Hard Evidence (4 page)

Ian and Rylie had been ordered to stay inside the lodge, but with each new vehicle that pulled in the next morning, Ian grew more impatient.

“I wouldn’t be in the way,” he growled as he watched two uniformed women step out of a Wyoming State patrol car. “Only cool thing all summer, and I’m supposed to stay inside like some kindergartner.”

“It’s a crime scene,” Janna repeated. “I’m sure your dad will tell you all he can later on.”

Rylie hugged herself, her eyes widening. “What if the murderer is still here?”

“He probably is,” Ian retorted with obvious relish. “He might even be a serial killer, and—”

“Ian!” Janna gave him a look that could have stopped a freight train, but he just shrugged and looked unrepentant.

“Stands to reason. Abandoned resort…an isolated place. A guy could ditch a lot of bodies out here, and no one would ever know.”

“That’s
enough
.” She pointed toward the stairs. “If you’re bent on scaring a little girl, then you need to spend some time by yourself.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but gave up his post at the windows and flopped onto one of the leather couches by the fireplace.

Rylie burrowed into Janna’s arms. “Maybe Ian’s right. That man could be outside right now, waiting for us.”

“You’re safe, sweetheart.” Janna lifted her gaze to the fireplace, where she could just barely see the top of Ian’s head. “And if anyone tries to tell you differently, you come to me. Okay?”

But even as she reassured her daughter, Janna had her own doubts. There’d definitely been a trespasser on the property, two days in a row. And even from a distance the guy had seemed furtive. Nervous.

Maybe he was just a random hiker, who had no idea of the mystery unfolding at the resort. Maybe there’d even been a different person, the second time. But what if he was after something here—or even knew something about the person who’d gone missing long ago?

The coincidental timing made it seem possible, and that thought sent a chill down Janna’s spine.

The early mist had burned away by midmorning, and by noon the sun blazed overhead. It was early evening before the crime lab team drove away and Michael came back to the lodge, his uniform mud stained and his face weary.

Janna met him on the porch of the lodge with an ice-cold glass of tea. “You look exhausted,” she said.

He gratefully accepted the glass and downed the icy liquid in several long swallows. “The others worked straight through because they’ve got another crime scene tomorrow. So I did, too.”

“Any clues yet?”

“Nothing definitive.” He glanced down at the damp, newly bathed dog at his feet. “The spring runoff was especially high this year, which is probably why Maggie was able to find most of the remains. If not for her, they might never have been found.”

Janna glanced back toward the house and lowered her voice.
“Most?”

“It’s hard to say when the burial site was first disturbed. If it was early on, coyotes or wolves might’ve made off with some of it. We did a thorough search and the crime lab even brought in a dog, but we didn’t find a complete skeleton.”

Feeling faint, Janna backed up to an Adirondack chair and sat down. “Was there enough to help you find out who it was?”

“We recovered part of the skull—enough for dental records, so we’ve got a start. And…” He hesitated, clearly keeping some of the details to himself. “We found items in the vicinity that may help narrow down the approximate year of death.”

“What happens next?”

“I’ll search old records for missing persons. Newspaper archives.”

“What about DNA?”

Michael rubbed his jaw. “These days, DNA samples would be collected from a missing person’s home and kept indefinitely to help with identification. Toothbrushes. Strands of hair. But at the probable time of this death, that technology was still fairly new and there wasn’t a national database. Still, we can make a positive ID if there are any records on file—more likely, if the victim had a criminal past.”

“Can you tell us what you find out?”

Michael shook the ice in his glass, clearly debating what to say as he surveyed the mountain peaks. “In time.”

“Can you at least tell me if it was a murder?”

“Obviously, this was a burial, not just someone who keeled over in the woods.” He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes pensive. “But was it premeditated? The result of a fight or a moment of anger? Maybe the poor guy took a hard fall…or committed suicide and his buddy panicked, afraid he’d be blamed. We’ll know more when we get the report back from the DCI.”

