by Gail Barrett
She shifted her weight, trying to steer her mind from that awful thought. Because an even more disturbing question lurked on the heels of that one: if Cole had asked her to stay in Montana, if he’d asked her to give up that scholarship and live in Maple Cove, what would she have done?
She pressed her hand to her belly, not anxious to answer that. Because if she did…she might not be as different from Cole’s father as she’d thought.
Shying away from that unflattering possibility, she drew her sweater closer around her and searched for something to do. But Hannah had gone into town with Gage Prescott to pick up groceries. Both her father and the senator were taking naps. The house was already spotless, and Hannah would kill her if she interfered in her domain.
She could scrounge up some tack and help the men load up cattle—except she’d promised not to leave the house. But she couldn’t stay cooped up inside with nothing to distract her; she would lose her mind.
She paced across the room to the stone fireplace, her restlessness increasing with every step. Hoping a friendly voice would help divert her, she pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Adam, but got his voice mail instead.
She tapped her fingers against the cell phone, his silence adding to her unease. It had been two days. He should have called with an update on Mrs. Bolter by now.
Unless he was trying to avoid her…
Rolling her eyes at that absurd thought, she dialed the nurses’ desk at the Preston-Werner Clinic. The danger on the ranch was making her paranoid. She was inventing conspiracies where they didn’t exist.
Besides, she didn’t need to talk to Adam to learn the results of the investigation. The nurse on duty could put her uncertainties to rest.
“Hi, Janeen,” she said when a nurse she worked with answered the phone. “It’s Bethany.”
“Oh. Hi, Bethany. What’s up?” Janeen’s overly chipper voice—the one she used on patients when the news was bad—put Bethany on instant alert.
“I’ve been trying to find out about the investigation, what they’ve learned about Frances Bolter’s death.”
Janeen hesitated a beat, prompting another spurt of dread. “Didn’t Adam phone you?”
“No. I just tried to call him but got his voice mail. So what did they find out?”
Janeen paused again, longer this time, and Bethany tightened her grip on the phone. “Hold on a minute,” she said. “I…I’ve got another call.”
She was lying. Bethany bit her lip, her nerves twisting higher as a pop song came over the line. But she drew in a steadying breath, determined not to overreact. Surely the clinic had cleared her of blame by now.
Janeen picked up the line a second later. “Sorry about that. Listen, Bethany. I can’t…I’m not supposed to talk to you. Not while you’re on administrative leave.”
Her stomach swooped. “They put me on leave? No one told me that.”
“Adam was supposed to notify you this morning.”
Anxiety squeezed her throat and she struggled to breathe. “He might have tried. We just had a barn fire so there’s been a lot of commotion here.” Except her cell phone didn’t show any missed calls. “But why would they put me on leave? I know I didn’t—”
“I can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.”
“But they must have checked the reconciliation form by now and inventoried the drugs.”
Janeen didn’t answer, her silence damning. Bethany clutched the phone, panic mushrooming inside her, desperation threading her voice. “The inventory must have cleared me. I know I didn’t give her the wrong dose. There has to be an ex—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t say any thing more. I…I’ve got to go.” Janeen disconnected the call.
Bethany didn’t move, her mind reeling with disbelief. They’d suspended her from her job. They were investigating her. They thought she’d made a mistake that caused Frances Bolter’s death.
She sank onto the sofa, her belly a tumult of dread. Could it be true? Might she have misjudged the dose? Horrified at the possibility, she pressed her hand to her lips. She’d been preoccupied about her father that night, in a hurry for her shift to end so she could pack for her trip.
But she was meticulous about dispensing drugs. She remembered entering the data on the reconciliation form and double-checking the dose. But then why didn’t the form back her up? And why wasn’t there enough of the study drug left to uphold her claim?
Then another terrible thought slammed into her, stealing her breath. Maybe I need a lawyer. Maybe they intended to charge her with negligence—or worse. But surely it wouldn’t come to that. The autopsy had to support her claims. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
But what if she had? What if she’d made a mistake that night…just as she’d misinterpreted the past with Cole?
Her stomach in total turmoil, she speared her hands through her hair. She couldn’t sit here idly while everything she’d worked for collapsed. Nor could she leave; she’d vowed to stay in Montana until the threat to Cole and her father had passed.
Torn, she rose and stared out the window. The yard remained deserted; Cole would be busy loading cattle for hours. She could use his computer to access Frances Bolter’s medical records and try to figure out what had gone wrong.
But as she headed down the hallway toward his office, the irony of her situation struck her hard. She’d wanted to take her mind off Cole and put her conscience at ease.
Instead, her life had just gotten worse.
By nightfall Bethany had confirmed one thing. She was in one heck of a mess.
“Am I interrupting?”
Startled, she tore her gaze from the computer monitor and peered into the shadows dimming the room. Cole stood beyond the desk, the haze from the desk lamp accentuating the angles of his face. He’d showered recently, judging by his still-damp hair. A five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw.
Suddenly aware that she’d taken over his desk, she rose. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if I could use your computer. I wanted to look at my patient’s medical records.” She glanced at the now-black windows and winced. “Time obviously got away from me.”
