“Laney, I want you to meet the town’s new deputy sheriff, Nick Rogers.”

His handshake was firm, his skin warm and dry. His dark-eyed gaze made the already hot day sizzle.

“You’re new to the area?”

“I’m adjusting,” he said, never taking his eyes off her. He had the kind of face that she’d thought only existed in the movies. Rugged and yet as handsome as any she’d ever seen with dark hair and blue eyes. But it was the way he stood, his head cocked to one side, an air of confidence about him that drew her like a moth to flame.

“You should come to my cousin’s engagement party.”

He smiled. “Thank you, but I really couldn’t intrude.”

“It’s no intrusion,” Laney said. “That’s the way things are done around here. Haven’t you seen the baby shower and anniversary notices in the local newspapers, inviting the whole county? Welcome to small-town America.”

“A lot different from Houston,” Nick said.

“Everyone will be there. Wear your dancing boots.”

Nick met Laney’s gaze. “Save me a dance?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning journalist turned author, BJ had thirty-six short stories published before her first romantic suspense novel, Odd Man Out, came out in 1995. Her book Premeditated Marriage won Romantic Times BOOKreviews Best Intrigue award for 2002 and she received a Career Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense. BJ lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, three springer spaniels, Zoey, Scout and Spot, and a temperamental tomcat named Jeff. She is a member of Kiss of Death, the Bozeman Writer’s Group and Romance Writers of America. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards in the winters and camps, water-skis and plays tennis in the summers. To contact her, write to PO Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771, USA or look for her online at www.bjdaniels.com.

The New Deputy in Town

BJ DANIELS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This book is dedicated to

Chris and Jessica Kerr,

the cutest couple I know and the sweetest.

It’s a joy to know the two of you.

Chapter One

Her hand trembled as she opened the closet to find the baseball bat where she’d hidden it in the very back corner. After last time, she’d considered getting rid of the bat. Instead, she’d wiped off the splattering of blood as best she could and kept it.

She wasn’t stupid. She watched CSI and all the other forensics television shows. She knew about blood splatters, about DNA, about trace evidence.

But she also knew it wouldn’t be good to change anything. Ritual, she knew, was important. It should always be a Saturday night. She should always wear the same blue dress she’d worn the first time. She should always use the old baseball bat she’d found.

“I thought you were going out with friends?” called a voice from the living room. She could hear the TV. One of those reality shows was on. “It’s getting kind of late though to be going now, isn’t it?”

She bit down on her irritation. She was sick of being told what to do. Sick of other people’s expectations for her. She put the bat on the bed and reached for her blue dress. There was one little blood spot along the hem that she’d had trouble getting out. She frowned, worried that even one spot might be enough to change things. To ruin the routine. To jinx her.

She worried at the spot for a moment. Maybe she shouldn’t go into town tonight. But it was Saturday. There would be a band at one of the bars. There would be men who would get drunk and want to dance with her.

She thought of the smell of them, the feel of their sweaty hands on the blue dress, the sound of their breathing as they pressed themselves against her.

She put on the dress and picked up the bat. A woman on TV was gagging loudly as if unable to swallow something revolting.

She went out the back door, letting it slam. It was Saturday night. She was wearing her blue dress. She had the bat. And wouldn’t some man be surprised tonight.

Chapter Two

Sunday morning Laney Cavanaugh looked down at the book in her lap, then out at the country. She was having trouble keeping her mind on what was being touted the summer beach-book read. Maybe it required a beach.

This part of northeastern Montana couldn’t be farther from the shore. She could see from horizon to horizon, the rolling landscape awash with tall golden grass that undulated in the morning breeze. Etched against the horizon to the east was the dark outline of an old windmill. To the southwest was the faint smudge of the Little Rockies and the Bear Paw Mountains. In between was prairie, miles and miles of it.

“Boring, huh?” her sister said as she came out of the house, the screen door slamming behind her. “No wonder Mother hated it here.” Laci plopped down in the chair next to Laney’s with a huge sigh.

Laney didn’t hate it here. Coming here had always given her a sense of peace. She liked the quiet, the only sound crickets chirping in the grass or the closer buzz of a bee in the flower bed along the porch. At night sometimes the wind blew or rain fell in a monotonous drone that lulled her to sleep.

Today though, she felt restless. The July air seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something. She felt that same sense of anticipation inside her like the flutter of butterfly wings. Something was about to happen.

She didn’t share these thoughts with Laci, who would have made fun of her. “You are so dramatic,” her younger sister often said. “You should have been an actor or a writer or well, anything but an accountant.”

“I’m going to bake some cookies,” Laci said, shoving herself out of the chair. Her sister had never been able to sit still for long. It was only nine in the morning. Laci had already made them both breakfast including a blueberry coffee cake, a spinach-and-bacon quiche and smoothies. But then Laci wasn’t happy unless she was cooking.

“I’ve never understood why Gramps keeps this place,” Laci said as the screen slammed behind her.

Laney understood. This house was all they had left of their daughter Geneva. She and Laci had been born here. That was before their father had been killed in a car accident between here and the small Montana town of Whitehorse to the north.

The first settlement of Whitehorse had been nearer the Missouri River. But when the railroad came through, the town migrated five miles north, taking the name with it.

The original settlement of Whitehorse was now little more than a ghost town except for a handful of ranches and a few of the original remaining buildings. It was locally referred to as Old Town.

Old Town Whitehorse had once been the home of horse thieves who’d been either hanged or forced out by the early settlers. Laney’s family had been one of the first to settle here, just miles from where the Missouri River wound a deep cut through the land.

This house and the early memories of their daughter were all Gramps and Gramma Pearl had. Titus kept the place up as if he believed that one day Geneva would return.

Laney and Laci visited each summer for the promised two weeks. Laney felt guilty that it wasn’t more, but both she and Laci had their own lives, Laci in Seattle and Laney in Mesa, Arizona. The house sat empty the rest of the time. Waiting for someone who was never going to return.

Laney tried to go back to her book, but her mind kept wandering. She found herself looking down the long dirt road. If anyone had been coming, she would have been able to see the dust cloud miles away.

Nothing moved. Huge cumulus clouds bobbed along in an ocean of blue as the sun rose higher and the day began to get hot. A cloud floated over, casting a dark, cool shadow over her. Laney shivered, sensing a change in the air.

An instant later she was startled by the unexpected thunder of hooves as her cousin Maddie came riding around the end of the house. Maddie leaped off her horse in a cloud of dust, her face flushed with excitement under her western straw hat.

“I heard you were here,” Maddie said as she bounded over the railing just as she’d done since she was a child. “Mother’s coming by later, but I couldn’t wait so I rode over,” she said as she gave Laney a hug.

“Got in last night.” Laney smiled in spite of herself as she looked at her cousin. Now nineteen, Maddie hadn’t changed that much from the gangly freckle-faced girl she’d been. She was tall and slim to the point of being skinny, with a mop of thick reddish-blond hair and light blue eyes. She wore a western shirt, jeans and boots.

