Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch
B.J. Daniels
After Hudson Savage betrayed her, Dana Cardwell hoped never to lay eyes on the seductive cowboy again. Until a bunch of old bones showed up on her family ranch. Suddenly her former lover was back in her life in a big way-to investigate a decades-old crime.Five years ago, Hud left town with a heart load of regrets. But now, as acting interim marshal, he had a job to do. And this time he wasn't walking away. Because now Dana's life was on the line-as the unsuspecting target of a killer who still walked the canyon. Hud would do whatever it took to keep Dana close. Even if it meant risking his own heart for a second chance for both of them….
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The shotgun felt heavy in her hands as she started toward the back door…
Dana heard the creak of a footfall on the porch steps. Another creak. The knob on the back door started to turn.
She raised the shotgun.
“Dana?”
The shotgun sagged in her arms as the back door opened and she saw Hud’s familiar outline in the doorway.
He froze at the sight of the shotgun.
“I didn’t hear you drive up,” she whispered.
“I walked the last way so your visitor wouldn’t hear me coming and run. When I didn’t see any lights on, I circled the house and found the back door unlocked—” His voice broke as he stepped to her and she saw how afraid he’d been for her.
He took the shotgun from her and set it aside before cupping her shoulders in his large palms. She could feel his heat even through the thick gloves he wore and smell his scent mixed with the cold night air. It felt so natural, she almost stepped into his arms.
Dear Reader,
We hope you enjoy Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch, written by USA TODAY bestselling Harlequin Intrigue author B.J. Daniels.
Harlequin Intrigue is the ultimate romance suspense series. If you love following trace evidence and tracking down leads right along with lawmen and investigators, we have a terrific lineup of six can’t-put-down stories available every month.
Join us at Harlequin Intrigue as we crack the hardest cases and unravel the deepest mysteries of the heart.
Happy reading,
The Harlequin Intrigue Editors
Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch
B.J. Daniels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
When I think of the Gallatin Canyon, I remember rubber gun fights at our cabin, hikes to Lava Lake and stopping by Bessie and Russell Rehm’s place near the current Big Sky.
Russell is gone now, but I will always remember Bessie’s cooking—and the treat she used to make me at her ranch in Texas: a mixture of peanut butter and molasses.
I still make it, and I always think of Bessie.
This book is for you, Bessie. Thanks for all the memories!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA TODAY bestselling author B.J. Daniels began writing novels after a career as a newspaper journalist. The author of more than fifty titles for Harlequin Books, she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense. Her books regularly appear on bestseller lists.
B.J. lives in Montana with her husband and their two Springer spaniels. When she isn’t plotting her next book, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.
Visit her website at www.bjdaniels.com or email her at bjdaniels@mtintouch.net
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dana Cardwell—Her two great loves were her family ranch and Hud Savage. She’d already lost one and now, just when she was about to lose the other, a body was found in the old homestead well.
Marshal Hud Savage—He was back in town, determined to find out who had set him up so he lost not only his former deputy job—but also the woman he loved.
Rupert Milligan—The aging coroner thought he’d seen it all—until he climbed down into the old dry well to retrieve the body.
Ginger Adams—Right until the end, she thought that love could conquer all. Unfortunately, she was dead wrong.
Lanny Rankin—The lawyer had always wanted Dana. But how far would he go to have her?
Judge Raymond Randolph—Was the judge’s death just a robbery gone wrong, or had the judge become too much of a liability because of what he knew?
Kitty Randolph—The widow had buried herself in charity work to forget her husband’s murder five years ago. But the discovery of the body in the well brought it all back.
Jordan Cardwell—He needed money badly if he hoped to keep his lifestyle—and his young, gorgeous, unemployed, former-model wife.
Clay Cardwell—He tried to stay out of the family politics, but if he could get his share of the ranch he could live his secret dream.
Stacy Cardwell—The divorcée had a secret that was eating her alive.
Brick Savage—The former marshal was loved and hated—especially by Judge Raymond Randolph. But his son, Hud, couldn’t really believe he was a murderer, could he?
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Prologue
Seventeen years earlier
The fall knocked the air out of her. She’d landed badly, one leg bent under her. On the way down, she’d hit her head and the skin on her arms and legs was scraped raw.
Stunned, she tried to get to her feet in the darkness of the tight, confined space. She’d lost both shoes, her body ached and her left hand was in terrible pain, her fingers definitely broken.
She managed to get herself upright in the pitch blackness of the hole. Bracing herself on the cold earth around her, she looked up, still dazed.
Above her, she could see a pale circle of starlit sky. She started to open her mouth to call out when she heard him stumble to the edge of the old dry well and fall to his knees. His shadow silhouetted over part of the opening.
She stared up at him in confusion. He hadn’t meant to push her. He’d just been angry with her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not on purpose.
The beam of a flashlight suddenly blinded her. “Help me.”
He made a sound, an eerie, low-keening wail like a wounded animal. “You’re alive?”
His words pierced her heart like a cold blade. He’d thought the fall would kill her? Hoped it would?
The flashlight went out. She heard him stumble to his feet and knew he was still standing looking down at her. She could see his shadow etched against the night sky. She felt dizzy and sick, still too stunned by what had happened.
His shadow disappeared. She could see the circle of dim light above her again. She listened, knowing he hadn’t left. He wouldn’t leave her. He was just upset, afraid she would tell.
If she pleaded with him the way she had the other times, he would forgive her. He’d tried to break it off before, but he’d always come back to her. He loved her.
She stared up until, with relief, she saw again his dark shape against the starlit sky. He’d gone to get a rope or something to get her out. “I’m sorry. Please, just help me. I won’t cause you any more trouble.”
“No, you won’t.” His voice sounded so strange, so foreign. Not the voice of the man she’d fallen so desperately in love with.
She watched him raise his arm. In the glint of starlight she saw it wasn’t a rope in his hand.
Her heart caught in her throat. “No!” The gunshot boomed, a deafening roar in the cramped space.
She must have blacked out. When she woke, she was curled in an awkward position in the bottom of the dry well. Over the blinding pain in her head, she could hear the sound of the pickup’s engine. He was driving away!
“No!” she cried as she dragged herself up onto her feet again. “Don’t leave me here!” As she looked up to the opening high above her, she felt something wet and sticky run down into her eye. Blood.
He’d shot her. The pain in her skull was excruciating. She dropped to her knees on the cold, hard earth. He’d said he loved her. He’d promised to take care of her. Tonight, she’d even worn the red dress he loved.
“Don’t leave! Please!” But she knew he couldn’t hear her. As she listened, the sound of the engine grew fainter and fainter, then nothing.
She shivered in the damp, cold blackness, her right hand going to her stomach.
He’d come back.
He couldn’t just leave her here to die. How could he live with himself if he did?
He’d come back.
Chapter One
As the pickup bounced along the muddy track to the old homestead, Dana Cardwell stared out at the wind-scoured Montana landscape, haunted by the premonition she’d had the night before.
She had awakened in the darkness to the howl of the unusually warm wind against her bedroom window and the steady drip of melting snow from the eaves. A Chinook had blown in.
When she’d looked out, she’d seen the bare old aspens vibrating in the wind, limbs etched black against the clear night sky. It felt as if something had awakened her to warn her.
The feeling had been so strong that she’d had trouble getting back to sleep only to wake this morning to Warren Fitzpatrick banging on the door downstairs.
“There’s something you’d better see,” the elderly ranch manager had said.
And now, as Warren drove them up the bumpy road from the ranch house to the old homestead, she felt a chill at the thought of what waited for her at the top of the hill. Was this what she’d been warned about?
Warren pulled up next to the crumbling foundation and cut the engine. The wind howled across the open hillside, keeling over the tall yellowed grass and gently rocking the pickup.
It was called the January Thaw. Without the blanket of white snow, the land looked rung out, all color washed from the hills until everything was a dull brown-gray. The only green was a few lone pines swaying against the wind-rinsed sky.
Little remained of the homestead house. Just part of the rock foundation and the fireplace, the chimney as stark as the pines against the horizon.
