Daniels B.J. - Odd Man Out стр 4.

She studied him, forgetting sometimes how good-looking he wastall, handsome with his blue eyes and blond hair, and capable of being utterly charming. If only shed fallen in love with him all those years ago. Instead of J.D.

Another song came on the radio. Denver saw Pete tense and her own heart lurched as it always did when J. D. Garrisons voice filled the airways. Number ten on the country and western chart and climbing, the radio announcer cut in. Our own J. D. Garrison with his latest hit, Old Friends and Enemies.

Pete snapped off the radio. I cant believe he didnt make the funeral.

Just the thought of J.D. brought back the hurt and disappointment. In her foolish heart, shed always believed J.D. would come home if she or Max ever needed him. Well, theyd needed him. And he hadnt come.

I doubt J.D. can just drop everything at a moments notice, she heard herself say. Maybe he didnt get the message you left him.

Pete shot her a look. Still making excuses for him?

She looked away. Loving J.D. had always been both pleasure and pain. And all one-sided. J.D. had never seen her as anything more than a kid. But sometimes his gaze had met hers and And then hed ruffle her hair or throw her into the lake. No, hed never taken her seriously, even when shed promised him her heart. Instead, hed teased her. Just a schoolgirl crush. Puppy love. Shed get over it.

Hed been gone nine years, but she still saw his ghost lounging on the sandy beach beside the lake, heard his laugh on the breeze that swept across the water and felt his touch on a hot summers night as she stood on the dock, unable to sleep. Shed just never met anyone who made her feel like J.D. had.

But if J. D. Garrison were here right now, shed wring his neck. For missing Maxs funeral. For breaking a young girls heart. For still haunting her thoughts.

It began to snow harder as they dropped down to the Madison River. A soft mist rose from the water, cloaking the bridge in a veil of white fog and driving snow. A local teenage superstition prophesied that if you didnt honk as you crossed the bridge youd be in for bad luck. Pete didnt believe in superstitions. You make your own luck, hed always said. Denver honked, partly out of superstition, partly out of tradition; J.D. had never crossed the bridge without honking.

As they crossed the bridge, Pete didnt honk. The snow fell in a thick, hypnotizing wall of white in front of the pickup. Denver realized she could barely make out the Madison Arm sign as they passed it. She glanced in the side mirror and was startled to see a huge semitrailer barreling down on them.

Pete? Her voice cracked. Her heart caught in her throat. Pete! He looked back, his eyes widening as he saw it. At the last moment, the truck swerved into the passing lane. Denver thought it would head on around them, but instead, she realized with growing horror, the truck was edging over into their lane.

Son of a Pete yelled.

Denver could see the huge semitrailer wheels right next to them. A scream lodged in her throat; the truck would either force them off the road or

Pete hit the brakes. The back of the semi just missed the front of the pickup by inches as it swerved the rest of the way into their

lane.

Snow poured over the cab in a blinding rush as the semi roared past. Pete brought the pickup to a skidding stop sideways in the middle of the highway. Denver stared through the falling snow, expecting another vehicle to come along and hit them before Pete got the pickup pulled over to the edge of the road.

He sat there gripping the steering wheel. Are you all right? he asked. His voice sounded strained as if the shock of their near mishap was just sinking in.

Denver took a shaky breath. Now that the danger had passed, she was trembling all over. I think so. What was that guy doing?

Pete shook his head as he looked at her. I dont know, but I could kill the bastard.

Denver looked at the highway ahead, half expecting the trucker to come back and finish the job. I cant believe he didnt even stop to see if we were all right.

Pete swore as he steered the pickup back onto the highway and headed toward West Yellowstone again.

Did you recognize the truck? she asked. It had happened so fast she hadnt even thought to look at the license plate.

Im sure it was just some out-of-stater whos never been in a snowstorm before. But Pete kept staring at the highway as if he expected to see the truck again, too. And Denver knew she wouldnt feel safe until they reached town. No, she thought, she wouldnt feel safe until Maxs killer was caught.

Chapter Two

The only hint of spring was in the rivers of melting snow running along the sides of the empty streets. Dirty snowbanks, plowed up higher than most of the buildings, marked the street corners they drove by. Everywhere, a webbing of snowmobile tracks crisscrossed the rotting snow still lingering in the shadow of the pines. Down a muddy alley sat a deserted snowmobile, its engine cover thrown back, falling snowflakes rapidly covering it.