Chapter Five

She was sitting on the sofa reading that night when Roger knocked on her door.

"Hey? Can I join you?" He held up a six pack of beer.

"Of course, come in." She took the beer and put them in the refrigerator, handing him a cold one of hers.

"Mrs. Patterson wanted me to thank you for finding her boys this afternoon." He sat down beside her. "They tell me you have a little temper and that you yelled at them."

"Me? Hardly. I hope you yelled at the mother, though."

"Oh, yeah. I don't think she'll do anything like that again."

"By the way, thanks for encouraging Bobby to play matchmaker. Straight as they come, huh?"

Roger's laugh shook the windowpanes and Chris joined in.

"Bobby was going on and on about you and Matt but he suspected you might be gay and it was such a shame and so on that I just wanted him to shut up about it. I told him to tell you because you were a little dense when it came to men."

"Thanks a lot. I think I broke his heart."

"He idolizes Matt. If I didn't know better, I'd think he had a crush on him."

"Maybe he does."

"Don't think so, McKenna. Bobby's got him a little gal in Reno." He picked up the book she was reading and smiled. "J. T. Stone. Have you read all six of hers?"

"No, this is just the third. Have you?"

"Yep. She's from around here, you know."

"Really?" Chris flipped over to the back and looked at the picture of the author for the hundredth time, looking briefly into the very dark eyes that stared back at her. "Says here, she's from New York."

"Well, she grew up around here. Her mother still lives here." He took the book from her and looked at the picture of J. T. Stone. "Jessie Stone. Still so beautiful. Tragic story, really."

"The book?"

"No, her life. Her mother's, too. Annie."

"The hermit lady, as Kay calls her?"

"She's not really a hermit, not like what they called them in the old days, anyway. She just prefers her own company and doesn't like to get out. I was friends with her and Jack when I worked here in the seventies, before I went to Tahoe. Jack Stone was the Regional Supervisor for this district."

Chris was intrigued. Ever since she had picked up one of her books and seen the picture on the back, she had been curious about J. T. Stone. Her books were dark, mysterious. Her picture on the back was mysterious, too, and her nearly black eyes revealed little, perhaps adding to the mystique.

"Well, tell me the story," she said, drawing up her legs under her and pulling Dillon into her lap.

"Jessie was a teenager when I met her. Jack was older, already in his mid-fifties, but we became friends. He could party, that one. Very seldom was he seen in public with his wife. That would be Annie. I think that's why people call her a hermit. They assumed she didn't want to go out, when actually, Jack wouldn't allow it. He controlled her totally, right down to taking Jessie away from her."

"What do you mean, taking her away?"

"Well, he was already forty when she was born. That girl could do no wrong in his eyes. If Annie tried to discipline her, Jack was there to take her away with him, out on the trails, out fishing, anything to get away from Annie. So, naturally, Jessie grew up following him everywhere and had little to do with her mother. Jack wouldn't allow Annie to go along with them, you see. He said it was his quality time with his little girl. Now, a lot of this I've learned from Annie over the years. Jack would never have told me all that."

"Abuse?" Chris asked.

"What?"

"Jack. Sexual abuse. With the kid," Chris suggested.

"Jack? Oh, no," Roger said. "He loved Jessie."

Chris raised an eyebrow. With what little Roger had just told her, she would bet a hundred dollars this Jack wasn't just simply fond of his little girl.

"You know what I mean. He wouldn't hurt her. He worshiped her."

"Okay," Chris said, still skeptical. "Then tell me the rest." Chris was enjoying the story. She had a ridiculous teenage crush on the author already, all from just a picture. Perhaps Roger could give her some insight into J. T Stone's personality.

"Well, needless to say, Jack and Annie didn't exactly have an ideal marriage. Jack had girlfriends all over the place. Everyone knew about them. Even Annie. Of course, Jessie never knew. Well, Annie started going to San Francisco more and more and Jack found out she had a man there. They had a terrible screaming match, he called her a whore, unfit mother, you name it. Annie came right back at him about all the women he had on the side and how their marriage was a farce. Anyway, they thought Jessie was outside, but she heard the whole tiling. She would have been sixteen, I think. Maybe older. Annie said Jessie only said one thing to her. She said, "So, this is all your fault." Well, Jack took Jessie away. Took her out hiking or something. Came home like nothing had happened. Next day, went to work like normal and didn't come home. We found him lying at the bottom of Milford Canyon. He had fallen off the ledge up on Ridge Trail."

"Jesus. Did he jump?"

Roger shrugged. "Who's to say? Annie thinks so. So do I."

"Why?" She got up to get them another beer, pouring out the rest of her warm one.

"Annie thinks because he couldn't bear the thought of Jessie finding out about all the woman he had on the side. I think he couldn't stand the thought of his friends finding out that Annie had been cheating on him. That would have made him less a man, you see."

"So you kill yourself?"

"Well, I wouldn't, no. But you'd have to know Jack."

"So what happened to Jessie? She found out he was nothing but a liar?"

"After they found him, Jessie blamed Annie for his death, I guess. When she turned seventeen, she left and hasn't been back since. Sixteen, seventeen years, probably."

"She hasn't seen her mother?"

"Hasn't even spoken to her mother," Roger said.

"No wonder the mother is always the first to get murdered in her books. And not very pleasant deaths, either," Chris added.

"Yeah, I know. But Annie is okay now. I'm not sure how she survived the first few years, but she's one strong woman."

"I'd like to meet her, Roger. Kay says you take her groceries and stuff."

"Yeah. I go see her about once a week or so. Before I came back here, she would only go into town every other month and stock up, then no one would see her again until the next time. That's how the hermit thing stuck. We can go see her tomorrow, if you like. I don't think she'd mind."

