The Rancher Bodyguard
The Rancher Bodyguard
Carla Cassidy
The Rancher Bodyguard
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u0aa371eb-897c-5685-a26d-80ad949e2828)
Title Page (#u076586d8-6ca9-5a14-ac36-598b03b83d8c)
About the Author (#u6774f3a2-1552-58cf-968f-3f1276218c71)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_585da12e-1e64-548a-a937-a260bf815ea8)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_03ffe27c-5e6b-5b45-8e22-9410b641ae48)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_7ed89f2d-713f-549a-ac0d-89bf692b52c2)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_1b1ce116-7d6d-56a1-b696-9df389da29c2)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times BOOK-reviews. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series.
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.
Chapter 1 (#ulink_7005332b-40fa-5e09-9c7c-d33bf3bbd17b)
As he approached the barn, Charlie Black saw the sleek, scarlet convertible pulling into his driveway, and wondered when exactly, while he’d slept the night before, hell had frozen over. Because the last time he’d seen Grace Covington, that’s what she’d told him would have to happen before she’d ever talk to or even look at him again.
He patted the neck of his stallion and reined in at the corral. As he dismounted and pulled off his dusty black hat, he tried to ignore the faint thrum of electricity that zinged through him as she got out of her car.
Her long blond hair sparkled in the late afternoon sun, but he was still too far away to see the expression on her lovely features.
It had been a year and a half since he’d seen her, even though for the past six months they’d resided in the same small town of Cotter Creek, Oklahoma.
The last time he’d encountered her had been in his upscale apartment in Oklahoma City. He’d been wearing a pair of sports socks and an electric blue condom. Not one of his finer moments, but it had been the culminating incident in a year of not-so-fine moments.
Too much money, too many successes and far too much booze had transformed his life into a nightmare of bad moments, the last resulting in him losing the only thing worth having.
Surely she hadn’t waited all this time to come out to the family ranch—his ranch now—to finally put a bullet in what she’d described as his cold, black heart. Grace had never been the type of woman to put off till today what she could have done yesterday.
Besides, she hadn’t needed a gun on that terrible Friday night when she’d arrived unannounced at his apartment. As he’d stared at her in a drunken haze, she’d given it to him with both barrels, calling him every vile name under the sun before she slammed out of his door and out of his life.
So, what was she doing here now? He slapped his horse on the rump, then motioned to a nearby ranch hand to take care of the animal. He closed the gate and approached where she hadn’t moved away from the driver’s side of her car.
Her hair had grown much longer since he’d last seen her. Although most of it was clasped at the back of her neck, several long wisps had escaped the confines. The beige suit she wore complemented her blond coloring and the icy blue of her eyes.
She might look cool and untouchable, like the perfect lady, but he knew what those eyes looked like flared with desire. He knew how she moaned with wild abandon when making love, and he hated the fact that just the unexpected sight of her brought back all the memories he’d worked so long and hard to forget.
“Hello, Grace,” he said, as he got close enough to speak without competing with the warm April breeze. “I have to admit I’m surprised to see you. As I remember, the last time we saw each other, you indicated that hell would freeze over before you’d ever speak to me again.”
Her blue eyes flashed with more than a touch of annoyance—a flash followed swiftly by a look of desperation.
“Charlie, I need you.” Her low voice trembled slightly, and only then did he notice that her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been weeping. In all the time they’d dated—even during the ugly scene that had ended them—he’d never seen her shed a single tear. “Have you heard the news?” she asked.
“What news?”
“Early this afternoon my stepfather was found stabbed to death in bed.” She paused for a moment and bit her full lower lip as her eyes grew shiny with suppressed tears. “I think Hope is in trouble, Charlie. I think she’s really in bad trouble.”
“What?” Shock stabbed through him. Hope was Grace’s fifteen-year-old sister. He’d met her a couple of times. She’d seemed like a nice kid, not as pretty as her older sister, but a cutie nevertheless.
“Maybe you should come on inside,” he said, and gestured toward the house. She stared at the attractive ranch house as if he’d just invited her into the chambers of hell. “There’s nobody inside, Grace. The only woman who ever comes in is Rosa Caltano. She does the cooking and cleaning for me, and she’s already left for the day.”
Grace gave a curt nod and moved away from the car. She followed him to the house and up the wooden stairs to the wraparound porch.
The entry hall was just as it had been when Charlie’s mother and father had been alive, with a gleaming wood floor and a dried flower wreath on the wall.
He led her to the living room. Charlie had removed much of the old furniture that he’d grown up with and replaced it with contemporary pieces in earth tones. He motioned Grace to the sofa, where she sat on the very edge as if ready to bolt at any moment. He took the chair across from her and gazed at her expectantly.
“Why do you think Hope is in trouble?”
She drew in a deep breath, obviously fighting for control. “From what I’ve been told, Lana, the housekeeper, found William dead in his bed. Today is her day off, but she left a sweater there last night and went back to get it. It was late enough in the day that William should have been up, so she checked on him. She immediately called Zack West, and he and some of his deputies responded. They found Hope passed out on her bed. Apparently she was the only one home at the time of the murder.”
Charlie frowned, his mind reeling. Before he’d moved back here to try his hand at ranching, Charlie had been a successful, high-profile defense attorney in Oklahoma City.
It was that terrible moment in time with Grace followed by the unexpected death of his father that had made him take a good, hard look at his life and realize how unhappy he’d been for a very long time.
Still, it was as a defense attorney that he frowned at her thoughtfully. “What do you mean she was passed out? Was she asleep? Drunk?”
Those icy blue eyes of hers darkened. “Apparently she was drugged. She was taken to the hospital and is still there. They pumped her stomach and are keeping her for observation.” Grace leaned forward. “Please, Charlie. Please help her. Something isn’t right. First of all, Hope would never, ever take drugs, and she certainly isn’t capable of something like this. She would never have hurt William.”
Spoken like a true sister, Charlie thought. How many times had he heard family members and friends proclaim that a defendant couldn’t be guilty of the crime they had been charged with, only to discover that they were wrong?
“Grace, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a rancher now.” He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to get involved with any of this. It had disaster written all over it. “I’ve retired as a criminal defense attorney.”
“I heard through the grapevine that besides being a rancher, you’re working part-time with West Protective Services,” she said.
“That’s right,” he agreed. “They approached me about a month ago and asked if I could use a little side work. It sounded intriguing, so I took them up on it, but so far I haven’t done any work for them.”
“Then let me hire you as Hope’s bodyguard, and if you do a little criminal defense work in the process I’ll pay you extra.” She leaned forward, her eyes begging for his help.
Bad idea, a little voice whispered in the back of his brain. She already hated his guts, and this portended a very bad ending. He knew how much she loved her sister; he assumed that for the last couple of years she’d been more mother than sibling to the young girl. He’d be a fool to involve himself in the whole mess.
“Has Hope been questioned by anyone?” he heard himself ask. He knew he was going to get involved whether he wanted to or not, because it was Grace, because she needed him.
“I don’t think so. When I left the hospital a little while ago, she was still unconscious. Dr. Dell promised me he wouldn’t let anyone in to see her until I returned.”
“Good.” There was nothing worse than a suspect running off at the mouth with a seemingly friendly officer. Often the damage was so great there was nothing a defense attorney could do to mitigate it.
“Does that mean you’ll take Hope’s case?” she asked.
“Whoa,” he said, and held up both his hands. “Before I agree to anything, I need to make a couple of phone calls, find out exactly what’s going on and where the official investigation is headed. It’s possible you don’t need me, that Hope isn’t in any real danger of being arrested.”
“Then what happens now?”
“Why don’t I plan on meeting you at the hospital in about an hour and a half? By then I’ll know more of what’s going on, and I’d like to be present while anybody questions Hope. If anyone asks before I get there, you tell them you’re waiting for legal counsel.”
She nodded and rose. She’d been lovely a year and a half ago when he’d last seen her, but she was even lovelier now.
She was five years younger than his thirty-five but had always carried herself with the confidence of an older woman. That was part of what had initially drawn him to her, that cool shell of assurance encased in a slamming hot body with the face of an angel.
“How’s business at the dress shop?” he asked, trying to distract her from her troubles as he walked her back to her car. She owned a shop called Sophisticated Lady that sold designer items at discount prices. She often traveled the two-hour drive into Oklahoma City on buying trips. That was where she and Charlie had started their relationship.
They’d met in the coffee shop in the hotel where she’d been staying. Charlie had popped in to drop off some paperwork to a client and had decided to grab a cup of coffee before heading back to his office. She’d been sitting alone next to a window. The sun had sparked on her hair. Charlie had taken one look and was smitten.
“Business is fine,” she said, but it was obvious his distraction wasn’t successful.
“I’m sorry about William, but Zack West is a good man, a good sheriff. He’ll get to the bottom of things.”
Once again she nodded and opened her car door. “Then I’ll see you in the hospital in an hour and a half,” she said.
“Grace?” He stopped her before she got into the seat. “Given our history, why would you come to me with this?” he asked.
Her gaze met his with a touch of frost. “Because I think Hope is in trouble and she needs a sneaky devil to make sure she isn’t charged with a murder I know she didn’t commit. And you, Charlie Black, are as close to the devil as I could get.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. She got into her car, started the engine with a roar and left him standing to eat her dust as she peeled out and back down the driveway.
Grace drove until she was out of sight of Charlie’s ranch and then pulled to the side of the road. She leaned her head down on the steering wheel and fought back the tears that burned her eyes.
A nightmare. She felt as if she’d been mysteriously plunged into a nightmare and couldn’t wake up to escape, didn’t know how to get out.
She’d barely had time to mourn her stepfather, the man who had married her mother when she’d been sixteen and Hope had been a baby.
William Covington had not only married their mother, Elizabeth, but had also taken on her two children as if they were his own. Grace’s father had died of a heart attack and William had adopted the two fatherless girls.
He’d guided Grace through the tumultuous teen years with patience and humor. He’d been their rock when their mother had simply vanished two years ago, taking with her two suitcases full of clothing and her daughters’ broken hearts.
Grace raised her head from the steering wheel and pulled back on the road. She couldn’t think about her mother right now. That was an old pain. She had new pains to worry about and a little sister to try to save.
No way, she thought as she headed toward the hospital. No way was Hope capable of such a heinous crime. And Hope had always been the first one to declare that she thought drugs were stupid. She couldn’t be taking drugs.
But how do you know for sure? a little voice in her head whispered. She’d been so busy the last couple of years, working at the shop and flying off for buying trips. Since the disappearance of her mother and her subsequent breakup with Charlie, Grace had engaged in a frenzy of work, exhausting herself each day to keep the anger and the heartache of both her mother’s and Charlie’s betrayals at bay.
Sure, lately, when she’d spent time with Hope, the young girl had voiced the usual teenage complaints about William. He was too strict and old-fashioned. He gave her too little freedom and too many lectures. He hated her friends.
But those were the complaints of almost every teenager on the face of the earth, and Grace couldn’t believe they had meant that Hope harbored a killing rage against William.
She turned into the hospital parking lot and slid into an empty parking space, then turned off the engine. She stared at the small structure that comprised the Cotter Creek hospital, her thoughts filled with Charlie Black.
Six months ago, everyone in town had been buzzing with the gossip that Charlie Black had finally come home. She knew his father had died from an unexpected heart attack and had left Charlie the family ranch, but she’d assumed he’d sell it and continue his self-destructive path in the fast lane. She’d been stunned to hear that he’d closed up his practice in Oklahoma City and taken over the ranch.
She’d met Charlie two months after her mother’s disappearance. She hadn’t told him about her mother, rather she’d used her time with him as an escape from the pain, from the utter heart break of her mother’s abandonment.
With Charlie she’d been able to pretend it hadn’t happened. With Charlie, for a blessed time, she’d shoved the pain deep inside her.
She’d refused to tell him because she hadn’t wanted to see pity in his eyes. She’d needed him to be her safe place away from all the madness, and for a while that’s what he’d been.
As soon as she’d heard about William’s murder and Hope’s possible involvement, Charlie’s name was the first one that had popped into her head. All the qualities she’d hated in him as a man were desirable qualities in a defense attorney.
His arrogance, his need to be right, his stubbornness and his emotional detachment made him a good defense attorney and would make him a terrific professional bodyguard, but he was definitely a poor bet for a personal relationship, as she’d discovered.
That was in the past. She didn’t want anything from Charlie Black except his ability to make sure that Hope was safe.
As she got out of her car, she recognized that she was in a mild state of shock. The events of the past three hours hadn’t fully caught up with her yet.
She’d been at the shop when she’d gotten the call from Deputy Ben Taylor, indicating that William was dead and Hope had been transferred to the hospital. He’d given her just enough information to both horrify and terrify her.
