Catch up with the crime-fighting Coltons!

Witnessing a murder plunges Nina Owens into nerve-shattering danger. Police chief Flint Colton is sure the perp is taking down witnesses, so the handsome cop orders Nina into protective custody…in his home! And while she’s grateful to him, Nina just can’t shake her deep distrust of police. But all that falls away when Flint’s scintillating kiss awakens something deep within her.

As Thanksgiving approaches with Dead River quarantined, the search for a missing child puts Nina and the killer on a collision course. She knows Flint is haunted by a past failure to save a witness…and that he’ll put himself in the line of fire before he ever lets her down.

Pink panties.

Hot-pink panties.

He’d gone into the store on high alert, hovering near Nina and watching to make sure that nobody else got close to her.

What he hadn’t realized was that shopping with a woman could be such an intimate experience. He’d been fine as she’d grabbed several T-shirts and sweatshirts, some jogging pants and a nightshirt. His close presence next to her had felt a little more intrusive as she’d shopped for toiletries.

He’d finally managed to snap himself back into professional mode when she’d headed to the intimates section. It was when she tossed that single pair of hot-pink panties in the cart that his head once again went a little wonky.

Nina was the witness to a vicious crime and a victim of arson. She was here to be in his protective custody, not to be an object of his sexual fantasies. Speaking of protective custody, he pulled himself off the bed, grabbed his gun and went in search of his houseguest.

Dear Reader,

Chief of police Flint Colton has his hands full in the small town of Dead River, Wyoming: two fugitives on the loose, a missing heirloom ring and a beloved grandmother deathly ill from a mysterious virus that has the town shut down by the CDC.

When pretty Nina Owens, the owner of the local diner, witnesses a murder and then has her house burned down, Flint further complicates his life and takes her into his home under protective custody.

Flint is a traditional man who wants a wife and a family, while Nina has decided long ago that she wants to live her life alone. It doesn’t take Flint long to realize Nina is the woman he wants. Now all he has to do is convince her that they belong together.

Her Colton Lawman is filled not only with exciting danger and sizzling desire, but also with the growing love of two people with wounded hearts that must heal in order to embrace that love.

I hope you enjoy!

Carla Cassidy

Her Colton Lawman

Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARLA CASSIDY

is a New York Times bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than one hundred books for Harlequin. In 1995 she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Carla Cassidy for her contribution to The Coltons: Return to Wyoming miniseries.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chief of Police Flint Colton jammed on the brakes of his patrol car and with a quick flip of the steering wheel, squealed to a halt along the side of the gravel road.

He slapped his black cowboy hat more firmly on his head and jumped out of the car, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. He pulled his gun and headed into the woods that formed a perimeter on one side of the small town of Dead River, Wyoming.

He entered the heavily wooded area with his adrenaline pulsing through him. He’d seen something moving among the nearly bare trees...not just something, but rather someone on two legs, someone who definitely didn’t belong there.

It could be either one of two people, a cold-blooded killer who was on the loose or the stupid kid who had left Flint’s cousin, Molly, at the altar, but not before he’d cleaned out her bank accounts and stolen Flint’s grandmother’s heirloom ring.

Right now he didn’t much care which man it might be; he only knew he’d seen the flash of a red jacket running through the woods that might mean an arrest, and he was desperate for something positive to happen.

He’d lost sight of his prey, but raced in the direction he’d last seen the person running. All of his senses were acutely alive. The scent of November surrounded him with smells of withering leaves and the pleasant odor of a wood-burning fireplace coming from somewhere in the distance.

He not only heard the snap and crackle of dead tree limbs and the crunching of leaves ahead of him, but he also heard the nearby scurry of wildlife disturbed by his presence in their home.

A desperate need drove Flint forward. The town needed something good to happen after the past month of nothing but bad news and abject fear. He hoped the man he chased was Hank Bittard, a murderer who had nearly killed a deputy when he’d escaped from custody last week. Getting that man back behind bars would at least ease some of the worries of the people of the small town.

He muttered a curse as he tripped over an exposed root, nearly going down on one knee. He straightened up and then paused and listened.

Nothing. He didn’t hear the noise of somebody crashing over dried brush or the snapping of twigs as anyone ran away. He heard nothing to indicate that he wasn’t completely alone in the woods.

Had Flint only imagined the flash of red, the motion of a person running in the woods? Or was the person he pursued also standing perfectly still now as well, waiting for Flint to make a move and give away his position?

He tightened his grip on his gun, hearing his own heartbeat echoing in his head. Bittard wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet through Flint’s heart. He was a ruthless killer who had initially been arrested for the murder of his boss. Flint would love to get him back into custody. But Flint also didn’t know for sure if the man had a weapon or not.

He moved forward once again, a dose of reality taking the edge off the initial adrenaline rush that had gripped him. He had to admit that whoever he might have been chasing was gone now, and he had no idea in what direction to proceed.

He continued walking and veered slightly to his left, attempting to move as quietly as possible. His breath caught in his chest as he came gun to gun with a man in a white HAZMAT suit.

Flint instantly raised his hands and slowly backed away, grateful that he was clad in his black police uniform and that the sun caught and glinted off his badge.

Flint knew there was only one reason the man in the HAZMAT suit would shoot him and that was if Flint tried to get by him and step out of the perimeters the CDC had set up. Whoever Flint had been chasing wouldn’t have a way out of town, not with the quarantine in place.

“Did anyone come this way before me?” Flint asked.

The man in the suit shook his head.

Discouraged, he slowly continued to back away from the man and then turned and headed to his car. The opportunity to catch the person in the woods had been lost this time.

It was just after noon. He’d check in with his men at the station and then head to the diner for some lunch. He still believed that Hank was hiding out in the woods, a place where he’d often go with his buddies for target shooting. The woods would continue to be a focal point for Flint to hunt for Hank.

As he drove onto Main Street and into the center of town, he was disheartened by the lack of people on the streets, the eerily deserted air of what had been a thriving little town until the mysterious disease had struck.

He clenched his hands around the steering wheel, acknowledging that at the moment there was nothing that could be done about the quarantine preventing people from entering or leaving the town.

The entire town of Dead River was trapped by a deadly disease with no cure so far and shut in with a desperate killer who had no place to run and had yet to be apprehended.

The police station was in the middle of town, a one-story brick building with two small jail cells in the basement and a larger general holding cell. The two cells had seemed adequate for such a small town when Flint had been voted in as chief of police, but he wondered now if, because of the quarantine, they’d have to figure out a way to cobble together more cells as tensions rose and tempers flared. Already occupying the general holding cell was Doug Gasper, a stalker who’d recently been apprehended at his brother Theo’s ranch.

The pair of cells in the basement were reserved for the likes of of Hank Bittard and Jimmy Johnson, the young man who had taken advantage of sweet Molly, and it was anyone’s guess who might go around the bend and become a danger to others due to the stress and anxiety of the quarantine.

He parked his car and got out, hoping that one of his deputies might have some news about the two missing men, or perhaps an update about the mystery illness that had struck and forced the CDC to quarantine the town.

Kendra Walker greeted him from behind her desk in the small reception area. She worked during the day as both receptionist and dispatcher.

“Hey, Chief,” she said and then the phone rang, taking her attention away from him.

He gave her a wave and pushed through the doors that led into the area where the officers had their desks. His private office was at the back of the room, along with a single room that was used for interrogations or staff meetings.

Flint was thirty-two years old but at the moment he felt closer to sixty. The weight of the events of the past month sat heavily on his shoulders, and even heavier in his heart.

“Have you been rolling around in the woods?” Officer Patrick Carter stepped in front of Flint and picked out a twig that had been trapped beneath his collar. He tossed it in a nearby trash can and then turned back and looked at Flint expectantly.

“I was patrolling near the woods on the west side of town, and I thought I saw somebody running. I got out and gave chase, but I didn’t manage to catch whoever it was,” Flint said, unable to help the frustration that edged into his voice.

“Hmm. That squares with a report we got earlier this morning. Walt Jennings called in to say that somebody broke into his shed overnight. Whoever it was, they stole some rope, a fillet knife and some canned goods that Walt had stored in there. Mike and Larry went out to talk to Walt and check out the shed to see if maybe they could pull some prints.”

“Sounds like one of our fugitives is getting desperate,” Flint replied thoughtfully. “This makes three break-ins in homes around the perimeter of those woods. It was a gun and food that was taken last week. I’d like to know if it’s Bittard or Johnson who now has a gun and a knife.”

