Chapter Six
Dylan ground his teeth as he waited for the sheriff to reach the house.
Worse, he waited with Rowena, wondering how much she already knew since she seemed to be enjoying herself.
She’d been the only one around when a woman named Lindsey Martin had tried to get in to see him.
She’d not just read the woman’s note to him—she’d destroyed it.
Why would she do that unless she knew more about what was going on than he did?
He told himself that it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t true and he was about to resolve this once and for all.
Although he did wonder how the sheriff had gotten a warrant.
Based on what? None of this boded well, he told himself as he heard the vehicles coming up the road.
“Stay here,”
he told Rowena, who immediately began to pour herself another drink.
“Try not to get too drunk.”
Going out onto the small bungalow deck, he waited as the sheriff drove up, parked, and two other law enforcement vehicles pulled in next to her.
From her demeanor the moment she set foot on his property, Acting Sheriff Cat Jameson was all business and so were the four deputies she’d brought with her.
“I have a warrant to search your house and property,”
she said as she marched up to him and handed him the folded paper.
He quickly glanced at it, then at her as the deputies scaled the steps to the porch.
“You’re looking for a baby?”
Dylan said unable to keep the shock out of his voice.
“While the deputies search your house and property, I need to ask you a few questions on the record,”
she said.
“We can do it here or I can take you to the sheriff’s office in Fortune Creek.
Your choice.”
“Here is fine,”
he said wondering how this situation had gone this far this fast.
“Shall we step inside then,”
she said and, hefting the bag she carried, started for the door.
All he could do was nod as the deputies entered the house, the acting sheriff right behind them.
Dylan brought up the rear.
The warrant had caught him off guard.
He’d thought he would be safe out here in Montana on a ranch as big as some towns.
He hadn’t expected a warrant because he couldn’t imagine what judge would give her one without sufficient evidence.
Which meant she’d found evidence that incriminated him—or…the woman who’d implicated him had given birth to her baby—and someone had taken it? Why else would they be searching for a baby?
“Let me save you some time,”
he said once he and the acting sheriff had stepped into the bungalow’s bright, sunny kitchen.
He could hear the deputies searching the cottage.
He knew it wouldn’t take them long since the place was small.
Then they would want to search the big house.
“There’s no baby here.”
She pulled out a chair, indicating he should do the same.
With a sigh, he said, “Also my…houseguest, Rowena Keeling, is here.
She’s the one who must have spoken to the woman who stopped by the ranch.
She also was the one who took the note from the mailbox.”
As if on cue, Rowena stepped into the doorway.
“Before you ask, I don’t have the note.
The woman sounded irrational and unhinged.
I didn’t open the gate to let her in and while I did check the mailbox to see if maybe she left a bomb or something, I did find the note and throw it away.”
“Excuse me, what is your name?”
“Rowena Keeling.”
“Did you read the note?”
Cat asked her.
Dylan saw her react to the waves of alcohol coming off his so-called houseguest.
“It was chicken scrawl.
I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.
I just figured she had the wrong house and tossed it.”
Rowena shrugged.
“If that’s all, I’ve had a long day.”
She turned and, when the acting sheriff didn’t stop her, walked toward the front door.
“Ms.
Keeling, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t leave the area for a few days.
I’d like to talk to you again.”
Rowena shot Dylan a smile, then walked out.
The acting sheriff didn’t try to stop her, but she did watch her go for a few moments.
Then she reached into the bag she’d brought, pulled out phone and a stack of what looked like photographs.
She turned on the record, gave the date and time and his name and her own and looked up at him.
He was struck again by the intelligence she saw in her eyes.
He wondered how many people had underestimated this woman because she was petite and cute as a button, as Rowena had said.
“I already told you that I don’t know anyone named Lindsey Martin,”
he said.
“Nor did I get her or anyone else pregnant.”
“How about a woman named Athena Grant?”
she asked.
He blinked.
“Another woman says I’ve knocked her up?”
he demanded.
