He opened the envelope and saw Mike and Carolyn Kavanaugh’s offer. It was fair. He knew what his place was worth, at least in terms of dollars and cents. And emotionally, he was ready to move on. He owned the spread outright.
“Now, I’d need a contract. It’s all outlined in the offer,” Kavanaugh said, “but I’d make a balloon payment in five years, either pay you off out of my pocket or get a real mortgage.”
Matt’s jaw slid to one side and he eyed his place one last time. “All right, Mike. You’ve got it.” He stuck his hand through the open window and Kavanaugh’s fingers clasped his.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I’ll call the attorneys who drew up the papers when I bought this place, a firm named Jansen, Monteith and Stone in Missoula. Thorne worked there when he first got out of high school and they handled all my dad’s legal work.”
Kavanaugh gave a curt nod. “I’ve heard of ’em. See what you can work out.”
They talked for a few minutes, then Kavanaugh took off. Matt wandered up the short walk and the three steps to the front porch. Inside he listened as the old furnace growled and the windows rattled with each gust of wind. His furniture was used, most of it had come with the place, and there just wasn’t much to tie him here any longer. He didn’t waste any time, but dialed the number of the law firm. After going through two receptionists, he was connected with Bill Jansen, the man who had handled splitting up the Flying M in accordance with John Randall’s wishes.
“So what is it I can do for you?” Bill asked after a few polite preliminaries about health, the weather and the NFL.
Matt outlined his request. What he wanted, he explained, was to take the money he made on this property and offer to buy out his brothers for their share of the Flying M, and he wanted to set up some kind of trust for Eva Dillinger, in accordance with whatever agreement his father had made when the woman worked for him.
“That might be tougher than you know,” Bill admitted. “I understand John Randall and Eva had spoken about some kind of retirement, but it was never drawn up legally.”
“But you heard about it, right?”
“He’d mentioned it.”
“Then let’s figure out how to make it right. I’m not trying to set Eva up for life, just give her what’s due. I’ll talk to my brothers. And this has got to be anonymous. Completely.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Anything’s possible.”
“Not really. Not only will the recipients want answers but the government, as well.”
“Can’t you dummy up some blind corporation?” Matt said, then laughed as he heard himself, talking like some big corporate hot shot. “Never mind. I just didn’t want to deal with it now,” he admitted. It was the truth; he had too much to think about, didn’t want to stir up that particular hornet’s nest. But he had to. If he was going to right his father’s wrong. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain.”
“Then it’s not anonymous.”
“Right. I’ll handle it,” Matt said. “Is it possible to get the paperwork to me in the next few days? Fax it to the ranch and I’ll see that my brothers sign it. Can you work that fast?”
“Unless we encounter unforeseen problems.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“One of the junior partners is going to be in Grand Hope in a couple of days. I’ll tell her what’s going on, and if there’s any problem, you can meet with her while she’s in town. Her name is Jamie Parsons and she spent her senior year of high school there. Maybe you know her.”
The name was slightly familiar, but Matt couldn’t recall why. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll have her give you a call when she gets into town. She’ll be staying there for a few weeks, as she’s going to be selling her grandmother’s place.”
“Parsons,” Matt repeated.
“Her grandmother was Nita Parsons.”
“As I said, the name’s vaguely familiar.”
“Nita passed away a couple of months ago. Your father might have known her.”
“Possibly.”
“Anyway, I’ll get on the sale and transfer of property right away. All I’ll need is your brothers’ signatures.”
“You’ll have them,” Matt said, though he hadn’t mentioned his plan to either Thorne or Slade. He was certain it wouldn’t be a problem. Thorne had already mentioned moving to a spread close by and Slade wasn’t one to put down roots. Matt was the rancher of the lot. He’d buy out his brothers and own half of the Flying M.
Matt hung up and his gaze swept the interior of the old house. He’d spent a lot of years here. Alone. And it had been fine. But he wanted something more from life right now, and that something was a red-haired lady cop.
There wasn’t any reason not to start the ball rolling. Quickly he dialed the number of the Flying M, connected with Thorne and stated his business. “Get Slade on the extension. I’ve done a lot of thinking while I’ve been gone. Kavanaugh’s buying my place, so I want to transfer my operations to Grand Hope. Come up with a fair price. I’ll buy the two of you out.”
“Just like that?”
“If you’ll sell,” Matt said.
Thorne hesitated, then said, “I don’t see any problem. Let me get Slade on the phone and we’ll work something out.”
“Just like that?” Matt threw back at him.
“Yep. It’s the way I do business.”
* * *
Kelly was burned. Big-time. The last place she wanted to be was at Thorne McCafferty’s wedding, but she didn’t have much of a choice. Espinoza had insisted.
“Look, the investigation is still wide open,” he’d told her while smoking a cigarette in his office. “The potential killer could be there. This is a chance for you to meet those people closest to the family.”
“At a wedding?” she’d protested.
“At a wedding, dressed as a guest, mingling at the reception, keeping your ears and eyes open.” He’d drawn hard on his smoke, exhaled and looked up at her through the cloud. “Do you have a problem with that, Detective?”
