Page 9 of River Justice

He disconnected and went back into Holden’s office. “Duffy’s on his way home. I’ll talk to him. If there appears to be some connection to Holly Jo’s abduction, I’ll talk to Joe’s son.”

CHAPTER FIVE

BIRDIEMALONESPRAWLEDon the hotel room bed in Powder Crossing, staring up at the ceiling. There were moments when she questioned what she was doing here. It hadn’t escaped her that her father’s murder was a very cold case after all these years. What evidence there might have been was long gone.

And if she was right about Charlotte Stafford killing him and getting someone to help her dispose of his body, then the woman would have covered her tracks. Why was Birdie wasting her time and her grandmother’s money here?

She’d been five when her father had left her and her mother. He’d come into her room late that night, crouched down next to her bed and taken her hand. She’d pretended to still be asleep, knowing he was leaving. She would cry and beg him not to go if she opened her eyes. She’d seen it coming after all the fighting with her mother, the woman he hadn’t loved enough to marry. He’d stayed for his daughter until it became impossible. Birdie had seen other men go through the same thing before and after her father.

It had broken her heart when he’d left. She’d seen how hard the decision had been for him as he told her how much he loved her and begged her to forgive him, but he couldn’t stay and he couldn’t take her with him just yet. She’d felt his tears as he’d bent to kiss her cheek and said goodbye, promising to come for her soon.

Her mother never mentioned his name again after that, other than to say Birdie had been a mistake that she had no intention of making again. Men had always come and gone in her mother’s life. One had stayed around and become her stepfather. He’d been kind and helped get her raised before he left, but it was Dixon Malone, her father, who’d always lived in her heart. When she was old enough, she took the Malone name, although her birth parents had never legally married.

Her grandmother on her father’s side had been the one constant in her life, even though she lived in Texas. Nana had seen that Birdie went to college and took judo lessons so she could defend herself. Nana had taught her to dream. Her grandmother knew how much she missed her father.

The last time Nana had visited, she’d told Birdie that she was leaving her money and wanted her to use it to find Dixon, her only son, her only child. “I know he promised to come back for you, Birdie. He wouldn’t have broken that promise unless something bad happened to him.”

She’d sworn she would find him.

“And when the time comes, find yourself a good man. They do exist, no matter what you saw growing up with your mother, not to speak ill of the dead. You’re too smart to follow in her footsteps. Remember that. And don’t be too hard on your father, no matter what you find out. I know how much he loves you.”

While she’d believed that her father wouldn’t have broken his promise to her unless something had happened to him, she’d done as he’d always wanted her to do. She’d gone to college, graduated, gotten a job and started her career in business administration.

She’d known in her heart that he had to be dead. Otherwise, he would have come for her as promised. Yet her promise to her grandmother nagged at her. She hired a PI who had no luck finding him. When her father’s body was found, she’d realized that if she wanted the truth, she was going to have to get it herself—and she couldn’t wait any longer. She had to find out what had happened to him—even if what she discovered broke her heart.

However, now that she was here, she had to question her decision. What had she hoped to find following Brand from the bar in town all the way out to the Stafford Ranch—let alone helping herself to a room in the house for the night? It had seemed like a good idea at the time—and if she hadn’t hung around this morning, she would have gotten away with it. No one would have been the wiser.

The problem was that it hadn’t accomplished anything. Nothing she’d done so far was helping find evidence to bring her father’s killer to justice.

She groaned, refusing to let her doubts derail her. Instead, she thought of her promise to her grandmother and concentrated on what to do next. She had to find a place to rent if she was going to stay in Powder Crossing or she would eventually run out of money. The idea of giving up wasn’t in her.

“Sometimes you are exactly like your father,” her mother used to say. “Stubborn as a mule and just as hardheaded.”

She’d always liked to hear there were things about her that were like her father. He’d been her hero. She looked over at the photo on her bedside table. It was of the two of them, taken on her fifth birthday. Her grandmother had framed it for her. It and a jewelry box he’d given her were her most prized possessions.

Just the sight of them had made her mother furious. “How can you idolize that man?” she would scream. “He walked out on you as well as me. Stop thinking he’s coming back. He’s not. He’ll break your heart—just as he did mine.”

But he hadn’t. He’d never really left her. For the year after he’d moved out, he would stop by her school or catch her on the way home to hug her and tell her how much he loved her. He would bring her little treats, and they would talk. She’d known he was sorry about the way things had ended with her mother. She’d also known that things weren’t going well with the woman he’d married, Charlotte Stafford.

“I’m coming to get you soon,” he’d told her the last time she saw him. He’d shown up at school on her sixth birthday with a cupcake, candle and all. She’d told him how much she missed him, crying in his arms. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t live with your mother. I’m not sure she’s the best thing for you as a mother either. I know your grandmother is keeping an eye on you, so you’re safe until I can come get you.”

He’d told her all about the ranchwoman, her children and the grand house on a ranch where they all lived.

But that day he’d said no, her coming to the Stafford Ranch wasn’t going to work out. “Charlotte Stafford’s no more mother material than your mom and an even more questionable wife. I need to work out a few things. But trust me, we’ll be together soon, my little bird.” He’d given her the jewelry box that day, making her promise to keep it close always until they could be together again. She’d kept the promise. It too sat on the hotel bedside table next to her.

That was the last time she saw her father. Her mother told her that he’d run out on the woman he’d married. Left in the middle of the night just like he’d done her.

Birdie had waited day after day. He wouldn’t break his promise to her. He would be coming for her. After months went by, she’d known there could be only one explanation. Dixon Malone was dead.

Now everyone knew it. They even knew who’d killed him. All Birdie had to do was find a way to prove it.

She thought of Charlotte Stafford’s son Brand. He might be a way for her to get closer to his mother and the truth. She almost felt sorry for him. It wouldn’t be easy seeing his mother go to prison for murder, especially if he knew more than he was admitting.

Her stomach growled. She hadn’t had breakfast, and now it was past lunchtime. Sitting up, she put thoughts of the Staffords aside and headed for the café.

ATTHESOUNDof a vehicle, Stuart and the others seemed to flinch. “It’s Duffy.” They all three looked toward the front door as if hoping Duffy would come through it with Holly Jo. There was a chance that Duffy had found her walking down the road. That the girl had cooked this all up but now realized her mistake.

It felt as if the air was sucked out of the room as Duffy stormed in alone. His face was flushed, anger wafting off him like a bad smell. “I’m telling you, that kid, Gus Gardner, he knows something. His father’s protecting him.”

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