Chapter Seven
Amy Sue had wanted to come up with a plan before she reached Billings. Her ultimate mission to get justice seemed insurmountable as she drove into Montana’s largest city. The noise, all the people and the traffic were bad enough, but she kept feeling the scope of Jack Marshall’s reach here.
There’d been billboards on the way into the city.
When she stopped for gas, she saw Jack Marshall’s smiling face looking out at her from an ad in the newspaper.
Once at the hotel, she spotted a flyer about some fundraiser he and his wife were attending next month.
She was afraid to turn on the television for fear of seeing one of his car commercials.
The man was everywhere smiling into the camera, those mocking blue eyes daring her to come after him.
After unpacking, she felt at loose ends and questioned what she was doing here.
She reminded herself that he’d come out to the ranch, trespassed and spied on her where she lived before threatening her.
Anger replaced feeling as if she was in over her head.
She knew she was, but she couldn’t let that stop her.
She found his address and left the hotel.
The Marshalls lived in a house on the edge of the rock rims that circled the city.
It was a pricey neighborhood, but Amy Sue would have expected nothing less.
Ostentatious was the only word that described the massive house with its huge windows that looked out over the city.
She parked on the street to study the house as if it could tell her what to do next.
Like her sister, she suspected the woman Jack Marshall killed had been a lover based on what she’d seen just before the murder. Did that mean that Jack’s wasn’t a happy marriage and that his perfect public life was a facade?
Why would the man take such a risk otherwise?
she wondered. Look what he’d be giving up if he went to prison, not to mention toppling from the pedestal he now stood on.
If she could prove what he’d done, he’d lose much more than just his freedom.
His whole life would come crashing down—and so would his wife’s.
She realized that he either got off on the danger, or he was so arrogant he thought he’d never get caught or maybe he couldn’t help himself. No matter why he cheated let alone killed, Jack Marshall had an Achilles’ heel. His weakness made her feel a little better.
One of the four garage doors opened at the house, and she watched as an expensive sleek car backed out. As the door closed, the driver headed in her direction, making her hurriedly pretend to dig in her purse for something as the car drove slowly past.
She managed to get a look at the wife. Mrs. Jack Marshall was so frequently photographed, usually alongside her husband, she was easily recognizable. Like her house, Christine was exactly what Amy Sue had expected.
The woman had an air of wealth and privilege as she drove past. Her hair was cut in a perfectly sculpted short blond bob. Diamonds glittered at her earlobes. Huge sunglasses hid her eyes. She didn’t give Amy Sue a glance as she turned onto the street and headed south.
Curious as to where the woman was going, Amy Sue shifted into gear and followed her.
Even as she did, she questioned why. How could it possibly help prove ths woman’s husband was a murderer?
Still she kept driving, telling herself she had to know the lay of the land, which meant understanding the world Jack Marshall lived in.
She suspected the woman was meeting friends, attending some charity function meeting, getting a massage or her having her nails done. Dressed the way she was, the one thing she wasn’t going to do was help her husband bury a body.
No surprise, Christine drove to what looked like a pricey salon. When she turned into a parking lot, Amy Sue did the same. As she watched Mrs. Marshall disappear inside, her cell phone rang.
“Hi, Josie,” she said answering on the third ring.
“You promised to check in,” her sister chided.
“I am. Right now, I’m about to go inside a very fancy hair salon to see about getting myself a new hairdo.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Which is exactly what I should do. I’m tired of being me.”
Silence, then, “You scare me when you talk like that,” her lawyer sister said.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she said. “Anyway, I’m in good company. Jack Marshall’s wife Christine just went into the salon.” Before her sister could try to talk her out of whatever she planned to do, she said, “Gotta go.”
Disconnecting, she got out, headed for the salon door. She told herself that Jack wouldn’t have told his wife about the eyewitness who accused him of murder, let alone admit that he’d gone out to her ranch to spy on her. Which meant Christine Marshall wouldn’t recognize her.
As she pushed open the door and got her first scent of expensive hair products, she had a sudden thought. What if Jack’s wife did recognize her?
Jack wouldn’t have told her about Amy Sue accusing him of murdering the woman he’d been seeing. But if he had, that would put a different spin on things. But it seemed unlikely even if the wife knew about her husband’s dalliances.
Amy Sue studied the elegantly dressed woman being led to a spot across from her in the salon. Christine chatted with the hairstylist like a woman who spent a great deal of time here, a woman who took good care of herself and had every reason to protect the fairytale life she and Jack had built.
Christine felt the woman’s eyes on her. She was used to people noticing her.
They often did a double take. Spending so much time as she did with charities and fundraisers and social events and the publicity that went with it, people recognized her.
They would pass her on the street and stop walking, thinking they knew her.
Not that she got as much attention as her husband, but then again, her face wasn’t plastered all over the television screen as often as his.
Normally it didn’t bother her when she felt someone staring at her. But after this morning, Jack and his latest affair had been on her mind more than usual. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d become involved in a dangerous entanglement that would cause them both harm.
Feeling someone watching her, she had looked up and locked eyes with a young blonde woman. A prickle of alarm shot through her at the intensity of the woman’s stare. Before the blonde dragged her gaze away, Christine glimpsed distress in the woman’s eyes and quickly lowered her gaze.
The exchange had left her a little shaken. Was this one of Jack’s old indulgences? Or the new one that had him acting so strangely? The blonde was young and certainly pretty enough, but looked almost too sweet for Jack. She didn’t look like his type, unless he’d changed his preferences.
With a sliver of concern boring under her skin, she worried that this woman was the mistake he couldn’t seem to shake.
