Isaac had told himself he wouldn’t mention it. It was better if he and Claire kept what they felt for each other on the down low. They’d have more privacy that way. But he was angry at Rusty for being stupid enough to let her walk alone so late at night, especially after the incident at Alana’s studio. Rusty was a sheriff’s deputy, for Christ’s sake. He, of all people, should have been more cautious.
There was another long silence. “I went back, looking for her. Spent over an hour driving up and down every street between the Kicking Horse and her place, but I couldn’t find her. What, did she call you for a ride? Is that how you know?” She had called him. She hadn’t said anything, but he’d known it was her, even though he’d had other women contact him from the same pay phone. Hayley Peters was one of them. She called whenever she got enough alcohol in her to lower her inhibitions. But he’d been expecting to hear from Claire all evening. So he’d taken the chance it was her and not Hayley, and he’d been right. “I happened to be driving by, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave her stranded.”
Rusty cursed, sighed and cursed again. “That was a mistake. I was…upset. Was she okay when you found her?”
“She was fine, no thanks to you.”
“I’ve tried to call and apologize. She won’t pick up.”
“I’m sure she’s asleep by now.” He wished that was the case. Then he could quit obsessing about her having a shower in his bathroom.
“I shouldn’t have reacted like I did. Of course she wants to take things slow.”
“You think she’s interested in you?”
“Why not? I care about her.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
He bristled again. “What happened tonight is none of your business. And neither is whatever happened to David.”
Isaac wasn’t willing to accept that. He had confidence in Myles King; Myles was a damn good sheriff. But as far as Isaac was concerned, Rusty wasn’t much of a deputy, and it was Rusty who’d been with David, not Myles. “Did you check to see if the hunter had any ties to anyone here in Pineview?”
“Why would I do that? It was an accident! Besides, who in Pineview had anything against David? And how would anyone here find, let alone hire, someone to kill for them?”
It was called the internet. Or friends of friends of friends. Montana had more than its share of gun lovers. And gun lovers had contacts regular people did not. Maybe killing for hire didn’t happen often, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. If someone didn’t want David delving into Alana’s disappearance, the chances of taking a bullet from a hired assassin were as high as getting shot by a random hunter. Rusty was letting his familiarity with this place and its people influence him too much. If whoever killed Alana—supposing she was killed—felt they were about to be exposed, they could easily decide to act again.
But confronting Rusty wasn’t working. Isaac decided it might be smarter to pretend he was backing off. Perhaps then Rusty would relax and lower his defenses. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be a stretch. Forget I said anything.”
He hesitated. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Except…”
“What?” He sounded leery.
“How did you know which hunter shot David? Did he come forward on his own?”
“No. He couldn’t find a downed bear, thought he’d missed his shot and was leaving the area. We tracked him ourselves.” Rusty was as defensive as ever, but at least he was answering a few questions—probably because he felt that being able to identify the shooter proved he was as competent at his job as he wanted to appear.
“And what’d the guy say when you found him?”
“He was shocked, said he was sorry. He’d just killed one of my best friends. What do you think he’d say?”
“Did he attend the funeral?”
“No, he felt that might be too upsetting to the community. But he sent Claire some flowers along with a hefty check to pay for David’s funeral. Said it was the least he could do.”
That meant Claire knew who he was. Maybe she had his contact information. “That is the least he could do.” And it would make his remorse seem all the more sincere.
“Now I have a question for you,” Rusty said.
Isaac tensed.
“Why are you bringing this up now? I mean, it’s been over a year since David died. If you thought he was investigating Alana’s disappearance and that’s what got him killed, why’d you wait so long to mention it?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
“You just found out.”
Isaac didn’t confirm it. The truth was obvious enough.
“Does this have anything to do with what happened to Claire last night at the studio?” he asked.
“You’re the sheriff’s deputy. You tell me.” Isaac was done with Rusty. He wasn’t going to learn any more from him, so he disconnected.
When he pivoted to return the phone to its base, he saw Claire standing in his doorway wearing one towel wrapped around her head and another around her body.
“What was that all about?” she asked, but judging by the stark expression on her face, she knew. He’d become so involved in the conversation he wasn’t sure exactly when the shower had gone off or how long she’d been listening, but she’d heard enough.
Isaac shoved a hand through his hair. He should’ve talked to her about this when he went to her house with those files. Or gone to greater lengths to keep his suspicions a secret. This wasn’t how he’d wanted the question to be raised. But now that she knew what he believed…there wasn’t any way to take it back. “Surely you’ve asked yourself whether or not David’s death was the accident you’ve been told it was.”
Her knuckles whitened as she clung to the towel she held closed at her bustline. “You think Les Weaver killed him on purpose?”
“That was the hunter’s name?” It was silly, even childish, for Rusty to refuse to answer; of course there’d be others who would know. It would’ve been in the papers, had Isaac been around to read them. He’d probably heard the name, just couldn’t remember. At that time, he’d been trying his best to ignore the whole situation, to ignore the fact that Claire was suddenly available again.
“Yes.”