Iron Will
But now that he was almost to the spot, there was no sound except the gentle lap of the water on the rocks. As he came out of the pines, he felt her—just as he always had. Naomi. It was as if her soul had been stranded here in this very spot where she’d died.
His knees went weak and he had to sit down on one of the large boulders along the shore. He put his head in his hands, unaware of time passing. Unaware of anything but his pain.
Like coming out of a daze, he lifted his head and looked across the river to the deep pool beneath the cliff. Sunlight glittered off the clear emerald surface. His heart in his throat, he lifted his gaze to the rock ledge high above the water. Lover’s Leap. That was what it was called.
His gaze shifted to the trail from the bridge downriver. It was barely visible through the tall summer grass and the pines, but he knew that kids still traveled along it to the ledge over the water. The trick, though, was to jump out far enough. Otherwise...
A shaft of sun cut through the pine boughs that hung out over the water, nearly blinding him. He closed his eyes again as he felt Naomi pleading with him to find out the truth. He could feel her arguing that he knew her. He knew she was terrified of heights. She would never have gone up there. Especially alone. Especially at night. Why would she traverse the treacherous trail to get to the rock ledge to begin with—let alone jump?
It had made no sense.
Not unless she hadn’t jumped to her death. Not unless she’d been pushed.
Hank opened his eyes and looked up through the shaft of sunlight to see a figure moving along the narrow trail toward the rock ledge high on the cliff. His throat went dry as shock ricocheted through him. He started to call to her even as he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him. It wasn’t Naomi.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out and he stared frozen in fear as he recognized the slim figure. Frankie. She’d walked downriver to the bridge and, after climbing up the trail, was now headed for the ledge.
* * *
HUD HEAVED HIMSELF into his office chair, angry at himself on more levels than he wanted to contemplate. He swore as he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the file. That he’d kept it for three years in the locked drawer where he could look at it periodically was bad enough. That he was getting it out now and going over it as he’d done so many times over those years made it even worse.
He knew there was nothing new in the file. He could practically recite the report by heart. Nothing had changed. So why was he pulling it out now? What good would it do to go over it again? None.
But he kept thinking about Hank and his stubborn insistence that Naomi hadn’t committed suicide. He didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell him that suicide was the most perverse of deaths. Those left behind had to deal with the guilt and live with the questions that haunted them. Why hadn’t they known? Why hadn’t they helped? Why had she killed herself? Was it because of them? It was the why that he knew his son couldn’t accept.
Why would a beautiful young woman like Naomi Hill kill herself? It made no sense.
Hud opened the file. Was it possible there was something he’d missed? He knew that wasn’t the case and yet he began to go over it, remembering the call he’d gotten that morning from the fisherman who’d found her body in the rocks beneath Lover’s Leap.
There had been little doubt about what had happened. Her blouse had caught on a rock on the ledge, leaving a scrap of it fluttering in the wind. The conclusion that she’d either accidentally fallen or jumped was later changed to suicide after more information had come in about Naomi’s state of mind in the days before her death.
Add to that the coroner’s report. Cause of death: skull crushed when victim struck the rocks below the cliff after either falling or jumping headfirst.
But his son Hank had never accepted it and had never forgiven his father for not investigating her death longer, more thoroughly. Hank had believed that Naomi hadn’t fallen or jumped. He was determined that she’d been murdered.
Unfortunately, the evidence said otherwise, and Hud was a lawman who believed in facts—not conjecture or emotion. He still did and that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Chapter Four
Hank felt dizzy and sick to his stomach as he watched Frankie make her way out to the edge of the cliff along the narrow ledge. She had her cell phone in her hand. He realized she was taking photos of the trail, the distance to the rocks and water below as well as the jagged rocky ledge’s edge.
As she stepped closer to the edge, he heard a chunk of rock break off. It plummeted to the boulders below, and his heart fell with it. The rock shattered into pieces before dropping into the water pooling around the boulders, making ripples that lapped at the shore.