Her legs trembled as she made her way through the emergency room entrance. She hadn’t been able to see Hope when she’d been here before, as Hope had been undergoing the stomach pumping. Surely they would let Grace see her now.
She told the nurse on duty who she was, then sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room. She was the only person there. She clasped her hands together in her lap in an attempt to stop their shaking.
Was Hope okay? Who had really killed William? He’d been a kind, gentle man. Who would want to hurt him?
She blinked back her tears and straightened her shoulders. She couldn’t fall apart now. She had to be strong because she knew this was only the beginning of the nightmare.
“Grace.”
She looked up to see Dr. Ralph Dell standing in the doorway. She started to stand but he motioned her back into her chair as he sat next to her. “She’s stable,” he said. “We pumped her stomach, but whatever she took either wasn’t in pill form or had enough time to be digested. I’ve ordered a full toxicology screen.”
“Is she conscious?” Grace asked.
“Drifting in and out. She’ll be here until the effects have completely worn off.” Dr. Dell eyed her soberly. “The sheriff is going to want to talk to her, and even with her condition I can keep him away only so long.”
“I know. Charlie Black is supposed to meet me here in the next hour or so.”
“Good. Deputy Taylor has been here since she was brought in.”
Grace frowned. “Has he talked to her?”
Dr. Dell shook his head. “Up until now Hope hasn’t been in any condition to talk to anyone. And I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone in to see her while you were gone. I’m a man of my word.”
“Thank you.” Grace raised a trembling hand to her temple, where a headache had begun to pound with fierce intensity.
“How are you doing?” Dr. Dell reached out and took her hand in his. He’d been both Hope’s and Grace’s doctor since they’d been small girls. “You need anything, you let me know.”
She realized he wasn’t just holding her hand, but rather was taking her pulse at the same time. She forced a smile. “I’m okay.” She withdrew her hand from his. “Really. Can I see Hope?”
He nodded his head and stood. “However, I caution you about asking her too many questions. Right now what she needs is your love and support. There will be plenty of time for answers when she’s feeling more alert.”
Grace heartily agreed. The last thing she wanted right now was to grill Hope about whatever might have happened at the Covington mansion that morning. All she wanted—all she needed—was to make sure that the sister she loved was physically all right. She’d worry about the rest later.
“I’ve got her in a private room,” Dr. Dell said, as he led Grace down a quiet corridor.
She saw the deputy first. Ben Taylor sat in a chair in the hallway, a magazine open in his lap. He looked up as they approached, his thin face expressing no emotion as he greeted her.
“Grace.” He nodded to her and shifted in his seat as if he found the whole situation awkward.
She knew Ben because his wife worked part-time for her at the dress shop. “Hi, Ben,” she replied, appalled by the shakiness of her voice.
“Bad day, huh?” He averted his gaze from hers.
“That’s an understatement.” There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask him, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for any of the answers. Charlie would be here soon and would find out what she needed to know.
She pushed open the door of the hospital room and her heart squeezed painfully tight in her chest as she saw her sister. Hope was asleep, her petite face stark white and her blond hair a tangled mess.
Grace wanted to bundle her up in the sheet, pick her up and run out the door. Nobody could ever make her believe that Hope had anything to do with William’s murder.
Pulling up a chair next to Hope’s bed, Grace fought against a tremendous amount of guilt. In the past couple of months had she been too absent from Hope’s life? Had there been things she wasn’t aware of, things that had led to this terrible crime?
Stop it, she commanded herself. She was thinking as if Hope was guilty, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t! As soon as Charlie arrived, everything would be okay.
A knot of simmering anger twisted in her stomach. She shouldn’t be alone here, waiting for Hope to wake up. Their mother should be with her, but she’d run from her responsibility and her family and disappeared like a puff of smoke on a windy day. Hope had been far too young to lose her mother. Damn you, Mom, Grace thought.
Hope stirred and her eyes opened. She frowned and looked at Grace in obvious confusion. “Sis?” Her voice was a painful croak.
Grace leaned forward and grabbed Hope’s hand. “I’m here, honey. It’s all right. You’re going to be all right now.”
Hope looked around wildly, as if unsure where she was. Her gaze locked with Grace’s once again, and in the depths of Hope’s eyes Grace saw a whisper of terror. “What happened?”
“You got your stomach pumped. Did you take something, Hope? Some kind of drug?”
Hope’s eyes flashed with annoyance and she rose to a half-sitting position. “I don’t do drugs. Drugs are for losers.” She fell back against the bed and closed her eyes, as if the brief conversation had completely exhausted her.
Grace remained seated next to her, clasping her hand even after she realized Hope had fallen back asleep. If Hope hadn’t taken any drugs, then why had the authorities found her unconscious on her bed when they’d arrived?
Had she been hit over the head? Knocked unconscious by whoever had committed the murder? Surely if she’d had a head injury Dr. Dell would have found it.
Hope slept the sleep of the drugged, not awakening even when a nurse came in to take her vital signs. The nurse didn’t speak to Grace. She simply did her job with stern lips pressed tightly together.
Minutes ticked by with nauseating slowness. Grace checked her watch over and over again, wondering when Charlie would arrive. Hopefully he’d have some answers that would unravel the knot of dread tied tight in her stomach.
She leaned her head back against the chair and thought of Charlie. The moment she’d seen him again, an electric charge had sizzled through her. It had surprised her.
He was as handsome now as he’d been when they’d dated, his dark hair rich and full and his features aristocratically elegant, holding just a hint of danger. She knew those slate-gray eyes of his could narrow with cold intent or stoke a fire so hot a woman felt as if she might combust.
She’d been more than half in love with him when they’d broken up. She’d thought he felt the same way about her, but the redhead in his bed that night had told her different.
On that night she’d hated him more than she’d loved him, and in the past eighteen months her feelings hadn’t changed. She rubbed her fingers across her forehead, thoughts of Charlie Black only increasing her headache.
Maybe he’d come in and tell her that Hope wasn’t in any trouble, didn’t need the expertise of a criminal defense lawyer or a bodyguard. Then she’d go back to the mess that had suddenly become her life and never see Charlie again.
She glanced at her watch and frowned. He was late. He was always late. That was something else she’d always found irritating about him—his inability to be on time for anything.
She didn’t know why she was thinking about him anyway, except that it was far easier to think about Charlie than what had happened.
Somebody murdered William. Somebody murdered William. The words thundered through her brain in perfect rhythm with her pounding headache.
Who would want him dead? He’d been a wealthy man, a generous benefactor to numerous charities. He’d been well liked in the community and loved and respected by the two stepdaughters he’d claimed as his own.
Although he was the CEO of several industrial companies, he’d stopped working full-time a year ago and went in only occasionally for meetings.
He was kind and gentle, and his heart had been broken when Hope and Grace’s mother had left him, left them. Tears burned her eyes again and she struggled to hold them back as she realized she’d never again see his gentle smile, never again feel the touch of his hand on her shoulder.
It was just after seven when the hospital door creaked open and Charlie motioned her out of the room. She got up from the chair and joined him in the hallway, where he took her by the arm and led her away from Ben Taylor.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said when they were far enough down the hallway that Ben couldn’t hear their conversation. His gray eyes were like granite slabs, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
“What?” she asked.
“I have every reason to believe that as soon as Hope is well enough to be released by the doctor, she’s going to be arrested for the murder of your stepfather.”
Grace gasped. “But why? How could anyone think she’s responsible?”
He shifted his gaze and stared at some point just over her head. “Hope wasn’t just found passed out on her bed. Her room had been trashed as if she’d been in a fit of rage.”
“But that doesn’t make her a murderer,” Grace exclaimed. Although it was definitely out of character for Hope to do something like that. Hope had always been a neatnik who loved her room neat and tidy.
Charlie sighed and focused his gaze back on her. The darkness she saw there terrified her. “The real problem is that Hope was found covered in William’s blood—and she had a knife in her hand. It was the murder weapon.”
Chapter 2 (#ulink_4795c638-7565-5a1e-b946-c0e7e15e7328)
Charlie watched as the color left Grace’s cheeks and she swayed on her feet. His first impulse was to reach out to her, but before he could follow through, she stiffened and took a step back from him.
She’d never been a needy woman—that was one of the things he’d always admired about her and ultimately one of the things he’d come to hate. That she wasn’t needy—that she had never really needed him.
“So, what do we do now?” Her strong voice gave away nothing of the emotional turmoil she must be feeling.
“Zack West wants to question her tonight. I just saw him in the lobby and he’s chomping at the bit to get to her. Give me a dollar.”
“Excuse me?” She looked at him blankly.
“Give me a dollar as a retainer. That will make it official that at least for now, I’m Hope’s legal counsel. She’s a minor. She can’t be questioned without me, and we can argue that as her legal guardian you have the right to be present, too.”
She opened her purse and withdrew a crisp dollar bill. He took it from her and shoved it into his back pocket. “I’ll go find Zack and we’ll get this over with.”
As he walked away, her scent lingered in his head. She’d always smelled like jasmine and the faintest hint of vanilla, and today was no different.
It was a scent that had stayed with him for months after she’d left him, a fragrance that had once smelled like desire and had wound up smelling like regret.
This was a fool’s job, and he was all kinds of fool for getting involved. From what little he’d already learned, it didn’t look good for the young girl.
If he got involved and ended up defending Hope, then failed, Grace would have yet another reason to hate his guts. Even if he defended Hope successfully, that wasn’t a ticket to the land of forgiveness where Grace was concerned.
Still, Charlie knew that in all probability Hope was going to need a damn good lawyer on her side, and he was just arrogant enough to believe that he was the best in the four-state area.
Besides, he owed it to Grace. Although at the time of their breakup they’d been not only on different pages but in completely different books, he’d never forgotten the rich, raw pain on her face when she’d been confronted by the knowledge that he hadn’t been monogamous.
Maybe fate had given him this opportunity to right the wrong, to heal some wounds and assuage the guilt he’d felt ever since.
He found Zack in the waiting room. The handsome sheriff was pacing the floor and frowning. He stopped in his tracks as Charlie approached him. “If you want to question Hope, then Grace and I intend to be present,” Charlie said.
Zack raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you here as Hope’s lawyer?”
“Maybe.” Charlie replied.
Zack sighed. “You going to make this difficult for me?”
“Probably,” Charlie replied dryly. “You can’t really believe that Hope killed William.”
“Right now, I’m just in the information-gathering mode. After I have all the information I need, then I can decide if I have a viable suspect or not.”
Zack had only been sheriff for less than a year, but Charlie knew he was a truth seeker and not a town pleaser. He would look for justice, not make a fast arrest in order to waylay the fears of the people in Cotter Creek. But if all the evidence pointed to Hope, Zack would have no choice but to arrest her.
“I heard you were working for Dalton,” Zack said.
Dalton was Zack’s brother and ran the family business, West Protective Services, an agency that provided bodyguard services around the country.
“I told him I’d be interested in helping out whenever he needed me,” Charlie replied. “But I need to get this situation under control before I do anything else.”
“Then let’s do it,” Zack said. He headed down the hallway toward Hope’s room and Charlie followed close behind.
Dr. Dell met them at her door, his arms crossed over his chest like a mythical guardian of a magical jewel. “I know you have a job to do here, Sheriff, but so do I. She’s still very weak, so I want this interview to be short and sweet.”
Zack nodded, and the doctor stepped away. Grace’s eyes narrowed slightly as Zack and Charlie entered the room. She sat next to the bed, where Hope was awake.
The kid looked sick and terrified as her gaze swept from Charlie to Zack. “Hope, you remember Zack West, the sheriff,” Grace said. “And Charlie is here as your lawyer.”
Hope’s eyes widened, and Charlie had a feeling she hadn’t realized just what kind of trouble she was in until this moment. Tears filled her eyes and she reached for her sister’s hand.
“I want to ask you some questions,” Zack said. He pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket and set it on the nightstand next to the bed. “You mind if I turn this on?”
Hope looked wildly at Charlie, who nodded his assent. Charlie stood next to Grace, trying to ignore the way her evocative scent made him remember the pleasure of making love with her and how crazy he’d been about her.
He couldn’t think about that now—he knew he shouldn’t think about that ever again. He couldn’t go back and change the past and that terrible mistake he’d made. All he could do was step up right now and hopefully redeem himself just a little bit.
“I told her about William,” Grace said to Zack, her chin lifted in a gesture of defiance. “She knows he was murdered but insists she had nothing to do with it.”
A knot of tension formed in Zack’s jaw. “I need to hear from her what happened today,” he said, and focused his gaze on Hope. “What’s the first thing you remember from this morning?”
Hope raised a trembling hand to her head and rubbed her temples. “I woke up around nine and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Nobody was around. It was Lana’s day off, and I figured William was still in bed. Lately he’d been sleeping in longer than usual.”
