LITMIR.BIZ

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in along with the apprehension.

      She needed to talk to her friend Bradley. He’d been her sounding board through the whole secret-admirer-turned-stalker trauma in Texas. She dialed his number, needing him to be home.

      “So how’s the weekly newspaper business,” Bradley said after they’d exchanged pleasantries about the weather in Montana versus Texas and he’d told her the TV-station gossip.

      She hesitated but only for a moment before she told him about the story she’d stumbled across. Bradley, being Bradley and a journalist at heart, was ecstatic.

      “What an incredible story,” he cried. “So you were right about there being something to Lubbock Calhoun’s arrest up there. Well, that’s why you’re the hotshot news celebrity and I’m the lowly researcher,” he joked. “And to have this story dropped in your lap…” He suddenly turned serious. “Oh, sweetie, I almost forgot. I saw on the news that Lubbock Calhoun was released from prison three weeks ago and has already broken his parole.”

      Her heart leaped to her throat. Lubbock was on the loose?

      “You don’t think he’s the one who sent you the information, do you?” Bradley asked.

      “Why would he?” she asked, although she already knew.

      “Isn’t it obvious? He figures a hotshot reporter like you will find the money,” Bradley said.

      She bristled at the hotshot reporter comment. “I work for a weekly newspaper.”

      “Now you do. Stop being so modest. You are a great reporter. Lubbock must have seen you on TV during one of your stories that made national news,” Bradley said. “Sweetie, I don’t like this. I think you should hightail it back to Texas. If Lubbock Calhoun’s feeding you this information, then it’s too dangerous. The man is a hardened criminal.”

      “You know I can’t come back to Texas.”

      “But can you stay there? What if I’m right and he’s hoping you find the money for him?”

      “It would make quite the story,” she said, only half joking.

      “Sweetie, but what if you don’t find the money?”

      “For all I know Starr faked her death and has already spent all the money,” Andi said and took a drink of her wine, unnerved by the news about Lubbock. “Don’t forget Houston. He could have already blown the money. No one has seen him since he and Starr pulled off that last robbery six years ago.”

      “If Houston was her accomplice,” Bradley pointed out. “We know it wasn’t Lubbock. He didn’t resemble the man in the bank surveillance photos. Plus he was arrested on an old warrant so he wasn’t even a suspect in the robberies apparently.”

      Andi had been thinking about the millions of stolen dollars. “You can bet one of the Calhouns has already spent that robbery money.”

      “If that were the case, wouldn’t Lubbock Calhoun know that—if he’s the one who sent you the information?” Bradley asked.

      He made a good point.

      “Maybe he doesn’t know what happened to the money—or Starr or Houston. Maybe he’s winging it just like me,” she said.

      “Maybe. Or maybe Starr hid the money, planning to take off with her new identity, but hadn’t planned on losing control of her car and dying.”

      “That’s another possibility,” she admitted. “That’s the problem. There are too many possibilities.”

      “Oh, wait,” Bradley said, “but if Starr had hidden the money, surely her husband would have found it by now. Unless he did find it!”

      “Is there some way to find out if any of the stolen money ever turned up?” she asked.

      “The robberies were during the day, right? Banks have what they call ‘bait’ money. It’s traceable. So if any of it has surfaced…I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you,” he said, sounding as excited as she felt about the story.

      She gave him her new cell phone number and they both promised to keep in touch.

      After she hung up, she shot a glance at her front window as a car drove slowly by. Lubbock wasn’t just out of prison, he’d already broken parole.

      Quickly she stepped to the window and closed the curtains, telling herself that the smartest thing she could do was to take everything she knew to the local sheriff, Carter Jackson, Cade Jackson’s brother.

      But then the story would break prematurely. A story that belonged to her. And not the whole story. Not to mention that she might never find out who was sending her the information or what they wanted.

      She checked to make sure her door was locked before she rewound the tape and listened to it again, her mind racing. She took one of the blank tapes Mark Sanders had given her and put it in the second cassette deck and made a copy of the original.

      Wouldn’t anyone who wanted the story to come out have gone to the sheriff? Or the FBI? Or if not that, a major television station?

      Whoever had given her the newspaper clipping and the tape wasn’t after a story—or justice. No, they wanted something else. Bradley had to be right. They wanted the money.

      She took the tape out of the player and stared down at it. The big question was what was she going to do with this?

       Chapter Three

      The Jackson Bait Shop was on the edge of town. The sign was weathered, the building small. As Andi got out of her car the next morning, she wondered how Cade Jackson made a living in such a remote place selling bait.

      Or was he living off the three million dollars Starr had stolen?

      Andi had gone into the newspaper early, gathering everything she could find on Cade Jackson. There hadn’t been much. A local cowboy, he’d grown up on a ranch south of here near what was called Old Town Whitehorse.

      Since then he’d won some horse-roping events and caught a few big fish that had made the newspaper.

      His only claim to fame just might turn out to be marrying Starr Calhoun, she thought as she saw that the Closed sign was still up in the bait shop window. There were no store hours posted. Did anyone even fish this time of year?

      She knocked at the door and waited on the small landing out front, hugging herself, trying to keep warm. She guessed he was already up since the Great Falls Tribune newspaper box next to the door was empty. It had snowed again last night, coating the entire town with a couple of inches. The snow glittered so bright it was blinding. But it was the breeze that cut through her, chilling her to the bone. She’d had no idea it would be this cold up here.

      As a gust of wind whirled snow around her, she instinctively reached for the doorknob. To her surprise, it turned easily in her hand, the door falling open.

      She was hit with a blast of warm air. She leaned into it, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her as she tried to shake off her earlier chill.

      Apparently Cade Jackson sold more than bait. The room was divided into four long aisles by three high shelves filled with lures and jigs, rods and reels, paddles and oars, nets and an array of boat parts and sporting equipment.

      Cade Jackson was nowhere in sight but she thought she heard water running somewhere in the back.

      She moved through the shop toward the sound. It was warm in here and she was in no hurry to go back outside into the cold.

      But she reminded herself: for all she knew this man had known about the robbery, might even have gotten rid of his wife to keep all the money for himself.

      But if he had the three million dollars or even some of it, he didn’t appear to be enjoying it much, she thought as she saw his living quarters.

      The

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