Hard Rain (17 page)

As much as he hated to admit it, he still often had warring emotions when it came to Sarah. He hadn’t forgiven her for trying to kill herself and—worse—disappearing for twenty-two years after failing in her suicide attempt. She’d missed seeing their six daughters grow up. He’d missed her.

Even now he felt the barb of guilt that often jabbed at him when it came to his second wife, Angelina Broadwater Hamilton. He’d never loved her the way he had Sarah. But Angelina hadn’t seemed to mind. She’d been determined to see him in the White House and worked continually to make that happen.

He felt another stab of guilt. Had he really planned to tell her he was leaving her the night she died? Their marriage had been on the rocks by then because of Sarah’s untimely return and Angelina’s inability to give it some time. She’d been determined to dig up dirt on Sarah. That’s why she’d hired the PI in Butte to begin with. And look how that had turned out.

No wonder the sheriff in Silver Bow County thought he’d had something to do with Angelina’s death. Her car accident had definitely worked out in his favor, he thought guiltily. If Angelina had just let it go...

“I’m sorry, but aren’t you Senator Buckmaster Hamilton?”

He turned in his first-class plane seat to look at the woman next to him. They hadn’t spoken since the plane took off. He’d been staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts.

“I’m surprised you fly commercial,” the pretty young blonde said.

He laughed. “I’m a Republican from Montana,” he said by way of explanation. “My constituents expect me to be frugal. They wouldn’t even approve of me flying first-class.”

She had a nice smile as she held out her hand. “Lacey Montgomery. I confess I don’t pay much attention to politics. I just happened to see you on the television.”

“The debate.”

Lacey laughed. “I guess. I had the volume turned down.”

It was refreshing to meet someone who didn’t want to talk politics, Buckmaster thought as they discussed what it was like living in Montana, the size of their families, what it had taken to raise six daughters.

“Wait a minute,” Lacey said suddenly. “I do remember something about a wife you thought was dead coming back?”

He nodded. “Sarah.”

“Oh, I’m embarrassed. I did hear that you lost your current wife just months ago. I’m so sorry. My goodness, you really have been through a lot.”

He had to laugh. “You have no idea.”

“I’m a hopeless romantic so I have to ask,” she said, leaning toward him conspiratorially. “Do you think you and your first wife will get back together?” When he didn’t answer right away, she said, “I’m sorry. That was rude. Forget I asked. It’s just that I love a happy ending.”

He smiled at her. “Me, too. Sarah is the love of my life. As for the two of us being together again... Only time will tell.” He gave her a wink.

“I’m so glad,” she whispered. “I want true love to win out.”

By the time he reached the ranch, his cell phone had begun to ring. He saw that it was Jerrod Williston, his campaign manager, no doubt calling with poll numbers. He declined the answer prompt only to have Jerrod call back and text several more times saying it was urgent.

No one was home except some of the household staff, so he wandered down to his den and poured himself a drink. He planned to ride his horse over to Sarah’s. Right now he just wanted Jerrod to quit bugging him. He took a gulp of his drink as he settled into a deep leather chair and closed his eyes.

His cell phone rang again. With a sigh, he took the call. “Jerrod. Can’t the poll numbers wait?” he said when he answered.

“This isn’t about the debate results. It’s about the interview you did with some reporter by the name of Lacey Montgomery.”

“Reporter? I didn’t do an interview with—” The name didn’t ring a bell for a moment. Then it did. He swore under his breath. The woman on the plane. “How bad is it?”

“Bad. She said that you told her you were getting back with Sarah because she was the love of your life.”

* * *

T
HE
CLANK
OF
tools and the smell of oil filled the air as Frank stopped by Bill’s Auto to talk to son, Collin. He found Collin under a minivan, grease up to his elbows. The radio played a country song about a man losing his woman, his house and even his dog. It made Frank think of Lynette, which made him swear under his breath.

“Collin,” he called over the noise to the man in the hole.

A moment later Collin climbed out from under the van, wiping his blackened hands on a rag as he did. “Sheriff?” he said. “You got car trouble?”

“Sheriff business. Can you spare a few minutes so we can talk?” Frank asked, glancing around. The shop had three bays. A mechanic was working on a vehicle in the next bay and Collin’s twentysomething daughter was manning the counter in the shop office.

“Let’s step out back,” he said over the racket.