“Let’s hope it’s Jimmy. He might be able to charm a young woman right out of her life savings and break her heart, but I don’t think he has it in him to shoot or stab anyone,” Patrick replied.

“Let’s hope,” Flint said. “I’m going to head over to the diner for some lunch. You want to join me?”

“Nah, I grabbed a burger earlier. I’ll stick around here and hold down the fort.”

“If you need me just give me a call, and let me know if Mike and Larry discover anything useful at Walt’s place,” Flint said and with Patrick’s nod of assent, Flint left the building.

The diner was two blocks from the sheriff’s station, and he decided to walk it. The November sun was warm on his back although there was a definite bite to the air that portended winter’s imminent appearance.

Winter in Wyoming could be rough, but this winter would be particularly tough on the town if they had to spend Christmas still under quarantine, if a desperate killer was still trapped in the town and not in custody and if more people got sick and died.

The Dead River Diner was like diners and cafés in hundreds of small towns across the country, with red booths lining the walls, square tables in the center and a long counter where Flint usually sat whenever he came into the place. There was even an old working jukebox that played ancient country songs for a quarter, and it was played a lot.

As he walked the sidewalk, he passed the post office, a dress boutique and the grocery store. Across the street was the Blue Bear Restaurant, popular for special-occasion dining. There was also the Dead River Café and a hardware store.

He waved at the old man who sat on a bench in front of the hardware store. Eighty-five-year-old Harvey Watters had lost his wife three years ago.

Since Harvey’s wife’s death, the old man ate breakfast each day at the café and then sat on the bench until lunchtime. He’d return to the café for lunch and then resume his seat on the bench until just before dark, when he finally headed home. The only days Harvey wasn’t on the bench was when it rained.

Harvey lived two houses down from Flint’s house in the center of town. The two men had struck up an unlikely friendship, and it wasn’t unusual for Flint to stop in at Harvey’s house for a quick game of chess or a couple of beers on an occasional evening. Unfortunately, over the past month there had been little time for that kind of pleasant socializing.

He took off his hat and shoved open the door to the diner and was greeted by the scents of burgers frying and sauces simmering, an olfactory assault that was pure pleasure.

Even more pleasurable was the sight of Nina Owens, the diner’s owner, behind the counter. He’d been attracted to Nina since the moment he’d moved back to town, but with his brother Theo’s health issues and the fact that he’d suddenly found himself chief of police, there had been little time to pursue anything resembling a romance.

And now, with the additional pressures of a murderer loose and the virus that had people afraid of their own shadows, this definitely wasn’t the time for him to think about a relationship.

In any case, he was fairly certain Nina wasn’t particularly attracted to him. Although she was always friendly when she served him, she rarely stuck around to chitchat, and he’d always felt a distance, a wall rising up whenever she interacted with him.

She stood at the far end of the counter, her pretty face lit with a warm smile as she poured more coffee into a cup for Jeff Cambridge, a muscular, dark-haired man who worked as a teller at the bank.

Her thick and wavy auburn hair was captured with a red tie at the nape of her neck, but he knew that when it was loose, it was a glorious mane of burnished reds and gold that fell to just below her shoulders.

The black slacks that were part of the diner uniform fit perfectly on her slender legs, and the white blouse showcased a slender waist and full breasts.

She finished pouring the coffee, put the pot back on the burner and then turned and saw him. He wasn’t sure if he imagined the slight narrowing of her hazel eyes, but by the time she reached him, she smiled at him in friendliness.

“Good afternoon, Flint,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

“A burger and fries and a cup of coffee,” he replied. Before she turned to place the order, he quickly spoke again. “How’s business these days?”

“Not great, but I suppose I can’t complain. At least we still have customers coming in.” She looked around the diner, which on a Saturday afternoon would usually be packed but now only held a handful of people. “I almost feel as if I’m on vacation since we’re opening at 9:00 a.m. now instead of five-thirty, but business has dropped off enough that I couldn’t justify the early hours anymore. I’m planning a big Thanksgiving feast for everyone in town, a free traditional turkey dinner. I’m hoping to have a big crowd that day. I think we could all use a day of community and mutual support.”

“That sounds great. It’s a generous gesture.” He knew through the grapevine that Nina was known as a positive force in town. She was a Search and Rescue volunteer and had a reputation for being cheerful and optimistic no matter what the circumstances.

He frowned thoughtfully. “Aren’t you afraid of getting sick? You work here with the public every day, and if you’re inviting the whole town to a feast, there’s really no way to know who might be sick with the virus and who isn’t.”

Her eyes sparkled, and her lips curved into a smile that fired a hint of heat in the pit of his stomach. “If I was going to get the Dead River virus, it probably would have already happened by now. Besides, I refuse to live my life being afraid of friends and neighbors.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, but instead twirled on her feet, placed his order with the kitchen and then wandered back down to the opposite side of the counter.

Flint drew a weary sigh. It was obvious she didn’t feel any spark of interest in him. It was probably a good thing because with a killer to catch and his own grandmother suffering from the mysterious illness that had the town quarantined, the last thing he needed to entertain was any idea of a romance with the hot owner of the local diner.

* * *

Nina Owens was acutely aware of Chief of Police Flint Colton at the opposite end of the counter. As she’d served him his meal, she’d tried not to notice the richness of his dark brown hair or the almost electric green of his eyes. She tried to ignore his handsome, chiseled features and the commanding aura that radiated from him.

His shoulders were broad, his legs long and his waist slender. She’d been physically drawn to him since the very first time he’d walked into her diner around a year ago, but at the same time she’d been faintly repelled by the uniform he wore and the job that he did.

She knew her distaste for any officer of the law was irrational and that she should have grown out of her belief that all police were bad, but it was a vague uneasiness that she’d never been able to overcome when encountering any law-enforcement person.

She knew Flint was a highly respected man, known for his sharp intelligence, his sense of fairness and the seriousness with which he took his job.

She remained overly conscious of his presence at the counter until he’d eaten his lunch and left. Only then did she fully relax. She’d been in Dead River for the past three years, and it was a cruel fate that had made the first man she felt any attraction toward a law-enforcement official.

She’d seen enough dirty cops while growing up to never want to see one again for the rest of her life, not that she’d heard anything to indicate that Flint was anything close to a dirty cop.

It was just after the dinner rush that she went into the kitchen and found one of her waitresses, Flint’s cousin Molly, crying.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Nina asked as she draped an arm around the young woman’s slender shoulder. Even though Nina asked the question, she knew what probably had the pretty redhead weeping.

“I’m sorry,” Molly said as she gazed at Nina and quickly swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I know it’s stupid, but I just started thinking about what a fool I was with Jimmy. I can’t believe I let him talk me into putting his name on all my bank accounts and credit cards. I can’t believe I gave him my grandma’s ring to give to me at our wedding and most of all I can’t believe that I fell in love with him and didn’t realize he was such a slimy creep.” She drew a tremulous sigh as tears once again filled her bright blue eyes.

“Listen, honey, you aren’t the first woman in the world who fell in love with a creep,” Nina replied as she gave Molly a hug. “Just be grateful that you found out what his real character was like before the wedding actually took place.” Nina pulled a napkin from a nearby container and handed it to Molly.

“Flint says he can’t go after him for the money Jimmy stole because his name was on all the accounts, and that means he had the legal right to take it. I don’t care so much about the money, but I’m so sick that he took my grandmother’s ring.” She dabbed at her eyes with the napkin.

“And didn’t Flint tell you that once they find him, he will be arrested for the theft of the ring?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid he pawned it or something, and I’ll never get it back,” Molly replied.

Nina patted Molly’s shoulder. “If he pawned the ring here in town, then Flint will find it, and since he can’t get out of town, the odds are good that he still has the ring with him. Are you okay to work or do you need to go home?”

Molly sniffled and wiped her cheeks once again. “No, I’m fine. I just had a momentary mini-breakdown. Besides, I’m helping Helen close up tonight.”

“And I’m leaving a bit early to take dinner to Grace,” Nina said.

Molly’s blue eyes deepened in hue. “Aren’t you afraid that she has the virus?”

Nina smiled gently. “All I know for sure is that Grace went home sick yesterday. I don’t know if she has a bad cold, the common flu or the Dead River virus. I’m sure she won’t feel like cooking tonight so I’m fixing up a care package, and I’m taking it to her and Billy.”

