BILLIE DEE TRIED to assure herself that she’d been wrong about the young woman Darby had hired. She didn’t know the woman and the woman obviously hadn’t recognized her. But it was something about that face... It felt like a memory that she couldn’t quite access.
When she looked at Ashley Jo Somerfield, she felt a jolt. Her heart would race. Goose bumps would ripple across her skin. She had almost had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something to her.
But then Ashley Jo would look up and see her and there would be no recognition in her gaze. The young woman would smile and Billie Dee would tell herself what an old fool she was.
The back door of the saloon opened, making her jump. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she’d lost track of time.
Henry stepped in. The moment he saw her, he cried, “Billie Dee? You are as white as a sheet. What is it?”
She stepped into his arms. “Just hold me,” she said. “Just hold me tight.”
“Sweetheart, what is it?” he finally asked after a few minutes of wrapping her tightly in his arms. “When I come in here and you aren’t singing...”
She smiled up at him, realizing she was crying. She pulled away and went to the cupboard to get cups. But as she started to pour the coffee from the big pot she kept on the stove, he took it from her.
“Sit. Please. Let me do this.”
Normally, she would have put up an argument. She hated not being able to do things for herself. But this time, she went to the kitchen table and sat.
It was still early in the morning. But soon Darby and Mariah would be coming down the stairs. Outside the window, the Montana spring day was spectacular. The sky was so blue it hurt to look at it. The cottonwoods next to the old stagecoach stop had leafed out and now fluttered in the breeze. Rays of sunshine burst through the window, making dust particles dance in the air.
On a day like this, Billie Dee should have been rejoicing. She’d been so happy. So excited about life. Until the moment she’d looked down the hallway and seen Ashley Jo Somerfield.
Henry put a cup of coffee in front of her before taking a chair across from her. As he wrapped his big hands around his cup as if for warmth, he asked, “Is it me?”
She shook her head, fighting tears. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He put down his coffee cup and reached across the table to take her hand.
How did she get so lucky with this man? But what if she told him and—
“Billie Dee, there is nothing you can tell me that will change my mind about you.”
She couldn’t help giving him a skeptical look.
“Trust me. I have suspected there was something else you needed to tell me before you married me. I’ve been waiting. But lately, I’ve noticed that something has you upset—even as hard as you’ve tried to hide it.”
She couldn’t believe this man. He knew her better than she knew herself sometimes. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“It’s Ashley Jo.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“The new young woman Darby and Mariah hired. The moment I saw her...” Her voice broke. “I thought she was my daughter, the daughter I gave up for adoption twenty-six years ago.”
He squeezed her hand. “Oh, Billie Dee, that must have been very difficult for you.”
Tears flooded her eyes. She pulled her hand away to reach for a napkin on the table to dab at her tears. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and the one thing I have regretted every day since.”
“You wouldn’t have done it if you’d had a choice.”
She smiled through her tears at him. How had she thought he wouldn’t understand? “Don’t you want to know why I had no choice?”
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Do you still believe she is your daughter?” he asked.
“She looks just like me at that age. It’s like looking in a mirror. I thought she must have come here because of me. But when our eyes met... There was no recognition at all.”
“We must find out for sure,” Henry said, always the practical one. “It will be simple enough.”
“I should have known you would help me.”
“Of course,” he said as he took her hand again.
“But what if she really is my daughter? If she came here not knowing... That would be too much of a coincidence. But if she does know and she is the child I gave up and she doesn’t want—”
“Let’s not cross that bridge until we come to it. We start with proof and go from there, okay?”
She nodded, feeling as if a load of concrete had been lifted off not just her shoulders but her heart.
“How will you find out?” she asked.
“Leave that to me.”
* * *
THE WOMAN WORKING in the lumberyard took them in with a cold dark-eyed stare. “You need somethin’?” Her voice was gravelly and disinterested as she moved to pick up one of the two-by-fours that had fallen off the stack.
“Do you happen to be one of Madeline Dunn’s relatives by any chance?” Tucker asked.
The woman, who he realized was much younger than he’d originally thought, pulled off her gloves and stopped to actually look at him. “No. Who’s asking?”
“I’m Tucker Cahill,” he said, holding out a hand. The woman didn’t take it. “And this is—”
“Katherine Rothschild, reporter with the Times. And you are...”
The woman’s smile was condescending. “I sell lumber. So if you don’t need any...” She started to turn away and head in the direction of the office.
“Madeline Dunn murdered my brother,” Kate said, going after her before Tucker could stop her.
As Kate grabbed her arm, the woman stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking off Kate’s hold on her. “I never even met Madeline.”
The woman shifted her gaze slowly to Kate. Kate stepped closer until there were only inches between them. “Madeline Dunn is responsible for my brother’s death, and I want to know where I can find her brother and sisters.”
“I was ten when they left town. I have no idea where they went and I couldn’t care less. My father bought this lumberyard from them years ago. We haven’t heard from them since they left town.”
“I still want to know your name,” Kate said. “You can either tell me or I can—”
“Carly Brookshire. Happy?”
