Heart of Mine (Bandit Creek) (14 page)

At that moment, she heard tires crunch on the drive directly behind her. She tore her gaze away from the devastation in time to see Sheriff Samuel Morgan unfold his lanky frame out of his black SUV. His movements were energetic for his fifty years.

The Sheriff approached with his hands open towards her. “I’m so sorry, Avy. I was waiting for you to drive past the office but Mrs. Olson phoned to say she’d seen you go past her place on Adam Street.”

He stopped beside her, looked at the ground, shuffled his feet and reached his hand out to her shoulder before dropping his arm back to his side. She remembered that he’d been awkward with Kirsten, his daughter. Kirsten was psychic and had found it hard being different in a small town too. Kirsten had been the closest Avy had to a friend growing up.

When the sheriff leaned close to her, she could see more than sympathy in his eyes. It was pain. “I didn’t want to tell you this over the phone.” He spoke softly. “Your parents were murdered.”

This time he let his hand go to her shoulder, squeezed a little, and looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t know what happened—yet, but I will find out.”

She opened her mouth to speak, ask questions or something, but no sound emerged.

To her surprise, the sheriff slid his arm around her shoulders, and then steered her back towards the driveway. She let him.

“
Why don’t you stay the night at Mrs. Turnbull’s,” he said referring to the B&B just east of the house on Lost Lake Road. We can talk in the morning.”

She looked at him, feeling dazed, and then nodded.

“
Do you want me to drop you there? I can have Adam—Deputy Medicine Crow—get your car over to you in the morning. We can talk then.”

A sudden movement behind them on the porch broke through Avy’s shock. Sheriff Morgan spun around with his hand on the butt of his Sig.

A dark form slipped out of the shadowed corner of the porch.

She couldn’t move, frozen in place by overstressed nerves and absolute terror.

The shape emerged from the shadows on the porch. Her mind registered four legs, thick dark brownish-black fur, a long snout showing razor sharp teeth–with a tongue lolling out.

The sheriff relaxed his stance, but kept his hand over his gun.

She caught her breath with effort but tried to keep her voice relaxed. “Well, who are you?” she asked the beast, now fully visible on the top step. He looked like a weird mix between a German Sheppard and a Poodle. “What are you doing so far from town?”

“
I’ve never seen him before,” the sheriff said.

As she took a step, Sheriff Morgan grabbed her elbow to hold her back. “Be careful. He could be wild.”

The dog cocked its head. It didn’t growl or bark at them.

“
He looks pretty docile, Sheriff,” she said, just as the dog loped down the steps towards them. He stopped four feet short of her position. Dark, intelligent eyes looked her over, ignoring the sheriff. The air around him seemed to shimmer, as if heat were rising from his fur. She was aware of a strange sensation in her chest and rubbed her breastbone to ease it as she looked back at him. Stress, she thought.

The dog gave his body a stretch followed by a vigorous shake, and then meandered closer to them. He plunked his rump at her feet and bent to clean himself.

Avy stifled the first laugh she’d felt in almost twelve hours. “Okaaay, gender confirmed,” she said. “Aren’t you a big boy?”

The sheriff dropped his hands to his sides with a chuckle too.

When the dog raised his head, she eased her hand towards his nose and let him sniff. She remembered her father approaching a wolf who had wandered into their yard when she was small. It had remained calm under his touch and left without incident. Her breath hitched as the thought brought renewed grief. She felt tears pushing at the back of her throat but fought off the urge to cry.

The dog gazed up at her with his big brown eyes looking sympathetic. She smoothed her fingers around his neck looking for a collar. Not finding one, she tipped up the end of his ear and looked for a tattoo. “Nothing.”

The dog nuzzled her hand with his nose.

“
Maybe he slipped his collar,” said the sheriff.

She gently stroked the soft curly fur above the dog’s eyes before looking at the sheriff. “What will happen to him if you take him into town?” she asked.

“
I can probably get the vet to kennel him for the night. If the dog isn’t chipped either, we’ll send him to the Humane Society in Missoula in the morning.”

The dog whined, nearly breaking her heart, which was already painfully damaged. Without a thought, she said, “He can stay with me tonight.”

