Killer Cowboy
Killer Cowboy
Carla Cassidy
A cowboy cop tracks down a perilous passion in New York Times bestseller Carla Cassidy's explosive new thriller!For Cassie Peterson, finding out her new ranch was the site of a cold case is horrifying. But now one of her cowboys has been murdered, just like the previous victims! Cassie will do whatever it takes to help Chief of Police Dillon Bowie find the killer, but will getting close to the handsome lawman put more than her home at risk?Dillon’s been working hard to crack the original case–and keep feisty Cassie out of his thoughts. But when disturbing new clues prove the murderer is obsessed with Cassie, Dillon will tempt fate to guard the beauty and solve a terrifying mystery.
A cowboy cop tracks down a perilous passion in New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy’s explosive new thriller!
For Cassie Peterson, finding out her new ranch was the site of a cold case is horrifying. But now one of her cowboys has been murdered, just like the previous victims! Cassie will do whatever it takes to help Chief of Police Dillon Bowie find the killer, but will getting close to the handsome lawman put more than her home at risk?
Dillon’s been working hard to crack the original case—and keep feisty Cassie out of his thoughts. But when disturbing new clues prove the murderer is obsessed with Cassie, Dillon will tempt fate to guard the beauty and solve a terrifying mystery.
Dillon didn’t plan it, but before he knew it, Cassie was in his arms.
As she raised her face he captured her lips with his. She tasted of chocolate and raspberry and white-hot desire, and her body was invitingly warm against his.
She curled into him as if wanting to be as close as possible. Dillon reached a hand up. He stroked it through her springy soft hair and deepened the kiss.
He finally tore his mouth from hers and peered down at her. “Was that a mistake?” she asked as she raised a finger to her lower lip.
“Probably,” he replied. “There’s something about you that makes me want more…”
* * *
Be sure to check out the next books in this exciting series: Cowboys of Holiday Ranch—Where sun, earth and hard work turn men into rugged cowboys…and irresistible heroes!
Killer Cowboy
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written more than onehundred-and-twenty novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.
Contents
Cover (#u99101bda-1812-5844-a209-39fb591f6870)
Back Cover Text (#ucf8529a1-f42f-5f4f-8dee-cb0020cc2ae1)
Introduction (#ueb7e6292-ee4a-5756-b439-5b8a51fdc678)
Title Page (#u02f386ee-50a4-56a4-a549-0b440fcc163c)
About the Author (#u58872438-1e70-5c74-a543-f7d127bced0d)
Chapter 1 (#u2ef54d4a-a616-51cc-b691-5a87b11227bc)
Chapter 2 (#u9614fdf4-f764-50a1-b115-598dfb45b931)
Chapter 3 (#u7d1b65fd-ba60-5839-bd00-e1fbc234d393)
Chapter 4 (#ub096e71a-3cf2-5536-a2f3-a55169da18a4)
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)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
An elephant stood on Cassie Peterson’s head. Boom. Boom. Boom. No, not standing. The darned behemoth was happily dancing on her skull, shooting out excruciating pain with each two-step.
She closed her gaping mouth and frowned at the nasty taste. Apparently, a carnival had also set up camp there and left behind a fuzzy tongue and the lingering taste of apple cider.
She cracked open an eyelid and groaned. No elephant in the bedroom. It was just a hangover from hell. How many glasses of Abe Breckenridge’s famous apple cider had she drunk last night? And what on earth had he spiked it with?
Her headache continued to bang as she rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d suffered this kind of a hangover.
She also remembered very little of the last hour of the barn dance she’d thrown the night before. Despite her head pain a small smile curved her lips.
The barn dance had been a rousing success. Nearly everyone who lived in the small town of Bitterroot, Oklahoma, had attended.
Besides the fancy Western wear, some of the attendees had gotten into the Halloween spirit and dressed in costumes. The Croakin’ Frogs band had provided the music and there had been plenty of eating, dancing and drinking.
Oh, she’d danced and drunk way too much. She needed to get out of bed. She had a barn to get cleaned up, but before that she hoped a long, hot shower would make her feel at least halfway human again.
With a groan she rolled out of the bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and another low moan escaped her. Her curly blond hair was in tangles and mascara had moved from her lashes to form dark shadows beneath her eyes.
She looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet. “You wish,” she said ruefully to the reflection and then turned her back and started the water for a shower.
Thirty minutes later Cassie headed down the stairs, feeling only marginally more human. Clad in a pair of her favorite jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, she almost felt ready to face the day, although her head still banged with a fury, and she swore she would never drink apple cider again.
The scent of coffee wafted in the air and she assumed the ranch foreman, Adam Benson, had come in and was waiting for her in the kitchen.
She stepped into the bright, airy room and halted at the sight of Halena Redwing seated at the table with a cup of coffee in hand.
The old Choctaw woman wore a floral caftan from Cassie’s closet and a cowboy hat and smiled with a knowing glint in her eyes. “You look like a woman who had too good a time last night.”
Cassie moved over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup and then joined Halena at the table. “I’m not sure my good time last night was worth my headache this morning.”
“Greasy eggs, that’s what you need.” Halena got up and walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the egg carton and a container of bacon fat.
“Ugh, that sounds awful.”
“Greasy eggs and toast are great for a hangover.” She leaned down and pulled out the skillet from a lower cabinet. “And I hope you remember that last night you said it was okay if I crashed out on your sofa and got something out of your closet to wear.”
Cassie nodded and took a sip of her coffee. She vaguely remembered Tony Nakni, her ranch hand, asking her if Halena could spend the night because he and Halena’s granddaughter had to get home early to take care of their precious little baby boy, whom they had left with a babysitter for the first time.
“Whose hat are you wearing?” Cassie asked in an attempt to get her mind off the pounding of her head and the slight nausea that arose from the scent of the melting bacon fat.
“Sawyer’s.” Halena turned from the stove and flashed Cassie a slightly naughty grin. “That boy is handsome as sin but he can’t hold his liquor worth a damn. He passed out on one of the hay bales and I thought he might roll over and crush this hat, so I took it for the night.”
Cassie couldn’t help but smile as she thought of Sawyer Quincy. He was one of twelve cowboys she’d inherited when her aunt Cass had been killed in a tornado and left the huge ranch to Cassie six months before.
“Have any of the other men been in this morning?” she asked.
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them.” Halena cracked two eggs into the skillet.
Cassie wasn’t surprised. She’d told the men to take the morning off, knowing that everyone would need some time to recuperate after last night’s festivities. If they all felt as bad as she did, it might take a month for everyone to recuperate.
She sipped her coffee and stared out the window to the big barn in the distance. The party was supposed to be a turning point for her. She’d promised herself that once it was over she’d make a final decision about staying in Bitterroot or selling the ranch and returning to her old life in New York City. But this morning her head was much too fuzzy to even contemplate making a life-changing decision.
“Here you go.” Halena set a plate in front of Cassie.
Cassie stared down at the toast and the two eggs with bright yellow, runny yolks and her stomach threatened to rebel.
“Eat up. Consider it medicine.” Halena sat back down at the table.
“I’m more of an egg white kind of person,” Cassie replied uneasily.
“That’s just the big city in you doing the talking,” Halena scoffed. “A little egg yolk never hurt anyone.”
As Cassie forced herself to eat, Halena regaled her with stories from the night before. “I danced with every one of your cowboys. I even grabbed Dillon Bowie and forced him to two-step with me.”
Cassie’s heart jumped just a little at the mention of Bitterroot’s chief of police. She had a bit of a crush on the dark-haired, gray-eyed man. But he’d given her no indication that he returned the feeling. In any case, it didn’t matter if she was going to sell out and move on.
The back door opened and Adam Benson, the ranch foreman, walked in. “Good morning,” he said and then smiled wryly. “Or is it?”
“She has a hangover, but she’ll be fine once she finishes those eggs,” Halena said.
Adam walked over to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup and then joined the two women at the table. “Heck of a shindig you threw last night.”
“Remind me never again to drink Abe’s special apple cider,” Cassie replied.
“We all think his special ingredient is pure grain alcohol.”
“Whatever it is, it’s deadly,” Cassie replied.
Adam turned to smile at Halena. “You were definitely the belle of the ball.”
“I can’t help it that men desire me and women envy me,” Halena replied and tossed one of her long silver braids over her shoulder. Cassie would have laughed if she wasn’t afraid her head might fall off.
“I’m assuming barn cleanup is on the agenda for the day,” Adam said to Cassie.
She nodded and shoved her half-empty plate aside. “I’ll walk through it this morning and see exactly what needs to be done to put things back to normal.”
Halena got up and filled a large glass of water and then set it before Cassie. “Hydrate,” she commanded.
Cassie smiled at the old woman. “Thanks, Halena.”
“Thanks for what?”
“For taking care of a stupid woman who drank way too much last night.”
“I think everyone drank too much last night,” Adam replied.
Halena stood and took off Sawyer’s cowboy hat. “I’d better get upstairs and change. Tony and Mary should be here anytime to pick me up. Will you see to it that Sawyer gets his hat back?”
“No problem,” Cassie replied. “I was glad to see that the new hires seemed comfortable last night,” she said when the older woman had left the kitchen. Two weeks ago she’d hired three new ranch hands.
“They’re working out great and all the other men like them,” Adam replied. “I was surprised to see some of Humes’s men here last night. I wasn’t aware you were going to invite them.”
“I didn’t.” She paused to gulp down the glass of water and then continued, “They crashed. Thank goodness they didn’t hang around too long.” Raymond Humes owned the ranch next to hers, and his ranch hands were ill-mannered, mean-spirited men who enjoyed wreaking havoc anywhere they went, but especially on the Holiday ranch.
There was plenty of bad blood between her ranch and theirs. However, Raymond had made a generous offer to buy the ranch from her if she decided to sell.
She and Adam chatted for another half an hour and by then Halena had left, and the two of them got up from the table to head down to the barn.
“Halena’s greasy eggs actually worked,” she said as they stepped out the back door. “I’m feeling much better than I did when I first pulled myself out of bed.” She drew in a deep breath of the clean country air and was happy to notice her headache had vanished.
The late-October sun was warm, although a cool breeze rustled through the last of the autumn leaves on the trees. New York’s Central Park would be beautiful this time of year. She shoved the errant thought out of her head. She needed to stay focused on the here and now.
Still, there was beauty here, too. The sky was a gorgeous shade of blue, and the acres of land wore various shades of greens and browns like a patchwork quilt.
“I hope you keep feeling good after you see the condition of the barn,” Adam replied ruefully.
“Oh, I’m expecting a mess,” she assured him.
“One thing is for certain. People will be talking about the party for days to come. They’ll gossip about who danced with whom and whose dress was too short or whose blouse was too tight.”
“Uh-oh, that sounds like they’ll be talking about me,” Cassie said jokingly.
Adam’s dark brown eyes were warm as he grinned. “You looked beautiful last night, as you always do.” He quickly averted his gaze from her.
“Thanks, Adam,” she replied. “Now, let’s go see the damage.”
As they took off walking, Cassie thought about the man next to her. She’d come to the ranch as a city girl, a struggling shop owner, who had dreams of being a famous artist. She hadn’t known anything about cattle or ranches.
It had been Adam who had taken her by the hand and walked her through a learning process. He’d been so patient and kind and she never would have been able to manage running this place without him. She still learned something new from him every day.
He was also very easy on the eyes, with his dark brown hair and strong features. His shoulders were broad, his hips lean, and at times when he looked at her he made her feel like a desirable woman. But having a personal relationship with her ranch foreman wasn’t a particularly good idea, and she just didn’t feel that way about him, not that he’d ever made an advance.
They walked past the stables, and in the distance were the cowboy quarters, or the cowboy motel as they all called it. There were twelve small apartment units and in the back of the building was a large dining/recreation space.
Her aunt Cass Holiday had built an empire here, along with the help of twelve fiercely loyal cowboys. But this had never been Cassie’s dream. She’d been here for almost six months and it still didn’t feel like home.
As they approached the barn entrance she stifled a moan. The remains of the night’s fun were already evident. Plastic cups were strewn around the area, along with paper plates and beer and other alcohol bottles.
“Doesn’t anyone know how to use a trash bin anymore?” she said more to herself than to Adam.
“Hopefully knocking down the bandstand and picking up trash are the only real jobs needed,” Adam replied.
They walked through the large double doors and Cassie’s nose was instantly assaulted by the lingering odors of body sweat, booze and barbecue.
Many of the bales of hay had been transformed into loose hay piles, and the orange and black streamers and Halloween decorations were either on the floor or tilted drunkenly on the walls.
A large tin tub held a few sad apples that bobbed listlessly on the small amount of water that remained, and a red-and-white woman’s blouse hung on the arm of the blow-up skeleton.
“Uh-oh, who went home topless?” Cassie asked.
Adam grinned. “Amanda Wright, although she wasn’t completely topless. She had on a red, white and blue sparkly bra last time I saw her.”
“That must have been after I went to bed.” Cassie leaned down and picked up a couple of beer cans and tossed them into a nearby trash barrel.
“Don’t worry. By tonight we’ll have this place back the way it belongs,” Adam assured her.
She smiled at him. “I’m not worried. Aunt Cass was darned smart when she hired all of you.”
A flash of pain darkened Adam’s eyes. “She gave us all a chance at a new and good life. Most of us would have been dead or in jail by now if it wasn’t for your aunt.”
Cassie knew the story. When her uncle Hank had died of cancer, all the men who had worked on the ranch had walked off, convinced that a fifty-three-year-old widow would never be able to run the big place.
Cass, along with the help of a social worker, had hired on a dozen runaway boys. That had been fifteen years ago and those boys had turned into fine, honorable and hardworking men who had been devoted to Cass.
“She loved all of you very much,” Cassie said softly.
“She was the mother we never had. But now our loyalty is behind you.”
Cassie knew that, and it only made the decision she had to make more difficult. She had no idea about the troubled backgrounds that had brought all the men here, but she knew they had embraced her as their own. The men who had been big Cass’s cowboys had become hers.
She kicked at a pile of hay and frowned as her boot connected with something. “There’s something under all this hay,” she said.
She bent down and grabbed an armful of the hay and gasped as an arm appeared. “Oh, my God, there’s somebody under here.”
Adam quickly joined her and together they moved more of the hay, exposing Sam Kelly, one of the new hires. Cassie stumbled backward in horror.
It was obvious the man wasn’t just dead drunk. He was dead. He lay on his back, his blue eyes unseeing, and a pool of blood surrounded the back of his head.
Shivers shot up her spine and bile rose up in the back of her throat. “Oh, no,” she whispered faintly. Adam grabbed her and quickly guided her out of the barn.
“He’s dead,” she said and heard the beginning of hysteria in her own voice. She gulped in several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself, but it didn’t work.
“Oh, my God, he’s dead. He’s dead, Adam.”
Adam put his arms around her and she leaned weakly against him as tears burned hot at her eyes. How had this happened? Sam had been an affable young man who had instantly fit in with the other men.
What had happened to him? Dear God, who had done this to him?
“Cassie.” Adam smoothed her hair away from her cheek. “We need to go back to the house and call Dillon.”
Still she clung to him, the vision of Sam horrifying her as she thought of the seven skeletons that had recently been discovered beneath the old shed they’d torn down.
Fifteen years ago somebody had killed those seven young men with an ax or a meat cleaver to the backs of their heads, and those crimes had yet to be solved.
Was this the beginning of a new spree of death? Had the killer been inactive for all these years only to become active once again?
She hoped not. Maybe there was something beneath the hay that she hadn’t seen, something sharp and deadly. Maybe Sam had fallen backward and hit his head on that something. But if he’d accidentally fallen, then who had covered his body with hay?
As Adam led her toward the house she could only pray that Sam’s death was something far different than the evil that had taken place here so many years ago.
* * *
Chief of Police Dillon Bowie eased down in his office chair, pulled open his top drawer and grabbed the bottle of aspirin he kept there. He shook two pills out in his hand and chased them down with a swig of cold coffee.
It was his own fault he had a headache. He’d stayed too long at the barn dance, had drunk one too many glasses of whiskey and soda, and had burned with more than a little jealousy as he’d watched Cassie Peterson dance with practically every man in attendance.
Every man except you.
Of course he hadn’t asked her to dance, even though he would have liked to hold her in his arms for just a bit. Since the minute she’d taken over the Holiday ranch, he’d entertained some lusty thoughts about the petite blonde, but they had remained just thoughts without any follow-through.
He leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his coffee. For the moment there was nothing pressing on his desk. The last six months had been a frenzy of crimes that had kept him busy and on edge. But nobody was in danger right now that he knew about, and he looked forward to just having some time to breathe.
While the fifteen-year-old crime that had taken place on the Holiday ranch continued to torment him, he had no leads to follow at the moment.
He finished his coffee and then leaned forward and glanced through the reports that had come in overnight, seeing nothing earth-shattering. Most of the time crime-fighting in Bitterroot wasn’t that challenging. There was an occasional domestic dispute or theft, and speeding down Main Street was a fairly common occurrence.
If things continued to stay quiet then maybe he could get some things done that he’d been putting off...like getting a haircut and doing a little maintenance work around his house.
A knock fell on his door and his dispatcher, Annie O’Brien, stuck her head in. “Just got a call from Adam Benson. They want you out at the Holiday ranch. One of the ranch hands is dead.”
Dillon jumped out of his chair. So much for a minute to breathe. “Did he give you any other details?” he asked as the two of them stepped out of his office.
“Nothing,” Annie replied.
Dillon walked into the squad room, where several of his men were seated at their desks. “Juan, Mike and Ben, we need to get out to the Holiday ranch. One of the cowboys is dead. You all follow me there.”
Minutes later Dillon was in his vehicle with two patrol cars following behind him. What now? As if the mystery of seven dead young men on the ranch wasn’t enough.
