Ms. Calculation Read online

  “Do you know where they dumped the hay from the stall?” Gwen asked, pulling him from thoughts of his family.

  “Oh, yeah,” Alli said, her sullen frown returning. “They always take that out to the gardens. It’s high in nitrogen so I’m always making it into compost for the beds. Why?”

  Gwen gave him a look, a look that told him that no matter how crappy he thought some of his investigations had been, they were going to be heading to entirely new levels.

  “No, Gwen.” He shook his head. “The team already went through the stall before. They didn’t find anything. There’s no point going through...anything.”

  “If you don’t want to get your hands dirty, Wyatt, that’s fine,” she said, but her tone told him there would be worse things than horse manure to deal with if he didn’t play along. “But this wasn’t their sister. I need to do everything in my power to figure out what exactly happened to Bianca. You loved her once too. I know. We both owe her to try our damnedest to solve her murder.”

  Alli visibly twitched. “Murder?”

  No. He hadn’t been ready for the rest of the world to learn what they had started to uncover.

  He shook his head violently...almost too hard to be convincing. “No, not murder. Bianca wasn’t murdered.”

  Alli raised an eyebrow. “Then what happened to her?”

  He took Gwen by the hand and led her toward the back door of the barn and the gardens. “I don’t know yet, Alli...but that’s what we’re hoping to find out.” Even if it meant getting his hands dirty.

  They grabbed a couple of pitchforks from the wall of tools and made their way from the barn.

  “Good luck,” Alli called from behind them.

  He couldn’t blame her for not joining them. Right now, he wished he was anywhere—even the prisoner transfer in Alaska—rather than here and having to do what needed to be done.

  As they approached the mound of compost, Gwen pulled a bandanna out of her pocket and tied it over her face in what Wyatt assumed was an effort to save herself from breathing in the scent of manure for the next hour.

  “Are you sure that you really want to do this?” he asked, sticking in his pitchfork and flipping through a frozen pile of the detritus. He could think of a thousand things he would rather being doing than going through a pile of compost for evidence they weren’t going to find.

  She gave him a glance and her face was pinched tight, as though she was as disgusted by this as he was. “Just look.” She scraped at the pile.

  He followed her lead, but all he could think of was how close they were and how much he’d rather be anywhere else with her.

  He worked his way through the hay as diligently as he could, given the circumstances. After ten minutes, the cold had started to nibble at his fingertips. They were never going to find anything.

  “Look...” she said, leaning down and pointing at something from her side of the mound.

  He moved closer to see what she was looking at. There, lying in the heap of refuse, was what looked like a small white pen. Bits of frozen hay were stuck to its sides.

  “What is it?” he asked, moving so he could take a closer look.

  “It’s a used needle,” she said. “And I bet you we just found the thing that killed my sister. Now we just need to find out who was holding it—her, or someone who wanted her dead.”

  Chapter Five

  Wyatt took the syringe and headed to Kalispell to hand deliver it to the crime lab. In truth, the last thing Gwen had expected was to find anything in the compost pile—it had been done on a whim, a dare she thought he wouldn’t accept. He had surprised her with his willingness to go along with her.

  Was it possible he was trying to impress her, or was he just trying to do whatever was necessary to keep her happy and quiet?

  She glanced down at her phone and pulled up his picture from when they were kids. He still had the same wide jaw and caramel-colored eyes of the boy she had once loved, but now there was something different—something that seemed to haunt him.

  Then again, she was the one with the most ghosts.

  She flipped to the next picture, the one of Bianca holding a handful of purple and yellow wildflowers. In the photo, Bianca was laughing, her mouth open with glee and her eyes full of life. She looked beautiful. It was one of those perfect moments when everything was going her way, and all the best of life was coming together.

  How quickly those moments faded and reality closed in, and the ghosts that floated through their lives returned. Gwen had her own secrets, but none were quite like Bianca’s. Gwen’s sister had a penchant for living life with one foot in the world of danger.

  Gwen slipped her phone back in her pocket as she thought about what she had to do. Her gut ached. Some of the secrets between her and her sister weren’t things she wanted to explore. Yet she needed to talk to her sister’s darkest secret, William Poe—no matter how badly she hated the man and the role he’d forced her sister to play.

  She glanced at her watch. The roads were a bit icy, but if she hurried she could catch him before he went to work and avoid Wyatt finding out what she feared telling him. Wyatt had always been kind to her sister and given her the benefit of the doubt about her choices, but if he found out what she’d really been doing, all of his good opinions of her would probably fly out the window. And if he wasn’t on her and Bianca’s side, it was unlikely that he’d put everything behind this investigation. He needed to be emotionally connected and remember Bianca as the person she really was—instead of the warped version that William had required her to become.

  If Gwen was going to protect her sister’s honor, she couldn’t let anyone else—not even Wyatt—find out the truth.

