# Iron Will

B.J. Daniels

Are a dead woman's secretsenough to kill for…?Hank Savage always believed his girlfriend was murdered and with the help of P.I. Frankie Brewster, is determined to find the killer. But while keeping passions at bay, Hank and Frankie quickly learn that someone from Hank's past will do anything to keep the truth from being revealed.

Are a dead woman’s secrets

enough to kill for...?

Hank Savage has always believed his old girlfriend was murdered. Now he’s come home to Cardwell Ranch and, with the help of PI Frankie Brewster, is determined to find the killer. Trying to keep their feelings at bay, Hank and Frankie quickly learn that every lead reveals a life steeped in secrets—and danger. And that someone from Hank’s past will do anything to keep the truth from being revealed.

B.J. DANIELS is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. She wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. She lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at bjdaniels.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @bjdanielsauthor

Also by B.J. Daniels

Steel Resolve

Hard Rustler

Rogue Gunslinger

Rugged Defender

Cowboy’s Redemption

Dark Horse

Dead Ringer

Rough Rider

Stroke of Luck

Luck of the Draw

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Iron Will

B.J. Daniels


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09417-7

IRON WILL

© 2019 Barbara Heinlein

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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This one is for Paula Morrison, who believes like

I do that if one schlep bag is a great idea, then let’s

make a dozen. Thanks for making Quilting by the

Border quilt club so fun.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

About the Publisher

## Chapter One

Hank Savage squinted into the sun glaring off the dirty windshield of his pickup as his family ranch came into view. He slowed the truck to a stop, resting one sun-browned arm over the top of the steering wheel as he took in the Cardwell Ranch.

The ranch with all its log-and-stone structures didn’t appear to have changed in the least. Nor had the two-story house where he’d grown up. Memories flooded him of hours spent on the back of a horse, of building forts in the woods around the creek, of the family sitting around the large table in the kitchen in the mornings, the sun pouring in, the sound of laughter. He saw and felt everything he’d given up, everything he’d run from, everything he’d lost.

“Been a while?” asked the sultry, dark-haired woman in the passenger seat.

He nodded despite the lump in his throat, shoved back his Stetson and wondered what the hell he was doing back here. This was a bad idea, probably his worst ever.

“Having second thoughts?” He’d warned her about his big family, but she’d said she could handle it. He wasn’t all that sure even he could handle it. He prided himself on being fearless about most things. Give him a bull that hadn’t been ridden and he wouldn’t hesitate to climb right on. Same with his job as a lineman. He’d faced gale winds hanging from a pole to get the power back on, braved getting fried more times than he liked to remember.

But coming back here, facing the past? He’d never been more afraid. He knew it was just a matter of time before he saw Naomi—just as he had in his dreams, in his nightmares. She was here, right where he’d left her, waiting for him as she had been for three long years. Waiting for him to come back and make things right.

He looked over at Frankie. “You sure about this?”

She sat up straighter to gaze at the ranch and him, took a breath and let it out. “I am if you are. After all, this was your idea.”

Like she had to remind him. “Then I suggest you slide over here.” He patted the seat between them and she moved over, cuddling against him as he put his free arm around her. She felt small and fragile, certainly not ready for what he suspected they would be facing. For a moment, he almost changed his mind. It wasn’t too late. He didn’t have the right to involve her.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said and nuzzled his neck where his dark hair curled at his collar. “Trust me.”

He pulled her closer and let his foot up off the brake. The pickup began to roll toward the ranch. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Frankie. He just knew that it was only a matter of time before Naomi came to him pleading with him to do what he should have done three years ago. He felt a shiver even though the summer day was unseasonably warm.

I’m here.

## Chapter Two

“Looking out that window isn’t going to make him show up any sooner,” Marshal Hud Savage said to his wife.

“I can’t help being excited. It’s been three years.” Dana Cardwell Savage knew she didn’t need to tell him how long it had been. Hud had missed his oldest son as much or more than she had. But finally Hank was coming home—and bringing someone with him. “Do you think it’s because he’s met someone that he’s coming back?”

Hud put a large hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions, okay? We won’t know anything until he gets here. I just don’t want to see you get your hopes up.”

Her hopes were already up, so there was no mitigating that. Family had always been the most important thing to her. Having her sons all fly the nest had been heartbreak, especially Hank, especially under the circumstances.

She told herself not to think about that. Nothing was going to spoil this day. Her oldest son was coming home after all this time. That had to be good news. And he was bringing someone. She hoped that meant Hank was moving on from Naomi.

“Is that his pickup?” she cried as a black truck came into view. She felt goose bumps pop up on her arms. “I think that’s him.”

“Try not to cry and make a fuss,” her husband said even as tears blurred her eyes. “Let them at least get into the yard,” he said as she rushed to the front door and threw it open. “Why do I bother?” he mumbled behind her.

* * *

FRANKIE KNEW THE sixty-two-year-old woman who rushed out on the porch had to be Dana Cardwell Savage. Hank had told her about his family. She thought about the softness that came into his voice when he talked about his mother. She’d heard about Dana’s strength and determination, but she could also see it in the way she stood hugging herself in her excitement and her curiosity.

Hank had warned her that him bringing home a woman would cause a stir. Frankie could see his mother peering inside the pickup, trying to imagine what woman had stolen her son’s heart. She felt a small stab of guilt but quickly pushed it away as a man appeared behind Dana.

Marshal Hud Savage. She’d also heard a lot about him. When Hank had mentioned his dad, she’d seen the change not just in his tone, but his entire body. The trouble between the two ran deep. While Dana was excited, holding nothing back, Frankie could see that Hud was reserved. He had to worry that this wouldn’t be a happy homecoming considering the way he’d left things with his oldest son.

Hank’s arm tensed around her as he parked and cut the engine. She had the feeling that he didn’t want to let her go. He finally eased his hold on her, then gave her a gentle squeeze. “We can do this, right? Ready?”

“As I will ever be,” she said, and he opened his door. The moment he did, Dana rushed down the steps to throw her arms around her son. Tears streamed down her face unchecked. She hugged him, closing her eyes, breathing him in as if she’d thought she might never see him again.

Frankie felt her love for Hank at heart level. She slowly slid under the steering wheel and stepped down. Hud, she noticed, had descended the stairs, but stopped at the bottom, waiting, unsure of the reception he was going to get. Feeling for him, she walked around mother and son to address him.