“I don’t mind. You can use the computer whenever you want.” His deep-toned voice sparked a surge of adrenaline, and her gaze swung back to him. She scanned his hard, masculine mouth, his broad shoulders encased in a white T-shirt, his flat abdomen and faded jeans. The intriguing stress spots in the denim made her face warm, and she jerked her eyes back up.
He held up a bottle of beer. “Join me in a beer? Or a glass of wine?”
She hesitated. She had no business spending time alone with Cole. He upset her equilibrium in too many ways.
He quirked a brow. “It’s only a drink. And Hannah said dinner’s not for half an hour.”
Knowing that any excuse would look foolish, she released her breath. “Sure. Wine would be great.”
“Wait here. I’ll get it.” He set his beer on the desk and left. Struggling to gather her composure, she shut down the computer, picked up the pages she’d printed out, and tapped them into a pile. She could handle this. They’d have a drink. He’d tell her about the cattle; she would talk about her job. She didn’t need to obsess about the past and analyze what she’d done wrong.
Cole returned a moment later with the wine and a glass. “You still drink chardonnay?”
“That’s perfect.”
He set down the wineglass and got to work on the cork. She stood beside him, eyeing the powerful curve of his biceps, the corded sinews in his tanned arms. His clean, soap scent invaded her senses, making her heart increase its beat.
He gave the corkscrew a final twist and tugged out the cork. “So what did you find out?”
Her thoughts swerved to her patient, and her anxiety came racing back. “I phoned the clinic. They’ve placed me on administrative leave. They still think I made a mistake.”
He paused and caught her eye. “I thought they were going to check the drug log.”
“They d
id.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. “It shows that I administered the wrong dose. And the drug inventory backs that up.”
His eyes stayed on hers. “But you don’t believe it.”
“No, I don’t believe it.” She couldn’t have made such a horrific mistake.
“So the drug log is wrong.” His expression thoughtful, he turned back to the desk and poured her a glass of wine. “How well do you know the people you work with?”
Her jaw slackened. “You think someone set me up?”
“Do you?”
“No, of course not. I can’t even imagine that. They’re my friends. We’ve worked together for years.”
He raised a pointed brow—reminding her that someone on his ranch, someone he’d known and worked with for years, could be trying to destroy him, too. And suddenly, she understood how he felt, knowing that someone he considered a friend had abused his trust.
Did he think she’d betrayed him, too?
Unnerved by that terrible thought, she forced her mind back to her job. “Even if someone did want to set me up, I don’t see how they could do it. We keep the drug log on a computer, and whenever we enter the data, it records the time and date.”
“Someone who knows computers could get around that.”
“But why would anyone bother? It doesn’t make sense. Everyone loved Mrs. Bolter. No one wanted to see her dead.” And Bethany didn’t have any enemies that she knew.
His eyes still thoughtful, Cole handed her the wine. “They’ll do an autopsy, right?”
“Yes, definitely. And it should clear me of any blame. But the results might not be available for a while, depending on the backload at the lab.”
And in the meantime, her reputation would be ruined.
Lightheaded at the possibility, she sipped her wine. Then she trailed Cole to a small seating group by the windows, and sat across from him in a leather chair.
“What were you looking for online?” he asked.
Inhaling, she tried to regroup. “Mostly I looked at her records.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Nothing obvious. But I went back as far as I could, and saw that she did a stint in rehab years ago. At least it seems that way. There was a reference in one of her charts… I’d have to do more digging to be sure. The oldest records are probably still on paper. But they would have been archived somewhere.”
“Rehab for what?”
“Alcohol abuse. But Adam should have known about that. He gave everyone a physical before the trial began. He wouldn’t have let her in if it wasn’t safe.”
Cole shifted his gaze to the window, as if turning that over in his mind. “Then what do you think caused her death? The drug?”
She shook her head. “They do all sorts of tests on the drugs before they go to human trials. They’re usually pretty safe.” She paused and frowned at her wine.
“Usually?” Cole prodded
Still hesitating, she met his eyes. “But you hear rumors sometimes, that pharmaceutical companies suppress things. There’s big money involved, and a new drug for rheumatoid arthritis…” She inclined her head. “You can imagine how lucrative it would be.
“In any case, it’s all conjecture. The drug, her former alcohol abuse—none of that might have mattered. They might not have had anything to do with her death.”
“But they might.”
“Maybe.” She grimaced. “I’d need to do more research. What I really need is access to a database, the kind a university library would have.”
His dark brows knitted. “Would Montana State have what you need?”
“Probably.” And Bozeman was less than an hour away.
“If you need to talk to someone, I still know some professors there.”
“You went to Montana State?”
“At night. It took me a while, but I got an agribusiness degree. I thought it might come in handy, particularly the accounting and finance parts. The fewer people I have to hire, the more money I can funnel back into the ranch.”
She drained her glass, impressed. And suddenly, winning that full-ride scholarship didn’t seem like such a great achievement. While she’d had the luxury of attending school full-time, Cole had earned his degree the hard way—after putting in long days at the ranch.