“Not really. Did you know what Madeline did for a living?”
The woman locked gazes with Kate. “Waitressed.” The way she said it, she was daring Kate to argue differently.
“We’re not looking for trouble,” Tucker said.
“You come here threatening me, I’d say you’ve already found trouble.” The woman pulled off her baseball cap, scratched at her drab short brown hair for a moment and slapped it back on as she scowled at Kate. “If your dead brother was anything like you—”
“He wasn’t. That’s why I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere until I find Madeline Dunn’s siblings.”
“I told you. I don’t know where they went.”
“You don’t know anyone who might have heard from them?” Kate asked, calling the woman a liar.
Tucker stepped between them. “Look, we just need to talk to someone who might know where they went.”
Carly scowled at Kate. “Maybe someone knows over at the café where Madeline worked. Or you can try the bar where their brother worked as a swamper.”
“A swamper?” Kate asked.
The woman rolled her eyes. “The guy who swamps out the bar in the mornings. You know, mops it, cleans it up? But that’s all I know. So if you aren’t in the market for lumber, don’t come back here.” With that, she stepped around Tucker and headed toward the daylight.
He stared after her silhouette for moment, before he turned to Kate.
“You call that cool and calm?” he demanded into the cold quiet of the massive building.
Kate let out a breath. “There wasn’t any hair pulling or punching.”
“Came damned close, though.”
“I could have taken her.”
He laughed and shook his head.
“I could have. Anyway, she knows more than she’s telling us.”
“Maybe.” He studied her. “Ever heard the expression you can get more with a little sugar than gasoline?”
“I don’t believe that’s the expression but being direct works better with some people.” She looked at her watch. “I could use something cold to drink right now. How about you? Café or bar first?”
“Might as well rile up everyone in town since you’re on a roll.”
“Won’t have to. By now she’s already on the phone warning everyone to keep their mouths shut.”
He scoffed. “You think everyone in town has some reason to protect the Dunns?” He couldn’t help being amused by that. “I doubt the entire family were criminals let alone that the town was in on it.”
Kate raised a brow. “You should know how small towns work. They protect their own—even twenty years later.” She started out of the building. He caught up to her, anxious to get back out in the sunshine and out of this cavernous cold darkness. More and more, he wondered about Madeline’s family. Did the townspeople have reason to protect them all?
As they exited the mouth of the building, he felt eyes drilling into his back and turned. He couldn’t see Carly, but he could feel her watching them.
* * *
THE CORONER WAS holding the skeleton’s head in his gloved hands when Flint walked into the morgue.
“Is there a problem?” the sheriff asked.
“Not for this woman anymore,” Sonny said. “Can’t say the same for you.”
“I’m not in the mood for riddles today.”
“Sorry. Check this out.” The coroner waved him closer. “I x-rayed the bones and found something I didn’t expect. It was under the splintered wood that covered the wound I thought killed her.”
“That you thought killed her? What are you saying?”
Sonny shook his head as if disappointed with himself. “Seemed pretty clear-cut. She fell into the creek, hit her head, died and ended up in a pile of driftwood downstream with some help.”
“Sonny—”
“The X-ray revealed a .22 slug burrowed in the skull.”
Flint stared at him. “What?”
“This woman was shot. Apparently the killer didn’t think a bullet was sufficient. The blow to the head was after she was shot in the head.”
“Are you telling me—”
“She was murdered. I should have seen it sooner, but the splintered wood that crushed her skull covered the spot where the bullet lodged in the bone. I would imagine a firearm that small just didn’t do the job.”
Flint couldn’t believe what he was hearing—let alone seeing. Madeline Dunn was murdered? He’d wanted to believe that it had been an accident. That the woman had made a mistake jumping in the creek with the water running that high. That after she’d collided with a limb, her accomplice had dragged her from the water and then panicked and buried her under that driftwood in the old channel yards from the creek.
“So she was alive when she got out of the water?” he said, feeling as if he was lagging behind even though his mind was spinning.
“Seems more likely she was shot and then nailed with a tree limb. She must have gotten into an altercation with someone and bit the bullet, so to speak.”
Flint groaned and Sonny apologized. “It’s not you,” the sheriff said. “When I thought it was an accident...” He couldn’t tell the coroner how deep his brother Tucker was in all this.
“No statute of limitations on murder. But nineteen years. How will you ever find who did it?”
Flint shook his head. “This opens a whole can of worms.” He stared at the skull in Sonny’s hands and thought about the woman who’d done a number on his brother. Even dead, she could still ruin his life.
Behind them the door to the morgue opened. Flint looked over to see Deputy Harper Cole standing there, holding a bucketful of dirt.
Harp was grinning, never a good sign. “What is it?” Flint demanded.
“I found something,” Harp said. “I was digging near the grave site like you said and...” He looked absolutely giddy. “Might not be anything but...”
“What is it?” Flint snapped.
“Two shell casings for a .22 caliber pistol and this.” He held up a tarnished silver ankle bracelet with tiny bells on it, the clasp on it broken.