“But you did see a probable cause of death.”

Michael turned and leaned against the porch rail, his thumbs hooked in his front jeans pockets. “Possible, not definite. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high, because a lot of cold cases are never solved. If the bones belong to some drifter, perhaps a missing persons report was never filed.”

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, imagining what might have happened on this property—the terror and pain. Had there been a desperate fight for survival, or had the victim been caught unaware? “Would you have just a ballpark estimate on when it happened? I keep wondering if his killer could still be on the loose around here.”

Michael hesitated. “From items found at the site, we know it didn’t happen before 1990, but the DCI will have more definitive answers later.”

Janna’s breath caught in her throat as she thought back. She’d been sixteen that year. Throughout high school she and her sisters had ridden in this area often, to move cattle to summer range or for impromptu picnics with the Langley girls from the neighboring ranch. If she and the others had come by at the wrong moment and had seen too much…

“…but don’t talk about anything you’ve seen or heard regarding this case—not even with your family,” Michael continued. “No sense in letting word spread and alerting any possible suspects, right?”

She pulled her thoughts back to the present. “No. Of course not. Did you find any signs of the man I saw on our property?”

Michael shook his head. “The rain probably helped cover his tracks. You couldn’t see any identifying features?”

“Not even what he was wearing, really—given the distance. It just looked like he was wearing a dark hooded jacket of some kind.” Janna pensively gnawed at her lower lip. “But maybe he was a hiker who happened to be in the area. Just a coincidence, maybe.”

“Perhaps.”

But a coincidence didn’t seem likely, and given the look in Michael’s eyes, he felt the same way. “So what’s next?”

“We’ll eventually get a DCI report on the victim, and they’ll also be testing the stains on the floor in Cabin Ten for DNA. In the meantime, I’ll be looking into old missing-persons reports and unsolved crimes in the area.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of that, I’d better get going. The dispatcher called me a few minutes ago about some break-ins on the other side of the county. Will you all be okay?”

“Actually…I need to go to town for my mother’s prescriptions, and I have an appointment with my lawyer. Is it okay if we leave?”

“Everything’s under control here. If we have any further questions, they can wait until you get back.” He started for the door, then hesitated. “Just be careful, okay? If the killer is still in the area, he isn’t going to be happy about this discovery.”

All the way to town, Janna was lost in thought. Until now, she’d seen only the “civilian” side of Michael.

The moment he arrived after her 911 call, he’d seemed like a different man. His professional persona with his officers and their obvious respect for him had instantly piqued her curiosity. What could have brought a man like him to this small, backwater town, when he was obviously so adept at his career?

Janna pulled into a parking space in front of the only drugstore in town. She rested her head briefly on the top curve of the steering wheel, the enormity and horror of the day’s events settling over her like a damp, suffocating blanket.

Before moving here, she’d expected hard work and an ongoing struggle to bring the lodge back to life. She hadn’t expected a death, investigators and possible danger.

As she stepped out of the truck, she felt the hairs at the back of her neck prickle. She stopped. Looked around.

A middle-aged cowboy leaned against the door of a battered pickup just a dozen feet away. The narrowed look he gave her was laced with pure venom. “Like living alone, do you?” His voice was low, deadly. “Just you and that daughter of yours, and the old lady?”

He was a complete stranger, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. She stared back at him in disbelief. “Wh-who are you?”

His laugh was sharp, without humor. “Don’t matter none, now does it? Especially not to a high-and-mighty McAllister.”

She bit back a sharp reply. High and mighty? If only he knew. Forcing herself to ignore him, she turned away to walk into the drugstore, though she felt his glare burning into her back.

When she glanced over her shoulder, he was gone.

“I
don’t see anyone out there now.” Wade Hollister tipped the blinds down with a forefinger and peered out the front window of his law office, his lips pursed. “What did the guy look like?”

