The Rancher Bodyguard

by Carla Cassidy

  “Stay right here and don’t move,” Charlie said. “I want to check out the house.” He kept the front door open. “If somebody is in here, I’ll let you know and want you to run to the car and drive to the sheriff’s office.” He handed her the car keys, then disappeared into the living room.

  Grace’s heart beat frantically with fight-or-flight adrenaline as she held the keys firmly in hand and waited for him to return. What if somebody was here—lying in wait for them? What if that somebody bashed Charlie over the head or shot him?

  Once again her breath caught in her chest as she stood rigid with taut muscles—waiting…hoping that there was nobody inside.

  Finally he came back, his gun back where it belonged. “It’s okay,” he said. A devilish gleam lit his eyes. “The purple bedroom is hot.”

  She laughed as the edge of tension faded. “The purple bedroom is mine. You get the one across from it. Why don’t you put your things in there? I’m going to change my clothes before we leave again.”

  “I’ll just go get my suitcase from the car,” he said. As he went out the front door, Grace walked down the hallway to her bedroom.

  She’d always loved the color purple in all its glorious shades. When she’d moved into the house, she’d decided to indulge herself by painting the walls of her bedroom lilac and finding a royal purple satin spread for the bed. The end result gave the aura of both relaxation and hedonistic pleasure.

  Her dresser top held framed photos along with an array of perfume bottles and lotion. She walked over to the dresser and looked at the pictures. There was one of Hope in a pair of footed Christmas pajamas, her face lit with a beautiful smile.

  There was also one of William, Hope and Grace. It had been taken six months after her mother’s disappearance. The three of them had been at a carnival, and although they all sported smiles on their faces, the smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes.

  She turned away from the bureau and unbuttoned her blouse, then walked to her closet. Maybe today they’d find something at the house that would exonerate Hope. Even though logically she knew that Zack and his men would have gone over the crime scene with a fine-tooth comb, she still clung to the belief that somehow she and Charlie would find something that the authorities had missed.

  She leaned against the doorjamb for a long moment, staring at the clothes inside the closet. Grace was exhausted even though she’d slept soundly after making love with Charlie. It wasn’t physical fatigue but rather a mental one.

  She grabbed a short-sleeved blue blouse from a hanger, then turned around. A scream welled up inside her and exploded out as she saw a face at her window.

  Chapter 10

  The scream ripped through Charlie, electrifying him with terror. He pulled his gun and raced across the hallway into her room.

  She stood in front of the closet, her face a pasty shade of white. “He was looking in my window,” she managed to gasp.

  That’s all Charlie needed to hear. He tore out of her bedroom, down the hallway and out the front door. He raced around the side of her house and spied a tall, lean figure running toward the fence that surrounded her yard. It was a privacy fence, and there was no way in hell he’d be able to jump it.

  “Stop, or I swear I’ll shoot,” Charlie yelled, as the man leapt up to grab the top of the fence.

  Unsuccessful, the man fell back to the ground then turned to face Charlie. It was Justin Walker. His eyes widened to saucer size as he saw the gun Charlie held in his hand.

  Instantly he raised his hands. “Hey man, don’t shoot me.”

  “What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, his gun not wavering from the young man’s midsection. “Did you come back here today to finish what you tried to do last night?”

  Justin frowned. “Last night? Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He looked genuinely perplexed, but Charlie wasn’t taking anything for granted. “Get inside the house. I’m calling the sheriff.” He gestured with his gun for Justin to move.

  “Hey man, there’s no need to call the fuzz. I wasn’t doing anything. I just wanted to talk to Grace, that’s all. I wanted to talk to her alone.” As he protested his innocence, he moved toward the house where Grace stood at the back door, her eyes wide with fear.

  “You have any weapons?” Charlie asked, as they reached the back porch.

  “Hell no. I didn’t come here looking for trouble,” he exclaimed.

  “Well, you found it,” Charlie said. Despite Justin’s protests, Charlie quickly patted him down, making sure the young man had no weapons on him.

  Grace opened the backdoor. “Justin, what are you doing here?” she asked. She seemed to relax as she realized Charlie had things under control.

  When they got into the kitchen, Charlie gestured for Justin to sit at the table. “I just wanted to talk to you,” Justin said to Grace. “I was just going to stand at the window and try to get your attention, but then you saw me and screamed, and I freaked and ran.”

  “Maybe we should just call Zack and let Justin explain everything to him,” Charlie said.

  “No, please, don’t do that.” Justin slumped in the chair, an air of defeat in his posture. “He already thinks I killed Hope’s stepdad. I don’t need any more trouble from him.”

  “What do you want to talk to me about?” Grace asked. She remained standing next to the counter on the other side of the room from Justin. Charlie was standing as well, his gun still clutched in his hand.

  Justin swept a hand through his dark, unruly hair. “I wanted to ask you about Hope. I just wanted to know if she was okay.”

  “Why do you care? According to you, the two of you were just casual friends, hang-out buddies and nothing more,” Grace replied.

