Secret of Deadman's Coulee Page 9

  It had been like this ever since Eve had disappeared only to return with that ugly rhinestone pin, and now there was a story circulating that a crime-lab helicopter had been seen heading into the Breaks just south of the ranch, the same area Eve had been found yesterday.

  Lila stared into the fridge, telling herself she should eat something because she had to get over to the community center and help finish Maddie Cavanaugh’s quilt.

  And yet she didn’t move. She wasn’t hungry. She felt numb and scared, and knew her problems with her oldest daughter had started almost from the time Eve was a baby.

  Eve had always been difficult. Chester said it was because she was too smart for her britches. Lila suspected it was because Eve had a way of reading people. From the first time Lila held Eve in her arms and offered her a bottle, Eve had looked up at her with suspicion.

  Lila had raised all three girls the same, loving them, caring for them, protecting them. If anything, she’d given Eve more love because she’d seemed to need it more than McKenna and Faith.

  But maybe it hadn’t been love Eve needed most. Lila could still remember the day she went upstairs to put some of the girls’ clothing away and found Eve standing in front of the mirror, frowning. Eve couldn’t have been more than five at the time.

  “I look funny,” Eve had said.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re beautiful.”

  “Why isn’t my hair the same color as yours and Daddy’s?” she’d asked stubbornly.

  Lila had turned away, busying herself with putting the clothing into the dresser drawers. “Because God blessed you with dark hair and eyes. He wanted you to be special.”

  Eve hadn’t bought it. “I don’t want to be special.”

  Lila had turned then to look at Eve. “We’re all special. Like snowflakes, no two the same.”

  Eve’s intent eyes had bored into her. “Violet Evans said I didn’t belong to you and Daddy. She said I was adopted. What’s adopted?”

  “Violet Evans is a…silly goose. I don’t want you listening to a thing she says.” Lila wanted to wring Violet’s neck. The girl must have overheard her mother spreading gossip.

  It wounded Lila that Violet could do something so mean. Lila intended to have a word with Violet’s mother. She knew Arlene was just jealous. Eve was such a beautiful child. Violet was plain and gangly like her mother.

  “Now go outside and play,” Lila had ordered Eve, and walked out of the room.

  But Eve being Eve, it hadn’t ended there.

  “Lila?”

  She whirled around at the sound of her name, at the familiar and yet painful sound of it on his tongue and stared in shock at the man standing in her kitchen.

  It had been so many years and yet it felt as if it had only been yesterday.

  He stepped past her to close the fridge door, brushing her shoulder as he did.

  She felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her, leaving her weak and trembling. “Loren.”

  “I knocked but no one answered,” he said, studying her now. He looked so large in her big roomy kitchen. But then Loren Jackson had always taken up too much space around her. “I came right from the airport.”

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice was raspy, sounding like she felt. Close to tears.

  She wanted to throw herself into his arms, remembering the feel of being wrapped up in him, needing him now more than he could imagine.

  “I just heard that Chester moved out,” he said. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  Sometimes she forgot Chester was still alive, still her husband. For her, he was neither.

  “I’m fine,” she said, the worst kind of lie.

  She stared at the man she’d once loved more than life. Loren Jackson had changed. He was tan, his hair completely gray but cut short, making him look distinguished. He was still a large man, broad in the shoulders. Still devastatingly handsome.

  She thought of his son, Carter. Handsome like his father. In fact, Carter resembled Loren when Loren was that age. She felt a flush of shame remembering the day she had caught Carter and Eve kissing. The jealousy she’d felt. Lila had been relieved when they’d broken up. It was better for her not seeing Carter, not remembering his father.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” she said, turning away from Loren now.

  “You had to know I would.”

  She grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter. No, she hadn’t known he would. A part of her believed she would never see him again, hoped she wouldn’t.

  “Lila, why didn’t you let me know the moment Chester left?” he asked behind her.

