“That could have been stolen earlier. Before he ended up in the barn,” Savannah pointed out reasonably.
“Possible,” June Savage conceded. “But not likely.”
June looked straight at him then, and B.J. felt an overwhelming wave of guilt. Suddenly he wanted, desperately, to tell both these women the complete truth about that night.
If it was his own reputation on the line, he would have.
But how could he condemn Savannah’s brother? To this day he didn’t understand Hunter’s motives for what he’d done. Wild as the boy had been back then, he couldn’t believe Hunter had purposefully intended that man to die.
So, with great effort, he kept his mouth shut.
“Well,” June said. “First things first, I guess.” She glanced at Savannah. “I’ve asked to have the body exhumed. We need to make sure that boy really is Travis. Once the paperwork comes through, I guess we’ll start getting some answers.”
“Yes, we will, Ms. Savage,” Savannah replied with determination. Her words were for the investigator. But she was looking at B.J. as she said them.
Chapter Seven
As she watched June Savage drive off in her perky green Jeep, Savannah felt as if every cell in her body was stretched to the snapping point.
“You’ve got to admire that woman’s persistence,” B.J. said. “Imagine finding a watch on eBay eighteen years after it had gone missing?”
“She’s determined, all right. And I do hope she gets some answers that will bring closure to the McBride family. But there’s so much I don’t think we can ever know. Like what that kid was doing in that barn in the first place.”
“Hardly anyone besides the Lamberts and Turners even knew the barn existed.”
Did he realize how damning that sounded? “There must have been someone else who knew, B.J. Unless he accidentally stumbled across the place.”
“Impossible.” B.J. considered the problem. “I suppose some of the hired men who worked on our family ranches years ago might know about the barn. Plus some of our friends. We often head that way when we go on trail rides.”
“Something else that’s puzzling me,” Savannah added. “According to the M.E.’s report, the unknown traveler had a blood-alcohol-concentration level of almost .2 percent. But no empty bottles were found with his body.”
“The sheriff and his men probably removed the bottles,” B.J. said.
“There was no mention of that in the report....”
But then, a lot of things were missing from Sheriff Smith’s report. She could tell B.J. was thinking the same thing.
“Maybe we should have a chat with our old sheriff tomorrow,” he suggested.
While the idea of bothering her former mentor—now retired on a hobby farm outside of Lewistown with his wife and an assortment of pet animals—was unappealing, she had come to the same conclusion herself.
But there was one part of his sentence she had to object to. “We? Last time I checked you weren’t on the sheriff’s office payroll.”
“I’m volunteering my services as a concerned citizen.”
“How civic-minded of you.” She wished he would stop smiling at her. He was acting like the old B.J., as if they were friends, when the very opposite was true. “But totally unnecessary. I can handle the job myself.”
“If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have tracked me down in Central Point.”
She’d figured that out already. “That was a mistake.”
“Maybe so. But I’m here now. And we can either drive to visit the Smiths together, or I’ll follow right behind you. Which do you prefer?”
She shook her head. “Neither. I’m going alone.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. You don’t have that option anymore.”
The way he was looking at her, it was easy to read much more into his words. As if he wasn’t just talking about the case, but her life, as well.
Her hands started to perspire.
His claim on her was a very old one. She couldn’t afford to let him draw her in again. She wanted respectability and security. Nothing a rodeo cowboy like B.J. had to offer.
Plus it wouldn’t look right to the people of this county if she took up with him now, just as new questions had been raised about that old arson case.
The citizens of this town had a right to expect their sheriff to stay impartial.
“You’re used to getting your way,” she said, struggling to keep her voice dispassionate. “In the rodeo arena and in life.” It was part of the package that came with being the oldest son of the largest, most successful ranching family in the county.
“But I am the legally elected sheriff in this county,” she continued. “And you are not going to tell me how I conduct my business.”
Damn B.J. He was looking amused now instead of chastened.
“I’m serious, B.J. You are not coming with me tomorrow, or any other day. I strongly suggest you stick to your job and leave me to mine.”
“My job, huh?” He crossed his arms and tipped his head to one side. “And what would that be?”
“Rodeos.” The sooner he got out of town, the better. “Where’s the next one?”
“Actually, there’s been a change of plans in my family.”
A cold feeling snaked up Savannah’s spine. “Oh?”
“Jackson’s taking a job with Maddie Turner. And, thanks to nepotism, I’m the new manager of the quarter-horse breeding business.”
“You can’t be serious.” She rubbed her hands on the sides of her hips. B.J. living full-time in Coffee Creek again? It was more than she could handle.
“Oh, but I am,” he assured her. “About a lot of things. And one of them is you.”
She had no words. Somehow the balance of power had shifted between them. He’d gone from being on the defensive to acting as though he was in charge. She had no idea how it had happened, either. Putting her hands on her hips, she was preparing to order him off her property when he did another totally surprising thing.
He kissed her.
Later, she wondered why she hadn’t resisted, pushed him away.
