The Trophy Hunter (23 page)

“But Brandi Rogart’s prints are in Larry’s
truck. That lends credibility to Custer County’s theory that she’s
still alive and may be Larry’s killer.”

“I forgot. But that doesn’t rule out Shane’s
making sex flicks.”

Jess nodded. “That much tracks. But that’s as
far as it goes. You’ve never even met him. You and I don’t factor
into an equation in which Shane Cutler is the sole player.”

Diana applauded. “Wow. You sound just like a
real detective.”

“Okay, be a smart-ass. But if it wasn’t for
one thing, I’d guess Darren is HUNTER 2 and he and Shane are a
team.”

“What’s that one thing?” asked Diana,
struggling through muddy emotions, trying to detach from Rogart
completely. Yes, she’d only think of him as
Rogart
, not
Darren. Depersonalize and conquer.

“Blondie said whoever bought Larry’s truck
paid for it by check. And the check cleared. That rules out Darling
Dare. He doesn’t even have a checking account.”

“How do you know that?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Maybe Penelope Strickland flat-out lied to
you,” suggested Diana.

“I don’t credit her with that much
smarts.”

“So, back to Trisha. Why would she leave her
baby? Do we call children’s services? Scratch that. We have no
reason to think the baby’s in danger. We haven’t even seen a baby.”
Diana’s frustration wrinkled her brow, deepened the faint lines
between her eyes as she plumbed for a solution.

“You want to see a baby?” Jess’s face lit up
with a solution. “
You
go to the house. The kids know you.
I’ll bet they’ll let you in.”

Diana hesitated. “I have another idea,” she
said. “We need to get a welfare check on the Rogart kids. But I’d
just as soon not have my name connected to it. We’d never get
another peek at them if it got back to him.”

Jess nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right.”

Diana’s face brightened suddenly. “I know
somebody who might help us out. A woman in the D.A.’s office. I’ve
worked with her on a few cases. And last week I took on a guardian
ad litem thing for some poor little rich kids at her request. I
think she’d lean on Douglas County if I can convince her there’s a
real situation here.”

“What if Darren snows them like he did us?
Note, I said
us.
I was just as much the fool as you,
Diana.”

“Thanks, I needed that. You always know how
to cheer me up.”

“Do I hear a growl coming on?”

“No, it’s okay. If Plan A fizzles, we’ll go
to Plan B.”

Chapter 41

It was completely starless dark when Diana
reached Rogart’s home in Franktown. Jess’s instructions had been
easy to follow, and Jess would not be far behind her. She hoped.
The skinny curve of a crescent moon teetered among clouds, barely
distinguishable in the moody March sky.

Now that she was actually approaching the
house, Diana had giant misgivings. The original plan─the sensible
one─had been executed the evening before. She’d called Marge in the
D.A.’s office and requested a welfare check on some children in
Franktown. The Rogart children and an unidentified infant. When
Diana hadn’t received news of the outcome by the following
afternoon, her patience had frayed. She wondered if the welfare
check had even been performed, but didn’t want to call Marge.
Giving her request such high priority might elicit too many
questions from Marge.

Now that she’d set Plan B in motion, she
doubted the wisdom of not giving Douglas County a bit more time to
get the job done.

The shadowy form of a nocturnal animal
skittered across the road as Diana turned into Rogart’s driveway.
The tan truck she’d seen him drive to her house sat where Jess said
it had been when she’d been there.

The front of the house was dark.
Maybe
they’re watching TV.
Diana glanced at the dashboard clock just
before she shut off the ignition. Eight-thirty. As she opened the
car door, the sound seemed inordinately loud to her ears. What did
it matter? She was about to go up and ring the doorbell. Still, she
felt like a sneak. As much as she wanted to safeguard these
children, this mode of operation was foreign to her. Discomfort
from it chafed her like a hair shirt as she eased out and quietly
closed the car door.

She waited a moment longer, watching for any
sign of life from the residence. The nearest neighboring house was
all but hidden in trees across the road. This observation increased
her anxiety. The area wasn’t set out in city blocks, but small
parcels of several acres each.
How could he afford a spread like
this?
The house and those she passed on the way were definitely
upscale. Then she remembered Rogart had told her that Joe held the
mortgage. Maybe Joe had wanted the best for his Brandi.