“
Here?” The sheriff hesitated. “Avy, we only finished going through the house an hour ago.”

The air was suddenly too thick to breathe. Everything was happening too fast. Until this moment, she hadn’t had time to consider the house as a murder scene.

The sheriff continued, “The house was tossed. I was going to arrange a cleanup for you.” He shrugged his apology.

Hysteria screamed in her head but she clamped down on it, her body vibrating with the effort. “Someone wrecked our house? My parents’ house?” Her voice sounded weak. Strained. “My house?”

She fisted her hands feeling her nails bite into the palms. She would not allow someone to drive her from her home. She drew back her shoulders and raised her chin. “I have to come back here some time,” she said, dropping her hand down to rest on the dog’s head. “At least now I won’t be alone.”

Sheriff Morgan gave her a hard look but didn’t try to talk her out of staying. He probably remembered it wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead, he said, “Let’s talk tomorrow. Once you’ve had a chance to go through things, could you let me know if anything’s missing?”

“
Missing?” She felt numb. Inside and out. The sheriff’s words were coming to her in slow motion. “Was it a burglary?” She couldn’t imagine her parents having anything worth killing for.

She stared at him. Hoping he could give her some reason why this was happening. Why her parents were dead?

The sheriff shook his head. “We don’t know anything yet, Avy.”

They stood in silence for a moment, until he said, “Oh, there is one more thing.” He shoved his right hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small clear plastic bag. “I thought you might want these back—” He held out the bag and his face softened. “—Sooner rather than later.”

She stepped closer to him, took the bag and squinted to see what it contained.

“
Their wedding rings,” she said, mostly to herself. She opened the bag and spilled two intricately carved silver rings into the palm of her hand.

She stroked the larger ring gently with her finger, feeling the texture of the eagle wings. She could hear her father’s voice telling her as a child that he loved eagles because they were a symbol of wisdom and guardianship. She’d been about six years old and was learning about wild animals in school. When she asked her father about her mother’s animal, he said her mother felt like a mama lion because lions were the guardians and protectors of life. She asked what her animal was and she still remembered her father’s answer. She could be whatever she wanted to be.

Avy closed her fingers around the two rings and swallowed the tight knot in her throat. She looked back up at Sheriff Morgan. “They were wearing them when they died, weren’t they?” She already knew the answer. Her parents never took off their wedding rings.

The sheriff shifted his weight but remained silent.

After an awkward moment, he patted her shoulder one more time.

“
Make sure you lock the door when you go in. And if you get nervous tonight you call me at home, ya hear?”

He waited a moment longer, as if she might still change her mind about staying. Then he shook his head and returned to his vehicle. She watched him back down the lane. Then she turned her attention to the house, but felt rooted in place.

The feel of a slimy, rough tongue on her hand brought Avy back to the present.

“
We can do this,” she told the dog, not sure if she was reassuring him or herself.

A sting in her palm reminded her she still held the two rings in her fist. She hesitated then slipped both rings onto the second finger of her right hand so she could dig her keys out of her purse. At the front door, she took one deep breath, released it slowly, and turned the lock.

For the first few seconds, warm memories hid the destruction from her. Her mother’s herbs flourished on every windowsill. Lavender, valerian, mint. She suddenly wished she had shared her mother’s affinity for blending the aromatic concoctions. While her mother was content to spend hours in her garden, Avy always had to get away from town. Somewhere she could breathe in endless amounts of fresh mountain air.

Reality started to seep into her consciousness. The colorful trio of clay bowls her mother had made lay in shards just past the edge of the sisal rug. On the floor beside the table, lay a heavy silver frame with a picture of the three of them. Her family. The glass was shattered.

She fisted her hands and pushed them into her chest to stifle another sob. She bent, picked up the frame and hugged it to her chest. Caught in her anguish, she was startled when the dog beside her whimpered and rubbed against her leg.

She dropped to her knees beside him and buried her face in his silky fur. “What will I do without them? They were all I had.”

The dog rubbed his snout against her neck and whimpered as if he understood her pain.

“
Who on earth would want to kill my parents?”