by Rita Herron
“I paid Barry Dothan a visit this afternoon,” Chaz said.
Tawny-Lynn narrowed her eyes. “And?”
“He admitted to taking pictures of you and the other girls at school. But his mother claims he’s innocent. She alibied him years ago.”
“The sheriff really thought he could have hurt Ruth and Peyton?”
“He was a person of interest. But he became really upset when I accused him of stalking you. I don’t know if he’s dangerous, but I warned him to stay away from you.”
“Thanks.”
A frown puckered between his eyebrows. “Honestly though, judging from what I saw, I don’t think he kidnapped our sisters. Over the years, he would probably have broken down and told someone.”
“That’s probably true,” she said.
He shone a flashlight along the floor, looking for blood, an eyelash, anything that might help. “A Texas Ranger named Justin Thorpe called this afternoon. Two young women went missing from neighboring counties in the last two months. If the cases are connected, Dothan can’t have done it. He only travels by bike.”
“So he couldn’t have gotten rid of Ruth’s and Peyton’s bodies if he’d killed them,” Tawny-Lynn said.
“Right.”
A heartbeat passed. “Chaz, this afternoon I talked to J.J. McMullen, Peyton’s old boyfriend.”
Chaz glanced up at her. “What did he have to say?”
“That Peyton dropped him for an older man. He thought the guy might have been married.”
That was news to him. “Did he give you a name?”
She fidgeted with the belt of her robe. “No, he said he didn’t know who it was. But it started me thinking about Peyton’s other friends and that they might have known something about who she was seeing, so I went and talked to Cindy Miller, I mean Cindy Parker, and Rudy Farnsworth at the Sports Barn.”
“Did they know who Peyton was seeing?”
“Not exactly. But Cindy got really nervous when I asked her. And Rudy said she’d heard Peyton crying, and telling Ruth that she thought her lover was going to leave his wife for her. But when Peyton pressed him, he threatened to ruin her life if she told anyone about them.”
Chaz ran a hand through his hair. “There wasn’t anything in the sheriff’s report about a married lover.”
“She obviously was with someone because I found condoms in her nightstand.” Tawny-Lynn paused. “And if what Rudy said was true, this man might have panicked at the idea of Peyton exposing their affair.”
“So he killed her to keep her quiet?”
“It’s possible.”
Chaz grimaced. Her theory made more sense than anything they’d considered so far. “Yeah, and if Ruth knew who he was, then that would have given him motive to kill her, too.”
* * *
DAMN TAWNY-LYNN. She’d nearly broken his knee with that fire poker. She was tough—a fighter—that was for sure.
Just like she’d been on the softball field.
Not as soft and sweet as her sister. Or Ruth.
Ruth... Oh, beautiful Ruth.
He’d hated losing her. Had never meant for things to turn out the way they had...
The wind stirred the trees below, and now the curtains had been stripped in the old man’s room, he could see every move the sheriff and Tawny-Lynn made.
Dammit. Camden was getting way too chummy with her. Didn’t he have any allegiance to the town?
He’d watched the sheriff through his binoculars from his perch at the top of the hill and seen him making out with her.
That would be a complication. If the two of them got too close, he’d have to do something fast.
Killing Tawny-Lynn would be easy.
But killing the sheriff would be risky.
Still he’d do whatever he had to in order to protect his secret.
Chapter Twelve
Tawny-Lynn rubbed her aching back as she saw the wheels turning in Chaz’s head. For the first time in years, she sensed he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers.
Because they might find that Ruth and Peyton were both dead.
She’d long ago accepted that possibility. After all, if they had survived, why wouldn’t one of them have contacted their families?
“I’m finished here if you want to go back to bed,” Chaz said.
Tawny-Lynn shrugged. “I don’t think I can sleep.”
He gently touched her arm. “I’ll stay downstairs and keep watch. Go get some rest.”
“You don’t have to stay, Chaz.”
Worry knitted his brow. “Yes, I do, I’m the sheriff.”
That’s right. He was just doing his job. Maybe she had totally misread that kiss. But she could have sworn she’d felt his passion.
“I can’t send this stuff to the lab until morning,” he said. “Then I’m going to talk to Sheriff Simmons and see if he remembers any rumors about Peyton having an affair with a married man.”
Good heavens. She’d known her sister was boy crazy and out of control those last few months, but how could she have slept with a man who already had a wife? Did he have children, too?
Did he still live in Camden Crossing?
If so, maybe he was worried that Tawny-Lynn knew his identity. Or that she’d find something in the house that would trigger her memory.
“Was there anything left from the fire?” she asked.
Chaz narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Like Peyton’s backpack. She liked to scribble J.J.’s name in her notebook. Maybe she scribbled this man’s name in it, and the notebook was in her bag.”
“I’ll ask the sheriff,” Chaz said. “You didn’t find anything in her room?”
She hadn’t searched every notebook. “Just the condoms. But I’ll keep looking.”
Chaz rubbed a hand down her arm. “This has been a helluva night for you. Go back to bed, Tawny-Lynn.”
