Crazy Mountain Kiss by Keith McCafferty

the rest areas. The bodies turn up two states away. I read a book called
The Monster of Florence
about a serial killer in Italy who preyed on young couples making love in cars in the countryside. This reminds me of it.”
    â€œThe Monster of Montana,” Ettinger said.
    â€œIt happens.”
    â€œHow do you explain her living through the winter and ending up here?”
    â€œWell, that makes the drifter theory less plausible. It makes me think if she was abducted, the perpetrator lived nearby, either knew her or knew of her. It could be like one of those cases you hear about, where the girl escapes after months in a cellar.”
    â€œBut isn’t a cabin in the mountains out of the way for anyone running for her life to wind up at? And she was wearing an elkskin jacket that was homemade. It seems odd.”
    â€œYou’re right, I could be way off.”
    â€œMaybe not. The scenario you painted is pretty much the same conclusion Harold drew. Frankly, if either of you had come to me withthat fifteen years ago, I’d have said you watched too much TV. When we got a 187 you never had to look farther than the husband. Now we have murder for no reason. Do you know what happened while you were getting a sunburn? A housepainter in Miles City with no criminal record told his buddy he wanted to kill somebody, anyone would do. The friend went along, to use his words, ‘for giggles.’ They killed a young man with a sledge hammer.” She shrugged. “It’s a disease, like hantavirus. You never think it will reach the border and then someone breathes in mouse feces in some hunting shack and winds up dead.”
    â€œWhat’s Montana coming to, huh?”
    â€œIt’s no joking matter.”
    â€œNo, it isn’t.”
    Martha pushed the four-wheel-drive button as they turned onto the access road. Heading east toward the ridge Martha had pointed out earlier, the road rose, yellow snow packed into the ruts. Stranahan spoke over the growling of the gears. “So did you ever meet her, the lady Huntington?”
    â€œA couple of times. She had a feral quality, an aloofness. I can’t say I got to know her. Look, Stranny, are you okay? I’m having a hard time reading you.”
    â€œI’m just tired from the flights.”
    â€œDid you get into any trouble down there?”
    â€œNot really. You know me.”
    â€œThat’s just it. I do know you. Or I did.”
    Stranahan shut his eyes. When he spoke, his voice could barely be heard above the engine. “Whose fault is that, Martha? Do you have any idea how many nights I walked Choti up the road last fall, just so I could see if your light was on?”
    â€œYou know I can’t talk about that.”
    â€œThen let’s not talk about it.”
    Martha downshifted. “Quit staring at me,” she said.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œSorry for staring?”
    â€œSorry for bringing it up.”
    â€œJust don’t start being someone I don’t know, okay? That fight you had with Buster Garrett, February, right? I heard about that. The man I know doesn’t go into a bar picking fights.”
    â€œHe said the next time he saw me he was going to flush my head in the toilet.”
    â€œThat was two years ago, Sean. I’m the one who told you he’d said that, remember?”
    â€œTwo days, two years, it was out there. It needed to be addressed. I addressed it.”
    â€œThe way I heard it, he didn’t even remember who you were.”
    â€œI reminded him. He swung on me, I put him down. Long story short, as Sam would say.”
    â€œYou could have wound up in jail.”
    â€œThe Roadkill Saloon’s in Park County. It wouldn’t have been your jail.”
    â€œThat isn’t the point.” Her exhalation made a bubbling sound. “You have a way with people, they’re drawn to you. It isn’t because you’re all that goddamned charming,