Burnt River (3 page)

“When’s she coming back?”

“It will be another hour. She lives pretty far out of town.”

“Did you find John Dalton’s car keys?”

“They were in his pocket.”

“Do you have them? I’d like to have a look in his truck.”

“No need. It wasn’t locked.”

John Dalton’s pickup truck had six inches of dried mud haloing the wheel wells and looked like it had been rolled at least once. The windshield was dotted with divots and a fine web of cracks. On the door a panel read
Dalton Ranch—proudly raising quality livestock since 1863.
Inside, a single rifle was locked in a gun rack. Empty food containers and Coke bottles were scattered about on the floor. Everything was covered in dust and dog hair. It smelled like a farmyard.

“It looks like he lived in his car.”

“Given the size of the ranch, this is probably where he spent most of his time.”

“So what’s the deal with Lana Clark?”

“Since he returned home there’s been a lot of confusion concerning John’s relationship status. There have been two girls in particular. Lana was one, and Tanya Rose was the other.”

“You do know the Daltons well.”

“It’s a small town and people like to talk. Apparently, Tanya broke up with John because of Lana. Word has it that he has been trying to get her back ever since.”

“I’ll need to speak to her too.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Any idea who John Dalton was with earlier in the evening?”

“A couple of friends. We’re calling them in for interviews.”

“Is it possible he came across something he wasn’t supposed to see? Do drug dealers use this parking lot?”

“It’s a rural community. You go a few miles north or south and we wouldn’t notice if you set off a bomb. There are better places to deal drugs.”

“How do you think he was adjusting to being back home? Three tours of duty can take their toll.” Macy poked through the glove compartment and came up with a semiautomatic pistol. She slid the chamber open and found it was loaded. She held it up. “He may have gone looking for trouble.”

“According to his dad, he’s been working pretty long hours. Really focused.”

“This is a man who was dating two women. Seems like he had plenty of time for trouble.”

Aiden shrugged. “We should probably go speak to Jeremy. He’s anxious to get home to his family before they wake up and turn on the news.”

Macy slipped the handgun into an evidence bag and shut the car door. “Once they’ve done a preliminary, I want the truck towed down to Helena for further processing.”

*   *   *

Macy suspected that Jeremy Dalton kept his heavily calloused hands folded on the table so no one would realize how much they were shaking. His deeply tanned face was lined with fine creases. Like on a map, the contours changed depending on the depth of his expression. Out on the street there was a flurry of activity as the forensics team pulled up to the alleyway. His eyes shot up, but his hands stayed clenched. For a long time he stared, the valleys of his face sagging as the seconds passed.

Macy pulled a slim black notebook out of her bag. “Mr. Dalton, my name is Detective Macy Greeley. The chief of the state police, Ray Davidson, has personally requested that I handle this case. I’m normally based down in Helena, but I’ve worked up here in the Flathead Valley before.”

Jeremy cleared his throat. “I was just on the phone with Sheriff Warren Mayfield. He speaks highly of you. Said he liked the way you handled things when they had that trouble in Collier.”

“I’ll have to thank him.” Macy pushed her business card across the surface of the table with her index finger. “First let me say that I will do whatever it takes to bring your son’s killer to justice.”

Jeremy smoothed his beard. He didn’t wear a wedding ring and his eyes were pale and red-rimmed. “When John was in Afghanistan, I stayed up a lot of nights worrying. Since he came back home for good, I’ve been sleeping like a baby.”

Macy waited.

“He had other options but he enlisted anyway. Felt it was his duty.”

“From what I’ve heard, he was a fine soldier. You must have been very proud of him. Did you serve in the military?”

“I was too young for Vietnam and too old for the next one.” His voice shook. “I guess I got lucky.”

There was an older gentleman sitting a couple booths away. He was dressed in a dusty pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and work boots. His white hair was cut close to his scalp and his dark eyes hadn’t left Macy since she walked in the restaurant. Other than Jeremy, he was the only person there who wasn’t law enforcement.

