Stripped Bare (4 page)

That put me on the fight. “I know he didn't kill Eldon. And if you won't find out who did, I'm going to have to.”

Milo rocked back on his heels. “Now you just stay out of this.”

If Milo thought I'd stand back and do nothing while he arrested my husband for murder, well, he didn't know a damn thing about the Foxes. “You don't honestly think Ted did it.”

Milo sucked his toothpick. “I don't know, Kate. Hard to dispute the signs.”

I focused long and hard on Milo. “How many times has Ted covered for you when you were on vacation or needed some time off?”

Milo scowled at me. “I can't do favors just because we're friends.”

“This isn't a favor. Ted didn't kill Eldon. All I'm asking is to hold off anything official until Ted wakes up and can tell you what happened.”

Milo took the toothpick out and jammed it into his pocket. He hemmed and hawed for a few seconds. “Fair enough. I'll have the hospital call me when Ted comes around.”

Satisfied that I'd kicked that can down the road, I inhaled. “Thank you.”

Milo gave me another of his caring looks. “Yep.”

I watched Milo's elephant-trundle to the front door before I headed back to ICU.

I had several more turns to stand beside Ted's bed and watch the machines flash and see him not move. Aunt Tutti urged me more than a half dozen times to go home. “You need to take care of yourself or you'll be no good to him when he wakes up.”

A couple of hours later, with no change in Ted's condition and little indication he'd wake soon, I took Aunt Tutti's advice. I left Dahlia and Roxy at the hospital to guard over Ted. I needed to be back here when Milo showed up. If Ted didn't know who shot them, I'd best have a suspect or two to toss to Milo.

A ribbon of pink outlined the eastern horizon. I had a lot to do before I made it back to Ted's side, and I couldn't do it without a little sleep.

After countersteering across a patch of black ice, I tried Carly's phone again. Robert answered. “I found her phone under a blanket on the living room floor. No Carly, just the phone. Looks like you had a wrestling match in here.”

“She's not much of a housekeeper.” Carly was all bursts of passion, mixed with moments of wisdom and insight, swirling in motion. No telling what prompted her flight this time, or how far she'd gone.

Robert gave me the update. “I threw a few bales of hay to the cows in the lot and fed the barn cats. You had three new calves and everyone looks happy.”

Everyone but Ted and Carly and a whole herd of other people, including me. “You're the best brother in the world.”

I heard the smile in his voice. “Why, yes. Yes, I am.”

“But if you tell Michael, Douglas, or Jeremy”—my other brothers—“I said so, I'll call you a liar.”

Cupboard doors squeaked open and banged closed. “Jeez, you have nothing to eat here. Aren't you supposed to be raising a kid? How do you manage that without feeding her?”

“Carly's capable of grocery shopping and cooking. I'm preparing her for the real world.”

He laughed. “In true Fox fashion.” He crunched something, probably a handful of cereal. “When are you going to get another dog? The place feels lonely without Boomer.”

Our old boxer hadn't made it through the winter, and my broken heart had barely scarred over. “Maybe later this spring, after brandings.”

He smacked his lips. “A place needs a dog. Keeps the bad element at bay.”

Right now, the worst element in my life was a suspicious county sheriff. A ranch dog wouldn't chase him away.

“How's Ted?” Robert asked. “Wait. Before you answer, let me hang up Carly's phone and call you on mine. I need to get back to my own cows.”

When Robert called back I gave him the medical assessment and left out the bit about Milo fixing to arrest Ted. I hoped I'd get that straightened out soon enough and wouldn't have to bother anyone with it. All I needed was another suspect or two, to get Milo off Ted's back.

His pickup door slammed and the engine started. “You don't know who shot them?”

“Nope.”

The farm report blasted on the radio before he turned it down. “People are going to want to know why Eldon got shot and who did it. If you can't come up with something to calm them down, they're going to think a Charlie Starkweather is on the loose.”

We didn't need people getting all panicky and recalling Starkweather, Nebraska's most infamous criminal, who went on a statewide random-killing spree in the late fifties. “I'm not the sheriff. Why would they ask me?”

Robert guffawed. “Because they can't ask Ted, for one. And because everyone knows you're the brains of the Frog Creek outfit.”