It was probably an accidental death with alcohol playing a big part. There had been a lot of people who had imbibed too freely at the barn dance the night before. He’d even thought he might have to arrest Amanda Wright for indecent exposure if her patriotic sparkly bra had followed the way of her blouse.
Cassie must be beside herself. She’d grown so close to all the men who worked for her. She’d certainly been horrified by the discovery of the seven skeletons on the property, as had the entire town.
What had happened on the Holiday ranch all those years ago, and who was responsible for the carnage? It was a question that would haunt Dillon until he had the answer, and he was convinced the answer lay with one of Cassie’s cowboys.
He turned into the entry of the Holiday ranch and hoped that this was nothing more than a tragic accident. He parked close to the back porch of the house and Cassie and Adam walked out the door before he got out of his car.
Cassie looked achingly fragile and the sight of her tightened a ball of tension in his stomach. He left the car and approached the couple.
“He’s in the barn,” Cassie said. “It’s Sam Kelly.” Tears glistened in her bright blue eyes. “We think he was murdered.”
Dillon’s heart fell to the ground. “What makes you think that?”
Adam turned to Cassie. “Why don’t you go back inside the house? I’ll take Dillon down to the barn.”
Cassie looked at Dillon for confirmation. He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll be in to talk to you later.”
They both watched as Cassie turned and disappeared inside the house. When the back door closed, Adam turned back to Dillon.
“Cassie and I went to the barn earlier to see what kind of cleanup needed to be done after last night. When we found Sam, we came right back to the house. I called Sawyer and he’s standing guard at the door to make sure nobody else enters the barn.”
“Thanks,” Dillon replied. Dammit, there was enough DNA in that barn to keep a lab busy for ten years. And that was only going to make a murder investigation even more difficult.
He and Adam headed to the barn with Dillon’s officers following just behind them. Several of Cassie’s cowboys were gathered around the barn doors, all of them wearing sober expressions and all of them a potential suspect if this was, indeed, a case of murder.
He didn’t even want to think about the fact that everyone who had attended the barn dance would now be a suspect. “Adam will take me in. Everyone else stay out here,” he said.
As the two of them walked into the barn, Dillon immediately spied the man half covered with hay. There was no question that he was dead.
“I need to get Teddy out here,” Dillon said. Dr. Ted Lymon was the medical examiner and there wasn’t much Dillon and his men could do here until Teddy arrived.
He made the call and then stepped closer to the body while Adam hung back. “This is how you found him?” he asked the ranch foreman.
“No. He was completely covered up in hay when we came into the barn. Cassie just happened to kick at the hay mound and realized something...somebody was beneath it.” Adam grimaced. “As soon as we saw it was Sam we went back to the house to call you.”
Dillon sighed. “Round up your men and make sure they’re available for questioning later this afternoon.”
Adam nodded and took the sentence as the dismissal it was meant to be. He turned and left the barn. Once again Dillon looked at the dead man.
Sam Kelly was a local. His parents had died in a car accident several years ago and since then he’d bummed around town doing odd jobs until he’d landed here on the Holiday ranch a couple of weeks ago.
He’d been a friendly young man, easygoing and seemingly without an enemy in the world. Yet somebody had killed him and buried his body with hay.
Dillon fought the impulse to lean down and gently brush the last of the hay off the man’s face. He didn’t dare touch anything until photos had been taken and Ted had done his job.
Whoever had done this had to have known his body would be discovered when the barn was cleaned up. On the portion of Sam’s body that had been uncovered, Dillon saw no other wounds. The blood that had seeped out around the man’s head tightened Dillon’s gut.
Seven skeletons buried under the ground, each one showing deadly trauma to the back of the head. Now this, a man buried under hay with deadly trauma to the back of his head.
The similarities were hard to ignore, and Dillon’s stomach churned with acid. Was it possible a serial killer had been dormant for all these years and now had become active again? Was the murder no more than a drunken brawl turned bad, or was it something far more insidious?
Chapter 2 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
Cassie made a fresh pot of coffee and then stood by the back door peering outside for what seemed like an eternity. She saw several more of Dillon’s men arrive and then Ted Lymon pulled up in his black vehicle. Her heart ached as eventually Ted left with Sam’s body.
Anger, heartbreak and a hint of fear all rolled around in her head and it felt as if it had been a hundred years ago that she’d awakened with her only concern being a hangover headache.
Her heart beat too quickly as she saw Dillon leave the barn and head toward the house. The man definitely stirred something inside her. At the moment she would love to lean into his broad chest and have his strong arms around her.
But of course that wouldn’t happen. His strides were long and determined, and his mouth was a grim slash on his handsome face as he reached the back door.
His dark blue uniform shirt fit tight across his broad shoulders and the slacks fit perfectly on his long legs. Instead of an official hat, he wore a black cowboy hat.
Her head knew what he was going to tell her, but her heart wanted to deny it. She desperately wanted Sam’s death to be a tragic accident, but the evidence said otherwise.
She opened the door for him. Despite the distress of the situation, she couldn’t help that the familiar scent of his spicy cologne shot a hint of pleasant warmth through her.
“I made a fresh pot of coffee,” she said. “Would you like a cup?”
“That sounds great,” he agreed and sat at the table. He swept off his hat and placed it in the chair next to him.
She was acutely aware of his gaze on her as she poured them each a cup of coffee and then joined him at the table. She wrapped her fingers around her mug, suddenly cold again when she gazed into his troubled gray eyes.
“It’s a murder case,” he said.
His words didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t help the small gasp that fell from her lips. “We’ll know more after the autopsy,” he continued. “Initially Teddy has declared the cause of death to be a sharp weapon slammed into the back of Sam’s head.”
“A sharp weapon?” Cassie licked her dry lips.
Dillon nodded, his dark, slightly shaggy hair gleaming brightly in the sunshine that danced through the nearby window. “Probably an ax.”
“Like the others.”
He paused to take a sip of the coffee then put his cup down slowly. “We can’t be absolutely certain, but there’s no way to dismiss the similarities.” His gaze held hers intently. “Cassie, you need to face the fact that one of your cowboys might be guilty.”
A rise of anger usurped the coldness inside her. “That’s ridiculous. I know my men and my aunt Cass knew them. They’re all good people who would never do something like this.”
“I intend to question each of them as potential suspects.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “You questioned them all when the seven skeletons were first found and nothing came of it. Maybe you should ask Humes’s men what they were up to last night. They crashed the party and you know they’ve always been trouble.”
There was no question that she lusted a bit after Dillon Bowie, but at the moment that emotion wasn’t anywhere in her heart.
It was so much easier to embrace anger rather than to entertain her physical attraction to the chief of police, or give in to the tears that had threatened to fall since the moment she’d seen Sam’s body.
She glared at him. “Why don’t you leave my men alone? They’ve done nothing to make anyone believe that one of them is capable of murder.”
“Calm down, Cassie.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Has nobody in your entire life ever told you that telling a woman to calm down is like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull?”
His cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m not the enemy here, Cassie,” he said softly. “Everyone who attended the barn dance last night is a potential suspect. In fact, what I need from you is a list of all the people who came to the party last night.”
She frowned and leaned back in her chair, her momentary burst of anger gone. “You were here along with more than half the town.” She sighed. “Okay, I’ll do the best I can to come up with a complete list of names.”
“I appreciate it. Now, tell me how Sam was working out here. I know he was a fairly new hire.”
“I hired him on two weeks ago, along with Donnie Brighton and Jeff Hagerty. According to all the men Sam was fitting in just fine. Every time I saw him he had a cheerful smile on his face.” She bit her bottom lip to keep her grief at bay.
“And nobody mentioned having a problem with him?”
She shook her head. “Nobody on this ranch. I don’t know if he might have had issues with somebody in town.”
“He’d moved in here when you hired him?”
“Yes, he moved into Tony Nakni’s room after Tony moved in with Mary Redwing.”
“Can you open his room for me?”
“Of course.” Cassie got up and moved to the small built-in desk and opened the top drawer. “All of the men allow me to keep an extra key to their rooms for them in case of an emergency.” She pulled out a key ring with an oversize charm of a huge pair of gemstone-red high heels. “I’ll go with you.”
She was grateful he didn’t protest her presence as they walked out the back door. She was unsettled and didn’t want to just sit inside the house with only her dark thoughts as company.
Grief for the young cowboy she was just getting to know weighed heavy in her heart, along with the uneasiness of knowing that last night a murderer had paid a visit to the Holiday ranch...to her ranch.
She had to double-step to keep up with the tall, long-legged man next to her. It had been months since the skeletons had been found on the property, and Dillon had been a familiar sight around the ranch and yet she really didn’t know him very well.
All she knew for sure was there were times when his gaze lingered on her a bit too long, when wild butterflies shot off in the pit of her stomach. However, there were no butterflies right now as she glanced at his stern features.
They reached the cowboy motel where several of her men stood in a group outside their rooms. “Hey, boss, are you doing okay?” Sawyer Quincy’s copper-colored eyes held welcomed warmth as he gazed at her.
“Thanks, Sawyer. I’m okay,” she replied.
“Hell of a way to end a party,” Brody Booth said darkly. “Anyone tries to bash me in the back of the head with an ax, he’ll get a bullet in his gut before he can even get close to me.”
Cassie turned to Dillon in alarm. “Do you think the rest of my men are in danger?”
“There’s no reason for me to believe that at the moment, but we’ve barely started this investigation,” Dillon replied.
“You don’t have to worry about us, Cassie. We all know how to take care of ourselves,” Flint McCay assured her.
Cassie wanted to believe that, but yesterday she had believed that Sam Kelly could have taken care of himself. “I just want all of you to watch your backs,” she said.
Aware that Dillon was waiting on her, she fumbled with the keys until she found the one that would unlock Sam’s room. When the door was unlocked, she pushed it open.
Dillon stepped inside and she followed on his heels. The room was small, with just a twin bed against one wall and a chest of drawers on another. The closet door was open and the bathroom door was closed.
The sight of the pictures of his dead parents that Sam had hung on the wall made Cassie’s heart cringe. The room was neat and clean and there appeared to be nothing out of place.
She remained just inside the door as Dillon pulled out drawers and examined each one. He then went into the bathroom and reappeared only a moment later.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything here that will help me get to the bottom of things,” he said and then heaved a deep sigh. “He had his phone with him when he was killed. Hopefully it will yield some sort of clue.”
“He’s with his parents now,” Cassie said softly and then a sob escaped her.
Dillon turned to her, his gaze suddenly soft. “Go back to the house, Cassie.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got interviews to do here and I’ll check in with you later.”
For a moment she wanted to lean into him and bury her face into the crook of his neck. She wanted him to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
However, before she could follow through on the impulse, he removed his hand from her shoulder and stepped back. “I’d appreciate it if you could start on that list of people who were here at the party last night.”
Cassie straightened her back and drew in a deep breath for strength. “I’ll get right on it,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.”
Heading back to the house, she wondered why Sam’s death had hit her so hard. She hadn’t known him that well. Certainly it was always a tragedy when a person was murdered, but that didn’t explain the utter devastation she felt.
An arctic chill swirled around inside her as she entered the house. She climbed the stairs and went down the hallway to her bedroom. What she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed.
Like a small child she wanted to fall into bed and pull the covers over her head and hide from all the evil she feared was coming her way. But she couldn’t go back to bed. Instead she reached up to the shelf in the closet and tugged on the edge of a purple fuzzy throw blanket she’d put there when she’d first arrived at the ranch.
It came down along with several shoe boxes, framed photos and a handful of her aunt’s clothes that Cassie had thrown on the shelf months ago.
“Damn, damn!” She rubbed her head where one of the picture frames had struck. She’d been telling herself she needed to clean out the closet shelf for months, but it wasn’t going to happen right now.
She threw everything back on the shelf and then wrapped the throw around her shoulders and headed back downstairs. Instead of going to the kitchen table to start the list for Dillon, she collapsed on the sofa and pulled the throw more closely around her as the sobs she’d been holding back all morning released from her.
She cried for Sam Kelly, who had only been twenty-nine years old, and she cried because she didn’t know what the future held. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was afraid.
* * *
The cowboy dining room was large. It not only held tables and chairs where the men ate their meals, but it also had an area with a television, sofa and several easy chairs where they relaxed on their time off in the evenings.
Dillon sat at one of the tables, waiting for another one of Cassie’s cowboys to come in and be interviewed. His men were processing the barn and he’d already spoken to Sawyer Quincy and Mac McBride. Neither man had been able to shed any light on Sam’s murder.
He didn’t expect any of the men to give him something concrete, but he was hoping that if one of them lied to him then he’d pick up on the subtle signs.
He picked up his pen and tapped the end of it on the table as his head filled with thoughts of Cassie. She’d appeared so achingly fragile. She’d had nothing but drama since she’d taken over the ranch. As if unearthing the seven skeletons wasn’t enough, her place had become a haven for people in trouble. Just last month a band of drug dealers had roared onto her land and shot up the place.
And now this.
He’d heard through the grapevine that she was considering selling out and heading back to New York City. How could anyone really blame her? The big city would probably feel like a safe haven after everything that had happened here.
He looked up as Brody Booth walked in. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man wore an obvious chip on his shoulder as he threw himself into the chair opposite Dillon.
Bitterroot, Oklahoma, was a typical small town where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business, and gossip was as common as horseflies. But Dillon had never heard any gossip concerning the tall, well-built man facing him. Even the other cowboys who had grown up with Brody would admit that he was something of a dark enigma.
“I stayed at the party last night until around midnight and then I went to my room. I liked Sam okay, although I didn’t really know him very well. He was a hard worker and I don’t have any idea who might have killed him.”
It was more words than Dillon had ever heard Brody speak. “Do you know if any of the other men had some sort of issue with Sam?” he asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I keep to myself mostly. Are you going to interview Zeke Osmond, Ace Sanders and Lloyd Green? They weren’t even invited to the barn dance, yet they showed up anyway.”
“I’ll be talking to everyone who was at the party last night,” Dillon replied. “I didn’t see Humes’s men starting any trouble while they were here.”
Brody narrowed his eyes slightly. “Nobody ever seems to actually see them doing anything wrong, but we both know they’ve been causing trouble for years, especially here on the Holiday ranch.”
Dillon didn’t reply. He knew Brody was right. “So, there’s nothing you can add to help me solve Sam’s murder.”
“Nothing.”
It was the same story with the six men he spoke to. Nobody knew of a reason anyone would want to kill Sam Kelly. The last time any of them had seen him was around midnight when he and Amanda Wright had bobbed for apples.
By the time Dillon finished with the interviews the dining room smelled of fried hamburger and onions. A glance at his watch let him know it was probably past time for the men to come in for their evening meal.
He got up from the table and walked around the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Cord Cully, aka Cookie, frowned at his appearance.
The stocky man stood in front of the huge stovetop with a pancake turner in his hand. “I didn’t go to the shindig last night so I got nothing to say to you.” He flipped a burger over.
“If you weren’t at the party, then where were you?”
He flipped another patty and then turned to gaze at Dillon. “I was in my house alone. I don’t like parties. I prefer my own company to anyone else’s. Is that it? I have a meal to get to the table and you’ve already made it run late by almost an hour.”
Cookie lived in a small cottage on the property. It was far enough away from the barn that nobody would have been able to tell if he’d been home last night or not.
“That’s it for now,” Dillon replied. Frustration burned in his belly as he left the dining room and headed back to the house.
Cookie was another dark horse that Dillon knew little about. He’d investigated the man when the skeletons had first been found. He knew that Cass had hired the man around the same time she’d taken in her runaway boys to work for her.
All Dillon knew for sure was the cook was originally from Texas and had no criminal background.
Dillon hadn’t thought he’d solve the crime this afternoon, but he’d hoped for a smoking gun or at least a lead to follow up on, but so far he had nothing.
If he hadn’t spent most of his time last night watching Cassie maybe he would have seen or heard something that might have led to a clue.
But he’d been captivated by the sight of the tight-jean-clad woman in the royal blue blouse that exactly matched her sparkling eyes.
She’d been the perfect hostess, making everyone feel welcome and checking to make sure the food table remained filled. Big Cass Holiday would have been proud of the niece who had inherited her ranch.
He knocked on the back door and Cassie’s faint voice drifted out to him. He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. It was a cheerful room with sunshine-yellow curtains at the window and a bright red and yellow rooster sitting in the center of the round oak table.
“In here, Dillon.” Her voice came from the great room.
She was curled up in the corner of the large, overstuffed sofa and wrapped in a purple blanket. Her eyes appeared to take on the hue of the blanket and instead of their normal sparkling bright blue they were the color of shadowed twilight.
A piece of paper and a pen rested on the coffee table, along with what appeared to be the last of a cup of hot tea.
She sat up and motioned for him to take a seat at the opposite end of the sofa.
“Did you solve everything?” She offered him a tired, sad smile that sliced directly through his heart.
“I wish,” he replied. He eased down and immediately caught the scent of her. It was a hint of vanilla mingling with lilacs and as always it stirred something deep inside him.
He didn’t want to talk to her about murder. Instead he’d rather have a conversation with her about her favorite song or color. He’d much rather hear her tell him about her dreams, or hear her musical laughter when he said something funny.
But there was nothing funny about their current situation and this wasn’t a social visit.
“All the men cooperated with you?” she asked and allowed the blanket to fall off her shoulders.
“I spoke to six of them and they were all cooperative. I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to the rest of them. I just wish somebody had seen or knew something about who killed Sam. According to several of them the last time they saw Sam at the party was around midnight when he was bobbing for apples with Amanda Wright.”
“Where was her boyfriend?”
Dillon sat up straighter. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
“Butch Cooper. From the local gossip I think she’s been dating him for about a month. I do know they arrived together last night.”
Dillon frowned. Butch Cooper was a cowboy on Abe Breckenridge’s ranch. He was a big guy and seemingly easygoing. But maybe he hadn’t liked Sam and Amanda bobbing for apples together?
Cassie leaned forward. “You don’t think...” Her voice trailed off.