“Where’s Laci?” Maddie asked excitedly. “Cooking, I’ll bet. Oh, what is that heavenly smell?”

From inside the house came the warm rich scent of chocolate-chip cookies baking even though it was way too hot to bake. As if that had ever stopped Laci.

“Who wants a warm cookie?” her sister called on cue from inside the house.

“Guess who!” Maddie called back laughing, then looked at Laney, her expression sobering. “I wish you lived here. I hate these short visits. They are never enough.” She gave Laney another hug, hanging on longer this time.

Laney sensed a small shudder in her cousin’s thin frame. She pulled back, taking Maddie’s arms to look at her, and felt her flinch. Shoving back Maddie’s shirtsleeve, Laney saw dark bruises, each spread evenly apart as if someone had grasped her too roughly.

“What is this?” What she wanted to say was “who did this to you?”

“You know me,” Maddie replied quickly, drawing her sleeve down over the bruises. “I’ve always been such a klutz. It’s nothing.”

It was something; Laney could feel it as Maddie flashed her a reassuring smile that didn’t quite ring true and hurried into the kitchen.

THE NEW DEPUTY SHERIFF, Nick Rogers, had been covering the weekend shifts until Sheriff Carter Jackson returned from Florida. So he wasn’t surprised when he got called out on another assault Sunday morning.

There’d been two assaults since he’d taken the job. The victims were men who’d been attacked outside one of the bars on a Saturday night when the place was packed and there was a live band. Which probably explained why no one heard a disturbance in the parking lot.

He found Curtis McAlheney at the bar nursing a beer. Nick slid up onto the stool next to him and ordered a cup of coffee since it was only nine-thirty in the morning.

Curtis had a split lip, a black eye, a broken nose and was stooped over as if his ribs were bothering him.

“Broken or cracked?” Nick asked.

“Cracked, but they hurt like hell,” Curtis said.

“You see your assailant?”

Curtis looked over at him. Thirty-something, he had thinning brown hair that stuck out the bottom of his John Deere cap. His eyes were small and brown, and his belly hung over his jeans into a T-shirt that proclaimed he was God’s gift to women.

“Assailant?” Curtis repeated. “Didn’t see no assailant—just some bastard with a baseball bat.”

“You see his face?”

Curtis shook his head regretfully. “It was dark. He hit me from behind, knocked me down then beat me up good. He was big, I can tell you that much.”

Nick nodded. This was pretty much the same description he’d gotten from the other men. Nick suspected the assailant was anything but big. A big man armed with a baseball bat would have done a lot more damage. “He rob you?”

Curtis looked sheepish. “I imagine he planned to. I think he came to his senses and took off before I got up and took that bat away from him and showed him what for.”

Right. The motive in all the cases didn’t appear to be robbery since nothing was taken but each man’s pride. The assailant had just attacked, beaten up the men and taken off.

“Before you left the bar, did you get into a disagreement with anyone?”

“Naw. I just had a few beers, danced a little.”

Same story Nick was getting from the others, although he suspected each had had more than a few beers.

“Well, if you think of anything else,” Nick said finishing his coffee.

“Has to be some bastard not from around here, ain’t that right, Shirley?” Curtis said to the bartender.

The bartender, a fifty-something stick of a woman, nodded. “No one around here would do something like that for no good reason.”

Nick suspected whoever the assailant was, he had a reason, one good enough for him anyway. Tossing money on the bar for his coffee and a tip, Nick left as his cell phone began to vibrate.

“Trouble down in Old Town Whitehorse,” the dispatcher said. “Alice Miller says someone stole her chickens.”

AS MADDIE RODE OFF, LACI PUT her feet up on the porch railing and sighed. “We need to have a party for her.”

Laney looked up from her book although she hadn’t been reading. She’d been thinking about her cousin.

Laci took a cookie from the plate she’d brought out earlier. They’d had cookies and lemonade on the porch and talked about old times, although Laney hadn’t been able to shake her worry for her cousin.

“An engagement party,” Laci said between bites.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Laney said. “Didn’t Maddie seem…different to you?”

Her sister shot her a look. “She’s lost a bunch of weight since last summer. Don’t all soon-to-be brides do that though?”

Maybe. “She’s too skinny, but that’s not what I’m talking about. She doesn’t seem…”

“Happy?” Laci started laughing. “Maddie could be the poster child for happy.”

“I felt like she was trying a little too hard,” Laney said. She’d seen her cousin when they’d gotten into town last night. Only Maddie hadn’t seen them. Laney had called to her cousin who was leaving the back way just as they were coming in the front. But their cousin obviously hadn’t heard them over the din of the bar as she left. “Like last night when we saw her leaving the bar. She wasn’t with her fiancé.”

Her sister groaned. “Maddie’s fine. I’m sure she wasn’t doing anything more than dancing with a few ranch hands just like we were. She left the bar alone, didn’t she?”

Laney nodded.

“See. Maddie’s just stretching her wings a little.”

Maybe, but Laney wasn’t convinced.

“Now help me with the engagement-party menu,” Laci said excitedly. “I want it to be something the town of Whitehorse has never seen. What do you think we should have to eat?”

“Don’t you think you should at least talk to Maddie about this first? Maybe she doesn’t want an engagement party.”

Laci laughed as she rose from her chair. “Who doesn’t want an engagement party? I’m going to start going through some of Gramma’s old recipes. I think I’ll do all desserts. What do you think?”

But she didn’t wait to hear what Laney thought. The screen door slammed. Laney stared out at the horizon, trying to put her finger on what was bothering her about Maddie. Maybe it was the way her cousin had talked about her fiancé, Bo Evans, as if she would die without him. Or the way she played with her engagement ring. Or the way she brushed off her original plans to attend college, even giving up a scholarship.

All of that Laney could chalk up to love.

All except the bruises on Maddie’s arm.

And Laney’s own feeling that something wasn’t right with her cousin.

She closed her book, glancing up the lane. That sense of nagging expectation washed over her again as if at any minute she would see someone coming down the road toward the house with bad news.

“Let’s take some cookies to the hospital for the nurses,” Laney said as she brought the plate and lemonade glasses into the kitchen to find her sister deep in an old cookbook. “I want to go visit Gramma.”

Laci looked up. “Do you mind going without me? I hate seeing Gram like that and I really need to get to work on this party. I’m thinking it should be next Saturday. I’m sure we can use the community center.”

Laney knew how hard it was for her sister to see their grandmother Pearl after her stroke. Gramma’s eyes were open, but she was unresponsive. It was questionable if she could even understand what they said to her. Or if she recognized her granddaughters at all.

Gramma Pearl had been in the hospital with pneumonia when she’d suddenly had a stroke. Gramps said she’d been upset about some things that had been going on in Old Town Whitehorse.

“I think we both should go see Gramma,” Laney said. “As it is, Gramps won’t be happy with us since we didn’t attend his church service this morning at the center. Maybe we can bribe him with some of your cookies because you know he’ll be with Gramma.”

