The Tanner Trilogy Boxed Set

Chapter 3

3

Resting his head back against the seat, Ethan’s eyes gazed out the window. Sitting in front of the wing, he had an unobstructed view of a few white clouds and the central plains of the U.S. as he flew thirty thousand feet above future wheat and corn fields just recently uncovered from the snow. He attempted to stretch his long legs into the space under the seat in front of him and frowned at being cooped up for so long. They would land at the Denver airport in an hour. From there, he would take a puddle jumper to Laramie, where he would find a rental car, and the promised GPS, in order to arrive at the outfitter’s lodge before sundown.

Shifting his gaze to the file folder he stuck in the pocket in front of him, his scowl deepened. There wasn’t much information from the autopsy report. A .243 caliber bullet to the heart, between a six and fifteen degree downward trajectory. That meant the shooter aimed high, as he was too far away to keep the target in the crosshairs. Obviously an expert marksman, but then anyone with the funds to afford a stay at the outfitters wouldn’t waste their time unless their skill was above average. Well above.

“Mr. Brooks?”

Ethan followed the voice and smiled at the flight attendant, which set off his dimples. She returned the gesture.

“Can I get you anything?” Her raised, single brow and her lower lip drawn seductively between her teeth alluded that she placed herself on the list of complimentary refreshments available in Business Class.

“A gracious offer, but no, thanks. I’m fine,” he glanced at her name badge, “Jennifer.”

The pretty brunette continued her trek down the aisle, collecting requests for drinks, pillows, and headphones. He looked again out the small window. Already a Mile-High Club member, sweetheart, he thought, briefly remembering the rather flexible blonde on an international flight. Before his mind traveled too far down the road of past adventures, he removed the folder from the pocket of the seat back in front of him.

Keeping the front of the file folder vertical so it acted as a shield from the person in the aisle seat, he shuffled the pictures of the Tanner family. The local sheriff was Shaun, the youngest, age twenty-six, degree in Criminal Justice. Samantha was in the middle, age twenty-eight, and her winnings in college rodeo helped pay for her business degree that she used to run the ranch in Colorado. The oldest, Carli, at age thirty, was the only one to attend a school on the East Coast. Art. What did one do with an art degree? If one was as sought after as Ms. Tanner, one worked as a premier photojournalist for the most prestigious magazine in the world. Just by viewing the photos, anyone could tell all three were obviously closely related. Different shades of hazel irises stared back at him. Their hair coloring appeared to get progressively lighter with each sibling. Carli’s was a shiny, dark blonde-medium brown with red highlights, Samantha’s was a dirty blonde, and Shaun’s was lighter, but still had shades of red.

All were single, so that ruled out greedy in-laws and probably serious relationships with someone looking to cash in on the family fortune. That was only a guesstimate. The land and business in Wyoming, coupled with the ranch in Colorado, allotted the family almost thirty thousand acres. Both the ranch and the outfitters were prosperous endeavors. Perhaps one of the siblings became desperate. If they were in personal debt and asked Daddy for a loan, and then were denied, it could be a motive. None of their faces resembled what people thought of as criminals. But he knew looks were deceiving. Often criminals used their physical appearance to lure victims. Especially if those victims were children.

He shifted in his seat and settled Carli’s picture on top. Recounting her information, he clicked off facts. Her employer, bank account balance, frequent flyer mileage, address of a sub-let apartment in Manhattan. Her hair, slightly longer than shoulder-length, held soft curls and framed a face that, if the parts were taken separately, would not be wanted by any fashion magazine. But, when put together in a way that uniquely created her, they somehow worked. Natural eyebrows that managed to accent large, hazel eyes, a straight nose that ended above a cupid’s bow upper lip and full lower lip, that when spread in a smile were slightly too wide and a little lopsided. It could have been her expression, as there seemed to be a hint of impatience in her gaze at the picture taker. Wispy bangs shadowed her forehead, and the curls accented her cheeks and rounded chin. The collared shirt she wore left her throat open, and he found himself slightly disappointed that the bottom edge of the photograph was above her bust line.

He closed the file and placed it again in the pocket. Resting his head back on the seat, he shut his eyes. Passing the Rorschach's, what he had come to call the visits to the Department Psychologist, had become rote. Routine. He told them what they wanted to hear, what they needed to list in his file and allow him to continue to do his job. The nightmares, sleepless nights, the few wasted days when he thought binge drinking would wipe away the images, would never come to light. Without his job, what would he do? He was damn good at finding the bad guys and saving the victims. Except for the ones who were casualties, the lives that led him to the perpetrator. It was an old argument he had with himself. His guilt for not stopping the crimes sooner, or somehow preventing them to begin with, and using—needing—the victims to piece together a storyline and find the bastards.

Shifting again in his seat, then crossing his arms over his chest, he listened as Jennifer delivered the desired items to others in Business Class, and thought about the request of the Regional Director. He had vacationed with Tanner’s Outdoor Adventures and developed a bond with Bear Tanner. When word reached the Director that Bear had been killed, he pulled a few strings to have one of his own sent out to assist in the local investigation. And for whatever reason, Micah decided Ethan was the agent. Maybe he had been doing too well on the Rorschach and Micah figured he would need a little extra time after this last case.

“Think of it as a company vacation,” Micah had suggested on the day after Ethan appeared in court at the trial of the k********g of Tommy Mason.

Ethan had argued that he didn’t need an extended vacation beyond his requested three days, but Micah had smiled and tossed the plane ticket on his desk.