Macy returned the older man’s stare. “Did you come on your own, Mr. Dalton?”

Jeremy took off his hat and twisted it in his hands. “I woke up my foreman, Wade, when I got the call. He drove.”

“Do you mind if he sits in on our conversation?”

“Wade Larkin is like family.”

Macy wrote Wade’s name down in her notebook. “When was the last time you saw John?”

“Supper yesterday evening. We ate around six. He said he was going to see friends.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“I expect it was the same ones as usual.” He glanced over at Aiden before rattling off a list. “Dylan Reed, Tyler Locke, Chase Lane. Beyond that I’m not really sure.”

“Did John often stay out late on a weeknight?”

“Not normally. Today was supposed to be his day off.”

“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to harm your son?”

“If there was a problem, he never mentioned it.”

Macy thought back on what she knew about the Daltons. “What about your family’s ranch? Have there ever been any disputes that have turned ugly?”

“We’ve been in business a long time. We’ve had disgruntled employees. We’ve been sued more than once, but there’s been nothing in the past few years.”

“Any issues with the local militias? There’s been some friction in other parts of the state. Some of the big landowners have been targeted.”

Jeremy looked down at his hands. “It’s just a few crazy libertarians that are making things difficult. If you ask me, they’re pushing their luck with their latest demands.”

“How do you figure that?”

“They don’t believe in private ownership of productive land. That’s not going to go over well with anyone in this state. Like I’d just roll over and give up my ranch to a bunch of misfits that have nothing better to do than play at being soldiers.”

“Have you been threatened?”

“Nothing more than a couple of late-night phone calls.”

“Did you inform the police?”

“I can’t bring myself to take those idiots seriously.” He paused. “There’s a woman who’s been researching the militia groups in the valley. I think her name was Patricia Dune. You should ask her if you want to know more. In my opinion she seems a little too well informed.”

Macy glanced up at Aiden. “Do you know about this?”

“She interviewed me a couple of months ago. She’s doing research for her doctoral thesis. It all seems aboveboard but there’s been some talk.”

“What kind of talk?”

“People think she’s stirring things up unnecessarily. They’re worried—”

Jeremy interrupted him. “She came out to interview me a month ago. Kept asking about Ethan Green. I had to ask her to leave.”

Macy frowned. Ethan Green was a name she knew well. He’d formed one of the state’s first private militias. “I thought Ethan Green skipped town after a warrant was issued for his arrest.”

Aiden spoke again. “He’s wanted for questioning in relation to a sexual assault that occurred last year in Collier. No one has seen him since.”

Macy made some notes before asking Jeremy the next question.

“Why do you think Patricia Dune is so interested in Green?”

“I have no idea. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Do you know if Green believed in public ownership of productive land?”

“He did at one time. I’m not sure what he believes now. His manifesto was subject to change.”

“Could he have been the person who called you?”

“It wasn’t him.”

“You seem very sure.”

“That’s because I am. I’ve known Ethan all my life.”

“Is it possible that John came into contact with him?”

“My kids knew to stay clear. There’s no way they’d have gone anywhere near him.”

“This friction between you and Green. Do you think it could have become violent?”

“Our argument dates back to before my children were born. I doubt either of us gives it much thought these days.”

“This is going to be difficult for your family, but we’ll need to interview each of them, and anyone your son John worked with. He may have confided in someone.”

Jeremy stumbled over his words. “I have to get home. I have no idea how I’m going to tell them…”

He pressed the base of his palms into his eyes and wept. Macy was the only one who didn’t look away. This man had lost his only son. She fought hard not to imagine how that must feel. Her son Luke seemed so far away. She had the sudden urge to escape the diner and drive straight home. She had no idea how she could protect him if she was never there. Macy handed Jeremy a tissue from a box someone had placed on the table, and signaled Wade Larkin to come over.

“Mr. Dalton, a couple of officers are going to escort you home. There’s a victims support officer here from Helena. Her name is Sue Barnet, and she is going to make sure you have everything you need. I’ve left you my business card. You should feel free to call me any time. There might be something you remember. It may not seem important, but I want you to tell me anyway.”