“I think I need to speak to Butch. Do you have a list of names for me?”
She picked up a piece of paper. “I did the best I could, but I’m sure there are people who were at the party that I don’t have down.”
He stood and took the paper from her. “I appreciate you doing this much. Walk me out?”
“Of course.” She rose to her feet and together they walked to the back door, where dusk had fallen.
She stepped out on the porch next to him. In the distance the barn was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the sky.
“I’ve got a couple of men there to guard the crime scene. Unfortunately it will be a few days before we’re finished completely processing the barn. I’m sorry if that will inconvenience you.”
“We’ll be fine without using the barn for a while,” she replied. She stared out into the distance and then shivered.
Dillon could stand it no longer. He reached out for her and she came willingly into his arms. He’d dreamed of holding Cassie many nights, but those dreams couldn’t compare to the reality.
Her petite curves pressed against him as she raised her arms around his neck and clung to him. She released a small sob and he ran a hand through the softness of her blond curls in an attempt to soothe her.
“It’s going to be all right, Cassie. I promise you I’m going to catch the person who killed Sam. You just have to stay strong.”
“I’m so tired of being strong.” Her breath was a warm caress in the crook of his neck. “I should just sell out and go back home.”
Dillon dropped his arms from around her and took a step backward. “I wouldn’t make any life-altering decisions right now, Cassie.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like this town, this land, is telling me to get out.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Get some rest and I’ll be back out here in the morning.”
Minutes later Dillon was in his car and headed to the Breckenridge ranch to talk to Butch Cooper, but his thoughts remained on Cassie.
It had been years since he’d been drawn to a woman by some magnetic pull he didn’t understand, but that was how he felt where Cassie was concerned.
Something drew him to her in spite of all the warning signals that went off in his head. He’d given away his heart once. He’d planned his future with his high school sweetheart, Stacy, and had begun to build dreams. However, life in Bitterroot—life with him—hadn’t been exciting enough to keep her happy.
Dillon had a feeling Stacy and Cassie were cut from the same cloth and the last thing he wanted or needed in his life was a new heartbreak.
He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and attempted to consciously shove thoughts of Cassie away. He had a murderer to catch and an old mystery to solve in order to finally silence the seven souls who haunted his dreams with the need for justice.
* * *
He leaned against the side of the house, his chest tight and his heart beating a hundred miles a minute. It was only natural that Dillon would give Cassie a hug under the circumstances. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything because Cassie belonged to him.
She didn’t know it yet, but she’d belonged to him since the moment she’d arrived on this ranch. She was his angel, a woman who embodied everything he’d ever dreamed about.
In the months since she’d taken over the ranch she hadn’t dated anyone. It was as if she was keeping herself pure and untouched just for him, and sooner or later he’d speak of his love for her, but not yet.
Thank God Dillon hadn’t kissed her. He didn’t know what he’d have done if the lawman’s mouth had taken what belonged to him.
His heart slowed its beat and he left the side of the house, using the night shadows to stay concealed.
He’d loved and protected Big Cass Holiday when she’d been alive. His love for Cassie was different than the maternal love he’d had for her aunt. It was the love of a man for his mate and he intended to protect Cassie from anyone who might wrong or disrespect her.
That was why Sam had to die. He’d made a crude comment about wanting to get Cassie alone and naked in the hay. Sam had gotten what he deserved, as had all the other teenagers who’d come to work on the ranch, boys whom he’d had to kill so long ago.
The only thing that bothered him now was hearing Cassie say that she should sell the place and leave. Surely she was only feeling that way because of Sam’s murder. She wouldn’t really follow through. It would be a betrayal to her dead aunt, but more important it would be a betrayal to all the men who worked for her.
He refused to believe that she would make such a decision. She belonged here and eventually she’d realize that her future was with him right here on the Holiday ranch.
Chapter 3 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
Cassie sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her. Dawn light was just peeking over the horizon and she’d been awake for hours.
It had been about three when she’d awakened from a horrible nightmare. An ax-wielding dark shadow had been chasing her around the house and she’d jerked awake just before he caught her.
For the next couple of hours she’d tossed and turned in an effort to go back to sleep, but she’d finally given up and gotten out of bed. She’d showered quickly, and then had dressed in a pair of jeans and a light pink sweatshirt and had come downstairs.
Now, instead of ax murderers, her head was filled with thoughts of Dillon. Despite her sadness over Sam’s murder, she’d liked the feel of Dillon’s arms around her the night before. The scent of his cologne had become familiar to her and as she’d buried her head against him, the fragrance had comforted her. And stirred more than a little bit of desire in her.
She’d wanted him to kiss her, and yet she knew it was foolish even to think about a romantic relationship with anyone here in Bitterroot. She didn’t know if she intended to stay here or go back to her old life and her dreams in New York City.
She leaned forward and took a sip of her now-cold coffee. The big two-story house was silent and she’d never felt so unsettled and so alone.
She’d arrived on the ranch in the spring with her best friend and partner, Nicolette Kendall, and her young son. Nicolette and Sammy had taken to ranch life as if they’d been born here.
It hadn’t taken Nicolette long to catch the eye of Lucas Taylor, one of the cowboys who worked for Cassie. They were now happily married and Cassie was miserably alone.
It wasn’t that Cassie wasn’t happy for her friend. She was thrilled that Nicolette had found true love and happiness. Cassie just wished she knew where she belonged in the grand scheme of life.
Was it here on this ranch in this small town, or did her destiny lay in New York City where she could pursue her dreams of being a famous artist?
She’d love to pick up the phone and call Nicolette, but she knew her friend would be busy with her family. Cassie wished she had the kind of relationship with her mother where she could pick up the phone and get her guidance. Her parents had pretty well written her off when she’d dropped out of college and refused to go to law school and join the family legal firm.
She cast her gaze out the window, unsurprised to see Adam walking toward the house as the sun rose above the horizon. He’d be startled to find her up and dressed and with the coffee already made.
It was their habit that he let himself inside in the mornings, made the coffee and then waited for her to join him for the daily ranch update. Apparently, even a brutal murder didn’t change the routine on a ranch.
Morning greetings were exchanged and then Adam joined her at the table with a cup of coffee. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess,” she replied. “Although I’m still horrified and saddened by Sam’s death.”
“We all are. Dillon said he’d be back here around eight this morning to talk to some more of the men. He’s wasting his time. He won’t find his answers here.”
“I told him as much yesterday.” She got up from the table to get a fresh cup of coffee, fighting against the memory of being held far too briefly in the lawman’s arms.
“I still think he’d better be looking hard at Butch Cooper,” Adam said when she was seated once again. “Amanda was flirting pretty hardcore with Sam at the party and Butch might be an easygoing guy, but he didn’t look all that happy.”
“I’m sure Dillon is going to explore all the possibilities.”
“Yeah, I just wish he’d stop focusing so much attention on us.” Adam took a sip from his cup and then guided his attention out the window. “Anything that happens around here, he’s always quick to interrogate all of us.”
“He’s just doing his job, Adam.”
He focused his gaze back on her and smiled. “I know. It’s just frustrating. He’s had his eye on us since those skeletons were discovered. Whatever happened to those teenagers happened before we all got here. All the men who grew up here on the ranch are good, solid people. You should know that by now.”
She returned his smile. “Believe me, I do.”
For the next twenty minutes he filled her in on the ranch business. Over the past six months Cassie had learned more about cattle than she’d ever wanted to know, but this was her life at the moment.
As Adam droned on about plans for the upcoming winter months, Cassie’s mind remained on the murder and what it meant for her future.
There was no way she could sell the property and leave for New York right now. Legally she was as much a suspect as anyone else that had attended the party, although surely nobody would really believe she’d had anything to do with Sam’s murder.
“Cassie?”
Adam’s voice pulled her out of her own head. “Sorry, what did you say?” she replied.
“I know you have a lot on your mind, so I’ll just get out of your hair and get to work.” He stood, drained his coffee cup and then carried it over to the sink. “I’ll check in with you later in the day after Dillon has conducted the rest of his interviews.”
“Thanks, Adam.” She didn’t bother getting up. Once Adam was gone she remained at the table until Dillon’s car appeared in the drive by the back door.
As he stepped out of the car, the hint of heat she always felt when around him whispered through her. He approached the house and knocked on the back door.
“It’s open,” she yelled. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she said when he stepped into the kitchen.
“Then stop having murder victims on your property,” he replied.
“Trust me, I’d love to stop.” She motioned to the coffeepot. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be around here most of the day.”
“Did you find out anything yesterday that might help you solve this?”
His eyes were steel-gray and troubled. “Cassie, we aren’t going to solve this in a day. We have a barn full of people to interview and little physical evidence.”
“I know.” She blew out a sigh. “People were already talking about this land being damned because of the seven skeletons that were found here.”
“Your land isn’t damned and you know I’ve been working as hard as I can to solve the mystery of those skeletons. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to solve a fifteen-year-old crime where I only have one potentially important clue.”
Cassie straightened in her chair. “An important clue? Tell me, Dillon, what is it?” Was it really possible that he could solve the crime? Could he finally give peace to the seven young men who had been murdered?
Dillon frowned and shifted from one foot to the other, obviously contemplating whether to tell her or not. “You can’t share this with anyone,” he finally said.
“I promise,” she replied.
“It’s a man’s ring. When we were excavating the graves, in the bottom of one was a gold ring with an onyx stone. I believe it slipped off the killer’s finger when he was burying one of the bodies.”
“Was there any DNA on it?”
“Whatever was there was so contaminated nothing was usable.” He took a step toward the back door. “I’ve got to get to work. I’ll talk to you later this afternoon.” With that he turned and left the house.
Through the window Cassie watched him walk toward the barn. She couldn’t help but notice how good his butt looked in his uniform pants. He was definitely hot.
She’d never heard any gossip about who he dated, and this was a small town that loved their gossip. All she really knew about Dillon Bowie was that he was well respected by everyone in Bitterroot and lived on a small farmstead on the other side of town. And she had the hots for him.
Restless energy surged up inside her. She got up from the table and put the coffee cups in the dishwasher. The ring of the doorbell whirled her around.
Who on earth could that be? She didn’t think anyone had ever come to the front door since she’d moved in. Everyone used the back door when they visited.
She hurried through the great room and into the smaller, more formal living room, where she could see through a side window that Raymond Humes stood on the porch.
She stifled a groan. That man was the last person on earth she wanted to see this morning. She opened the door and greeted him through the screen. “Good morning, Mr. Humes. What can I do for you?”
The silver-haired thin man smiled, the gesture doing nothing to warm the cold of his close-set dark eyes. “It isn’t what you can do for me. It’s about what I can do for you. May I come in?”
Cassie hesitated. She knew why he was here. The seventysomething-year-old man was like a vulture sensing death and waiting to capitalize on any weakness. She finally opened the screen door to allow him inside.
She refused to lead him into the heart of the house and instead gestured to the small floral sofa just inside the front door. She sat on the edge of the wing-backed chair facing him.
He swept his dusty brown cowboy hat off his head. “I was sorry to hear about poor Sam’s unfortunate demise,” he began. “You do realize this is only going to add a new blight on this ranch that will make it even more difficult for you to sell.”
“I’ve told you several times I’m not ready to sell at this point in time,” she replied.
“You aren’t going to get a better offer than mine,” he said with a confidence that irritated her.
“I’m not interested in any offer right now and did you know some of your ranch hands crashed my barn dance the other night?”
Raymond chuckled. “Hardly a crime. I found it hard to believe that you wouldn’t invite me and my men to the shindig being that we’re neighbors and all.”
“Your men and mine aren’t really friendly,” she replied as she stood.
“I’ve never understood that,” he said in bemusement.
She understood. According to her men, Humes’s ranch hands had stolen cattle, set malicious fires and done sundry other things to her ranch.
“I’ve got a lot of things going on right now, Mr. Humes. I appreciate you stopping by, but I’m not interested in any offer you might make me on this place.” She glanced pointedly at the door.
Raymond laughed once again as he rose from the sofa. “Sooner or later you’ll be interested. I’m the only person around these parts who has the kind of money you’ll want to rid yourself of this one-horse town and get back to New York City, where those fancy jeans of yours belong.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out the door. He was probably pleased that another murder had taken place on her property. He probably thought this newest tragedy would make her desperate to sell out to him and leave Bitterroot.
She had to admit there was a part of her that would like to cut and run. However, selling out to Raymond Humes would be such a betrayal to Aunt Cass, who had left her the ranch.
More important, it would be a huge betrayal to the men who worked here, men who embraced her as their own the minute she’d stepped into her aunt’s very large shoes.
And one of them might be a killer.
The words jumped unbidden into her head. No, there was no way Dillon or anyone else could ever make her believe that. She refused to believe that for the last six months she’d been living here with a vicious killer. Her cowboys were good, kind and hardworking men.
Still, a faint chill accompanied her as she locked the front door and then returned to the kitchen.
* * *
It was just after four when Dillon finished interviewing for the day. He’d spent most of the morning inside the barn with a couple of his best men, seeking anything that might be a clue. It had been a fruitless search.
Finally, after noon he pulled in three of the last six cowboys to talk to. He’d hoped to get something, at least a little nugget of information that might move the case forward, but that hadn’t happened.
Over and over again he heard that Sam had fit in with them all just fine, that nobody had seen anything at the party indicating a problem between the dead man and anyone else other than Butch.
There were still many avenues to explore, but Dillon felt in his gut that the answers not only to Sam’s murder, but also to the murders that had taken place years ago, lay right here on the Holiday ranch.
As he headed to the house a weariness weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was the same disillusionment that had been with him since the day the seven bodies had been unearthed.
Dillon considered himself a good lawman, but the seven unsolved mysteries had left him feeling inadequate. It was an emotion that brought up old, bad memories. He shoved them aside as he reached the back door.
He’d been kicking himself all day for sharing with Cassie the information about the ring that had been found in the grave. He should have never confided in her. While he trusted that she would keep the information to herself, it had been unprofessional of him to tell her.
But he’d wanted to give her just a small nugget of hope that he would get to the bottom of things. He’d wanted to do something to alleviate the shadowed darkness in her eyes.
He knocked on the back door and Cassie answered. “Come on in,” she said, gesturing him into the kitchen that smelled of spicy meat cooking.
“Something smells good,” he said.
“Taco pie. Halena Redwing taught me how to make it. Why don’t you have some with me? I’ve already made a salad, and the pie will be ready in minutes.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose...” he began.
“Dillon, please. It’s no imposition at all. Besides, I absolutely hate to eat alone.”
There was something slightly desperate in the depths of her lovely eyes. It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to spend any time with her, especially alone. “I skipped lunch and taco pie sounds delicious,” he heard himself say despite his internal dialogue.
She flashed him a grateful smile. “Then sit and relax and I’ll just get the dishes on the table.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Don’t talk about murder or my men while we eat.” She pointed to a chair.
“I can do that,” he agreed and sat. He’d talked and thought about murder enough for the day. The taco pie smelled delicious and Cassie looked charming in a pair of fancy jeans that hugged her slender legs and a pink sweatshirt that made her eyes appear even more blue than usual.
He remained silent while she placed plates and silverware on the table. As she bent over to get the taco bake out of the oven, he couldn’t help but notice her figure. She was a petite woman, but perfectly proportioned.
Cassie Peterson could definitely be a threat to his mental well-being if he allowed it. She was the first woman to tempt him since Stacy had walked out on him almost five years ago.
It’s just a quick dinner, he told himself. No threat there. It would be nice not to talk about murder or potential suspects for the duration of the meal. He just wasn’t sure what they might talk about. In the past every time he’d spoken to Cassie it had been because something bad had happened on her ranch.
Something bad had happened now, but he was almost grateful she didn’t want to chew on it over dinner.
Minutes later she had the meal on the table and gestured for him to help himself. “Why did you skip lunch? You know you would have been welcome to eat with the men. Cookie always makes plenty of food.”
He didn’t want to tell her that he wasn’t at all sure he’d be welcome in the dining room. Between yesterday and that afternoon he’d grilled most of her men pretty hard. “I was busy in the barn and lost track of time,” he replied. He ladled a portion of the pie from the dish onto his plate.
“The weather was certainly nice today,” she said.
“Autumn is my favorite season,” he replied.
“Mine, too.” She smiled, as if pleased they’d found some common ground.
He focused on his plate and tried to ignore the small burst of heat her smile had sparked in the pit of his stomach. He took a bite of the taco pie and then gazed at her once again. “This is delicious. You’re obviously a good cook.”
She laughed, the sound musical and pleasant. “Not really, but I’m trying. Halena has given me a ton of her recipes, and she’s a good cook. There are a lot of Aunt Cass’s recipes here, too. I’ve realized in the last couple of weeks that cooking and baking might be a great stress reliever if I learn how to do it right.”
“Maybe I should take it up,” Dillon said drily.
“You don’t cook?”
“Most of my meals are eaten at the café. I work so much that it’s just easier to eat out.”
“All work and no play?” She took a bite of her salad and held his gaze.
Oh, he’d like to play right now. He’d like to capture her cupid lips with his and... Crap, the stress of these cases was definitely getting to him.
“No play,” he replied more curtly than he intended. She looked down at her plate and he instantly felt guilty for his sharp tone. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re an artist.”
She looked at him once again. “I like to paint.”
“Watercolor or oil?”
Her eyes lit up. “Right now I’m doing oil paintings with Western themes. I have an arrangement with Mary Redwing. She’s got a couple of them up on her website for sale.”
“From everything I’ve heard Mary has a solid business.” The Native American woman sold handmade baskets, pots and other items inherent to her Choctaw culture while her grandmother, Halena, sewed traditional dresses to sell.
“Have you always liked to paint?” He felt himself begin to relax for the first time in weeks.
“Always. All I ever dreamed of was becoming a famous artist. That’s what I was working toward before I came here. I owned a small shop that sold my artwork along with some other items.”