She stopped talking as tears once again filled her blue eyes. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I just don’t understand any of this. Why would somebody do this to him? What happened to me?”
“So, you made yourself breakfast, then what did you do?” Zack asked, seemingly unmoved by her tears.
Grace’s lips were a thin slash, and her pretty features were taut with tension. Several more strands of her shiny blond hair had escaped her barrette and framed her face.
Charlie was surprised to realize he wanted to do something, anything to erase that apprehensive look on her face, to alleviate the tortured shadows in her eyes.
“After I ate breakfast, I was still tired, so I went back to bed,” Hope replied. “And I woke up here.” Her features crumbled. “I don’t know what happened to William. I don’t know what happened to me.” She began to cry in earnest, deep, wrenching sobs.
Grace got up from her chair and put her arms around Hope’s slender shoulders and glared at Zack as if he were personally responsible for all the unhappiness on the entire planet.
“Isn’t this enough?” she asked, those blue eyes of hers filled with anger. “Can’t you see what this is doing to her?”
Unfortunately, Charlie knew that Zack was just getting started. “Grace, let’s just get this over with,” he said. “Zack has to question her sooner or later. We might as well get it finished now. We’ll give her a minute to pull herself together.”
Zack waited until Hope calmed down a bit before asking about any tensions between her and William and probing her about any fights her stepfather might have had with anyone else.
Charlie protested only a couple of times when he thought the questions Zack asked might incriminate Hope if she answered.
Despite Charlie’s efforts to protect Hope, what little information Zack got from the girl offered no alternative suspect and merely added to the mystery of what exactly happened in the Covington mansion that morning.
After an hour and a half of questioning, it was Grace who finally called a halt to the interrogation. “That’s enough for tonight, Zack,” she said firmly, as she rose from her chair. “Hope is exhausted. She isn’t going anywhere. If you have more questions for her, you can ask them another time.”
Zack nodded and reached over and turned off the tape recorder, then slipped the small device into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch. I guess I don’t have to tell you and Hope not to leave town.”
“Innocent people don’t leave town,” she replied vehemently.
Zack left the room and Grace leaned over her sister. “We’re going to go now, honey. We need to take care of some things. Nobody will bother you for the rest of the night. Just get some sleep and try not to worry. Charlie is going to fix all this, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Charlie nearly groaned out loud. Sure, that was easy for her to say. But he was a defense attorney turned rancher, not a miracle worker.
They left the room together, and once out in the hallway Grace slumped against the polished wall. For the first time since arriving at his ranch, she looked lost and achingly fragile.
His need to touch her—to somehow chase away that vulnerable look in her eyes—was incredibly strong. “Do you need a hug?” The ridiculous words were out of his mouth before he’d realized he was going to say them.
She released a bitter laugh and shoved off the wall. “I’d rather hug a rattlesnake,” she said thinly.
If he had any question about the depth of her dislike for him, her curt reply certainly answered it.
“It doesn’t look good, does it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t look great,” he replied.
“So what happens now?” she inquired, as they continued down the hallway to the hospital’s front doors.
“Nothing for now. Questioning Hope is only the beginning. We really won’t know how much trouble she’s in until Zack’s completed his investigation into the murder.”
They stepped out into the unusually warm spring night air, and again he caught a whiff of her sweet floral scent. He wanted to ask her if she was dating anyone, if she’d found love with somebody else in the eighteen months since they’d been together.
He reminded himself he had no right to know anything about her personal life, that he’d given up any such right the night he’d gotten drunk and fallen into bed with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember.
“I don’t want to wait for Zack,” she said. “I want us to investigate this murder just as vigorously as he will.”
Charlie looked at her in surprise. “That’s a crazy idea!” he exclaimed.
“Why is it crazy? You told me once that you worked as an investigator before you became a lawyer.”
“That was a long time ago,” he reminded her.
She crossed her arms, a mutinous expression on her face. “Fine, then I’ll investigate it on my own.” She turned on her heels and walked off.
Charlie sighed in frustration. “Grace, wait,” he called after her. “I can’t let you muck around in this alone. You could potentially do more damage than good for Hope.”
“Then help me,” she said, her voice low with desperation. “I’m all that Hope has. The only way to make sure she isn’t railroaded for a crime she didn’t commit is for me to find the guilty person, and that’s exactly what I intend to do—with or without your help.” She paused, her eyes glittering darkly. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and shook his head. “I’d forgotten just how stubborn you could be.”
“I don’t think you want to start pointing out character flaws in other people,” she said pointedly.
To Charlie’s surprise, he felt the warmth of a flush heat his cheeks. “Touché,” he said. “All right, we’ll do a little digging of our own. The first thing you should do is make a list of William’s friends and business associates. We need to pick his life apart if we hope to find some answers.”
“I can have a list for you by tomorrow. Why don’t you meet me at my shop around noon, and we can decide exactly where to go from there.”
“You’re going into work?” he asked in surprise.
“I’d rather meet you at the shop than at my place,” she replied.
“All right, then, tomorrow at noon,” he agreed reluctantly. Charlie had worked extremely hard over the last six months to gain control and now felt his life was suddenly whirling back out of control.
She nodded. “Charlie, you should know that just because I came to you for help—just because I need you right now—doesn’t mean I like you. When this is all over, I don’t want to see you again.” She turned and left without waiting for a response.
Jeez, he seemed to be watching her walking away from him a lot, especially after throwing a bomb at him. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the sexy sway of those hips beneath the suit skirt and the length of her shapely legs. A surge of familiar regret welled up inside him.
He was a man who made few excuses or apologies for the choices he made, but the mistake of throwing Grace away would haunt him until the day he died.
The morning sun was shining brightly as Grace parked in front of her dress shop on Main Street. She turned off the engine but remained seated in the car, her thoughts still on the visit she’d just had with Hope.
Hope had been no less confused about the events of the day before and didn’t seem to understand that at the moment she was the best suspect they had.
Fortunately, Dr. Dell wanted to keep her under observation for another twenty-four hours, and that was fine with Grace. The tox screen had come back showing a cocktail of drugs in Hope’s system but Hope was still vehemently denying taking anything. At the hospital, Hope was safe and getting the best care.
Grace wearily rubbed a hand across her forehead. The day was just beginning, and she was already exhausted. Her sleep had been a continuous reel of nightmares.
She’d been haunted by visions of Hope stabbing William and then taking the drugs that knocked her unconscious. And if that hadn’t been bad enough, images of Charlie also filled her dreams.
Charlie. She got out of the car and slammed the door harder than necessary, as if doing so could cast out all thoughts of the man.
She focused her attention on the shop before her. Sophisticated Lady had been a dream of hers from the time she was small. She’d always loved fashion and design, and five years ago for her twenty-fifth birthday, William had loaned her the money to open the shop.
Grace had worked her tail off to stock the store with fine clothing at discount prices, and within two years she’d managed to pay back the loan and expand into accessories and shoes.
Now all she could think about was whether she’d sacrificed her sister’s well-being for making her shop a success. She’d spent long hours here at the store, and when she wasn’t here she was away on buying trips or at Charlie’s place for the weekend.
As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t know what had been going on in Hope’s life lately, but she intended to find out.
She entered the shop, turned on the lights and went directly to the back office, where she made a pot of coffee. With a cup of fresh brew in hand, she returned to the sales floor and sat on the stool behind the counter that held the register.
Much of her time the night before had been spent thinking about William, grieving for him while at the same time trying to figure out who might want him dead. The list of potential suspects she had to give to Charlie was frighteningly short.
The morning was unusually quiet. No customers had entered when Dana Taylor came through the door at eleven-thirty. “Hey, Grace,” she said, her tone unusually somber. “How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected,” Grace replied. “Right now I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around it all.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dana replied sympathetically.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d be available to take some extra hours for a while. I’m going to be busy with other things.”
“Not a problem,” Dana replied, as she stowed her purse under the counter. “When Ben got home from the hospital last night, he told me not to expect to see a lot of him for the next week or two.” She didn’t quite meet Grace’s eyes.
“There’s a new shipment of handbags in the back. If you have time this afternoon, could you unpack them and get them on display?” Grace asked, desperate to get over the awkwardness of the moment.
“Sure,” Dana agreed. “Any business this morning?”
“Nothing. It’s been quiet.” Grace turned toward the door as it opened to admit Charlie.
An intense burst of electricity shot through her at the sight of him, and instantly every defense she possessed went up.
“Morning, ladies,” he said as he ambled toward the counter. Clad in a pair of snug jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, he looked half rancher, half businessman and all handsome male.
His square jaw indicated a hint of stubbornness and his eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes. His nose was straight, his lips full enough to give women fantasies of kissing them. In short, Charlie was one hot hunk.
His energy filled the air, and despite her wishes to the contrary, Grace felt a crazy surge of warmth as she gazed at him.
“Good morning, Charlie,” Dana replied. “How are things out at the ranch?”
“Not bad. The cattle are getting fat, and I’ve got a garden full of tomato and pepper plants that are going to yield blue-ribbon-quality product.”
Pride rang in his voice, a pride that surprised Grace. Two years ago, the only things that put that kind of emotion in his voice were his fancy surround-sound system, his state-of-the-art television and the new Italian shoes that cost what most people earned in a month.
He turned his gaze to Grace. “We need to talk,” he said. His smile was gone, and the enigmatic look in his gray eyes created a knot in Grace’s stomach.
“Okay. Come on back to my office,” she said.
He followed her to the back room, where she turned and looked at him. “Something else has happened?”
“No, I just have some new information.”
“What kind of information?” She leaned against the desk, needing the support because she knew with certainty whatever he was about to tell her wasn’t good.
“Did you know that Hope has a boyfriend?” he asked.
She frowned. “Hope is only fifteen. Their relationship can’t be anything serious.”
One of his dark eyebrows quirked upward. “When you’re fifteen, everything is serious. His name is Justin Walker. Do you know him?”
Grace shook her head, and a new shaft of guilt pierced through her. She should have known her sister’s boyfriend. What other things didn’t she know? “So, who is he?”
“He’s a seventeen-year-old high school dropout with a bad reputation,” Charlie replied. “And there’s more. Apparently Justin was a bone of contention between William and Hope. William thought he was too old and was bad news and had forbidden Hope from seeing him.”
Grace sat on the edge of her desk. “How did you find out all of this?”
“I had a brief conversation with Zack this morning. I wanted to be up-to-date on where the investigation was going before meeting you today. And there’s more.”
She eyed him narrowly. “I’m really beginning to hate those words.”
“Then you’re really going to hate this,” he said. “On the night before the murder, Hope and William went out to dinner at the café. An employee told Zack that while there, they had a public argument ending with Hope screaming that she wished he were dead.”
Grace’s heart plummeted to her feet, and she wished she didn’t hate Charlie, because at the moment she wanted nothing more than his big strong arms around her.
Chapter 3 (#ulink_1452b6a7-8533-5e2a-bb32-93e7a3802617)
Justin Walker lived with a buddy in the Majestic Apartments complex on the outskirts of town. The illustrious name of the apartments had to have been somebody’s idea of a very bad joke.
The small complex had faded from yellow to a weathered gray from the Oklahoma sun and sported several broken windows. The vehicles in the parking lot ran the gamut from souped-up hot rods to a rusty pickup truck missing two tires.
“You sure you want to do this?” Charlie asked dubiously, as he parked in front of the building and cut his engine.
Grace stared at the building in obvious dismay. “Not really, but it has to be done. I want to know exactly what his relationship with Hope was…is. I want to hear it from him, and then I want to hear it from my sister.” She turned to look at Charlie. “Does he work?”
“He’s a mechanic down at the garage, but he called in sick this morning.”
“You managed to learn a lot between last night and now,” she observed.
He shrugged and pulled his keys from the ignition. “It just took a phone call to find out if he was at the garage today. Somehow I knew you’d want to talk to him.” He directed his gaze back at the building. “But, just because he isn’t at work doesn’t mean he’s here.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” She opened her car door and stepped out.
Charlie joined her on the cracked sidewalk and tried not to notice how pretty she looked in the yellow skirt that showcased her shapely legs and the yellow-flowered blouse that hugged her slender curves.
This whole thing would have been so much easier if during the time they’d been apart she sprouted some facial hair or maybe grown a wart on the end of her nose.
“Which unit is it?” she asked.
“Unit four.” He pointed to the corner apartment, one that sported a broken window. Grace grimaced but marched with determined strides toward the door, on which she knocked in a rapid staccato fashion.
Charlie stepped in between her and the front door, protective instincts coming into play. He had no idea if Justin was just a loser boyfriend or an active participant in William’s murder.
