This took him aback, wiped the contempt from his face. “How do you know?”

“Let’s call it an educated guess. First of all, Jeremy’s freaking out because he hasn’t seen his father for two days. Don’s never taken off like this before, especially when his car is in the garage. There’s a bullet hole in the wall out there—” he gestured toward the living room “—and a big wet spot on the carpet, where someone used a hell of a lot of bleach.”

“That’s not like finding a body,” he argued.

Isaac propped his hands on his hips. “It’s enough that someone should start looking for one.”

What was left of Rusty’s bravado disappeared and his shoulders slumped. “But…who would want to kill Don?”

“Someone convinced he knows too much. Someone who saw him as a weak link.”

“Based on your theory that Les Weaver shot David on purpose.”

“He did. And I’m going to prove it.”

“Shit.” He ran three fingers over the distress lines in his forehead. “I was there. I was with him. It seemed legit. Weaver was so upset.” A little of his former belligerence returned. “And there was no motive. Weaver was a total stranger, an upstanding citizen from out of state. You wouldn’t have suspected anything, either!”

“That ‘upstanding citizen’ has ties to the Lucchese family.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“One of the most powerful organized crime syndicates in New York City.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked Myles to check. It was that simple.” Heck, even Leland Faust had an uncomfortable feeling about how smoothly that day’s events had been explained and accepted. If Rusty hadn’t taken the easy road, the one Les Weaver had paved for him with his good looks, charity work and attorney trappings, the truth might’ve come out a year ago. And if that had happened, maybe Isaac’s house wouldn’t be in ashes. “I’ve got to be honest with you, Rusty. You should’ve asked a few more questions.”

Crimson suffused the deputy’s face as his lips pulled back to show his teeth. “You’re so full of bullshit, standing there like you know everything. Big Isaac, who swoops in at the last minute to steal my girl.”

So it wasn’t all about Les or David. “Your girl? Claire’s never been yours.” In one way or another, she’d always been his—she’d known it and he’d known it—even when she was with David.

“Without your interference, she might’ve been. She asked me out last week. That was a start. Then you got involved.”

“She wasn’t really interested in you, Rusty. She just wanted to get out.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know shit. And you have no proof Les killed David on purpose. You’re just trying to make me look bad so you look better.” With that he left the kitchen and started going from room to room, calling for Don and Jeremy.

“Jeremy’s with Claire in Libby. So don’t waste your breath yelling for him,” Isaac said. And if Don was home Isaac would already know it, but…Rusty didn’t respond.

Isaac listened as the deputy marched upstairs; when he came back and headed down to the basement, Isaac followed.

“Are you satisfied yet?” he asked when Rusty stood staring at Jeremy’s empty room.

Again, he didn’t answer. He was gaping at a wall covered in pictures of Claire and embellished with poems and dried flowers and drawings of hearts. “What the hell is this?”

Isaac had seen it earlier. He’d found it a bit unsettling but not surprising. “What does it look like?”

“That little creep has it bad.”

So did Rusty. He’d been trying to get together with Claire ever since David was killed. “Creep? You probably have a shrine in your house, too.”

“Screw you.”

Isaac had provoked him so he let it go. They needed to put aside their differences and get to the bottom of what was going on here. “Look, something’s not right. Don’t you think you should call the sheriff and have him send over some forensic techs?”

The stubborn set to his jaw hadn’t lessened. “Hell, no. I’ve seen no sign of a struggle. No forced entry. No blood and no body. Nothing but a little cleaning solution that could’ve been spilled and a bullet that could’ve come from Jeremy messing around with his daddy’s gun.”

“Then where’s Don?”

“Who knows? He’s an adult. Maybe he took off for a few days. He’ll turn up.”

“Dead.” Isaac had heard enough. He was done with Rusty. “That’s it. I’m calling the sheriff myself.” Whirling around, he started up the stairs.

Rusty began to trail after him but stopped. “Wait a second!”

It was the tone of his voice and not his words that made Isaac pause. “What is it?”

“Look at this.”

Rusty had snapped on the flashlight he carried on his belt and was aiming its beam into the shadowy area below the stairs, but Isaac couldn’t see what he was referring to. “Look at what?”

“The crawl space. It’s been locked.”

Isaac hadn’t even noticed. The dim glow of the single bulb dangling over the laundry area didn’t extend to the corners of the concrete basement, and he’d been searching the finished parts of the house, looking through drawers and in closets for bank statements, bills and other documentation. “Is that unusual?”

“One padlock wouldn’t be. But six?”

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32

Isaac drove as fast as he could all the way to Libby. He wanted to believe Claire was there and had simply been sleeping too deeply to hear the phone.

But he already knew that couldn’t be the case. When he couldn’t rouse her or Jeremy, he’d contacted the manager and had him check. Both rooms were empty, and Jeremy’s car was gone.

Where could they be?

Isaac had no idea. But the images Les had painted of Jeremy flying into a panic and strangling Alana kept coming to mind. Jeremy had plenty of strength. If he got his hands on Claire, there’d be nothing she could do.

Surely he wouldn’t hurt her. He loved her, had always adored her.

But he probably hadn’t disliked Alana. And he wasn’t himself right now. Depending on what had happened in Don’s house, there was no telling what Jeremy had seen or done or suffered this week. If he was spinning out of control, he could strangle her like he had her mother, without even realizing he was doing it. Les had said Jeremy didn’t believe he’d killed Alana. He’d completely blocked it out.

Isaac wished he could use his cell phone. He would’ve had service once he reached Libby, but he didn’t have the phone itself anymore. It’d been destroyed in the fire, along with all his other belongings. He’d called Myles before he left Don’s house, while he still had a landline, and told him what was going on. Myles was on his way, and he was sending several deputies, leaving Jared Davis to meet the coroner, who was coming to collect Rusty’s body, and the paramedics, who were going to take Les Weaver to the hospital in Kalispell.

But that was twenty minutes ago. Isaac wanted an update, wanted to stay in touch. He knew he wouldn’t be nearly as effective at searching for Claire if he couldn’t coordinate with others making the same effort. All he could do was drive around, hoping to spot Jeremy’s car, even though he doubted Jeremy and Claire were still in town. It was dawn. Isaac had left Libby seven hours ago, and they could’ve left shortly after…?.

He went to the motel first. The manager had gone in, but he had to see with his own eyes that Claire was really gone. He also wanted to look for any hint as to where Jeremy might’ve taken her. But it was far from obvious. He found Claire’s overnight bag, the shirt and bra she’d removed when she dressed for bed and her shoes.