“How’s Hunter?” was the first thing Hanna said.
She couldn’t still have a thing for him, could she?
“I wouldn’t know.” Savannah didn’t try to hide her frustration. “I haven’t heard from him in six months.” She hesitated. “Have you?”
Hanna didn’t say anything, just looked away. Maybe she was remembering how Savannah had discouraged her twin brother from dating her when they were younger.
The uncomfortable moment ended when B.J. returned with a glass of refreshingly cold water. Savannah drank it all, surprised to find that she really needed it.
B.J. leaned against the picnic table, crossing one long leg over the other. He looked a tiny bit smug, but mostly concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, embarrassed by her moment of weakness and even more by his attention. She wasn’t accustomed to people looking out for her. Don’t get used to this feeling. It’s probably just an act. And even if it isn’t, you know this isn’t going anywhere.
“I’m fine. Thanks for the water. I wasn’t expecting to find you here, B.J.”
“You should have been,” he replied.
He and Hanna exchanged a glance, which Savannah interpreted to mean that they had some sort of secret pact. She sighed. “I guess you two have already gone over your stories, then.”
“No.” Hanna’s light blue eyes didn’t seem to be hiding anything. “B.J. said we should wait for you.”
Really? She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“This isn’t an attempt at a cover-up,” B.J. said. “I’m just doing my part. You asked for my help,” he reminded her.
“A request I’ve tried to rescind several times now.”
“Sorry. I’m like one of those genies you conjure up from an old lamp. Now that I’m here, you’re stuck with me.”
Do I at least get three wishes? Professionalism wouldn’t let Savannah ask the question. Hanna was listening to their exchange with open curiosity. It was time to get this interview back on track.
“Well, Hanna, B.J. may have already told you this, but new evidence has surfaced that may lead to the identification of the man who died in the fire at the Turner barn back when we were high school seniors.”
“It has?” Hanna seemed genuinely surprised. “Who was he?”
So they’d been telling the truth when they’d said they hadn’t already talked about the case. Savannah was surprised, as well.
And impressed.
“It’s just a theory at this stage,” she said. “But he may have been Travis McBride, the son of a wealthy man from L.A. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Hanna shook her head in the negative. “What would a guy from L.A. have been doing out on Silver Creek Ranch?”
“Good question.” Savannah glanced at B.J., who was listening carefully, and so far, not interfering. “We don’t know. But we’re trying to find out. Since I wasn’t the sheriff back then, it would help if you could tell us—me—everything you remember from that night.”
“It was a long time ago,” she began hesitantly. “Hunter had this idea for a party. Seems he’d been out on a trail ride with B.J. a few weeks earlier and he saw that old barn. He said he had some bottles of vodka stashed away. Enough for a good party. We were supposed to provide the orange juice.”
“Why didn’t I hear about any of this?” She’d been part of the same gang of friends, after all.
Hanna shrugged. “Hunter didn’t want you knowing. Besides, it was organized last minute. Jonah Clark picked me up around ten o’clock on his ATV. Alan Hutchinson and Noelle Lewis were already in another ATV.”
“They were dating back then,” Savannah recalled.
“Yeah, Alan and Noelle were. But not me and Jonah. I just needed a ride because Hunter was going with B.J. He didn’t own his own ATV.”
“So there were six of you on three ATVs?” Savannah confirmed.
She nodded. “We had no idea where we were going, so we followed B.J. and Hunter. It was dark when we got to the old barn, very windy and humid. A storm was coming in—we could hear thunder in the distance. It was spooky.” Hanna wrapped her arms around her, as if protecting herself from the unpleasant memory.
“Do you recall the exact time when you arrived at the barn?” Savannah had pulled out her notebook so she could record the key facts.
“No. But the drive was about half an hour, so it must have been around ten-thirty. We all got off our ATVs. B.J. and Hunter were already in the barn, but Noelle and I were hanging back. Neither one of us felt comfortable about being there. Jonah and Alan were trying to convince us to go inside. Alan said something about how it was going to start raining and we’d be better off in the barn.”
“Did you hear any of that?” Savannah asked B.J.
“No. Hunter and I were already inside.”
Savannah’s throat tightened, thinking of her brother and her boyfriend on that fateful night. If only she’d been with them—maybe none of this would have happened. “What were the two of you doing? Did you see or hear the fellow in the loft?”
B.J. hesitated. “No. We were just waiting for the others.”
“The guys almost had Noelle and me convinced to go into that eerie old barn,” Hanna continued, “when suddenly there was the loudest crack of thunder I’ve ever heard. I swear it shook the ground we were standing on.” Her eyes widened with the memory. “Lightning flashed right afterward. I felt the hair on my arms stand on end and I could see every detail of Alan’s face as clearly as if it was daytime. I screamed. I think Noelle must have, too. We ran back to the ATVs and the guys came, too. Even they were freaked out.”
“And what about Hunter and B.J.?”
