But just the thought of one of Willie’s meals made her stomach rumble. Also, she had no doubt that the woman would do exactly what she said she would, send a hired hand after her. So Annabelle knew she had no choice. She’d be back on the Rogers Ranch tomorrow for Thanksgiving—just like old times.

  Except Dawson would be hunting with his brother instead of sitting next to her.

  What had she just agreed to? Reaching into the bakery display, she grabbed a package of assorted donuts, one each of all her favorites. Now if she could just get out of this store without anyone else recognizing her.

  * * *

  MARY SUE HAD tried a half dozen times to reach her mother. When Carla answered, she recalled that her mother had gone shopping in Havre for the day.

  “I just saw all your messages,” her mother said. “What was so important that I had to call you the moment I got home?”

  In the background she could hear that her mother was putting away groceries. “The old Clementine place. Have you ever been inside it?”

  “No, why? I heard it’s a mess and that Frannie collected everything under the sun. Is it in terrible shape inside?”

  “Full to the brim, but there is something odd. On the plans from the county office, it shows that there was once an alcove off the kitchen.”

  “So, what is there now?” her mother asked as she worked.

  “A wall.”

  Carla stopped putting away her groceries. “A wall?”

  “It’s as if there never was an alcove.”

  She heard her mother sit down heavily. “Why would someone close off an alcove?”

  “That’s what I want to know.”

  “You sure the planning office didn’t give you the wrong house?”

  “I’m sure. I even went back down there this afternoon and double-checked. There was definitely an alcove there about three wide by six feet long and eight foot high.” Just large enough to hide a body. Or more bodies, if you stacked them, she thought, but didn’t say.

  “That is definitely odd,” her mother agreed. “It shouldn’t hurt the sale of the house, though. Annabelle is going to leave the wall, isn’t she?”

  “I got that impression. Still, it’s kind of spooky, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, Mary Sue,” her mother said, clearly hefting herself to her feet again. “Stop watching those zombie shows all the time. Why don’t you come over and help me bake the pies? I’m dead on my feet.”

  Why not? “Do you need me to bring anything?”

  Her mother had grown quiet, as if thinking about the question Mary Sue had asked her. But when she spoke it had nothing to do with Thanksgiving pies.

  “You know, it didn’t come out until she died, but Frannie never married.”

  “But I thought her husband died before she moved to Whitehorse?”

  “But there’d been a man in her life, her son’s father. So who was he?”

  “Don’t know. As far as I heard, Frannie never even dated, although Inez told me that she saw a man over there one time. Never saw him again.”

  Mary Sue was more interested in why Frannie had closed up that alcove. “Maybe she killed the man and walled him up in the alcove.”

  “Oh, Mary Sue, Frannie wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “That’s what Annabelle said.” But Mary Sue couldn’t help but wonder what—or who—might be behind that wall. People often surprised you, especially the innocent-looking ones, she’d found.

  Chapter Five

  Annabelle felt sick as she pulled into her driveway. She glanced over at the box of donuts on the passenger seat next to her. The box was almost empty. She hadn’t even waited until she got home before she’d started in on them. Seeing Willie had upset her. It had brought back too many memories of Dawson. Too many memories in general.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off the remaining donuts, especially the last lemon-filled one. It had been years since she’d had a donut. Now that she had...

  Hurriedly she slammed the lid closed on the ones that were left. Had she really thought she could sneak into town, sell the house, take care of her problems and slip out in the dead of night before anyone learned the truth?

  “I’m such a fool,” she said as she grabbed the donut box and the bag of food she’d ended up buying and exited her car. Earlier, she hadn’t bothered locking the front door of the house and was glad now. Juggling everything, she managed to open the door and get inside without dropping the donut box.

  Kicking the door closed behind her, she moved through the dark house toward the kitchen. Moonlight fingered its way through the open blinds, painting the floor and walls with bands of light and dark. She was fumbling for the kitchen light switch when she thought she heard something.

  Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of her neck. She felt her eyes widen in alarm as her gaze slowly shifted to the far side of the kitchen and that stupid wall that wasn’t supposed to be there. Enough moonlight came through the window over the sink to throw a ghostly white haze over the dated kitchen.

  But it was the dark spot that held her gaze. She stared at the wall as her heart began to hammer in her chest. There appeared to be a stain on the lower half of it. Dark like...blood, she could hear Mary Sue say, as if something had leaked through from the other side.

  That was impossible after all these years. But still... Annabelle took a step back and bumped into the counter making her drop one of the bags of groceries and let out a stifled scream. The bag with the milk, orange juice and coffee hit the floor with a loud crash.

  Still her eyes were on the spot with the stain. It had to be just a trick of the moonlight. Just a strange shadow. She groped for the light switch, anxious to prove that that was all it was.

  She managed to put down the rest of the groceries and the donut box on the counter, all the time keeping an eye on the stain as if she thought it might grow. Or worse, begin to seep out onto the faded linoleum floor.

  Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed her sister Chloe as she kept looking for the overhead light switch. “Why didn’t you and TJ stay at the house?” she demanded the moment her sister answered.