He felt his stomach roil. “Get down from there,” he called up to her, his voice breaking. “Please.” He couldn’t watch. Sitting down again, he hung his head to keep from retching. It took a few minutes before his stomach settled and the need to vomit passed. When he looked up, Frankie was no longer balanced on the ledge.
His gaze shot to the rocks below, his pulse leaping with the horrible fear that filled him. There was no body on the rocks. No sign of Frankie. He put his head back down and took deep breaths. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that before he heard the crunch of pine needles behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Frankie said. “I should have known that would upset you.”
He swore and started to get to his feet unsteadily. She held out a hand and he took it, letting her help him up. “I’m usually not like this.”
She smiled. “You think I don’t know that?”
“You should have told me you were going up there,” he said.
“You would have tried to stop me,” she said and pulled out her phone. “I needed to see it.” She looked up from her screen. “Have you been up there?”
“Not since Naomi died, no.”
She frowned, cocking her head. “You’ve jumped from there.”
“When I was young and stupid.”
Nodding, Frankie said, “You have to push off the cliff wall, throw your body out to miss the rocks and to land in the pool. Daring thing to do.”
“Helps if you’re young, stupid and with other dumb kids who dare you,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, Naomi knew I’d jumped off the ledge. She was terrified of heights. She couldn’t get three feet off the ground without having vertigo. It’s why I know she didn’t climb up there on her own. Someone made her.”
“Sometimes people do things to try to overcome fears,” Frankie said and shrugged.
“Naomi didn’t. She was terrified of so many things. Like horses. I tried to teach her to ride.” He shook his head. “I’m telling you, she wouldn’t have climbed up there unless there was a gun to her head. Even if she’d wanted to kill herself, she wouldn’t have chosen that ledge as her swan song.”
With that, he turned and started toward the truck, wishing he’d never come back here. He’d known it would be hard, but he hadn’t expected it to nearly incapacitate him. Had he thought Naomi would be gone? Her soul released? Not as long as her death was still a mystery.
Frankie didn’t speak again until they were headed back toward Big Sky. “At some point you’re going to have to tell me why your father doesn’t believe it was murder.”
“I’ll do one better. I’ll get a copy of the case file. In the meantime, I’ll show you Big Sky. I’m not ready for my parents to know the truth yet.”
She nodded and leaned back as if to enjoy the trip. “I timed how long it took me to walk up the trail from the bridge to the ledge. Eleven minutes. How long do you think it would have taken Naomi?”
“Is this relevant?”
“It might be.” She turned to look at him then. “You said the coroner established a time of death because of Naomi’s broken wristwatch that was believed to have smashed on the rocks. We need to examine the time sequence. She left you at the ranch, right? The drive to the cliff took us ten minutes. She could have beat that because at that time of the evening in early fall and off season, there wouldn’t have been as much traffic, right?”
He nodded.
“So if she left the ranch and went straight to the bridge—”
“She didn’t. She met her killer at some point along the way. Maybe she stopped for gas or... I don’t know. Picked up a hitchhiker.”
Frankie shot him a surprised look. “From what you’ve told me about Naomi, she wouldn’t have stopped for a hitchhiker.”
“It would have had to be someone she knew. Can we stop talking about this for just a little while?” He hated the pleading in his voice. “Let me show you around Big Sky, maybe drive up to Mountain Village.”
She nodded and looked toward the town as he slowed for the turn. “So Big Sky was started by Montana native and NBC news co-anchorman Chet Huntley. I read it is the second-largest ski resort in the country by acreage.” She gazed at Lone Mountain. “That peak alone stands at over eleven thousand feet.”
He glanced over at her and chuckled. “You’re like a walking encyclopedia. Do you always learn all these facts when you’re...working?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling. “I find it interesting. Like this canyon. There is so much history here. I’ve been trying to imagine this road when it was dirt and Yellowstone Park only accessible from here by horses and wagons or stagecoaches.”
“I never took you for a history buff,” he said.
