“Were you afraid tonight?” he asked.

She flashed him one of her rare smiles. “Terrified, especially when you left me. I never knew I had so much adrenaline in my body.”

He returned her smile and stood. “I’ll just get out of here so you can sleep off some of that adrenaline.”

“Okay.” She walked with him to the door.

He turned to tell her good-night and she stood too close to him. Her heady scent surrounded him as he remembered holding her in his arms when they’d danced.

He wasn’t sure if he spoke her name or not, but suddenly she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers. He hadn’t asked permission. He hadn’t even consciously made the decision to kiss her. It had just happened.

Someplace in the back of his mind he knew it was a foolish thought, and with regret he halted the kiss and pulled back from her.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just chalk it up to lingering adrenaline.” Without giving her an opportunity to reply he hurried toward his Jeep.

***

Be sure to check out the next books in this exciting miniseries:

Cowboys of Holiday Ranch— Where sun, earth and hard work turn men into rugged cowboys … and irresistible heroes!

Cowboy of Interest

Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARLA CASSIDY is a New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon. 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

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Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Chapter 17

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Nick Coleman needed to get drunk. Not buzzed, not loopy, but brain-dead, blackout drunk. It was the only respite he might find from the vision burned into his head of seeing Wendy Bailey’s dead body stuffed under the floorboards of an old shed on the ranch where Nick worked.

He’d been responsible in his plan to drink himself into oblivion. He’d contacted his good friend Chad Bene from a neighboring ranch to pick him up, bring him here to the Watering Hole and then make sure Nick got back to his bunkhouse on the Holiday Ranch safe and sound.

Chad nursed a soda while Nick motioned to the waitress for a second beer. “You know, getting stupid drunk isn’t going to change things, except that tomorrow you’re going to wake up and feel as though you’ve wrestled with the biggest, meanest bull in the entire county,” Chad observed.

“But at least maybe tonight I’ll sleep without nightmares,” Nick replied. It had been three days since Wendy’s body had been found, along with six older skeletal remains. It had been three long nights of sleep haunted by the visions of the vivacious black-haired, blue-eyed twenty-three-year-old who had blown into town two months before and instantly attached herself to Nick like an affectionate little sister.

And now she was gone...dead. According to the coroner, she had been stabbed twice in the chest. She had been murdered. If that wasn’t horrific enough, Nick knew he was the prime suspect in her murder.

Janis Little, the waitress serving their small two-top table, brought Nick a fresh cold bottle of beer and gave him a quick, sympathetic pat on his shoulder before going back behind the bar to serve other awaiting customers.

At least Janis apparently didn’t see him as a murderer, he thought, but that didn’t take away any of the heartache and horror he’d lived with for the past couple of days. He couldn’t believe that Wendy was dead. She’d had a light too bright to be snuffed out. He couldn’t believe that anyone would have wanted to take her life.

“Dillon has the whole ranch basically shut down as a crime scene area,” Nick said. He opened the beer, took a deep swallow and then continued. “He’s actively working Wendy’s case but has called in a forensic anthropologist from Oklahoma City to help with the investigation into the seven skeletal remains. She’s supposed to arrive sometime next week.”

Chad shook his head. “I still can’t believe all those bodies were hidden under the shed. If they’re just skeletons, then their murders had to have happened some time ago. I wonder if Cass knew anything about them.”

“We’ll never know, since Cass is dead.” Nick took another drink, and for a few minutes the only sound was the raucous noise of the popular bar on a Friday night.

Thinking about Wendy was almost as painful as thinking about Cass Holiday. Nick had been a sixteen-year-old runaway when he’d been brought by a social worker to Cass Holiday’s sprawling ranch to work.

Over the past fourteen years, Cass had been his surrogate mother, his mentor and the best thing that had ever happened to him. Then, a little over two months ago, she’d been killed in a tornado that had ravaged the Oklahoma countryside.

She’d been hit in the head by a tree branch. Her body had been found between her big ranch house and the bunkhouse where her cowboys lived. They all believed she’d been on her way to warn them about the approaching vicious weather when she’d been struck down.

For the dozen cowboys Cass had nurtured from troubled teens to good, responsible ranch hands and upstanding, confident men, nothing had been the same after she was gone.

“Why don’t we go shoot a game of pool?” Chad suggested and gestured toward the back room, where three pool tables were located. Two were in use, but one was vacant.

“You’re not going to distract me from my mission of drunkenness,” Nick replied wryly. “Besides, shooting pool has never been my thing.”

“It’s a stupid mission, Nick,” Chad replied. “If you want a mission, then you should be spending your time helping to find out who killed Wendy.”

Nick frowned. “I’m not on the police force. I’m a person of interest in the case.”

“There’s no way I think that Dillon really believes you had anything to do with Wendy’s murder,” Chad protested. “He hasn’t even brought you in for questioning yet.”

“Yet being the key word in that sentence. He will. I’m sure I’m at the top of his list. The problem is Wendy and I spent a lot of time together, and as far as anyone can tell, I was probably the last person who saw her alive.”

Nick took another drink of his beer and wished he’d never met Wendy Bailey. If he hadn’t have met her then he wouldn’t be hurting over her loss right now.

“She was missing for almost a month,” Chad continued. “From what I’ve heard, they haven’t even been able to pinpoint the exact time of death. Everyone thought she’d just left town. Her motel room was empty and her car was gone.”

“I thought she’d left town,” Nick agreed. “I was surprised and a little hurt that she hadn’t told me goodbye, but she was an impulsive free spirit who I figured just heard the call of a new adventure and went for it. When they found her she was wearing her café work T-shirt, so she was probably killed on Friday night after her shift and after she visited me at the ranch.”

“Obviously somebody went to a lot of trouble to make us all believe she’d just moved on. Her car and personal items have never been found.” Chad frowned as Nick downed the last of his second beer and motioned to Janis for another.

“Stop giving me dirty looks,” Nick said. “I’m only just now starting to get a little bit of a buzz.”

“You’ve always been a lightweight drinker, and the way you’re slamming back the beers, I figure within a half an hour or so there will be at least three of us pulling you out from under the table and carrying you to my truck. And just so we’re clear, if you throw up in my truck, I’m beating the hell out of you tomorrow when you get sober.”

Nick was surprised by the small burst of laughter that escaped his lips. “You and what army?” he replied. Chad was half a foot shorter than Nick’s six-two and weighed at least twenty-five pounds less.

Janis arrived with the third beer and the two men once again fell silent. Nick brooded, drank and listened to the ancient jukebox where somebody had paid a quarter to hear an old sad George Jones song.

Nick had no idea why Wendy Bailey had glommed on to him in the initial days of her arrival in Bitterroot. They’d met at the café, where she’d gotten a job as a waitress, and before Nick knew it, they were sharing a pizza or going to a movie together or just sitting under the stars and talking.

Nick had never had siblings and found his role of surrogate big brother to her a surprisingly pleasing one. He’d known if she’d grown more comfortable with some of the younger crowd in town she would have drifted away from him, and that would have been okay, but she’d never gotten the chance.

In the first week of Wendy’s disappearance, Daisy, the owner of the café, had printed up posters indicating that Wendy was missing. She was adamant that Wendy wouldn’t have just left town without telling Daisy she was going. Even after chief of police Dillon Bowie had checked out Wendy’s motel room and found it empty, Daisy had been hard-pressed to believe that the waitress had just up and left town with no notice to anyone.

Daisy had been proved right. Wendy hadn’t left town. She’d been murdered. Like Cass’s death, Wendy’s murder was a tragedy on a hundred different levels, and for Nick it was a personal loss in a stream of losses that had begun in his dysfunctional youth.

“So what did you tell Penny you were doing tonight?” he asked Chad in an effort to stop his mood from plunging to new depths, if that were even possible.

“I told her the truth, that a friend needed me tonight and I’d talk to her sometime tomorrow.”

“She’s a keeper. You going to marry her?”

Chad grinned. “If she’ll have me. I’ve already bought an engagement ring, but I haven’t given it to her yet. I’ve got to figure out some amazing way to officially propose. Penny won’t settle for anything except amazing.”

“Then, why is she with you?” Nick replied with a forced lightness.

“Ha-ha,” Chad replied. His gaze went over Nick’s shoulder at the same time an unfamiliar female voice spoke Nick’s name.

“Yes, I’m Nick Coleman,” Nick replied.

He half rose from his chair and turned to see a petite woman with long chestnut-colored hair and blue-green eyes.

Before he could say another word, her arm reared back and her small fist connected with his left eye, a perfect center smash that drove him back into his chair.

