Chapter Seven
Dylan just wanted everyone to go away.
He needed to be alone to think.
It felt as if everything was closing in.
As he watched the acting sheriff walking up to the big house, he swore.
Rowena.
What was she still doing here? Certainly, she wasn’t here for any reason she’d offered him so far.
In his business, everything had been about careful preparation and timing.
Especially timing.
That’s why it was too much of a coincidence that she happened to be here when Athena Grant had come by the ranch.
He didn’t believe for a minute that she’d destroyed the note because she couldn’t read it and thought the woman was unhinged.
After Ginny’s death and what he’d learned about his wife, he’d begun to question everything.
Picking up his phone, he searched for Ginny’s sister’s phone number.
Disappointed, but not too surprised, there wasn’t a listing.
Everyone had gone to cell phones.
Still, he searched to see if he could find an address in Denver for Patty Cooper.
When he struck out, he called his friend who’d worked with him on government projects.
“I need to know everything you can find out about Ginny Cooper Walker, my late wife, and Patty Cooper, her sister.
Last known address, Denver.
And Athena Grant and Lindsey Martin, also supposedly out of Denver.”
“What specifically are you looking for?”
“I wish I knew. Also…”
He wondered why he hadn’t thought about this before.
“Could you see what you can find on Rowena Keeling.
She should still have a DC address.”
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I would if I knew.
Maybe I’m just being paranoid.
Or not.
Thanks, I appreciate this.”
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.
You know if you’re in trouble…”
“Not yet.
At least not that I know,”
he said as he watched Acting Sheriff Cat Jameson disappear into his big house, the one Rowena had made herself at home in.
When Rowena Keeling answered the door, Cat could see just how much the woman had made herself at home.
She got the feeling that the woman had checked everything out.
There were marks on the rug where something had been dragged and some of the high wood cabinet doors had been left slightly ajar.
Not that she blamed Rowena for wanting to explore the beautiful house.
Cat wondered if Dylan’s wife, Ginny, had decorated it.
If so, she had good taste.
As for Rowena, that she might have designs on Dylan Walker seemed obvious.
Even he had had trouble explaining their relationship.
Cat had a feeling Rowena wouldn’t have that problem.
“I have a few questions,”
the sheriff said as the woman waved her inside.
“You’re really the sheriff?”
There was humor in her voice, her expression saying what everyone else was too polite to say.
Cat didn’t look like she could handle the job—especially pregnant.
But she’d been underestimated her entire life.
Cat thought in this instance it might actually work in her favor.
“Acting sheriff.
Why don’t we have a seat,”
Cat suggested since the woman hadn’t.
“I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
Rowena raised a brow but motioned toward a seating area by the window.
“I’m investigating a murder,”
Cat said once she’d sat down.
Rowena had moved to take a chair closer to the window.
She saw at once what the woman had done.
The bright sunlight coming through the large windows behind Rowena cast a shadow so Cat wouldn’t be able to see her face well—let alone read her expression.
It made her wonder if the woman had been interviewed by the law before.
“If you don’t mind…”
Cat said, motioning to the seat adjacent to her.
Rowena pretended not to understand what the problem was but moved nonetheless.
“That’s much better.
I just need you to write down your full name and address and phone number for me.”
She handed over the notebook and pen and watched the woman scribble it all down before thrusting it back at her.
Flipping to a clean page, she said, “Mr.
Walker tells me you’re his…?”
A little laugh as she tucked a lock of her blond bob behind her ear and lifted a brow.
“Are you asking me what my relationship is with Dylan?”
“Sure, why not? How do you two know each other?”
“I was his wife’s best friend.
I lived next door.
Ginny and I were practically inseparable.”
“Oh, so you were at the gala the night she was killed.”
Rowena’s smile fell.
“No, fortunately, otherwise I would have probably been in that car with her.”
“With her and Dylan’s brother? That’s right, you were Ginny’s best friend, so she would have confided in you if she was having an affair with Beau Walker.”
Rowena waved the question away, pretty much answering it.
“I thought you wanted to ask me about that unhinged woman who’d come to the gate.”
“Oh, I do, I just need some background.
Why weren’t you at the gala nine months ago?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking me questions about the local murder?”
Rowena sighed, then said, “There was a mix-up or something.
Ginny felt terrible because she’d paid for my ticket.”
She glared at the sheriff, fury making her blue eyes bright and brittle.
“When did you arrive here at the ranch?”
“About a week ago.”
“Before the woman calling herself Lindsey Martin stopped by the ranch?”
“If you say so.”
“Were you at Dylan and Ginny’s wedding?”
When Cat waited, pen posed over her notebook, Rowena finally said, “No.”
She hesitated for a moment as if about to lie before she said, “I hadn’t met Ginny yet.”
“Do you know a woman by the name of Athena Grant?”
She saw something in the woman’s gaze before Rowena looked away.
“I don’t recognize the name.
Ginny had a lot of friends.”
“This wasn’t Ginny’s friend.
It was her sister Patty’s friend that she brought to the wedding.”
“What does any of this have to do with the local murder?”
the woman demanded impatiently.
“Apparently something since Lindsey Martin lied about her name.”
Cat pulled out the photos and passed them to her.
She saw Rowena’s reaction and knew that she was on the right track.
“Her real name was Athena Grant, and she was pregnant with allegedly Dylan Walker’s baby and that’s why she left the note telling him where she was staying.
But Dylan never got that note because you did.
And that is why you went to the motel where she was staying and left her the threatening note.”
Rowena started to protest, but Cat talked over her.
“Fortunately, Athena gave me the note and it is now evidence.
I suspect your fingerprints are on it, but if not, we can have a handwriting expert compare it with your handwriting.”
Rowena seemed to realize that she’d just given the sheriff a sample of her handwriting.