“Hi, I’m Frankie. Francesca, but everyone calls me Frankie.” She held out her hand, and the marshal accepted it in his large one as his gaze took her measure. She took his as well. Hud Savage was scared that this visit wasn’t an olive branch. Scared that his son was still too angry with him. Probably more scared that he was going to let down his wife by spoiling this reunion.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the marshal said, his voice rough with what she suspected was emotion. A lot was riding on what would happen during this visit, she thought, and Hud didn’t know the half of it.

“Frankie,” Hank said behind her. His voice broke. “I want you to meet my mom, Dana.”

She turned and came face-to-face with the ranch woman. Dana had been a beauty in her day; anyone could see that. But even in her sixties, she was still very attractive with her salt-and-pepper dark hair and soft, gentle features. She was also a force to be reckoned with. Dana eyed her like a mama bear, one who was sizing her up for the position of daughter-in-law.

Whatever Dana saw and thought of her, the next thing Frankie knew, she was being crushed in the woman’s arms. “It is so wonderful to meet you,” Dana was saying tearfully.

Behind her, Frankie heard Hud say hello to his son.

“Dad,” Hank said with little enthusiasm, and then Dana was ushering them all into the house, telling her son that she’d baked his favorite cookies and made his favorite meal.

Frankie felt herself swept up in all of it as she told herself this would work out—even against her better judgment.

* * *

“HANK SEEMS GOOD, doesn’t he,” Dana said later that night when the two of them were in bed. She’d told herself that things had gone well and that once Hank was home for a while, they would get even better. She hadn’t been able to ignore the tension between her son and husband. It made her heart ache because she had no idea how to fix the problem.

“He seems fine.” Hud didn’t look up from the crime novel he was reading.

“Frankie is pretty, isn’t she.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s not what I expected. Not really Hank’s type, don’t you think?”

Hud glanced over at her. “It’s been three years since we’ve seen him. We have no idea what his type is. He probably doesn’t know either. He’s still young. I thought Naomi wasn’t his type.” He went back to his book.

“He’s thirty-three, not all that young if he wants to have a family,” she said. “It’s just that Frankie isn’t anything like Naomi.”

“Maybe that’s the attraction.”

She heard what he didn’t say in his tone. Maybe that’s a blessing. Hud had never thought Naomi was right for Hank. “I suppose it might be why he’s attracted to her. I just never thought he’d get over Naomi.”

Hud reached over and, putting down his book, turned out his bedside light. “Good night,” he said pointedly.

She took the hint and switched off her own lamp as her husband rolled over, turning his back to her. Within minutes he would be sound asleep, snoring lightly, while she lay awake worrying. The worst part was that she couldn’t put her finger on what made her anxious about Hank coming home now and bringing a young woman.

“He wants to move on, put Naomi and all that ugliness behind him, don’t you think?” She glanced over at Hud’s broad back, but knew he wasn’t going to answer because he didn’t have the answer any more than she did.

She was just glad that Hank was home for however long he planned to stay and that he wasn’t alone anymore. “As long as he’s happy...” Hud began to snore softly. She sighed and closed her eyes, silently mouthing her usual nightly prayers that her family all be safe and happy, and thanking God for bringing Hank home.

* * *

“IT’S BEAUTIFUL HERE,” Frankie said as she stood on the guest cabin deck overlooking the rest of the ranch in the starlight. The cabin was stuck back high against the mountain looking down on the ranch and the Gallatin River as it wound past. “I feel like I can see forever. Are those lights the town?” she asked as Hank joined her.

“Big Sky, Montana,” he said with little enthusiasm.

She turned to him. “How do you think it went?”

He shook his head. “I’m just thankful that my mother listened to me and didn’t have the whole family over tonight. But maybe it would have been less uncomfortable if they’d all been there. Tomorrow you’ll meet my sister, Mary, and her fiancé, Chase.”

“There’s your uncle Jordan and aunt Stacy.”

“And a bunch of my mother’s cousins and their families,” he said with a sigh.

She couldn’t imagine having all that family. Her father had left when she was three. Her mother had married several times, but the marriages didn’t last. Her mother had died in a car accident right after she’d graduated from high school, but they’d never been close. The only real family she’d ever felt she had was an uncle who’d become her mentor after college, but he was gone now too.

“You could just tell them the truth,” she said quietly after a moment. She envied Hank his family, and felt lying to them was a mistake.

He shook his head. “This is difficult enough.” He turned to go back inside. “You can have the first bedroom. I’ll take the other one.” With that, he went inside and closed the door.

Frankie stood on the deck, the summer night a fragrant blend of pine and water. There was just enough starlight that she caught glimpses of it shining off the surface of the river snaking through the canyon. Steep, rocky cliffs reflected the lights of the town, while the mountains rose up into the midnight-blue star-filled canopy.

She felt in awe of this ranch and his family. How could Hank have ever left it behind? But the answer seemed to be on the breeze as if everything about this place was inhabited by one woman. Naomi. She was what had brought Hank home. She was also why Frankie was here.

## Chapter Three

Hank rose before the sun and made his way down the mountainside to the corral. He’d missed the smell of saddle leather and horseflesh. He was breathing it in when he heard someone approaching from behind him.

He’d always been keenly aware of his environment. Growing up in Montana on a ranch, he’d learned at a young age to watch out for things that could hurt you—let alone kill you—in the wild. That instinct had only intensified in the years he’d been gone as if he felt a darkness trailing him, one that he could no longer ignore.

“You’re up early,” he said to his father without turning around as Hud came up behind him.

“I could say the same about you. I thought you and I should talk.”

“Isn’t that what we did at dinner last night?” Hank asked sarcastically. His father hadn’t said ten words. Instead his mother had filled in the awkward silences.

“I’m glad you came back,” Hud said.

He turned finally to look at his father. The sun glowed behind the mountain peaks to the east, rimming them with a bright orange glow. He studied his father in the dim light. They were now both about the same height, both with broad shoulders and slim hips. Both stubborn to a fault. Both never backing down from a fight. He stared at the marshal, still angry with him after all these years.

“I’m not staying long.”

Hud nodded. “That’s too bad. Your mother will be disappointed. So am I. Son—”

“There really isn’t anything to talk about, is there? We said everything we had to say three years ago. What would be the point of rehashing it?”

“I stand by what I did.”

Hank laughed. “I’d be shocked if you didn’t.” He shook his head. “It must be wonderful to know that you’re always right.”

“I’m not always right. I just do the best I can with the information and evidence I have.”

“Well, you’re wrong this time,” he said and turned back to the horses. One of the mares had come up to have her muzzle rubbed. Behind him, he heard his father head back toward the house and felt some of the tension in his chest release even as he cursed under his breath.

