Courteous, courageous and commanding—these heroes lay it all on the line for the people they love in more than fifty stories about loyalty, bravery and romance. Don’t miss a single one!

AVAILABLE FEBRUARY 2010

A Vow to Love by Sherryl Woods

Serious Risks by Rachel Lee

Who Do You Love? by Maggie Shayne and Marilyn Pappano

Dear Maggie by Brenda Novak

A Randall Returns by Judy Christenberry

Informed Risk by Robyn Carr

Five-Alarm Affair by Marie Ferrarella

AVAILABLE MARCH 2010

The Man from Texas by Rebecca York

Mistaken Identity by Merline Lovelace

Bad Moon Rising by Kathleen Eagle

Moriah’s Mutiny by Elizabeth Bevarly

Have Gown, Need Groom by Rita Herron

Heart of the Tiger by Lindsay McKenna

AVAILABLE APRIL 2010

Landry’s Law by Kelsey Roberts

Love at First Sight by B.J. Daniels

The Sheriff of Shelter Valley by Tara Taylor Quinn

A Match for Celia by Gina Wilkins

That’s Our Baby! by Pamela Browning

Baby, Our Baby! by Patricia Thayer

AVAILABLE MAY 2010

Special Assignment: Baby by Debra Webb

My Baby, My Love by Dani Sinclair

The Sheriff’s Proposal by Karen Rose Smith

The Marriage Conspiracy by Christine Rimmer

The Woman for Dusty Conrad by Tori Carrington

The White Night by Stella Bagwell

Code Name: Prince by Valerie Parv

AVAILABLE JUNE 2010

Same Place, Same Time by C.J. Carmichael

One Last Chance by Justine Davis

By Leaps and Bounds by Jacqueline Diamond

Too Many Brothers by Roz Denny Fox

Secretly Married by Allison Leigh

Strangers When We Meet by Rebecca Winters

AVAILABLE JULY 2010

Babe in the Woods by Caroline Burnes

Serving Up Trouble by Jill Shalvis

Deputy Daddy by Carla Cassidy

The Major and the Librarian by Nikki Benjamin

A Family Man by Mindy Neff

The President’s Daughter by Annette Broadrick

Return to Tomorrow by Marisa Carroll

AVAILABLE AUGUST 2010

Remember My Touch by Gayle Wilson

Return of the Lawman by Lisa Childs

If You Don’t Know by Now by Teresa Southwick

Surprise Inheritance by Charlotte Douglas

Snowbound Bride by Cathy Gillen Thacker

The Good Daughter by Jean Brashear

AVAILABLE SEPTEMBER 2010

The Hero’s Son by Amanda Stevens

Secret Witness by Jessica Andersen

On Pins and Needles by Victoria Pade

Daddy in Dress Blues by Cathie Linz

AKA: Marriage by Jule McBride

Pregnant and Protected by Lilian Darcy

USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Landry’s Law
Kelsey Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KELSEY ROBERTS

has penned more than twenty novels, won numerous awards and nominations, and has landed on bestseller lists including USA TODAY and the Ingrams Top 50 List. She has been featured in the New York Times and the Washington Post, and makes frequent appearances on both radio and television. She is considered an expert in why women read and write crime fiction as well as an excellent authority on plotting and structuring the novel. She resides in south Florida with her family.

Many thanks to Dr. Harry Sernaker, Dr. Christopher Galuardi, Dr. Lew Schon and Dr. Wendy Spencer. Because of these talented professionals, I can walk. Thanks also to my dear husband, Bob, who has been there for me all during this ordeal. Much love and thanks to all!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Prologue

Snow crunched beneath his boots as Sheriff Seth Landry cautiously made his way down the steep bank to the crime scene. Flurries still swirled in the air as he greeted his deputy, J. D. Lindsey.

“Has the coroner been called?” J.D. nodded, then blew warm breath into his cupped hands. “As far as I know, no one has touched a thing.”

“Who called it in?” Seth asked. J.D. pointed toward the Mountainview Inn behind them. “One of the guests. Ken Updyke. He’s passing through on his way to Seattle. He was out jogging and came up on this.”

Seth regarded the scene. The snowstorm had pretty much obliterated the area around the body. He stepped forward and knelt to get a better look at the victim. Judging from the small entrance wound at the back of the guy’s head, Seth figured the weapon was a .22.

He also noted that the man’s clothing wasn’t right. He was wearing a suit beneath a camouflage down jacket but didn’t have any gloves on. He made a mental note of that inconsistency.

“Looks just like the last one,” J.D. remarked.

Seth’s gut knotted at the mere suggestion. Jasper, Montana was a small, out-of-the-way town where everyone knew everyone else. Tourists passed through to visit some of the quaint shops and historic markers in the area. To date, none of them had turned out to be serial killers. If he actually had a serial killer on his hands.

“Anyone know who he is?” Seth asked the half-dozen or so onlookers who had gathered. The victim was on his stomach, but his face was turned to one side.

“Isn’t that Harvey Whitlock?” one of them asked.

Seth adjusted his position and tilted his head to get a better look. “It appears so.”

“He’s only lived here a couple of months,” J.D. said. “I guess that’s long enough to make an enemy.”

Seth stood as the coroner arrived. He shook hands with Dr. Hall. “Sorry to get you out so early,” Seth offered as he watched the doctor shifting from one foot to the other in an apparent attempt to ward off the cold.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Hall grumbled. “Isn’t that Harvey Whitlock?”

Seth nodded. Dr. Hall handed J.D. a camera and instructed him on where and when to take photographs of the victim and the scene.

The idea that there might me some deranged killer running loose in his town still distracted Seth. He pulled out his notepad and started making some observations and listing possibilities.

By the time Dr. Hall was ready to have the officers turn the body over, the ambulance crew and at least a dozen more gawkers had arrived. Seth silently hoped his death would be more private. Not some public spectacle like poor Harvey’s.

J.D. took the feet, the ambulance guys the midsection, and Seth took the head. With practiced precision, they turned Harvey over so that he could be placed on a stretcher, then whisked away from the prying, curious eyes of the crowd.

“What’s that?” Seth asked, pointing to Harvey’s left palm.

They all moved in for a closer look. The frigid water from the creek had washed away the writing until it was very faint.

“Savannah, 9-1-2,” Seth read aloud.

“Looks like part of a phone number. Maybe an area code?” J.D. theorized, excitedly.

Seth was puzzled. If he recalled correctly, Harvey was from someplace in the east, which had 200, 300 and 400 area codes. He breathed a little easier. There had been no writing on the hand of the first victim. Maybe the two cases weren’t related.

“I don’t think that’s a phone number,” came a voice from the crowd.

Seth turned and looked in the direction of the voice. It was a man in his early thirties. He had the dress and manner of a yuppie tourist. Seth went over to the man.

“Why not?”

The yuppie shrugged. “I saw him last night in the bar.”

“And?” Seth prompted.

“He was staring at the clock.”

“When was this?” Seth asked.

“Maybe ten after nine or so.”

“And you’re sure it was him?”

The yuppie insisted that he was.

“How can you be so sure? You aren’t a local.”

“I remember him because of the babe who showed up to meet him. I mean, no offense to the dead or anything, but that guy isn’t exactly GQ material, and he managed to snag the prettiest woman in the place.”

“What did she look like?”

