“Reverend Latterly’s church. I got that, and I’ve spoken to him. He made a point of telling me Leo Brakeman didn’t attend church.” She thought of what Marg had said over lemonade and cookies. “I can’t say I liked his way. His passive-aggressive way,” she added, and Quinniock nodded agreement. “He seems to feel Little Bear, Rowan Tripp, the rest of them failed to show Christian charity to a troubled soul. As harsh as it was, I prefer Leo Brakeman’s honest grief and rage.”
“Whatever his way, Irene Brakeman claims he helped the three of them—herself, her husband and Dolly, come to terms once she was back. What Dolly left out when she called her parents for help, and I found after some poking around, was she’d made arrangements for a private adoption in Bozeman, which had paid her expenses.”
“She planned to give the baby up?”
“She’s the only one who knows what she planned, but she didn’t contact the adoptive parents when she went into labor, nor the OB they’d paid for. Instead she went to the ER of a hospital across town and gave her Missoula address. By the time the other party found out what had happened, she was on her way back here. Since birth mothers have a right to change their minds, there wasn’t much they could do.”
DiCicco flipped open her notebook. “Do you have their names?”
“Yeah. I’ll give you all of it, but I don’t think we’re going to find either of these people tracked Dolly down here and killed her, then set fire to the forest.”
“Maybe not, but it’s a strong motive.”
“Are you still looking at Rowan Tripp?”
DiCicco sat back as the waitress breezed by to top off their coffee. “Let me tell you about Rowan Tripp. She’s got a temper. She’s got considerable power—physical strength, strength of will. She disliked Dolly intensely, on a personal level and in general terms. Her alibi is a man she’s currently sleeping with. Men will lie for sex.”
DiCicco paused to tip a fraction of a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee. “Dolly claimed Rowan had it in for her because Brayner tossed Rowan over for her. She was a liar,” DiCicco added before Quinniock could respond. “Rowan Tripp isn’t. In fact, she’s almost brutally upfront. If Dolly had had her face punched in, I’d put my finger on Tripp. But the kill spot off the road, the broken neck, the arson? That doesn’t jibe with my observations. Whoever killed her and put her in the forest might have expected the fire to burn her to ash, or at least for it to take more time for the remains to be discovered. It would’ve been monumentally stupid for Tripp to call the discovery in, and she’s not stupid.”
“We agree on that.”
“Sticking with the victim, I’ve spent some time trying to verify her claim she had work in Florence. So far, I haven’t been able to verify. I’ve started checking places like this, along the highway, but I haven’t found any that hired her, or anyone who remembers her coming in looking for work. And, given her history, I’m wondering why she’d go to the trouble of looking for work down this way when she recently deposited ten thousand dollars in two hits of five—I traced it back to Matthew Brayner—in a bank in Lolo. Not her usual bank,” DiCicco added, “which leads me to believe she didn’t want anyone knowing about it. Which likely includes her parents.”
He hadn’t hit on the money—yet—and money always mattered. “She might’ve been thinking about running again.”
“She might have. There’s another pattern in her history. Men. Which is why I’m going to start checking motels along the route from Florence to Missoula. Maybe she decided to try out the other Brayner brother.”
“Sex and money and guilt.” Quinniock nodded. “The trifecta of motives. Want to get started?”
17
Gull sat on his bed with his laptop. He’d answered personal e-mail, attached a couple of pictures he’d taken that morning of the mountains, of the camp. He’d done a little business and now brought up his hometown paper to scan the sports section.
He knew the jump ship was back, and wondered how long it would take Rowan to knock on his door.
She would, he thought, even if just to pick up the fight where they’d left off. She wasn’t the avoid-and-evade type, and, even if she were, it was damn near impossible to avoid and evade him while working on the same base.
He could wait.
Out of curiosity he did a Google search for wildfire arson investigation, and while he shifted through the results, considered heading into the lounge to see what was up, or maybe see if Dobie wanted to drive into town.
Always easier to wait when you’re occupied, he thought. Then an article caught his interest. He answered the knock on the door absently.
“Yeah, it’s open.”
“Unlocked is different than open.”
He glanced over. Rowan leaned on the jamb.
“It’s open now.”
She left the door ajar as she stepped in, and angled to see the laptop screen. “You’re boning up on arson?”
“Specific to wildfire. It seemed relevant at the moment. How’d the mop-up go?”
“You left a hell of a mess.” She shifted her gaze from the screen to his face. “I heard things got hairy up there.”
“There were moments.” He smiled. “Missed you.”
“Because I’m so good or so good-looking?”
“All of the above.” He shut down the computer. “Why don’t we take a walk, catch the sunset.”
“Yeah, all right.”
When they went out, she pulled her sunglasses out of her pocket. “The fact that I’m surprised and not happy that my father’s involved with a woman I don’t know and he didn’t tell me about doesn’t make me jealous.”
“Is that what we’re calling it? Surprised and not happy. I’d’ve defined it as outraged and incensed.”
“Due to the surprise.” She clipped the words off.
“I’ll give you that,” Gull decided, “since you’ve apparently gone your entire life without witnessing a lip-lock.”
“I don’t think I overreacted. Very much.”
“Why quibble about degrees?”
“I’m not apologizing for telling you to butt the hell out.”
“Then I don’t have to be gracious and accept a nonexistent apology. I’m not apologizing for expressing my opinion over your not very much of an overreaction.”
“Then I guess we’re even.”
“Close enough. It’s a hell of a sunset.”
She stood with him, watching the sun sink toward the western peaks, watched it drown in the sea of red and gold and delicate lavender it spawned.
“I don’t have to like her, and I sure as hell don’t have to trust her.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone, Rowan.”
“Maybe. But it’s my bone.”
Silence, Gull thought, could express an opinion as succinctly as words. “So. I heard about Dolly’s father coming down on you.”
“Over and done.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you butting in again, Gull?”
“If you want to call it that. You’ve got to have sympathy for a man dealing with what he’s dealing with, so maybe he gets a pass this time. But that’s what’s over and done. Nobody lays into my girl.”
“Your girl? I’m not your girl.”
“Are we or are we not together here and watching the sunset? And isn’t it most likely you and I will end up