I needed to deflect Milo's suspicions. With elections coming up, that kind of gossip wouldn't do Ted any good.

“Sarah's calling. Talk to you later.” Robert hung up.

I liked Milo, had known him all my life, but he never struck me as a go-getter. I pictured him having coffee and sweet rolls with his cronies, more than chasing clues and hunting a murderer. Robert was right. If someone was going to sleuth out the real criminal, it was going to have to be me.

Exhausted but wired, I slowed to idle through Hodgekiss and noticed Dad's old Dodge pickup parked in front of the house, with no frost on the windows. I ought to get some sleep before I tackled the job of tracking Eldon's killer, but Dad knew the history of Grand County—who had grudges and might wish Eldon harm. If I could get him to talk, it might expedite my search.

Really, I just wanted the comfort of my parents' warm kitchen. I pulled Elvis in front of the paint-challenged house by the side of the railroad tracks as the brittle April sun struggled to rise.

Because the railroad depot was the first building in Hodgekiss, in 1889, and the main reason for the settlement, the town had grown up along the tracks. In Hodgekiss, there was no “wrong” side of the tracks.

I dodged a tricycle, a faded plastic wagon, and other toys strewn by Fox grandkids. Even before I opened the door I nearly gagged on the smell of bacon. Guess maybe I wasn't as immune to trauma as I thought. Instead of turning into a blubbering heap like Roxy, I fell apart intestinally. As I'd learned in Psych 101, stuffing feelings could lead to all kinds of gastric difficulties.

I entered from the side door. Mom's joke on herself was to decorate the kitchen like a sixties sitcom. As is typical in houses nearing their century mark, the kitchen was huge. Handmade cabinets, soft from countless layers of paint and currently a bright white, rose to the ceiling above red composite countertops that lined two of the walls. A recently installed island with a butcher-block top added more work space—something that was needed when all nine Fox kids, their spouses, and a gaggle of grandkids gathered.

White curtains with red polka dots hung at the windows in the door and above the sink, but the picture window along the front of the house remained bare, letting in maximum light. Even though she didn't use them often, all the small appliances were red and retro or covered with vintage cozies.

Dad stood at the stove in his canvas Dickies, stocking feet, and faded hoodie. He glanced up with tired eyes. “Hi, Katie. How about some eggs?”

Even the word brought bile to my throat. “No, thanks.” I dropped onto a step stool next to the butcher block. “Did you just get in?” For almost forty years Dad had been a conductor on the BNSF. We grew up with his intermittent presence. Out on the road for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, home the same, sometimes more, sometimes less. Taking calls to go to work at all hours. Unpredictable and variable. Still, he was the most stable parent of the two.

He cracked two eggs into the pan and poked at the sizzling bacon with a fork. “Worked all night from Lincoln.” Ropey, with thinning gray hair, Dad spoke low and slow, never raising his voice. “They” said he was one tough cowboy, riding barebacks on the rodeo circuit before he went into the army, but he only showed us kids a gentle side.

“I heard about Eldon. And Ted.” Yeah, I'd figured. Even though he was on the rails half the time, Dad's sources kept him informed through a system that would make the CIA envious.

A desert of sand drifted in my eyes, and my shoulders knotted tighter than a pony's backside in a dust storm. I slumped over my knees. Between Eldon's death, Carly's disappearance, Ted's prognosis, and the stomach-churning thought of Milo's suspicions, I didn't know which problem to focus on first.

Dad lifted a slice of bacon with a fork and laid it on a paper towel. He tilted the pan and slid his eggs onto a plate. “What do you suppose happened out there?”

Not whatever fantasy Milo dreamed up, that's for sure. I closed my eyes. I figured Eldon was the main target and Ted got in the way. Eldon owned one of the oldest and biggest spreads in the Nebraska Sandhills, probably close to one hundred thousand acres. Land didn't necessarily translate into big cash flow, though. Even if it did, Eldon was so tight he'd squeeze an ant for the tallow.

I looked up at Dad, hoping he'd cough up some gossip. “I thought everyone liked Eldon.”

