Chapter Four
An hour after the sheriff put out the BOLO on Clancy and the vehicle she was driving, he got the call. Her car had been found beside the highway about fifteen miles south of Grass Range. No sign of Clancy.
“She must have gotten a ride,” the state patrolman said. “There were some clothes in the back, but nothing else.”
After calling a wrecker to get the car off the side of the highway, Max made the call he’d been dreading. His hope was that Clancy would have called her cousin. “Hey, Goldie, have you heard from Clancy by any chance?”
“No, why?” she asked, instantly worried.
He’d kept a lot of things about his past from her. But once they married, he’d promised he’d be as honest with her as his job allowed. “Clancy’s missing.”
“You mean you can’t find her, but she’s not, like, really missing, right?”
“She appears to have left Grass Range. Goldie, if you hear from her or anyone you know does, would you let me know?”
“Max, what’s going on?” He heard the break in her voice before she asked, “Does this have anything to do with Esther Mason’s murder?”
He should have known that word would have quickly spread to Dry Gulch.
When he’d left town earlier today for Grass Range, all his wife had known was that he was working.
“Clancy had been on staff at the rest home where Esther lived. I need to talk to her. A friend of hers at the home said she might have gone to Billings.”
“She’s been talking about moving there for years. Why do I suspect there is more to it than that?” Goldie demanded.
He sighed. “Clancy had an argument with Esther yesterday afternoon before she was found dead. Clancy had made threats about coming back to the home later to get the money Esther owed her one way or another.”
Goldie groaned. “You know Clancy had nothing to do with that woman’s murder.”
He didn’t want to believe that Clancy was involved, either. But why had she taken off? All he could think was that Clancy knew something that had made her run. Something that could get her killed.
“I still have to find her and talk to her,” he said, hating that he had to worry Goldie, but she had to know the situation.
“She took off, apparently for Billings, but her car broke down not far out of town. She must have gotten a ride. We haven’t been able to locate her.
I called her cell, but it goes straight to voice mail. ”
“Or she doesn’t have it anymore because whoever picked her up took it,” Goldie said. “Oh, Max, you have to find her.”
“I’m doing my best. I’m hoping she’ll call you.” If she was innocent, why had she taken off like she had? Whatever had made her run, he couldn’t help worrying that Clancy was in even worse trouble now.
* * *
“I’M JOHN CRAWFORD,” the rancher introduced himself as he drove. “I own a ranch down the road with my two sons. Widowed six years ago.” He glanced at her, waiting for her to offer at least her name.
She thought about lying, which surprised her. What possible difference could it make if she gave him her real name? It wasn’t like she’d done anything back in Grass Range that she had to worry about. The thought made her stumble over her name. “Clancy. Clancy Roberts. I’m… I’m from Dry Gulch.”
“Dry Gulch, huh? That’s a ways from here.” He drove, the loud sound of water splashing under the tires as the rain pounded on the truck’s roof. Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by loud thunder that boomed around them.
Clancy leaned against the passenger-side door.
She’d warmed up some, but was still wet enough to be chilled.
Exhaustion pulled at her. She closed her eyes, wishing for the oblivion of sleep—at least as far as this rancher was going.
She tried not to think about anything past the point where he pulled over to let her out again as they drove through the rainy darkness.
She woke as the pickup and horse trailer pulled off the highway and stopped. She sat up disoriented. For a moment she didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there.
“Sorry, end of the line,” John Crawford said. “This is the road back into my ranch.”
She looked out into the darkness. The thunderstorm seemed to have moved on, but rain still fell in a steady stream streaking the window.
“You’re about thirty miles from Roundup,” the rancher was saying. “I wish I could take you, but I’m already late getting back, and the roads are only going to get worse.”
Clancy nodded, her heart lodged in her throat at the thought of getting out in the rain and hoping to catch a ride into Roundup.
“You know,” John said, “rather than hitchhiking in this rain, you could come on to the ranch, spend the night, and I’d have one of my sons give you a ride to the highway in the morning.”