Past it, in the soft, wet earth, Dana saw Warren’s tracks where he had walked to the old well earlier this morning. All that marked the well was a circle of rock and a few weathered boards that covered part of the opening.
Warren cocked his head as if he already heard the marshal’s SUV coming up the ranch road. Dana strained her ears but heard nothing over the pounding of her heart.
She was glad Warren had always been a man of few words. She was already on edge without having to talk about what he’d found.
The elderly ranch manager was as dried out as a stick of jerky and just as tough, but he knew more about cattle than any man Dana had ever known. And he was as loyal as an old dog. Until recently, he and Dana had run the ranch together. She knew Warren wouldn’t have gotten her up here unless it was serious.
As Dana caught the whine of the approaching vehicle over the wind, the sound growing louder, her dread grew with it.
Warren had told her last night that he’d noticed the boards were off the old dry well again. “I think I’ll just fill it in. Safer that way. Give me something to do.”
Like a lot of Montana homesteads, the well was just a hole in the ground, unmarked except for maybe a few old boards thrown over it, and because of that, dangerous to anyone who didn’t know it was there.
“Whatever you think,” she’d told him the night before. She’d been distracted and really hadn’t cared.
But she cared now. She just hoped Warren was wrong about what he’d seen in the bottom of the well.
They’d know soon enough, she thought as she turned to watch the Gallatin Canyon marshal’s black SUV come roaring up the road from the river.
“Scrappy’s driving faster than usual,” she said frowning. “You must have lit a fire under him when you called him this morning.”
“Scrappy Morgan isn’t marshal anymore,” Warren said.
“What?” She glanced over at him. He had a strange look on his weathered face.
“Scrappy just up and quit. They had to hire a temporary marshal to fill in for a while.”
“How come I never hear about these things?” But she knew the answer to that. She’d always been too busy on the ranch to keep up with canyon gossip. Even now that she worked down in Big Sky, her ties were still more with the ranching community—what little of it was left in the Gallatin Canyon since the town of Big Sky had sprung up at the base of Lone Mountain. A lot of the ranchers had sold out or subdivided to take advantage of having a ski and summer resort so close by.
“So who’s the interim marshal?” she asked as the Sheriff’s Department SUV bounded up the road, the morning sun glinting off the windshield. She groaned. “Not Scrappy’s nephew Franklin? Tell me it’s anyone but him.”
Warren didn’t answer as the new marshal brought the black SUV with the Montana State marshal logo on the side to a stop right next to her side of the pickup.
All the breath rushed from her as she looked over and saw the man behind the wheel.
“Maybe I should have warned you,” Warren said, sounding sheepish.
“That would’ve been nice,” she muttered between gritted teeth as she met Hudson Savage’s clear blue gaze. His look gave nothing away. The two of them might have been strangers—instead of former lovers—for all the expression that showed in his handsome face.
Her emotions boiled up like one of the Yellowstone geysers just down the road. First shock and right on its heels came fury. When Hud had left town five years ago, she’d convinced herself she’d never have to lay eyes on that sorry son of a bitch again. And here he was. Damn, just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse.
OVER THE YEARS as a policeman in L.A., Hudson “Hud” Savage had stared down men who were bigger and stronger. Some had guns, some knives and baseball bats.
But none unnerved him like the look in Dana Cardwell’s whiskey-brown glare.
He dragged his gaze away, turning to pick up the heavy-duty flashlight from the seat next to him. Coward. If just seeing her had this affect on him, he hated to think what talking would do.
Her reaction to him was pretty much what he’d expected. He’d known she would be far from happy to see him. But he had hoped she wouldn’t be as furious as she’d been when he’d left town. But given the look in her eyes, he’d say that was one wasted hope.
And damn if it was no less painful than it had been five years ago seeing her anger, her hurt.
Not that he blamed her. He hadn’t just left town, he’d flat-out run, tail tucked between his legs.
But he was back now.
He picked up the flashlight and, bracing himself against the wind and Dana Cardwell, he opened his door and stepped out.
The sun glinted off the truck’s windshield so he couldn’t see her face as he walked to the front of the SUV. But he could feel her gaze boring into him like a bullet as he snugged his Stetson down to keep it from sailing off in the wind.
When Warren had called the office this morning, Hud had instructed him not to go near the well again. The ranch foreman’s original tracks to and from the well were the only ones in the soft dirt. It surprised Hud though that Dana hadn’t gotten out to take a look before he arrived. She obviously hadn’t known the order was from him or she would have defied it sure as the devil.
As he looked out across the ranch, memories of the two of them seemed to blow through on the breeze. He could see them galloping on horseback across that far field of wild grasses, her long, dark hair blowing back, face lit by sunlight, eyes bright, grinning at him as they raced back to the barn.
They’d been so young, so in love. He felt that old ache, desire now coupled with heartbreak and regret.
Behind him, he heard first one pickup door open, then the other. The first one closed with a click, the second slammed hard. He didn’t have to guess whose door that had been.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Warren hang back, waiting by the side of his pickup, out of the way—and out of earshot as well as the line of fire. Warren was no fool.
“Are we goin’ to stand here all day admiring the scenery or are we goin’ to take a look in the damned well?” Dana asked as she joined Hud.
He let out a bark of nervous laughter and looked over at her, surprised how little she’d changed and glad of it. She was small, five-four compared to his six-six. She couldn’t weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but what there was of her was a combination of soft curves and hard-edged stubborn determination. To say he’d never known anyone like her was putting it mildly.
He wanted to tell her why he’d come back, but the glint in her eye warned him she was no more ready to hear it than she’d been when he’d left.
“Best take a look in that well then,” he said.
“Good idea.” She stood back as he trailed Warren’s tracks to the hole in the ground.
A half-dozen boards had once covered the well. Now only a couple remained on the single row of rocks rimming the edge. The other boards appeared to have been knocked off by the wind or fallen into the well.
He flipped on the flashlight and shone the beam down into the hole. The well wasn’t deep, about fifteen feet, like looking off the roof of a two-story house. Had it been deeper, Warren would never have seen what lay in the bottom.
Hud leaned over the opening, the wind whistling in his ears, the flashlight beam a pale gold as it skimmed the dirt bottom—and the bones.
Hunting with his father as a boy, Hud had seen his share of remains over the years. The sun-bleached skeletons of deer, elk, moose, cattle and coyotes were strewn all over rural Montana.
But just as Warren had feared, the bones lying at the bottom of the Cardwell Ranch dry well weren’t from any wild animal.
DANA STOOD BACK, her hands in the pockets of her coat, as she stared at Hud’s broad back.
She wished she didn’t know him so well. The moment he’d turned on the flashlight and looked down, she’d read the answer in his shoulders. Her already upset stomach did a slow roll and she thought for a moment she might be sick.
Dear God, what was in the well? Who was in the well?
Hud glanced back at her, his blue eyes drilling her to the spot where she stood, all the past burning there like a hot blue flame.
But instead of heat, she shivered as if a cold wind blew up from the bottom of the well. A cold that could chill in ways they hadn’t yet imagined as Hud straightened and walked back to her.
“Looks like remains of something, all right,” Hud said, giving her that same noncommittal look he had when he’d driven up.
The wind whipped her long dark hair around her face. She took a painful breath and let it go, fighting the wind, fighting a weakness in herself that made her angry and scared. “They’re human bones, aren’t they?”
Hud dragged his hat off and raked a hand through his hair, making her fingers tingle remembering the feel of that thick sun-streaked mop of his. “Won’t be certain until we get the bones to the lab.”
She looked away, angry at him on so many levels that it made it hard to be civil. “I know there are human remains down there. Warren said he saw a human skull. So stop lying to me.”
Hud’s eyes locked with hers and she saw anger spark in all that blue. He didn’t like being called a liar. But then, she could call him much worse if she got started.
“From what I can see, the skull appears to be human. Satisfied?” he said.