“What the hel—” he sputtered.

She swung at him again, her eyes swimming with tears as her arms windmilled in an attempt to connect with him.

He jumped up out of his chair, vaguely aware that everyone in the crowded tavern had frozen, their attention on Nick and his pint-size attacker.

Nick had never seen the woman before. He had no idea what her problem was, but there was no way he intended to just stand there and get pummeled in public. Especially by a woman. He already felt the pressure of his eye swelling from the sucker punch she’d managed to land.

He grabbed her and trapped her arms at her sides, but she immediately started to use her feet as weapons. She kicked and thrust her knee upward in an attempt to make dangerous bodily contact with him.

Nick would never hit a woman, but he definitely needed to take control of the situation. He heard the low rumble of male laughter coming from the crowd, laughter that assured Nick he’d be fodder for the gossip mill the next day.

With Wendy’s murder, there was already enough gossip swirling around town with his name all over it. Nick drew a deep breath, dodged another knee to his groin, then finally managed to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder like a sack of squirming potatoes.

She smelled like lilacs and vanilla, he thought, even as she kicked and screamed and beat her fists on his back. He carried her through the bar and out the front door. He put her down on the sidewalk and then stepped back a safe distance from her.

“Lady, what in the hell is your problem?” he demanded.

For a long moment, she looked stunned, and tears streamed down her face. “It was you,” she finally said. “It was you who murdered my sister.”

It was only then that Nick realized the small firecracker standing before him, the pretty woman who had hit him hard enough to swell his eye almost shut, was Adrienne Bailey, Wendy’s older sister.

* * *

Adrienne stared up at the tall cowboy with his darkening eye and was appalled by her own actions. She’d never hit another person in her entire life. She’d just wanted to get a look at the man she believed had killed her sister, but the moment he’d turned to face her she’d completely lost her mind.

Anger and grief had taken control of her senses, and she’d reacted with raw, unbridled emotion, something she’d never done before in all of her thirty years.

Although still driven by rage and sorrow, a deep embarrassment now swept over her. She backed away from him and quickly swiped the tears from her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry...” Those were the only words she got out before she turned and ran down the sidewalk.

“Adrienne, wait!” he called after her. “I didn’t kill Wendy. Do you hear me? I cared about her and had nothing to do with her death.”

Liar.

The derogatory name rang in her head as she headed for her car in the distance, cursing the heels that kept her from running all out. Tears started falling once again, but this time she didn’t bother trying to swipe them away, even as they trekked down her cheeks and blurred her vision.

Liar!

She glanced behind her only once to make sure he wasn’t following her. Seeing that the sidewalk behind her was empty, she slowed her pace, gulping in deep breaths in an effort to gain control of herself, but it didn’t work.

When she reached her car, she threw herself into the driver’s seat and locked the doors, then lowered her head to the steering wheel and allowed herself to cry until she couldn’t cry any longer.

When chief of police Dillon Bowie had contacted her the day before to tell her about Wendy’s death and that a positive identification had been made by Wendy’s boss at the café where she’d been working, Adrienne had gone through the first two stages of grief in the matter of an hour.

She started her car and pulled out of the parking space and headed for the Bitterroot Motel, where she’d checked in just an hour or so before. Wendy had been living at the motel at the time of her disappearance. Adrienne’s unit was two doors down from the one that now sported crime scene tape across the front.

Her initial reaction to Chief Bowie’s phone call had been immediate denial. Wendy couldn’t be dead. Murder happened to other people, but not to Wendy. She was too full of energy, too filled with the joy of life to be dead.

But she’d known that Wendy had been in Bitterroot, Oklahoma, and it had also been a month since she’d heard from her little sister.

Denial had transformed into a grief so all-consuming that she’d barely been able to think or do what needed to get done to leave her home and travel to the small town. It had been only this morning that she’d finally managed to pack up her car and make the drive from her home in Kansas City to Bitterroot.

She’d arrived much later than she had expected. By the time she had checked into her motel room and unloaded her things from the car, her grief had been overwhelmed with growing rage, a rage focused on the man she believed responsible for Wendy’s murder—Nick Coleman.

She pulled up in front of her motel unit and parked her car. She wiped at her eyes and grabbed her purse off the seat. As she walked to her door, she consciously kept her gaze away from the unit two doors down.

The sight of the crime scene tape would only make her cry again, and she’d rather feed her outrageous anger than her crippling grief.

Wendy hadn’t even been buried yet and Nick Coleman was in a bar having drinks with a friend. How cold could he be? How calculating? But, of course, wasn’t that what murderers did? They killed and destroyed lives and then went right back to their normal life as if nothing had happened.

That was how killers were able to hide in plain sight, but Nick Coleman couldn’t hide from her. She knew where he worked and where he lived, and she didn’t intend to leave this town until he was arrested for Wendy’s murder.

Every conversation, each text she’d received from Wendy had contained some little tidbit of information about Nick. It was obvious to Adrienne that the two were close.

Exhausted by the long drive and her overwhelming emotions, she changed out of her clothes and into her cotton, sleeveless nightgown. The motel unit came complete with a kitchenette, a small table and chairs, a television and a love seat. The bathroom was small, the bed was a double, and while everything looked worn and out-of-date, the unit also appeared to be spotlessly clean.

She shut off the light and got into the bed, the springs squeaking slightly beneath her. The only light in the room came from a slit between the curtains at the front windows, allowing in the faint neon red and yellow flashes from the motel sign advertising clean efficiency units.

Rolling over on her side, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, afraid to sleep and suffer nightmares of Wendy, yet afraid to stay awake and wallow in thoughts of her sister.

Wild and wonderful Wendy. Impulsive and fearless Wendy. Who would have wanted to murder her other than the man she’d talked about in every phone call, in every text?

She must have fallen asleep, for when she opened her eyes again the light seeping into the room through the slight part in the curtains was sunshine.

She immediately jumped out of bed and got into the shower and then dressed in a pair of blue capris and a sleeveless white-and-blue patterned blouse.

She was disappointed when she got to the police station at one end of Main Street only to be told that Chief Dillon Bowie was out on a call and wasn’t expected back until afternoon. She left a message for Dillon that she was staying at the motel, and she left her cell phone number so he could call her as soon as he was available.

From the police station she went to the grocery store and filled her basket with everything she would need to make meals for at least a week. Surely it wouldn’t take any longer than that to get Nick Coleman behind bars.

She could scarcely believe how she’d reacted the night before at the sight of Nick Coleman.

Adrienne Bailey, control freak and always responsible, a stickler for rules and political correctness, had momentarily gone stark raving mad.

She didn’t intend to lose control again, but she had to admit that hitting and kicking Nick Coleman had been more than a little bit cathartic.

And she wasn’t done with him yet. Although she planned no further physical attacks on the man, she did intend to haunt him, to shadow his every move until, hopefully, he finally broke down and confessed to what he’d done.

She knew the who, but she needed to know the why. Wendy had been the kind of young woman who never met a stranger, who was curious and friendly about everyone she came into contact with. She’d been adventurous and high spirited, traits that often had the two sisters butting heads, but not traits that got a woman murdered.

Adrienne drank a quick cup of hot tea and then left the motel, this time headed in the direction of the Holiday Ranch. She had no intention of personally engaging Nick again, but she wanted him to know that she was watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake that would ensure him a future behind bars.

She made only one stop at the motel manager’s office, where a young man with oversize black-framed glasses and a name tag that read Lawrence gave her directions to the Holiday Ranch.

Early July in Oklahoma wasn’t so much different from in Kansas City. The cool of spring was gone, but the heat and humidity of late summer had yet to fully arrive.

She had no idea what to expect from Chief Bowie. While he’d been kind on the phone when he’d made the notification to her, she didn’t know how close-knit Bitterroot might be and if the chief of police would be willing to protect one of his own townspeople against a murder charge.

After all, Wendy had been an outsider who had no ties to the community. How hard would the chief of police work to solve her murder?

If she thought he was shirking his duty, she’d climb up the food chain until she found somebody to do the job right. In the meantime, she planned on being a tick on Nick Coleman’s rotten hide.

She slowed as she passed the entrance to what appeared to be a fairly large spread. The wooden entry declared it to be the Humes Ranch.

She drove on, nerves suddenly tingling inside her skin as she thought of seeing Nick Coleman again.

Slowing once again as she saw the entrance to another ranch ahead, she realized she’d made a conscious decision to become a stalker. Wendy’s murder had definitely turned her into a woman she scarcely recognized.

