BIG SKY SECRETS 01: Final Exposure Read online

  The deputy looked at Charlie and chuckled. “I was just going to suggest that you keep your dog in your bedroom at night, but I’m not sure he’d be much help.”

  “Charlie’s working on it. He’s still a baby.”

  She watched the deputy drive away, feeling only frustration, instead of relief.

  He’d been polite. He’d taken time to look for possible clues. But he was right. Maybe Ollie hadn’t really seen someone from a distance. And maybe everything else had just been her imagination, born of her fears over a long ago tragedy.

  From inside the store came the ring of the telephone.

  Grow up, she admonished herself as she turned to go back inside. And have faith.

  But no one responded when she picked up the phone. All she heard was the sound of rapid breathing.

  “Hello?” she said again, glancing at the caller ID. Not available. “Who is this?”

  “The cop didn’t find anything, did he,” a man said flatly. “I suppose that makes you wonder if you’re just imagining things. And now,” he added with harsh laugh, “the cops won’t be so quick to respond to someone who keeps crying wolf. Too bad…for you.”

  He hung up with a soft, deliberate click that sent a chill through her veins.

  The caller knew the deputy had stopped by.

  Someone with a police scanner could’ve heard that a patrol car had been dispatched to her address, but to hear the call they’d need to be within range of this 911 district. Which meant the caller had to be close.

  Or maybe he was even closer—and standing in the shadows. Maybe he’d seen the deputy shake his head and drive away.

  Was he watching the store through his binoculars even now? And why?

  She certainly didn’t have much to steal—and certainly nothing worth the risk of capture and incarceration. She had an old digital camera and an even older laptop. She didn’t own a fancy computer or giant, flat-screen TV or have jewels stashed in her bureau. There wasn’t a high-end sound system in her cottage. Her car was nine years old and didn’t even have GPS; she didn’t own original artwork or anything else of much interest.

  And heaven knew there wasn’t much in the store’s cash register or in her bank account.

  She stared out the windows of the cozy little store that had offered such warmth and fascination when she was a child. It had always been a place of laughter and her grandparents’ loving devotion.

  But now, she only felt the chill and desolation of the approaching early snow that had been predicted for tonight.

  And it was a long time before she remembered to put the phone receiver down.

  Saturday dawned bright and sunny, turning the light dusting of snow into a landscape of sparkling sequins and lifting Erin’s spirits. The heavier, predicted snowfall had missed them, and by afternoon, the thermometer had hit forty degrees.

  She eyed a poster pinned to the bulletin board at the front of the store. “I wonder if it’s too late to sign up,” she mused under her breath.

  At her shoulder an old man who’d come in to buy bread squinted at the sign. “That’s the church potluck and bazaar. Don’t need no signing up. Just go tonight. Me and the missus always do. She brings her famous peach pie every year.”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  “And you, young lady, could bring those good rolls of yours. They’d be a hit.” He rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Might even help spread the word and bring in a lot more customers to your store.”

  She grinned. “An even better reason to attend.”

  He touched the brim of his old-fashioned fedora. “It was slow during the winters for Pete, too. Don’t worry none about that. Tell that renter of yours to come along. People come from all over the county and have a great time. Kids, too. They have games and such for the little ones.”

  After the man left, Erin turned to the phone by the cash register and dialed Jack’s number. “Hey, have I got some exciting plans for you!”

  “Exciting plans, huh?” Jack teased, eyeing the crowd of people in the parking lot of Lost Falls Community Church. “I don’t think we’re going to make it into the church until Tuesday.”

  “Take a look at Max.”

  Eyes wide, the child was staring at the group of kids playing tag on the perimeter of the crowd waiting to enter a side door leading into the church basement. At just five he wasn’t quite brave enough to join them, but she could see the longing in his eyes.

  “I checked on Sunday-school times for this weekend. He’d enjoy going while we’re still here, don’t you think? He’d get to be with more kids his own age.”

  “I’m sure he’d like that, and it’s sure important to help kids develop their faith at an early age.” She felt a flash of melancholy at the reminder of how soon they’d be leaving Montana. “You’ve got plenty of time to give him the opportunity.”

  They moved toward the crowd and her hand brushed Jack’s, sending a little shiver up her arm. He looked down at her and smiled, and she wondered if he’d felt the same sensation.

  Maybe so, because a moment later he threaded his fingers through hers. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it? Just look at those stars.”

  Max looked up, too. “Millions and millions.”

  “That’s because it’s so dark up here. I’m in awe every time I see them at this altitude and so far from city lights. It’s like you could almost reach up and catch them in your hand.”

  They drew closer to the crowd and Jack gave her hand an extra squeeze, then let go and lifted Max up in his arms. “What do you think, buddy?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  More people had come up behind them, and laughter rippled through those nearby.

  “Just like a child—most important things first.”

  At the familiar voice, Erin turned and saw Martha, the postmistress, with her husband. And beyond them, a number of familiar faces—locals who had started coming to the store in slowly increasing numbers to chat over coffee by the potbellied stove or to buy their staples for the week.