Frank followed him out to the alley and around the corner of the building where there was a picnic table on a small patio. Since the shop was on the edge of town, the view down the alley away from town was of a field with Interstate 90 in the distance.

“What’s up?” Collin asked as he sat down at the table. He was average build with a boy-next-door face on a man in his fifties. His hair was still blond except at the temples, his blue eyes faded, his pale skin freckled. He looked like a man who worked a lot so didn’t get outside much.

Twice divorced, he had a grown daughter, and from what Frank had learned from Lynette, had been dating Amber Jenkins, who owned and worked at a local diner as a waitress. But they’d broken up recently—Amber’s doing, according to Lynette.

It was the joy of living in a small town. Half the people were related; the other half had tangled relationships. Everyone knew everyone and their business. Sometimes Frank thought it would take a scorecard to keep it all straight.

“I wanted to ask you about Maggie McTavish,” he said, joining the man at the table. He was pretty sure Collin already knew about Maggie’s remains being found. He didn’t seem surprised to be asked about her—even though he tried to pretend he was.

“Maggie? You have to be kidding.”

“Why do you say that?” Frank asked.

“Because it’s been...years.” He frowned and picked nervously at a spot on the table where the paint was coming off. “Why would you be asking about her after all this time?”

“Because her remains have been found.”

He stopped picking at the paint but didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “I heard that, but why talk to me about it?”

“The two of you dated.”

“Seriously?”
Collin said. “Are you questioning everyone who ‘dated’ Maggie, as you call it, in high school? I hope you have a lot of time. Maggie got around.”

“So I keep hearing. You and Maggie were intimate?”

Collin laughed a little too hard. “Let’s just say we had a short intense relationship before she dumped me for Ty Jenkins or was it Will Sanders or Kyle Parker or Bobby Barnes? I can’t remember. I suppose you’ve already talked to them.”

Clearly, Collin had been expecting this visit even though he tried to pretend surprise. Frank didn’t answer his question but asked one of his own. “Is there any chance the baby Maggie was carrying when she was killed was yours?”

Collin opened his mouth, then closed it. His face lost all color, leaving only his freckles. “Maggie was pregnant?” he finally managed to ask.

“Five months along. Is there a chance the baby was yours?”

The mechanic looked away for a moment as if needing to catch his breath. “I can’t see how that’s possible.”

“Right, you’d already broken up with her,” the sheriff said.

Collin turned back to him, appearing a little less shocked but maybe more worried.

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem with you giving me a DNA sample.”

“You have to be kidding?” Collin rose from the table, wiping his hands on his dirty overalls. “What is this really about? Everyone knows that Maggie was with JD Hamilton before she disappeared.”

“So far that is nothing more than rumor,” Frank said. “But don’t worry, I’m looking into it.” He pulled out the DNA sample kit.

Collin shook his head. “Is that really necessary? I mean, what would be the point? I told you, we’d broken up long before then.”

Frank could see that Collin didn’t like the idea. “It’s just routine in an investigation like this one. Unless there is some reason you wouldn’t want to give me a DNA sample.”

Collin looked around the alley as if it might provide some way to get out of this. Finding none, he said, “Sure, it isn’t like I have anything to hide.”

* * *

“I
WANT
YOU
to move in with me,” Buck said the moment Sarah opened the door.

“What?” She’d been waiting for this for months and, yet, now it seemed too fast. “What are you talking about?”

He stepped into the old farmhouse and looked around as if he’d never seen it before. “You shouldn’t have been living here,” he said with a shake of his head as he turned to her. “I’m so sorry. I should have taken a stand right at the beginning. I should have left Angelina and taken you back to our house, your house, and to hell with this election crap.”

He was talking nonsense since they both knew he couldn’t have done any of that. But she loved hearing it. She loved this Buckmaster Hamilton, a man determined to have what he wanted. And he wanted her.

She stepped into his arms feeling as if she was finally where she belonged.

“I’m taking you home. I’m announcing to the world that I never got over you, that you are the love of my life.” He drew back to look into her face. “You’ve been so patient. Thank you. Tell me you’ll be my bride.”

That took her by surprise.
“Marriage?”

“Not right away. Jerrod is having a fit as it is. Plus you’ll need time to plan the wedding. I’m thinking right after the primary. Even Jerrod will get on board. Really play up the second chance at love and all that.”