“Pretty brown hair, incredible green eyes, a body to die for—sorry, poor choice of words—I mean—”

“Did you happen to hear him call her by name?”

The yuppie nodded with enthusiasm. “That’s why I don’t think that writing on his hand is a phone number.”

“Because?” Seth prodded.

“Because he called the woman Savannah.”

Seth swallowed, hard. Savannah Wyatt.

Chapter One

Savannah Wyatt was armed for a sneak attack. Slowly, cautiously, she tiptoed across the cool wood floor, moving ever closer to her prey. Her victim didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn around in time to see her coming.

“Gotcha!” she exclaimed as she captured the field mouse between the floor and the box. Its days of stalking her dried goods for the better part of a week were history!

She could hear the little thing scurrying around under the box, clearly frightened and disoriented. She muttered a guilty curse and blew out a breath. The kitchen, where she had trapped the varmint, was a good twenty feet from the front door. She was less than three feet from the kitchen door, but a five-foot snowdrift blocked it. Silently, she said a few choice words about Montana in the grips of winter, none of them flattering.

Considering her options, Savannah tried to think of a way to grant the mouse freedom without actually touching it. One of the solutions she considered was barbecue tongs, but that would mean lifting the shoe box edge high enough for the furry little monster to make an escape, so that was abandoned.

Lifting her foot, she applied pressure, thus leaving her hands free to search for a way out of this mess.

Catching sight of herself in the stainless steel refrigerator, she decided she looked a tad like a brunette version of the painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware River by Larry Rivers. Shaking her head, Savannah reminded herself that art and fashion were her past. Her present was the very unglamorous job of liberating Mighty Mouse.

A knock reverberated through the two-room cabin.

“Enter at your own risk,” Savannah called. She had stopped locking the door of the secluded cabin during the day after her first few desolate weeks in Jasper. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had lots of strangers dropping in.

She smelled his inexpensive cologne a flash before she turned and saw Junior Baumgartner standing in the foyer, stomping snow from his boots on a rag rug designed to save the finish on the wide pine flooring from potential water damage. His balding head was covered by a navy watch cap, which was the same shade as his down parka. She smiled at him. Frederick—known only as Junior around Jasper—was a kind of friend. She worked part-time for his mother and the two of them sort of came as a package deal, in spite of the fact that Junior had to be pushing forty.

As was his habit, he kept his eyes downcast when he spoke. “What are you doing?”

“I was smart enough to trap a mouse but not smart enough to know how to get rid of it once I did,” she replied in a rather self-deprecating tone.

“Want me to kill it?” Junior offered.

“Lord, no!” she fairly shouted. “I just want to put him outside to fend for himself. Mice can live outside in this kind of weather, right?”

Junior was about to respond when another knock sounded at the door. The sound made Junior jump nervously. Not for the first time, Savannah felt pangs of compassion for the man. Though he was a lifelong resident of the tight-knit ranching community, she seemed to be his only friend—unless you counted his sweet but overbearing parent as a friend. Savannah had learned her first day on the job that Olive was Junior’s friend, mentor, and fiercest protector. He spoke with a slight lisp and seemed incapable of making eye contact with anyone. Poor man. She wondered what made him so shy, jumpy and awkward. Possibly his mother—it seemed as if the widowed Olive still hadn’t cut the umbilical cord to her only child.

“Hey, Junior,” came a friendly greeting that immediately set Savannah’s teeth on edge.

Sheriff Seth Landry didn’t take the time to shake the snow from his boots. He entered her small home, removing his hat as he came closer. Too close, her little voice screamed.

“Some new form of intense yoga, Miss Wyatt?” he asked with enough charm to melt her bones.

Which was exactly what she didn’t like about this man. Two weeks earlier he’d all but accused her of murdering Richard Fowler. Now he was sauntering in as if he’d been invited for afternoon tea.

“Sheriff,” she acknowledged evenly.

“Junior?” Seth said as he opened the buttons on his leather uniform jacket. “I need some time alone with Miss Wyatt.”

“But I have to help her with the mouse,” Junior protested almost forcefully. “Besides, she didn’t kill that Fowler man and you should leave her alone.”

She was surprised to hear Junior so adamant, but then again, she knew he liked her and was probably just being chivalrous. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice or care that he had upset Junior.

She watched Seth’s inky-black eyes go from Junior’s up-turned red face to the box she was guarding with the weight of her foot. “I’ll take care of the mouse,” Seth assured Junior. “You go on home now, but be careful out on the highway. Those roads are mighty slick.”

“Yes, sir,” Junior said, deflated, then in a brighter tone he added, “Bye, Savannah.”

“Bye, Junior,” she called over her shoulder. To Seth, she said, “Do your civic duty. Please.”

“Where’s the top of the box?” Seth asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

Savannah’s mind threatened to go blank as she took in his broad shoulders, trim waist and uniform. She never would have pegged herself as a sucker for a man in uniform, but she was wrong. Seth Landry was an incredible blend of dark, dangerous and delightful. Too bad her life in Jasper was temporary.

Too bad he hasn’t technically cleared me as a suspect in Richard Fowler’s murder.

“The top?” Seth prompted.

“On—on the bed,” she stammered.

Being in Savannah’s bedroom made Seth a little uncomfortable. What should have been an investigation was quickly turning into an inventory. The room was neat as a pin and incredibly feminine. The subtle scent of flowers hung in the air. Candles adorned nearly every inch of the bedroom and what he could see of the open bathroom. Even though he knew better, he could just imagine the reflection of candlelight in her eyes. Savannah had the most incredible eyes. They tried to be brown, but somehow managed to be blue near the pupil. Her face was on the square side, but that just made her full lips seem invitingly pouty.

Like most doctoral candidates he’d met, she had a penchant for wearing casual clothing. Only, she wore tight casual clothing. He knew it was the style. He also knew that when he returned to the kitchen, he’d have to pretend not to notice that her shape-hugging sweater fell just shy of the waistband of her jeans. He couldn’t notice that she worked out enough to have a perfectly toned midriff, or that her belly button was pierced with a small gold ring.

Hell, he had to pretend that Savannah wasn’t his ideal woman. Or that he thought of her often. Too often. It could jeopardize his professional integrity, something he had never done.

“What are you doing in there?” Savannah called. “Going through my panty drawer? Isn’t that illegal?”

Seth put on his game face and returned to the main room. “It isn’t illegal if I have your permission,” he offered with a wicked smile.

“Dream on,” she said with a laugh.

“Stay still until I tell you to move,” Seth instructed. He bent next to her leg with the box top in his hand. Because she was so petite, he found himself eye-level with her bared skin. She smelled clean, fresh. He would only have to turn his head a fraction of an inch and his lips would be against the gentle curve of her waist.

“You should have warned me that this was going to be a long-term rescue effort,” Savannah teased.

Seth put his libido in his back pocket and managed to trap the mouse inside the closed box. He smiled when he saw how frightened she was, even with the little thing safely inside the box.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Free him,” Savannah insisted with conviction.

Seth sighed. “I know you’re new to Jasper, so you must not know that this little guy came in here to keep from freezing to death outside.”

The way she wrinkled her nose was adorable. It was just another of her quirks that he tucked away in his mind.

“What do I do, then?”

“You could get a cage and some feed and…”

“I don’t do roommates, Sheriff,” she said. “Especially furry ones that aren’t house-trained and eat trash.”

