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When she finished, Sheriff Barron shook his head. “Her life was cut way too short. So, let me get this straight…she was eight and a half months pregnant when she disappeared from Idaho Falls. Seems to me we still need to solve two riddles—who the killer is and what happened to Beth’s baby.”
Cassie nodded. “Drake’s on his way out to Margaret’s to see if she remembers a Greenway Construction project in Idaho Falls. If so, we hope she can remember who worked on that project.”
The sheriff’s frown deepened. “Margaret came by the office yesterday and said she was afraid to stay at her house because she’d been getting too many threats.”
“Damn,” Cassie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “Do you know where she is?”
Sheriff Barron nodded. “I do. I sent her to my fishing shack with a cooler full of beer and snacks, a fishing pole and bait.” He grinned. “She was pleased to go. Said fishing relaxed her, even if she didn’t catch anything.”
“Can you shoot the location to Drake on his cell phone?” Cassie asked. “We really need the information only she can provide.” She sent Drake’s cell phone number to the sheriff’s phone.
Moments later, the sheriff had Drake on his way out to where Margaret would be happily fishing.
The sheriff’s cell phone buzzed in his hand, and he lifted it to his ear. “Sheriff Barron speaking. Hello, Marnie. Whatcha got?”
Cassie watched the man’s expression as he listened. Halfway through Marnie’s message, he shook his head, indicating it had nothing to do with the case Cassie was working.
“Tell her I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you, Marnie.” The sheriff ended the call and gave Cassie a crooked grin. “Someone took Mrs. Crabtree’s Cadillac for a joy ride last night. She wants me to dust for fingerprints and arrest the kids who did it.” He sighed. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Cassie shook her head. “Never a dull moment in Eagle Rock.”
“I could use a few dull moments,” the sheriff said as he left the building.
Intent on joining Drake out at Sheriff Barron’s fishing shack to interview Margaret, she left the building and turned to lock the front door.
Cassie’s cell phone rang in her pocket. She dug it out and noted Abby Matson’s name on the display. She answered, “Hey, Abby, how’s it going?”
“Not good,” Abby said, her voice catching on what sounded like a sob. “Can you come to my house? I need you to come now.”
“Are you okay?” Cassie ran for her car with the phone pressed to her ear.
“I’m okay,” Abby said. “But Mom—Linda isn’t.”
Cassie jumped into her SUV and started the engine while trying to hold the phone to her ear. “Where’s your father?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t come home last night. Cassie, he was so angry.”
“You asked him about the DNA results?” Cassie pulled out of the parking lot and onto Main Street, heading north. Abby lived with her father and Linda two miles north of Eagle Rock on a five-acre tract of land. Frank had built a four-thousand-square-foot house on a hill with views of the Crazy Mountains in his backyard.
Cassie had never been inside the home, but she’d passed by it often. The stately structure on the hill rose above the trees surrounding the base.
Less than five minutes from leaving the sheriff’s office, Cassie drove up the concrete driveway, parked beside the home and ran toward the front entrance.
Abby burst through the front door and ran down the porch steps, her eyes rid-rimmed, her hair in disarray. She flung herself into Cassie’s arms and shook with the force of her sobs. “She’s lost it. Linda’s completely lost it. And she’s got a gun.”
Cassie stiffened and moved Abby to arm’s length. “Where is she?”
“In the living room. She’s smashing everything. I tried to get her to stop, but she smashed the front of the gun cabinet and took out one of the handguns.”
“Do you know if it’s loaded?” Cassie asked, moving Abby to the corner of the house, out of sight of the living room windows.
“It wasn’t, but she found the drawer with the bullets. I tried to reason with her. I even knocked the box of bullets from her hand, but she wouldn’t listen. She yelled at me to leave her alone. She said I wasn’t her daughter and never was, and if I didn’t get the hell out of the house, she’d kill me like she killed her.”
Cassie’s gut clenched. “Did she say who she killed?”
“No, but she said she should’ve killed me when she killed her.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Cassie murmured. “The baby.”
