Heroes in the End: Fiona Marlowe Mysteries, #3

By Marjorie Thelen

In the third book of the Fiona Marlowe novels, the mystery of the bones in the hot spring surfaces again. DNA evidence suggests that the bones are Jake's ex-wife, and he is a suspect in her demise. This time Fiona is determined to solve the mystery of whose bones those really are, once and for all.  At the same time Jake's troublesome older brother, Ross, contacts Jake to bail him out of jail in Nevada and thinks he may have seen Jake's daughter, who Jake hasn't seen in fifteen years. Fiona and Jake set off to find his daughter and clear his name on a journey that takes them from their ranch to Las Vegas to the bull riding world and back again. In the process they discover there are heroes in the family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marjorie Thelen
• Release date: Oct 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393331278

Book preview

Books by Marjorie Thelen

Mystery-in-Exotic Places

The Forty Column Castle

The Hieroglyphic Staircase

Fiona Marlow Mysteries

Designer Detective

High Desert Detective

Heroes in the End

Deovolante Space Opera Series

A Far Out Galaxy

Hoodoo Canyon

The Next Universe Over

Earth Rising

Historical Romance

Wings of the Wind

Cover Art by Dona Townsend

Cover design by Rachel Bostwick

HEROES IN THE END

Copyright Marjorie Thelen 2016

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or were used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.  All rights reserved. The republication or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic or mechanical or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.

www.marjoriethelen.com

Chapter One

The day after Jake and Fiona returned home from their honeymoon, Sheriff Hoover showed up. The wedding ceremony had been short, the well wishers many. After all, Jake Manyhorses knew all the folks in Harney Valley and many in the county as well. Most counted him as friend. Fiona Marlowe was an outsider, an Easterner, but Jake’s friends embraced her with friendly smiles and open arms. They were genuinely happy for them both. New blood was usually welcome.

Jake came out on the front porch to welcome Hoover, wondering what brought him so far from town on such a fine, hot August morning. Jake was feeling extraordinarily happy and was ready to share his good feeling with his old friend. They could relive the wedding over a mug of coffee.

Hoover slammed the truck door and strode up the walk. There wasn’t the friendly back and forth they usually exchanged in greeting. He got right to the point.

We have a possible identification on those bones you found in the hot spring, and you’re not going to believe this, but they may belong to your ex-wife.

They stood face-to-face on the porch of the H-Bar-O ranch, the one Jake still ran, the one he had bought from Opal Crawford, the one he had managed for so long and worked so hard to make it what it was today.

Jake didn’t say anything, and Hoover finally said, The bones you found the day of the accident may be your wife’s. Did you hear me, Jake?

Ex-wife, said Jake. I divorced her when she never came back. When she took my little girl and never told me where they went. When the private investigator never found them. That was long ago.

I know. But the fact is, she used to be married to you, and you sometimes sound pretty angry over the whole deal. I’m here to tell you that you may be a suspect.

That’s a pretty heavy load to dump on me so early the morning after I return from my honeymoon. What does that mean? How can I be a suspect when she ran out on me, and I never heard from her again? I never saw her after the night I came home late, and she and my little girl were gone. I looked high and low for them. It was like aliens came and took them to another planet.

Hoover crossed his arms over his chest.  I know, but the FBI is in on this because it’s a crime that’s crossed state lines.

Jake frowned. Wait one minute. If the bones were in a hot spring in Oregon, how does that involve more than one state.

Because your ex-wife was living in Nevada.

You knew this and didn’t tell me?

I just found out. I got a call from this guy at the FBI. They found the open case in the searchable database where we had posted about these bones. This guy said they had a match on the DNA of a woman that’s been missing in Nevada. The woman’s name was Florence Debris.

Jake waited. He didn’t trust himself to talk. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Hoover looked uncomfortable, but Jake couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Nothing at all. Maybe he should say something to make Hoover feel more comfortable. But he said nothing.

Hoover was looking off in the distance. He knew this was a deep wound for Jake, so it wasn’t any use talking about it. Jake had lived through the hurt and despair and stuffed it down where it couldn’t hurt anymore, except now it did again.