She pulled the car to a stop in front of the entrance with the black wrought iron entry that read Holiday Ranch. This was where Nick Coleman worked. This was where he lived. Her stomach twisted with nervous energy.

From her vantage point, she saw a large two-story house and in the far distance lots of outbuildings and men on horseback, but she was too far away for any of the ranch hands to pay attention to a silver sedan parked along the side of the road.

Knowing she was trespassing, she turned into the long driveway and followed the concrete drive and stopped just past the house. She turned off her engine and rolled down her window the rest of the way. She wouldn’t move unless somebody asked her to.

Now she could see a bright blue canopy tent in the distance and knew it probably covered the crime scene—the place where Wendy’s body had been found, along with six other potential victims.

Chief Bowie had told her that Wendy had been found there, but the skeletal remains of six other human beings had been there, as well. She wanted Wendy’s murderer in jail, but wondered what had happened to those other poor souls.

She’d been there only about ten minutes when a cowboy wearing a dusty brown hat walked up to the driver side of her car. “Cassie and Nicolette aren’t home right now. Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

Adrienne had no idea who Cassie and Nicolette were, and in any case, they weren’t the reason she was here. “I’m just here to keep an eye on the man who murdered my sister.”

The cowboy’s sand-colored eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “There are no murderers here,” he said. “You’ve come to the wrong place.”

Of course he would say that, she thought. He was probably a good friend of Nick’s. “Are you asking me to leave?”

He shrugged broad shoulders. “It’s not my place to ask you to go. I don’t own the ranch.” He turned on the heels of his boots and headed away from the car.

Adrienne narrowed her eyes and tried to discern which of the men in the distance was Nick. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at him the night before. She’d just had a quick vision of blue eyes and slightly shaggy dark brown hair.

It was only when she saw the man who’d come to talk to her take off on horseback and approach another man on horseback that she assumed the second man was Nick Coleman.

The two spoke for a moment and then the second man began toward her. His hat was black, his shoulders broad and he rode a huge black horse that would have characterized him as a villain in any respectable Western.

She gripped her hands tightly together in her lap as he drew close enough that she could see the faint darkness of a black eye where she had hit him the night before.

Good.

She’d managed to mark him with her rage, with her grief.

He pulled his horse to a halt right outside her window, forcing her to lean out and look up at a handsome face with cold blue eyes and a mouth set in a grim line. He was an imposing figure.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Protecting all the other young, vulnerable women in town by keeping an eye on you,” she replied, pleased that her voice rang with steely determination.

“I did not kill your sister,” he said slowly and distinctly, as if speaking to a crazy person.

“I believe you did, and I’m here to make sure that you don’t get away with it.”

He sighed and pulled his hat off his head. His thick dark brown hair glistened in the sunshine, and he raked his hand through it as if she was a flake of dandruff he could easily dislodge with a sweep of his fingers.

“Look, I’m grieving over Wendy, too. I want her killer to be found, but I’m not him. Maybe instead of playing judge and jury, you and I need to sit down and talk and compare notes.”

He placed his hat back on his head. “If you’re looking for the truth in Wendy’s murder, then meet me at the café at noon and we can have a civilized conversation. If you’re looking for an innocent scapegoat, then you can follow me to the ends of the earth and we’ll never know who took Wendy’s life.”

A headache pounded at her temples as she considered his words. At least he’d offered to meet her in a public place where her personal safety would be ensured.

“Okay,” she finally said against her better judgment. “I’ll meet you at the café at noon.”

He nodded, flicked the reins and then took off galloping back to the pasture. She watched him go and realized she’d just agreed to meet a murderer for lunch.

Chapter 2

Nick walked into the Bitterroot Café at ten to twelve and was greeted by owner Daisy Martin, who stood behind the cash register. Normally, when he came here for lunch with fellow ranch hands, they all sat at the counter. In recent months, he had often sat in Wendy’s section, but today, he headed for one of the few empty yellow vinyl booths.

He found one toward the back and slid into the side facing the door then placed his hat next to him. He had no idea if Adrienne Bailey would show up or not, despite the fact that she’d said she’d be here.

There was no way to second-guess the actions of a crazy woman, and she’d definitely been crazy last night. He raised a hand to touch his eye, wincing not because it hurt, but because she’d managed to sucker punch him.

He had no idea if he could change Adrienne’s mind about him, if he could convince her that the real killer was still out there somewhere, for now flying under the radar. He had no idea if she’d even listen to a word he had to say.

Jenna Lankford approached his booth, wearing the yellow T-shirt that identified her as a waitress. Jenna was an attractive woman about Nick’s age, and before Wendy, she had always been one of his go-to waitresses because of her warmth and sense of humor.

“If it isn’t one of my favorite cowboys,” she said with a bright smile. She eyed him intently. “At least it’s not as bad as I imagined when I heard the news.”

“What’s not as bad?” Nick asked.

“Your face. Rumor is that you got into a bar fight last night and a woman made mincemeat of your handsome mug.”

“As you can see, the rumors are vastly exaggerated,” Nick replied with a wry grin. “She did manage to hit me once in the eye, but the damage is minimal. In fact, I’m meeting her for lunch. She’s Wendy Bailey’s sister, Adrienne.”

Jenna’s smile faltered, and her blue eyes glistened overly bright. “That poor woman. She must be in such pain. I can’t believe what happened to Wendy. She was one of the most popular waitresses here and made coming to work such fun.” She paused for a moment and then continued, “So you want something to drink while you wait for your guest?”

“I’ll take a root beer,” he replied. What he probably needed was a good stiff drink before interacting with Adrienne again. Unfortunately, the café didn’t serve booze. Besides, he needed to have his wits about him.

“Coming right up.”

He watched Jenna as she walked away from the table, her blond hair caught up in a ponytail that swung side to side with each step she took.

She was also one of the more popular waitresses for plenty of people in town, not only pretty but also friendly and open. As far as Nick knew, she didn’t date much and lived on a small ranch just outside town that had been left to her when her parents had died in a car accident a year before.

Thoughts of Jenna immediately left his mind when the front door opened and Adrienne walked in. She hesitated just inside the door, gazing around the café. Her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes narrowed when she spied him.

Even though Nick’s nerves tightened up and he knew this meeting would probably be unpleasant at best, he couldn’t help but notice that Adrienne was a very attractive woman.

Her reddish-brown hair was in a tidy knot at the nape of her neck, emphasizing her delicate features. Her blue-and-white blouse made her blue-green eyes appear bluer than they had the night before.

He rose as she reached the booth and slid into the seat across from him with an upthrust of her chin.

“Just so that you know, I’m not afraid of you, Nick Coleman,” she said firmly.

Nick lowered himself back down to sit. “There’s no reason for you to be afraid of me. We’re both on the same side.”

Once again her eyes narrowed, and he noted her thick, long eyelashes. Adrienne was definitely a looker. She picked up the menu, and he noticed that her fingers trembled, belying her announcement that she wasn’t afraid or at least nervous about being in his company.

“Why don’t we order first, and then you can tell me exactly how and why you killed my sister,” she said.

So much for being on the same side, Nick thought drily. He didn’t need to look at a menu. The food at the café hadn’t changed much in the past almost fifteen years that he’d been eating here.

Not wanting to stare at her and make her even more uncomfortable, he gazed around the café and wondered who, like Adrienne, believed he’d murdered Wendy.

Certainly, he knew he was a person of interest in the case. He and Wendy had spent far too much time together for him not to be on a list of potential suspects.

It was only when he heard Adrienne’s menu hit the table that he once again looked at her. “Ready to order?” he asked.

She gave him a curt nod, as if she begrudged him even asking her the simple question.

He motioned to Jenna, who had just finished serving another table. Jenna gazed at Adrienne and then at Nick with amusement. “She’s a little thing to have managed that colorful shiner you’re sporting.”

Adrienne’s cheeks immediately turned pink. “I’ve already apologized to him,” she said. It was obvious to Nick that she wasn’t sorry at all.

“Good, then the two of you should have a nice lunch together,” Jenna said brightly. “Now, what can I get for you?”

Adrienne ordered a house salad and iced tea, and Nick ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries. Once Jenna left to fill their orders, an uncomfortable silence settled in and grew to painful proportions.

“I didn’t kill Wendy.” Nick finally broke the tense silence.

“She talked about you in every text and phone call I received from her. You were the only man she talked about. You were her lover and something went wrong between the two of you and you killed her,” Adrienne said with finality.

Nick stared at her in disbelief. “Do you write fiction for a living?”