No roommates? He added that to his list. “I’ll take care of it,” he offered.

Her expression brightened just as the reflection of sunlight filtered inside, painting her shoulder-length brunette hair with auburn highlights.

“You’re going to take care of it?” Savannah fairly gasped. “As in, a favor?”

Seth shrugged. “Sure. I’ll run him out to the Bronco for now so we can talk, and take him to the Lucky 7 on my way back to the office.”

“You’re taking him to your ranch? As a pet for Kevin?”

Seth blinked and Savannah blushed.

He allowed his mouth to curve into a slow grin. “Been checking up on me Miss Wyatt?”

Her lips pursed momentarily. “No,” she insisted firmly. “Working part-time at Olive’s Attic, I meet people. People tend to gossip about the richest family in town. By the way, how is Callie feeling?”

“Fine,” Seth answered, hiding his disappointment. He wished she would show half the interest in him that she did on his brother Sam and Sam’s expectant wife, Callie. Even before the first murder, he’d felt as if he were invisible to Savannah. He didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.

“She’ll tell you she feels like a whale, but I think pregnancy agrees with her.”

He watched as something flashed in Savannah’s kaleidoscope eyes. It wasn’t long enough for him to get a read, so he had nothing to add to his list but a suspicion that babies, pregnancies, family—something along those lines—made her react, even if she was a master at hiding most of her reactions. Maybe today, with the new development, her facade would crumble.

After Seth had taken the mouse out to his car, he returned, walking in without knocking. That didn’t seem to bother Savannah. She was standing in the living area, between a sofa covered with various warm throws and a coffee table made out of what looked like a portion of a wooden feed trough with a custom-cut glass top. When he took a second to glance around, he realized her place was homey in a funky, New Yorkish way. She had the usual stuff, living room, dining room and kitchen furnishings. But it was what she didn’t have that tweaked his imagination. No photographs, nothing really personal in view. It was as if she hadn’t existed until this cabin, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He’d checked. Savannah was a transfer doctoral candidate from the University of Maryland. The dean of students at Montana West had verified all her paperwork and transfer credits.

“Should I make coffee?”

“Should you?” Seth countered.

She stiffened, “I was offering.”

Seth smiled. “No, an offer is, ‘May I make you some coffee?’”

Reluctantly, she smiled, as well. “Fine. May I make some coffee?”

“Please.”

As she took down a grinder and retrieved a bag of whole beans, she asked, “Are you the resident grammar fairy? If so, you’re welcome to critique my thesis. If I ever get it finished.”

“I’m not a grammar anything. My momma just insisted that all her boys be polite, especially to women.” He let that sink in for a minute, then said, “Your thesis is on forensic psychology, right?”

Savannah turned and gave him a cool smile. “I keep forgetting that after Richard was killed, you investigated every aspect of my life.”

“It’s my job,” Seth said somberly.

“If you’re not here to arrest me for Richard’s murder, would you kindly take an ad out in the town paper proclaiming my innocence? I’ve found Jasper a little slow to warm to outsiders, and labeling me a murder suspect isn’t helping.”

“I’m not here about Richard’s murder.”

That got Savannah’s attention. “Since I didn’t call 911 about the mouse, what brings you out this way?”

“Harvey Whitlock.”

He watched and saw only a trace of boredom in her expression at the mention of his name.

“Sells real estate and is big on punctuality,” Savannah supplied easily. “I was supposed to meet him at nine and I believe I was about ten minutes late because I was helping a customer at Olive’s.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“At the Mountainview Inn. Why?” Suspicion and trepidation had crept into her voice.

“Your idea?”

“No,” she answered, less open than before. “Olive Baumgartner set it up as a blind date. She can’t stand the fact that—her words—I’m ‘on the ugly side of thirty and don’t have any marriage prospects.’”

Seth smiled. Olive had arranged a date or two for nearly every single person of marriageable age in Jasper. Everyone except her precious Junior. Apparently she had no intention of letting go of her son. Not since Junior became the man of the house at the age of thirteen when Frederick, Sr. died in a hunting accident.

“So, your date with Harvey was just like your date with Richard?”

“Yes. Are you the dating police?” she asked with slight amusement. “If only you knew how ludicrous that was. You think I killed Richard so now you’re going to keep track of all my dates?”

“Something like that,” Seth answered.

“I’ll save you some time. Harvey and I had dinner. He had the beef, I had the salmon. He had two drinks, I had a club soda and a cup of decaf.”

“What did the two of you talk about?”

She rolled her eyes and a mischievous little grin curved her inviting lips. “Whether we should have sex right there in the restaurant, or go back to his place.”

Seth felt his jaw clench. “What did you decide?”

“Neither. I was making a joke,” she said, laughingly.

He felt the sound of her laughter deep in the pit of his stomach.

“We talked a lot about real estate. Harvey thinks I should buy rather than rent for the tax advantages. If I give him copies of my financial records, he will see about getting me qualified for that modest, gray clapboard house out on 141.”

“That’s a nice property. It comes with a dozen or so acres.”

“Well, I’m really not into buying homes right now and I told Harvey that.”

“What happened afterward?”

Savannah raked her hair out of her eyes as the gourmet coffeepot sputtered, then went silent. “At first, Harvey wanted to take me out to the property. You know, do a little hard sell?”

“At night?” Seth asked.

She handed him a cup of coffee and offered him cream and sugar, which he declined.

“That was my reaction. I still haven’t acclimated to the Montana cold.”

“So what did you do?”

Savannah gave him a wary glance. “I already told you I was joking about the sex. Nothing else happened.”

“You said goodbye at the restaurant?”

“Yes—well, sort of.”

“What is ‘sort of’?” Seth asked, hoping beyond hope she wouldn’t say it.

“We started out toward the parking lot when Harvey insisted we go down to the little bridge behind the inn to see the stream reflect the moonlight. I figured he was trying to be romantic.”

“Was it?”

“Not! After about five minutes of saying hello to those idiots who jog that path in any weather, at all hours of the day and night, I left Harvey to enjoy the moonlight and the health freaks on his own.”

“Did you see anyone in the parking lot? Did anyone see you leave? Maybe say goodbye?”

“Remember, I’m not very popular, but I don’t think so. Why?”

Seth met and held her gaze. “Because Harvey Whitlock is dead.”

He watched as Savannah’s jaw dropped. Unsteadily, she balanced back on her hands against the countertop. “This is not possible. You can’t seriously be telling me that I’ve had two blind dates in two weeks and they both died afterward.”

“Kind of. The problem is, I can’t find any evidence or witnesses that these men died after being with you.”

Savannah gasped. “You can’t think I killed two virtual strangers! I would have to be some sort of sicko Black Widow type!”

Seth took in a breath and let it out slowly.

“Are you?”

Chapter Two

Main Street in Jasper had remained virtually unchanged since it sprang up around the 1860s, twenty years prior to Montana gaining statehood. Savannah pulled into a parking spot on the street in the middle of the block. Four expertly restored buildings stood side by side in the shadows of the Rockies. Were it not for the meters and one neon sign, she would have felt very much as if she was stepping back in time.

Once she exited her car, Savannah was careful not to go in the direction of the newest building on the block. Well, new was a bit of an exaggeration, she mused as cold, clean air filled her lungs. The sheriff’s office had been built around the turn of the century, so the brick and barred-window building lacked the Victorian charm of the other homes-turned-businesses. She’d avoided him for two weeks, and she was content to keep it that way.

