Bitterroot Lake Alicia Beckman (highly illogical behavior .TXT) 📖

distance. Renee heard it too. Too loud for mice. What other wild creatures had taken up residence in the ice house?

“Taking care of your mother must be difficult,” she said. “You’re a good daughter.”

“You don’t know if I’m a good daughter or a terrible one. You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. That’s what people like you do.”

“People like me?” Sarah took another step sideways, aware of how far the door was.

“You don’t know. You and your millions and your big houses and your perfect life. You pretend to be interested in me. Lucas didn’t even bother.” She shoved one hand into her pocket.

“I understand why you killed him—”

“Do you? Really?” Renee was moving closer now, into deeper shadow.

Don’t lose sight of her.

“A good lawyer—”

“Righhht. You forget, he was a lawyer, too. Not a popular one, but no matter. No one will want to help me. I’ll be stuck with the stupidest public defender they can find.”

Where was the woman? Sarah was having trouble seeing her, seeing anything, in the fractured light. She had to get out of here. She had to find Holly and get out of here.

“Don’t do this, Renee. Your mother needs you.”

“My mother doesn’t know her ass from a teakettle. She can’t even wipe herself anymore. She’s run off every home health aide I’ve hired. I finally talked the memory care facility in Whitefish into taking her, so I could get away from here. Live a little, before I end up like her.”

Too late. This was the cost of bitterness. But Sarah was not going to pay the price.

“Then you came back to town,” Renee continued. “Lucas said you never would, not for more than a few days. But here you are, making plans. Make Whitetail Lodge great again.”

How did she know Sarah’s plans? Small towns … “Killing me won’t help. And you won’t get far.”

“Maybe not,” Renee said, but underneath her cackle, Sarah could hear her feet edging slowly closer. “But won’t it feel sweet, taking something from people who have more than they need, who will never even notice. My family’s been beholden to yours for a century. What’s that old line? Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb? Your sister’s around here somewhere.”

Did she mean to kill Holly, too? Did her rage and resentment extend to the entire McCaskill clan? And what about Vonda and Janine, who’d been in the law office at exactly the wrong time?

Dust motes danced in the faint beam of light. She’d never make it out alive.

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? That’s why you were driving down the trail between George’s place and ours the other day. Did you tell George about the deal? Did you think that would help you?”

“You can’t talk your way out of this, Sarah.” Renee raised her arm and pointed the gun, Sarah sensing the movement as much as seeing it.

Could she do it? She’d never been much of an actress, but her life might depend on it.

“Ah-ah-ah-CHOO.” The sound gave her cover and she reached behind herself to the wall, fingers scrabbling for something, anything. Touched a metal rod and tightened around it, tugging it free. A nail clattered across the floor and she heard the other woman stop, heard her swear softly.

Outside, an engine? Did Renee hear it, too?

In the shadows, they were quiet as breath. Then came the softest hint of movement and Sarah gripped the tool with both hands, like a baseball bat. Eyes on the ball. But she couldn’t see it. Could not see the woman.

Another movement and a whoosh of air. She swung hard. Hit the target, heard her cry out. Swung again, aiming the pointed prongs of the splitting fork where the woman’s right hand must be. Aiming for the gun, her arm. Anything.

A blast deafened her. She lunged forward, the fork in hand, aiming for the body. And knew with a sickening certainty that she’d found it.

Where was Holly?

Sarah used the belt from her jacket to tie Renee Harper’s hands and dragged her across the room to the sliding doors, where she ran a leather rope she’d grabbed from the tool wall through the handle of a sliding door, then wrapped it around the woman’s ankles. Not that she’d be going anywhere, bleeding as she was. And not that Sarah wanted her to die, but she wouldn’t mind if Renee lost consciousness and stopped screaming.

Back where they’d scuffled, she’d found the gun and run outside, gun in one hand, splitting fork in the other.

The rented SUV was parked where Holly had left it, listing to one side. The crack she’d heard had been Renee, shooting out a tire.

Another vehicle was approaching, though she couldn’t see the road. She ducked behind the SUV, peering through the windows. Out of nowhere came a streak of energy. A black-and-white dog, poking his nose at her. “Shep,” she whispered, grateful but confused.

A sheriff’s SUV came into view, another behind it, the drivers stopping well back of the ice house, as if according to a plan. Her cousin slipped out of the lead vehicle, gun in hand, gesturing to his uniformed deputy with the other.

“Leo!” she called, crawling out from behind the SUV. “Leo.” Then she ran to him, the dog behind her. Explanations tumbled out of her as she pointed to the ice house door and a whimpering Renee Harper.

“You okay? You’re not hurt?” he asked.

“Yes. No. But where’s Holly?”

No time for answers, as Leo and the deputy took charge. By the time they had Renee cuffed and were checking out her injuries, George arrived, emerging from the woods to stand next to Sarah. He ran his gnarled fingers over the dog’s ears, a shotgun in his other hand. For the first time, she noticed the ancient Chevy truck parked behind the small, square white house.

And then she heard her name and Holly came racing around the end of the pond, past the homestead shack, and into her arms. More deputies