Laci nodded although with obvious reluctance. “As long as you keep him from talking about Mother. I can’t bear it. He really believes Geneva will just come home one day as if nothing happened. Why can’t he accept that she’s gone and won’t ever be back? For all we know she’s dead.”

“He has to believe he’ll see her again,” Laney said although she agreed with her sister. Wherever Geneva Cavanaugh Cherry was, this was the last place she’d ever return.

DEPUTY SHERIFF NICK ROGERS had never been to Old Town Whitehorse before. He would have missed it entirely, if he hadn’t slowed down to let a dog cross in front of his patrol car and seen the sign barely sticking up out of the weeds beside the road.

Whitehorse. Population 50.

He truly doubted that, given the age of the sign.

Nick had driven five miles through rolling grassland and open sky. He’d heard this land called the Big Open. He could well understand why.

And after all that way, he’d arrived in Old Town Whitehorse. Well, what was left of the original Whitehorse. There were a few buildings. No store. No gas station. No bar. Just what appeared to be a community center, an ancient abandoned gas station and a few houses still standing.

He could make out the trees and roofs of a few farms or ranches not far from town, but this whole place felt more like a ghost town than anything else.

One big old house in particular reminded him of a haunted house he and his friends used to throw rocks at when he was a kid. He stared at the two-story house. It sat apart from the others. The paint had peeled and it appeared kids had broken out most of the upstairs windows. The lower ones were boarded up. The mailbox out front had fallen over, but he made out the word Cherry as he drove past.

He rolled his window down and breathed in the smell of fresh-cut hay. He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. He’d been looking for a place to escape. Literally. And he’d found it in Montana. No one would ever look for him here—let alone find him. At least if he hoped to stay alive.

If Whitehorse wasn’t the end of the earth, then Old Town definitely was. He’d heard someone joke the first night he’d gotten into town that “Whitehorse isn’t the end of the earth, but you can see the fires of hell on a clear night.”

Nick had been to hell. Maybe that was why he’d felt at home here right off.

Alice Miller lived in a big white ranch house west of town. As he pulled into the yard, two blue heelers with spooky white eyes came out to bite at his tires.

The house was sheltered by rows of trees that had to stand over fifteen feet tall. Past the house and trees, the country ran south through open prairie to what appeared to be a thin line of green. The Missouri Breaks.

He could understand why Old West outlaws had made this isolated, underpopulated country their hideouts. It had worked for Kid Curry and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. At least for a while.

Nick was counting on it working for him.

At least for a while.

He eyed the barking dogs. He had a healthy respect for ranch dogs since arriving in Montana and waited until an elderly woman in a housedress and apron opened the front door and called off the dogs before he got out.

Alice Miller was petite with serious blue eyes and bobbed gray hair. She led him around the back of the house to a chicken coop.

“There you are,” she said as if that should clear things up for him.

He looked into the empty coop. Yep, things were clear as mud. “How many chickens did you have?”

“A dozen layers, four roosters and three old stewing hens.”

“Nineteen chickens and they were all gone this morning,” he said.

She nodded and waited as if she expected him to produce them like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat.

“That’s a lot of chickens to disappear,” he remarked. When he’d found this job, he’d been amazed at the kind of calls a deputy sheriff in Whitehorse, Montana, had to deal with. Dog at large, owner warned. Drunken disturbance at rodeo, citizen given ride home. Missing resident, found two doors down.

As a big-city cop, he’d dealt with every crime imaginable. At least he thought he had. But he’d never been called out to investigate nineteen missing chickens.

He was out of his league and he knew it.

“What do you think happened to them?” he asked Mrs. Miller.

She cocked her head and looked up at him as if he might be pulling her leg. “Clearly someone stole them.”

“How do you know a coyote or something didn’t come in and eat them all?”

“You see any feathers?”

Actually, he did. There were feathers all over the chicken coop.

“You see any blood, any bones?” she asked with growing impatience. “Where are you from anyway?”

“Houston.”

“Where’s your Texas accent?” she asked.

“I wasn’t born there. My father was in the military. We traveled all over.” It was the story he’d come up with. It made things simpler. And safer.

Mrs. Miller let out a little huff sound and put her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you going to look for fingerprints? Tracks? Something?”

Fingerprints? She couldn’t be serious. As for tracks, it had rained the night before. There were lots of tracks, all appearing to have been made by her dogs.

“I got wash to do,” she said and headed for the side yard.

He circled the chicken coop, feeling like a fool. He’d never tracked anything in his life. This was nothing like chasing a convenience-store robber down an alley and over a couple of fences.

To his surprise, he found some tracks that looked out of place. He squatted down next to one of the prints. The sun had already baked the surface of the yard. The print was that of a boot. A small one. A kid’s.

Nick walked around to where Mrs. Miller was hanging sheets and towels on a clothesline.

“Who all lives here?” he asked.

“Me and my husband. He’s out cutting hay. Why?”

“You have any grandchildren, any children who have been over to visit in the last day or so?”

“No. What does that have to do with my chickens?”

“No neighbors with kids?” he asked.

Alice Miller wrinkled her brow. “There is that boy, his aunt and uncle are renting the farm next door.”

Nick pulled out his notebook and pencil. “What do these chickens look like?” He glanced up when she didn’t answer and saw her expression. “Okay, would you be able to recognize them if you saw them again?”

“Just find my chickens,” she said and went back to hanging up her wash.

Nick followed the boy’s tracks, wondering how the kid had pulled it off. Nineteen chickens were a lot. Wouldn’t they have caused a ruckus that could be heard up at the house?

He could envision Mrs. Miller with a shotgun coming out in her flannel nightgown, blood in her eye. So why hadn’t that happened?

He glanced up at the sound of a dog growling and realized he’d reached the farm closest to the Millers’.

“Hello!” he called and eyed the dog. It wasn’t a blue heeler, but some kind of mutt, large and hairy. “Hello!” He feared the dog would key on the fear in his voice and attack. Easy, Cujo.

“The chickens aren’t hurt,” said a young voice from the back steps of the house. The kid was twelve tops, lanky with sandy-blond hair and big ears.

“That’s good,” Nick said. “Could you call off your dog?”

“Prince, no,” the boy said. The dog eyed Nick for a moment, then ambled over to the kid and sat down.

“I’m Deputy Sheriff Nick Rogers.” He’d taken the Rogers from an old western he’d seen on television the night he’d left town. “What’s your name?”

“Chaz. It’s actually Charles, but that’s what everyone calls me,” the boy said. “My aunt and uncle are in town if you’re going to arrest me. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Where are Mrs. Miller’s chickens?”

He pointed toward a shed at the back of the property. “I was going to return them. Really.”

“Why’d you take them in the first place?” Nick asked, glancing toward the house. “You need the food?”

“No,” Chaz said indignantly as they walked back to the shed. A ruckus was coming from inside. “I got plenty to eat and I didn’t take anyone’s chickens.”

Right. That was why Nick had just followed the kid’s boot prints to his house straight from the chicken coop.

