She remained just inside the door as Dillon pulled out drawers and examined each one. He then went into the bathroom and reappeared only a moment later.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything here that will help me get to the bottom of things,” he said and then heaved a deep sigh. “He had his phone with him when he was killed. Hopefully it will yield some sort of clue.”
“He’s with his parents now,” Cassie said softly and then a sob escaped her.
Dillon turned to her, his gaze suddenly soft. “Go back to the house, Cassie.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got interviews to do here and I’ll check in with you later.”
For a moment she wanted to lean into him and bury her face into the crook of his neck. She wanted him to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
However, before she could follow through on the impulse, he removed his hand from her shoulder and stepped back. “I’d appreciate it if you could start on that list of people who were here at the party last night.”
Cassie straightened her back and drew in a deep breath for strength. “I’ll get right on it,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.”
Heading back to the house, she wondered why Sam’s death had hit her so hard. She hadn’t known him that well. Certainly it was always a tragedy when a person was murdered, but that didn’t explain the utter devastation she felt.
An arctic chill swirled around inside her as she entered the house. She climbed the stairs and went down the hallway to her bedroom. What she really wanted to do was crawl back into bed.
Like a small child she wanted to fall into bed and pull the covers over her head and hide from all the evil she feared was coming her way. But she couldn’t go back to bed. Instead she reached up to the shelf in the closet and tugged on the edge of a purple fuzzy throw blanket she’d put there when she’d first arrived at the ranch.
It came down along with several shoe boxes, framed photos and a handful of her aunt’s clothes that Cassie had thrown on the shelf months ago.
“Damn, damn!” She rubbed her head where one of the picture frames had struck. She’d been telling herself she needed to clean out the closet shelf for months, but it wasn’t going to happen right now.
She threw everything back on the shelf and then wrapped the throw around her shoulders and headed back downstairs. Instead of going to the kitchen table to start the list for Dillon, she collapsed on the sofa and pulled the throw more closely around her as the sobs she’d been holding back all morning released from her.
She cried for Sam Kelly, who had only been twenty-nine years old, and she cried because she didn’t know what the future held. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was afraid.
* * *
The cowboy dining room was large. It not only held tables and chairs where the men ate their meals, but it also had an area with a television, sofa and several easy chairs where they relaxed on their time off in the evenings.
Dillon sat at one of the tables, waiting for another one of Cassie’s cowboys to come in and be interviewed. His men were processing the barn and he’d already spoken to Sawyer Quincy and Mac McBride. Neither man had been able to shed any light on Sam’s murder.
He didn’t expect any of the men to give him something concrete, but he was hoping that if one of them lied to him then he’d pick up on the subtle signs.
He picked up his pen and tapped the end of it on the table as his head filled with thoughts of Cassie. She’d appeared so achingly fragile. She’d had nothing but drama since she’d taken over the ranch. As if unearthing the seven skeletons wasn’t enough, her place had become a haven for people in trouble. Just last month a band of drug dealers had roared onto her land and shot up the place.
And now this.
He’d heard through the grapevine that she was considering selling out and heading back to New York City. How could anyone really blame her? The big city would probably feel like a safe haven after everything that had happened here.
He looked up as Brody Booth walked in. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man wore an obvious chip on his shoulder as he threw himself into the chair opposite Dillon.
Bitterroot, Oklahoma, was a typical small town where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business, and gossip was as common as horseflies. But Dillon had never heard any gossip concerning the tall, well-built man facing him. Even the other cowboys who had grown up with Brody would admit that he was something of a dark enigma.
“I stayed at the party last night until around midnight and then I went to my room. I liked Sam okay, although I didn’t really know him very well. He was a hard worker and I don’t have any idea who might have killed him.”
It was more words than Dillon had ever heard Brody speak. “Do you know if any of the other men had some sort of issue with Sam?” he asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I keep to myself mostly. Are you going to interview Zeke Osmond, Ace Sanders and Lloyd Green? They weren’t even invited to the barn dance, yet they showed up anyway.”
“I’ll be talking to everyone who was at the party last night,” Dillon replied. “I didn’t see Humes’s men starting any trouble while they were here.”
Brody narrowed his eyes slightly. “Nobody ever seems to actually see them doing anything wrong, but we both know they’ve been causing trouble for years, especially here on the Holiday ranch.”
Dillon didn’t reply. He knew Brody was right. “So, there’s nothing you can add to help me solve Sam’s murder.”
“Nothing.”
It was the same story with the six men he spoke to. Nobody knew of a reason anyone would want to kill Sam Kelly. The last time any of them had seen him was around midnight when he and Amanda Wright had bobbed for apples.
By the time Dillon finished with the interviews the dining room smelled of fried hamburger and onions. A glance at his watch let him know it was probably past time for the men to come in for their evening meal.
He got up from the table and walked around the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Cord Cully, aka Cookie, frowned at his appearance.