She gave Molly a shove toward the dining area. “Now get back to work and stop beating yourself up over that jerk Jimmy, and stop worrying about me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Molly gave her a saucy salute and left the kitchen.

Nina was grateful to see Molly back to her cheerful sweetness. At twenty-one years old, Molly was probably going to kiss a lot of frogs before she finally found the man meant for her.

Nina had certainly kissed a lot of frogs in her life, but she wasn’t looking for any special man to share her life. She was perfectly content alone, always had been, always would be.

With the dinner rush finished, Nina got busy filling a large Styrofoam take-out container with slices of meat loaf and mashed potatoes, green beans and two dinner rolls. There was not only enough food to feed Grace, but also her eight-year-old son.

Grace had left work early the day before with a bad cough and complaining about a bad headache. Nina had called her this afternoon, and Grace had confessed she still didn’t feel well at all.

Nina had told her to stay in bed, drink lots of fluids and had promised she’d stop by this evening with dinner for both her and her son, Billy.

Just before she finished packing up the food, she threw into the bag a couple of her special double chocolate chip cookies, knowing that they were one of Billy’s favorites.

Billy was almost a daily visitor to the diner. Grace worked an eight-to-five schedule, and Billy would come in after school during the weekdays and take a two-top table in the corner to wait for his mom’s shift to be over.

He was a cute kid with shiny brown hair and blue eyes like his mother. He was also a good kid, who sat quietly and did his homework, never bothering anyone while he was there. Nina had taken to him immediately, as she did most of the younger diners who came in with their parents.

Darkness had already fallen when Nina finally stepped out of the back door of the diner where her car was parked. Clad in a long-sleeved white blouse and a pair of black slacks that all the waitresses wore, she wished she’d thought of bringing her coat with her that morning as the night had brought with it a nip of a wintry chill.

She got into her car and placed the bag of food on the passenger seat and then turned her key to start the engine. She frowned at the sound of the familiar whir-whir of her battery refusing to catch. She turned the ignition off, waited a minute and then tried again, grateful to hear the engine finally roar to a start.

Gus at Dead River Auto Body had put in a new battery for her last week, but had warned her that the problem might be her alternator.

She waited for the heater to begin to blow warmth, trying to decide when she could take the time off to get the car back in for Gus to fix. Most days and evenings she was at the diner.

She supposed she could drop it off on the way to work one morning and pick it up on the way home. She could get either one of the cooks or a waitress to drive her from the auto shop in the morning and take her back there in the evening.

As she waited, she thought of all the recent events that had changed the town she had come to love and call home.

It was hard to believe that it was just a month ago that Mimi Rand, a local socialite, had returned to town with a baby she claimed was Flint’s brother Theo’s, the result of one night the two had spent together.

She’d arrived at Theo’s house, introduced him to the three-month-old little girl and then collapsed.

Dr. Lucas Rand, the head doctor at the Dead River Clinic had worked desperately to save the woman, who was also his ex-wife, but she had died anyway. By the time of her death, another man was dead along with two children, also suffering from the same mysterious symptoms.

When Flint’s grandmother, Dottie Colton, had fallen ill along with a teenage boy, the town was shut down by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Overnight the town had transformed from a small tight-knit community to something out of a science-fiction film. CDC trailers and equipment now surrounded the Dead River Clinic, and National Guard and other security forces, who looked like space men in their HAZMAT gear and guns, formed a perimeter around the town. Nobody in...nobody out.

With warm air finally blowing out of her car’s heater vents, Nina pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Grace Willard’s small home.

She hoped her words to Molly proved true, that Grace had a simple cold or a common case of the flu and not the Dead River virus, of which the initial symptoms were very similar but then escalated quickly until the patient was deathly ill with severe respiratory issues and a high fever.

Nina wasn’t afraid for herself by going to Grace’s house. She figured she’d already been exposed to the virus day after day with the stream of people who came into the diner to eat. Of course, as a waitress, Grace would have the same kind of exposure and so would Billy.

There had also been the escape of a hardened criminal and Molly’s heartbreak, and all of these issues had changed the very heart and soul of Dead River.

Everyone regarded everyone else with suspicion, wondering who might be sick with the mysterious illness or who might be some sort of carrier. Then there were the suspicions of who might be helping the two fugitives in town, killer Hank Bittard and Molly’s jerk, Jimmy Johnson.

She desperately hoped that the Thanksgiving feast she had planned would bring people together, bring back a sense of community and remind everyone that they were all in this mess together, but the holiday was still weeks away. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem likely that a cure would be found by then.

Just before turning onto the side street where Grace lived, she frowned and slowed as she saw a couple near the streetlamp just ahead. As she drove closer, a sense of horror swept through her.

In the spill of illumination from the light, she could now see that it was a man and a woman. The man had a rope around the woman’s neck, and although Nina couldn’t hear a scream or a single indication of the woman’s terror, she felt it ripple through her blood.

Nina stopped her car, unsure what she should do but knowing she needed to do something and fast. It would take her too long to dig her cell phone out of her purse and call for help.

Still, if she didn’t do something quickly she knew that the woman would be strangled to death. She opened her car door and stepped halfway out.

“Hey,” she cried out. “Hey, you, let her go!”

At that moment the woman fell to the ground in a boneless drop that made Nina realize it was too late, the woman was definitely unconscious or possibly dead. As the man raised his head and stared at her, Nina’s heartbeat raced with a frantic rhythm.

He started toward her, and she nearly stumbled as she got back into her car and locked the doors. She had to get out of here and fast. Her heart nearly halted as she realized her car had stopped running.

“Come on, come on,” she cried as she turned the key and heard the familiar grinding noise. She glanced out the window to see that the man was getting closer...closer.

“Please,” she begged as she pumped the gas and tried to start the car again, knowing that if she didn’t get rolling she was a sitting duck for a man who had just possibly committed a murder right in front of her eyes.

Chapter 2

Terrified, sobbing gasps escaped Nina, and she cried out in relief as headlights appeared from a car coming from the opposite direction on the road. Maybe the presence of another car, of other people, would stop the man and save her.

Her engine finally started. For a single instant her gaze caught the killer’s, his cold and glittering with unsuppressed rage.

She threw her car into gear and spun out, nearly losing control of it in an effort to escape the scene. She sped down the residential road, passing Grace’s house as she continued to play and replay in her mind what had just happened, what she had just seen.

She needed to get to the police station. Maybe the woman on the ground wasn’t really dead, but had just been strangled to unconsciousness. If Nina got help soon enough, maybe she could still be saved.

Surely the man had run from the scene when he’d seen the other car coming and knew that if he stuck around, there would be more witnesses to what he had done.

A glance in her rearview mirror showed no car pursuing her. She hadn’t even seen a vehicle near the corner where the man might have come from, but she’d been riveted to the struggle, not looking for nearby cars.

It took her only minutes to pull onto Main Street and squeal to a halt in front of the police station. She jumped out of the car and raced inside, still crying with shock and fear.

She flew past Glenda McDonald, who worked the night shift at the front desk. “Hey, wait,” Glenda yelled in protest as Nina burst through the door that led into the inner sanctum of the station.

Flint appeared seemingly from nowhere and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Nina, what’s wrong?” he asked urgently.

“I...I think I just saw a murder.” She was once again overwhelmed by sobs as she tried to choke out what had happened. She was vaguely aware of Officer Mike Harriman moving closer to where they stood with Flint still firmly grasping her.

She feared that if he released his hold on her, she’d fall to the floor as her legs shook so badly beneath her, and she couldn’t halt the violent trembling of her entire body.

“Where did this happen?” Flint asked, his handsome features tense, and his green eyes piercing as he stared at her intently.

“At the corner of Cherry and Oak Street. I was on my way to Grace Willard’s house when I saw them struggling near the streetlight. I think he killed her, Flint. I think she was dead when I drove off.”

Flint gave a nod to Mike, who immediately left, taking with him Officer Sam Blair. Flint guided Nina to a chair and gently pushed her to sit. He knelt down to one knee, his calm demeanor a counter to the terror that still screamed silently inside her.

He didn’t speak for several moments, and she finally stopped crying and felt his calm slowly sweeping through her. Even the scent of his woodsy cologne smelled of safety.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded and released a deep sigh. “A little better.”

“Good. I need you to be as clearheaded as possible and answer some questions for me.” He stood and grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and pulled it in front of her. He sat close, his knees almost touching hers. “What did the man look like?”