“Middle-aged, probably. An old, silver-belly gray western hat. Leathery skin. Maybe a little over six feet.” Janna shifted uncomfortably on the wooden chair, thankful that she’d dropped Rylie and Claire off for a visit at her sister Tessa’s place before coming into town. “He didn’t threaten me, exactly, but he sure seemed to relish the fact that my mother, daughter and I are living out at the lodge on our own.”

“Your description of him fits half the cowboys in this county, Janna. Did you see what kind of truck he had?”

“Dusty. Beat up. A dark color—black, I think.”

“And that describes about half the trucks. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea, you being so far from town.” Wade released the metal blinds and turned toward her with a frown. “Two women and a child alone.”

She waved away his concern. “We aren’t.”

“I’m not sure your lodge guests would be much protection, my dear.”

“Our first one sure is.” Janna sorted through the manila folder in her lap and withdrew a draft of a lease contract for Snow Canyon Lodge. “Can’t beat an interim sheriff.”

“He’s not there all the time though, is he?”

“No, but soon we’ll have a constant parade of guests, which ought to dissuade anyone from causing trouble. Too many eyes.” She held out the document. “My mother and I discussed your latest version last night. We’re ready to sign, once we have a final copy.”

Wade settled into the leather executive chair behind a mahogany desk that dominated his modest office space before leisurely reaching across the polished surface to accept it. “You’re sure you don’t want to wait awhile? Just to make sure this is the right decision?”

“It is.”

“Even though it locks you into a ten-year contract?”

“
With
the right to renew for the same time period, and to buy that part of the Snow Canyon Ranch property.”

Janna remembered Wade from her high school days, when he’d been a young history teacher fresh out of college.

Though he’d been a nice guy, he’d been an uninspired instructor, and after that first year he left town and went to law school.

Maybe that distant association made him feel like her mentor, but at the age of thirty-three she wanted help with legal matters, not fatherly advice.

Moving an ashtray aside, he braced his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingertips. “That murder investigation isn’t going to be good for business.”

Startled, she met his gaze.

“Don’t be surprised,” he said with a chuckle. “This area doesn’t exactly have the latest dispatch system technology. The locals can entertain themselves by eavesdropping with their scanners. I heard the call, and I expect half the people in the county did, too.”

Michael’s parting words now sent a shiver through her.
“The killer might not be too happy about this discovery.”
What if he was still somewhere in the area and had already heard about it?

She lifted her jaw to show confidence she didn’t quite feel. “There’s no proof it was a murder.”

“That’s not what I gathered from my scanner. Your friend has already called in the Wyoming DCI.”

“True…but I understand it was sort of a formality.” She shrugged. “I don’t imagine they’ll ever find out anything, and the case certainly has nothing to do with the lodge itself.”

“You’re sure of that?” He pursed his lips. “Stands to reason that someone from your mother’s ranch was involved, given the isolated location. A hotheaded ranch hand, maybe. Who else would have access to that area?”

The direction of the conversation made her uneasy. “Maybe it was someone just passing through. An accident or something. Look, about that contract—”

“The lodge is a risky investment,” Wade said firmly, ignoring her attempt to change the topic. “A fledgling business, negative publicity—you’re falling into a bad situation, Janna.”

“What makes me feel worse is the poor person who died. We’ll probably never find out who it was, but what about the family? Do they still wonder about his or her disappearance? Or did they die heartbroken because they never found out what happened?”

“I understand your feelings.” Wade sighed. “I’m just trying to look at all of this from a business point of view. This discovery was unfortunate timing. But with luck, maybe you can keep the local media quiet.”

“Our Web site will draw vacationers from across the country, not Wolf Creek. I hardly think they’ll be reading our local newspaper.”

“True.” He tapped a pen against his desk blotter. “One other thing—do you know much it will cost to bring the place up to code?”