  She shook her head. Because it was too late. It had been too late the moment Loren married Rachel Hanson.

  Loren came around until he stood so close she could feel goose bumps rise on her arms. Her heart threatened to burst at even the thought that he might touch her.

  And then he did, his hands cupping her shoulders. She felt the shock, then the warmth, then the comfort that she’d craved since the first time Loren Jackson had brushed his lips over hers, the first time he’d made love to her. She leaned into him as if coming home.

  “Lila, you need me. Don’t send me away again.”

  “Mother?”

  Lila jerked back at the sound of Faith’s voice. At the shocked, reproachful tone of it.

  “Mr. Jackson?” Faith said as Loren let go of Lila and turned around. Faith sounded both surprised and upset to see him, but then she’d always been Chester’s favorite. Of the three girls, Faith had taken it the hardest when Chester moved out.

  “Mr. Jackson stopped by looking for Carter,” Lila said.

  Faith’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t see the sheriff’s patrol car when I pulled in.”

  “Carter is probably down at Eve’s,” Lila said.

  “I should go,” Loren said, obviously feeling the same chill in the room that Lila now did. He stepped past Faith, giving her a nod just as he’d done Lila and then he was gone. Again.

  Lila stared after him, trembling inside, intensely aware of the gnawing ache that seemed to be eating away the last of her sanity.

  Faith gave her a disgusted look as she passed. “I would expect better of you, Mother.”

  Lila couldn’t imagine why, as her daughter stomped up the stairs just as she’d done as a child. Chester would have gone after her, tried to soothe her.

  But Lila moved to the window to watch Loren Jackson drive away, her emptiness so complete she felt as if she were weightless. Like this morning’s rumors about the body found in a plane in the Breaks. Nothing left but a mummified skeleton. Everything that had made it human lost long ago.

  UPSET OVER THE PHONE CALL to his father, Carter drove down to the Milk River. The sun lolled high in a cloudless blue sky, making the air hot and dry. Crickets chirped from the bushes as Carter pulled up. His radio squawked. It was the call from the FAA.

  “I have that information you asked for on the Navion,” the man said.

  Carter listened, then thanked him and got out of the patrol car. Opening the door to the bait shop, he found his brother in the back filling the minnow tank.

  Cade Jackson looked up but didn’t say anything as he continued working. Cade was the older, taller and more pigheaded of the two brothers. But he was also the most solid, both of his feet firmly planted in Montana, stable as granite.

  Like Carter, his hair was dark, his eyes a deep brown. Women had always flirted abashedly with Cade.

  But there had been only one woman for his brother. Carter wondered if it ran in the family.

  “Well?” Cade asked, without turning around. “I wondered how long it would take before you came by.”

  “You heard Dad’s coming to town?” Maybe already in town.

  “Yep. He called earlier. He said he’d see me later today.”

  That was so like their father to call Cade, but not him. “He say what he’s doing here? I mean don’t you think it’s a little strange?”

  “Didn’t say and no I don�
��t think it’s any stranger than Eve Bailey getting lost in the Breaks and you having to rescue her,” Cade said, humor in his voice.

  It had never dawned on Carter that anyone might think Eve had spent the night in the Breaks just to get his attention. “Eve wouldn’t do that.” Deena would, if she’d have thought of it.

  “She’s a woman and so far it isn’t apparent why she’s back in town,” Cade joked.

  Carter groaned. “Trust me, I’m the last guy on earth she wanted to find her.”

  Cade turned from the tank to look at him. “So it’s true? You never got over her.”

  “I didn’t come in here to talk about Eve Bailey,” Carter snapped, making his brother laugh. “I need to ask you something.”

  Cade turned off the water, wiped his wet hands on a towel and gave his brother his undivided attention.

  “Did you ever hear Dad or Gramps talk about a four-seater Navion going down in the Breaks?”

  Cade blinked. “That’s what you have to ask me? You sounded so serious, I thought—” He stopped abruptly. “Damn, did you find the plane?”