At the shed, Chaz opened the door a crack so Nick could see that all nineteen chickens were there. The chickens looked a little funny to him, their feathers kind of glued to them, but what did he know about chickens other than buying cut-up fryers in plastic wrap at the grocery?

“We need to get the chickens back to Mrs. Miller,” Nick said.

“I know. I was thinking about how to get them to her,” the boy said.

“Why not take them back the same way you stole them?”

“I told you, I didn’t steal them.”

“Right.”

Just then one of the chickens made a beeline for the door, slipping through to take off at a run across the yard.

Before Nick could react, Prince darted after the chicken. “No!” Nick called to the dog. Too late. In an instant, Prince had the chicken clutched in his jaws and was prancing back toward them looking like the cat that ate the canary.

To Nick’s astonishment, the dog dropped the slobber-coated bird at Chaz’s feet, the chicken jerking to its feet unhurt. The boy grabbed the bird and tossed it back in the shed.

“See the problem?” Chaz said. “I took one back when Prince brought it home. I didn’t know he was going back last night to get them all.”

Nick stared at the dog. “Are you trying to tell me that Prince stole the chickens?”

Chaz nodded. “I told him not to, but Prince likes to collect things.” The boy shrugged. “It’s his only bad habit. Other than that, he’s a really good dog.”

Prince was leaning against the boy’s leg, looking up at him. Chaz patted the dog’s big head. The dog’s tongue lolled. He could have been smiling.

Nick swore, pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve got to tell you. I don’t know much about transporting chickens. I’d consider any idea you might have on how to get them back in Mrs. Miller’s chicken coop.”

“I’ve been thinking on it,” Chaz said. “I might have an idea.”

TWO HOURS LATER, ALL NINETEEN chickens were safely back in Mrs. Miller’s chicken coop. Nick left Chaz on the Millers’ porch eating fresh-baked apple pie and sipping a large glass of milk, Prince at his feet. Chaz had promised to keep a closer eye on his dog.

Nick was feeling good. He’d solved his first mystery in Montana. With a little help from a kid and a dog.

Back at his office, he was hoping the rest of his shift would be as uneventful when he looked up and saw a young reddish-blond woman get out of her car. As she started toward his office, another car raced up, tires screeching as the driver came to a stop and rolled down his window.

The woman turned. Clearly, the two knew each other. Nick watched from his window, not liking the change in the woman’s demeanor when she saw the young man behind the wheel. Nick had covered enough domestic-violence cases to recognize one on the street.

The woman said something to the man, who appeared to be about her age, no more than twenty, then she turned and started walking toward the sheriff’s department again.

The man threw open his door and went after her, grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him.

Nick shot out of his chair, hitting the door at a run. As he exited the courthouse building, he heard the raised voices.

“Let go of her,” Nick said in his calm cop voice.

“This isn’t any of your business,” the young man said. He had brown hair, brown eyes, classic good looks.

“Let go of her,” Nick repeated.

The young man did, but with obvious reluctance and definitely an attitude. “I’m not breaking any law.”

“Domestic abuse is against the law,” Nick said.

“Domestic abuse?” The young man scoffed at that. “My girlfri—fiancée and I were just having a little private disagreement.”

The young woman was rubbing her arm where the man had grabbed her. “He’s right. It’s nothing.”

“Why don’t you step inside and we can talk about it,” Nick said to the woman.

She shook her head, eyes wide. “It’s nothing, really.”

“You were headed for my office. There must be something you wanted.”

“I wasn’t. That is, I was going up to the treasury department upstairs. I got turned around.” She was lying and Nick could see that she was afraid.

“What’s your name?” he asked the young man.

“Bo Evans.” He said it as if it should mean something. It didn’t to Nick.

“You live around here?”

“Old Town Whitehorse.” Bo was giving him an are-you-stupid look. “You’re not from around here, huh?”

“What’s your name?” Nick asked the woman.

She hesitated. “Maddie Cavanaugh.”

She was edging toward her car. “I have to get to work,” she said.

“Where do you work?” Nick asked.

Maddie Cavanaugh looked around as if searching for an answer. “In Old Town Whitehorse. I just help Geraldine Shaw out.”

Nick nodded and turned to Bo Evans. “Disagreements are one thing, but you were scaring your fiancée. Keep your hands off her when you’re angry, okay?”

Bo Evans shook his head as if in disbelief. “I wouldn’t hurt Maddie. I love her. We’re getting married. What is wrong with you, man?”

Nick watched them leave in separate cars, worried about the young woman. Whatever she’d been planning to tell someone at the sheriff’s office, her fiancé had done a good job of changing her mind.

Chapter Three

Laney Cavanaugh saw him as she came out of the hospital. He stood across the street talking to her grandfather Titus.

She wasn’t sure what it was about the man that caught her attention let alone held it as she crossed the street. He wore jeans and boots, a tan short-sleeved shirt and a cowboy hat. Nothing unusual about that in Whitehorse, Montana.

He had one boot sole resting on the bumper of Titus’s pickup truck and was leaning forward, listening intently. She tried to imagine what her grandfather might be saying that would require that kind of attention as she crossed the street.

It wasn’t until she was almost to the pair that the sun glinted off the man’s silver star and she realized that the tan shirt was actually part of a uniform.

“Laney, I want you to meet the town’s new deputy sheriff, Nick Rogers,” Titus said. “This is my granddaughter Laney Cavanaugh.”

She smiled and extended her hand, which quickly disappeared into the lawman’s large sun-browned one. His handshake was firm, his skin warm and dry. His dark-eyed gaze made the already hot day sizzle. She sensed that odd expectation in the air that she’d felt earlier as if she wasn’t the only one holding her breath.

“I was just telling Nick that you and your sister are staying out at my daughter’s place,” Titus said. “Nick’s new to the area. I’m sure it’s all a bit strange after Houston.”

“I’m adjusting,” he said, never taking his eyes off Laney. He had the kind of face that she’d thought only existed in the movies. Rugged and yet as handsome as any she’d ever seen, with dark hair and eyes. But it was the way he stood, his head cocked to one side, an air of confidence about him, that drew her like a moth to a flame.

“I told Nick we’d have to get him back down our way for dinner sometime,” Titus said.

“He should come to the party,” Laci said, coming up behind them. She’d hung back to give their grandmother’s nurses the chocolate-chip cookies. Laney could feel her sister’s gaze on her, hear the humor in her voice. “Shouldn’t he, Laney?”

“Of course,” Laney said because what else could she say under the circumstances? She looked down, surprised to see he was still holding her hand.

“What kind of party is this?” he asked as he let go, as if as reluctant to break the connection as she’d been. His gaze, however, came right back to her after he shook her sister’s hand.

“It’s our cousin’s engagement party,” Laci said.

He smiled. “Thank you, but I really couldn’t intrude.”

“It’s no intrusion,” Laci said, grinning curiously from Laney to Nick. “The entire town is invited and half the county. That’s the way things are done around here. Haven’t you seen the baby shower and anniversary notices in the local newspaper inviting the whole county? Welcome to small-town America.”