Jake, do you hear what I’m saying? Look, I know this is hard for you. Believe me, this was a tough trip, coming out here to tell you. He lifted his wide-brimmed hat and settled it back on his head. I came to warn you that this might get unpleasant. I’m sorry, Jake. I’m real sorry.

Jake said, Her name wasn’t Florence Debris.

I know. She was living under an assumed name, a totally made up life. She had multiple aliases, but as it turns out, her real name is Ray Ann Stokes. She had credit under the Florence name, she had a job as a waitress, and she lived with a man. And then she disappeared again.

What about my little girl?

Hoover sighed. The FBI knows nothing about a child related to this woman.

Why am I a suspect? Why not the man she was living with.

He’s a suspect, too. Police down in Nevada are checking out his alibis. I may need to check out yours. Next of kin is always suspect.

Jake shook his head. I can’t believe she lived in the next state.  He kept shaking his head then looked at Hoover. When did she die?

Hoover lifted his hat again and smoothed it back over his matted down hair, like he was trying to cool off his head.  

That’s the problem, trying to determine that exact time of death. The forensic pathologist from the State Crime Lab says the bones could have been in there a couple of months, probably longer.  

Are you sure it’s Ray Ann? Jake said.

The DNA comes from the home of this guy who reported her missing. He gave the police hair from an old hairbrush of this woman's. It matches the DNA of those bones. He swears the hair is from this Florence Debris woman. The weird part is that this guy knows about that hot spring where we found the bones. He says this woman Florence loved this hot spring and took him there for a soak. She was crazy about hot springs.

Jake frowned. That doesn’t sound like the Ray Ann I knew. She didn’t like the water.

Maybe in her new life her tastes changed.

Jake studied Hoover’s face. I don’t care about any bones. I want to know where my little girl is. All those old, twisted memories flooded in, and they were making him ill. Come inside and have coffee. I may need a slug of whisky in mine.

FIONA WALKED INTO THE kitchen as Jake and Hoover were sitting down at the table with mugs of coffee.

Hello, Sheriff Hoover, she said. She almost sang the greeting she was feeling so good. What brings you to this corner of paradise?

Her mood was exceptional this morning after a wonderful honeymoon. After the beautiful wedding ceremony at the cowboy church where Jake sometimes played guitar for services, the wedding party re-convened at the H-Bar-O ranch for a celebratory barbecue. The neighbors had joined them and had a great time, culminating in an evening of dancing. Jake and Fiona had slipped away for a honeymoon week on the Oregon Coast in the small resort town of Rockaway Beach.

Today was a good day. They had tied the knot. She was Jake’s wife, a title that felt good, it being her first time married. They’d had a terrific week on the coast, enjoying each other and their time together. They had a good future. Things were looking up. She loved Jake like she had never loved anyone.

She poured a mug of coffee, made a fresh pot, and sat down at the table with them. She smiled at Jake, but he didn’t look happy.  

Neither Jake nor Hoover spoke. After an awkward silence, Hoover filled her in on the reason for the visit.

Jake wouldn’t kill anyone, she said. Open and shut case. Where’s Jake’s daughter?

No signs of a daughter, said Hoover.

She looked at Jake. How tall was your ex?

Medium-size, I guess. She came to about my shoulder, as I remember. Why?

Because those bones seemed small to me and what was left of the clothes looked more like they’d fit a boy. Is the crime lab sure about that DNA?

Hoover shrugged. DNA testing is pretty accurate.

Fiona said, Why would Jake pull his wife’s bones from the hot spring? Wouldn’t he try to hide them if he had killed her? How could the accident have happened exactly where her bones were? Wouldn’t Jake have acted suspicious? In my opinion, you don’t have much of a case, Hoover.

Of that I am aware. You make good points.

Hoover stood. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll be getting to my other sheriff business down the highway.

Are you going to look for my daughter? said Jake.

Man down in Nevada said Florence never talked about a family.

But you’ll look, won’t you?

That trail has been cold a long time, Jake. But I’ll see what I can do.

