by Rita Herron
But he had lied to her and investigated her. Had stood by while she cleaned and decorated his house and said nothing.
Doubts and anger warred in her mind, but he kissed her again, and she forgot everything but the feel of his hands touching her and his weight on top of her.
When he finally rolled off of her and cradled her in his arms, she closed her eyes and fell into a contented sleep.
And for the first time in months, she dreamt of a future for her and CeCe that didn’t include murder.
THE TEXAS RANGER WAS SCREWING THE BITCH.
Buckham adjusted his binoculars, furious.
Shit. How was he going to kill her with that Ranger all over her?
The newsfeed buzzed in his earphone, the reporter citing that another family murder had occurred the night before. Over in Bend Creek.
Just a few miles away.
The damn Family Man had laid low while he was in jail. He’d probably laughed his ass off knowing that he’d gotten away with three murders while another man took the blame.
Buckham grunted, lit a cigarette and took a puff. For Whittaker’s murder, he’d have done time. But he wouldn’t have been sitting on death row if not for the other murders.
Murders he had nothing to do with.
The dumbass cops had to be set straight. First he’d kill Whittaker’s wife. Then he might just have to find the real Family Man killer himself and point him out to the stupid fucking cops.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MITCH STARED AT THE CEILING, HIS PULSE CLAMORING AT THE sound of Kaylie’s soft breathing.
He shouldn’t have made love to her.
But how he could not have?
The hunger in her eyes had mirrored the need and desire consuming him.
But guilt nagged at him, and he felt as if he’d betrayed his dead wife and son by having Kaylie and CeCe into their home.
CeCe’s comment about his son taunted him. She’d said that Todd told her she could play with the toys.
Where had she come up with that?
Confused by his warring emotions, he slowly extracted himself from Kaylie, slid from bed and walked to the bathroom. After he disposed of the condom, he yanked on his clothes and eased from the room.
Crawling back in bed with Kaylie teased at his mind, but he couldn’t. When Buckham was back in jail, she would leave and move on with her life.
And he would be here.
Alone with his grief and memories of Todd. And now memories of watching Kaylie and her daughter decorate his house and the Christmas tree, the two of them filling the house with laughter and the smell of fried chicken and cookies baking.
It was almost more than he could bear.
She couldn’t leave yet anyway. Buckham was still on the loose, probably hunting for another victim. The idea of a cold-blooded killer getting his hands on her or her daughter resurrected his instincts as a Texas Ranger.
He couldn’t let down his guard. Kaylie had been here several days now. For all he knew Buckham might have already tracked her to the ranch.
KAYLIE ROLLED OVER IN BED, EROTIC MEMORIES OF THE NIGHT before suffusing her. Last night in Mitch’s arms gave her hope that everything would be all right again.
But the bed beside her was empty.
Did Mitch have regrets?
It’s for the best, she told herself. She wouldn’t want CeCe to find them together.
She slipped from bed, showered and dressed, the calendar mocking her. Two days until Christmas.
CeCe had added a cowboy hat and pink cowboy boots to her Christmas list. She had to figure out a way to buy them.
CeCe was still sleeping, so she sewed a new outfit for CeCe’s doll, made a blanket from scraps, and a pillow, and then fashioned a baby carrier for the doll.
By the time she finished, CeCe tiptoed down the steps in her pajamas. Kaylie cooked biscuits and sausage for breakfast, and CeCe wolfed hers down. Mitch had disappeared, probably to check on something on the ranch.
A few minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen, looking freshly shaven and sexy in his western shirt and jeans.
God, he was more man than any man should be.
CeCe raced over to him and grabbed his big hand. Hers looked impossibly small next to his rugged palm. “Can I ride Horseshoe again today?”
“Maybe later. I thought we might ride into town this morning and do a little Christmas shopping.”
CeCe motioned for Mitch to squat down, then whispered something in his ear. When he pulled back, he grinned at her.
“That’s a great idea, sweat pea.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Kaylie asked.
CeCe bounced from foot to foot, looking sheepish.