  “Annabelle? Are you drunk? What time is it?” Chloe sounded as if she’d been asleep.

  She glanced at the clock. It was only ten. But ten in Montana was midnight back East. “You heard me. Why didn’t you stay in Grandmother’s house?”

  “So it’s Grandmother’s house now? I thought it was yours? You’re the one who inherited it, as you are fond of telling us.”

  “You’re not answering my question.” She moved cautiously along the counter until she reached the wall with the light switch—right where she now remembered it being. She snapped it on, blinded for a moment by the sudden light that filled the kitchen. The spot on the wall disappeared. Disappeared as if it had never been there at all.

  Her relief made her go weak, even as she felt foolish. Of course it had been just a trick of the light and dark. A shadow. What had made her think blood? Mary Sue. She shivered, though, since she still had a wall where an alcove had once been.

  “We didn’t want to stay in the house.” Her sister sounded defensive.

  “Why?”

  “Why do you care?” Chloe demanded. “We don’t talk for months and this is what you have to say to me?”

  “Was there something in the house that...unnerved you?” Annabelle forced herself to ask. Forced herself to admit that the house spooked her. She wanted to throttle Mary Sue for telling her about the missing alcove, about old ladies who killed people and buried them who knew where, about school kids avoiding the place on Halloween night after her grandmother had died because they saw her ghost in the window.

  “What’s going on, Annabelle?”

  She shook her head, exhausted, dirty and donut sick. She hadn’t called her sisters when she’d gotten in trouble because they’d had a fight over the house and weren’t talking. But she also hadn’t wanted to admit that her career was over and she was flat broke. So there hadn’t been anyone close to her to confide in, since her circle of so-called friends already knew and had disappeared. Disappeared like the stain on the wall, leaving her scared and alone.

  “It’s nothing. Everything is fine,” she said, remembering her sisters’ reactions when they’d gotten the news about their grandmother’s will. She was still hurt and angry about the snotty things they’d said—even if they’d been true.

  “So, you’ve sold the house.”

  “Not yet, but soon. I’m sorry I bothered you.” She disconnected and stood staring at the wall. Why would her grandmother close off the alcove? What if there had never been an alcove?

  She swore that if Mary Sue showed up tomorrow and admitted she’d had the wrong set of house plans, Annabelle would throttle her.

  Chapter Six

  “Did he get on a plane?” Bernie said into the phone as he pushed out of the wheelchair to the window.

  “He did. I’m babysitting his cat.”

  “He has a cat?” Bernie realized how little he knew about his nephew, and yet he felt good about this errand he’d sent Robby on. This time he wasn’t wrong. This time the woman really was Baby Doll. It surprised him that, more than getting back what she’d taken from him, he wanted to know why. Why she left him. Had it always only been about the money for her?

  Bernie shook his gray head. He knew in his heart that couldn’t be true. He’d loved her. Baby Doll had to have loved him. Robby had to find proof. Bernie couldn’t die in peace until he knew.

  “If you hear anything, let me know. I’m like on another planet in this place.” As he disconnected, he happened to look down at his wastebasket. It hadn’t been emptied, but the newspaper, the one from Whitehorse, Montana, was gone.

  He was positive that he’d put it in the trash. But maybe he’d only thought about it. Getting old annoyed the devil out of him. His memory...it played tricks on him. He glanced around the room, sure the newspaper had to be here. Who would take the paper—with holes in it where he’d carefully, almost surgically removed sections?

  His heart began to pound. The paper wasn’t here. Realization settled in like crowbar to his gut. Someone had taken it from his wastebasket. He glanced toward the hall, thinking of his pretty, nice nurse. He shook his head. It hadn’t been her. But he hadn’t been paying close attention lately to new employees, new patients and their visitors, strangers on the property.

  Damned if he wasn’t getting old. He’d let his guard down, a mistake he would never have made when he was younger.

  His legs suddenly felt weak. He moved to the wheelchair and dropped into it. His pulse thundered in his ears as he looked out toward the canal. Past it, he saw a boat moving slowly down the canal with two men in it and swore. Feds.

  * * *

  ANNABELLE WOKE AT daylight after a night of tossing and turning. The old bed sagged and groaned under her as she flung her feet over the side. Her head hurt and her stomach didn’t feel all that great, either. But then again, that could have been the donuts.

  After seeing what looked like a bloodstain on the wall in the kitchen and calling her sister, half in hysterics, she’d lost her appetite and gone straight to bed. Had she really eaten almost all of the donuts? Just the thought made her nauseous.

  As she opened the bedroom door and padded across the hall to the bathroom, she couldn’t shake off the weird dreams she’d had during the night. They seemed to float in and fade out like a weak radio station.

  She shivered as she sat down on the cold toilet seat. One dream was more real than any of the other bits and pieces that kept coming back to her. Grandma Frannie had been standing at the end of her bed last night, looking so real and alive that Annabelle had been terrified. Worse, her grandmother had spoken to her.

  I know you wonder why I left the house only to you. I’m sorry, but you’re the only one can handle it. You’re the one most like me. Your sisters can’t deal with the truth about what’s behind that wall.