She was exhausted. But the thought of the nightmares returning—and a new one with the strangler in it—made her breath hitch.
She wanted to ask Chaz to go with her to bed. To hold her and comfort her through the night.
His gaze locked with hers for a moment, heat sizzling between them along with unanswered questions...and desire.
Desire was dangerous, though. It led to emotional entanglements like love, and she wasn’t ready for that in her life.
Working with Chaz to find answers would have to be enough.
So she climbed the steps to her room and crawled into bed alone.
But she tossed and turned and sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes she saw that masked man diving toward her. Felt his hands twisting her neck and squeezing the life out of her.
He hadn’t succeeded tonight.
Which meant he would be back.
Would he kill her next time?
* * *
WATCHING TAWNY-LYNN retreat to her bedroom alone was one of the hardest things Chaz had done in a long time.
Ever since the day Ruth went missing, he’d blamed himself and turned his focus on finding out what happened to her. That was all tied to Tawny-Lynn, and her reappearance in Camden Crossing had given him hope.
But, hell. He was lying to himself if he didn’t admit that there was more. He was attracted to her. That kiss had only whetted his appetite for more.
Even worse, he liked her.
She was strong and gutsy, a fighter, a survivor in spite of all she’d endured. She didn’t even seem to hate his family or the town, which she had every right to do.
And she wanted the truth as much as he did.
Only being this close to her, touching her, holding her, made him want something else just as much.
He wanted to keep her safe. Wan
ted to kiss her again and make love to her and...
He couldn’t go there.
Instead, as he stood watch over Tawny-Lynn’s house, he stewed over the information Tawny-Lynn had shared, mentally tossing around names of men in town who might have had an affair with Peyton.
He immediately dismissed the old-timers who hung out in front of the general store to play checkers. There were friends of his father’s, but they were so much older he couldn’t imagine Peyton being attracted to any of them.
Thanks to the new development on the lake and the mayor who’d spearheaded the project to renovate the exterior storefronts to give the town a cohesive Western look, the town had doubled in population in the last seven years.
New families and businesses meant progress for the town.
But whoever had taken Peyton and Ruth had lived in or near Camden Crossing seven years ago.
Keith Plumbing had been a suspect because he’d done odd jobs in Camden Crossing and Sunset Mesa, but he’d gone to Austin for a job that day. Only the job fell through. Plumbing claimed he was upset, bought a bottle of bourbon and spent the night in his truck.
But he had no one to corroborate his story. Still they’d had no evidence against him.
He tried to remember Plumbing’s age and guessed he was early thirties now so he would have been young enough to attract a teen, yet old enough to be considered an older man by Peyton or Ruth.
Wind rattled the windowpanes in the house, and he combed through the downstairs rooms, making sure the locks were secure. His eyelids felt heavy so he brewed a pot of coffee and wandered outside to sit on the front porch.
Boulder had let the ranch go downhill. Not that it was a big working spread, but the place had potential. Two barns, a stable and riding pen. And enough pasture for a small herd of cattle.
An investor would probably sweep up the place, then Tawny-Lynn would be gone from his life forever.
An odd feeling pinched his gut at the thought.
She could have died earlier.
Hell. Someone still wanted her dead.
He sipped his coffee and watched as dawn streaked the sky. Pinks and reds and oranges smothered the gray clouds from the night before, making the ranch look peaceful. Yet an eerie feeling washed over him, as if death had already taken hold of this land.
But he wouldn’t let it claim Tawny-Lynn. She’d suffered enough. He’d protect her with his life.
* * *
TAWNY-LYNN WAITED until the sun had lifted into the sky, then finally slipped from bed. She was exhausted from staring at the ceiling and thinking about her attacker.
And the kiss she’d shared with Chaz.
She wanted to kiss him again.
But that would be risky to her heart. As soon as the ranch was ready to be put on the market, she’d return to her life. A life that didn’t include Chaz.
Only could she leave with unanswered questions? And what if the man who’d attacked her last night had followed her?
She washed her face, brushed through her tangled hair and secured it into a ponytail. With rain on the horizon tomorrow, she dressed for yard work today.
The scent of coffee wafted up the stairs as she descended, and morning light washed over the den and kitchen. The place looked different now without the clutter and dust. Almost...homey.
With a little paint and some new furniture, someone would make it a home again. She could almost see a baby in a bassinet in the corner, a little boy with dark hair, running across the room with a football in his hand, a dog curled on a braided rug in front of the fireplace.
Good grief. The little boy she’d pictured had looked just like Chaz.
You are crazy, Tawny-Lynn. Crazy. Even if you and Chaz ever got romantic, his parents would never accept you.
She filled herself a coffee mug, then retrieved her father’s rifle from the gun cabinet and set it by the stairs.
Then she found Chaz on the front porch in the swing with his own mug. Sunlight streaked his chiseled face, adding to his masculinity.
But when he glanced at her, shadows darkened his eyes.
“Did you sleep at all?” she asked.
