Shandra Higheagle Mystery Books 1-3 by Paty Jager

Author:Paty Jager [Jager, Paty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Murder investigation, dreams visions mysticism, spirits angels, paranormal detective, small town, Nez Perce grandmother, amateur sleuth, Native American mysteries
Publisher: Windtree Press
Published: 2016-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Ryan’s phone rang. He looked at the number and would have ignored the summons if he hadn’t given Cathleen the task of finding information on Phil Seeton. He scooted to a sitting position in the motel bed and flicked his finger across the screen.

“What did you find?”

“It took you an awful long time to answer. Did I interrupt anything?”

Cathleen’s cheery voice caused his body to shudder the same as when he heard shredding metal.

“Sleep. I had a long road trip yesterday, or did you conveniently forget?” Some days he wondered at his sanity for moving back near his family.

“I happen to have information for another trip. Not so long, though. Phil Seeton is residing in a low-income residential home in Missoula.”

Ryan sat up and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Seven. He could be there by ten even grabbing breakfast. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a couple of days. Text me the address. And sorry for being so grumpy.” He pressed the off button and dressed. He’d grab coffee and some pastries at Ruthie’s and head to Missoula.

He didn’t mind this drive so much. The Bitterroot Mountains were a spectacular sight no matter what time of year you travelled through them. Before dropping down into Missoula, Ryan pulled up the address and put it into the GPS on the SUV’s dash. The facility appeared to be on the outskirts of town.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the visitor parking of the residence home and stared at a copper-colored Jeep Wrangler. He checked the license plate. Frustration and anticipation warred inside his chest. How did Shandra find Phil Seeton before he did?

~*~

Shandra sat in the chair opposite Phil Seeton. The old cowboy still wore boots and sported a large belt buckle. She wouldn’t have been surprised if when he stood the weight of the buckle pulled his thin body straight over onto his long, pointed nose.

“Mr. Seeton, I’m Shandra Higheagle. I’m here to ask—”

“Higheagle? Any relation to old Edward? He was one hell of a bronc buster. I swear he talked to them horses before he got on. Half of them never bucked as hard when other cowboys rode them.”

Shandra smiled. She might learn about Johnny Clark and her father this trip. “Edward was my father. Did you know him very well?”

The man stared at her for a long time. She was about to repeat her question when he raised a hand.

“You have his look about you. Not much of your mother.” He set his hand back down on the arm of the chair. “You couldn’t have been very old when he died.”

“I was four.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Over the years her father’s image had become the photos she pulled out every six months and studied. She couldn’t remember him as well as she’d like.

“He was a good man. Damn fine man. Never could understand why people would put him down for bein’ an Indian. Hell, Edward’s family was here way before we were.

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