Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

T HE SHERIFF WOKE to the sound of knocking on his front door. He glanced at his phone. Three a.m. Startled awake, then remembering the body at the river and realizing a killer was still out there, he hesitated. Pulling on his jeans, he grabbed his service weapon from the end table next to his bed before padding barefoot to the door.

To his relief, he found Bailey McKenna standing on his back step, facing away from him. He felt some of the fear dissipate and knew he’d had the dream again, because his body ached as if he’d been fighting off the stabbing. He took a breath, let it out and felt his heart rate drop a little. It was Bailey, not his almost-killer.

So why did his chest still ache? She seemed to be staring out into the darkness, but he could feel the tension coming off her body, smell the panic.

He thought about all the other times she’d shown up at his door, apparently just to visit. The night before had been different, and so was tonight. He remembered why he’d been so determined to find her earlier. It came back to him like a swift kick to the gut as she turned to gaze at him.

She looked as if she’d been in a fight with a mountain lion. “Bailey, what the hell?” he said on a ragged breath when he saw the scratches on her face, the black eye. He drew her into the house and into the light.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “You should have seen the other woman.”

He let out a curse. “Come on.” She protested as he closed the door and led her down the hall to the bathroom. “Sit.” He put down the toilet seat and nudged her onto it. “What happened to you?”

“I fell down.”

He shook his head. “Right. Before or after you were dragged through the dirt?”

She was silent as he got out the first aid kit and went to work. As he did, he took in her injuries, glad to see that they all appeared minor. She didn’t flinch as he cleaned the wounds and applied antiseptic to them. Most were scratches, some deeper than others, but there were bruises on her face as if she’d run into something hard.

He brushed back her long, curly, dark hair, his fingers grazing her cheek and making her flinch. “That should do it,” he said drawing his hand back. “Now tell me what really happened.” He busied himself by closing the first aid kit and putting it back into the cabinet.

While he’d been patching her up, he’d been concentrating on her injuries. But now the close confines of the small bathroom felt too intimate.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes luminous. The pain he saw there nearly dropped him to his knees. “Bailey—”

Rising abruptly, she shoved past him and out of the bathroom. He took a breath, his chest aching again, the memory of the dream hanging around like a bad smell. Being around her like this was killing him. He wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take. Once he resigned as sheriff, there would be nothing keeping him in Powder Crossing, he told himself. A bald-faced lie.

He turned to find her standing in the doorway and felt his heart break at the thought of walking away. But if he didn’t—

Her voice sounded strange as she reminded him, “You said you didn’t tell me everything about Willow.”

Stuart shook his head. “Bailey—”

“Just tell me.”

He met her gaze and felt his stomach drop. She already knew, but if she did... “She was assaulted.” He swallowed, fear running an icy finger down his spine as he saw that she was waiting for more. “She was raped, choked, tied up, and her body was disfigured.” The moment the words were out of his mouth he saw her reaction.

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. “I have to go.” She rushed toward the door.

But she wasn’t fast enough this time. He grabbed for her arm and pulled her around to face him. “You aren’t going anywhere until you start telling me the truth,” he said, locking eyes with her as he tightened his hold. He told himself that there was no way he was letting her go back out into the darkness alone, not tonight, maybe not ever. But even as he thought it, he knew he couldn’t keep her here with him against her will—any more than he could force her to talk to him. She would do as she pleased, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. There had never been.

He tried a different approach. “Bailey, you wouldn’t have kept coming back here unless you needed my help.”

Her gaze softened. Her whole face did. “You think that’s the only reason I come here?” She took a step toward him, rocking up on tiptoe to press her mouth to his.

He wanted the kiss, had dreamed of kissing this woman, just the touch of her lips, the scent of her... Laying his gun aside, he grasped her shoulders and pushed her back to hold her at arm’s length. Shaking his head, he said, “You ever want to do that again, you let me know. But it’s not what you want from me, not tonight.”

Her smile was sad as she shook off his hold, turned and opened the door to leave.

