“I’m so sorry you never got to know your father. He was a good man, though he had his demons. I never asked what they were. I’m just thankful that now he’s at peace.” She smiled. “I hope to join him one day. He’ll be waiting for me.”

  Molly hoped so, but she personally wouldn’t have counted on that.

  * * *

  CECIL CRANDELL WAS no detective, but it didn’t take him long to find out that Molly Lockwood was staying on the same floor at the same hotel her father had in Fortune Creek.

  Gage’s daughter-in-law had come back from town with the news along with details about the reward. Cecil hadn’t seen the ad in the newspaper, because he didn’t take the paper, but Cliff’s wife had picked it up on one of her many trips into town. Cecil didn’t want to get started on how he felt about her constantly leaving the ranch.

  “Someone’s offering a reward for that doll?” he demanded.

  “A thousand dollars. Shirley said everyone in the county is looking for that dummy.” Gage looked at his father as if hoping Cecil had it.

  “Craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” was all Cecil had said and had gone back to work. But it kept nagging at him. A thousand dollars? That puppet doll couldn’t be worth a plug nickel. It had to be a trap. The sheriff was hoping whoever killed Seth would try to collect the reward and then he would arrest him. All over some doll dressed like a cowboy.

  Just the thought of that puppet and his son had him so worked up by that evening that he could barely eat. Right after dinner, he left without a word, got into his truck and drove off the ranch.

  He’d seen Irma’s face as he was leaving. She’d been watching him lately after years of not even looking in his direction. He had to put an end to this before things got out of hand.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Molly sat straight up in bed, her heart racing. Darkness. She hadn’t been able to sleep earlier and was surprised that she’d fallen asleep. She felt as if she’d been startled awake.

  Glancing toward the door now, she could see in the moonlight that there was no note. So what had awakened her? A dream? Or Rowdy singing again? She knew it could also be her visit with May Greenly that was haunting her sleep. All those things her father had sent May over the years, coming to Fortune Creek to see her. It had been true. Seth Crandell had loved the woman. Like a lot of things from her father’s performances were true? She turned on the lamp beside her bed and reached for her phone. She’d wanted to get to know her father. Maybe she still could.

  Many of Clay Wheaton’s acts had been video recorded over the years. She found snippets, going from one to the next until she found a longer one. Sitting back against the headboard, she began to watch it hoping it was the one that mentioned May.

  “What do you know about love?”

  Rowdy swung his head around to look at Clay. “I’ll have you know I’ve been in love. I had a sweetheart. Her name was May Greenly.”

  “I take it things didn’t work out?”

  Rowdy wagged his head. “We were too young, but I always keep her in my heart.” Then Rowdy began to sing an old cowboy tune and she muted her phone.

  She sat staring at the screen and the look on her father’s face. Were all of his stories true? If so, the answer to what happened to him when he was seventeen might be in one of his performances. But she was too tired to try to find it tonight.

  Molly turned off her phone and the lamp beside her bed. But as she lay back down, she doubted she was going to get any sleep. Lying there in the darkness, she heard a floorboard creak outside her room and froze, listening.

  Another creak. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness inside the room. A shaft of moonlight ran across the floor toward the door. In its ambient light, she saw her doorknob jiggle as if someone was trying to open it.

  She’d never thought of herself as a screamer until the knob rattled louder and she heard the floor on the other side creak loudly as if the intruder was getting ready to bust down the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Molly blinked in the bright overhead light that chased away the shadows in her room. Ash had responded to her screams, then Georgia, then the sheriff, who’d left her and Georgia while he and Ash searched the hotel.

  “Did you find him?” Molly asked when the sheriff returned.

  He shook his head. “Someone went down the fire escape. It’s possible they came up that way, but if so, they would have had to be let in. Unless they’d blocked the door open earlier. Ash is checking into it.”

  She shuddered at the thought that someone inside the hotel had helped the man get in. “Didn’t I hear that the killer left a book in the door to keep it from locking on the night my father was killed?”

  “So whoever tried to get into her room tonight could come back any time he wanted?” Georgia asked. “Even tonight?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “He won’t be coming back tonight. I’m leaving Deputy Montgomery on this floor until morning. You’re safe.”

  “The deputy?” Georgia asked, trying to hide her smile as she rose to return to her room. “I should get back to bed.”

  “I’ll also be staying around,” Brandt added. “To make sure there are no more disturbances tonight.”

  Georgia looked a little crestfallen as she left, mugging a face at Molly as she went out.

  After she was gone, the sheriff turned to her. “Tell me exactly what you heard.”

  She walked him through it feeling a little silly. “Maybe I overreacted. He just jiggled my doorknob, then a little harder and then I heard him shift on his feet as if he was going to try to knock the door down.”

  “You didn’t overreact,” he assured her. “What makes you think it was a man?”

  “His boots, his step was heavy—he sounded fairly heavy.”

  “Whoever it was knows which room you’re staying in.”

  “Just like the person who left the ransom note,” she said suddenly, feeling wide awake again. “It could have been the same person. But how did he know my room number?”

