“That’s what I want to do.” She leaned forward again, a serious expression on her face. Her top was no longer taut against her curves, but Mitch noticed them, anyway. “I want to enlighten people. I need to report the truth, Mitch. About Nancy’s death and the others, too, if I can prove the connection. Will you help me?”
“Only if you help me.” He gritted his teeth but kept his mouth closed. Though he had grown up far from his mother’s family, she had imparted to him the Native American lore she’d grown up with—much of it involving the natural world that was once theirs in the land now known as the United States. As a result, Mitch suspected that his maternal ancestors might call him, at this moment, as foolish as a clod-headed coyote cheated out of its food by a crafty fox.
But he had a feeling that, acceptable procedure or not, cooperating in a limited way with the persuasive, single-minded Cara Hamilton would buy him a greater likelihood of solving the Wilks murder faster than pulling rank on her as a law enforcement professional. Having things made public too fast could ruin his chance to get this case solved right. Of course, she wasn’t the only reporter he might need to deal with. But for now she was closest to the situation.
“Of course I’ll help.” But she spoke too quickly for Mitch to believe her.
“You’ll share information?” he demanded.
“If you will.”
“Some things I have to keep confidential to do my job. I won’t tell you about a piece of evidence and have it blabbed in a story if keeping it quiet would help convict a suspect.”
He didn’t like this new stoniness in her expression. What was she thinking?
“Understood,” she finally said. “But if I hear of something and tell you about it, I expect reciprocity. You’ll share as much as you can. Tell me it’s off the record, if you have to, as long as you don’t overdo it. And let me know when I can put it on the record.”
Was this becoming a deal with the cagey fox who would hide the food and starve the rival coyote? Maybe. But working with her, in limited cooperation, would be a hell of a lot better than working totally against her.
But before agreeing to anything, he decided to test her. “Fine, as far as it goes. But I want to know one thing first. What were you hiding from me before when I questioned you? Why did you really go to Nancy Wilks’s house so late last night?”
She hesitated, as if deciding whether to show him the cards she held before he revealed any of his own. She finally nodded. “Nancy did call me. She said she had something to show me.”
“Like?”
Cara shook her head, and the curls held back from her face shimmied enticingly. “I wish I knew. And, yes, I told you a fib. I wandered around her place looking for it after I saw her…her body but didn’t find a thing.”
“I see. What do you think it was?”
Her shrug appeared frustrated, and her reply was interrupted by the waitress’s arrival with their drinks. When the woman left again, Cara said, “Something from the law firm, maybe. I’ve no idea what, but it was important enough that she wanted me to come over at one in the morning. Unless your crime-scene guys found something I didn’t, I suspect the killer took it.” She drew in her breath. “I also suspect it could be why she was killed.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again they shimmered with tears. “If I’d gotten there sooner—”
“Then you could have been killed, too,” Mitch said bluntly.
Cara blinked. Her soft lips parted as if she was about to protest, but she didn’t. Mitch guessed what he’d said hadn’t escaped her notice.
Plates with burgers and fries—and two pickles for Cara—were placed in front of them by the waitress, who slapped their check down, too, mumbled something about enjoying their meals and hurried away.
“Was there anything at the crime scene that points toward a suspect?” Cara asked as she lifted the top bun from her burger and inspected it. Apparently nothing looked wrong, for she put it back together and took a healthy bite.
When her eyes returned to watch him, they were narrowed and suspicious, as if expecting him to lie the way she had. Or maybe to bolt.
“Nothing yet.” Mitch also started to eat.
“You’ll let me know?” Cara urged.
“What I can.”
“But you’ve got to…” There was a worried note in her voice, but she seemed to visibly cast it away. “Good enough,” she finished with a sigh. “For now.” Her momentary silence as she stared at the wooden booth over his shoulder made Mitch wonder what she was thinking. Then she gave a small nod, as if she’d answered her own internal question, and said, “I’m going to go at it from the other angle. This murder has to be related somehow to Andrew McGovern’s and Jebediah Rawlins’s murders.”
