Hard Rain (6 page)

Now as he drove down the road toward his uncle’s place, he wished there was a way to spare them what was coming. Turning into his uncle’s place, he passed the sheriff and drove a little faster, worried.

As he pulled up in front of his uncle’s house, he spotted his father sitting on the porch alone. “What’s going on?” Brody asked as he joined him. His uncle was nowhere in sight. Brody felt his heart lodge in his throat as he saw his father’s expression. “Is he all right?”

“The sheriff was here,” Finn McTavish said. While only in his midsixties, he looked older suddenly, his face drawn and haggard. “He told your uncle that the body was Maggie’s and that it was now a murder investigation.”

“Where is he now?” Brody asked, thinking he shouldn’t be alone.

“Inside the house.”

He started in that direction but his father stopped him.

“Leave him be. He’ll come out when he’s ready,” Finn said.

“The sheriff... So it’s Maggie, just as I’d feared.” He’d grown up wanting to believe that the beautiful cousin he’d never known had run away to make a better life for herself. He’d actually looked for her in late-night movies since from the photographs he’d seen of her, she was so striking that she could have been an actress or a model. She could have been a lot of things.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He’d heard stories about his cousin since he was a boy. In fact, his first fistfight in grade school had been over what Billy Loring said his father had said about her. At that time, he’d never seen more than photos of her that his uncle kept on the mantel, but she was family and family was worth defending even if Billy Loring was older, bigger and stronger.

“When Harper and I found her horse... The rain had washed the wooden box down the hillside. She was buried on Hamilton Ranch, just yards from our land,” Brody said, and turned as the screen door was flung open and his uncle stepped out. Flannigan McTavish looked as if all the air had been knocked out of him.

“Uncle Flan—”

“I don’t want to hear another word about my Maggie.” His uncle’s green eyes flashed with anger. “Nor do I ever want to hear you’ve been with that Hamilton girl.”

With that, he descended the porch steps and walked across the yard toward the shop.

“Let him go,” his father said. “You heard him. He needs to grieve in his own way.”

Growing up, neither his father nor his uncle had liked to talk about Maggie, but when pushed, his father had told him that Flannigan had doted on his only daughter and “that was part of the problem.”

“Nor does he want to hear about Harper, it seems,” Brody said, realizing that he’d known this would be the case. “Don’t you think I heard the rumors growing up about Maggie and JD Hamilton? But even if it’s true and JD killed her, it’s no reason to hold it against the rest of the Hamiltons.”

His father looked toward the shop. Flannigan had stopped and turned to look back at them. Brody saw the two men exchange a glance.

“Or is there another reason the two of you don’t want me with Harper?” he asked.

CHAPTER SIX

JD
KNEW
SOMETHING
was wrong the moment he opened the door to the ranch house. “Grace?” Maybe it was the quiet, the sense that no one was home, and yet Grace’s car was in the drive. “Grace?”

He had already started toward the kitchen when he heard the moan and retraced his steps to the living room, hurrying now, suddenly afraid.

She lay at the bottom of the stairs, her body twisted, her face pressed into the hardwood.

“Grace!” he cried, running to her. His first thought at seeing her lying there was that he would never forgive himself. She must have fallen down the stairs while he’d been gone. If he had been here...

Her eyes flickered open and he saw the pain and the fear. How long had she been lying here? Where were Buck and Sarah? He silently cursed himself for leaving her. He knew how upset she’d been at the news that Sarah was pregnant. “It’s all right. I’m here now.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” she cried, and gripped his arm. “JD, I can’t feel my legs.”

“Lie still. Don’t move. I’m getting help.” He quickly stepped to the kitchen wall phone and called 9-1-1 for an ambulance.

Grace had begun to cry, muttering something through her tears that he couldn’t make out.

“Please hurry,” he pleaded into the phone before going back to her and kneeling with her on the floor. “Don’t talk,” he insisted when she tried to tell him what had happened. “They said you should lie very still. An ambulance is on the way.”

She closed her eyes and he prayed she didn’t die. At the hospital he paced the floor, too upset and too guilt-ridden to sit. She had begged him to resign as senator his second term. She’d never minded his involvement in politics as long as their son was home. But now...

“Your wife has sustained an injury to her spine,” the doctor said when he finally came out.

“She said she couldn’t feel her legs,” JD said. “Is she—”

“I think the paralysis is temporary. There is some swelling. Once that goes down...”

“But you don’t know if she will be able to walk again?”

“Let’s wait and see after the swelling goes down. If you like, you can see her now.”

He walked down the long hallway to her room, mentally kicking himself for not being there, though he doubted he could have prevented her fall even if he had been home. That logic didn’t make him feel much better. He’d been distancing himself from Grace and her angry bitterness for weeks now.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he stepped through her door and moved quickly to her side. He’d promised to love and honor this woman until death did they part. He desperately didn’t want to break that oath. He’d always been a man of his word.

