27
Sunday morning, Nick took Claire and Lexi back to the church where Julia’s funeral had been held. He’d liked the place and the minister, but—God forgive him—that wasn’t why he came today. He’d learned Sheriff Archer was a member and was hoping to corner him informally after the service. Which he managed, sending Claire and Lexi to wait for him in the entryway. It was snowing outside, and Lexi was antsy to play snow games, whatever those were.
Luckily, Nick thought, the sheriff opened the topic he wanted.
“Hi, Jack. So how’s your wife holding up after finding Julia like that? I saw you both at the funeral.”
“She’s been trying to support Liz. And, of course, wondering if any of the three men who look like they might have had motives for harm—I know the coroner ruled the cause undecided—look like persons of interest. They’re all in the clear, of course, but that worries Jenna. So they are of interest to us.”
“Everybody knows cop talk from TV and movies these days, don’t they? I mean like, persons of interest.”
Nick nodded. If this guy only realized that he knew cop talk, attorney talk, prosecution talk, even constitution talk. It hurt his pride to have to play dumb, but he kept his mouth shut on all that and said only, “Julia was kind to us the few days we knew her, and Jenna feels sorry for Liz.”
The sheriff looked around before he said, “She was a compassionate contact. Helpful and kind to me too. Actually, each of the three persons you refer to have alibis, though hardly ironclad. Fuzzy time frames. Each elsewhere but alone at that time. I’m not letting it go, no matter what the ruling, but you should. I can tell you the coroner found no signs of trauma such as gunshot or stab wounds. Leave it to the professionals, Jack. Tell Jenna that, and I thank her for her clear and complete testimony. Have a good day.” Instinctively, he reached up to touch the brim of a hat he didn’t wear and headed back into the crowd.
“Well?” Claire asked as they started walking home and Lexi ran ahead, kicking up snow from the grass and sidewalk.
“Well what? We’d better step up our snowmobile driving if it’s going to keep falling like this.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Michael, Kirkpatrick, pretty boy Wade—all have alibis, but hardly ironclad, as the sheriff put it, so we’ll see what unfolds. Carefully. Quietly. That’s our deal, right?”
“One of them,” she said, linking her arm through his.
“If we have other, more intimate deals,” he said, his voice husky, “I’d like to see what unfolds there too. Now that we’ve quieted the woman on the roof, I can give more attention to the one in my bed, if you’re comfortable with that.”
“Very. Just because I’m with child doesn’t mean we have to be strangers.”
“I know you haven’t felt well in the mornings.”
“Jack Randal, I haven’t felt well about Julia, but it makes me feel a lot better we’re working together on this. Are you sure you want to go to Liz’s this afternoon with Bronco and me to see if we can jog his—or Hunter Logan’s—memory?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Lexi turned back. “If you go there, I want to go to see Scout too.”
“Not this time,” Claire said. Nick could tell she was startled Lexi had overheard them. “Remember our deal? We play snow games, and you go to see Scout later this week, not today. Sunday is the day of rest for horses too.”
For one second, Nick thought Lexi was going to flip back into what Claire called the “bad Lily” routine. Her pretty little face crumpled into a scowl. “Just so long as no one else feeds him apples,” she said.
He told Lexi, “I’ll make sure of that. So what’s this snow game we’re going to play?”
“We’re going to play fox and geese, right, Mommy?”
“For sure.”
“How do you play that?” Nick asked as they neared their house.
Hands on her hips, Lexi stopped and turned to face them. “You have a person who is ‘it,’ like a bad guy. He chases everybody else. If he hits them—”
“Tags them,” Claire put in.
“Right, then they are dead and fall down like Julia did.”
Claire gave a little gasp. “No, the it who is the fox just pens the geese up until all are caught, and everyone has to stay on the paths drawn in the snow—like following the rules which parents give to children.”
Lexi pouted and shook her head. “Maybe that’s what happened to Julia,” Lexi said, looking and sounding every bit like Lily again. “The fox caught her and threw her off the rock and she couldn’t fly. Now, if she was like Daddy—I mean, Uncle Seth—he’d fly and catch her, but then be sorry he hurt her.”