* * *

DANA HAD INSISTED on making them breakfast. After a stack of silver-dollar-sized pancakes swimming in butter and huckleberry syrup, a slab of ham, two eggs over easy and a tall glass of orange juice, Frankie sat back smiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten so much or liked it more.

No matter what happened on this visit to the ranch, she planned to enjoy herself as much as was possible.

“I thought dinner was amazing,” she told Dana. Hank’s favorite meal turned out to be roast beef, mashed potatoes, carrots and peas and homemade rolls. “But this breakfast... It was so delicious. I never eat like this.”

“I can tell by your figure,” her host said, beaming. Clearly Dana equated food with love as she looked to her son to see if he’d enjoyed it. He’d cleaned his plate, which seemed to make her even happier. “So, what do you two have planned today?”

“I thought I’d show Frankie around Big Sky,” Hank said.

“Well, it’s certainly changed since you were here,” his mother said. “I think you’ll be surprised. Will you two be back for lunch? Your father still comes home every day at twelve.”

“I think we’ll get something in town, but thanks, Mom. Thanks for everything.”

Tears filled her eyes and her voice broke when she spoke. “I’m just glad to have you home. Now, plan on being here for supper. Your dad’s doing steaks on the grill and some of the family is stopping by. Not everyone. We don’t want to overwhelm Frankie.”

“I appreciate that,” he said.

Frankie offered to help with the dishes, but Dana shooed them out, telling them to have a fun day.

Fun was the last thing on the agenda, she thought as she left with Hank.

* * *

HANK HAD BEEN restless all morning, but he’d known that he couldn’t get away from the house without having one of his mother’s breakfasts. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. It would be bad enough when she learned the truth.

Pushing that thought away, he concentrated on his driving as he headed downriver. He’d grown up with the Gallatin River in his backyard. He hadn’t thought much about it until Frankie was doing her research and asked him, “Did you know that the Gallatin River begins in the northwest corner of Yellowstone National Park to travel one hundred and twenty miles through the Gallatin Canyon past Big Sky to join the Jefferson and Madison Rivers to form the Missouri River?”

That she found this so fascinating had surprised him. “I did know that,” he told her and found himself studying her with renewed interest. The river had been part of his playground, although he’d been taught to have a healthy respect for it because of the current, the deep holes and the slippery rocks.

Now as he drove along the edge of the Gallatin as it cut through the rocky cliffs of the canyon, he caught glimpses of the clear green water rushing over granite boulders on its way to the Gulf of Mexico and felt a shiver because he’d learned just how deadly it could be.

A few miles up the road, he slowed to turn onto a dirt road that wound through the tall pines. Dust rose behind the pickup. He put down his window and breathed in the familiar scents. They made his heart ache.

Ahead, he could see the cliffs over the top of the pines. He parked in the shade of the trees and sat for a moment, bracing himself.

“This is the place?” Frankie whispered, her gaze on the cliff that could be seen over the top of the pines.

He didn’t answer as he climbed out. He heard her exit the pickup but she didn’t follow him as he walked down through the thick pines toward the river, knowing he needed a few minutes alone.

An eerie silence filled the air. When he’d first gotten out of the truck, he’d heard a squirrel chatting in a nearby tree, a meadowlark calling from the tall grass, hoppers buzzing as they rose with each step.

But now that he was almost to the spot, there was no sound except the gentle lap of the water on the rocks. As he came out of the pines, he felt her—just as he always had. Naomi. It was as if her soul had been stranded here in this very spot where she’d died.

His knees went weak and he had to sit down on one of the large boulders along the shore. He put his head in his hands, unaware of time passing. Unaware of anything but his pain.

Like coming out of a daze, he lifted his head and looked across the river to the deep pool beneath the cliff. Sunlight glittered off the clear emerald surface. His heart in his throat, he lifted his gaze to the rock ledge high above the water. Lover’s Leap. That was what it was called.

His gaze shifted to the trail from the bridge downriver. It was barely visible through the tall summer grass and the pines, but he knew that kids still traveled along it to the ledge over the water. The trick, though, was to jump out far enough. Otherwise...

A shaft of sun cut through the pine boughs that hung out over the water, nearly blinding him. He closed his eyes again as he felt Naomi pleading with him to find out the truth. He could feel her arguing that he knew her. He knew she was terrified of heights. She would never have gone up there. Especially alone. Especially at night. Why would she traverse the treacherous trail to get to the rock ledge to begin with—let alone jump?

It had made no sense.

Not unless she hadn’t jumped to her death. Not unless she’d been pushed.

Hank opened his eyes and looked up through the shaft of sunlight to see a figure moving along the narrow trail toward the rock ledge high on the cliff. His throat went dry as shock ricocheted through him. He started to call to her even as he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him. It wasn’t Naomi.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out and he stared frozen in fear as he recognized the slim figure. Frankie. She’d walked downriver to the bridge and, after climbing up the trail, was now headed for the ledge.

* * *

HUD HEAVED HIMSELF into his office chair, angry at himself on more levels than he wanted to contemplate. He swore as he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the file. That he’d kept it for three years in the locked drawer where he could look at it periodically was bad enough. That he was getting it out now and going over it as he’d done so many times over those years made it even worse.

He knew there was nothing new in the file. He could practically recite the report by heart. Nothing had changed. So why was he pulling it out now? What good would it do to go over it again? None.

But he kept thinking about Hank and his stubborn insistence that Naomi hadn’t committed suicide. He didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell him that suicide was the most perverse of deaths. Those left behind had to deal with the guilt and live with the questions that haunted them. Why hadn’t they known? Why hadn’t they helped? Why had she killed herself? Was it because of them? It was the why that he knew his son couldn’t accept.

Why would a beautiful young woman like Naomi Hill kill herself? It made no sense.

Hud opened the file. Was it possible there was something he’d missed? He knew that wasn’t the case and yet he began to go over it, remembering the call he’d gotten that morning from the fisherman who’d found her body in the rocks beneath Lover’s Leap.

There had been little doubt about what had happened. Her blouse had caught on a rock on the ledge, leaving a scrap of it fluttering in the wind. The conclusion that she’d either accidentally fallen or jumped was later changed to suicide after more information had come in about Naomi’s state of mind in the days before her death.

Add to that the coroner’s report. Cause of death: skull crushed when victim struck the rocks below the cliff after either falling or jumping headfirst.

But his son Hank had never accepted it and had never forgiven his father for not investigating her death longer, more thoroughly. Hank had believed that Naomi hadn’t fallen or jumped. He was determined that she’d been murdered.

Unfortunately, the evidence said otherwise, and Hud was a lawman who believed in facts—not conjecture or emotion. He still did and that was the problem, wasn’t it?

