Chapter Thirteen
Bethany had offered to bring dinner for herself and Ian Monday evening and to help him with any paperwork relating to the via ferrata project, but he’d turned her down. “I wouldn’t be very good company right now,” he’d said. “I’m going to rest and take it easy.”
She’d wanted to tell him that she saw through this transparent attempt to keep her away from Humboldt Canyon but held her tongue. He probably did need to rest and recover from his injuries, and she had things she wanted to do.
“Of course.” Brenda led the way to the archives. “Is there something in particular I could help you find?”
“It’s for genealogical research,” Bethany said. She had decided not to mention Gerald and Abby. She didn’t want to explain her admittedly far-fetched theory that their deaths fifty years ago might be linked to Ian’s troubles in Humboldt Canyon today.
“Here are the older issues of the paper.” Brenda showed her the large folders. “Let me know if I can help you with anything else.”
Bethany selected a folder and carried it to the worktable at the center of the room.
The newspaper pages were yellowing and fragile, filled with images and articles from a time that she knew only from old television shows and movies.
Eagle Mountain appeared on the page like a fictional small town, full of smiling cheerleaders, winning basketball players, hand-shaking city councilmen and women showing off flowers they had grown or prize-winning recipes.
She saw no people of color, no females in positions of leadership and no mention of crime or controversy.
After pages of such blandness, the shock of a headline about a house fire, complete with accompanying photos of a building ablaze, startled her.
“Fire Destroys Newlyweds’ Home,” declared the bold headline. The home of Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Boston was consumed Wednesday evening in a blaze authorities suspect was the work of an arsonist.
Bethany checked the date. This had to be near the time Abby and Gerald had disappeared.
She turned her attention back to the newspaper. The couple escaped with only the clothing on their backs. They were asleep when the fire woke them and were able to escape out their bedroom window. The sheriff’s department has no suspects at this time.
She flipped through the issues of the paper that followed but found no further mention of this mysterious fire.
Chin in hand, she tried to remember what else Craig Boston had told her about Gerald.
She selected the folder for the previous year’s issues of the newspaper and flipped through it.
Long minutes passed as she searched each issue, only the rustle of dry newsprint and a distant clock striking four interrupting her reading.
She stopped when she located a small headline: “Local Woman Injured When Car Tire Crushes Her Leg.”
Katherine Boston, 24, of 126 Bluebell Court, was hospitalized Friday after an accident in which the tire of a vehicle she had been riding in crushed her leg.
Mrs. Boston says she was exiting the vehicle when the parking brake failed and the car moved forward.
The momentum pushed her to the ground, and the tire rolled over her right leg and crushed it.
She was found shortly after by her husband, Gerald Boston, and rushed to the hospital.
Bethany frowned. The article almost made it sound like Katherine had been driving the car. Or maybe Gerald. No mention of another man or if Katherine had been drinking.
She continued to search the papers and stopped again on a very small legal notice: A divorce was granted to Gerald F. Boston and Katherine E. Boston of Eagle Mountain.
Had her injury, possibly while intoxicated and possibly while out with another man, been the last straw for Gerald?
Less than a year later, he had married Abby, and shortly after that, someone had set fire to their house.
And not much later, the couple had disappeared.
According to Craig—and the lack of any mention in the newspaper in the weeks after their disappearance seemed to back this up—everyone assumed they had simply left town.
No one suspected murder, and their killer’s secret had laid buried for five decades.
Brenda entered the room. “We’re going to close soon. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“I think so, yes.” Bethany closed the folder and stood. “Thanks for your help.”
Outside, clouds had rolled in, darkening the sky except for the occasional flash of lightning. She hurried along the empty sidewalk, the threat of rain apparently having chased most people indoors. It was downright eerie, being out here by herself.
Then she realized she wasn’t alone. Other footsteps echoed behind her, though when she turned to look back, the sidewalk was empty. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she held her breath. But only the throb of her own pulse sounded in her ears.
She shook herself and continued down the street. The weather had been beautiful when she’d left her apartment earlier, but her decision to walk to the historical society didn’t seem like such a great one now.
That echo again—definitely footsteps.