Grace gave him a wan smile. “I might never walk again.”

“The doctor is hopeful that when the swelling goes down, you’ll be fine. You were lucky. It could have been much worse.”

“Lucky?” she demanded. “JD, I was almost killed.”

“What happened to make you fall like that?” he asked.

“Is that what you think happened?” she cried. “She tried to kill me.”

“What?”

“Sarah. I was upstairs. I heard Buckmaster leave. I thought she’d left with him, but instead, she came upstairs looking for me. She was acting strange, talking crazy. I told her I didn’t want to argue. I started down the stairs and I felt her hand in my back. JD, she pushed me!”

He stared at his wife. “Grace—”

“You don’t believe me?” Her voice had risen. It broke on every word. “I just told you that my daughter-in-law tried to kill me and you’re calling me a liar?”

“There must be some other explanation. Maybe you just thought—”

She turned her face to the wall. “Get out of my room.”

“Grace—”

“Get out!”

He took a step back, telling himself she’d had a scare. Once she was feeling better... “I’ll check on you later.”

“Don’t bother.”

* * *

B
RODY
KNEW
HOW
stubborn his father could be. He waited, determined to get answers that he felt he’d been denied all his life.

He’d wanted to know about Maggie from as far back as he could remember. Once when he was very young he’d asked about the beautiful woman’s photo on his uncle’s mantel. Flannigan had been drinking and was surprisingly talkative. He’d said that Maggie was “the sweetest girl God ever put on this earth.”

“Where is she?” he’d asked. His uncle’s green eyes had filled with tears.

“She’s in my heart.”

When he’d asked his father how Maggie could be in his uncle’s heart, he’d been told, “She’s gone and it breaks your uncle’s heart and mine to talk about her.”

Now, as he waited for his father to speak, he felt that old frustration. Everything he’d learned about Maggie had been either on the playground at school or whispered gossip. All of those stories had been about a wild, reckless young woman with the morals of an alley cat.

“Leave it alone, son,” Finn said as he got to his feet and started to walk past him.

Brody grabbed his father’s arm, making Finn look at him with alarm. He’d never talked back, let alone laid a hand on the man who’d raised him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting go. “But I’ve heard that my whole life. Don’t you think it’s time I knew the truth?”

“The truth?” his father repeated, suddenly looking tired. “I’m not sure you want to hear that this woman you’ve taken a fancy for...”

“Harper?” He couldn’t imagine what she could have to do with any of this. It had all happened so long ago.

“Her grandfather, Senator JD Hamilton, killed your cousin as sure as I’m standing here. And now Maggie’s name will be dragged through the muck all over again. If this doesn’t kill my brother... I’m sorry, son, but the best thing you can do is stay away from Harper Hamilton.”

“If it’s true and JD Hamilton killed Maggie, then why didn’t he go to prison for it?”

His father sighed. “Even if we’d known then what he’d done with her, he would never have seen a prison cell. He was a senator who was in line for the presidency of the United States.”

“You don’t know that. Still, if there had been any proof that something had even happened to her—”

“You think he would have let any proof surface? Maggie’s killer went free. Just as his son will make sure that JD Hamilton’s reputation stays intact while Maggie’s is...” His voice broke. “Please, Brody, leave this alone. Leave Harper alone.” With that his father headed toward the shop his uncle had disappeared into earlier.

Brody stood on the porch, shell-shocked by everything that had happened. He’d never heard his father talk like this. Finn loved America, the only home he’d known. Did he really believe there would be no justice for Maggie? Worse, did he paint Harper and her grandfather with the same brush?

He balked at the idea, not wanting to believe it. Not wanting to let go of the hope that, as bad as it was, he and Harper might defy the odds and have a chance of a future. But hadn’t he known when he’d seen Maggie’s body buried on Hamilton land that their chances had gone from bad to worse? All he could think about was what this would do to Harper when the truth came out.

Brody heard his father call out, “Flannigan?” and watched as his uncle came out of the shop and met his brother. He couldn’t hear what his father was saying. Flannigan had always seemed like a giant. His eyes welled with tears as he saw the big man stagger. Finn laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder as Flannigan bent his head and wept.

* * *

R
USSELL
LEFT
M
ILLIE
Hansen staring unseeing out the window in the lounge and walked down the rest-home hallway. If Millie was in her right mind—even momentarily—then she believed that Dr. Ralph Venable had returned to the States.

Since the doctor had sent Millie a postcard from Brazil after he’d left Montana, Russell was betting that he would do the same on his return. Apparently the doctor had been as fond of Millie as she had been of him. Dr. Venable wouldn’t know that anyone was onto him.