  “Have you heard from your grandfather? I miss him stopping in the post office every afternoon.”

  “Just a postcard this week. I’ve called him a few times, but he must be having way too much fun. He still hasn’t called me back.”

  Martha laughed. “He’s been talking about Florida for so long that I bet he can’t believe he’s finally there.”

  Erin suddenly felt as though she was being watched, and she glanced over her shoulder. “He should have gone a long time ago so he could enjoy it even more.”

  “He never felt right about selling your grandmother’s store. She loved it so—it was the center of the community, and she must have made friends with every last person in the county.” Martha’s husband touched her arm and nodded toward some people standing nearby. “Excuse us—we’re going to join our daughter and her family. See you inside.”

  Jack and Max had moved forward with the rest of the crowd. Erin started toward them—but again, felt that uneasy sensation at the back of her neck, though she could see nothing unusual when she looked around.

  Someone brushed past her and knocked her arm. She stumbled half a step forward. Her purse fell at her feet.

  “’Scuse me,” a low, vaguely familiar male voice growled.

  He smelled of sweat and cigarettes, and she fought the urge to recoil. “No problem.”

  She swiftly bent to pick up her purse. Her fingertips collided with a rough, hairy male hand closing over the handle. “Hey!”

  He jerked hard, but she held tight and twisted away. Wedging herself between him and his quarry, she delivered a hard backward blow with her elbow that sank into his belly.

  With a grunt and a low curse, he melted into the darkness, leaving her stunned and breathless, her heart racing.

  She spun around, searching, but the security lights were closer to the church, and out here the dim wash of light and deep, dark shadows hid both his attempt at theft and his escape from the scattering of people th
is far away. Distracted by conversation and laughter, no one was even looking her way.

  The voice. Where had she heard it?

  And had someone actually tried to steal her purse, in the middle of the church parking lot?

  NINE

  “You look pale as chalk,” Jack said when Erin finally caught up with him at the church door. He led her to one side, away from the others standing in line. Then he put Max down and took her shoulders in his hands to search her face. “Are you ill? Is something wrong?”

  “I fell behind, and someone tried to grab my purse. I’m sure of it.” She rubbed her right wrist. “I held on and elbowed him pretty hard. Why me, out of all these people?”

  Jack’s dark eyebrows drew together in concern. “Where is he? Did anyone catch him?”

  “I don’t think anyone else even saw him, he was gone so fast. I asked a few people, but no one else noticed what happened.” She saw the questions in Jack’s eyes. “And no, he didn’t just inadvertently blunder into me. He jostled me, then tried to grab the strap. He swore when he couldn’t wrench it away from me.”

  “Do you want to call the sheriff?”

  “I didn’t see the guy’s face, so I couldn’t identify him. And he didn’t take anything.”

  “Still, you could’ve been hurt, Erin. I don’t like this at all.”

  “I’d sure like to know if he’s the same guy Ollie has seen outside my window.”

  Jack frowned. “One could ask what Ollie was doing out late at night, prowling around so he’d be there to see that happen. Maybe he’s the one who has been doing it.”

  Erin thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I doubt that. He doesn’t say much. But you just have to look in his eyes to see there’s no guile there whatsoever. I think he must be one of those completely open and honest people, and that’s just so rare.”

  “But maybe he could be convinced to do something—or even be coerced. Maybe he wouldn’t think to question what he was told to do.”

  “I don’t believe it’s possible. Not since I’ve gotten to know him better. But Barry…that’s a different story. I wonder if he smokes.”

  Max tugged at the sleeve of Jack’s denim jacket. “Can we eat now? I’m hungry.”

  A subtle, deeper emotion darkened Jack’s eyes, and for a moment she thought he was going to draw her into his arms. And in that moment she hoped he would—even with all the people nearby.

  But then he dropped his hands from her shoulders, swung Max up onto his shoulders and reached for her hand. “I think we’d better get back in line before this poor little boy starves, don’t you? But this time let’s stick together.”

  The posters around town had advertised a potluck dinner, some sort of musical entertainment and a bazaar with a silent auction as its big draw. A perfect night for making his next move.

  Erin Cole and everyone else in this Podunk town seemed to be at the church right now. Even that renter of hers and his kid were there—and finding a time with them out of the way had been nearly impossible.

  The keys were a minor inconvenience.

  He’d nabbed a big set the first time he’d broken into the general store, but then he hadn’t been able to move quick enough and she’d had time to change the most important locks. Tonight she’d stubbornly held on to her purse, and he hadn’t dared make a scene with so many people within shouting distance.

  But even without keys, entering her cottage had been a breeze. One of the old windows was unlocked and rose easily with the twist of a crowbar. A sharp kick and a few choice words sent her stupid dog cowering behind the sofa.

  And now he had the place to himself.

  Glancing at his watch, he mentally scheduled his time. Twenty minutes in the bedroom. Twenty each in the living room and kitchen. An hour in the closets—and he’d start with them as they were the most likely location for what he was after. If he was careful, methodical, she’d never even know he’d been inside.