Nina frowned, trying to fight the fear that leaped back into her throat as she thought about the man she’d seen. “He was dressed all in black, and he had dark hair and evil, glittering eyes.”

“What color eyes?”

“I’m not sure. I think they were dark, but the lighting was bad.”

“Was he young or old?”

“Maybe late twenties or early thirties,” she replied.

“What kind of build? Tall...short...skinny?” Flint’s gaze never left hers. She hadn’t noticed before that his green eyes held a faint touch of gold right in the center, along with a sharp focus that made it appear he was looking not just at her, but rather into her very soul.

She finally broke their gaze, looking down at her trembling hands in her lap. “He was tall and had a muscular build.” A sob welled up, and she swallowed hard against it as she remembered the sight of his arm muscles bulging, his taut neck muscles as he pulled the rope so tight against the woman’s throat.

“Sounds like Bittard. Was it Hank?”

Nina shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know...maybe. It was dark and everything happened so fast. I didn’t get a solid look at him. Plus, I’ve only seen Hank a couple of times and that was before he murdered Donny Gilmore at the gas station. Hank never came into the diner so I only saw him from a distance. That, plus his mug shot.”

The conversation was interrupted by the ring of Flint’s cell phone in his pocket. He grabbed the phone and stood, walking away from where Nina sat as he answered.

Nina tracked him with her eyes, afraid that if she didn’t look at him she’d fall back into the utter terror that had momentarily gripped her and still simmered just beneath the surface.

Flint was on the phone only a minute or two and then he came back to her and sat once again, his face a study in both weariness and a simmering anger.

“It had to have been Bittard. The woman is Jolene Tate, and she is dead.”

Nina gasped, and tears rose to her eyes once again. “Why would he kill her?”

“She was Hank’s off-and-on girlfriend and was at the Dead River Gas Station the night Hank killed Donny. She was a key eyewitness to the murder and intended to testify against Hank.”

He slammed a fist against his thigh. “Dammit, I should have insisted she go into protective custody when Hank escaped, but she wanted nothing to do with it and refused to even talk about it.” He rubbed the center of his forehead, as if attempting to ease a headache. “Did he see you? Did the man you saw strangle Jolene get a good look at you?”

Nina raised a hand to her throat, a new fear searing through her. “I...I don’t know. I mean, I can’t be sure how well he saw me. He was more in the light than I was, but I’m not sure if he recognized me or not. I’m not sure even if he got a good look at me that he would know who I was.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I should have done something more. I should have done something to help her.”

“You did the right thing in getting out of there and coming right here,” Flint said. “We shouldn’t take any chances and assume that he didn’t recognize you. You need to be in protective custody.”

“Protective custody?” She repeated the words mindlessly.

He stood once again and for just a moment his eyes were a haunting deep green that she was sure held deep, dark secrets. “You can stay with me at my place.”

“But surely that isn’t necessary,” she protested.

“Jolene Tate was just murdered, and you’re an eyewitness. I don’t have the manpower right now to keep you covered twenty-four-seven. With two fugitives on the loose, we’re just stretched too thin.”

“I’m not even sure how much of a look he got of me. I was across the street from him, and we didn’t have any real interaction before he looked up. It’s very possible he couldn’t pick me out of a lineup.”

She stood, surprised to find herself still a bit shaky. His offer to stay in his house had stunned her. The idea was both a little bit thrilling and a little bit scary. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but I would appreciate it if you’d drive me home. I have to confess, I feel a little too shook up to drive myself.”

He frowned. “Nina, I still think it would be best if you didn’t go home, if you aren’t alone until I get this creep back into custody.”

“Flint, I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to hole up somewhere on the off chance that he actually got a good look at me. It’s a dark night, and I only saw him because of the streetlight, but I wasn’t in the light.” The last place she wanted to be was confined to Flint’s home and living in his space.

She had a business to run, a life to live, and it didn’t include being in his protective custody. Besides, the more she thought about it, the more she was fairly certain that the man probably hadn’t seen her well enough to identify her. The entire incident had only taken mere seconds, although it had felt like an eternity when it was happening.

“Please, if you’ll just take me home, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can have one of the waitresses take me to work in the morning and then somebody can bring me by here tomorrow evening to pick up my car.” She raised her chin in a show of strength. “Besides, with everything that’s going on around here you have more than enough on your plate without worrying about me.”

Flint raked a hand through his hair, as if to show a frustration he didn’t want to verbalize. “It’s my job to worry about you, but if you insist, I’ll drive you home,” he finally relented. “However, if you feel threatened in any way by anything, you have to promise me that you’ll call me immediately, day or night.”

“I promise. In any case I have a security system at my house, so I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” She frowned as she remembered the reason she’d turned down that particular road in the first place. “Could you do me one favor on the way? I was taking Grace and her son, Billy, some food. It’s in my car, and if you could stop by her house and run it into them, I’d really appreciate it.”

He stared at her as if she were an alien creature. “You just witnessed a murder and yet you’re worried about Grace and her son having dinner?”

“Grace is sick. I promised to bring by a meal tonight. No matter what just happened, she and Billy are still expecting supper from me.”

He pulled his car keys from his pocket and grabbed his hat off a nearby desk. “Okay, let’s get moving.”

Within minutes they were in his car, the bag of food on Nina’s lap. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful to me finding Bittard, you call me immediately,” he said as they pulled away from the police station.

She nodded, surprised to find a bit of comfort in the fact that the car smelled of his pleasant cologne. She was also grateful that he took another route to Grace’s house, avoiding the place where the murder had occurred.

When they pulled into Grace’s driveway, Flint turned to her. “You sit tight in the car, lock the doors when I get out and I’ll deliver the food to the door.” His voice brooked no argument, not that she was of a mind to. He took the bag from her, opened the car door and got out.

She locked the doors and watched him walk up to the front door, wondering if she’d made a mistake in insisting he take her home. She felt calm enough now that she could have just driven herself.

She frowned and rubbed the center of her forehead as a headache attempted to take hold. Had the man seen her well enough to know who she was? Did he know her name? Where she lived? Would he now come after her in an attempt to kill another witness?

She wished she had family in town. She wished she had somebody who could take her in for a few weeks, but if there was danger she certainly didn’t want to bring it close to any of her friends. At least she had the security system that would alert her to anyone attempting to enter her house.

She knew Flint and his team of deputies would be more determined than ever to catch Bittard with this new murder. Surely she’d be fine until they got the killer back in custody.

She watched as the door opened and light spilled out. Grace waved and then took the bag from Flint. As he started back to the car, Nina unlocked the doors.

“She said to tell you she was feeling a little better,” he said when he was behind the steering wheel once again.

“Thank goodness. She went home yesterday with a headache and a cough. I was afraid she might have caught...” She allowed her voice to trail off. She didn’t even want to speak her fear aloud. “By the way, how is your grandmother doing?” She knew that Dottie Colton had come down with the virus and had been in the hospital for the past couple of weeks.

“According to Dr. Rand, she’s stable, but she’s still unconscious.” He cast her a sideways glance. “Is it easier to talk about the virus than the fact that you just witnessed a murder?”

A chill invaded her despite the warmth inside the car. “I don’t want to think about that poor woman. I just wish I could have done something to stop it from happening. I wish I could have done something to force him to leave and run away before she died.” She clenched her fists in despair.

“Then I might be investigating two murders, Jolene’s and yours. You did the right thing by driving away, by not engaging with the man, especially if it was Bittard. He’s a cold-blooded killer and we now think he might possibly be armed again. There’s been some robberies in the past couple of days and among the things stolen have been a knife and a gun and rope.”

“Rope that he used to strangle Jolene,” she said flatly, fighting against another chill that tried to shiver down her spine.

“Forensics will tell us if the rope used to strangle Jolene is the same kind that was stolen. We’ll know more in the next couple of days after a full investigation is completed.”

In the glow from the dashboard, his handsome features looked slightly haggard, as if he hadn’t slept well for weeks. “You’ll catch him, Flint. You’ll catch him and that little creep, Jimmy, too. The doctors will find a cure for the virus and before you know it, Dead River will be back to normal.”

He slid her a wry look. “From your lips...” The rest of the sentence wasn’t spoken as he turned onto her street.

Nina looked out the front window of the car and gasped in surprise. The street was alive with the swirl of red lights from patrol cars and fire trucks that serviced the small city.