The doctor had been working in a hospital in South America, assisted by a woman named Sarah Johnson. Russell’s Sarah. He thought of all the times he’d been afraid of what her past would reveal. And then it had turned out that there was no big secret. Except for the fact that Dr. Venable dealt in wiping away memories. He seemed to have done a great job on Sarah since, as far as Russell knew, she still hadn’t remembered those years.

What Russell wanted to prove was that the real villain behind the brain wiping had been Sarah’s own husband, presidential candidate Senator Buckmaster Hamilton.

Sarah was blind when it came to her former husband. She still loved him—a sentiment that could have been sublimated into her mind by Dr. Venable.

Not that it mattered. Once Russell exposed Buckmaster, Sarah would finally have to face the truth. Russell told himself that he wasn’t doing this to hurt her. He was doing it to save her. It didn’t matter that she’d broken his heart. Russell would be there to pick up the pieces because if he was right, Sarah was going to need him.

But first he had to find the proof that would free Sarah of Buckmaster once and for all.

He stepped quickly into Millie’s room, headed for the bulletin board beside her bed. There were so many cards and papers tacked to the bulletin board that it was covered a good quarter-inch thick.

He scanned the board quickly, hoping that Dr. Venable had sent another postcard recently and it would be on top. Seeing everything Millie had tacked up, he was certain that if the doctor had sent her another postcard, it would be here.

He doubted there would be a return address, but there would be a postmark. Was Millie right? Was the doctor back in the States? Or was she confused? He’d lucked out catching her on a good day, but still...

There was no postcard visible. He would have to take everything down. Looking toward the open door, he heard several patients walk past, the legs of their walkers making scraping sounds as they passed.

He told himself he would look more guilty if he closed the door, but he had no choice. Quickly moving, he took a peek out into the hallway before closing the door. There was no lock.

Back at the bulletin board, he began taking down the myriad cards and letters and printed affirmations. He found the postcard under a half dozen birthday wishes.

The words were printed in neat script: “Hope to see you soon now that I am stateside.” It was simply signed “Ralph.”

The postmark was smudged but he could make out part of the date. The card had been sent over three weeks ago.

Russell flipped the card over to see a photo of Miami’s art deco area of the city.

Dr. Venable could already be back in Montana. Russell knew what had brought him back. Sarah. The question was how long before he contacted her? Or had he already? Was he going to restore Sarah’s memories? Or steal more of them?

* * *

F
RANK
HAD
SPENT
the day fending off curious residents who’d heard about a body being found on Hamilton Ranch. He’d put them all off. Now, as he entered the house, he saw his wife, Lynette, standing in the kitchen. One look at her expression and he knew she wouldn’t be as easy to dissuade. Once considered the worst gossip in three counties, Lynette had a way of attracting news like metal to a magnet. He could tell that she’d been waiting all day to grill him.

“Who is she?” his wife wanted to know the moment he walked into the kitchen.

He pretended not to know what she was talking about, curious how much of the story was already on the wind. Fortunately, the assumed identity of the corpse hadn’t gotten out, but he was sure there had been speculation and that Maggie McTavish’s name would come up—if it hadn’t already.

“Won’t know anything until the autopsy,” he said, hanging up his Stetson on the hook by the back door. “What’s for dinner?”

“Roast beef. I heard it was a woman’s body buried on Hamilton Ranch and that her body had been mummified.”

“
Roast beef
and
mummified
should never be used in the same sentence,” he joked as he headed toward the refrigerator for a beer.

“How long has the body been there?” Lynette asked, standing on the other side of the open refrigerator door. He could see the top of her head. Her last trip to the beauty shop had left her hair the color of eggplant. Since he doubted anyone her age would dye her hair that color on purpose, he’d kept his mouth shut, hoping she’d go back to the brunette she’d been when he’d met her.

“Again, won’t know anything until—”

“You can’t put me off with that procedural jargon,” she snapped as he closed the refrigerator to find her standing there with her hands on her ample hips.

Frank leaned in for a kiss. He couldn’t help but smile. Lynette was the love of his life. She drove him crazy, but it was a nice kind of crazy.

“You know the rumor that’s already spreading around?” she asked as he twisted off the cap on his bottle and took a long drink. “Maggie McTavish.”

He’d known it wouldn’t take long. It was a logical jump from the mummified body of a woman to Maggie, the young woman who’d disappeared thirty-five years ago.

“The roast smells wonderful,” Frank said as he turned away to open the oven. “You cooked potatoes, carrots and onions with it. My favorite.”

“So it
is
her,” Lynette said, seeming to need to sit as she dropped into one of the padded kitchen chairs.

He didn’t waste his breath telling her again that they wouldn’t know anything definite until the autopsy.

“I heard she was in a wooden box, so someone murdered her and buried her on Hamilton Ranch,” his wife was saying. “I heard the spot was close to McTavish land. Do you think that’s where they used to meet?”