  Now Annabelle laughed with a shake of her head. It was obvious where that dream had come from. Mary Sue and all those crazy things she’d been saying.

  Finishing her business, she padded back to the bedroom and pulled on the same dirty clothes as yesterday. She didn’t see much reason to look for more ugly clothes to wear to clean out this place.

  As she padded barefoot across the bedroom floor, one of the boards creaked loudly, reminding her of all the moaning and groaning the house had done last night. She didn’t remember it being this bad when she was young. Or maybe that, too, had been part of the dream.

  She took another step and felt the floorboard under her give a little. Looking down, she saw that the board appeared to be loose. Leaning closer, she made out a scratch mark at the end where it looked as if someone had used a screwdriver on it. To pry it up?

  Kneeling down, she tried to work it free with her fingers. It moved enough that she had no doubt it would come loose—with a little help. In the kitchen she didn’t locate a screwdriver, but she did find a butter knife.

  Back in the bedroom, she knelt on the floor again and pried at the end where she’d noticed the scratches in the wood. The board popped up, bringing with it an old-house smell. She hesitated. There could be all kinds of creepy-crawly things under there.

  Still, she carefully lifted the floorboard, aware of the spiderwebs stuck to it. Setting it aside, she cautiously peered down into the space below. Under the floorboards was another board. While the space was dusty and filled with cobwebs, she thought she saw something pushed back out of sight. Grimacing, she reached down and pulled out a battered metal box.

  With a cleaning rag she’d been using yesterday, she removed the spiderwebs and dust on the box. Sitting down she pulled it between her legs and tried to open it. Locked.

  She picked up the butter knife and had just gone to work on the lock when she heard the doorbell ring. As she looked out, she saw an old man standing out there. He wore a baseball cap on his short white hair. His coat was red-and-black checked wool, and he appeared to be wearing a dress shirt under it.

  He rang the bell again. She thought about staying where she was behind the corner of the curtains until he went away, but he seemed determined as he rang the bell yet another time. He glanced toward her car and seemed ready to keep ringing until someone answered.

  With a groan, Annabelle got to her feet. She stuck the box into one of the dresser drawers and went to the front door, patting at her hair as she went. Whatever the man was selling, she wasn’t buying.

  “Yes?” she asked briskly as she flung open the door. “I’m sorry but I’m really busy and—”

  “You must be Annabelle,” the man said as he smiled and leaned on his cane. She hadn’t seen the cane from the window. Nor had she been able to see his face clearly. He looked to be in his late seventies or early eighties, though fit.

  “You’re just as your grandmother described you,” he was saying.

  It was worse than she’d originally thought. He wasn’t just some random passerby. The slacks and dress shoes should have been a dead giveaway. Men in Whitehorse wore dressy boots and jeans to everything from a wedding to a funeral.

  This man must be the pastor from the church her grandmother attended. Or a well-meaning member of the congregation who wanted to invite her to Sunday services.

  “I’m sensing that your grandmother didn’t tell you about me,” the man said. “Where are my manners? I’m Lawrence Clarkston. Your grandmother’s...boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  The man laughed. “Male companion?”

  “You and grandmother...” She didn’t know what to say. Frannie had a beau? After all these years? Clearly, he wasn’t from around here. Something about the man made her nervous. He kept trying to see past her into the house. “I should get back to work.”

  “I can see that you’re busy.” He glanced over her shoulder again. “Packing up her things, huh? Looks like quite a job. I’d be happy to help. If I could just come in for a minute—”

  “Thanks, but I have it.”

  “If you’re sure,” he said. “I’ll come some other time.” The man turned back toward the street, leaning heavily on his cane as he headed for a dark car parked at the curb, making her wonder how many secrets her grandmother had kept from her.

  * * *

  DAWSON TOOK OFF his Stetson to shoo the last of the cows back onto Rogers Ranch property before going to work on the fence. The sun was barely up, just hitting the tops of the Little Rockies. The November air was cold enough that he wished he were in front of his kitchen woodstove having another cup of coffee.

  But he’d been awake for hours after a long night of tossing and turning. He didn’t need to search for a reason for his unrest. Annabelle Clementine. That she’d haunted his dreams only made him more angry with himself. He’d thought he’d put that woman out of his life for good and now she showed up back in town?

  He cursed under his breath as he pulled his chain saw from the bed of his truck and cranked it up. A tree had fallen and taken out a portion of his barbed-wire fence. He made short work of cutting up the tree and tossing the firewood into the back of the pickup. Sadie watched from inside the cab, barking at the cows that came over to see what was going on.

  As he was loading the chain saw, his brother drove up. For a moment, he thought Luke had come to help. But then he noticed that Luke wasn’t alone. His girlfriend, Sally, was with him, and his brother was clad in hunter orange and winter boots.

  He wondered how much hunting Luke would get done with Sally along. No wonder his brother hadn’t gotten his deer yet.

  Dawson leaned against the side of his pickup as Luke approached, telling himself to keep that thought to himself. “I wondered what you were doing up so early,” he said as his brother pulled alongside and whirred down his window.