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    Capricious Demise: Shandra Higheagle Mystery, #15
    Capricious Demise: Shandra Higheagle Mystery, #15
    Capricious Demise: Shandra Higheagle Mystery, #15
    Ebook220 pages2 hoursShandra Higheagle Mystery

    Capricious Demise: Shandra Higheagle Mystery, #15

    By Paty Jager

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    About this ebook

    Book 15

    Shandra Higheagle Mystery Series

    Vengeance…Envy…Murder

    Shandra Higheagle's deceased Grandmother enters Shandra's dream, showing her two lost children. Her grandmother never comes to her dreams unless there is a murder to solve. But whose? The children? Or someone related to them?

    Ryan is called out to a suicide, that isn't. While contacting next of kin, he finds the victim's husband also murdered and their two children missing.

    Using her dreams, Shandra helps locate the missing twins whom they take into their home as foster children. The hunt for the reason the parents were murdered becomes urgent when the children reveal they may have seen the killer.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWindtree Press
    Release dateJul 28, 2020
    ISBN9781952447174
    Capricious Demise: Shandra Higheagle Mystery, #15
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    Author

    Paty Jager

    Paty Jager is an award-winning author of 51 novels, 8 novellas, and numerous anthologies of murder mystery and western romance. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Paty and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. Riding horses and battling rattlesnakes, she not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it.

    Read more from Paty Jager

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      Book preview

      Capricious Demise - Paty Jager

      Capricious Demise

      Shandra Higheagle Mystery

      Book 15

      Paty Jager

      Windtree Press

      Hillsboro, Oregon

      Copyright

      This is a work of fiction, Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

      CAPRICIOUS DEMISE

      Copyright © 2020 Patricia Jager

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Windtree Press except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

      Contact Information: info@windtreepress.com

      Windtree Press

      Hillsboro, Oregon

      http://windtreepress.com

      Cover Art by Christina Keerins

      Published in the United States of America

      Ebook  ISBN  978-1-952447-17-4

      Also available in print. 978-1-952447-18-1

      Author’s Notes

      Special Thanks to:

      Crime Scene Writers Yahoo Group

      Chapter One

      Two children, a boy and a girl, stood on a ledge on a mountain, crying. Shandra jumped off her horse and ran to the base of the mountain and began clawing her way up the cliff. Grandmother sat on a rock, nodding and pointing at the children. Shandra’s fingernails grew into claws as she slipped backwards on the rock and called out to the children not to be afraid.

      Wake up. Shandra, wake up.

      Shaking jostled Shandra Higheagle Greer awake. She stared into the eyes of her husband, Ryan. But her mind still saw the children crying on the ledge and her heart still pounded with fear. We have to help them, she beseeched her husband.

      Help who? He now held her in his arms. You cried out, ‘I’m coming!’ Who were you trying to reach?

      Two children on a ledge. Grandmother was there, nodding and pointing at the children. She relaxed in his arms and as always happened after a dream where her deceased grandmother showed herself, Shandra began decrypting what had happened.

      Grandmother wanted me to save the children—a boy and girl. They looked young. Around six or seven, maybe. But where are they and how do I save them? She shoved out of Ryan’s embrace and stared into his eyes. Are they lost, missing, is someone abusing them? Her chest squeezed with the fear she’d felt while in the dream.

      I’ll check the missing children lists in the morning when I get to work. Go back to sleep. Ryan settled her back down on the bed, but she couldn’t get the two children out of her mind.

      Once Ryan fell back to sleep, she slipped out of his arms, pulled on a robe, and wandered out to the kitchen with Sheba, her pony-sized half Newfoundland and half Border Collie, at her heels. She made a cup of chamomile tea and sat on the couch, stroking Sheba’s head, and worrying about the two children she didn’t know. She had an intense desire to save and nurture the two. They must be coming into our lives, she said to Sheba. Ella only showed up in her dreams when there was a murder to solve. Shandra sent up prayers to the Creator that it wasn’t the two children.

      After Ruthie and Maxwell Treat, her best friend and her husband, had little Donnie, she and Ryan had started talking about children. At her age a pregnancy would be tough on both herself and a baby, but so far Ryan’s brother, Conor, and his wife, Lissa, hadn’t provided a male heir to the Greer name, making her father-in-law put more pressure on the two boys. The Greer women had provided five grandchildren but, of course, their last names weren’t Greer.

      Shandra pulled her laptop onto her lap and began looking online for stories of missing children in the surrounding newspapers. She dozed off and on, finally putting the laptop on the table and getting off the couch.

      Ryan walked into the kitchen as she made another cup of tea. She walked over to the coffee pot and started it.

      Did you sleep at all after your dream? he asked, pulling her into his arms.

