Under Threat by B.J. Daniels (best sci fi novels of all time TXT) 📗

Chase’s mother Muriel. That was clearly why Chase had come to live on the ranch at fifteen. “I need to know how Chase came to live with us.”

She listened, and after a moment hung up and said to Chase, “Your mother worked in Meadow Village at the grocery store. She says she didn’t know who Muriel was seeing, and I believe her. She would have told us if she’d known. She did say that your mother rented a place on the edge of town. So your mother could have met your father at the grocery store or on her way to work or just about anywhere around here.”

Chase shook his head. “His wife probably did the grocery shopping.”

“We don’t know that he had a wife. We’re just assuming...” But Chase wasn’t listening. He was going through the phone listings.

Grady Birch had been leaving when Hud pulled into the drive in front of the cabin. For just a moment, he thought the man might make a run for it. Grady’s expression had been like a deer caught in his headlights. Hud suspected the man always looked like that when he saw the law—and for good reason.

It amused the marshal that Grady pretended nonchalance, leaning against the doorframe as if he had nothing to hide. As Hud exited his patrol SUV and moved toward the man, Grady’s nerves got the better of him. His elbow slid off the doorframe, throwing the man off balance. He stumbled to catch himself, looking even more agitated.

“Marshal,” he said, his voice high and strained before he cleared his throat. “What brings you out this way?”

“Why don’t we step into your cabin and talk?” Hud suggested.

Grady shot a look behind him through the doorway as if he wasn’t sure what evidence might be lying around in there. “I’d just as soon talk out here. Unless you have a warrant. I know my rights.”

“Why would I have a warrant, Mr. Birch? I just drove out here to talk to you about Christy Shores.”

Grady frowned. That hadn’t been what he’d expected. The man’s relief showed on his ferret-thin face. Grady’s relief that this was about Christy told Hud that this had been a wasted trip. The man hadn’t killed the barista. Grady was more worried about being arrested for cattle rustling.

“I just have a couple of quick questions,” Hud said, hoping Grady gave him something to go on. “You dated Christy?”

“I wouldn’t call it dating exactly.”

“You were involved with her.”

Grady shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that either.”

Hud sighed and shifted on his feet. “What would you say?”

“I knew who she was.”

“You knew her well enough to get in a fight over her at Charley’s the night she was killed.”

“Let’s say I had a good thing going with her, and Chet tried to horn in.”

“What did Christy have to say about all this?”

Grady frowned as if he didn’t understand the question. He was leaning against the doorframe again, only this time he looked a lot more comfortable.

Hud rephrased it. “What did she get out of this...relationship with you?”

“Other than the obvious?” Grady asked with a laugh. “It was a place to sleep so she didn’t have to go back to her mother’s in Bozeman.”

“Is that where she was headed that night, to your cabin?”

Grady shook his head. “I told her it wasn’t happening. I saw her making eyes at Chet. Let him put her up out at his place. I won’t be used by any woman.”

Hud had to bite his tongue. The way men like Grady treated women made his teeth ache. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“When Chet told her to scram and she ran into the bathroom crying.”

“That was before the two of you got thrown out of the bar?” the marshal asked.

Grady nodded. “So have you found out who ran her down?”

“Not yet.”

“Probably some tourist traveling through. I was in Yellowstone once, and there was this woman walking along the edge of the highway and this motor home came along. You know how those big old things have those huge side mirrors? One of them caught her in the back of the head.” Grady made a disgusted sound. “Killed her deader than a doornail. Could have taken her head off if the driver had been going faster.”

“Christy Shores wasn’t killed by a motor home. She was murdered by someone locally.”

Grady’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You don’t think Chet...”

“Chet has an alibi for the time of the murder. Can anyone verify that you came straight here to this cabin and didn’t leave again?”

“I was alone, but I can assure you I didn’t leave again.”

Hud knew the value of an assurance by Grady Birch. “You wouldn’t know anyone who might have wanted to harm her, do you?”

He wagged his head, still looking shocked. “Christy was all right, you know. She didn’t deserve that.” He sounded as if he’d just realized that if he’d brought her back to his cabin that night, she would still be alive.

Dillon was headed to Grady’s when he saw the marshal’s SUV coming out of the dirt road into the cabin. He waved and kept going as if headed to Bozeman, his pulse thundering in his ears. What had the marshal been doing out at the cabin? Was he investigating the cattle rustling?

He glanced in his rearview mirror. The marshal hadn’t slowed or turned around as if headed back to Big Sky, and as far as Dillon could tell, Grady wasn’t handcuffed in the back. He kept going until he couldn’t see the patrol SUV in his rearview anymore before he pulled over, did a highway patrol turn and headed back toward the cabin.

His instincts told him not to. The marshal might circle back. Right now, he especially didn’t want Hud knowing about his association with Grady Birch. But he had to find out what was going on. If he needed to skip the state, he wanted to at least get a running start.

He drove to the cabin, parking behind it.