Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (28 page)

“Well,
what was it?” Jason demanded. “That, that thing in his past? What’d he do?”

Susan
looked up at him in surprise. “Jason, he told me those things in private and in
confidence,” she lectured. “There’s no way I’m going to break that trust.”

“What?”
Jason asked in frustration. “I’ve been here for… I can’t remember how long I’ve
been here but a lot longer than you. You’ve only been here for a day, and he tells
you everything? Why didn’t he tell me?”

Susan
smiled mischievously and playfully pointed the kitchen knife she had been
washing at Jason as she said, “Because you’re not a woman.”

“What?”
Jason groaned in frustration. “Not a woman? What’s being a woman got to do with
anything?” he demanded.

“It
helps,” Susan replied with a laugh as she returned to washing dishes.

Jason
just shook his head and gave a small chuckle of frustration as he walked away
to join the other men in the living room.

And
so the days began to pass by in much the same manner – helping Tyler and Rye
work horses, running, carrying the rocks and trying to make it up the cliff…
and then the day came that he did. As he reached the top and stood victorious
at the summit, Jason knew it was a small victory, but he couldn’t help the
swelling sense of pride that grew in his chest. With such a feeling of
happiness, there was no way Jason could have known or been prepared for the
shock that awaited him.

The
following evening, as Jason was helping Susan feed the horses, he heard the
clink of spurs as someone approached. By the stretched out rhythm the jingle
held, Jason knew it was Tyler. He turned with some greeting on his lips but cut
it off short when he saw the expression on Tyler’s face.

“What
is it?” he asked nervously.

“FBI
lady’s here to see you,” the tall cowboy replied. “Won’t say what she wants,
but seems like she’s got a big one. Kind of makes me uneasy.”

Closing
the stall gate behind him, Jason apprehensively walked out to the open area in
front of the barns. There, next to Tyler’s hanging tree, a shiny black Cadillac
was parked. Standing beside it, with arms folded across her chest, was a thin
woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Her hair was pulled back into a
tight pony-tail that hung no lower than her shoulders. A business suit and
dress slacks completed her sterile, hand sanitizing, professional look.

When
she removed her aviator style shades with mirrored lenses, Jason saw that her
dark brown eyes held a stern, determined flare to them. “Jason Hathaway,” she
spoke, and her tone made it sound like a cross between a question and a
statement.

“Yes
ma’am,” he responded warily. Why was she here?

“I’m
Agent Bethany Weathers,” she spoke, and it seemed as though the kindness in her
voice was more of a diplomatic formality than her true personality. “I just
need to ask you a few questions.”

Jason’s
stomach was knotting up. His mind ran through a thousand questions a minute.
Was she on the sheriff’s side? Did she come to arrest him? Maybe she was
investigating the sheriff’s questionable methods. If that was the case, Jason
could give her enough dirt to bury the egotistic lawman under.

“In
the days or weeks leading up to her disappearance, did Misty mention anything
about going out of the county?” the agent asked, never changing expressions.

Jason
arched an eyebrow. “No,” he replied, his tone questioning. “Why?”

“Two
days before her kidnapping, she purchased a passport to Mexico.” The agent
paused. “Were you aware of this?”

Jason
just stared at her in silence. “No,” he finally spoke in a dull voice. “No,
she, um, she wouldn’t do that… not without telling me. You must be mistaken.”

“No
mistake,” she responded.

“But
I would have seen the debits from our checking account.”

“This
isn’t from your joint checking,” the agent responded. “She’s the only one on
this account.”

“That,
that can’t be,” he stammered more to himself, casting his gaze downward. “She
wouldn’t. There’s just the one.”  He looked up. “Can you show me?”

After
a moment of silent debate with herself, the agent opened the door of her car
and reached in, retrieving a laptop. Not saying a word, she held the computer
in one hand as she opened it and began typing with the other. After a bit, she
stopped and turned the screen to face Jason. He approached and looked down at
the laptop. The first thing he saw was the balance; it was over twenty thousand
dollars. There was Misty’s full name – some charges to various antique stores
and a donation to her favorite charity. If it wasn’t her, it was a good set up.