  “Eve did, but it’s under investigation, so I need you to keep it under your hat for the time being,” Carter said, knowing he could trust his brother. Also knowing the news was probably already spreading faster than a wildfire, with the crime-scene helicopter flying over Whitehorse and Old Town this morning.

  “I remember a few planes, but none that weren’t found.” Cade was watching him. “What kind of investigation?”

  “Criminal. There’s a body still in the plane. Looks like the guy was murdered.”

  Cade swore. “But what does this have to do with Dad? He hasn’t even lived here for—”

  “The plane’s been there for thirty-two years apparently,” Carter said. “You got to admit, it’s odd. The plane is found and not twenty-four hours later Dad flies in.”

  “You’re not thinking Dad was the pilot,” Cade said.

  “There weren’t that many pilots around this area thirty-two years ago. Especially ones who had their own airstrip—the closest airstrip to the crash.”

  “The pilot probably wasn’t local.”

  “The plane was. I just got the call from FAA. It belonged to a guy from Glasgow.”

  “So how could that have anything to do with Dad or Gramps?” Cade demanded.

  “Thirty-two years ago, the owner had been dead for two years,” Carter said. “The plane had been stored in a hangar at the airport. The man’s wife went to sell the plane only to find out it was gone.”

  Cade shook his head. “Come on, you think Dad or Gramps stole some guy’s plane? Why would they do that? They both had their own planes.”

  Carter could think of several reasons they would do that. “Dad and Gramps would have known about a Navion sitting in a hangar in Glasgow. They would also have heard that the guy was dead and the plane wasn’t being used.”

  Cade rolled his eyes. “Circumstantial evidence at best.”

  “Come on, you know as well as I do that their crop dusters didn’t go as fast and weren’t as durable as an aluminum plane. Not to mention their planes were too well-known in the area.”

  “You’re saying they had some reason not to want to be recognized?” Cade swore. “You think the plane was carrying some sort of contraband?” He scoffed. “If they didn’t want to attract attention, they’d have used their own planes. No one would think anything of one of the Jacksons’ planes landing on the Jackson ranch airstrip.”

  He had a point.

  “But then I’d have to believe that Dad or Gramps were killers,” Cade scoffed.

  Carter had been a sheriff long enough to know that anyone could kill under certain circumstances.

  “This is crazy.”

  Carter agreed. This was crazy. “We’ll know more when we find out who the victim was. The crime-lab techs are getting the body out now. With Dad probably already in town, I just have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Like Dad could keep some deep dark secret all these years.” Cade turned back to his minnows. “You really should take up fishing again. You need an outlet other than cops and robbers.”

  And murderers.

  Back in his patrol car, Carter reached for his squawking radio.

  “Mark Sanders is on the phone again,” the dispatcher said, and Carter groaned inwardly. “Glen Whitaker didn’t show for his interview. His car isn’t at his apartment and no one has seen him since he left the Whitehorse Community Center yesterday evening.”

  Carter cursed under his breath. “Tell Mark I’m on my way out to Old Town. I’ll keep an eye out for him.” As he started the patrol SUV, he told himself he needed to go down there anyway. He had to see Eve.

  EVE BAILEY GLANCED at her watch, relieved to see it was the time her mother left to go to the community center to quilt. McKenna and Faith were at work in town and had plans to go to the play in Fort Peck. They wouldn’t be home until late tonight.

  In the barn, Eve saddled her horse, more than grateful to the mare. She credited the horse with saving her life. If the mare hadn’t returned to the ranch, no one would have known she was missing and Eve was pretty sure she would have never made it back to the ranch on foot yesterday. Last night, she’d been so exhausted, she’d fallen to sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

  As she worked, she grudgingly gave some of the credit for her rescue to Carter Jackson. She hated to think what would have happened if he hadn’t found her yesterday. If no one had. That was big country. They could have missed her easily enough.

