Murderous Secrets: A Shandra Higheagle Mystery #4
Table of Contents
Title Page
copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
About the Author
Murderous Secrets
A Shandra Higheagle Mystery
Paty Jager
Windtree Press
This is a work of fiction, Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
MURDEROUS SECRETS
Copyright © 2015 Patricia Jager
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Windtree Press except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@windtreepress.com
Windtree Press
4660 NE Belknap Court
Suite 101-O
Hillsboro, OR 97124
Visit us at http://windtreepress.com
Cover Art by Christina Keerins
Published in the United States of America
ISBN 9781943601400
Chapter One
Shandra Higheagle sat up in bed. Her heart raced and her mind replayed the dream in vivid detail.
Ella, Grandmother, stood in the middle of stampeding horses. Her long bony finger pointed at a mangled body on the ground. Shandra wanted to turn her eyes from the sight, but the hat with the beaded hat band on the ground next to the mangled body brought a feeling of safety and love that eased her lonely soul. The wind shrieked. Shandra’s gaze flashed to her grandmother. Tears trickled down Ella’s cheeks. The horses stopped and all circled the body, their muzzles pointed inward to…her father.
Shandra scrubbed her face with her hands. She’d had this same dream every night for the last week. Finding the truth behind her father’s death was the only way she’d ever have a good night’s sleep and relieve her mind.
The red glowing numbers on the clock beside the bed told her she might as well get up. A couple more hours and Aunt Jo would be awake. She’d call, giving her aunt warning of Shandra’s arrival that afternoon. There was no sense in putting the trip to the reservation off any longer. Her mother and stepfather wouldn’t give her any information about her father’s death, but the Higheagle family, hopefully, would fill her in on the details she needed to know.
Sheba, her large, slobbery, mutt of several large breed dogs, raised her basketball-sized head and stared at her.
“I know, you don’t like to get up this early. I have things to finish in the studio if I’m going to the reservation today.” Shandra slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers and wandered out of her bedroom. A deep sigh and thud in the room behind her tipped her lips into a smile. Sheba might not like to get up this early, but she won’t allow me out of her sight.
Shandra continued through the great room, glancing at the laptop she’d left open on the heavy, wood coffee table. She’d run into dead ends while trying to search online for records of her father’s death.
On the way to the kitchen, her gaze landed on a photo of her father on the bookcase. He was holding up a large belt buckle and grinning. Her heart stirred, remembering those same hands holding her and whispering in her ear that life was a mystery and to live uncovering every clue. She’d only been four when her father died, but she remembered nearly every moment they’d spent together that year.
She walked over and held up the photograph and ran a finger over her father’s face. Memory was a funny thing. More and more of her fourth year on this earth came back to her as she dug to discover if her father’s death was an accident or intentional. She remembered traveling to the rodeos as a family, but then tagging along with her father because mom disappeared. Almost as if she didn’t want to be seen with her Native American husband and half-breed daughter.
She shook her head. “That couldn’t be. Could it?”
Sheba pushed against Shandra’s thigh with her head.
“I know, if you’re up, you’re hungry.” She ruffled the black fur on Sheba’s head and continued to the kitchen.
Shandra started the tea kettle, poured kibble into Sheba’s bowl, and refreshed her water. The kettle whistled. Plucking one of her own mugs from the open-front cupboard, Shandra poured steaming water into the cup and dropped in a tea ball with green tea leaves.
While the tea steeped, she debated when to call Ryan. While his office was all of Weippe County, his county detective work kept him stationed in and around the county seat of Warner. But if he happened to be in the area and stopped by, he’d get worried if she wasn’t home. Unlike her mother, who wasn’t so much worried about her daughter but about what rumors may get started by Shandra’s exploits, Detective Ryan Greer did genuinely care what happened to her. A smile started at her lips and infused joy in her heart. They’d only been dating three months, but she had a closer connection to him than any man in her life up to now.
Thinking of her last disastrous relationship, her brow scrunched and the joy seeped from her chest. If she’d been older, more worldly, she would have made that sadistic professor pay for the way he’d treated her.
Sheba woofed at the door, dissipating her anger. Shandra pulled on a coat, shoved her feet into fuzzy boots, opened the door, picked up her tea, and headed down the path carved in the eighteen inches of snow to the studio.
The moon still clung to the dark sky spattered with stars. A blush of pink flirted in the eastern sky. This time of morning held a special appeal for Shandra. The bright stars slowly fading as the sun crept over the horizon. The cold snow sparkled like diamonds and squeaked under her feet.
The promise of another day.
She stopped a moment to savor her life on the mountain. This ranch she’d purchased nearly three years ago had captured her heart from the first moment she set foot on the land. Finding the clay deposits she needed for her vases added to the feeling she’d found her home.