Cat slid the top photograph over to him.
It was a copy of the headshot from Athena’s passport.
As Dylan picked it up, she saw the moment of recognition.
“You do know her, don’t you, Mr. Walker.”
He looked up.
His eyes had widened, his jaw had gone slack and some of the color had bled from his face.
“I only met her once.”
Cat felt her pulse jump.
“At the gala you and your wife attended nine months ago?”
She knew they had met before that and waited for him to deny it.
He frowned over at her.
“No.
It was at the wedding.”
“Whose wedding?”
“Mine and my wife Ginny’s a few weeks earlier.
The woman was my sister-in-law Patty’s plus one.
I’d never met her before.”
“You didn’t remember her name?”
He shook his head and glanced at the other photographs she’d brought.
His eyes widened and shifted from the next photo taken on the morgue table.
“She’s dead?”
He sounded shocked.
“And the baby?”
“Missing,”
she said as she watched him put the pieces together.
Dylan leaned back in the chair as if trying to distance himself from all of this.
“It turns out that Athena Grant was more than three weeks overdue,”
Cat said, recalling what JP had told her.
“Which means she didn’t get pregnant the night of the gala.
Mr.
Walker, did you have sex with Athena Grant during your wedding party?”
“No! Are you serious?”
he demanded.
“I’ve never heard of anything more…ridiculous.
This woman swore to you that I was the father of the baby?”
She nodded.
“Well, it’s not medically possible.
Not long after Ginny and I were married, we discovered that I was sterile, something to do with chemicals I came in contact with in my line of work.”
“I’m sure that can be proved.
Why would Athena Grant tell me her name was Lindsey Martin?”
He shook his head.
“I have no idea.
I don’t recognize either name, and it’s not my baby.”
She withdrew a form and slid it over to him.
“I need you to sign that, authorizing me to take a DNA swab.”
He was still shaking his head.
“I thought you said you weren’t the father?”
“I’m not.”
“Then there is no reason not to prove it, right?”
He hesitated, but only a moment before he signed the paper and slid it back to her.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Cat met his gaze.
Did he think it would be that simple? The deputies returned to say they hadn’t found anything in the cottage and were going to the other house and grounds.
The moment they were gone, she took the swab and restarted the video recorder.
“Tell me about the night of the gala.”
His frown formed a deep-set line between his eyes.
“I don’t understand your interest in the gala, especially if you now think this woman conceived weeks earlier at my wedding.”
“Please, Mr.
Walker.
You were there with your wife.
Did you see Athena Grant at the gala?”
“No, I told you.
I met her at the wedding.
I don’t remember seeing her again after that.
I was with my wife all night.”
“Except she left the gala without you.
Where were you then?”
He sighed.
“It was only for a few minutes when Ginny and I got separated.
A friend detained me.
Other than to get us a drink or go to the men’s room, we were together all night.
I certainly wasn’t away from her long enough to impregnate anyone then or at my wedding.”
“Apparently it was a pretty quick seduction.”
“Definitely not me then,”
Dylan said and held her gaze.
“I never rush something so important.”
Cat felt heat rise to her cheeks.
“Why would Athena Grant lie?”
He shook his head.
“I have no idea.”
“Where were you yesterday evening and night?”
“Here at the ranch.
I didn’t leave.”
“Can anyone corroborate your alibi?”
she asked.
He sighed and shook his head.
“I was alone.
Rowena had left.
I don’t know what time she got in.
Sheriff, the sooner you get that swab to the lab, the sooner you can find out not only who impregnated the woman—but also who killed her and who might have taken the baby.
Again, it wasn’t me.”
“Let’s say the baby isn’t yours,”
Cat said.
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t kill her.”
Dylan pushed back his chair.
“I didn’t want to do this, but I’m not going to answer any more of your questions until my lawyer is present.
By then, you should have the DNA results and hopefully have found the missing baby and realized I had nothing to do with any of this.”