      A little here and there. I looked up all the local newspapers and there haven’t been any reports of missing children. She moved from his embrace and poured Ryan a cup of coffee. What worries me is, if they are in danger, how do we know where to find them? They were on a ledge on a mountainside. I was riding my horse. She stopped and stared at Ryan. Do you think they are lost on Huckleberry Mountain?

      Ryan took the cup of coffee from her and gently moved her to a stool at the island. Sit. I’ll make breakfast and you write down everything you remember from your dream.

      That’s what she loved about her husband. He’d believed in her dreams before she had. They’d solved over a dozen murders with her dreams that included her deceased grandmother, a member of the Nez Perce tribe from the Colville Reservation in Washington State. However, Ella never gave them anything straight forward. They always had to decipher the meaning of what she showed. This time, Shandra understood, she would help the children. But how? To find them? To save them?

      As she made a list of what she remembered from the dream, the back door opened and the clomp of her employee’s boots thumped down the hall to the kitchen.

      Shandra glanced up. The sadness on the woman’s face said it all. She slipped off the stool and put an arm around Lil’s shoulders. Sunshine left us?

      She was the best danged mare I’ve ever had. I held her head in my lap all night, tryin’ to ease her pain. Lil stepped out of the one-armed hug, sniffed, and walked over to the coffeemaker.

      Sorry to hear about Sunshine, Ryan said.

      Humph, was Lil’s reply.

      While her cantankerous employee, who’d come with the ranch like a stray cat, had not liked Ryan in the beginning, they had learned to get along. They had bonded over their love of Shandra. But there were also times when she saw, that while they tossed barbs at one another, Ryan and Lil had become friends.

      Where do you want to bury her? Shandra asked, glad to have something to take her mind off the children, but sad for her friend who had had the mare for over thirty years. They both knew this day was coming. She’d tried to talk Lil into getting another mare so she’d have something to take Sunshine’s place, but Lil said she wouldn’t do that until her mare was in the ground. She didn’t want Sunshine to think she wasn’t loved because she was old.

      Which Shandra took as a metaphor for Lil’s own life.

      I know it would be hard to get her up there, bein’s there could still be some snow, but I’d like her to be up with my baby. Lil gave her a furtive glance. It was rare she talked about the child she’d miscarried over forty years ago.

      I’ll make some phone calls and see if we can get Arnold Hulse to bring his equipment out today. Shandra walked over to the drawer where she kept the local directory of businesses.

      Do you mind if I ride Oliver up and mark the spot, then go to town while Sunshine’s bein’ buried? Lil held the cup of coffee in front of her face.

      Shandra had a feeling the crusty old woman who had a heart of gold was having trouble keeping herself together.

      I don’t see a problem with that, but you might want to take Duke, he’s younger for that climb. Especially if there is still snow up there. It is the middle of April and we had a good snowpack.

      Duke is Ryan’s horse, Lil said.

      He’s only the horse I ride. He isn’t mine. He belongs to Shandra. Take Duke. I’d hate for Arnold to have to bury two horses today, Ryan said.

      Shandra smacked him on the shoulder with the directory.

      What? he stared at her.

      That wasn’t very sympathetic. Shandra sat down at the counter and opened the directory.

      Lil put the cup of coffee down. I’ll go saddle Duke. I’ll come by when I get back, let you know the conditions, and see if someone will be taking care of Sunshine today.

      Take your time on the mountain. Shandra wanted to add, check all the ledges for stray children.

      After the door closed, Ryan put a plate of scrambled eggs and diced ham in front of her. I’ve always known Lil was contrary, but to think Oliver would make it up to that spot on the mountain was wishful thinking.

      Shandra stared at him. When you said Oliver wouldn’t make it, you might as well have been saying Lil should stay off a horse and sit in a rocking chair. Remember, she is getting close to the age of Oliver and Sunshine in people years.

      Ryan sat down beside her with his own plate. I didn’t mean it that way. Just that Oliver hasn’t been ridden much and would be out of shape, not to mention his age.

      Shandra shook her head at how insensitive her husband could be at times and shoved the list of things she remembered about the dream over to him as she dug into her breakfast. This was going to be a hard day with as little sleep as she had and getting Lil’s horse buried.

      Chapter Two

      It was rare that Shandra’s dreams involving her grandmother didn’t turn into something that helped Ryan with solving cases, but this time he wasn’t sure what it meant. He’d checked all missing children lists from the whole state of Idaho and the surrounding states. Nothing fit the descriptions of the two children she saw in her dream. He had to be evasive when Sheriff Oldham asked him why he was looking up missing children. If the sheriff’s department knew he’d solved so many murders due to help from his wife’s dreams, he’d be laughed out of a job.