She turned away from the only man who had ever satisfied her. She tried not to panic. If having Hud back—let alone the interim marshal—wasn’t bad enough, there was a body in the well on her family ranch. She tried to assure herself that the bones could have been in the well for years. The well had been dug more than a hundred years ago. Who knew how long the bones had been there?
But the big question, the same one she knew Hud had to be asking, was why the bones were there.
“I’m going to need to cordon this area off,” he said. “I would imagine with it being calving season, you have some cattle moving through here?”
“No cattle in here to worry about,” Warren said.
Hud frowned and glanced out across the ranch. “I didn’t notice any cattle on the way in, either.”
Dana felt his gaze shift to her. She pulled a hand from her pocket to brush a strand of her hair from her face before looking at him. The words stuck in her throat and she was grateful to Warren when he said, “The cattle were all auctioned this fall to get the ranch ready to sell.”
Hud looked stunned, his gaze never leaving hers. “You wouldn’t sell the ranch.”
She turned her face away from him. He was the one person who knew just what this ranch meant to her and yet she didn’t want him to see that selling it was breaking her heart just as he had. She could feel his gaze on her as if waiting for her to explain.
When she didn’t, he said, “I have to warn you, Dana, this investigation might hold up a sale.”
She hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought of anything but the bones—and her added bad luck in finding out that Hud was acting marshal.
“Word is going to get out, if it hasn’t already,” he continued. “Once we get the bones up, we’ll know more, but this investigation could take some time.”
“You do whatever you have to do, Hud.” She hadn’t said his name out loud in years. It sounded odd and felt even stranger on her tongue. Amazing that such a small word could hurt so much.
She turned and walked back to Warren’s pickup, surprised her legs held her up. Her mind was reeling. There was a body in a well on her ranch? And Hud Savage was back after all this time of believing him long gone? She wasn’t sure which shocked or terrified her more.
She didn’t hear him behind her until he spoke.
“I was sorry to hear about your mother,” he said so close she felt his warm breath on her neck and caught a whiff of his aftershave. The same kind he’d used when he was hers.
Without turning, she gave a nod of her head, the wind burning her eyes, and jerked open the pickup door, sending a glance to Warren across the hood that she was more than ready to leave.
As she climbed into the truck and started to pull the door shut behind her, Hud dropped one large palm over the top of the door to keep it from closing. “Dana…”
She shot him a look she thought he might still remember, the same one a rattler gives right before it strikes.
“I just wanted to say…happy birthday.”
She tried not to show her surprise—or her pleasure—that he’d remembered. That he had, though, made it all the worse. She swallowed and looked up at him, knifed with that old familiar pain, the kind that just never went away no matter how hard you fought it.
“Dana, listen—”
“I’m engaged.” The lie was out before she could call it back.
Hud’s eyebrows up. “To anyone I know?”
She took guilty pleasure from the pain she heard in his voice, saw in his face. “Lanny Rankin.”
“Lanny? The lawyer?” Hud didn’t sound surprised, just contemptuous. He must have heard that she’d been dating Lanny. “He still saving up for the ring?”
“What?”
“An engagement ring. You’re not wearing one.” He motioned to her ring finger.
Silently she swore at her own stupidity. She’d wanted to hurt him and at the same time keep him at a safe distance. Unfortunately she hadn’t given a thought to the consequences.
“I just forgot to put it on this morning,” she said.
“Oh, you take it off at night?”
Another mistake. When Hud had put the engagement ring on her finger so many years ago now, she’d sworn she’d never take it off.
“If you must know,” she said, “the diamond got caught in my glove, so I took it off to free it and must have laid it down.”
His brows shot up again.
Why didn’t she just shut up? “I was in a hurry this morning. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Must be a big diamond to get stuck in a glove.” Not like the small chip he’d been able to afford for her, his tone said.
“Look, as far as I’m concerned, you and I have nothing to say to each other.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.” A muscle bunched in his jaw and he took on that all-business marshal look again. “I’d appreciate it if you and Warren wouldn’t mention what you found in the well to anyone. I know it’s going to get out, but I’d like to try to keep a lid on it as long as we can.”
He had to be joking. The marshal’s office dispatcher was the worst gossip in the canyon.
“Anything else?” she asked pointedly as his hand remained on the door.
His gaze softened again and she felt her heart do that pitter-patter thing it hadn’t done since Hud.
“It’s good seeing you again, Dana,” he said.
“I wish I could say the same, Hud.”
His lips turned up in a rueful smile as she jerked hard on the door, forcing him to relinquish his hold. If only she could free herself as easily.
The pickup door slammed hard. Warren got in and started the engine without a word. She knew he’d heard her lie about being engaged, but Warren was too smart to call her on it.
As sun streamed into the cab, Warren swung the pickup around. Dana rolled down her window, flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the sun or the January Thaw. She could see the ranch house down the hillside. Feel the rattle of the tires over the rough road, hear the wind in the pines.
She promised herself she wouldn’t do it even as she reached out, her fingers trembling, and adjusted the side mirror to look back.
Hud was still standing where she’d left him, looking after them.
Happy birthday.
Chapter Two
Well, that had gone better than he’d expected, Hud thought with his usual self-deprecating sarcasm.
She was engaged to Lanny Rankin?
What did you expect? It’s been years. I’m surprised she isn’t married by now. But Lanny Rankin?
He watched the pickup disappear over the hill, listening until the sound of the engine died away and all he could hear was the wind again.
Yeah, why isn’t she married?
Lanny Rankin had gone after Dana before Hud had even driven out past the city limit sign. He’d had five years. So why weren’t the two of them married?
He felt a glimmer of hope.
Was it possible Dana was dragging her feet because she was still in love with him—not Lanny Rankin?
And why wasn’t she wearing her ring? Maybe she didn’t even have one. Maybe she wasn’t engaged—at least not officially.
Maybe you’re clutching at straws.
Maybe, but his instincts told him that if she was going to marry Lanny, she would have by now.
A half mile down the hillside, he could see Warren’s pickup stop in a cloud of dust. Hud watched Dana get out. She was still beautiful. Still prickly as a porcupine. Still strong and determined. Still wishing him dead.
He couldn’t blame her for that, though.
He had a terrible thought. What if she married Lanny now just out of spite?
And what was this about selling the ranch? The old Dana Cardwell he knew would never put the ranch up for sale. Was she thinking about leaving after it sold? Worse, after she married Lanny?
She disappeared into the ranch house. This place was her heart. She’d always said she would die here and be buried up on the hill with the rest of her mother’s family, the Justices.
He’d loved that about her, her pride in her family’s past, her determination to give that lifestyle to her children—to their children.
Hud felt that gut-deep ache of regret. God, how he hated what he’d done to her. What he’d done to himself. It didn’t help that he’d spent the past five years trying to make sense of it.
Water under the bridge, his old man would have said. But then his old man didn’t have a conscience. Made life easier that way, Hud thought, cursing at even the thought of Brick Savage. He thought of all the wasted years he’d spent trying to please his father—and the equally wasted years he’d spent hating him.
Hud turned, disgusted with himself, and tried to lose himself in the one thing that gave him any peace, his work.
He put in a call to Coroner Rupert Milligan. While he waited for Rupert, he shot both digital photographs and video of the site, trying not to speculate on the bones in the well or how they had gotten there.
Rupert drove up not thirty minutes later. He was dressed in a suit and tie, which in Montana meant either a funeral or a wedding. “Toastmasters, if you have to know,” he said as he walked past Hud to the well, grabbing the flashlight from Hud’s hand on his way.
Rupert Milligan was older than God and more powerful in this county. Tall, white-haired, with a head like a buffalo, he had a gruff voice and little patience for stupidity. He’d retired as a country doctor but still worked as coroner. He’d gotten hooked on murder mysteries—and forensics. Rupert loved nothing better than a good case and while Hud was still hoping the bones weren’t human, he knew that Rupert was pitching for the other team.
Rupert shone the flashlight down into the well, leaning one way then the other. He froze, holding the flashlight still as he leaned down even farther. Hud figured he’d seen the skull partially exposed at one edge of the well.