“Actually, I work as a publicist for authors, but that has nothing to do with what I think happened between you and Wendy.”

“You’ve definitely come up with a story that has nothing to do with reality.” Nick stopped talking as Jenna returned with their food.

After Jenna left the booth once again, he continued, “Let me tell you my story, the reality of my relationship with Wendy.”

Adrienne jabbed at a piece of carrot, and the force she used made Nick wonder if she were imagining stabbing the fork in his already wounded eye. It didn’t matter. Nick intended to tell the truth, and she could either believe him or not.

“I met Wendy here at the café when she got a job as a waitress. I’m not sure why, but she attached herself to me like a pesky little sister.”

He paused a moment to swallow against the lump that rose in the back of his throat as he thought of the vibrant, happy young woman who had been his friend and now was gone forever.

“She didn’t know anyone in town, and for some reason she decided I needed a friend as badly as she did. We spent a lot of time together, but there was absolutely nothing romantic between us. To me, she was just a kid, and she even tried to matchmake for me, insisting I needed a good woman in my life.”

A new wave of sorrow swept through Nick.

Adrienne stared at him. Her fork, sporting a small piece of lettuce, halted halfway between her plate and her mouth. “In every text, in every email I got from Wendy when she arrived here in town, you were the only person she ever talked about.”

“You already said that, but that doesn’t make me her lover, and it definitely doesn’t make me the man who murdered her,” Nick countered. He picked up a French fry and then dropped it back to his plate, his appetite gone.

“She was like the little sister I never had. I knew she probably wouldn’t be in town for long. She told me her plan was to eventually visit all fifty states and work all different kinds of jobs. When she disappeared, like everyone else, I just figured she’d gotten a wild hair and had moved on. I was devastated when we found her body.”

“On the ranch where you work,” Adrienne replied flatly. She placed the piece of lettuce into her mouth and chewed it with the expression of somebody tasting something nasty. She swallowed and then leaned forward slightly. “You had means and the opportunity to kill her and hide her body.”

“You’re missing one important factor. Aside from the fact that I didn’t do it, what would have been my motive? Why on earth would I want to kill Wendy?”

“I don’t know, but that’s what I intend to find out. Maybe it was a lover’s quarrel that got out of hand. Maybe you have a bad temper and lost it with her.”

Nick sighed and thought of all the things Wendy had told him about her older sister. Stubborn and rigid, Wendy had said about Adrienne. Controlling and a right fighter, Wendy had added and explained that she’d needed to get some distance from Adrienne to figure out who she was away from her sister’s firm thumb.

He knew that this little meeting had done nothing to change Adrienne’s belief that he’d killed her sister. Adrienne had made up her mind and nothing was going to change it.

“Have you spoken to Chief Bowie yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. I stopped at the station earlier this morning, but he was out on a call. I expect to meet with him sometime this afternoon,” she replied.

That would probably only make things worse, Nick thought. He knew he was high on the list of suspects, although they had no evidence tying him to the crime and wouldn’t find any because he was innocent.

“The investigation into Wendy’s murder has just barely begun,” he said. “It would be nice if you had an open mind.”

Her shoulders shot back defensively. “I do have an open mind, but I can’t ignore my gut instinct, and all of that instinct is pointing directly to you. I don’t know you, but I do know that I don’t trust you.”

“Then, maybe the answer to that is that you get to know me,” he replied evenly. “Look, you’ve already made it clear that you believe I’m guilty and that you intend to keep an eye on me so that no other woman gets hurt or maybe you think I’ll somehow give you the evidence you need for me to be arrested. Why not work with me to find the real killer?”

She stared at him as if he’d grown a steer horn in the middle of his forehead. “Why not leave any investigation to the police instead of working with you?” she countered.

“Because Chief Bowie doesn’t just have Wendy’s murder to occupy his time and attention. I don’t know if you heard, but there were six skeletons found in the same area as Wendy’s body. There’s no question that he’ll do the best that he can on Wendy’s case, but he’s got a lot on his plate right now.”

In some place in the back of his mind, Nick knew he was probably crazy to even entertain some sort of partnership with Adrienne. But as he gazed into her lovely eyes and saw the hint of vulnerability that softened her lips, more than anything he wanted her to believe in his innocence.

Dammit, he was innocent.

“I’d be crazy to even consider working with you,” she said slowly. “But I’ve been more than a little crazy since Chief Bowie contacted me about Wendy’s death.”

Nick reached up and touched his eye. “You were definitely a little crazy last night.”

Her cheeks grew pink, only making her prettier. “That wasn’t me. I mean, that was completely out of character for me. I don’t believe in vigilante justice. I believe in rules and following the law. Before last night, I’d never hit another person in my entire life.” She narrowed her gaze, as if blaming him for the way she’d acted.

Nick once again picked up a fry and popped it into his mouth. The ball was now in her court. She could either work with him or against him, but he wasn’t going to waste any more of his time or energy trying to talk her into anything.

For the next few minutes, another awkward silence fell, and they each focused on their lunch. He felt the surreptitious glances she threw in his direction, but he kept his gaze on his plate. He had a feeling she was weighing her options.

One thing the conversation had done for Nick was make him decide that he was going to actively try to find Wendy’s killer, with or without Adrienne.

What he’d said about Chief Bowie was true. The man had a lot on his plate right now and a small force to deal with everything. Dillon was a good man, a good investigator, and he had good men on the police force, but Nick wanted his own name cleared sooner rather than later.

She finished her salad before he’d finished his burger. She shoved her dish aside, grabbed her purse and clutched it to her chest in a defensive manner.

“Okay,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow, unsure what exactly she was okaying.

“Okay, I’ll work with you,” she said. “Although I feel like I’m making a deal with the devil.”

Nick frowned. “Trust me, the devil is still out there somewhere. Why don’t we plan on meeting here first thing in the morning and we can figure out where we’ll go from there.”

She slid out of the booth. “Nine o’clock?”

“Sounds good,” he replied.

With a curt nod of her head, she turned and walked away. Nick watched her go, unable to help but notice that she had a nice butt. In fact, she had a slim but slamming body.

His frown deepened. There was no question that he was perversely physically attracted to Adrienne Bailey as he hadn’t been attracted to a woman in a very long time. She was definitely a hot little number.

But she didn’t like him. She believed he’d killed her sister, and he knew she’d do whatever possible to prove that fact. It made him wonder who, of the two of them, had really just made an agreement with the devil.

* * *

Adrienne had just gotten into her car to leave the café when her cell phone rang. She opened her purse to retrieve her phone, which was nestled next to the Colt .380 Mustang pistol that she had carried with her for the past nine years, since she was twenty-one and living on the wrong side of town with fourteen-year-old Wendy. It had been shot only on the firing range, and she kept her conceal-and-carry permit up-to-date.

The phone call was from Chief Dillon Bowie, who told her he was in his office and available to speak to her anytime.

She backed out of the parking space in front of the café and thought about the meeting she’d just had with Nick. She hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. During her fight with him the night before, she’d been too out of her mind to really look at him.

She’d definitely gotten a good look at him today, and what she’d seen had attracted her. She’d also been surprised by the fact that he appeared to be about her age, not Wendy’s age. Her belief that he and Wendy had been lovers wavered slightly. Wendy had never been into older men.

The sun drifting in through the window had glinted on his dark brown hair. His eyes were the dark blue of approaching storm clouds, and his features were lean and sharply defined.

Of course, women had found Ted Bundy to be quite attractive, she reminded herself. Murderers came in all shapes and sizes, including handsome cowboys who talked a smooth game.

She’d work with Nick Coleman for now. It was a matter of keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer. Besides, it wasn’t as if she intended to allow Nick to get her alone in the dark, and she had her gun and wouldn’t hesitate to use it if necessary for her own protection.

She arrived at the police station and was led to a private office where Chief Dillon Bowie greeted her and led her to the chair across from his desk.

“I’m so sorry to meet you under these difficult circumstances,” he said.

Chief Bowie was a handsome man with dark neatly cut hair and soft gray eyes. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept for days. There was a file folder on his desk, and Adrienne knew it held everything that had been done since the discovery of her sister’s body.

She repressed a shudder as she thought of the crime scene photos the folder probably held.

“Daisy, the owner of the diner where your sister worked, made an initial identification due to the fact that the woman discovered was wearing the diner T-shirt that all the waitresses wear. I’m afraid that the decomposition was such that it was impossible to identify her by facial features, although the body had long black hair.”

His words sent a shaft of pain through her.

The body. My sister.

She felt as if she were having an out-of-body experience, and for a moment was so light-headed she thought she might be sick or pass out.