Her cheeks flushed, eyes snapping with fury and seemed about ready to argue Cat was wrong.
“You might as well admit it.
You are the only one who knew where she was staying.
It explains your real reason for not letting Athena in the gate, as well as why you destroyed the note.
I’m assuming it has something to do with why you’re here on Dylan Walker’s ranch as his…houseguest?”
Rowena shot to her feet.
“I’m not saying another word without a lawyer.”
“I can understand that, but keep in mind, Athena is dead, and the baby is missing.
The sooner I find the baby, the better for you since right now you are a suspect in my murder-kidnapping investigation.
I could arrest you for threatening the woman only days before she was murdered.”
Cat closed her notebook and rose.
“What I don’t know is if you did it out of jealousy or some other reason you wanted Athena Grant dead and her baby to disappear.”
Rowena looked as if she could chew nails—or strangle one pregnant acting sheriff.
“I’d appreciate it if you hung around the area for a while.
But I can always have you picked up if I need to.”
Dylan had been watching from the cottage.
Not long after the acting sheriff left, Rowena came out of the house, got into her white SUV and took off.
Dylan waited until she disappeared into the trees headed for the gate before he grabbed his Stetson and hurried out to his pickup.
He was determined to find out what Rowena was up to.
She hadn’t just come here to check up on him.
Nor was he buying that she had romantic intentions when it came to him.
No, something else had brought her to Montana, and he was going to find out what.
When he reached the road, he saw her car in the distance.
He’d expected her to go north toward Fortune Creek and Eureka—the same way the sheriff would have gone.
But instead, she was headed south toward the town of Libby.
He waited until her car disappeared over a rise in the narrow hilly road before he went after her.
He was definitely curious as to where she went every day.
How many massages could a woman get? If she was Rowena Keeling, as many as she wanted.
He drove, keeping a good distance between them, which meant that a lot of the time, he couldn’t see her ahead of him.
It was another beautiful spring day in Montana, not a cloud in the clear robin’s-egg blue sky.
Snow capped the mountains, glittering in the sunlight.
He thought about the mess he was in, but especially the acting sheriff.
Did she really suspect him of murder and kidnapping?
As they neared the town of Libby, he turned his thoughts back to Rowena.
The town was sprawled next to the Kootenai River, the major river of the Northwest Plateau and one of the uppermost major tributaries of the Columbia River, the largest North American river to empty into the Pacific Ocean.
Not that any of that was why Rowena Keeling had come to town.
He’d seen her turn south toward what he guessed was the center of town.
Letting a car or two go in front of him, he continued to follow her, all the time hoping this wasn’t a wild goose chase.
When she finally pulled over, he did the same a block behind her.
He watched her get out of her car and look around before she headed down the sidewalk away from him.
Hurrying, he got out and started in her direction.
He hadn’t done surveillance in years.
Had he had time to plan this, he would have at least changed his clothing.
But Rowena didn’t look back before turning into a doorway along the main drag.
He waited a couple of doors down.
If she’d spotted the tail, she might have just stepped into the store to see if he hurried to catch up to her.
After a few minutes, he decided that she hadn’t spotted him and walked closer to the business where she’d gone inside.
Swearing, he saw that it was a massage studio and hair salon.
Turning back to his pickup, he debated how long to hang out.
His impulsive decision to follow her felt foolish and a complete waste of time.
But time was something he had a lot of these days.
He climbed behind the wheel to wait.
Massages could take an hour or more. Or at least Ginny’s had taken that long. Then again, for all he knew, she’d used them as an excuse to meet someone. His brother?
He shoved that thought away and realized he was thirsty.
He should have at least brought something to eat and drink if this was going to take—
Rowena came out of the studio, looked both ways, then walked quickly back to her car.
He started his pickup.
She hadn’t had time for a haircut or a massage.
So why drive all the way down here when whatever she’d done probably could have been handled with a phone call?
He hadn’t gone far when Rowena turned off the main drag, went a block and turned again.
She was making it harder to follow her, but he wasn’t about to lose her.
She turned left again, taking her back to the main highway.
By the time he saw her again, she was turning north toward the ranch.
He followed for a little way, seeing her car in the distance, then turned off and went back to Libby.
He had no idea what he was going to do at the studio salon, just that he couldn’t leave yet.
After parking, he walked down the block and pushed open the door.
He was instantly hit with the sweet scent of pampered women.
Moving to the reception desk, he said, “I’d like to get a package for my wife’s birthday.
The whole ballgame.
What would you suggest?”
The just-out-of-high-school-looking girl behind the counter smiled and pulled out a brochure.
“What of these do you think she would like?”
He glanced down the list, thinking of Cat.
“She’s seven months pregnant.”
“We have someone who does pregnancy massages.
Also, she might like this.”
She pointed to a body moisturizer wrap.
“This is more difficult than I thought it would be,”
he said glancing at the hair salon along one side of the building.
Several women were getting haircuts, chatting with the stylists.
“My wife’s friend was just in here.
Rowena Keeling? If you can tell me what she gets done.”
The young woman hesitated for a moment.
“Let me check.”
He spelled the name.
She leafed through the reservations book but found that Rowena Keeling had never had a massage or hair appointment.
“That’s odd,”
he said frowning.
“I just saw her coming out of here.”
He described her.
“Oh, her,”
the receptionist said.
“I believe she just went back to talk to one of the massage therapists.”
“Oh, which one was that?”
he asked, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.
“Sharese.”
He waited for a last name but saw one wasn’t coming.
“Thank you.
Clearly, I need to give this more thought.”
He took the brochure and walked out.
Back in his pickup, he looked on the brochure.
Just as he expected, Sharese’s last name was listed.
Sharese Harmon.
Dylan smiled to himself.
It hadn’t been a wasted trip after all.