“Was it successful?”
She hesitated before replying and her eyes darkened slightly. “I was struggling to make ends meet. I think with more time and money it might have been a real success. I never dreamed I’d wind up on a ranch in Oklahoma.”
“Were you close to your aunt Cass?”
“Not really, although I was named after her. She came to New York a couple of times to visit my parents and when I was about ten we came out here to visit. But that was about it. That’s why I was so surprised when she left me this place.” She paused to take a drink of water and then continued, “Aunt Cass was kind of the outcast of the family. My parents are very New York. They’re both criminal defense lawyers and extremely driven.”
For the next half an hour they ate and she talked about her parents and her life before Holiday ranch. He laughed as she related stories about quirky characters who had come into her shop.
“You know, Bitterroot isn’t without its own quirky characters,” he said.
“I already know that Halena loves to wear funky hats and occasionally pinches some cowboy’s butt.”
He laughed. “That she does, but I’ll bet you didn’t know that Leroy Atkinson has his entire house lined inside with aluminum foil so space aliens can’t see him or hear his thoughts. He also believes aliens visit his ranch on numerous occasions.”
Her eyes lit with suppressed laughter. “Is that for real or are you making it up?”
“I don’t make stuff up,” he replied. “About twice a month Leroy calls me out to his ranch to see evidence that a spaceship has landed on his property. I never see anything other than some tamped-down grass where a cow rested through the night. Actually, my parents lived next to Leroy when I was a kid. Leroy was like a second father to me. He calls me out to his ranch because he’s lonely.”
“That’s sad,” she said. By this time their plates were empty. “Would you like an after-dinner cup of coffee?” she asked. She stood and a spark of fading sunlight danced in the strands of her curly blond hair.
The desire to touch the soft-looking curls itched his palms. “Thanks, but I should probably be on my way.” He needed to get out of here. Spending time with her had been far too pleasurable.
He got up from the table. “Thanks for the great meal.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me. Sometimes this big old house gets a bit lonely,” she replied.
He headed toward the back door, needing to escape her. Without the smell of the food, he became acutely aware of her lilac and vanilla scent that wafted in the air. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, more oppressive.
He turned to tell her goodbye and she was right there, standing mere inches from him. Her lips were slightly parted as if anticipating a kiss, and even before he recognized his own intention, he drew her to him and covered her mouth with his.
Her lips were welcome heat and sweet softness. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought she’d pull away, but instead she leaned into him and opened her mouth a little more in invitation. Desire suffused him as he deepened the kiss, and their tongues swirled together in a heated dance.
He might have kissed her forever if she hadn’t released a throaty little moan. It made him want to pick her up and carry her into the house and to the nearest bedroom.
And that emotion was what shot some sense through his head. He dropped his arms to his waist and stepped back from her. “Sorry, that was a huge mistake.”
“A mistake?” Her winsome blue eyes searched his features in puzzlement. “Why was it a mistake?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets to stymie them from reaching out for her again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you because before this case is over I think you’re probably going to hate me.”
“Why would I have a reason to hate you?”
“Because I believe one of your cowboys is guilty of not only killing Sam, but also those seven young men who were found under the shed. One of them is guilty and I’m not going to stop until I prove it.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but instead turned and went out the door.
Chapter 4 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
Cassie was once again seated at the kitchen table the next afternoon when Dillon’s car pulled into the drive. She sat up straighter in anticipation of him coming inside, but he headed straight to the barn.
She tamped down her disappointment that he hadn’t come in to say hello. He wasn’t here to visit, she reminded herself. He had a job to do, but there was no question that his kiss had both thrilled and confused her.
That kiss. Even now just thinking about it made her toes curl. She’d spent half the night replaying it over and over again in her head. Between the kiss and his parting words she felt as if he’d caressed her heart and then slapped her upside the head.
Her phone had rung for most of the day, neighbors and friends checking in with her and wanting to know the latest on the murder investigation. She told them nothing because she knew nothing except that Dillon was convinced one of her men was a monster.
Today she couldn’t even be too mad at him for his beliefs, despite the fact that she found the idea completely ludicrous. That didn’t take away from the fact that his kiss had shaken her to her core.
It had been over two years ago since she’d had a relationship with a man. She and Mark had dated for eight months before he’d finally broken up with her. She’d been surprised to discover that she’d actually been relieved by the split.
At the time she’d been consumed with her shop, working long hours there, and when she wasn’t behind the counter she was in her studio apartment painting. She hadn’t put in the time or energy to make her relationship work.
What they had shared was basically a physical thing without any real emotional tie. At the end he’d wanted more from her, but she hadn’t been willing to take it any deeper.
She cast another glance out the window. It was time to stop sitting around and brooding and instead she went to work fixing a big pot of chili. The day had been gray and cool, perfect for chili with corn bread.
As she worked she occasionally drifted to the window to peer out. Dillon’s car was still in the drive but the only people she saw were two of her men on horseback in the distance.
Maybe he’d stay for dinner again tonight and maybe he’d kiss her again. Probably not, since he’d told her their first kiss was a mistake. It certainly hadn’t felt like a mistake to her. It had felt wonderfully right.
What did she think she was doing, wishing for another kiss from him? The last thing she wanted was a relationship that might make it even more difficult for her to make the decision to stay or leave here.
And she had to make that decision within the next few weeks. If she was going to sell the ranch and head back to New York City she wanted to do it before the first snow flew.
She jumped as a knock fell on the back door. She turned around from the stove to see Sawyer standing on the small stoop. She gestured him inside with a smile. Sawyer Quincy was one of her favorites of all the men. The tall, lean man had an easy way about him and was always quick to laugh.
“I was just on my way into town to pick up some things for Cookie and I thought I’d check in and see if you needed anything,” he said.
This wasn’t the first time Sawyer had gone out of his way to do something nice for her. “Thanks, Sawyer, but I think I’m good for now.”
“That chili definitely smells good,” he replied and gestured to the pot simmering on the stovetop.
“Thanks, it just felt like a chili kind of day.”
“Winter will be here before you know it.”
“Don’t remind me.” She picked up a large spoon and stirred the chili.
“We’ll get through winter, and we’ll get through what’s happening right now.”
She placed the spoon on a spoon rest and released a deep sigh. “How are things going today? I haven’t spoken to Dillon yet.”
Sawyer’s eyes flashed darkly. “He’s questioning all of us all over again. It’s like he’s just looking for one of us to make a mistake or something. Oh, well, I’d better get going. Cookie will pitch a fit if I don’t get back with his stuff as soon as possible.”
“Get out of here,” she replied with a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for one of Cookie’s temper fits.” With a goodbye, he walked out the back door and Cassie returned to the counter to make the corn bread.
She wouldn’t put it past Raymond Humes to arrange for one of his men to murder one of hers just to stain the ranch reputation and make her more desperate to sell. She only hoped Dillon was questioning him and his men as hard as he was hers.
It was just after six when Dillon knocked on the back door. The kitchen smelled of the chili and corn bread, and Cassie couldn’t help the little bit of anticipation that danced in her stomach as she thought about them sharing another meal.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m heading back into town,” he said.
“How about a bowl of chili before you take off? I was just getting ready to sit down to eat and there’s plenty.”
He hesitated and his gaze held hers for a long moment. In the depths of his eyes she thought she saw a spark of something that made her breath quicken as a wave of heat shimmied through her.
He blinked and broke the eye contact with her. “Thanks for the offer, but I really should get going. I’ve got some other people I want to talk to before I call it a day.” He sidled toward the door as if eager to escape.
She tamped down her disappointment. “You’ll keep me informed if you find out anything that will solve the murder?”
“Of course,” he replied and still didn’t look at her. Instead he appeared to find the rooster in the center of the table utterly fascinating.
“Did Sam’s phone tell you anything?” she asked.
“Nothing worthwhile. So far I haven’t learned anything that would move the case forward.”
“Did you talk to Butch?”
“I did, and I believe he’s a dead end and had nothing to do with Sam’s death.” He finally looked at her once again. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll just say good-night,” she replied.
He nodded and went out the door.
Despite the hour an early twilight had fallen. Cassie turned on the kitchen light and ladled up a bowl of chili for herself.
If he hadn’t kissed her so thoroughly the night before she wouldn’t be feeling so disappointed that he hadn’t stayed to eat with her tonight.
The kiss had scrambled her brains and made her want more despite her reluctance to form any kind of a relationship with any man.
It wasn’t just the very hot kiss. He’d been so easy to talk to and she’d enjoyed their conversation and the laughter they’d shared the night before. She’d been intrigued by Dillon Bowie since the moment she’d met him, and eating dinner with him last night had only made her more interested in him.
Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t stayed to eat with her. The chili was overspiced and the corn bread was burnt on the bottom. Another failed attempt at cooking, she thought with chagrin.
After eating her dinner she cleaned up the kitchen and then wandered restlessly around the great room, the hours before bedtime stretching out empty and silent before her.
It was just after seven when she decided to go out to one of the small sheds and get some more of her aunt Cass’s journals that were stored there. She’d found the stash of journals several months ago and had been reading them off and on since then. She’d read all the ones she’d brought into the house and tonight seemed like a good time to read a new one.
She grabbed a jacket off a hook by the kitchen door and pulled it on, then retrieved a flashlight from beneath the kitchen sink.
The night appeared darker than usual without the benefit of any moonlight or star shine. She clicked on her flashlight and headed toward the shed in the distance.
She found it oddly comforting to see the lights shining outside the windows in the cowboy motel. They were like beacons of comfort and reminded her she wasn’t all alone on the property.
The shed was a fairly small wooden structure and inside were things her aunt had stored. Along with the journals there were boxes of old kitchen utensils, Christmas decorations and a huge box of brightly decorated ceramic Easter bunnies.
She released the padlock and pulled the door open, her flashlight beam dancing across the boxes. Thankfully, the one she wanted was on top and easy to get to.
Opening the box, she used her light to grab a handful of the journals that were on top. The shed door slammed shut behind her. She whirled around with a surprised squeal.
Had the wind suddenly picked up and blown the door closed? Impossible. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. The door was heavy and only a tornado-like gust could have shut it.
She ran to the door and tried to open it, but there was no give. An edge of panic crawled up her throat. She used her shoulder to push against the door, but it refused to open.
Somebody had shut the door and locked her inside. Oh, God, who had done this and why? Full-blown panic grabbed her by the throat.
She dropped the journals on the floor and banged on the door with her fist. “Hello? Somebody help me! I’m in here!” She screamed the words over and over again.
All the men would be in their rooms by now, too far away to hear her cries for help. There was only one person who might hear her and that was the person who had locked her in.
She froze, her heart racing even faster. Was he standing just outside the door right now? Gloating as he heard her panicked screams? Was he going to listen to her terror and then open the door and...? A vision of Sam dead in the hay filled her mind. She nearly dropped her flashlight as an icy chill suffused her. Tears burned at her eyes, half blinding her in the semidarkness.
She banged on the door and began to scream once again in wild hopes that somebody would hear her, praying that somebody would save her. There was no point to stay silent whether the person who’d locked her in was just outside or not.
She didn’t know how long she banged and yelled before she heard a voice. “Cassie?” The faint, familiar voice drifted through the door.
“Adam? I’m in here. Please, open the door,” she cried. She heard the lock being removed, and as the door opened a sob of relief escaped her.
“What happened?” Adam asked as he reached for her. “How did you get in there?”
“I came out here to get something and the door slammed behind me and I couldn’t get out and...” She broke off as she began to cry.
“Let’s get you to the house,” Adam said.
She nodded and reached down to grab the journals. She was still weeping as Adam threw a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her toward the house.
When they got inside she collapsed on the sofa. “What were you doing outside?” she asked as her tears slowly subsided.
“I always do a check on things around the ranch in the evenings,” he replied. His eyes were dark and filled with concern. “Who did this? Why would somebody lock you in the shed?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lower lip as tears threatened once again. “I didn’t see who did it. I didn’t see anyone around and I don’t know why anyone would want to do such a thing.”
“You need to call Dillon.” Adam sat on the sofa next to her. “There’s no way this was some kind of a freak accident. Somebody had to close the door and fasten the padlock.”
A new chill raced through her. Yes, she needed to call Dillon. She had no idea what intention the person had when they’d locked her in the shed, but there was no way it was good.
* * *
Dillon pulled up in front of his ranch house. It was the place he’d once thought would be filled with love and the sound of children laughing. He’d never dreamed he’d come home each night to a dark and lonely place.
He killed his headlights and got out of the car. He’d eaten a burger at the café and now hoped he could empty his mind enough to get a good night’s sleep. His brain had worked overtime all day. As if the murder investigation wasn’t enough, the kiss he’d shared with Cassie had intruded into his thoughts throughout the entire day.
He unlocked his front door and walked in. Minutes later he was in his recliner with a beer in hand. When he’d bought this three-bedroom, two-bath house set on ten acres of land, he’d never dreamed he’d be living here alone.
He’d made so many plans with Stacy, the girl he’d fallen in love with when they’d both been high school juniors, and he’d been utterly blindsided when she’d not only left him, but had also left Bitterroot for life in a big city. He’d heard through the grapevine that she’d moved to Chicago. He hoped she’d found whatever she’d been looking for.
Sipping his beer, he tried to remember kissing Stacy. Strange, he couldn’t remember what it felt like. Instead thoughts of kissing Cassie filled his head.
Her lips had been so hot and so wonderfully inviting. Damn the woman. He needed to keep his distance from her. He was convinced she was just another Stacy waiting to happen and he couldn’t go through that kind of thing again. He’d rather be alone than take a chance with her.
He finished his beer and got up from the chair. Now all he wanted was to shower off the Oklahoma dust and then hit the hay. He’d just entered the master bath when his phone rang.
“Chief, sorry to bother you,” Brenda Kline, the night dispatcher said.
“No problem, what’s up?”
“I just got a call from Adam Benson out at the Holiday ranch. He said something about Cassie being locked up in a shed and they need you out there.”
“On my way,” he replied. His stomach tightened as he left the house and got into his car.
Cassie locked in a shed? Had she been hurt? What in the hell was going on now? Had it just been some sort of freak accident? If that was the case then why would they call him?
He wished he’d gotten more information. It was a fifteen-minute drive from his home to the Holiday ranch. He made it in twelve.
Adam greeted him at the back door. “She’s in the great room,” he said.
She was huddled in the corner of the sofa with the same purple throw wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes appeared positively haunted as she greeted him.
“What happened?” he asked, fighting the impulse to grab her up and pull her to his chest. She looked so small and so frightened, but he was grateful to see that she appeared physically unharmed.
“I decided to go into the shed to grab some things and while I was inside somebody shut and locked the door behind me.” Her face paled and she pulled the throw more tightly around her.
“I heard her screaming and unlocked the shed,” Adam said.
“What were you doing outside at this time of night?” Dillon stared at the ranch foreman.
“I walk around every night to make sure all the gates are locked and everything is buttoned down,” he replied. “I’m just grateful I heard her screaming, otherwise she might have been in there all night or...” His voice trailed off.
Dillon frowned. “Do you think this was some kind of a joke? Maybe one of the other men thought it would be funny?”
“No way,” Adam replied flatly. “There’s nothing funny about this and none of my men would have done anything to frighten Cassie.”
“Before you heard her and unlocked the door did you see anyone else around?” Dillon asked.
Adam shook his head. “No, nobody.”
“How did you happen to have a key to the shed?” Dillon was still struggling to figure out the how and why of what had happened.
“As the foreman, I have keys to all the ranch outbuildings.” Adam pulled a key ring out of his pocket with dozens of keys.
“Dillon, Adam isn’t the bad guy here,” Cassie said softly. “He’s the one who let me out, not the one who locked me in.”
“Maybe one of the men from the ranch next door is responsible,” Adam said, his disgust obvious in his voice. “We all know Raymond Humes’s men love to cause trouble. One of those creeps was probably skulking around and thought this would be a funny thing to do. It sounds like their sick sense of humor.”
Dillon had to admit that it did sound like something one of those men would do. Still, he had a bad feeling in the pit of his gut. “I’ll take it from here,” he told Adam. “Could you gather up all the men in the dining room?”
“Of course.” Adam gazed at Cassie, a frown etched across his forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked her.
“I’m fine. Thank you, Adam.”
“I’m just glad I was at the right place at the right time. I’ll see you in the morning.” With a nod at Dillon, Adam went out the back door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dillon asked. He eased down on the sofa next to her. “You weren’t hurt?”
“I’m not hurt, but I’m not really okay. I keep wondering what would have happened if Adam hadn’t shown up when he did.” She pulled the throw more tightly around her.
Stay professional, Dillon told himself. Don’t let your emotions get involved. Still, it was damned difficult to stay emotionally removed from her when her eyes seemed to need some sort of reassurance and she leaned toward him as if desperate for his arms around her.
He couldn’t offer her reassurance until he got to the bottom of things, and he refused to embrace her because he feared he’d never want to let her go.
He got up off the sofa and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I need to go check out that shed and talk to your men. Which shed was it?” He knew there were several on the property.
“It’s the smaller one closest to the house.”
“Will you be all right here alone?” She didn’t look as if she would ever be all right again.
She roused herself from the sofa, clutching the throw around her shoulders. “I’ll be okay as long as I lock the door behind you.”
They reached the door and he turned to face her. “This shouldn’t take too long and I’ll come back in when I’m finished.”
She nodded, her eyes still simmering pools of fear. “You know what I thought when I was in that shed?” She released a small, shaky laugh that had nothing to do with humor. “For just a brief moment I thought the door was going to swing open and somebody was going to attack me with an ax.”
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Carla Cassidy
A cowboy cop tracks down a perilous passion in New York Times bestseller Carla Cassidy's explosive new thriller!For Cassie Peterson, finding out her new ranch was the site of a cold case is horrifying. But now one of her cowboys has been murdered, just like the previous victims! Cassie will do whatever it takes to help Chief of Police Dillon Bowie find the killer, but will getting close to the handsome lawman put more than her home at risk?Dillon’s been working hard to crack the original case–and keep feisty Cassie out of his thoughts. But when disturbing new clues prove the murderer is obsessed with Cassie, Dillon will tempt fate to guard the beauty and solve a terrifying mystery.
