Page 4 of River Wild

Twelve minutes later, he was securing the crime scene site with one of his deputies keeping everyone away from the spot next to the county road along the Powder River. After taking photographs of the overall scene, Stuart jumped from rock to rock down the river to the body, hoping not to disturb any more evidence than had already been lost.

As he neared the body, he slowed, his stomach doing a roll. Jones was right. At first glance, the young woman lying dead in the creek could have been Bailey. They were close to the same size and shape, both with a head of dark, curly hair, both attractive young women, although Willow was about ten years younger.

Even though he knew it wasn’t Bailey, the knot in his stomach tightened, the pressure on his chest making breathing unbearable. She lay face down in about six inches of water, just as Jones had said. She was naked, her long hair floating in the water around her head.

Crouching down next to her, he swallowed back the sudden nausea, hating what he was about to see. Gently, he lifted her head so he could see her face. It wasn’t Bailey. He felt a guilty stab of relief even though Jones had said it wasn’t her. But the resemblance was uncanny—and startling since the last time he’d seen Willow, she’d been blonde.

His relief was followed by a heart-pounding need for justice. Wasn’t that why he’d talked himself into taking the sheriff job? This was someone’s daughter, a young woman in the prime of her life, murdered. He thought about how he’d feel if the woman in the river had been Bailey. He’d never condoned vigilante justice, but he’d never understood the need until right now. Someone hurts the person you love, you hurt them back. Another reason he shouldn’t be sheriff, he thought.

As if moving on rote, he lifted the victim’s shoulder to see the damage done to her left breast. His stomach lurched, and for a moment, he thought he’d be sick.

Stuart fought it back as he let go of her shoulder and stood awkwardly, balancing on the rocks, legs weak. This woman deserved the best criminal investigator around. It wasn’t him, he told himself. He couldn’t keep lying to himself. The “incident” had scared the hell out of him. He’d no longer been sure he could do the job. As he looked at the river water washing past her body, he feared he wasn’t the one to get her justice.

To make it worse, the river had washed away any evidence by now, which was why he suspected her body had been dumped here. Feeling as if he was sleepwalking, he took out his phone and photographed the scene, documenting it and the wounds on Willow’s body. But he couldn’t blot out the pain he saw on the young woman’s body. The ligature marks on her wrists and ankles and neck.

Forcing himself, he lifted her shoulder high enough that he could photograph what the killer had done to her. Bile rushed up his throat, filling his mouth, as he carefully lowered her back down and stood again.

His stomach cramped as he straightened and tried to breathe. The cool breeze coming down the river steadied him, allowing him to fight back the spasms as everything in his stomach fought to get out.Think like the law that you are.

Or walk away.

It was an option that had been in the back of his mind for weeks. He could quit. There was no shame in admitting that he couldn’t take it anymore. Hell, better men than him had walked away. He’d lied to the doctor. He wasn’t up to this. Not anymore.

Phone still in his hand, he made the call to the state boys in Billings.

BAILEYREALIZEDTHATthe news of her run-in with the law at the Billings Public Library had gotten out. She just hadn’t expected it to reach the McKenna Ranch so quickly. This morning, just before daylight, she’d left Stuart’s house and driven out to the ranch where she still technically lived. She’d gone to her wing of the new larger-than-ever ranch house her father had built after a fire had destroyed the old one.

She was almost thirty and still lived at home, but she hadn’t been able to force herself to move out. She had a love-hate relationship with the ranch. Also, she could come and go without seeing anyone, thanks to the private entrance she had insisted on during construction.

The huge ranch house was mostly empty. Her brother Cooper lived in the home he’d built on the ranch with his new wife, Tilly. Her older brother, Treyton, had his own place, so she never saw him, which was fine given his bad-tempered disposition, worse than her own. Her youngest brother, Duffy, was down in Wyoming, working in the oil fields. That left only her father, his teenaged ward, Holly Jo Robinson, and their housekeeper and cook, Elaine.

Since Holden McKenna had brought the then twelve-year-old Holly Jo home, Bailey had stayed clear of the girl. She tried to stay clear of her father as well, unable to explain even to herself her no-doubt unwarranted anger toward him. Knowing that he always took an early morning horseback ride, she left her wing to see if Elaine had made her usual blueberry coffee cake this morning.

“Bailey?”

She slowed to a stop at the sound of her father’s voice as she was passing the dining room. Why wasn’t he on his morning ride? Having no choice, she turned to face him. Holden sat at the head of the table. She wasn’t surprised to see Elaine sitting in the chair where her mother had once sat. At least, that’s what she’d been told. Bailey had been too young when her mother died to remember her now.

“Good morning,” Bailey said pleasantly enough, she hoped. “I was just on my way to the kitchen.” She started to leave, but her father stopped her.

“Bailey, wait. I need to talk to you.”

She tried not to sigh loudly and start an argument. She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture—let alone an inquisition as to why she had stayed so late at the library that she’d gotten locked inside. She assumed that was what this was about. It would be just like someone from the police station to call her father. But she especially didn’t want to get into what she’d been doing at the library—not just last night but for years.

When she turned, Elaine, also her father’s faithful co-conspirator, was on her feet. “I’ll get you some coffee cake. Would you like anything else?”

“Just coffee and a piece of the cake to go,” she said, hating her own discomfort. For so long, she’d felt apart from everyone—her family, but mostly her father and even Elaine, who was as nice as anyone could be. Much of the time, Bailey wished she was invisible and could just go through life not being seen at all.

“Come sit down,” her father said, and pulled out the chair next to him.

Feeling trapped, she walked into the dining room and sat down. When she looked at her father, she felt a shock. He’d aged. His usual salt-and-pepper head of dark hair was more salt now. His blue eyes were still bright, his skin tanned from his morning horseback rides now that the doctor had okayed them again. There were lines around his eyes and his mouth. She was reminded that he’d almost died not all that long ago after being shot several times.

There was no doubt that almost dying had taken something out of him. Yet he had the bearing of a man who was still strong and powerful. When she looked into his face, she realized how handsome he still was.

She felt a kindness toward him that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, reaching over to place one of his large, weathered hands over hers. “You know how important family is to me.”

She nodded, relieved when Elaine returned with several plates of food, fresh coffee and an extra place setting. But sensing that Holden wanted to talk to his daughter alone, Elaine excused herself. “I’ll leave you two alone. There’s fresh fruit and coffee cake, but I’d be glad to fix you something else.”

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