The moment she entered the shop, she was assailed with the strong aroma of homemade candles and heavily scented sachets. A bell tolled when she closed the door. “Olive?” she called out as she took off her heavy coat and hung it on the coatrack—which, like everything else in the shop, was for sale.

“Be down in a little bit! Junior and I are having a late lunch,” Olive called from the second story.

Olive’s Attic was exactly as the name implied. It was a cramped space filled with everything from locally dug arrowheads to tailored vintage clothing. And Savannah knew clothing.

She went over to one of the forms to examine a dress Olive had added to the inventory. Savannah read the designer tag from the twenties sewn into the garment, then read the ridiculously low price and knew her paycheck for the week was shot.

For Savannah, Olive’s was like a small treasure trove. People from Jasper and the surrounding communities brought things to Olive on consignment, usually after a death in the family. Savannah smiled, thinking to herself that instead of calling Montana Big Sky Country, they should call it the Land of the Mothballs. It seemed as if no one ever threw out anything. They just left things in mothballs until ritualistically surrendering them to Olive for sale.

If Savannah had had the money to buy all the clothing in the store, she could run back to the Lower East Side with it and make a fortune.

If.

That word sent her into a temporary funk. Returning to her other life wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to stay alive.

Savannah was in the process of stripping the dress form when the bell tolled. She turned, smiling.

Smiling back at her was Sheriff Landry. Lord, she hated the way her pulse increased whenever she set eyes on the man! He walked toward her in a slow, easy swagger that conveyed confidence. His dark eyes were expressionless, but it didn’t matter. His smile alone was gift enough.

“Is that for another date?” Seth asked, indicating the hand-beaded dress draped over her arm.

She met his gaze and ignored the allure of his cologne. “Maybe.”

“Then I’ll alert the coroner.”

She gave him a smart-ass smile. “You do that.”

Seth’s demeanor remained annoyingly casual. “We need to talk.”

“I’m working,” she said, then began to tidy up a tray of assorted buttons.

“I’m sure Olive won’t mind.”

“Won’t mind what?” Olive said as she carefully descended the stairs. Today she was limping on her right leg and leaning on her son for support.

Yesterday, Savannah would have sworn it was the other leg. But she’d grown used to Olive’s many ailments. She was basically a sweet woman, she just seemed to thrive on whatever happened to be her pain du jour. Olive spent almost as much time in the doctor’s office as she did at the shop.

Seth tipped his hat to Olive and greeted Junior warmly. As far as Savannah knew, Seth was the only other person in town who was kind to Junior. “I need to speak to Savannah for a little while. Is that all right with you, Miss Olive?”

Olive patted the perfect bluish-white chignon at the nape of her neck, still leaning on her son for support. “I feel a spout of the gout coming on,” Olive replied. “I was just going to go over to see that brother of yours. You have no idea how painful the gout can be.” She squeezed her son’s hand. “You kids should enjoy yourselves when you’re young. Being old is such a trial.”

Seth went over and assisted Junior in guiding his mother onto the rocker near the register. “How about if I get Chance to come to you?” he suggested. “That way you’ll be spared the discomfort of walking down to his office.”

Olive’s green eyes brightened. Savannah wasn’t sure whether it was from the attention she was getting from both men, or if she just relished the idea of a house call.

“May I use the phone?” Seth asked, his tone full of real or imagined sympathy.

“Yes. I’m in such pain, you know. The sooner he can get here the better.”

“Then I can take Savannah with me?”

“What for?” Junior asked, meekly.

Seth slapped him reassuringly on the back. “Just a few questions and loose ends. Nothing earth-shattering.”

Olive began to fan her face. “Seth Landry, don’t you dare accuse poor Savannah of killing those men. You ought to be out looking for one of those predator killers I’ve seen on the TV.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Seth replied. “Give me a minute to call Chance.”

While Seth was on the phone, Junior ventured in Savannah’s direction. “You don’t have to go with him,” he half whispered. Junior was a very smart man in spite of his submissive personality. Savannah knew better than to insult his intelligence.

“He’s harmless,” Savannah insisted. “I’ve got nothing to be worried about. I didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Junior said with unusual force. “But when you’re alone with him, you don’t know what will happen. If you get into a jam, call me and I’ll send a lawyer right over to the sheriff’s office for you, okay?”

Savannah nodded and gave his forearm a gentle squeeze as she smiled up at her friend. “It will probably take less than a half hour,” she promised him. “Can you take time away from your accounting work to help your mom?”

Junior’s eyes were downcast again. “Of course. I always take care of Mother.”

Savannah’s heart tugged when she heard the devotion in the man’s voice. So maybe some of the people in town thought mother and son were too close, but Savannah admired and even envied their bond.

“Chance and Val will be here asap,” Seth announced after hanging up the phone.

“That brother of yours is wonderful,” Olive fairly purred. “All of you Landrys are good boys, in spite of that unpleasantness with Clayton.”

For the first time, Savannah saw Seth’s happy facade slip. The devil-may-care look in his big, dark eyes was momentarily replaced by intense pain. The only gossip she had garnered about Clayton was that he was in prison. It had to be tough to be the town sheriff and have a criminal for a brother.

“We’re still in the appeal process,” Seth said. “The next hearing is set for spring.”

Olive reached out withered hands to Seth. “You know we’re all pulling for him.”

“Thanks, Miss Olive.”

Once again the bell tolled. “Hello, Dr. Landry. Miss Greene,” Savannah greeted.

Chance gave her a wink and said, “Chance, please.”

“Ditto here. I prefer Val,” Chance’s nurse said.

There was no doubt in Savannah’s mind that the good Lord had smiled upon the Landry men. Chance was almost as attractive as his brother. His black hair was cut short and there were a few gray hairs at his temple. He also had the same sexy half smile as Seth.

Sexy? her little voice queried. I cannot find Seth sexy! That is against the rules.

“Ready?” Seth inquired.

Savannah simply nodded, afraid she might blurt out just exactly what she was ready for. And it wasn’t another interrogation. She placed the beaded dress behind the counter and explained to Olive she was going to purchase it when she returned.

As she came around from behind the counter, Seth took her coat off the rack and held it out for her. The simple way he guided her arms inside the garment was the closest thing she’d come to foreplay in ages. She was aware of everything. The heat emanating from his large body. And the warmth generated by the feel of his fingertip brushing her neck as he gently pulled her hair free.

The even sound of his breathing was embarrassing. Mainly because hers was coming in shallow, hurried gulps. Maybe Junior was right. Maybe Seth could convince her of anything in an hour’s time. If she didn’t get her hormones in check, it would take him less than a minute to be able to convince her to have sex with him.

Luckily, as soon as they were outside the cold air slapped her in the face and brought her sense of reason back. It didn’t matter if Seth was attractive and sexy. Montana was temporary. Hence, anything that started between them would have to be temporary by definition, and Savannah did not do temporary.

The snow piled near the curb was black and ugly. Nothing like the pristine, white-capped mountains she could see from her cabin. Lord, but she had hated that cabin when she first set eyes on it. Now, however, she had made it feel more like home, mostly with odds and ends she had picked up at the shop.

“You don’t have to look so uncomfortable,” Seth commented when they reached his office. “I don’t use the bright lights and Taser on women.”