A cowboy cop tracks down a perilous passion in New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy’s explosive new thriller!
For Cassie Peterson, finding out her new ranch was the site of a cold case is horrifying. But now one of her cowboys has been murdered, just like the previous victims! Cassie will do whatever it takes to help Chief of Police Dillon Bowie find the killer, but will getting close to the handsome lawman put more than her home at risk?
Dillon’s been working hard to crack the original case—and keep feisty Cassie out of his thoughts. But when disturbing new clues prove the murderer is obsessed with Cassie, Dillon will tempt fate to guard the beauty and solve a terrifying mystery.
Dillon didn’t plan it, but before he knew it, Cassie was in his arms.
As she raised her face he captured her lips with his. She tasted of chocolate and raspberry and white-hot desire, and her body was invitingly warm against his.
She curled into him as if wanting to be as close as possible. Dillon reached a hand up. He stroked it through her springy soft hair and deepened the kiss.
He finally tore his mouth from hers and peered down at her. “Was that a mistake?” she asked as she raised a finger to her lower lip.
“Probably,” he replied. “There’s something about you that makes me want more…”
* * *
Be sure to check out the next books in this exciting series: Cowboys of Holiday Ranch—Where sun, earth and hard work turn men into rugged cowboys…and irresistible heroes!
Killer Cowboy
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written more than onehundred-and-twenty novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.
Contents
Cover (#u99101bda-1812-5844-a209-39fb591f6870)
Back Cover Text (#ucf8529a1-f42f-5f4f-8dee-cb0020cc2ae1)
Introduction (#ueb7e6292-ee4a-5756-b439-5b8a51fdc678)
Title Page (#u02f386ee-50a4-56a4-a549-0b440fcc163c)
About the Author (#u58872438-1e70-5c74-a543-f7d127bced0d)
Chapter 1 (#u2ef54d4a-a616-51cc-b691-5a87b11227bc)
Chapter 2 (#u9614fdf4-f764-50a1-b115-598dfb45b931)
Chapter 3 (#u7d1b65fd-ba60-5839-bd00-e1fbc234d393)
Chapter 4 (#ub096e71a-3cf2-5536-a2f3-a55169da18a4)
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)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
An elephant stood on Cassie Peterson’s head. Boom. Boom. Boom. No, not standing. The darned behemoth was happily dancing on her skull, shooting out excruciating pain with each two-step.
She closed her gaping mouth and frowned at the nasty taste. Apparently, a carnival had also set up camp there and left behind a fuzzy tongue and the lingering taste of apple cider.
She cracked open an eyelid and groaned. No elephant in the bedroom. It was just a hangover from hell. How many glasses of Abe Breckenridge’s famous apple cider had she drunk last night? And what on earth had he spiked it with?
Her headache continued to bang as she rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d suffered this kind of a hangover.
She also remembered very little of the last hour of the barn dance she’d thrown the night before. Despite her head pain a small smile curved her lips.
The barn dance had been a rousing success. Nearly everyone who lived in the small town of Bitterroot, Oklahoma, had attended.
Besides the fancy Western wear, some of the attendees had gotten into the Halloween spirit and dressed in costumes. The Croakin’ Frogs band had provided the music and there had been plenty of eating, dancing and drinking.
Oh, she’d danced and drunk way too much. She needed to get out of bed. She had a barn to get cleaned up, but before that she hoped a long, hot shower would make her feel at least halfway human again.
With a groan she rolled out of the bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and another low moan escaped her. Her curly blond hair was in tangles and mascara had moved from her lashes to form dark shadows beneath her eyes.
She looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet. “You wish,” she said ruefully to the reflection and then turned her back and started the water for a shower.
Thirty minutes later Cassie headed down the stairs, feeling only marginally more human. Clad in a pair of her favorite jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, she almost felt ready to face the day, although her head still banged with a fury, and she swore she would never drink apple cider again.
The scent of coffee wafted in the air and she assumed the ranch foreman, Adam Benson, had come in and was waiting for her in the kitchen.
She stepped into the bright, airy room and halted at the sight of Halena Redwing seated at the table with a cup of coffee in hand.
The old Choctaw woman wore a floral caftan from Cassie’s closet and a cowboy hat and smiled with a knowing glint in her eyes. “You look like a woman who had too good a time last night.”
Cassie moved over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup and then joined Halena at the table. “I’m not sure my good time last night was worth my headache this morning.”
“Greasy eggs, that’s what you need.” Halena got up and walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the egg carton and a container of bacon fat.
“Ugh, that sounds awful.”
“Greasy eggs and toast are great for a hangover.” She leaned down and pulled out the skillet from a lower cabinet. “And I hope you remember that last night you said it was okay if I crashed out on your sofa and got something out of your closet to wear.”
Cassie nodded and took a sip of her coffee. She vaguely remembered Tony Nakni, her ranch hand, asking her if Halena could spend the night because he and Halena’s granddaughter had to get home early to take care of their precious little baby boy, whom they had left with a babysitter for the first time.
“Whose hat are you wearing?” Cassie asked in an attempt to get her mind off the pounding of her head and the slight nausea that arose from the scent of the melting bacon fat.
“Sawyer’s.” Halena turned from the stove and flashed Cassie a slightly naughty grin. “That boy is handsome as sin but he can’t hold his liquor worth a damn. He passed out on one of the hay bales and I thought he might roll over and crush this hat, so I took it for the night.”
Cassie couldn’t help but smile as she thought of Sawyer Quincy. He was one of twelve cowboys she’d inherited when her aunt Cass had been killed in a tornado and left the huge ranch to Cassie six months before.
“Have any of the other men been in this morning?” she asked.
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them.” Halena cracked two eggs into the skillet.
Cassie wasn’t surprised. She’d told the men to take the morning off, knowing that everyone would need some time to recuperate after last night’s festivities. If they all felt as bad as she did, it might take a month for everyone to recuperate.
She sipped her coffee and stared out the window to the big barn in the distance. The party was supposed to be a turning point for her. She’d promised herself that once it was over she’d make a final decision about staying in Bitterroot or selling the ranch and returning to her old life in New York City. But this morning her head was much too fuzzy to even contemplate making a life-changing decision.
“Here you go.” Halena set a plate in front of Cassie.
Cassie stared down at the toast and the two eggs with bright yellow, runny yolks and her stomach threatened to rebel.
“Eat up. Consider it medicine.” Halena sat back down at the table.
“I’m more of an egg white kind of person,” Cassie replied uneasily.
“That’s just the big city in you doing the talking,” Halena scoffed. “A little egg yolk never hurt anyone.”
As Cassie forced herself to eat, Halena regaled her with stories from the night before. “I danced with every one of your cowboys. I even grabbed Dillon Bowie and forced him to two-step with me.”
Cassie’s heart jumped just a little at the mention of Bitterroot’s chief of police. She had a bit of a crush on the dark-haired, gray-eyed man. But he’d given her no indication that he returned the feeling. In any case, it didn’t matter if she was going to sell out and move on.
The back door opened and Adam Benson, the ranch foreman, walked in. “Good morning,” he said and then smiled wryly. “Or is it?”
“She has a hangover, but she’ll be fine once she finishes those eggs,” Halena said.
Adam walked over to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup and then joined the two women at the table. “Heck of a shindig you threw last night.”
“Remind me never again to drink Abe’s special apple cider,” Cassie replied.
“We all think his special ingredient is pure grain alcohol.”
“Whatever it is, it’s deadly,” Cassie replied.
Adam turned to smile at Halena. “You were definitely the belle of the ball.”
“I can’t help it that men desire me and women envy me,” Halena replied and tossed one of her long silver braids over her shoulder. Cassie would have laughed if she wasn’t afraid her head might fall off.
“I’m assuming barn cleanup is on the agenda for the day,” Adam said to Cassie.
She nodded and shoved her half-empty plate aside. “I’ll walk through it this morning and see exactly what needs to be done to put things back to normal.”
Halena got up and filled a large glass of water and then set it before Cassie. “Hydrate,” she commanded.
Cassie smiled at the old woman. “Thanks, Halena.”
“Thanks for what?”
“For taking care of a stupid woman who drank way too much last night.”
“I think everyone drank too much last night,” Adam replied.
Halena stood and took off Sawyer’s cowboy hat. “I’d better get upstairs and change. Tony and Mary should be here anytime to pick me up. Will you see to it that Sawyer gets his hat back?”
“No problem,” Cassie replied. “I was glad to see that the new hires seemed comfortable last night,” she said when the older woman had left the kitchen. Two weeks ago she’d hired three new ranch hands.
“They’re working out great and all the other men like them,” Adam replied. “I was surprised to see some of Humes’s men here last night. I wasn’t aware you were going to invite them.”
“I didn’t.” She paused to gulp down the glass of water and then continued, “They crashed. Thank goodness they didn’t hang around too long.” Raymond Humes owned the ranch next to hers, and his ranch hands were ill-mannered, mean-spirited men who enjoyed wreaking havoc anywhere they went, but especially on the Holiday ranch.
There was plenty of bad blood between her ranch and theirs. However, Raymond had made a generous offer to buy the ranch from her if she decided to sell.
She and Adam chatted for another half an hour and by then Halena had left, and the two of them got up from the table to head down to the barn.
“Halena’s greasy eggs actually worked,” she said as they stepped out the back door. “I’m feeling much better than I did when I first pulled myself out of bed.” She drew in a deep breath of the clean country air and was happy to notice her headache had vanished.
The late-October sun was warm, although a cool breeze rustled through the last of the autumn leaves on the trees. New York’s Central Park would be beautiful this time of year. She shoved the errant thought out of her head. She needed to stay focused on the here and now.
Still, there was beauty here, too. The sky was a gorgeous shade of blue, and the acres of land wore various shades of greens and browns like a patchwork quilt.
“I hope you keep feeling good after you see the condition of the barn,” Adam replied ruefully.
“Oh, I’m expecting a mess,” she assured him.
“One thing is for certain. People will be talking about the party for days to come. They’ll gossip about who danced with whom and whose dress was too short or whose blouse was too tight.”
“Uh-oh, that sounds like they’ll be talking about me,” Cassie said jokingly.
Adam’s dark brown eyes were warm as he grinned. “You looked beautiful last night, as you always do.” He quickly averted his gaze from her.
“Thanks, Adam,” she replied. “Now, let’s go see the damage.”
As they took off walking, Cassie thought about the man next to her. She’d come to the ranch as a city girl, a struggling shop owner, who had dreams of being a famous artist. She hadn’t known anything about cattle or ranches.
It had been Adam who had taken her by the hand and walked her through a learning process. He’d been so patient and kind and she never would have been able to manage running this place without him. She still learned something new from him every day.
He was also very easy on the eyes, with his dark brown hair and strong features. His shoulders were broad, his hips lean, and at times when he looked at her he made her feel like a desirable woman. But having a personal relationship with her ranch foreman wasn’t a particularly good idea, and she just didn’t feel that way about him, not that he’d ever made an advance.
They walked past the stables, and in the distance were the cowboy quarters, or the cowboy motel as they all called it. There were twelve small apartment units and in the back of the building was a large dining/recreation space.
Her aunt Cass Holiday had built an empire here, along with the help of twelve fiercely loyal cowboys. But this had never been Cassie’s dream. She’d been here for almost six months and it still didn’t feel like home.
As they approached the barn entrance she stifled a moan. The remains of the night’s fun were already evident. Plastic cups were strewn around the area, along with paper plates and beer and other alcohol bottles.
“Doesn’t anyone know how to use a trash bin anymore?” she said more to herself than to Adam.
“Hopefully knocking down the bandstand and picking up trash are the only real jobs needed,” Adam replied.
They walked through the large double doors and Cassie’s nose was instantly assaulted by the lingering odors of body sweat, booze and barbecue.
Many of the bales of hay had been transformed into loose hay piles, and the orange and black streamers and Halloween decorations were either on the floor or tilted drunkenly on the walls.
A large tin tub held a few sad apples that bobbed listlessly on the small amount of water that remained, and a red-and-white woman’s blouse hung on the arm of the blow-up skeleton.
“Uh-oh, who went home topless?” Cassie asked.
Adam grinned. “Amanda Wright, although she wasn’t completely topless. She had on a red, white and blue sparkly bra last time I saw her.”
“That must have been after I went to bed.” Cassie leaned down and picked up a couple of beer cans and tossed them into a nearby trash barrel.
“Don’t worry. By tonight we’ll have this place back the way it belongs,” Adam assured her.
She smiled at him. “I’m not worried. Aunt Cass was darned smart when she hired all of you.”
A flash of pain darkened Adam’s eyes. “She gave us all a chance at a new and good life. Most of us would have been dead or in jail by now if it wasn’t for your aunt.”
Cassie knew the story. When her uncle Hank had died of cancer, all the men who had worked on the ranch had walked off, convinced that a fifty-three-year-old widow would never be able to run the big place.
Cass, along with the help of a social worker, had hired on a dozen runaway boys. That had been fifteen years ago and those boys had turned into fine, honorable and hardworking men who had been devoted to Cass.
“She loved all of you very much,” Cassie said softly.
“She was the mother we never had. But now our loyalty is behind you.”
Cassie knew that, and it only made the decision she had to make more difficult. She had no idea about the troubled backgrounds that had brought all the men here, but she knew they had embraced her as their own. The men who had been big Cass’s cowboys had become hers.
She kicked at a pile of hay and frowned as her boot connected with something. “There’s something under all this hay,” she said.
She bent down and grabbed an armful of the hay and gasped as an arm appeared. “Oh, my God, there’s somebody under here.”
Adam quickly joined her and together they moved more of the hay, exposing Sam Kelly, one of the new hires. Cassie stumbled backward in horror.
It was obvious the man wasn’t just dead drunk. He was dead. He lay on his back, his blue eyes unseeing, and a pool of blood surrounded the back of his head.
Shivers shot up her spine and bile rose up in the back of her throat. “Oh, no,” she whispered faintly. Adam grabbed her and quickly guided her out of the barn.
“He’s dead,” she said and heard the beginning of hysteria in her own voice. She gulped in several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself, but it didn’t work.
“Oh, my God, he’s dead. He’s dead, Adam.”
Adam put his arms around her and she leaned weakly against him as tears burned hot at her eyes. How had this happened? Sam had been an affable young man who had instantly fit in with the other men.
What had happened to him? Dear God, who had done this to him?
“Cassie.” Adam smoothed her hair away from her cheek. “We need to go back to the house and call Dillon.”
Still she clung to him, the vision of Sam horrifying her as she thought of the seven skeletons that had recently been discovered beneath the old shed they’d torn down.
Fifteen years ago somebody had killed those seven young men with an ax or a meat cleaver to the backs of their heads, and those crimes had yet to be solved.
Was this the beginning of a new spree of death? Had the killer been inactive for all these years only to become active once again?
She hoped not. Maybe there was something beneath the hay that she hadn’t seen, something sharp and deadly. Maybe Sam had fallen backward and hit his head on that something. But if he’d accidentally fallen, then who had covered his body with hay?
As Adam led her toward the house she could only pray that Sam’s death was something far different than the evil that had taken place here so many years ago.
* * *
Chief of Police Dillon Bowie eased down in his office chair, pulled open his top drawer and grabbed the bottle of aspirin he kept there. He shook two pills out in his hand and chased them down with a swig of cold coffee.
It was his own fault he had a headache. He’d stayed too long at the barn dance, had drunk one too many glasses of whiskey and soda, and had burned with more than a little jealousy as he’d watched Cassie Peterson dance with practically every man in attendance.
Every man except you.
Of course he hadn’t asked her to dance, even though he would have liked to hold her in his arms for just a bit. Since the minute she’d taken over the Holiday ranch, he’d entertained some lusty thoughts about the petite blonde, but they had remained just thoughts without any follow-through.
He leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his coffee. For the moment there was nothing pressing on his desk. The last six months had been a frenzy of crimes that had kept him busy and on edge. But nobody was in danger right now that he knew about, and he looked forward to just having some time to breathe.
While the fifteen-year-old crime that had taken place on the Holiday ranch continued to torment him, he had no leads to follow at the moment.
He finished his coffee and then leaned forward and glanced through the reports that had come in overnight, seeing nothing earth-shattering. Most of the time crime-fighting in Bitterroot wasn’t that challenging. There was an occasional domestic dispute or theft, and speeding down Main Street was a fairly common occurrence.
If things continued to stay quiet then maybe he could get some things done that he’d been putting off...like getting a haircut and doing a little maintenance work around his house.
A knock fell on his door and his dispatcher, Annie O’Brien, stuck her head in. “Just got a call from Adam Benson. They want you out at the Holiday ranch. One of the ranch hands is dead.”
Dillon jumped out of his chair. So much for a minute to breathe. “Did he give you any other details?” he asked as the two of them stepped out of his office.
“Nothing,” Annie replied.
Dillon walked into the squad room, where several of his men were seated at their desks. “Juan, Mike and Ben, we need to get out to the Holiday ranch. One of the cowboys is dead. You all follow me there.”
Minutes later Dillon was in his vehicle with two patrol cars following behind him. What now? As if the mystery of seven dead young men on the ranch wasn’t enough.
It was probably an accidental death with alcohol playing a big part. There had been a lot of people who had imbibed too freely at the barn dance the night before. He’d even thought he might have to arrest Amanda Wright for indecent exposure if her patriotic sparkly bra had followed the way of her blouse.
Cassie must be beside herself. She’d grown so close to all the men who worked for her. She’d certainly been horrified by the discovery of the seven skeletons on the property, as had the entire town.