She shrugged. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
He didn’t doubt that, he thought as he studied her out of the corner of his eye. She continued to surprise him. She was so fearless. So different from Naomi. Just the thought of her up on that ledge—He shoved that thought away as he drove into the lower part of Big Sky known as Meadow Village. His mother was right. Big Sky had changed so much he hardly recognized the small resort town with all its restaurants and fancy shops along with miles of condos. He turned up the road to Mountain Village, where the ski resort was located, enjoying showing Frankie around. It kept his mind off Naomi.
* * *
“SO YOU MET the woman Hank brought home?”
Dana looked up at her sister, Stacy. They were in the ranch house kitchen, where Dana was taking cookies out of the oven. “I thought you might have run into them this morning before they took off for some sightseeing.”
Her sister shook her head. Older than Dana, Stacy had been the wild one, putting several marriages under her belt at a young age. But she’d settled down after she’d had her daughter, Ella, and had moved back to the ranch to live in one of the new cabins up on the mountainside.
“I stopped over at their cabin this morning to see if they needed anything,” Stacy said now, avoiding her gaze.
Dana put her hands on her hips. She knew her sister so well. “What?”
Stacy looked up in surprise. “Nothing to get in a tizzy over, just something strange.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t want to be talking out of turn, but I noticed that they slept in separate bedrooms last night.” Her sister snapped her lips shut as if the words had just sneaked out.
Dana frowned as she put another pan of cookie dough into the oven and, closing the door, set the timer. Hadn’t she felt something between Hank and Frankie? Something not quite right? “They must have had a disagreement. I’m sure it is difficult for both of them being here after what happened with Naomi. That’s bound to cause some tension between them.”
“Probably. So, you like her?”
“I do. She’s nothing like Naomi.”
“What does that mean?” Stacy asked.
“There’s nothing timid about her. She’s more self-assured, seems more...independent. I was only around her for a little while. It’s just an impression I got. You remember how Naomi was.”
Her sister’s right brow shot up. “You mean scared of everything?”
Dana had been so surprised the first time Hank had brought Naomi home and the young woman had no interest in learning to ride a horse.
I would be terrified to get on one, she’d said.
Naomi isn’t...outdoorsy, was the way Hank had described her. That had been putting it mildly. Dana couldn’t imagine the woman living here. As it turned out, living at Cardwell Ranch was the last thing Naomi had in mind.
“Frankie looks as if she can handle herself. I saw Hank gazing at her during dinner. He seems intrigued by her.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Stacy said now.
“Why don’t you come to dinner? Mary’s going to be here, and Chase. Jordan and Liza are coming as well. I thought that was enough for one night.” Her daughter and fiancé would keep things light. Her brother and his wife would be a good start as far as introducing Frankie to the family.
“Great. I’ll come down early and help with the preparations,” her sister said. “I’m sorry I mentioned anything about their sleeping arrangements. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
* * *
FRANKIE LOOKED OUT at the mountain ranges as she finished the lunch Hank had bought them up at the mountain resort. This was more like a vacation, something she hadn’t had in years. She would have felt guilty except for the fact that technically she was working. She looked at the cowboy across the table from her, remembering the day he’d walked into her office in Lost Creek outside of Moscow, Idaho.
“Why now?” Frankie had asked him after he’d wanted to hire her to find out what had really happened to his girlfriend. “It’s been three years, right? That makes it a cold case. I can’t imagine there is anything to find.” She’d seen that her words had upset him and had quickly lifted both hands in surrender. “I’m not saying it’s impossible to solve a case that old...” She tried not to say the words next to impossible.
She’d talked him into sitting down, calming down and telling her about the crime. Turned out that the marshal—Hank’s father—had sided with the coroner that the woman’s death had been a suicide. She’d doubted this could get worse because it was clear to her that Hank Savage had been madly in love with the victim. Talk about wearing blinders. Of course he didn’t want to believe the woman he loved had taken a nosedive off a cliff.
“I thought I could accept it, get over it,” Hank had said. “I can’t. I won’t. I have to know the truth. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I can feel Naomi pleading with me to find her murderer.”
It didn’t sound crazy as much as it sounded like wishful thinking. If this woman had killed herself, then he blamed himself.
