Resonable Doubt

by Catherine Anderson

  He toyed with a stray curl at her temple, his wrist warm against her cheek. "Don't say you're sorry. You had a rough time last night. I understand that. You're not yourself."

  "That's no excuse for—" She laughed softly. "I'm sorry."

  He touched a fingertip to her mouth. "I just said don't say you're sorry. You know, we'd better hurry. As it is, I'll barely be unpacked before it's time to get ready to go to Wolf Creek."

  Breanna nodded and reached for his satchel on the bed. "Do you have everything you need?"

  His gaze rested on her for a long moment. "Every­thing," he said softly.

  The Wolf Creek Tavern was a relic of the past, a huge white building in Colonial-style, with tall columns rising from the veranda to support a graceful, full-length bal­cony. Because of the periodic shutdowns for repairs over the years, Breanna had never visited the inn. She caught her breath in awe when they entered the central hall, gazing ap­preciatively at the red oak graining on the wainscoting and doors.

  "Gorgeous," she whispered.

  "I'll second that." Tyler's gaze trailed from her upswept hair to her blue silk dress, warming with appreciation. "You look fantastic."

  He looked pretty good himself. In his black slacks and charcoal-gray shirt, he was easily the most attractive man she had ever known. And the nicest one. While they waited for the hostess, he gave her a mini-tour of the ladies' parlor and the men's sitting room on the ground floor, entertain­ing her with stories about famous people who had fre­quented the place.

  "Ah, here comes the hostess," he said, interrupting him­self and taking Breanna's arm. "Now comes the best part, the food."

  They stepped back into the central hall, following the waitress to a large, rustic dining room. After they were seated, Tyler ordered coffee, then smiled at her. "The manicotti here is out of this world."

  It sounded good to her, so she agreed with a nod, then glanced over her shoulder to check the door, half expecting Dane to appear.

  "Looking for someone?" Tyler asked.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact. I called Dane's while you were getting gas. I need to talk to him. I told his wife we'd be in town most of the evening, so I'm kind of hoping he'll pop up."

  "We should be easy enough to find." Tyler smiled. "In Wolf Creek there aren't too many places we could be. Right?"

  When the waitress returned, Tyler placed their order and chose a wine. Before the woman left, he asked, "By the way, is there a rental outfit in Wolf Creek? We'd like to get a metal detector."

  The waitress's brown eyes filled with curiosity. "No. You'd have to go clear to Grants Pass, I imagine."

  "We're treasure hunting. You know of the Van Patten place, down Graves Creek?"

  "Anybody who's lived around here long knows the Van Patten place. Why?"

  "There's supposed to be a fortune in gold buried down there." Inclining his head toward Breanna, he added, "She's a Van Patten."

  "Sounds exciting," the woman said enthusiastically.

  Breanna couldn't help but notice that Tyler's good looks were stimulating a lot more interest in the waitress than his talk of buried gold. Of course, natives of Wolf Creek were accustomed to tales of stashed treasure.

  "How sure are you that there's something there?" the waitress asked.

  "About as sure as you can get." Tyler left it at that, lift­ing an eyebrow for emphasis.

  "Well, I wish you all the luck."

  "Just keep it under your hat," he said in a stage whisper. "We don't want word getting out. You know?"

  After the waitress had left, Breanna leaned forward over her steaming cup of coffee. "Now, why did you say that? I thought the idea was to spread the word all over town?"

  "That is the idea." His eyes twinkled with devilment. "Don't you know the quickest way to get a woman to re­peat something is to ask her not to?"

  "Oh, those are fighting words, Mr. Ross."

  He winked at her over the rim of his cup.

  After a delicious meal, Tyler led Breanna through the parking lot to the car. As he opened the passenger door for her, she glanced up to find him looking at her with a strange, almost sad expression on his face. The iridescent glow from the light poles in the parking lot glistened on his dark hair.

  "Is something wrong?"

  He smiled and ran his knuckles along her cheek. "No. I was just thinking how much I enjoy being with you, that's all."

  At a loss for words, she slid into the seat. He closed the door and came around to the driver's side, climbing behind the wheel. "Now where?" he asked.

  "Not home?"

  "This early? I promised to take you dancing. And it sure couldn't hurt to pass the word at one more place about our treasure hunt."