Bethany whirled around and caught a glimpse of someone disappearing into an alley. “Who’s there?” she called.
No answer. She started toward the alley, then thought better of it, a vision of herself being yanked into that narrow, dark space sending her hurrying in the opposite direction.
When she reached Peak Jeep Tours she was relieved to see Dalton out front, washing off one of the Jeeps. “Trying to get the worst of this mud off before the storm,” he said as he directed the hose nozzle toward the mud-caked rear tires.
Any other time, she might have pointed out the rain would likely wash off the mud, but she didn’t have the energy for that now. She tried to slip past him, wanting to call Ian and tell him what she had learned at the historical society.
“Where have you been?” Dalton asked over the gush of water.
“Shopping,” she lied.
“What did you buy?”
“Nothing.” She watched in silence as he continued to rinse mud from the Jeep. “Can I ask you something?”
He shut off the water and turned to her. “Go ahead.”
“You seem to be okay with Ian. Why is Carter so against him?”
“He doesn’t really hate Ian,” Dalton said. “I think he’s a little envious because Ian’s getting all the attention from the local women that he used to get.”
“He’s jealous of Ian?” In a way, it made sense.
Carter was good looking and charming, and when he had first moved to Eagle Mountain, every woman in town had seemed to go out of her way to stop by the tour company to introduce herself.
He’d kept a busy social calendar for months, but come to think of it, he didn’t seem to be going out as much anymore.
“He’ll get over it,” Dalton said. “It looks to me like Ian isn’t interested in those other women. They’ll figure that out soon enough and be back to fawning over Carter.”
“You really think Ian is the reason Carter hasn’t been dating as much lately?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Dalton said.
“It’s what Carter thinks. He got used to all the attention when he first came here, and now it’s disappeared.
It’s probably because the novelty of a new guy in town wore off or because he dated everybody in the small-town dating pool.
But it’s easier to blame Ian. Plus, Carter would give his left ear to have a car like Ian’s Porsche. ”
“What about you?”
“Nah, I’d rather have a Jeep.”
“You’re a new guy in town, too,” she said. “And you’re Carter’s twin. Why aren’t the women fawning over you? Or are they?”
“Nonidentical twin. I don’t have Carter’s smooth-talking charm. And I don’t really want to juggle a bunch of women. One is enough for me.”
“Any particular one in mind?” she asked.
“No. But I’ll know when I meet her. Until then, I’m keeping my options open.” His expression sobered. “But seriously, Bethany, be careful with Ian.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think he’s a bad guy, but you don’t really think he’s going to stay with you, do you?”
“You don’t think I’m good enough for him?” It was a good thing her brother had moved away because if he hadn’t, she would have been tempted to kick him.
“You have to be realistic,” he said. “You want the house and family and living happily ever after right here in Eagle Mountain. Ian has spent his adult life traveling the world, dating supermodels and conquering mountains. He’s not going to be happy with the kind of life you want.
You two might have fun for a while, but he’s going to leave, and then you’ll be hurt.
” Dalton spread his hands wide. “I don’t want that.
You’ve already been hurt once. Don’t set yourself up to go through that again. ”
She wanted to tell him that wasn’t going to happen.
Ian had said he could depend on her. Didn’t that mean she could depend on him?
But the truth of Carter’s words was like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
She was famous for letting her feelings overrule logic.
Was she making the same mistake with Ian?
* * *
“We found the kid who called 911 the night you fell,” Gage said.
He’d invited Ian into his office Tuesday to update him on the latest in their investigation of the vandalism in Humboldt Canyon.
“He said he was there that day because he wanted to see the via ferrata, figured he could sneak in and take a look after the construction workers left. He didn’t know you were living there. ”
Ian scratched the back of his head. “I can’t really see a kid cutting through the supports on that catwalk. How old is he? How big is he?”
“Not big, and not that old—twelve,” Gage said. “We don’t think he’s responsible for the vandalism. He was pretty terrified when we questioned him. His mom and dad came with him. They seemed like good parents, and he’s a good kid.”
“I owe him for calling in the accident. No telling how long I would have lain there if he hadn’t.”