“Gee, that’s good to know.”

He led her past his gawking deputy. J.D. was still young enough to be unable to keep his reaction to a beautiful woman in check. After feeling the softness of the skin at the nape of Savannah’s neck, Seth had some serious doubts about his own abilities.

He offered her the chair across from his cluttered desk. Somehow, having a desk littered with pending DUI and poaching complaints between them made Seth feel a little more comfortable. A little more like a professional.

Apparently following his lead, Savannah pulled off her coat and left it on the chair. If she was the least bit concerned, it didn’t show on her face. Or in those incredible eyes of hers. Beneath the fluorescent light of his office, they appeared more brown than blue. Yet just a second earlier, out in the glare of the afternoon sun, he would have sworn they were more blue.

“Coffee?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Tea, soda?”

“Nothing, thanks.”

Seth pushed some papers around on his desk, trying to see if his stall tactic made her nervous. It didn’t. He continued to shuffle things around. “So, why did you pick forensic psychology?”

“To understand why people commit crimes,” was her easy answer.

He lifted his eyes to hers and suggested, “Because they’re criminals?”

That elicited a smile from her. “Granted. But don’t you want to know the motives of the people you arrest?”

He shrugged. “Motive isn’t necessary for prosecution.”

She leaned forward to the edge of the desk.

Bad move, he decided. That simple action made the pale pink sweater further outline her delicious body. The delicious body he wasn’t supposed to be noticing.

“Don’t you feel better, though, when you know why a crime was committed?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I suppose.”

“Someday, law enforcement officers like you will be able to call on people like me to help you solve crimes by understanding the criminal.”

If I call you, it won’t be to discuss a criminal. “What got you interested in the psychology of crime?”

Seth noticed that she averted her gaze. He added that to his list.

“Because I think people sometimes get involved in crimes without even knowing it. They aren’t criminals, but our current system treats them as such.”

Seth stroked his chin and felt his annoyance level rise. “Nice answer. Did you get that from town gossip about Clayton? Did you think if you sounded the trumpets in defense of my brother I’d forget that you’re the prime suspect in two murders?”

Savannah’s reaction was quick and harsh. “I don’t know squat about your brother other than he’s in prison. I was speaking in the abstract.”

“It didn’t sound abstract,” Seth retorted. Then his mind went in a completely different direction. “Or, are you setting me up for a self-defense plea?”

“Self-defense?”

“Fowler and Whitlock wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you had no choice but to shoot them?”

Raw fury shone in her eyes. “I didn’t shoot anybody! I passed your paraffin tests after both shootings, remember?”

“That could just mean you wore gloves.”

Savannah stood and grabbed her coat, ramming her arms into the sleeves. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t wear gloves. And if this is your idea of a talk to clear a few things up, you and I have completely different definitions of the word talk. Goodbye, Sheriff.”

“Wait!”

She stilled at his commanding tone, but her angry eyes never left his face.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“No.”

“Then I have every right to leave.”

“True, but I’d like to ask you two questions before you do.”

He could tell her acquiescence was only halfhearted. “Fine. Two questions.”

“Do the numbers 9-1-2 mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She glared at him. “Is that your second question?”

Seth felt the string of his patience pull taut. “No, my second question is…why is there no trace of any Savannah Wyatt prior to your records from the University of Maryland?”

Chapter Three

“What do you mean, no trace?” Savannah challenged.

To Seth’s eyes, her body language was screaming retreat. He kept his gaze level. “I mean your social security number had no activity until six years ago. You have no credit history, never attempted to buy a home or an apartment. Nothing. Nada.”

“I didn’t work before college, and—” she paused and took in a long breath “—and I lived with my family, so I had no reason to use my social security card.”

“Let me see it.”

“What?” Savannah asked. He could almost smell her panic.

“I’d like to see your social security card,” he repeated evenly.

“I—it’s back at the cabin.”

Seth nodded. “Okay.” He reached for the telephone. “Then I’ll just call your family to verify your story.”

“You can’t!” Savannah fairly yelled.

Seth lifted one dark brow questioningly. “You do have parents I can call, right?”

He saw sadness glaze her beautiful eyes and realized his little game might backfire.

“They passed away,” she said softly. “Six years ago.”

Seth felt like every kind of fool. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “You get used to not having them around—eventually.”

“I know.”

Savannah looked at him through her feathery brown lashes. “You lost your parents, too?”

He gave a weak smile. “Sort of, I lost mine literally.”

“Excuse me?”

Seth drummed his thumbs against his desktop. “My mother ran off with another man.”

“How terrible.”

“Then my thickheaded father went after her. That was ten years ago. Haven’t seen or heard from either of them since.”

“That’s incredible,” Savannah said in a near whisper. “It must have been hard on you. But at least you had your brothers.”

Seth rubbed his face. “We all handled it differently. But we handled it, except for Shane. He’s the baby of the family. Runs the day-to-day at Lucky 7, when he isn’t trying in vain to impress Taylor Reese,” Seth said with a quick smile. “He wandered back into town about a year ago and took over.”

“Where was he wandering?”

“You have to understand, Shane and the old man didn’t get along very well. They had a huge blowout when Pop decided he was going to go out and bring back what was his—meaning my mother—Shane was only eighteen at the time and I guess he had to conduct his own search or something.”

“What about you?” Savannah asked. “Why can’t you find them? You’re a sheriff.”

“They don’t want to be found,” Seth said with conviction. “I spent two years contacting every jurisdiction in the country. If people want to disappear, they can.”

Savannah suddenly sat back down in the chair and offered her rapt attention. “Do you really think so? Do you really think a person can’t be found?”

Seth added this apparent interest in missing persons to his list. “Sure. If they’re careful.”

“Yes, I guess a person would have to be very careful not to be found,” she mused, her expression faraway. Suddenly, she returned to the here and now and asked, “Are we finished?”

“For now,” Seth said. “I’ll be out to your place tonight to take a look at that social security card.”

“My place?” she repeated, apparently stunned. “I’ll just bring it to you tomorrow.”

“No,” he said more forcefully, “I’ll come to you.”

Seth moved to the window to watch Savannah walk back to Olive’s. He also watched as she stopped to use the pay phone in front of the post office. He stood in the shadows of the venetian blinds as she spent several animated minutes on the phone. Next, he watched as she put several more coins in the telephone, covered the mouthpiece, appeared to listen for a second, then hang up. She was one incredibly secretive, strange, but very beautiful woman.

Seth moved back to his desk and called the phone company to ask for the LUDs for the pay phone Savannah had just used. If she was going to be secretive, he was going to have to work that much harder to prove—

Prove what? he asked himself. The answer was simple and immediate. To prove she wasn’t a killer. Because that’s what he wanted. She was what he wanted.

“NO WAY!” Savannah insisted firmly just after her return to the shop.

“Bill Grayson is an old friend of Junior’s. They went to school together!” Olive argued.

“Olive, the last two times you’ve set me up on a date, the men have become corpses.”

“Oh, pooh,” Olive dismissed with a wave of her gnarled hand. “I know you didn’t kill them.”

“If Bill Grayson is a family friend, then why don’t you set him up with someone else?”

“Like who?”

“Taylor Reese,” Savannah suggested. “I’ve had coffee with her at the university. She’s nice, attractive—”

“Way too young,” Olive said after considering it. “The Landry’s housekeeper is too immature, too flighty. Bill is over forty. Besides, all I’m asking you to do is have dinner with him at the inn.”

