Westin Legacy Page 14

  Adam had almost forgotten about Pauline, but as his father’s question hung in the air, he heard her soft intake of breath. He looked up to find she’d gripped the back of a chair for support. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was a tight line.

  The sheriff stood up and pulled on his hat as though getting ready for a quick getaway. “Now, that’s what I call a very interesting question.” His gaze shifted from Birch to Pete and back again. “Any ideas?”

  Both men looked quickly away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The sheriff left soon after that. In his wake, the occupants of the log house sat in desultory silence, no one looking directly at anyone else.

  “We should try to get some sleep,” Adam’s father finally said. He had seated himself on the other sofa and Pauline had perched beside him.

  Cody came down the stairs at last, a small box clutched in his hands, his dog on his heels. “Did the sheriff leave already?”

  “You just missed him,” Adam said. Echo stirred at the sound of his voice and he realized she’d all but fallen asleep sitting there beside him. With a flash of desire so strong it rocked him, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her through the night, protect her from all this.

  Cody sat down on a chair close to his father. Bonnie curled up nearby, her chin on his boots. He put the box on the table in front of them. “Do you remember this, Dad?”

  The box had held El Roi-Tan cigars back in the day. It was about five by seven inches, two inches deep, made of thick paper with boldly printed words and design. The lid lifted on one long side, the two original paper seals on either end long broken. Presently, a rubber band held it securely closed.

  Birch gripped his knees with his hands. “I’d all but forgotten about it. Did you open it?”

  “Yeah. It was in a trunk in the attic. I was looking for old photographs of Mom, but this was all I found.”

  “That’s all there is,” their father said. “That’s all that’s left.”

  “It’s yours,” Cody said.

  Birch picked up the box, stared at it a moment, then handed it to Adam. “I remember pretty much what’s in there,” he said. “It’s not much, I’ll tell you that. Not much…”

  Adam slipped off the rubber band and folded back the lid. His father hadn’t been kidding when he said there wasn’t much.

  The topmost item was a photograph of his parents’ wedding, his mother in a lacy white dress, his father in a Western-styled suit. His mother’s father had been governor of Wyoming at the time and he stood beside his daughter sporting a campaign smile. The only other person in the photo was his dad’s mother, Grandma Opal, who wore a dress it appeared she’d made herself.

  Echo leaned over him to gaze at the photo. She touched the hollow of his mother’s throat where the twinkle of diamonds surrounded a small, pale pendant. “The locket,” she whispered.

  “It was my wedding gift to her,” Birch said softly. “Her father had given her a locket when she was a teenager but she’d given it to Analise’s mother when they shared a room at college. So, I gave her that one.”

  “Analise brought Grandpa’s locket back when she came to visit,” Adam said. “It’s upstairs.”

  Adam gazed at his mother’s face another moment or two. She looked a lot like Echo. Same dark hair and snapping eyes, same athletic figure and the buzz of energy that somehow managed to transcend paper and ink to say nothing of decades.

  He set it aside to uncover a postcard of a big red brick building labeled Union Station, Toronto, Canada. Turning it over, he read, “Darling—You know me, I need a little more time. Thank Pauline for covering for me. Kiss my babies.” It was signed with a capital M and postmarked three weeks after his mother had left the house that October night.

  “What does she mean about thanking Pauline for covering for her? You mean here at the house?”

  Pauline answered. “I don’t remember, do you, Birch?”

  “Not exactly. It must have been the house. You were still married to Ernie then and coming here twice a week to help except when Melissa left the ranch and you came more often.”

  Pauline nodded gently. She looked beyond weary.

  “Is this her handwriting?” he asked.

  It was Pete who spoke up. “Yeah, I recognize it, don’t you, Birch?”

  Birch grunted his assent.

  Under the postcard were three more pictures, each of his mother holding one of her sons as babies. In his own, his mother was about his age now and the mother-of-pearl locket glowed against her tanned skin. He pushed the photo aside.

  All that remained were a few old letters postmarked Chatioux, letters sent from Pierce’s bride’s mother, now the queen of Chatioux, way back before she’d married the king.

  Adam put everything back inside and closed the lid. “I think we need to give the postcard to the sheriff,” he said.

  “Why would he want it?” Pete asked, his voice gravelly with fatigue.

  “It’s evidence. He asked about it. We can’t withhold anything.”

  His father waved his hand.

  “I’ll put it in an envelope and take it with me tomorrow,” Adam added as he opened the box again, withdrew the card and put the box back on the table.

  “I shouldn’t have gotten rid of everything,” Birch said. “I should have tried to find her. I was just so sure she’d had enough of me. I was so disappointed in her for running out on you guys.”

  Adam leaned forward and met his father’s eyes. “I know you didn’t hurt Mom.”

  By unspoken agreement they all got to their feet. As people disappeared up the stairs and out the front door, Adam went into the study and took an envelope from a box, then put the postcard inside. He tucked it into his shirt pocket.

  He spun when he heard a noise behind him. Echo stood just inside the doorway.

