* * *

  IRMA HEARD CECIL come into the house. She could tell by his heavy step that he was in one of his moods. She’d heard Gage’s boys return from town. She knew the sound of each old vehicle they owned. From her kitchen even with pots boiling, she had listened for years to the day-to-day running of this ranch.

  She knew she’d been waiting for the sound of her husband’s old pickup, afraid of where he might have gone. But apparently he’d just been making himself scarce. Cecil thought he could hide the truth from her even after all these years. One look at him and she knew.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Irma saw him pull out a chair at the table and drop into it. She didn’t turn around. After spending years with this man, she had no illusions. She thought about what she would tell the mortician to write in his obituary. Cecil Crandell loved the land and his family. He would have done anything for them. Even kill to protect them.

  She put down the spoon she’d been stirring their dinner with and, wiping her hands on her apron, turned to look at him. He sat, shoulders hunched, head down, looking like a kicked dog.

  Irma took a breath and let it out, her heart pounding so hard it shook her entire body. She could feel the years in her bones, forcing her to remember all the times he’d come into her kitchen with bad news.

  “What have you done, Cecil?”

  * * *

  THE SHERIFF DROVE FAST. There was no traffic this time of the evening, let alone this early in the year on this backroad so he didn’t need lights and siren. He hadn’t gone far when his headlights began to pick up something shiny in the road.

  He saw one small flash of light, then another and another. What the heck? He kept going until he reached the turnoff that would take him into the Crandell Ranch via the back way. As he started to turn, he saw another of the shiny objects in the road ahead.

  Pulling up, he opened his door and picked up one. It appeared to be a large bead, brightly colored and made of clear plastic. He’d seen it before, he thought as he slammed the door and hit the gas. Georgia was wearing a necklace just like this the last time he saw her. Ahead more of the beads caught in his headlights.

  Brandt shook his head, thinking about the two women locked in a stock trailer, purposely leaving him a trail to follow?

  As he came in the back way to the Crandell house, the bead trail stopped. In his headlights, what the sheriff didn’t see was a truck and stock trailer, he realized, his heart dropping.

  Ahead, he saw a large figure step into the road, a shotgun in his hands. As Brandt roared toward the figure, he put on his lights and siren.

  The man didn’t move. Instead, the man raised the shotgun.

  * * *

  THE TRUCK PULLING the stock trailer stopped abruptly. Molly had felt every bump on the narrow road, then the wider gravel road. She’d been surprised when the truck had pulled onto pavement.

  “Where are they taking us?” Georgia whispered, her tone sounding tight and as frightened as Molly felt.

  She didn’t answer, but she suspected it wouldn’t be good. That was why the paved road had worried her. How far were they going?

  The truck slowed, then came to a stop. Molly could see light through the crack of the stock trailer. This time, the driver didn’t cut the truck engine and the two of them exited the vehicle.

  She and Georgia shared a look as the back of the stock trailer was flung open. “Get out!” the larger of the two ordered. Both were wearing their masks but were no longer brandishing weapons. From the size of them, Molly was sure they were both males although their voices were muffled by the masks.

  It took a moment for them to rise. Once on their feet though, they moved to the door. One of the kidnappers helped Molly down. The other grabbed Georgia and pulled her to the pavement.

  Looking around, Molly realized that they were back where they’d started—in downtown Eureka. The shops had closed and there was little light on the streets.

  “Get out of here!” the larger of the two said as they shoved their purses at them. “Get out of town. No one wants you here.” With that the kidnapper shoved past Molly to return to the driver’s side of the truck.

  “Sorry,” the other said, his voice sounding hoarse. He hesitated as if there was more he wanted to say before hurrying around to the passenger-side door. The engine revved and the truck and stock trailer roared away.

  “What was that about?” Georgia said, sounding as breathless as Molly felt.

  “They weren’t supposed to take us,” Molly said, still shaken. The street was empty, the darkness around it intense. “Let’s go.” She was digging into her purse for her keys. “You can still make your date.”

  * * *

  THE SHERIFF HIT the brakes just yards from Gage Crandell standing in the road, the man pointing the shotgun directly as his windshield. He was reaching for his weapon, when Cecil Crandell stepped out of the shadows to grab the shotgun away from his son.

  In the headlights, he watched the two arguing before Cecil headed toward the patrol SUV and Brandt. Cecil looked older in the harsh light. He reached the sheriff’s side window, the shotgun dangling awkwardly from his left hand.

  Brandt whirred down his window; his other hand was on his weapon. “What’s going on?”

  “I killed him,” Cecil said, his gravelly voice heavy with emotion. “I killed my son, Seth.”

  The sheriff looked out his windshield. Gage still stood in the center of the road, head down. Behind him a smaller figure emerged from the shadows. Irma.

  “Where are your grandsons?” Brandt asked.

  “Coming back from town, alone.” They met gazes in the ambient light.

  “The women all right?” Cecil nodded. “I’m going to get out now,” he told the older man. “I need you to put down the shotgun.”

  Cecil seemed to hesitate before he threw the shotgun away behind him. It disappeared in the darkness as the elderly man stepped back to let the sheriff exit the vehicle.