“Your other dozen cold cases can wait. It will do you some good to break away from the usual pedophile and kidnapper and serial killer. This is an old-fashioned, single murder. The ME’s Office hasn’t declared it, only the cause of death. I suppose hunting accidents do happen. The Director wants a personal touch, so take your time.”

He sighed and shifted again, realizing he was becoming agitated at this forced ‘working vacation’, the seemingly smaller airline seats, and that his destination was one with which he had little experience. Wide open places.

“Good afternoon, Folks. Due to a weather front that has developed over the Central Rockies, we’ve been asked to land in Billings, Montana. You will receive a complimentary connecting flight to get you to Denver, if you wish to wait at least a day, or however long the Denver Airport authorities believe it will take to reopen the runway. The alternative is the variety of car rental companies available at Logan International Airport. We’re sorry for the inconvenience and the delay in arriving at your destination. Any questions can be answered by the ticket agents in Billings. We’ll be on the ground in about thirty minutes.”

Ethan’s mood lightened that he could exit from this cramped space. He sat up in his seat and placed the file inside his carryon that doubled as a briefcase. Deciding that arriving at the Medicine Bow Preserve as soon as possible was important, it meant extra miles in a rental car if he couldn’t get a flight into Laramie. Perhaps scenery other than concrete and metal might silence, however temporarily, the ghosts that lived in his mind. He looked out the window and watched the Rocky Mountains grow larger.

It wouldn’t do any good to speculate with Tim because, as he had told her twice already, they had no information, and it was a waste of energy to guess about the circumstances around her father’s death. Carli had stared moodily out the window of their transportation back to the city where, hopefully, Tim would work his magic and procure two tickets on the next flight to the U.S. Anywhere in the U.S. The connecting flights would come later. They had no cell reception in the village. The airport, however, afforded them access to the web, so she sent a short e-mail to the lodge, knowing Alyssa, who was usually there and able to communicate with everyone, would open it.

I received the telegram. I’m on my way home.

It was an off day for planes leaving Venezuela, and the partially filled flight manifest had two seats of their choice available. She felt as if she was surrounded by oil. All physical movements seemed to require a great amount of effort. Her mind was spinning with thoughts, none of which she could latch on to. She had questions and no information. Was it too soon for any of them to be answered at the Preserve? Unsure what to say if one of the employees, or even Shaun, answered the international call, she opted to send an e-mail. The hours that would pass before they arrived in Wyoming would be spent gathering her frayed emotions.

She stared at the screen that dropped down from the overhead bin. The first of two movies was playing. It was a romantic comedy with a couple of popular actors, and though she didn’t have headphones, it was obvious that they were in a lover’s quarrel. Sighing, she turned her gaze to the colorful cover of the magazine that rested on her lap. Remembering all the arguments that her parents had before her mother called it quits and left them, she wondered if her mother would regret it now that Bear was… gone. Would Shaun contact their mother? Did any of them even know where Ms. Tanner called home?

Wiggling in her seat, she rolled up the magazine and shifted her gaze back to the movie. The woman was left outside a house, as the man got into a car and drove away. The close-up of the woman’s face showed tears of disbelief and regret. Carli crossed her legs and shifted to the other hip, a scowl beginning between her brows. It deepened when the next shot showed the man’s expression, his eyes reflecting sorrow in the rearview mirror, gazing at what he had left behind. Stupid, Carli thought. If you love her, why leave? And if she loves you, how difficult it must be to watch you disappear.

Snorting at her analysis, she uncrossed her legs, moved to the other hip, then crossed her ankles. What did she know of love? Her parents had it at one time, or must have to create three children, but it wasn’t enough to keep her mother in Wyoming, or to have her father leave the wilderness. She’d had a few relationships, but they didn’t last. It tended to be that way when she was out of the country, or New York, three-fourths of the year. She hadn’t given much thought to marriage and a family. Instead, she relied on her deeply satisfying relationship with her work. And Tim.

Uncrossing her ankles, she turned onto the other hip and drew her legs up under her. Raising her gaze to Tim’s, she found a scowl that mirrored her own.

“Did you manage to load your pockets with South American Fire Ants? You haven’t remained in the same position for more than a minute since we boarded the plane.”

“Sorry. My mind is—”

“I know. I’m sorry. Look, there’s no one else in our row. Why don’t you lift up the arms between the seats, stretch out, and catch some Zs? We have about eight hours before we land in L.A.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” she said and shook her head, but he had pressed the call button overhead alerting the flight attendant.

“Yes? What can I get for you?” the petite blonde asked, smiling prettily at Tim. She obviously didn’t pick up that he wasn’t interested in her type, as she tipped her head to the side and flipped her hair behind her shoulder.

“My friend would like a blanket and pillow,” Tim said, gesturing to Carli.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He smiled at her, then reached around Carli to flip up the arm. She sighed, then lifted the other three on the row. Rearranging her legs toward the aisle, her head next to Tim’s thigh, she grinned mischievously when the blonde returned. The flight attendant’s smile not as bright as she noticed the familiarity between the two passengers as Carli shifted her head onto Tim’s thigh. He glanced down at her, then took the pillow and blanket.

Carli shifted her gaze to Tim. “Thanks, sweetie,” she said and earned herself an eye roll.

“You just blew my chance at a free drink before we land,” he spoke in a harsh whisper.

“I’ll buy a bottle of Kentucky’s finest, and we can drink ourselves silly in Wyoming.”

Spreading the blanket over her, she placed the pillow under her head next to Tim’s thigh, then turned on her side. She stared at the seat back in front of her as he gently stroked her hair.

“We’ll drink to your father,” he whispered, and Carli squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from forming.