The swing creaked as he pushed it back and forth with his feet. “No. Did you?”
“Not really.” She sank into the swing beside him.
For a long moment, they sat in silence, just sipping their coffee and looking out over the ranch. The grass was dry, weeds choked the flowerbeds, and the barn and stables needed repairs.
So much to do.
Yet in the quiet of the morning, there was also something almost peaceful about the scenery. And something intimate about sharing it with Chaz.
Chaz slid his hand over hers, and Tawny-Lynn’s breath caught. Unable to help herself she curled her fingers into his. His touch felt warm, sensual, titillating.
“I’m headed out to see Sheriff Simmons today.”
Anxiety wound Tawny-Lynn’s stomach into a knot, any sense of peace evaporating.
“After what happened last night, I don’t want to leave you alone, though. You can come with me.”
Tawny-Lynn considered his suggestion, but being with him was playing havoc on her senses. “No, go ahead. I need to stay here and work outside today.”
The sooner she fixed up the place, the sooner she could leave.
He slanted her a worried look. “It’s not safe for you to be alone.”
“No one is going to attack me in broad daylight. Besides, I found Daddy’s rifle. I’ll keep it with me outside just in case.”
He arched his brows. “You know how to shoot?”
She smiled, grief twisting her heart. “That’s the one thing my father and I did together. He taught me. I used to clean off the cans he set on the fence in ten seconds flat.”
“There’s a helluva difference between shooting cans and shooting a person.”
She squeezed Chaz’s hand, her gaze glued to his mouth. Her body ached to be held, her lips yearned to touch his again. But the memory of that man’s hands around her throat as he tried to strangle the life out of her, taunted her.
“I can do it if I have to.”
He put his coffee mug on the porch floor, then took hers and did the same. Then he lifted a finger and traced it along her jaw. “You’re strong, Tawny-Lynn. I admire that about you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not strong, Chaz. If I was, I’d be able to remember, to see that man’s face.”
A silence fell between them, fraught with old pain and anguish.
Chaz leaned forward and kissed her again. This kiss was tender, sweet, full of passion and promise. Tawny-Lynn leaned into him, savoring his taste and wishing it could last forever.
He probed her lips apart with his tongue and deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing in tandem. Raw need flooded Tawny-Lynn.
She wanted more, to take him upstairs and get naked with him.
But he ended the kiss, then pulled away and stroked her cheek again. “Are you sure you can handle the rifle?”
She smiled. “I won the skeet shoot at the county fair when I was twelve.”
“I wish I’d seen that.”
Maybe if she stuck around she’d show him.
She froze. Where had that thought come from? She would never stay in Camden Crossing.
He squeezed her hand again then stood. “Call me if you need me. I’ll check in after I talk to Simmons.”
She lifted their joined hands, then kissed his palm. “Thanks for coming last night, Chaz. And for staying.”
He paused, his eyes flickering with emotions she couldn’t define. Worry? Hunger? Desire?
“I promise you I’ll find the man who hurt you.”
She licked her bottom lip, hating the reminder as he walked to his car. But for onc
e in her life, she didn’t feel alone. Chaz would keep his promise.
Still, she grabbed the rifle for protection as she headed outside to work in the yard.
* * *
AS MUCH AS CHAZ hated to leave Tawny-Lynn, he wanted to talk to Simmons and question Keith Plumbing, and thought it might be best if she wasn’t with him for the latter in case Plumbing admitted to an affair and disparaged Peyton.
But tension coiled inside him. Although her attacker most likely wouldn’t come back during the day, Chaz didn’t like the fact that someone wanted to hurt her.
He drove home and showered, then went straight to Sheriff Simmons’s place, a rustic log cabin he’d built for retirement on the creek. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he made his way to the front door. The sound of water gurgling over rocks echoed from behind the cabin.
He knocked again but no one answered, so he walked to the side of the cabin and spotted Simmons sitting on a rock, holding a fishing pole. Simmons glanced up at him, squinting at the bright morning sun.
“Hey,” Chaz said. “Are they biting?”
Simmons chuckled. “No, but I’m not giving up.”
Chaz gestured at the bait bucket on the ground. “Looks like you’re enjoying retirement.”
Simmons shrugged. “Gets lonely sometimes. This was mine and Dorothy’s dream. Not so much fun alone.”
A pang stabbed at Chaz’s heart. Simmons and his wife had been married thirty years, but the very year Simmons retired, he lost his wife to cancer.
“But you didn’t drive out here to listen to me complain,” Simmons said. “What’s up, Camden?”
Chaz explained about Tawny-Lynn being back in town and the trouble. “Someone attacked Tawny-Lynn last night.”
Simmons whistled. “That poor girl. She’s been through hell.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Her daddy treated her like Peyton’s disappearance was her fault. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t want a memorial service.”
Sympathy for Tawny-Lynn swelled inside Chaz, mingling with his growing admiration for her.
Chaz sat down on another rock and watched the birds dipping toward the water.
Simmons pulled in his pole, checked the bait then cast it again. “So what can I do for you?”