if his sister was the killer? Surely, there was an explanation. Self-defense?
“We should call the sheriff,” Tabitha said.
“But this is reservation land. That means we call the Crow police chief, Joseph Lefthand. I’ve worked with him before. He’s good at his job.”
“I agree. Joseph is a good, dedicated lawman.”
He took out his cell phone. “I’ll call him.”
“Wait,” she said. “The tribal police don’t have the resources to process forensic evidence, and I want to make sure the investigation is done right. This isn’t a straightforward murder.”
“It’s not that complicated.” He didn’t need to go into detail about how his aerial sweep failed to show evidence of a killer on the run, or how Misty’s rifle was on the ground beside the body. “We’re looking at an obvious case of self-defense.”
“That’s not what Misty says.”
“Do you believe her, Tabitha?”
“I do. Your sister might be irresponsible, but she’s not a liar.” She arched an eyebrow. “Please call me Tab. The only other person who uses my full name is my grandma, and that’s only when she’s mad at me.”
Her slight smile made him want to see a full-fledged grin and to hear her laughter. “I remember your grandma. Maria Spotted Bear.” He looked past the Jeep to where a black mare was grazing. “Is that her horse?”
“Shua,” Tab said. “Don’t ask me why a black horse is named with the Crow word for blue. Grandma has her reasons.”
“Is she well?”
“According to her, she’s in great health. But she’s been diagnosed with a touch of congenital heart failure. A couple of months ago, she fainted and broke her wrist. One of the reasons I moved back here was to take care of her.”
“Sorry to hear that she’s ailing.”
Tab shrugged. A simple gesture, but he found it charming. “How’s Sylvia?”
“Mom is strong as an ox. It’s hard to believe she’s almost sixty.”
A silence stretched between them. Much had happened in the ten years they’d been out of contact. Though he’d never been a real chatty sort of guy, he had an urge to tell her everything about his life, his hopes and his dreams. With so much to say, he didn’t know where to start.
Tab took the first step. “Let’s talk to your sister, and then we can decide who to call.”
Together, they returned to the Jeep where Misty leaned against the front bumper with her arms cradling her belly. Clinton stood beside her. He’d slapped his cowboy hat onto his head, almost covering the gauze bandage that Tab had applied.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Clinton said. “I should have protected my girl. But I was out cold.”
“And you didn’t see anything,” Aiden said.
“No, sir.”
He turned to his sister. “I’m guessing that you were attacked. Maybe this guy—”
“David Welling.” There was a hitch in her voice. “His name is David Welling.”
“Okay, David Welling came at you, maybe he—”
“I can’t believe he’s dead.”
“Calm down, sweetie. Take a nice, slow, deep breath.” He waited until she’d composed herself before he continued, “It’s not your fault. You had to shoot David in self-defense.”
“I didn’t shoot anybody.” She shook her head, and her curly blond hair whipped across her face. “I never would shoot anybody.”
Aiden exchanged a glance with Tab. She’d warned him that his sister’s story was complicated. “Take your time, Misty. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I was waiting for Tab. I heard a noise over by the river, and I got my rifle out of the back of the Jeep. I was scared that somebody might come after us. Poor Clinton was unconscious, and I couldn’t let anybody hurt him.”
“Whoa,” Clinton said. “I’m not helpless. I could’ve got to my feet and taken care of you.”
Aiden held up his hand, signaling Clinton to stop. “I’m listening to Misty, now.”
She continued, “As soon as I got a little bit closer—”
“Did you take the rifle with you?”
“I left it right here.” She pointed to the front bumper. “I figured that if I needed it, I could run back and grab it real quick.”
“But I thought you were trying to protect Clinton?”
She tapped her foot. “Do you want to hear this, or not, Aiden?”
Understanding her motivations was like asking a chicken why it pecked in the dirt. “Go on.”
“I recognized David. I dated him before he graduated high school and moved away from Henley.”
As far as Aiden could tell, she’d dated most of the male population of Henley High, which made it even more astounding that she’d ended up with a pea brain like Clinton. “Is this David Welling any relation to Bert Welling who runs a gas station in Henley?”
“Bert is his uncle,” Misty said. “David used to pump gas for Bert before he moved to Billings with his dad. Anyway, when I saw him standing there in the clearing, I said hi. And he said I shouldn’t be here, and I told him that we were stuck, and he said I needed to get away from here, to get the hell away from here.”
Her eyes welled up with tears. “Then I heard the shots. David grabbed his chest and fell down. And there was blood. Oh my God, there was a lot of blood.”
“Did you see who shot him?”
“I hit the dirt. I thought they were shooting at me. I covered my head and I thought about my baby. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to my baby, I just couldn’t.”
Her hands flew up to cover her face as heavy sobs shook her shoulders. For once, Clinton did the right thing, stepping forward to comfort her and hold her against his chest. His protective attitude made Aiden wonder if there was something Misty had left out of her story.
Clinton might have been the shooter. Misty could be claiming responsibility to keep her boyfriend from being a suspect. But that didn’t make sense. A self-defense plea worked just as well for Clinton as for Misty. Aiden doubted that either one of them would be charged with murder … except for one hitch. The victim appeared to be unarmed.
As Misty’s sobs abated, Aiden asked, “Why was your rifle in the clearing?”
“I ran back to get it, but the gun wasn’t where I left it.”
“Where
