Iron Will. B.J. Daniels
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is what I knew how to do and what I...”
“What you loved.”
His blue eyes shone as they locked with hers. She saw that his pain was much deeper than even she’d thought. If Naomi had committed suicide, then he blamed himself because of the fight. He’d denied her what she wanted most, a different version of him.
“So she left hurt and angry,” Frankie said. “Did she indicate where she was going? I’m assuming the two of you were living together here at the ranch.”
“She said she was going to spend the night at her best friend Carrie White’s apartment in Meadow Village here at Big Sky and that she needed time to think about all of this.” He swallowed again. “I let her go without trying to fix it.”
“It sounds like it wasn’t an easy fix,” Frankie commented and finished her beer. Getting up, she tilted the bottle in offer. Hank seemed to realize he still had a half-full bottle and quickly downed the rest. She took both empties to the kitchen and came back with two more.
Handing him one, she asked, “You tried to call her that night or the next morning?” As she asked the question, she knew where his parents would have stood on the marriage and Naomi issue. They wouldn’t want to tarnish their son’s relationship because of their opinions about his choice for a partner, but they also wouldn’t want him marrying a woman who was clearly not a good match for him. One who took him off the ranch and the things he loved.
“That night, I was in no mood to discuss it further, so I waited and called her the next morning.” He opened his beer and took a long pull. “Maybe if I’d called not long after she left—”
“What had you planned to say?” she asked, simply curious. It was a moot point now. Nor had his plans had anything to do with what happened to Naomi. By then, she was dead.
“I was going to tell her that I’d do whatever she wanted.” He let out a long sigh and tipped the beer bottle to his lips. “But when she didn’t answer, I changed my mind. I realized it wasn’t going to work.” His voice broke again. “I loved her, but she wanted to make me over, and I couldn’t be the man she wanted me to be.” His eyes narrowed. “You can dress me up, but underneath I’m still just a cowboy.”
“Did you leave her a message on her phone?”
He nodded and looked away, his blue eyes glittering with tears. “I told her goodbye, but by then it would have been too late.” His handsome face twisted in pain.
Frankie sat for a moment, considering everything he’d told her. “Was her cell phone found on her body or in her car?”
He shook his head. “Who knows what she did with it. The phone could have gone into the river. My father had his deputies search for it, but it was never found.” His voice broke. “Maybe I did drive her to suicide,” he said and took a drink as if to steady himself.
“I’m going to give you my professional opinion, for what it’s worth,” she said, knowing he wasn’t going to like it. “I don’t believe she killed herself. She knew that you loved her. She was just blowing off some steam when she headed for her friend’s house. Did her friend see her at all?”
He shook his head.
“So she didn’t go there. That would explain the discrepancy in the time she left you and when her watch was broken. Is there somewhere else she might have gone? Another friend’s place? A male friend’s?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “A male friend’s? Why would you even ask about—”
“Because I know people. She was counting on you to change and do what she wanted, but after four years? She would have realized it was a losing battle and had someone else waiting in the wings.”
He slammed down his beer bottle and shoved to his feet. “You make her sound like she was—”
“A woman determined to get married, have kids, stay home and raise them while her husband had a good job that allowed all her dreams to come true?”
“She wasn’t—she—” He seemed at a loss for words.
“Hey, Hank. Naomi was a beautiful woman who had her own dreams.” He had showed her a photograph of Naomi. Blonde, green-eyed, a natural beauty.
Ignoring a strange feeling of jealousy, Frankie got to her feet and finished her beer before she spoke. She realized that she’d probably been too honest with him. But someone needed to be, she told herself. It wasn’t just the beer talking. Or that sudden stab of jealousy when she’d thought of Naomi.
In truth, she was annoyed at him because she knew that if he’d reached Naomi on the phone that night, he would have buckled under. He would have done whatever she wanted, including marrying her. On some level, he would have been miserable and resented her the rest of his life, but being the man he was, he would have made the best of it. Naomi dying had saved him and he didn’t even realize it.
“We need to find the other man,” Frankie said as she took her bottle to the recycling bin before turning toward the bedroom.
Hank let out a curse. “You’re wrong. You’re dead wrong. I don’t know why I—”
She cut off the rest of his words as she closed the bedroom door. She knew he was angry and probably ready to fire her. All she could hope was that he would cool down by the morning and would trust that she knew what she was talking about. Oh, she’d known women like Naomi all her life—including her very own mother, who chewed up men and spit them out one after another as they disappointed her. That was the problem with trying to make over a man.
* * *
HANK COULDN’T SLEEP. He lay in the second bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, cursing the fact that he’d brought Frankie here. What had he been thinking? This had to be the stupidest idea he’d ever come up with. Clearly, she didn’t get it. She hadn’t known Naomi.
Another man?
He thought about storming into her bedroom, telling her to pack her stuff and taking her back to Idaho tonight. Instead, he tossed and turned, getting more angry by the hour. He would fire her. First thing in the morning, he’d do just that.
Who did she think she was, judging Naomi like that? Naomi was sweet, gentle, maybe a little too timid... He rolled over and glared at the bedroom door. Another man in the wings! The thought made him so angry he could snap off nails with his teeth.
As his blood pressure finally began to drop somewhere around midnight, he found himself wondering if Naomi’s friend Carrie knew more than she’d originally told him. If there had been another man—
He gave that thought a hard shove away. Naomi had loved him. Only him. She’d wanted the best for him. He rolled over again. She thought she knew what was best for him. He kicked at the blanket tangled around his legs. Maybe if she had lived she would have realized that what was best for him, for them, was staying on the ranch, letting him do what he knew and loved. Sidewalks were overrated.
Staring up at the ceiling, he felt the weight of her death press against his chest so hard that for a moment he couldn’t breathe.
You don’t want to let yourself believe that she committed suicide because you feel guilty about the argument you had with her before she left the ranch, his father had said. Son, believe me, it took more than some silly argument for her to do what she did. We often don’t know those closest to us or what drives them to do what they do. This wasn’t your fault.
Hank groaned, remembering his father’s words three years ago. Could he be wrong about a lot of things? He heard the bedroom door open. He could see Frankie silhouetted in the doorway.
“If there is another man, then it would prove that she didn’t commit suicide,” the PI said. The bedroom door closed.
He glared at it for a long moment. Even if Frankie had gone back to her bedroom and locked the door, he knew he could kick it down if he wanted to. But as