Her phone had rung. She’d checked to see who was calling and declined the call. But Hank could tell that the call had upset her.
“Look, if you need to take that...” he’d said.
“No.” The last thing she wanted to do was take the call. What had her upset was that if she didn’t answer one of the calls from the man soon, he would be breaking down her door. “So, what is it you want me to do?”
Hank had spelled it out for her.
She’d stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to go to Big Sky with you.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask and this might not be a good time for you.”
He had no idea how good a time it was for her to leave town. “I can tell this is important for you. I can’t make you any promises, but I’ll come out and look into the incident.” She’d pulled out her standard contract and slid it across the table with a pen.
Hank hadn’t even bothered to read it. He’d withdrawn his wallet. “Here’s five hundred dollars. I’ll pay all your expenses and a five-thousand-dollar bonus if you solve this case—along with your regular fee,” he’d said, pushing the signed contract back across the table to her. As the same caller had rung her again, Hank had asked, “When can you leave?”
“Now’s good,” she’d said.
Chapter Five
Frankie had tried to relax during dinner later that night at the main ranch house, but it was difficult. She now understood at least the problem between Hank and his father. From what she could gather, the marshal was also angry with his son. Hank had refused to accept his father’s conclusion about Naomi’s death. The same conclusion the coroner had come up with as well.
Hank thought his father had taken the easy way out. But Frankie had been around Hud Savage only a matter of hours and she knew at gut level that he wasn’t a man who took the easy way out. He believed clear to his soul that Naomi Hill had killed herself.
During dinner, Hank had said little. Dana’s sister, Stacy, had joined them, along with Dana’s daughter, Mary, and her fiancé, Chase, and Dana’s brother, Jordan, and wife, Liza. Hank had been polite enough to his family, but she could tell he was struggling after going to the spot where Naomi had died.
She’d put a hand on his thigh to try to get him to relax and he’d flinched. The reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by his mother and aunt Stacy. Frankie had smiled and snuggled against him. If he hoped to keep their secret longer, he needed to be more attentive. After all, it was his idea that they pretend to be involved in a relationship. That way Frankie could look into Naomi’s death without Hank going head-to-head with his father.
When she’d snuggled against him, he’d felt the nudge and responded, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. She’d whispered in his ear, “Easy, sweetie.”
Nodding, he’d laughed, and she’d leaned toward him to kiss him on the lips. It had been a quick kiss meant to alleviate any doubt as to what was going on. The kiss had taken him by surprise. He’d stared into her eyes for a long moment, then smiled.
When Frankie had looked up, she’d seen there was relief on his mother’s face. His mother had bought it. The aunt, not so much. But that was all right. The longer they could keep their ruse going, the better. Otherwise it would be war between father and son. They both wanted to avoid that since it hadn’t done any good three years ago. Frankie doubted it would now.
“Cake?” Dana asked now, getting to her feet.
“I would love a piece,” Frankie said. “Let me help you.” She picked up her plate and Hank’s to take them into the kitchen against his mother’s protests. “You outdid yourself with dinner,” she said as she put the dishes where the woman suggested.
Taking advantage of the two of them being alone with the door closed, Dana turned to her—just as Frankie had known she would. “I’m not being nosy, honestly. Is everything all right between you and Hank?”
She smiled as she leaned into the kitchen counter. She loved this kitchen with the warm yellow color, the photographs of family on the walls, the clichéd saying carved in the wood plaque hanging over the door. There was a feeling of permanency in this kitchen, in this house, this ranch. As if no matter what happened beyond that door, this place would weather the storm because it had survived other storms.
“It’s hard on him being back here because of Naomi,” Frankie said.
“Of course it is,” Dana said on a relieved breath. “But he has you to help him through it.”
She smiled and nodded. “I’m here for him and he knows it. Though it has put him on edge. But not to worry. I’ll stand by him.”
Tears filled the older woman’s eyes as she quickly stepped to Frankie and threw her arms around her. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that Hank has you.”
She hadn’t thought her generic words would cause such a response but she hugged Dana back, enjoying for a moment the warm hug from this genuine, open woman.