That thought unsettled her for the rest of her appointment. She hadn’t realized how upset she was until she chipped one of her nails on the salon chair and had to have it repaired before she could leave.
By then the blonde was gone, but not forgotten.
Worse, Christine feared she would see the young woman again.
After spending over a hundred dollars to have her hair shampooed and conditioned, trimmed and blown out, Amy Sue slid behind the wheel of her SUV, pulled her hair back up into a ponytail and left the salon having learned little, but with less money.
Her hairstylist had told her how lucky she was that her booked appointment had cancelled.
Amy Sue realized how true that was as she had glanced around the salon to see that all the clientele resembled Christine Marshall in varying degrees.
The only good that had come out of it was that she’d been able to watch Jack’s wife from a couple of chairs away.
Everything about the woman spoke of money and breeding.
She was classically beautiful, clearly in great shape, living a pampered lifestyle.
She didn’t look like a woman who was aware that she had a cheating husband, let alone a murdering one.
She took the time to learn what she could about Christine Marshall online.
From what she could gather, the woman had married beneath her.
Jack didn’t have the pedigree that his wife did.
Nor did he have old wealth. But he had the looks and the drive.
He’d been a star quarterback in high school and had gotten a scholarship to Montana State University in Bozeman.
He’d made a name for himself in the state and after working at a small car dealership in Wyoming, he’d come back and taken over a struggling dealership.
He started the television advertising, using his good looks and charm to become a name and face people recognized.
About that time, he met Christine. It wasn’t clear if she put money into the dealership to build it up to what it was today.
But the two of them became the most photographed couple in the city as they rose to the top of society.
From the outside, it was the American dream. Amy Sue could almost buy into this picture-perfect couple and probably would have if she hadn’t seen Jack Marshall kill a woman.
Pocketing her phone, she thought of that moment when Christine had looked up, their gazes locking. What she saw was curiosity, then concern, before Amy Sue looked away. Now both Marshalls could recognize her. She wasn’t sure she’d helped her cause today.
Not that it was going to stop her. She thought of Jack Marshall coming to her ranch, spying on her, threatening her. As she started her SUV and pulled away from the salon, she drove toward the car dealership.
It was time to take this to the lion’s den.
Jack had come to her ranch to scare her off. The least she could do was let him know she didn’t scare that easily. Even as she thought it, though, her heart began to pound.
Detective Russell Tate stepped out of the abnormally hot June day into the car showroom, removing his Stetson as he did.
He was greeted by a much-appreciated air-conditioned blast of chilled air.
He stopped for a moment to breathe it in.
The showroom sparkled from the glare of new car chrome.
Past a hulking new black SUV, he spotted Jack Marshall’s glass-enclosed office and headed for it.
Marshall looked up and frowned, not even bothering to hide how annoyed he was to see him.
Russ stuck his head in the open doorway. “Just need to ask you a couple of questions.”
The car dealer shook his head with a curse. “What now?” he demanded, sounding more than a little irritated.
Stepping into the office, Russ took a chair in front of the man’s desk even though he hadn’t been offered one.
He balanced his Stetson on his knee for a moment before pulling out his phone.
“This is on the record, so I’ll be recording it,” he said as he hit Record.
Before Marshall could object, he said, “Have you ever been out to the Brand ranch?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you didn’t go out there yesterday?”
“Didn’t I just say that?” Marshall snapped.
“Amy Sue Brand not only saw you coming out of ranch property, but she followed your tracks and found a spot where you had gotten out of your vehicle to walk to where you had a view of her house and her through the windows.”
“You can’t be serious. What is it with this woman? Why would I do that?”
“That’s what I want to know, since when she passed you on the road as your vehicle came out of a ranch road, she said you made sure she saw you. She said you pointed your finger like it was a gun and pretended to shoot her.”
Marshall was on his feet. “I’ve had enough of this. You keep harassing me based on what this unhinged woman continues to make up about me and I will sue your department and see that you’re walking a beat—if you’re lucky.”
“You aren’t threatening an officer of the law, are you, Mr. Marshall?”
With a huge sigh, the man pointed at the door. “I won’t be talking to you again without my lawyer present.”
“If you feel it’s necessary, Mr. Marshall, that is your right.” Russ rose slowly but didn’t shut off his phone’s recorder. “Ms. Brand’s attorney is considering a restraining order against you, so I’d suggest you not return to her ranch.”
“I’m considering the same thing to stop you from harassing me, Detective. Don’t show your face around here again.”
Once in his patrol car, Russ called Josie. “Mr. Marshall denied all of it.”
“Tell me you aren’t surprised.”
“Are you still considering taking out a restraining order?” Russ asked.
“Would it do any good?”
“Probably not,” the detective had to admit. “He might see it as a dare.” The lawyer said something under her breath. “I mentioned a restraining order hoping to keep him away from your sister. I’m sorry he threatened her.”
“Not half as sorry as I am,” she said. “Amy Sue isn’t going to let this go. She’s talked about doing some investigating on her own.”
Russ rubbed the back of his neck. “That would be a mistake, but I’m sure you know that. If she’s right about what she saw, Jack Marshall is a very dangerous man.”
After a beat, she said, “If she’s right?”
“I believe it’s definitely worth investigating further.”
She let out what sounded like a nervous laugh. “You sound like Amy Sue. I wouldn’t be surprised if your paths cross soon. She’s gone to Billings determined to get justice.”
“I’m sure you told her what a bad idea that is?”
“Once my sister makes up her mind about something, it’s next to impossible to dissuade her otherwise,” the attorney said. “Good luck trying when you see her.”