Firefighters in full gear ran with hoses toward the blaze that lit up the entire street and licked upward to the sky. Black smoke rolled up, creating a dark cloud in the otherwise clear night.

What was happening? What on earth was burning so fiercely?

Nina stared at it all in stunned disbelief. It was her house. Her house was on fire. A choking sob welled up inside her and released, followed by another...and another.

Flint pulled to the curb behind one of the fire trucks. “Stay here,” he commanded sternly. “Lock the doors and do not get out of this car under any circumstances for anyone but me.”

She couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it as she watched the window of her living room explode outward. She’d bought the house just a little under a year ago and had spent the past months making it into the home she’d always dreamed of, and now she watched as everything she’d worked so hard for went up in flames.

She’d hand-picked each and every item from the bright yellow throw pillows on the sofa to the little water fountain that sat on one of her coffee tables. Gone...they were gone.

She saw Flint talking to a man she recognized as Stan Burrell, the fire chief. She watched the two men for only a moment and then turned her attention back to the house in time to see the roof collapse.

Numb. She was completely numb as she realized she’d lost everything. The flowered pink lamp in her bedroom, the cheerful daisy arrangement that had greeted her each morning on her kitchen table...everything was destroyed.

Had there been a wiring problem? Had she accidentally left on an appliance that morning that had shorted out and started the fire? How on earth had this happened?

Her neighbors stood on the sidewalk. Thank God there was no wind tonight, nothing to aid a spark from finding its way to their homes. In any case, it appeared that the firefighters had given up attempting to save her place and instead worked to make sure the fire remained contained to her home alone.

It was probably easy to contain a fire that had already consumed everything inside, she thought in despair and watched an outside wall fall inward. She wasn’t even aware she was crying until she reached a hand up to her cheek and found it wet.

How had this happened? Her life was suddenly a scene from some crazy movie she didn’t want to watch. Her mind worked desperately to find the positives. Thank God she hadn’t been home and she didn’t have any pets.

Thank God she had good insurance. She could use the cot in the diner and live in the back storage room until she rebuilt. Thank God it was just things that had been destroyed and things could always be replaced.

Still, no matter how many positives she tried to make of the situation, she continued to cry silently. She’d thought she’d left all the bad things behind her when she left home. She’d believed that had been the worst time in her life, but tonight was right up there on the list of terrible things she had endured in her lifetime.

Flint returned to the car, a tense pulse in his jaw working overtime. “I’ll have a full report sometime tomorrow, but there’s no question in Stan’s mind that this was arson. The ignition points appear to be all four corners of the house, and he believes gasoline was used as an accelerant. Somebody intentionally set the fire, either as a warning to you or hoping you would be inside. If I were a betting man, I’d wager that the man you saw kill Jolene tonight definitely recognized you.”

She stared at him, the fear so great inside her she couldn’t find words to speak. He started the car. “You’re coming home with me,” he continued. “You’ll be staying at my place until I find Bittard and get him behind bars.” He said the words not as a suggestion but rather as a statement of fact.

She simply nodded, knowing that even though the last place she wanted to stay was Flint’s house, it appeared she was out of options. She couldn’t deny the fact that her life was in danger.

* * *

Flint stood at his kitchen window, watching the first streaks of dawn beginning to light the sky. He was already working on his second cup of coffee, knowing that with the lack of sleep the night before, he’d need a good caffeine buzz to get him through what promised to be a long day ahead.

Nina had said very little on the drive to his place the night before. She’d also been silent as he’d led her through the house to his spare bedroom. He’d provided her with one of his T-shirts to wear to bed, and she’d immediately closed her bedroom door and hadn’t come out for the rest of the night.

He was sure she had to have been suffering from some kind of shock. It was bad enough that she had witnessed a violent murder, but to know that the murderer had then burned her house to the ground had to be terrifying.

At some point during today he’d need to take her to the discount store to pick up some clothing and toiletries. From the scene at her house the night before, he was pretty sure that nothing would be salvageable. Not only did he need to take her shopping, but he also had a new murder to investigate and a new witness to protect.

Even though his officers would have a report for him first thing this morning concerning Jolene’s death, he wanted to go to the scene and check things out himself. The murder had occurred on the corner just two houses from where Jolene had been staying since Hank’s initial arrest, and even though he trusted his officers, Flint wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw the scene for himself.

This attention to detail, checking and rechecking, was what had made him such a successful cop in Cheyenne, at least until the end of his work there.

He frowned and turned away from the window. He didn’t want to think about the case that had been his swan song in Cheyenne. Besides, he’d already screwed up here by not placing some sort of protection on Jolene the minute Hank Bittard had escaped custody.

Even with Molly being stood up by her creep of a fiancé, even with the quarantine shaking everyone up and with his grandmother catching the virus, there was no excuse for failing in his duty of protecting Jolene. Just like Cheyenne, a little voice whispered in the back of his head.

He sat at the table and instead of getting caught up in his past and the agony of thoughts that brought, he began to mentally prepare himself for a houseguest that may or may not be so temporary.

It all depended on how long it took him to get the murderer back into custody. So far Bittard had managed to be successfully and frustratingly elusive in a quarantined town.

He thought of the fire at Nina’s house. There was no question in his mind that it had been set by Jolene’s murderer.

He’d need to check out the gas station to find out if a gas can and gasoline might have been stolen. Hank could have stolen a can of gas from anywhere, but the more details Flint could find out about the man’s movements, the better his odds of finally getting him back in jail and letting Nina get back to her normal life.

The object of his thoughts suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the day before, a long-sleeved white blouse and a pair of black slacks, and by the paleness of her face, she hadn’t yet finished processing everything that had happened to her in the past twelve hours or so.

“Help yourself to the coffee,” he said as he pulled the blinds closed at the windows. The last thing he wanted was for anyone outside to see her movements inside the house. “Cups are in the cabinet over the coffeemaker.”

She nodded and moved to get a cup. After pouring her coffee, she carried her cup to the table and sat down across from him.

She took a drink of her coffee and then set the cup back on the table. “I feel like I’m living somebody else’s life right now.”

“I wish I could tell you that this was all just a bad dream,” he replied. Despite the paleness of her features, she looked pretty with the artificial light over the kitchen table dancing in the strands of her hair and highlighting her delicate features.

“This is such a nightmare,” she replied with a tremulous sigh. “And I still haven’t quite realized that I’m not going to wake up and find out that everything is fine.” She took another drink and then looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “If you think I’m going to hole up here and not go into the diner today, then you’re sadly mistaken.”

“I was just thinking about the logistics of this protective-custody position that you find yourself in,” he replied. “And trust me, I figured there was no way I could keep you from your work. Besides being here in my house with me, the diner is probably the only other place I think you’ll be safe. Bittard wouldn’t kill you in the diner when he’d be leaving behind dozens of more witnesses.”

He couldn’t imagine that her face could have grown more pale, but it did, and he mentally cursed himself for his bluntness. But it was important she understand the severity of her situation.

She wrapped her fingers around her cup and stared down into the warm liquid. “Do you cook?” she asked and looked back up at him.

He sat back in his chair with surprise. Of all the things he’d expected her to say, her words weren’t even close to being on the short list. “Frozen pizza, microwave meals. Cooking has never been a big priority of mine. Why?”

“Then it’s not all gloom and doom. If I’m going to stay here then you can expect a home-cooked meal every night. I’ll either whip up something here or bring home-cooked meals from the diner. It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he replied with a smile. He was pleased to see some of the color coming back into her cheeks. “But if you cook all day long, why on earth would you want to cook for me when you’re off duty?”

She shrugged. “Cooking is what I do, it’s what I love. It makes me happy to cook for other people.”

“Then we probably need to work in a stop at the grocery store before the day is done. My refrigerator and pantry aren’t stocked with much of anything but canned soups and bologna and cheese.”

She took another sip of her coffee and eyed him over the rim of the cup. “This is going to be weird. I’m sure you aren’t used to sharing your space with anyone, and I’m definitely not used to sharing mine. I’ll try to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I want you to feel at home here for as long as you need to be here.”

She lowered her cup and flashed him a smile. “I’m sure it will only be a day or two and you’ll get Bittard in custody, and we can both go back to our own lives.”

With the warmth of her smile swirling around in the pit of his stomach, Flint almost hoped he didn’t find Bittard so soon. But it was a wayward, foolish thought. His first priority was keeping Nina safe. His second was to get the murderer back behind bars where he belonged, and so far Bittard had remained effective at remaining on the loose.