“You got yourself a human body down there, but then I reckon you already knew that,” he said, sounding too cheerful as he straightened.
Hud nodded.
“Let’s get it out of there.” Rupert had already started toward his rig.
Hud would have offered to go down in Rupert’s place but he knew the elderly coroner wouldn’t have stood for it. All he needed Hud for was to document it if the case ever went to trial—and help winch him and the bones out of the well.
He followed Rupert over to his pickup where the coroner had taken off his suit jacket and was pulling on a pair of overalls.
“Wanna put some money on what we got down there?” Rupert asked with a grin. Among his other eclectic traits, Rupert was a gambler. To his credit, he seldom lost.
“Those bones could have been down there for fifty years or more,” Hud said, knowing that if that was the case, there was a really good chance they would never know the identity of the person or how he’d ended up down there.
Rupert shook his head as he walked around to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. “Those aren’t fifty-year-old bones down there. Not even close.”
The coroner had come prepared. There was a pulley system in the back and a large plastic box with a body bag, latex gloves, a variety of different size containers, a video camera and a small shovel.
He handed Hud the pulley then stuffed the needed items into a backpack, which he slung over his shoulder before slipping a headlamp over his white hair and snapping it on.
“True, it’s dry down there, probably been covered most of the time since the bones haven’t been bleached by the sun,” Rupert said as he walked back to the well and Hud followed. “Sides of the well are too steep for most carnivores. Insects would have been working on the bones though. Maggots.” He took another look into the well. “Spot me five years and I’ll bet you fifty bucks that those bones have been down there two decades or less,” he said with his usual confidence, a confidence based on years of experience.
Twenty years ago Hud would have been sixteen. Rupert would have been maybe forty-five. With a jolt Hud realized that Rupert wasn’t that much older than his father. It felt odd to think of Brick Savage as old. In Hud’s mind’s eye he saw his father at his prime, a large, broad-shouldered man who could have been an actor. Or even a model. He was that good-looking.
“I got a hundred that says whoever’s down there didn’t fall down there by accident,” Rupert said.
“Good thing I’m not a betting man,” Hud said, distracted. His mind on the fact that twenty years ago, his father was marshal.
“TELL ME you didn’t,” Dana said as she walked into Needles and Pins and heard giggling in the back beyond the racks of fabric.
Her best friend and partner in the small sewing shop gave her a grin and a hug. “It’s your birthday, kiddo,” Hilde whispered. “Gotta celebrate.”
“Birthdays after thirty should not be celebrated,” Dana whispered back.
“Are you kidding? And miss seeing what thirty-one candles on a cake looks like?”
“You didn’t.”
Hilde had her arm and was tugging her toward the back. “Smile. I promise this won’t kill you, though you do look like you think it will.” She slowed. “You’re shaking. Seriously, are you all right?”
As much as she hated it, Dana was still a wreck after seeing Hud again. She’d hoped to get to work at the shop and forget about everything that had happened this morning, including not only what might be in the old well—but also who. The last thing she wanted was to even be reminded of her birthday. It only reminded her that Hud had remembered.
“Hud’s back,” she said, the words coming out in a rush.
Hilde stopped dead so that Dana almost collided with her.
Her best friend’s surprise made her feel better. Dana had been worried all morning that everyone had known about Hud’s return—and just hadn’t told her to protect her. She hated being protected. Especially from news like that. If she’d known he was back, she could have prepared herself for seeing him— Even as she thought it, she knew nothing could have prepared her for that initial shock of seeing Hud after five long years.
“Hud’s back in the canyon?” Hilde whispered, sounding shocked. The Gallatin Canyon, a fifty-mile strip of winding highway and blue-ribbon river, had been mostly ranches, the cattle and dude kind, a few summer cabins and homes—that is until Big Sky resort and the small town that followed at the foot of Lone Mountain. But the “canyon” was still its own little community.
“Hud’s the new temporary marshal,” Dana whispered, her throat suddenly dry.
“Hello?” came the familiar voice of Margo from the back of the store. “We’ve got candles burning up in here.”
“Hud? Back here? Oh, man, what a birthday present,” Hilde said, giving her another hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I can imagine what seeing him again did to you.”
“I still want to kill him,” Dana whispered.
“Not on your birthday.” Hilde frowned. “Does Lanny know yet?” she whispered.
“Lanny? Lanny and I are just friends.”
“Does Lanny know that?” her friend asked, giving her a sympathetic smile.
“He knows.” Dana sighed, remembering the night Lanny had asked her to marry him and she’d had to turn him down. Things hadn’t been the same between them since. “I did something really stupid. I told Hud I was engaged to Lanny.”
“You didn’t.”
Dana nodded miserably. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Margo called from the back room. “Major wax guttering back here.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Dana said, and she and Hilde stepped into the back of the shop where a dozen of Dana’s friends and store patrons had gathered around a cake that looked like it was on fire.
“Quick! Make a wish!” her friend Margo cried.
Dana closed her eyes for an instant, made a wish, then braving the heat of thirty-one candles flickering on a sheet cake, blew as hard as she could, snuffing out every last one of them to the second chorus of happy birthday.
“Tell me you didn’t wish Hud dead,” Hilde whispered next to her as the smoke started to dissipate.
“And have my wish not come true? No way.”
HUD WATCHED RUPERT, the glow of the coroner’s headlamp flickering eerily on the dark dirt walls as he descended into the well. Hud tried not to think about remains down there or the fact that Brick might have investigated the disappearance. Might even have known the victim. Just as Hud and Rupert might have.
Rupert stopped the pulley just feet above the bones to video the scene on the bottom of the well. The light flickered and Hud looked away as he tried to corral his thoughts. Sure as hell this investigation would force him to deal with his father. The thought turned his stomach. The last time he’d seen his father, more than five years ago now, they’d almost ended up in a brawl, burning every bridge between them—both content with the understanding that the next time Hud saw his father it would be to make sure Brick was buried.
When Hud had decided to come back, he’d thought at least he wouldn’t have to see his father. Word was that Brick had moved to a place up on Hebgen Lake near West Yellowstone—a good fifty miles away.
The wind seemed cooler now and in the distance Hud could see dark clouds rolling up over the mountains. He turned his face up to the pale sun knowing it wouldn’t be long before it was snowing again. After all, this was January in Montana.
The rope on the pulley groaned and he looked down again into the well as Rupert settled gently on the bottom, the headlamp now focused on the human remains.
Because of the steep sides of the well, the body was contained, none of the bones had been scattered by critters or carried off. The coroner had pulled on a pair of the latex gloves. He opened the body bag and began to carefully fill it with the bones.
“Good thing you didn’t bet with me,” Rupert said. “I’d say the bones have been here closer to fifteen years.” He held up a pelvic bone in his gloved hands. “A woman. White. Late twenties, early thirties.”
In the light from the headlamp, Hud watched Rupert pick up the skull and turn it slowly in his hands.
“Well, how about that,” he heard Rupert say, then glance up at him. “You got a murder on your hands, son,” the coroner said solemnly. He held up the skull, his headlamp shining through a small round hole in the skull.
“The bullet entered this side, passed through the brain and lodged in the mastoid bone behind the left ear,” Rupert said, still turning the skull in his hands. “The bullet lead is flattened and deformed from impact but there will be enough lands and grooves to match the weapon. Looks like a .38.”
“If we could find the weapon after all this time,” Hud said. He let out an oath under his breath. Murder. And the body found on the Cardwell Ranch.
“Get one of those containers out of my rig so I can bag the skull separately,” Rupert said, his voice echoing up.
Hud ran back to Rupert’s truck and returned to lower the container down to him. A few minutes later Rupert sent the filled container up and Hud found himself looking at the dead woman’s skull. A patch of hair clung to the top. The hair, although covered with dirt, was still reddish in color. He stared at the hair, at the shape of the skull, and tried to picture the face.
“You think she was young, huh?” he called down.