  Though by now the cops probably thought she was a crackpot and wouldn’t give her calls a second thought—especially if there was no damage and no missing property other than a small, very special item that might have been easily misplaced, anyway.

  In the bedroom he considered the jewelry box on the dresser, then discounted it as too small to hold what he was after. The cash next to it beckoned to him, but he left it alone and smiled. He could see it now.

  She would walk through this cramped place.

  Sense something was different.

  Maybe she’d notice an object was slightly out of place, and her fear would start to build. But then she—and the cops, if she foolishly called them again—would notice the untouched money and jewelry and realize that a so-called breakin never could have occurred. And if he found what he was after, even that missing object wouldn’t concern them because they wouldn’t believe she hadn’t mislaid it.

  He laughed aloud. They might even assume that she’d lied about its loss just to make an insurance claim.

  He smiled to himself, feeling a surge of power as he readjusted his latex gloves. It didn’t take brute strength to circumvent the law. It took cunning. Superior intellect. And very careful planning.

  And now he had the whole evening to finally retrieve the one thing that stood between him and a life sentence for the unfortunate incident last month.

  If Erin showed up a little too soon, it would be her own, very unfortunate mistake. And if she wasn’t careful, it might be the last one she’d ever make.

  After two hours he’d methodically removed, examined and replaced the contents of the closets, checked all the shelves and searched the bureau drawers. Nothing.

  The clock was ticking.

  The whining dog was driving him mad.

  And both were making it hard to listen for any sound of someone approaching outside. He still had places left to search. And then he heard it—exactly what he’d feared.

  A twig snapped.

  Then another.

  Voices. Erin’s and a deep male voice, followed by soft laughter. What was she doing back so soon?

  He felt for the comforting weight of the .38 snubbie in his jacket pocket and froze, judging the distance to the front door. No way he could make it out the door in time without being seen. The kitchen door on the side of the cottage was in view of the path, too, and wasn’t an option, either.

  Which meant trying to crawl out through one of the narrow back windows, or staying and permanently eliminating anyone who might prove to be a complication.

  The jacketed hollow points in the revolver would stop anyone coming in the door. But taking two of them down left way too much chance for error, all the shoot-’em-up cop-show fairy-tale dramatics notwithstanding.

  A key scraped into the dead bolt. Turned with a soft screech.

  He glanced around to make sure nothing had been disturbed, then doused his pencil-thin flashlight.

  He raced for the bedroom and stripped off his jacket, dropped it out of the open window, then started to wedge himself feet first through the tight opening.

  From the living room came the sound of the front door squeaking open, then closing.

  Panicking now, he wriggled harder—and then he noticed something white and slim under the bed, gleaming in a faint beam of moonlight. Yes.

  He pedaled against the outside of the cottage to scramble back inside. Grabbed his prize, then dove for the window, his heart pounding, and shoved himself through.

  He gently eased the window sash closed, picked up his jacket and flattened himself against the cottage until he heard the sound of a car driving away and saw the bathroom light come on, its glow reflecting off the snow.

  He had her laptop.

  He needed one other thing, but at least it would be a good start. Or should he just go back in and get this over with?

  He could promise he wouldn’t hurt her. Force her to give him what he needed and then eliminate her, once and for all. This whole nightmare could be done with just that fast.

&nb
sp; The temptation burned in his gut and he took a step back toward the window, flexing his fists. But small-town murders were messy affairs. He already had one on his hands, and where had it gotten him?

  Nope, this time he would do everything right. And then he could finally live the life he so richly deserved.

  Ollie appeared at the back door of the store the next morning at six o’clock, just as Erin was putting the first batch of caramel rolls into the oven.

  Fat, lazy flakes of snow swirled about him like confetti, adding to the blanket of white on his hat and shoulders. “I can shovel,” he said. “Okay?”

  “Do you need to come in and warm up first? That coat doesn’t look very warm.”

  He cast a longing look toward the warm, brightly lit kitchen, but shook his head and stepped back out into the dusky morning, a rusted shovel in his hand.

  “I’m just open from eight until three on Sundays,” she called out the door. “But I’ll be closed for about an hour, so I can go to church. Want to come with me?”

  He shook his head so vigorously that she wondered what might have happened to him over the years. He’d apparently never gone to school, so he probably couldn’t read. He was definitely shy. And he’d fled the moment he saw the deputy sheriff’s cruiser pull up yesterday.

  Had the locals taunted him through the years for being different? She didn’t doubt it for a moment, and the thought of his lonely existence touched her heart.

  By the time he came back in for his coffee and rolls, she was putting a second batch of rolls in the oven, and there were already eight customers huddled over their breakfasts in the café.

  The bell over the front door jingled, and Jack walked in with Max. “Looks like we made it just in time for the last open table.”

  “There’ll be a few people leaving before long.” She bent down to smile at Max. “How do you like the snow?”