Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
That’s right. Ours.
I flipped my blinker, turned down Main Street. For a Saturday night in Cutthroat, the street was busy, filled with tourists and townies enjoying the spectacular weather. There was nothing better than summer in Montana, except for winter when the black diamonds on Cutthroat Mountain had epic powder.
I thought of Donovan’s question. Would she be at the Mills Moments’ office? “No way she went to her mom’s. As far as I know, Mrs. Lancaster hasn’t left her house in years.” Kit’s home life had been a fucking disaster. Her dad left when she was six, and it had done a number on her mom. Depression and anxiety turned into extreme hoarding and agoraphobia. Kit had pretty much raised herself and taken care of her mom.
“From what Kit told me last year, grocery delivery and online shopping has helped with that. Obviously, Erin’s a dead end.” I sighed, rubbed a hand over my face. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Donovan chuckled. “She could be at a hotel.”
I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “I checked with the hotels. No room in her name.” That was the perk of being a detective. “The office is left.”
I flipped my visor down, the sun blinding me as it sank low in the sky.
With the town nestled between national parks and endless backcountry people came to Montana to enjoy, Cutthroat was a popular town. Innocently named for the local trout in the river that flowed along the east side of town, it might have been small, but it had crime. What town didn’t? There was enough to keep me on the payroll. And busy. The last murder was back in 1984 when a woman killed her husband with a chainsaw after discovering he’d cheated on her with a nun from the convent on the way to Missoula. This case though, was different.
I’d put a request in for Erin’s financials, phone records, the usual data. I discovered the Mills Moments’ office was on the second floor of one of the historic buildings on the east end of town. Loaded with ritzy shops and outfitter stores aimed at the rich outdoorsmen, that address meant her event planning business was doing well. Well enough to need a partner in Kit.
After the paramedics took Kit to the hospital—to ensure she wasn’t hurt and to catalog her clothes and collect DNA samples—I’d waited for the crime scene investigators and coroner. It had taken hours to photograph the body, process everything, type up the reports, deal with my boss, the newspaper. News of a murder spread quickly, especially when it was Erin Mills.
The autopsy would take place tomorrow, and the evidence was being processed. There was nothing else to do tonight. Except find Kit.
“All I know is that they cut her loose from the hospital after a few hours,” I added.
“An officer took her to her car.”
“She was living with Erin, and she can’t stay there since it’s a crime scene. And with a murderer on the loose, it could be dangerous.”
“I have a deputy at Erin’s house keeping an eye on things.”
“You mean keeping an eye out for the Mills family going in and tossing Kit’s stuff to the curb for the trash pick-up.”
I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “That, too,” I practically growled.
The Mills family was one of the richest in town with a house that looked like a Swiss ski lodge that could house thirty. It was nestled on a bluff with only the best view their money could buy. The Mills were founding members of the town back in the silver rush. Besides the McMansion, they owned a huge ranch outside of town, plus a few buildings on Main Street… including the one where Erin’s office was located. A Mills had been mayor back in the eighties. Hell, the family had even donated money for the cancer wing at the hospital.
I went to school with Erin’s older brother, Lucas, so I knew both of them had trust funds from their grandparents. Knowing Lucas, no one would think he had money, but Erin? Her fancy house was something I’d never be able to afford on a detective’s salary, even if I won the lottery. Not that I aspired to something so… big or blatant.
Giving Mr. and Mrs. Mills the news their daughter had been murdered—her skull bashed in by a glass Volunteer of the Year award… fuck, it had been bad. Not only were they distraught, but they were pissed. Out for blood. I had no doubt they’d rounded up their lawyers and began an investigation of their own because they doubted my abilities. I was born on the same side of the tracks as Kit. It didn’t matter I had a degree in criminology or years of experience.