After James dropped Lori off at her shop, telling her he’d think about what she’d asked him to do, he drove out to the river. It was one of those clear blue Montana summer days so he decided to quit putting it off and talk to former sheriff Otis Osterman. He’d save Gus Hughes for later, when he’d be glad to see a friendly face.
He put his window down and let the warm air rush in as he drove. He could smell the pines and the river and sweet scent of new grass. It reminded him of the days he and his brothers used to skip school in the spring and go fishing down by the river. One of his favorite memories was lying in the cool grass, listening to the murmur of the river while he watched clouds drift through the great expanse of sky overhead. His brothers always caught enough fish for dinner that he could just daydream.
The former sheriff lived alone in a cabin at the edge of the water. Otis’s wife had died of cancer a year before he retired. He’d sold their place in town and moved out here into this two-room log cabin. His pickup was parked in the drive as James knocked. He knocked louder, and getting no response walked around to the back where he found the man sitting on his deck overlooking the river.
“Hello!” he called as he approached the stairs to the deck. He didn’t see a gun handy, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t one.
Otis jumped, his boots coming down loudly on the deck flooring.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” James said as he climbed the steps and pulled up a wooden stool to sit on since there was only one chair and Otis was in it.
“Too early for company,” the former sheriff growled, clearly either not happy to be startled so early—or equally unhappy to see a member of the Colt family anytime of the day.
“I’m not company,” he said. “I’m here to ask you about Billy Sherman’s hit-and-run.”
Otis gave him a withering glare. “Why would I tell you anything?” As if his brother Carl hadn’t already told him.
“My father was working the case when he died. I’ve decided to finish it for him.”
“Is that right? You know anything about investigating?”
“I worked with Del from the time I was little. I might have picked up a few things.”
Otis shook his head. “You always were an arrogant little bastard.”
“That aside, I’m sure you must have had a suspect or two that you questioned.”
“Would have come out to your place and talked to you and your brothers but you felons were all too far away at some rodeo or other to have done it.”
“Technically, none of us are felons,” James said. “What about damage to the vehicle that hit him? You must have tried to find it.”
“Of course we tried. Look, we did our best with what we had to work with. Your father thought he could do better. But he didn’t find the person, did he?”
“He died before he could.”
“To keep his record intact.”
James shook his head. He’d known this would be ugly. “My father didn’t kill himself.”
“You really think his pickup stalled on the tracks with a train coming and he didn’t have time to get out and run?” Otis shook his head. “Unless there was some reason he couldn’t get out.” He mimed lifting an invisible bottle to his lips.
Bristling, James warned himself to keep the temperature down. If things got out of control, Otis would have his brother lock him up behind bars before he could snap his fingers. “Del did have a shot of blackberry brandy on occasion, but according to the coroner’s report, he wasn’t drunk.”
“But he could have been trying to get drunk after the argument he had with a mystery woman earlier that day in town,” Otis said. “At least, that’s the story I heard. The two were really going at it, your father clearly furious with her.”
James pushed off the stool to loom over the man. “If anyone started that lie, it was you to discredit my father. The only reason he would have taken an open case like Billy Sherman’s was if he thought you and your brother were covering something up. If he hadn’t died, what are the chances that he would have exposed the corruption in your department?”
“I’d be careful making wild accusations,” Otis warned.
“Why?” He leaned closer, seeing that he’d hit a nerve. “It’s never stopped you.”
Otis held up his hands. “You’ve got your grandfather Colt’s temper, son. It could get you into a whole pack of trouble.”
James breathed hard for a moment before he took a step back. That was one of the problems of living in small-town Montana. Everyone didn’t just know your business, they knew your whole damned family history.
“I’m going to find out the truth about Billy Sherman’s death. And while I’m at it, I’m going to look into my father’s death as well. You make me wonder if they aren’t connected—just not in the way you want me to believe.”
“You’re wasting your time barking up that particular tree, but it’s not like you have anything pressing to do, is it? You should be looking for the mystery woman.”
James smiled. Otis’s forehead was covered with a sheen of sweat and his face was flushed. “You would love to send me on a wild goose chase. Are you that worried that I might uncover the truth about how you and your brother handled the Sherman case? You’re wondering if I’m as smart as my father. I’m not. But maybe I’ll get lucky.”
“Get off my property before I have you arrested for trespassing.”
“I’m leaving. But if I’m right, I’ll be back, only next time it will be with the real law—not your baby brother.”
