Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (11 page)

Donald shrugged. “A few days.”

“Where were you this afternoon?”

“Investigating. Is it true the lock to the jail cell was undisturbed? The camera was not working, right? The killer had disabled it.”

Tag tensed. “You know I’m not going to confirm or deny information in an on-going investigation.” What he really wanted to know was how the reporter found out about the camera.

Something must have shown on his face because Alcott grinned. “I’m a really
good
reporter, Sheriff. I have my sources and I’m not obliged to share them with you, even under penalty of contempt.”

Tag nodded. “That’s true. Unless you’re the killer.” The young man barely flinched at the not-so-subtle statement.
Interesting.
Tag made another note in his book. He’d have Carson check the man’s background thoroughly. “Investigating what? Give me specifics, Alcott.”

The muscular young man huffed and nibbled at his thumbnail. The bandage on his wrist flapped backward and he smoothed it back into place. “I hit up some of the businesses on the Hex. Talked to some of the shopkeepers, like Hank and Sadie and Clint Howard. I had an early dinner at the Tin Star.”

“Did you give blood?”

Alcott nodded. “Yesterday.”

“When did you get back to the hotel?”

He looked at his watch. “A quarter to six, I guess.”

“Hear or see anything?”

“Nope. Sorry. I went to my room and did some research.”

“228?”

Alcott started. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

Tag flipped his notebook closed and grinned because he’d surprised the young man. “Just doing my job, Alcott.” He opened the car door and eased into the sweltering interior. He cranked the engine and opened all four windows before turning on the AC. “Don’t leave town.”

“Why not?” His blue eyes widened and the scruff of blond hair flopped over his forehead. He shoved it away and revealed a growing frown. “Am I a suspect?” he demanded.

Tag pointed the vents at himself.

“That’s not fair,” Alcott said. He leaned down and gripped the door frame. “Why? What could I have to possibly gain by killing Fischer?”

Tag shrugged. “I don’t know but I aim to find out. You’re a reporter. You should know that everyone has something to hide. Something in their past they want to protect. Maybe Fischer knew something about you and the only way to keep him quiet was to kill him.”

The young man’s ears reddened. His jaw clenched and unclenched. The fury he clearly felt was etched into every line of his face. Tag’s hand dropped to the butt of his gun. He didn’t think Alcott would attack him so blatantly, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Alcott shoved his face further into the car. “Sheriff, just one question.”

“What?” he snapped.

“What are
you
hiding?”

At nine the next morning, Rebecca sat down at the semi-antique desk in her hotel room and pulled her legal pad toward her. She dialed the office number and doodled as the line rang.

“Hello?” Deidre’s voice sounded hesitant and held almost none of her normal professional tone. She cleared her throat. “Uh, sorry. Rebecca Lyons office, how may I help you?”

Rebecca frowned and dropped the pen. “Deidre? Are you okay?”

“Rebecca! Yes, uh, yes. Everything is fine. How is Texas? I hear it’s pretty hot down there. Are you melting?”

She frowned. “Cut the crap, Deidre. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why do you think anything is wrong?”

“Because I know you,” Rebecca said. “In the five years you’ve been my assistant you have
never
answered the phone with ‘hello.’ So, something is definitely not right.”

There was a long silence on the other end, then a soft sigh. “I don’t really think you need to worry. I’m sure it’s just a prank.”

Fear grabbed Rebecca. She sat up straight. Her fingers tightened on the cell phone and for a moment she feared she might snap the glass. “Tell me,” she demanded.

“Well. Lord, I feel so stupid.”

Rebecca waited in tense silence.

“When I opened the office this morning there was a…package on your desk. It wasn’t there when I left last night and I
know
I locked the door behind me.”

Her mouth went dry. “Who is it from?”

“I don’t know. The only thing on the outside was your name.”

“Did you open it?”

Another small silence was followed by a faint squeak. “Yes.”

“Damn it, Deidre. That was an idiotic thing to do. Are you okay?”

“I know. I know! After I opened it, all the usual sorts of things went through my head. Anthrax, bombs, body parts, sex toys.”

