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  They hadn’t gone very far when Luke started to talk again. “I need to tell you something I found out yesterday. It’s not about Nikki. At least I don’t think it is.”

  “Sure.” Huff. “Go ahead.”

  “I picked up the mail yesterday afternoon when everyone else was still out searching. There was a letter for my dad. It was from a bank in Missoula with a confidential stamp. I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought maybe they’d tracked Nikki using her credit card and so I opened it right away.”

  “What was it about?”

  “Nothing to do with Nikki, of course. Apparently the bank is calling in a loan—a really big loan—that I didn’t even know we had. I’m pretty sure Mom is in the dark too, because just the other night she and Dad were talking finances and she mentioned with cattle prices so low it was lucky they didn’t owe any money.”

  “Maybe that loan is why your father wants to sell those fifty acres to the property developer.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t make sense to me before, but now it does. I wonder if Dad told Tom about the loan and if that’s why Tom is backing the deal, too.”

  “And your uncle...?”

  “Clayton’s name is in the letter, alongside my dad’s, so he must have gone in on the loan. According to the letter, both my dad’s and my uncle’s shares in the Lazy S were given as collateral.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “Damn right. I wonder if Grandma knew about the loan.”

  Zak was willing to bet she hadn’t. But it was possible Nikki had.

  Derick called Tiff on Friday just before lunch. She was in the barn, in the back office, helping with the paperwork so Kenny could harvest more trees with the rest of the crew. The first weekend of December was upon them and they were about to be slammed with the biggest crowds yet that evening and throughout Saturday and Sunday.

  She was tempted to let the call go to messages. But she had a lot riding on Derick’s business. He had to feel like he was top priority.

  She put a heavy glass ornament on top of the stack of invoices she’d been processing and took the phone with her to the window. Please let him be calling with work. She took a deep breath.

  “Hey, Derick, how are you?”

  There was a slight pause. “I’m okay, Tiff. Wish I was calling with better news though.”

  Tiff slowly sank until she was crouched on the floor, her back to the hard plank paneling.

  He couldn’t be saying no to her. He was her friend and she knew she could help him.

  “I’ve been waiting for your email. Is there a problem?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t hire any of your services right now. There just isn’t room in the budget.”

  “Sometimes getting the right accounting advice can actually save you money. I wouldn’t want to make any promises. But I have seen it happen.”

  “Maybe next year. Once things have calmed down around here.”

  “But it’s precisely because of all the upheaval that you need advice, Derick. You want to make sure you structure your separation agreement so that it will be advantageous from a tax point of view. Next year might be too late.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s complicated, but I have to say no.”

  Tiff stopped herself from saying more. She didn’t want to beg for his business.

  But only once she’d said goodbye did the reality hit her. She’d thought it would be so easy to start her own business in Lost Trail. Not only had she counted on the goodwill of her family name, she’d also hoped people would respect and trust her, as a person.

  But not a single local business owner was willing to give her even a small amount of work.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Saturday, December 2

  For days Justin looked forward to Saturday and spending the evening with Debbie-Ann. The anticipation drove home how lonely he’d been. Becoming Geneva’s father had filled a massive hole in his life—the desire to be a father and to care for and love someone who needed him. But not since his college days had he enjoyed the company of people he could relax with and be totally himself.

  Back then Willow was one of those people. But the Willow who returned to Lost Trail this summer was different. Guarded. Secretive. Her past history with Paul was a wall between them.

  It had been such a relief to talk about his college days with Debbie-Ann and to admit the truth about his relationship with Willow. Tonight, though, he wanted to get to know her better. And he also needed to tell her about his illness. Though maybe she’d already heard since news of his cancer was spreading fast thanks to the donor clinic.

  Before dinner with Debbie-Ann and her daughter, Justin had a day to spend with his daughter. He was looking forward to it. For breakfast he made her favorite: pancakes and strawberry-banana smoothies. The deal was they would take Dora for a long walk and after that go to Raven Farms to pick out their Christmas tree.

  “I’ve never had a real tree before,” Geneva confided after they had finished eating and were out walking Dora.

  He’d given her the bag of dog treats to hold. Every time Dora sat nicely at a crosswalk she was supposed to get a reward.

  “Did your mom and Paul have fake ones?”

  “No trees. Mommy liked hot places for Christmas. With beaches and the ocean.”

  “Did you put out a stocking for Santa?”

  “No, but Mommy bought me presents. I opened them in the morning before we went to the beach. Then a sitter would come and stay with me so they could go to a fancy restaurant.”

  Justin cupped his hand over Geneva’s head, unable to speak for a moment. Willow and Paul had stripped all the magic from Christmas if all they’d done was buy their daughter a few new toys.

  When he trusted his voice he told his daughter that they celebrated Christmas the old-fashioned way in Lost Trail. “You’re going to help me pick out a tree today and we’ll bring it home and put it up in the house. Tomorrow, after it’s thawed, we’ll decorate.”

  “Yay! Can I make some more snowflakes to put on the tree?”

  “You bet.” Justin hadn’t had a tree since he’d moved away from home, so he didn’t own a stand, lights or any ornaments. He hoped he’d be able to pick up all that at the Raven Farms gift shop. Once he had the basics, Geneva’s handmade decorations would be the perfect touch.