  Trying to recapture her earlier lightheartedness, she teased, "Wanna print up a notice and pass it out?"

  "No, I think telling one more woman ought to do the trick."

  Breanna groaned at that remark, then burst into laugh­ter.

  Dane Van Patten rolled down his window to get some fresh air. Chuck smoked one cigarette after another, filling the Corvette with smoke. The smell of chicken-fried steak from a nearby cafe's exhaust fans wafted through the night air, mingling with the scent of pine from the surrounding hillsides.

  "There she is," Chuck whispered, leaning forward to peer through the windshield as a car pulled up near the cafe. "With some man, dammit."

  Dane tensed, focusing on the parking lot across the high­way. "It's too far away. I can't tell who the guy is. What should we do? Wait?"

  "Hell, no! We don't wait. If she's suspicious, I want to know it."

  Dane opened his door to climb out. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't lose the money at her place? That it might have been some other woman fitting the same de­scription?"

  "That's what we're fixin' to find out, isn't it?" Chuck slammed his door and circled the front fender of the car.

  "And if it was her? If she's on to us, then what?"

  "Use your imagination."

  The small.cafe was quiet and its jukebox supplied Breanna and Tyler with the music they needed for dancing. Beyond that, nothing mattered. Tyler scooted two tables aside to provide them with floor space and wrapped both arms around her, nudging hers around his neck. Body to body, hardness cradling softness, they swayed, oblivious to everything around them. Breanna found herself forgetting all about Dane.

  Tyler bent his head, pulling Breanna closer. As his eyes drifted shut, a dozen images of her flashed behind his lids. His arms trembled, and he cinched them tighter. Time was closing in on them, and he felt as though he were sinking in quicksand. Each second with Breanna might be the last. If she was involved in the counterfeiting, she would never for­give him when Jack started making arrests. And he couldn't blame her. He had committed the unforgivable sin, done the one thing he had always sworn he'd never do. He was inti­mately involved with a suspect. When the truth came out, she'd never believe he hadn't intended it this way, that he hadn't used her, trying to get information. And how could he convince her otherwise when he wasn't sure of his mo­tives himself?

  Raising his lashes, he studied the curve of her cheek, the soft fullness of her mouth. Like hell, he wasn't sure of his motives. He'd fallen in love with her. And that wouldn't make his job any easier. Was he out of his mind? If Jack was right, she might be a liar, a con artist, a thief, even a killer. How could he forget that, even for an instant?

  She opened her eyes, and he found the answer to his question when he looked into those deep pools of soft blue. When he was with her he forgot everything, everything but the tenderness she evoked in him. Maybe Jack was right, but Tyler didn't think so. Even her agreeing to the treasure hunt was testimony to her innocence. If she were a counterfeiter, the last thing she'd want would be someone snooping around on the property.

  A slight frown drew her brows together. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

  "Oh, just how nice this is, how I wish—"

  "What? Tell me, Bree, what do you wis
h?"

  "That it didn't have to end, that the night could go on forever, just like it is right now."

  "Well, I can't make that wish come true. But we could do it again." His throat tightened around the words. "Next week, maybe?"

  She pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "I'd like that."

  The bell above the door jangled and Breanna turned her head to see who had come in. Dane. And right on his heels came Chuck Morrow.

  "What is it?" Tyler followed her gaze, and she felt his body snap taut. "Your favorite personality. What luck."

  "You know Chuck?"

  "By sight. I haven't had the dubious pleasure of making his acquaintance."

  Dane spotted Breanna. He froze in midstride when he saw Tyler, then continued walking. Chuck didn't seem nearly so big with Tyler in the room. Tyler dropped his arms and a chill ran over her. She'd felt much more secure pressed against him, not so alone and vulnerable.

  "Hello, Dane," Tyler said in a low voice.

  "Ross." Dane gave a polite nod. "Uh, Bree, that first day when I was at your place, did I by any chance drop some­thing?"

  "Oh, yes, you did, but that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

  Dane's eyelid twitched. He threw a quick glance at Chuck, who stood nearby, legs spread, arms akimbo, his chest puffed out to show off the physique he didn't have. In his white T-shirt, with one sleeve rolled back over a pack of cigarettes, Chuck resembled a potbellied hoodlum from a sixties movie. Breanna gave him a wide berth when she went to the table to get her purse.

