for losing my temper. I didn’t want anyone to see the place the way it was. I was going to fix the Sheetrock today, but the lumberyard was closed.”
“Anvil, I shouldn’t have to tell you how bad this looks.”
The man dropped his head. “I was just so ashamed.”
Flint waited a few moments before he said, “Anvil, if you did something worse that you regret, now is the time to tell me.”
The farmer raised his head. “I didn’t kill her. She drove away. I swear.”
“All right. Here’s what you do. Go about your usual daily work until you hear from her,” Flint said. “I know that’s a hard thing to ask. But these things often work themselves out. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye out for her. If she just went to town, checked into a motel...”
Again Anvil looked relieved to think that was all she’d done last night as they stepped out on the porch.
“Give me the make, model and color of the car she was driving,” Flint said and pulled out his notebook again. He hoped he was right and Jenna was in some cheap motel in town deciding what she was going to do next.
“By the way, how much money did she have on her when she left?”
Anvil looked surprised by the question. “I don’t know. We live on a pretty tight budget. I suppose she could have saved back some from the grocery money, but it wouldn’t be much.” Clearly, this had never crossed his mind.
“She doesn’t have a checkbook or credit cards she could use to get a motel?”
The farmer scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t believe in credit cards. The checkbook’s only for the farm business. I always gave Jenna whatever she needed. Like if she wanted a new dress or had to get her hair done for some special occasion.”
Flint nodded. He figured a lot of the farmers and ranchers operated much the same, especially the older ones. The women seldom left the place except to go into town for groceries or church.
“What is her cell phone number?”
Anvil looked confused. “She doesn’t have a cell phone. We have the landline here at the house. That’s all we’ve ever needed.”
Flint thought it probably wasn’t that unusual given that they seldom left the ranch. And cell phone service in these parts was scattered at best. It was the way everyone had lived not that many years ago, back when people didn’t need to be on call 24/7.
Still, no cell phone in this day and age? No credit cards? It meant no way of tracking her.
“What about a computer?” Flint asked, thinking that might be where Jenna had met this other man. But Anvil again shook his head.
“Never saw the need for one. Accountant takes care of the farm books. I want to buy somethin’ I can drive into town. Sure as the devil don’t need to be telling the world what I had for lunch on some blamed thing like Face Chat.”
Facebook. “Jenna spend any time at the library in town?”
“You’re thinking she met this man there?”
“They have computers and Wi-Fi service you can use at the library.”
Anvil frowned as if confused.
“Often people meet other people by chatting via computer. They get to talking, seem to have a lot in common, even fall in love without ever meeting each other in person.”
The farmer was staring at him. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”
“Unfortunately, often the person on the other end of the chat isn’t telling the truth about themselves. Jenna could have been lured by one of these people. They call it catfishing.”
Anvil looked both horrified and completely out of touch with the world beyond this farm. Was Jenna more worldly?
“I’ll check at the library,” Flint said. “It’s a long shot, but you never know. She ever show any interest in learning to use a computer?”
“I thought her only interest was in old recipe books. She loved to bake. She was happiest in the kitchen. At least that’s what I thought.”
“I’ll get back to you if I hear something,” the sheriff told him. “Try not to worry.”
Anvil walked him out as far as the top porch step. “This isn’t like her. She’s always so sensible. She never asked for anything. Never seemed...unhappy.”
A thought struck Flint as he reached his patrol SUV. He turned back to the farmer. “You notice any change in her recently?”
Anvil seemed to think about it. After a moment, his expression changed. “Well, there was one thing, now that I think about it. I’m sure it’s not important. I feel foolish even mentioning it.”
“What’s that?” the sheriff asked when the man didn’t continue for a moment. He seemed embarrassed.
“Lately, she’s been wearing...makeup.”
* * *
TRASK WATCHED THE last of the day’s light dissolve behind the mountain. Darkness came quickly in the pines. He breathed in the cold sweet scent and thought of Lillie—as if she was ever far from his mind. At first he’d told himself that she could do better than him. That he was doing her a favor by staying away.
But getting over her had been impossible. A day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t thought of her, yearned for her. Sometimes he felt as if he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t see her again. He’d had to come back to make things right no matter how it ended.
Trask threw another log on the campfire. Smoke rose into the twilight. Sparks flickered for a moment, then died off. Seeing her today had left him shaken. He’d expected Lillie to be angry. He’d practiced what he was going to say to her. He’d thought he’d been ready to face her.
What he hadn’t been ready for was her cool demeanor. This wasn’t the Lillie he’d left that night nine years ago. His Lillie was all fire and shooting rockets. His Lillie wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. His Lillie...wasn’t his anymore.
He pushed that thought away, determination burning inside him. He’d get back what he lost. Lillie was at the bar tonight working. Tomorrow...
Trask tried not to get too far ahead of himself. Coming back here wasn’t just about facing Lillie. It meant facing his childhood and the man this town thought he was. Thought he would always be.
He’d grown up on the wrong side of everything. It wasn’t just that he lived out in the sticks in a dilapidated old house, that his father was never home because he was on the road with a traveling carnival doing cowboy rope tricks or that his birth mother had taken off when he was ten, leaving him with his father’s mother.
His grandmother had been nice enough, though too old to discipline him. He’d run wild. That hadn’t changed when his grandmother died and his father brought home Shirley Perkins to be his stepmother. Shirley had a son, Emery, younger than Trask, wilder than him too.