      Sheriff Oldham walked into the small room that had become Ryan’s office a year after he joined the Weippe County Sheriff’s Department as a detective. A suicide’s been called in. It’s on the way to South Tucker Campground. Gerald is already there.

      Ryan turned the monitor off on his computer, grabbed his coat and hat, and headed to his SUV.

      On the drive, he kept thinking about Shandra’s dream and wondering if Arnold would be able to bury the horse where Lil wanted it. As much as he and the crusty old woman knocked heads, he would do everything in his power to make her life easier because Shandra loved the woman like an aunt.

      He could tell the children in Shandra’s dream had rattled her. He didn’t know if it was because they had been talking about starting a family or because of what she saw. He knew she’d told him everything about the dream, but he was pretty sure when she woke, she couldn’t remember every detail that tugged at her emotions while she was sleeping.

      Deputy Speaks car sat at the end of two hundred yards of muddy dirt road off the county highway. The lights were flashing and two dogs were barking.

      Ryan parked beside the patrol car, grabbed his crime scene pack, and stepped out of the vehicle. The two mid-sized, mixed mutt dogs ran at him, their teeth bared and snarling.

      Pike, Rambo, get back here! a man in a plaid jacket and matching hat yelled. The two dogs spun around so fast, their noses touched their tails and they ran back to the man.

      Thanks, Ryan said, walking toward the man. Weippe County Detective Ryan Greer. He held out a hand to shake.

      The man looked at the extended hand. Jerry Parson. Live up the road. Me and the boys, he motioned to the dogs, take a walk this way every-so-often. The boys were sniffin’ and scratchin’ at the door. I called out to Jessica and Mitch. No one replied, so I walked in. He looked the other way. Wish I’d just called and not walked in.

      What’s the last name of Jessica and Mitch? Ryan pulled his notepad out.

      Told your buddy. Woodcock. Mitch’s truck is gone. He must have the kids.

      Ryan stared at the man. Kids?

      Jayden and Mia, twins. Think they’re around seven. He glanced at the house then back at Ryan. Glad those two weren’t here.

      Ryan pushed all this information around in his mind. Twins. Boy and girl. Was this what Shandra dreamed about? Thank you. Did you give Deputy Speaks your information in case we have more questions?

      I did. Can me and the boys go now? The man’s feet shifted back and forth.

      Yes. Thank you for hanging around. Ryan headed to the small one-story house. His first impression stepping through the open door was how could anyone raise two children in this mess. There were toys, piles of clothing, half-eaten food, and magazines, mostly entertainment, strewn about the living room.

      Speaks, where are you? Ryan called out.

      Bedroom.

      Ryan took several photos of the room, wondering if this was how they lived or if it had been tossed. He also wondered where the husband and children were. The kitchen was to the right of the living room. Bowls of soggy cereal, floating in milk, stood on the small table. Burnt toast stuck out of the toaster. There was a trail of mouse droppings across the floor. He shivered, not from fear of mice but the thought children lived in this mess.

      He opened the first door he came to. The bathroom. Old fixtures and the avocado green bathtub dated the house. He backed out and tried the next door. The door opened halfway. It banged against a set of bunk beds. A narrow dresser stood against the wall at the head of the bed. He shut the door and opened the last door.

      The metallic smell of blood mixed with body excretions met his nostrils as his gaze landed on the thin, rigid female body dressed in jeans and t-shirt, bare feet. Dried blood made a path from her wrists to dark spots on the blanket under her hands. Her open eyes were blank, her mouth open, and jaw locked. A damp spot on the bed by her head drew Ryan’s attention.

      Looks like suicide to me, Speaks said. He stood by the open window.

      Ryan started at the door, taking photos of the scene. I wouldn’t be too certain. That doesn’t look like deep enough cuts or enough blood for her to have died from blood loss. Moving further and further into the room, he continued taking photos until he was taking closeup shots of the cuts on her hands and then all angles up close to her face. He made sure the wet spot by her head was in a photo.

      Where are you? called out Farley Smith, one of the Warner EMTs.

      Speaks stepped out of the room.

      Ryan heard low voices speaking before Dr. Roswell entered the room.

      Heard it’s a suicide, the short, round man with thick glasses said, walking up to the bed.

      Don’t put that on the death certificate just yet, Doc, Ryan said, stepping back to let the man get a good look at the body.

      After what seemed like half an hour, but in reality, about fifteen minutes, Dr. Roswell nodded. Treat this like a homicide. There isn’t enough blood, and she shows signs that could be poisoning. Won’t know for sure until the autopsy. I’ll recommend a full tox screening.

      Ryan nodded.

      The doctor filled out a piece of paper and handed it to Farley as the two met at the door to the room.

      Are you finished? Farley asked.

      "Not quite.

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