Meredith’s father, Red, was in the living room seated in his favorite chair and Chase was nowhere to be found. She sat on the sofa and smiled at her dad.
“I love family meals,” he said. “I love having the family all together.”
“It was nice,” she agreed. As usual when speaking to her father she made her voice louder than usual. Although Red refused to admit any problem, all of his kids knew he was growing deaf. “It won’t be long before the family gets bigger. Anna is pregnant and I have a feeling if Kate has her way she won’t be far behind her.”
Red’s eyes took on a faraway cast. “Grandchildren are a blessing. I just wish—” He broke off and smiled at Meredith. “Well, you know what I wish.”
She nodded. He wished Meredith’s mother were here to share it all with him. He wished his wife were by his side in the autumn of their lives. Meredith thought of the file that was in the top drawer of her dresser in her bedroom.
She couldn’t give her mother back to her father, but maybe after all these years she could finally give him some closure. She could give him the name of Elizabeth’s murderer.
Minutes later Kathy and Smokey came out of the kitchen and the four of them visited for another half hour or so. Chase came into the living room from his bedroom just about the same time Red decided to retire for the night.
By ten o’clock everyone had gone to his or her room except Chase and Meredith. “Is now a good time to go through that file?” he asked her.
“It’s a perfect time. I’ll just go get it.” As she left the living room, she drew deep breaths, wondering what it was about Chase McCall’s presence that made her feel as if she never got quite enough oxygen.
She retrieved the file from the dresser drawer, then returned to the living room. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen where we can spread it out on the table?” she suggested.
He nodded and together they went into the kitchen and sat at the round oak table. Meredith placed her hand on the top of the file, for a moment feeling as if she were about to open Pandora’s box.
Inside the folder was the last evidence of a life interrupted, the pieces of an investigation that had yielded no results, leaving a man and six children to wonder who had committed such outrage and left behind such devastation.
“You sure you want to do this?” Chase’s voice was soft, but his gaze was sharp and penetrating, as if he were attempting to look directly into her soul.
“No, I’m not at all sure I want to do this,” she replied honestly. “But, I feel like I have to.” She looked at the folder beneath her hand. “I feel like she wants me to do this, she needs me to do this.” She laughed and looked at him once again. “I know it sounds crazy.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he replied. “I know all about needing answers, but you realize it’s possible we won’t get the answers you want from that file.”
“I know. I’m just looking for a lead, something that was perhaps overlooked when the initial investigation took place.”
He pulled the folder from beneath her hand and opened it. He quickly withdrew three photographs and flipped them face down on the table just out of her reach. “There’s no reason for you to see those,” he said. There was a toughness in his tone that forbade her to argue with him.
She didn’t want to argue. She didn’t want to see crime-scene photos of her mother’s broken body. She had a faint memory of her mother’s smiling face, and she wanted nothing to displace her single visual memory of the woman who had given her life.
For the next hour they pored over the papers and while she read lab reports and crime-scene analyses she tried not to notice the evocative scent of Chase, the heat of his body so close to hers.
It had been a very long time since she’d been so intensely aware of a man and aware of her own desire for a man. She held no illusions about her desirability as a woman. She’d always been a bodyguard first, a woman second, more in touch with her abilities to exist in a man’s world than in her own femininity.
But as she sat next to Chase, she wished she knew more about womanly wiles, about how to flirt and how to let a man know she was interested in him.
She instantly chided herself. She knew nothing about Chase McCall, about what kind of man he was, what was important to him. She knew nothing about him except the fact that one glance of his eyes and everything tightened inside her, one brush of his hand against hers and the defenses she kept wrapped around herself threatened to shatter.
With a sigh of irritation at her own wayward thoughts, she consciously focused on the paper in her hand.
“Was it your mother’s usual habit to go grocery shopping on a Friday night?” Chase asked.
“I don’t know. Unfortunately, I don’t know a lot about my mother.”
His eyes held curiosity. “You never asked your father or any of your brothers about her?”
She leaned back in the chair and frowned thoughtfully. “Over the years I’d asked some simple questions. I wanted to know what kind of woman she was, what she liked and didn’t like. But I never asked anything that might stir up Dad’s grief all over again.”
Chase nodded. “I’d be interested to know if your mother was a creature of habit or if the shopping trip that night was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“Maybe I should write down some of the questions.” She got up from the table and went to the desk in the corner of the kitchen to get pen and paper. “Tanner would be the one for me to talk to. He was ten when Mom died and he still has a lot of memories of her.”
It was a relief to have just that momentary distance from him, from his pleasant scent that seemed to fill her head. When she returned to the table, she noticed that the photos he’d placed on the side had been moved, letting her know that while she’d hunted for paper and pen, he’d looked at those photos.
He leaned back in the chair and frowned thoughtfully. “The investigation looks tight. The officials did everything that should have been done,” he said. “Unfortunately they didn’t have a lot to go on. There were no witnesses and not much evidence to examine. But it looks like they spoke to your mother’s friends and acquaintances to see if there was anyone giving her problems or somebody she’d made angry.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t look like they missed anything.”