“No problem at all,” she said aloud to her reflection, repeating the exact phrase she’d spoken to Espinoza less than three hours earlier. So here she was wearing a midnight-blue silk dress, braiding her hair and wrapping it into a thick chignon at the base of her neck and dreading the thought of seeing Matt again.
You’ll get through it; it’s just business. But as she dusted her nose, applied brown mascara and touched up her peach lipstick, she felt like a fraud. Her stomach was tense, her skin felt flushed. She—a girl who had taken on men twice her size while training for her job, a female officer who had been known to take a bead on a suspect and demand “Drop it” when she’d been threatened with a weapon, an officer who wasn’t afraid to drive more than a hundred miles an hour if a high-speed chase was necessary—was intimidated by a simple wedding and reception.
It was only one night. Somehow she’d get through it. As she reached for her coat and checked to see that she had her car keys, the phone rang. She nearly ignored it, then picked up on the third ring.
“Kelly?” her sister said breathlessly, as if she’d been running.
“This is my house. You called. Right?”
“What do you know about some trust being set up for Mom?” Karla asked, undeterred.
“A trust?”
“That’s right. She got a letter from an attorney in Missoula, Jamie Parsons, that says she’s the recipient of some trust fund.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“Didn’t they say?”
“No, and when Mom called the law firm and talked to the lawyer, he was evasive, wouldn’t give her any information. Said it would be coming in a few weeks. Isn’t that strange?”
“Very.”
“I told Mom and Dad not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but you know how they are. They’re certain there’s been some mistake. What do you th
ink?”
“What’s the name of the law firm?”
“Jansen, Monteith and Stone.” Karla hesitated just a second, then added, “Mom said that when she worked for John Randall McCafferty, that was the firm he used. You think it’s a coincidence?”
“I’m a cop, Karla. I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“I’m a beautician, Kelly. I believe in past lives, reincarnation, split personalities, winning the lottery and, in case I forgot, coincidence.”
“I’ll check it out for the folks.”
“Figured you would. Now, have fun at the wedding.”
“It’s not going to be fun.”
“You’re right. If that’s the attitude you’re wearing. Come on, Kell, lighten up. It wouldn’t kill ya.”
Kelly wasn’t so sure.
* * *
Matt hooked two fingers under the collar of his tuxedo shirt and twisted his neck to give him some breathing room. Small places made him claustrophobic, and this anteroom off the chapel where Thorne was about to be married was barely big enough for the minister and the three McCafferty brothers. Maybe it was because Matt didn’t have such a great relationship with God, maybe it was because the thermostat in the room must’ve been broken and the heater was pumping out air that felt at least a hundred degrees, or maybe it was because he was faced with the fact that he’d be seeing Kelly again.
Kelly. Detective Kelly Ann Dillinger.
The woman who hadn’t returned his calls.
He’d been back in Grand Hope all of twelve hours, and in that time he’d left three messages for her. He’d gotten no response, but Nicole was certain Kelly would show up.
Good.
Because he wanted answers.
“So we’ll sign the papers next week,” Slade said as he glanced in a small mirror, frowned and brushed a wayward lock of black hair off his forehead.
“As soon as the lawyer contacts us.”
“Bill Jansen?” Thorne said, though it was obvious his thoughts were elsewhere.
“No, his associate. A woman. Jamie Parsons.”
Slade froze. “Who?”
“Jamie Parsons. She’s here on business as she’s going to sell her grandmother’s house.” He caught a shadow chase across Slade’s blue eyes. “Do you know her? She lived here her senior year of high school. Her grandmother was named Anita.”
“Nita.”
“Yeah, that was it. So you’ve heard of her.”
“It was a long time ago,” Slade admitted, his lips thinning as the sound of organ music filtered through the walls. “This is it,” Slade said to Thorne, as if eager to change the subject. “Your last few seconds as a single man.”
Thorne’s grin was as wide as the whole of Montana.
“You can still take off,” Slade offered.
“I don’t think so.” Thorne laughed and Matt wondered if he’d ever seen his brother so happy. Joy came with difficulty to Thorne; it wasn’t an emotion Matt would have attributed to his eldest brother. Until Nicole. He’d changed since meeting his fiancée. And the change was definitely for the better.
The door to the chapel creaked open and the minister, a tall scarecrow of a man with wild gray hair, rosy cheeks and thick glasses, walked into the anteroom. “Are we ready?”
Thorne nodded. “You bet.”
“Then let’s go.”
Thorne only hesitated long enough to predict, “It’ll happen to you two, too. Your days as bachelors are numbered.”
Slade snorted.
Matt didn’t comment.
“Not for me,” Slade argued.
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
“Well, maybe for Matt, he’s already half-hitched as it is.”
For once, Matt didn’t argue. Yes, he was ready, but the woman he wanted for his wife seemed to be avoiding him.
“Don’t they say something like pride goes before a fall?” Thorne said, adjusting his tie. “You might remember that, Slade.” Squaring his shoulders, he led his brothers through the arched doorway and stepped into the candlelit chapel. It was small, more than a hundred years old, and the stiff-backed, dark wood pews were packed with family and friends.