Hanna took a moment to think. Then she shook her head. “I don’t remember. I yelled at them to come. I have no idea if they heard me. It started to rain and Jonah hit the gas. I had to hold tight or risk falling off.”
“Did you see the barn catch on fire before you left?” According to the official story, that bolt of lightning had started the fire.
“No. But it must have. Right?”
B.J. nodded.
“On the drive home,” Savannah continued, “did you ever see the headlights from B.J.’s ATV behind you?”
Hanna paused again. She glanced at B.J., then admitted, “No.”
“Do you have any idea what they did after you left?”
“Yes. They drove to Maddie Turner’s place to report the fire.”
Maddie Turner had confirmed this. Her statement was in the file. But what had happened between the time Jonah, Hanna and the others drove away from the barn and then? It seemed that only B.J. or Hunter could answer that question.
She was back to where she’d started.
Chapter Eight
B.J. walked with Savannah out to the parking lot. He could tell she had a lot on her mind, and so did he. When they reached her vehicle, she paused and turned to him.
“Hanna called and told you I was coming, didn’t she?”
“Yup.”
“And she did this because you asked her to.”
“Right again.” He couldn’t help grinning. “You probably won’t appreciate hearing this right now, but you are the damn sexiest sheriff I have ever seen.”
“Stop it, B.J. You have to take this seriously.”
“Trust me, I am. I wouldn’t be here, otherwise.” He placed a hand on her door, in the guise of relaxing, but really to prevent her from opening it and driving away.
Savannah probably knew exactly what he was up to, but she didn’t order him to move. Instead, she put a boot on the front bumper and leaned her weight into it. “I admit I asked for your help. But you’ve got to stop shadowing me. People will start to talk. They won’t see me as competent if they think I need B. J. Lambert
riding shotgun with me.”
She was so wrong about that. “Your image isn’t that fragile.”
He could tell she wasn’t convinced. Why didn’t she see herself the way he did, the way he was certain others did, too—as a strong person of integrity and honor?
“What was wrong with you when you first arrived? You looked like you were going to faint. And don’t give me any nonsense about being too warm.”
She grimaced. “I had a word with Straws in the corridor. Last week Regan told me she and her boyfriend, Murray, had taken a four-week leave to go on a road trip. Turns out Regan didn’t ask for a leave at all. She quit.”
He could see she was really bothered by that. “Why would she lie to you?”
“Probably to prevent me from flying off the handle. Trouble is, I can’t help wondering what else she’s lying about.”
“Why don’t you phone her and ask her?”
“I’ve tried calling her several times. She won’t answer. All she does is send me text messages saying they’re fine and not to worry.”
“That’s something.”
“Yes. But I still don’t get it. Being a doctor is something she’s always wanted. Why is she losing her focus now, when she’s so close?”
“Maybe she’s afraid of failure,” he suggested. “Or could be she’s fallen in love. I hear that can derail a person.”
Savannah glanced at him, then away.
“Do you remember how it feels?” He sure did. In fact, the more time he spent around her, the more he remembered.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “But I never let being in love stop me from doing what I thought was right.”
“Maybe Regan isn’t, either. Could be that her right is a little different than yours, is all.”
Savannah let out a long breath. “When did you get so smart?”
“About eighteen years too late, I figure.” He eyed her carefully. “Or maybe it isn’t too late?”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
“I bet you do.” He moved closer to her. “Have you thought about our kiss? Because I sure have. Can’t stop thinking about it, actually.”
He stepped even closer so he could see her face. Touching her chin, he dipped his head a few inches so they were eye-to-eye.
He could tell she still didn’t trust him. But she was weakening. He put a hand on her hip, to see if she would move into him. When she did he almost groaned at how perfect her body felt next to his.
“Tell me,” he repeated, touching her chin again. “Have you thought about our kiss?”
“I... Yes. A little.”
“And does it bear repeating?” His mouth was an inch from hers as he asked this. For an answer, she closed the final distance, pressing her warm, full lips to his.
Every cell in his body cried out with pleasure. He pulled her in as close as he could and kissed her with no hesitation this time, only full passion. He crushed her rib cage into his, tasted her lips, her tongue, her neck, her soul.
He kissed her as if this would be his last chance.
And, God help him, she kissed him the same way in return.
It wasn’t until someone whistled and called out, “Nice work, Sheriff!” that she pulled back.
“Lord, but you mess with my mind, B.J. I’m on duty, damn you.”
“It’s not your mind I was messing with just then.” He brushed a hand over her hair. Wisps were coming out of the long braid that he’d noticed she usually wore to work. “But I am interested in the entire package in the long run.”
She examined him cautiously. “What does long run mean to you?”
“Same as most people, I figure. My feelings for you were never casual, Savannah. Even when I was seventeen years old, I wanted to marry you.”
She groaned, dropping her head to his chest. He cradled her with his arms. “How can you say that?” she asked. “After all these years?”