Meredith sighed in frustration. She’d hoped he’d find something, anything that might provide a lead to the killer.
She stared toward the window where the black of night reflected her image back to her. “I think she was killed by somebody who knew her, somebody here in town. For a week after she was buried, a bouquet of daisies was placed on her grave. Daisies were my mother’s favorite flowers and nobody from the family was responsible for putting them there. A bouquet of daisies is still put on her grave every year on the anniversary of her death.”
“Has that been investigated?” He leaned forward, as if she’d captured his attention. His blond hair gleamed in the artificial light and she wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
She nodded. “Clyde Walker was the sheriff at the time of her death and he tried to solve the mystery of the daisies. According to Tanner what he discovered was that an FTD order was placed and paid for in cash from Oklahoma City directing the flowers be placed on the grave for that week. The florist here had no idea who had ordered them. Sheriff Ramsey has tried to get to the bottom of the yearly bouquets, but he hasn’t learned anything new.”
“I agree with you, I think she was killed by somebody she knew, by somebody she trusted.”
“Why do you think that?” Meredith asked.
“The evidence, such as it is, supports it. I’m assuming that stretch of road between here and town is dark and probably not well traveled.”
“That’s right.”
“There was no evidence in those reports that your mother had any kind of car trouble that night, yet she pulled over to the side of the road and got out of her car to meet her murderer. That’s not consistent with a stranger kill. And there’s someth
ing else…” He frowned, his gaze assessing, as if gauging how strong she was, how much she could hear.
She raised her chin and held his gaze. “Tell me. What else?”
He rubbed a hand across his lower jaw where she could see the faint stubble of a five-o’clock shadow. “According to the crime-scene report, there was evidence of a struggle and yet from the photo I saw that was taken when your mother was found, her clothing was almost artfully arranged in place. If I had to guess, whoever killed your mother had some sort of feelings for her.”
He leaned forward and gathered the papers together and shoved them back into the folder, then looked at her once again. “Is it possible your mother was seeing somebody?”
“You mean like an affair? Absolutely not,” she said forcefully. “Everyone who knew my parents talk about how devoted they were to each other. All of the women who knew my mother said she adored my father.”
She didn’t even want to think that the fairy-tale love her parents had shared wasn’t true, that her mother had wandered outside her marriage vows. “Mom was a budding actress in Hollywood when she met Dad. She was just beginning to enjoy success and attention. She left her career behind to move here with him and have a family.”
He tapped a finger on the file. “I don’t see how I can help you on this,” he said. “It looks like everything was done at the time to try to find the murderer. It’s a cold case with no new evidence to explore.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she replied. “I really appreciate your thoughts on this.”
“No problem.” He grinned, a slow, sexy gesture that caused her breath to momentarily catch in her chest. “Now, tell me, why don’t you go to the town dances?”
She got up from the table. Now that he’d done what she’d wanted him to do in looking through the files, she felt the need to escape. The kitchen felt too small, his very presence far too big.
He rose from the table and moved to stand within inches of her. His clean, masculine scent once again infused her head, making her half-dizzy. “I thought all women loved dances,” he said, his breath warm on her face.
“I went to a few but I got tired of standing around waiting for somebody to ask me to dance.” Step back, her mind commanded, but it was as if her legs had gone numb.
“I find that hard to believe,” he said, his gaze focused on her mouth. She fought the impulse to lick her lips, afraid he might see it as an open invitation, even more afraid she would mean it as an invitation.
“It’s true,” she said, the words seeming to come from far away. “I don’t know if the men in this town are more afraid of my brothers or because I carry a gun.”
He touched her then, a mere brush of her hair away from her face. As his fingertips skimmed the side of her cheek, a coil of heat unfurled in the pit of her stomach.
“I’ve met all your brothers and I don’t find them scary at all. And I carry a gun, too, so that definitely doesn’t bother me. But, let me tell you what does bother me.” His eyes were no longer cold and assessing, but rather warm and inviting. “It bothers me that since the moment I laid eyes on you I’ve wondered what your mouth would feel like under mine.”
Her breath caught painfully tight in her throat. “Do you intend to keep on wondering or do you intend to find out?” Her heart crashed inside her chest.
How had they gotten from talking about a murder to contemplating a kiss? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. All she wanted at the moment was for him to kiss her…hard and deeply.
“I definitely intend to find out,” he said as he wrapped her in his strong arms and pulled her tight against him. His mouth took hers, his lips possessing, demanding.
She opened her mouth to him, wanting the touch of his tongue against hers, the shattering heat of full possession. She raised her arms around his neck and placed her fingers where the bottom of his thick, silky hair met his shirt collar. Soft. The blond hair was definitely soft.
The kiss seemed to last forever, but it wasn’t long enough for her. It was he who finally broke the kiss and stepped back from her, his eyes gleaming with wicked intensity.