“Are you all right, Ms. Bailey?”

She sat up straighter and nodded. “I’m okay, and please make it Adrienne.”

“Now that you’re here, I’ll order DNA testing to be done so that there’s no question that the woman is your sister. In the meantime...” He reached into his top desk drawer and retrieved a brown envelope. He opened it and poured out the contents. “These were on the body when she was found.”

A watch with a brown band decorated with happy faces slid out of the envelope, along with a gold necklace with an angel charm holding a tiny opal—Wendy’s birthstone. The sight of the items punched Adrienne in her stomach and stole away any doubt she might have had.

“Those belonged to my sister,” she said. She had been with Wendy when she’d bought the watch, and the necklace had been a gift from Adrienne to Wendy when Wendy had turned twenty-one.

“There’s no question that these are Wendy’s.” She fought against her hot tears. There had really been no question in her mind when Chief Bowie had initially called her to tell her that the young woman found murdered and buried was probably Wendy.

Chief Bowie pulled out a notepad and pen. “I need to ask you some questions. Are you okay to do that now?” She nodded, and he continued, “When was the last time you spoke to Wendy?”

For the next half an hour, he asked her questions about Wendy and about their communications while she’d been in Bitterroot.

“Do you have any suspects in mind?” she asked.

“At this point, every man in town is a potential suspect,” Chief Bowie replied. “We’ve only just started the investigation.”

“What about Nick Coleman?” Even saying his name out loud knotted a ball of tension in the pit of her stomach.

Chief Bowie grimaced. “All of the ranch hands at the Holiday Ranch are persons of interest because Wendy’s body was found on the property. But I have to tell you, I’ve known those cowboys for years and I find it hard to see any one of them as a killer.”

“But Nick seemed to be particularly close to Wendy,” she said.

He nodded. “I’m aware of the relationship between your sister and Nick. Unfortunately, we can’t be sure exactly when Wendy was murdered. All we know for sure is that she was last seen out on the Holiday Ranch on a Friday night and then didn’t show up for her morning shift at the diner the following Monday.”

“But if she was found in her diner shirt, then she must have been killed that Friday night,” Adrienne said.

“That’s the potential assumption we’re working from,” Chief Bowie agreed.

“So as far as you know, Nick was the last person to see her alive,” Adrienne said flatly.

“Not necessarily. It appears as if your sister packed her things and made a decision to leave town at some point during that Friday night. She might have left the Holiday Ranch and been carjacked or picked up a dangerous hitchhiker on her way out of town.”

“Then, why bury her body on the Holiday Ranch?”

Chief Bowie sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t have the answers yet.” His eyes narrowed to steel-colored slits. “But I’ll get them eventually. I’ve put out bulletins for every law-enforcement entity in a four-state area to be on the lookout for her car. I don’t even have a crime scene to examine for evidence. This is not going to be an easy open-and-shut case. It’s going to take some time.”

“I understand. I intend to stay in town until you have all the answers,” Adrienne replied. “I’m staying at the Bitterroot Motel in room 105.”

Chief Bowie leaned forward. “I’ll warn you, you might be here a long time.”

“I’ll be here as long as it takes. I noticed there was crime scene tape on the motel unit where Wendy was staying.”

“We did a cursory search of the room, but it was obvious it was not the place of her murder. I planned on pulling down the tape today and releasing the room.”

“Do you mind if I’m there when you do that? I’d like to see the room.” Adrienne wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to see the last place her sister had been before her murder.

“That’s fine with me.” He stood. “If you have time, we can head over there right now.”

“I have nothing but time,” she replied, and also stood. “I’ll follow you to the motel.”

Before they left, a female officer swabbed the inside of Adrienne’s mouth for the DNA test that would positively confirm Wendy’s identity, but to Adrienne it was a moot point. She already knew that it was Wendy.

Minutes later, she followed the patrol car and wondered if the motel room still held the hint of Wendy’s scent, that exotic patchouli-based perfume that she’d practically bathed in.

If Adrienne smelled a trace of her sister, it would be a bittersweet heartbreak all over again. She and Wendy had had so many issues between them, and Adrienne had always thought there would be time to resolve them.

She hadn’t mentioned to Chief Bowie her tentative partnership with Nick Coleman. She had a feeling the lawman wouldn’t approve and would warn her to leave the investigation to the authorities, and she simply wasn’t willing to do that.

She couldn’t help but remember what Nick had said about six other skeletons. It had been only three days, and already Chief Bowie looked exhausted. There was no way she intended to leave the investigation to an overworked chief of police and his small band of men.

Although she was sorry for the other people found with Wendy’s body, finding Wendy’s killer was her sole concern. And she couldn’t believe that those skeletons had anything to do with Wendy’s murder. Whatever had happened to those people had to have happened years ago for the remains to be skeletal. Surely the only connection to those dead souls and Wendy was the coincidence of their burial site. Still...she supposed she had to consider that there might be a possible link.

They reached the motel, and Adrienne parked in front of her unit. The lawman stopped in the office, probably to get a key, and then pulled his car in front of the door that had the horrifying black-and-yellow crime scene tape across it.

Adrienne got out of her car, her feet suddenly dragging as she walked toward the unit where her sister had lived for the two months she had been in Bitterroot.

Dillon ripped the crime scene tape off, balled it up into a wad and then used a key to unlock the door. He opened it and gestured for Adrienne to go inside.

Her heart beat a frantic rhythm, and a deep dread overwhelmed her as she stepped over the threshold. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but what she found was a neat and clean motel room exactly like the one she had checked into the night before.

There was no sign of a struggle, no blood spattering the walls, and her heart found a more normal beat. There was also no scent of Wendy lingering in the air.

She walked into the bathroom, although she knew the chief and his men had probably already looked there. There was nothing to find, nothing left of Wendy and no hint that anything untold had happened here.

She left the bathroom and noticed the hand-size glass bluebird figurine on the windowsill in front of the small table. Her blood froze, and for a long moment, she couldn’t make herself move.

“Ms. Bailey?” Dillon’s voice seemed to come from very far away as she continued to stare at the bluebird. “Ms. Bailey? Adrienne, are you all right?”

He took a step toward her and broke the trance of horror she had momentarily stumbled into. She gazed at him, his face shimmering beneath the tears that had sprung into her eyes.

“No, I’m not okay.” She pointed to the glass bird on the sill. “That belongs to Wendy. It was her most prized possession. Our mother gave it to her just before she died. Wendy would have never left it behind. It would have been the first thing she packed to leave here.”

Dillon frowned. “You don’t think it’s possible she just forgot and accidentally left it behind?”

“Never,” she replied adamantly. “That bluebird went everywhere with her.”

Dillon’s frown deepened. “Then, it’s possible your sister didn’t pack her own things before she left. Somebody else did it for her, somebody who didn’t know the bluebird belonged to her or at least how important it was to her.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Adrienne looked around the room that had now taken on an ominous aura. “This is where the crime began,” she said softly. “Whatever happened to Wendy started here.”

“I’ll get some men out here to do a more thorough examination,” Dillon said, his eyes appearing even more tired. “Maybe we can pick up some fingerprints or forensic evidence that can be used to find the killer.”

“Can I take the bluebird with me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, not right now. If what you believe is true, then it is part of the crime scene. I’ll see to it that you get it back when we’re finished processing everything.”

After a promise to stay in touch, Dillon got on his cell phone and Adrienne walked to her own unit, unlocked the door and then sat on the edge of the bed.

Her mind whirled with images of Wendy in her room, being forced to pack her belongings and drive to whatever location to meet her death. Had Wendy purposely left the bluebird behind as a clue that she’d been forced to leave under duress?

Had Nick Coleman been in the room, forcing Wendy to gather her things and load them into her car? Or had it been a nameless stranger who had seen Wendy as a vulnerable target?

Adrienne knew that if she sat and allowed her mind to work over what little she’d learned so far, she’d drive herself crazy, so she decided to spend a couple of hours doing real work.

She’d set up her computer last night on the small dining table, along with several folders of active clients who depended on her expertise.

She’d struggled for years as a freelance book publicist, augmenting her finances by cleaning houses and working fast food during the hours when Wendy was in school. She’d been willing to do whatever it took to keep a roof over her and her sister’s head, utilities functioning and food on the table.

It was only in the past couple of years and the birth of self-publishing authors that her business had exploded and become more successful than she’d ever dreamed possible.

As always, it didn’t take her long to lose herself in the work of making authors visible to readers and to get good books the kind of publicity they deserved.

