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The letter had been sent to his home address here on the ranch—instead of his office. So he knew before he opened it that it would be personal.
Telling himself just to get it over with, Beau studied the contents of the envelope. There were two sheets of paper inside. One appeared to be a travel article about Eleuthera, an island in the Bahamas. The other was a plain sheet of paper with a printed note:
Take care of my daughter, DJ. Flight 1129 from LA arriving in Bozeman, Montana, Thursday at 2:45 p.m. Dana Cardwell Savage will be picking her up and taking her to Cardwell Ranch. I highly advise you not to let her know that you’re watching out for her—and most especially that it was at my request.
It was signed W. Justice.
Under that he’d written, “Cell phone number for emergencies only.”
Today was Thursday. DJ’s flight would be coming in this afternoon. Walter had called it awfully close. What if Beau had been out of town? If he’d questioned whether Walter had kept track of him, he didn’t anymore.
He read the letter again and swore. He had no idea what this was about. Apparently Walter’s daughter needed protection? A small clue would have been helpful. And protection from what? Or was it from whom?
Also, he was surprised Walt’s daughter would be coming to Montana. That was where their paths had crossed all those years ago. He thought of the dark-haired five-year-old girl with the huge brown expressive eyes and the skinny ten-year-old kid he’d been.
He remembered the way she’d looked up at him, how he’d melted into those eyes, how he’d foolishly wanted to rescue her. What a joke. He hadn’t even been able to rescue himself. Like him, she’d been trapped in a life that wasn’t her doing.
“Any mail for me?” asked a sleepy-sounding female voice from behind him.
He folded the letter and article and shoved them into his jean jacket pocket before turning to look at the slim, beautiful blonde leaning against his kitchen counter. “Nope. Look, Leah—”
“I really appreciate you letting me stay here, Beau,” she said, cutting him off. “If this package I have coming wasn’t so important and I wasn’t between places right now...”
Beau nodded, mentally kicking himself for getting involved when she’d shown up on his doorstep. “Leah, I wish you hadn’t put me in the middle of whatever this is.”
“Please, no lectures,” she said, raising a hand. “Especially before I’ve had my coffee. You did make coffee, didn’t you? I remember that you always made better coffee than Charlie.” Her voice broke at Charlie’s name. She turned away from him, but not before he’d seen the tears.
She pulled down a clean cup and poured herself a cup of coffee before turning to him again. He studied her in the steam that rose from the dark liquid. He’d met Leah Barnhart at college when his best friend and roommate, Charlie Mack, had been dating her. The three of them had become good friends. Leah and Charlie had later married and both taken jobs abroad. Over the years, they’d kept in touch for a while, then just an occasional Christmas card. The past few years there hadn’t even been a Christmas card.
No wonder he’d been so surprised and caught off guard to find her standing on his doorstep last night.
“And you’re not in the middle of anything,” she said after taking a long drink of her coffee.
“Why are you here?”
“I told you. I’m expecting an important package. I happened to be in Montana and thought about our college days...” She met his gaze and shrugged.
He didn’t believe any of it. “Where’s Charlie? You said he’s still in Europe. I need his number.”
She looked away with a sigh. “I don’t have it.”
He glanced at her bare left-hand ring finger. “Are you divorced?”
“No, of course not.” She let out a nervous laugh. “We’re just—It’s a long story, and really not one I’m ready to get into this early in the morning. Can we talk about this later?”
He agreed, since he needed to get to work. DJ Justice would be flying into Montana in a few hours. He had to be ready. He had no idea what was required to keep her safe. It might come down to some extreme measures. Since he didn’t know why she even needed protection—or from whom—now was definitely not the time to have a houseguest, especially one who knew nothing about his life before college. He wanted to keep it that way.
“You don’t decorate for Christmas?” Leah asked as she looked around the large log home he’d built back in a small valley in the mountains not far from Big Sky. He’d bought enough land that he could have horses—and privacy. That was another reason he’d been surprised to find her on his doorstep. His place wasn’t that easy to find.
He raked a hand through his thick, unruly mop of blond hair. “I’ve never been one for holidays.”
She nodded. “I thought you’d at least have had a tree and some lights.”
He glanced at his watch. “If you need anything, call my office and talk to Marge.”
Leah made a face. “I called your office on my way here. Marge scares me.”
He doubted that. He’d known Leah a lifetime ago. Was this woman standing in his kitchen the same Leah he’d toasted when she and Charlie had married? “Marge is a little protective.”
“I should say. So you really are a private investigator?”
“That’s what my license says.”
She studied him with narrowed eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there is more to it?”