  Justin’s cheeks colored with a tinge of pink. “She was nice to me, okay? I liked her. When she turned sixteen, we were going to start officially dating. I just wanted to know if she was doing all right, that’s all.”

  “She’s fine, coping as well as can be expected,” Grace said.

  “Where were you last night?” Charlie asked.

  “I was home, with my roommate.”

  Charlie narrowed his eyes. “Your roommate is a pretty handy alibi whenever you need one.”

  This time the flush of color in Justin’s cheeks was due to anger, not embarrassment. “I can’t help it if it’s the truth.”

  “Should we call Zack?” Charlie asked.

  Grace studied Justin’s face for a long moment and then shook her head. “No, just let him go. I think he’s telling the truth.”

  “I am,” Justin exclaimed.

  Charlie wasn’t so sure, but he complied with Grace’s wishes. “Go on. Get out of here. But if I see you around Grace again, I won’t wait for the sheriff to ask you questions. I’ll beat your ass myself.”

  Justin didn’t speak again. As Charlie lowered his gun, he jumped out of the kitchen chair and ran for the front door. Charlie followed, making sure he left the house.

  When he returned to the kitchen, Grace still leaned against the cabinets. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Now we know there was definitely something romantic going on between Hope and Justin.” She looked dispirited, as if she knew this new information would only make things worse for Hope. “It will be easy for the prosecution to make a case that Hope killed William because William wouldn’t let her see Justin.”

  “It doesn’t change anything,” Charlie replied with a forced lightness. “Go change your clothes so we can get out of here.”

  As she left the room, Charlie tried to get the sound of her scream out of his head. His heart had stopped when he’d heard her. He hoped he never heard that particular sound from her again.

  A few minutes later they were in her car and headed to the Covington mansion. “I think tomorrow I just might stay in bed all day,” she said with a sigh. “At least there won’t be any surprises there.”

  “Unless I’m there with you,” Charlie said, and wigg
led his eyebrows up and down in Groucho Marx fashion. He wanted to make her laugh to ease the tension that thinned her lips and darkened her eyes.

  He was rewarded as a small giggle escaped her. “You’re wicked, Charlie Black,” she exclaimed before sobering back up. “I hope you’re as good a lawyer as you were two years ago. Hope is going to need every one of your skills.”

  “I’ve already requested that Zack give me copies of all the interviews he conducted with people immediately after the murder. I plan on getting all the discovery available to start building our case. Believe it or not, Grace, I’m working on it.” He tapped the side of his head. “I do my best work in my head long before I commit anything to paper. I have a theory about murder.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I call it the three Rs. Most murders are committed for one of three reasons: rage, revenge or reward.”

  “And which category do you think William’s murder falls into?” she asked.

  He turned down off the main road and into the long Covington driveway. “I’m still trying to figure it out. The prosecuting attorney is probably going to argue rage—Hope’s rage at a figure of authority who kept her from seeing the boy that she loved. Or he could possibly argue reward—that with William out of the picture she would be a very wealthy young lady.”

  She sighed. “Sounds grim.”

  He flashed her a reassuring grin. “Grim doesn’t scare me. It just gets my juices flowing.” He pulled up in front of the house and cut the engine, aware of Grace’s gaze lingering on him. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look at her. “What?”

  “Do you miss it? Being a lawyer? The adrenaline rush of the courtroom and the high stakes?”

  He hesitated before answering, not wanting to give her a flippant response. “I’ll tell you what I miss. I miss my father, who would have been proud of the man I’ve become over the last year. I regret the fact that I’m thirty-five years old and haven’t gotten married and started a family of my own. To answer your question, no, there’s absolutely nothing I miss about my old life.” Except you.

  The last two words jumped into his mind and for some reason irritated him. He wasn’t sure if the target of his irritation was himself or Grace.

  “Come on, let’s get inside and see what we can find,” he exclaimed.

  Even though he had checked the rearview mirror constantly to make certain they hadn’t been followed, he once again escorted her inside with his gun pulled and his body shielding hers.

  Once they got inside, Charlie followed Grace to William’s office, which was located in one of the bedrooms upstairs. As she sat at the desk and began to go through the drawers, he walked over to the window and stared out to the backyard. Grace still refused to go into the bedroom where William had been murdered, but Charlie had gone in and had found nothing to help find his killer.

  He had little hope that she would find anything useful. She’d already been through the desk once before, but he knew she needed to do something to feel as if she were actively helping her sister.

  Leroy had apparently been working hard. The flower beds in the backyard exploded in vivid blooms, with nary a weed in sight. The bushes were neatly trimmed and the grass was a lush green carpet.

  Rage. Revenge. Reward. Somebody out there had a motive for killing William. If Justin and Hope had worked in concert to commit the murder, then why had she been passed out on the bed in an incriminating manner? Why didn’t they just alibi each other?

  Was it possible that the issue of those five acres had created such contention that Hank lost control and killed William? Hank was no young man, but it didn’t take a lot of strength to stab a sleeping man in the back.