Sheba bounded out of the pine trees behind the house, studio, and barn. She skidded to a stop at the door to the studio.
Shandra laughed at the big dog’s puppy-like antics and continued to the studio. She opened the door, and Sheba lay down in her usual spot under the glazing table. As she grew, Sheba had learned to stay under the table to avoid being told to move every five minutes.
Shandra flicked on the bright overhead lights and headed to the kiln. The drying unit was filled with the small coasters she made as souvenirs for the local businesses to sell. They were mindless squares of clay she etched Huckleberry Mountain on and glazed. Lil, her employee and a stray t
hat came with the property, had learned how to make the clay squares, freeing up more of Shandra’s time to work on her high-end vases.
That was why she needed to get this load of coasters out of the kiln. She needed to start a slow glazing process she was perfecting on a vase she planned to reveal at a February art show in New Mexico.
“What are you doing up?” Lil’s voice crackled in the silent building.
Shandra spun around. Her fingers opened and several kiln-dried coasters sailed through the air.
“You don’t have to throw things at me.” Lil said, picking the shattered pieces up off the floor.
“You startled me. I thought Sheba and I were the only ones awake.” Shandra held back the grin twitching her lips. Lil had on a wild, purple flowered shirt under her usual, purple wool coat that she wore in the winter. Faded purple corduroy pants that had many ribs worn off covered the older woman’s legs. Lil’s short white hair stuck out in tufts under the lavender stocking cap on her head. Like a mink collar on the coat, a large orange cat hung around Lil’s neck. Both Lewis, the cat, and Lil came with the property.
The ranch had been in Lil’s family for two generations. But when the grandparents who raised her started having health issues, the ranch was sold to pay their doctor bills. There had been two owners between Lil’s grandparents and Shandra. Both had kicked Lil off the property when she tried to squat on the land. Shandra saw Lil’s skills and offered her a job. The eccentric woman made a room for herself and Lewis in the tack room in the barn.
“At this hour, it’s usually only Lewis and I that are awake.” Lil set the cat down on a chair and walked over to the kiln.
“I had a dream that woke me. I’ve decided to visit my aunt today and wanted to get that newly glazed vase in the kiln.” Shandra avoided making eye contact with Lil. The woman knew a bit about Shandra’s grandmother coming to her in dreams, but Ryan was the only person she’d told everything about her dreams. She’d had to or end up in jail for a murder she didn’t commit.
“Why this sudden trip to see your aunt?” Lil picked up several coasters and carried them over to the table housing Sheba.
“It’s not sudden. I’ve been thinking about it for a month.” Ever since she’d revisited Phil Seeton, a cowboy that had rodeoed with her father, and he’d suggested Edward Higheagle’s rodeo accident wasn’t an accident.
“You never brought it up.”
The accusing tone in Lil’s voice drew Shandra’s attention. She watched the older woman walk back to the kiln and reach into the depths. The large round ceramic oven appearing to swallow the woman up to her waist.
“That’s because I wasn’t positive I needed to go. I am now.” She waited her turn to grab more of the coasters.
Lil straightened from the kiln and peered into her eyes. “Detective Greer know you’re going?”
Her reference to Ryan as detective was typical Lil. Since Ryan had thought Lil had killed her fiancé thirty years ago, Lil hadn’t been too friendly with him. But she didn’t say anything about Shandra seeing him. Until now.
“I’m going to call him right after I call Aunt Jo and make sure this is a good day to visit her.”
Lil snorted and carried the last of the coasters to the table. “More like you were going to call him after you passed through Warner so he couldn’t stop you.”
Shandra shoved her hands on her hips. “Why would it matter whether or not Ryan cared if I went to the reservation? He isn’t my keeper.” That was why she’d kept their relationship at arm’s length. She’d had several men over the years who had dictated her life. She wouldn’t do that again. She was older and wiser than when she’d lived at home and been a college student.
“I seen the way you’ve had your nose in your computer. There’s something you’re digging up. From where I’m at, I see trouble.” Lil picked up Lewis. “I’m going to feed the horses.”
Chapter Two
Shandra held the phone to her ear and smiled. “Yes, Aunt Jo, I can make the trip easily today. Yes, I know there is a snow storm headed to Northern Idaho, but I’ll be headed to Northeast Washington.”
“I’ll be working at the Community Center until three. You can stop at the center if you get here before that. Otherwise, I’ll be home,” Josephine Elwood, her father’s sister, said.
“I should be at Nespelem before three, it’s only a three-hour drive in good weather. I’m figuring four hours today.” Shandra didn’t worry about weather in her Jeep.
“We’ll be looking forward to your visit. I have to go or I’ll be late for work.”