“No.”

“Savannah?” Olive pleaded, “Please? How about if I send Junior along, too? He can sit at the bar and watch over the two of you? You won’t have to leave the inn. You just have a nice dinner in plain view of all the patrons. Junior will be there to make sure nothing happens to Bill or you.”

To me? A shiver danced along her spine. Jasper was supposed to be a safe haven. Right? Savannah closed her eyes. She knew her determination was slipping away. Olive and Junior were the closest thing she had to family.

She looked sternly at the shop owner. “First, you have to tell Bill about my last two dates.”

“Already did that,” Olive returned with a smile. “Once I told him what a beauty you were, he didn’t seem to mind.”

“Second, Junior has to stay at the bar the whole time. And he has to walk me to my car afterward.”

“Done.”

Savannah blew out a breath. “What time?”

“Eight.”

Savannah checked her watch. She had less than two hours to drive to her cabin, change and be at the inn on time.

As if sensing her calculations, Olive said, “Run along. And wear your new dress,” she added, handing Savannah the neatly wrapped beaded dress.

Nearly an hour later as she entered her cabin, Savannah asked, “What are the chances of it happening again? None? Less than none?”

She stripped off her clothes for a shower, then got ready faster than a trunk-show model. The pale ivory color of the dress complimented her olive-tinged skin. And the drop waist meant she could eat her fill and not have to worry about it showing.

Grabbing a pair of heels from her closet, she stuffed them into a bag. Then she began to switch items from her leather bag to a smaller evening bag. That’s when she came across the social security card and cursed.

It was completely unsullied and looked as if it had never seen the light of day. Quickly, Savannah crumpled it, then set a teapot on the stove to further steam-age the card. She even went so far as to smudge some ink on it. That should satisfy the handsome Sheriff Landry.

“Stop thinking of him as handsome,” she chided as she pulled on her boots. “Stop thinking of him period.”

Not even daring to use the word date, she scribbled a note to Seth explaining that she had other plans, then tacked the card to the front door before she headed back toward Jasper.

Junior greeted her in the Mountainview Inn’s parking lot. He was standing with an attractive man dressed in a Prada suit. Savannah’s expectations rose a notch.

“Savannah, this is Bill Grayson.” Junior introduced them.

She smiled as she extended her free hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson.”

“Bill,” he fairly cooed.

I don’t like cooers, Savannah thought. They’re almost as bad as grovelers. But, hey, she was having dinner with him, not children.

Savannah went into the ladies’ room and switched her snow boots for her pumps. As was the custom, she left her boots on the tile floor inside the bathroom to dry during her meal.

When she emerged, Bill was seated at a table near the large window of the A-frame building. In her peripheral vision, she spotted Junior at the bar, watching her reflection in the glass behind the counter.

“I haven’t been back here in almost a year,” Bill said as he pulled out her chair. “But it isn’t like Jasper ever changes.”

“It’s pretty once you get used to it,” Savannah offered.

Bill’s blue eyes roamed freely over Savannah, in spite of her silent rebuke of crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“So, what brings you back to town?” Savannah asked after they had ordered drinks.

“Diamonds and rubies.”

She studied Bill’s expression and determined he was serious. “Real diamonds and rubies?”

He nodded as he took a sip of his beer. “My family made its money in gold mining. I didn’t want to join the family business, so I branched out.”

“Pretty expensive branch,” Savannah commented as an elegant salad of field greens and raspberry vinaigrette was placed before her.

“I used a small portion of my family trust to start my own wholesale business.”

“Why wholesale?” she asked. “Wouldn’t a store have a higher profit margin?”

He offered her a smile full of perfectly capped teeth at the very instant she noted a familiar silhouette reflected in the window behind Bill’s perfectly coifed hair.

Seth Landry. Damn! she thought silently.

Bill was explaining something about his business, but Savannah was distracted as she watched Seth join Junior at the bar. Whatever he said to Junior made the shy man laugh.

She watched for a few more seconds as anger formed and grew in the pit of her stomach. Seth and Junior seemed to be having a fine old time. Surely Junior had told Seth what he was doing at the bar. So why hadn’t Seth turned in her direction? Worse still, why did she want him to? The guy had her brain all twisted.

“…must be boring you,” Bill commented, his cheeks stained a pale pink.

Savannah regrouped and gave him her very best smile. In a feline fashion, Savannah reached out and touched Bill’s hand, then made breeze-soft circles on his palm. “Not at all,” she assured him. “I was just distracted for an instant. Please, continue.”

Bill’s fit body seemed to swell inside his designer silk jacket as a result of her suddenly rapt attention. And Bill wasn’t the only one to notice. In the reflection she could see that both Junior and Seth had swiveled on their bar stools and were openly watching them.

Bill, thankfully, was oblivious. He continued his mostly one-sided conversation even after their entrées were served. “At first I was going to go the jewelry store route, but if you grow up in a small town, you either love it or hate it,” he explained.

“I’ll guess you hated it,” Savannah said.

Bill nodded and then waved in the direction of the bar. To Savannah’s utter mortification, Junior was leaving. Actually, the mortification was because, apparently, Seth was staying. Nothing like having the sheriff as your babysitter on a date.

“You’re nice to Junior,” Savannah opined with genuine admiration.

“He had it rough,” Bill said. “He’s always had that lisp and those glasses. The kids were cruel to him growing up, which was exactly what he didn’t need. Especially after his dad died in a hunting accident when he was about thirteen.”

Savannah remembered that there were no photographs of Olive’s husband around. Perhaps losing someone she loved suddenly had been so painful, Olive preferred not to display them. “Children can be nasty to one another.” She repressed her desire to recall some of the hateful things she and her siblings had said to one another over the years. All chances for her to apologize had ended six years ago.

“Don’t look so depressed. Junior took most of it in stride and he always had Olive to rebuild his self-esteem.”

“Still,” Savannah commented, “it must have hurt to have every kid in town ragging on him.”

“Not every kid,” Bill corrected. “Seth made sure of that.”

“Seth—as in Sheriff Seth?”

Bill nodded, but his mood seemed to sour. “The same Seth who is sitting over there watching us.”

It was Savannah’s turn to blush. “I think he thinks he’s doing his job.”

Bill snorted dismissively. “I had a couple of reservations about this evening, but now that I’ve met you, I can’t believe for one minute that you’re some sort of serial killer.”

“Thanks. You’re a minority, though.”

“That’s why I left town as soon as I could. The gossip mongering in this town makes Peyton Place seem like the friendliest community on earth.”

They both laughed. Then Savannah asked, “Were you ever the subject of gossip?”

“Sure. When I was seventeen, the whole town knew I lost my virginity before I did.”

Savannah laughed again. She was beginning to relax. Bill’s sense of humor was a wonderful salve on her frazzled nerves. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“A bit. But I got labeled as a—” he made quote signs with his fingers “—pillager of Jasper’s crop of young women.”

“Seventeen is pretty young.”

Bill made a noncommittal move with his shoulders. “I got lucky all of two times when I lived here. The pillagers were the sainted Landry brothers. But no one dared disparage a Landry. Not in Jasper.”

Based on his sudden frown, she realized Bill wasn’t fond of their lookout. “I guess boys will be boys,” Savannah quipped, hoping to lighten the tone of the conversation.