What had happened on the Holiday ranch all those years ago, and who was responsible for the carnage? It was a question that would haunt Dillon until he had the answer, and he was convinced the answer lay with one of Cassie’s cowboys.
He turned into the entry of the Holiday ranch and hoped that this was nothing more than a tragic accident. He parked close to the back porch of the house and Cassie and Adam walked out the door before he got out of his car.
Cassie looked achingly fragile and the sight of her tightened a ball of tension in his stomach. He left the car and approached the couple.
“He’s in the barn,” Cassie said. “It’s Sam Kelly.” Tears glistened in her bright blue eyes. “We think he was murdered.”
Dillon’s heart fell to the ground. “What makes you think that?”
Adam turned to Cassie. “Why don’t you go back inside the house? I’ll take Dillon down to the barn.”
Cassie looked at Dillon for confirmation. He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll be in to talk to you later.”
They both watched as Cassie turned and disappeared inside the house. When the back door closed, Adam turned back to Dillon.
“Cassie and I went to the barn earlier to see what kind of cleanup needed to be done after last night. When we found Sam, we came right back to the house. I called Sawyer and he’s standing guard at the door to make sure nobody else enters the barn.”
“Thanks,” Dillon replied. Dammit, there was enough DNA in that barn to keep a lab busy for ten years. And that was only going to make a murder investigation even more difficult.
He and Adam headed to the barn with Dillon’s officers following just behind them. Several of Cassie’s cowboys were gathered around the barn doors, all of them wearing sober expressions and all of them a potential suspect if this was, indeed, a case of murder.
He didn’t even want to think about the fact that everyone who had attended the barn dance would now be a suspect. “Adam will take me in. Everyone else stay out here,” he said.
As the two of them walked into the barn, Dillon immediately spied the man half covered with hay. There was no question that he was dead.
“I need to get Teddy out here,” Dillon said. Dr. Ted Lymon was the medical examiner and there wasn’t much Dillon and his men could do here until Teddy arrived.
He made the call and then stepped closer to the body while Adam hung back. “This is how you found him?” he asked the ranch foreman.
“No. He was completely covered up in hay when we came into the barn. Cassie just happened to kick at the hay mound and realized something...somebody was beneath it.” Adam grimaced. “As soon as we saw it was Sam we went back to the house to call you.”
Dillon sighed. “Round up your men and make sure they’re available for questioning later this afternoon.”
Adam nodded and took the sentence as the dismissal it was meant to be. He turned and left the barn. Once again Dillon looked at the dead man.
Sam Kelly was a local. His parents had died in a car accident several years ago and since then he’d bummed around town doing odd jobs until he’d landed here on the Holiday ranch a couple of weeks ago.
He’d been a friendly young man, easygoing and seemingly without an enemy in the world. Yet somebody had killed him and buried his body with hay.
Dillon fought the impulse to lean down and gently brush the last of the hay off the man’s face. He didn’t dare touch anything until photos had been taken and Ted had done his job.
Whoever had done this had to have known his body would be discovered when the barn was cleaned up. On the portion of Sam’s body that had been uncovered, Dillon saw no other wounds. The blood that had seeped out around the man’s head tightened Dillon’s gut.
Seven skeletons buried under the ground, each one showing deadly trauma to the back of the head. Now this, a man buried under hay with deadly trauma to the back of his head.
The similarities were hard to ignore, and Dillon’s stomach churned with acid. Was it possible a serial killer had been dormant for all these years and now had become active again? Was the murder no more than a drunken brawl turned bad, or was it something far more insidious?
Chapter 2 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
Cassie made a fresh pot of coffee and then stood by the back door peering outside for what seemed like an eternity. She saw several more of Dillon’s men arrive and then Ted Lymon pulled up in his black vehicle. Her heart ached as eventually Ted left with Sam’s body.
Anger, heartbreak and a hint of fear all rolled around in her head and it felt as if it had been a hundred years ago that she’d awakened with her only concern being a hangover headache.
Her heart beat too quickly as she saw Dillon leave the barn and head toward the house. The man definitely stirred something inside her. At the moment she would love to lean into his broad chest and have his strong arms around her.
But of course that wouldn’t happen. His strides were long and determined, and his mouth was a grim slash on his handsome face as he reached the back door.
His dark blue uniform shirt fit tight across his broad shoulders and the slacks fit perfectly on his long legs. Instead of an official hat, he wore a black cowboy hat.
Her head knew what he was going to tell her, but her heart wanted to deny it. She desperately wanted Sam’s death to be a tragic accident, but the evidence said otherwise.
She opened the door for him. Despite the distress of the situation, she couldn’t help that the familiar scent of his spicy cologne shot a hint of pleasant warmth through her.
“I made a fresh pot of coffee,” she said. “Would you like a cup?”
“That sounds great,” he agreed and sat at the table. He swept off his hat and placed it in the chair next to him.
She was acutely aware of his gaze on her as she poured them each a cup of coffee and then joined him at the table. She wrapped her fingers around her mug, suddenly cold again when she gazed into his troubled gray eyes.
“It’s a murder case,” he said.
His words didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t help the small gasp that fell from her lips. “We’ll know more after the autopsy,” he continued. “Initially Teddy has declared the cause of death to be a sharp weapon slammed into the back of Sam’s head.”
“A sharp weapon?” Cassie licked her dry lips.
Dillon nodded, his dark, slightly shaggy hair gleaming brightly in the sunshine that danced through the nearby window. “Probably an ax.”
“Like the others.”
He paused to take a sip of the coffee then put his cup down slowly. “We can’t be absolutely certain, but there’s no way to dismiss the similarities.” His gaze held hers intently. “Cassie, you need to face the fact that one of your cowboys might be guilty.”
A rise of anger usurped the coldness inside her. “That’s ridiculous. I know my men and my aunt Cass knew them. They’re all good people who would never do something like this.”
“I intend to question each of them as potential suspects.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “You questioned them all when the seven skeletons were first found and nothing came of it. Maybe you should ask Humes’s men what they were up to last night. They crashed the party and you know they’ve always been trouble.”
There was no question that she lusted a bit after Dillon Bowie, but at the moment that emotion wasn’t anywhere in her heart.
It was so much easier to embrace anger rather than to entertain her physical attraction to the chief of police, or give in to the tears that had threatened to fall since the moment she’d seen Sam’s body.
She glared at him. “Why don’t you leave my men alone? They’ve done nothing to make anyone believe that one of them is capable of murder.”
“Calm down, Cassie.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Has nobody in your entire life ever told you that telling a woman to calm down is like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull?”
His cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m not the enemy here, Cassie,” he said softly. “Everyone who attended the barn dance last night is a potential suspect. In fact, what I need from you is a list of all the people who came to the party last night.”
She frowned and leaned back in her chair, her momentary burst of anger gone. “You were here along with more than half the town.” She sighed. “Okay, I’ll do the best I can to come up with a complete list of names.”
“I appreciate it. Now, tell me how Sam was working out here. I know he was a fairly new hire.”
“I hired him on two weeks ago, along with Donnie Brighton and Jeff Hagerty. According to all the men Sam was fitting in just fine. Every time I saw him he had a cheerful smile on his face.” She bit her bottom lip to keep her grief at bay.
“And nobody mentioned having a problem with him?”
She shook her head. “Nobody on this ranch. I don’t know if he might have had issues with somebody in town.”
“He’d moved in here when you hired him?”
“Yes, he moved into Tony Nakni’s room after Tony moved in with Mary Redwing.”
“Can you open his room for me?”
“Of course.” Cassie got up and moved to the small built-in desk and opened the top drawer. “All of the men allow me to keep an extra key to their rooms for them in case of an emergency.” She pulled out a key ring with an oversize charm of a huge pair of gemstone-red high heels. “I’ll go with you.”
She was grateful he didn’t protest her presence as they walked out the back door. She was unsettled and didn’t want to just sit inside the house with only her dark thoughts as company.
Grief for the young cowboy she was just getting to know weighed heavy in her heart, along with the uneasiness of knowing that last night a murderer had paid a visit to the Holiday ranch...to her ranch.
She had to double-step to keep up with the tall, long-legged man next to her. It had been months since the skeletons had been found on the property, and Dillon had been a familiar sight around the ranch and yet she really didn’t know him very well.
All she knew for sure was there were times when his gaze lingered on her a bit too long, when wild butterflies shot off in the pit of her stomach. However, there were no butterflies right now as she glanced at his stern features.
They reached the cowboy motel where several of her men stood in a group outside their rooms. “Hey, boss, are you doing okay?” Sawyer Quincy’s copper-colored eyes held welcomed warmth as he gazed at her.
“Thanks, Sawyer. I’m okay,” she replied.
“Hell of a way to end a party,” Brody Booth said darkly. “Anyone tries to bash me in the back of the head with an ax, he’ll get a bullet in his gut before he can even get close to me.”
Cassie turned to Dillon in alarm. “Do you think the rest of my men are in danger?”
“There’s no reason for me to believe that at the moment, but we’ve barely started this investigation,” Dillon replied.
“You don’t have to worry about us, Cassie. We all know how to take care of ourselves,” Flint McCay assured her.
Cassie wanted to believe that, but yesterday she had believed that Sam Kelly could have taken care of himself. “I just want all of you to watch your backs,” she said.
Aware that Dillon was waiting on her, she fumbled with the keys until she found the one that would unlock Sam’s room. When the door was unlocked, she pushed it open.
Dillon stepped inside and she followed on his heels. The room was small, with just a twin bed against one wall and a chest of drawers on another. The closet door was open and the bathroom door was closed.
The sight of the pictures of his dead parents that Sam had hung on the wall made Cassie’s heart cringe. The room was neat and clean and there appeared to be nothing out of place.
She remained just inside the door as Dillon pulled out drawers and examined each one. He then went into the bathroom and reappeared only a moment later.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything here that will help me get to the bottom of things,” he said and then heaved a deep sigh. “He had his phone with him when he was killed. Hopefully it will yield some sort of clue.”
“He’s with his parents now,” Cassie said softly and then a sob escaped her.
Dillon turned to her, his gaze suddenly soft. “Go back to the house, Cassie.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got interviews to do here and I’ll check in with you later.”
For a moment she wanted to lean into him and bury her face into the crook of his neck. She wanted him to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
However, before she could follow through on the impulse, he removed his hand from her shoulder and stepped back. “I’d appreciate it if you could start on that list of people who were here at the party last night.”
Cassie straightened her back and drew in a deep breath for strength. “I’ll get right on it,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.”
Heading back to the house, she wondered why Sam’s death had hit her so hard. She hadn’t known him that well. Certainly it was always a tragedy when a person was murdered, but that didn’t explain the utter devastation she felt.
An arctic chill swirled around inside her as she entered the house. She climbed the stairs and went down the hallway to her bedroom. What she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed.
Like a small child she wanted to fall into bed and pull the covers over her head and hide from all the evil she feared was coming her way. But she couldn’t go back to bed. Instead she reached up to the shelf in the closet and tugged on the edge of a purple fuzzy throw blanket she’d put there when she’d first arrived at the ranch.
It came down along with several shoe boxes, framed photos and a handful of her aunt’s clothes that Cassie had thrown on the shelf months ago.
“Damn, damn!” She rubbed her head where one of the picture frames had struck. She’d been telling herself she needed to clean out the closet shelf for months, but it wasn’t going to happen right now.
She threw everything back on the shelf and then wrapped the throw around her shoulders and headed back downstairs. Instead of going to the kitchen table to start the list for Dillon, she collapsed on the sofa and pulled the throw more closely around her as the sobs she’d been holding back all morning released from her.
She cried for Sam Kelly, who had only been twenty-nine years old, and she cried because she didn’t know what the future held. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was afraid.
* * *
The cowboy dining room was large. It not only held tables and chairs where the men ate their meals, but it also had an area with a television, sofa and several easy chairs where they relaxed on their time off in the evenings.
Dillon sat at one of the tables, waiting for another one of Cassie’s cowboys to come in and be interviewed. His men were processing the barn and he’d already spoken to Sawyer Quincy and Mac McBride. Neither man had been able to shed any light on Sam’s murder.
He didn’t expect any of the men to give him something concrete, but he was hoping that if one of them lied to him then he’d pick up on the subtle signs.
He picked up his pen and tapped the end of it on the table as his head filled with thoughts of Cassie. She’d appeared so achingly fragile. She’d had nothing but drama since she’d taken over the ranch. As if unearthing the seven skeletons wasn’t enough, her place had become a haven for people in trouble. Just last month a band of drug dealers had roared onto her land and shot up the place.
And now this.
He’d heard through the grapevine that she was considering selling out and heading back to New York City. How could anyone really blame her? The big city would probably feel like a safe haven after everything that had happened here.
He looked up as Brody Booth walked in. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man wore an obvious chip on his shoulder as he threw himself into the chair opposite Dillon.
Bitterroot, Oklahoma, was a typical small town where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business, and gossip was as common as horseflies. But Dillon had never heard any gossip concerning the tall, well-built man facing him. Even the other cowboys who had grown up with Brody would admit that he was something of a dark enigma.
“I stayed at the party last night until around midnight and then I went to my room. I liked Sam okay, although I didn’t really know him very well. He was a hard worker and I don’t have any idea who might have killed him.”
It was more words than Dillon had ever heard Brody speak. “Do you know if any of the other men had some sort of issue with Sam?” he asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I keep to myself mostly. Are you going to interview Zeke Osmond, Ace Sanders and Lloyd Green? They weren’t even invited to the barn dance, yet they showed up anyway.”
“I’ll be talking to everyone who was at the party last night,” Dillon replied. “I didn’t see Humes’s men starting any trouble while they were here.”
Brody narrowed his eyes slightly. “Nobody ever seems to actually see them doing anything wrong, but we both know they’ve been causing trouble for years, especially here on the Holiday ranch.”
Dillon didn’t reply. He knew Brody was right. “So, there’s nothing you can add to help me solve Sam’s murder.”
“Nothing.”
It was the same story with the six men he spoke to. Nobody knew of a reason anyone would want to kill Sam Kelly. The last time any of them had seen him was around midnight when he and Amanda Wright had bobbed for apples.
By the time Dillon finished with the interviews the dining room smelled of fried hamburger and onions. A glance at his watch let him know it was probably past time for the men to come in for their evening meal.
He got up from the table and walked around the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Cord Cully, aka Cookie, frowned at his appearance.
The stocky man stood in front of the huge stovetop with a pancake turner in his hand. “I didn’t go to the shindig last night so I got nothing to say to you.” He flipped a burger over.
“If you weren’t at the party, then where were you?”
He flipped another patty and then turned to gaze at Dillon. “I was in my house alone. I don’t like parties. I prefer my own company to anyone else’s. Is that it? I have a meal to get to the table and you’ve already made it run late by almost an hour.”
Cookie lived in a small cottage on the property. It was far enough away from the barn that nobody would have been able to tell if he’d been home last night or not.
“That’s it for now,” Dillon replied. Frustration burned in his belly as he left the dining room and headed back to the house.
Cookie was another dark horse that Dillon knew little about. He’d investigated the man when the skeletons had first been found. He knew that Cass had hired the man around the same time she’d taken in her runaway boys to work for her.
All Dillon knew for sure was the cook was originally from Texas and had no criminal background.
Dillon hadn’t thought he’d solve the crime this afternoon, but he’d hoped for a smoking gun or at least a lead to follow up on, but so far he had nothing.
If he hadn’t spent most of his time last night watching Cassie maybe he would have seen or heard something that might have led to a clue.
But he’d been captivated by the sight of the tight-jean-clad woman in the royal blue blouse that exactly matched her sparkling eyes.
She’d been the perfect hostess, making everyone feel welcome and checking to make sure the food table remained filled. Big Cass Holiday would have been proud of the niece who had inherited her ranch.
He knocked on the back door and Cassie’s faint voice drifted out to him. He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. It was a cheerful room with sunshine-yellow curtains at the window and a bright red and yellow rooster sitting in the center of the round oak table.
“In here, Dillon.” Her voice came from the great room.
She was curled up in the corner of the large, overstuffed sofa and wrapped in a purple blanket. Her eyes appeared to take on the hue of the blanket and instead of their normal sparkling bright blue they were the color of shadowed twilight.
A piece of paper and a pen rested on the coffee table, along with what appeared to be the last of a cup of hot tea.
She sat up and motioned for him to take a seat at the opposite end of the sofa.
“Did you solve everything?” She offered him a tired, sad smile that sliced directly through his heart.
“I wish,” he replied. He eased down and immediately caught the scent of her. It was a hint of vanilla mingling with lilacs and as always it stirred something deep inside him.
He didn’t want to talk to her about murder. Instead he’d rather have a conversation with her about her favorite song or color. He’d much rather hear her tell him about her dreams, or hear her musical laughter when he said something funny.
But there was nothing funny about their current situation and this wasn’t a social visit.
“All the men cooperated with you?” she asked and allowed the blanket to fall off her shoulders.
“I spoke to six of them and they were all cooperative. I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to the rest of them. I just wish somebody had seen or knew something about who killed Sam. According to several of them the last time they saw Sam at the party was around midnight when he was bobbing for apples with Amanda Wright.”
“Where was her boyfriend?”
Dillon sat up straighter. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
“Butch Cooper. From the local gossip I think she’s been dating him for about a month. I do know they arrived together last night.”
Dillon frowned. Butch Cooper was a cowboy on Abe Breckenridge’s ranch. He was a big guy and seemingly easygoing. But maybe he hadn’t liked Sam and Amanda bobbing for apples together?
Cassie leaned forward. “You don’t think...” Her voice trailed off.
“I think I need to speak to Butch. Do you have a list of names for me?”
She picked up a piece of paper. “I did the best I could, but I’m sure there are people who were at the party that I don’t have down.”
He stood and took the paper from her. “I appreciate you doing this much. Walk me out?”
“Of course.” She rose to her feet and together they walked to the back door, where dusk had fallen.
