Chapter 21

Hailey opened the car door and literally fell into Robert’s arms. As he eased her to the ground, she felt Cody’s hands beneath her. She smiled to reassure him. “I’m all right,” she said weakly.

Robert held up his hand to stop Cody from scooping her into his arms. “I’ll be the judge of that,” he said gently as he began deftly checking for injuries. Cody’s eyes were wide with fear as he searched her face, then Robert’s. “You’re sure you didn’t bump your head or anything?” Robert asked.

“I’m sure. I’m just a little shook up.”

“Not surprising. Okay, I guess I’m releasing you into good hands.” He winked at her, then nodded to Cody, who pulled her onto his lap. She clung to him and gave in to tears.

Sergeant Gorman was searching Lyle, who was standing spread-eagle against the side of the truck. “Dr. Worth, would you mind having a look at this man while I ask Miss Austin and your son a few questions?” He turned Lyle around and spoke to him as if he were an errant schoolboy. “You know, Lyle, I’ve got a little more time on my hands these days than I did twenty years ago. When I heard the rumor your face had been seen in town lately, I started doing some research. I had this gut feeling way back then that you had to have been mixed up in the robbery. Revenge is a pretty common motive—revenge for a woman’s rejection. . .”

Lyle’s eyes narrowed, and he spit on the ground. “I was in prison. No way you can tie me to anything.”

“Well, I did some checking. Seems a couple of your cell mates, who just happened to be released two weeks before the robbery, were arrested in Missoula for another armed robbery only three days after the break-in here. Pretty strange coincidence, wouldn’t you say, Lyle?”

Wincing under Robert’s probing fingers on his shoulder, Lyle’s face contorted in a look that made Hailey shiver. “No way you can tie me to nothing,” he repeated for the third time.

“I’m pressing trespassing charges, Sergeant. He’s been staying in my cabin—uninvited.”

Sergeant Gorman appeared relieved to have more concrete grounds on which to hold Lyle and began reading him his rights.

Cody pulled Hailey to her feet, then looked at Robert. “You’ve got another patient up at the cabin. Richard met up with the bottom of Lyle’s boot.” He turned to the sheriff. “Can the questions wait?”

Sergeant Gorman nodded. Without warning, Cody lifted Hailey into his arms and started walking up the hill, followed by Robert. Hailey struggled feebly.

“I’m all right! I can walk; let me down!”

Planting a kiss on the tip of her nose, Cody gave her a patronizing grin, shook his head, and tightened his grip.

❧

As he watched the back of the squad car disappear around the corner, Cody’s fingertips bit into the rough-sawn railing.

From the shadows, Hailey stared at his profile, nervously watching the tight line of his mouth. In the past few minutes, she had watched his lighthearted sense of relief turn to a brooding tension. A thorough search of the cabin had turned up nothing that would connect Lyle with the robbery, no clues to the whereabouts of the remaining pieces of art.

For once, Hailey’s gift of words failed her. Hesitantly, she stepped toward him and laid her head against his arm. He exhaled loudly, released the railing, and pounded his fist against the porch frame. “So close.” He sighed.

Quietly, almost timidly, Hailey said, “I can’t believe that God would bring you this close just to send you home empty-handed. Lyle’ll talk.”

“They can’t force him. He’ll be in front of the judge within twenty-four hours, and unless he’s drunk up all the profit he’s made so far, he’ll have no trouble posting bond. They’ll set an arraignment date, but he won’t show.” Cody sighed and bent to touch his cheek to the top of her head. “If I hadn’t been such an idiot. . . If I’d stayed in the Jeep, he would have led Richard to something, maybe all of it; maybe it’s all within miles of here, and the sheriff could have followed him right to it and caught him in the act!”

“Don’t blame yourself. He’ll talk—I just have this gut feeling that it’s all going to work out.”

A half smile touched Cody’s lips. “I thought you were going to solve this one, Nancy Drew.”

“I’ve still got twenty-four hours.”

He leaned against a post, and as his smile faded he sighed again. “I wish I had your faith.” He turned around and sat on the railing, and Hailey took a seat on the bench across from him. Rubbing his temples, he said, “I’m having trouble processing all of this—it’s like something out of a bad movie. I used to dream about what it would be like if my father were alive.” He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. “It doesn’t seem real, somehow. And then Lyle. . .”

Hailey finished the thought for him. “A little boy’s nightmare come true.”

“And then some. How could anyone be so cruel? Long after she died, Lyle used to talk about her, about how much he had loved her. I hated the times when he showed up.”

“Did he know your mother was sick?”

“He must have. I don’t know. Even so, if he really loved her. . .”

“There’s a fine line between love and hate for someone who’s that unstable. At least this gives us a motive—jealousy does horrible things to a person.”

Cody nodded. “You know, it’s funny, after all this time of hating the memory of those beady little eyes, right now I feel more pity than anything.”

Cody stared at the wide planks of the porch floor for several long minutes, then looked up at Hailey. Even in the dim light, he could read the worried expression on her face, and he realized that for all his teasing about her talking, she was sensing his need for quiet. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

She answered him with a soft smile, and a comfortable silence stretched between them again. The familiar sounds and the soothing presence of the woman sitting across from him took the edge off his gnawing anxiety, leaving an unexpected sadness in its place. He rubbed his hands over his eyes.

Hailey rose quietly and walked over to him. She stood just inches away but didn’t touch him. “You must be exhausted.”