  “I’ll be checking into that. In the meantime, maybe you should move to another room.”

  Molly shook her head. “No, we need the person with the ransom demand to come back so we can catch him.”

  “Yeah,” the sheriff said. “We can do that without you being in this room, but we’ll discuss it in the morning.” He moved to her door. “You’re safe. Try to get some sleep.”

  She looked at him as if he was delusional. “You think I can sleep after all of this?”

  He smiled. “Try. I won’t be far away. I’m staying in a room down the hall.”

  “As if that would help me sleep,” she muttered under her breath. Just the thought of him nearby made her pull the blanket she was wrapped in around her. This time when she shivered it had nothing to do with the Montana cold night or her would-be intruder.

  * * *

  BRANDT WOKE FEELING DISORIENTED. He sat up and looked around. For a moment he didn’t know where he was or what had awakened him. He’d slept fitfully after being called to the hotel last night. Even after he was sure the intruder was no longer in the hotel, he’d stayed in the lounge on the fourth floor before falling asleep and finally going to the room Ash had given him down the hall.

  But once in the room, he’d kept seeing images of Molly wrapped in a blanket, her hair loose and wild, her face soft from sleep, her face flushed, her eyes shiny with fear. That alone had kept him awake for hours.

  His cell phone rang, jarring him the rest of the way awake as he reached for it. “Sheriff Parker.”

  “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

  “Lucy,” he said into the phone as he glanced at the time. Normally he would have been up and already finished with his first cup of coffee.

  “Late night, but I’m up.” He felt a shot of energy at just the thought that Bud Harper’s sister had found something about Seth Crandell and his past that might help solve his murder.

  “I’ve been going through old photos I told you about,” she said. “I found several of Seth. He was definitely camera shy or Bud wasn’t much of a photographer back then,” she said. “I’m sending you the first photo.”

  He waited. His phone beeped. He opened the attachment. “What am I looking at?” he had to ask as he stared at a photo of a group of teens gathered in what appeared to be someone’s backyard.

  “Look at the two people deep in conversation on the top far left of the shot,” she said. “The young male is Seth Crandell. You can’t really see the young woman because she is out of the frame, but you can see part of her red dress. I’m sending another photo.”

  His phone beeped again. The young male had his back to the camera now, facing the young woman in the red dress. From the woman’s expression the two seemed to be having an argument.

  “One more,” Lucy said.

  He opened the next attachment. The young man had turned, was stepping out of the photo, his arm outstretched. He had hold of someone’s arm, the young woman’s. Part of her red dress was still in the photo—along with her upper arm.

  Brandt made the photo larger until he could see the grip the man had on the woman’s arm. His fingers appeared to be digging into her flesh. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. It wasn’t conclusive evidence, but it was disturbing enough to make it questionable.

  “Who is the young woman?” he asked, hoping Lucy would know. She did.

  “Ruby Sherman.” The young woman who’d died in the car crash her senior year of high school.

  His mouth went dry. “Seth and Ruby?”

  “Personally, I can’t imagine it, but in the photos it would definitely appear that they knew each other. Maybe more than that since they seem to be having a heated argument. His grip on her surprises me. Seth was always so shy, so nice and quiet as if he was trying hard to be invisible. I was surprised he was even at the party let alone possibly with a girl. But Ruby Sherman, the most popular girl at school? You know she died that night after her car left the road and landed in the trees. Apparently she was driving way too fast.”

  Brandt didn’t know what to say. He kept thinking about what Irma Crandell had told Molly. Not digging up that old bone. “There could have been a side of Seth no one knew.” Except maybe Ruby Sherman. “Was there drinking at this party where the photographs were taken?”

  “It was behind our house so there wasn’t supposed to be, but you know how teenagers are. Someone could have sneaked in alcohol.”

  “You’re sure this was the night she died?” he asked, his heart pounding.

  “There’s no date on the photos since this was before cell phones, but I remember the party and the cops showing up asking questions the next morning. Ruby’s brothers swore that she would never have been driving that reckless unless someone was chasing her. To this day, they have believed someone was responsible for her so-called accident. My brother believed it too.”

  “You think it was Seth?”

  She seemed at a loss for words for a moment. “He was always so sweet to me, the little sister who was underfoot all the time. I would have said the man couldn’t have hurt a fly.”

  “Lucy, thank you so much for doing this. Could you please hang on to the photos? I might need them.”

  “There’s something else.” She sounded hesitant to bring it up. “Bud and Seth had a falling out before Seth left town. I never knew what it was about, but it wasn’t long after Ruby died. Then Seth left and his brother Ty committed suicide. I’ve never put the three together before, but Ty Crandell was at the party that night. I found a photo Bud took of him. Ty was watching the party from the treehouse Bud and Seth built in our backyard. He must have been about fourteen at the time.”

