It was daylight by the time James had told the sheriff his story a dozen times before losing his temper. “I’ve told you repeatedly, I went out there to talk to Terry about a car he might have been paid to haul to another town.”
“Whose car?” Sheriff Carl Osterman asked again.
James sighed. “Billy Sherman’s killer whose name I don’t know yet.”
“You’re back in town for a few days and now we have a murder. As I recall, you and Terry never got along. I recall a fistfight my brother had to break up out at the Broken Spur a couple years ago.”
“That was between Terry and my brother Davey. I had nothing against Terry and I certainly had no reason to kill him. So, either believe me or arrest me because I’m going home!”
When the sheriff didn’t move, James pushed out of the chair he’d been sitting in for hours and headed for the door.
“Don’t leave town!” Carl called after him.
He held his tongue as he strode out of the sheriff’s department to take his first breath of fresh air. It was morning, the sun already cresting the mountains. He felt exhausted and still sick over what he’d seen earlier.
After he’d called 911 and the sheriff had arrived, he’d been ordered to wait in the back of Carl’s patrol SUV while an ambulance was called along with crime techs. Eventually Terry Durham’s body had been extricated from the car and hauled off in a body bag.
Even now, it took him a moment to get his legs under him. The last time he’d seen anything like that had been when a bull rider had been gored. He still felt sick to his stomach as he made his way to his pickup. He tried not to think about it. He’d wanted to ask Terry if someone paid him to take their damaged car out of town on that lowboy trailer of his nine years ago.
He’d been hoping the answer wasn’t going to be Karen Wilkins. Terry wouldn’t have done it for just anyone—unless the price was right.
Now he was dead. James feared it was because of the questions he’d been asking about Billy Sherman’s death.
As he pulled up behind the office building, he saw that Lorelei’s SUV was already parked behind her shop. He got out and was almost to his door, when she rushed out.
“I need to talk to you,” she said. She smelled like yeast, her apron dusted with flour. There was a dusting of flour on her nose. He couldn’t imagine her looking more beautiful.
But right now, he just needed some rest. He held up his hands. “Whatever it is, can we please discuss it later.” He opened his back door and started to step in when she grabbed his arm.
“Are you sick or drunk?” she demanded.
He turned to look at her. She sounded like the sheriff because he’d had beer on his breath earlier. “I’m not drunk, all right? Lorelei, it’s just not a good time. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until I get some sleep.”
“Rough night?” she mocked.
“You could say that.”
Her gaze suddenly widened. “Oh, no. You found something. You went to my stepmother’s and—”
He sighed, realizing why she’d been waiting for him to return. “I didn’t go to your stepmother’s.” She’d hear about this soon anyway. “I went out to Terry Durham’s and found him...murdered. I’ve been at the cop shop ever since.”
She let go of his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Now I just need a shot of brandy and a little sleep. I’ve spent hours answering the sheriff’s questions. I can’t take any more right now.” She nodded and stepped back. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk then.” He stepped through his door, letting it slam behind him as he slowly mounted the stairs.
It wasn’t until he reached the office door that he saw the note nailed to it.
Tearing it off, he glanced at the scrawled writing.
Get out of town while you still can.
Inside the office, he unlocked his father’s bottom drawer and pulled out the .45 he would be carrying from now on.
LORELEI STARTED AT the sound of her phone ringing. She pulled a tray of bread from the oven and dug her cell out of her apron pocket. “Hello?”
“I hope I didn’t wake you.” It was her stepmother.
“No. I’m at work. I’ve been here for hours.”
“You must be expecting a big day.” Her stepmother sounded almost cheerful.
Right, a big day, she thought remembering her encounter with James not long after sunrise. If that was any indication of how this day was going to go...
“I saw that you called yesterday,” her stepmother said when Lorelei hadn’t commented. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry about the way we left things. I had to get away for a while.” With her lover? Lorelei didn’t want to know. “I think we should get together this evening and talk. I’ll make dinner. I thought you could come over after work.” Her stepmother sounded tentative. “Please, Lorelei. You’re my daughter. I love you.”
She felt herself weaken. “Fine. But I need you to be honest with me.”
“I am being honest with you. I don’t know why seeing James upset me, but it had nothing to with Billy Sherman.” A lie, she thought. “I was just worried that you were getting involved with him.” Another lie? “He’s all wrong for you.” Yet another lie?
Lorelei closed her eyes to the sudden tears. “I’ll see you this evening.” She disconnected, hating this. They used to be so close. She feared everything had changed. Her stepmother had hidden a married lover. But that might not be the worst of it.
As she went back to work, she remembered what James had told her. Terry Durham had been murdered. She couldn’t remember the last murder in Lonesome—then with a start, realized it would have been Billy Sherman’s hit-and-run. James said he’d found Terry’s body. He’d been so upset. Because he felt he might have caused it by asking questions around town from his father’s list of people like her stepmother?
She felt a chill even in the warm kitchen. What if the two murders were connected? Hadn’t she heard something about Terry getting beaten up after he tried to cheat during a poker game in Billings? But what if Terry was murdered because he worked at the local body shop and knew who killed Billy Sherman?
The thought shook her to her core. What if Billy Sherman’s killer had felt forced to kill again? At the sound of a trash can lid banging in the alley, she quickly moved to the back door to look out in time to see James.