“Nothing,” Mitch said with a wink toward her daughter. “You can’t be nosing around too much at Christmas.”
Kaylie blushed at his teasing tone. CeCe must have asked him to help her shop. The fact that Mitch would do something so sweet for her daughter melted her heart.
Mitch grabbed a biscuit and sausage from the counter. “Go get dressed, CeCe. We’ll leave in a few minutes.”
“Yippee!” CeCe skipped toward the steps, and Kaylie wanted to hug Mitch.
“Thank you for being so kind to her,” Kaylie said. And to me.
“She’s a great kid. She deserves that much.”
“Yes, she does,” Kaylie said. “And I need to buy the gifts on her Christmas wish list. But we have to be careful in town so no one recognizes us.”
“They’ll be looking for you and CeCe alone, not the three of us.”
“True.” Kaylie wiped down the counter. “But I’m still nervous.”
Mitch cleared his throat. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”
Kaylie nodded, desperate to touch him again. She did trust Mitch.
But she didn’t trust herself. Because she was falling in love with Mitch.
A man who was still mourning the loss of his wife and son.
And she couldn’t even fantasize about a future when her life was such a mess.
When keeping her daughter safe was the only thing that really mattered.
MITCH STAYED ALERT AS HE DROVE KAYLIE AND CECE INTO town. CeCe wore a ball cap, and Kaylie tied a scarf around her hair, but she seemed nervous and twitchy as they entered the department store.
“CeCe and I have a little errand to run.” He gave Kaylie a throwaway cell he’d bought at the gas station on the way in, obviously offering her time to shop for CeCe’s gifts. “Call me if you see anything suspicious.”
“I will.” She caught Mitch’s arm. “Thanks, Mitch.”
He pointed to an elderly woman with graying hair, then whispered, “Let Vera help you. She’ll know where the pink boots are.”
He took CeCe’s hand, and they left Kaylie with Vera. CeCe chattered on and on about how pretty the decorations in the store looked as they found the jewelry section.
“I wants to get Mommy a Christmas pin,” CeCe said. “One that sparkles.”
“She’ll love that,” Mitch said.
A teenager with striped red hair grinned at CeCe when she described what she wanted. “I know just where to find it.”
The teen showed CeCe a display, and CeCe’s eyes lit up. There were candy canes, Christmas trees, wreaths, and angels that glittered.
“The angel,” CeCe said. “Cause Mommy said Daddy is an angel watching over us.”
The reminder of her father made Mitch look around for Buckham. CeCe counted out the money she’d saved from helping her mother do chores, and the salesclerk boxed up the pin and handed it to CeCe.
Mitch’s cell phone buzzed, and he checked the number. Micah Hardin. He’d call him back. “Hey, sweet pea, let’s find your mother.”
“’kay,” CeCe said in a low voice as she tugged at his hand. “But don’t tell her ’bout the pin. It’s a surprise.”
Mitch made a gesture with his fingers as if he was locking the secret in a vault.
They found Kayl
ie with a shopping bag and a smile on her face.
She looked so damn beautiful that Mitch wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go.
“Done?” he asked.
She nodded. “How about you two?”
“Yep.”
CeCe’s eyes sparkled with joy at her secret.
“Let’s go to the diner for lunch.”
Kaylie bit her lip and looked around, anxious again. But he looped his arm around her shoulder and took CeCe’s hand and led the way. When they entered the diner, he ushered them to the back booth so they wouldn’t be visible to anyone who entered.
“I need to make a phone call. I’ll be right back.” He hurried outside to phone Micah. “What’s going on, Hardin?”
“The sheriff over in Bend Creek arrested a man he believes is the Family Man killer.”
Mitch inhaled sharply. “Is it Larry Buckham?”
“No,” Micah said. “But I thought you might be interested.”
He was. “Thanks. I’ll ride over and see what kind of evidence the sheriff has.”
If Buckham hadn’t killed the families, it might mean Kaylie was wrong about Buckham, that he hadn’t killed her husband.