  As Brandt disconnected, he had no idea what to do with this information. He quickly searched the Tobacco Valley News for the story of Ruby Sherman’s accident. She’d died in late October. She’d been driving that night alone at a high rate of speed, missed a corner, the vehicle going airborne before crashing into the pines. She died at the scene. Alcohol wasn’t involved, according to the coroner’s report.

  Ruby was the only daughter of Barnard and Nancy Sherman, owners of a company that mined gold and sapphires. The Shermans also owned a variety of local businesses, making them the leading employer in the valley. Her funeral was the largest in local history at that time.

  Brandt had heard about her death growing up, a cautionary tale when it came to driving at night on these mountain roads. Also there were stories of people seeing her ghost on the spot where her car had left the road.

  What her death could have to do with Clay Wheaton, he couldn’t imagine. Yet he also couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important to his investigation. But how it might lead him to the person who killed Clay Wheaton and took Rowdy was anyone’s guess.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Molly could tell that the sheriff had a lot on his mind this morning. She’d been up, showered and dressed by the time he tapped on her door.

  “Hungry?”

  “Always.”

  “Thought we’d walk over to the café together.”

  “That sounds ominous,” she said and laughed as she grabbed her jacket. He didn’t even smile as she followed him down the hall.

  “Mind if we take the stairs?” she asked.

  He turned to look at her, frowning. “If this is about getting your steps in—”

  “It’s about not riding in that elevator,” she said heading down the stairs. The moment she cleared the lobby and pushed out into the street, she turned to the sheriff. “So what’s going on?”

  “I just thought you might want breakfast,” he said defensively.

  She eyed him, not buying it. “I don’t want to move out of my room.”

  “Fine.” He started walking toward the café.

  She had to run to catch up. “I’m not leaving town either.”

  “Whatever you say.” He didn’t even bother to look at her when he said it.

  “I’m staying here until my father’s killer is caught.”

  He stopped and spun around to face her, so abruptly she almost collided with him. “What? This isn’t about Rowdy anymore? I thought that was the only reason you were here.”

  She glared at him, hands going to her hips. “You found out something you don’t want to tell me.” His mouth snapped shut as if he was shocked that she knew him so well. She was even more shocked that she’d been right. “You might as well go ahead and tell me and not ruin my breakfast with this mood you’re in.”

  “Has anyone ever told you what an exasperating, infuriating, maddening woman you are?”

  “Someone might have mentioned that before. Your point?”

  He sighed, dragged off his Stetson and raked a hand through his thick sandy-blond hair before he settled those blue eyes on her again. “I hate how involved you’ve become in this murder investigation. It’s put you in danger already and the more I learn, the more I wish you’d put your shapely behind on a plane back to New York City.”

  * * *

  SHE SMILED, looking up at him with those big, luminous Montana-sky-blue eyes. “You think my backside is shapely?”

  He groaned. “That’s your takeaway?”

  “No, I heard you say I was right. You found out something you don’t want to tell me about.” That smug look said she knew him too well. The worst part was that she did. How had this happened? He’d barely known this woman a matter of days and now he couldn’t imagine a day without her around.

  He stood in the street looking at her for a few moments before he shook his head and turned toward the café. “Breakfast first.” He’d slowed down where she didn’t have any trouble keeping up, studying her out of the corner of his eye and reminding himself that once the investigation was over, she’d be gone. She’d be putting that shapely backside on the next plane. That did nothing to improve his mood.

  It was a beautiful spring day, the air crisp and clear scented with pine and falling dried aspen leaves. He led Molly out on the patio along the side of the café so they could have some privacy. “You going to be warm enough out here?” he asked. She nodded and took a seat. He watched her look toward the mountains before turning her gaze on him again.

  He thought about apologizing for what he’d said about her, but had a feeling she’d heard worse. She was the kind of woman men would try to put a rope on, thinking they could tame that headstrong stubbornness out of her. But breaking Molly to his will was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “I spoke with Lucy Gunther,” he said after Alice had taken their orders and gone back inside. They were alone, no one within earshot.

  “The sister of the man who was my father’s friend,” she said.

  “She remembered Seth as a sweet, shy, nice friend of her brother’s. That’s about all she could tell me, but she said her brother took a lot of photos growing up and that she’d gone through them.” Molly leaned forward, all her attention on him, the intent glow in her eyes stronger than the sunlight shining on them through the trees.

  He cleared his throat. “She found some photos of Seth and a girl. They appeared to be arguing.”

  “That’s it?” Molly said. “You think this is the girl he got in trouble with?”

  “Maybe. The thing is, the girl, Ruby Sherman, was the one you found the story on, the one who was killed in an automobile accident the night the photos were taken of your father and Ruby.”

  “Am I missing something?”

  “Her parents have both passed since then, but she has two older brothers, Tom and Alex. Whenever their sister’s name comes up, both brothers claim she had to have been chased that night by another vehicle that forced her off the road. It was never proved. As far as I know there was no evidence to substantiate this claim. But she’s kind of become a folk heroine. There’s a shrine out on the highway where her car went off the road.” He looked away. “There have been people who swear they’ve seen her ghost. Legend has it she can’t rest until—”