  She tried to tell herself that Carter had just been doing his job. Thoughts of him turned to thoughts of Deena and the run-in with her. Eve wanted nothing to do with either of them.

  Carter and Deena had broken up more times than Eve had even heard about, she was sure. But they always got back together. No reason to think they wouldn’t this time. Even with the divorce. Eve planned to give them both a wide berth, just as she’d been doing since she’d been home.

  As she finished cinching up the saddle, she suddenly had the strangest sensation that she was being watched. Turning, she looked toward the road. Something flashed like sunlight on glass. She blinked. Whatever it had been it was gone. Odd.

  She swung up into the saddle, anxious to go for a ride—even only as far as her mother’s house. Carter crowded her thoughts again like an unwelcome conscience and she knew as long as she had the rhinestone pin she’d taken from the plane, she wouldn’t be able not to think of him.

  Heading east, she rode out across the prairie. She made a wide circle, enjoying the ride, and came out behind the ranch house in a stand of trees. As she reined in, she saw her mother leaving in her pickup.

  Eve waited until the dust had died down before she dismounted and headed for the house. No one would be back for a long while, but she felt the need to hurry. She knew it was foolish, but she didn’t want to get caught up in the old attic searching for her grandmother’s favorite brown coat. If the coat was even still there.

  Mostly, she hadn’t made up her mind what she would do with the coat if she found it and if the threads from the pin matched. Getting caught would only force her into a decision.

  She feared her mother would have already gotten rid of the coat—right after Eve had showed her the pin. Unless her mother had forgotten where the coat was stored.

  Eve slipped in the side door of the house that had been her home the first eighteen years of her life. The smell alone brought back good memories. She felt guilty for her suspicions as she moved quickly toward the back stairs.

  The old wooden stairs creaked under her step. The house felt strange. Too empty. Even the air had an odd feel to it, as if the house had been abandoned and no one lived here anymore.

  Once on the second floor, Eve opened the small door to the attic. It groaned loudly, startling her. She thought she heard a vehicle approaching, froze to listen, but then heard nothing.

  Why was she so spooked? But she knew the answer to that.
She’d been scared ever since she’d seen that body in the plane, seen the knife sticking out of the man’s chest and found her grandmother’s rhinestone pin on the floor at the man’s feet.

  Eve left the door open to let out the musty air of the attic and climbed up the narrow creaking stairs. At the top, she felt around until she found the light switch and snapped it on. Hurriedly she looked around the attic for the old wooden trunk her mother had put the coat in.

  The trunk had been at Grandma’s house, but Eve’s father must have moved it up here after Nina Mae went into the nursing home.

  The attic was full of furniture, lamps, even an old crib that Eve and her sisters had slept in. Her mother hadn’t thrown anything away apparently.

  Eve spied the big wooden trunk in a back corner and worked her way to it. Brushing off cobwebs, she bent down and lifted the lid. The trunk hinges groaned loudly. Eve stopped again to listen. No sound but the pounding of her heart.

  Hurriedly, she searched the trunk. The coat wasn’t there. She rummaged through the old clothing a second time and realized she’d missed the coat because she’d remembered it as being more substantial than it was.

  The coat was just as her mother had said: threadbare. It had been rolled up in a bottom corner—right where her mother had put it.

  Eve drew it out with trembling fingers, praying she was wrong as she spread the coat over her lap. She checked one lapel, then the other. In the dim light of the attic, she missed the hole the first time.

  The threads had been broken from the spot on the lapel where the pin had been in the photograph Eve remembered. The hole was jagged—as if the pin had been torn from the lapel. She pulled out the threads she’d taken from the pin and compared them. They were a perfect match!

  Tears rushed Eve’s eyes as she gripped the coat in her hands, fear washing over her. Didn’t this prove her grandmother had been in that plane?

  A door opened and closed downstairs. Eve rushed to the small dirty window and looked out. She couldn’t see a vehicle nor had she heard one since earlier, but she knew someone was here.