Montana Cold Case Conspiracy, page 1
“Get behind the truck.”
Another shot was fired, whizzing past Stewart’s head. He hunkered down beside Lila.
“There is no place to take cover, and I think he’s still up there.” Stewart pointed to where he thought the shots had come from.
Lila rested her face in her hands. “Then what are you going to do? Wait him out?”
Now that he’d seen an attack firsthand, he was willing to admit that Lila’s return had made someone very nervous. Had there been a third man involved in the robbery, and had he been living in this town the whole time? Or had he, too, returned when the new evidence had surfaced?
“Crawl straight out from the truck. And then make a run for those trees.”
They moved slowly, both of them glancing over their shoulders. Stewart thought he saw a man hunkered down in the tall grass. Once the land flattened, Stewart and Lila rose and sprinted toward the trees just as another shot was fired.
Ever since she found the Nancy Drew books with the pink covers in her country school library, Sharon Dunn has loved mystery and suspense. Most of her books take place in Montana, where she lives with three nearly grown children and a hyper border collie. She lost her beloved husband of twenty-seven years to cancer in 2014. When she isn’t writing, she loves to hike surrounded by God’s beauty.
Books by Sharon Dunn
Love Inspired Suspense
Wilderness Target
Cold Case Justice
Mistaken Target
Fatal Vendetta
Big Sky Showdown
Hidden Away
In Too Deep
Wilderness Secrets
Mountain Captive
Undercover Threat
Alaskan Christmas Target
Undercover Mountain Pursuit
Crime Scene Cover-Up
Christmas Hostage
Montana Cold Case Conspiracy
Alaska K-9 Unit
Undercover Mission
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
Montana Cold Case Conspiracy
Sharon Dunn
He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely, he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day.
—Psalm 91:1–5
For my God who is my protector and the giver of all good things.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Tracking the Tiny Target by Connie Queen
ONE
The wipers of Lila Christie’s rental car worked at a furious pace as rain slashed across the windshield. She leaned forward, straining to see the road. Out here in the country with no artificial light, objects were more shadow than substance. Because of the distortion created by the downpour, her headlights offered only a murky view of the gravel road ahead. From what she remembered, springtime in this part of Montana was always rainy.
Her car edged up a hill, gears grinding as the tires sunk down in the mud. Once at the top, she saw the fuzzy lights that indicated her destination, The Lazy DN Bar Ranch. Her breath caught. Ten years was a long time to be gone from here. Stewart Duncan, owner of the ranch, was the one man who might be able to help her, the one person who should care about new evidence surfacing in the bank robbery ten years ago. His father had been killed that day. Her father had fallen off the face of the earth. She could not let go of the belief that her father had been coerced into participating in the robbery of the bank where he was the manager. And that he was hiding somewhere. She would not give up hope until she found her father alive or his remains were located.
As she made her way down the muddy hill, the car jiggled and slipped into some ruts. Headlights filled the rearview mirror. Judging from how high up the lights were, the vehicle was bigger than her sedan. Was that guy actually trying to pass in these conditions? So dangerous. The road was only one lane at best. A tap on her bumper caused her car to jerk forward and then slide sideways. Lila gripped the wheel, trying to stay on the road while her heart pounded erratically.
The other vehicle plowed into her bumper a second time with such force that the seat belt dug into her skin, and she bit her tongue. Headlights surrounded her and invaded the cab of her car. She was being pushed off the road, and there was nothing she could do but hold on. After rolling forward from impact her car hit the side of a ditch with a jolt. The front end of the car slanted downward.
Lila struggled to take in a breath and process what had happened as the rain pelted her car. When she turned her head, she saw no sign of the vehicle that had run her off the road. She tried only once to shift into Reverse and back out. The wheels spun, and her car made a strange grinding noise. She was stuck.
She reached for her phone and dialed Stewart’s number. Her voice trembled almost as badly as her hands. Voice mail came on inviting Lila to leave a message. She closed her eyes. “Stewart, this is Lila Christie. I left a message earlier that I was coming to see you. I assume you got it. It seems I am stuck in a ditch not too far from your place. Someone ran me off the road. I’m not sure what’s going on here—”
A female voice came on the line. “Hello. Sorry, I was running for the phone. Who is this?”
Even after all these years, she recognized Stewart’s mother’s voice. “Mrs. Duncan.” She couldn’t bring herself to call her former art teacher by her first name. She took a deep breath. “This is Lila Christie.”