The door opened and a tall young man gazed at them with a wealth of belligerence. He looked like he wasn’t having a good day. “Are you more cops?” he asked, his dark eyes wary and guarded.
Grace moved closer to the door. “No. I’m Grace Covington, Hope’s sister, and this is her lawyer, Charlie Black. Are you Justin?”
He hesitated a moment, as if considering whether or not to tell the truth, then gave a curt nod of his head, his dark hair flopping carelessly onto his forehead. “Yeah, I’m Justin. What do you want?”
“Sheriff West has already talked to you?” Charlie asked.
Justin’s eyes darkened. “He was here half the night asking me questions.”
“May we come in?” Grace asked.
Justin’s eyes swept the length of her and he scowled. “You don’t want to come in here. The place is a dump.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
“You were dating my sister?” Grace asked.
Justin barked a dry laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call it dating. She’s not allowed to date until she turns sixteen. We hung out, that’s all. When she’d show up down at the garage after school, I’d take a break and we’d just talk. It was no big deal.”
There was hostility in his voice, as if he expected them to take issue with him. “Were you sleeping with her?” Grace asked. Charlie wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the question, himself or Justin.
Justin gave her a mocking smile. “Don’t worry, big sister. As far as I know your baby sister is still as pure as the driven snow.”
“Where were you yesterday morning?” Charlie asked. “Your boss told me you weren’t at work.” He felt Grace stiffen next to him.
“Funny, the sheriff asked me the same thing.” Justin clutched his stomach. “I’ve been fighting off this flu bug. Yesterday I was here in bed, and if you don’t believe me, my roommate will vouch for me. I didn’t leave here all day.”
“And your roommate’s name?” Charlie asked.
Justin stepped back toward his apartment door. “Sam Young, and now I’m done answering your questions.” He stepped back inside and shut the door firmly in their faces.
“Do you believe him?” Grace asked when they were back in Charlie’s car and headed for the hospital.
He cast her a wry glance. “In the words of a famous television personality, I wouldn’t believe him if his tongue came notarized.”
Her burst of laughter was short-lived, but the sound of it momentarily warmed his heart. Charlie always loved to hear her laugh, and there had been a time when he’d been good at making her do so.
“After we speak with Hope, I need to find out if I can go to the house and get some of her things,” Grace said. “Dr. Dell thought he would release her at some point this evening or first thing in the morning, and we’ll need to get some of her clothes and things to take to my place.”
“When we get to the hospital, I’ll call Zack and see what can be arranged.”
“I’d like to talk to Hope alone. I don’t think she’ll be open about her relationship with Justin if you’re there, too.”
“Okay,” he replied. He glanced at her and caught her rubbing her temple. “Headache?”
She nodded and dropped her hand back into her lap. “I think it’s a guilt thing.”
“Guilt? What do you have to feel guilty about?” he asked in surprise.
A tiny frown danced across her forehead, doing nothing to detract from her attractiveness. “I should have been paying more attention to what was going on in her life. I should have been putting in less hours at the store and spending more time with her.”
“Regrets are funny things, Grace. They rip your heart out, but they don’t really change anything,” he replied. He was an old hand at entertaining regrets.
“You’re right.” She reached up, massaged her temple once again and then shot him a pointed look. “You’re absolutely right. The past is over and nothing can change the damage done. What’s important is to learn from the mistakes made in the past and never forget the lesson.”
Charlie frowned, knowing her words were barbs flung at him and had nothing to do with the situation at hand. They spoke no more until they arrived at the hospital.
As she disappeared into Hope’s hospital room, he called Zack West to find out what was going on at the Covington mansion. Zack informed him that the evidence gathering was finished and said Grace was free to get whatever she needed for Hope.
When Charlie asked him for an update, he merely replied that it was an ongoing investigation and there was nothing new to report.
As he waited for Grace, he sat in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room. Charlie had a theory that murder happened for one of three reasons. He called it his “three R” theory. Rage, revenge and reward were the motives that drove most murderers.
At the moment, the officials were leaning toward rage—a young girl’s rage at being stymied in a love relationship by an overbearing father figure.
The news was certainly filled with stories of young people going on killing rampages against authority figures. Had Hope snapped that morning and stabbed William while he slept and then, filled with remorse, taken drugs in a suicide attempt?
Hopefully they would be successful in coming up with an alternative theory that would explain both William’s death and Hope’s drugged state.
He looked up as Grace entered the room. She sat next to him as if too exhausted to stand. “What did she have to say about Justin?” he asked.
“She told me she’s crazy in love with him, and she thinks they belong together forever, but she hasn’t gotten physical with him yet.”
“That’s different from Justin’s story. He made it sound like she was no big deal to him,” Charlie observed.
“Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way she does. Maybe he was afraid to tell us how he really feels about Hope,” she replied.
“Maybe,” Charlie agreed.
Grace reached up and tucked a strand of her shiny hair behind her ear. “She’s not being released today. She’s running a fever and Dr. Dell wants to get to the bottom of it.”
“You still want to go by the house?” She sat so close to him he could feel the heat from her body. He used to tease her about how she was better than a hot water bottle at keeping him warm on cold wintry nights. He wished he could tell her how he’d been cold ever since he’d lost her.
She nodded. “Whether she’s here or at my place, I’m sure she’d be more comfortable with some of her own things. Besides, I’d like to talk to Lana, William’s housekeeper. She’d know better than anyone what was going on between William and Hope, and if anyone else was having a problem with William.”
Grace jumped up from the chair, newfound energy vibrating from her. “We need to find something, Charlie, something that will point the finger of guilt away from Hope. I can’t lose her. She’s all I have left.”
She looked half frantic, and again a soft vulnerability sagged her shoulders and haunted her eyes. This time Charlie didn’t fight his impulse—his need to touch her. He reached out for her hand and took it in his. Hers was icy, as if the heat of her body was unable to warm her small, trembling hand.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I promise you that we’ll get to the bottom of this. I won’t let Hope be convicted of a crime she didn’t commit.”
What he didn’t say was that if Hope was guilty, not even the great Charlie Black would be able to save her.
The Covington estate was located on the northern edge of town, a huge two-story structure with manicured grounds, several outbuildings and a small cottage in the back where Lana Racine and her husband, Leroy, lived.
As Charlie pulled into the circular drive and parked in front, Grace stared at the big house and felt the burgeoning grief welling up inside her.
The sight of the bright yellow crime-scene tape across the front door nearly made her lose control, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
She’d spent her life being the strong one—the child her mother could depend on, the teenager who often took responsibility for her baby sister, and the woman who’d held it together when her mother deserted them.
Charlie didn’t know about her mother. When they’d been dating, she told him only that her mother had moved away, not that she’d just packed her bags and disappeared from their lives.
Without an explanation.
Without a word since.
Was she sunning on a beach in Florida? Eating crab cakes and lobster in Maine? Or was she out of the country? She’d always talked about wanting to go to France.
Grace welcomed the raw anger that took the place of her grief—it sustained her, kept her strong.
She glanced back at Charlie, wondering if she should tell him about what had been going on in her life when she’d met him. She dismissed the idea. She couldn’t stand the idea of seeing pity in his eyes, and after all this time, what difference did it make?
“Are you sure you’re ready to go in there?” Charlie asked.
She focused back on the house and nodded. “I’ll just get some of Hope’s things, then we can go talk with Lana and Leroy.”
She almost wished Charlie weren’t here with her. He’d stirred old feelings in her, made her remember how much she’d once cared about him. She’d thought her hatred of him would protect her from those old feelings—that it would vaccinate her against the “wanting Charlie” emotion. She’d been wrong.
All day she’d been plagued by memories of the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of his hands stroking the length of her. Their physical relationship had been nothing short of magic. He’d been an amazing lover, at times playful and at other times intense and demanding.
But it wasn’t just those kinds of memories that bothered her. Remembering how often they had laughed together and how much they’d enjoyed each other’s company had proved equally troubling.
Amnesia would have been welcome. She would have loved to permanently forget the six months with Charlie, but spending time with him now unlocked the mental box in which she’d placed those memories the night she’d walked away from him.
Focus on the reason he’s in your life, she told herself. Hope. She had to stay focused on Hope and finding something, anything, that would reveal the young girl’s innocence.
She got out of the car, grateful to escape the small confines that smelled of him—a wonderful blend of clean male and expensive, slightly spicy cologne. It was the same scent he’d worn when they’d been dating, and it only helped stir memories she would prefer to forget.
Charlie pulled away the crime-scene tape, and Grace used her key to open the front door. They walked into the massive entry with its marble floor and an ornate gilded mirror hanging on the wall.
“Wow,” Charlie said, obviously impressed. “I’d heard this place was a showcase, but I had no idea.”
“William was an extremely successful man,” she replied. “He liked to surround himself with beautiful things.”
“I know you said your mother married him when you were sixteen. What happened to your father?”
“He died of a heart attack when mom was pregnant with Hope. We were left with no insurance and no money in the bank.” Grace paused a moment, thinking about those days just after her father’s death. There’d been a wealth of grief and fear about what would happen to them now the breadwinner was gone.
She walked from the entry to the sweeping staircase that led to the second floor. Placing a hand on the polished wood banister, she continued: “William was like a knight in shining armor. He and Mom met at the grocery store, and he swooped into our lives like a savior. He was crazy, not just about Mom, but also about me and Hope.”
“He didn’t have children of his own?” Charlie asked.
“No. He’d been married years before, but it ended in divorce and there had been no children. We were all the family he had.”
“Who is his beneficiary?”
Grace looked at him in surprise. “I have no idea. I hadn’t even thought about it.”
“Maybe your mother?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Grace agreed, although she wasn’t so sure. Grace’s mother had ripped the very heart out of William when she’d disappeared. William had been a good man, generous to a fault, but he hadn’t been a foolish man, especially when it came to money.
“Let’s get Hope’s things and get out of here,” she said, her heart heavy as she climbed the stairs.
Charlie followed just behind her as she topped the stairs and walked down the long hallway toward Hope’s room. The door was closed and she hesitated, unsure she was ready for whatever was inside.
Hope had been found covered in blood, clutching the knife in her hands, her room trashed. Grace grabbed the doorknob and still couldn’t force herself to open the door.
Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have to do this. We can buy Hope whatever she needs for the time being.”
How could a man who had been incredibly insensitive eighteen months ago, a man who had been so thick he hadn’t recognized the depths of her feelings for him, be so in tune to what she was feeling now?
She didn’t have the answer but was grateful that he seemed to understand the turmoil inside her as she contemplated going into Hope’s room. Deep within, she knew she was grateful that he was here with her.
“It’s all right. I can do this,” she said, as much to herself as to him.
She straightened her shoulders and opened the door. A gasp escaped her as she saw the utter mess inside. She took several steps into the room and stared around in horror.
Ripped clothes were everywhere. The French provincial bookshelf had been turned over, spilling its contents onto the floor. A hole was punched in the Sheetrock wall, as if it had been angrily kicked.
The bed had been stripped. She imagined that the investigators had taken away the bedclothes. “Definitely looks like somebody had a temper fit in here,” Charlie said from behind her.
Grace’s mind whirled with sick suppositions. Was it possible that a rage had been festering in Hope for some time? Their mother’s defection had been difficult on Grace, but it had been devastating for Hope. Grace had been twenty-eight years old when their mother had left, but Hope had been a thirteen-year-old who desperately needed her mom.
“I’ll just grab some clothes,” Grace said. She’d taken only two steps toward the closet when her foot crunched on something.
She looked down and saw the arm of a porcelain doll. She knew that arm. She knew that doll. It had been Hope’s prized possession, given to her on the birthday before their mother had disappeared.
Crouching down, she found the rest of the doll among the mess of clothes and books and miscellaneous items that had fallen from the bookcase.
The porcelain arms and legs had been pulled from the cloth body. The head was smashed beyond repair, and the body had been slashed open.
Rage. There was no doubt that rage had destroyed the doll. The rage of a daughter whose mother had left her with a man who hadn’t been able to understand her needs, her wants?
Hope’s rage?
The breakdown that began in Grace started with a trembling that seemed to possess her entire body. Her vision blurred with the hot press of tears, and for the first time she wondered if her sister had committed the crime, if it was possible that Hope was guilty.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_54484416-abea-5735-a4ba-3dceb0d55005)
Charlie saw it coming: the crack in her strength, the loss of her control. Until this moment Grace had shown an incredible amount of poise in dealing with the mess that had become her life.
Now she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and lips that trembled uncontrollably, and he knew she’d reached the end of that strength.
“Grace.” He said her name softly.
“She couldn’t have done this, Charlie? Surely she didn’t do this?” They weren’t statements of fact but questions of uncertainty, and he knew the agony the doubts must be causing her.