In the well, Rupert stopped to inspect one of the bones in the light from his headlamp. “Based on growth lines, I’d say twenty-eight to thirty-five years of age.” He put down one bone to pick up what appeared to be a leg bone. “Hmm, that’s interesting. The bony prominences show muscle development, indicating she spent a lot of time on her feet. Probably made her living as a hairdresser, grocery clerk, nurse, waitress, something like that.” He put the bone into the body bag and picked up another shorter one. “Same bony prominences on the arms as if she often carried something heavy. My money’s on waitress or nurse.”
Few coroners would go out on a limb with such conjecture. Most left this part up to the forensics team at the state crime lab. But then, Rupert Milligan wasn’t like most coroners. Add to that the fact that he was seldom wrong.
“What about height and weight?” Hud asked, feeling a chill even in the sun. His father had always liked waitresses. Hell, his father chased skirts no matter who wore them.
Rupert seemed to study the dirt where the bones had been. “I’d say she was between five-four and five-seven. A hundred and twenty to a hundred and forty pounds.”
That covered a lot of women, Hud thought as he carried the container with the skull in it over to Rupert’s pickup and placed it carefully on the front seat. All the teeth were still intact. With luck, they’d be able to identify her from dental records if she’d been local.
He tried to remember if he’d heard his father talking about a missing person’s case about fifteen years ago. Rodrick “Brick” Savage loved to brag about his cases—especially the ones he solved.
But then this one wouldn’t have been one he’d solved. And fifteen years ago, Hud had been eighteen and away at college. He wondered if Dana had mentioned a missing woman in one of her letters to him. She’d written him every week, but the letters were more about what was happening on the ranch, I-miss-you letters, love letters.
Leaving the skull at the pickup, he went back to watch Rupert dig through the dirt on the well floor. The coroner slowed as he hit something, then stooped and shook dirt from what he’d found.
Hud felt his chest heave as Rupert held up a bright red high-heeled shoe.
AFTER THE BIRTHDAY party and in between customers, Dana defied Hud’s orders and told Hilde about what Warren had found in the old dry well by the original homestead’s foundation.
Dana was sure the news was all over the canyon by now. But still she’d waited, not wanting to say anything to anyone but Hilde, her best friend.
“He really thinks the bones are human?” Hilde asked with a shiver. “Who could it be?”
Dana shook her head. “Probably some ancestor of mine.”
Hilde looked skeptical. “You think the bones have been down there that long?” She hugged herself as if she could feel the cold coming up from the well just as Dana had earlier.
“It’s horrible to think that someone might have fallen in and been unable to get out, died down there,” Dana said.
Hilde nodded. “It’s just odd that you found them now.” Her eyes lit. “You think the investigation will hold up the sale of the ranch?”
“Maybe, but ultimately the ranch will be sold, trust me,” Dana said, and changed the subject. “Thank you for the birthday party. I love the purse you made me.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry you’ve had such a lousy day. Why don’t you go on home? I can handle things here. It’s your birthday.”
Dana groaned. “I hate to imagine what other horrible things could happen before this day is over.”
“Always the optimist, aren’t you.”
Dana smiled in spite of herself. “I think I will go home.” She looked outside. Clouds scudded across the pale sky, taking the earlier warmth with them. The sign over the door pendulumed in the wind and she could almost feel the cold trying to get in.
Across the way from the shop, the top of the mountain had disappeared, shrouded in white clouds. The first snowflakes, blown by the wind, swept across the window. Apparently the weatherman had been right when he’d called for snow before midnight.
Dana would be lucky to get home before the roads iced over.
FROM DOWN IN the well, Rupert signaled for Hud to pull up the body bag. It was heavy, but mostly from the layer of dirt retrieved from the bottom of the well. The dirt would be sifted for evidence later at the state crime lab.
He put down the body bag, noting that the weather had turned. Snowflakes danced around him, pelting him on gusts of wind and momentarily blinding him. He barely felt the cold as he squatted near the edge of the well, pulling up the hood on his marshal’s jacket as he watched Rupert finish.
The red high-heeled shoe had triggered something. Not a real memory since he couldn’t recall when, where or if he’d even actually seen a woman in a red dress and bright red high-heeled shoes. It could have been a photograph. Even a television show or a movie.
But for just an instant he’d had a flash of a woman in a bright red dress and shoes. She was spinning around in a circle, laughing, her long red hair whirling around her head, her face hidden from view.
That split-second image had left him shaken. Had he known this woman?
The canyon was like a small town except for a few months when the out-of-staters spent time in their vacation homes or condos to take advantage of the skiing or the mild summer weather.
But if the woman had been one of those, Hud knew he’d have heard about her disappearance. More than likely she was someone who’d worked at the resort or one of the local businesses. She might not have even been missed as seasonal workers were pretty transient.
“I’m going to need another container from the truck,” Rupert called up.
The wind had a bite to it now. Snowflakes swirled around him as Hud lowered the container down and watched the coroner place what appeared to be a dirt-caked piece of once-red fabric inside. Just as in his memory, the woman had worn a red dress. Rupert continued to sift through the dirt, stooped over in the small area, intent on his work.
Hud pulled his coat around him. The mountains across the canyon were no longer visible through the falling snow. And to think he’d actually missed winters while working for the police department in Los Angeles.
From down in the well, Rupert let out a curse, calling Hud’s attention back to the dark hole in the ground.
“What is it?” Hud called down.
Rupert had the video camera out and seemed to be trying to steady his hands as he photographed the well wall.
“You aren’t going to believe this.” The older man’s voice sounded strained as if he’d just found something that had shaken him—a man who’d bragged that he’d seen the worst of everything. “She was still alive.”
“What?” Hud asked, his blood running cold.
“Neither the gunshot wound nor being thrown down the well killed her right away,” Rupert said. “There are deep gouges in the earth where she tried to climb out.”
Chapter Three
Long after Rupert came up out of the well neither he nor Hud said anything. Snow whirled on the wind, the bank of clouds dropping over them, the sun only a memory.
Hud sat behind the wheel of the SUV, motor running, heater cranked up, drinking coffee from the thermos Rupert had brought. Next to him, Rupert turned the SUV’s heater vent so it blew into his face.
The older man looked pale, his eyes hollow. Hud imagined that, like him, Rupert had been picturing what it must have been like being left in the bottom of that well to die a slow death.
The yellow crime scene tape Hud had strung up now bowed in the wind and snow. The hillside was a blur of white, the snow falling diagonally.
“I suppose the murder weapon could still be up here,” Hud said to Rupert, more to break the silence than anything else. Even with the wind and the motor and heater going, the day felt too quiet, the hillside too desolate. Anything was better than thinking about the woman in the well—even remembering Dana’s reaction to seeing him again.
“Doubt you’ll ever find that gun,” Rupert said without looking at him. The old coroner had been unusually quiet since coming up out of the well.
Hud had called the sheriff’s department in Bozeman and asked for help searching the area. It was procedure, but Hud agreed with Rupert. He doubted the weapon would ever turn up.
Except they had to search for it. Unfortunately this was Montana. A lot of men drove trucks with at least one firearm hanging on the back window gun rack and another in the glove box or under the seat.
“So did he shoot her before or after she went into the well?” Hud asked.
“After, based on the angle the bullet entered her skull.” Rupert took a sip of his coffee.
“He must have thought he killed her.”
Rupert said nothing as he stared in the direction of the well.
“Had to have known about the well,” Hud said. Which meant he had knowledge of the Cardwell Ranch. Hud groaned to himself as he saw where he was headed with this. The old homestead was a good mile off Highway 191 that ran through the Gallatin Canyon. The killer could have accessed the old homestead by two ways. One was the Cardwell’s private bridge, which would mean driving right by the ranch house.
Or…he could have taken the Piney Creek Bridge, following a twisted route of old logging roads. The same way he and Dana used when he was late getting her home.
Either way, the killer had to be local to know about the well, let alone the back way. Unless, of course, the killer was a member of the Cardwell family and had just driven in past the ranch house bold as brass.
Why bring the woman here, though? Why the Cardwell Ranch well?