“If you dance even half as well as you kiss, then we should have a great time on Saturday night.” He walked over to the table and picked up the file folder. “Sweet dreams, Meredith,” he said, then left the kitchen.
She stared after him, wondering if she’d ever breathe normally again. Meredith had spent most of her life competing with her brothers, but at this moment she was intensely grateful that she was a woman.
He’d seen the cars come and go at the West ranch from his hiding place in the stand of trees. The entire family had gathered. But he wasn’t interested in any of the others…just her…just Elizabeth.
No, not Elizabeth, he told himself. Elizabeth was gone. Dead. But Meredith was wonderfully alive and having her would be like having Elizabeth.
It had only been in the last month or so that he’d realized that Meredith was the spitting image of the woman he’d loved, the woman he’d been obsessed with.
Before the last month, Meredith had been out of town a lot and he’d rarely run into her. Then one day he’d seen her walking on the sidewalk downtown, and he’d been electrified by the sight. It was as if Elizabeth walked again, breathed again.
He’d been unable to get Meredith out of his mind. She was so beautiful. He could almost feel the silk of her dark hair between his fingers. He wanted to drown in the green depths of her eyes. Just looking at her made it hard to breathe. She possessed his every thought.
He had to have her. His need soared through him, filling him with both a euphoric high and an edge of apprehension. He had to have her. He would have her, but this time he’d do things differently. This time he’d try not to kill her.
Chapter 4
The scents of popcorn, cotton candy and autumn rode the air as Chase got out of Red West’s car. It had already been a full day with pie-eating, cattle-judging and jelly-tasting contests.
A carnival had taken up residency in the parking lot in front of the community center. Multicolored lights flickered on the Ferris wheel as the delighted screams of the riders competed with the raucous laughter coming from the Tilt-A-Whirl.
Soon the carnival would shut down and the night would belong to the adults of Cotter Creek. “It’s a beautiful night,” Kathy said as she and Smokey, Red and Chase walked toward the community building where the dance would be taking place.
It was a perfect autumn night. A full moon hung in a cloudless sky and it was unusually warm for early October.
“Mark my words, there will be mischief tonight,” Smokey said gruffly as he looked up in the sky. “Add full-moon madness with a live band and liquor and there’s sure to be trouble.”
Maybe a little prefull-moon madness was what Chase had suffered two nights ago when he’d kissed Meredith. He hadn’t begun the night with any intention of kissing her, but at the time of the kiss, he’d felt as if he needed to kiss her.
Even now, just the thought of the taste of her soft lips beneath his had the effect of heating his blood. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. That kiss had shaken him up far more than he liked to admit.
Since the night of the kiss, he’d tried to keep his distance from Meredith, both mental and physical. Red had taken him into town each morning, and he’d caught a ride back to the ranch with Dalton in the evenings.
He’d spent a lot of time in the café, talking to the locals, trying to get a handle on the crimes that had brought him to Cotter Creek.
But he’d found the locals reluctant to talk to strangers. He was obviously viewed as an outsider in the small tight-knit community. The only person who seemed to talk fairly freely was old man Sam Rhenquist who stationed himself every morning on the bench outside the barbershop. Although initially the old man had been fairly closemouthed, the more time Chase spent seated on the bench with Sam, the more the man seemed inclined to talk.
Chase and Dalton had spent the night before slu
gging back beers and shooting pool at the local bar. Every minute he spent with his friend produced a sick guilt inside him as he thought of how he was deceiving him. But the tips pointing a finger at the Wests couldn’t be ignored.
That morning he’d touched base with Agents Tompkins and Wallace to see what progress they’d made during their time in Cotter Creek. They were in the middle of investigating Sheila Wadsworth’s life. Sheila Wadsworth was the real estate agent who had been responsible for the sales of the property to the MoTwin Corporation.
She’d been murdered, but the agents were hoping that in the reams of paperwork she’d left behind, they might find the identity of the local man or men behind the scheme. Unfortunately, they had little to report so far.
“I thought Meredith was coming with us tonight,” Kathy said, the question pulling Chase out of his thoughts.
“She went over to Libby and Clay’s and told me she’d meet us here later,” Red replied.
As they entered the community building, a band was warming up on the stage and a group of young men stood nearby, most of them looking as if they’d already gotten their noses in the sauce. They snickered and elbowed one another as they eyed the women who crossed their path.
Red, Smokey and Kathy sat at one of the tables that ringed the dance floor while Chase spied Dalton across the room and excused himself to join his friend.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were nothing but an Oklahoma cowboy,” Dalton said with a grin.
Chase fingered the pearl buttons on his western-style black shirt. “Mom bought this for me this afternoon and insisted I wear it tonight.”
“I’d expect you to have a black hat hanging on the wall and a black horse waiting for you in the parking lot.”
Chase grinned. “Only it would be a white hat and a white horse. Have you forgotten that I’m one of the good guys?”
Safety In Numbers Page 4