She looked over at him and swallowed. Warmer but her clothing still wet, she couldn’t bear the thought of getting out of this heated pickup cab to walk along the highway again in the rain. She might get a ride. But she might not. Also, she might be picked up by someone not as nice as John Crawford.
“I’d appreciate that, if you’re sure it isn’t too much of an imposition,” she said. It was only one night. “Thank you for the offer.”
He looked relieved. “No imposition at all. This is Montana. We help each other. Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Hopefully, the boys have dinner on.” He hadn’t wanted to put her out in the dark and rain any more than she had wanted to, she thought as he got the pickup going again.
She curled again against the door as the truck bumped over a cattle guard onto a narrow gravel road. The thought of a warm house and a place to change out of her damp clothing sounded wonderful. Also her stomach growled with longing at the thought of a hot meal.
Closing her eyes again, she let the rock and roll of the pickup lull her back to sleep.
It felt like hours later when she woke again to realize John was still driving. She looked out through the darkness seeing no lights, no sign of a ranch let alone a warm ranch house where dinner was waiting. The road had gotten even narrower, and she could hear mud slapping the tires.
Startled, she sat up in alarm, still half-asleep. “We aren’t there yet?”
The rancher chuckled. “I should have warned you. The place is a good piece from the highway. But we’re close.”
Fear pressed against her chest like a vise. Where was he taking her? They should have been at the ranch by now, shouldn’t they? She glanced over at him. He was staring ahead, fighting the muddy road.
They were going so slow that she feared he might pull over and stop.
Her hand clamped over the door handle. She glanced in the side mirror.
Even if she managed to jump out and not break a leg, the horse trailer might run over her.
Her panic growing, she regretted leaving Grass Range, regretted hitchhiking, regretted getting into a pickup with a stranger who may or may not even have a ranch down this road.
She began to ease the door handle up when the pickup came over a rise. Ahead, she could see nothing in the headlights now cutting a dim swatch of light through the rain. Where was he taking her?
* * *
THE SHERIFF COULD understand why someone would want to throttle Esther Mason. But he was still having trouble understanding why the person had actually done it.
He set about searching her small apartment, hoping to find an answer among all the knickknacks and collectibles that filled the space. Halfway through, the manager stopped by to tell him he had those lists the sheriff had asked for.
“What is that?” Vernon asked, sounding shocked by what he saw.
Max had pulled out a large box of jewelry and knickknacks, small, framed photos and other trinkets.
The box now sat on the table. “That’s Hazel’s father’s watch!
I recognize that brooch as well.” He looked at Max.
“Some of those things in that box are on the list of things that have gone missing since Esther moved in.”
Max considered the full box, wondering if one of these items was the key to the murder.
The box had been labeled DIAPERS. “Let’s get the residents together and record each item as it is returned to its owner.
” He told himself that if the killer had found what she was looking for, then it would no longer be in the box.
* * *
AT THE GLOW of lights ahead, Clancy’s hand froze on the door handle. Her heart still drummed frantically as she took in the lit-up, large, rambling ranch house. Several pickups were parked outside it. She could make out the dark shapes of barns and outbuildings.
“There it is,” the rancher said, pride in his voice.
Releasing the door handle, she slumped back against the seat as John slowed and pulled into the large yard. As he did, a young man came out of the house onto the porch.
“We even have a welcoming party,” the rancher said with a laugh. “Looks like you’re about to meet my oldest, Tanner.” John put down his window as the man came up to the driver’s-side door.
“I was about to send out a search party,” Tanner said. He resembled his father and was dressed much the same. But his look was a lot less friendly.
“Took a little longer because of the weather,” his father said and chuckled. “Picked up a rain-drenched young woman trying to get to Billings. Clancy, this is my son, Tanner. This is Clancy. Sorry, I can’t remember her last name.”
Clancy felt the son’s gaze fall on her. “What the hell, Dad?” she heard Tanner say under his breath. “You picked up a hitchhiker and brought her home?”
“Don’t pay any mind to my son,” John said as he opened his pickup door, forcing Tanner to step back. “He worries about his old man. Let’s get you into the house and into some dry clothes.”