Annie was sitting on the porch, a thick book lying in her lap, when they drove up. She waved twice, then got up to meet them.

"Why, Roger, what a surprise." She turned to Chris. "Hello. I'm Annie Stone."

Her voice was as strong as her handshake and Chris smiled politely.

"This is Chris McKenna, new Search and Rescue. And a friend," he added.

"Finally got your SAR, Roger? Good. Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Chris McKenna. Come inside. I have fresh brewed tea. It's so hot out, isn't it?"

Chris exchanged a glance with Roger as they followed her inside. What a pleasant woman, Chris thought. Absolutely nothing like she had been envisioning. Chris looked around the well-kept house, pausing in the living room before following Roger and Annie into the kitchen. The walls were cluttered with paintings and numerous others lay scattered about, some leaning against the wall. She looked closer and saw Annie's name scribbled at the bottom.

"Oh, don't look too closely, Chris. That's just my hobby. Some of me better ones I've hung, but the others... well, I'm out of room in my studio." She pointed to the stack leaning against the wall. "Those are on the way to the basement. I can't bring myself to paint over them yet."

"Well, they all look very good," Chris said sincerely. She knew little about art, but they at least looked like trees and mountains. "What style would you call this? Abstract?"

"No. More like Impressionism. I tried abstract art, but it wasn't for me. And my talent doesn't quite go far enough for Realism." She shrugged. "But it's just a hobby," she said again.

They took their iced tea to the back deck, shaded this time of day. Chris waited while Roger found another chair for her. She doubted Annie ever had need for three. They were silent for a long moment, all three looking out toward the mountain as the sun reflected off the western facing slopes.

"Well, Roger, it's unlike you to show up unexpectedly. Did you need something or are you just showing me off to the new SAR?"

"Can't I just visit, Annie? Chris just happened to be along."

"Bullshit, Roger. We've been friends too long," she said, bringing a smile to Chris.

"I wanted to meet you," Chris admitted.

"Why? Have you heard the rumors about me and you wanted to see a real live hermit for yourself?" she asked with a laugh. "I'm not really a hermit, dear," she said quietly. "Just don't have a whole lot of use for people, is all."

Chris thought again what a delightful woman she was and she was glad that Roger brought her here.

"I was filling her in on the local history last night, Annie. Your name came up," Roger said.

"Oh, all that again?" She turned to Chris. "Do you know of my daughter, Chris?"

"I've read a couple of her books, yes."

Annie nodded. "Then you know about as much as I do." She looked away, eyes closed for a moment. "How old are you?"

"I'm thirty-three," she said, resisting the urge to fall back on her standard reply of twenty-nine.

"Jessie will be thirty-four this fall. She was a tall girl, although I don't think as tall as you are. She always had a dark complexion, like you, but your hair is much lighter. And of course, she didn't have your pretty blue eyes. She had her father's eyes, dark as the night," Annie said quietly. Then she looked up, a smile returning. "Oh, well. Another life. Now, how long have you been here?"

"First of this month," Chris said.

"You probably haven't had a decent meal since you got here, then. Knowing Roger, he has you at the Rock every night."

Chris nodded, her eyes flicking to Roger.

"I'll expect you for dinner tomorrow night at six."

"Dinner?"

"Yes. You do eat?"

Chris nodded again. "I'll be here."

That evening, at the Rock House, Chris joined Roger and Ellen for dinner. Ellen Burdett owned the only grocery store in Sierra City. Widowed at a young age, she took her insurance money and bought the store from Mrs. Ramsey, who had wanted to move to Oregon to be closer to her daughter. She and Roger started seeing each other shortly after Ellen moved here. Chris would bet money that they had never spoken of marriage. Roger would run screaming into the night and Chris suspected Ellen knew that.

"Roger tells me you're having dinner with Annie Stone tomorrow," Ellen said.

"Yeah. Surprised the hell out of me." Chris raised her hand and waved at Martha. "Still waiting for that beer," she yelled.

"Keep your pants on, McKenna, I'm the only one here," Martha yelled back.

"Ah, small town politeness. Gotta love it," Chris murmured.

"If you're dying of thirst, have some of mine," Roger offered.

Chris took a sip, then pushed the mug back to him.

"I've been here five years and I have yet to meet her," Ellen said.

"Annie? You're kidding? Why haven't you gone with Roger?"

Ellen shrugged. "I didn't want to impose on her and it would be rude. I mean, I would be going mostly out of curiosity."

Chris turned to Roger. "Why do you allow these rumors to continue? She seemed a perfectly normal, healthy woman to me."

"And she is. I think Annie enjoys the rumors. It keeps people away, that's for sure. And it's not like she never leaves the house. She goes to San Francisco a couple of times a year and she's an avid hiker. She's been all over these mountains and rarely stays on the trails. Most of her paintings come from something she's seen on her hikes."

"Why would she feel comfortable going out in San Francisco and not here?" Chris asked.

"She never went out here, even when Jack was alive. She doesn't have any friends here. Not one." Then he shrugged. "Well, other than me."

"That's a very sad life," Ellen said.

"Of her choosing, let's don't forget," he said.

Martha finally came with Chris's beer, sloshing a little on the table when she set it down.

"Dave's got some pasta concoction he's made up for you, McKenna."

"Thanks. Can't wait." Chris turned to Ellen. "I've really got to start cooking. These nightly surprises of Dave's are getting stranger by the day. The other night, he gave me a bowl of cottage cheese with pinto beans on top."

"I warned you to stick with the baked potato," Ellen said.