  Brandt felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as he watched both Gage and his mother out of the corner of his eye. Neither moved as he put the cuffs on Cecil. After reading him his rights he checked to make sure he didn’t have another weapon on him, then opened the back of the patrol SUV and helped Cecil inside.

  As he closed the door, he saw that Irma had faded back into the dark. Gage hadn’t moved. He tried Molly’s number, hoping to hell the old man was telling the truth. It rang three times, his heart pounding as if it was an eternity before she picked up. “Are you okay now?”

  “Yes. You know what happened?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  “Georgia and I are headed back to Fortune Creek.”

  “Good, I’ll see you there later. We can talk then,” he said as he climbed behind the wheel. He felt a wave of relief wash over him. She sounded shaken, but all right. His heart seemed to slow a little. He’d been so afraid something horrible had happened to her because of all this.

  With Gage still standing in the road, Brandt had to back up to turn around. As he headed out the back way from the ranch, he saw more of the beads lying in the road. They shone in his headlights like diamonds. He shook his head, wondering whose idea it had been to try to leave a trail for him to follow.

  Fortunately, he’d had a pretty good idea of who had taken the two women after the shop owner had described the truck and stock trailer—and the direction it had headed out of town.

  He glanced in his rearview mirror. Cecil was leaning back in the seat, eyes closed. Beyond him through the back window, his son had dropped to his knees in the middle of the road. Irma was nowhere in sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It had taken a while to book Cecil and get him into a cell. He’d refused to make a statement other than to say that he’d killed Seth. Brandt had him sign the confession. Cecil had declined to call anyone, including a lawyer.

  “What about your son’s puppet, Rowdy?” he asked.

  Cecil shook his head. That was all. Either he didn’t take Rowdy or he had and had since disposed of the puppet.

  Brandt had a lot of questions but few answers. Cecil had confessed. Now it was up to the prosecuting attorney to take it from there.

  He was anxious to see Molly and get a statement from her, although he had known who had taken her and Georgia on a ride out to the ranch. The question was whether or not the women wanted to press charges.

  As he opened the hotel door, his deputy and Georgia appeared to be on their way out. Georgia was all dressed up and so was Jaden. He raised a brow. “I had hoped to take your statement,” he said to Georgia.

  “Molly can fill you in,” she said smiling. “I have a date.”

  He nodded grinning as he saw that she at least hadn’t been too horribly affected by the kidnapping in the stock trailer. “Come by my office tomorrow.” As the two left, he heard Jaden ask, “What was that about?”

  Georgia’s response had been. “It’s a long harrowing story. I’ll tell you sometime.”

  He climbed the stairs to Molly’s room and knocked. When she opened the door, he caught the sweet scent of her fresh from the bath. Her hair was still damp. She looked so damned good. All he could think was that he was so glad she was all right.

  Brandt couldn’t help himself. He reached for her and to his surprise, she stepped into his arms. He held her for a long moment, his cheek pressed to her hair, breathing her in, not wanting to let her go.

  As he drew back, he looked into her face and felt the impact of his next words. Once he voiced them, she would be leaving. “Cecil Crandell confessed to killing your father. It’s over.”

  She nodded as if not surprised. Her eyes filled with tears. “We don’t know why he killed him?”

  Brandt shook his head. “Maybe it will come out if it goes to trial.”

  “Yes, I forgot that there could be a trial,” she said as she stepped out of his arms and moved to the hotel window, her back to him. “It will be held here?”

  “Probably down in Kalispell.”

  “What will happen to Cecil?” she asked.

  “It could depend. Given his age...”

  She turned then to look at him. “Are you saying he might not go to prison?”

  “He’s confessed to murder. He’d have to go before a judge who can pronounce a sentence. It might not go to trial. Either way, he will probably die behind bars.”

  She shook her head, her face contorting as she fought her emotions.

  “I’m so sorry, Molly,” he said as he moved to her. He took her shoulders in his hands. “I wish there was more I could do.”

  She looked up at him, then whispered, “I think I need some time alone.”

  He let go of her and took a step back. “Of course. I will need you to stop by my office before you leave town to make a statement about what happened earlier. You have the option of pressing charges.”

  “I won’t be pressing charges,” she said.

  He nodded, then stepped to the door and stopped. Turning, he asked, “Whose idea was it to drop the beads?”

  Her smile couldn’t hide the pain he saw etched there, but still his heart did a little bounce. “Mine.”

  He smiled. “I knew it. Quick thinking.”

  * * *

  AFTER THE SHERIFF LEFT, Molly burst into tears. It felt as if she’d been holding back everything, like a dam that now had broken, letting it all out. The pain threatened to overwhelm her. For years she’d said that she hated her father for what he’d done to her. She had wanted his love so badly and blamed him when she didn’t get it.

  She’d known he was dead, but it hadn’t hit home until Cecil had confessed to killing him. Like the sheriff had said, it was over.

  She thought about the one chance she’d had to talk to her father when he’d sent her a note that night after his show. Foolishly, she’d wadded it up and thrown it away. If only she could rewind to that night. If only she could have spent a little time with him. Maybe he would have tried to explain.