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Carla Cassidy
The Rancher Bodyguard
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u0aa371eb-897c-5685-a26d-80ad949e2828)
Title Page (#u076586d8-6ca9-5a14-ac36-598b03b83d8c)
About the Author (#u6774f3a2-1552-58cf-968f-3f1276218c71)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_585da12e-1e64-548a-a937-a260bf815ea8)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_03ffe27c-5e6b-5b45-8e22-9410b641ae48)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_7ed89f2d-713f-549a-ac0d-89bf692b52c2)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_1b1ce116-7d6d-56a1-b696-9df389da29c2)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times BOOK-reviews. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series.
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.
Chapter 1 (#ulink_7005332b-40fa-5e09-9c7c-d33bf3bbd17b)
As he approached the barn, Charlie Black saw the sleek, scarlet convertible pulling into his driveway, and wondered when exactly, while he’d slept the night before, hell had frozen over. Because the last time he’d seen Grace Covington, that’s what she’d told him would have to happen before she’d ever talk to or even look at him again.
He patted the neck of his stallion and reined in at the corral. As he dismounted and pulled off his dusty black hat, he tried to ignore the faint thrum of electricity that zinged through him as she got out of her car.
Her long blond hair sparkled in the late afternoon sun, but he was still too far away to see the expression on her lovely features.
It had been a year and a half since he’d seen her, even though for the past six months they’d resided in the same small town of Cotter Creek, Oklahoma.
The last time he’d encountered her had been in his upscale apartment in Oklahoma City. He’d been wearing a pair of sports socks and an electric blue condom. Not one of his finer moments, but it had been the culminating incident in a year of not-so-fine moments.
Too much money, too many successes and far too much booze had transformed his life into a nightmare of bad moments, the last resulting in him losing the only thing worth having.
Surely she hadn’t waited all this time to come out to the family ranch—his ranch now—to finally put a bullet in what she’d described as his cold, black heart. Grace had never been the type of woman to put off till today what she could have done yesterday.
Besides, she hadn’t needed a gun on that terrible Friday night when she’d arrived unannounced at his apartment. As he’d stared at her in a drunken haze, she’d given it to him with both barrels, calling him every vile name under the sun before she slammed out of his door and out of his life.
So, what was she doing here now? He slapped his horse on the rump, then motioned to a nearby ranch hand to take care of the animal. He closed the gate and approached where she hadn’t moved away from the driver’s side of her car.
Her hair had grown much longer since he’d last seen her. Although most of it was clasped at the back of her neck, several long wisps had escaped the confines. The beige suit she wore complemented her blond coloring and the icy blue of her eyes.
She might look cool and untouchable, like the perfect lady, but he knew what those eyes looked like flared with desire. He knew how she moaned with wild abandon when making love, and he hated the fact that just the unexpected sight of her brought back all the memories he’d worked so long and hard to forget.
“Hello, Grace,” he said, as he got close enough to speak without competing with the warm April breeze. “I have to admit I’m surprised to see you. As I remember, the last time we saw each other, you indicated that hell would freeze over before you’d ever speak to me again.”
Her blue eyes flashed with more than a touch of annoyance—a flash followed swiftly by a look of desperation.
“Charlie, I need you.” Her low voice trembled slightly, and only then did he notice that her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been weeping. In all the time they’d dated—even during the ugly scene that had ended them—he’d never seen her shed a single tear. “Have you heard the news?” she asked.
“What news?”
“Early this afternoon my stepfather was found stabbed to death in bed.” She paused for a moment and bit her full lower lip as her eyes grew shiny with suppressed tears. “I think Hope is in trouble, Charlie. I think she’s really in bad trouble.”
“What?” Shock stabbed through him. Hope was Grace’s fifteen-year-old sister. He’d met her a couple of times. She’d seemed like a nice kid, not as pretty as her older sister, but a cutie nevertheless.
“Maybe you should come on inside,” he said, and gestured toward the house. She stared at the attractive ranch house as if he’d just invited her into the chambers of hell. “There’s nobody inside, Grace. The only woman who ever comes in is Rosa Caltano. She does the cooking and cleaning for me, and she’s already left for the day.”
Grace gave a curt nod and moved away from the car. She followed him to the house and up the wooden stairs to the wraparound porch.
The entry hall was just as it had been when Charlie’s mother and father had been alive, with a gleaming wood floor and a dried flower wreath on the wall.
He led her to the living room. Charlie had removed much of the old furniture that he’d grown up with and replaced it with contemporary pieces in earth tones. He motioned Grace to the sofa, where she sat on the very edge as if ready to bolt at any moment. He took the chair across from her and gazed at her expectantly.
“Why do you think Hope is in trouble?”
She drew in a deep breath, obviously fighting for control. “From what I’ve been told, Lana, the housekeeper, found William dead in his bed. Today is her day off, but she left a sweater there last night and went back to get it. It was late enough in the day that William should have been up, so she checked on him. She immediately called Zack West, and he and some of his deputies responded. They found Hope passed out on her bed. Apparently she was the only one home at the time of the murder.”
Charlie frowned, his mind reeling. Before he’d moved back here to try his hand at ranching, Charlie had been a successful, high-profile defense attorney in Oklahoma City.
It was that terrible moment in time with Grace followed by the unexpected death of his father that had made him take a good, hard look at his life and realize how unhappy he’d been for a very long time.
Still, it was as a defense attorney that he frowned at her thoughtfully. “What do you mean she was passed out? Was she asleep? Drunk?”
Those icy blue eyes of hers darkened. “Apparently she was drugged. She was taken to the hospital and is still there. They pumped her stomach and are keeping her for observation.” Grace leaned forward. “Please, Charlie. Please help her. Something isn’t right. First of all, Hope would never, ever take drugs, and she certainly isn’t capable of something like this. She would never have hurt William.”
Spoken like a true sister, Charlie thought. How many times had he heard family members and friends proclaim that a defendant couldn’t be guilty of the crime they had been charged with, only to discover that they were wrong?
“Grace, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a rancher now.” He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to get involved with any of this. It had disaster written all over it. “I’ve retired as a criminal defense attorney.”
“I heard through the grapevine that besides being a rancher, you’re working part-time with West Protective Services,” she said.
“That’s right,” he agreed. “They approached me about a month ago and asked if I could use a little side work. It sounded intriguing, so I took them up on it, but so far I haven’t done any work for them.”
“Then let me hire you as Hope’s bodyguard, and if you do a little criminal defense work in the process I’ll pay you extra.” She leaned forward, her eyes begging for his help.
Bad idea, a little voice whispered in the back of his brain. She already hated his guts, and this portended a very bad ending. He knew how much she loved her sister; he assumed that for the last couple of years she’d been more mother than sibling to the young girl. He’d be a fool to involve himself in the whole mess.
“Has Hope been questioned by anyone?” he heard himself ask. He knew he was going to get involved whether he wanted to or not, because it was Grace, because she needed him.
“I don’t think so. When I left the hospital a little while ago, she was still unconscious. Dr. Dell promised me he wouldn’t let anyone in to see her until I returned.”
“Good.” There was nothing worse than a suspect running off at the mouth with a seemingly friendly officer. Often the damage was so great there was nothing a defense attorney could do to mitigate it.
“Does that mean you’ll take Hope’s case?” she asked.
“Whoa,” he said, and held up both his hands. “Before I agree to anything, I need to make a couple of phone calls, find out exactly what’s going on and where the official investigation is headed. It’s possible you don’t need me, that Hope isn’t in any real danger of being arrested.”
“Then what happens now?”
“Why don’t I plan on meeting you at the hospital in about an hour and a half? By then I’ll know more of what’s going on, and I’d like to be present while anybody questions Hope. If anyone asks before I get there, you tell them you’re waiting for legal counsel.”
She nodded and rose. She’d been lovely a year and a half ago when he’d last seen her, but she was even lovelier now.
She was five years younger than his thirty-five but had always carried herself with the confidence of an older woman. That was part of what had initially drawn him to her, that cool shell of assurance encased in a slamming hot body with the face of an angel.
“How’s business at the dress shop?” he asked, trying to distract her from her troubles as he walked her back to her car. She owned a shop called Sophisticated Lady that sold designer items at discount prices. She often traveled the two-hour drive into Oklahoma City on buying trips. That was where she and Charlie had started their relationship.
They’d met in the coffee shop in the hotel where she’d been staying. Charlie had popped in to drop off some paperwork to a client and had decided to grab a cup of coffee before heading back to his office. She’d been sitting alone next to a window. The sun had sparked on her hair. Charlie had taken one look and was smitten.
“Business is fine,” she said, but it was obvious his distraction wasn’t successful.
“I’m sorry about William, but Zack West is a good man, a good sheriff. He’ll get to the bottom of things.”
Once again she nodded and opened her car door. “Then I’ll see you in the hospital in an hour and a half,” she said.
“Grace?” He stopped her before she got into the seat. “Given our history, why would you come to me with this?” he asked.
Her gaze met his with a touch of frost. “Because I think Hope is in trouble and she needs a sneaky devil to make sure she isn’t charged with a murder I know she didn’t commit. And you, Charlie Black, are as close to the devil as I could get.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. She got into her car, started the engine with a roar and left him standing to eat her dust as she peeled out and back down the driveway.
Grace drove until she was out of sight of Charlie’s ranch and then pulled to the side of the road. She leaned her head down on the steering wheel and fought back the tears that burned her eyes.
A nightmare. She felt as if she’d been mysteriously plunged into a nightmare and couldn’t wake up to escape, didn’t know how to get out.
She’d barely had time to mourn her stepfather, the man who had married her mother when she’d been sixteen and Hope had been a baby.
William Covington had not only married their mother, Elizabeth, but had also taken on her two children as if they were his own. Grace’s father had died of a heart attack and William had adopted the two fatherless girls.
He’d guided Grace through the tumultuous teen years with patience and humor. He’d been their rock when their mother had simply vanished two years ago, taking with her two suitcases full of clothing and her daughters’ broken hearts.
Grace raised her head from the steering wheel and pulled back on the road. She couldn’t think about her mother right now. That was an old pain. She had new pains to worry about and a little sister to try to save.
No way, she thought as she headed toward the hospital. No way was Hope capable of such a heinous crime. And Hope had always been the first one to declare that she thought drugs were stupid. She couldn’t be taking drugs.
But how do you know for sure? a little voice in her head whispered. She’d been so busy the last couple of years, working at the shop and flying off for buying trips. Since the disappearance of her mother and her subsequent breakup with Charlie, Grace had engaged in a frenzy of work, exhausting herself each day to keep the anger and the heartache of both her mother’s and Charlie’s betrayals at bay.
Sure, lately, when she’d spent time with Hope, the young girl had voiced the usual teenage complaints about William. He was too strict and old-fashioned. He gave her too little freedom and too many lectures. He hated her friends.
But those were the complaints of almost every teenager on the face of the earth, and Grace couldn’t believe they had meant that Hope harbored a killing rage against William.
She turned into the hospital parking lot and slid into an empty parking space, then turned off the engine. She stared at the small structure that comprised the Cotter Creek hospital, her thoughts filled with Charlie Black.
Six months ago, everyone in town had been buzzing with the gossip that Charlie Black had finally come home. She knew his father had died from an unexpected heart attack and had left Charlie the family ranch, but she’d assumed he’d sell it and continue his self-destructive path in the fast lane. She’d been stunned to hear that he’d closed up his practice in Oklahoma City and taken over the ranch.
She’d met Charlie two months after her mother’s disappearance. She hadn’t told him about her mother, rather she’d used her time with him as an escape from the pain, from the utter heart break of her mother’s abandonment.
With Charlie she’d been able to pretend it hadn’t happened. With Charlie, for a blessed time, she’d shoved the pain deep inside her.
She’d refused to tell him because she hadn’t wanted to see pity in his eyes. She’d needed him to be her safe place away from all the madness, and for a while that’s what he’d been.
As soon as she’d heard about William’s murder and Hope’s possible involvement, Charlie’s name was the first one that had popped into her head. All the qualities she’d hated in him as a man were desirable qualities in a defense attorney.
His arrogance, his need to be right, his stubbornness and his emotional detachment made him a good defense attorney and would make him a terrific professional bodyguard, but he was definitely a poor bet for a personal relationship, as she’d discovered.
That was in the past. She didn’t want anything from Charlie Black except his ability to make sure that Hope was safe.
As she got out of her car, she recognized that she was in a mild state of shock. The events of the past three hours hadn’t fully caught up with her yet.
She’d been at the shop when she’d gotten the call from Deputy Ben Taylor, indicating that William was dead and Hope had been transferred to the hospital. He’d given her just enough information to both horrify and terrify her.
Her legs trembled as she made her way through the emergency room entrance. She hadn’t been able to see Hope when she’d been here before, as Hope had been undergoing the stomach pumping. Surely they would let Grace see her now.