He nodded, wishing he had the words to explain what he was feeling. The wasted years, when he could have known his real father; the unfocused anger he’d carried for so long that now had a target; the hopelessness of knowing that Lyle would walk away and that would be the end of it. . . But looking into Hailey’s face, he suddenly knew that he didn’t need to put it into words. That realization broke the tight hold he’d kept on his emotions all day. The sting of tears surprised and embarrassed him, but only for a moment.

She brushed her hand across his cheek and smiled at him, a smile that took away his last reserve, then touched her lips to his damp lashes and laid her head on his chest. Cody wrapped his arms around her waist and let his tears fall against her hair.

After a while, he pulled away from her and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes searching her face. “I love you, Hailey.”

She pressed her cheek against his hand and closed her eyes, savoring the words and the warmth of his touch. “I love you, too.”

After a minute, he lowered his hands and picked up one of her long curls. Winding it around his finger, he lifted it to his lips. “You look so tired,” she said. “Do you trust me to find us something for supper?”

“I’ll even help you,” he offered.

“No, you relax. Let me wait on you.”

“Mm. My kind of woman. Maybe I’ll walk around a bit while you’re slaving over a hot can opener.”

“Take your time.”

Hailey surveyed the damage in the small alcove kitchen. Seeing it through Cody’s eyes, she felt a strong sense of violation. A half-empty whiskey bottle and a shot glass had left white rings on the dark varnished surface of the small table. The red linoleum countertop was littered with dirty plates and silverware. She was glad she had told Cody to take his time. What she needed first was hot water and detergent; then she could think about searching the cupboards for something to fix for dinner.

Standing in front of the cookstove with her hands on her hips, Hailey longed for some of the pioneering spirit that Millie must have possessed as a young bride. She flipped a lever on the stovepipe, hoping she was opening the damper and not closing it. The fire box was stacked neatly with wood and kindling, left, she was sure, by Cody the last time he had been there. She saw no evidence that Lyle had bothered to heat anything that had come out of the tin cans that spilled out of the wastebasket. Opening a box of long wooden matches that sat on a shelf behind the stove, Hailey was rewarded by a roar as the wood caught fire and the smoke was sucked up the chimney.

With a smile of satisfaction, she pushed back her sleeves. Taking hold of the worn metal handle of the pump, she thought of the hands that had touched it over the years: Pampa and Millie, Kwanita, Robert, Cody. . . She tried not to picture Lyle in that spot. Remembering her words to Cody as they’d stood in the shop, she wondered if he was entertaining thoughts of selling the cabin, too. She chided herself as uninvited pictures of a Montana honeymoon played in her mind.

After several minutes of pumping, icy water gushed into the sink. Pulling her hair back and refastening the barrette that had slipped earlier, she bent over and took a long drink. She filled the largest pan she could find, then emptied it into a copper boiler and put it on the stove.

When the dishes, table, and counter were scrubbed, she began searching the cupboards. Canned peas and corned beef hash would not have been her top choice for the first meal she fixed for Cody, but, she thought with a smile, it was a menu without risk of failure. She put the peas in a small pan near the coolest edge of the stove and the hash in a frying pan near the front. As the food heated, she began to sweep the plank floor.

At the opposite end from the kitchen was a high double bed with a massive carved headboard. As she pushed the broom beneath the bed, she met with resistance. Lifting the red blanket, she saw the low trundle tucked beneath the bed and pulled it out. She sat down on the worn and faded quilt and imagined Cody as a little boy, curled on the low bed next to Pampa and Millie or his mother. Visions of a third generation filled her thoughts but were immediately wiped away by the smell of smoke.

Without thinking, she tried to grab the handle of the cast-iron pan. Pulling back, she screamed, as much in frustration as in pain. Finding a towel, she gingerly pulled the pan to the edge of the stove and stared helplessly at the charred mass in the bottom. She fought angry tears, kicked at the stove, then walked to the door and heaved it open, propping it with a chair. She hoped Cody wasn’t close enough to see the smoke billowing out onto the porch. She looked around but saw no sign of him.

Working quickly, she set the pan on the porch, rummaged in the cupboards until she found another frying pan and a can of pork and beans, and started over. When the beans were on the stove, she took a towel and flapped it in the air, trying to drive the last of the smoke out the door. Then, picking up the pan, she ran down the porch steps and behind the cabin.

“Time to destroy the evidence!” she whispered.

The ground between the cabin and the rock ledge that towered behind it was carpeted with rust-colored pine needles. Her steps were muffled as she walked to the base of a tree, cleared a hole in the needles with her foot, and scraped the burned hash into the hole, then covered the remains with more needles. As she turned, she looked up the moss-covered cliff. A pale pink light played on the wall as the sun, setting behind the mountains, showed its face for the first time since noon and its light filtered through the branches above her. She leaned the pan against a tree and walked closer, feeling a sense of awe in the hushed, cathedral-like setting.

She was less than ten feet from the base of the mountain before she noticed the pile of rocks just to the side of a low opening, about four feet square. In front of the hole, the bare, muddy spots between patches of needles were covered with footprints.

Hailey smiled, once again imagining Cody as a little boy, sneaking into a secret hiding place. Stealthily, she moved toward the cave, then crouched to enter it, preparing for a surprise attack. If he’s still in there, he couldn’t have gone far in the pitch black, she thought. Like he said, though, he knows this mountain like the back of his hand.

A small chill ran up her spine, the remnant of a childhood fear of the dark. She thought about calling out to Cody but talked herself out of it. She inched along, bent over, running her hands against both sides of the opening.

Suddenly, the top of her head slammed into a low, squared timber, and she fell back, clawing at the walls for support. Two clear thoughts pierced through the pain before she passed out: the “cave” was an abandoned mine shaft. . .and Cody was not there.