Or that there were two different killers. If that was true and she was right about Buckham, Kaylie and CeCe were still in danger.
KAYLIE SENSED MITCH’S TENSION AS HE PAID THE BILL, AND they walked out to his vehicle.
“What’s wrong?”
He gestured toward CeCe in the back seat. “We’ll talk when we get home.”
Realizing he wanted to protect her daughter, she simply nodded. But her stomach churned the entire way back to the ranch.
He’d used the word home—but as much as she wanted it to be, the ranch wasn’t her home. It belonged to Mitch. Would he sell it when they left?
When they arrived back at the ranch, CeCe insisted on wrapping the gift she’d bought, so Kaylie left her in the kitchen with tape and wrapping paper while she walked Mitch outside.
“I’m going to Bend Creek to talk to the sheriff,” Mitch said. “They arrested a man they believe killed those other families near Austin.”
Kaylie folded her arms. She didn’t know what to think. “It wasn’t Larry Buckham?”
“No. That’s why I want to question him myself.”
Doubts assailed Kaylie. Could she have been wrong about Buckham?
“I haven’t seen anyone around here.” Mitch retrieved his rifle from his truck. “But I want you to take this just in case.”
“That’s okay, Mitch. I have a pistol upstairs.”
“You know how to shoot?”
She nodded.
“Then keep it with you until I return.”
Kaylie agreed, but her nerves were on edge as Mitch drove away. She ran up the stairs, retrieved her gun and tucked it on the top shelf in the pantry so CeCe couldn’t reach it, but so she could grab it if needed.
She paced the den, contemplating her situation.
She had to find a way to prove that she hadn’t killed her husband. If she did, could she and Mitch make a life together?
Or was he still in love with his dead wife?
MITCH SHOOK HANDS WITH SHERIFF AIDEN TURNER AT THE Bend Creek sheriff’s office. “You think you have the Family Man murderer in custody?”
Sheriff Turner, a tall, lean looking cowboy with sandy hair, nodded. “His prints match prints found on the bullet we pulled from the wall at the family’s house.”
A common mistake. The perp had probably worn gloves when he’d shot the families, but hadn’t when he’d loaded his weapon.
“Did he confess?”
“Not yet. We just picked him up this morning. His name is Frank Fittinger.”
“I’d like to be included in the interrogation.”
Sheriff Turner raised a brow. “What’s your interest here?”
“I’ve been following the manhunt for Larry Buckham. He was convicted of murdering Joe Whittaker and trying to kill his wife and child.”
“Yes, I know. The DA implied that he was also the serial killer murdering families. If we nail the man in my cell, that’ll blow that case to hell.”
“Exactly.”
Mitch followed Turner to the back where he retrieved the prisoner, a stout, balding guy with pocked skin and a missing front tooth. He smelled like cigarettes, stale beer and sweat and looked like a man who’d seen trouble before.
Fittinger muttered an obscenity as Turner opened the cell door and hauled him toward the interrogation room.
“You ain’t got no right to lock me up,” Fittinger bellowed.
“I’ve got every right,” Sheriff Turner said firmly.
The sheriff shoved the man into a chair, then leaned against the table, arms folded. Mitch settled across from the beefy guy, scrutinizing his features. Ruddy skin. Dirt beneath his fingernails. Tattered shirt. A tattoo of the word mother on his upper arm.
Sheriff Fittinger slapped a file on the desk, then opened it. “You might as well confess, Fittinger. We have your prints on the bullet that killed Horace Lassiter and on the bullets that killed his wife and son.”
“You obviously remembered to wear gloves to the crime scene, but when you loaded the ammunition.”
Fittinger’s bravado crumpled. “Shit.”
“Why did you do it?” Sheriff Turner asked.
Fittinger drummed his hands on the scarred table.
Turner laid photos of each of the families in front of the perp. A couple with the last name Sorenson and a teenage boy. Another couple, the Haneys, another teenage son. The Murdocks, one son age thirteen. Then the Whittakers, Kaylie’s husband Joe, Kaylie and CeCe.