  “Maybe Santa will come this year if we have a tree.”

  “If you hang a stocking by our fireplace on Christmas Eve and set out milk and cookies I promise he will.”

  “Pinkie swear?”

  It was a new phrase she’d picked up at the day care. He suppressed a smile and held out his little finger. “Pinkie swear.”

  By the time Debbie-Ann and Ashley showed up, Justin had steaks marinating in a spice rub, homemade mac and cheese baking in the oven, and sliced raw carrots and sweet pepper out on the counter for snacking. The veggies were a last-minute addition, so Debbie-Ann wouldn’t judge him.

  Geneva, watching at the front window, ran for the door before their guests had a chance to press the doorbell. They came in with a gust of the arctic air and Justin hurried to shut the door behind them.

  “It smells good in here!” Ashley sank onto the floor to tug off her boots. Before Justin could put them in the closet, Dora snatched one and ran triumphantly down the hallway. Geneva and Ashley chased after her, shrieking.

  “Dora! Give that back!”

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “Dora’s puppy training is obviously a work in progress.”

  Debbie-Ann handed him a poinsettia plant. “Don’t worry about it. The kids love the excitement.” She looked through to the living room. “You’ve put up your tree! It’s beautiful—is it from Raven Farms?”

  “Yes, Geneva and I picked it out this afternoon.” He put the poinsettia on the top of the table where Dora couldn’t reach it, then hung Debbie-Ann’s coat and showed her where to put her boots so the pup wouldn’t find them. “We went the whole nine yards—did the hayride and had cookies and cocoa at the fire p
it. It’s great to have a kid so you can do all the stuff you secretly want to do even though you’re an adult.”

  “Like go see kid movies at the theater?”

  “Exactly.”

  Ashley and Geneva came running back into the room with Dora in pursuit.

  “We got the boot!” Ashley handed it to her mother so she could put it in the closet.

  Justin offered the girls one of his famous smoothies, which Geneva assured her friend “doesn’t taste healthy at all.” When they were done drinking, they scooted back to Geneva’s room so she could show her new friend all her toys.

  “So what can I get you?” Justin asked. “Eggnog and rum? Red wine?”

  “Oh the eggnog and rum. Definitely.” Debbie-Ann made herself comfortable at the island and crunched on a carrot stick.

  He could sense her watching as he mixed their drinks. When he turned around she lowered her eyes, but not before he saw her concern.

  He passed her a drink. “My symptoms aren’t that bad, yet. I feel fine.”

  “So it’s true?” Her voice was warm, full of sympathy.

  “I have Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Yes.”

  Debbie-Ann cupped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes teared up. After a few moments she said, “Sorry. Hearing you say that just made it seem so real.”

  “But you’d already heard?”

  “Farrah Saddler brings her little guy to my day care. She told me yesterday about the donor clinic and why they were having it.”

  “Dad just gave me the heads-up yesterday. Sorry I didn’t have time to warn you.” He was touched she cared enough to shed a tear.

  “How long have you had it?”

  “I was first diagnosed almost two years ago, long before Willow and Geneva were in my life.” He explained how he’d gone through treatment last fall and winter, and the hopes that the cancer had been beaten.

  “And you didn’t tell anyone you were sick back then? Not even your father?”

  “Least of all my father. He would have been so worried. I hoped to spare him that.”

  “I’ve never met anyone who protects his family as much as you do. It’s almost like you’re the parent.”

  “It was really brutal for him to lose my mom when they were both so young. A lot of people have told me how much in love they were. Not that I needed to be told. It’s obvious from the pictures taken when they were dating and in the early years of their marriage. They’re never looking at the camera, always at each other.”

  “That’s so sweet. It’s sad your mother died young, but at least they had some happy years. There are people who never find a love like that their entire lives.”

  The naked vulnerability in her voice made him guess she put herself in that category. “What about Ashley’s father? Did you love him that way?”

  “No. I was young and foolish when I fell for him. Very, very foolish. Ashley’s met him, but he isn’t in our lives in any meaningful way.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s always a mixed blessing when a woman has a baby with a man who turns out to be a jerk. On the one hand you’ve wasted your love on someone who didn’t deserve it. But then you also have this very wonderful child. So how can you regret it?”

  He nodded. “Mixed blessings.” He had a few of those in his life too.

  The strident buzzing of the oven timer interrupted the conversation and reminded him he was off schedule.

  “Heck. The pasta’s ready but I haven’t grilled our steaks, yet.”

  Debbie-Ann peeked into the oven. “No problem. I’ll cover this with foil and lower the heat. It should be fine for fifteen minutes or so.”

  Justin concentrated on grilling then, making sure the steaks were done to order. Then the kids joined them and they ate their meal, after which they played a few rounds of Candy Land.

  It wasn’t until Debbie-Ann and Ashley were about to leave that he returned, discreetly, to one of their earlier topics.

  “I have some...appointments tomorrow. In Missoula.” His oncologist had scheduled a bunch of testing. To say he was dreading it was a huge understatement.

