face.”
“Did you threaten her?”
“No, ma’am. My mom and dad taught me never to hit a woman. I turned around and walked away. Last time I saw her. Now, she’s dead.” His mouth got tight again. “Was it the serial killer?”
Though the sheriff had avoided labeling the murders as a serial killing, Tab knew the gossip train would race toward the most sensational theory. One dead girl was an event. Two pointed to a serial killer. “I don’t know.”
“That’s what people in town are saying.”
“Those folks aren’t always right. Did you hear about Woody and Chuck?”
“Misty called me and told me what they did last night. Damn, it makes me mad. How could they think that Misty was a murderer?”
“Some people think you’re the one who shot David Welling.” Offering him an easy out, she continued, “In self-defense.”
“Even if I’d been awake and I saw him threaten Misty, I wouldn’t need a gun to take him.” He raised both fists. “I’d use these.”
“You didn’t like David.”
“He was always sniffing around, acting like Misty was his secret lover. Well, she wasn’t. She’s my girl.”
His anger sounded like the ravings of a seventeen-year-old, but Tab sensed something deeper and perhaps more sinister. “What are you hiding, Clinton?”
“Nothing.”
“You can trust me,” she encouraged him. “Is it something about David?”
“Some things are private.” He glared. “Everybody thinks I’m stupid, but all of you smart people, including Sheriff Fielding, keep looking in the wrong direction for the killer.”
“Fine,” she said. “Tell me the right direction.”
“Misty told you the God’s honest truth. Somebody used her gun to shoot David, and then they ran off. All you’ve got to do is find their car.”
“If there was a mystery shooter…”
“That’s the only way it could have happened.” He paced away from her and came back again. “We were smack dab in the middle of nowhere. How did David get there? He must have had some kind of transportation.”
“Of course.”
“Where did it go? What happened to David’s car?” He poked a finger at her to make his point. “I’ll tell you what happened, the only thing that could have happened. The mystery shooter used David’s car to make his getaway.”
“Find the car, and we find the killer.”
His logic had a simple elegance that didn’t fit with his scruffy appearance. David needed transportation to get to the riverbed where he confronted Misty, but his car was gone. Therefore, somebody drove it away. If that were true, Misty’s story about the disappearing killer had some credence.
There was more to him than met the eye. For the first time, Tab thought he might just be worthy of Misty.
Chapter Ten
Aiden still didn’t like the idea of Tab being involved in investigating, but he was impressed with how much information she’d gotten from Clinton. When she asked if she could hitch a ride into Henley with him, he hadn’t refused. His plan was to talk to Bert Welling at the gas station and find out what kind of vehicle David had been driving. He didn’t expect his conversation with David’s uncle to be easy, especially since half the town believed that Misty was the killer. But Aiden had known Bert for years and had given him a lot of business. That ought to count for something.
Driving down the road they’d flown over last night, he noticed that Woody’s truck was still parked on the shoulder. “I wonder if those two boys are still in jail.”
“I hope the sheriff doesn’t let them off easy,” Tab said. “They need to know that pranks using guns won’t be tolerated.”
“A hard lesson. Guns are part of life around here.”
“And Montana gun laws are practically nonexistent,” she said. “That makes me wonder why Misty’s mystery shooter wasn’t armed. Why did he need to use Misty’s rifle.”
“It was an opportunity. He saw the gun and figured he could frame my sister.” Once
“Did you threaten her?”
“No, ma’am. My mom and dad taught me never to hit a woman. I turned around and walked away. Last time I saw her. Now, she’s dead.” His mouth got tight again. “Was it the serial killer?”
Though the sheriff had avoided labeling the murders as a serial killing, Tab knew the gossip train would race toward the most sensational theory. One dead girl was an event. Two pointed to a serial killer. “I don’t know.”
“That’s what people in town are saying.”
“Those folks aren’t always right. Did you hear about Woody and Chuck?”
“Misty called me and told me what they did last night. Damn, it makes me mad. How could they think that Misty was a murderer?”
“Some people think you’re the one who shot David Welling.” Offering him an easy out, she continued, “In self-defense.”
“Even if I’d been awake and I saw him threaten Misty, I wouldn’t need a gun to take him.” He raised both fists. “I’d use these.”
“You didn’t like David.”
“He was always sniffing around, acting like Misty was his secret lover. Well, she wasn’t. She’s my girl.”
His anger sounded like the ravings of a seventeen-year-old, but Tab sensed something deeper and perhaps more sinister. “What are you hiding, Clinton?”
“Nothing.”
“You can trust me,” she encouraged him. “Is it something about David?”
“Some things are private.” He glared. “Everybody thinks I’m stupid, but all of you smart people, including Sheriff Fielding, keep looking in the wrong direction for the killer.”
“Fine,” she said. “Tell me the right direction.”
“Misty told you the God’s honest truth. Somebody used her gun to shoot David, and then they ran off. All you’ve got to do is find their car.”
“If there was a mystery shooter…”
“That’s the only way it could have happened.” He paced away from her and came back again. “We were smack dab in the middle of nowhere. How did David get there? He must have had some kind of transportation.”
“Of course.”
“Where did it go? What happened to David’s car?” He poked a finger at her to make his point. “I’ll tell you what happened, the only thing that could have happened. The mystery shooter used David’s car to make his getaway.”
“Find the car, and we find the killer.”
His logic had a simple elegance that didn’t fit with his scruffy appearance. David needed transportation to get to the riverbed where he confronted Misty, but his car was gone. Therefore, somebody drove it away. If that were true, Misty’s story about the disappearing killer had some credence.
There was more to him than met the eye. For the first time, Tab thought he might just be worthy of Misty.
Chapter Ten
Aiden still didn’t like the idea of Tab being involved in investigating, but he was impressed with how much information she’d gotten from Clinton. When she asked if she could hitch a ride into Henley with him, he hadn’t refused. His plan was to talk to Bert Welling at the gas station and find out what kind of vehicle David had been driving. He didn’t expect his conversation with David’s uncle to be easy, especially since half the town believed that Misty was the killer. But Aiden had known Bert for years and had given him a lot of business. That ought to count for something.
Driving down the road they’d flown over last night, he noticed that Woody’s truck was still parked on the shoulder. “I wonder if those two boys are still in jail.”
“I hope the sheriff doesn’t let them off easy,” Tab said. “They need to know that pranks using guns won’t be tolerated.”
“A hard lesson. Guns are part of life around here.”
“And Montana gun laws are practically nonexistent,” she said. “That makes me wonder why Misty’s mystery shooter wasn’t armed. Why did he need to use Misty’s rifle.”
“It was an opportunity. He saw the gun and figured he could frame my sister.” Once
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