With one last, longing look at the plant, Elizabeth moved further inside. In spite of herself, she was impressed. The owner had taken advantage of every ounce of space, and in a little more than what appeared to be a twelve by twelve area, dozens of live plants sat center stage. Even the walls were covered by an assortment of vines. White-painted shelves, framed with lattice, held up the heavy greenery. The entire effect reminded Elizabeth of what it might be like to be trapped inside a rose garden.
The familiar scents of roses, carnations and various ferns brought tears to her eyes. Would this nightmare ever end?
“May I help you?”
Elizabeth jumped at the sound of a voice. At first what appeared to be a scarlet-clothed elf, complete with white striped tights and a green apron, turned out to be a tiny, blonde woman wearing an ordinary corduroy dress. “Uh, hello.”
The elf’s lips curved upward. “I’m Rose. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for someone.” Elizabeth moved closer and wondered if her first impression had been right after all, and she had stumbled across one of Santa’s little helpers. The woman stood barely five feet, if that. “Let me start over. My name is Elizabeth Adams, and I’m looking for my mother.” Handing her a picture, Elizabeth said, “This is my mom. Have you seen her?”
The woman studied the photo. Keeping her gaze down, she asked, “What makes you think she might’ve come here? Did she need flowers or a plant?”
“My mother and I are florists. A natural curiosity about your business may have drawn her here.” A thought occurred to Elizabeth. Had Mom bought flowers to take to the cemetery? “I think she may have wanted a bouquet to place at a relative’s grave. Did anyone resembling this woman buy flowers from you?”
Without making eye contact, the woman handed back the photo. “I never saw her.”
“Are you certain?” Elizabeth pressed. “What about an employee?”
“Positive.” For such a small person, the elf-woman’s voice was loud. “There is no one else. Just me.”
“Would you have a copy of a receipt, maybe?”
“I’m too busy to look right now. With the Christmas rush and all.”
Something about the woman’s demeanor didn’t ring true to Elizabeth. She wondered if she stalled long enough the other woman would spill something. “I’d like a bouquet, please. Something subdued. Suitable for a grave.”
With a jerk, the elf-woman said, “Certainly. Roses?”
“Mums, preferably.” Had her mom held a similar conversation? A chill played a like a piano down Elizabeth’s back. For some reason, she was sure her mom had been here. Why wouldn’t Rose check her receipts?
Rose indicated a refrigerator at the back of the room. “I have these bouquets already made.”
“I’d prefer something custom-made.” Elizabeth delayed again. “Orange and yellow chrysanthemums, lots of greenery, maybe a few carnations, minis, if you have them.”
“Certainly.” Rose moved to her cold case. “I have to go in back for the mini carnations. I’ll just be a minute.”
As soon as she moved out of sight, Elizabeth lunged toward the desk that held the cash register. But the area was bereft of anything helpful. Not a shred of paper marred the surface. “Damn it.”
“Will these do?” Rose came around the corner holding a bunch of yellow carnations.
“Perfect,” Elizabeth said dully. “Please add a streamer that says ‘uncle’. These are for Henry Harper. He was my mother’s brother.”
Rose jumped like she had been slapped, but made no comment. Her fingers flew as she made the arrangement.
“So, how long have you been in the business?”
“Five years.” Rose didn’t ask Elizabeth how long she’d been a florist.
Elizabeth wondered if she already knew.
After paying with her credit card, again trying and failing to catch a glimpse of any errant papers, Elizabeth asked, “Could you direct me to the cemetery?”
“Follow Main Street north until it runs out. To your left is a dirt road. Follow it to the end, about a mile. The graveyard sits right in front of you. Can’t miss it.”
Thanking her, Elizabeth added, “Please, if you recall anything about my mother, call me at Henry Harper’s old place. The number is the same.”
• • •
Lone Pine graveyard sat on top of a bluff, overlooking Salt Lick, an ice-blue sky and snow-topped La Sals as a majestic backdrop. Finding the graveyard had been easy, locating Henry and Bea’s graves had not been as simple. Broken and sagging markers indicated some families had buried their own since the 1800s. Weaving her way among the centuries-old graves, Elizabeth finally found the headstones marked ‘Harper’.
