Montana Midwife. Cassie Miles
this, never thought violence would reach out and touch his family. “Was anyone shot?”
“Yes,” she said tersely. “It’s not Misty or her boyfriend. Somebody else.”
“Is he seriously wounded?”
“I really can’t hear you,” Tabitha said.
“Don’t hang up. Keep the line open.”
He should have expected something like this. Law enforcement had become a serious problem in the area, especially on the Crow reservation. Tribal lands spread across nearly two and a half million acres with only a handful of officers and a couple of agents from the Bureau of Indian Affairs to keep order. And the situation in Henley wasn’t much better. Budget cuts had sliced the police and sheriff’s department to the bare bone.
At the meeting in Crow Agency, the tribal police told them to be on the lookout for two girls from Henley who were last seen on the rez before they went missing. Nobody mentioned the possibility of a serial killer, but the threat was implied. Both of the missing girls were blondes like Misty.
“Aiden, I can hear your chopper.”
On the opposite side of the river, he saw the sandstone cliffs and rock formations. “I’m near Half-Moon Cave.”
“Do you see us? Do you see the Jeep?”
He spotted Clinton’s open-top vehicle stuck in the creek bed. Beside it was a black horse. Relief flooded through him when he saw Misty in her bright pink jacket step out from the cover of the trees and wave with both arms. She was safe. For now.
Chapter Two
Aiden stood over the body of a man who wasn’t much older than his sister. The fresh blood on his shirt made a vivid splash of crimson against the dry prairie grass in the clearing. The wind sighed through the bare branches of trees, and the rushing of the river played a quiet dirge. The family and friends of this young man would mourn his passing. Out of respect for them and for the victim, Aiden spread a tarp from the helicopter over the body.
He stood and took a step back.
His sister had a talent for getting into trouble, but this went beyond her usual. When he turned, he saw Misty was standing by the Jeep with her boyfriend. This time, she’d gotten herself involved in a murder. There would be consequences.
Before landing, he’d done an aerial sweep of the area and had seen nothing that appeared threatening. In the afternoon sunlight, his vision extended for miles in every direction. He hadn’t spotted the shooter fleeing or hiding among the rocks and brush. There were no signs of a getaway vehicle, which didn’t surprise Aiden. Almost an hour had passed since the first phone call from Tabitha; that was plenty of time for a shooter to put distance between himself and the scene of the crime.
If there was a shooter …
As he moved to the edge of the clearing, Tabitha joined him. “I’m glad you covered him,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if that would disturb evidence.”
“We aren’t exactly dealing with a crack team of CSI investigators.” He’d done enough work with local law enforcement to know the drill. “The police will be more concerned with obvious stuff. That’s Misty’s rifle on the ground. Do you know how it got here?”
“You need to ask her.”
“There’s a smear of blood on the stock.”
“When I arrived,” Tabitha said, “Misty was kneeling beside the body. I think she was trying to help. She had blood on her hands.”
“Do you think she did it?” He asked the question of the sky and the hills and the river. “Do you think she killed that young man?”
“I don’t know.”
Though he wasn’t sure what he’d do, Aiden had to know the truth. “Misty isn’t a murderer.”
“No, she’s not.”
For the first time since he’d landed, he looked directly at Tabitha. Her blue-eyed gaze was disconcerting, partly because the color was unexpected and partly because she was a lot prettier than he remembered with high cheekbones and a strong, stubborn chin. Her long black braid glistened in the fading sunlight. Though he should have been focused on his sister and the murdered man, this beautiful woman distracted him. His fingers itched to unfasten her braid and caress her silky hair.
“There is a plus side,” she said. “Emergency medical evacuation isn’t necessary. Not for Misty, anyway.”
He watched her full lips as she spoke. “Does that mean she isn’t in labor?”
“I haven’t done a full exam, obviously. But her mysterious labor pains seem to have disappeared, and she’s a month away from her due date. I advised her to check with her doctor in case there are complications. She might need to be on bed rest.”
“I like that idea.” With an effort, he reined in his inappropriate thoughts about Tabitha’s long legs and slender waist. “It’d be nice to keep Misty close to home before the baby comes.”
“I’m more concerned about Clinton.” Her crisp, professional tone helped create a distance between them. “I patched up his head wound, but he’s had a concussion and needs to be under observation.”
“I understand.” But he didn’t agree. He could have cited five or six times when he’d been knocked unconscious and had survived just fine. “I’m mighty glad you got here when you did. This situation could have been worse. Not that there’s anything worse than murder.”
Even if his sister was the killer? Surely, there was an explanation. Self-defense?
“We should call the sheriff,” Tabitha said.
“But this is reservation land. That means we call the Crow police chief, Joseph Lefthand. I’ve worked with him before. He’s good at his job.”
“I agree. Joseph is a good, dedicated lawman.”
He took out his cell phone. “I’ll call him.”
“Wait,” she said. “The tribal police don’t have the resources to process forensic evidence, and I want to make sure the investigation is done right. This isn’t a straightforward murder.”
“It’s not that complicated.” He didn’t need to go into detail about how his aerial sweep failed to show evidence of a killer on the run, or how Misty’s rifle was on the ground beside the body. “We’re looking at an obvious case of self-defense.”
“That’s not what Misty says.”
“Do you believe her, Tabitha?”
“I do. Your sister might be irresponsible, but she’s not a liar.” She arched an eyebrow. “Please call me Tab. The only other person who uses my full name is my grandma, and that’s only when she’s mad at me.”
Her slight smile made him want to see a full-fledged grin and to hear her laughter. “I remember your grandma. Maria Spotted Bear.” He looked past the Jeep to where a black mare was grazing. “Is that her horse?”
“Shua,” Tab said. “Don’t ask me why a black horse is named with the Crow word for blue. Grandma has her reasons.”
“Is she well?”
“According to her, she’s in great health. But she’s been diagnosed with a touch of congenital heart failure. A couple of months ago, she fainted and broke her wrist. One of the reasons I moved back here was to take care of her.”
“Sorry to hear that she’s ailing.”
Tab shrugged. A simple gesture, but he found it charming. “How’s Sylvia?”
“Mom is strong as an ox. It’s hard to believe she’s almost sixty.”
A silence stretched between