She told the nurse on duty who she was, then sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room. She was the only person there. She clasped her hands together in her lap in an attempt to stop their shaking.
Was Hope okay? Who had really killed William? He’d been a kind, gentle man. Who would want to hurt him?
She blinked back her tears and straightened her shoulders. She couldn’t fall apart now. She had to be strong because she knew this was only the beginning of the nightmare.
“Grace.”
She looked up to see Dr. Ralph Dell standing in the doorway. She started to stand but he motioned her back into her chair as he sat next to her. “She’s stable,” he said. “We pumped her stomach, but whatever she took either wasn’t in pill form or had enough time to be digested. I’ve ordered a full toxicology screen.”
“Is she conscious?” Grace asked.
“Drifting in and out. She’ll be here until the effects have completely worn off.” Dr. Dell eyed her soberly. “The sheriff is going to want to talk to her, and even with her condition I can keep him away only so long.”
“I know. Charlie Black is supposed to meet me here in the next hour or so.”
“Good. Deputy Taylor has been here since she was brought in.”
Grace frowned. “Has he talked to her?”
Dr. Dell shook his head. “Up until now Hope hasn’t been in any condition to talk to anyone. And I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone in to see her while you were gone. I’m a man of my word.”
“Thank you.” Grace raised a trembling hand to her temple, where a headache had begun to pound with fierce intensity.
“How are you doing?” Dr. Dell reached out and took her hand in his. He’d been both Hope’s and Grace’s doctor since they’d been small girls. “You need anything, you let me know.”
She realized he wasn’t just holding her hand, but rather was taking her pulse at the same time. She forced a smile. “I’m okay.” She withdrew her hand from his. “Really. Can I see Hope?”
He nodded his head and stood. “However, I caution you about asking her too many questions. Right now what she needs is your love and support. There will be plenty of time for answers when she’s feeling more alert.”
Grace heartily agreed. The last thing she wanted right now was to grill Hope about whatever might have happened at the Covington mansion that morning. All she wanted—all she needed—was to make sure that the sister she loved was physically all right. She’d worry about the rest later.
“I’ve got her in a private room,” Dr. Dell said, as he led Grace down a quiet corridor.
She saw the deputy first. Ben Taylor sat in a chair in the hallway, a magazine open in his lap. He looked up as they approached, his thin face expressing no emotion as he greeted her.
“Grace.” He nodded to her and shifted in his seat as if he found the whole situation awkward.
She knew Ben because his wife worked part-time for her at the dress shop. “Hi, Ben,” she replied, appalled by the shakiness of her voice.
“Bad day, huh?” He averted his gaze from hers.
“That’s an understatement.” There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask him, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for any of the answers. Charlie would be here soon and would find out what she needed to know.
She pushed open the door of the hospital room and her heart squeezed painfully tight in her chest as she saw her sister. Hope was asleep, her petite face stark white and her blond hair a tangled mess.
Grace wanted to bundle her up in the sheet, pick her up and run out the door. Nobody could ever make her believe that Hope had anything to do with William’s murder.
Pulling up a chair next to Hope’s bed, Grace fought against a tremendous amount of guilt. In the past couple of months had she been too absent from Hope’s life? Had there been things she wasn’t aware of, things that had led to this terrible crime?
Stop it, she commanded herself. She was thinking as if Hope was guilty, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t! As soon as Charlie arrived, everything would be okay.
A knot of simmering anger twisted in her stomach. She shouldn’t be alone here, waiting for Hope to wake up. Their mother should be with her, but she’d run from her responsibility and her family and disappeared like a puff of smoke on a windy day. Hope had been far too young to lose her mother. Damn you, Mom, Grace thought.
Hope stirred and her eyes opened. She frowned and looked at Grace in obvious confusion. “Sis?” Her voice was a painful croak.
Grace leaned forward and grabbed Hope’s hand. “I’m here, honey. It’s all right. You’re going to be all right now.”
Hope looked around wildly, as if unsure where she was. Her gaze locked with Grace’s once again, and in the depths of Hope’s eyes Grace saw a whisper of terror. “What happened?”
“You got your stomach pumped. Did you take something, Hope? Some kind of drug?”
Hope’s eyes flashed with annoyance and she rose to a half-sitting position. “I don’t do drugs. Drugs are for losers.” She fell back against the bed and closed her eyes, as if the brief conversation had completely exhausted her.
Grace remained seated next to her, clasping her hand even after she realized Hope had fallen back asleep. If Hope hadn’t taken any drugs, then why had the authorities found her unconscious on her bed when they’d arrived?
Had she been hit over the head? Knocked unconscious by whoever had committed the murder? Surely if she’d had a head injury Dr. Dell would have found it.
Hope slept the sleep of the drugged, not awakening even when a nurse came in to take her vital signs. The nurse didn’t speak to Grace. She simply did her job with stern lips pressed tightly together.
Minutes ticked by with nauseating slowness. Grace checked her watch over and over again, wondering when Charlie would arrive. Hopefully he’d have some answers that would unravel the knot of dread tied tight in her stomach.
She leaned her head back against the chair and thought of Charlie. The moment she’d seen him again, an electric charge had sizzled through her. It had surprised her.
He was as handsome now as he’d been when they’d dated, his dark hair rich and full and his features aristocratically elegant, holding just a hint of danger. She knew those slate-gray eyes of his could narrow with cold intent or stoke a fire so hot a woman felt as if she might combust.
She’d been more than half in love with him when they’d broken up. She’d thought he felt the same way about her, but the redhead in his bed that night had told her different.
On that night she’d hated him more than she’d loved him, and in the past eighteen months her feelings hadn’t changed. She rubbed her fingers across her forehead, thoughts of Charlie Black only increasing her headache.
Maybe he’d come in and tell her that Hope wasn’t in any trouble, didn’t need the expertise of a criminal defense lawyer or a bodyguard. Then she’d go back to the mess that had suddenly become her life and never see Charlie again.
She glanced at her watch and frowned. He was late. He was always late. That was something else she’d always found irritating about him—his inability to be on time for anything.
She didn’t know why she was thinking about him anyway, except that it was far easier to think about Charlie than what had happened.
Somebody murdered William. Somebody murdered William. The words thundered through her brain in perfect rhythm with her pounding headache.
Who would want him dead? He’d been a wealthy man, a generous benefactor to numerous charities. He’d been well liked in the community and loved and respected by the two stepdaughters he’d claimed as his own.
Although he was the CEO of several industrial companies, he’d stopped working full-time a year ago and went in only occasionally for meetings.
He was kind and gentle, and his heart had been broken when Hope and Grace’s mother had left him, left them. Tears burned her eyes again and she struggled to hold them back as she realized she’d never again see his gentle smile, never again feel the touch of his hand on her shoulder.
It was just after seven when the hospital door creaked open and Charlie motioned her out of the room. She got up from the chair and joined him in the hallway, where he took her by the arm and led her away from Ben Taylor.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said when they were far enough down the hallway that Ben couldn’t hear their conversation. His gray eyes were like granite slabs, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
“What?” she asked.
“I have every reason to believe that as soon as Hope is well enough to be released by the doctor, she’s going to be arrested for the murder of your stepfather.”
Grace gasped. “But why? How could anyone think she’s responsible?”
He shifted his gaze and stared at some point just over her head. “Hope wasn’t just found passed out on her bed. Her room had been trashed as if she’d been in a fit of rage.”
“But that doesn’t make her a murderer,” Grace exclaimed. Although it was definitely out of character for Hope to do something like that. Hope had always been a neatnik who loved her room neat and tidy.
Charlie sighed and focused his gaze back on her. The darkness she saw there terrified her. “The real problem is that Hope was found covered in William’s blood—and she had a knife in her hand. It was the murder weapon.”
Chapter 2 (#ulink_4795c638-7565-5a1e-b946-c0e7e15e7328)
Charlie watched as the color left Grace’s cheeks and she swayed on her feet. His first impulse was to reach out to her, but before he could follow through, she stiffened and took a step back from him.
She’d never been a needy woman—that was one of the things he’d always admired about her and ultimately one of the things he’d come to hate. That she wasn’t needy—that she had never really needed him.
“So, what do we do now?” Her strong voice gave away nothing of the emotional turmoil she must be feeling.
“Zack West wants to question her tonight. I just saw him in the lobby and he’s chomping at the bit to get to her. Give me a dollar.”
“Excuse me?” She looked at him blankly.
“Give me a dollar as a retainer. That will make it official that at least for now, I’m Hope’s legal counsel. She’s a minor. She can’t be questioned without me, and we can argue that as her legal guardian you have the right to be present, too.”
She opened her purse and withdrew a crisp dollar bill. He took it from her and shoved it into his back pocket. “I’ll go find Zack and we’ll get this over with.”
As he walked away, her scent lingered in his head. She’d always smelled like jasmine and the faintest hint of vanilla, and today was no different.
It was a scent that had stayed with him for months after she’d left him, a fragrance that had once smelled like desire and had wound up smelling like regret.
This was a fool’s job, and he was all kinds of fool for getting involved. From what little he’d already learned, it didn’t look good for the young girl.
If he got involved and ended up defending Hope, then failed, Grace would have yet another reason to hate his guts. Even if he defended Hope successfully, that wasn’t a ticket to the land of forgiveness where Grace was concerned.
Still, Charlie knew that in all probability Hope was going to need a damn good lawyer on her side, and he was just arrogant enough to believe that he was the best in the four-state area.
Besides, he owed it to Grace. Although at the time of their breakup they’d been not only on different pages but in completely different books, he’d never forgotten the rich, raw pain on her face when she’d been confronted by the knowledge that he hadn’t been monogamous.
Maybe fate had given him this opportunity to right the wrong, to heal some wounds and assuage the guilt he’d felt ever since.
He found Zack in the waiting room. The handsome sheriff was pacing the floor and frowning. He stopped in his tracks as Charlie approached him. “If you want to question Hope, then Grace and I intend to be present,” Charlie said.
Zack raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you here as Hope’s lawyer?”
“Maybe.” Charlie replied.
Zack sighed. “You going to make this difficult for me?”
“Probably,” Charlie replied dryly. “You can’t really believe that Hope killed William.”
“Right now, I’m just in the information-gathering mode. After I have all the information I need, then I can decide if I have a viable suspect or not.”
Zack had only been sheriff for less than a year, but Charlie knew he was a truth seeker and not a town pleaser. He would look for justice, not make a fast arrest in order to waylay the fears of the people in Cotter Creek. But if all the evidence pointed to Hope, Zack would have no choice but to arrest her.
“I heard you were working for Dalton,” Zack said.
Dalton was Zack’s brother and ran the family business, West Protective Services, an agency that provided bodyguard services around the country.
“I told him I’d be interested in helping out whenever he needed me,” Charlie replied. “But I need to get this situation under control before I do anything else.”
“Then let’s do it,” Zack said. He headed down the hallway toward Hope’s room and Charlie followed close behind.
Dr. Dell met them at her door, his arms crossed over his chest like a mythical guardian of a magical jewel. “I know you have a job to do here, Sheriff, but so do I. She’s still very weak, so I want this interview to be short and sweet.”
Zack nodded, and the doctor stepped away. Grace’s eyes narrowed slightly as Zack and Charlie entered the room. She sat next to the bed, where Hope was awake.
The kid looked sick and terrified as her gaze swept from Charlie to Zack. “Hope, you remember Zack West, the sheriff,” Grace said. “And Charlie is here as your lawyer.”
Hope’s eyes widened, and Charlie had a feeling she hadn’t realized just what kind of trouble she was in until this moment. Tears filled her eyes and she reached for her sister’s hand.
“I want to ask you some questions,” Zack said. He pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket and set it on the nightstand next to the bed. “You mind if I turn this on?”
Hope looked wildly at Charlie, who nodded his assent. Charlie stood next to Grace, trying to ignore the way her evocative scent made him remember the pleasure of making love with her and how crazy he’d been about her.
He couldn’t think about that now—he knew he shouldn’t think about that ever again. He couldn’t go back and change the past and that terrible mistake he’d made. All he could do was step up right now and hopefully redeem himself just a little bit.
“I told her about William,” Grace said to Zack, her chin lifted in a gesture of defiance. “She knows he was murdered but insists she had nothing to do with it.”
A knot of tension formed in Zack’s jaw. “I need to hear from her what happened today,” he said, and focused his gaze on Hope. “What’s the first thing you remember from this morning?”
Hope raised a trembling hand to her head and rubbed her temples. “I woke up around nine and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Nobody was around. It was Lana’s day off, and I figured William was still in bed. Lately he’d been sleeping in longer than usual.”