“If you know something about Willow’s murder, you have to tell me, Bailey,” he said to her retreating back.

She stopped to look around at him. He’d never seen her appear more lost than at that moment. “Why would I tell you ? I saw your resignation on your desk. Are you even still sheriff?”

Before he could answer, she was gone. Not that he knew what he would have said. She’d caught him by surprise. But it was what he heard in her voice that stole any chance of sleep the rest of the night.

For years he’d disappointed himself, but to disappoint Bailey? He wasn’t sure he could live with that. Worse, he kept seeing her face when he told her how Willow had died. Just as he’d feared, she’d known.

H OLDEN M C K ENNA SADDLED his horse earlier than usual and rode out across his ranch toward the Stafford Ranch. The sun hadn’t yet scaled the mountains to the east but had set the sky aglow in pale pinks. He’d ridden every morning since his doctor had said he could after his gunshot wounds had healed. Each day he told himself Charlotte Stafford would be at the creek where they used to meet to make love.

Those days were apparently long behind them, leaving him both brokenhearted and filled with a deep, aching sorrow. Charlotte had been the love of his life, still was. They’d both made mistakes, but his, he’d come to realize, were the worst. He’d pushed her away—and now she was gone.

He had no idea where she’d gone or if she would ever come back. Still, he rode to a stop along the creek in a place that held the happiest memories of his life. A slight breeze stirred the tall fall dried grasses and golden leaves on the cottonwoods as he dismounted and walked to the large rock where he and his Lottie, as he’d always called her, had last embraced.

Sitting down, he stared into the water that in a matter of yards would join the Powder River. He listened to the breeze for a moment, then whispered, “Come back, Lottie. Please, come back to me.” After a few minutes, he rose and walked back to where he’d ground-tied his horse. He told himself that she was still alive, wherever she was. If she’d died, he would know it in his heart.

For years after he’d betrayed Lottie, she’d been unable to forgive him. They’d become mortal enemies, dragging their children as well as their hired hands into the feud. It broke his heart, all the years they’d wasted. Before she’d left, it seemed they might reconcile their differences. They might find their way back to each other. But he’d pushed her away when he’d learned of the secret she’d been keeping from him for years.

He deeply regretted that soon after, but it had been too late. She’d left town, and no one seemed to know how to reach her. The pain of it had almost laid him out for good.

“I’ve heard of people dying of a broken heart,” Elaine had said recently. More than a housekeeper and head cook, she was his confidant as well as his friend. She knew him better than anyone. He loved her in his way. Elaine was dating his ranch manager, Deacon Yates. Deacon was a good man, and Elaine deserved to have a man in her life—other than him.

Elaine had sighed. “I’m worried about you, Holden. Charlotte will come back. She loves you.”

He’d smiled, grateful that she cared and hoping she was right.

“It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Elaine had said.

“I’m fine,” he’d promised. “I don’t mean to make you worry. It’s just that my kids are all grown, living their own lives. I’m at loose ends.”

She gave him a look that told him she knew better. It had always been about Lottie. No wonder his adult children didn’t need him. He’d spent his life obsessing over a woman he’d lost and feared he would never have again.

“She’ll come back,” Elaine had said. “Stop looking as if you have one foot in the grave. It’s morbid.”

He’d chuckled. “That bad?” She’d nodded, and he’d seen the worry in her expression. He definitely thought he could die of a broken heart if Lottie didn’t come back.

Mounting his horse now, he rode back home, promising his aching heart that one of these mornings, he would find Lottie there, and nothing could keep them apart ever again.

In the meantime, as the daylight peeked through the cottonwoods, he worried about Bailey. It was high time he found out what was going on with his daughter—whether she liked it or not.

T HE SHERIFF GLANCED at the clock. Too late to go back to bed. After Bailey’s visit, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. He felt as lost as she had looked. Startled by the sudden pounding at his door, he hurried to it, thinking that Bailey had returned. He was already rehearsing what he’d say to her when he opened the door to find Holden McKenna standing there, face flushed.