“You know what bothers me?” Hud said, taking a sip of his coffee. “The red high heel. Just one in the well. What happened to the other one? And what was she doing up here dressed like that?” He couldn’t shake that flash of memory of a woman in a red dress any more than he could nail down its source.
He felt his stomach tighten when Rupert didn’t jump in. It wasn’t like Rupert. Did his silence have something to do with realizing the woman in the well hadn’t been dead and tried to save herself? Or was it possible Rupert suspected who she was and for some reason was keeping it to himself?
“The heels, the dress, it’s almost like she was on a date,” Hud said. “Or out for a special occasion.”
Rupert glanced over at him. “You might make as good a marshal as your father some day.” High praise to Rupert’s way of thinking, so Hud tried hard not to take offense.
“Odd place to bring your date, though,” Hud commented. But then maybe not. The spot was isolated. Not like a trailhead where anyone could come along. No one would be on this section of the ranch at night and you could see the ranch house and part of the road up the hillside. You would know if anyone was headed in your direction in plenty of time to get away.
And yet it wasn’t close enough that anyone could hear a woman’s cries for help.
“Still, someone had to have reported her missing,” Hud persisted. “A roommate. A boss. A friend. A husband.”
Rupert finished his coffee and started to screw the cup back on the thermos. “Want any more?”
Hud shook his head. “You worked with my father for a lot of years.”
Rupert looked over at him, eyes narrowing. “Brick Savage was the best damned marshal I’ve ever known.” He said it as if he knew only too well that there were others who would have argued that, Hud among them, and Rupert wasn’t going to have it.
Brick Savage was a lot of things. A colorful marshal, loved and respected by supporters, feared and despised by his adversaries. Hud knew him as a stubborn, rigid father who he’d feared as a boy and despised as a man. Hud hated to think of the years he’d tried to prove himself to his father—only to fail.
He could feel Rupert’s gaze on him, daring him to say anything against Brick. “If you’re right about how long she’s been down there…”
Rupert made a rude sound under his breath, making it clear he was right.
“…then Brick would have been marshal and you would have been assistant coroner.”
“Your point?” Rupert asked.
Hud eyed him, wondering why Rupert was getting his back up. Because Hud had brought up Brick? “I just thought you might remember a missing person’s case during that time.”
“You’d have to ask your father. Since no body was found, I might not even have heard about it.” Rupert zipped up his coroner jacket he’d pulled from behind the seat of his truck. “I need to get to the crime lab.”
Hud handed Rupert the coffee cup he’d lent him. “Just seems odd, doesn’t it? Someone had to have missed her. You would think the whole area would have been talking about it.”
The coroner smiled ruefully. “Some women come and go more often than a Greyhound bus.”
Hud remembered hearing that Rupert’s first wife had run off on numerous occasions before she’d finally cleared out with a long-haul truck driver.
“You think this woman was like that?” Hud asked, his suspicion growing that Rupert knew more than he was saying.
“If she was, then your suspect list could be as long as your arm.” Rupert opened his door.
“You almost sound as if you have an idea who she was,” Hud said over the wind.
Rupert climbed out of the truck. “I’ll call you when I know something definite.”
Hud watched the older man move through the falling snow and wondered why Rupert, who was ready to bet on the bones earlier, seemed to be backpedaling now. It wasn’t like the old coroner. Unless Rupert suspected who the bones belonged to—and it hit a little too close to home.
THE PHONE was ringing as Dana walked through the ranch house door. She dropped the stack of mail she’d picked up at the large metal box down by the highway and rushed to answer the phone, not bothering to check Caller ID, something she regretted the moment she heard her older brother’s voice.
“Dana, what the hell’s going on?” Jordan demanded without even a hello let alone a “happy birthday.” Clearly he had been calling for some time, not thinking to try her at her new job.
“Where are you?”
“Where do you think I am?” he shot back. “In case you forgot, I live in New York. What the hell is going on out there?”
She slumped into a chair, weak with relief. For a moment she’d thought he was in Montana, that he’d somehow heard about the bones in the well and had caught a flight out. The last thing she needed today was her brother Jordan to deal with in the flesh. Unfortunately it seemed she would have to deal with him on the phone though.
Her relief was quickly replaced by irritation with him. “I’m fine, Jordan. Thanks for asking, considering it’s my birthday and it’s been a rough day.” She’d seen the sheriff’s department cars go up the road toward the old homestead, making her even more aware of what was happening not a mile from the ranch house.
Jordan let out a weary sigh. “Dana, if this is about the ranch—”
“Jordan, let’s not. Not today. Is there a reason you called?”
“Hell yes! I want to know why the marshal thinks there’s a body in a well on our ranch.”
Our ranch? She gritted her teeth. Jordan had hated everything about the ranch and ranching, distancing himself as far as he could from both.
How had he heard about the bones already? She sighed, thinking of Franklin Morgan’s sister, Shirley, who worked as dispatcher. Shirley had dated Jordan in high school and still drooled over him whenever Jordan returned to the canyon. Well, at least Dana didn’t have to wonder anymore how long it would take for the word to get out.
She didn’t dare tell him that it had been Warren who’d found the bones. Jordan would never understand why Warren hadn’t just filled in the well and kept his mouth shut. “I found some bones in the old dry well at the homestead.”
“So?”
“I called the marshal’s office to report them.”
“For God’s sake, why?”
“Because it’s both legally and morally the thing to do.” She really wasn’t in the mood for Jordan today.
“This is going to hold up the sale of the ranch.”
“Jordan, some poor soul is in the bottom of our well. Whoever it is deserves to be buried properly.”
“It’s probably just animal bones. I’m flying out there to see what the hell is really going on.”
“No!” The word was out before she could call it back. Telling Jordan no was like waving a red blanket in front of a rodeo bull.
“You’re up to something. This is just another ploy on your part.”
She closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. “I just think it would be better if you didn’t come out. I can handle this. You’ll only make matters worse.”
“I have another call coming in. I’ll call you back.” He hung up.
Dana gritted her teeth as she put down the phone and picked up her mail and began sorting through it. All she needed was Jordan coming out here now. She thought about leaving so she didn’t have to talk to him when he called back.
Or she could just not answer the phone. But she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything other than making him more angry. And Jordan wasn’t someone you wanted to deal with when he was angry.
She opened a letter from Kitty Randolph asking her to help chair another fund-raiser. Kitty and Dana’s mother had been friends and since Mary’s death, Kitty had seemed to think that Dana would take her mother’s place. Dana put the letter aside. She knew she would probably call Kitty in a day or so and agree to do it. She always did.
She picked up the rest of the mail and froze at the sight of the pale yellow envelope. No return address, but she knew who it was from the moment she saw the handwriting.
Throw it away. Don’t even open it.
The last thing she needed was to get something from her sister Stacy today.
The envelope was card-shaped. Probably just a birthday card. But considering that she and Stacy hadn’t spoken to each other in five years…
She started to toss the envelope in the trash but stopped. Why would her sister decide to contact her now? Certainly not because it was her birthday. No, Stacy was trying to butter her up. Kind of like good cop, bad cop with Jordan opting of course for the bad cop role. Her other brother Clay was more of the duck-for-cover type when there was conflict in the family.
Dana couldn’t help herself. She ripped open the envelope, not surprised to find she’d been right. A birthday card.
On the front was a garden full of flowers and the words, For My Sister. Dana opened the card.
“Wishing you happiness on your birthday and always.”
“Right. Your big concern has always been my happiness,” Dana muttered.
The card was signed, Stacy. Then in small print under it were the words, “I am so sorry.”
Dana balled up the card and hurled it across the room, remembering a time when she’d idolized her older sister. Stacy was everything Dana had once wanted to be. Beautiful, popular, the perfect older sister to emulate. She’d envied the way Stacy made everything look easy. On the other hand, Dana had been a tomboy, scuffed knees, unruly hair and not a clue when it came to boys.
What Dana hadn’t realized once she grew up was how much Stacy had envied her. Or what lengths she would go to to hurt her.
The phone rang. She let it ring twice more before she forced herself to pick up the receiver, not bothering to check Caller ID for the second time. “Yes?”