  He strode over to her without hesitation. He was dying to get out of this house and he wanted her to go with him. “Come to my house for what little remains of the night,” he said against her hair. “I know it smells pretty bad, but upstairs I can open the windows and breeze from the lake—”

  “I can’t.”

  He waited for an explanation although heaven knew she didn’t owe him one.

  “I’m going to go pack,” she added at last.

  “But—”

  She drew back, hands clutching his arms, fingers dangerously close to the bandage under his shirt and the torn flesh it protected. Her eyes glistened in the subdued light as she studied his face. “My stepfather just gave me the same lecture you gave me earlier tonight. He’s adamant I leave immediately.”

  Adam didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “You don’t want me here and neither does he. If the sheriff will let me, I’ll catch a plane later today.”

  He stared at her for a second, then nodded slightly. “Just as well. I have to load up the ATV and go out to mend fences in the morning.”

  She dropped her hands and turned away. He heard her footsteps race up the stairs.

  He ached to stop her, to tell her that she was wrong, he did need her.

  Like his father had needed his mother.

  Like Cody needed Cassie.

  He would not go down that same path. His head knew better. But no way was he returning to his own house unarmed, not after tonight. He retrieved a handgun from the office cabinet, stuffed it in the waist of his jeans and took himself to his lonely bed.

  THE NEXT MORNING, ECHO DRESSED for the plane again, but this time in different clothes. The other items, stained with blood and with memories she couldn’t bear, had been discarded days before.

  She knew from Pauline that all the men had left for the fields as soon as the sun came up. She suspected they were anxious to put a barrier between themselves and the horrors of the cave. That barrier was ranch work.

  For the first time in her life she felt adrift, alone, like an outsider. Even the way Pete had chosen to move back here after Echo’s mother died underscored the feeling tha
t the years of her family life had been nothing but an interlude for him, an exile she didn’t understand. Now that he was free to do as he pleased, he’d come home.

  To his real family.

  Home.

  And then there was Adam. Don’t forget Adam.

  Impossible. She would never forget him. Never. And wasn’t that a nice parting gift? A big old hole in her heart.

  “If you’re ready, I’ll take your bag,” her stepfather called from the open door.

  “I thought Pauline was driving me to the fields,” she said.

  “I wanted a chance to say goodbye,” he told her. He met her gaze briefly and Uncle Birch’s comment from the night before rang in her ears. You were in love with her too, Pete, he’d said, and her stepfather had looked away.

  Had her mother known?

  “What time does your plane leave?” he added. “Late afternoon.”

  “I’m glad you’re getting out of here now. Things are bound to get ugly. And you have a great new job to look forward to.”

  Since when did he view her new job and move across country as a good thing?

  After saying her farewells to Pauline, they drove out to the fields. Pete parked beside Adam’s truck, which now had a dusty ATV roped into the bed, and insisted on transferring her belongings.

  Echo paused before stepping down from the high platform of the diesel truck’s frame, shading her eyes with her hand and looking out over the field. The mower was advancing toward them, Adam behind the wheel.

  Giving into a whim, she jumped to the ground. The sprint across the freshly mown grass released some of the tightly wound springs in her body as well as her mind, and the payoff was the smile she saw on Adam’s face as she looked up at him.

  He put the tractor into Neutral. She climbed aboard and lacking a real place to sit, landed on his lap. He seemed surprised, and that made her laugh. “I didn’t want to leave things the way they were,” she told him truthfully.

  “Aren’t we driving into town together?”

  “Yeah. I just wanted to say goodbye out here in the sunshine, before we see the sheriff and get all bogged down. We had some really nice times in with all the other stuff. I’ll never forget them.”

  “I won’t, either,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t go home with you last night,” she added with a swift glance up through her lashes. Yikes, that was kind of honest and out there.

  He put the tractor back into gear and continued traveling toward the trucks. Echo looked ahead to gauge how much time they had. Her stepfather was loading her purse and laptop into the cab of the truck.

  “It was the right decision,” he said. “Truth is, my bed would seem mighty empty tonight if you’d been in it with me last night.”

  Their eyes met for a second. He closed the short distance between them and kissed her quickly. She’d been determined to confess about the concho. Even now it was in her pocket. But once again she shied away. What did it matter now and how could she ever explain to any of them her impulse to take it away?

  In the next instant, they were at the truck. Her stepfather nodded at Adam as he offered Echo a hand down. Gesturing at the ATV he said, “Did you get the north fence, too?”

  “Just the one up at the Hayfork field. I’ll catch the other tomorrow morning.”

  Life would continue, that was the takeaway message Echo got from the exchange. Mowing would end, gathering and baling would commence, the herd would be driven home, fences would be mended—work would continue, the ranch would endure.

  Pete gave Echo a rigid goodbye hug and made her promise to call. Before she even had her seat belt fastened, Pete Westin had taken Adam’s place on the tractor. She watched his retreat with a heavy heart.

  The drive into Woodwind was the beginning of the real goodbye, and before that, there was a session with the sheriff to get through. The envelope on the dashboard in front of Adam brought it all home. It must hold Aunt Melissa’s last postcard.

