Buried Truth (13 page)

He sucked in a breath. “I was just thinking about my sister. Our mom died when we were kids, and Dad was a drunk.
Leanne started using at age twelve and her addiction owned her by the time she was an adult. I think … I always thought that her using was a way of filling up that empty spot.”

Heather felt a lance of pain. “It must have hurt you badly when you found out about my drinking.”

“I wanted to save you.”

“Because you remembered what happened to Leanne.”

“No.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Because I loved you.”

The ache inside her grew enormous, swallowing her up in darkness.
Loved you.

There it was, warmth and tenderness, passion and emotion, all presented to her in the person of Bill Cloudman, and she’d thrown it all away. Turned on her heel and left him behind, just as her mother had done.

On impulse she reached over and cupped his face in her hands, feeling the strength there, stroking his cheeks, suddenly moving her lips to the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the curve of his chin, inhaling the warmth of him. His fingers tensed on her shoulders as he pulled her closer for a moment. She could hear the faintest sigh before he gently moved her away from him.

He didn’t speak, only shook his head slightly, and the gesture told her everything.

The hard truth mocked her. She loved Bill Cloudman intensely, just as if she’d never left.

Her mother’s words could just as easily be her own.

I
love you, though I haven’t earned the right and you will likely never return that love.

She loved Bill and he could not love her back.

Not again.

Bill suddenly straightened. She tried to still her thundering heart as a vehicle rolled down slowly from the upper trail, headlights dark.

She could not make out the type of vehicle or the driver, but she did not have to.

Bill was already out of the car and running.

I
t didn’t make sense. The vehicle was big, rolling along slowly as if the driver was trying to look out the side window as he moved. Bill ran, head down, under the cover of the dry shrubs, hoping the sound of his movement was masked by the tire noise. Fortunately Tank had actually obeyed his stay command this time and remained with Heather, so he didn’t have to worry about the dog darting in front of the car.

Bill chose a spot behind a massive overgrown alder with enough space through the branches for him to get a good look, but the moonlight was obscured by clouds, so he could catch only an indistinct profile.

He waited until the car stopped, a head poking out to examine the ground.

“Out of the car!” Bill shouted, moving from behind the cover and aiming at the dark head. “Now.”

The driver obeyed.

Bill tensed as the door opened.

“It’s me,” Crow said as he climbed out of the vehicle, hands held in front of him.

Bill gaped, then lowered his weapon. “I almost shot you.”

Crow grinned. “My wife has that urge sometimes, but so far she hasn’t gone through with it.”

Heather jogged up with the dogs in tow. She stopped when she saw Crow. “What are you doing here?”

Tank bounded over and nearly sent Crow sprawling. Choo Choo trotted up to get in on the action.

Crow jerked his chin at Bill. “If you’ll get these dogs off me I’ll tell you.”

Bill ordered Tank to sit and, to his amusement, both dogs sank to the ground.

Crow shook his head. “I was checking the perimeter, is all. Wanted to see if Oscar was prowling around. You messaged me that you thought he was holing up in the caves.”

Bill wished it was daylight so he could read Crow’s face better. “So you’re driving around here without telling anyone? With no lights?”

Crow laughed. “How else do you catch a predator?”

Bill ignored the gibe. “You didn’t inform me or anyone else that you’d be here.”

He shrugged. “I still live here. I can do what I want.”

Bill eyed the car. “Not in your official car and not off reservation land.”

“Look, Bill,” Crow said, hands on hips, “I was just trying to help you find the guy who wants you dead. If that’s a problem, I’ll just get out of your way, but frankly, you’re not doing so hot on your own, are you?”

“Seemed to me like you were looking for something on the ground.”

“Looking for tire tracks, footprints. Some Lakota you are, Cloudman. No tracking skills left?”

“Better keep folks informed, Al.”

“I’ll just go and tell the Feds my every move. I’m sure they’ll be real interested.” He shot Bill a glance. “Guess you forget that you’re not official anymore, are you? You give a lot of orders for a guy without a badge.”

Bill didn’t stop Crow as he returned to the car, started the
engine and turned on the headlights. The SUV rattled off down the road.

“That was not what I expected from him,” Heather said. “I thought you two were close.”

He’d thought so, too, and Crow’s words hurt more than he wanted to admit. “He was offended that I questioned him.”

Heather patted both dogs. “I get the feeling you don’t believe him.”

“I’ve worked with Al for years and he’s never given me reason not to trust him.”

“Yes,” she said, straightening. “But you’ve got that ‘something’s not right’ tilt to your head.”