“Dana?”
“Lanny. I thought it…was someone else,” she said lamely.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
She could picture him sitting in his office in his three-piece, pin-striped suit, leaning back in his leather chair, with that slight frown he got when he was in lawyer mode.
“Fine. Just…busy.” She rolled her eyes at how stupid she sounded. But she could feel what wasn’t being said between them like a speech barrier. Lanny had to have heard that Hud was back in town. Wasn’t that why he’d called?
“Well, then I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight,” he said.
“Of course.” She’d completely forgotten about their date. The last thing she wanted to do was to go out tonight. But she’d made this birthday dinner date weeks ago.
“Great, then I’ll see you at eight.” He seemed to hesitate, as if waiting for her to say something, then hung up.
Why hadn’t she told him the truth? That she was exhausted, that there was a dead body in her well, that she just wanted to stay home and lick her wounds? Lanny would have understood.
But she knew why she hadn’t. Because Lanny would think her canceling their date had something to do with Hud.
ONCE THE TEAM of deputies on loan from the sheriff’s department in Bozeman arrived and began searching the old homestead, Hud drove back to his office at Big Sky.
Big Sky didn’t really resemble a town. Condos had sprung up after construction on the famous resort began on the West Fork of the Gallatin River in the early 1970s. A few businesses had followed, along with other resort amenities such as a golf course in the lower meadow and ski area on the spectacular Lone Mountain peak.
The marshal’s office was in the lower meadow in a nondescript small wooden building, manned with a marshal, two deputies and a dispatcher. After hours, all calls were routed to the sheriff’s office in Bozeman.
Hud had inherited two green deputies and a dispatcher who was the cousin of the former sheriff and the worst gossip in the state. Not much to work with, especially now that he had a murder on his hands.
He parked in the back and entered the rear door, so lost in thought that he didn’t hear them at first. He stopped just inside the door at the sound of his name being brandished about.
“Well, you know darned well that he had some kind of pull to get this job, even temporarily.” Hud recognized Franklin Morgan’s voice. Franklin was the nephew of former marshal Scott “Scrappy” Morgan. Franklin was a sheriff’s deputy in Bozeman, some forty miles away.
Hud had been warned that Franklin wasn’t happy about not getting the interim marshal job after his uncle left and that there might be some hard feelings. Hud smiled at that understatement as he heard Franklin continue.
“At first I thought he must have bought the job, but hell, the Savages haven’t ever had any money.” This from Shirley Morgan, the dispatcher, and Franklin’s sister. Nepotism was alive and well in the canyon.
“Didn’t his mother’s family have money?” Franklin asked.
“Well, if they did, they didn’t leave it to their daughter after she married Brick Savage,” Shirley said. “But then, can you blame them?”
“Hud seems like he knows what he’s doing,” countered Deputy Norm Turner. Norm was a tall, skinny, shy kid with little to no experience at life or law enforcement from what Hud could tell.
“Maybe Brick pulled some strings to get Hud the job,” Franklin said.
Hud scoffed. Brick wouldn’t pull on the end of a rope if his son was hanging off it from a cliff on the other end.
“Not a chance,” Shirley said with a scornful laugh. “It was that damned Dana Cardwell.”
Hud felt a jolt. Dana?
“Everyone in the canyon does what she wants just like they did when her mother was alive. Hell, those Cardwell women have been running things in this canyon for years. Them and Kitty Randolph. You can bet Dana Cardwell got him the job.”
Hud couldn’t help but smile just thinking how Dana would love to hear that she was responsible for getting him back to town.
Franklin took a drink of his coffee and happened to look up and see Hud standing just inside the doorway. The deputy’s eyes went wide, coffee spewing from his mouth. Hud could see the wheels turning. Franklin was wondering how long Hud had been there and just what he’d overheard.
Norm swung around and about choked on the doughnut he’d just shoved into his mouth.
Shirley, who’d been caught before, didn’t even bother to look innocent. She just scooted her chair through the open doorway to the room that housed the switchboard, closing the door behind her.
Hud watched with no small amount of amusement as the two deputies tried to regain their composure. “Any word from the crime lab?” Hud asked as he proceeded to his office.
Both men answered at the same time.
“Haven’t heard a word.”
“Nothing from our end.” Franklin tossed his foam coffee cup in the trash as if he suddenly remembered something urgent he needed to do. He hightailed it out of the office.
Deputy Turner didn’t have that luxury. “Marshal, about what was being said…”
Hud could have bailed him out, could have pretended he hadn’t heard a word, but he didn’t. He’d been young once himself. He liked to think he’d learned from his mistakes, but coming back here might prove him wrong.
“It’s just that I—I…wanted to say…” The young deputy looked as if he might break down.
“Deputy Turner, don’t you think I know that everyone in the canyon is wondering how I got this job, even temporarily, after what happened five years ago? I’m as surprised as anyone that I’m the marshal for the time being. All I can do is prove that I deserve it. How about you?”
“Yes, sir, that’s exactly how I feel,” he said, his face turning scarlet.
“That’s what I thought,” Hud said, and continued on to his office.
He was anxious to go through the missing person’s file from around fifteen years back. But he quickly saw that all but the last ten years of files had been moved to the Bozeman office.
“We don’t have any records back beyond 1994,” the clerk told him when he called. “That’s when we had the fire. All the records were destroyed.”
Twelve years ago. He’d completely forgotten about the fire. He hung up. All he could hope was that Rupert was wrong. That the woman hadn’t been in the well more than twelve years. Otherwise… He swore.
Otherwise, he would be forced to talk to the former marshal. After all this time, the last thing Hud wanted was to see his father.
“I’M TAKING THE FIRST flight out,” Jordan said without preamble when he called Dana back. “I’ll let you know what time I arrive so you can pick me up at the airport.”
Dana bit down on her tongue, determined not to let him get to her. He seemed to just assume she wouldn’t have anything else to do but pick him up at Gallatin Field, a good fifty miles away. “Jordan, you must have forgotten. I have a job.”
“You’re half owner of a…fabric shop. Don’t tell me you can’t get away.”
She wasn’t going to chauffeur him around the whole time he was here, or worse, let him commandeer her vehicle. She took a breath. She would have loved to have lost her temper and told him just what she thought of him. He was in no position to be asking anything of her.
She let out the breath. “You’ll have to rent a car, Jordan. I’ll be working.” A thought struck her like the back of a hand. “Where will you be staying in case I need to reach you?” Not with her. Please not with her at the ranch.
She heard the knife edge in his voice. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stay at that old rundown ranch house with you.”
She almost slumped with relief. She’d suspected for some time that he was in financial trouble. Ever since two years ago when he’d married Jill, an out-of-work model, Jordan had seemed desperate for money.
“I assume Jill is coming with you?” Dana said, assuming just the opposite.
“Jill can’t make it this time.”
“Oh?” Dana bit her tongue again, just not quick enough. Jill had set foot in Montana only once and found it too backwoodsy.
“You have something to say, Dana? We all know what an authority you are on romantic relationships.”
The jab felt all the more painful given that Hud was back in town. “At least I had the sense not to marry him.” Instantly she wished she could snatch back the words. “Jordan, I don’t want to fight with you.” It was true. She hated how quickly this had escalated into something ugly. “Let’s not do this.”
“No, Dana, you brought it up,” Jason said. “If you have something to say, let’s hear it.”
“Jordan, you know this isn’t what Mom wanted, us fighting like this.”
He let out a cruel laugh. “You think I care what she wanted? The only thing she ever loved was that damned ranch. And just like her, you chose it over a man.”
“Mom didn’t choose the ranch over Dad,” Dana said. “She tried to make their marriage work. It was Dad who—”
“Don’t be naive, Dana. She drove him away. The same way you did Hud.”
She wasn’t going to discuss this with him. Especially today. Especially with Hud back. “I have to go, Jordan.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “At least I have someone to warm my bed at night. Can your precious ranch do that?”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Dana snapped. “Jill will be long gone once you don’t have anything else you can pillage to appease her.”