LORELEI COULDN’T BELIEVE what she’d done. Now that she was away from James, she regretted hiring him and planned to fire him as soon as she saw him. The man didn’t even have a private investigator’s license. What had she been thinking? He was worse than an amateur. He thought he was more trained at this than he was because he’d run a few errands and done some filing for his father.
It had been a spur-of-the-moment stupid decision and not like her at all. She usually thought things through. She blamed James for coming back and turning her life and her upside down.
Worse, as the day stretched on, she’d also had no luck reaching her stepmother. By almost closing time, she’d already sent Anita home and was prepping for the next day, angry with herself. Not even rock and roll music blasting in her kitchen could improve her mood.
She felt so ineffectual. Had she really suggested to James that he break into her stepmother’s house and search for incriminating evidence against her? She groaned at the thought that he might have already done it.
If she really believed he would find such evidence, then why didn’t she simply look herself? She had an extra key to the house and she knew when her stepmother should be at the studio.
But she also knew the answer. She was afraid she would find something damning and do what? Destroy it?
The front doorbell jangled. She looked up to see the very pregnant Melody Simpson waddle in. “Hey,” the young woman called. “Am I too late to get a sandwich?”
She hurriedly turned down the music as she realized she’d forgotten to lock the front door. This was exactly the kind of behavior that was so unlike her.
“Not if you want it to go,” Lorelei said, even though she was technically closed.
“Sure.” Melody waddled up and studied the board. “White bread, American cheese, mustard and no lettuce.”
Lorelei nodded. “Twelve inch?” A nod. “Anything to drink? I have canned soda to go.”
The young woman shook her head and stepped to the closest table to sit down. “My feet are killing me.”
Not knowing how to answer that, Lorelei hurried in the back to make her a cheese sandwich. It felt strange seeing James’s pregnant former girlfriend. Not that they had dated long before he’d left town. Still...
“I heard about you and Jimmy D,” Melody called back into the kitchen.
“Pardon?”
“Breakfast at the cafe this morning early, whispering with your heads together. The two of you were the talk of the town before noon.”
Lorelei gasped as she realized the rumors that would be circulating. She groaned inwardly. Because it had been so early, people might think that she and James had spent the night together!
That thought rattled her more than she wanted to admit. She could just imagine Gladys’s Beauty Emporium all atwitter. The place was rumor mill central. She started to tell Melody that it wasn’t what it looked like, but the explanation of her early morning meeting with James was worse.
“I just wanted you to know that I’m not jealous,” Melody added.
That stopped Lorelei for a moment. Melody wasn’t jealous? Why would she be jealous? She finished wrapping up the sandwich, bagged it and went back out front to find the woman had kicked off her shoes and was rubbing her stocking-covered feet.
She put the bag on the counter along with the bill. After a minute, Melody worked her shoes back on and limped over to her. As she dug a wad of crumpled bills from her jacket pocket, Lorelei said, “Why would you be jealous? I heard you were marrying Tyler Grange and having...” Her gaze went to Melody’s very distinct baby bump. “His baby.”
Melody continued to smooth out singles on the countertop, her head bent over them with undue attention.
Lorelei felt a start. It was Tyler’s baby, right? “Have your plans changed?” she asked, finding herself counting the months by the size of Melody’s belly. What if it was James’s? And why did that make her heart plummet?
“Naw, my plans haven’t changed. Tyler’s going to marry me,” Melody finally said as she finished. Lorelei realized Melody had been counting the bills. She took the fistful of ones. “It’s just that I really cared about James. I want him to be happy. I guess if you can make him happy...” She sounded doubtful about that.
“Sorry, but it isn’t like that between me and James.”
Melody picked up the sack with her sandwich inside. “If you say so. Just don’t hurt him. He’s real vulnerable right now.” With that, she turned and left.
Lorelei followed her to the door and locked it behind her. James vulnerable? That was a laugh. But as she headed back to finish up in the kitchen, she wondered why Melody would even think that.
Shaking her head, she tried to clear James Colt out of it. She hadn’t seen him since this morning. She’d checked a few times to see if his pickup was parked out back. It hadn’t been. She could have tried calling him—if she’d had his cell phone number.
She told herself she’d fire him when she saw him. She just hoped he hadn’t done anything on her behalf and, at the same time wishing he had, but only if he hadn’t found anything incriminating.
“SOUNDS LIKE YOU had quite the day,” Ryan said when James stopped by the hardware store. “I can’t believe that you threatened Otis. Wish I’d seen that.”