He consciously straightened, chagrined that she could read him so easily. “At this point, I can count on one hand the number of people I trust.”

The glimmer of moonlight caught her face, lighting the pools of her eyes and catching the curls that framed her face. He wished she was one of those people again. She knew him better than anyone, except maybe Aunt Jean. He would take a bullet for Heather without question.

But would he trust her with his heart one more time? The soft and unprotected place where memories of Leanne and Johnny lived, and the sweet remnants of days spent with her?

As much as he wanted to, he knew the answer was no.

“Let’s get you back home. I’ll keep watch until morning.”

She hesitated, glancing at the house. He knew it took more courage for her to go back in there than he could ever imagine. Before he could think himself out of it, he put an arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her temple.

She melted into him for one tender moment before she straightened, once again inserting the distance between them.

They got into the truck without any further conversation and he took her home.

The next morning Heather felt like a caged animal. Minutes passed agonizingly into hours. Monday. It was Monday.

One more day. The thought crawled through her mind with such insidious force that she thought she would go mad. As much as she tried to pass the time working and researching her next article, the thought kept returning.

Oscar would try to kill Bill tomorrow and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her mother had emerged just after lunch and now sat quietly in a chair reading. Heather didn’t know what to do about that, either, after their extraordinary discussion the night before. She found herself darting surreptitious glances at her, as if she was some intriguing stranger.

Which she was, sort of.

Bill’s words floated back into her mind.
I
wanted to save you … because I loved you.

But he wouldn’t forgive her, any more than she could forgive her mother. Forgiveness. It was something she’d relied on to fight her way to sobriety—forgiveness from her father and those she’d hurt with her drinking. She’d needed it so badly, so why didn’t she have the strength to give it? Or ask for it from the one person she’d really wounded?

Forgiveness was more precious than she’d ever realized, given so easily by Jesus but so reluctantly by His children. What was that verse? she wondered. Moved by a sudden strong need to know, she snatched up her father’s worn Bible from the shelf and thumbed through until she found it in Matthew 18:22. Forgiveness should be given seventy times seven times, inexhaustibly granted to the one who honestly sought it.

It was divine, a reflection of God’s abundant forgiveness of her own sins.

She looked at her mother again, slowly turning pages, methodical and precise.

There was a knock at the door and Heather sprang from her chair. Holding a finger to her lips she cautioned her mother to stay quiet.

Margot put down her book and took firm hold of her cane.

Heather peeked through the curtain and saw Rudley and Bill standing on the porch. She opened the door and noticed the third person. Tina Moon held Bill’s hand.

“Hiya, Heather,” Tina said.

Bill and Rudley ushered her inside and closed the door.

Heather watched in surprise as Bill led Tina to the sofa.

“We found her crossing the bridge to your property. She said she needed to tell you something.”

Heather sat next to her, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “Okay. Tell me.”

Tina scratched her knee, looking around. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing a finger at Margot.

“That’s my … mother,” Heather said.

“Oh. You’re lucky. I don’t got one anymore.”

Heather opened her mouth and closed it again. She didn’t have one, either, really. Did she?

Bill crouched next to Tina. “Honey, we need you to tell Heather your message, please, so we can get you back home. It’s not safe for you to be walking around outside.”

Tina’s brown eyes widened. “’Cuz of the monster?”

Bill looked helplessly at Heather.

“There’s a bad man in town,” Heather said. “The police are going to find him but until they do, you need to stay inside. Okay?”

“Okay, but Uncle Charlie told me to come and get you.”

“Me? Why?”

“’Cuz he can’t get his legs to work.”

A ripple of concern went through her. “Why didn’t he call me?”

Tina shrugged. “His cell phone is dead and he can’t reach the one on the wall.”

Heather’s gaze moved to Bill, whose eyes revealed a mixture of worry and suspicion.

Rudley was already moving to the door, talking into his radio. “We’ll go check it out. Stay here.”

“I want to go,” Tina said, suddenly tearful. “Uncle Charlie said to come back right away. I want to go.”

Bill and Rudley didn’t slow. “We’ll be back for you in a few minutes,” Bill said.

Tina jumped from the couch and ran, wrapping her arms around Bill’s leg. “No, I want to go home. Take me back to Uncle Charlie.”

Heather was so startled by the look of pain on Bill’s face that she couldn’t answer for a moment.

To her surprise, her mother did.

“I’ve got an idea,” Margot announced, climbing to her feet. “Tina, since you’ve come all this way, I would like to show you my collection of shells and fossils. I think I even have a jewel in my treasure box.”