“Their murders were solved,” Mitch reminded her. “Two separate killers. Our former mayor did Andrew in, and Paul Lambert killed Rawlins.”
Cara nodded. “But there’s that law firm connection. And maybe something to do with its client, Ranger Corporation. I’m considering a political connection, too, since Mayor Daniels was involved in the first murder.”
Political… That reminded Mitch of the snatch of conversation he’d heard between Sheriff Ben Wilson and Deputy Hurley Zeller: that Cara’s snooping might ruin the election. He’d mulled it over. Why would they care? The only thing he could figure was that Ben was thinking of running for mayor. The top county commissioner had taken the position temporarily after the former mayor’s disgrace and death, and had made it clear he didn’t want to stay there. If Ben won the next mayoral election, it would leave the sheriff’s position open. Zeller and Mitch were the most likely candidates, but Mitch knew who Ben Wilson would back. And it wouldn’t be him.
Could Ben win? What kind of mayor would he make? Heaven help Mustang Valley!
“Mitch?” Cara was staring at him. “Did you think of something important?”
Important to him, not this case. “Not really.”
“You promised to share, damn it.” She rose and grabbed her big purse, reaching into it for her wallet.
“Sit down,” Mitch urged. “I am going to share what I can. That’s what I can promise, no more.” He didn’t like promising even that. Solitude and secrecy were as vital as breathing to him.
Cara suddenly looked young and vulnerable again, almost the way she had when he’d come across her at the crime scene.
Something had hurt her.
And he had no business feeling as if he wanted to slug the hell out of whoever, or whatever, it was.
“Cara, tell me what the problem is.”
She stared at him, then slid back into the booth. “Nothing. But if we’re going to work together, then we’re both going to work together. Understood?”
“As long as you understand that I can’t tell you everything,” he repeated.
She stared, then held out her hand over the table. He did the same and shook. Her hand was small in his. Touching her warm, vibrant skin, even in so businesslike a gesture, made his temperature rise.
He released her and took a quick, cooling sip of his cola. When he looked up, she was still studying him, as if determining whether she could trust him.
Obviously their deal, such as it was, was important to her.
To him, too. He needed an alliance of sorts with her, some degree of control over this determined reporter.
He’d made himself learn the appearance of teamwork at the Sheriff’s Department, though trust was as foreign a language to him as the cawing of crows. Especially with the way he was often treated as an outsider. Was that due to his father’s bad judgment in hiring him and for taking bribes? Or was it due to Mitch’s own heritage?
Or to his preference for keeping his own counsel?
Probably a combination, though he was certain that no one in the department knew he was continuing his own investigation. After two long, frustrating years there were times he wondered if he was still investigating, since new leads were all but nonexistent. But he was patient. He made himself
exude patience, as if he were a runner and calmness was his sweat.
It didn’t hurt that he had encouragement from his contact at the state attorney general’s office.
Now he’d have to make sure Cara and he didn’t work at cross-purposes. Otherwise, she could blow this new murder investigation, intentionally or by accident.
“Let’s talk strategy,” he finally said. “How do you plan to research your story?”
“Well,” Cara said slowly, as if making up her mind whether to speak. Then her voice took on its usual determination. “I’m going to call my friend Lindsey Wellington. She’s at Bart Rawlins’s ranch. They were the ones who figured out Paul Lambert killed Bart’s uncle Jeb, then tried to frame Bart for it. She was an associate at the law firm, so she’s out of work. Which is fine with her for now. Bart and she are going to be married. Maybe she can shed some light on what Nancy wanted to show me.”
“Good idea. You’ll let me know what she says?”
Cara nodded. “And I’m planning to meet with the Ranger Corporation’s Mustang Valley representative to get his perspective on the killings.”