Dad carried his plate to the rustic picnic table. The table didn't match Mom's decor, but she bowed to practicality. With a bench along the wall and mismatched chairs on the outside edges, the picnic table accommodated a whole passel of Foxes. Dad built it after Michael and Douglas, the twins, numbers six and seven, were born. As Fox number five, I'd been squeezing onto that bench most of my life.

Dad sounded more sad than tired. “I can't think of anything worth shooting someone over.” He'd spent a year in Vietnam and had returned a pacifist.

I stared at the black kitty-cat clock with its rhinestone-encrusted tail that ticked the seconds. I intended to ask Dad about Eldon's enemies, but my mind shifted.

Carly hadn't been home last night. My concern registered about a five on the Carly scale. Unfortunately, Carly had the tendencies of a beagle: at any moment, she'd slip out the open door and make a run for it. Mostly, she made her way home on her own. Sometimes I had to grab the leash and go after her.

Dad worked on his breakfast while bright sunshine streaked across the floor from the picture window.

When I found Carly, what could I tell her? She'd been close to Eldon, and his death would flatten her. I had no clue who shot Eldon, and she'd want answers.

The basement door creaked open and a phantom drifted into the kitchen. In her silky blue kimono and bare feet, Mom floated toward Dad and bent to kiss his rough cheek. “I thought I heard you.” She flicked her wild snaggle of wavy hair from her face. She'd thrown me the chromosome for the same hair, only mine was still dark; hers shimmered in a silver halo. She smiled at me with even, white teeth. “Good morning, love.” She glanced at Dad's plate. “It's morning, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, she wafted to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Is there any tofu left?”

Dad soaked up egg yolk with his toast, knowing Mom didn't expect an answer. “How's the new piece coming?” he asked.

Mom turned red-rimmed eyes to him. “It's taking my very soul.” This meant that the sculpture she was crafting in her basement studio was probably pretty good. Mom pulled out a Mason jar half full of green liquid and walked to the sink to gaze out the window. She unscrewed the lid and drank the thick concoction. Bright bits—maybe spinach, maybe kale, maybe chunks of vegetable-coated granular protein—stuck to the sides of the jar.

Dad took his plate to the sink, and they stood so close together their hips touched. No words, no deep, soul-searching glances, but total trust, respect, and understanding flowed between them, almost palpable enough to smell.

I picked up my phone from where I'd dropped it on the butcher block. The number I wanted fell to the bottom of my Favorites list, not because I didn't love her as much, but because Susan was Fox number nine. I punched, knowing it was way too early for a college kid to be up.

A groggy voice answered after several rings. “Christ, Kate, you couldn't wait until daytime to call?”

“Better not let Dad hear you talk like that.”

“Go to hell.”

Enough of this small talk. “Have you seen Carly?”

Slight pause. “Carly?” Obviously, Susan was stalling, trying to think how to answer.

“Is she there?”

“Is she supposed to be?”

Lincoln, where half the Foxes had attended the University of Nebraska, was a three-hour drive from Hodgekiss. Maybe Carly drove there last night, or was on the way. “If she shows up have her call me.”

Susan sounded alert now. “You don't know where she is?”

That was becoming an irritating question. “I haven't talked to her since yesterday morning, and she left her phone at home.”

At nineteen, Susan knew it all. “Way to be a responsible guardian.”

“Just let me know if she shows up.”

Susan yawned. “Okay.”

I wanted her to understand the importance of my request. “Eldon died last night.”

It sounded like Susan's lungs collapsed. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

With only two years separating them, Carly and Susan were as close as sisters. “That'll kill her.”

I filled Susan in on the sketchy details and hung up to the sound of Mom and Dad's kiss.

Fortified with her vegan protein shake, Mom started back downstairs, where she'd shed the kimono and resume work.

Dad poured himself another cup of coffee and took the lid off the cobalt-blue ceramic cookie jar. Mom's artwork popped up all over the house. He swung the jar in my direction and offered me a sample. I shook my head.

He set it down, reached in, pulled out two plate-sized chocolate chip cookies, and hauled them to the table with his coffee. He lowered himself down.

I had more than sugar on my mind. Once I gave Milo a better suspect for Eldon's murder, I could concentrate on finding Carly and breaking the news about his death, and then move on to Ted's recovery. “Do you know anyone who had a grudge against Eldon?”