The couple from Bend Creek, the Lassiters with two teenage boys.
Mitch mentally analyzed the facts they had so far. All the couples had teenage boys, no girls, especially five-year-olds.
The Whittakers didn’t fit the pattern of the victimology.
“Those people had everything,” Fittinger bellowed. “A family, sons, but they were throwing it all away.”
“What do you mean, throwing it all away?” Sheriff Turner asked.
Fittinger yanked at his hair with his fists. “They were getting a divorce,” Fittinger shouted. “Throwing the kids to the wolves because they were cheaters and liars.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Mitch asked.
Fittinger’s face reddened. “My mama loved my daddy, but he cheated and beat me and threw us away.”
“So you think the families are better off dead than divorced?”
“They tore their families up, not me.” He beat at his chest with his fist, ranting incoherently.
Had Kaylie’s husband cheated on her? Had they discussed divorce?
“I didn’t kill that Whittaker man,” Fittinger snarled. “And that son of a bitch Larry Buckham had no right taking credit for my murders either.”
Mitch considered the victimology. As much as he wanted to believe Fittinger was lying about shooting Joe Whittaker, he believed the man.
Which meant that Kaylie was right, that Larry Buckham had killed her husband. And now he’d escaped prison, he was coming after her.
He told the sheriff he’d talk to him later, then hurried to the front office to call Kaylie.
The phone rang and rang, but she didn’t answer.
He hung up, then called again, but the voice mail kicked in.
Heart pounding with fear, he jogged outside to his truck and roared from the parking lot.
KAYLIE HAD GIVEN CECE PLENTY OF TIME TO WRAP HER present. She wished she’d had the time and money to buy Mitch a gift to thank him for all he’d done for them, for allowing them to share his home, but she hadn’t.
The cookies she and CeCe baked would have to do.
Knowing the ranch belonged to him made her hope that he would keep it when they were gone. But she had only pleasant memories here, where he had painful memories of the son and wife he’d lost.
“CeCe, are you finished?” Kaylie
peeked into the kitchen, frowning when she realized CeCe wasn’t at the table.
The back door stood ajar.
Had her daughter slipped out to the barn to see Horseshoe? She wasn’t supposed to without an adult, but CeCe loved the horse.
Still, worry seized her. What if she was wrong? What if Buckham had found them?
Suddenly panicked, she raced through the kitchen shouting CeCe’s name. But her chest constricted when the man she’d feared stepped from the shadows of the doorway leading to the back stoop.
Sheer terror filled Kaylie as the man clamped his hand over CeCe’s mouth and pressed a gun to her head.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CECE DIDN’T WANT TO DIE.
She knew she’d go to Heaven and get to see her daddy again. And she had a friend there now, Todd. Well, at least he was on his way there, but he said he couldn’t go yet, not till his daddy knew he loved him and wasn’t so sad.
If she did have to go now, Todd would show her the ropes, where to play and how to make other kid friends.
But then her mommy would be alone. Unless the bad man killed her, too.
Then they wouldn’t get to have Christmas this year.
And she’d never see Horseshoe again or get her kitty cat.
She wondered if God let kids have kitties in heaven.
“PLEASE DON’T HURT MY DAUGHTER,” KAYLIE SAID. “I’LL DO whatever you ask, just let her go.”
Larry Buckham’s jowl twitched with rage. “You made everyone think I killed all those families, but I didn’t.”
Kaylie strained for a breath. “Then prove it. Hurting me and CeCe is only going to make you look guilty.”
CeCe suddenly bit his hand, and the man bellowed and shoved her away from him. Kaylie caught her daughter and pushed her behind her to protect her.
“You little twit!” Buckham shouted as he shook his hand in pain.
“She’s just a scared little girl,” Kaylie said sharply. “And you’re being a bully to her.”
He stepped forward with a menacing glare, and Kaylie backed up, one hand on her daughter. If she got the chance, she’d tell CeCe to run.