“So this is just about politics,” she said, her earlier euphoria slipping away.

“No,” he said, pulling her back as she tried to step away. “This is about us finally being together. You know I would quit this damned race tomorrow if push came to shove. The past year has been hell, you know that. All I’ve wanted is to be with you. If you had married Russell...” He hugged her tighter. “I want you where you belong. Right by my side.”

She swallowed back a well of tears. Isn’t this what she had wanted since the moment she returned? “What about the girls?”

“They’ll be fine with it,” he said, letting her go. “I could use a drink.”

Sarah stepped away to get him his favorite Scotch. She poured them each a shot. Normally she didn’t drink, didn’t think she liked alcohol. But at the back of her mind was a memory of ice-cold vodka going down so easily that it made her wonder. Another planted false memory? Or one she should fear like those of her holding an AK-47 and feeling excited about what would happen when she touched her finger to the trigger.

“Are you all right?” Buck asked as he took the drink she handed him. Her hand was shaking and he’d seen it, she realized.

“I’m just excited.” She smiled up at him as she took her own glass. “To us.”

“To our future,” he said, and clinked his glass with hers. “Now there is nothing standing in our way.”

She took a sip, wondering if he’d forgotten about Maggie McTavish. She certainly hadn’t.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JD
DIDN
’
T
SEE
Maggie again for three weeks. She didn’t ride up to the lake and he had no way of contacting her. He couldn’t very well call her house and ask for her.

It was in town at the grocery store that he finally saw her. The bruise on her cheek was gone, but there was a darkness in her green eyes that filled him with a deep sorrow.

“How are you?” he asked, his gaze locking with hers. They’d been standing in the produce section. He could smell apples and floor cleaner.

She put on a brave smile. “Fine and you?”

“Not so fine.”

Maggie shook her head and looked away for a moment. “How’s the fishing been?”

“Slow and not very fun.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Her look made him ache. They might have stood there much longer except for the sound of someone clearing his throat behind them.

“Ready to go?” Flannigan McTavish asked his daughter. His green eyes, so much like his daughter’s, were narrowed in a glare.

“Flannigan,” JD said.

“Senator.”

* * *

“W
E
HAVE
TO
tell the sheriff what we know,” Harper said when Brody stopped by the next morning. She’d had a restless night, waking with the knowledge that they couldn’t keep this information to themselves—no matter what Brody and his family said.

She knew he was still in shock after what they’d learned. “We have to. This isn’t just about murder anymore. Whoever did that to Maggie, they have to be held accountable. The sheriff needs to know.”

His jaw tightened under a day’s worth of stubble. She couldn’t help herself. She reached out and ran her fingers along his strong jawline. He caught her hand, then brought it to his mouth to kiss it before he released it.

“I’m not ready to do that,” he said without looking at her.

“Because of your family.”

He glanced over at her. “They didn’t go to the sheriff when it happened because Maggie refused to tell them anything. They can’t see any reason to drag her name through the mud now since it won’t bring her back.”

“Surely they want her killer caught, as well as her rapists. The ones who raped her might still be alive.”

“I know. That’s why I thought we would talk to Amber Jenkins first. She might know who the boys were. Even if she and Maggie hadn’t been friends for a while... I already called her. She said she’d talk to us this morning.”

Brody said nothing as he drove them toward town and Amber Jenkins’s place on the river.

“I know yesterday didn’t go well,” Harper said. She could tell that something much deeper than the news about Maggie was bothering him.

He nodded. “I talked to both my dad and my uncle. They are furious with me for digging into her death. They kicked me off the ranch. I spent last night in a motel.”

“Oh, Brody, I’m so sorry. If you don’t want to—”

“Oh, I want to find the men who hurt Maggie, trust me. And you’re right. We have to go to the sheriff. I’m hoping Amber knows something since, it seems, at some point they were friends.”

Like Brody, she was sick about what had happened to Maggie and wanted to track down the boys who had done it to her and fix them good. That her grandfather had been the one to take Maggie to the doctor was still confusing. How had that happened? Had Maggie called him?

Harper doubted it had slipped Brody’s mind that one of the boys in high school that Maggie had dated for a short time had been Ty Jenkins, Amber’s brother.