“Maybe it’s because of all the years that have gone by that I can say it. I ask myself why no other woman has made me feel the way you do. The answer seems pretty obvious.”
“Oh, B.J. I keep thinking about what Regan said to me the night before she left. How she was tired of too much responsibility and not enough fun.”
“That’s pretty understandable, coming from a twenty-four-year-old.”
“How about a thirty-four-year-old?” She turned her sexy dark eyes up to him.
It was all he could do to resist kissing her again. “I’d say it applies even more at our age.”
She nodded. “I do care about you. I guess it’s pretty obvious and I’d be a fool to deny it. But the timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Because of the case?”
“My credibility is on the line.”
“But you weren’t the sheriff back then.”
“I am now. And with new evidence possibly coming to light—how can I ignore that?”
“If you hang tight, a state investigator may be appointed. Then it will be his problem.”
“And people will say I turned a blind eye all these years because of my brother.” She swallowed, then added, “And you.”
She pushed herself out of his arms. “I can’t change who my brother is. But I do have the choice of who...to date.”
Dating so did not cover the relationship he wanted to have with her. But it seemed she was determined to deny him even that much. He felt a flash of anger at her damn stubbornness.
“Don’t run off.”
“I’m not running. This can’t work for us. Just drop it, okay?” She reached for the door handle to her vehicle and reluctantly he moved out of her way.
“Are you telling me we have to wait until the investigation is over to be together?”
“I’m not sure we can ever be together. It’s just...complicated.”
“What if you resigned and we moved somewhere else? We could have a fresh start.”
“Are you serious? You’d leave your family? Your ranch?”
“Of course I would. Haven’t I been doing just that for the past eighteen years?”
“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not that easy for me. Being sheriff isn’t just a job to me. It’s who I am.”
The sincerity in her voice came through—she truly believed what she was saying.
“Once, I felt the same way,” he said, his words measured and calm. “That I was a rodeo cowboy and that was that. But I’ve learned a job—even one you love—doesn’t really define a person. It simply isn’t enough.”
“And when did that bit of wisdom come to you?”
A few seconds passed before he answered. “When Brock died, I guess.”
Just like that, her anger was gone.
“Oh, B.J.” She squeezed his upper arm and for a brief second rested her forehead against his shoulder.
“The message took a while to sink in,” he added. “And I’ve spent a bunch of sleepless nights mulling it over. But I finally realized my place is here, helping my family.”
“That’s good,” she said, sounding as though she meant it.
“So you and me...?”
She looked up at him with her intense dark eyes. “I admit I’m tempted. But I’d need to know I can trust you.”
“I’d never cheat on you, Savannah. I’m not that kind of man. Maybe you figure my years on the rodeo circuit made me into some kind of ladies’ man, but it’s not the case.”
“I’m not just talking about that.” She fixed him with another of her long, measured looks. “You’re holding back the truth from me, B.J., and I can’t just let that slide.” She paused, looking at him expectantly.
B.J. felt hog-tied. If he told her what her brother had done, he’d hurt her and possibly put even more distance between them. “I can’t say any more ab
out that night. I need you to trust me that I didn’t do anything wrong—nothing more than trespassing, anyway.”
She wasn’t impressed. “Fine. Be that way. Just don’t expect me to be falling into your bed anytime soon. Because it’s not going to happen.”
Nothing more to be said now. He watched as she got behind the wheel and drove away. He could guess where she would be going next. And much as he figured she wouldn’t want him to, he was determined to follow.
* * *
SOMETHING WAS HAPPENING to her. Savannah stared at the gate in front of her. Somehow she’d driven all the way to Jed and Marissa Smith’s ranch without remembering a minute of the drive.
That was because the biggest chunk of her was back with B.J.—reliving their kiss and the words he’d spoken to her afterward.
She’d known he felt something for her, but never guessed he was as serious as that. He had actually mentioned marriage.
B.J. said she should trust him, but how could she when it was obvious he wasn’t telling her the whole story? He hadn’t then and he wasn’t now.
She had to keep reminding herself of this. And remember that without trust, a relationship had zero chance of being a success.
Savannah turned into the lane that led to the Smiths’ pretty log house with the blue metal roof. A goat grazed on the patchy lawn and several chickens were scratching in some dirt at the side of the house. Next to the house was a big vegetable garden, protected from all the animals by a high wire fence.
As soon as she got out of her truck, two midsize dogs came rushing to greet her.
Next the front door opened and a tall, thin woman with dark, sun-aged skin stepped out to the porch. She whistled and the dogs stopped in their tracks, then trotted back to her.
“Savannah! What a nice surprise!” Marissa Smith pulled on gardening gloves, then slipped her feet into the boots that were sitting on a mat by the door.
“I was heading out to hill my potatoes when I heard the dogs making a commotion.” She pulled on the collar of one of the dogs—a mongrel breed about the size of a golden retriever. “Calm down, Blaze.”
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