Macy gathered her bag and slipped the thick strap over her shoulder. “I’ll come out to see you and your family this afternoon. Mr. Dalton, it’s important that I speak to anyone who was close to John.”

He picked up her card and slipped it into his shirt pocket before pushing his chair away from the table. His legs buckled as he rose from his seat, but Wade was there to catch him. In the silence that followed, the cell phone that had been sitting on the table next to him rang.

3

Jessie Dalton rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and rolled over to check the time. It was a little after six in the morning and the bedroom was still dark. She fell back on the pillows and stared at the low ceiling. She’d spent most of the night making lists in her head and now she’d be too tired to get anything done. She put her hand on her chest. Her heart was still beating. At times she felt it was all she had to remind her that she was alive. A floorboard creaked and she sat up.

“Who’s there?”

Her mother, Annie, passed through the narrow strip of light cutting through the gap in the curtains. She wore a flowered dressing gown and her long gray hair swayed like a skirt from a perfect parting. She clutched one of her hands to her throat.

“Did I wake you?”

Jessie watched her mother, trying to judge her mood. Not that it mattered. Annie’s temperament was difficult to pin down. Like a stray bullet, its direction could shift in unexpected ways.

Annie sat on the edge of Jessie’s bed and poked at the thin quilt with her index finger, making patterns in the folds. Her words landed in perfect time with her finger. “Your. Brother. John. Is. Dead.”

Jessie waited for the flustered explanations that usually followed her mother’s more outrageous statements, but they didn’t come. Jessie spoke to her mother the same way she spoke to her daughter—a lift at the end of each line and a smile on her face, even when she wanted to cry.

“John is home from Afghanistan now. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Annie held up her cell phone. Her nails were shredded and her knuckles were swollen like ripened fruit ready to split. She brought the screen within inches of her eyes and scrunched up her face.

“I can’t make sense of it. If he is dead, how could he send me a message?”

Jessie pictured Annie ten years younger and forty pounds heavier. The woman sitting in front of her was an imposter. Too tired to play their usual game, Jessie changed her tone. The smile was gone.

“It must be some sort of a joke.”

“John was the serious one in the family. He wouldn’t have joked about something like this.”

“Quit talking about him in the past tense.”

Annie inspected her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. She ran her fingers through her hair and frowned. “I can’t count how many times I imagined him dying. Every time the doorbell rang I thought it would be soldiers coming to tell us he was gone. It got so bad I ripped it out of the wall.”

“Nobody blames you. We were all worried.” Jessie reached for the phone. “Let me see the message.”

Annie snatched it away and pressed it to her chest. “How do I know you won’t read my other messages? They’re private. I don’t want you seeing them.”

“I promise that I’ll just read the one John sent.”

“John is dead. He couldn’t have sent it.”

“Can I have the phone?”

“You’ve lied to me before.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Now I know you’re lying.”

“Mom, I’m trying to help. I don’t want you to be upset. I’m sure John is asleep at his place.”

“His bed’s not been slept in. He never came home last night.”

John lived in a mobile home out near the stables. Jessie checked the time again. It was just coming up to six thirty. As a rule, her mother wasn’t supposed to leave the main house. They worried she’d wander off and get lost in the deep canyons that bordered the ranch, or worse, head for the Flathead River. She’d succeeded in getting out twice. Both times they found her contemplating the drop at Bridger Falls.

“He probably stayed at Tyler’s place. Did you speak to Dad?”

“Jeremy’s not here either.” Her long fingers fluttered through the air before landing on her chin. “Probably out with that woman. I told you it would happen eventually. Give Jeremy time and he’ll tire of me. I hear him whispering to my doctor. I know he’s going to have me put in an institution.”

“I promise not to read the other messages. I just want to see the one you received from John.”

“Maybe he’d still be alive if I heard it ring, but I’ve been sleeping so soundly. It’s all those pills the doctor makes me take. I’m surprised I can still dream.”