  "I have twenty right here," she told Dane, digging her hand into the side pocket of her bag where she had stowed the bill she had found in the barn. She handed it over, forc­ing herself to smile. "Dane, is there someplace we could talk a minute?"

  "I don't want just any twenty," Dane whispered. "I need the one I dropped."

  Breanna laughed. "Oh, that should be simple enough. You had your name on it, right?" Then she realized Dane was serious. "Um, wait a sec. I put yours in my wallet, I think." She sifted through the currency in her billfold, handing Dane the worn twenty that was left. "There, is that the one?"

  "No. Here, let me see that." Dane grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. Leafing through the money inside, he said, "Dammit, it isn't here. Lord, you spent it, didn't you?"

  "What's the problem here?" Tyler asked her.

  "Dane dropped a—"

  Chuck interrupted, smiling and rubbing his chest. "It's nothing really. Dane here, he'd lose his head if it wasn't at­tached." Glancing at Breanna, Chuck's smile broadened.

  "He had a real important number written on it, that's all. You sure you don't have it?"

  "Just what are you looking for?" Tyler stepped to Breanna's side, so close she felt his arm pressing against hers. His voice soothed her.

  "Dane dropped some money down at the cabin," she ex­plained. "I guess there was an important number written on it, and I spent it."

  Breanna stared into Dane's eyes, knowing even as she said the words that she was repeating a lie. He wanted the twenty, all right, but not for any phone number. Her cousin re­turned her purse and one of the twenties. She tightened her hands on the soft leather, shifting her gaze to Morrow. As she did, she inched closer to Tyler, thankful for his pres­ence. Something was wrong here, very wrong. "I'm sorry, Dane. Tyler and I went to town the other day. Not knowing it was special, I didn't keep your money separate. I planned to leave twenty with my mom so she could pass it on to yours."

  Chuck cocked his head. "You don't happen to remem­ber where you went shopping, do you?" He laughed, hold­ing up a hand. "That's a dumb question. What good would it do now?" Patting Dane's shoulder, Chuck shrugged. "Tough luck, old man."

  Breanna's gaze wavered and she pressed a hand to her throat. "If it will help, we went to the Ninety-Nine Mar­ket... for soap."

  The color washed from Dane's face. Then he grinned. "Like Chuck says, my tough luck. Um—Nan said you wanted to see me? What about?"

  Breanna had no time to think. She acted on pure in­stinct. "Oh, nothing important...just to visit. I—I thought it might be fun if you and Nan—you know—it would have been like old times if we could have spent an evening to­gether."

  Chuck stepped closer. "That's good to hear. When Dane first got the message, he thought maybe you were still—" Breaking off, Chuck's gaze moved to Tyler. "But, nah, you wouldn't be that silly. Not after our talk yesterday, right? After me explaining everything so clear to you?"

  Breanna flinched when Chuck raised his hand to place it on her shoulder. It was a seemingly friendly gesture, but she knew the meaning that underlined every word he spoke. Dane had suspected her true motive for wanting to see him, that she had wanted to grill him about the fire. Chuck was letting her know his threats of yesterday still held. If she continued to pry into what he considered none of her busi­ness, he would be angry. Her stomach lurched as his fin­gers tightened, digging into her flesh. Pain radiated down her arm, and she lifted her chin in response, refusing to be intimidated.

  "Speaking of being like old times, isn't this just?" Chuck gripped her shoulder harder. "We go back a long ways, don't we, babe?"

  Something flashed before Breanna's eyes. The next sec­ond, she realized it had been Tyler's hand. He clamped his fingers around Chuck's wrist. "The lady is with me, Mor­row."

  "Oh, the jealous type, are you?" Chuck released Breanna, shaking his head. "No need, man. Me and Bree, we're just friends. Right, Breanna? She owes me a dollar for every hair on her head. When she was a kid, I pulled her out of one scrape after another."

  Tyler's answering smile was deadly. "Touch her again, and you'll get what she owes you, all right. Breanna's told me all about her debt to you."

  Chuck's face stiffened. His brown eyes shot to Brean­na's. "Oh, is that so? My, my, aren't we getting cozy."