She got up to pour herself another cup of coffee and when she returned to the table, they lined up the schedule for the day. He would take her to work and then he’d go to work. He’d pick her up sometime early evening, and they’d stop to get her some clothes and things she’d need and stock up on some groceries before landing back here.

They left his house at just after seven, and he dropped her off at the diner, comforted that she assured him there were at least three people already there ahead of her and two of them were male cooks who came in at six each morning to prep for the day.

They had exchanged cell phone numbers earlier, and he told her he’d call her before picking her up that evening. From the diner he headed straight to the place where Jolene Tate had been murdered.

Officer Patrick Carter’s patrol car was parked next to the corner where bright yellow crime-scene tape marked off the area where Jolene’s body had been found.

Patrick got out of his car to greet Flint. “I’ve been sitting on the scene all night, and Officer McGlowen is at the house that Jolene has rented for the past month as it appears the confrontation between her and Hank started there.”

Flint nodded as he focused on the body form displayed on the ground and the markers that noted potential evidence that had already been collected. Jolene hadn’t had a stellar reputation in town, but nobody deserved to die the way she had. He gave himself a moment to grieve the dead and then looked around once again.

His team had done a good job, as he’d trusted them to do while he’d dealt with Nina the night before. “The coroner report should be on your desk sometime this morning, but the cause of death was definitely strangulation by rope,” Patrick said.

“That’s exactly what Nina described. I’m going to check out the house. I’ll be right back,” he said to Patrick. Flint headed up Cherry Street where two houses from the corner Jolene Tate had lived alone for the past month in a small bungalow.

Officer Dana McGlowen sat on the front porch and stood at his approach, her brown eyes looking like a puppy dog eager to please. She was a relatively new hire but had already shown herself to be highly motivated to do a good job. She had quickly become a valued member of the team.

“Have you been here all night?” Flint asked.

“Yes, sir,” Dana replied. “The crime scene boys were here last night and collected some things but intend to be back here this morning. They didn’t want to do too much before you had a chance to check things out.”

She stepped aside so he could enter the small living room. “It looks like a fight started in the kitchen, and then Jolene managed to run out of the front door in an attempt to get away. The front door was standing wide-open when we arrived last night to check it out.”

Normally, Flint would have been at both scenes immediately, overseeing the evidence gathering and leading his team, but Nina’s arrival at the station had forced him to allow his men to do their jobs without him. He could have assigned another officer to sit on Nina, and he had to admit that his desire not to had been strictly emotionally-driven. He’d simply felt he was the best man to stay with her.

He followed Dana into the kitchen, where it was obvious some sort of brawl had taken place. A kitchen chair lay on its back near the table, and broken glass littered the floor. A half-empty bottle of cheap wine sat in the center of the table, with a single glass. Flint suspected the other glass was what crunched beneath his feet.

“Any sign of forced entry?” he asked.

“None.”

“Then she must have invited him in,” Flint said thoughtfully. “If it was Bittard, then why in the hell would she let him inside? Why wouldn’t she call for help?”

“They were lovers before he got arrested. Women do stupid things when they’re in love,” Dana said as if she’d had personal experience in the matter. “He was probably trying to talk her out of testifying against him, making promises to her that she wanted to believe. Maybe he was trying to talk her into going on the run with him, and as soon as the quarantine was lifted, they could get out of town and be together with a fresh start.”

Flint shook his head. “She saw Hank kill Donny Gilmore in cold blood. What could Hank possibly say that would make her change her mind about testifying? Make her even think about hiding out or going on the run with him?”

“Apparently, from the looks of the way things went down, he didn’t get her to change her mind. Something went wrong. Jolene tried to escape, but he caught up with her and made sure she wouldn’t be a threat to him.”

“This is just what we need with everything else that’s going on in town,” Flint replied in frustration. “Is somebody relieving you here?”

“Mike Harriman should be here within the next hour or so,” she replied.

“When he gets here, go home and get some sleep. I have a feeling we’re all going to be putting in plenty of long hours until we get Bittard under arrest again.”

Flint left the house, his head swirling with everything that needed to be done as far as this particular case. He needed to start at the beginning, reinterview all of Bittard’s low-life friends and check out the old haunts where he used to hang.

He had to be getting help from somebody to stay hidden in a town with no exit, and Flint was determined to arrest anyone who was aiding and abetting him.

Approaching his car, his gaze fell on the place where Jolene Tate had breathed her last breath. For just a moment, his mind cast him back in time and instead of Jolene Tate, he saw an older woman with blond hair sprawled on the ground after having been shot in the head.

Madelaine Vasso had witnessed a gang shooting, and unlike so many, she had been determined to put some of the thugs away. It had been Flint’s job to keep her safe until she got to the courthouse to testify. They had been walking up the courthouse steps and had nearly reached the front door when a single bullet had pierced her head and instantly killed her.

His utter failure to protect her and the depth of his grief and guilt had eventually made him leave the Cheyenne Police Department and return home, back here to Dead River.

He shook his head to dislodge the memory of Madelaine and instead was punished by a vision of another woman’s body lying on the ground, her wavy auburn hair like a lush blanket beneath her head.

Nina.

His heart crashed, and he drew a deep breath, knowing he needed to keep it together. He would not have another failure like Madelaine. He refused for Nina to suffer the same fate as Jolene Tate.

Somehow, someway, he had to find Bittard and neutralize him before he got to Nina and before the quarantine was lifted and a killer ran free.

Chapter 3

Nina stood at the front door of the diner, waiting for Flint to pick her up. The talk of the day had been Jolene’s murder and the house fire at Nina’s. While most of the conversations had been sober, at least it had taken the thought of the Dead River virus out of everyone’s head for a short period of time.

Business had been a little better today than in the past couple of weeks as people ambled in to get a bite to eat and soak up the latest gossip. She had been touched by the concern she’d received from customers and her staff. But she knew the uptick in business wouldn’t last. By the time all the gossipmongers got their fill, they’d disappear back into their own isolation.

There was no question in her mind that her business had taken a hit because of the disease that kept the town quarantined. It broke her heart to see people shunning each other as fear of catching the virus guided their decisions and movements.

She hoped the big Thanksgiving Day feast she’d planned in less than three weeks would bring people out of their homes and give them a single day to put all their fears behind them and come together with the community spirit that had been sadly lacking since the quarantine.

Wilma, an older woman who worked as a waitress for Nina, moved to stand next to her. “Nina, are you sure you’re really okay? I know you with your Pollyanna smiles and your need to make everyone else feel comfortable and happy, but you went through quite a trauma last night.”

“I’m fine, really,” Nina assured her. Wilma had no idea what kind of trauma Nina had endured in her life before last night. “I won’t lie, it was a horrible night, but I’m confident that Flint will find Hank Bittard soon, and he won’t be an issue for me or anyone else anymore.”

Wilma’s eyes darkened. “Everyone in town wants that murdering creep back in jail where he belongs. He was a bully as a teenager, and now he’s responsible for two people’s deaths.”

“And don’t forget the officer who is still in the clinic recovering from the injuries he received when Hank escaped,” Nina added.

“At least you have one of the most handsome bodyguards in town.” Wilma winked slyly. “There are plenty of single women in Dead River who think the chief of police would be a fine catch. They wouldn’t mind being in his custody for at least a night or two.”

Nina laughed. “Don’t go starting any rumors about my love life, or lack thereof. I have no attraction to Flint, and in any case, he has more than enough on his plate without adding in any time for romance. I imagine that’s the last thing he’s thinking about right now.”

“Maybe, but you’ve been here in town for a little over three years, and you’ve never even dated anyone,” Wilma said with obvious curiosity.

“In case you haven’t noticed it, I’ve had a fairly demanding business to run. Besides, I’m not looking for anyone in my life. I’m perfectly satisfied alone, always have been and always will be. Now get back to work and stop trying to matchmake for me.”

“It’s just a darn shame. You’re so warm and have such a big heart. You’d make somebody a wonderful wife.” Wilma sighed and disappeared into the kitchen.

Flint had called earlier to tell her that he would pick her up at five o’clock, and at precisely that time his car pulled in front of the diner.

She started out the door, but he halted her by placing his hand up to keep her just inside the doorway. He got out of the car and came into the diner and greeted her with a grim smile.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said. He looked exhausted, as if he’d fought with the day, and the day had definitely won. He took her by the arm and pulled her close against him.