The front screen door slammed shut. Jake and Fiona stayed sitting. Fiona placed her hand over his on the table. He sat staring into his empty coffee mug. She knew he was trying to adjust to the new curve life had thrown his way. They both were. She was in a state of shock, shot down from her perch on the wedding pedestal.

We could look for your daughter, she said.

Jake looked up at her, like he just realized she was in the same room. I’ve already done that.

But now we have a name and a place.

I like how you say 'we'. You know, you could have married a murderer.

When cows fly, she said.

JAKE SAT A WHILE LOOKING at the beautiful Fiona Marlowe, and she studied him back. Sometimes he couldn’t believe such an extraordinary woman was in his life, that she was now his wife, and that she loved him.

He said, Since my past seems to be surfacing today, I want to tell you something else.

She waited, looking at him, her smile fading a little. You’ve never talked much about your past. I’ve accepted you as you are.

I appreciate that, but I want to tell you about my brother. Actually, he’s a half-brother. We got the same mom. His dad died and our mom married again. He’s older than me. He left home when I was a teenager. That’s when everything went to hell for me, and I got pretty wild. My father was never around. My mother did the best she could, but I probably put her in an early grave. Anyway, my brother was my hero. I always wanted to be like him. He joined the rodeo circuit and when I couldn’t stand it at home anymore, I did, too. I followed him around then went on my own. I’d run into him from time to time. We’d have a good time and then he’d disappear on me.

Fiona didn’t interrupt. She sat in the quiet of the room, listening.

Jake pulled a letter from his pocket and laid it on the table between them. The outside was dirty, like it had been stomped by cows. The writing was scratchy, but Jake’s name was legible. This letter was in the stack of mail that came while we were gone.

Fiona looked at the letter lying on the table between them. She didn’t touch it. Do you want me to read the letter?

You don’t have to. I’ll tell you what it says. It says my brother's in jail in Eureka, Nevada and needs my help. He’s sick. He wanted to call but doesn’t have my cell phone number.

Jail’s pretty serious. Sick might be curable. What have you decided?

I’ll help him. Jake looked away, out the screen door to the big, old elm tree on the patio outside. Its lazy leaves moved in the scant breeze. That’s not all. He asked about my daughter, had I seen her? Funny thing is he thinks he saw her at a rodeo down in Nevada.

How would he know who she is? Has he ever seen her?

He saw her when she was a little girl around about the last I saw her. She was eight years old.

She could look a lot different now.

Jake nodded, studying the lazy leaves. He needed to get to work fixing fence. The cows were getting into the alfalfa. The pump man was coming today to pull the pump on one of the irrigation wells that had stopped working yesterday. Things had built up with his being away for the week on his honeymoon. But his past was intruding, and he had to face it. 

He kept nodding. The thing is. My little girl looked like me. My brother says this girl reminded him of me and went by the name of Allie Fair. Two words. Allie Fair.

Looking like you could mean something but what’s in the name?

My little girl’s middle name was Alafaire, and I would call her that sometimes when she was being a pretty little angel. But mostly we called her by her first name, Jackie.

Fiona reached across the table, across the letter that lay between them, and placed her hand on his forearm as it rested carelessly on the table. Jake looked into the dark eyes that he could get lost in.

I have to find her now, he said. You understand, don’t you?

She smiled and pressed his arm. I think so. As much as someone can who’s never had a child.

I need to leave and go help my brother. His jail sentence is up in a few days, and when he gets out, he has nowhere to go. I have to see how sick he is and what he needs. Maybe I can help.

What’s he in for?

Disorderly conduct, assault.  He got drunk and went after a guy. That’s the way he’s been all his life. Jake smiled, thinking about his brother. He’s not a bad guy. He’s good lookin’, smart, good cowboy, but he’s always been on the wild side.

Sounds like life is catching up with him.

Jake nodded. It sure is.

Did he ever marry and have kids?

No, never did. Or not that I know of. Wasn’t like the ladies didn’t try.

I’ll go with you.

I’d like that.