  "That's right," Tyler said softly. "Real cozy. So cozy, in fact, that I'll make this fair warning. Bother her again, and you'll tangle with me, not her. Is that clear?"

  Chuck stepped back, lifting both hands. "Hey, man, no quarrel. I didn't realize..."

  "You do now."

  Chuck's eyes were riveted on Breanna. Their murderous gleam frightened her. "Yeah, I'd say I do. The writing's on the wall. Come on, Dane. I get the feeling we're not too welcome here."

  Breanna was shaking with aftershock by the time Dane and Chuck pushed out the door of the cafe. Tyler's arm circled her shoulders, warm, hard, indescribably comfort­ing. "You okay?"

  "Yes, fine." Pressing trembling fingertips to her shoul­der, she forced a smile. "I'm not sure you should have done that, but thank you, Tyler. He was hurting me."

  En route through the parking lot, Tyler asked, "Why shouldn't I have done that? If I interfered where I shouldn't have, I'm sorry."

  "No, it's just—he didn't like it, me telling you. He's mad now. And Chuck mad is like a rattler when it's shedding. He strikes blind."

  Once they were in the car, Tyler flipped on the dome light and turned sideways in his seat. With a grim scowl on his face, he gently peeled her dress back to look at her shoul­der. Glancing down, she saw ugly red marks coming up where Chuck's fingers had bruised her. Tyler feathered his thumb across them, then bent his dark head to press a kiss there.

  "You don't have to be afraid of him," he whispered. "If he ever so much as touches you again, he's going to think he's a mud hole I'm stomping dry."

  "If you're around," she interjected.

  Tyler touched her cheek. "Oh, I'll be around, lady, you can count on that. If you want me, that is."

  The question in his voice was so subtle that she could have ignored it. Tyler, always the gentleman, never putting her on the spot. An unbidden smile curved her mouth. "I think it would be fair to say you have a standing welcome."

  During the ride home, Tyler held her hand, releasing it only to shift gears. She twined her fingers into his, tighten­ing her grip without realizing it until he looked over at her.

  "What is it?" he ask
ed softly.

  "You'll probably think I'm crazy, but I think there was something fishy about that little scenario back there."

  Tyler was quiet a moment. "Like what?"

  "That story Dane gave me. He was lying. He didn't have a number written on that money. Tyler—" She turned slightly. "Remember your saying Chuck may have been asking favors of Dane all along? Do you think Dane's got­ten mixed up in something illegal?"

  "Something illegal?"

  "I—Tyler, I remembered something this morning. Right before the fire, I went with Dane to buy gasoline, lots and lots of gasoline. But I can't remember why. Or who it was for." She lifted her free hand and passed it over her eyes. "It's all so foggy. But what if we bought it for Chuck? Ty­ler, what if that gas was used to set the Reuben Creek blaze?"

  "Couldn't you have bought it for someone else?"

  "Maybe a neighbor. Or for Gramps. But I—"

  "Honey, slow down." He raised her hand, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. "I told you earlier, you're strung out. You're not yourself. Why don't you think about something nice for a while? Like our treasure hunt, hmm? I know last night rattled you, but I'm here now. Relax. Forget the ghost and the fire and Dane. You're shaking."

  "All right, I'll try."

  He leaned forward, flipping on the radio. Static filled the car as he adjusted the dial, then KAJO boomed loud and clear, the disc jockey's cheerful voice resounding all around them. "And now, folks, we interrupt the music for a quick news update."

  Breanna shot her hand forward, turning off the radio, her pulse hammering so wildly she felt dizzy. "Oh, my God, Tyler! It just hit me. Oh, my God, how dense can I get? The other night I heard part of a newscast. About a woman who passed a counterfeit bill! I didn't think it was impor— Oh, Tyler, it was me!"

  "What?"

  "It—it was me! That twenty Dane dropped. It was coun­terfeit. That's why they were acting so pecul—"

  "Breanna, stop it!" he snapped. "You've got to calm down." Reaching to reclaim her hand, he gave it a com­forting squeeze. This was one line of reasoning he couldn't let her pursue. "That's the wildest—well, it's just plain ri­diculous, that's all. Dane and Chuck? Come on. Counter­feiting is big-time, not Wolf Creek stuff at all. You're going clear off the deep end here, lady, and scaring hell out of me in the process. I'm really starting to worry about you."