She looked over at him as he drove, her heart breaking. He’d gone against his family. She could see how this was killing him and regretted dragging him into it. When she said as much, he laughed, and said, “I got involved of my own free will, so don’t be sorry. You were right. We have to find out the truth.”

Amber lived on a tree-lined street in Big Timber close to the river. She opened the door wearing her uniform from the Dixie Cup Diner.

There was little resemblance to the woman in the photo they’d found in Maggie’s bedroom. The girls in the photo had looked happy, young and carefree. Amber looked harried and tired. Her hair was dark and cut in a fringe that brought out her dark eyes—and the bruised-looking circles under them.

After opening the door, she glanced at them and then at her watch. “Like I told you on the phone, I have to be at work in an hour.”

“This shouldn’t take long,” Brody said.

With obvious reluctance, she invited them in.

“I’m Brody McTavish, I don’t think we’ve ever met,” he said. “And this is Harper Hamilton.”

“I know who you both are,” she said, and motioned to several threadbare chairs in what appeared to be the living room. “I heard the two of you were asking questions around town.”

Harper wondered who’d told her that as they entered the house. The place was small and sparsely furnished as if decorated by someone who had just gone through a divorce and had split the furniture.

“We need to talk to you about my cousin, Maggie McTavish,” Brody said.

“As I told you on the phone, I can’t imagine what help I will be. I hardly knew Maggie.”

Harper was surprised when Brody pulled the photo of the two girls from his pocket. She realized he’d been planning to talk to Amber all along.

“You were friends at some point,” he said, showing her the photo.

Amber shook her head. “That was back in junior high. I hardly saw her after that.”

“But she dated your brother, didn’t she?” Harper asked. “I saw a photo of them in her yearbook.”

“The year Ty died.” Amber looked away, clearly angry. “She was the reason he hung himself.” She turned back to them, her face stony, her dark eyes just as hard. “So, no, Maggie and I
weren’t
friends.”

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Harper said. “How do you know she was the reason he killed himself?” she asked before Brody could.

“He left a note to her saying how sorry he was.”

“Sorry for what?” Brody asked.

“Over some stupid fight they’d had before she broke up with him,” Amber said.

Harper shot Brody a look, wondering if he was thinking the same thing she was. “So you didn’t keep track of what Maggie was up to after that?” Harper asked.

“I heard the rumors.” Amber turned up her nose. “I wasn’t surprised.”

“You weren’t surprised about which rumor?” Brody asked.

“I’m sorry. I know she was your cousin, but Maggie...” Amber seemed to struggle to find the appropriate words. “She used her looks to get what she wanted and once she got it, she moved on.”

Harper noticed several framed sketches on the wall. “Did you do those?”

Amber looked surprised, as if she’d forgotten about them. “Maggie drew them. She liked to draw. I don’t know why I hung on to them.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe I thought she’d be famous one day and they’d be worth something.”

Harper heard hurt in the woman’s words. “You kept the drawings, and even framed them and put them on your walls. You were good friends at one time.”

Amber shrugged, but clearly it was true.

“She hurt you.”

“Not as much as she hurt my brother.”

Or as much as your brother hurt her
, Harper thought. “You don’t happen to have a copy of the suicide note—”

“The sheriff took it.” Amber made a face as if the note would be the last thing she would keep. She looked at her watch.

“If you could just tell us what you remember,” Brody said. “I don’t know anything about her. I wasn’t born when she died. I was hoping you could tell us what she was like back when you
were
friends.”

Amber looked surprised. “Why don’t you ask your father or your uncle about her?”

Harper could see the pain in Brody’s face. His talk with them hadn’t gone well. She hated to think how hard that had been for him.

“They saw a different side of her, I suspect,” he said simply.

Amber seemed to think for a moment. Her expression softened as if remembering the girls they’d been. “Maggie was different. She felt things more deeply than anyone I knew. She was driven no matter what she was involved in, like her art. She could draw for hours and then get on her horse and ride as if she believed her horse could fly if she went fast enough.” She shook her head. “I always thought she was searching for something that would complete her.”

Harper thought she saw where this was headed. “A man.”

Amber looked up and nodded solemnly. “Yeah, once we hit high school, there were lots of boys who wanted to date her. She had the pick of any boy. All she had to do was snap her fingers. They all wanted Maggie McTavish.”

Harper heard the envy in Amber’s voice. She guessed that Brody did, too, because he said, “That’s enough to make anyone jealous of her.”