Instantly, she was surrounded by the pleasant scent of him and the solidness of his tall, muscular body intimately close to hers. He kept her close against him until they reached the passenger side of the car and only then did he release her.

She slid into the seat and watched as he walked around the front of the car to the driver’s-side door. He cut a handsome figure in the black uniform that fit him perfectly and with the cowboy hat that added a rakish flair.

She knew he had her safety upmost in her mind, but she couldn’t help the faint wariness that mingled with her physical attraction to him.

She had lied to Wilma. She’d been attracted to Flint Colton since the very first time he’d walked into her diner about a year ago, but there was no question in her mind that he could never be the man for her. Besides, what she hadn’t lied about to Wilma was that she was fine living her life alone.

She’d made the decision a long time ago that marriage wasn’t in her future, and nothing in her thirty-one years of living had come close to changing her mind.

“You look positively exhausted,” she said as he got into the car.

“I think that’s become my permanent state of being over the past couple of weeks,” he replied. The lines of his face that made it interesting, that gave him character, appeared deeper than usual.

“If you don’t feel like stopping by the discount store now, I can make do for another night and have one of the other waitresses take me tomorrow,” she suggested. “I’ve got plenty of uniforms at the diner to put on during the day.”

He shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. I don’t want you going anywhere with anyone else but me. We’ll swing by the store and pick up what you need and then stop to get some groceries. I haven’t forgotten that you said you’d cook for me while you’re under my protection.” He flashed her a quick smile that warmed her from head to toe. “So, how was your day?”

“I was the talk of the town,” she replied. He headed down Main Street toward the store where she could buy whatever she needed to get her through for a week or two. “It’s amazing how fast the grapevine works in small towns. Everyone who came in already knew about Jolene’s murder and the fire at my house and there were definitely more customers in today than has been in the past couple of weeks.”

“I wish somebody had been able to tell you where Bittard is hiding out,” he replied. “We worked today interviewing some of his former friends, but nobody professes to have any idea where he might be holed up.”

“I wish somebody would have given me some information you could use. I’m used to being independent and coming and going as I please.” A sudden knot of emotion pressed tight in her chest. “Now I don’t even have a house to come and go from.”

Despite the fact that she’d had the entire day to process everything that had happened, it still didn’t feel real to her. She felt as if she had stepped into somebody else’s life and was just waiting to get back into her own.

“Did you contact your insurance company today?” he asked.

“I did, but unfortunately, the adjustor is not local and so he can’t get into town to do anything right now. I can start the paperwork, and I need reports from the fire chief, but there’s little else that can be done until the quarantine is lifted.”

“You’re welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need, even after I get Bittard in custody,” he replied.

“Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but as soon as you get Bittard back in jail, I’ll either rent a small apartment or just use the back room of the diner until I can figure things out and get the house rebuilt.”

His offer confused her. Why would he want to be stuck with her any longer than he had to? She couldn’t help the flutter of emotion that stirred in her. She’d never had a man be so protective of her, especially a man she found so attractive.

“Right now you don’t have to worry about where you’re living. As long as Bittard is loose, you’re stuck with me. We issued a press release this afternoon indicating that we have a witness in protective custody and that the investigation into Jolene’s murder is ongoing. We didn’t name a suspect.”

“At this moment, I can’t be one hundred percent certain that the man I saw was Hank Bittard,” she replied.

“And that’s why we didn’t name him,” he replied.

She was grateful when they reached the store and she could step out of the interior of the car where his woodsy cologne wrapped around her and his nearness was definitely unsettling to her peace of mind.

She didn’t want to like the way he smelled. She didn’t want to like the way his piercing green eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. It was like an unexpected gift on a face that wasn’t accustomed to smiling too often.

She waited as he got out of the car and came around to the passenger door. She couldn’t help but notice that the snap over his gun was undone, allowing him easy access to the weapon.

This single action alone forced her to face the reality she’d tried to downplay in her head for the past twenty-four hours. Before she’d been a little afraid that she might catch a virus that seemed to pick and choose people to attack at random, but now a real terror simmered deep inside her.

This was a specific threat to her, a man who wanted her dead, and the only thing that stood between him and her was the lawman next to her.

* * *

Pink panties.

Hot-pink panties.

Flint closed the door to his master bedroom and began to change from his uniform to more casual clothes to wear for the remainder of the evening.

He’d gone into the store on high alert, hovering near her and watching to make sure that nobody else got close to her. He kept his gaze out for Hank, unsure if it was possible at this time that the man had a car and could have followed them from the diner.

What he hadn’t realized was that shopping with a woman could be such an intimate experience. He’d been fine as she’d grabbed several T-shirts and sweatshirts, some jogging pants and a nightshirt.

His close presence next to her felt a little more intrusive as she shopped for toiletries. Peach-scented shampoo joined a bottle of peach-and-vanilla-scented body cream. It was then that things began to get a little wonky in his head.

He imagined her slathering that lotion up and down her shapely legs and rubbing it over her slender shoulders. He imagined the two of them showering together, the scent of peaches filling the steamy air as he washed the length of her glorious hair and then stroked a sponge all over her body.

He’d finally managed to snap himself back into professional mode when she’d headed to the intimates section. He was okay when she grabbed a white bra and threw it into the shopping basket. He even remained calm and cool when the bra was followed by a package of underpants.

It was when she tossed that single pair of hot-pink panties in the cart that his head once again went a little wonky. Pink panties and peach lotion—those things had been all he’d been able to think about as they’d raced through the grocery store to buy food to stock his pantry and fridge with what she needed to cook decent meals.

He now pulled on a pair of his worn, comfortable jeans and a black polo shirt and sat on the edge of his bed to get every inappropriate vision and thought he’d had of Nina over the past couple of hours out of his head.

She was the witness to a vicious crime and a victim of arson. She was here to be in his protective custody, not to be an object of his sexual fantasies. Speaking of protective custody, he pulled himself off the bed, grabbed his gun and went in search of his houseguest.

He found her in the kitchen putting away the groceries they’d bought while the savory scent of frying hamburger and onions filled the air. “Hmm, something smells good,” he said.

“Just a simple pot of goulash,” she replied.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Absolutely. Sit at the table and stay out of my way. If we’re going to make this little arrangement work well, then the first rule is that I’m the sole captain of the kitchen,” she said with a slight raise of her chin.

He sat at the table and placed his gun in front of him. “I won’t argue with you on that, but now seems like a good time to discuss the entire set of ground rules.”

He couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked in a pair of pink jogging pants and a matching T-shirt. He also noticed the slight stiffening of her shoulders, as if she didn’t particularly like the idea of rules.

Tough. It didn’t matter to him whether she liked them or not. There had to be rules to assure her safety. He refused to have another stain on his soul. He watched her open a can of tomato sauce and add it along with some spices to the hamburger mixture.

“I don’t have a security system installed here,” he said. “I always figured it would take a real nut job to try to rob or break into a chief of police’s home. But that means we need to get a little creative as far as making the house as safe as possible while you’re here.”

She dropped a handful of egg noodles into a pot of boiling water and then turned to look at him, her hazel eyes narrowed slightly. “Creative how?”

“Your bedroom door stays open at night. There’s only two doors that would allow entry into the house, the front door and the kitchen door.” He pointed to the door that led out to his fenced backyard. “I intend to sleep on the sofa in the living room, that way I will hear anyone trying to come into any door or window.”

“Surely that isn’t necessary,” she protested.

“I think it is, so the rule is your door is open when you go to bed or are in your room, and I’m on the sofa during the nights. The other rule is that you avoid all the windows in the house unless the blinds are shut.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You tensed up the minute I mentioned rules.”

“I grew up with a father who had a lot of rules. Once I left home I decided I’d make my own rules.” She stirred the noodles and then pulled from the refrigerator the makings of a salad.

“Where was home?” he asked as he realized he knew very little about the woman now under his protection.

“I was born and raised in Casper.” She offered nothing else and appeared to concentrate solely on finishing up the meal and getting it on the table.

An awkward silence ensued, one that grew as she seemed disinclined to break it, and he felt unusually tongue-tied. Part of his problem was that he was incredibly attracted to her. He wanted to get to know her and what better opportunity would he have than this?

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the same vibe from her. He had the feeling that the only thing she wanted to know about him was how fast he could get Hank Bittard behind bars so she could escape Flint’s presence altogether.

Once she had dinner on the table and sat across from him, he decided to attempt to make the best of things by indulging in small talk.