“Have a good day,” Shandra said and hung up. The next call wouldn’t be as easy. Ryan knew why she wanted to visit her family.
To stall, she walked into the kitchen and added more tea to her cup then sat down at the counter. She turned the phone on and found Ryan’s number. A deep breath fortified her and she tapped his name.
The phone rang several times and went to voice-mail.
He must be working.
The phone beeped.
“Ryan, this is Shandra. I’m headed to Nespelem for a couple of days. I’ll text you when I arrive so you don’t worry.” She tapped the phone and let the air out of her lungs. That was one bullet she’d dodged.
She cleaned up the kitchen and went into the bedroom to dress and pack clothes for a couple of days. The suitcase was packed and she was dressed when a jazz tune filtered into the bedroom.
Shandra ran into the kitchen, then hesitated to pick the phone up when she saw the caller. Sliding her finger across the screen, she took a deep breath and answered.
“Hello, Ryan.”
“What is this about going to Nespelem today? If you wait until the weekend I can take you.” His deep voice always soothed her. But his words riled.
“I don’t need you to take me to Nespelem. I’ve made the drive a couple times by myself.”
“Not during the type of weather we’re having now. There’s another storm coming through tomorrow.”
“I’ll be at Aunt Jo’s tomorrow. I won’t come home until the storm has passed.” Shandra had managed just fine the past seven years without anyone telling her what to do or when to do it.
“Why do you have to go today?” Ryan questioned.
“I had a dream. I have to ask my aunt some questions.” She inhaled and slowly let the air out. “Ryan, I can’t go on without answers.”
“I know. Everyone wants closure, but you can’t take the word of an old man who was drinking heavily at the time of your father’s death.” He blew out a long breath. “Shandra, I looked into the records, what little there were, and no one suspected foul play. It was an accident.”
Tears burned behind her eyes. She’d expected Ryan to do his own digging, especially, when he’d suggested she not stir up the past. Her last dream remained vivid in her mind. She couldn’t ignore the fact, it meant something.
“The authorities wouldn’t have looked for anything other than an accident the way it happened. Ella was in my dream last night. I can’t explain it, but I know he was murdered. I just have to piece it all together.” Shandra brushed the tear sliding down her cheek away. “I’ll let you know when I get to the reservation.” She touched the off button and stood in the kitchen watching snowflakes float by the window.
I have to know the truth. She shoved her phone in her purse and returned to the bedroom to get her suitcase.
Once everything was stowed in the Jeep, she turned to Lil who stood ten feet from the vehicle, one hand on Sheba’s scruff.
Shandra knelt in front of Sheba. “Be good. I’ll be back in a few days. You’ll have so much fun playing in the snow you won’t even know I’m gone.”
Sheba stared at her with sad puppy-dog eyes and licked her cheek.
“Don’t make me feel bad. This is something I need to do.” Shandra stood, wiped the slobber from her cheek, and peered into Lil’s eyes. “I’ll keep in touch, but I should be back in three days. When the kiln shuts off just leave the vase
in it. We are ahead on the coasters, but the lodge sent an order for one hundred. They want to be prepared for the Christmas shoppers. If you could box them up and deliver the order today or tomorrow that would be a big help.”
Lil nodded. “I’ll deliver them this afternoon.”
“Thanks. See you on Thursday.” Shandra climbed into her Jeep, waved at Lil with Lewis slung around her neck and Sheba sitting beside her, and put the vehicle in gear.
Chapter Three
Three and a half hours later, Shandra drove through Grand Coulee, over the bridge, and onto the Colville Reservation. This was only the third time in her life she’d visited here even though half of her heritage called this area home since 1885.
Nearing the agency, she glanced to her left and bobbed her head to the six metal root diggers, images of women digging roots as in days past, and continued on toward the Colville Agency. The snow had disappeared an hour earlier. The wind blew but the roads were clear and the traveling easy.
The agency had buildings scattered on both sides of the highway. To the right stood the tribal gas station and trading post. Behind it other new and old buildings that dealt with the needs of the people on the reservation scattered along narrow asphalt and dirt roads. To the left of the highway the community center sat looking inviting. Aunt Jo worked in the cheerful building as the community center coordinator.
Shandra turned left and parked in the small gravel parking lot in front of the center. She’d never set foot in the community center. Eighteen years earlier when she’d stayed with Ella, the old woman had kept her on the family horse ranch up the Nespelem River.
A half a dozen teenagers burst through the double doors, bounded down the stairs, and piled into a small car newer than her Jeep. She watched the back end of the vehicle fishtail as the driver gunned the car pulling out of the gravel parking lot. Shaking her head at their disregard for safety, she walked up the steps and entered the building.