“Lila Rose, my best student. To what do I owe the privilege?” Even over the phone Lila picked up on the tension in the older woman’s voice.
“I’m trying reach Stewart. I left a message earlier. I’m back in town actually.”
“Oh... I didn’t realize.” No doubt, Lila’s presence reminded Mrs. Duncan of the tragedy that had taken her husband’s life. Why someone as positive and kind as Cindy Duncan had stayed married to a violent cheat like Stewart Duncan Sr. had been a mystery to the whole town.
“My car is stuck in the mud not too far from the ranch. Some guy with road rage ran me into a ditch. I don’t suppose Stewart could come pull me out.” She pressed her lips together. This was a horrible way to return after not having any communication for so long.
“He could but he’s not here. He’s out looking for some wayward calf. He’s probably left his phone in his truck if he took it at all. Randy Clarins up the road has a big truck and a winch. Let me give him a call.”
“Thank you.” Despite the logistical nature of the conversation she felt a heaviness between them. Just by returning, Lila was dredging up old history that most people in this area probably wanted to forget. “Forgive me for not staying in touch, and I’m sorry that the very first thing I do when I come back is ask for help.”
Mrs. Duncan didn’t answer right away. “Let’s just work on getting you back on the road.”
“Thank you.”
“You sit tight now,” said Mrs. Duncan. “Weather like this is not fit for man nor beast to be out in.”
Lila pressed the disconnect button, releasing a pent-up breath. After removing her seat belt, she rested her head against the back of the seat. Had it been a mistake to come out here? She hadn’t known where else to turn when she’d learned the getaway car had been found in another county. Apparently, it had been parked on a riverbed and partially covered by water all this time.
The news story had been brief, indicating that the police were being tight-lipped. It was a local story. She would not have seen it at all except she had Google alerts set up for any keyword that might bring up a story about the robbery.
Stewart was a sheriff now and had connections. She hoped that he could find out more than the newspapers were saying. She needed to know if there were human remains in or around the car. Maybe she had been impulsive in getting on a plane and coming here. Somehow she thought a face-to-face conversation would yield more than talking on the phone. Because of their history, Lila had been afraid that Stewart wouldn’t even take her call. Before the robbery, they had been engaged to be married.
Maybe there had been no love lost between Stewart and his father, but he had to want to know who had killed him. Despite what everyone thought, she knew her father was not a killer or a thief. He had been a loving and kind man.
In the side-view mirror, she saw movement. Someone in a rain slicker and a hat was coming toward her. His head
The man said nothing. He stood about twenty feet from the car. He raised his hand. A strange explosive boom, almost drowned out by the rain, surrounded her. She slammed the door shut.
Had she just been shot at?
She fell across the seat. Her heart pounded and her mind reeled from fear. He was coming toward her on the driver’s-side door.
She stretched across the seat, pushed open the passenger door and crawled out. When she looked back through the window, she didn’t see him anywhere. Rain stabbed at her skin as she crouched by the car.
The noise of a boot squishing in mud alerted her to the fact that the assailant was coming around to her side of the car.
Heart pounding, she moved toward the front of the car and knelt by the bumper. She turned sideways. The lights of the ranch were hidden by a hill, but she could guess at where it was. She had to make a run for it.
She took off at a sprint, racing through the tall prairie grass. Another shot was fired. Even in the downpour the sonic boom engulfed her. She gulped in air and kept running. The only thing moving faster than her feet were her thoughts.
What is happening here?
Heading in the general direction of the ranch, she prayed she would see the lights again. She’d be safe from the wild gunman if she could get there.
She slipped in the mud and reached her hands out to brace the fall. Something sharp cut her palm. Another shot was fired but not close to her. The shooter was having trouble seeing through the dark and sheets of rain.
She stayed on the ground for a moment longer trying to collect herself as rain soaked her clothes. Her hand stung where she must have landed on a sharp rock. Lila rose slowly, still bent over. She straightened and kept moving through the dark.
Strong arms reached out for her, pulled her close.
She screamed. The shooter had decided to eliminate her face-to-face. She lashed out, flailing her arms wildly.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
She knew that voice. Even after ten years, the warm tenor of Stewart Duncan’s voice calmed her. She stilled.
“What’s going on here?”
“I might ask you the same thing, Stewart,” she said. “This is not the welcome home I had envisioned.”
Stewart’s voice filled with surprise. “Lila? What on earth...”
Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting her.
“Someone ran me off the road and shot at me.”
“I didn’t hear any shots,” he said.