The stocky man stood in front of the huge stovetop with a pancake turner in his hand. “I didn’t go to the shindig last night so I got nothing to say to you.” He flipped a burger over.
“If you weren’t at the party, then where were you?”
He flipped another patty and then turned to gaze at Dillon. “I was in my house alone. I don’t like parties. I prefer my own company to anyone else’s. Is that it? I have a meal to get to the table and you’ve already made it run late by almost an hour.”
Cookie lived in a small cottage on the property. It was far enough away from the barn that nobody would have been able to tell if he’d been home last night or not.
“That’s it for now,” Dillon replied. Frustration burned in his belly as he left the dining room and headed back to the house.
Cookie was another dark horse that Dillon knew little about. He’d investigated the man when the skeletons had first been found. He knew that Cass had hired the man around the same time she’d taken in her runaway boys to work for her.
All Dillon knew for sure was the cook was originally from Texas and had no criminal background.
Dillon hadn’t thought he’d solve the crime this afternoon, but he’d hoped for a smoking gun or at least a lead to follow up on, but so far he had nothing.
If he hadn’t spent most of his time last night watching Cassie maybe he would have seen or heard something that might have led to a clue.
But he’d been captivated by the sight of the tight-jean-clad woman in the royal blue blouse that exactly matched her sparkling eyes.
She’d been the perfect hostess, making everyone feel welcome and checking to make sure the food table remained filled. Big Cass Holiday would have been proud of the niece who had inherited her ranch.
He knocked on the back door and Cassie’s faint voice drifted out to him. He opened the door and steppe
d into the kitchen. It was a cheerful room with sunshine-yellow curtains at the window and a bright red and yellow rooster sitting in the center of the round oak table.
“In here, Dillon.” Her voice came from the great room.
She was curled up in the corner of the large, overstuffed sofa and wrapped in a purple blanket. Her eyes appeared to take on the hue of the blanket and instead of their normal sparkling bright blue they were the color of shadowed twilight.
A piece of paper and a pen rested on the coffee table, along with what appeared to be the last of a cup of hot tea.
She sat up and motioned for him to take a seat at the opposite end of the sofa.
“Did you solve everything?” She offered him a tired, sad smile that sliced directly through his heart.
“I wish,” he replied. He eased down and immediately caught the scent of her. It was a hint of vanilla mingling with lilacs and as always it stirred something deep inside him.
He didn’t want to talk to her about murder. Instead he’d rather have a conversation with her about her favorite song or color. He’d much rather hear her tell him about her dreams, or hear her musical laughter when he said something funny.
But there was nothing funny about their current situation and this wasn’t a social visit.
“All the men cooperated with you?” she asked and allowed the blanket to fall off her shoulders.
“I spoke to six of them and they were all cooperative. I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to the rest of them. I just wish somebody had seen or knew something about who killed Sam. According to several of them the last time they saw Sam at the party was around midnight when he was bobbing for apples with Amanda Wright.”
“Where was her boyfriend?”
Dillon sat up straighter. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
“Butch Cooper. From the local gossip I think she’s been dating him for about a month. I do know they arrived together last night.”
Dillon frowned. Butch Cooper was a cowboy on Abe Breckenridge’s ranch. He was a big guy and seemingly easygoing. But maybe he hadn’t liked Sam and Amanda bobbing for apples together?
Cassie leaned forward. “You don’t think...” Her voice trailed off.
“I think I need to speak to Butch. Do you have a list of names for me?”
She picked up a piece of paper. “I did the best I could, but I’m sure there are people who were at the party that I don’t have down.”
He stood and took the paper from her. “I appreciate you doing this much. Walk me out?”
“Of course.” She rose to her feet and together they walked to the back door, where dusk had fallen.
She stepped out on the porch next to him. In the distance the barn was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the sky.
“I’ve got a couple of men there to guard the crime scene. Unfortunately it will be a few days before we’re finished completely processing the barn. I’m sorry if that will inconvenience you.”
“We’ll be fine without using the barn for a while,” she replied. She stared out into the distance and then shivered.
Dillon could stand it no longer. He reached out for her and she came willingly into his arms. He’d dreamed of holding Cassie many nights, but those dreams couldn’t compare to the reality.
Her petite curves pressed against him as she raised her arms around his neck and clung to him. She released a small sob and he ran a hand through the softness of her blond curls in an attempt to soothe her.
“It’s going to be all right, Cassie. I promise you I’m going to catch the person who killed Sam. You just have to stay strong.”
“I’m so tired of being strong.” Her breath was a warm caress in the crook of his neck. “I should just sell out and go back home.”
Dillon dropped his arms from around her and took a step backward. “I wouldn’t make any life-altering decisions right now, Cassie.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like this town, this land, is telling me to get out.” She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Get some rest and I’ll be back out here in the morning.”
Minutes later Dillon was in his car and headed to the Breckenridge ranch to talk to Butch Cooper, but his thoughts remained on Cassie.
