he’d checked up on Kate, something she’d asked him to do before Christmas. She imagined that he’d forgotten, given everything that had been going on back then.
But when he spoke, all thought of Kate LaFond vanished.
“There’s something I need to ask you,” Frank said as he moved to the counter. He put down his soda can and with obvious reluctance took a small plastic evidence bag from a pocket. “I need you to keep this just between you and me, Lynette. I’m going to need your word on that.”
She nodded, wide-eyed. He knew her too well. People considered her a terrible gossip, Frank included. But she would do anything for Frank. Even keep a secret.
He flattened what appeared to be an old photograph inside the bag and pulled a magnifying glass from his other pocket. “I know it’s hard to see through the plastic, but I’d prefer the snapshot not be handled too much.”
Her curiosity piqued, Nettie took the magnifying glass he offered her and leaned over the photo. As it came into view, dread filled her.
“You know those people?” Frank asked.
She knew he’d seen her reaction. She suspected he’d had much the same reaction himself when he’d gotten a good look at the photo. “Where did you get this?”
“Can’t say.”
The fact that it was in an evidence bag meant it was part of an investigation. Her pulse pounded as she took another glance at the faces in the photo, turned the bag over to look at the back of the snapshot, then handed him the magnifying glass.
“Well?” he asked.
“You know as well as I do it’s the Ackermann family.” She couldn’t imagine what he was doing with that photo, let alone what it was doing in an evidence bag or why he was warning her she had to keep quiet about it.
“Who else have you shown this to?” she asked. All that awful stuff had happened more than thirty years ago. Only residents as old or older than her and Frank would remember. But it wasn’t as if everyone else hadn’t heard about what had happened up there in the hollow outside town.
“You’re the only person I’ve shown it to.” He shook his head. “I was hoping you’d tell me I was wrong.”
“I just don’t understand why you’d be asking about the Ackermanns. They’re all dead.” She saw his expression and her heart fell. “Aren’t they?”
“I don’t know what this photo means, if anything. I just had to be sure I wasn’t wrong. I need you to keep quiet about this, Lynette. I’m serious.”
“You don’t have to worry about me saying a word.” She shuddered at the memory of what Frank’s father, who was sheriff back then, and his deputies had found up in that valley more than three decades ago.
“I knew I could trust you. That’s why I brought it to you,” he said.
His words made her heart beat a little faster as he put both the evidence bag and the magnifying glass back in his pocket. She watched him finish his soda, seeing the weight of this on his broad shoulders.
“What’s that written on the back?” she asked.
He shook his head as he paid for the soda and candy bar. “It looks like hieroglyphics to me.”
“Or a map of some kind.”
He looked up at her, and for the first time, his gaze seemed to brighten. “A map? You know you really are an amazing woman.”
She wasn’t actually blushing, was she? Nettie quickly scooped up the money he’d put on the counter and busied herself putting it in the cash register.
“I’d better get going.” As he glanced toward the street, he let out a curse. “I promised you I’d check on your new neighbor.” The Branding Iron Café was directly across the narrow strip of pavement from the store. “I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.”
“You’ve had a lot on your plate with the Ginny West murder case.” The murder had gone unsolved for eleven years—until late last fall when some new evidence had surfaced.
“Still, that’s no excuse. I told you I’d do it and I will.” He frowned. “Did I see an Apartment for Rent sign in your front window?”
“You know I’ve been threatening for years to use that old apartment upstairs for something other than storage.” She and Bob had lived up there when they’d first gotten married, but only until their house on the mountain behind the store had been finished. “I know I can’t get much rent for it, but I thought I’d try. Would be nice to have someone living up there who can help keep an eye on the store,” she added quickly. She didn’t want him to think she needed the money. Nor did she want him to think she missed Bob.
“Good idea,” Frank said, but she could tell he was distracted. “Lynette, if you ever need anything—”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine, Frank.”
He smiled, the warmth in his eyes making her feel like a schoolgirl again. “Yes, you are fine. By the way, I like your new haircut.” Then he hesitated. “You won’t say anything about—”
“No.” She swallowed back the bad taste in her mouth at the mention again of the Ackermann family. She almost wished he’d never shown her the photograph. When she’d looked past the faces, she’d seen the cave behind the house, a thick wooden door covering the opening, and remembered what had been found in the cold, damp darkness behind it.
She shuddered, hugging herself, and said a silent prayer for all of them as she watched the sheriff leave.
* * *
JACK REINED IN his horse to look out across the wide, green valley. He breathed in the day, never more thankful than right now that he’d come back here. Next to him, the creek roared as it tumbled through large granite boulders. Farther away, calves bawled for their mamas in a field of tall, new green grass and wildflowers.
He loved helping with spring roundup on the W Bar G, gathering the cattle in order to tally the calf crop and getting ready to tag and brand. It was a big operation on this huge ranch. He’d been riding for two long days now, combing the breaks and coulees for cattle and heading them toward the central point where other riders kept the herd together until they could be moved down to the corrals for branding.
Each night he’d fallen dead asleep, saddle sore and exhausted, hearing the sound of lowing cattle even when he closed his eyes. The work had kept him from thinking about anything other than cows. But the spring roundup was now over, and he had to make a decision whether to stay on at the W Bar G, ranch his own place, or sell out and move on.
“You’re good with horses and cattle,” Destry Grant said to him now as they rode back down toward the main ranch house. “I need someone I can trust, and my ranch manager likes you. Not that Russell will go any easier on you than he does on the rest of the wranglers.”
He grinned at that as they dismounted. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Destry gave him a hug. “I’m glad you’re back. So is Carson.” Carson had been his best friend since they were kids. Jack had lied for him eleven years ago, knowing that Carson had nothing to do with the death of his former girlfriend Ginny West. He would do it again, since Carson was the closest to a brother he’d ever had.
But being under suspicion of murdering his girlfriend had been rough on his friend. Carson had enough to overcome after being raised by W. T. Grant, an overbearing, controlling father. Rest his soul in peace, Jack quickly added. W.T. had died late last fall, leaving the ranch to Destry instead of Carson.
“Carson’s doing okay, right?” Jack asked as they walked toward the big house her father had built.
“He’s not gambling and he’s paying back what he owes,” she said. “But I worry about him. I think he’s restless.”
“He