That direction could lead to quicksand. “Be careful,” Mitch warned. “I’ve heard the guy—Rosales—is up in arms about the allegations against his company. The talk at the department is to tread carefully there, not make unsubstantiated claims.”
“I won’t allege anything I can’t back up. I’ll report the facts. They’re public, anyway. Our dear former mayor killed Andrew McGovern to hide his conflict of interest because of his investment in Ranger Corporation. By the way, in the spirit of sharing information with you, I was once engaged to Andrew.”
That jolted Mitch. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“It was a long time ago.” Yet it still drew shadows in the depths of her soft hazel eyes. “And Paul Lambert,” she continued more strongly, “killed a rancher to try to get control of his property so it could be sold to Paul’s client, Ranger Corporation.”
“Looks that way in both cases,” Mitch acknowledged, “but no evidence we found pointed to Ranger’s direct involvement in the killings. They’d apparently just come to town to buy property for some development. We couldn’t hang anything on them showing they solicited either the mayor’s investment or their lawyer’s eagerness to make the property they wanted available.”
“But you looked?”
“The guys on those cases did,” Mitch said. He gave her a rundown of the unclassified stuff he knew—and that elicited a big smile from her.
If information got her to smile like that, he wondered what else he could tell her… Don’t be an ass, Steele, he cautioned himself. Cara Hamilton was a reporter. A very good reporter.
“Too bad we can’t question either Mayor Daniels or Paul Lambert about a connection,” Cara said when he was done. While trying to escape after being found out, the mayor had crashed his car into a tree and died. Lambert had committed suicide in his cell. “Do you think Lambert’s partner, Donald Church, would know anything?”
“If so, I doubt he’d tell you. He’s a lawyer. He won’t violate attorney-client privilege and talk about the firm’s client, Ranger Corporation—particularly if it might somehow link him to all that’s gone on, or at least make him look like a fool. Far as I know, he still intends to practice law here, though the former Lambert & Church firm is down the toilet.”
“I can’t prove that whatever Nancy wanted to show me had anything to do with Ranger, anyway,” Cara acknowledged. “But I’ll talk to Church to see what his position is. And to see what else I can learn. Could be something else was wrong at the law firm that prompted the murders—including Nancy’s.”
“Maybe,” Mitch agreed. “But don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Of course not.” She smiled at him. “And now that I’ve shared my next moves with you, how about sharing yours with me?”
The idea of their sharing moves… Had she intended the double entendre? She’d shown she wasn’t above flirting to get what she wanted. Intentional or not, the thought heated him to near boiling. He found that damned disturbing. “I’ll check in to see what the crime-scene guys learned,” he said coolly.
“You’ll let me know the results?”
“What I can.” Which wouldn’t be much. His primary responsibility was to the people of this county, to bring down the perpetrator. Hers was to get a good story.
She studied him again, then said, “Mitch, do you…” Her voice tapered off. “Okay, let me just be blunt,” she finally said. “I wasn’t kidding before when I talked to Sheriff Wilson, Mitch. It seems odd that the County Sheriff’s Department didn’t solve the first two murders.”
“It’ll solve the third.” He would see to it.
“You don’t think that the…well, inability to solve the others was intentional, do you?”
“No.” He inserted false conviction into his gaze. There was something Cara didn’t know, but he was not about to enlighten her.
There had been a fourth murder that had had something to do with the Lambert & Church law firm. The connection seemed indirect, but it related to a scandal.
The scandal that had destroyed Mitch’s father. And had, apparently, led to his suicide.
But Mitch was sure his father had been murdered.
And now he was in charge of investigating Nancy Wilks’s death. He’d be able to dig more into Lambert & Church and its clients without being second-guessed by his boss. This could even be the break he needed.
And working with Cara Hamilton could provide the additional cover he required. He’d use her, if necessary. And this time, nothing—not Cara or anyone else—would keep Mitch from solving his father’s murder, too.