Panic filled him. Had something happened to her? “Bailey—”

He’d barely gotten the word out when Holden pushed past him, storming into the living room before swinging around to face him. Holden was a big man who was in good shape for his age, but it was the air of authority the wealthy rancher wore that made most men give him a wide berth.

“What the hell is going on?” Holden demanded.

“What—” He stared at him, confused and terrified that Bailey had been hurt again.

“What are you doing with my daughter?”

Stuart blinked. “I...” He was going to say that he didn’t understand but realized with a wave of relief that Bailey was okay. This was something else. “If you’re asking where she is—”

“I don’t need to. I just saw her leave your house before it was hardly daylight,” the rancher said. “How long has this been going on?”

Stuart almost laughed. He didn’t even know what “this” was. “Coffee?” he asked as he turned and headed into the kitchen, realizing he couldn’t carry on this particular conversation without the caffeine jolt.

“I don’t want coffee,” Holden bellowed, but followed him into the small kitchen.

“I do.” He began to put on a pot, knowing that he was stalling. How could he possibly explain his relationship with Bailey—if he could even call it that—when he didn’t understand it himself?

“I asked you what’s going on with you and my daughter,” Holden said behind him in the kitchen doorway.

The coffee on, he turned to the rancher. “Bailey and I are friends.”

“ Friends? Stuart, I’ve known you since you were born, and you understand damned well how worried I’ve been about my daughter. Is this where she goes at all hours of the night? Are the two of you—”

“We’re friends . She stops by to talk occasionally. Sometimes she stays over—in my spare bedroom. I can’t tell you any more than that.”

“ Can’t or won’t ? If you know what’s going on with Bailey, you have to tell me.”

“Maybe you should talk to your daughter.”

Holden let out a curse. “I can’t get more than two words out of her. It’s like she’s...angry about something I must have done. Or didn’t do. I have no idea.”

Surprised at the rancher’s candor, Stuart’s heart went out to the man. Holden was right. He’d known Stuart his whole life. He’d known Stuart’s parents. He realized there was something he’d wanted to ask him for a very long time but hadn’t found an opening.

“You knew my mother.” The rancher stared at him as if blindsided by the question asked so out of context. “What really happened to her?” Holden blinked and took a step back as he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“You’re right. You’ve known me since I was born. You knew my mother. You knew my father,” Stuart said, realizing that he couldn’t leave Powder Crossing without knowing the truth about his mother. He’d heard whispers. The few people he had asked about her hadn’t wanted to talk about it. All he knew was that there was some mystery about her leaving. “I’ve never gotten a straight answer about what happened to her. If anyone knows the truth, I figure it’s you.”

“We’re talking about my daughter.” When the sheriff said nothing, the rancher shook his head. “Son, that deal with your mother was long ago.”

“Not so long ago that you don’t remember. How about you be truthful with me, and I’ll be the same with you about your daughter.”

Holden’s eyes narrowed. “So, you do know what’s going on with Bailey.” Stuart said nothing. “Fine. Your mother left town in the middle of the night and was never seen again.”

He shook his head as he turned back to the coffeepot and poured them both a cup. He motioned to the table as he set a cup down in front of his chair and another across the table in front of the only other chair. “Seems like quite a few people leave here in the middle of the night and are never seen again.” He pulled out his chair and sat before picking up his cup and taking a sip of his coffee, watching Holden over the brim of his cup. “Like Charlotte Stafford’s second husband. No, that’s right, he was found in that large old abandoned well on the property next to her ranch.”

“She didn’t have anything to do with his death,” the rancher snapped.

“You’re missing the point. People don’t just leave in the middle of the night, never to be seen again, unless they’re dead. Be honest with me. Is my mother dead?”

“Did you ask your father?”

“He lied too,” Stuart said. “I had hoped you would be more honest.” He’d never been this candid, but since he was quitting his job and leaving town, he had nothing to lose, right?