“I have no idea,” he said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “I won’t steal your silverware, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I wasn’t. Anyway, it’s cheap flatware.”
She sobered. “I’ve missed you, Beau. Charlie and I both have. But I honestly do have a package coming here, and it’s important or I wouldn’t have done it without checking with you first.”
“Then we’ll talk later,” he said and left. It made him nervous, not knowing what was going to be required of him over the next few days or possibly longer—and having Leah here was a complication.
Turning his thoughts again to DJ Justice, he realized he was excited to see the grown-up DJ. He’d thought about her over the years and had hoped her life had turned out all right. But if she was in trouble and needed his help, then there was no way of knowing what her life had been like the past thirty years. He hated to think what kind of trouble she had gotten into that required his help.
Since her father was calling in a promise... Beau was betting it was the dangerous kind.
* * *
ANDREI LOOKED AT the coin in his hand for a long moment. His hand shook a little as he tossed the coin and watched it spin before he snatched it from the air and slapped it down on his thick wrist.
He hesitated, mentally arguing with himself. He had a bad feeling this time. But the money was good, and he’d always gone by the flip of a coin.
Superstition dictated that he went through the same steps each time. Otherwise...
He knew too well the otherwise as he slowly lifted his palm to expose the coin. Heads, he went ahead with this hit. Tails...
Heads. A strange sense of both worry and disappointment filled him. But the coin toss was sacred to him, so he assured himself he should proceed as he pocketed the coin.
Stepping to the table, he picked up the information he’d been given on the woman he was to kill.
He noticed that a prison snitch had provided her whereabouts. He snorted, shaking his head and trying to ignore that little voice in his head that was telling him this one was a mistake. But he’d worked with the man who’d hired him before, so he pushed aside his doubts and picked up the photo of Dee Anna Justice, or DJ as she was apparently called.
Pretty. He wondered idly what she had done to warrant her death—but didn’t let himself stay on that thought long. It had never mattered. It especially couldn’t matter this time—his last time.
Maybe that was what had him on edge. He’d decided that this one would be it. With the money added to what he’d saved from the other hits, he could retire at forty-five. That had always been his goal. Another reason he’d taken this job. It would be over quickly. By his birthday he would be home free. He saw that as a sign, since this would be his last job.
Encouraged, he took the data over to the fireplace and lit it with a match. He would already be in Montana, waiting for a sign, by the time Dee Anna Justice arrived.
* * *
DJ LEANED BACK into the first-class seat, wishing she could sleep on the airplane. Her mind had been reeling since finding the doll and the photograph. But now, to discover after all these years that she had family, a cousin...
She’d been shocked and wary when she’d gotten the message on her voice mail. “Hi, my name’s Dana Cardwell Savage. I’m your cousin. I live in Montana, where your father was born. I’d really love to talk to you. In fact, I want to invite you to the Cardwell Ranch here at Big Sky for the holidays.”
Instantly she’d known this call had been her father’s doing. But how had he gotten her cell phone number? She mentally smacked herself on the forehead as she recalled the guard at the prison searching her purse. The only thing he’d taken was her cell phone, saying she could pick it up on the way out. She should have known her father had friends in prison.
She’d thought about ignoring the message. What if this was just some made-up relative? She wouldn’t have put it past her father.
But the voice had sounded...sincere. If this Dana Cardwell Savage really was her cousin...would she be able to fill in the gaps about her father’s family? What about her mother’s family? Wasn’t there a chance she might know something about the doll and photograph?
She’d always had the feeling there was some secret her father had been keeping from her. If Dana Savage had the answer...
After doing some checking, first to verify that Walter William Justice had been born in Montana near Big Sky and then to see if there really was a Cardwell Ranch and a Dana Cardwell Savage, DJ had finally called her back.
A few minutes on the phone and she’d agreed to fly out. “I can’t stay for the holidays, but thank you for asking. I would like to meet you, though. I have to ask. What makes you so sure we’re cousins?”
Dana explained about discovering an uncle she hadn’t known existed until she’d found some old letters from him to her grandparents on her mother’s side. “There’d been a falling-out. I hate to say this, but they’d disowned him. That’s why I’d never heard of your father until a few years ago, when I found the letters.”
His family had disowned him? Was it that simple, why she’d never known about them? “Do you still have those letters?”
“I do.”
She had felt her heart soar. Something of substance she could use to find out the truth. She wanted answers so badly. “I’ve never known anything about my father’s family—or my mother’s, for that matter, so I’d love to learn more.”
“Family is so important. I’m delighted that your father called. I’d heard he had died. I’m so glad that wasn’t true.”
