“Is that what she told you?” Nettie could tell he didn’t believe it any more than she did. “It means something, and I, for one, am going to find out what.”
He shook his head but he was smiling. “I have to go to work.”
“Still no word on that missing reporter?” she asked, putting her papers aside for the time being. Chuck Barrow had been covering the Sarah Hamilton story when he’d disappeared. His car was found at the bottom of a ravine along with his bloody coat. It was assumed that he’d crashed his car, and, hurt and disoriented, he’d wandered away into the woods and died.
“No. I’d hoped either he or his body would have turned up by now.”
“You don’t think he merely took the opportunity to walk away from his life, do you?” It wouldn’t be the first time a person had done that.
Frank shook his head. “I think he’s dead.” He glanced over at her. “It’s just a feeling.” His gaze went to the information she’d printed out. “If you decide to take up pendulum divining, see if you can locate a spot for another well out here on the ranch.” He grinned before leaning down to kiss her.
“Laugh, Frank Curry, but I just might do that.” As she watched him go, she realized that he’d given her an idea. All she needed to do was get back on the computer and find out where she could buy a pendulum.
* * *
FRANK CURRY PRIDED himself on never having an unsolved murder since taking over as sheriff of Sweet Grass County. Homicides were rare in Montana, and yet his county seemed to have had more than its share recently.
And now he had this missing person’s case involving one of the reporters who’d been hanging around outside the Hamilton Ranch. Chuck Barrow had disappeared back in late June. His vehicle had been found later at the bottom of a ravine. A bloodstained coat was found inside, leading him and the other investigators to believe Barrow had been injured when he’d left on foot and apparently had gotten lost in the mountains.
The search had been called off after several weeks, but the lack of a body still bothered Frank. Barrow wasn’t the first man to get lost in the Crazy Mountains. The body of a hunter lost last fall still hadn’t been found either.
Much like the reappearance of Sarah Hamilton, the cases felt like loose ends that he needed to tie up. Only Sarah wasn’t an official case. He’d called in the FBI, and they hadn’t found any reason for continuing investigating her disappearance or reappearance. So Frank had taken it on outside of his official cases.
What made Barrow’s disappearance interesting was, according to the television news department he worked for, he had been going to talk to Sarah Hamilton. Sarah had denied giving the man an interview, but Frank couldn’t shake the feeling that Barrow had found her and, not long after, had met his fate.
When he returned to his office, he called his undersheriff in. “Are you saying you think she killed him?” Dillon Lawson asked after he’d shared his theory with him. “And then she pushed his vehicle into a ravine.”
“After leaving his bloody coat in the rig, yes.” He could see how skeptical Dillon was of his theory. Sarah was fifty-eight years old and, while in great shape for her age, wasn’t capable of dragging the dead weight of a man the size of Chuck Barrow anywhere. “She had help.”
The undersheriff’s eyes widened. “Russell Murdock?”
Frank shook his head. “Someone from her past.”
“Wait a minute,” Dillon said, leaning back in his chair across the desk from Frank. “That would mean that she’s lying about not remembering her past.”
“If she was in on it, yes.”
Dillon frowned. “You think someone from her past is running interference for her without her being aware of it?”
It had crossed his mind. “It’s possible. If, and it’s a huge if, she really doesn’t recall jumping or being pushed from a plane, parachuting into a tree, changing clothes and stumbling out to the road for Russell Murdock to find her...then she might not know she isn’t alone.”
The undersheriff rubbed a hand over his jaw. “This is quite a theory. I suppose you also have a theory about their purpose in doing this.” Before Frank could answer, Dillon said, “The senator.”
“Soon to be our next president if the polls are even partially correct.”
Dillon let out a low whistle. “Say you’re right. If Sarah’s purpose in coming back here, along with her cohorts, is to keep him from being president, then why not stop him now? Or maybe they want him to be president and plan to use him. The bad publicity against Sarah has only strengthened his standing in the race.”
Frank nodded.
“Or maybe Chuck Barrow had a car accident and, injured, wandered off into the mountains to die.”
“Do you know what bothers me the most? Whoever wanted Sarah Hamilton back here could have just dropped her off beside the road. But they dropped her from a plane. They had to know we’d discover that. They wanted us to know.”
Dillon was frowning again. “Why?”
“Because they think they’re smarter than we are.”
“And Sarah? What’s her role in all this?”
“She’s Buckmaster Hamilton’s Achilles’ heel.”
The undersheriff shook his head. “The senator is on the campaign trail, his current wife at his side. I’d say Sarah has lost.”
Frank laughed. “Don’t ever underestimate a woman with a mission, let alone this one. Sarah Hamilton is up to something, you can count on it.”
* * *
MAX DIDN’T THINK the senator’s daughter could surprise him. He told himself he knew her kind only too well. That’s why he didn’t expect to get too far with her. The truth was, he needed her help to prove what he suspected about her mother. He’d bluffed his way this far. He was thinking that if he could convince her he knew more than he did—
“Here, take this,” she said as she came back from getting something out of her SUV. “It’s one of my old cameras I’ve kept as a backup.”
Max stared at the camera bag, too surprised to reach for it.
“I’m only lending it to you until you can afford to replace yours. Sorry, but I don’t have an extra laptop.”
He took the camera bag and peeked inside before his gaze shot up to hers. It surprised him how touched he was by this kind gesture. “This is an awfully nice old backup.”
She shrugged and looked embarrassed. He could see she felt guilty about her privileged life. She shouldn’t have, but he understood. He liked her better for it.
“I still want mine back. It had sentimental value.”
“I’m sure it did,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.
It was hundreds of dollars cheaper than the “loaner” she had given him, and they both knew it. “It was my lucky camera.”
“Like those are your lucky boots?”
He looked down at his worn boots and laughed. “Actually, they are.”
She shook her head. “Maybe you’ll get lucky with this camera,” she said, then instantly regretted it if the color that warmed her cheeks was any indication.
“Maybe I will,” he said with a wink.
She groaned. “Let’s get this over with, though I don’t know why I would care what you have on my mother. But I am hungry and it is time for breakfast.”