  More than likely wouldn’t have, but it still broke her heart that she hadn’t even tried to talk to him while he was alive. As May had said, Seth Crandell had demons that followed him his whole life. They’d caught up with him here in Fortune Creek, here in this hotel. Not even changing his name and hiding behind Rowdy could save him. Had he just been counting down the days before he returned here to his fate?

  She cried until she was exhausted. She thought about when he’d left her and her mother. She’d cried then too, always hoping he would come back. Finally she wiped her eyes. She’d cried her last tears for her father.

  Sitting up, she then climbed out of the bed and went to the window again. She’d never seen so many stars. The pines looked black in the darkness. There was nothing keeping her here now. She wouldn’t stay around to see what happened to Cecil. She couldn’t think of him as her grandfather.

  What would happen to Irma? She had her son Gage and his sons and their wives. But Molly wondered if they would provide her any comfort. Somehow she doubted it. Whether she hated Cecil for what he’d done or not, his being gone had to leave a huge hole in Irma’s life. All those decades married...

  Molly couldn’t imagine it. Or at least she couldn’t before coming here. She’d never wanted to plant roots. Lately she’d been feeling as if she’d already spent too much time in her job, in New York.

  She thought about the sheriff and felt herself smile. She wished she was more like Georgia. But the last thing she wanted was a fling with the cowboy sheriff. Something warned her that she wouldn’t be able to walk away unharmed if she did. Best leave the man to his life, no matter where the wind took her.

  After getting undressed, she crawled into bed. She’d told herself that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. But she must have drifted off because shortly before midnight, she was startled awake to pounding on her door.

  The last part of Rowdy’s song he’d been singing in her dream stopped abruptly. But not quickly enough that she didn’t realize that this time, she hadn’t dreamt it—let alone imagined it.

  The thought made her turn on the light and look around the room as if she expected to see her father and Rowdy sitting in the chair by the window watching her.

  Whoever was at the door was also not part of a dream, she realized as the pounding started up again.

  She felt thrown off-balance by all of it as she grabbed her robe and called out, “Who is it?”

  * * *

  THE SHERIFF HAD done some paperwork before going up to his apartment over what locals referred to as the “cop shop.” He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t even that tired. After opening his bedroom window, he crawled out onto the roof and sat down.

  From here he could see the entire town, not that that was anything to boast about—even in the moonlight. He looked across to the hotel. In the summer, he’d often come up here while the town dozed. He would crack open a beer and count his blessings or curse the latest fool thing he’d done.

  Tonight he realized that he’d done it again. He’d fallen for a woman he couldn’t have. Even as he thought it, he bemoaned the fact that he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. The thought made him laugh softly on the nighttime spring breeze.

  They’d both known what would have happened if he had kissed her. Molly was no fool. He, on the other hand...

  A thought careened past. He grabbed hold of it, sitting up a little straighter. Tomorrow he would have to go out to the Crandell Ranch and talk to Irma, Gage and his sons and daughters-in-law. Was it possible one of them knew what Cecil had done with Rowdy the Rodeo Cowboy?

  Maybe more important, was it possible that they knew more about the murder? He was reminded that Gage’s fingerprints had been found in Clay Wheaton’s pickup. But so were Cecil’s and he’d confessed.

  Earlier he’d gotten an anonymous tip that had led him to the murder weapon. The gun was now with forensics in Kalispell. Had the tip come from one of Cecil’s relatives? Hard to say. He was pretty sure that Gage’s sons had kidnapped Molly and Georgia earlier. Just as he was pretty sure the women wouldn’t want to press charges. Cecil had his reasons for confessing and not wanting a lawyer or a trial. Once he was sentenced by a judge, his family could begin the healing process, Brandt thought.

  Things were typing up neatly. Maybe too neatly. Wasn’t that what was bothering him?

  From his perch, he saw Jaden bring back his date. The two kissed and parted; Jaden drove back to his house in the direction he’d come from. Georgia had disappeared inside the hotel, only stopping for a moment, to wave goodbye to the deputy before he drove off.

  Would she leave without Rowdy being found? What choice did she have? As annoyed with Molly as he’d been originally about her single-mindedness about Rowdy, he wished he could find the dummy for her before she left.

  Even as he tried to tell himself that the murder was solved and he could relax, he couldn’t help the feeling that this had been too easy. Or maybe it was that something was niggling at him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Tomorrow, he’d sort it out, he told himself as he climbed back into his bedroom window. He took one last glance over at the hotel where he hoped Molly was now asleep and then closed the window and pulled the shade.

  * * *

  “WHO IS IT?” Molly asked again, this time in a less sleepy croak as she approached the door.

  “Me. I have to talk to you.”

  She groaned at the sound of Georgia’s voice. Was she really up to listening to every detail of the date? What time was it anyway?

  “I was sleeping,” she said as she opened the door and Georgia rushed in.

  “I just heard that Cecil Crandell confessed?” she cried as she looked around the room. “Do you have Rowdy? You didn’t destroy him, did you? Please tell me you didn’t.”