Tina sniffed. “You got a treasure box?”

Margot nodded, face serious. “Yes. Do you collect treasures, too?”

“Uh-huh.” She let go of Bill’s leg and stuck her small hand into her pocket and shook it. “Got ‘em here and some at home.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go have a look at our treasures.” Margot gestured to Heather. “I believe I saw your stash of chocolate bars in the cupboard. Chocolate goes well with treasure sorting.”

Tina followed Margot and they shuffled down the hallway.

She felt Bill’s hand on her shoulder and realized her mouth
was hanging open. He squeezed. “Be right back. There’s a Tribal Ranger in front in case of any trouble. Lock up.”

The door closed behind him.

Mechanically she went to fasten the bolt.

What had just happened? She’d seen her mother behaving like … a mother. Had it been like that when Heather was little? She found herself pacing in small circles. She should be angry to see those maternal qualities bestowed on a child who wasn’t even hers. She should be angry, but she wasn’t.

For some reason she felt filled with wonder, as if she’d stepped from a dark room into a dazzling explosion of sunlight. She shook her head but the feeling didn’t clear away, so she fetched the chocolate bars and delivered them to the next room.

Margot and Tina sat at either end of the little table in the guest room, solemnly looking at the odds and ends that Tina pulled one at a time from her pocket. Margot commented about each one.

“That’s a good sample of quartzite,” she said. “Let’s put it here with the metamorphic rocks.”

“What’s that?” Tina said, chewing a strand of hair.

Heather winced inwardly, knowing her mother was about to let loose with a river of scientific terms that would go completely over Tina’s head.

“Metamorphic rock is made underground where there is a lot of heat and heaviness to press it together.” She shot Heather a look. “I remember explaining this same thing to you.”

Their eyes met and Heather allowed herself a smile, which her mother returned. “I’m sure I wasn’t as good a student as Tina.”

Margot laughed. “You had just as many trinkets in your pockets. We had to have a category for plastics and candy in your collection.”

Heather felt her eyes fill and escaped to the kitchen before the tears streamed down. “What is the matter with me?” She splashed some cold water on her face and took a few deep breaths.

Focus on what’s important here.
She glanced at the calendar. One more day. What was Bill walking into on Charlie’s property? Was the whole thing some sort of ruse cooked up to lure him over there?

She imagined him tripping an explosive, just as Johnny had, or being shot in the back as he approached the house. She didn’t trust Oscar not to abandon his deadline. The man was a lunatic.

And what of Charlie Moon? He was the only family Tina had left. What would happen to her if he was taken out of the picture? Oscar would not hesitate to kill people for his own purposes, as he had with poor Mr. Brown.

The tension twirled around inside as she paced the carpet.

It was not fair that Oscar might win. How many people did Bill have to lose? His partner? His sister?

The thought popped up before she could stop it.

Me.

I’m sorry, Bill. I’m sorry I hurt you.
She wondered if she would ever have the chance to tell him.

Even though he might never be able to forgive her.

Thoughts tumbled faster and faster through her mind. She tried to make some sense of the situation, to find in the madness some kernel that might help Bill crack the case before Oscar won. She could not shake the feeling that there was something to be learned from Hazel’s death. The photo of the open car door, the broken lipstick on the ground, but no purse. And what had Oscar said on the bridge?

His wife and a woman. He’d alluded to a woman whose death he’d blamed on Bill, as well.

Another memory poked at her—Al Crow, Bill’s longtime friend and colleague whom she’d found to be closemouthed and hostile when she’d asked him about Hazel’s purse. But he couldn’t have anything to do with the situation. Bill had known him since before he was partnered with Johnny. Her pacing became faster until she was nearly jogging around the small family room. A sound sent her running to the window.

She peeked through the curtains in time to see Bill returning. Her body relaxed. It hadn’t been a trap. This time.

She opened the door and he came in, looking tired and worn. She was so filled with relief that she threw her arms around him, pressing her face to the place where the pulse pounded in his neck. “I thought it was Oscar. I thought …”

He clutched her to him, tightly, convulsively, moving his cheek along the top of her head, his hands sending tingles along her back where he stroked her. “I’m okay.”

She found herself wanting that embrace to last forever, to keep him wound tightly in the circle of her arms where the memories and dangers could not intrude. Instead he exhaled a deep and shuddering breath and pulled her to arm’s length.

“Where’s Tina?”

She swallowed, trying to calm her racing heart. “In the back with my mother. What happened over there? What did you find?”

“I’ve got some news,” he said, his face grim. “And it’s not the good kind.”