The rumbling of her stomach finally pulled her from the work, and she was surprised to realize twilight had fallen and the room had grown dim.

She closed the curtains at the window and then turned on the lamp next to the bed and the small overhead light in the kitchenette area.

She had arrived in Bitterroot certain that Nick and Wendy had been lovers and that he was responsible for her murder. Yet when he had spoken about Wendy this morning, it had been with real affection, without any hint of any romantic love. He’d confused her. The fact that Chief Bowie had said that he found it difficult to believe that any of the men who worked the Holiday ranch was a killer confused her even more.

Was Nick just that good at hiding an evil inside him? Or was he truly as innocent as he proclaimed?

Chapter 3

Nick was in a foul mood. He’d had trouble sleeping the night before, and when he had fallen asleep he’d suffered wild dreams. He’d awakened before dawn after a particularly disturbing dream.

He now stabled his horse, Raven. It was eight o’clock and he headed back to his bunk to clean up for the morning meeting with Adrienne.

He’d been up and out in the pasture early, chased out of bed not by nightmares of Wendy, but rather by inappropriate erotic dreams of Adrienne.

He’d thought the early-morning air and the sight of a beautiful sunrise would erase the unacceptable visions his unconscious mind had conjured up during sleep, but it hadn’t worked.

As he showered and dressed in clean jeans and a navy T-shirt, he dreaded his own suggestion that he and Adrienne work together to figure out who might have killed Wendy.

He might have suffered hot dreams of her, but he had a feeling by the time he’d spent an hour in her company, he’d be pulling his hair out in frustration. Still, as much as she wanted to keep an eye on him, he wanted to keep an eye on her. He didn’t want her somehow interfering or tainting the investigation, an investigation he hoped would quickly exonerate him. He had too much to lose if she screwed something up.

At eight-thirty, he stepped out of his bunk and nearly ran into Dusty Crawford, a fellow ranch hand. “I thought I’d see if maybe you want me to go with you this morning,” Dusty said, his dimples flashing with his smile.

“And why would I want you to tag along?”

Dusty’s smile widened. “She beat you up once. I just thought you might need the services of a personal bodyguard.”

“You aren’t kidding me with your stupid offer to be my bodyguard. The only reason you’d want to go with me is to get a chance to talk to Trisha,” Nick replied.

Trisha Cahill worked as a waitress at the café, and it was no secret that Dusty had a major crush on the blonde, who had a four-year-old son.

Dusty’s smile faded. “I’ve never had a woman give me so many mixed signals. One minute I think she’s about to agree to go out with me and the next she acts as though she doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

Nick clapped the younger man on his back. “If getting a date with Trisha is the biggest problem you have in your life, then consider yourself lucky.” He checked his watch. “And now I’ve got to get going...without a bodyguard at my side.”

Dusty laughed and, with a tip of his hat, headed toward the stables while Nick walked to the oversize shed that served as a garage where the ranch hands parked their personal rides.

A variety of black pickups filled the garage, the favorite mode of transportation for most of the men who worked at the ranch. Nick’s ride was a gray Jeep. He pulled out of the garage and a knot of tension formed in his stomach at the thought of meeting with the woman who had occupied so many of his dreams.

He wished he had another suspect to throw out to her, but he had no idea who Wendy had spent time with when she wasn’t with him. She’d never mentioned anyone else.

He wasn’t surprised to see Adrienne’s silver sedan already parked in front of the café when he arrived. He found her seated in the same booth they’d occupied the day before, although this time she was facing the door.

She was clad in a sea foam–green blouse today. Her eyes were more green than blue, although there was no more warmth in them today than there had been yesterday. Not that he’d expected any welcome.

Sunday mornings, the café was relatively quiet. Things would pick up after church services when families would start to arrive for the afternoon meal.

He slid into the seat across from Adrienne and placed his hat next to him. Before they’d even had a chance to speak, Jenna was by the booth. “Adrienne has already ordered,” she said. “What can I get for you, Nick?”

“Just a cup of coffee,” he replied. He’d eaten breakfast hours earlier in the ranch hand dining room.

“Coming right up,” Jenna said.

“Good morning,” he greeted Adrienne the minute Jenna was gone.

“It won’t be a good morning until my sister’s murderer is behind bars,” she replied.

“Nothing like cutting to the chase,” Nick said drily.

She didn’t blink an eye. “There’s some new information about the case that you probably haven’t heard yet, unless, of course, you’re responsible.”

He sat up straighter. “And what’s that?”

Jenna returned to their table with Nick’s coffee and an order of toast and a cup of hot tea for Adrienne. “Anything else I can do for you two?”

“This should do it,” Nick replied, eager for her to leave and Adrienne to tell him what new information she possessed.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Jenna said, and once she was gone, Nick focused his attention on the woman across from him.

“Chief Bowie and I believe Wendy didn’t pack up her things and leave her motel room under her own volition,” she said. “Did Wendy ever tell you about her blackbird figurine?”

He frowned at her. “I don’t know anything about a blackbird, but she did show me a bluebird that was given to her by her mother before she died. It was very important to her.”

“It was still in the room where she stayed.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “She wouldn’t have left it behind.” He leaned forward slightly. “A blackbird? Was that some sort of test to see if I knew about the bluebird or not? Did I pass?”

“Yes,” she replied succinctly.

“Are there going to be more tests?”

“Maybe...I don’t know. I’m just being careful about trusting you.”

“You can trust me, Adrienne,” he replied.

“Anyway, when I left the motel this morning, there were several deputies inside her room. I assume they were fingerprinting and collecting anything that might point to the guilty.” She took a sip of her tea, her gaze never leaving his. She placed her cup back down in the saucer. “Are they going to find your prints in that room?”

“Probably,” Nick replied honestly. “There was an evening not long before she disappeared that we ate take-out pizza in her room.” He frowned and stared into his coffee cup. “I don’t know what to say to convince you that Wendy and I were just friends. I didn’t kill her. I didn’t pack up her belongings in that motel room. I had nothing to do with any of this.”

He looked up at Adrienne. “She’d just moved to a new town, and I think she was lonely. I think she sensed a loneliness inside me. Other than my fellow ranch hands, I only have a couple of friends. I tend to be a loner, but Wendy was like a force of nature. Once she’d made up her mind that we were going to be friends, I was helpless.”

For the first time since he’d met Adrienne, a small smile curved her lips. The beauty of it nearly stole his breath away. “She was like a force of nature, fierce and fearless. She was like a windstorm that only stopped when it finally blew itself out.” Her smile faltered.

“Wendy and I saw each other once or twice a week while she was here,” he said. “What we need to find out is who she might have been seeing, what she might have been doing during the time she wasn’t with me.”

“And how do we go about finding those answers?” she asked.

“We start right here, where she worked.” He slid out of the booth. “Wait here and I’ll be right back. If that toast is your breakfast, then I suggest you eat it because it might be a long day.”

He went in search of Daisy, the owner of the café. If anyone would know the people Wendy interacted with both at work and outside of work, it would be Daisy. She thrived on the café business and gossip. He had no idea if Chief Bowie had already talked to Daisy, but it didn’t matter if he had. Nick wanted to hear from the woman himself. He found the plump woman in the kitchen seated at a small table sipping a glass of tomato juice that matched the color of her hair.

“Hey, Nick,” she greeted him. “What are you doing back here in my kitchen? Is Jenna not doing her job right?”

“No, Jenna is just fine. I was wondering if you’d have a few minutes to come out and sit with me and Wendy’s sister, Adrienne, and answer some questions for us.”

“Even if I didn’t have time, I’d make time.” She set her glass down and stood. “That poor woman. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I know how much I miss Wendy, and I only knew her for a couple of months.”

She followed Nick out of the kitchen and to the booth, where Nick noticed that Adrienne had nibbled down half a piece of toast. Nick picked up his hat and placed it on his lap so that Daisy could scoot in next to him.

She instantly reached across the table and clasped Adrienne’s small hands in her meaty ones. “Honey, I’m so sorry for your loss. For the brief time she was here, Wendy was like a breath of fresh air, a new member of my family.”

She released Adrienne’s hands and leaned back in the booth. “So Nick said you two have some questions for me.” She looked from Adrienne to Nick.

“I know Wendy was a popular waitress, but we were wondering if you could think of anyone in particular who showed an unusual interest in her,” Nick said.

“She wasn’t just a pretty girl and something new and shiny in town. She was also friendly and a bit of a tease,” Daisy said. “When she worked, her section was always full. She drew everyone to her. The cowboys especially. Her section was almost always full of single ranch hands vying for her attention.”