  She started the old Ford, letting it smoke and sputter to life. It rumbled as though even the truck questioned her plan, but instead of listening she pushed it in gear and drove toward the one place she said she was never going to return to.

  As she made her way down the frontage road that led to William’s house, she thought of the last time she’d seen the man. He and Bianca had gotten into a fight, and Bianca had called her—it was how Gwen had found out about their illicit affair. When Gwen had arrived at the man’s house, William had been standing on his porch half naked, screaming at Bianca and calling her every foul name Gwen could have imagined. Bianca had scurried from the house, wrapped in nothing more than his hundred-dollar sheet. Tears had been streaming down Bianca’s face as she threw herself onto the truck’s bench seat.

  Gwen glanced over at the truck’s seat. It had been just over six months ago, and though she had told Bianca to kick the man to the curb, as far as she knew, Bianca had gone back to him whenever his wife was out of town.

  Hopefully William’s wife wasn’t out of town now. There would be nothing better than confronting William about his mistress, and what he knew about her death, in front of his wife. In so many ways, Bianca’s life reminded Gwen of one of the many soap operas they had grown up watching in the days when they had only three channels—and the only thing on television when they got home from school was Days of Our Lives.

  She smiled at the thought of them balled up on the couch watching as the show revealed the latest secret baby. It was one of the reasons she had been hooked on reading romance novels. Even now her bedside table was covered with this month’s latest releases. It was her favorite vice.

  It wasn’t far from Dunrovin to the Poes’, but then again, nothing in this town was really that far. In fact, with a pair of binoculars and a high vantage, she was almost certain that she could see most of the town and its goings-on. The lack of privacy made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She hated the thought of how easy it was for her life to be tracked—who knew who all was watching.

  The Poes’ garage was separate from the house. A long, covered walkway was the only thing conne
cting them. As Gwen drove up the driveway, she noticed William standing in the walkway like he was waiting for her. He looked out of place standing there surrounded by the pine garlands with pretty white lights and the Santa Claus decoration in his front yard—it was almost like he was normal.

  It gave her chills. He wasn’t giving her a look that was particularly dangerous. It seemed more as though her presence, while not a surprise, was a nuisance. Had he had some clue she would be on her way to see him? Maybe he heard about Bianca’s death and was just waiting for her to arrive. Either way, the dislike she felt for him intensified.

  He ran his fingers through his waxed hair, making sure everything was in place, and readjusted his suit jacket before hurrying toward her truck. He motioned for her to stay put. She rushed to turn off the truck and slip out its door. She wanted to make him as uncomfortable as possible. He deserved to feel pressured by her being there.

  “Gwen, why are you here?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  “You don’t know?” She tried to read his reaction, but as a semi-politician his face remained placid. It made her hatred toward the county tax appraiser tick upward.

  “Gwen, I don’t have time for you or your sister’s games. She needs to just accept that we are over. I’m tired of her trying to manipulate me and you can tell her I said that.”

  So they weren’t together. Or was he just playing some kind of game with her?

  “You should tell her that yourself.” She felt the weight of the unspoken truth on her tongue, but she wasn’t ready to tell him about Bianca’s death. He didn’t deserve anything...no measure of kindness or pity.

  He turned to walk away, but she grabbed his arm and forced him to turn and face her again.

  “Gwen, I have to get to work. Seriously, just tell Bianca this has to stop. I’m not taking her back.”

  She hated the fact that she had no idea what William was talking about. Clearly he and Bianca had broken up, but when and why? Not for the first time, she wished she had talked to her sister more. Yet neither of them had really wanted to bring up the issue of William because Gwen hated the man, and she assumed Bianca was ashamed of her decision to be with such a shady person.

  William glanced toward his house, where the kitchen window looked out toward the driveway.

  “Is your wife inside?” she asked, taking some small measure of comfort that Monica might bear witness to some of her husband’s secrets.

  His eyes widened with what she assumed was fear. For a moment, she considered going in there and telling Monica exactly what kind of man William was. The poor woman needed to know the things he did when she was out of sight. Then again, some secrets didn’t need to see the light of day—especially when it involved her sister’s memory.

  Regardless of her desire to reveal the truth, he needed to fear her and what chaos she could bring to his life. She felt a bit ruthless, but she didn’t care. The man was one of the reasons she feared dating again. If all men were like him, with questionable morals and sharp, cutting tongues, she could live without them.

  Wyatt’s face flashed in her mind, but she pushed the thought of him aside. He wasn’t like William, but he also wasn’t interested in her. Wyatt didn’t seem interested in anything beyond getting her out of his hair so he could avoid her family’s drama.

  He’d always hated her family and their twisted dynamics—not that his upbringing was without its problems. Yet he hardly ever spoke of his time in the foster care system or the few years he’d spent with his real parents. In fact, in all the time they had spent dating, he’d only spoken to her once about it—and it was merely that he was thankful for what Mrs. and Mr. Fitz had done for him. It was just one of those things they skirted around, each of them fearing what the other would say or the memories it would bring to the surface. Some wounds just didn’t need to be exposed.