Claire’s wide gaze collided with Nick’s as Lexi ran up the steps ahead of them and pounded on the front door that Nita opened to let her in. Nick motioned that they’d be in soon.
“Lily strikes again,” Nick said. “Where did she get all that? Her uncle Seth is the one who told her about Julia’s death, so how did he explain it to her?”
“I don’t know,” Claire told him, looking shaken. “She obviously has a wild imagination and is still troubled by all she’s been through. She jumbles things up sometimes.” She shook her head as she went into the house too.
Talk about alibis of those three other guys, Nick thought as he followed. How about a fourth man? Jace had got off work midafternoon the day Julia died but hadn’t come home for hours and said he was uptown having a beer. Another excuse, hardly ironclad? And motive—Jace had been hitting on Julia just the way Wade had been after Liz and with a lot less success. Maybe he’d either wanted another chance with her or wanted to apologize. He’d mentioned he’d been to Arch Rock, but had said it was after Julia’s death, just to see the place she’d died. Surely it wasn’t the afternoon she died—or even the moment she died.
* * *
Claire made sure she, Nick and Bronco arrived at Liz’s house a couple of hours after Hunter Logan had been brought back with his new companion, a widower hired from St. Ignace named Doug Fremont. Liz had said Fremont was around seventy-five and seemed younger, strong too, so she thought he’d do quite well. He was evidently willing to go along with the cowboy theme since he wore a plaid shirt with a string tie, Liz had told them.
“Doug knows all the background here, so he’ll be watchful,” she assured them. “Mother’s orders still go, to make sure Kirkpatrick and Wade stay away. And,” she said, lowering her voice even more, “Dad and I did have to sell a few Gene Autry items online to get money to hire Doug since our insurance won’t cover it all, things that were still boxed up I think Granddad won’t miss. While Doug unpacks in the guest room Dad’s vacated upstairs, if you want to try—well, you know. Now’s a good time to jog memories. I’ll go get Granddad. Dad’s here, packing to leave for the Island House again, then back to Baltimore in a few days. I talked him out of having his wife join him here. But how are you feeling, Cody?” she asked, turning to Bronco.
“Good, ’less I touch the back of my head, Miss Liz. Haven’t figured out what happened though, so maybe today.”
It soon became apparent that Mr. Logan didn’t remember any of them, even Bronco, who’d spent hours with him. Claire hesitated to bring up his taking a horse from the stables to go after Julia. She didn’t want to get him upset again, after all he’d been through. Maybe she’d overstepped to try to set this up. She’d rehearsed several opening questions, but now it all seemed so futile.
“Where’s Gene’s boots?” Mr. Logan asked suddenly, staring at the glass cases across the room and getting to his feet.
“Granddad,” Liz said, “they’re on your feet. Your favorite ones so you don’t worry about—”
“No, the ones he wore in Rim of the Canyon. I know I got three pairs but those are gone. In that movie, his horse Champion got stolen, just like my boots! I’ll show you,” he said, getting more agitated as he opened a drawer and clawed through some CDs stored there. “Well, dagnabbit, Rim of the Canyon’s gone too and some of the others!”
Claire marveled at how the old man knew his extensive collection so well but not much else. He must have realized the things Liz and Michael sold were gone.
“Now, just relax, Granddad,” Liz said. “I’ll bet they’re just misplaced. Cody, would you please go get Doug?”
Claire was glad she hadn’t started this. She’d never worked with dementia patients, only studied the disease. She caught Nick’s warning gaze and shook her head. So much for this idea, she thought.
When Bronco came back in with Doug, the old man shouted, “Rustlers been here and taken more than cattle! I tried to stop their leader, but he hit my right-hand man over the head from behind and stole them anyway!”
“Hey, Hunter,” Doug said in a calm voice, “we’ll find them and get them back.”
“And when we do, I’ll shoot them but I’d never hit them on the head or shove them off a bluff. Only thieving cowards do that, I tell you!”
While Doug calmed Mr. Logan down, Liz’s wide, teary gaze snagged Claire’s. “Those are not items we sold,” she whispered. “I swear they’re not.”
Claire kept quiet. But she’d learned some things anyway.