“I’ve been back in town for a little over a year now and from what I’ve heard about you, you’ve been in Dead River three years. I eat in your diner several times a week and yet I know almost nothing about you. Is there somebody in particular who you’re dating?” He waited for her to fill her plate and then filled his own.

“Absolutely nobody. I don’t even have time to own a cat,” she replied. She smiled and not for the first time he noticed that she had the kind of open, generous smile that instantly made the world feel right. “Trying to make the diner a success has taken up all of my time and energy.”

“What brought you to Dead River in the first place?”

“When I left Casper I knocked around the entire state, staying in small towns and working as a waitress at different cafés and diners. I knew that eventually I wanted to own my own restaurant of some kind, and I considered what I was doing by working in a variety of places as my college degree of sorts.”

She paused to add more salad to her plate and then continued. “Five years ago my mother passed away and left me an inheritance that was enough for me to buy something when I found what I wanted. Three years ago I stumbled onto Dead River and the diner. Maggie, the previous owner, wanted to leave Dead River and the diner behind, so I made her an offer she couldn’t resist. And now you know pretty much everything about me.”

He knew he’d barely scratched the surface of what he wanted to know about her, but as they finished the meal, the conversation remained pleasant but strictly superficial. She offered nothing else personal about herself nor did she ask him any personal questions about his life.

Even though the conversation bordered inane, Flint enjoyed the very novelty of having a beautiful woman seated at the kitchen table in his home. She filled the silence of the evening that he’d grown accustomed to for far too many years.

There had been few women while he’d been in Cheyenne ambitiously climbing the ranks in the police force. There had certainly been nobody special and only rarely had he had somebody in his home.

Right after the two of them finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, she told him she needed to finish unloading the bags of personal items she’d bought and disappeared into the guest room.

He was glad that she kept the door open, letting him know she intended to take that particular rule seriously. While she was busy in the bedroom, he went to the master suite and checked to make sure all of the windows were locked. The smallest bedroom he used as an office, and after checking the windows in there he grabbed a handful of files from the desk and returned to the kitchen.

He sat at the table with the files and his gun before him. One thick file was Hank Bittard’s and the other, thinner file was on Jimmy Johnson, the twenty-one-year-old loser who had left his cousin Molly at the altar, stolen her money but more egregious, had absconded with the Colton heirloom ring.

Flint was relatively certain that Jimmy would eventually be found, as the quarantine kept him from being able to get out of town. He wasn’t a seasoned criminal, and he’d get tired of sleeping in the woods and foraging for food, especially as winter set in for real.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the dumb kid wouldn’t eventually turn himself in before the weather got really cold and the snow began to fly.

Flint opened the thicker file on Hank Bittard. The first item in the file was Hank’s mug shot from when he was arrested for the murder of his coworker at the gas station.

At twenty-seven years old, Hank was a fairly handsome man with dark hair and equally dark, soulless eyes. He was six foot two, and with a muscular build, he looked like he’d never backed down from a fight, nor would he hesitate to start one.

He’d had several arrests before the last one, mostly for disturbing the peace and bar fights, but that had been before Flint had become chief of police. His single run-in with Bittard had been on the day he’d arrested him at the gas station for the murder of Donny Gilmore.

Now the man had killed the only eyewitness to that crime, and Nina was a new witness to that second murder, and there was no doubt in Flint’s mind that sooner or later Bittard would come after Nina.

What if Bittard changed his hair color? Somehow managed to disguise himself? Would Flint see him coming? He hadn’t seen the shooter who had taken down Madelaine on the courthouse steps in Cheyenne. He’d vastly underestimated the risk to Jolene Tate.

Bittard was no Jimmy Johnson. He was hard, accustomed to spending time in the woods. He’d have the kind of survival skills that a kid like Jimmy wouldn’t have.

Flint had come back to Dead River for a number of reasons: to help his brother, Theo, in his recuperation after being thrown from a bucking bronco, and to be close to his sister, Gemma, who worked as a nurse at the Dead River Clinic, and the grandmother who had raised them all.

Finally, he’d returned to his home and family to lick the wounds of the job gone wrong in Cheyenne, to enjoy the slower pace of life in the little town. He’d lost his driving ambition in Cheyenne.

He should have never taken the job as chief of police here. After the debacle in Cheyenne, he should have retired from police work altogether.

Evil was loose in the town of Dead River, with nobody getting in to help and nobody getting out, and the truth of the matter was that Flint had lost any confidence he’d ever had that he was the man the town needed to fight the evil.

* * *

Dr. Rafe Granger was unsurprised as he made his way down the hallway of the clinic just past midnight and saw the lights on in Dr. Lucas Rand’s office. They’d all been working long hours but none more than Lucas.

The man had been working like a maniac to find a cure for the virus that had taken his ex-wife as its first victim. Mimi Rand had been gone from town for some time when she returned with a baby she’d insisted was Theo Colton’s. Although Theo was suspicious, the baby had the Colton vivid green eyes, and he’d had a one-night stand with her around the right time for the baby to be his.

Mimi had been on her way to Theo’s house with her three-month-old little girl, Amelia, when she’d stopped in to grab a cup of coffee in the café before heading out to Theo’s place. Shortly after arriving at Theo’s ranch, she collapsed, and within hours she was dead.

Lucas had been inconsolable. He’d known about Mimi’s pregnancy and initially had assumed the baby was his. He’d done the stand-up thing and had been financially supportive from the moment the baby was born. It had only been when Mimi had confirmed that the baby was Theo’s that Lucas had stepped back from the role of potential fatherhood. Lucas had heard through the grapevine that a DNA test was in the process to assure the paternity of the baby.

Other victims had followed Mimi, and while everyone at the clinic was working nearly round the clock to find the source and a cure for the virus, nobody had taken the illness and deaths as hard as Dr. Lucas Rand.

No place else in the country had the virus shown up. It was as if it had specifically chosen the little Wyoming town to grow and breed.

Rafe gave a quick knock on the door and then opened it. Lucas didn’t look up from whatever was in front of him on his desk. It was as if he was unaware that anyone had entered his office.

“Lucas.” Rafe walked over and dropped a hand on the man’s broad shoulder, and Lucas started and whirled around in his chair to face Rafe.

Lucas Rand was a handsome man, with dark hair and eyes, but at the moment his eyes burned with feverish desperation. “I feel like I’m so close to figuring out a cure that will save everyone, but I can’t get it right. There’s something I keep missing. I’ve got to get it right. We’ve got to fix this before we lose more people.”

“I know, and we will, but it’s late, Lucas,” Rafe said gently. “Why don’t you knock it off for a while and get some rest. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard, and eventually you’re going to crash and then you won’t be good to anyone.”

Lucas leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his thick dark hair. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe a little sleep will bring everything into better focus. I am tired,” he admitted.

He rose slowly, as if the mere act of pulling his tall, muscular frame out of the chair was almost too much for him. He appeared haggard, much older than his thirty-two years. “I just feel like I’m missing something, and if I could figure it out I could solve this.”

“Surely we’ll get the answers we need when the expert from the CDC, Dr. Colleen Goodhue, gets here,” Rafe said as the two men left Lucas’s small lab.

“If she ever gets here,” Lucas said darkly. “By that time everyone in town might be sick. In the meantime, my hope is that I’ll find the cure for this scourge before she arrives. Every day it seems like we have a new patient or we lose somebody else.” He heaved a weary sigh.

They stopped at the door of one of the closetlike offices the doctors had been given to work in or take a break in while dealing with the virus. “Get some rest, Lucas,” Rafe said kindly, knowing the kind of hours Rand had been putting in. “Right now that’s what you need more than anything.”

“I should be able to save them,” Lucas said in frustration. “I’m a good doctor. I’m a smart man. I’m just missing something. I’m afraid if we don’t figure this out soon, eventually everyone in town will be dead. This is killing people, and we don’t know how to stop it.”

His words hung for a moment in the dim hallway, and then he turned and entered his office and closed the door behind him.

Rafe rubbed his own gritty eyes and decided sleep was exactly what he needed, too. He only hoped while he slept no other patients arrived with the virus symptoms. He was already exhausted by the sick and the dead. All the doctors and nurses had been working side-by-side with the CDC personnel since their arrival at the beginning of the quarantine, but so far they’d had little success. He could only pray that when CDC Dr. Colleen Goodhue, a virus expert, arrived, she’d have the advanced equipment and the knowledge to save Dead River before it was too late.

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.