## Chapter Four

Hank felt dizzy and sick to his stomach as he watched Frankie make her way out to the edge of the cliff along the narrow ledge. She had her cell phone in her hand. He realized she was taking photos of the trail, the distance to the rocks and water below as well as the jagged rocky ledge’s edge.

As she stepped closer to the edge, he heard a chunk of rock break off. It plummeted to the boulders below, and his heart fell with it. The rock shattered into pieces before dropping into the water pooling around the boulders, making ripples that lapped at the shore.

He felt his stomach roil. “Get down from there,” he called up to her, his voice breaking. “Please.” He couldn’t watch. Sitting down again, he hung his head to keep from retching. It took a few minutes before his stomach settled and the need to vomit passed. When he looked up, Frankie was no longer balanced on the ledge.

His gaze shot to the rocks below, his pulse leaping with the horrible fear that filled him. There was no body on the rocks. No sign of Frankie. He put his head back down and took deep breaths. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that before he heard the crunch of pine needles behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie said. “I should have known that would upset you.”

He swore and started to get to his feet unsteadily. She held out a hand and he took it, letting her help him up. “I’m usually not like this.”

She smiled. “You think I don’t know that?”

“You should have told me you were going up there,” he said.

“You would have tried to stop me,” she said and pulled out her phone. “I needed to see it.” She looked up from her screen. “Have you been up there?”

“Not since Naomi died, no.”

She frowned, cocking her head. “You’ve jumped from there.”

“When I was young and stupid.”

Nodding, Frankie said, “You have to push off the cliff wall, throw your body out to miss the rocks and to land in the pool. Daring thing to do.”

“Helps if you’re young, stupid and with other dumb kids who dare you,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, Naomi knew I’d jumped off the ledge. She was terrified of heights. She couldn’t get three feet off the ground without having vertigo. It’s why I know she didn’t climb up there on her own. Someone made her.”

“Sometimes people do things to try to overcome fears,” Frankie said and shrugged.

“Naomi didn’t. She was terrified of so many things. Like horses. I tried to teach her to ride.” He shook his head. “I’m telling you, she wouldn’t have climbed up there unless there was a gun to her head. Even if she’d wanted to kill herself, she wouldn’t have chosen that ledge as her swan song.”

With that, he turned and started toward the truck, wishing he’d never come back here. He’d known it would be hard, but he hadn’t expected it to nearly incapacitate him. Had he thought Naomi would be gone? Her soul released? Not as long as her death was still a mystery.

Frankie didn’t speak again until they were headed back toward Big Sky. “At some point you’re going to have to tell me why your father doesn’t believe it was murder.”

“I’ll do one better. I’ll get a copy of the case file. In the meantime, I’ll show you Big Sky. I’m not ready for my parents to know the truth yet.”

She nodded and leaned back as if to enjoy the trip. “I timed how long it took me to walk up the trail from the bridge to the ledge. Eleven minutes. How long do you think it would have taken Naomi?”

“Is this relevant?”

“It might be.” She turned to look at him then. “You said the coroner established a time of death because of Naomi’s broken wristwatch that was believed to have smashed on the rocks. We need to examine the time sequence. She left you at the ranch, right? The drive to the cliff took us ten minutes. She could have beat that because at that time of the evening in early fall and off season, there wouldn’t have been as much traffic, right?”

He nodded.

“So if she left the ranch and went straight to the bridge—”

“She didn’t. She met her killer at some point along the way. Maybe she stopped for gas or... I don’t know. Picked up a hitchhiker.”

Frankie shot him a surprised look. “From what you’ve told me about Naomi, she wouldn’t have stopped for a hitchhiker.”

“It would have had to be someone she knew. Can we stop talking about this for just a little while?” He hated the pleading in his voice. “Let me show you around Big Sky, maybe drive up to Mountain Village.”

She nodded and looked toward the town as he slowed for the turn. “So Big Sky was started by Montana native and NBC news co-anchorman Chet Huntley. I read it is the second-largest ski resort in the country by acreage.” She gazed at Lone Mountain. “That peak alone stands at over eleven thousand feet.”

He glanced over at her and chuckled. “You’re like a walking encyclopedia. Do you always learn all these facts when you’re...working?”

“Sure,” she said, smiling. “I find it interesting. Like this canyon. There is so much history here. I’ve been trying to imagine this road when it was dirt and Yellowstone Park only accessible from here by horses and wagons or stagecoaches.”

“I never took you for a history buff,” he said.

She shrugged. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

He didn’t doubt that, he thought as he studied her out of the corner of his eye. She continued to surprise him. She was so fearless. So different from Naomi. Just the thought of her up on that ledge—He shoved that thought away as he drove into the lower part of Big Sky known as Meadow Village. His mother was right. Big Sky had changed so much he hardly recognized the small resort town with all its restaurants and fancy shops along with miles of condos. He turned up the road to Mountain Village, where the ski resort was located, enjoying showing Frankie around. It kept his mind off Naomi.

* * *

“SO YOU MET the woman Hank brought home?”

Dana looked up at her sister, Stacy. They were in the ranch house kitchen, where Dana was taking cookies out of the oven. “I thought you might have run into them this morning before they took off for some sightseeing.”

Her sister shook her head. Older than Dana, Stacy had been the wild one, putting several marriages under her belt at a young age. But she’d settled down after she’d had her daughter, Ella, and had moved back to the ranch to live in one of the new cabins up on the mountainside.

“I stopped over at their cabin this morning to see if they needed anything,” Stacy said now, avoiding her gaze.

Dana put her hands on her hips. She knew her sister so well. “What?”

Stacy looked up in surprise. “Nothing to get in a tizzy over, just something strange.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t want to be talking out of turn, but I noticed that they slept in separate bedrooms last night.” Her sister snapped her lips shut as if the words had just sneaked out.

Dana frowned as she put another pan of cookie dough into the oven and, closing the door, set the timer. Hadn’t she felt something between Hank and Frankie? Something not quite right? “They must have had a disagreement. I’m sure it is difficult for both of them being here after what happened with Naomi. That’s bound to cause some tension between them.”

“Probably. So, you like her?”

“I do. She’s nothing like Naomi.”

“What does that mean?” Stacy asked.

“There’s nothing timid about her. She’s more self-assured, seems more...independent. I was only around her for a little while. It’s just an impression I got. You remember how Naomi was.”

Her sister’s right brow shot up. “You mean scared of everything?”

Dana had been so surprised the first time Hank had brought Naomi home and the young woman had no interest in learning to ride a horse.

I would be terrified to get on one, she’d said.

