TUESDAY, 9:00 A.M.
EMERALD M GUEST RANCH
After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Heath stared through the kitchen window at the canvas awash with green—acres and acres of evergreens spread before him. Beyond the hue of green and off in the distance, grays and blues stretched toward the sky. The mountains were hazy due to smoke that had drifted down from a big fire in Montana.
Heath tried to remember that he was a fortunate man to have this view, but life had a way of pulling him in too many directions.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about Harper and his run-in with her last night, or the fact that she’d witnessed a murder.
Concern for her, as well as the victim’s family, weighed on him. Heath reminded himself that Harper wasn’t his business and he needed to keep his distance. The best thing he could do was pray for her. He needed to clear his mind long enough to take care of his guest ranching business.
While sifting through the mail that had come while he’d been gone at the backcountry camp—only a four-night stay this time—he went over his mental checklist.
All his guests were safely back and getting ready to head to their respective home states this morning. A whole new set of guests would arrive this afternoon, with more trickling in the rest of the week. Hired help would clean out and restock the cabins before the new guests arrived.
Then one particular piece of mail drew his attention. He opened the small package to find a framed photograph of his brother and his new wife. Mr. and Mrs. Austin McKade. They could have emailed or texted a picture, but Willow wanted to make it special since Heath hadn’t been able to attend the wedding. And how could he when they’d eloped in Hawaii? Good for them.
Easier that way, Austin had said. Willow wouldn’t miss her grandfather as much. Heath got that.
He set the framed photo on the counter for now. It could go right next to the picture Charlie had sent from Texas, where she was now thriving. He couldn’t be happier for her, after all they’d been through together.
Next he lifted an envelope from the state medical examiner. His father’s toxicology report. His hands shook as he opened the envelope, then slid the pages out.
The results confused him. Five years ago, his father had died in a head-on collision that had taken the lives of a senator and his family. His father had been blamed for driving while intoxicated, but a few months ago someone who should know the truth had told Heath that Dad hadn’t been drunk.
Paws clicked across the floor as Timber approached and whined. The old dog plopped down next to Heath’s feet.
He patted the dog’s head, then studied the paper. According to this report, his father had been drunk. What was the truth? That was something Heath intended to find out. On the one hand, he could go even further in fixing the damage done by his father. On the other hand, dredging up the accident could do more harm than good.
Boots clomped on the front porch. Leroy or Pete? Heath dumped his tepid coffee into the sink and poured a fresh, hot cup. He’d better get his fill of caffeine before the day got busy.
When he turned around, he was startled by Leroy standing in the kitchen. He had taken off his boots and slipped into the kitchen without Heath realizing it. Leroy’s mother had trained him well. But this was Heath’s home, and he would good and well wear his boots where he pleased. Right. He peered down at his own mismatched socks.
“You heard anything more about that murder last night?” Leroy got some coffee too.
“Nothing yet.”
“Seems like being a deputy would mean you were privy to that kind of information.”
Heath frowned at Leroy. “If I was privy to it, that wouldn’t necessarily mean you were.”
Leroy chuckled. “I didn’t mean to pry. Word is going to get out about the murder sooner or later. Besides, I thought you knew that girl who witnessed it happen. Seems like the Heath that I’ve heard about would be all over this.”
Yeah. Well. Maybe the old Heath had learned his lesson. This was the new Heath. The Heath who knew he couldn’t always be the hero. The Heath who knew his limitations.
“Only if they need me, and they’ll contact me if they do.” There. That should keep Leroy quiet.
What was Harper even doing in Wyoming? He’d never even asked. He’d thought she was something special two decades ago, and he had a feeling she’d grown into something even more special. But she looked haunted. It was the same look she’d had in her eyes after her father was murdered. And the same grief when she came to say goodbye and tell him her mother was moving them. He’d had the feeling then that Harper and her family were running scared.
Heath had been too wrapped up in his own misery—and Harper, she’d been the one to help him through it. Now he should be the one to help her through this. But it was probably better for her if he didn’t.
He let his thoughts shift from Harper to the crime she’d witnessed.
What that poor woman went through being chased and hunted like an animal brought his fury boiling to the surface. To think that Harper had witnessed everything and the killer knew it disturbed Heath to his core.
“Looks like they need you.” Leroy’s words brought Heath back to the moment.
Chugging the rest of his coffee, he eyed Leroy over the rim. “Why’s that?”
“A county vehicle is heading up the drive.”
“Will you go see why they’re here?”
“Nah, I think we both know the sheriff or one of his deputies wants to talk to you. I have a feeling you’re getting dragged into this murder business whether you like it or not. You’ll do the right thing.” Leroy left the kitchen, probably in search of his mother, Evelyn. He lived in a cabin on the property, but Evelyn had a room in the main house.
Heath sort of adopted Evelyn as his grandmother a few years ago after he had hired her to help around the house while he focused on getting the guest ranch up and running. She was like family to him. So when Leroy needed a job, Heath hired him to help with the ranch. Leroy thought of himself as the voice of reason, offering what he considered sage advice. The jury was still out. Evelyn offered more of that for Heath, if he ever needed to talk through his issues.
Heath found his boots and opened the door as Deputy Randall Cook was about to knock. “Can I help you?”
“Sheriff sent me to get you. We need you to confirm exactly where you were last night when you helped Ms. Reynolds.”
“Why didn’t you just call?”
“We did. You might try answering your phone.”
He’d left it charging on his dresser.
“Does he want my help in an official capacity?” If he did, then Heath should change into a uniform, which he didn’t rightly feel worthy to wear.
“Yes. But you don’t need to waste time. Come in plain clothes.”
Heath grabbed a light jacket, though the day would warm up too fast, slipped on his boots, and clomped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him. “What can you tell me?”
“There’s no evidence of a crime, much less a murder.”