They were in the back office, Ryan’s boots up on the desk as he sipped a can of beer from the six-pack James had brought. After his visit with Otis, James had driven around trying to calm down. He’d stopped at a convenience store, picked up the beer and headed for Ryan.
The two of them had roomed and rodeoed together in college. Ryan always knew he would come back and run his father’s hardware store. James hadn’t given a thought to what he would do after he quit rodeo.
“You’d better watch your back,” Ryan was saying. “Otis hates you and his brother is even less fond of you.”
“I’m not afraid of that old fart or his little brother.” He took a drink of his beer. “I’d love to nail Otis’s hide to the side of his cabin.”
“I wouldn’t even jaywalk if I were you until you leave town again. You know how tight he is with his younger brother. What all did Otis say that has you so worked up?” his friend asked.
James chewed at his cheek for a moment. “He insinuated Del killed himself possibly over a broken heart because of a mystery woman or because he couldn’t solve the Billy Sherman case or because he was a drunk and couldn’t get out of his pickup before the train hit him.”
Ryan raised a brow. “What woman?”
“According to Otis, my father was seen arguing with a mystery woman earlier in the day before he was killed. Apparently not someone from around here since Otis didn’t have a name.”
“Seriously?”
“He was more than serious. He suggested I should find that woman. It was obvious that he’s worried what I might find digging around in the Sherman case—and my father’s death. I’m just wondering why he’s so worried.”
His friend took a long drink and was silent for a few minutes. “I’ve always wondered about your old man’s accident.”
“Me too. What was Del doing out on that railroad track in that part of the county at that time of the night? There are no warning arms that come down at that site. But the lights would have been flashing...” He shook his head. “I’ve always thought it was suspicious but even more so since I found out that Del told someone that he was close to solving Billy Sherman’s case.”
Ryan let out a low whistle. “Now you’re a private investigator almost, investigate.”
He smiled. “Just that simple?”
“Why not? Sounds like it’s something you’ve thought about. Why not set your mind at ease one way or another?”
“Just between you and me? This is a lot harder than I thought. But you’re right. I’ve already got half the town upset with me. Why not the other half?” He looked at his phone and, seeing the time, groaned. “I’d planned on stopping by Gus Hughes’s garage. If I’m right, someone had to pay to get their car fixed out of town nine years ago.”
“You’re thinking it might have been Terry,” his friend said. Terry Durham worked for Gus. “Now that you mention it, Terry bought that half acre outside of town a little over nine years ago and put a camper on it. Could be a coincidence. Not sure how much he would charge to cover up a hit-and-run murder vehicle. But since he’s usually broke...”
James drained his beer, arced the can for a clean shot at the trash in the corner and rose to leave. “Thanks. I think I’ll stop by his place and have a little talk with him.”
“Thanks for the beer. Best take these with you.” Ryan held up the other four cans still attached to the plastic collars.
James shook his head. “I figure you’ll need them if the rumors are true. Are you really dating the notorious Shawna Collins?”
Ryan swore as he hurled his empty beer can at him.
James ducked, laughing. “And you’re warning me to be careful.” He stepped out in the hall before his friend found something more dangerous to throw at him.
Although Del Colt had talked to Terry Durham according to his list—and checked him off—James wanted to ask him where the money had come for his land and trailer.
Terry lived outside of town on a half-acre lot with a trailer on it. James pulled into the woods, his headlights catching the shine of a bumper. In the large yard light, he recognized Terry’s easily recognizable car and parked behind it. The souped-up coupe had been stripped down to a primer coat for as long as James could remember seeing it around town.
Getting out of the pickup, he started toward the camper. But stopped at the sight of something parked deep in the pines. A lowboy trailer. The kind a person could haul a car on.
The lowboy trailer was exactly what he wanted to talk to the man about and he felt a jolt of excitement. Maybe he could solve this.
Whoever had hit Billy Sherman would have had some damage to their vehicle or at the very least would have wanted to get the car out of town and detailed to make sure there was no evidence on it. One way to get the car out of town was on the lowboy. Terry Durham always seemed to need money. Add to that his proven disregard for the law and the huge chip on his shoulder, and you had someone who would look the other way—if the price were right.
Moving toward the camper again, he saw that there appeared to be one small light behind the blinds at the back. He knocked on the door. No answer. No movement inside. Was it possible Terry had come home and left with someone else?
James was debating coming back early tomorrow when he started past Terry’s car and caught a scent he recognized though the open driver’s side window.
He stopped cold, his guts tightening inside him as he glanced over inside the car.
Terry was slumped down in his seat behind the wheel, his eyes open, his insides leaking out between his fingers.