Naomi isn’t...outdoorsy, was the way Hank had described her. That had been putting it mildly. Dana couldn’t imagine the woman living here. As it turned out, living at Cardwell Ranch was the last thing Naomi had in mind.

“Frankie looks as if she can handle herself. I saw Hank gazing at her during dinner. He seems intrigued by her.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Stacy said now.

“Why don’t you come to dinner? Mary’s going to be here, and Chase. Jordan and Liza are coming as well. I thought that was enough for one night.” Her daughter and fiancé would keep things light. Her brother and his wife would be a good start as far as introducing Frankie to the family.

“Great. I’ll come down early and help with the preparations,” her sister said. “I’m sorry I mentioned anything about their sleeping arrangements. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

* * *

FRANKIE LOOKED OUT at the mountain ranges as she finished the lunch Hank had bought them up at the mountain resort. This was more like a vacation, something she hadn’t had in years. She would have felt guilty except for the fact that technically she was working. She looked at the cowboy across the table from her, remembering the day he’d walked into her office in Lost Creek outside of Moscow, Idaho.

“Why now?” Frankie had asked him after he’d wanted to hire her to find out what had really happened to his girlfriend. “It’s been three years, right? That makes it a cold case. I can’t imagine there is anything to find.” She’d seen that her words had upset him and had quickly lifted both hands in surrender. “I’m not saying it’s impossible to solve a case that old...” She tried not to say the words next to impossible.

She’d talked him into sitting down, calming down and telling her about the crime. Turned out that the marshal—Hank’s father—had sided with the coroner that the woman’s death had been a suicide. She’d doubted this could get worse because it was clear to her that Hank Savage had been madly in love with the victim. Talk about wearing blinders. Of course he didn’t want to believe the woman he loved had taken a nosedive off a cliff.

“I thought I could accept it, get over it,” Hank had said. “I can’t. I won’t. I have to know the truth. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I can feel Naomi pleading with me to find her murderer.”

It didn’t sound crazy as much as it sounded like wishful thinking. If this woman had killed herself, then he blamed himself.

Her phone had rung. She’d checked to see who was calling and declined the call. But Hank could tell that the call had upset her.

“Look, if you need to take that...” he’d said.

“No.” The last thing she wanted to do was take the call. What had her upset was that if she didn’t answer one of the calls from the man soon, he would be breaking down her door. “So, what is it you want me to do?”

Hank had spelled it out for her.

She’d stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to go to Big Sky with you.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask and this might not be a good time for you.”

He had no idea how good a time it was for her to leave town. “I can tell this is important for you. I can’t make you any promises, but I’ll come out and look into the incident.” She’d pulled out her standard contract and slid it across the table with a pen.

Hank hadn’t even bothered to read it. He’d withdrawn his wallet. “Here’s five hundred dollars. I’ll pay all your expenses and a five-thousand-dollar bonus if you solve this case—along with your regular fee,” he’d said, pushing the signed contract back across the table to her. As the same caller had rung her again, Hank had asked, “When can you leave?”

“Now’s good,” she’d said.

## Chapter Five

Frankie had tried to relax during dinner later that night at the main ranch house, but it was difficult. She now understood at least the problem between Hank and his father. From what she could gather, the marshal was also angry with his son. Hank had refused to accept his father’s conclusion about Naomi’s death. The same conclusion the coroner had come up with as well.

Hank thought his father had taken the easy way out. But Frankie had been around Hud Savage only a matter of hours and she knew at gut level that he wasn’t a man who took the easy way out. He believed clear to his soul that Naomi Hill had killed herself.

During dinner, Hank had said little. Dana’s sister, Stacy, had joined them, along with Dana’s daughter, Mary, and her fiancé, Chase, and Dana’s brother, Jordan, and wife, Liza. Hank had been polite enough to his family, but she could tell he was struggling after going to the spot where Naomi had died.

She’d put a hand on his thigh to try to get him to relax and he’d flinched. The reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by his mother and aunt Stacy. Frankie had smiled and snuggled against him. If he hoped to keep their secret longer, he needed to be more attentive. After all, it was his idea that they pretend to be involved in a relationship. That way Frankie could look into Naomi’s death without Hank going head-to-head with his father.

When she’d snuggled against him, he’d felt the nudge and responded, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. She’d whispered in his ear, “Easy, sweetie.”

Nodding, he’d laughed, and she’d leaned toward him to kiss him on the lips. It had been a quick kiss meant to alleviate any doubt as to what was going on. The kiss had taken him by surprise. He’d stared into her eyes for a long moment, then smiled.

When Frankie had looked up, she’d seen there was relief on his mother’s face. His mother had bought it. The aunt, not so much. But that was all right. The longer they could keep their ruse going, the better. Otherwise it would be war between father and son. They both wanted to avoid that since it hadn’t done any good three years ago. Frankie doubted it would now.

“Cake?” Dana asked now, getting to her feet.

“I would love a piece,” Frankie said. “Let me help you.” She picked up her plate and Hank’s to take them into the kitchen against his mother’s protests. “You outdid yourself with dinner,” she said as she put the dishes where the woman suggested.

Taking advantage of the two of them being alone with the door closed, Dana turned to her—just as Frankie had known she would. “I’m not being nosy, honestly. Is everything all right between you and Hank?”

She smiled as she leaned into the kitchen counter. She loved this kitchen with the warm yellow color, the photographs of family on the walls, the clichéd saying carved in the wood plaque hanging over the door. There was a feeling of permanency in this kitchen, in this house, this ranch. As if no matter what happened beyond that door, this place would weather the storm because it had survived other storms.

“It’s hard on him being back here because of Naomi,” Frankie said.

“Of course it is,” Dana said on a relieved breath. “But he has you to help him through it.”

She smiled and nodded. “I’m here for him and he knows it. Though it has put him on edge. But not to worry. I’ll stand by him.”

Tears filled the older woman’s eyes as she quickly stepped to Frankie and threw her arms around her. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that Hank has you.”

She hadn’t thought her generic words would cause such a response but she hugged Dana back, enjoying for a moment the warm hug from this genuine, open woman.

Dana stepped back, wiping her tears as Stacy and Jordan’s wife, Liza, came in with the rest of the dirty dishes and leftover food. “We best get that cake out there or we’ll have a riot on our hands,” Dana said. “If you take the cake, I’ll take the forks and dessert plates.”

* * *

“I’M SORRY,” HANK SAID when they reached their cabin and were finally alone again. Dinner had been unbearable, but he knew he should have played along better than he had. “You were great.”