She stepped out on the porch next to him. In the distance the barn was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the sky.
“I’ve got a couple of men there to guard the crime scene. Unfortunately it will be a few days before we’re finished completely processing the barn. I’m sorry if that will inconvenience you.”
“We’ll be fine without using the barn for a while,” she replied. She stared out into the distance and then shivered.
Dillon could stand it no longer. He reached out for her and she came willingly into his arms. He’d dreamed of holding Cassie many nights, but those dreams couldn’t compare to the reality.
Her petite curves pressed against him as she raised her arms around his neck and clung to him. She released a small sob and he ran a hand through the softness of her blond curls in an attempt to soothe her.
“It’s going to be all right, Cassie. I promise you I’m going to catch the person who killed Sam. You just have to stay strong.”
“I’m so tired of being strong.” Her breath was a warm caress in the crook of his neck. “I should just sell out and go back home.”
Dillon dropped his arms from around her and took a step backward. “I wouldn’t make any life-altering decisions right now, Cassie.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like this town, this land, is telling me to get out.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Get some rest and I’ll be back out here in the morning.”
Minutes later Dillon was in his car and headed to the Breckenridge ranch to talk to Butch Cooper, but his thoughts remained on Cassie.
It had been years since he’d been drawn to a woman by some magnetic pull he didn’t understand, but that was how he felt where Cassie was concerned.
Something drew him to her in spite of all the warning signals that went off in his head. He’d given away his heart once. He’d planned his future with his high school sweetheart, Stacy, and had begun to build dreams. However, life in Bitterroot—life with him—hadn’t been exciting enough to keep her happy.
Dillon had a feeling Stacy and Cassie were cut from the same cloth and the last thing he wanted or needed in his life was a new heartbreak.
He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and attempted to consciously shove thoughts of Cassie away. He had a murderer to catch and an old mystery to solve in order to finally silence the seven souls who haunted his dreams with the need for justice.
* * *
He leaned against the side of the house, his chest tight and his heart beating a hundred miles a minute. It was only natural that Dillon would give Cassie a hug under the circumstances. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything because Cassie belonged to him.
She didn’t know it yet, but she’d belonged to him since the moment she’d arrived on this ranch. She was his angel, a woman who embodied everything he’d ever dreamed about.
In the months since she’d taken over the ranch she hadn’t dated anyone. It was as if she was keeping herself pure and untouched just for him, and sooner or later he’d speak of his love for her, but not yet.
Thank God Dillon hadn’t kissed her. He didn’t know what he’d have done if the lawman’s mouth had taken what belonged to him.
His heart slowed its beat and he left the side of the house, using the night shadows to stay concealed.
He’d loved and protected Big Cass Holiday when she’d been alive. His love for Cassie was different than the maternal love he’d had for her aunt. It was the love of a man for his mate and he intended to protect Cassie from anyone who might wrong or disrespect her.
That was why Sam had to die. He’d made a crude comment about wanting to get Cassie alone and naked in the hay. Sam had gotten what he deserved, as had all the other teenagers who’d come to work on the ranch, boys whom he’d had to kill so long ago.
The only thing that bothered him now was hearing Cassie say that she should sell the place and leave. Surely she was only feeling that way because of Sam’s murder. She wouldn’t really follow through. It would be a betrayal to her dead aunt, but more important it would be a betrayal to all the men who worked for her.
He refused to believe that she would make such a decision. She belonged here and eventually she’d realize that her future was with him right here on the Holiday ranch.
Chapter 3 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
Cassie sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her. Dawn light was just peeking over the horizon and she’d been awake for hours.
It had been about three when she’d awakened from a horrible nightmare. An ax-wielding dark shadow had been chasing her around the house and she’d jerked awake just before he caught her.
For the next couple of hours she’d tossed and turned in an effort to go back to sleep, but she’d finally given up and gotten out of bed. She’d showered quickly, and then had dressed in a pair of jeans and a light pink sweatshirt and had come downstairs.
Now, instead of ax murderers, her head was filled with thoughts of Dillon. Despite her sadness over Sam’s murder, she’d liked the feel of Dillon’s arms around her the night before. The scent of his cologne had become familiar to her and as she’d buried her head against him, the fragrance had comforted her. And stirred more than a little bit of desire in her.
She’d wanted him to kiss her, and yet she knew it was foolish even to think about a romantic relationship with anyone here in Bitterroot. She didn’t know if she intended to stay here or go back to her old life and her dreams in New York City.
She leaned forward and took a sip of her now-cold coffee. The big two-story house was silent and she’d never felt so unsettled and so alone.
She’d arrived on the ranch in the spring with her best friend and partner, Nicolette Kendall, and her young son. Nicolette and Sammy had taken to ranch life as if they’d been born here.
It hadn’t taken Nicolette long to catch the eye of Lucas Taylor, one of the cowboys who worked for Cassie. They were now happily married and Cassie was miserably alone.
It wasn’t that Cassie wasn’t happy for her friend. She was thrilled that Nicolette had found true love and happiness. Cassie just wished she knew where she belonged in the grand scheme of life.
Was it here on this ranch in this small town, or did her destiny lay in New York City where she could pursue her dreams of being a famous artist?
She’d love to pick up the phone and call Nicolette, but she knew her friend would be busy with her family. Cassie wished she had the kind of relationship with her mother where she could pick up the phone and get her guidance. Her parents had pretty well written her off when she’d dropped out of college and refused to go to law school and join the family legal firm.
She cast her gaze out the window, unsurprised to see Adam walking toward the house as the sun rose above the horizon. He’d be startled to find her up and dressed and with the coffee already made.
It was their habit that he let himself inside in the mornings, made the coffee and then waited for her to join him for the daily ranch update. Apparently, even a brutal murder didn’t change the routine on a ranch.
Morning greetings were exchanged and then Adam joined her at the table with a cup of coffee. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess,” she replied. “Although I’m still horrified and saddened by Sam’s death.”
“We all are. Dillon said he’d be back here around eight this morning to talk to some more of the men. He’s wasting his time. He won’t find his answers here.”
“I told him as much yesterday.” She got up from the table to get a fresh cup of coffee, fighting against the memory of being held far too briefly in the lawman’s arms.
“I still think he’d better be looking hard at Butch Cooper,” Adam said when she was seated once again. “Amanda was flirting pretty hardcore with Sam at the party and Butch might be an easygoing guy, but he didn’t look all that happy.”
“I’m sure Dillon is going to explore all the possibilities.”
“Yeah, I just wish he’d stop focusing so much attention on us.” Adam took a sip from his cup and then guided his attention out the window. “Anything that happens around here, he’s always quick to interrogate all of us.”
“He’s just doing his job, Adam.”
He focused his gaze back on her and smiled. “I know. It’s just frustrating. He’s had his eye on us since those skeletons were discovered. Whatever happened to those teenagers happened before we all got here. All the men who grew up here on the ranch are good, solid people. You should know that by now.”
She returned his smile. “Believe me, I do.”
For the next twenty minutes he filled her in on the ranch business. Over the past six months Cassie had learned more about cattle than she’d ever wanted to know, but this was her life at the moment.
As Adam droned on about plans for the upcoming winter months, Cassie’s mind remained on the murder and what it meant for her future.
There was no way she could sell the property and leave for New York right now. Legally she was as much a suspect as anyone else that had attended the party, although surely nobody would really believe she’d had anything to do with Sam’s murder.
“Cassie?”
Adam’s voice pulled her out of her own head. “Sorry, what did you say?” she replied.
“I know you have a lot on your mind, so I’ll just get out of your hair and get to work.” He stood, drained his coffee cup and then carried it over to the sink. “I’ll check in with you later in the day after Dillon has conducted the rest of his interviews.”
“Thanks, Adam.” She didn’t bother getting up. Once Adam was gone she remained at the table until Dillon’s car appeared in the drive by the back door.
As he stepped out of the car, the hint of heat she always felt when around him whispered through her. He approached the house and knocked on the back door.
“It’s open,” she yelled. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she said when he stepped into the kitchen.
“Then stop having murder victims on your property,” he replied.
“Trust me, I’d love to stop.” She motioned to the coffeepot. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be around here most of the day.”
“Did you find out anything yesterday that might help you solve this?”
His eyes were steel-gray and troubled. “Cassie, we aren’t going to solve this in a day. We have a barn full of people to interview and little physical evidence.”
“I know.” She blew out a sigh. “People were already talking about this land being damned because of the seven skeletons that were found here.”
“Your land isn’t damned and you know I’ve been working as hard as I can to solve the mystery of those skeletons. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to solve a fifteen-year-old crime where I only have one potentially important clue.”
Cassie straightened in her chair. “An important clue? Tell me, Dillon, what is it?” Was it really possible that he could solve the crime? Could he finally give peace to the seven young men who had been murdered?
Dillon frowned and shifted from one foot to the other, obviously contemplating whether to tell her or not. “You can’t share this with anyone,” he finally said.
“I promise,” she replied.
“It’s a man’s ring. When we were excavating the graves, in the bottom of one was a gold ring with an onyx stone. I believe it slipped off the killer’s finger when he was burying one of the bodies.”
“Was there any DNA on it?”
“Whatever was there was so contaminated nothing was usable.” He took a step toward the back door. “I’ve got to get to work. I’ll talk to you later this afternoon.” With that he turned and left the house.
Through the window Cassie watched him walk toward the barn. She couldn’t help but notice how good his butt looked in his uniform pants. He was definitely hot.
She’d never heard any gossip about who he dated, and this was a small town that loved their gossip. All she really knew about Dillon Bowie was that he was well respected by everyone in Bitterroot and lived on a small farmstead on the other side of town. And she had the hots for him.
Restless energy surged up inside her. She got up from the table and put the coffee cups in the dishwasher. The ring of the doorbell whirled her around.
Who on earth could that be? She didn’t think anyone had ever come to the front door since she’d moved in. Everyone used the back door when they visited.
She hurried through the great room and into the smaller, more formal living room, where she could see through a side window that Raymond Humes stood on the porch.
She stifled a groan. That man was the last person on earth she wanted to see this morning. She opened the door and greeted him through the screen. “Good morning, Mr. Humes. What can I do for you?”
The silver-haired thin man smiled, the gesture doing nothing to warm the cold of his close-set dark eyes. “It isn’t what you can do for me. It’s about what I can do for you. May I come in?”
Cassie hesitated. She knew why he was here. The seventysomething-year-old man was like a vulture sensing death and waiting to capitalize on any weakness. She finally opened the screen door to allow him inside.
She refused to lead him into the heart of the house and instead gestured to the small floral sofa just inside the front door. She sat on the edge of the wing-backed chair facing him.
He swept his dusty brown cowboy hat off his head. “I was sorry to hear about poor Sam’s unfortunate demise,” he began. “You do realize this is only going to add a new blight on this ranch that will make it even more difficult for you to sell.”
“I’ve told you several times I’m not ready to sell at this point in time,” she replied.
“You aren’t going to get a better offer than mine,” he said with a confidence that irritated her.
“I’m not interested in any offer right now and did you know some of your ranch hands crashed my barn dance the other night?”
Raymond chuckled. “Hardly a crime. I found it hard to believe that you wouldn’t invite me and my men to the shindig being that we’re neighbors and all.”
“Your men and mine aren’t really friendly,” she replied as she stood.
“I’ve never understood that,” he said in bemusement.
She understood. According to her men, Humes’s ranch hands had stolen cattle, set malicious fires and done sundry other things to her ranch.
“I’ve got a lot of things going on right now, Mr. Humes. I appreciate you stopping by, but I’m not interested in any offer you might make me on this place.” She glanced pointedly at the door.
Raymond laughed once again as he rose from the sofa. “Sooner or later you’ll be interested. I’m the only person around these parts who has the kind of money you’ll want to rid yourself of this one-horse town and get back to New York City, where those fancy jeans of yours belong.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out the door. He was probably pleased that another murder had taken place on her property. He probably thought this newest tragedy would make her desperate to sell out to him and leave Bitterroot.
She had to admit there was a part of her that would like to cut and run. However, selling out to Raymond Humes would be such a betrayal to Aunt Cass, who had left her the ranch.
More important, it would be a huge betrayal to the men who worked here, men who embraced her as their own the minute she’d stepped into her aunt’s very large shoes.
And one of them might be a killer.
The words jumped unbidden into her head. No, there was no way Dillon or anyone else could ever make her believe that. She refused to believe that for the last six months she’d been living here with a vicious killer. Her cowboys were good, kind and hardworking men.
Still, a faint chill accompanied her as she locked the front door and then returned to the kitchen.
* * *
It was just after four when Dillon finished interviewing for the day. He’d spent most of the morning inside the barn with a couple of his best men, seeking anything that might be a clue. It had been a fruitless search.
Finally, after noon he pulled in three of the last six cowboys to talk to. He’d hoped to get something, at least a little nugget of information that might move the case forward, but that hadn’t happened.
Over and over again he heard that Sam had fit in with them all just fine, that nobody had seen anything at the party indicating a problem between the dead man and anyone else other than Butch.
There were still many avenues to explore, but Dillon felt in his gut that the answers not only to Sam’s murder, but also to the murders that had taken place years ago, lay right here on the Holiday ranch.
As he headed to the house a weariness weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was the same disillusionment that had been with him since the day the seven bodies had been unearthed.
Dillon considered himself a good lawman, but the seven unsolved mysteries had left him feeling inadequate. It was an emotion that brought up old, bad memories. He shoved them aside as he reached the back door.
He’d been kicking himself all day for sharing with Cassie the information about the ring that had been found in the grave. He should have never confided in her. While he trusted that she would keep the information to herself, it had been unprofessional of him to tell her.
But he’d wanted to give her just a small nugget of hope that he would get to the bottom of things. He’d wanted to do something to alleviate the shadowed darkness in her eyes.
He knocked on the back door and Cassie answered. “Come on in,” she said, gesturing him into the kitchen that smelled of spicy meat cooking.
“Something smells good,” he said.
“Taco pie. Halena Redwing taught me how to make it. Why don’t you have some with me? I’ve already made a salad, and the pie will be ready in minutes.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose...” he began.
“Dillon, please. It’s no imposition at all. Besides, I absolutely hate to eat alone.”
There was something slightly desperate in the depths of her lovely eyes. It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to spend any time with her, especially alone. “I skipped lunch and taco pie sounds delicious,” he heard himself say despite his internal dialogue.
She flashed him a grateful smile. “Then sit and relax and I’ll just get the dishes on the table.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Don’t talk about murder or my men while we eat.” She pointed to a chair.
“I can do that,” he agreed and sat. He’d talked and thought about murder enough for the day. The taco pie smelled delicious and Cassie looked charming in a pair of fancy jeans that hugged her slender legs and a pink sweatshirt that made her eyes appear even more blue than usual.
He remained silent while she placed plates and silverware on the table. As she bent over to get the taco bake out of the oven, he couldn’t help but notice her figure. She was a petite woman, but perfectly proportioned.
Cassie Peterson could definitely be a threat to his mental well-being if he allowed it. She was the first woman to tempt him since Stacy had walked out on him almost five years ago.
It’s just a quick dinner, he told himself. No threat there. It would be nice not to talk about murder or potential suspects for the duration of the meal. He just wasn’t sure what they might talk about. In the past every time he’d spoken to Cassie it had been because something bad had happened on her ranch.
Something bad had happened now, but he was almost grateful she didn’t want to chew on it over dinner.
Minutes later she had the meal on the table and gestured for him to help himself. “Why did you skip lunch? You know you would have been welcome to eat with the men. Cookie always makes plenty of food.”
He didn’t want to tell her that he wasn’t at all sure he’d be welcome in the dining room. Between yesterday and that afternoon he’d grilled most of her men pretty hard. “I was busy in the barn and lost track of time,” he replied. He ladled a portion of the pie from the dish onto his plate.
“The weather was certainly nice today,” she said.
“Autumn is my favorite season,” he replied.
“Mine, too.” She smiled, as if pleased they’d found some common ground.
He focused on his plate and tried to ignore the small burst of heat her smile had sparked in the pit of his stomach. He took a bite of the taco pie and then gazed at her once again. “This is delicious. You’re obviously a good cook.”
She laughed, the sound musical and pleasant. “Not really, but I’m trying. Halena has given me a ton of her recipes, and she’s a good cook. There are a lot of Aunt Cass’s recipes here, too. I’ve realized in the last couple of weeks that cooking and baking might be a great stress reliever if I learn how to do it right.”
“Maybe I should take it up,” Dillon said drily.
“You don’t cook?”
“Most of my meals are eaten at the café. I work so much that it’s just easier to eat out.”
“All work and no play?” She took a bite of her salad and held his gaze.
Oh, he’d like to play right now. He’d like to capture her cupid lips with his and... Crap, the stress of these cases was definitely getting to him.
“No play,” he replied more curtly than he intended. She looked down at her plate and he instantly felt guilty for his sharp tone. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re an artist.”
She looked at him once again. “I like to paint.”
“Watercolor or oil?”
Her eyes lit up. “Right now I’m doing oil paintings with Western themes. I have an arrangement with Mary Redwing. She’s got a couple of them up on her website for sale.”
“From everything I’ve heard Mary has a solid business.” The Native American woman sold handmade baskets, pots and other items inherent to her Choctaw culture while her grandmother, Halena, sewed traditional dresses to sell.
“Have you always liked to paint?” He felt himself begin to relax for the first time in weeks.
“Always. All I ever dreamed of was becoming a famous artist. That’s what I was working toward before I came here. I owned a small shop that sold my artwork along with some other items.”
“Was it successful?”
She hesitated before replying and her eyes darkened slightly. “I was struggling to make ends meet. I think with more time and money it might have been a real success. I never dreamed I’d wind up on a ranch in Oklahoma.”
“Were you close to your aunt Cass?”
