As quickly as she’d thrown herself into his arms, Mo stepped out of them and wiped her tears before climbing into the cab of his pickup.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he slid behind the wheel, not sure of his own feelings. It wasn’t what he wanted for Natalie. He wanted justice, but that might have been years of waiting for numerous trials where she was found guilty. She might have ended up on death row in one of the states or merely spent the rest of her life behind bars. If truly guilty, she might have been saved from all that by dying from her injuries.
“I’ll understand if you want to stop this,” he said to Mo, realizing that this might change everything.
She’d been sitting, holding a convenience store bag on her lap, and staring out the truck windshield. But now she turned to look at him in surprise. “I can’t stop now. I have to know the truth. All of it. But you don’t have to—”
“I’m in this with you. All the way.”
She smiled through fresh tears for a moment before opening the bag in her lap. “I brought you doughnuts. If you’re going to be a cop...”
“So... Billings?” She nodded and handed him a doughnut. He took a bite and shifted into gear.
Several hours later, they were on the outskirts of the largest city in Montana. They approached from the north, giving Brick a different view than he normally had approaching the city. He could see the bands of rock rims that ran on each side of the Yellowstone River—and the city. From this vantage point, higher than the city itself, it appeared to be lush green. The bowl between the rims was a canopy of treetops and a green ribbon of Yellowstone River.
And somewhere in Montana’s largest city hopefully were the answers Mo so desperately needed.
EARLIER, MO HAD insisted on driving part of the way, letting Brick sleep. They’d stopped in Roundup at the convenience store to use the restroom and get something more to drink, and Brick had taken the wheel again.
“Where do we start?” he asked now as he drove through what were known as The Heights before dropping down into Billings proper.
“Tricia had a friend from high school and college who she still saw. If anyone knows what might have been going on with my sister it will be Hope.”
He shot her a look, hearing something in her tone. “A friend you don’t like.”
She looked over at him in surprise. “It isn’t that I don’t like her—not exactly.” She mugged a face. “Fine, I don’t like her. I never trusted her. I always thought Tricia felt sorry for her. Hope is one of those people who demands a lot of sympathy. I swear she makes her own bad luck just for the attention.”
“You were jealous of her relationship with your sister.”
Mo rolled her eyes but didn’t argue the point since he was right. She gave him directions to the woman’s house. The house was small and located in an older neighborhood that had seen better times. Weeds grew tall in the yard and the siding could have used a coat of paint years ago.
“You think she’s back from work?” he asked as he pulled up out front and checked the time.
Mo snorted. “If she had a job,” and opened her door to get out, but stopped.
BRICK COULD TELL she was about to tell him he didn’t have to come with her. But apparently changed her mind, adding, “On second thought, she’ll take to you right off.”
He wasn’t sure he liked that, but followed her up the walk nonetheless.
The thin, dark-haired woman who answered the door wore a tank top and shorts. Her feet were bare. She had a plain face made plainer by her straight shoulder-length hair.
She frowned at Mo, clearly questioning what she was doing on her doorstep. But when her gaze took him in, she smiled and gave him a more welcoming look.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” Hope said as she jammed her hands on her hips and glared at Mo. “You weren’t exactly friendly at the funeral.”
“It was a funeral, not a party you were invited to.” Brick could tell Mo was wishing she didn’t need this woman’s help. He thought Mo might want to try sugar rather than vinegar in this instance, but kept his mouth shut.
“Look, Hope, I didn’t come here to argue with you about some past slight or misunderstanding,” Mo said.
“What? You didn’t come by to apologize?”
As if seeing that her tactics weren’t working, Mo said, “Hope, could we please come in? I need to ask you something about Tricia.”
The woman in the doorway hesitated, her gaze going back and forth from one to the other of them before she stepped back with obvious reluctance.
Once inside, Hope didn’t offer them a chair. Instead, she stood just inside the door, arms crossed waiting.
“Thanks, we’d love to sit down,” Mo said and walked into the living room to perch on the edge of the couch. She looked at Hope and snapped, “Could you drop the drama queen act? I need to know if Tricia had a lover.”
Brick had moved to the fireplace and stood waiting to see how all of this was going to shake out. Hope looked pointedly at him without moving.
“This is Deputy Marshal Brick Savage. He’s helping me investigate Joey’s death,” Mo said.
“Wait, you’re investigating? I heard you got kicked off the force and aren’t a cop anymore.”
“I was suspended, not fired. Are you going to answer my question or just give me a hard time?” Mo sounded tired and weary. Brick knew the feeling. It had been another long day.
Hope must have decided to cut Mo some slack because she dropped her belligerent stance and moved away from the door to take a chair at the edge of the living room.
“If Tricia had wanted you to know what was going on in her