Chapter Four
Cara sat in her Toyota, windows down to try to dispel some of the damp heat. She watched as Mitch pulled out of the nearly empty, rutted parking lot of the shabby restaurant in his white sedan marked with the Mustang County Sheriff’s Department shield.
An official car. A car that displayed his authority. If it wasn’t such a symbol, though, it would be too ordinary to suit Mitchell Steele. Despite how mild mannered he appeared, she didn’t buy it. He belonged in some huge, powerful sport utility vehicle that he could command over the rugged terrain of Mustang County beyond town. Or maybe on a big hog of a motorcycle.
Something a man who was all male would pick.
Despite his apparent aloofness, Cara had seen something in the depths of Mitch’s eyes suggesting that he was very, very human. Very masculinely human. She’d never met a guy with so much sex appeal.
While engaged in a neutral business chat with him, her mind had kept turning to the seedy Lone Star Lodge and all its nearby beds. Wondering how he would be between the sheets. No, on top of them. They would be too hot together for any kind of covers over their entwined bodies.
Nothing beat a lawman lover….
Get out of my mind, Shotgun Sally, Cara thought, laughing aloud. But only for a moment.
She’d made a deal with Mitch Steele. A devil’s bargain to share information with him.
He was to share information with her, too.
Right. The way Jerry Jennings had when he’d stolen her research and run with it, leaped on it as a springboard for his own flourishing career. He’d used it. Used her.
Just as Mitch Steele was apt to do if she unearthed anything juicy.
She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. It wasn’t as if she had a choice about dealing with Mitch. Not if she wanted any cooperation from the Sheriff’s Department.
She would live up to her end of the bargain, and she would make damned sure Mitch didn’t take advantage of her. Or stand in the way of a really good story.
It’s only a sin to blunder now and again if you don’t learn a gosh-darned good lesson from it. Another favorite Sally-ism. One Cara would take to heart now. “Thanks, Sally,” she murmured into the thick, sweltering air.
Idly Cara glanced around. The one-story, sprawling inn looked sun weathered, in
need of a good coat of paint. It was the kind of place that rented rooms by the hour. Apparently, Mustang County’s lovers weren’t very lusty that afternoon. Just three other vehicles besides Cara’s remained in the parking lot, two cars by the restaurant and a pickup truck near the sign that indicated where the inn’s registration was.
The landscaping around the place looked as sparse as the patrons, just the rolling, scrub-covered terrain that comprised a lot of Mustang County.
Cara reached into her oversize purse, past her notebook and into the bottom where her cell phone usually hid.
When she found it, she used its internal directory to find the phone number for the Four Aces, Bart Rawlins’s ranch.
She waited as the phone rang once, twice, three times, blotting her lightly perspiring face with a tissue from her bag. Could she be interrupting Bart and Lindsey in some prenuptial recreational activities?
Once again she laughed at herself. She had to get her mind out of the bedroom, notwithstanding the pact she had struck with the sexy Mitch. They would work together. Even if he didn’t intend to. She’d simply get enough tantalizing stuff to tease him with so he’d share with her, too—
“Hello?” It was a woman’s voice. Out of breath.
“Lindsey? It’s Cara. Am I interrupting anything?”
A brief hesitation. “No. We were just outside, on the way to the pasture when I heard the phone. I ran back.”
“I see.” Cara inserted a teasing note of incredulity into her voice.
“Never mind,” Lindsey said firmly, then laughed.
Cara could picture her friend, with her slender build that shouted of all the workouts she did, gleaming brown hair and brilliant green eyes. A lawyer, from a family of eastern lawyers. She’d come to Mustang Valley to prove her own worth as an attorney and had gotten more than she’d bargained for. Her first case had been a murder defense, and she’d won. Had she ever! For not only had she gotten her client off by finding the real killer, she’d fallen in love with him. Bart Rawlins and she would be getting married soon.
“If this is a bad time, I’ll call back,” Cara said. “I need to talk to you, though, about Lambert & Church.”
Lawful Engagement - Linda O Johnston Page 5