Rebecca started. “Sex toys?”

“Just seeing if you were paying attention.” Deidre’s voice regained some of its customary warmth and calm. “Nothing bad happened, obviously. The box held a silver dollar and a typed letter.”

A foreboding shiver snaked up Rebecca’s spine.

“What did the letter say?”

“Hang on, let me get it.”

“Wait,” Rebecca said. “Use tissues to touch it.”

“But I’ve already handled it,” her assistant said.

“Yes, but the less muddying of prints, the better.”

“All right. Hang on.”

Rebecca dragged a hand through her still damp hair. She hadn’t put the blonde mass up in a ponytail yet because it took forever to dry when she did it too soon after showering. She wound a strand around her finger and nibbled at the end. The soothing aroma of coconut filled her senses and the fear abated somewhat.

“Can you hear me?” Deidre asked in an echoing voice. “I put you on speaker.”

“Yes. Go ahead.” Rebecca tugged on the strand of hair.

“It says, ‘Miss Lyons, a small token of my esteem. I shall give you the second coin at the appropriate time.’ That’s all it says. There isn’t a signature or anything.”

“Crap on a cracker and shit fire,” Rebecca muttered.

Deidre giggled but the high-pitched sound held little amusement and a lot of fear. “Haven’t heard you use that one in a while.”

“I’m around Boone,” she said. “I’m reverting. Why don’t you give Detective Donovan Garner a call?”

“You think it’s that serious?”

“Maybe. It’s definitely creepy.”

“Gaughan?”

He’d been the first person who’d come to mind, but she couldn’t quite see the ultra-suave man stooping to such a cheesy form of intimidation. She had the feeling he’d be much more direct.

“I don’t know. Call Detective Garner. Give him the letter and everything that came with it. Make sure you tell him that you touched it all.”

“I will. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” Rebecca assured her. “That sort of thing is in the job description.”

“I suppose.”

She heard the dejection in her assistant’s voice. “So, Texas is interesting,” she said in a forced light tone.

“Yeah?” Deidre perked up. “What is the sheriff like?”

Just like her friend to hit the nail on the head. “A pain in the ass.” She couldn’t stop her smile. “But a good-looking pain in the ass. Actually, Deidre, most of the guys here seem to be inordinately good looking. You know Boone, so he doesn’t really count. But Tag has a friend named Wade who is also absolutely delicious.” She glanced around the room as if they could hear her. Her voice dropped. “To tell you the truth, these guys could make a nun throw off her habit and beg for a piece of the action.”

Deidre laughed. “So, when’s my flight?”

Rebecca grinned. “Not happening.”

“Damn.”

“Sorry, that’s the way it goes.”

“You don’t sound a bit sorry, boss lady.”

Rebecca’s smile widened. She really wasn’t. Though Tag could be an annoying ass, she’d also seen him sweet, attentive, and protective. The man had depths he took great pains to keep hidden. When she first saw him, she’d been thrown both by his good looks and the aura of surfer boy he projected. It hadn’t taken her long to delve beneath that surface and discover a man of so many layers he’d make an onion weep with envy.

She knew the investigation was tearing him up. He’d not even been charged or verbally accused but they all knew the elephant in the room was just waiting to explode. She could only imagine the emotional trauma he was going through. From what she’d gleaned of him so far, his sense of honor and integrity were being attacked and it was something he was definitely not used to combatting.

Good thing she’d arrived when she did to help him out.

“Boss? You still there?”

“Yes, sorry. Woolgathering. This case is strange and I’ve barely touched the surface.”

“Has the sheriff been charged then?”

“No,” Rebecca said. “But it’s just a matter of time, I’m afraid. There is a lot of circumstantial evidence that points to him.”

“Obviously you don’t buy any of it since you’re still there.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Rebecca said. “Tag Cain is
not
guilty of murder. And I intend to prove it.”

She turned the conversation to the docket of cases she was working on. They hammered out some letters and made arrangements to postpone a deposition she was supposed to take the following week. When all the work was taken care of, she reminded Deidre once more to call Detective Garner then hung up.