“It was from a pistol. The rain was loud.” Did he not believe her?
“You’re soaking wet. Come this way.” Stewart’s arm curled around her waist as he all but carried her.
The trauma of the wreck and being shot at had taken its toll. She felt herself shutting down as Stewart lifted her into the cab of his truck. Rain spattered on his cowboy hat when he leaned close to her. “I’ve got a missing calf to find before she freezes to death.” He got behind the wheel and glanced over at her. “Maybe you can tell me what is going on here?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. He must have sensed that she was in no condition to talk. His voice grew softer. “If I don’t find this calf in the next five minutes, I’ll take you back to the house and go out again.”
He drove through the inky darkness. She could not measure how much time passed. She was grateful the heater was on full blast.
Stewart came to a stop and turned the steering wheel. “There we go, little one.” His words took on a soothing quality as he peered through the windshield.
At the edge of the headlights’ range, she could just make out the tiny calf huddled on the ground. He jumped out of the truck, leaving the engine running. Returning a moment later, he lifted the calf into the cab of the truck. “She’s as cold as you are.”
Lila placed her hand on the wet hide of the little creature. The rise and fall of the calf’s breathing was somehow a comfort to her. They were both weak but still alive.
Once Stewart made it back to the gravel road, he increased his speed. As the lights of the ranch house and outbuildings came into view, she wondered again if coming back here was a mistake. Clearly her arrival had stirred up trouble about the past. That had to be why she had been shot at. But what she hadn’t counted on was how the feelings for Stewart she thought were long dead rose up just by hearing his voice.
* * *
As he pulled up close to the house, Stewart Duncan’s mind raced. Not a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought that Lila might return and say that breaking their engagement ten years ago had been a mistake. Now that she was sitting in the cab of his truck, the moment felt surreal. He couldn’t begin to process why she was being shot at or even if she had been. That level of violence didn’t happen around here, not since the robbery their fathers had been a part of.
There would be time to sort through all of it. His priority right now was getting Lila and the calf warmed up.
He jumped out of the truck and reached back in for the shivering mass of hide. “I’ve got to get this calf inside. Can you walk to the house, or do you need me to come back for you?”
The way Lila stared at the floor suggested she was in shock. “I can make it.”
He carried the calf up the stone walkway. The truck door slammed, and Lila caught up with him.
“I can get the door.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She twisted the knob and pushed it open.
“After you,” he said.
He stepped in behind her. “Ma, I need your help.” The lights in the living room were dim. His mother had to be in her studio.
Mrs. Duncan emerged from a back room. She took in the scene. “Three drowned rats. Hello, Lila. I see you made it. Randy wasn’t home, and you didn’t answer when I called you back.”
Lila nodded. His mother’s posture had a stiff quality. Her attempt at sounding welcoming felt a little strained.
“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and into a hot shower.” His mother had not seemed overly surprised to see his ex-fianceé as she ushered Lila down a hallway. Stewart laid the calf beside the woodstove and rubbed its trembling body trying to bring some life back into the tiny creature.
His mom rushed into the living room and handed him three folded towels. He dried the calf with two of them and then placed the third one over it. He grabbed a throw from the sofa and covered the calf. The little one was alive but not terribly responsive.
Down the hallway, he could hear the shower running. His mother wore an oversize shirt stained with the evidence of past painting and sculpting projects.
“Quite a night for surprises, huh?” his mom said.
Stewart rose to his feet and sat down on the sofa. He nodded. “Lila says she was shot at.”
“Oh, my. She called earlier. She said she’d been run off the road.”
That explained why his mother wasn’t surprised to see Lila.
“For someone who hasn’t been back here for ten years that sort of response seems extreme. I’m going to call my deputy. See what he can find out.”
Focusing on the logistics of the crime meant he didn’t have to think about how Lila’s return made him feel tangled up in knots. Maybe their love had just been too fragile to survive tragedy and unanswered questions. Though she had been the one to leave town, he had seen the cracks in the relationship after the robbery.
He made the call to the deputy on duty and asked him to have a look around where Lila had gone off the road.
His mom took a chair opposite Stewart. After hanging up the phone, he listened to the crackling of the fire in the woodstove.
“Her story sounds a little...out there,” said Cindy Duncan. “Maybe run off the road, but being shot at?”
Stewart knew what his mother was thinking without giving details. Lila’s mother had suffered from paranoid delusions even before the robbery. After the disappearance of her husband, Richard, Marian Christie had taken her own life.