“A lot different from the big city,” Nick said. “But still I don’t think I—”

“It’s for our cousin Maddie Cavanaugh and her fiancé Bo Evans,” Laci interrupted. “It would be a good time to meet more of the locals. Everyone will be there.”

Laney saw the change in Nick’s expression. “Maybe I will reconsider,” he said. “When is this party?”

“Saturday afternoon,” Laci said. “Wear your dancing boots. Gramps will be playing his fiddle as part of the Whitehorse Country Band.”

Nick met Laney’s gaze. “Save me a dance?”

She nodded, feeling sixteen again and just as foolish because she was beginning to think this engagement party for Maddie wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

ARLENE EVANS LOOKED ACROSS the table at her handsome son and smiled. She’d suggested dinner at the Hi-Line Café because she had something important to announce.

“I’m going to have the steak sandwich,” Bo said, closing his menu. He glanced toward the street and drummed his fingers on the table as if bored.

Arlene tamped down her annoyance. “Have whatever you want,” she said, feeling magnanimous. Bo was the light of her life. Her son. The one who would carry on the family name. It was especially important to have a son when you lived on a farm. Sons stayed and worked the place and, although Bo had shown little interest in farming, she knew he would once he was married.

Daughters on the other hand, well, they were supposed to get married and leave.

She let her gaze shift from her son to her youngest daughter, Charlotte. Charlotte was staring at a lank of her long straight blond hair, looking for split ends. Arlene applauded Charlotte’s interest in her looks at seventeen. At least one of her daughters understood the importance of looking her best from her hair to her prettily painted acrylic nails.

Arlene glanced at her other daughter and scowled. Violet, her unmarried daughter, was her burden to bear. Not pretty, not overly bright, certainly not ambitious, Violet was thirty-four with few prospects. No matter what Violet wore, she looked…well, frumpy.

Her hair was a dull brown and her complexion muddy, and her nails! Arlene had done everything possible to break Violet of biting her nails and it had done no good.

Arlene feared her daughter would never marry and leave home as was natural. And how would that reflect on Arlene? She couldn’t bear such a blight on her as a mother.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milk shake,” Violet said tentatively.

“Are you sure you don’t want a nice salad, dear? All that fried food. It isn’t a problem for the rest of us, but with you watching your weight…”

Violet closed her menu. “Why don’t you order for me, Mother?”

Arlene thought she detected an edge to her daughter’s voice, but that would be so unlike Violet that she dismissed it.

“So what’s this about?” Bo asked impatiently. “You said you had something you wanted to tell us?”

Arlene refused to be rushed. Fortunately, the waitress came to take their orders just then. A steak sandwich and jojos for Bo, the grilled chicken salad for Violet, a side salad with vinegar and oil for Charlotte and a strawberry milk shake, the fish basket with fries for Arlene.

“So did anything interesting happen last night?” she asked Violet after the waitress had gone.

Violet looked at her brother. “Well,” she said dragging out the word, “I did see Maddie at the bar last night. She was dancing with Curtis McAlheney.”

“So?” Bo snapped. “It’s not like we’re married yet. She can dance with anyone she wants.”

“Curtis McAlheney?” Violet let out that irritating loud laugh of hers. “He’s old enough to be her father!”

“Please! Could we just have one meal together without you two arguing?” Arlene glared at Violet, took a breath and let it out slowly, upset to hear about Maddie.

She wondered if Maddie had been drinking. She wouldn’t have been surprised, given that Charlotte had gotten served when the bars were really busy even though she was only seventeen. Or maybe the girls had fake IDs. That would be just like Maddie.

“You weren’t with Maddie, Bo?” Arlene asked, surprised and a little concerned. She’d thought that he was meeting Maddie when he’d left the house before his sisters last night.

“I went to Havre with some friends,” he said, obviously not happy to hear that Maddie had been at the bar—and dancing with Curtis McAlheney even though Curtis was no prize. “It’s not like Maddie and I are attached at the hip, you know.”

“You’re right,” Arlene quickly agreed. “It’s good to have friends and do things with them even after you’re married.”

“If he gets married,” Violet said under her breath.

“What is that supposed to mean?” both Arlene and Bo demanded. Charlotte hummed quietly to herself, apparently oblivious to the rest of them.

Violet only gave her brother one of her that’s-for-me-to-know-and-you-to-find-out looks.

Arlene wanted to slap her. Instead, she decided it was time to make her announcement. “I have great news. I’ve started a home business.”

Both Bo and Violet were noticeably surprised. Charlotte glanced up, but went back to her split ends; she would never need a dating service.

“What kind of business?” Violet asked as if worried she might have to work it.

“On the Internet,” Arlene said excitedly. She’d done her best to find Violet a man, throwing her together with every eligible man she could find in several counties. Now it was time to expand her territory. “It’s an Internet dating service for rural singles.”

Violet gasped.

Bo began to laugh, shaking his head as his gaze went to Violet then his mother. “This is going to be good.”

ON SATURDAY, NICK TOLD HIMSELF he had no business going to a party in Old Town Whitehorse or anywhere else. His plan had been to keep a low profile while in Montana. That meant doing his job, staying to himself, having as little contact with the locals as was necessary.

It wasn’t as if it had slipped his mind why he was here or what was at stake if he screwed up. He had to keep his head down. Dancing with a pretty young local woman with emerald-green eyes wasn’t just risky business. It could get him killed.

And yet, dancing with Laney Cavanaugh was all he could think about as he checked his messages at his office before getting ready to head to Old Town.

He told himself he was just doing his job by going to the party. That he wouldn’t have accepted the party invitation if it hadn’t been for Maddie Cavanaugh’s and Bo Evans’s engagement. He hadn’t been able to forget the fear he’d seen in Maddie’s eyes that day outside his office. Nor could he shake the instant dislike he’d felt for Bo Evans. The kid was trouble. Nick had seen enough young men like Bo to spot his kind a mile away.

And what would just one dance hurt?

Nick looked up at the sound of a man clearing his throat.

“I—I—I was attacked.”

The man standing in his doorway was average height, average build, average in most every way. He looked vaguely familiar.

“I’m the reporter for the Milk River Examiner. I tried to do a story on you when you came to town,” the man said as if seeing Nick attempting to place him.

“Right.”

“Glen Whitaker,” the man said. He’d looked sheepish when Nick had first looked up, but now he appeared a little aggravated at not being remembered. Or maybe it was because Nick had declined to be interviewed.

“You say you were attacked?” Nick asked. The man didn’t appear to be in pain. Nor did his clothing suggest an attack. He wore dark slacks, a white shirt, loafers. He obviously was a transplant from somewhere else. His hair was slicked back in an old-fashioned cut although he appeared to be in his thirties. Hard to tell age with a man like that.

“The attack happened a month ago, right before you were hired,” Glen Whitaker said, glancing around as if he wanted to make sure no one was listening. There wasn’t anyone in the office and the dispatcher’s desk was far enough away she couldn’t have heard. Nor did she seem even interested in what the reporter was doing here.