Nervously, she glanced up at the rocky,
pine-crested hill behind the house where she expected Jess to be.
Hopefully, she’d kept pace, although Diana hadn’t seen the red
Camaro in her rear view for some time. She watched a moment longer
for approaching headlights, then surmised that Jess would have
turned hers off as she positioned herself.

Her cell vibrated. As she unfolded it, she
could make out Marge Lane’s name and number. “Hey, Marge, how’s it
going?”

“Just got a call from Douglas County,” said
Marge in her low, husky smoker’s voice.

“What did they find out? Was the baby all
right?”

“Yeah, they said so. No sign of child
neglect. The dad wasn’t home, but they said the daughter seemed a
perfectly capable babysitter for her baby sister.”

“She passed the baby off as her sister?”

“Nope. Didn’t pass off anything. Showed the
deputy a birth certificate.”

He’s the father?
The sting of betrayal
sent a rush of blood to her cheeks.
Why should I care how many
lies he tells?

“Diana, are you there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The birth certificate lists Patricia
Strickland as the mother and Darren Rogart as the father. The house
was clean. Food in the fridge. The girl said her dad would be home
soon. Everything looked A-okay.”

“How’d she explain where the baby’s mom
was?”

“Said she and their dad went to the
mountains. Diana, what’s your connection with these people?”

“I’m not free to say right now. I promise
I’ll fill you in when I’m sure of my facts. I owe you, Marge.”

“Don’t mention it. Just keep up the good work
you’re doing for the Clifford kids.”

“My pleasure. I’ll take as many of those as
you can send me.”

As Diana folded the phone and stuffed it into
her pocket she hesitated. If she’d just waited a while longer there
would have been no need for this unannounced visit. But she was
here and someone inside the house may have seen her. It would look
too weird to turn around and leave now. With a nervous shiver, she
climbed the gray slate steps to the front door, sorting through the
discrepancies in Darren’s stories, wondering how much of the truth
Keith and Lori knew. Her sensible self told her that men often opt
out of admitting paternity, not into it.

She felt the quiet of the March evening like
a presence as she hesitated at the front door. At eight-forty Lori
and Keith would still be up. Doing homework, perhaps. Would Lori be
embarrassed to see her after the lipstick incident? More to the
point, did Lori even know about the incident? Was it a sick way for
Darren to express his displeasure at her refusal to give him legal
advice?

Diana touched the inside pocket of her winter
coat. Her prop, the Brandi Flannigan trust instrument, lay tucked
inside─her lame excuse for being there.

Summoning all her courage, Diana rang the
doorbell. As the melodic sound of chimes hit her ear, a completely
irrational thought hit her brain:
Maybe he’s a vampire. That’s
why he’s out roaming around at night, leaving his children
alone.

As the door swung open, Diana felt her heart
plummet. She forced a smile onto her face and hoped it didn’t look
as fake as it felt.

“Diana, what a pleasant surprise,” said
Rogart.

Chapter 42

Diana had expected one of the kids to answer
the door. Now, she didn’t know why. Darren was bound to be home
some of the time. She glued the forced smile in place, then toned
it down a bit.
Not too friendly.

“Hi, Darren. I was hoping I’d catch you at
home.”

He grinned broadly. “Come in. I love
surprises.”

Oh, what big teeth you have, Grandma.
She slapped the words right out of her mind.
Jesus!

Diana wavered at the threshold. Darren cupped
a warm hand under her elbow and steered her through the door. She
could feel the heat from him through her winter coat. Or was the
heat her own?

The interior of the house reminded her of Joe
Flannigan’s, but the Rogart home was newer. Then her eyes locked on
the near-life-sized painting of Rogart on the back wall of the
entry hall. She tried not to stare, but…forget it. The hunk
hunkered over his kill in a mountain meadow. His hands held up the
head of a huge bighorn ram. The scene of the crime that sent him to
jail? Was this
the
ram? And more to the point, how could he
be so brazen as to display it in his home?

“It’s great, isn’t it?” said Rogart.
“Although I think it may flatter me.”