Holden pulled out the other chair and sat, but he didn’t reach for the coffee. “I don’t know if she’s still alive. I do know that she had some...emotional problems, and that your father did the best he could with her, taking her to doctors to try to get her help. I don’t think I have to tell you that she wasn’t cut out for motherhood. Your father worried about you constantly. Other than that, all I know is what he told me. That she left in the middle of the night and never came back. Now it’s your turn.”

It was and wasn’t what Stuart had hoped to hear. He’d known there was something very wrong with his mother. Holden had just confirmed it, now making him wonder how many people knew about her. And why Holden McKenna, a local rancher, had been asking his father about her. He’d never gotten the impression that the rancher and his father had been friends.

“You asked about me and Bailey. I’m in love with her, have been for a long time. Can’t tell you how she feels about me because I don’t know. Right now we’re friends. Sometimes she just needs someone to talk to so she stops by, often in the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, I fall asleep. When I wake up, she’s always gone. We aren’t lovers, but I hope like hell that someday we are. I want a marriage and even—why not—kids.”

Holden looked at him in surprise. “You and Bailey, married with kids?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

The rancher shook his head, but it was clear he had a problem with it.

“Is it because of my mother?”

Holden looked confused for a moment before he waved that off. “If I hesitated, it was because I can’t see Bailey settled down being a wife—let alone a mother. She’s hardly dated that I know of. I was beginning to think—”

“I can see her as a wife and mother,” Stuart said, wondering if that was true or just his wishful thinking. “Right now, she just needs time and space to figure out a few things on her own.” He hoped to hell that was all that was wrong with her. He was still worried, especially after telling her about Willow. Bailey knew something. He wasn’t sure how, and maybe that worried him the most.

“I’ve been giving that girl space for years,” Holden snapped.

“Try doing it a while longer. I think she’s working some things out.”

“About me?”

“Space,” Stuart repeated and glanced at the time. “I need to get to work, so if that’s all...” Today he was resigning. He felt lighter having confessed how he felt about Bailey. But mostly because while he might wish he and Bailey had a future, he didn’t believe it. He would be leaving town, leaving all this behind. He’d go to a place where no one knew him, knew his father or his mother or anything about the mistakes he’d made in life. Unfortunately, his scars and probably his nightmares would be going with him. Nothing he could do about that.

“Fine,” the rancher said as he readjusted his Stetson before looking at Stuart again. “Take care of my daughter.” His words were so filled with emotion that Stuart could only nod as Holden showed himself to the door.

Take care of my daughter. That’s exactly what he’d been trying to do, he told himself as he showered, dressed and headed to the office, determined to turn in his resignation and get it over with.

After that, Bailey would have to take care of herself. That worried him, but he’d come to realize that he’d been kidding himself thinking he was the answer to her problems.

CJ S TAFFORD NEEDED money bad. Even the lousy attorney he’d managed to hire from prison was refusing to work his case unless he paid him. And not unlike the world outside his barred cell, he required money to operate.

The moment he got his turn to use the hall phone, he made a call to the one man who could make that happen. For a moment, CJ thought Treyton McKenna wasn’t going to take his collect call. He balled his fists, a litany of swear words rising in him like hot water about to erupt out of Old Faithful. He’d seen the famous geyser a couple of times when their mother had taken him and his siblings to Yellowstone Park.

He’d been of the age that he hadn’t seen himself in the famous geyser. Instead, he’d been thinking about taking the wallet of a woman whose purse was right next him—wide open. He couldn’t believe that anyone could be so careless as to leave her purse open with a kid like him standing right by her. Clearly, she deserved to lose her money. Probably had too much of it to worry about what was in her wallet.

Turned out, there wasn’t all that much in the purse, but it had taught him a valuable lesson. CJ had been taking advantage of trusting souls ever since. He’d also learned that he could take what he wanted and often not get caught.

“What?” Treyton demanded after he’d finally accepted the charges from his least favorite felon.