“Sit down,” Nick said as Glen drew up a chair, pulling it close to the deputy’s desk. “You say it happened before I was hired. Did you report it?”

“No.” Glen looked nervous. “I wasn’t sure.”

“You weren’t sure you were attacked?” Nick was beginning to wonder about this guy.

“You see, I was told that I’d been down at Old Town. It’s a near ghost town south of here by the Missouri Breaks.”

Nick nodded. “I’ve been there.”

“Anyway, about a month ago I woke up beside the road, my car smashed into a fence post, miles from everything. I couldn’t remember anything. I later found out that I was in Old Town Whitehorse. I had two large bumps on my head that I thought must have caused the memory loss.”

“Were you drinking?” Nick had to ask.

“I don’t drink. Several people saw me leave the Whitehorse Community Center and can attest to the fact that I hadn’t had a thing to drink. That was the night before. I woke up beside the road the next morning feeling like I’d been run over.” Glen leaned in closer. “When I got home I found bruises all over my body as if I’d been beaten.”

Nick had been thinking the man was a nutcase. But his story was a little too much like the others Nick had been hearing. Also, the attack had been on a Saturday night.

“Would you say the bruises indicated you might have been kicked? Or beaten with a weapon of some sort?” Nick asked.

Glen Whitaker sat back, relief drowning his features. “You believe me then?”

“There have been some other reports of this sort of thing.”

“I was afraid to come in.” Glen looked away as if too upset to go on. “I was afraid you’d think I was crazy.”

Nick pulled out a report. “When exactly did this happen?”

Glen stood abruptly. “I don’t want to file a complaint.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want this all over town. That’s why I came to you. You don’t know anyone. I just needed to tell someone.”

“But don’t you want your attack on record?”

The reporter wagged his head. “And have it end up in the newspaper? No way.” He started backing toward the door.

“Okay,” Nick said putting the form away. “I won’t make out a report. But tell me when it happened. There appears to be a series of these attacks. Yours might have been the first.”

“Saturday, four weeks ago, when that Bailey woman went missing. I can’t remember the exact date.”

Nick had heard about the Bailey woman, that she’d been discovered down in the Breaks and everything that had happened because of it.

“You have any idea who’s responsible for these attacks?” Glen asked.

“Not yet, but your information might prove critical to the investigation.” Nick checked his calendar. “From what I can tell, yours was the first attack.”

“No kidding.” Clearly, he was glad he wasn’t the only one. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much help. I still can’t remember anything about those lost twenty-four hours.” He paused. “There was one thing though.” He looked sheepish again. “It’s probably nothing.”

Nick smiled to himself. He’d been a cop long enough to know that whenever anyone said “it’s probably nothing,” it was usually something.

“I smelled something on my clothes afterwards,” he said, flushing a little. “I think it might have been perfume.”

Nick could see how uncomfortable this admission made the reporter. “Do you have a woman friend?”

Glen shook his head. “I like women, don’t get me wrong.”

“Of course. But you can’t recall being around a woman that day.”

“I can’t recall anything, that’s the problem.”

“Okay, this perfume. You recognize the scent?”

Another shake of his head.

“What was it like?”

“Some flower I think.”

That narrowed it down. “A flower you’d recall if you smelled it again?”

“It was an old flower, you know the kind—” he hesitated “—that older women wear.”

Nick nodded. “Okay, that could help.” He couldn’t imagine how, since Glen Whitaker had no idea who he’d come in contact with before he’d woken up beside a road in the middle of nowhere. Apparently an older woman.

“Okay,” Glen echoed. “I just thought you ought to know.”

“I’m glad you came in,” Nick said.

Glen hesitated at the door. “My editor still wants a story on you.”

“Thanks,” Nick said, “but I’ll pass. I’m shy and the story of my life would put your readers to sleep.”

Glen shook his head. “We print stories like that all the time.”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed with a laugh, “I’ve read your paper.”

As Glen left looking like a whipped puppy, Nick checked. Sure enough, there’d been an assault every Saturday night for apparently the last four weeks.

But this Saturday everyone would be in Old Town Whitehorse at Maddie Cavanaugh’s engagement party. At least this afternoon.

As he stood to leave for the party, Nick thought of Maddie. That young woman was in some kind of trouble. But he didn’t know what to do about it if she wasn’t willing to tell him.

He considered confiding in Maddie’s cousin Laney, telling her his concerns, and quickly nixed the idea. He didn’t know Laney Cavanaugh, although he felt as if he did. Crazy.

Still he couldn’t shake the thought of inviting her to town for dinner one night and seeing what he could find out about the cousin and her fiancé. Maybe he’d ask Laney at the party. Maybe while they were dancing.

Just a man doing his job.

As he started to leave his office, he glanced back at his desk. Time for a reality check, he thought as he walked back and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. The cell phone he’d bought when he’d left California was right where he’d put it. He only turned it on to check for messages once a day.

He hadn’t checked it yet today. Hell, he’d forgotten for a while there what he was doing in Montana. He picked up the phone and turned it on. No messages.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief although he knew it was just a matter of time before he got the call. One that would tell him it was time to return to California. Or a call that would tell him his cover was blown and to run.

He turned off the cell phone and put it back in the bottom drawer, locked the drawer and stood for a moment, hesitating. Just checking the phone had been a reminder how foolish it would be for him to get too involved, either in his work or with anyone while in Montana.

That was why he should just back off. If Maddie Cavanaugh really was in trouble, then let her come to him. And as for Laney Cavanaugh… He shook his head, reminding himself that his life here was one big fat lie. The closer he got to Laney Cavanaugh, the greater his chance of being found out. And if that happened, he was as good as dead.

DURING THE WEEK, news of the engagement party for Maddie Cavanaugh and Bo Evans spread like wildfire through the county. Few people were apt to turn down a party, especially one being thrown by a Cavanaugh. Some just wanted to come to critique Laci Cavanaugh’s cuisine. There was a rumor going round that she was planning to start her own catering business and was trying out recipes at the party.

Only two of the people who heard about the party were upset.

Arlene Evans was insulted that she hadn’t been asked to at least bring some of the food for the party. After all, she had taken the most blue ribbons at the Phillips County Fair and the Whitehorse Fourth of July picnic.

And in case no one had noticed, Bo was her son.

“The mother of the groom isn’t allowed to throw the engagement party,” Alice Miller told her one afternoon at the Whitehorse Sewing Circle. “Actually, you shouldn’t even be allowed to work on your daughter-in-law’s wedding quilt, but since we’re shorthanded with Lila Bailey and Pearl Cavanaugh gone…”

That had distracted Arlene. “I still can’t believe that Lila Bailey would just up and run off like she did.” She waited a moment for the other women in the circle to jump in. Arlene lowered her voice. “I always wondered about the paternity of her oldest daughter, Eve. She didn’t look anything like the rest of them.”

“Arlene,” Geraldine Shaw said impatiently and totally out of character. Pearl was the one who usually chastised Arlene for talking about anything interesting. “You missed a stitch. Perhaps you should tend to your quilting.”