It had been years since he’d been drawn to a woman by some magnetic pull he didn’t understand, but that was how he felt where Cassie was concerned.
Something drew him to her in spite of all the warning signals that went off in his head. He’d given away his heart once. He’d planned his future with his high school sweetheart, Stacy, and had begun to build dreams. However, life in Bitterroot—life with him—hadn’t been exciting enough to keep her happy.
Dillon had a feeling Stacy and Cassie were cut from the same cloth and the last thing he wanted or needed in his life was a new heartbreak.
He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and attempted to consciously shove thoughts of Cassie away. He had a murderer to catch and an old mystery to solve in order to finally silence the seven souls who haunted his dreams with the need for justice.
* * *
He leaned against the side of the house, his chest tight and his heart beating a hundred miles a minute. It was only natural that Dillon would give Cassie a hug under the circumstances. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything because Cassie belonged to him.
She didn’t know it yet, but she’d belonged to him since the moment she’d arrived on this ranch. She was his angel, a woman who embodied everything he’d ever dreamed about.
In the months since she’d taken over the ranch she hadn’t dated anyone. It was as if she was keeping herself pure and untouched just for him, and sooner or later he’d speak of his love for her, but not yet.
Thank God Dillon hadn’t kissed her. He didn’t know what he’d have done if the lawman’s mouth had taken what belonged to him.
His heart slowed its beat and he left the side of the house, using the night shadows to stay concealed.
He’d loved and protected Big Cass Holiday when she’d been alive. His love for Cassie was different than the maternal love he’d had for her aunt. It was the love of a man for his mate and he intended to protect Cassie from anyone who might wrong or disrespect her.
That was why Sam had to die. He’d made a crude comment about wanting to get Cassie alone and naked in the hay. Sam had gotten what he deserved, as had all the other teenagers who’d come to work on the ranch, boys whom he’d had to kill so long ago.
The only thing that bothered him now was hearing Cassie say that she should sell the place and leave. Surely she was only feeling that way because of Sam’s murder. She wouldn’t really follow through. It would be a betrayal to her dead aunt, but more important it would be a betrayal to all the men who worked for her.
He refused to believe that she would make such a decision. She belonged here and eventually she’d realize that her future was with him right here on the Holiday ranch.
Chapter 3
Cassie sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her. Dawn light was just peeking over the horizon and she’d been awake for hours.
It had been about three when she’d awakened from a horrible nightmare. An ax-wielding dark shadow had been chasing her around the house and she’d jerked awake just before he caught her.
For the next couple of hours she’d tossed and turned in an effort to go back to sleep, but she’d finally given up and gotten out of bed. She’d showered quickly, and then had dressed in a pair of jeans and a light pink sweatshirt and had come downstairs.
Now, instead of ax murderers, her head was filled with thoughts of Dillon. Despite her sadness over Sam’s murder, she’d liked the feel of Dillon’s arms around her the night before. The scent of his cologne had become familiar to her and as she’d buried her head against him, the fragrance had comforted her. And stirred more than a little bit o
f desire in her.
She’d wanted him to kiss her, and yet she knew it was foolish even to think about a romantic relationship with anyone here in Bitterroot. She didn’t know if she intended to stay here or go back to her old life and her dreams in New York City.
She leaned forward and took a sip of her now-cold coffee. The big two-story house was silent and she’d never felt so unsettled and so alone.
She’d arrived on the ranch in the spring with her best friend and partner, Nicolette Kendall, and her young son. Nicolette and Sammy had taken to ranch life as if they’d been born here.
It hadn’t taken Nicolette long to catch the eye of Lucas Taylor, one of the cowboys who worked for Cassie. They were now happily married and Cassie was miserably alone.
It wasn’t that Cassie wasn’t happy for her friend. She was thrilled that Nicolette had found true love and happiness. Cassie just wished she knew where she belonged in the grand scheme of life.
Was it here on this ranch in this small town, or did her destiny lay in New York City where she could pursue her dreams of being a famous artist?
She’d love to pick up the phone and call Nicolette, but she knew her friend would be busy with her family. Cassie wished she had the kind of relationship with her mother where she could pick up the phone and get her guidance. Her parents had pretty well written her off when she’d dropped out of college and refused to go to law school and join the family legal firm.
She cast her gaze out the window, unsurprised to see Adam walking toward the house as the sun rose above the horizon. He’d be startled to find her up and dressed and with the coffee already made.
It was their habit that he let himself inside in the mornings, made the coffee and then waited for her to join him for the daily ranch update. Apparently, even a brutal murder didn’t change the routine on a ranch.
Morning greetings were exchanged and then Adam joined her at the table with a cup of coffee. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess,” she replied. “Although I’m still horrified and saddened by Sam’s death.”
Killer Cowboy (Cowboys of Holiday Ranch) Page 3