Montana Midwife Read Free Page B

that we were stuck, and he said I needed to get away from here, to get the hell away from here.”
    Her eyes welled up with tears. “Then I heard the shots. David grabbed his chest and fell down. And there was blood. Oh my God, there was a lot of blood.”
    “Did you see who shot him?”
    “I hit the dirt. I thought they were shooting at me. I covered my head and I thought about my baby. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to my baby, I just couldn’t.”
    Her hands flew up to cover her face as heavy sobs shook her shoulders. For once, Clinton did the right thing, stepping forward to comfort her and hold her against his chest. His protective attitude made Aiden wonder if there was something Misty had left out of her story.
    Clinton might have been the shooter. Misty could be claiming responsibility to keep her boyfriend from being a suspect. But that didn’t make sense. A self-defense plea worked just as well for Clinton as for Misty. Aiden doubted that either one of them would be charged with murder…except for one hitch. The victim appeared to be unarmed.
    As Misty’s sobs abated, Aiden asked, “Why was your rifle in the clearing?”
    “I ran back to get it, but the gun wasn’t where I left it.”
    “Where was it?”
    “Right about here.” She pointed to a clump of sagebrush that was about twenty yards from the clearing. “I could tell it had been fired.”
    “Are you saying that the killer used your rifle?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Did you see him?” he asked.
    “He must have run off.”
    Or maybe he turned invisible . Aiden was getting more and more frustrated with her story. “How long between when you heard the shot and ran back to get the rifle?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Think, Misty.”
    Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Don’t be so mean to me.”
    “I can help,” Tab said. “When I heard the first shot, I was on the other side of those hills. It took five or six minutes before I got to the crest and could see the Jeep. Clinton was unconscious in the backseat. I fired a warning shot in the air to scare off anybody who might be hanging around.”
    “I shot back,” Misty said. “I didn’t aim at anything. I was just shooting in the air. Twice.”
    Aiden fitted the pieces together. According to his sister, a mysterious shooter had killed David Welling using her rifle, and then disappeared within five minutes. He gauged the distance from where she found the rifle to the trees and shrubs that bordered the river. Though it was possible that the killer could make that dash, it was unlikely. Why use Misty’s rifle? Why choose this particular moment to kill David Welling? And what was Welling doing out here in the first place?
    After patting his sister on the arm and offering reassurances that he hoped weren’t empty, Aiden pulled Tab to one side. His senses registered the clean fragrance of her shampoo and the warmth that emanated from her body, but he kept his mind trained on the problem at hand.
    “You’re right,” he said to Tab. “This investigation is beyond the resources of the tribal police. But we still need to contact Joseph Lefthand.”
    “I’m not sure of the procedure,” she said.
    He explained. First, they needed to notify tribal police of a crime committed on their land. In most cases, the Crow were happy to pass on the problem and cede jurisdiction through an agent of the federal government, namely someone from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Then the county sheriff would take over.
    “I hope the sheriff can get started with his investigation before dark.” She looked toward the sun sinking in the west. “There might be footprints from the gunman. Or evidence of his vehicle.”
    “If Misty’s story is accurate,” he said, “ballistics will show that the bullets came from her rifle.”
    “There might be fingerprints.”
    “In addition to Misty’s prints.” She’d already said that she fired the gun and would, therefore, have gunshot residue on her