Free Hard Rain by B. J. Daniels Page B

Sarah would finally have to face the truth. Russell told himself that he wasn’t doing this to hurt her. He was doing it to save her. It didn’t matter that she’d broken his heart. Russell would be there to pick up the pieces because if he was right, Sarah was going to need him.
    But first he had to find the proof that would free Sarah of Buckmaster once and for all.
    He stepped quickly into Millie’s room, headed for the bulletin board beside her bed. There were so many cards and papers tacked to the bulletin board that it was covered a good quarter-inch thick.
    He scanned the board quickly, hoping that Dr. Venable had sent another postcard recently and it would be on top. Seeing everything Millie had tacked up, he was certain that if the doctor had sent her another postcard, it would be here.
    He doubted there would be a return address, but there would be a postmark. Was Millie right? Was the doctor back in the States? Or was she confused? He’d lucked out catching her on a good day, but still...
    There was no postcard visible. He would have to take everything down. Looking toward the open door, he heard several patients walk past, the legs of their walkers making scraping sounds as they passed.
    He told himself he would look more guilty if he closed the door, but he had no choice. Quickly moving, he took a peek out into the hallway before closing the door. There was no lock.
    Back at the bulletin board, he began taking down the myriad cards and letters and printed affirmations. He found the postcard under a half dozen birthday wishes.
    The words were printed in neat script: “Hope to see you soon now that I am stateside.” It was simply signed “Ralph.”
    The postmark was smudged but he could make out part of the date. The card had been sent over three weeks ago.
    Russell flipped the card over to see a photo of Miami’s art deco area of the city.
    Dr. Venable could already be back in Montana. Russell knew what had brought him back. Sarah. The question was how long before he contacted her? Or had he already? Was he going to restore Sarah’s memories? Or steal more of them?
    * * *
    F RANK HAD SPENT the day fending off curious residents who’d heard about a body being found on Hamilton Ranch. He’d put them all off. Now, as he entered the house, he saw his wife, Lynette, standing in the kitchen. One look at her expression and he knew she wouldn’t be as easy to dissuade. Once considered the worst gossip in three counties, Lynette had a way of attracting news like metal to a magnet. He could tell that she’d been waiting all day to grill him.
    “Who is she?” his wife wanted to know the moment he walked into the kitchen.
    He pretended not to know what she was talking about, curious how much of the story was already on the wind. Fortunately, the assumed identity of the corpse hadn’t gotten out, but he was sure there had been speculation and that Maggie McTavish’s name would come up—if it hadn’t already.
    “Won’t know anything until the autopsy,” he said, hanging up his Stetson on the hook by the back door. “What’s for dinner?”
    “Roast beef. I heard it was a woman’s body buried on Hamilton Ranch and that her body had been mummified.”
    “ Roast beef and mummified should never be used in the same sentence,” he joked as he headed toward the refrigerator for a beer.
    “How long has the body been there?” Lynette asked, standing on the other side of the open refrigerator door. He could see the top of her head. Her last trip to the beauty shop had left her hair the color of eggplant. Since he doubted anyone her age would dye her hair that color on purpose, he’d kept his mouth shut, hoping she’d go back to the brunette she’d been when he’d met her.
    “Again, won’t know anything until—”
    “You can’t put me off with that procedural jargon,” she snapped as he closed the refrigerator to find her standing there with her hands on her ample hips.
    Frank leaned in for a kiss.