McCall held her breath as she clicked on the photograph of Josephine Vanderliner.
JOSEY TOUCHED HER napkin to the corner of her mouth, then carefully placed it beside her dessert dish before rising to follow her “husband” outside.
“That was awkward,” she heard Aunt Virginia say, as Josey left the dining room. “So what does the note say?”
“Not now, Virginia.”
“He killed himself because of you, didn’t he?”
As Josey reached the front door she heard what sounded like a slap followed by a cry and glass breaking. She didn’t look back as she pushed open the door and stepped out into the fresh air.
Spotting Jack down by the barn, she walked in that direction, just glad to be out of the house. She figured Jack wanted to be alone and certainly wouldn’t want her company. For appearance’s sake, she had needed to go after her husband. She hadn’t wanted to feel his pain, but her own emotional pain was so near the surface and had been for too long. She knew family drama and how it could tear you apart from the inside out.
Josey slowed as she neared. He stood with his back to her, his head high as if he were gazing out across the ranch. The sun hung over the Little Rockies in the far distance, the sky ran from horizon to horizon, so wide and deep blue, she could understand why Montana was called Big Sky Country.
Jack didn’t look at her as she joined him at the corral fence. He’d opened himself up back there at dinner, and even though she hadn’t known him long, she was sure he regretted it. He’d exposed how vulnerable he’d been, still was, when it came to his grandmother and the past.
Against her will, Josey felt a kinship with him. Life hadn’t been kind to him, and yet she sensed a strength in him born of hard times. Jack might have taken a beating, but he wasn’t down for the count, she would bet on that.
“Did you enjoy my sad tale?” he asked, still without looking at her.
She sensed the last thing he needed right now was her sympathy. “It was a real heartbreaker. Was any of it true?”
He looked over at her and grinned. “It almost brought a tear to the old bat’s eye, don’t you think?”
“I could tell it broke your aunt Virginia’s heart.”
He laughed and slipped his arm around her, his gaze going back to the sunset. “I can’t believe how lucky I was to find you.”
She might have argued that, but she was smart enough to keep those thoughts to herself. As long as no one discovered where she’d gone, they were both lucky.
“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” he asked, looking toward the horizon.
“No.” She studied the wild landscape, broken only by a few outcroppings of rock and the dark tops of the cottonwoods. Between the ranch and horizon was a deep ravine that seemed to cut the place off from the world.
“The Winchester Ranch is the largest ranch in three counties,” Jack said.
“So it’s the money you’re after?”
He smiled. “Who says I’m after anything?” He pulled her closer as he turned them back toward the ranch lodge.
Josey had seen how upset he’d been at dinner. Maybe he wasn’t after his grandmother’s money, which was just as well because Josey doubted he would be getting any. But he was after something, and that something felt more like settling a score with his grandmother.
She felt a chill as they walked arm in arm back to the lodge, wondering what his grandmother was after and why she was bringing the family back to the ranch.
Whatever Jack was up to, his grandmother had her own agenda, Josey thought. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a face at one of the lodge windows.
Pepper Winchester’s face appeared for an instant before the curtain fell back into place.
THE PHOTOGRAPH OF Vanderliner was several years old, but there was no mistake. She wasn’t the Jane Doe now lying in the county morgue.
So who was the victim they’d pulled from the river?
“Our Jane Doe isn’t Vanderliner,” McCall told Detective Diaz. She promised to get back to him as soon as they were able to run the dead woman’s prints.
Back down at the river, the surface golden with the last of the sun’s rays, McCall listened to the sound of the boat motor as her fiancé, Game Warden Luke Crawford, helped drag the river for the bodies.
Because of the lack of manpower in a county sheriff’s department, game wardens were often called in, since they had the same training as other law enforcement in the state.
Normally crime in and around Whitehorse was mostly calls involving barking dogs, noisy neighbors or drunk and disorderlies. Occasionally there would be a domestic dispute or a call to check on an elderly person who wasn’t answering her phone.
Murder was rare, but not unheard of. McCall knew that firsthand. She’d had more than her share of bloodshed recently. The last thing she wanted was another homicide.
“So if the driver of the vehicle was able to swim to safety, he’s on foot,” George said.
McCall nodded, glancing down river toward Highway 191.
“You’re thinking someone picked him up,” George said with a nod. He sounded exhausted. “Makes sense. He would probably need medical attention. I’ll call the hospital emergency rooms.” He headed for his vehicle.
“You don’t have to stick around. I can call you if we find another body.”
He shook his head. “I want to be here.”
“Thanks.” McCall turned back to the river. If RJ wasn’t in the river, he’d be on the hunt for shoes, dry clothing, a vehicle and possibly medical attention, as George had said.
So what would he do? Head for the highway. The nearest town was Whitehorse to the north, but she doubted he’d be picky if he could catch a ride. If