“Not really, although I was named after her. She came to New York a couple of times to visit my parents and when I was about ten we came out here to visit. But that was about it. That’s why I was so surprised when she left me this place.” She paused to take a drink of water and then continued, “Aunt Cass was kind of the outcast of the family. My parents are very New York. They’re both criminal defense lawyers and extremely driven.”
For the next half an hour they ate and she talked about her parents and her life before Holiday ranch. He laughed as she related stories about quirky characters who had come into her shop.
“You know, Bitterroot isn’t without its own quirky characters,” he said.
“I already know that Halena loves to wear funky hats and occasionally pinches some cowboy’s butt.”
He laughed. “That she does, but I’ll bet you didn’t know that Leroy Atkinson has his entire house lined inside with aluminum foil so space aliens can’t see him or hear his thoughts. He also believes aliens visit his ranch on numerous occasions.”
Her eyes lit with suppressed laughter. “Is that for real or are you making it up?”
“I don’t make stuff up,” he replied. “About twice a month Leroy calls me out to his ranch to see evidence that a spaceship has landed on his property. I never see anything other than some tamped-down grass where a cow rested through the night. Actually, my parents lived next to Leroy when I was a kid. Leroy was like a second father to me. He calls me out to his ranch because he’s lonely.”
“That’s sad,” she said. By this time their plates were empty. “Would you like an after-dinner cup of coffee?” she asked. She stood and a spark of fading sunlight danced in the strands of her curly blond hair.
The desire to touch the soft-looking curls itched his palms. “Thanks, but I should probably be on my way.” He needed to get out of here. Spending time with her had been far too pleasurable.
He got up from the table. “Thanks for the great meal.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me. Sometimes this big old house gets a bit lonely,” she replied.
He headed toward the back door, needing to escape her. Without the smell of the food, he became acutely aware of her lilac and vanilla scent that wafted in the air. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, more oppressive.
He turned to tell her goodbye and she was right there, standing mere inches from him. Her lips were slightly parted as if anticipating a kiss, and even before he recognized his own intention, he drew her to him and covered her mouth with his.
Her lips were welcome heat and sweet softness. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought she’d pull away, but instead she leaned into him and opened her mouth a little more in invitation. Desire suffused him as he deepened the kiss, and their tongues swirled together in a heated dance.
He might have kissed her forever if she hadn’t released a throaty little moan. It made him want to pick her up and carry her into the house and to the nearest bedroom.
And that emotion was what shot some sense through his head. He dropped his arms to his waist and stepped back from her. “Sorry, that was a huge mistake.”
“A mistake?” Her winsome blue eyes searched his features in puzzlement. “Why was it a mistake?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets to stymie them from reaching out for her again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you because before this case is over I think you’re probably going to hate me.”
“Why would I have a reason to hate you?”
“Because I believe one of your cowboys is guilty of not only killing Sam, but also those seven young men who were found under the shed. One of them is guilty and I’m not going to stop until I prove it.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but instead turned and went out the door.
Chapter 4 (#u09018034-5341-5974-b3a2-1c1ab375afc1)
Cassie was once again seated at the kitchen table the next afternoon when Dillon’s car pulled into the drive. She sat up straighter in anticipation of him coming inside, but he headed straight to the barn.
She tamped down her disappointment that he hadn’t come in to say hello. He wasn’t here to visit, she reminded herself. He had a job to do, but there was no question that his kiss had both thrilled and confused her.
That kiss. Even now just thinking about it made her toes curl. She’d spent half the night replaying it over and over again in her head. Between the kiss and his parting words she felt as if he’d caressed her heart and then slapped her upside the head.
Her phone had rung for most of the day, neighbors and friends checking in with her and wanting to know the latest on the murder investigation. She told them nothing because she knew nothing except that Dillon was convinced one of her men was a monster.
Today she couldn’t even be too mad at him for his beliefs, despite the fact that she found the idea completely ludicrous. That didn’t take away from the fact that his kiss had shaken her to her core.
It had been over two years ago since she’d had a relationship with a man. She and Mark had dated for eight months before he’d finally broken up with her. She’d been surprised to discover that she’d actually been relieved by the split.
At the time she’d been consumed with her shop, working long hours there, and when she wasn’t behind the counter she was in her studio apartment painting. She hadn’t put in the time or energy to make her relationship work.
What they had shared was basically a physical thing without any real emotional tie. At the end he’d wanted more from her, but she hadn’t been willing to take it any deeper.
She cast another glance out the window. It was time to stop sitting around and brooding and instead she went to work fixing a big pot of chili. The day had been gray and cool, perfect for chili with corn bread.
As she worked she occasionally drifted to the window to peer out. Dillon’s car was still in the drive but the only people she saw were two of her men on horseback in the distance.
Maybe he’d stay for dinner again tonight and maybe he’d kiss her again. Probably not, since he’d told her their first kiss was a mistake. It certainly hadn’t felt like a mistake to her. It had felt wonderfully right.
What did she think she was doing, wishing for another kiss from him? The last thing she wanted was a relationship that might make it even more difficult for her to make the decision to stay or leave here.
And she had to make that decision within the next few weeks. If she was going to sell the ranch and head back to New York City she wanted to do it before the first snow flew.
She jumped as a knock fell on the back door. She turned around from the stove to see Sawyer standing on the small stoop. She gestured him inside with a smile. Sawyer Quincy was one of her favorites of all the men. The tall, lean man had an easy way about him and was always quick to laugh.
“I was just on my way into town to pick up some things for Cookie and I thought I’d check in and see if you needed anything,” he said.
This wasn’t the first time Sawyer had gone out of his way to do something nice for her. “Thanks, Sawyer, but I think I’m good for now.”
“That chili definitely smells good,” he replied and gestured to the pot simmering on the stovetop.
“Thanks, it just felt like a chili kind of day.”
“Winter will be here before you know it.”
“Don’t remind me.” She picked up a large spoon and stirred the chili.
“We’ll get through winter, and we’ll get through what’s happening right now.”
She placed the spoon on a spoon rest and released a deep sigh. “How are things going today? I haven’t spoken to Dillon yet.”
Sawyer’s eyes flashed darkly. “He’s questioning all of us all over again. It’s like he’s just looking for one of us to make a mistake or something. Oh, well, I’d better get going. Cookie will pitch a fit if I don’t get back with his stuff as soon as possible.”
“Get out of here,” she replied with a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for one of Cookie’s temper fits.” With a goodbye, he walked out the back door and Cassie returned to the counter to make the corn bread.
She wouldn’t put it past Raymond Humes to arrange for one of his men to murder one of hers just to stain the ranch reputation and make her more desperate to sell. She only hoped Dillon was questioning him and his men as hard as he was hers.
It was just after six when Dillon knocked on the back door. The kitchen smelled of the chili and corn bread, and Cassie couldn’t help the little bit of anticipation that danced in her stomach as she thought about them sharing another meal.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m heading back into town,” he said.
“How about a bowl of chili before you take off? I was just getting ready to sit down to eat and there’s plenty.”
He hesitated and his gaze held hers for a long moment. In the depths of his eyes she thought she saw a spark of something that made her breath quicken as a wave of heat shimmied through her.
He blinked and broke the eye contact with her. “Thanks for the offer, but I really should get going. I’ve got some other people I want to talk to before I call it a day.” He sidled toward the door as if eager to escape.
She tamped down her disappointment. “You’ll keep me informed if you find out anything that will solve the murder?”
“Of course,” he replied and still didn’t look at her. Instead he appeared to find the rooster in the center of the table utterly fascinating.
“Did Sam’s phone tell you anything?” she asked.
“Nothing worthwhile. So far I haven’t learned anything that would move the case forward.”
“Did you talk to Butch?”
“I did, and I believe he’s a dead end and had nothing to do with Sam’s death.” He finally looked at her once again. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll just say good-night,” she replied.
He nodded and went out the door.
Despite the hour an early twilight had fallen. Cassie turned on the kitchen light and ladled up a bowl of chili for herself.
If he hadn’t kissed her so thoroughly the night before she wouldn’t be feeling so disappointed that he hadn’t stayed to eat with her tonight.
The kiss had scrambled her brains and made her want more despite her reluctance to form any kind of a relationship with any man.
It wasn’t just the very hot kiss. He’d been so easy to talk to and she’d enjoyed their conversation and the laughter they’d shared the night before. She’d been intrigued by Dillon Bowie since the moment she’d met him, and eating dinner with him last night had only made her more interested in him.
Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t stayed to eat with her. The chili was overspiced and the corn bread was burnt on the bottom. Another failed attempt at cooking, she thought with chagrin.
After eating her dinner she cleaned up the kitchen and then wandered restlessly around the great room, the hours before bedtime stretching out empty and silent before her.
It was just after seven when she decided to go out to one of the small sheds and get some more of her aunt Cass’s journals that were stored there. She’d found the stash of journals several months ago and had been reading them off and on since then. She’d read all the ones she’d brought into the house and tonight seemed like a good time to read a new one.
She grabbed a jacket off a hook by the kitchen door and pulled it on, then retrieved a flashlight from beneath the kitchen sink.
The night appeared darker than usual without the benefit of any moonlight or star shine. She clicked on her flashlight and headed toward the shed in the distance.
She found it oddly comforting to see the lights shining outside the windows in the cowboy motel. They were like beacons of comfort and reminded her she wasn’t all alone on the property.
The shed was a fairly small wooden structure and inside were things her aunt had stored. Along with the journals there were boxes of old kitchen utensils, Christmas decorations and a huge box of brightly decorated ceramic Easter bunnies.
She released the padlock and pulled the door open, her flashlight beam dancing across the boxes. Thankfully, the one she wanted was on top and easy to get to.
Opening the box, she used her light to grab a handful of the journals that were on top. The shed door slammed shut behind her. She whirled around with a surprised squeal.
Had the wind suddenly picked up and blown the door closed? Impossible. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. The door was heavy and only a tornado-like gust could have shut it.
She ran to the door and tried to open it, but there was no give. An edge of panic crawled up her throat. She used her shoulder to push against the door, but it refused to open.
Somebody had shut the door and locked her inside. Oh, God, who had done this and why? Full-blown panic grabbed her by the throat.
She dropped the journals on the floor and banged on the door with her fist. “Hello? Somebody help me! I’m in here!” She screamed the words over and over again.
All the men would be in their rooms by now, too far away to hear her cries for help. There was only one person who might hear her and that was the person who had locked her in.
She froze, her heart racing even faster. Was he standing just outside the door right now? Gloating as he heard her panicked screams? Was he going to listen to her terror and then open the door and...? A vision of Sam dead in the hay filled her mind. She nearly dropped her flashlight as an icy chill suffused her. Tears burned at her eyes, half blinding her in the semidarkness.
She banged on the door and began to scream once again in wild hopes that somebody would hear her, praying that somebody would save her. There was no point to stay silent whether the person who’d locked her in was just outside or not.
She didn’t know how long she banged and yelled before she heard a voice. “Cassie?” The faint, familiar voice drifted through the door.
“Adam? I’m in here. Please, open the door,” she cried. She heard the lock being removed, and as the door opened a sob of relief escaped her.
“What happened?” Adam asked as he reached for her. “How did you get in there?”
“I came out here to get something and the door slammed behind me and I couldn’t get out and...” She broke off as she began to cry.
“Let’s get you to the house,” Adam said.
She nodded and reached down to grab the journals. She was still weeping as Adam threw a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her toward the house.
When they got inside she collapsed on the sofa. “What were you doing outside?” she asked as her tears slowly subsided.
“I always do a check on things around the ranch in the evenings,” he replied. His eyes were dark and filled with concern. “Who did this? Why would somebody lock you in the shed?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lower lip as tears threatened once again. “I didn’t see who did it. I didn’t see anyone around and I don’t know why anyone would want to do such a thing.”
“You need to call Dillon.” Adam sat on the sofa next to her. “There’s no way this was some kind of a freak accident. Somebody had to close the door and fasten the padlock.”
A new chill raced through her. Yes, she needed to call Dillon. She had no idea what intention the person had when they’d locked her in the shed, but there was no way it was good.
* * *
Dillon pulled up in front of his ranch house. It was the place he’d once thought would be filled with love and the sound of children laughing. He’d never dreamed he’d come home each night to a dark and lonely place.
He killed his headlights and got out of the car. He’d eaten a burger at the café and now hoped he could empty his mind enough to get a good night’s sleep. His brain had worked overtime all day. As if the murder investigation wasn’t enough, the kiss he’d shared with Cassie had intruded into his thoughts throughout the entire day.
He unlocked his front door and walked in. Minutes later he was in his recliner with a beer in hand. When he’d bought this three-bedroom, two-bath house set on ten acres of land, he’d never dreamed he’d be living here alone.
He’d made so many plans with Stacy, the girl he’d fallen in love with when they’d both been high school juniors, and he’d been utterly blindsided when she’d not only left him, but had also left Bitterroot for life in a big city. He’d heard through the grapevine that she’d moved to Chicago. He hoped she’d found whatever she’d been looking for.
Sipping his beer, he tried to remember kissing Stacy. Strange, he couldn’t remember what it felt like. Instead thoughts of kissing Cassie filled his head.
Her lips had been so hot and so wonderfully inviting. Damn the woman. He needed to keep his distance from her. He was convinced she was just another Stacy waiting to happen and he couldn’t go through that kind of thing again. He’d rather be alone than take a chance with her.
He finished his beer and got up from the chair. Now all he wanted was to shower off the Oklahoma dust and then hit the hay. He’d just entered the master bath when his phone rang.
“Chief, sorry to bother you,” Brenda Kline, the night dispatcher said.
“No problem, what’s up?”
“I just got a call from Adam Benson out at the Holiday ranch. He said something about Cassie being locked up in a shed and they need you out there.”
“On my way,” he replied. His stomach tightened as he left the house and got into his car.
Cassie locked in a shed? Had she been hurt? What in the hell was going on now? Had it just been some sort of freak accident? If that was the case then why would they call him?
He wished he’d gotten more information. It was a fifteen-minute drive from his home to the Holiday ranch. He made it in twelve.
Adam greeted him at the back door. “She’s in the great room,” he said.
She was huddled in the corner of the sofa with the same purple throw wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes appeared positively haunted as she greeted him.
“What happened?” he asked, fighting the impulse to grab her up and pull her to his chest. She looked so small and so frightened, but he was grateful to see that she appeared physically unharmed.
“I decided to go into the shed to grab some things and while I was inside somebody shut and locked the door behind me.” Her face paled and she pulled the throw more tightly around her.
“I heard her screaming and unlocked the shed,” Adam said.
“What were you doing outside at this time of night?” Dillon stared at the ranch foreman.
“I walk around every night to make sure all the gates are locked and everything is buttoned down,” he replied. “I’m just grateful I heard her screaming, otherwise she might have been in there all night or...” His voice trailed off.
Dillon frowned. “Do you think this was some kind of a joke? Maybe one of the other men thought it would be funny?”
“No way,” Adam replied flatly. “There’s nothing funny about this and none of my men would have done anything to frighten Cassie.”
“Before you heard her and unlocked the door did you see anyone else around?” Dillon asked.
Adam shook his head. “No, nobody.”
“How did you happen to have a key to the shed?” Dillon was still struggling to figure out the how and why of what had happened.
“As the foreman, I have keys to all the ranch outbuildings.” Adam pulled a key ring out of his pocket with dozens of keys.
“Dillon, Adam isn’t the bad guy here,” Cassie said softly. “He’s the one who let me out, not the one who locked me in.”
“Maybe one of the men from the ranch next door is responsible,” Adam said, his disgust obvious in his voice. “We all know Raymond Humes’s men love to cause trouble. One of those creeps was probably skulking around and thought this would be a funny thing to do. It sounds like their sick sense of humor.”
Dillon had to admit that it did sound like something one of those men would do. Still, he had a bad feeling in the pit of his gut. “I’ll take it from here,” he told Adam. “Could you gather up all the men in the dining room?”
“Of course.” Adam gazed at Cassie, a frown etched across his forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked her.
“I’m fine. Thank you, Adam.”
“I’m just glad I was at the right place at the right time. I’ll see you in the morning.” With a nod at Dillon, Adam went out the back door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dillon asked. He eased down on the sofa next to her. “You weren’t hurt?”
“I’m not hurt, but I’m not really okay. I keep wondering what would have happened if Adam hadn’t shown up when he did.” She pulled the throw more tightly around her.
Stay professional, Dillon told himself. Don’t let your emotions get involved. Still, it was damned difficult to stay emotionally removed from her when her eyes seemed to need some sort of reassurance and she leaned toward him as if desperate for his arms around her.
He couldn’t offer her reassurance until he got to the bottom of things, and he refused to embrace her because he feared he’d never want to let her go.
He got up off the sofa and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I need to go check out that shed and talk to your men. Which shed was it?” He knew there were several on the property.
“It’s the smaller one closest to the house.”
“Will you be all right here alone?” She didn’t look as if she would ever be all right again.
She roused herself from the sofa, clutching the throw around her shoulders. “I’ll be okay as long as I lock the door behind you.”
They reached the door and he turned to face her. “This shouldn’t take too long and I’ll come back in when I’m finished.”
She nodded, her eyes still simmering pools of fear. “You know what I thought when I was in that shed?” She released a small, shaky laugh that had nothing to do with humor. “For just a brief moment I thought the door was going to swing open and somebody was going to attack me with an ax.”
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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: A cowboy cop tracks down a perilous passion in New York Times bestseller Carla Cassidy′s explosive new thriller!For Cassie Peterson, finding out her new ranch was the site of a cold case is horrifying. But now one of her cowboys has been murdered, just like the previous victims! Cassie will do whatever it takes to help Chief of Police Dillon Bowie find the killer, but will getting close to the handsome lawman put more than her home at risk?Dillon’s been working hard to crack the original case–and keep feisty Cassie out of his thoughts. But when disturbing new clues prove the murderer is obsessed with Cassie, Dillon will tempt fate to guard the beauty and solve a terrifying mystery.