“Thanks. Your mother was worried we were having trouble. I assured her that coming back here is hard on you because of Naomi. Your family is nice,” she said. “They obviously love you.”

He groaned. He hated lying to his mother most of all. “That’s what makes this so hard. I wanted to burst out with the truth at dinner tonight.” He could feel her gaze on him.

“Why didn’t you?”

Hank shook his head. He thought about Frankie’s kiss, her nuzzling against him. He’d known it would be necessary if they hoped to pass themselves off as a couple, but he hadn’t been ready for it. The kiss had taken him by surprise. And an even bigger surprise had been his body’s reaction to it, to her.

He turned away, glad it was late so they could go to bed soon. “I think I’m going to take a walk. Will you be all right here by yourself?”

She laughed. “I should think so since I’m trained in self-defense and I have a license to carry a firearm. You’ve never asked, but I’m an excellent shot.”

“You have a gun?” He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised and yet he was. She seemed too much like the girl next door to do the job she did. Slim, athletic, obviously in great shape, she just kept surprising him as to how good she was at this.

If anyone could find out the truth about Naomi, he thought it might be her.

* * *

AFTER HANK LEFT, Frankie pulled out her phone and looked again at the photographs she’d taken earlier from the ledge along the cliff. Standing up there being buffeted by the wind, her feet on the rocky ledge, she’d tried to imagine what Naomi had been thinking. If she’d had time to think.

Hank was so sure that she’d been murdered. It was such a strange way to murder someone. Also, she suspected there were other reasons his father believed it was suicide. The killer would have had to drag her up that trail from the bridge and then force her across the ledge. Dangerous, since if the woman was that terrified of heights, she would have grabbed on to her killer for dear life.

How had the killer kept her from pulling him down with her? It had been a male killer, hadn’t it? That was what Frankie had imagined. Unless the couple hadn’t gone up to the ledge with murder in mind.

Frankie rubbed her temples. People often did the thing you least expected them to do. Which brought her back to suicide. What if Hank was wrong? What if suicide was the only conclusion to be reached after this charade with his family? Would he finally be able to accept it?

The door opened and he came in on a warm summer night gust of mountain air. For a moment he was silhouetted, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Then he stepped into the light, his handsome face twisted in grief. Her heart ached for him. She couldn’t imagine the kind of undying love he’d felt for Naomi. Even after three years, he was still grieving. She wondered at the size of Hank’s heart.

“I’d like to talk to Naomi’s mother in the morning,” she said, turning away from such raw pain. “Lillian Brandt, right?”

“Right.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“It would help if you told me about the things that were going on with Naomi before her death, the things that made the coroner and your father believe it was a suicide.” When he didn’t answer, she turned. He was still standing just inside the door, his Stetson in the fingers of his left hand, his head down. She was startled for a moment and almost stepped to him to put her arms around him.

“There’s something I haven’t told you.” He cleared his throat and looked up at her. “Naomi and I had a fight that night before she left the ranch.” He swallowed.

She could see that this was going to take a while and motioned to the chairs as she turned and went into the small kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she called over her shoulder, “Beer?” She pulled out two bottles even though she hadn’t heard his answer and returned to the small living area.

He’d taken a seat, balancing on the edge, nervously turning the brim of his hat in his fingers. When she held out a beer, he took it and tossed his hat aside. Twisting off the cap, Frankie sat in the chair opposite him. She took a sip of the beer. It was icy cold and tasted wonderful. It seemed to soothe her and chase away her earlier thoughts when she’d seen Hank standing in the doorway.

She put her feet up on the well-used wooden coffee table, knowing her boots wouldn’t be the first ones that had rested there. She wanted to provide an air of companionship to make it easier for him to tell her the truth. She’d learned this from her former cop uncle who’d been her mentor when she’d first started out.

“What did you fight about?” she asked as Hank picked at the label on his beer bottle with his thumb without taking a drink.

“It was stupid.” He let out a bitter laugh as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I wasn’t ready to get married and Naomi was.” His voice broke again as he said, “She told me I was killing her.”

Frankie took a drink of her beer before asking, “How long had you been going out?” It gave Hank a moment to collect himself.

He took a sip of his beer. “Since after college. We met on a blind date. She’d been working as an elementary school teacher, but said she’d rather be a mother and homemaker.” He looked away. “I think that’s what she wanted more than anything. Even more than me.”

She heard something in his voice, in his words. “You didn’t question that she loved you, did you?”

“No.” He said it too quickly and then shook his head. “I did that night. I questioned a lot of things. She seemed so...so wrong for me. I mean, there was nothing about the ranch that she liked. Not the horses, the dust, the work. I’d majored in ranch management. I’d planned to come home after college and help my folks with the place.”

“And that’s what you were doing.”

He nodded. “But Naomi didn’t want to stay here. She didn’t like the canyon or living on my folks’ place. She wanted a home in a subdivision down in Bozeman. In what she called ‘civilization with sidewalks.’” He shook his head. “I had no idea sidewalks meant that much to her before that night. She wanted everything I didn’t.”

“What did she expect you to do for a living in Bozeman?”

“Her stepfather had offered me a job. He was a Realtor and he said he’d teach me the business.” Hank took a long pull on his beer. “But I was a rancher. This is where I’d grown up. This is what I knew how to do and what I...”

“What you loved.”

His blue eyes shone as they locked with hers. She saw that his pain was much deeper than even she’d thought. If Naomi had committed suicide, then he blamed himself because of the fight. He’d denied her what she wanted most, a different version of him.

“So she left hurt and angry,” Frankie said. “Did she indicate where she was going? I’m assuming the two of you were living together here at the ranch.”

“She said she was going to spend the night at her best friend Carrie White’s apartment in Meadow Village here at Big Sky and that she needed time to think about all of this.” He swallowed again. “I let her go without trying to fix it.”

“It sounds like it wasn’t an easy fix,” Frankie commented and finished her beer. Getting up, she tilted the bottle in offer. Hank seemed to realize he still had a half-full bottle and quickly downed the rest. She took both empties to the kitchen and came back with two more.

Handing him one, she asked, “You tried to call her that night or the next morning?” As she asked the question, she knew where his parents would have stood on the marriage and Naomi issue. They wouldn’t want to tarnish their son’s relationship because of their opinions about his choice for a partner, but they also wouldn’t want him marrying a woman who was clearly not a good match for him. One who took him off the ranch and the things he loved.

“That night, I was in no mood to discuss it further, so I waited and called her the next morning.” He opened his beer and took a long pull. “Maybe if I’d called not long after she left—”

“What had you planned to say?” she asked, simply curious. It was a moot point now. Nor had his plans had anything to do with what happened to Naomi. By then, she was dead.