Amber let out a laugh. “Jealous? Is that what you think? I loved Maggie. I wanted to
be
Maggie. Just breathing the same air around her was enough when we were young.”

“Did she ever confide in you after that?” Harper asked.

Amber sighed. “Did she tell me she was seeing Senator JD Hamilton?” She shook her head. “But I saw them talking to each other in the grocery store. I’d heard the rumors, but I hadn’t really believed them until I saw it for myself.”

“What were they doing that made you think they were...together?” Brody asked.

“They were just looking at each other,” Amber said, and unconsciously hugged herself. “I could feel the chemistry clear across the grocery store. So could her father. He got her out of there lickety-split. I could tell he was furious with her. It was kind of sad. I remember watching the senator. I think he really loved her.” Her expression hardened. “But then so did my brother and look where it got him.”

“Did you know Maggie was raped about five months before she was killed?” Brody asked.

Amber’s eyes widened. “No.”

“It seems there was more than one of them,” Brody said.

“She would have been raped shortly before your brother died,” Harper said.

Suddenly unable to sit still, Amber got to her feet. “I don’t know anything about that.” She looked at her watch. “I really need to get to work.”

* * *

T
HE
SHERIFF
FOUND
Kyle Parker in his real estate office downtown. He had been a football star in high school, playing on the same winning team as Bobby Barnes, Will Sanders and Collin Wilson.

He looked nothing like the photographs of himself from those days that now graced his office walls. He’d grown soft, his face ruddy, his body a little too large for the suit he was wearing.

But he shot to his feet when he saw him and extended a hand. From the look in his eyes, Frank knew that his teammates had already told him about their official sheriff’s department visit.

“I wondered when I’d see you,” Kyle said. “Have a seat.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Maggie McTavish’s remains being found,” the sheriff said.

Kyle nodded. “I was sorry to hear that. I always liked Maggie.”

“You dated.”

“In high school.” He shrugged. “She was beautiful.”

“But the two of you broke up.”

Kyle let out a short laugh. “Maggie had more wild oats to sow.” Unlike the others, he didn’t sound bitter.

“Did you see her after high school?”

“Just around town,” he said with a shake of his head. “Karen and I got together and—” he sighed “—have been together now for, gad, how long has it been. Thirty...four years?”

“Anyone you knew who might have wanted to harm Maggie?” Frank asked.

Kyle shook his head. “Everyone wanted Maggie.” He smiled. “But some of us were smart enough to know you can break a wild horse, but you can never trust it.”

The sheriff thought that was an interesting comment and said as much. “Did you try to break her?”

“Not me,” Kyle said, holding up his hands.

“Bobby?”

The Realtor sat back in his chair as if he didn’t want anything to do with this question. “Bobby...he was heartbroken when they split up. It made things tough on the team back then. But obviously he got over it. The others, too, since we’d all been through it.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but Maggie was pregnant at the time of her death. That’s why I’m collecting DNA samples from those who knew her well.”

Kyle blinked and shook his head. “I just told you I hadn’t said two words to her since high school.”

“Then you should have no problem with giving me a DNA sample.”

“Actually, I do.” He lumbered to his feet. “I have a showing in five minutes. I really should get moving.”

“I can talk to the judge—”

“Talk to him, but I don’t think you can force me to take a DNA test without some evidence. Good luck trying.” With that, Kyle stormed out of his office, leaving Frank staring after him.

* * *

T
HE
SHERIFF
SAT
back in his chair an hour later and took in the two across from his desk. “So,” he said. “I understand you’ve been doing some investigating on your own.”

“We thought between the two of us, we might have more access than you did,” Brody said.

Frank thought there could be some truth to that. “And you’re here because...”

“We’ve discovered some things we thought you’d want to know,” Harper said. She looked over at Brody. He motioned for her to go ahead.

He listened with interest as she told him what happened after she’d gotten copies of the yearbook photos at the library. “You don’t know for sure that Collin Wilson was driving the car that day?”

“No, but my digging into the past definitely got them all excited about something,” Harper said.

His ears perked up when she outlined their search of Maggie’s room, a search he’d been denied by the girl’s father. What they found hadn’t been earth-shattering, but it had led them to the boys from high school who Maggie had dated—and Amber Jenkins.

“Here is Collin Wilson’s yearbook,” she said, opening it to the last page.