Instead, she’d returned the kiss as if he were the only thing that mattered in her world.
All her responsibilities—as the sheriff, and as a daughter and a sister—all of these were shed like a useless jacket on a hot summer day. For a glorious moment she was nothing but a woman, in an insulated bubble of pleasure.
Eventually the voice of reason grew loud enough for her to hear.
What the hell are you doing?
Finally, she stepped back, the way she should have done in the beginning. “Stop it, B.J.”
“Stop what? Wanting you?”
His eyes were so dark with desire and need, she had to glance away. “Yes,” she whispered. “Those days are over for us.”
“Maybe you think they are—even wish they are,” he said. “But eighteen years hasn’t changed a thing for me.”
* * *
B.J. DIDN’T SLEEP much that night. He kept thinking about kissing Savannah and how great it had felt. Even though she’d only let her guard down for a minute, it had been enough for him to know that she was still the one.
He’d spent eighteen years searching for a replacement for her, only to come home and realize it had always been Savannah and always would be.
The epiphany was exhilarating—and terrifying. Savannah had feelings for him—he was sure of that. But earning her trust again was going to be damn hard. In fact, he couldn’t see any way to do it that wouldn’t cause her pain. Because clearing his name regarding that vagrant’s death meant pointing the finger at her brother.
And he couldn’t do that to her.
But that didn’t mean he was giving up on the two of them.
B.
J. didn’t believe in defeat.
“Try again, son” had been one of his father’s favorite sayings. And he thought of those words the next morning, after chores, as he headed into town and made a few phone calls.
Savannah had been pretty clear last night. She wanted him to keep his distance. But every instinct he had warned him to do the opposite. He needed to keep as close as possible.
And that included following her today. He had an idea of how Savannah’s mind worked, and he intended to take advantage of that.
* * *
SAVANNAH WOKE UP feeling uncharacteristically muddled. She sat at the kitchen table for a long time with her coffee, instead of taking it with her to work, as usual. On the table were her notebook and also the slim file she’d found on the John Doe accidental-death investigation.
But she wasn’t thinking about work right now.
She’d had the strangest dreams last night.
Damn B.J. He was getting to her. She needed distance from him. Time to get her head together again.
But hell, that kiss had been something.
When they were younger, she’d never let things get that heated between them. She’d been too afraid that if she gave in, just a little, there would be no stopping point. And wouldn’t it be her luck to end up pregnant, no matter how careful she tried to be? No one in town would be surprised. They’d just look at her father and her mother and say, “Figures.”
“We’re too young,” she’d told B.J. whenever his kisses threatened to become a little too intimate. And to his credit, he’d never pushed when she said that.
“I can wait,” he’d told her. “But you have to know, I’d never hurt you.”
Savannah stared out the kitchen window at the untamed shrubbery. She took another sip of her coffee.
She believed his intentions had been honorable back then. Still, he’d ended up hurting her in an entirely different way.
She sighed. Be honest here, Savannah. You hurt him, too.
Savannah closed her eyes. She couldn’t see any way to sort out the mess that was her personal life. But she could do her job. She had to do her job. How else could she ask the citizens of Bitterroot County to reelect her as their sheriff?
Now that she knew the original investigation had been so shoddy, she couldn’t just ignore the fact. It would look as though she was trying to protect her brother. She had to dig further, so she’d be prepared in the case of a reopened investigation.
Last night she’d talked about paying a visit to Sheriff Smith. And while she still felt it was imperative to speak to him, she didn’t put it past B.J. to coincidently happen by at just the same moment.
If she wanted to avoid that, then instead of zigging, she needed to zag.
She flipped a few pages in the file, finding the names of the kids who had also driven out to the barn that night. Not that she needed reminding. They’d been her friends back then, too, and she would have been with them that night if her mother hadn’t been having an off day. Savannah had decided it wouldn’t be safe to leave her eight-year-old sister alone with her.
The gang of friends had traveled in three ATVs to the barn that night, with Hunter and B.J. in the lead. Jonah Clark, Noelle Lewis and Alan Hutchinson had all moved away from the area shortly after high school graduation. Jonah had gone to university in California, where his father had moved after divorcing his mother. Noelle and Alan had got married shortly after they’d both enlisted in the army. Where they were posted now, she hadn’t a clue.
That left Hanna White. Hanna still lived in Coffee Creek. She, too, worked at Monahan’s Equestrian Center, in the office. She and Savannah had never been close, despite being in the same group of friends.
Hanna had been keen on Hunter, but it was a relationship Savannah hadn’t encouraged, as Hanna had been more into parties and boys than school and studying. Still, she’d managed to get a decent job after graduation—and to keep it. In hindsight, Hunter could have done worse than Hanna White.
Savannah gave her old schoolmate a call, not even trying to pretend that it wasn’t about business. After a brisk “How are you?” she asked, “I’d like to come by and ask a few questions about the fire eighteen years ago.”
She could tell Hanna wanted to say no. But after a few attempts to dissuade Savannah, she finally caved. “If you insist. I usually break for coffee around ten. I can spare you fifteen minutes if you come then.”