Then
Jason saw it – the passport purchase. “Why would she do that?” he whispered
harshly as he ran his fingers through his hair, turning to look away. He had no
prior knowledge of this account. Looking back, something just made him stare
blankly. “There’s a purchase just like it two transactions up.” That didn’t
make sense. “Why’d she have to pay twice?”

“She
didn’t,” the agent replied. “That’s a separate purchase.” She paused for a
moment, seeming to gage his reaction as she added, “Seems as though she bought
a passport for someone else, as well.” A jolt of electricity seemed to pass
through Jason’s body. Not letting him form the jumble of questions spinning
through his mind, she pointed to the screen, several transactions further up.
“Then, one day before her disappearance, she purchased two plane tickets to
Cancun Mexico… one way.”

Jason’s
eyes swam. He felt the blood rushing to his face. Did Misty know? Had she found
out he was tricking her? He hadn’t thought about how much of a risk he’d been
taking. If she found out, that would be the last straw.

“Who’s
the other passport for?” Jason asked and his voice cracked. He didn’t want to
know, but not knowing was worse.

“That’s
the thing,” the agent replied, her voice softening. “We haven’t figured it out
yet. She purchased it separate; why, I don’t know. It was simple enough to
match her purchase to her passport; finding out who the other one is for has
proven to be a bit more difficult.” She studied Jason. “I’m sorry to give it to
you so bluntly but, if the passport was for you, it would have saved us a lot
of trouble. But it’s not yours, is it?” The question sounded more like a
statement.

Jason
didn’t answer. That was just too much to admit. “When’s the departure date?” he
asked.

“The
day after your climb,” came the somber reply. “You should call it off,” she
added, “at least until we know more.” She was silent for a moment. “Do you have
life insurance?”

“Yeah,”
Jason replied blankly. “Half-a-million.”

“Think
about it,” the agent concluded, closing the computer. “What are the odds of
climbing the Tombstone without ropes and without dying?”

“Slim.”

“And
who are the beneficiaries on the policy?”

“Just
Misty.”

“Think
about it, and give me a call if you need anything,” the agent added, placing a
card into his hand.

“Thanks,”
he mumbled as she climbed back into her car.

Susan
was almost finished feeding the horses. Jason wouldn’t have been able to help
anyways. His mind was so numb, he could barely function. As the motor of the
Cadillac fired to life, he turned away and began slowly trudging up the hill to
his cabin.

- - - - - -

Jason
stared down at his plate. He had no appetite for the feast of
chicken-fried-steak, corn, and mashed potatoes before him. Laying his clean
fork down on the table, he cast a glance towards the door. “Sorry guys,” he
muttered, “I’m just not hungry. Think I’ll head up and turn in.”

“Everything
okay?” Susan asked.

“Fine,”
he replied dryly. “I’m
gonna
run to the restroom
first.” With that, he rose from his seat and walked away.

Once
he was out of ear shot, Susan turned to Tyler. “I’m not sure I believe him. Did
something happen?”

“Don’t
know,” Tyler replied honestly. “After that FBI lady left, he just disappeared up
to his shack. Didn’t see him again until a few minutes ago when he came in for
supper.”

“Do
you know why she was here?” Susan asked.

“Nope,
just said she needed to talk to Jason,” Tyler replied then turned as he heard
the sound of the back door closing. Jason, after leaving the bathroom, had gone
out the back way.

“I
may run up and ask him about it later,” Susan said, toying thoughtfully through
her helping of corn with her fork.

After
supper, Rye vanished into the living room. Tyler suspected it was to avoid any
chance of getting roped into helping with the dishes. He and Susan stood side
by side over the double sink. She washed, and he rinsed and dried.

They
were almost finished when Tyler jerked his hand back in surprise. “Ouch!” he
exclaimed. “I cut myself.” He had been rinsing a steak knife. Holding it in one
hand, he looked at his finger where a small amount of blood began to surface.

Susan
took his hand and looked at the cut. He looked at her. “You better put a
bandage on that,” she advised. “Don’t want it to get infected.”

“Infected?”
Tyler scoffed as he tossed the knife back into her side of the sink. “From that
little cut?”

“Please,”
Susan asked gently. “It would make me feel better.”

Since
she put it that way, how could he not? “Okay, you win,” he said with a little
chuckle. “Don’t want it to fall off or
nothin
’.”