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when they entered Eureka, Nevada. Jake pulled into a small parking lot to the west side of a new-looking, one-story brick building on the main street, which also happened to be US Route 50, the loneliest road in America. A sign on the front of the building in big, white letters said, Eureka County Justice Facility. He stopped the Ford F350 truck but didn’t get out.

Fiona had never been through Nevada and so far the trip was mountains that ran north-south through the state, sagebrush, big sky, and electric lines. They had headed south on Route 78 through Harney County, land of stark vistas, past the Steens Mountains rising 9600 feet to the west. They saw hardly a soul as they travelled the two-lane highway. They passed yellow, triangular highway signs announcing Livestock, Open Range, Blowing Dust Next 28 Miles. It never failed to amaze Fiona how desolate and how beautiful this country was.

They had crossed the Oregon-Nevada state line at McDermitt, caught I-80 East at Winnemucca, a fair-sized town. At Battle Mountain they exited I-80 and headed south on Highway 305. The country they had traversed was short on people. Mountains and basins dominated the landscape. The road went on and on and on.

She and Jake talked on the trip, country and western music playing in the background. Jake opened up more about his past, about his little girl, and they both speculated on how his wife had ended up in the hot spring. When he talked about his little girl it was with a mixture of love and despair for all the years he hadn’t been there for her.

To think, he had said, I might see her again fills me with hope and excitement, but at the same time with dread because I don’t know if I’ll recognize the woman she’s turned into. Maybe she won’t recognize me. Maybe she won’t want to see me.

How old would she be now? said Fiona.

She’d be twenty-three. She was a Christmas baby, born on December 25.  She was a miracle and the light of my life. I hope she remembers me. I hope she still loves me.

He hadn’t made a move to get out of the truck. He sat looking, leaning back into the seat. 

I guess this is where he is, he said.  They said he’d be released tomorrow.

Are you looking forward to seeing him again?

Jake studied the building. The side and front were neatly landscaped in low evergreens in stone beds. Coiled barbed wire ran along the top of the tall chain link fence toward the back of the building.

I think so. We always got along. But it’s been a long time since I've seen him. His being sick, I don’t know what to expect. Life can work a man like him hard.

They got out of the truck to bright sun and baking hot sidewalks. He took Fiona’s arm and steered her toward the entrance.

Sgt. Westwood was the person on duty. Yes, she said, Ross Awbrey is here and his release is scheduled for tomorrow. There are no visiting hours today, I’m sorry to say.

I’m his brother, said Jake. He wrote and said he was sick. Is he better now?

The nice-looking woman looked at him over the top of her half-glasses and in a not unkindly voice said, Ross Awbrey needs more medical attention than we can give him. I’m not at liberty to discuss his condition. He can tell you himself. Come back tomorrow at 10:00 AM.  He’ll be ready to go.

Thank you, said Jake. Is there a nice motel in town where we could stay?

She nodded her head toward the east. Down the street on the left. The Gold Country Inn. Owl Café is another block further, if you want something to eat.

Jake touched his wide-brim hat, and they exited to the street. 

Let’s see to a hotel room, he said.

After registering at the Gold Country Inn, they walked around the old frontier town and stopped in a few shops. Fiona found a T-shirt she liked that read, I survived the loneliest road in America.

That night Jake didn’t sleep well and because he didn’t, Fiona didn’t. After they had eaten at the Owl Cafe, Jake had wanted to sit in the bar and have a few drinks. Even though he was well lubricated when they got back to the room, and even though they had made a frenzied kind of love, he was still keyed up.

What’s wrong? Fiona asked into the darkness. Do you want me to rub your back? The noise of the air conditioner was the only sound in the still of the night.

I’m sorry I woke you up. It’s not my back hurting tonight. All this old stuff from the past keeps rolling through my head. I hate when that happens. I try to keep all that stuff locked up, but it doesn’t seem to want to stay in the past.

Yes, I know. The past seems to delight in coming back at 3:00 A.M. in the morning.

What if I can’t find Alafaire? If I do, what if she hates me?

Fiona rubbed his back anyway. Sometimes it