“Did she make anyone mad or upset?” Adrienne asked. “Did she have problems with any of her coworkers? I know Wendy could be wonderful and charming, but I also know she had a bit of a temper and could be a brat.” Adrienne’s face paled, as if she was sickened by speaking anything ill about her sister.

Daisy frowned thoughtfully. “I think she might have had some choice words with Zeke Osmond. He sat in her section one day, and I think he got a bit vulgar with her. She called him a filthy pig and refused to finish serving him. After that, he always sat at the counter with his lowlife friends.”

“Zeke Osmond?” Adrienne looked at Nick curiously.

“He works on the Humes Ranch,” Nick replied.

“The one next to where you work,” Adrienne said.

Nick nodded thoughtfully. Zeke Osmond was another piece of nasty in a group of nasty that worked for Raymond Humes. There was no question that there was bad blood between the two ranches. Was it possible Zeke had murdered Wendy and then had buried her on the Holiday Ranch to implicate one of the Holiday ranch hands?

He focused his attention back to Daisy, who had continued talking. “Of course, Greg Albertson is Zeke’s shadow and was with Zeke when Wendy and Zeke had words. Then there’s Perry Wright, who seemed to take a real shine to Wendy. He’s so shy, I don’t know whether he ever asked her out or not, but it was obvious he was crazy about her whenever he came in to eat.”

“Have you told Dillon all this?” Nick asked.

Daisy shook her head. “I haven’t talked to Dillon since I made the initial identification. I told him what I knew about Wendy’s interactions here in the café then.” She kept her gaze away from Adrienne.

“And you can’t think of anyone else that Wendy might have had problems with?” Adrienne asked.

“Not while she was working here. Now, what happened on her own time I really don’t know about.” She looked at Nick. “I know she followed you around like a lost little puppy, but I don’t know who else she spent her downtime with. If she was seeing another cowboy or any other man, I didn’t hear about it.”

Adrienne’s eyes narrowed once again as she looked at Nick. Daisy caught her look and laughed. “Honey, if you think Nick had anything to do with your sister’s death, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Daisy placed a hand on Nick’s forearm. “I’ve known this man since he was a teenager. There isn’t a bad bone in his entire body.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Daisy,” he said.

She rose from the booth. “You don’t have to convince me of your innocence.” She jerked a thumb in Adrienne’s direction. “She’s the one who has suspicion in her eyes.”

“So what happens now?” Adrienne asked after Daisy left.

“We find Dillon and give him the three names that Daisy just gave us,” he replied. He was particularly interested in Dillon following up on the potential Zeke Osmond and Greg Albertson connection.

Last month one of Humes’s men, Lloyd Green, had been suspected of terrorizing the new owner of Holiday Ranch, Cassie, and her friend Nicolette at the Holiday Ranch. He was eventually cleared, but Nick wouldn’t put anything past any of the ranch hands who worked for Raymond Humes.

They were suspected in all kinds of mischief that had happened at the Holiday Ranch...missing cattle and broken fence line and dozens of other issues.

It seemed as if Raymond Humes had gone out of his way to staff his ranch with rough and mean ranch hands, men who had no moral compasses and who thrived on stirring up trouble. As far as Nick was concerned, it was very possible there could be a murderer among the bunch.

“Let’s go see Chief Bowie,” Adrienne said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Minutes later, they pulled up side by side at the police station only to discover that Dillon was out at the crime scene at the ranch.

Adrienne followed Nick to the ranch, her car like a shining star behind his Jeep in the midmorning sunshine. How did people prove their innocence when there was no evidence to prove their guilt?

It was obvious he’d made little to no headway in making Adrienne believe in his innocence, and what bothered him was how badly he wanted her to believe him.

There had been few people in Nick’s life he’d wanted to please. Certainly not the woman who had given birth to him and then had abandoned him at the zoo when he was eight, leaving him to a foster care system that had, at times, been brutal.

When he’d been brought to the Holiday Ranch, he’d desperately wanted to please Cass Holiday, who had given him real-life lessons and a sense of worth and had taught him how to be a good, self-respecting man.

He’d also wanted to earn the respect and friendship of all the men he worked with at the ranch. He’d managed to do that, and considered each and every cowboy on the Holiday Ranch as a brother.

What he didn’t understand was why it was so important that he somehow prove himself to a woman he barely knew, a woman with chameleon eyes and an unexpected smile that had lit up something inside him.

* * *

Adrienne followed behind Nick’s Jeep, her thoughts in turmoil. She’d come to town wanting to hate Nick Coleman and firm in her belief that he’d killed Wendy. She’d come to town expecting a monster.

What she’d found was a hot, sexy cowboy who seemed as determined as she was to find the real killer. Jenna, the woman who had waited on them the day before, had certainly shown no fear or trepidation around Nick, and Daisy had practically laughed at the very idea of Nick being involved in any way in Wendy’s murder.

So who exactly was Nick Coleman? Was he a cold-blooded killer or simply an innocent man who had struck up a friendship with a young, vibrant and lonely newcomer to town?

There was no question that something about him drew her despite her wish to the contrary. She’d never been a woman particularly attracted to eye candy, although there was no question that Nick was easy on the eyes.

There was definitely some emotion in the depths of his blue eyes that tugged at her, a haunting sadness that occasionally shone through otherwise fathomless waters.

At thirty years old, there had been few men in her life. In fact, there had been only one. At the time, when most young women had begun to date to find their lifelong mate, she’d been busy raising Wendy.

A little over two years ago when Wendy had taken off on her own, Adrienne had done little to improve her love life. Wendy had often told Adrienne she was too rigid, too uptight to ever find a man who’d want to spend his life with her.

Even though Wendy had usually said those words in the heat of an argument, Adrienne realized some of them had taken purchase in her heart, making her leery of even seeking any personal relationship with any man. The one time she’d made an attempt, Wendy’s prediction had proved true.

She followed Nick’s Jeep beneath the wrought iron entrance to the Holiday Ranch, her thoughts focused solely on meeting up with Chief Bowie and hopefully furthering the investigation into Wendy’s death.

Nick parked next to the house, and she pulled in just behind him. In the distance, she could see men on horseback and a huge herd of cattle. She could also see the bright blue tentlike canopy that covered the remains of an old shed where Wendy’s body had been discovered, along with the skeletons.

She swallowed against any emotion that might sneak up on her and fell into step next to a silent Nick. She had to take two steps to his one in order to keep up with his long-legged pace.

They walked about halfway between where they had parked and the blue canopy-topped tent when an officer appeared and approached them.

His name tag identified him as Officer Juan Ramirez. He nodded to Adrienne. “Ma’am,” he said and then turned his focus to Nick. “Nick, you know you shouldn’t be anywhere around the crime scene.”

“We have no intention of getting any closer,” Nick replied. “But we heard Chief Bowie is out here and we’d like to talk to him.”

“I’ll go see if he’s available.” Juan turned on his heels and walked back to the tent and disappeared inside.

A moment later, Dillon appeared and headed in their direction, his features appearing haggard and his uniform dusted with the rusty color of the Oklahoma dirt.

“I can’t do anything with the skeletal remains until our expert gets here,” he said as if somebody had asked him a question. “But we’ve been digging around the area where Wendy was found to make sure we haven’t missed anything related to her murder.”

“And have you found anything?” Adrienne asked, eager to hear something positive.

His tired eyes held frustration as he shook his head. “Not yet. So Juan said you two needed to speak to me.”

Adrienne remained silent as Nick told Dillon about the conversation they’d shared with Daisy over breakfast.

“Zeke Osmond, Greg Albertson and Perry Wright,” Dillon repeated. “I’ll add them to the list. Right now I’ve got a couple of my men interviewing all the men who work here at the ranch.”

Adrienne sensed the tension that filled Nick, making him stand a little taller. “None of those men are capable of murder, and nobody has questioned me yet,” he said.

“We’re taking this slow,” Dillon said. “Trust me, Nick, you will be thoroughly questioned, but we only figured out yesterday, thanks to Adrienne, that the crime probably began in the motel room.”

“I saw your men there this morning. Were they able to come up with anything?” Adrienne asked.

Dillon frowned. “No. In fact, they couldn’t pull a single fingerprint from any place in the room.”

“So whoever packed her things also took the time to completely wipe down the room,” Nick said.

“It would appear so,” Dillon replied.

Had Wendy been tied up on the bed while the killer had packed her things and cleaned the room? Or had she already been dead and buried and the killer had come back to her room alone in the dead of night to tie up loose ends?