Dana stepped back, wiping her tears as Stacy and Jordan’s wife, Liza, came in with the rest of the dirty dishes and leftover food. “We best get that cake out there or we’ll have a riot on our hands,” Dana said. “If you take the cake, I’ll take the forks and dessert plates.”
* * *
“I’M SORRY,” HANK SAID when they reached their cabin and were finally alone again. Dinner had been unbearable, but he knew he should have played along better than he had. “You were great.”
“Thanks. Your mother was worried we were having trouble. I assured her that coming back here is hard on you because of Naomi. Your family is nice,” she said. “They obviously love you.”
He groaned. He hated lying to his mother most of all. “That’s what makes this so hard. I wanted to burst out with the truth at dinner tonight.” He could feel her gaze on him.
“Why didn’t you?”
Hank shook his head. He thought about Frankie’s kiss, her nuzzling against him. He’d known it would be necessary if they hoped to pass themselves off as a couple, but he hadn’t been ready for it. The kiss had taken him by surprise. And an even bigger surprise had been his body’s reaction to it, to her.
He turned away, glad it was late so they could go to bed soon. “I think I’m going to take a walk. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
She laughed. “I should think so since I’m trained in self-defense and I have a license to carry a firearm. You’ve never asked, but I’m an excellent shot.”
“You have a gun?” He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised and yet he was. She seemed too much like the girl next door to do the job she did. Slim, athletic, obviously in great shape, she just kept surprising him as to how good she was at this.
If anyone could find out the truth about Naomi, he thought it might be her.
* * *
AFTER HANK LEFT, Frankie pulled out her phone and looked again at the photographs she’d taken earlier from the ledge along the cliff. Standing up there being buffeted by the wind, her feet on the rocky ledge, she’d tried to imagine what Naomi had been thinking. If she’d had time to think.
Hank was so sure that she’d been murdered. It was such a strange way to murder someone. Also, she suspected there were other reasons his father believed it was suicide. The killer would have had to drag her up that trail from the bridge and then force her across the ledge. Dangerous, since if the woman was that terrified of heights, she would have grabbed on to her killer for dear life.
How had the killer kept her from pulling him down with her? It had been a male killer, hadn’t it? That was what Frankie had imagined. Unless the couple hadn’t gone up to the ledge with murder in mind.
Frankie rubbed her temples. People often did the thing you least expected them to do. Which brought her back to suicide. What if Hank was wrong? What if suicide was the only conclusion to be reached after this charade with his family? Would he finally be able to accept it?
The door opened and he came in on a warm summer night gust of mountain air. For a moment he was silhouetted, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Then he stepped into the light, his handsome face twisted in grief. Her heart ached for him. She couldn’t imagine the kind of undying love he’d felt for Naomi. Even after three years, he was still grieving. She wondered at the size of Hank’s heart.
“I’d like to talk to Naomi’s mother in the morning,” she said, turning away from such raw pain. “Lillian Brandt, right?”
“Right.” His voice sounded hoarse.
“It would help if you told me about the things that were going on with Naomi before her death, the things that made the coroner and your father believe it was a suicide.” When he didn’t answer, she turned. He was still standing just inside the door, his Stetson in the fingers of his left hand, his head down. She was startled for a moment and almost stepped to him to put her arms around him.
“There’s something I haven’t told you.” He cleared his throat and looked up at her. “Naomi and I had a fight that night before she left the ranch.” He swallowed.
She could see that this was going to take a while and motioned to the chairs as she turned and went into the small kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she called over her shoulder, “Beer?” She pulled out two bottles even though she hadn’t heard his answer and returned to the small living area.
He’d taken a seat, balancing on the edge, nervously turning the brim of his hat in his fingers. When she held out a beer, he took it and tossed his hat aside. Twisting off the cap, Frankie sat in the chair opposite him. She took a sip of the beer. It was icy cold and tasted wonderful. It seemed to soothe her and chase away her earlier thoughts when she’d seen Hank standing in the doorway.