She knew at once that she’d gone too far. Jordan had never liked to hear the truth.
Dana smacked herself on the forehead, wishing she could take back the angry words. He’d always known how to push her buttons. Isn’t that what siblings were especially adept at because they knew each others’ weaknesses so well?
“Jordan, I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it.
“I’ll have Dad pick me up. But, dear sister, I will deal with you when I see you. And at least buy a damned answering machine.” He slammed down the phone.
She felt dirty, as if she’d been wrestling in the mud as she hung up. She hadn’t wanted the conversation to end like that. It would only make matters worse once he hit town.
She told herself that with luck maybe she wouldn’t have to see him. She wouldn’t have to see any of her siblings. The only one she’d been even a little close to was Clay, the youngest, but she wasn’t even talking to him lately.
And she didn’t want an answering machine. Anyone who needed to reach her, would. Eventually. She could just imagine the kind of messages Jordan would leave her.
She shuddered at the thought. As bad as she felt about the argument and her angry words, she was relieved. At least Jordan wasn’t staying at the ranch, she thought with a rueful smile as she went into the kitchen and poured herself of a glass of wine.
As she did, she heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the road to the house and groaned. Now what?
Glancing out the window she saw the marshal’s black SUV barreling toward her.
This day just kept getting better.
Chapter Four
Across the river and a half mile back up a wide valley, the Cardwell ranch house sat against a backdrop of granite cliffs and towering dark pines. The house was a big, two-story rambling affair with a wide front porch and a new brick-red metal roof.
Behind it stood a huge weathered barn and some outbuildings and corrals. The dark shapes loomed out of the falling snow and darkness as Hud swung the SUV into the ranch yard.
He shut off the engine. Out of habit, he looked up at Dana’s bedroom window. There was nothing but darkness behind the glass but in his mind he could see her waving to him as she’d done so many times years before.
As he got out of the patrol car, ducking deep into his coat against the falling snow, he ran to the porch, half expecting Dana’s mother, Mary Justice Cardwell, to answer the door. Mary had been a ranch woman through and through. No one had ever understood why she’d married Angus Cardwell. He’d been too handsome and charming for his own good, with little ambition and even less regard for ranch work. But he’d also been heir to the C-Bar Ranch adjacent to the Justice Ranch.
When the two had married, so had the ranches. The combined spread became the Cardwell Ranch.
No one had been surprised when the two divorced. Or when Angus gave up the ranch to Mary.
People were just surprised that the two stayed together long enough to have four children.
And Angus and Mary had certainly produced beautiful children.
Jordan, the oldest, was almost too good-looking and had definitely taken after his father. Clay was the youngest, a slim, quiet young man who worked in local theater groups.
Then there was Stacy, two years older than Dana, cheerleader cute. Stacy had cashed in on her looks her whole life, trading up in three marriages so far. He didn’t like to think about Stacy.
There was no comparison between the two sisters. While Dana also had the Justice-Cardwell good looks, she had something more going for her. She’d been the good student, the hard worker, the one who wanted to carry on the family tradition at the ranch, while the others had cut and run the first chance they got.
Dana, like her mother, loved everything about ranching. It and breathing were one and the same to her. That’s why he couldn’t understand why Dana would be selling the place. It scared him.
He couldn’t stand the thought that he’d come back too late. Or worse that he’d been carrying a torch for a woman who no longer existed.
As he started to knock, he heard a dog growl and looked over to see a gray-muzzled, white-and-liver springer spaniel.
“Joe?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. He knelt as the dog lumbered over to him, tail wagging with recognition. “Joe, hey, old boy. I didn’t think you’d still be around.” He petted the dog, happy to see a friendly face from the past.
“Was there something you wanted?”
He hadn’t heard the front door open. Dana stood leaning against the frame, a glass of wine in her hand and a look that said she was in no mood for whatever he was selling.
He wished like hell that he wasn’t going to add to her troubles. “Evening,” he said, tipping his hat as he gave Joe a pat and straightened. “Mind if I come in for a few minutes? I need to talk to you.”
“If this has something to do with you and me…”
“No.” He gave her a rueful smile. There was no “you and me”—not anymore. Not ever again from the look in her brown eyes. “It’s about what we found in the well.”
All the starch seemed to go out of her. She stepped back, motioning him in.
He took off his hat and stepped in to slip off his boots and his jacket before following her through the very Western living area with its stone and wood to the bright, big airy kitchen. Joe followed at his heels.
“Have a seat.”
Hud pulled out a chair at the large worn oak table, put his Stetson on an adjacent chair and sat.
Dana frowned as Joe curled up at his feet. “Traitor,” she mouthed at the dog.
Hud looked around, memories of all the times he’d sat in this kitchen threatening to drown him. Mary Justice Cardwell at the stove making dinner, Dana helping, all of them chatting about the goings-on at the ranch, a new foal, a broken down tractor, cows to be moved. He could almost smell the roast and homemade rolls baking and hear Dana’s laughter, see the secret, knowing looks she’d send him, feel the warmth of being a part of this family.
And Dana would have made her mother’s double chocolate brownies for dessert—especially for him.
Dana set a bottle of wine and a glass in front of him, putting it down a little too hard and snapping him back to the present. “Unless you think we’re both going to need something stronger?” she asked.
“Wine will do.” He poured himself some and topped off her glass as she took a chair across from him. She curled her bare feet under her but not before he noticed that her toenails were painted coral. She wore jeans and an autumn gold sweater that hugged her curves and lit her eyes.
He lifted his glass, but words failed him as he looked at her. The faint scent of her wafted over to him as she took a drink of her wine. She’d always smelled of summer to him, an indefinable scent that filled his heart like helium.
Feeling awkward, he took another drink, his throat tight. He’d known being in this house again would bring it all back. It did. But just being here alone with Dana, not being able to touch her or to say all the things he wanted to say to her, was killing him. She didn’t want to hear his excuses. Hell, clearly she’d hoped to never lay eyes on him again.
But a part of him, he knew, was still hoping she’d been the one who’d sent him the anonymous note that had brought him back.
“So what did you find in the well?” she asked as if she wanted this over with as quickly as possible. She took another sip of wine, watching him over the rim of her glass, her eyes growing dark with a rage born of pain that he recognized only too well.
Dana hadn’t sent the note. He’d only been fooling himself. She still believed he’d betrayed her.
“The bones are human but you already knew that,” he said, finding his voice.
She nodded, waiting.
“We won’t know for certain until Rupert calls from the crime lab, but his opinion is that the body belonged to a Caucasian woman between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-five and that she’s been down there about fifteen years.” He met her gaze and saw the shock register.
“Only fifteen years?”
Hud nodded. It seemed that, like him, she’d hoped the bones were very old and had no recent connection to their lives.
Dana let out a breath. “How did she get there?”
“She was murdered. Rupert thinks she was thrown down the well and then shot.”
Dana sat up, her feet dropping to the floor with a slap. “No.” She set the wineglass down on the table, the wine almost spilling.
Without thinking, Hud reached over to steady the glass, steady her. His fingers brushed hers. She jerked her hand back as if he’d sliced her fingers with a knife.
He pulled back his hand and picked up his wineglass, wishing now that he’d asked for something stronger.
Dana was sitting back in the chair, her arms crossed, feet on the floor. She looked shaken. He wondered how much of it was from what he’d told her about the bones in the well and how much from his touch. Did she ever wonder what their lives might have been like if she hadn’t broken off the engagement? They would be husband and wife now. Something he always thought about. It never failed to bring a wave of regret with it.
He didn’t tell Dana that the woman had still been alive, maybe even calling to her attacker for help as he left her down there.
“I’m going to have to question your family and anyone else who had access to the property or who might have known about the dry well,” he said.
She didn’t seem to hear him. Her gaze went to the large window. Outside, the snow fell in huge feathery flakes, obscuring the mountains. “What was she shot with?”
He hesitated, then said, “Rupert thinks it was a .38.” He waited a beat before he added, “Does your father still have that .38 of his?”
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