  Maybe she would give the concho to the sheriff, skip Adam altogether. Maybe Inkwell would agree to tell Adam his men had found it. Sure. A policeman lying to cover her sorry ass. That was going to happen…?.

  “I’m kind of dreading this meeting with Sheriff Inkwell,” she admitted.

  “It’s just to sign statements about the day Willet died and probably give a formal one about last night with the Garvey boys.”

  “Are you forgetting about your mother?” she asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Maybe the sheriff will have heard if it was really her down in that cave.”

  He pulled to a stop in the parking lot near the courthouse. Turning in his seat, he took both her hands in his. “Of course it’s Mom, who else?”

  “Then who murdered her, Adam?”

  “Not my father,” he said adamantly.

  “I agree.” She focused for a second on the new grass stain she’d acquired in her crazy dash across the field and for just a second, the memory of Adam’s lips on hers and his arm wrapped around her brought a wave of need she had to fight off like an attack of wasps. “I watched your father last night,” she continued, making herself stay on track. “He was beyond broken. I can’t imagine him killing Aunt Melissa.” Or anyone else, she decided. “Who killed her, Adam?”

  “Maybe the guy down there with her. Maybe he pushed her into that crevasse and then shot himself in the head and fell. Or maybe she killed him and then herself although it’s really hard to picture the mother I barely remember shooting someone right in the middle of his forehead.”

  “You realize if anything you just said is true it still leaves the question of who sent the postcard?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I’m just wondering what good the postcard can be after all these years. Everyone in your family must have touched it at one time or another.”

  “Who knows. Handwriting analysis or something. We’ll let Inkwell worry about that. He’s not quite the folksy incompetent he pretends to be.”

  As she shoved her hand in her pocket, her fingers grazed the metal of the concho.

  Adam grabbed the envelope from the dashboard and opened it. He looked up and met Echo’s gaze. Then he turned the envelope upside down.

  It was empty.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Echo waited in the truck while Adam went inside for his doctor appointment. It took much longer than either of them had anticipated and she was nervous as she sat there waiting for him.

  When Adam finally arrived he carried a handful of papers in his hand.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Besides it taking forever, yeah.” He leaned across the seat and stuffed the papers into the glove box. “Some poor old guy had a heart attack right there in the office.”

  “That explains the siren I heard about an hour ago.”

  He nodded as he started the truck. “Still adamant about not catching your plane?”

  “Yes. You’ll have to put up with me a little longer. This postcard business changes things.”

  “It was never a matter of putting up with you, Echo.”

  She smiled at that. “You said the envelope was in your truck all night?”

  “I stuck it on the dashboard when I got back to the house so I wouldn’t forget it this morning. Considering the unannounced guests I had earlier in the night, I decided to lock the truck. This morning I got up before daybreak, loaded the ATV, drove out to the Hayfork field and did my thing, loaded up again and drove back to the tractor to start mowing. The only one who went near the truck was Uncle Pete.”

  “Someone could have gone inside your house and taken the keys and followed you up to the Hayfork field. I assume it wasn’t a secret you were going there.”

  “No, it wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew. But I had the truck keys in my pocket. I lost the spare about two months ago. Keep meaning to make a copy. It had to be Uncle Pete.”

  “He must have known we’d suspect him.”

  “Which me
ant he saw an opportunity and grabbed it. Which means it was really important to him that the sheriff not see the card. Which means—well, what, exactly?”

  “That’s what we have to ask him. And that’s why I have to stay. You didn’t mention it to the sheriff?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Good.”

  They both fell silent. What was Pete thinking? Had he had something to do with Melissa Westin’s death?

  Not that they knew for sure it was her. The sheriff hadn’t heard back yet though he’d promised to let them all know as soon as he had. He’d asked her to read her statement and sign it, asked Echo a few questions, told her she could leave. Adam said his meeting with Inkwell had been much the same.

  The damn concho was still in her pocket.

  They passed a long white car soon after they entered Open Sky land. Echo strained to see who was driving but couldn’t make out a face through the tinted windows.

  “That’s Lonnie’s car,” Adam said. “I guess he finally got a chance to talk to Dad.” Soon after that, they came to the field that had been mown that day. The machines were all parked along the fence. The vehicles that had carried everyone to the field that morning were gone. Echo glanced over at Adam as he hit every pothole in his haste to find out what had called everyone from the field when there were still hours of daylight left.

  As if they couldn’t guess.

  They’d soon know about Aunt Melissa. Echo could feel it in her bones. And knowing, they would be left to sort out who did what to whom all those years ago.

  EVERYONE WAS STANDING AROUND in the front yard amid what seemed a sea of trucks. It wasn’t just his family and Pauline who were present, but also Del Halverson and J. D. Oakes who had no doubt showed up to lend moral support. Del was ruddier than ever, his cheeks glistening with sweat as the sunlight caught him on the face. J.D. nursed a cigarette, tapping the ashes on the fender of a truck every once in a while. Jamie and Mike stood off to the side, eyes shaded by their hats.