a rough shove that sent her crashing into the passenger door. Her head jolted against the side window hard enough to make her see stars.

She shook her head, struggling to clear her brain. Whit had said their ranch was big. But she couldn't imagine owning this much land. Maybe they'd already left the MacKenzie ranch. Maybe they'd already left the county, for all she knew. The only thing she knew for certain was that this wasn't the area where she'd met Whit.

Whit. Had he returned home yet? Had he read that phony confession? Was he cursing her and calling himself every kind of fool for having ever trusted her?

The thought of hurting Whit, of having him think the worst of her, sent a fresh stab of pain to her already breaking heart.

While Mad turned the Cessna in a slow circle, Juliet grabbed his arm. “I think I see something.”

He eased back on the controls, allowing the small plane to slow.

“There.” She pointed and he followed the direction to catch a beacon of light.

The old man frowned. “It could be sunlight reflecting off water. Except that there's no stream in this particular area. The creek and river are up ahead.” He pointed to the binoculars. “I'll hold steady. You take a closer look.”

She peered through the binoculars and gave a slow shake of her head. “It's gone.”

“Then that could mean movement.” He pointed. “Look ahead or behind and see if you catch something.”

After several seconds of silence, Juliet grew excited. “There.” She peered intently. “Yes. Sunlight. I think it's on a windshield. It's barely visible, but I believe that's a vehicle moving in an upward direction.” She followed the movement before saying, “Up that hill. Directly into that forest ahead.”

Mad gave their location and shouted into his speaker, “A vehicle moving up the west ridge. Barely visible through the canopy of trees. Unless I miss my guess, it's headed toward the high ridge where Copper River meets Copper Creek. Probably the most inhospitable piece of land we own. But a good place for a crime. Now get on it, lads.”

Ira's voice crackled over the intercom. “I hope all of you got that.”

After a jumble of voices, Ira took command. “I'm aboard one of the state police helicopters. We should arrive in six to eight minutes. Whit, where are you?”

Whit's tone was rough with emotion. “I'm practically there. Once the copters get close, there's no chance for surprises, so I'm going to try to slip around to the far side of the ridge and get there ahead of this slimeball.”

The police chief's voice remained calm. “Remember this. We still don't know if Cara Walton is driving the vehicle or if she's been abducted. Either way, all of you need to be prepared for anything.”

Whit gritted his teeth and floored the gas pedal as he veered off the trail he'd been following, determined to stop this madness. Ira could say what he wanted. Whit knew in his heart that Cara was being taken against her will. And he was willing to do whatever it took to save her.

Brady and Willow listened to the directions given by Chief Ira Pettigrew before changing course and heading toward the distant ridge. Ash and Griff did the same.

Mad and Juliet, from their vantage point in the air, were able to see the movement of ranch trucks converging on the lone truck up ahead.

Mad turned to Juliet, who was tracking every move through the binoculars. “If the driver gets even a hint that he's being followed, he could easily kill Cara to keep her quiet.”

Juliet was trembling with agitation. “I feel so helpless.”

“Aye, lass.” The old man made a calculated decision. “I'm heading for the ridge, but I'll aim for the back side of it, to throw the driver off the track. With any luck, there may be enough of a clearing to allow me to land this bird.”

Above the sound of the truck's engine, Cara thought she heard something. Sitting very still, she scanned the sky outside the window. Seeing nothing, she decided it was probably only the pounding of her heart. This man was going to a lot of trouble to get her as far from civilization as possible. He'd made no secret of his intention to kill her. What's more, he intended for his crime to never be discovered. She had to come up with a way to save herself. But her mind was such a jumble of worries, all she could think of was running, as soon as possible. With her wrists bound behind her, she wasn't even able to reach for the door handle; otherwise, her best bet would have been to leap out while they were moving. But, she vowed, as soon as he came to a stop and let her out, she would run, regardless of the absolute certainty that he would shoot her in the back rather than let her get away.

His foot hit the brake pedal. “What the hell?”

In the silence that followed, he lowered the window and the sound of a plane's engines could be heard.

As the minutes dragged on, it became obvious that the plane was drawing closer.

He put the truck in gear and moved deeper into the woods, where it would be impossible to be seen.

The plane continued on until the drone of the engines faded.

The stranger shot Cara a grim smile. “For a minute I was afraid someone might be looking for you. I guess it was just some hotshot rancher checking on his herd. Like I said, why would anybody care about a nobody like you?”

They rolled forward, deeper into the thick tangle of dark, gloomy woods.