“I’ll be there,” Savannah assured her. If her suspicion was right, B.J. would be almost fifty miles away, hoping to ambush her at Sheriff Smith’s hobby farm. He’d probably give up around noon, leaving the coast clear for her to move in after her interview with Hanna.
Feeling pleased about her clever planning, Savannah was smiling as she picked up the keys to her SUV and headed for the door.
* * *
“HEY THERE, DARLIN’.” B.J.’s voice lingered over each word as he answered the incoming call on his mobile phone. “She called?”
“Sure did. How did you know?”
“Oh, I have my ways.” He’d figured Savannah would be too smart to do the obvious. Still, he couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction. It had been eighteen years and he could still read her like a book.
She would hate that.
His smile grew broader.
“What do you want me to tell her when she gets here?”
“Just the truth, darlin’.”
“Are you sure? B.J., I’m nervous. I know it’s been a long time, but I hate thinking back on that night.”
B.J. sobered. “We all do. But don’t worry. All you have to do is tell her what you remember. And I’ll be right beside you for support.”
“I don’t think so. Her place is closer than yours. Plus she’s had a few minutes’ head start.”
B.J. took the turn onto the highway. He’d been in Coffee Creek when Hanna White called him, sipping coffee at the Cinnamon Stick. Savannah didn’t have the head start. He did.
“Hang tight, Hanna. It’s going to be okay.”
* * *
THE EQUESTRIAN CENTER owned by Straws Monahan was a first-class operation specializing in rodeo and riding clinics, including one-on-one training for difficult and troubled horses. The buildings and fencing were a crisp white with red metal roofing on the house and barns. Rows of bright red and white petunias echoed the color scheme on either side of the road leading up to the main entrance. Both the staff and visitor parking lots were quite full, so Savannah left her SUV on the side of the road.
Inside the main building, Savannah asked to speak to Hanna White and was directed to an outdoor area where staff members could relax and have coffee or lunch during their breaks. On her way, she passed Straws himself, returning to his office with a full cup of coffee.
Straws was a tall, slightly paunchy, bowlegged cowboy in his sixties, dressed in black jeans and a starched white shirt with a silver-tipped bolo tie.
“Sheriff.” He touched his hat respectfully. “What brings you here today? Official business?”
“I need to question Hanna White about an open file from a while back. She may have seen something that could help me tie up a few loose ends.”
He nodded. “By the way, my staff has been telling me good things about your sister. She’s a hard worker. Catches on real quick, too. I only wish she could have stayed with us longer.”
“Yes.” She hesitated, then decided she might as well say what was on her mind. “Regan is smart. We’re hoping she gets accepted into medical school this fall. I was disappointed that she asked for such a large chunk of time off work when she should be saving for tuition.”
He looked confused. “Time off work, you say?”
“Yes. So she and Murray could go on a holiday.”
“Murray St. Clair—yes, he’s a good fellow. They seem to ha
ve quite the thing for each other, your sister and this young man. But I’m afraid your sister wasn’t totally honest when she said she asked for vacation time. She actually resigned. And Murray’s on indefinite leave.”
“No.” She couldn’t believe this. Regan had lied?
“We would never give permission for so many days off for a summer position.”
Right. She should have realized that herself. “I don’t know what to say.” Regan had never lied to her before. At least, not that Savannah knew about.
He shrugged. “Kids, huh? I know, I’ve raised a few of my own. Anyway, you go ahead and talk to Hanna. You know where to find her?”
Savannah nodded, then continued down the hall toward the courtyard where she’d been directed. Several picnic tables were set up on a nice green lawn, and a handful of people were lounging with drinks and snacks. Savannah stopped abruptly, her thoughts still on the news Straws had told her.
Why hadn’t Regan admitted that she’d quit her job? Yes, Savannah would have been upset, but she’d already been upset by the four weeks.
Unless... Could it be there was more to the plan? Maybe Regan and Murray were thinking of eloping?
No. Anything but that. Savannah put out a hand, suddenly dizzy. She needed to calm down. Breathe. She’d phone Regan later. Her sister would have a logical explanation for all this. If only—
“Are you okay?”
Unbelievable. B. J. Lambert stepped up beside her, taking her arm and leading her to a picnic table, where sandy-haired Hanna White was eyeing her nervously over a mug of coffee.
“I—I’m fine.” She glanced from B.J. to Hanna, then back again. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “I guess the heat got to me there.”
Hanna and B.J. exchanged skeptical looks. It was only morning and barely sixty-five degrees. Still, B.J. offered to get her some water, and she accepted. She needed a minute to collect her wits.
So much for giving him the slip. Obviously, she’d been outmaneuvered. Damn it. Feeling her breathing return to normal, she took a closer look at Hanna. Now thirty-four, she was still attractive, with her curly sandy-colored hair, lightly freckled skin and clear blue eyes. Though she wore several rings, none of them was a wedding band or an engagement ring.
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