Cole took her empty glass and returned to the desk. Bethany studied his powerful back, the play and flex of his muscles under his shirt, and a heavy feeling unfurled in her chest. She’d always admired Cole’s strength. He didn’t shirk from a job, didn’t lean on anyone else. The way he’d put himself through college epitomized that.
But maybe that self-reliance came from necessity. Maybe he’d learned that he had to go it alone.
And maybe she’d reinforced that belief when she left.
She dropped her gaze to her hands, a sudden thickness blocking her throat. She’d adored Cole. She couldn’t stand the thought that she might have hurt him. Surely she hadn’t been that self-involved.
“More wine?” he asked.
Thrown off-kilter, she met his gaze. She shouldn’t linger. She should go back to her room and think this out, put some badly needed distance between them before she said something she would regret. But when had she ever done the logical thing around Cole?
“All right.” She rose and joined him at the desk. While he poured her wine, she studied his rugged profile—his straight, masculine nose, the sexy downward slant of his cheekbones, the virile beard stubble shadowing his jaw. She’d been so crazy in love with this man, and she’d thought she’d known him so well. Could she really have misinterpreted what he’d felt?
His blue eyes skewered hers. Her pulse abruptly sped up. She swallowed, suddenly far too aware of how close he stood. His warm, muscled arm brushed hers.
“How are the cattle?” she asked, her heart struggling to find a beat. “Did you get them all shipped off?”
“About half.” He picked up his beer and leaned against the desk. “We’ll finish the rest tomorrow morning and return the trucks to Butte. I’m heading up to the mountains after that.”
“Do you know where the rest of the herd is?”
“Near the divide. Del took me up in his helicopter this afternoon to check. The good news is that the herd’s intact.” A crease formed between his brows. “I just hope the snow holds off. This first storm of the season is supposed to be a big one.”
She nodded. A heavy snowfall could devastate the herd, cutting off their access to water and food. “Who are you taking with you?”
“Tony and Kenny Greene.”
She wrinkled her nose. She didn’t trust Tony; if anyone on this ranch was conspiring with killers, she’d put her money on him. But her predicament in Chicago had taught her one thing—it hurt to be accused of something you didn’t do. And she couldn’t inflict that same damage on anyone else—not her father, not even a despicable bully like Tony, not without concrete proof. She needed far more evidence than a forgotten scrap of leather or some thuds she’d heard in the barn.
“You’ll need more than two people to help you if you’ve got a hundred head to bring in,” she said. “Especially with that snow.”
“I can’t do anything about that. I need to leave Earl and Bill here to tend the rest of the herd.”
“I’ll go with you. I can go to Bozeman tomorrow morning and do my research while you finish loading the cattle and return the trucks. I’ll be back before you leave.”
He shook his head. “Forget it. You agreed to stay in the house.”
“I’ll go crazy sitting around here.”
“Better crazy than dead.”
Her exasperation rose. “But I can’t stay inside. I told you, I need to get to a university library.”
“Why can’t you look online?”
“It would take too long. I can’t possibly search the online library of every university in the world. I need access to an index, a database like D.A.I.—Dissertations Abstract International. I can skim through that, and if a dissert
ation looks promising I can go from there. It’s still a long shot, but at least it gives me a chance.”
“Then wait until I get back. I’ll only be gone a couple of days.”
“I can’t. My reputation will be ruined by then. I can’t just sit here doing nothing while everything I’ve worked for falls apart.”
Cole set down his empty bottle and sighed. “Bethany, be reasonable. You saw that note. They’ve threatened to go after you next.”
Her breath hitched, apprehension clutching her chest. “I’ll be careful. I promise. The library must have a metal detector. No one’s going to barge in there with a gun.”
“The hell they won’t.” He rose and turned to face her. “Don’t you understand how dangerous this is? Those people just killed a mercenary.”
“I know, but—”
“He was a professional and he died. You don’t stand a chance.”
“You’re not sitting back while they attack your ranch.”
His mouth hardened. “That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Of course it is. For God’s sake, Bethany—”
“I’m going to do this. I have to, Cole.” Her eyes pleaded with his. “If I hide in the house it means the bad guys win. And I’ve worked too hard for too many years to let this destroy me now.”
He worked his jaw, as if striving for control, his eyes never wavering from hers. And a host of emotions paraded through his eyes—frustration, resignation, respect… And something deeper. Something that looked a lot like desire.
Her stomach swooped. She turned stock-still, unable to tear her gaze from his. And her traitorous mind bombarded her with sensual memories—the erotic rasp of his jaw, the hard feel of his muscled frame. That heady rush of delirium she’d felt when he’d moved his lips over hers.
Her mouth turned to dust. Cole’s eyes darkened, igniting a blast of heat in her blood. She’d seen that hungry look too many times to mistake his intent.
She dropped her gaze to his mouth. She tried to swallow, but failed. He reached out and cupped her jaw, his warm, calloused hand sending thrills racing over her skin. She abruptly lost the capacity to think.