Rebecca picked up the pen and bounced it against the legal pad. Had Gaughan sent that letter? Perhaps another defendant with whom she’d worked? Someone whose case she’d lost?

If she had her case files, she could go through them and try to figure it out but her most recent ones had not yet been archived. Not that she had the time for such a research trip. She had a testy Texas sheriff who needed proof of his innocence.

She tore the doodled page off the top of the pad and began listing things to do regarding Tag. First up was getting a sample of the blood and tissue found at the Fischer crime scene and sending it back to Boston for independent testing. She also wanted to have a look at the autopsy report and coroner’s notes.

Thank goodness Tag hadn’t yet been charged with anything because he could get her access to everything she needed. Right now she was merely acting as an independent investigator and needn’t worry about impropriety. Technically Tag hadn’t hired her. There’d been no retainer. For all anyone knew, she was merely in Texas on a vacation.

Rebecca made a few more notes then her stomach rumbled. A quick check of her phone showed nearly ten o’clock. She stretched her hands over her head and cracked her spine on the stiff curve of the chair back.

“Ah,” she murmured. “That felt good.”

She rose and headed for the bathroom.
Time to tame my hair and get some makeup on.

She supposed she would head back to the Tin Star for brunch since it was just about the only place she knew of in town. She also wanted to wander the town square—or Hex as everyone called it—and see what sorts of treasures she could find. Wade talked about an old-time soda fountain she was eager to check out. He’d also mentioned an antique store that held everything from feed bags of the late 1800s to colorful Fiestaware and more.

In the bathroom, she bent to pick up the hair dryer. Like everything else in this hotel it was a relic. It was made of heavy beige plastic and had only an off and on button. It was definitely not her sleek and efficient ionic hair dryer. She wavered before plugging it in.

“I hope I don’t get electrocuted.”

The beige monstrosity roared to life with a kick that almost made her drop the danged thing. She gripped it hard and drew a round brush through her hair as she waved the super-hot air over her head.

She winced as her scalp protested the molten blasts. Rebecca moved through her hair as quickly as she could until the weight of the dryer forced her to shut it off and set it down. When she placed it on the miniscule counter she felt a jolt race up her arm.

She gasped and stumbled backward. “I was kidding about electrocution,” she muttered.

A small scratching sound came from her hotel door and she froze. Her eyes zoomed in on the door handle.

Had it moved? Was it twitching like someone was trying to turn it?

She snatched up the hair dryer and yanked the cord from the wall then inched toward the door. She had the safety locks on but those were ridiculously easy to get through if someone was determined.

A faint jingle permeated the door. She swallowed and tossed a panicked glance over her shoulder.

Why did I leave my phone all the way over there?

She began inching toward the desk.

A loud rap shook the door. She screeched and lifted the hair dryer over her head like a baseball bat.

The knob rattled. “Rebecca?” The deep male voice boomed through the wood. “Are you okay?” Another loud pound and the handle jiggled some more. “Rebecca?!”

Wade.
Her eyes closed in relief and she jumped forward. She tossed off the locks and yanked the door open.

“Hi,” she said with a forced smile.

His broad shoulders were taut and stretching the limits of his black T-shirt. A dark frown covered his face and he swept the room behind her with a penetrating blue gaze. “Are you okay?” he demanded as he moved into the room. His fingers curled around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I heard you scream.”

Rebecca wasn’t used to being comforted, and the events of the morning seemed to have thrown her off-kilter. She sank into his chest and wrapped her arms around his lean waist. The hair dryer slipped through her fingers and thumped against the floor.

“I’m fine,” she said softly.

His hands tunneled into her hair and he tugged her head back to look up at him. His blue eyes were intense and focused. They were full of concern
for her
. Rebecca felt warmed all over. She caressed his back.

“I promise. I’m okay. Just being a little silly, I suppose.”

A small smile lifted his lips and her gaze zoomed in on his mouth like a hummingbird on sugar water. She wondered how he kissed. If he would be tender or rough? Perhaps he would be both.