With misty eyes, Elizabeth brushed away snow and read the names of family members she’d never know. Henry’s mother and father, Cyrus and Sally Ann. Next to them rested a marker with the dates of an unnamed baby girl, born and lost to them two days later, almost sixty years ago now. An aunt she’d never known she had, Elizabeth realized. In the plot next to them rested Tom’s father, Carl, and his mother, Jeannie.
Elizabeth knelt at the head of Henry’s resting place and stared at his name engraved in white marble. “I hope you’re resting in peace. I wish I could’ve met you. I would like to talk to you now. Maybe you would have an idea where to hunt for my mom. But of course if you were here, she wouldn’t be missing. God, I need her back.”
Elizabeth’s throat tightened and she waited a moment to continue. “There’s something else. If only there was a way you could tell me the truth about what happened between you and Cooper. It doesn’t really matter, though. I’ve gotten to know him, and I don’t think there’s any way he could’ve murdered you or Lyle.”
Elizabeth bent to place her offering of flowers on the ground, and when she did, her gaze settled on a snow-covered bloom. When she tried to lift the flower, it stuck to the cold earth. Digging at the frozen snow, Elizabeth uncovered a wilted, dead bouquet. Lifting it, and looking closely, she found the arrangement of blooms were tied with a faded dark blue ribbon labeled ‘Henry–Brother’. The letters were nearly identical to the ones on the fresh flowers at her feet. “My God, Henry, you did speak to me. Thank you. Mom left these here. I know it.”
As goose bumps prickled her skin, Elizabeth turned and ran to her SUV. This time she was going to make Rose confess if she had to hold her pointy little ears over a lit candle.
• • •
Closed.
The sign on the front door of Roses by Rose just as well of read ‘I know something’.
Frustrated, Elizabeth pounded on the glass with her fist. “Damn it. Where are you?”
Despair filled her. Why wouldn’t anyone tell her the truth? Her mood darkened further as a sheriff’s vehicle crawled by. She couldn’t make out who was behind the wheel, but she’d bet on Tom. Was her cousin dangerous enough to break in her home and open all her windows to give her a good scare? Had he killed Lyle Pritchett? Had he run Rose off, too?
Maybe Rose was listed in the phone book. The December sun was quickly fading. If Elizabeth hurried, she could get home before dark. As she dragged herself into the SUV, she longed for Cooper’s steady presence. Maybe he could make some sense out of this latest development.
• • •
Although careful to not drive off the road, Elizabeth made it to the ranch in a flash. As she pulled into the driveway, her skin prickled. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Her gaze was drawn to her bedroom windows; they looked secure from her position on the ground. The barn doors were shut.
Swallowing her fear, she forced herself to walk to the house. Her heart raced like crazy, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Was someone lurking inside?
Taking a great breath, she inserted the key she’d picked up from the locksmith in town. The new key turned easily and the door swung open. Instead of bolting as she longed to do, Elizabeth stepped inside. Fancy cried, and she bent to pick him up.
A pleasant warmth hit her face. A tiny bit reassured, she moved rapidly through the house. Everything was secure. Although her heart still pounded unnaturally fast, she felt better. The lasagna fixings from the previous night were still on the counter where she’d left them. Pasta was a good comfort food.
About an hour and a glass of red wine later, Elizabeth relaxed. The old house creaked with the wind, but it wasn’t a scary sound. The scent of garlic and diced onion hung in the air. Elizabeth still felt like an interloper within the unfamiliar walls. She went to the CD player and put on Alan Jackson. Even in L.A., she’d listened to country music. Her friends had all thought she was insane.
If they were here now, would they think she had gone round the bend for real? As a fresh shiver of fear rattled her skeleton, she wondered if she had somehow slipped into the western version of Deliverance.
Chapter 10
Making his way through the pens of cattle, Cooper checked for his heifers. None of the corrals held any Double Slash C Herefords. Disappointed, he made his way into the sale barn. He hoped to run into someone he knew who might’ve seen something. Scanning the ringside seats, Cooper found an empty chair toward the top of the bleachers and slid into it. He wouldn’t stay for the whole sale, just long enough to see if he spotted anyone he knew. Delta was over three and a half hours drive from Salt Lick, but it wasn’t unreasonable that the rustlers might be here.