Geraldine’s rebuff was so unexpected that Arlene was at a loss for words.

DOWN THE ROAD FROM WHITEHORSE, Maddie Cavanaugh took the news of the engagement party even harder.

“No, that’s not possible. Laci can’t, I mean, she didn’t say anything about—”

“It’s wonderful that your cousin is doing this for you,” her mother said, cutting her off. “You should be thankful.”

Since Sarah Cavanaugh had married into the family, she’d been trying to gain her rightful place. While she lived in a nice enough house to the east of Old Town Whitehorse, she had always been overshadowed by Titus and Pearl Cavanaugh, who were like royalty in this part of the county.

Sarah had felt slighted even though she’d tried to be part of this community and the Cavanaugh family. This party for her daughter though would finally put her part of the family in the limelight. It was only right that she and Maddie would get some attention. It angered her that Maddie didn’t want the party—and she said as much to her.

“It just seems…premature,” Maddie said.

“Premature? You’ve been engaged for over a month.”

“Bo and I haven’t even set a date.”

“Well, then I suggest you do. You can announce it at the party,” Sarah said.

“I wish Laci had asked me about this,” Maddie said. “Saturday? I had plans that night.”

“The party’s in the afternoon. But even if it runs into evening, you can just change your plans,” Sarah said gruffly, frowning at her daughter who had once been so malleable.

Sarah blamed it on the fact that Maddie had been spending way too much time away from her fiancé. Sarah had hoped Bo would be able to handle Maddie. But she’d heard her daughter had been seen at the bars, dancing with older men. If she hadn’t known how much Maddie loved Bo and needed him, Sarah Cavanaugh would have been worried.

Chapter Four

All week, Laci had been baking, forcing anyone who came by to try her treats. From candy to cookies to tarts and turnovers, and individual cobblers and cheesecakes, she’d worked to come up with the perfect dessert menu with growing expectation of Saturday’s event.

Laney had her own expectations as the day finally arrived. She hadn’t seen Deputy Nick Rogers, wasn’t even sure he would show for the party, but she was still anxious anyway—and upset with herself for being so excited about seeing him again. She’d seen the man only once, had barely said two words to him. This was so unlike her to be excited about a man she’d just met. Unlike her younger sister, she always looked before she leaped. But this time, she just wanted to jump—and that should have scared her.

Maddie had stopped by the day after Laci had started inviting everyone to the engagement party.

“I wish you’d mentioned a party to me,” Maddie had said. “Not that I don’t love the idea.”

Laney had seen that Maddie was anything but delighted with the party idea.

“Don’t thank me,” Laci had said, giving her cousin a hug. “I just wanted to do something special for you. Because you’re special.”

Maddie’s blue eyes had filled with tears. She’d bit her lip and said nothing more.

But Laney had seen her expression. Maddie wasn’t just displeased about the party, she seemed… worried. Since that day, Maddie hadn’t been by, which was strange in itself.

When Laney had called to make sure she was all right, Maddie had told her she’d taken a job helping Geraldine Shaw clean out her attic.

“I like this kind of work. I think it might be like accounting,” her cousin had said. “Something that actually makes sense, you know?”

“Maddie, is anything wrong?” Laney had asked. “Because if you need someone to talk to—”

“Wrong? Of course not. Everything is wonderful. I’m marrying Bo.” Laney had heard the catch in her cousin’s voice. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

“You don’t have to,” Laney had said.

“No, I don’t. Bo is perfect for me.” Another catch in her voice.

“Still, every bride-to-be gets cold feet,” Laney said.

“Not me.” She’d hesitated. “We’ve had our problems, just like any other couple. But once we’re married things will be different.”

Her cousin didn’t really believe that marriage solved the problems, did she? “Maddie—”

“I’m fine. Really. There is nothing to worry about.”

But Laney had worried.

Now she heard a car and glanced at her watch. Aunt Sarah had called and offered to take some of the desserts for the party to the community center in her van.

Sarah had also helped with the decorations and volunteered to taste treats as was needed over the week.

“Because of your darned sister, I’ve gained ten pounds,” Sarah said as she came into the house.

“I had to refuse to taste another thing,” Laney said. “Laci was giving me a toothache. Is Maddie ready for the party?”

Sarah nodded, her face beaming. “This is so exciting. A party for my baby. Thank you for doing this. I can’t tell you what it means to us.”

“It’s all Laci’s doing,” Laney said, but she could see what it meant to Sarah. She wasn’t so sure about Maddie. She considered broaching her concerns about Maddie to her aunt but Laci came out of the kitchen with a container full of bite-size chocolate-covered cherry cheesecakes, and Sarah began oohing and aahing over them. They were beautiful. And much too pretty to eat.

After Sarah left with the back of her van full, Laney checked her watch again.

“Shouldn’t we be getting over to the community center?” she asked her sister.

Laci was nervously staring through the oven glass. “Just a few more minutes on the caramel puffs. They’re best if served warm. I have the macaroons resting at room temperature.”

Laney shook her head. “Lace, there is no way we’re going to be able to eat all of this.”

A knock at the door surprised them both. Laney thought it might be Sarah back for something. “I’ll get it. You watch your puffs.”

Geraldine Shaw was standing on the porch. She wasn’t dressed for the party. She looked harried and upset as Laney opened the door.

“Where’s Maddie?” Geraldine asked abruptly.

“I don’t know.”

“She was gone when I returned from the post office and my mother’s diamond bracelet is missing,” Geraldine said, looking past Laney. “Are you sure she isn’t here?”

“Yes. She might be at home or at the community center, but I’m sure if the bracelet is missing, Maddie had nothing to do with it.”

“I showed her the bracelet when we were cleaning out some things. When I left, I told her to be sure and put it back in the box.” Geraldine sounded near tears. “It’s gone.”

“I’m sure it’s just misplaced,” Laney said with concern. “Why don’t I call Maddie and see if—”

But Geraldine was already off the porch steps, huffing as she climbed into her car and tore off in a cloud of dust.

A shriek came from the kitchen. Laney went racing in to find her sister hysterical.

“My caramel puffs fell. This is an omen. The party is going to be a disaster.”

Laney calmed down her sister and sent her to get ready. She didn’t have the heart to tell Laci that there were worse problems with the party than some fallen caramel puffs. Not that Laci would appreciate the gravity of the missing bracelet. Not when gravity had ruined her caramel puffs.

WHEN NICK DROVE into Old Town Whitehorse, he was amazed at how many vehicles were parked around the community center. Laci Cavanaugh was right about one thing: the entire county had turned out for the engagement party.

He parked and walked down the road to the center, reminding himself he was on a case—even if not technically on duty. He planned to leave in time to watch the bars tonight in Whitehorse. It was Saturday and if the assailant was true to form, he’d be attacking some poor cowboy before the night was over.

As Nick slipped into the crowded building, the band broke into a country ballad. His best friend would have gotten a real kick out of this.

Just the thought of Danny O’Shay cut like a blade into his heart. Danny couldn’t see this because Danny was dead. And Nick was the reason.