Matt zeroed in on Kelly and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. The rest of the crowd seemed to disappear. Even when Matt’s attention should have been drawn to the two bridesmaids, Randi and a woman doctor, Maureen Oliverio, Matt could hardly drag his gaze away from Kelly. God, she was beautiful. He forced his eyes to the back of the church as Nicole, dressed in a long cream-colored gown that shimmered in the candlelight, walked slowly to the front of the church to take Thorne’s hand. Yet, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Kelly.
This should be me, he thought ridiculously. Kelly and I should be up here exchanging vows. He remembered the day his father had studied him trying to break Diablo Rojo and how the old man had advised him to settle down, to start a family, to ensure that the McCafferty name would go on.
Matt swallowed an unfamiliar lump in his throat.
The old man had been right.
He’d found the woman he wanted to live with; he just had to find a way to make her his wife.
Somehow he got through the ceremony. He watched tears spring to Nicole’s eyes as Thorne slipped a wide gold band over her finger and felt a deep jab of envy as Thorne kissed his bride in front of all their guests. The ceremony completed, Matt followed the bride and groom outside and into the cold winter air.
He fell silent as Slade drove him to the Badger Creek Hotel where the reception was to take place. Built on the banks of the stream for which it was named more than a century earlier, the hotel had once been a stop on the stagecoach line and had enjoyed a colorful past. In its hundred-and-twenty-year history, the hotel had been renovated and updated every other decade and now had been restored to its original nineteenth-century grandeur.
Slade stopped for a smoke in the parking lot, but Matt hurried up the stairs to the ballroom, hoping to catch up to Kelly. He was surprised to see her at the wedding and hoped that she would come to the reception.
A crowd had already gathered in the cavernous room with its coved ceiling nearly thirty feet high. Tall windows ran the length of the room and thousands of tiny lights glittered from three immense chandeliers that sparkled with cut glass and dripped crystal. A small combo played music from an alcove in one corner while a fountain of champagne bubbled near an ice sculpture of a running horse.
He saw her the minute she entered. Without her coat, in a long shimmery gown of dark blue, she was exquisite. A silver necklace adorned her long neck and her hair was pulled away from her face, not severely, but with an element of sophistication that got to him.
Snagging two long-stemmed glasses from a linen-draped table, he walked up to her. “Well, Detective,” he drawled, “you look…fantastic.”
She cocked a reddish brow. “Oh, come on, McCafferty, you miss the uniform. Admit it.”
So she still had a sense of humor. “I miss you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Liar.” He handed her a glass and she started to take a sip.
“Wait. I think a toast is in order.”
“To the bride and groom?”
“That’ll come later.” He didn’t explain, just took hold of her hand and drew her through a draped French door and onto a snow-covered veranda.
“Wait a minute.”
“Nope. I’ve waited too long.” Balancing his glass in one hand, he wrapped his other arm around her and drew her close. Before she could protest, he kissed her, waiting until he felt her loosen, her bones melt against him. Only then did he lift his head. “Isn’t that better?”
“No, I mean…look, Matt, I’ve been trying to tell you that it’s over. You can drop the charade.”
“Charade?” he asked, and felt the first drip of premonition in his blood.
“I know that you courted me just to get close to the investigation.”
“No, I—”
“Don’t deny it. I overheard a conversation between Randi and Slade.” Anger surged through his veins. “I know that this flirtation or whatever you want to call it was because Kurt Striker told you to play up to me. To get me into bed.”
“You believe that.”
“Yes.”
Anger roared through his blood. He opened his mouth just as she looked up at him with sad eyes. “Don’t play me for a fool, okay? It’s just not necessary.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Good. Then we can go on and forget what happened between us.”
“Nope.”
“Matt, really.” She turned toward the door, and he didn’t bother reaching for her.
“I’ll never forget it, Kelly. Never.” She’d reached the door but turned to face him. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered.
“I love you.”
She closed her eyes. A tear, caught in the moon glow, wove a silent course over the slope of her cheek.
“You don’t have to—”
“I love you, dammit.”
She leaned against the door. “I don’t want to do this, Matt. I only came tonight because my boss asked me to. Because of the investigation.”
“Have you seen any suspicious characters?”
“Just the groom and his brothers,” she said, but the joke fell flat. “Look, I know that you set up some kind of trust fund for my mother, probably because of a guilty conscience over what your dad did to her, and…and that’s all well and good, really, but you shouldn’t have. It was your father’s problem, not yours.”
“You’re mine.”
“A problem…I imagine I am.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“The past is over and done. My family is fine…we can take care of ourselves. We don’t need any kind of Johnny-come-lately charity.”
“That’s not what it is.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell!” He dropped his champagne glass and his shoes crunched through the snow as he walked to her. “You came here to see me. I did what I did for your mother to right a wrong, my brothers agreed to it, and as for leaving well enough alone, I can’t. Not until you tell me that you’ll be my wife.”