“They weren’t boys, they were a herd,” Bill countered with open hostility. “It wasn’t like you could have a beef with one of them. If you made one Landry mad, they all showed up to dole out some attitude adjustment.”

“I’ve met Sam and his wife. They seem awfully nice.”

Bill downed the remainder of his drink. “I don’t know why I’m complaining about them now. That was more than twenty years ago and they all seem to have settled down. At least, that’s what my mother used to claim in her letters.”

“Enough about Landrys,” Savannah insisted. “Since there’s no jewelry shop in Jasper, I’ll assume you just stopped for the night for old times’ sake?”

“For Angelica Seagal,” Bill countered with a wide grin.

“Sorry, the name isn’t familiar.”

“Angelica designs jewelry. I supply the gemstones.”

“So you have to come all the way here from…speaking of which, where is your home base?”

“Saint Paul. And if I didn’t come here to haggle with Angelica, she’d find a way to hunt me down.”

“Why?”

“Angelica and I go way back. She was my prom date, in fact.”

“Seagal Signature Jewelry?” Savannah asked, suddenly putting the name together with the pricey jewelry sold in only the top jewelry stores. A Seagal Signature was the present-day equivalent of having a Louis Comfort Tiffany piece at the turn of the century.

“The very one.”

“I had no idea Jasper had a genuine celebrity.”

“Angelica is an artist,” Bill said. “Which really only means she’s a bit on the weird side. She has some live-in assistant. His name is Vincent.”

“Vincent what?” Savannah queried. “Maybe I’ve met him.”

“Just Vincent,” Bill said with humor in his voice. “He looks a little bit like Lurch from The Addams Family, only with white hair.”

“I think I’ve seen him walk past the shop to the post office. He is a tad on the creepy side,” she admitted with a wicked grin.

“I believe Angelica thinks it’s terribly artsy to have Vincent around. If nothing else, he’s probably a good deterrent to anyone thinking of breaking into her studio.”

“Where does she work?”

“The old assay office at the end of Main Street. But I wouldn’t suggest visiting. Angelica is very private.”

Savannah pushed away her nearly empty plate. “I wouldn’t dream of disturbing a genius at work. But I would love to see some of her work up close—not behind the glass of a store window.”

Bill finished his plate, as well. “I can’t show you her work, but I can show you some sketches she sent me and the jewels I brought for them.”

Savannah felt her eyes grow wide. “Really?”

“Sure,” Bill said. “I’ve got them up in my room.”

He must have registered her reaction to the notion of going to his room because he added, “I have no ulterior motive,” he promised. “Although, if you’re interested, I’m game,” he teased.

“Sorry,” Savannah said on a breath. “I’ve really enjoyed having dinner with you, but it stops there, okay?”

“No,” he said as he stood, pulled several bills from his pocket and took her hand. “It stops right after I show you Angelica’s sketches and the most incredible diamonds, rubies and emeralds anywhere on the face of God’s great earth.”

Savannah pretended to ignore the look of censure from Seth as she followed Bill to the guest room elevators.

Once they were inside the elevator compartment, Bill asked, “Am I poaching on Landry territory?”

“Heavens, no!” she insisted. “Seth’s only interest in me is professional.”

“The looks he’s been giving you all night look more personal to me.”

“He was probably just hoping I’d whip out a .22 and shoot you at the table so he could close his investigation.”

“He’ll figure out who did the other murders,” Bill assured her as he guided her inside his suite. “Seth can be a pain, but he’s pretty good at his job.”

Savannah surveyed the room. There was a comfortable living room area with beautiful views of the moonlit mountains in the distance. She ran her hand along the edge of the leather sofa while Bill disappeared into the adjoining room, closing the door as he mumbled something about a safe. It was quiet in the room, save for the insulation. She could hear muffled voices and the sound of a car backfiring in the parking lot below.

Savannah checked her watch. Bill had been in the bedroom for almost ten minutes. Maybe he’s in the little gem sellers’ room, she thought. After another minute went by, Savannah called out to him.

Just as she did, there was a knock at the door. Savannah was still calling Bill’s name when she opened the door to a scowling Seth.

A scowling Seth with his weapon drawn.

“What are you doing?”

“Where is he?” Seth barked.

“In the bedroom. He went in there about ten minutes ago to bring out some gems to show me.”

Seth shoved her onto the sofa as he went to the door and kicked it in.

From her vantage point, Savannah could see Bill on the floor.

Blood trickled from a single hole in his forehead.

Chapter Four

Ignoring Savannah’s shocked expression, Seth raced out into the hall, crouched and ready to fire. Only problem was, there was no one in the long, deserted hallway.

It made no sense, he thought as he returned to Bill Grayson’s suite and called the coroner and J.D. Savannah was as still as a painting.

He went over to where she sat on the couch, stark white and staring blankly into space. He took her hands in his. She was trembling.

“He was shot with a .22. Where’s the gun, Savannah?”

His question brought her out of her fog. “The gun? I don’t have a gun! I didn’t shoot him.”

Seth frowned deeply, trying to make sense of her proclamations of innocence and the conflicting facts.

The facts were he had received a call of shots fired at the inn and was inside the elevator in less than ten seconds after the call. It was maybe a total of thirty seconds before he kicked in the door to Grayson’s bedroom. The room still smelled of gunpowder. Meaning the fatal shot had been fired within the last few moments. He checked his watch, noting the time was 9:33.

Though there was a second exit from the bedroom, Seth had already noted that it was bolted from the inside. Which meant the killer had to run past Savannah to make his quick escape. Or—

Or she was the killer.

“I have to search you and your bag,” Seth explained.

Savannah’s ire had begun to rise. She held her arms out to her sides and said, “Search away.”

Seth had her turn so her back was to him. She felt him grab a handful of her vintage dress and pull it taut against her body. “You break it, you bought it,” she snidely commented. “Those seams you’re straining were sown when people like you were busy chasing Al Capone.”

Using his nightstick, Seth ran it along her entire body. She should have been furious at the indignity of it, but for some reason, she wasn’t. Maybe it was just that it had been too long since she’d had any close contact with a man. Savannah almost laughed aloud at that absurd thought. What she was inappropriately feeling had nothing to do with men in general. It had to do with this man. Mainly because she could hear the slight catch in his breath when he checked the more intimate areas of her body. She only hoped the reverse wasn’t true. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Dr. Hall, the coroner, and J.D. arrived then, moving into the adjoining bedroom on Seth’s command. Dumping the contents of her purse on the coffee table, Seth found nothing of interest—except for a foil-wrapped condom. Savannah wanted the floor to open and swallow her as Seth gave her one of those “Big plans, eh?” looks.

“Better safe than sorry,” she said, realizing it was a pretty lame comment. But it sounded better than That thing’s been in my purse for years and I’d forgotten about it until just now. She was sure he wouldn’t believe the truth.

“Stand up, please.”

“Why?”

His expression was a mixture of frustration and restraint. “I have to cuff you.”

“Cuff me?” she parroted, unbelieving. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“I have to take you in for a paraffin test and another statement.”

Savannah let out a deflating sigh. “Not again.”

Seth met her exasperated gaze. “I don’t have a choice, Savannah. Unless you can explain how someone else managed to shoot Bill, then vanish.”

