She’d known the pickup would be her father’s black Chevy. She just hadn’t known it would have this effect on her. The truck looked nothing like it had in the only photo she had of her father.
So why did it hurt so much just looking at it?
Because she knew the last person to drive it hadn’t been her father—but his killer.
For a moment earlier though, she’d feared that what washed out was the remains of Geneva Cavanaugh Cherry.
She could hear Grant putting in a call to the crime lab. Now the team would have even more evidence to work with in the cold-case murder investigation. But McCall doubted there would be anything to find, given how long the pickup had been under the dirty water. Even if they did find something, she wouldn’t be privy to it.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Luke asked.
She nodded and rose, turning her back on the scene beside the pond. “I just need to know if his rifle is in there.”
“I’ll find out. Stay here.”
She stood facing the Little Rockies, the sunset rimming the mountains in deepening shades of orange and pink. A shadow began to settle over the land, over her. Seeing the pickup had made it real.
McCall started at Luke’s touch.
“The rifle wasn’t in the pickup,” he said as they headed toward his truck. “They’re talking about dragging the pond.”
She nodded. She hadn’t expected the rifle to be in the truck. Nor did she believe they’d find it at the bottom of the pond. All along she’d suspected the killer had taken it.
“McCall!” the sheriff called after her.
She stopped and waited as he came over to where she stood. Luke continued to his truck to wait for her, leaving the two of them alone.
“Why did you ask about your father’s rifle?” Grant wanted to know.
“Because he had it with him that day. He’d gone hunting.”
“You’re sure he had the rifle? I thought he’d been ticketed the day before for poaching?”
“He had, but for some reason Buzz Crawford hadn’t confiscated the rifle—or his antelope tag.” She saw the sheriff’s surprised expression. “Buzz says he doesn’t recall, too long ago. But I checked. Buzz never turned the rifle in to the Fish and Game evidence department, and my mother swears Trace had it the day he disappeared.”
Grant was studying her. “How did you know the pickup was here?”
“I told you, I saw the pond from the ridge. What better place to hide the truck than a vacant ranch close by?”
The sheriff pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his graying hair. He dropped his voice as he said, “I know you talked to Sandy.” His gaze searched her face. “Where were you going with this?”
“I talked to anyone who had reason to hate my father enough to kill and bury him on that ridge twenty-seven years ago.”
“And you thought Sandy...” He shook his head.
“Actually, I thought you had more motive,” McCall said.
All the breath seemed to whoosh out of him. “Me?”
“You must have hated him. Probably still do.”
Grant looked away. “You’re wrong. I’m thankful Trace was such an incredible bastard.” His gaze came back to her. “He gave me a chance with Sandy, one I wouldn’t have had otherwise.”
McCall felt a deep sorrow for Grant. The man really seemed to believe that he’d won Sandy.
“This ends here for you,” Grant said. “Got it?”
She didn’t answer, just turned and walked toward Luke’s pickup. Without a word, she slid in. As Luke pulled away, she glanced back at the pond. Her father’s pickup looked like some monster dragged up from the black lagoon.
“EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT?” Luke said as he drove them away. He hadn’t been able to hear the conversation between her and the sheriff, but he’d watched in the rearview mirror, and from their body language it hadn’t been a pleasant discussion.
“Just great.” McCall leaned back and closed her eyes. “Thanks for getting me out of there. I’m sorry about the way I acted earlier.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“What?”
“Pretend. I can tell this is tearing you up.”
She said nothing as he turned onto Highway 191 and headed north toward Whitehorse. Luke wished she would let him help her through this, but he could tell by her silence that she’d already shut him out.
He started to turn on the radio, when her words stopped him.
“There’s a reason I knew my father’s body wasn’t in the pickup.” Her voice sounded small and filled with emotion, and when he glanced over at her he saw the tears beaded on her closed lashes. “Rocky Harrison found my father’s remains not far from the stock pond.”
Luke had heard about the bones from Buzz, but he’d never imagined they would turn out to be McCall’s father’s. Worry burrowed deeper under his skin as he recalled Buzz’s interest in the find. Natural curiosity, like driving by a wreck and being forced to look? Or something more sinister?
And now Trace Winchester’s pickup had been found on the old Crawford place.
Luke drove, mind racing. He wasn’t sure what scared him the most. That McCall suspected Buzz. Or that she actually might have reason to.
“You’re not wearing your badge or your gun,” he said after a moment.
She opened her eyes and sat up, turning away to wipe her tears. “I’m suspended for two weeks. I withheld some evidence until I was certain the remains were my father’s.”
Luke couldn’t imagine what she’d been going through. “I’m sorry.” He knew the words weren’t near enough. Throwing caution to the wind, he reached over and took her hand. He expected her to pull away and was surprised when her hand closed tightly onto his.
She made an undecipherable sound. He could feel her pain. But it was the anger and frustration he felt coming off her in waves that worried him. He knew this woman.
“I know what you’re planning to do,” he said as the road topped