“I plan to do a lot of the work myself. And thanks to my inheritance from Uncle Gray, I should be okay as long as I can start bringing in guests by midsummer.”

“As I remember, his estate was split between you and your sisters, so I hope you’re right.” Wade smiled gently. “Understand that as your lawyer, I’m just trying to protect your interests. Bankruptcy is not a pretty experience.”

“I’ll be fine.” But her stomach tightened. Was Wade right? Was she risking everything she owned on an investment that would fail?
Please, Lord, guide me. I need to help my mother and support my daughter—am I doing the right thing?
“So…can we finish up this contract?”

“As you wish.” He gazed down at the contract, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the notes she’d written in the margins. “I do think we could find some loopholes here, should you change your mind later.”

“Loopholes, in a contract with my
mother?
” Janna sat back in her chair, appalled.

Wade’s mouth lifted in a wry grin. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t believe how difficult family relationships can be. Should you find that you’ve made a mistake, would you really want to be tied to that crumbling old lodge for another ten years?”

“If I’d given my word, yes.” Janna looked at her watch. “Look, I’d better get going. Can you give me a call when the contract is ready?”

“No problem.” Bracing a hand on his desk, he rose halfway out of his chair for a hearty handshake. “End of this week, easily. And about that man you saw out on the street…” His brow furrowed. “I’d be careful, if I were you. Your mother made some enemies in these parts, over the years. Some people might even think…”

“That she was involved in that murder?” Horrified, Janna stood and gave him a level look. “That’s ridiculous.”

He tipped his head in agreement. “Of course it is. And as far as her ranch is concerned, I know she only did what she thought best, but over the years she stepped on some toes in the process.”

“If she were a man, she’d simply be considered a successful rancher. Why wouldn’t she make sound business decisions?”

Wade splayed out his hands in a placating gesture. “I fully agree with you. Claire McAllister is one shrewd woman, and she deserved her success. But unfortunately, you won’t find that she has many friends in these parts.”

Janna instinctively wanted to argue and defend her mother, but she’d grown up here and knew he was speaking the truth. “Maybe so, but that’s something I can’t fix right now. Just let me know when I can pick up the contracts.”

When she stepped out the front door, Main Street was empty save for a few dusty pickups parked in front of the tiny grocery store at the end of the block.

Still, she felt the eerie sensation that someone was watching her.

She glanced back at Wade’s office, then studied the storefronts on both sides of the streets. Scanned the shadows of the pines at both ends of two-block-long business district.

There was no one in sight.

Setting her jaw, she strode to her pickup with all the confidence she could muster. Maybe Wade was right, but whatever the local opinions were, she’d come here to start a new life for herself and her daughter.

And no matter what anyone said, that’s what she was going to do.

Four days in Wyoming, and he was already bored out of his mind.

Ian flipped through a magazine. Tossed it on a growing stack of discards by his bed, then rolled over on his back and stared at the pine-paneled ceiling of his room which had twelve knotholes, including one that bore a striking resemblance to his grandma Mary. The lodge sucked.

No TV reception.

He’d left the power cord to his PlayStation at home.

And other than the crabby old lady who’d glared at him over breakfast, the woman who ran the place, and her little brat, there probably wasn’t another person for fifty miles. A hundred.

He might as well be stuck in jail…and the irony of the whole situation almost made him want to cry, because maybe that’s where he deserved to be.

With a gut-deep sigh, he levered himself off the bed and pulled on his shabby Nikes. He thundered down the lodge staircase and burst out the front door to the wide, sweeping covered porch. A pair of chipmunks scattered down the steps at his approach.

He knew how to bridle a horse. Maybe he could just hop on that old gray one and take it for a spin, and no one would be the wiser.

He felt his shoulders slump under the weight of the consequences if Dad found out about
that.
Ever since the accident, he’d been coddled and watched over like a three-year-old kid, and there was no way Dad would miss the telltale sign of a stray horse hair somewhere. Sometimes Dad just
knew
things—like he had ESP or something. And he’d made Ian promise to stay close to the lodge until the investigation was over.