  If only she could say the same of having to deal with William Poe.

  William glanced back at her and had a scowl on his face. “Don’t bring my wife into this, any of this. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt just because your sister is angry.”

  “My sister isn’t angry. And there are worse things that would hurt her far more than my sister’s feelings. How about the fact that you screw anything that walks?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Gwen.” He said her name like it left a bitter aftertaste.

  She didn’t care.

  “When was the last time you saw Bianca?”

  “What?” He looked confused. “Why?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled, the motion dangerous. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Last week sometime?”

  “Where?”

  He stared at her as though he was the one trying to read her now. “At her clinic. Why? What are you trying to get at? Is she missing or something?”

  She stood in silence, not ready to say the words and acknowledge the reality of where Bianca currently rested.

  The back door opened and William’s wife, Monica, walked out with a dishtowel in her hand. Her dark hair was pulled back in a small, stylish chignon that made her look every bit the high-end antiques shop owner that she was. Over the years Gwen had gone into Monica’s shop, picking up odds and ends, pieces for the ranch, and once in a while even selling things her family didn’t need. Before everything with Bianca, she had thought the woman a friend, but thanks to her sister and her sister’s secrets, she had let their friendship dissolve out of fear she would be caught in the middle.

  Gwen sucked in a breath as she realized how, in this moment, that was exactly where she was.

  “Hi, Gwen. How’re you doing?” Monica asked, sending her a smile that made guilt roil within her.

  Gwen smiled. She could tell her right now.

  “Hi, Monica. I’m okay. You?” she asked, trying to sound as though she didn’t have a war raging within her.

  “Good,” Monica said, with a look that spoke of her confusion at why exactly Gwen was standing in her driveway and talking to her husband. “Do you want to come in and have a cup of coffee?” She glanced at Gwen’s clothes and added, “If you want you could come in and get cleaned up? What have you been up to?”

  Gwen looked down at herself and realized why the woman was offering. Her shirt was sprinkled with bits of hay and her shoes were covered in the filth of the compost pile. She must have looked like a mess to them, but no matter how bad she looked on the outside it was nothing to the mess she was within.

  “No. No, I’m fine,” she said, trying to keep her embarrassment from seeping into her voice. “I was just going.”

  “Is there something I can help you with?” Monica asked, looking to William as though she were trying to get a clearer picture.

  “No, honey, she’s fine. Just had a question about the Widow Maker’s taxes, isn’t that right, Gwen?” he said, leading her into the answers he wanted.

  As much as she wanted to tell him to pound sand, and tell Monica why she was really here, she bit her tongue. She hadn’t gotten the answers she needed from William—and if she started a war between him and his wife, she doubted she ever would. But his day was coming. William would pay for the way he treated women—and her sister.

  Gwen nodded. “I’ll stop by your office sometime soon. I still have a few more questions.”

  William gave Monica a quick peck on her cheek, like he hadn’t been kissing Gwen’s sister all that long ago. It made a feeling of sickness rise within her.

  Gwen turned away, unable to stomach watching the vile man any longer.

  “Have a great day, Gwen,” Monica called from behind her. “And stop by the shop sometime. I have some new things I think you’d love!”

  Monica sounded excited, and it made the hatred Gwen felt for William even more
palpable. Monica didn’t deserve to be treated the way William treated her—even if she didn’t know it.

  Gwen got into the truck and reversed down the driveway. As she stopped near the bottom, in the distance she could make out the profile of Wyatt’s squad car returning from Kalispell. He approached her truck, then slowed down and pulled to a stop beside her. He frowned as he looked at her.

  “What are you doing at the Poes’?” he asked, glancing up toward the house. His face contorted with disgust as though he held the same opinion of William Poe she did—but then again, William had a reputation. “You know William? How well?” He gave her a questioning look.

  Wait. Did he think she was here to see William for that? She blanched at the thought.

  “No. I came here...” she started, but if she told him why she was here she would have to tell him about Bianca’s relationship with William. If she didn’t he would assume she was the one sleeping with William. Both options made her want to turn and run.

  She stopped. There was no right answer here. “I was just about to run to take a shower.”

  The disgusted look on Wyatt’s face disappeared and she caught a glimpse of a naughty smile. Was he thinking of her in the shower? No. She must have had it all wrong. He was probably just glad she was leaving the Poes’.

  “Are you going home?” he asked.

  She glanced down at her pants and realized that if she went home, her mother would likely be waiting to barrage her with a litany of questions about Bianca and what she and Wyatt were working on. Gwen didn’t know if she was ready to face her mother. Not yet anyway.

  “I...uh...” she stammered. “My mother is probably up.”

  “It’s almost noon.” He glanced toward his dashboard, where there must have been a clock.

  “She hit the bars again last night. Didn’t come home at closing time. Nights like that, she normally comes rolling in about the time the man she went home with wakes up and finds her in his bed.”