J.D. entered the room. “That ain’t all that vanished. The safe is open and there’s nothing in it. We found an invoice in his briefcase. Said he had more than a million in gems on him.”

Savannah felt the cold, hard handcuffs being snapped into place.

Dr. Hall emerged and said, “Judging by the body temperature and the air temperature measurements, this guy’s only been dead for about ten minutes. Not even enough time for any lividity to begin.”

“Let’s go, Savannah.”

She struggled against his hold. “Hasn’t it occurred to any of you geniuses that Seth didn’t find a gun or any jewels on me? He was here within minutes of the shot being fired. When did I have time to hide the murder weapon and the gems?”

“Good point,” Seth said.

Savannah relaxed a bit.

“J.D., tear this room apart. The murder weapon and the gems must still be here.”

Savannah called him a hateful name as he led her out of the suite and down through the gauntlet of gawkers to his Bronco. She hadn’t killed Bill, but she would gladly have killed Seth in that instant.

HE WAS IMPRESSED. She hadn’t shed a single tear. Savannah had taken the paraffin test, then asked permission to make a phone call. Seth guessed she had more class in her little finger than most folks had in their whole bodies. It had about killed him to send her downstairs to the matron, Mable. But the cavity search was necessary with a million bucks worth of gems missing.

Seth locked his hands behind his head and squeezed his weary eyes closed. Save for the lack of the weapon and other evidence, Savannah was the only logical suspect. Then why do I feel like I’m putting together a jigsaw puzzle with one piece missing?

“Uh, Sheriff?” J.D. hesitantly questioned from the doorway.

Seth let out a breath and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “What!”

J.D. jumped a bit at Seth’s harsh tone.

“I mean,” Seth began more amicably, “What do you have?”

“The matron didn’t find any gems during the search. She suggested we take her to get an X ray in case she swallowed them. There was nothing at the hotel. We didn’t find the suspect’s fingerprints in the room. Just the dead guy and a partial thumbprint on the door.”

“Which one?”

“The main door,” J.D. answered.

“Great,” Seth groused. “Who knows how long that’s been there? Send it to the state police and ask them to run it.”

“Yes, sir.” J.D. turned to leave.

“And while you’re at it, ask them when I can expect the background reports on Fowler and Whitlock. Ask them to start the drill on Bill Grayson, too. Maybe he didn’t have a million dollars worth of gems, which would explain why we can’t find them.”

“Okay. You look tired,” J.D. observed.

“Beat,” Seth concurred. “But since I just awakened Judge Duckett for a search warrant for Savannah’s home and workplace, my night isn’t over yet.” Seth slipped on his department-issue parka and started toward the door. He hesitated briefly at the top of the stairs leading to the cells below. He was secretly glad Mable hadn’t found the gems.

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t standing there thinking about gems. He was thinking about the necessary invasive procedure that had been done to Savannah. He was remembering the look of unbridled hate in her multicolored eyes when he was performing the paraffin test. For some reason, her hatred cut to the bone.

Just like the frigid January air that battered him as he walked the few steps to his Bronco. He’d have to drive an hour into Helena to get the warrant, then two hours to Savannah’s cabin. He decided to stop at the Cowboy Café off Jasper Park to have Ruthie fill him a thermos of coffee. It was going to be a long night.

The parking lot was filled with pickups and semis. No matter what time of day you went in, the place smelled of bacon and coffee. He sauntered up to the chipped Formica counter, squeezing between two turquoise Naugahyde stools. One of the stool cushions was being held together with a worn, curled piece of duct tape.

Ruthie greeted him immediately. She was an attractive redhead, divorced, with a thirteen-year-old who was working real hard on finding his way into juvenile detention. It wasn’t that Ruthie was a bad mother to Cal. Quite the opposite. It was just that Ruthie was forced to work nights to keep them in their modest mobile home, which meant Cal was basically without supervision. Too bad, too, since the kid was as smart as all hell. During his minor brushes with Seth, Cal had impressed him with his intelligence. Too bad he had a chip the size of Glacier National Park on his shoulder. Intelligence and bad attitude could be a deadly combination.

“Hi, there,” Ruthie said, leaning half across the counter so that Seth could—had he wanted to—look directly down the front of her tight blue waitress’s uniform. He smiled and passed on the opportunity yet again. Their relationship had ended more than two years ago. And he knew her flirtations were harmless, kind of her way of thanking him for keeping watch over Cal. Unfortunately, her actions fed the speculation of the town. Nearly everyone thought he was still involved with Ruthie. They wouldn’t even listen to his explanation that they were just good friends.

“I need a thermos to go.”

Ruthie’s green eyes grew wide. “Is it true? Did the Black Widow strike again?”

“Haven’t seen any black widows in these parts this time of year.”

Ruthie pouted. “You know who I mean. That snooty woman who won’t tell no one where she’s from ’cept ‘back East.’”

“If you’re talking about Miss Wyatt, then I have no comment.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ruthie demanded as she passed him a full thermos.

“It means I can’t discuss an open investigation.”

Ruthie smirked. “Then it’s true! She killed old Billy Grayson for them jewels he was always bringing to Angelica. She’s another snooty one, by the way.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Seth said, tossing a few dollars on the counter. Ruthie made sure she had his attention as she slipped the bills not into the register, but into her lacy brassiere.

As he drove northwest in the blackness, Seth was perplexed. He always flirted with Ruthie. It was like a ritual. So why tonight had he found her so…so…brazen? Because Savannah wouldn’t bare her bosom for a dollar tip. How in the hell had Savannah gotten under his skin like this? Cripe! She was a suspect, not a potential bride.

“Damn!” Seth spilled hot coffee on his hand at the mere thought of the word bride. Until just then, he didn’t think the word was in his vocabulary. He loved women, all women. But never just one woman. Especially not the only woman currently sitting in one of his jail cells.

IT WAS NEARLY three in the morning when Seth arrived at Savannah’s cabin. Using the keys from the evidence bag collected at the Mountainview Inn, he let himself inside.

Almost instantly he was assaulted with all kinds of feminine scents. He could make out jasmine, gardenia and lilac. He realized the odors were from the scented candles that she had everywhere. But there was a subtler scent under all the florals. It was the faint shadow of her perfume.

I’m here to search, not get aroused, he warned himself.

By the light of the half-moon, Seth went over to a floor lamp and pulled on the fringed tassel to turn it on. It was truly an eclectic room.

The red sofa was at an angle, a corner cabinet placed behind it. The coffee table sat on some faux fur rug and he found a footstool covered in the same faux fur. There was a white-and-green chair by the mason fireplace. There must have been fifty pillows of assorted sizes and shapes on the furniture and tossed around the room. She also had an odd collection of old hatboxes mixed with some large wooden boxes off in one corner. He decided to start there.

As he reached for the first hatbox, he noticed the walls. They were painted a muted green, and someone—Savannah was his guess—had taken the time to stencil a border of red-and-white flowers with green vines all around the room. Above the floor lamp illuminating the room, he discovered that she had stenciled a birdcage, complete with bird. It was so real, he half expected it to break into song at any moment.

Though Seth had managed to keep it out of the papers, the killer had taken trophies from each victim. According to Fowler’s family, he always wore a silver pendant around his neck. Because of his work with his church, he had a Saint Barnabas medal on his person at all times. Except when his body had been fished from the freezing waters of Brock Creek behind the Mountainview Inn.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.