Page 65 of Longest Ride

Pierre gave me a toothless grin and a shiver ran through me. He reminded me of a snake, and I didn’t know why. He held out his hand and helped me into his boat.

It was big enough but kind of tippy if you didn’t have your balance, and I didn’t have mine. I was dizzy from the whack Eldon laid on my head. The boat rocked, I stumbled and fell back against Carl.

Carl pointed to the seats, and I sat down still thinking about Eldon hurting me on purpose. Surprised the hell out of me, that’s what. I had no idea he was strong enough to swing that iron bar like he did.

Carl plunked his big body down next to me and pulled me closer. I leaned on him and closed my eyes as the boat picked up speed and the wind whipped through my hair. The spray coming up from the black river was cold and I was grateful Carl was next to me.

Maybe that’s why he wore a flannel shirt.

“It’s a long ride and we won’t be there for a couple of hours. You might as well sleep, little girl.”

“Thanks for taking care of me, Carl.”

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek. Montana.

As soon as Billy and I got to the station, Molly asked if we were going to Harry Fleming’s funeral.

“Yeah, we are,” said Billy. “We have next to nothing on the murders, and we’re hoping to see who’s talking to who at the funeral.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Molly. “The case is puzzling. I’ve been thinking about the murders every day since they happened, and I’ve read all the reports at least twice. I’m no further ahead.”

“Billy and I have toyed with the idea it might have been a contract killing. In that case, we need to find the person whohired the killer. If the shooter was from out of state, the best we can hope for is finding the person who hired them.”

“Be helpful if we knew thewhy,” said Molly. “Thewhyalways leads to thewho.”

Travis nodded. “That’s true, Molly. Why were those three people killed? If you come up with a motive for me, I’ll be in your debt.”

Billy nodded. “We need a motive bad.”

“I’ll think on that for a while today,” said Molly.

Travis hollered across the squad room at Ted, “Hold the fort while we’re at the funeral.”

Ted looked up from playing poker on his phone, his hat pulled down over his eyes, “Copy that, boss.”

Cut Bank Funeral Chapel. Montana.

Travis and Billy stopped off at the ranch and changed into their funeral suits an hour before the service.

A fifteen-minute drive across Route Two to the Wilson Funeral Home and they parked behind the building. There weren’t many funeral homes in Harrison County for the widow to pick from.

They sat at the back of the chapel and listened to the service Paula had arranged for Harry. When the formal part was over, a couple of buddies of Harry’s walked up to the lectern and said a few good things about their dead friend.

It seemed Harry Fleming was a big fan of hunting and fishing, and his best buds were going to miss him a lot. That was it.

The funeral director, Benson Wilson, wound things up saying, “Mister Fleming will be cremated tomorrow morning at ten a.m. if anyone wishes to be present. Everyone is invited to join Mrs. Fleming and share her grief at a small reception in our newly renovated lounge at the back of the building.”

“Let’s get a coffee and eavesdrop,” said Billy with a chuckle.

“I’m with you,” said Travis.

The spacious lounge area was set up with a buffet table loaded with finger foods, a coffee station at the end of the table.

Billy and Travis got coffee then stood back to watch and listen.

Wyatt Thompson walked into the room with his girlfriend, Stacey Croft, and he purposely ignored Billy and Travis.

Just as well. Travis owed Wyatt a punch in the face and was dying to deliver it in person.

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