She stopped talking as tears once again filled her blue eyes. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I just don’t understand any of this. Why would somebody do this to him? What happened to me?”
“So, you made yourself breakfast, then what did you do?” Zack asked, seemingly unmoved by her tears.
Grace’s lips were a thin slash, and her pretty features were taut with tension. Several more strands of her shiny blond hair had escaped her barrette and framed her face.
Charlie was surprised to realize he wanted to do something, anything to erase that apprehensive look on her face, to alleviate the tortured shadows in her eyes.
“After I ate breakfast, I was still tired, so I went back to bed,” Hope replied. “And I woke up here.” Her features crumbled. “I don’t know what happened to William. I don’t know what happened to me.” She began to cry in earnest, deep, wrenching sobs.
Grace got up from her chair and put her arms around Hope’s slender shoulders and glared at Zack as if he were personally responsible for all the unhappiness on the entire planet.
“Isn’t this enough?” she asked, those blue eyes of hers filled with anger. “Can’t you see what this is doing to her?”
Unfortunately, Charlie knew that Zack was just getting started. “Grace, let’s just get this over with,” he said. “Zack has to question her sooner or later. We might as well get it finished now. We’ll give her a minute to pull herself together.”
Zack waited until Hope calmed down a bit before asking about any tensions between her and William and probing her about any fights her stepfather might have had with anyone else.
Charlie protested only a couple of times when he thought the questions Zack asked might incriminate Hope if she answered.
Despite Charlie’s efforts to protect Hope, what little information Zack got from the girl offered no alternative suspect and merely added to the mystery of what exactly happened in the Covington mansion that morning.
After an hour and a half of questioning, it was Grace who finally called a halt to the interrogation. “That’s enough for tonight, Zack,” she said firmly, as she rose from her chair. “Hope is exhausted. She isn’t going anywhere. If you have more questions for her, you can ask them another time.”
Zack nodded and reached over and turned off the tape recorder, then slipped the small device into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch. I guess I don’t have to tell you and Hope not to leave town.”
“Innocent people don’t leave town,” she replied vehemently.
Zack left the room and Grace leaned over her sister. “We’re going to go now, honey. We need to take care of some things. Nobody will bother you for the rest of the night. Just get some sleep and try not to worry. Charlie is going to fix all this, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Charlie nearly groaned out loud. Sure, that was easy for her to say. But he was a defense attorney turned rancher, not a miracle worker.
They left the room together, and once out in the hallway Grace slumped against the polished wall. For the first time since arriving at his ranch, she looked lost and achingly fragile.
His need to touch her—to somehow chase away that vulnerable look in her eyes—was incredibly strong. “Do you need a hug?” The ridiculous words were out of his mouth before he’d realized he was going to say them.
She released a bitter laugh and shoved off the wall. “I’d rather hug a rattlesnake,” she said thinly.
If he had any question about the depth of her dislike for him, her curt reply certainly answered it.
“It doesn’t look good, does it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t look great,” he replied.
“So what happens now?” she inquired, as they continued down the hallway to the hospital’s front doors.
“Nothing for now. Questioning Hope is only the beginning. We really won’t know how much trouble she’s in until Zack’s completed his investigation into the murder.”
They stepped out into the unusually warm spring night air, and again he caught a whiff of her sweet floral scent. He wanted to ask her if she was dating anyone, if she’d found love with somebody else in the eighteen months since they’d been together.
He reminded himself he had no right to know anything about her personal life, that he’d given up any such right the night he’d gotten drunk and fallen into bed with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember.
“I don’t want to wait for Zack,” she said. “I want us to investigate this murder just as vigorously as he will.”
Charlie looked at her in surprise. “That’s a crazy idea!” he exclaimed.
“Why is it crazy? You told me once that you worked as an investigator before you became a lawyer.”
“That was a long time ago,” he reminded her.
She crossed her arms, a mutinous expression on her face. “Fine, then I’ll investigate it on my own.” She turned on her heels and walked off.
Charlie sighed in frustration. “Grace, wait,” he called after her. “I can’t let you muck around in this alone. You could potentially do more damage than good for Hope.”
“Then help me,” she said, her voice low with desperation. “I’m all that Hope has. The only way to make sure she isn’t railroaded for a crime she didn’t commit is for me to find the guilty person, and that’s exactly what I intend to do—with or without your help.” She paused, her eyes glittering darkly. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket and shook his head. “I’d forgotten just how stubborn you could be.”
“I don’t think you want to start pointing out character flaws in other people,” she said pointedly.
To Charlie’s surprise, he felt the warmth of a flush heat his cheeks. “Touché,” he said. “All right, we’ll do a little digging of our own. The first thing you should do is make a list of William’s friends and business associates. We need to pick his life apart if we hope to find some answers.”
“I can have a list for you by tomorrow. Why don’t you meet me at my shop around noon, and we can decide exactly where to go from there.”
“You’re going into work?” he asked in surprise.
“I’d rather meet you at the shop than at my place,” she replied.
“All right, then, tomorrow at noon,” he agreed reluctantly. Charlie had worked extremely hard over the last six months to gain control and now felt his life was suddenly whirling back out of control.
She nodded. “Charlie, you should know that just because I came to you for help—just because I need you right now—doesn’t mean I like you. When this is all over, I don’t want to see you again.” She turned and left without waiting for a response.
Jeez, he seemed to be watching her walking away from him a lot, especially after throwing a bomb at him. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the sexy sway of those hips beneath the suit skirt and the length of her shapely legs. A surge of familiar regret welled up inside him.
He was a man who made few excuses or apologies for the choices he made, but the mistake of throwing Grace away would haunt him until the day he died.
The morning sun was shining brightly as Grace parked in front of her dress shop on Main Street. She turned off the engine but remained seated in the car, her thoughts still on the visit she’d just had with Hope.
Hope had been no less confused about the events of the day before and didn’t seem to understand that at the moment she was the best suspect they had.
Fortunately, Dr. Dell wanted to keep her under observation for another twenty-four hours, and that was fine with Grace. The tox screen had come back showing a cocktail of drugs in Hope’s system but Hope was still vehemently denying taking anything. At the hospital, Hope was safe and getting the best care.
Grace wearily rubbed a hand across her forehead. The day was just beginning, and she was already exhausted. Her sleep had been a continuous reel of nightmares.
She’d been haunted by visions of Hope stabbing William and then taking the drugs that knocked her unconscious. And if that hadn’t been bad enough, images of Charlie also filled her dreams.
Charlie. She got out of the car and slammed the door harder than necessary, as if doing so could cast out all thoughts of the man.
She focused her attention on the shop before her. Sophisticated Lady had been a dream of hers from the time she was small. She’d always loved fashion and design, and five years ago for her twenty-fifth birthday, William had loaned her the money to open the shop.
Grace had worked her tail off to stock the store with fine clothing at discount prices, and within two years she’d managed to pay back the loan and expand into accessories and shoes.
Now all she could think about was whether she’d sacrificed her sister’s well-being for making her shop a success. She’d spent long hours here at the store, and when she wasn’t here she was away on buying trips or at Charlie’s place for the weekend.
As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t know what had been going on in Hope’s life lately, but she intended to find out.
She entered the shop, turned on the lights and went directly to the back office, where she made a pot of coffee. With a cup of fresh brew in hand, she returned to the sales floor and sat on the stool behind the counter that held the register.
Much of her time the night before had been spent thinking about William, grieving for him while at the same time trying to figure out who might want him dead. The list of potential suspects she had to give to Charlie was frighteningly short.
The morning was unusually quiet. No customers had entered when Dana Taylor came through the door at eleven-thirty. “Hey, Grace,” she said, her tone unusually somber. “How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected,” Grace replied. “Right now I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around it all.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dana replied sympathetically.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d be available to take some extra hours for a while. I’m going to be busy with other things.”
“Not a problem,” Dana replied, as she stowed her purse under the counter. “When Ben got home from the hospital last night, he told me not to expect to see a lot of him for the next week or two.” She didn’t quite meet Grace’s eyes.
“There’s a new shipment of handbags in the back. If you have time this afternoon, could you unpack them and get them on display?” Grace asked, desperate to get over the awkwardness of the moment.
“Sure,” Dana agreed. “Any business this morning?”
“Nothing. It’s been quiet.” Grace turned toward the door as it opened to admit Charlie.
An intense burst of electricity shot through her at the sight of him, and instantly every defense she possessed went up.
“Morning, ladies,” he said as he ambled toward the counter. Clad in a pair of snug jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, he looked half rancher, half businessman and all handsome male.
His square jaw indicated a hint of stubbornness and his eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes. His nose was straight, his lips full enough to give women fantasies of kissing them. In short, Charlie was one hot hunk.
His energy filled the air, and despite her wishes to the contrary, Grace felt a crazy surge of warmth as she gazed at him.
“Good morning, Charlie,” Dana replied. “How are things out at the ranch?”
“Not bad. The cattle are getting fat, and I’ve got a garden full of tomato and pepper plants that are going to yield blue-ribbon-quality product.”
Pride rang in his voice, a pride that surprised Grace. Two years ago, the only things that put that kind of emotion in his voice were his fancy surround-sound system, his state-of-the-art television and the new Italian shoes that cost what most people earned in a month.
He turned his gaze to Grace. “We need to talk,” he said. His smile was gone, and the enigmatic look in his gray eyes created a knot in Grace’s stomach.
“Okay. Come on back to my office,” she said.
He followed her to the back room, where she turned and looked at him. “Something else has happened?”
“No, I just have some new information.”
“What kind of information?” She leaned against the desk, needing the support because she knew with certainty whatever he was about to tell her wasn’t good.
“Did you know that Hope has a boyfriend?” he asked.
She frowned. “Hope is only fifteen. Their relationship can’t be anything serious.”
One of his dark eyebrows quirked upward. “When you’re fifteen, everything is serious. His name is Justin Walker. Do you know him?”
Grace shook her head, and a new shaft of guilt pierced through her. She should have known her sister’s boyfriend. What other things didn’t she know? “So, who is he?”
“He’s a seventeen-year-old high school dropout with a bad reputation,” Charlie replied. “And there’s more. Apparently Justin was a bone of contention between William and Hope. William thought he was too old and was bad news and had forbidden Hope from seeing him.”
Grace sat on the edge of her desk. “How did you find out all of this?”
“I had a brief conversation with Zack this morning. I wanted to be up-to-date on where the investigation was going before meeting you today. And there’s more.”
She eyed him narrowly. “I’m really beginning to hate those words.”
“Then you’re really going to hate this,” he said. “On the night before the murder, Hope and William went out to dinner at the café. An employee told Zack that while there, they had a public argument ending with Hope screaming that she wished he were dead.”
Grace’s heart plummeted to her feet, and she wished she didn’t hate Charlie, because at the moment she wanted nothing more than his big strong arms around her.
Chapter 3 (#ulink_1452b6a7-8533-5e2a-bb32-93e7a3802617)
Justin Walker lived with a buddy in the Majestic Apartments complex on the outskirts of town. The illustrious name of the apartments had to have been somebody’s idea of a very bad joke.
The small complex had faded from yellow to a weathered gray from the Oklahoma sun and sported several broken windows. The vehicles in the parking lot ran the gamut from souped-up hot rods to a rusty pickup truck missing two tires.
“You sure you want to do this?” Charlie asked dubiously, as he parked in front of the building and cut his engine.
Grace stared at the building in obvious dismay. “Not really, but it has to be done. I want to know exactly what his relationship with Hope was…is. I want to hear it from him, and then I want to hear it from my sister.” She turned to look at Charlie. “Does he work?”
“He’s a mechanic down at the garage, but he called in sick this morning.”
“You managed to learn a lot between last night and now,” she observed.
He shrugged and pulled his keys from the ignition. “It just took a phone call to find out if he was at the garage today. Somehow I knew you’d want to talk to him.” He directed his gaze back at the building. “But, just because he isn’t at work doesn’t mean he’s here.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” She opened her car door and stepped out.
Charlie joined her on the cracked sidewalk and tried not to notice how pretty she looked in the yellow skirt that showcased her shapely legs and the yellow-flowered blouse that hugged her slender curves.
This whole thing would have been so much easier if during the time they’d been apart she sprouted some facial hair or maybe grown a wart on the end of her nose.
“Which unit is it?” she asked.
“Unit four.” He pointed to the corner apartment, one that sported a broken window. Grace grimaced but marched with determined strides toward the door, on which she knocked in a rapid staccato fashion.
Charlie stepped in between her and the front door, protective instincts coming into play. He had no idea if Justin was just a loser boyfriend or an active participant in William’s murder.
The door opened and a tall young man gazed at them with a wealth of belligerence. He looked like he wasn’t having a good day. “Are you more cops?” he asked, his dark eyes wary and guarded.