“Deputy Nick Rogers,” said a female voice dripping with sugar. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

A tall, thin middle-aged woman with a braying laugh reached for his hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m Arlene Evans. This party is for my son and his fiancée.”

Bo’s mother. While her son was a nice-looking young man, Arlene Evans was one of those rawboned ranch women.

“And this is my daughter, Violet,” Arlene said as she grabbed the woman’s arm next to her and literally dragged her over. “Violet, say hello to Deputy Rogers.”

Violet Evans gave a meek nod.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” Nick said. With Violet it was hard to tell her age. She was as plain as any woman he’d ever seen. She had her mother’s raw-boned look but on a larger frame.

“Deputy Sheriff Rogers is new in town and single,” Arlene said and winked at Nick. “The Whitehorse grapevine.”

Violet stared at the floor, but Nick noticed a flush creep up her neck and several veins pop up prominently. The woman was more than embarrassed.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Titus,” Nick said as the band took a break. As he escaped, he heard Arlene chastising her daughter about not saying something interesting to make Nick stay. This was the woman who’d raised Bo Evans, he reminded himself. It could explain a lot.

“I see you made it,” Titus said and looked past him to the crowd. Titus Cavanaugh was a large, white-headed man with a powerful voice and a strong handshake. “My granddaughters are here somewhere. Quite the turnout. I hope you’ve tried some of Laci’s desserts. She really did go all out, but then that’s Laci. She was born with a spoon in her hand.” He laughed at his small joke.

Nick wanted to ask about Laci and Laney’s parents. He hadn’t heard anything about them. But he didn’t get the chance.

Across the room, he spotted Maddie Cavanaugh. She was dressed in a pale blue dress the same color as her eyes. Even from here he could see that her face was drawn, her freckles seeming to jump out. She looked upset.

He saw that she was listening to something Arlene Evans, her future mother-in-law, was saying. Arlene had a firm grip on Maddie’s arm and seemed to be trying to lead her out the back door.

“Here’s one of my granddaughters!” Titus announced.

Nick turned to come face-to-face with Laney Cavanaugh. She was dressed in a peach-colored dress that fell like water over her curves. Her face had a glow to it that had nothing to do with makeup, and those eyes, those amazing emerald eyes…

Past Laney, he saw Arlene Evans drag Maddie outside.

Nick cursed under his breath. “Excuse me a minute. I’ll be right back,” he said to Laney and made his way through the crowd after Arlene and Maddie.

WELL, THAT WENT WELL. Laney tried to hide her disappointment. She’d been looking forward to seeing Nick Rogers all week. In fact, when she’d spotted him talking to her grandfather, she’d made her way through the crowd, too impatient to wait for him to find her.

Or maybe worried he wouldn’t.

Laney wasn’t used to behaving like this. She turned away, fighting the urge to flee. Instead, she went over to the dessert table to see if she could help her sister.

“It’s a success,” Laci announced and sighed. “My first catered party. I can tell you now. I’m opening my own catering business, Cavanaugh Catering, right here.”

“Here?” Laney stared at her sister. Not because this surprised her. The way Laci loved to cook, it was the perfect career choice. “Here in Old Town?”

“Not just Old Town and Whitehorse, silly. I was thinking that it’s crazy that nobody lives in Mother’s house. I could run my catering business from the house. That way I would be close to Gramma and Gramps. But I would cater the whole county.”

Laney didn’t know what to say. Laci had always been the one who couldn’t wait to get out of here after their two-week summer visit each year. “What about Seattle?”

“It will always be there,” Laci said with a laugh.

Laney eyed her sister. “This seems kind of sudden.”

“Not really. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’ve already told Gramma.”

Gramma hadn’t been responding to anything since her stroke.

“It was the weirdest thing,” Laci confided. “She looked right at me. I swear she squeezed my hand. It was like there was something she wanted to tell me, needed to tell me, then she closed her eyes…”

“She’s happy for you,” Laney said quickly, not knowing if that was true or not. Gramma Pearl had always encouraged them to do what made them happy. Laney wasn’t sure what their grandmother would think about Laci staying here though. But she was positive what Gramps would say. Titus would be thrilled.

“I thought I’d tell Gramps after the party,” Laci said. “Oh no, we’re almost out of those chocolate-covered cherry cheesecakes. I should have made more.”

Or kept Violet Evans away from them, Laney thought as she watched Violet devour the last of the little cakes and then move down the buffet table toward the macaroons, stuffing a handful into the big pockets of her jumper when she thought no one was looking.

But Laney was distracted by the sight of Geraldine Shaw heading for the dessert table. Had she found her diamond bracelet? Laney could only hope so. She glanced around for Maddie, but didn’t see her anywhere.

BY THE TIME NICK STEPPED OUT through the back door of the community center, whatever Arlene had dragged Maddie out there for was over.

The two were standing a short ways from the back door. Maddie had her arms folded over her chest, her eyes on the ground. She’d been crying. Arlene was standing over her, glowering down at her.

“Is there a problem?” Nick asked pointedly.

Arlene turned in surprise, her expression instantly changing as she stepped back from Maddie. “Why, Deputy, you’re missing the dance. My daughter Violet—”

“I was hoping to dance with the bride-to-be,” Nick said looking at Maddie. He could hear the music coming from the center, but he was more interested in what Arlene had been saying to Maddie. Whatever it had been, he was betting it hadn’t been good. Arlene had been giving Maddie hell—and at her engagement party. That didn’t bode well for their future relationship.

Arlene’s look soured as she glanced from Nick to Maddie and back.

“I wanted to wish her well on her engagement,” he added. “If you’ll give us a moment,” he said pointedly to Arlene.

“Of course,” the older woman said, sending a warning glance at Maddie before she went back inside.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Maddie looked up, her blue eyes filled with tears. She made a swipe at them. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please,” Maddie said looking nervously toward the door. “Don’t. You’ll only make things worse.”

“Is that possible?” he asked.

Maddie dried her eyes.

“Let me help you,” Nick said.

“What’s going on out here?” asked a strident male voice.

Nick recognized it without turning. Bo Evans. His mother’s doing no doubt. She’d sent him out here. “I meant what I said,” Nick whispered to Maddie. “I can help if you’ll let me.”

She gave him an indecipherable nod and, putting a smile on her face, stepped around him.

Nick watched as Bo pulled Maddie to him none too gently and the two disappeared back inside. Nick swore and went to find Laney Cavanaugh.

But as he entered the center, he heard a bloodcurdling scream and saw the crowd converge to a spot in front of the dessert table.

Nick pushed his way through to find Geraldine Shaw on the floor. She was gasping for breath, her face bright red, her eyes bulging. “Everyone get back!” he yelled as he knelt down next to her. “Can you hear me?” He could see the panic in her face. She tried to lift her arm from the floor and he saw what was left of a macaroon clutched in her fist.

Nick felt the woman’s panic. He’d been here before. But like before, there was no time to do anything. The poison was too fast acting. Geraldine Shaw went into convulsions and he caught the familiar odor of bitter almond just before she died.

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