  Charlie could smell Grace. Her dizzying scent not only fired his hormones, but also somehow touched his heart. Anger was building in him where she was concerned, an anger he didn’t want to feel and certainly didn’t want to acknowledge.

  He knew he’d hurt her badly in the past, but he was irritated by the fact that she refused to talk about it and clung to her sense of betrayal like it was a weapon to use against him at her whim.

  He realized, though, that she was fragile now, and the last thing he wanted to do was add to the burdens she was already shouldering. He had to keep his emotions in check.

  Once she had searched through the desk, she returned to Hope’s bedroom. He stood at the door as she pulled open drawers and picked through the mess on the floor. She’d been through it all before and found nothing. He sensed her desperation but didn’t know what to do to ease it.

  It was almost three o’clock when he finally called a halt to her search. “Grace, there’s nothing here,” he said. “If there had been something, Zack would have found it, and if he missed anything, you would have found it by now.”

  She sat in the middle of Hope’s bedroom floor, sorting through a box of keepsake items that belonged to her younger sister.

  She put the lid back on the box and sighed. “I know you’re right. I just feel compelled to do something to help. It doesn’t feel right for me to work at the shop and go about my usual routine while everything else is falling apart.”

  “I know, but a daily routine is necessary, especially the part where we eat to stay strong. My stomach has been growling for the past hour.”

  She rose to her feet. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  He smiled and fought an impulse to reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I just did. But before we leave I’d like to check out the property that Hank and William had been arguing about.”

  She frowned at him. “Okay, but there really isn’t anything there but a bunch of weeds and trees.” Grace stood up, and they went downstairs.

  “You once mentioned something about an old shed,” he said, when they reached the front door. “You know what’s in it?”

  “Probably nothing. I think at one time it used to be a gardener’s shed, but it hasn’t been used in years.” As she locked the door, Charlie once again gripped his gun.

  He looked around the immediate area, seeking any threat that might come at them, at her. She turned from the door and stood just behind him.

  The Covington place was isolated enough that it would be difficult for anyone to approach without being noticed. He felt no danger, saw nothing that would give him pause. While inside he’d spent much of the time at the windows, watching the road for any cars that didn’t belong and checking the grounds for anything unusual.

  “Where’s that property?” he asked.

  “Around back, behind Leroy and Lana’s place.”

  “I want you to walk right in front of me. I don’t think there’s anyone around, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “I’d like to stop by Lana’s and let them know that I’ve decided to sell this place. The new owner might want to continue their services and let them remain in the cottage, but it’s also possible they need to start making other plans.”

  The walk to the cottage was awkward, with her walking nearly on the top of his feet. As always, her nearness raised the simmering heat inside him, and he tried to ignore it as he kept focused on their surroundings.

  Lana and Leroy weren’t home. Nobody answered Grace’s knock and no vehicles were parked in front of the place. “Maybe they both went to pick up Lincoln from school,” Grace said.

  “He seems like a nice kid.” They headed for the side of the cottage.

  “He’s certainly the apple of their eyes,” she replied. “Lana was pregnant when she married Leroy, and William and I were just grateful that he stepped up and did the right thing. It seems to have worked out well.”

  She pointed in the distance where the manicured lawn ended and an area of trees and overgrown brush began. “That’s the land Hank was talking about. It never bothered William because it’s so far away from the main house, but Hank’s place is just on the other side, and I can understand why he’d want to see it cleaned up. The shed is on the other side of that big oak tre
e.”

  They headed toward the area where the shed was located. Charlie didn’t want to leave any stone unturned.

  He figured it was probably empty or full of gardening tools that had rusted and rotted over the years. When they reached the wooden structure, Charlie returned his gun to his holster and eyed the old padlock on the door.

  “I can’t imagine why it would be locked,” Grace said. “Nobody has used it in years. I wouldn’t have any clue where to begin to look for the key.”

  “Who needs a key?” Charlie replied. He eyed the rotten wood around the lock on the door. Tensing his muscles, he slammed his shoulder into the door and was rewarded by splintering wood.

  Another three hits and the door came away from the lock, allowing him to open it.

  He pulled the door open just a bit and peered inside. The first thing he noticed was the unpleasant musty odor that wafted in the air. Then he saw the two flowered suitcases that sat on the floor just inside the door.

  His heart began to bang against his ribs. Then he saw the sandal—a bright red woman’s sandal. Inside it was the remains of a foot.

  He reeled back and slammed the door. “We need to call Zack,” he said, and turned to face Grace. Dread mingled with horror as he stared at her.

  “Why? What’s in there?” She tried to get past him to the door, but he stood his ground.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, his heart breaking for what he had to tell her. “Grace, stop. Listen to me.”

  She looked at him wildly, as if she knew what he was about to say. “Tell me, Charlie. What’s inside the shed?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight, knowing she was going to need his strength. “Grace, I think it’s your mother. Your mother’s body is in the shed.”

  Chapter 11

  Grace sat on the sofa in William’s opulent living room, numb and yet as cold as the worst Oklahoma ice storm. She had yet to cry, although she knew eventually the numbness would pass and the pain would crash in.