“I was going to tell her that I’d do whatever she wanted.” He let out a long sigh and tipped the beer bottle to his lips. “But when she didn’t answer, I changed my mind. I realized it wasn’t going to work.” His voice broke again. “I loved her, but she wanted to make me over, and I couldn’t be the man she wanted me to be.” His eyes narrowed. “You can dress me up, but underneath I’m still just a cowboy.”

“Did you leave her a message on her phone?”

He nodded and looked away, his blue eyes glittering with tears. “I told her goodbye, but by then it would have been too late.” His handsome face twisted in pain.

Frankie sat for a moment, considering everything he’d told her. “Was her cell phone found on her body or in her car?”

He shook his head. “Who knows what she did with it. The phone could have gone into the river. My father had his deputies search for it, but it was never found.” His voice broke. “Maybe I did drive her to suicide,” he said and took a drink as if to steady himself.

“I’m going to give you my professional opinion, for what it’s worth,” she said, knowing he wasn’t going to like it. “I don’t believe she killed herself. She knew that you loved her. She was just blowing off some steam when she headed for her friend’s house. Did her friend see her at all?”

He shook his head.

“So she didn’t go there. That would explain the discrepancy in the time she left you and when her watch was broken. Is there somewhere else she might have gone? Another friend’s place? A male friend’s?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “A male friend’s? Why would you even ask about—”

“Because I know people. She was counting on you to change and do what she wanted, but after four years? She would have realized it was a losing battle and had someone else waiting in the wings.”

He slammed down his beer bottle and shoved to his feet. “You make her sound like she was—”

“A woman determined to get married, have kids, stay home and raise them while her husband had a good job that allowed all her dreams to come true?”

“She wasn’t—she—” He seemed at a loss for words.

“Hey, Hank. Naomi was a beautiful woman who had her own dreams.” He had showed her a photograph of Naomi. Blonde, green-eyed, a natural beauty.

Ignoring a strange feeling of jealousy, Frankie got to her feet and finished her beer before she spoke. She realized that she’d probably been too honest with him. But someone needed to be, she told herself. It wasn’t just the beer talking. Or that sudden stab of jealousy when she’d thought of Naomi.

In truth, she was annoyed at him because she knew that if he’d reached Naomi on the phone that night, he would have buckled under. He would have done whatever she wanted, including marrying her. On some level, he would have been miserable and resented her the rest of his life, but being the man he was, he would have made the best of it. Naomi dying had saved him and he didn’t even realize it.

“We need to find the other man,” Frankie said as she took her bottle to the recycling bin before turning toward the bedroom.

Hank let out a curse. “You’re wrong. You’re dead wrong. I don’t know why I—”

She cut off the rest of his words as she closed the bedroom door. She knew he was angry and probably ready to fire her. All she could hope was that he would cool down by the morning and would trust that she knew what she was talking about. Oh, she’d known women like Naomi all her life—including her very own mother, who chewed up men and spit them out one after another as they disappointed her. That was the problem with trying to make over a man.

* * *

HANK COULDN’T SLEEP. He lay in the second bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, cursing the fact that he’d brought Frankie here. What had he been thinking? This had to be the stupidest idea he’d ever come up with. Clearly, she didn’t get it. She hadn’t known Naomi.

Another man?

He thought about storming into her bedroom, telling her to pack her stuff and taking her back to Idaho tonight. Instead, he tossed and turned, getting more angry by the hour. He would fire her. First thing in the morning, he’d do just that.

Who did she think she was, judging Naomi like that? Naomi was sweet, gentle, maybe a little too timid... He rolled over and glared at the bedroom door. Another man in the wings! The thought made him so angry he could snap off nails with his teeth.

As his blood pressure finally began to drop somewhere around midnight, he found himself wondering if Naomi’s friend Carrie knew more than she’d originally told him. If there had been another man—

He gave that thought a hard shove away. Naomi had loved him. Only him. She’d wanted the best for him. He rolled over again. She thought she knew what was best for him. He kicked at the blanket tangled around his legs. Maybe if she had lived she would have realized that what was best for him, for them, was staying on the ranch, letting him do what he knew and loved. Sidewalks were overrated.

Staring up at the ceiling, he felt the weight of her death press against his chest so hard that for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

You don’t want to let yourself believe that she committed suicide because you feel guilty about the argument you had with her before she left the ranch, his father had said. Son, believe me, it took more than some silly argument for her to do what she did. We often don’t know those closest to us or what drives them to do what they do. This wasn’t your fault.

Hank groaned, remembering his father’s words three years ago. Could he be wrong about a lot of things? He heard the bedroom door open. He could see Frankie silhouetted in the doorway.

“If there is another man, then it would prove that she didn’t commit suicide,” the PI said. The bedroom door closed.

He glared at it for a long moment. Even if Frankie had gone back to her bedroom and locked the door, he knew he could kick it down if he wanted to. But as Frankie’s words registered, he pulled the blanket up over him and closed his eyes, exhausted from all of this. If there had been another man, then he would be right about her being murdered.

Was that supposed to give him comfort?

## Chapter Six

“I told my mother that we were having breakfast in town,” Hank said when Frankie came out of the bedroom fully dressed and showered the next morning. He had his jacket on and smelled of the outdoors, which she figured meant he’d walked down to the main house to talk to his mother.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said now. “If you want to talk to Naomi’s mother, we need to catch her before she goes to work.” With that, he turned and went back into his bedroom.

Frankie smiled after him. He was still angry but he hadn’t fired her. Yet.

She went into the kitchen and made herself toast. Hank didn’t take long in the shower. He appeared minutes later, dressed in jeans and a Western shirt, his dark, unruly hair still damp at his collar as he stuffed on his Stetson and headed for the door. She followed, smiling to herself. It could be a long day, but she was glad she was still employed for numerous reasons, number one among them, she wanted to know now more than ever what had happened to Naomi Hill.

Lillian Brandt lived in a large condo complex set back against a mountainside overlooking Meadow Village. She’d married a real-estate agent after being a single mother for years, from what Hank had told her. Big Sky was booming and had been for years, so Lillian had apparently risen in economic stature after her marriage compared to the way she’d lived before Naomi died.

From her research, Frankie knew that Big Sky, Montana, once a ranching area, had been nothing more than a sagebrush-filled meadow below Lone Mountain. Then Chet Huntley and some developers had started the resort. Since then, the sagebrush had been plowed up to make a town as the ski resort on the mountain had grown.