Adrienne’s knees weakened, and she stumbled against Nick’s side as horrendous visions played and replayed in her mind. His arm immediately went around her shoulder, anchoring her to his strong body. She knew she should step away, but she lingered for just a moment, feeding off his strength, oddly comforted by his warmth.

She quickly locked her knees, banished the horrific visions from her brain and stepped away from Nick, appalled that she’d found any modicum of comfort in his nearness.

“If that’s all you want with me, then I need to get back to work,” Dillon said. “Nick, I’ll have that interview with you sometime later this afternoon. Adrienne, I’ll try to keep you up to date with anything we learn.”

Adrienne and Nick headed back toward their vehicles, but before they reached them, a pretty, petite blonde stepped out of the house and onto the back porch.

“Nick, why don’t you two come in for something cold to drink,” she said.

“Who is that?” Adrienne asked softly.

“Cassie Peterson, my boss,” he replied. He waved to her. “We might as well go inside. You can meet her and the others who live here.”

Nick introduced Adrienne to Cassie, who greeted her warmly, her blue eyes filled with the compassion Adrienne had come to expect from the people in Bitterroot who knew about her sister.

Cassie led them through a small formal parlor area and into a great room where a lovely dark-haired woman and a young boy sat on the sofa thumbing through a catalog. The woman stood and the boy ran to Nick.

“Hi, Cowboy Nick. Whatcha doing?” He looked at Adrienne. “Hi, I’m Sammy and that’s my mom, Nicolette, and we just bought a house with Cowboy Lucas, who is going to be my new dad as soon as they get married.”

“Sammy.” His mother smiled apologetically and moved closer to Nick and Adrienne. “I apologize for my little chatterbox.”

“No apology necessary,” Adrienne replied and then introduced herself.

Nicolette took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Unfortunately, Cassie and I arrived in town after your sister had gone missing, so we never got an opportunity to meet her. I’ve heard she was a wonderful young woman.” She released Adrienne’s hand and motioned both her and Nick to the sofa. “Sammy, why don’t you take the catalog and go upstairs to your room. You can use a crayon and mark what you like.”

Adrienne was disappointed that they hadn’t known her sister, but before she could scarcely blink an eye, she was on the sofa next to Nick with a glass of iced tea in her hand.

It didn’t take long for Cassie to explain that the ranch had belonged to her aunt Cass, who had died almost two months ago in a tornado. Cass had left the ranch to Cassie, who had left her art and clothing boutique in New York City and had brought her best friend and her son with her to check out her inheritance.

“It was when the men were pulling down an old shed that had been damaged in the tornado that we discovered the bodies,” Cassie said, her blue eyes darkening.

“On that note, I’d like to ask you for some time off,” Nick said. “You know I’m a person of interest in Wendy’s murder, and Adrienne and I are doing a little investigation of our own in an attempt to find the real killer.”

“You can take as much time off as you need,” Cassie replied easily. “I know your fellow cowboys will fill in for you.”

“And you know that you have our one hundred percent support,” Nicolette added as she looked at Nick. “More than once over the past two months I left my son’s safety in your hands. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t trust what kind of man you are, and you aren’t a killer.”

The obvious respect and support the two women showed Nick only managed to confuse Adrienne more. Was he so good that he had managed to fool everyone around him? Or was he really innocent and didn’t warrant her suspicions at all?

By the time they left the house, it was well past noon.

“By the way, who is Perry Wright?” she asked before they got into their vehicles.

“He’s a shy, quiet young guy who works in medical billing at the hospital. I don’t know him very well. He lives in an apartment in town and pretty much keeps to himself.”

She nodded. She’d find out more about these men in the next couple of days. “What now?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “I think the best thing for me to do right now is hang around here and wait for Dillon to contact me about that interview.”

“Then, I think I’ll just wander around town a bit and ask some questions,” she replied.

“I’d rather you not do that alone,” he said. “For the most part, Bitterroot is filled with good people, but there are also some rough characters. Besides, you’re a stranger, and folks around here can be pretty closemouthed with outsiders.”

“Are you afraid for my safety or about something I might learn about you?” she asked.

His sensual lips thinned to a grim line before he replied, “I thought we were partners working together on this.”

“Is that what you are? My partner, or are you managing me, making sure I only talk to people who believe you’re innocent?”

“Wendy told me you could be impossible,” he said, his eyes flashing with obvious annoyance. “Go talk to whoever you want to, and far be it for me to worry about your safety.”

He didn’t give her an opportunity to reply. He got into his Jeep, started the engine and headed to a large structure in the distance.

Adrienne got into her car with the sting of his words in her heart. Of course Wendy had told him she was impossible. Adrienne could only wonder what other negative things her sister had said about her. She’d been tough on Wendy, but at the time she’d felt she had to be. Now she lived with the regret of second-guessing every decision she’d made during Wendy’s growing years.

She pulled away from the Holiday Ranch and headed back toward town. She consciously willed away thoughts of her sister’s hurtful words and instead focused on what she intended to do when she got back to Bitterroot.

If Nick thought she was just going to return to her motel room and cool her heels for the rest of the day, then he was sadly mistaken.

She had a gun in her purse and knew how to keep out of dangerous situations. Somebody in town knew something about Wendy that would lead to the identification of her killer, and she intended to ferret out that information, with or without Nick’s presence.

With this plan in mind, she found a parking space smack-dab in the center of Main Street and decided she would begin at one end of town and work her way to the other. There were plenty of stores that Wendy would have frequented, and people in those stores who would have interacted with her.

She not only wanted to find out what she could about Wendy’s interactions in town, but she also wanted to dig up what she could about the three men Daisy had mentioned. And if she happened to learn more about Nick, she’d consider that a bonus.

She figured she’d work the streets and stores until it grew dark and then she’d head back to her motel room for dinner and to work a couple of hours on her personal business until bedtime.

It didn’t take her long to realize that, unlike Nick’s comment about outsiders and closed mouths, some of the people in Bitterroot liked to talk...a lot.

The first person she spoke to was the owner of the small grocery store that served the town. Sharon Watson was an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair who spent much of her time as not only the owner but also the head cashier.

“I was always riding your sister when she’d come in here for groceries,” Sharon said. “She’d buy frozen burritos and cheap pizzas, chips and dip and all kinds of cookies. I told her she needed to be buying some fruits and vegetables, maybe cook herself a roast or some juicy pork chops, but she just laughed at me and said she liked her junk food diet.”

Adrienne’s heart squeezed tight. Yes, that sounded like Wendy. Getting her to eat a healthy meal had always been a challenge.

By the time she left the store, she knew the eating habits of half the inhabitants of Bitterroot. She’d also learned that Sharon thought Zeke Osmond was a punk, that Greg Albertson was Zeke’s tagalong and that Perry Wright was a sweet, soft-spoken man who had helped Sharon with her insurance claims when she’d had her gallbladder out the year before.

She had no intention of interacting with any of the three men by herself, and she had a feeling her “partnership” with Nick was finished. He’d been angry with her when they’d parted ways earlier. She’d have to depend on Chief Bowie to do his job when it came to those men.

It was almost eight o’clock when she finally returned to her motel room. She parked in front of her unit but remained in the car for several long minutes, discouragement weighing heavily on her shoulders.

She’d managed to talk to people in only four different places of business and hadn’t learned any more than she’d initially gotten from Sharon at the grocery store.

She’d found most of the men she tried to talk to closemouthed about the case and the three men she’d asked about. The women were chattier, but had no real information to offer her.

Remembering that moment of leaning against Nick, of feeling his strong arm around her, she realized that was what she’d like at the moment—a strong arm around her and somebody comforting her.

She straightened and drew a deep, fortifying breath. She hadn’t needed a strong shoulder to lean on when she’d been ten years old and their father had walked out on them, never to be heard from again. She hadn’t needed anyone when she was eighteen and her mother had died, leaving an eleven-year-old Wendy to raise.

She’d never needed anyone, and she didn’t now. All she wanted was dinner, a little work at her computer and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow was another day, and she would continue to walk the streets and talk to strangers in an effort to gain answers to who had murdered her sister and why.

Finally, she dug the motel room key from her purse and got out of her car. She was just about to unlock her door when she noticed a folded piece of paper shoved in a crack between the door and the doorjamb.

She grabbed the paper, unlocked her door and went inside. She immediately turned on lights to ward off the darkness of deep twilight that had fallen. Then she set her purse on the table and opened the paper.

Printed in bold, black letters with a felt-tipped marker were the words, “BE CAREFUL WHO YOU TRUST.”