Not very much in love with yourself.
“Uh-huh,” replied Diana. “You commissioned it?”

Rogart laughed and shook his head. “I’d never
be able to afford something like that. It was a gift.”

Diana read the artist’s signature in the
lower left hand corner of the portrait:
A. Cruz-Ramos.
She
nodded and smiled, thinking A. Cruz-Ramos had to be a woman.

As she walked into a living room that was
more trophy-logged than Flannigan’s, she asked, “Where are Keith
and Lori? I’d like to say hello to them.” Her left hand fumbled
with the trust papers in her coat pocket.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Rogart
stepped forward and proceeded to help her out of her coat. She
didn’t correct his assumption, but followed him back to the entry
hall where he hung it in a closet.

Diana peered into a large dining room. An
eagle mount watched her from atop a red oak gun case.
So much
for preserving the endangered.
Another observation struck her
like a bullet: Felons are not permitted to own firearms. The glass
front on the case revealed an assortment of long guns and pistols.
Her mouth opened in protest, but she quickly clamped it shut.
Don’t go there.

“Where are the kids?” she asked again.

“At a sleepover,” said Rogart.

“A thirteen-year-old and a ten-year-old at
the same sleepover?” she blurted. “On a school night?”

Rogart laughed. “Not hardly. Different
sleepovers.”

He’s ignoring the school night part.
A
tide of discomfort rose in her throat. Her cell phone was in the
outer pocket of her coat. The coat now hung in Rogart’s closet.
How could I have explained hanging on to it? Just in case I
needed to call nine-one-one?

“Can I make you a drink?” he asked.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” she spit back,
too quickly.

“I don’t drink alcohol, Diana,” he corrected.
“I’ve got a slew of natural concoctions from the health food
store.”

“There’s a health food store in Franktown?”
Again, too quick. Too nervous.
Damn!

“What is it, Diana? I feel like I’m being
interrogated.” He didn’t wait for the answer she didn’t have. “I
stock up when I go to Denver.”

Diana lowered her eyes. “Sorry, Darren. It’s
been a hard day at the office. I just ran across your trust
instrument and realized that I hadn’t mailed it back to you. I hope
you weren’t inconvenienced. It’s in my coat pocket.”

She thought she caught a slight narrowing of
his eyes as he asked, “I thought you said you’d taken it home.”

“I discovered I was mistaken. It was at the
office, so you see─”

Whatever she wanted him to see was loudly
preempted by an infant’s wails.

Darren Rogart smiled broadly. “That’s why
you’re here. I’ll go get her.”

Diana stood open-mouthed for a second, then
followed Rogart down a hall that branched off the dining room. She
glanced quickly into the rooms she passed that had open doors. Some
didn’t. She could only wonder what lay behind them. The hallway was
decorated with hunting scenes and a couple of small animal
mounts.

The baby’s wails notched up in volume, and
Rogart lengthened his stride, pausing briefly to switch on a hall
light. Then he opened one of the closed doors. “Come on, Diana.” He
beckoned to her, his face reflecting a pride and happiness she
hadn’t seen there before. The emotions were incongruous with his
situation as she knew it.

He’s beaming like a new father. If he really
is the father, I’d think that would be the last thing he’d be
doing.

Diana, still a few paces behind Rogart, heard
the baby’s cries subside and turn to gurgling coos. As she peeked
into the nursery, the first thing that struck her was the hunting
theme repeated. Even in the baby’s room. The stuffed animals that
topped table and chest of drawers were real animals. Stuffed.
Mounts. A raccoon, a skunk, a baby possum. The furniture was
new-looking. Of varnished pine. There was no hint that it was a
girl’s room.

“May I present my daughter, Fawn.” It wasn’t
intoned like a question. As he held the tiny girl toward her, she
felt her knees go weak.

One touch and you’re a goner.
Every
rational ounce of brainpower told her that the situation was
unreal─fraught with physical and emotional peril. But instinct was
stronger than intellect. She held out her arms and cradled the tiny
squirming baby girl in them. The precious rosebud of a mouth opened
and closed, making sucking noises. As she bent closer, a tiny hand
flailed out and brushed her face, sending a rush of blood to her
cheek.