But every resort needed workers, and while million-dollar houses had been built, there were few places for moderate-income workers to live that they could afford. The majority commuted from Gallatin Gateway, Four Corners, Belgrade and Bozeman—all towns forty miles or more to the north.

Lillian was younger than Frankie had expected. Naomi had been four years younger than Hank. Frankie estimated that Lillian must have had her daughter while in her late teens.

“Hank?” The woman’s pale green eyes widened in surprise. “Are you back?”

“For a while,” he said and introduced Frankie. “Do you have a minute? We won’t take much of your time.”

Lillian looked from him to Frankie and back before she stepped aside to let them enter the condo. It was bright and spacious with no clutter. It could have been one of the models that real-estate agents showed prospective clients. “I was just about to leave to go to the office.” She worked for her husband as a secretary.

“I just need to ask you a few questions,” he said as she motioned for them to take a seat.

“Questions?” she asked as she moved some of the pillows on the couch to make room for them.

“About Naomi’s death.”

The woman stopped what she was doing to stare at him. “Hank, it’s been three years. Why would you dig all of it back up again?”

“Because he doesn’t believe she killed herself,” Frankie said and supplied her business card. “I didn’t know your daughter, but I’ve heard a lot about her. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.” Then she asked if it would be okay if Mrs. Brandt would answer a few questions about her daughter. “She was twenty-six, right? Hank said she was ready to get married.”

Lillian slumped into one of the chairs that she’d freed of designer pillows and motioned them onto the couch. “It’s all she wanted. Marriage, a family.”

“Where was she working at the time of her death?” Frankie asked.

“At the grocery store, but I can’t see what that—”

She could feel Hank’s gaze on her. “Is that where she met her friend Carrie?”

Lillian nodded. Her gaze went to Hank. “Why are you—”

“I’m curious,” Frankie said, drawing the woman’s attention back again. “Was there anyone else in her life?”

“You mean friends?”

“Yes, possibly a male friend,” Frankie said.

The woman blinked before shooting a look at Hank. “She was in love with Hank.”

“But she had to have other friends.”

Lillian fiddled with the piping along the edge of the chair arm. “Of course she had other friends. She made friends easily.”

“I’m sure she did. She was so beautiful,” Frankie said.

The woman nodded, her eyes shiny. “She got asked out a lot all through school.”

“Do you remember their names?”

Lillian looked at Hank. “She was faithful to you. If that’s what this is about—”

“It’s not,” Hank assured her.

“We just thought they might be able to fill in some of the blanks so Hank can better understand what happened to Naomi. He’s having a very hard time moving on,” Frankie said.

The woman looked at Hank, sympathy in her gaze. “Of course. I just remember her mentioning one in particular. His name was—” she seemed to think for a moment “—River.” She waved her hand wistfully. “Blame it on Montana, these odd names.”

“You probably don’t remember River’s last name,” Frankie said.

“No, but Carrie might. She knew him too.” Lillian looked at her watch. “I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Frankie said, getting to her feet. “You’ve been a great help.”

“Yes,” Hank agreed with much less enthusiasm. “Thank you for taking the time.”

“It’s good to see you,” the woman said to him and patted his cheek. “I hope you can find some peace.”

“Me too,” he said as he shared a last hug with Mrs. Brandt before leaving.

* * *

HANK CLIMBED BEHIND the wheel, his heart hammering in his chest. “You aren’t going to give up on your other man theory, are you?”

“No, and you shouldn’t either,” Frankie said from the passenger seat.

He finally turned his head to look at her. Gritting his teeth, he said, “You think she was cheating on me? Wouldn’t that give me a motive for murder?”

“I don’t think she was cheating. I said she had someone waiting in the wings. Big Sky is a small town. I suspect that if she’d been cheating on you, you would have heard.”

“Thanks. You just keep making me feel better all the time.”

“I didn’t realize that my job was to make you feel better. I thought it was to find a killer.”

He let out a bark of a laugh. “You are something, you know that?”

“It’s been mentioned to me. I’m hungry. Are you going to feed me before or after we visit Naomi’s best friend, Carrie?”

“I’m not sure I can do this on an empty stomach, so I guess it’s going to be before,” he said as he started the pickup’s engine.

“Over breakfast, you can tell me about Carrie,” she said as she buckled up.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you about her,” he grumbled, wishing he’d gone with his instincts last night and stormed into her bedroom and fired her. Even if he’d had to kick down the door.

“Start by telling me why you didn’t like her.”

He shot her a look as he pulled away from the condo complex. “What makes you think...?” He swore under his breath. “Don’t you want to meet her and decide on your own?”

“Oh, I will. But I’m curious about your relationship with her.”

Hank let out a curse as he drove toward a local café off the beaten path. The place served Mexican breakfasts, and he had a feeling Frankie liked things hot. She certainly got him hot under his collar.

It wasn’t until they were seated and had ordered—he’d been right about her liking spicy food—that he sat back and studied the woman sitting across from him.

“What?” she asked, seeming to squirm a little under his intent gaze.

“Just that you know everything about me—”

“Not everything.”

“—and I know nothing about you,” he finished.

“That’s because this isn’t about me,” she said and straightened her silverware. He’d never seen her nervous before. But then again, he’d never asked her anything personal about herself.

“You jumped at this case rather fast,” he said, still studying her. She wasn’t the only one who noticed things about people. “I suspect it was to avoid whoever that was who kept calling you.” He saw that he’d hit a nerve. “Angry client? Old boyfriend?” He grinned. “Old boyfriend.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Am I? I don’t think so.” He took her measure for the first time since he’d hired her. She was a very attractive woman. Right now her long, dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Sans makeup, she’d also played down the violet eyes. And yet there was something sexy and, yes, even sultry about her. Naomi wouldn’t leave the house without her makeup on.

That thought reminded him of all the times he’d stood around waiting for her to get ready to go out.

This morning Frankie was more serious, more professional, more hands-off. Definitely low-maintenance in a simple T-shirt and jeans. Nothing too tight. Nothing too revealing.

And yet last night at dinner when she’d snuggled against him, he’d felt her full curves. Nothing could hide her long legs. Right now, he could imagine her contours given that she was slim and her T-shirt did little to hide the curve of her backside.

“Why isn’t a woman who looks like you married?” he asked, truly surprised.

“Who says I’m not?”

He glanced at her left hand. “No ring.”

She smiled and looked away for a moment. “Isn’t it possible I’m just not wearing mine right now?”

Hank considered that as the waitress brought their breakfasts. “Are you married?” he asked as the waitress left again.

“No. Now, are you going to tell me why you didn’t like Naomi’s best friend or are you going to keep stalling?”