Little involving her father was the truth, DJ thought. But if his family had disowned him, then maybe that explained why he’d kept them from her. She had a cousin. How many more relatives did she have that he hadn’t told her about?
She tried to relax. Her cousin was picking her up at the airport and taking her to the family ranch where her father had been born. These people were his family, her family, people she’d never known had existed until recently. She wanted to pinch herself.
Pulling her purse from under the seat in front of her, she peered in at the rag doll. If only it could talk. Still, looking into its sweet face made her smile in spite of herself. It wasn’t hers, but it was so much like hers...
She thought of Trixie and remembered leaving a motel room in the middle of the night and not realizing until later that the doll wasn’t with her.
“You must have dropped her,” her father had said as they sped out of town.
“We have to go back,” she’d cried. “We can’t leave her.”
He’d looked over at her. “We can’t, sweetie. If I go back there... We can’t. I’ll get you another doll.”
She hadn’t wanted another doll and had cried herself to sleep night after night until she had no more tears.
“It was just a stupid doll,” her father had finally snapped.
“It was all I ever had that was mine.”
Now, as she looked at the doll resting in her shoulder bag, she wondered where it had been. Had another girl had this doll as she suspected? But how would that girl know about DJ and Trixie? Trixie was lost, while this doll had been well cared for all these years. Why part with it now?
Her head ached with all the questions and a nagging sense of dread that she wasn’t going to like what she found out.
It made no sense that people had given her this doll and the photograph unless they wanted her to find out the truth. But the way they’d left it, breaking into her apartment...
She had tucked the photo into a side pocket of her purse and now withdrew it to study the two women, the one man and the baby in the shot. The man and women were looking at the camera, standing next to a stroller. There was nothing in the background other than an unfamiliar stone wall to give her any idea of where it had been shot—or when.
With a start, she saw something in the photo that she hadn’t noticed before. She’d always looked at the people in the photo, especially the woman holding the baby.
But now she saw something in the stroller that made her heart pound. A doll. The doll she now had tucked in her purse. Her father hadn’t lied. She wasn’t this baby, because it wasn’t her doll in the stroller. But who was the baby, if not her?
Chapter Four (#u6b542621-f503-5a26-8cb4-879ea7d5f288)
It had snowed last night, dumping another six inches. Fortunately Highway 191 through the Gallatin Canyon had already been plowed by the time Beau dug himself out and drove to his office on the second floor of an old brick building in downtown Bozeman.
“Good morning, boss,” Marge said from behind her desk as he came in. Pushing sixty, solid as a brick wall and just as stout, Marge Cooke was as much a part of Tanner Investigations as the furniture.
“I’m on my way to the airport soon,” he said, taking the mail and messages she handed him. “I’ll probably be out of contact for a few days,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for his office. He heard her get up and follow him.
As he sat down behind his desk, he looked up to find her framed in the doorway. She lifted one dark penciled-in eyebrow and asked, “Since you never take any time off and I know you aren’t busy decorating for Christmas, I’ll assume you’re working. You want me to start a client file?”
“No, this is...personal.”
Just when he thought her eyebrow couldn’t shoot any higher, it arched toward the ceiling.
“It’s not personal like that,” he said, giving her a shake of his head.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He laughed. “I’ll be checking in, but I know you can handle things until I get back.”
“Whatever you say, boss. Far be it from me to suggest that you haven’t been on a date since a Bush was in office.”
“Clearly you forgot about that brunette a few months ago.”
“That wasn’t a date,” she said as she turned to leave. “And she made such an impression that you don’t even remember her name.”
He sat for a moment, trying to remember the brunette’s name. Sandy? Susie? Sherry? Not that it mattered, he told himself as he sorted through his mail and messages. He wouldn’t be seeing her again.
There wasn’t anything in the mail or messages that couldn’t keep.
Taking out the letter and the article Walter Justice had sent him, he read them again, then flattened out the article, wondering why it had been included until he saw the travel writer’s byline: DJ Price.
So was he to assume that DJ Justice’s pseudonym was Price? He typed DJ Price into his computer’s search engine. More articles came up, but no photo of the author. From the dates on the articles it would appear she was still employed as a freelance writer for a variety of publications. If DJ Price was DJ Justice.
He returned the article and letter to the envelope, folded them into his pocket and shut off his computer. As he walked out of his office past Marge’s desk, she said, “Shelly,” without looking up as he passed. “Wouldn’t want you straining your brain trying to remember the woman’s name all the way to the airport.”
Beau chuckled to himself as he made the drive out into the valley. He couldn’t help feeling anxious, since he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Nor did he know what to expect when it came to DJ Justice.