Sipping a cup of coffee, Cooper leaned back in his seat and tried to relax. His gaze roamed over the interior of the dim building. The seats began to fill, most buyers jostling for a seat close to the arena. A blonde, long-legged woman wearing faded Wranglers noticed him, smiled and gave a brief wave. Nodding, he didn’t smile back. He’d bought a few cows from Mila Davis, but his mind was on a redhead. He hoped Elizabeth was okay by herself.
As the first group of cattle was herded into the ring, Cooper idly watched the bidding between a portly older man in a white Stetson and Mila. The man won. With a frown, Mila crossed something off a piece of paper. Two more times the same scenario played out. She bit fiercely on her eraser, obviously frustrated. Finally, she ripped her paper in two and jerked on her jacket. Giving the man a glare, she stomped out.
Glancing around to make sure no one noticed him, Cooper followed her. He caught up as she climbed into a battered cattle truck. Cooper put his hand on the frame. “Hey, Mila. No luck today?”
She glanced at him, her green eyes widening. “Hey, Cooper. No thanks to Lassiter.”
“The guy who kept outbidding you?”
She nodded. “I can’t compete with his money.”
“He buys a lot of cows?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” she commented.
“I’ve got more,” Cooper admitted. “Buy you a cup of coffee?”
“Meet me at the Backstreet Bar,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation.
“I need to do something first. It’ll only take me a minute.”
He walked back around the building to where a middle-aged woman and a tiny girl sat beside a cardboard box. Inside a mass of wiggling black and white bodies snuggled together. Border collies. About eight weeks old, by the looks of them. “How much?” Cooper leaned close.
“Fifty bucks. No papers,” the woman said gruffly.
“Working parents?”
“Sure. Sheepdogs,” the woman said. “The best around.”
“Is there a female in there?”
“Yeah. Two.” She picked up a squirming body and handed it to him. “This one is the biggest.”
Cooper patted the dog, then put her back with her siblings. “What about the other one?” The little girl leaned into the box and withdrew triumphantly with a wiggling white and black-spotted body. Two button-bright black eyes peered at him. “This one’s my favorite,” the little girl said shyly. Cooper was instantly smitten. Although whether it was with the pup or the child, he couldn’t say. An unnamable hunger gnawed at him.
“Her name’s Spotty,” the child confided.
“May I hold her?” Cooper gently took the pup from the girl’s arms. The pup licked his cheek and he grinned. “I have a friend who lives all by herself on a big ranch. What would you think if Spotty went to live there? With my friend?”
The child pursed her lips. “That’d be pretty good. Is the lady nice?”
“Very nice.” Cooper nodded solemnly. “She’d love Spotty very much.”
“Mama, do you think Spotty should go live with the man’s friend?”
“Yes, I do.” The woman gave him a warm smile as he dug in his wallet for the money.
He handed it over. “Thank you. Spotty will be in good hands.”
The child blinked her big, blue eyes and smiled tremulously. “Bye, Spotty. Be good.”
Cooper leaned down and allowed the child to kiss the pup’s nose. He straightened, his throat surprisingly tight. Holding the pup in his arms he went to his truck and climbed in. The border collie whimpered and snuggled next to his thigh. Hopefully, the pup would be as good a companion for Elizabeth as Mischief was to him. That puff of gray hair, a cat, was no use to anyone.
Cooper followed Mila to a small café and bar on a quiet side street. Spreading his jacket on the truck’s seat for Spotty and Mischief, he went into the bar. Mila had already seated herself and sipped a coffee liqueur. “Have one?”
“A Coors.” After a waitress set a frosty longneck front of him, he took a swallow. “How’s the world treating you, Mila?”
“Been better,” she admitted.
He took another long swallow of the cold beer. “You got outbid a few times today.”
Her eyes grew weary. “Yeah. Nothing new. Lassiter’s got more money than I do. And he’s not afraid to spend it. Anytime I see him at a sale, I might as well put my checkbook away.”
“Jim Lassiter? Of Lassiter Gas Company?”
“Yeah.” She nodded “He’s the one. He’s got more money than anyone has a right to.”
Cooper leaned forward. “So, you’re telling me Lassiter’s got a stranglehold on the market around here?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.” She turned suddenly wary. “Why all the questions?”
“I came to buy today.” Cooper grinned ruefully. “But my account’s a little slim.”
“Well, you better pad it up if you want to buy in Delta,” Mila said bitterly. She drew circles on the vinyl tablecloth with her fingertip. “I haven’t been able to buy a single cow in months.”