He
walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Searching through it,
he found the small box marked Band-Aid. As he was sticking the bandage onto his
finger, he noticed something. Walking into the living room, he stopped in the
doorway. “Rye, did you do
somethin
’ with the whiskey?”

“No,”
the younger cowboy replied, looking a bit confused as he glanced up from the
book he had been engrossed in. Then he smiled. “I’d ask Susan about it. If she
found it, she probably poured it down the sink.” He paused. “Where was it,
anyways?”

“Medicine
cabinet,” Tyler replied. “Cut my finger while I was helping Susan wash dishes.
Had to break open the Band-Aid box.” He held up his hand, showing the wrapped
finger like his actions had been standard procedure.

Rye
looked at him in disbelief then at the plain brown bandage. Then he smiled.
“Awe,” he spoke in a mockingly sympathetic tone, “did we run out of the
princess ones?”

“Watch
it,” Tyler laughed as he turned, heading towards the kitchen. Finding Susan
still busy washing dishes, he asked, “Did you drink all the whiskey?”

As he
expected, she turned around in surprise. “Whiskey?” she demanded. “Why I
never,” she paused, catching herself, “not in a long time, anyways!”

“Alright,”
Tyler laughed, holding up his hands, palms out, at chest level. “So you haven’t
seen it?”

“No,”
she replied then a questioning look came across her face. “Where was it?”

“In
the medicine cabinet,” Tyler responded casually. Susan just looked at him like
she thought he was crazy. “I’m
gonna
go check again,”
he said. “May have fallen over or
somethin
’.”

Walking
back into the bathroom, Tyler began searching through the bottom of the
medicine cabinet. Nothing. No sign. After searching several other locations, he
returned to the kitchen. “Didn’t find…” he started to say to Susan, but she was
nowhere to be seen. “Susan?” he spoke. “Hey Rye,” he hollered as he headed to
the living room. Coming to the doorway and finding Rye still seated, looking up
at him from his book, he asked, “you
seen
Susan?”

“No,”
Rye responded. “Why?”

“I
can’t find her.”

“First
you lose your whiskey, now Susan,” Rye said, shaking his head, pretending to be
sad. “This must be a hard time for you.” He paused briefly then, with a gleam
in his eye, added, “You know, they may’ve ran off together.”

Tyler
chuckled and shook his head. “They would certainly make an interesting couple.”

Rye
laughed at the mental image and returned to his book as Tyler headed back into
the kitchen. “Susan?” he called out.

“Su-san!”
Rye mocked him from the living room. “Su-san! I can’t lose both of you!” Tyler
rolled his eyes. Boy didn’t know when to quit.

- - - - - -

After
trudging up the long hill, Susan came to a stop on the porch of Jason’s little
shack. Reaching up, she knocked gently on the door. No response. After a bit,
she knocked louder. Still nothing. Finally, she cracked the door open slightly.
“Jason?” she spoke questioningly. She saw no sign of him. A fire was burning in
the stove that sat out in the middle of the room. She looked at the bed. It was
made. She stepped on in, closing the door behind her. “Jason,” she spoke his
name again, a bit of alarm starting to seep into her voice.

His
laundry was in a haphazard stack on the table. Beside the pile, his phone,
wallet, and watch all lay spread out across a small portion of the table. That
wasn’t all she saw there; his wedding ring lay on top of his wallet. She turned
back towards the stove. That’s when she saw him. He lay limp in the floor,
propped up on an old bedroll, his vacant eyes wide open. The whiskey bottle
Tyler had been searching for sat half-empty on the floor by his side. The
fingers from his left hand were curled loosely around it.

“Jason!”
Susan cried in alarm. He didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
Several seconds passed as she rushed to his side. “Jason,” she spoke loudly and
gave him an abrupt shake. In response, he brought the bottle to his lips and
took a swallow. He let out a harsh breath in response to the burn.

“What
are you doing?” Susan demanded.

“
Drinkin
’,” he replied, never taking his gaze off the flames
that danced in the stove.

“Why?”
she asked in confusion. Her big eyes were bright; concern shown from them,
illuminated by the dancing flames.

Several
seconds ticked by. “FBI lady showed me a checking account of Misty’s… one I
didn’t know existed,” Jason spoke slowly. Susan’s eyes grew wide. “Showed me
where she’d purchased two passports.”