Grace moved closer to the door. “No. I’m Grace Covington, Hope’s sister, and this is her lawyer, Charlie Black. Are you Justin?”
He hesitated a moment, as if considering whether or not to tell the truth, then gave a curt nod of his head, his dark hair flopping carelessly onto his forehead. “Yeah, I’m Justin. What do you want?”
“Sheriff West has already talked to you?” Charlie asked.
Justin’s eyes darkened. “He was here half the night asking me questions.”
“May we come in?” Grace asked.
Justin’s eyes swept the length of her and he scowled. “You don’t want to come in here. The place is a dump.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
“You were dating my sister?” Grace asked.
Justin barked a dry laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call it dating. She’s not allowed to date until she turns sixteen. We hung out, that’s all. When she’d show up down at the garage after school, I’d take a break and we’d just talk. It was no big deal.”
There was hostility in his voice, as if he expected them to take issue with him. “Were you sleeping with her?” Grace asked. Charlie wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the question, himself or Justin.
Justin gave her a mocking smile. “Don’t worry, big sister. As far as I know your baby sister is still as pure as the driven snow.”
“Where were you yesterday morning?” Charlie asked. “Your boss told me you weren’t at work.” He felt Grace stiffen next to him.
“Funny, the sheriff asked me the same thing.” Justin clutched his stomach. “I’ve been fighting off this flu bug. Yesterday I was here in bed, and if you don’t believe me, my roommate will vouch for me. I didn’t leave here all day.”
“And your roommate’s name?” Charlie asked.
Justin stepped back toward his apartment door. “Sam Young, and now I’m done answering your questions.” He stepped back inside and shut the door firmly in their faces.
“Do you believe him?” Grace asked when they were back in Charlie’s car and headed for the hospital.
He cast her a wry glance. “In the words of a famous television personality, I wouldn’t believe him if his tongue came notarized.”
Her burst of laughter was short-lived, but the sound of it momentarily warmed his heart. Charlie always loved to hear her laugh, and there had been a time when he’d been good at making her do so.
“After we speak with Hope, I need to find out if I can go to the house and get some of her things,” Grace said. “Dr. Dell thought he would release her at some point this evening or first thing in the morning, and we’ll need to get some of her clothes and things to take to my place.”
“When we get to the hospital, I’ll call Zack and see what can be arranged.”
“I’d like to talk to Hope alone. I don’t think she’ll be open about her relationship with Justin if you’re there, too.”
“Okay,” he replied. He glanced at her and caught her rubbing her temple. “Headache?”
She nodded and dropped her hand back into her lap. “I think it’s a guilt thing.”
“Guilt? What do you have to feel guilty about?” he asked in surprise.
A tiny frown danced across her forehead, doing nothing to detract from her attractiveness. “I should have been paying more attention to what was going on in her life. I should have been putting in less hours at the store and spending more time with her.”
“Regrets are funny things, Grace. They rip your heart out, but they don’t really change anything,” he replied. He was an old hand at entertaining regrets.
“You’re right.” She reached up, massaged her temple once again and then shot him a pointed look. “You’re absolutely right. The past is over and nothing can change the damage done. What’s important is to learn from the mistakes made in the past and never forget the lesson.”
Charlie frowned, knowing her words were barbs flung at him and had nothing to do with the situation at hand. They spoke no more until they arrived at the hospital.
As she disappeared into Hope’s hospital room, he called Zack West to find out what was going on at the Covington mansion. Zack informed him that the evidence gathering was finished and said Grace was free to get whatever she needed for Hope.
When Charlie asked him for an update, he merely replied that it was an ongoing investigation and there was nothing new to report.
As he waited for Grace, he sat in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room. Charlie had a theory that murder happened for one of three reasons. He called it his “three R” theory. Rage, revenge and reward were the motives that drove most murderers.
At the moment, the officials were leaning toward rage—a young girl’s rage at being stymied in a love relationship by an overbearing father figure.
The news was certainly filled with stories of young people going on killing rampages against authority figures. Had Hope snapped that morning and stabbed William while he slept and then, filled with remorse, taken drugs in a suicide attempt?
Hopefully they would be successful in coming up with an alternative theory that would explain both William’s death and Hope’s drugged state.
He looked up as Grace entered the room. She sat next to him as if too exhausted to stand. “What did she have to say about Justin?” he asked.
“She told me she’s crazy in love with him, and she thinks they belong together forever, but she hasn’t gotten physical with him yet.”
“That’s different from Justin’s story. He made it sound like she was no big deal to him,” Charlie observed.
“Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way she does. Maybe he was afraid to tell us how he really feels about Hope,” she replied.
“Maybe,” Charlie agreed.
Grace reached up and tucked a strand of her shiny hair behind her ear. “She’s not being released today. She’s running a fever and Dr. Dell wants to get to the bottom of it.”
“You still want to go by the house?” She sat so close to him he could feel the heat from her body. He used to tease her about how she was better than a hot water bottle at keeping him warm on cold wintry nights. He wished he could tell her how he’d been cold ever since he’d lost her.
She nodded. “Whether she’s here or at my place, I’m sure she’d be more comfortable with some of her own things. Besides, I’d like to talk to Lana, William’s housekeeper. She’d know better than anyone what was going on between William and Hope, and if anyone else was having a problem with William.”
Grace jumped up from the chair, newfound energy vibrating from her. “We need to find something, Charlie, something that will point the finger of guilt away from Hope. I can’t lose her. She’s all I have left.”
She looked half frantic, and again a soft vulnerability sagged her shoulders and haunted her eyes. This time Charlie didn’t fight his impulse—his need to touch her. He reached out for her hand and took it in his. Hers was icy, as if the heat of her body was unable to warm her small, trembling hand.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “I promise you that we’ll get to the bottom of this. I won’t let Hope be convicted of a crime she didn’t commit.”
What he didn’t say was that if Hope was guilty, not even the great Charlie Black would be able to save her.
The Covington estate was located on the northern edge of town, a huge two-story structure with manicured grounds, several outbuildings and a small cottage in the back where Lana Racine and her husband, Leroy, lived.
As Charlie pulled into the circular drive and parked in front, Grace stared at the big house and felt the burgeoning grief welling up inside her.
The sight of the bright yellow crime-scene tape across the front door nearly made her lose control, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
She’d spent her life being the strong one—the child her mother could depend on, the teenager who often took responsibility for her baby sister, and the woman who’d held it together when her mother deserted them.
Charlie didn’t know about her mother. When they’d been dating, she told him only that her mother had moved away, not that she’d just packed her bags and disappeared from their lives.
Without an explanation.
Without a word since.
Was she sunning on a beach in Florida? Eating crab cakes and lobster in Maine? Or was she out of the country? She’d always talked about wanting to go to France.
Grace welcomed the raw anger that took the place of her grief—it sustained her, kept her strong.
She glanced back at Charlie, wondering if she should tell him about what had been going on in her life when she’d met him. She dismissed the idea. She couldn’t stand the idea of seeing pity in his eyes, and after all this time, what difference did it make?
“Are you sure you’re ready to go in there?” Charlie asked.
She focused back on the house and nodded. “I’ll just get some of Hope’s things, then we can go talk with Lana and Leroy.”
She almost wished Charlie weren’t here with her. He’d stirred old feelings in her, made her remember how much she’d once cared about him. She’d thought her hatred of him would protect her from those old feelings—that it would vaccinate her against the “wanting Charlie” emotion. She’d been wrong.
All day she’d been plagued by memories of the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of his hands stroking the length of her. Their physical relationship had been nothing short of magic. He’d been an amazing lover, at times playful and at other times intense and demanding.
But it wasn’t just those kinds of memories that bothered her. Remembering how often they had laughed together and how much they’d enjoyed each other’s company had proved equally troubling.
Amnesia would have been welcome. She would have loved to permanently forget the six months with Charlie, but spending time with him now unlocked the mental box in which she’d placed those memories the night she’d walked away from him.
Focus on the reason he’s in your life, she told herself. Hope. She had to stay focused on Hope and finding something, anything, that would reveal the young girl’s innocence.
She got out of the car, grateful to escape the small confines that smelled of him—a wonderful blend of clean male and expensive, slightly spicy cologne. It was the same scent he’d worn when they’d been dating, and it only helped stir memories she would prefer to forget.
Charlie pulled away the crime-scene tape, and Grace used her key to open the front door. They walked into the massive entry with its marble floor and an ornate gilded mirror hanging on the wall.
“Wow,” Charlie said, obviously impressed. “I’d heard this place was a showcase, but I had no idea.”
“William was an extremely successful man,” she replied. “He liked to surround himself with beautiful things.”
“I know you said your mother married him when you were sixteen. What happened to your father?”
“He died of a heart attack when mom was pregnant with Hope. We were left with no insurance and no money in the bank.” Grace paused a moment, thinking about those days just after her father’s death. There’d been a wealth of grief and fear about what would happen to them now the breadwinner was gone.
She walked from the entry to the sweeping staircase that led to the second floor. Placing a hand on the polished wood banister, she continued: “William was like a knight in shining armor. He and Mom met at the grocery store, and he swooped into our lives like a savior. He was crazy, not just about Mom, but also about me and Hope.”
“He didn’t have children of his own?” Charlie asked.
“No. He’d been married years before, but it ended in divorce and there had been no children. We were all the family he had.”
“Who is his beneficiary?”
Grace looked at him in surprise. “I have no idea. I hadn’t even thought about it.”
“Maybe your mother?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Grace agreed, although she wasn’t so sure. Grace’s mother had ripped the very heart out of William when she’d disappeared. William had been a good man, generous to a fault, but he hadn’t been a foolish man, especially when it came to money.
“Let’s get Hope’s things and get out of here,” she said, her heart heavy as she climbed the stairs.
Charlie followed just behind her as she topped the stairs and walked down the long hallway toward Hope’s room. The door was closed and she hesitated, unsure she was ready for whatever was inside.
Hope had been found covered in blood, clutching the knife in her hands, her room trashed. Grace grabbed the doorknob and still couldn’t force herself to open the door.
Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have to do this. We can buy Hope whatever she needs for the time being.”
How could a man who had been incredibly insensitive eighteen months ago, a man who had been so thick he hadn’t recognized the depths of her feelings for him, be so in tune to what she was feeling now?
She didn’t have the answer but was grateful that he seemed to understand the turmoil inside her as she contemplated going into Hope’s room. Deep within, she knew she was grateful that he was here with her.
“It’s all right. I can do this,” she said, as much to herself as to him.
She straightened her shoulders and opened the door. A gasp escaped her as she saw the utter mess inside. She took several steps into the room and stared around in horror.
Ripped clothes were everywhere. The French provincial bookshelf had been turned over, spilling its contents onto the floor. A hole was punched in the Sheetrock wall, as if it had been angrily kicked.
The bed had been stripped. She imagined that the investigators had taken away the bedclothes. “Definitely looks like somebody had a temper fit in here,” Charlie said from behind her.
Grace’s mind whirled with sick suppositions. Was it possible that a rage had been festering in Hope for some time? Their mother’s defection had been difficult on Grace, but it had been devastating for Hope. Grace had been twenty-eight years old when their mother had left, but Hope had been a thirteen-year-old who desperately needed her mom.
“I’ll just grab some clothes,” Grace said. She’d taken only two steps toward the closet when her foot crunched on something.
She looked down and saw the arm of a porcelain doll. She knew that arm. She knew that doll. It had been Hope’s prized possession, given to her on the birthday before their mother had disappeared.
Crouching down, she found the rest of the doll among the mess of clothes and books and miscellaneous items that had fallen from the bookcase.
The porcelain arms and legs had been pulled from the cloth body. The head was smashed beyond repair, and the body had been slashed open.
Rage. There was no doubt that rage had destroyed the doll. The rage of a daughter whose mother had left her with a man who hadn’t been able to understand her needs, her wants?
Hope’s rage?
The breakdown that began in Grace started with a trembling that seemed to possess her entire body. Her vision blurred with the hot press of tears, and for the first time she wondered if her sister had committed the crime, if it was possible that Hope was guilty.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_54484416-abea-5735-a4ba-3dceb0d55005)
Charlie saw it coming: the crack in her strength, the loss of her control. Until this moment Grace had shown an incredible amount of poise in dealing with the mess that had become her life.
Now she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and lips that trembled uncontrollably, and he knew she’d reached the end of that strength.
“Grace.” He said her name softly.
“She couldn’t have done this, Charlie? Surely she didn’t do this?” They weren’t statements of fact but questions of uncertainty, and he knew the agony the doubts must be causing her.
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Carla Cassidy
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The Rancher Bodyguard, электронная книга автора Carla Cassidy на английском языке, в жанре современная зарубежная литература