* * *
After Mr. Logan calmed down and seemed to forget the “rustled” items, Liz said she’d be right back and ran from the room, wiping her eyes. Claire knew where her bedroom was and thought she’d see if she could help before they left. She told Nick and Bronco she’d be right back and went down the hall where she’d desperately looked for a phone the day she and Nita found Bronco unconscious on the floor. If Liz’s door was closed, perhaps she’d give her more time, but she had the excuse that Liz had said she’d put their coats on her bed.
Both Julia’s and Liz’s bedroom doors were open, though, and Liz’s shrill voice came suddenly from her mother’s bedroom. “Dad, what are you doing in here? You said you’d be packing upstairs!”
“Let’s just say I’m looking for a memento.”
“In her dresser drawers? And you’ve been in her closet? What are you doing?” she repeated. “You gave up your rights to this—to her—years ago. Just go back to your second wife!”
Claire froze, her back pressed to the wall. She needed to retreat, maybe grab their coats and go. But as she turned away to do so, Michael said, “All right, I should have told you. I’m looking for your mother’s diary because I need to protect myself and that second wife.”
“What?”
“Sweetheart, please, just sit down a minute. Let me explain. Are your guests all gone?”
“Not yet, but don’t change the subject. If she had a diary, I never saw it. And why would you have any right to it?”
“It’s one she kept just before we were divorced. Sit down, please. It will just take a minute to explain and maybe you can think where it might be. Susan’s interior-design business is having some financial problems, and one of her designers is claiming she falsified tax records and I helped her.”
“And—and that’s one of the things Mother claimed you’d helped Susan do—when the two of you got involved? You think that’s in the diary? Then Mother found out and divorced you?”
“Yes, well—right. More or less. I’m glad you’re an adult now and can understand that even parents make mistakes.”
“Susan was a mistake for you.”
“Don’t go there. Listen, sweetheart, I suppose your mother could have destroyed the diary, but if it’s around, I need to see it—get rid of it before this new mess gets sticky.”
“Dad, she’s dead. She’s not going to turn up with some old diary. I just can’t believe it,” Liz said in a choked voice. Claire heard her give a big gasp. “Oh, damn. That’s the real reason you wanted to go with me to see what was in Mother’s safe-deposit box.”
“The woman used to work for the FBI, for heaven’s sake, Liz, and believe me, she’s a master at hiding things, including people. You think I didn’t know she was being interviewed by the WITSEC program about the time we divorced? Grow up. Even from the grave, she can hurt me again if that diary’s out there somewhere!”
“Is that why you went through Granddad’s things when he was away for a few days? Not to help me decide what we could sell to pay for hiring him a full-time companion, but to see if she’d hidden it in there?”
“Liz, please.”
“Dad, I really needed you right now. I really trusted you. You—Did you discuss demanding that diary with her? Did you argue with her about it? I know you came in here all charming and friendly, but is that the real reason you came this time?”
“This is out of control. Forget it!” he shouted and a drawer slammed in the room, then a door.
Claire almost vaulted into Liz’s bedroom. He was no doubt coming out into the hall. But what if he hurt Liz?
Instead, when she heard fast footsteps, she darted through Liz’s open bedroom door and began to pick up their coats from the bed, praying he wouldn’t come in.
But he did.
She held the four coats in front of her like a shield.
“Oh,” she said, hoping she looked surprised. “Mr. Collister, I didn’t know you were here. Liz said you were upstairs. Just came to get our coats as we’re leaving.”
He narrowed his eyes and frowned at her, no doubt analyzing if she could have heard. He was sputtering mad but made an obvious effort to calm himself. “Actually, I’m leaving too,” he said. “Said goodbye to Liz. I’ve done what I could here.”
“And I know Liz appreciates it,” Claire lied, hoping to bolster the impression that she had not heard their argument. This man might actually be a threat to her if he realized that. But worse, he could have well been a threat to Julia if, as Liz said, he’d argued with her about the diary and then, accidentally or intentionally, struck out. Maybe came here, hit Bronco first, searched for the diary while Mr. Logan rode away, then followed Julia to the cliffside stairs and confronted her there.
And killed her?