A lane led through the pines and up a hill toward the cabins, where at least he might be able to explore a little. His heart lifted at the thought of seeing wildlife or maybe finding some old arrowheads.

He’d made it to the farthest cabin before he gave in to the stiffness and pain in his leg and had to sit down on a log to take long, slow breaths, his eyes squeezed shut.

Quick little footsteps hurried up the road, and a second later, Rylie plopped down on the log next to him.

Her eyes were alive with curiosity when she smiled up at him, and he steeled himself for the inevitable questions.

The questions that had made him want to avoid school forever…because there he was a curiosity. A freak. Even to the guys he’d known before the wreck.

“My mom is working on your cabin,” she announced cheerfully. “Are you glad to be here?”

Glad?
It was so far from the truth that he felt his mouth curl into a derisive snarl. “Oh, yeah. Really.”

She pulled back a little, her eyebrows drawing together. “It’s pretty here.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t answer, hoping she’d take the hint and go away.

“And your cabin is really nice inside. Mom says—”

He stood abruptly, ignoring the pain that knifed through his knee at the sudden motion and the brief haze of black spots that danced in front of his eyes.

Rylie was still at his heels when he stepped over the barricade of pine logs lying across the lane, just beyond the last cabin. “Are you going hiking? There’s some trails up there. One even goes to a waterfall. It’s really fun. My mom and me really like to…”

Ignoring her chatter and a small, insistent voice of warning in his head, he skirted the area marked with yellow crime-scene tape and kept going.

Dad had made him promise to stay close to the lodge until the murder investigation was complete. Ian had given his word. But now he forced himself to lengthen his stride until the trail grew steeper and he could no longer hear Rylie tagging along behind him. He suppressed the impulse to look back, knowing that he was mean and small to treat her this way, but needing to be alone, whatever the cost.

Because he knew exactly what would happen.

It was only a matter of time before she’d start peppering him with questions about the burn scars on his face. The gnarled scars snaking down his arm. The way he had to clench a pen in his fist like some preschooler and the way he limped like some old man. And then she’d get all wide-eyed and ask about the accident, and that would be worse.

Even after retelling the story a thousand times, it still had the power to tighten his stomach into a fierce knot and send waves of lava-hot guilt through his heart.

Far up the trail, he staggered to an exhausted stop, the altitude and the exertion robbing him of breath. He sagged against a boulder. When his breathing slowed, he caught the distant sound of rushing water. Rylie’s waterfall?

Intrigued, he forced himself to continue up the rocky path and through a heavy stand of pines.

And there it was—sparkling like a cascade of crystals falling from a cliff high above. Splashing into a dark, mossy pool rimmed with boulders, as if a giant had placed each of them in perfect symmetry. At the far end of the pool, the water flowed into a stream that disappeared into the trees.

Ian’s breath caught. Across the water, nearly hidden in the shadows, a bulky form stirred, twisted around and froze—looking straight at him. A
bear?

Fear lanced through him. He was alone, at least a mile from the lodge. No one but Riley knew he was out here. No one would know exactly where to look. And there was no way he could run fast enough to reach safety.

He eased back a step, then another, never taking his eyes away from the hulking creature, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He blinked. Squinted, and then felt his tension ease. It wasn’t a bear. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the shadows, he could make out the shape of someone with a backpack and a bulky jacket, though the distance was too great to make out the guy’s features. He seemed to be searching for something on the ground.

His knees rubbery with relief, Ian started to raise a hand in greeting. But the man feverishly gathered some objects at his feet, then he spun around and disappeared into the trees.

Weird.

Ian stayed motionless for several minutes, his thoughts flying through a dozen possibilities. Maybe the guy was on the run. An escapee from prison. The murderer. Or a bank robber. Or some crazy guy who lived in the woods.