When she’d seen him coming in disheveled and exhausted she’d jumped to the conclusion that he’d been out on the town with a woman. It was reasonable given his reputation, but still she felt bad about how quickly she’d judged him. She’d been so ready to add this onto her list of reasons she couldn’t trust the man. With a curse, she realized he’d probably thought she’d been jealous.
“Did you get some sleep?” she asked from the doorway.
“Some. Sorry I was short with you earlier.”
She shook her head as if it had been nothing. As he joined her, she caught the scent of soap and noticed that his hair was still wet from his shower. He smelled good, something she wished she hadn’t noticed. His wet dark hair was black as a raven’s wing in the sunlight. It curled at the nape of his neck, inviting her fingers to bury themselves in it, something else she wished she hadn’t noticed.
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” she said, stalling. “I have a pot on. Interested?”
He hesitated but only a moment. “Sure.” He followed her into the kitchen at the back and leaned against the counter, watching her. She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her. She felt all thumbs.
Fire him. Just do it. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Thank him and then that will be it. You can pretend that you were never so serious as to do something so stupid as hire him to investigate your own stepmother in the first place.
When she turned, he was grinning at her in that lazy way he had, amusement glinting in the vast blue of his gaze. His long legs were stretched out practically to the center of the kitchen as he nonchalantly leaned against her counter. “You want me to help you?”
She thought he meant the coffee and started to say that she had it covered.
“You aren’t going to hurt my feelings,” he said. “I figured you’ve changed your mind about hiring me. I don’t blame you. Sometimes it’s better not to know. And when it’s your own stepmother—”
She bristled. “I didn’t say I don’t want to know if she’s involved.”
One dark eyebrow arched up. “So, what is it you’re having such a hard time saying to me?” he asked as he pushed off the counter and reached her in two long-legged strides.
Lorelei swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. The scent of soap and maleness seemed to overpower even the aroma of the coffee. Suddenly the kitchen felt too small and cramped. Too intimate.
She stepped around him to the cupboard where she kept the large mugs, opened the door and took down two. Her hands were shaking. “I didn’t say I was going to fire you.”
“No?” He was right behind her. She could practically feel his warm breath on the back of her neck.
She quickly moved past him with the mugs and went over by the coffee pot.
She heard him chuckle behind her.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked as she filled both mugs shakily. When she turned around, he was back on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the counter again, grinning. “I do make you nervous.” He laughed. “What is it you’re afraid I’m going to do? Or are you afraid I’m not going do it?”
“Sometimes you just talk gibberish,” she snapped. His grin broadened. “I want to know when you’re going to do what I’m paying you to do.”
“Paying me?”
She stepped toward him, shoved one mug full of coffee at him and waited impatiently for him to take it. She wished she’d never suggested coffee. The less time she spent around this impossible man the better. Right now, she wanted him out of her kitchen.
Seeing that he had no intention of going anywhere, she said, “We can talk in the dining room.” With that she turned and exited the kitchen, her head up, chin out and her heart pounding. She told herself with every step that she hated this arrogant man. Why hadn’t she fired him?
She slipped into a chair, cupping the mug in her hands, her attention on the steam rising from the hot coffee.
He slid into a chair opposite her and turned serious. “Let’s face it, Lori. You don’t want to know about your stepmother. So let’s just forget it and—”
She reached into her pocket, pulled out the key and slapped it down on the Formica table. “That opens the back door to her house.”
He stared at the key for a moment before he raised his gaze to her again. “You don’t have to do this.” She merely stared back, challenging him at the same time she feared she would change her mind. “Fine.” He picked up the key and put it in his jeans pocket. Then he took a sip of his coffee.
“What does Terry Durham have to do with Billy’s hit-and-run?” she asked.
He looked up in surprise. “I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to.” She had a bad feeling that Terry’s death had nothing to do with a poker game gone wrong.
“He works at the body shop. As you pointed out yourself, the vehicle that hit Billy would have some damage to it. How would you get it fixed without anyone being the wiser? Get it out of town quickly. Terry had a car-hauling trailer and now he’s dead. Add to that, after the hit-and-run, Terry bought a piece of property and a small camper.” James shrugged. “It’s all conjecture at this point, but it stacks up. I start asking questions and now he’s dead.”
“What is it you’ll look for at my stepmother’s?”
“The person who owned the damaged car might have left a trail. Either a receipt from the body shop that fixed it. Or a lump sum withdrawal from a bank account to pay Terry off. But that’s if they kept a record from nine years ago.”
Her heart pounded. “Give me the key back.”
He hesitated only a moment before he dug it out of his jeans and handed it over. “So, I’m fired.”
Lorelei shook her head as she pocketed the key again. “No, I’m going with you.” He started to put up an argument, but she cut him off. “It will be faster if I go. I know where she keeps her receipts, and her bank account records. Karen keeps everything. Come on,” she said, pushing away her unfinished coffee. “She’ll be at her studio now.”
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“Not at all, but I can’t do this alone and I have to know.”
He met her gaze. “If what we find incriminates her, I won’t cover it up even to protect you.”
“You come with integrity?”
“It costs extra,” he said to lighten the mood for a moment. “But seriously, if you want to change your mind, now’s the time, Lori.”
She didn’t correct him. In fact, she was getting to where she liked her nickname, especially on his lips. “I’m serious too.” She knew she couldn’t live with the suspicion. “I have to know the truth before tonight. I’m having dinner at her house.”
“Great,” he said under his breath as he downed his coffee and rose from the table as she called a friend to come watch the shop.