“You’d better always take my calls,” CJ said, trying to rein in his earlier fury. He knew the cops would be listening to all his phone calls, so he had to be careful.

“Or what are you going to do about it?”

He laughed. “You really want to find out?” Silence. “Do you have something to write on? Take down this address. I need you to get two grand to my lawyer until I can afford someone better.”

Treyton swore. “You’re a ballsy son of a—”

“I don’t have much time. There’s a line waiting for this phone. Here’s the address.” He gave it to his so-called partner in crime. “You owe me, remember? You came to me, not the other way around, old buddy.”

“The worst day of my life, and you’re not my buddy.”

CJ laughed. The Staffords and McKennas had been at war for years because of their parents, making him and Treyton strange business partners. “Thanks to me, you’re doing quite well.”

“If you expect me to thank you—”

“ You’re not in jail, I am, and if you want to stay that way—”

“Don’t threaten me, CJ. I’ll get your lawyer money, but we both know no one can get you out of all the felonies you’re facing.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Don’t call me again,” Treyton said, and disconnected.

CJ squeezed the phone so hard it cracked. The inmate behind him grabbed it and shoved him out of the way. He let the shove go. He had bigger fish to fry, he told himself, knowing who he would call the next time he got to use the phone.

Treyton needed to be reminded who was in charge—and what happened if he screwed with CJ. He hated ingratitude the most. He had let Treyton in on his operation. It wasn’t his fault it went south. It was his sister’s. Admittedly, trying to kill her had been a mistake, one he was already paying dearly for.

He’d lost the family ranch when his mother had turned on him, and now he was facing life in prison unless this new lawyer could spring him. He thought of the ranch he loved, that he’d fought to keep thriving, that he’d given his life to, and how his dear mother, Charlotte Stafford, now ignored his calls.

CJ had heard that she’d left not just the ranch, but the county, and possibly the state. Where had she gone? He didn’t have to guess why. That damned Holden McKenna. It had always been about him.

Yet he held out hope that she would return, forgive him, and get him the best lawyer that money could buy. He needed out of here. He had things to do.

B AILEY HAD PASSED her father’s SUV as she was leaving Stuart’s house this morning. She didn’t have to guess where he was going. The road dead-ended at the sheriff’s house. She told herself Holden McKenna might have business with the sheriff that had nothing to do with her.

But she’d seen him brake when he recognized her SUV. She’d sped away, definitely not in the mood to see him, especially the way her face looked with all the scratches. She’d turned and parked to wait next to an old shed at the back of a resident’s property, telling herself that if he had been looking for her, he would be coming down the street right away.

But he didn’t appear. That’s when she’d realized that he hadn’t known she was at Stuart’s—until he’d passed her. But now that he’d seen her leaving the sheriff’s house early in the morning...she had no idea what he would say, let alone do. Angrily, she reminded herself that she was a grown woman. There wasn’t anything he could do or say to her. Or Stuart.

But she wondered what the sheriff would say to her father. She didn’t like the two of them discussing her, but she knew that wasn’t what had her so upset. Stuart was resigning. He was giving up not just on his job, but on her. He would leave Powder Crossing like anyone with any sense would do. He would not look back. He must feel as if there was nothing here for him.

That she felt rejected almost made her laugh. How could she blame him? She’d pushed him away for years even as she couldn’t stay away from him. He must be horribly confused about her. He’d been more than patient with her, putting up with her visits, keeping his distance, waiting for her to make the first move—not knowing what was going on with her because she’d kept it from him. Yet it broke her heart and made her angry, the thought of him resigning, leaving, when she needed him more than ever.

When her father still hadn’t driven past, she glanced at the time. Throwing her SUV into gear, she sped off toward the ranch. She needed to get changed. She had a drive ahead of her. As much as she didn’t want to make her appointment in Billings, she had to, even if it was the last thing on her mind right now.

Since Willow’s murder, she’d felt as if a clock were ticking. It terrified her to think about what would happen when it stopped.