  She caught his gaze, and nodded seriously. “Okay. Geneva will be fine with me.”

  “I hope I won’t be late picking her up...but these things are difficult to predict, time-wise.”

  Debbie-Ann put her hand on his arm and squeezed softly. “Don’t worry. If you aren’t back by six I’ll take Geneva upstairs to our apartment.”

  Emotion clogged his voice again. It had been a long time since he’d felt he could totally count on someone. Debbie-Ann’s friendship felt like the only lifeline he had.

  Since his run with Luke on Friday, Zak couldn’t stop thinking about the Stillman brothers’ loan. Could Clayton and Eugene have been so desperate to pay off the bank they would have killed their mother? Given the longevity on that side of the family, Lacy might have lived another decade...much too long to solve their financial woes.

  But if they had been the architects of Lacy’s death, how did they do it? Was it even possible to induce a heart attack without being detected?

  Zak had a pretty good relationship with Dr. Pittman. Good enough he felt he could phone him on a Saturday night and count on his discretion.

  “Sorry to bother you, Doc. I hope I’m not getting you in the middle of dinner.”

  “It’s no bother. I’m going to Justin’s tomorrow night to help them decorate their Christmas tree—this will be my granddaughter’s first—” he added proudly. “But I’m just sitting home and reading tonight.”

  “I’ve got a question, but it’s kind of a delicate matter. You know the sheriff’s office isn’t investigating Lacy Stillman’s death.”

  “Why would they? Lacy died of natural causes.”

  “Yes. Would you indulge me in a little hypothetical speculation? Not in any official capacity, of course.”

  “Get to the point, Zak. Something’s obviously bothering you. What is it?”

  “Suppose for a moment Lacy’s family needed money and wanted to sell some land. What if they were actually desperate for that money and when Lacy refused to sell the land, they decided to spur on the aging process?”

  “That’s quite the ‘what if’ scenario. And how, exactly, would they spur on her aging?”

  “That’s why I’m calling you. Is there any drug you could give someone that would cause a heart attack and yet not leave any traces detectable in the bloodstream?”

  “What a bizarre idea.”

  “I know it.”

  “Hang on while I think a bit.”

  There was a long pause. Zak heard the sound of a cabinet door opening and then water running. Presumably the doctor was getting a drink of water. Finally he came back on the line.

  “There is one way I can think of. An injection of insulin.”

  “But insulin isn’t a poison.”

  “It can be if you’re not diabetic and you get too much in your system.”

  Zak tried to imagine how that would work. Could the brothers have snuck into their mother’s room and injected her while she was asleep? That seemed risky, especially if she didn’t die right away. “How quickly would the insulin take effect?”

  “Anywhere from ten minutes to six hours depending on the type of insulin.”

  Zak tried to imagine Eugene and Clayton sitting with their mother after giving her a lethal dose and waiting for her to die. Ten minutes would feel like an eternity.

  They’d have to be awfully desperate to do something like that.

  Zak apologized to the doctor for wasting his time. “Sometimes I get these weird ideas and can’t seem to shake them.”

  “You’re a natural investigator, Zak. If it wasn’t for you the Concurran case would never have been solved. I’m convinced of it.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “I may be going out on a limb here. But not everybody in town loves Sheriff Ford.”

  Zak was astounded. It was one thing for Nadine to suggest he run for sheriff. She was pro
bably half-joking anyway.

  But Dr. Pittman...

  “I’m only the dispatcher.”

  “Yes. So you keep saying.”

  Sunday, December 3

  Justin spent Sunday morning making paper snowflakes with Geneva. After lunch he strung the new lights around the Christmas tree. Geneva waited, hopping from one foot from the other. To set the tone, Justin put on a Christmas movie, the old Charlie Brown one, but nothing could distract his daughter from the tree.

  “Can I put my snowflakes on now?”

  “Just a minute, honey. The lights always go first. At least, that was the rule when I was a little boy.” He moved the ladder around the tree, so he could wind some lights around the very top. He should have picked a shorter tree, but Geneva had been so excited at Raven Farms yesterday he’d gotten carried away.

  “You were not a little boy. You’re teasing me.”

  He laughed. “I’m not. A long time ago I was as little as you are. And Grandpa was my daddy. And he put up the lights on our tree.”

  He had some vague memories of his mother, as well. Handing him ornaments, telling him to hang them on the tree for her. Mostly when he pictured his mother it was in a chair or resting in bed. She’d been very frail after he was born.

  Finally he was at the base of the tree. He connected the last strand of lights and then plugged the end piece into the wall. Hundreds of red, blue, green and gold lights sparked to life.

  “Oh!” Geneva clapped her hands. “It’s so pretty!”

  Dora barked and tried to nip the tree.

  “Leave it, Dora!” Geneva’s stern tone made Justin want to laugh. But he was also impressed, because the puppy listened.

  “Snowflake time.”

  “Yes!” Geneva had already stuck clips onto the snowflakes, so all she had to do was hook them onto the branches. He picked her up so she could reach some of the higher branches, then used the ladder so he could get the upper third of the tree.

  “Do we have an angel for the top? The tree at the day care has an angel at the top.”