Unrepentant Cowboy

by Joanna Wayne

She started to shake.

  Leif pulled her into his arms. With all that was going on, she’d been worried about him.

  For some crazy reason, that pleased him a lot. Unfortunately, the satisfaction only lasted a second.

  In spite of his assurances to her, Joni might very well be in real danger. And Leif had just let the man who could be behind it get away.

  * * *

  DREAD CONSUMED JONI as she stepped back into the house. Her fear for Leif’s safety had been so intense when she’d snatched the rifle from its rack, she hadn’t even thought about why the intruder had broken into her home.

  Now she felt violated and fearful of what she might discover. “If the man came here to rob me, he must have been very disappointed.”

  “He didn’t appear to be carrying off loot,” Leif said. “But you may have come home and interrupted him before he got started.”

  “You don’t sound very convincing.”

  “Leaving all options open,” Leif said as he stepped out of his soiled shoes. “At least the living room looks untouched, except for the mud he tracked in.”

  “And I hate scrubbing floors.” But new and frightening possibilities lingered. What if she hadn’t gone into Dallas with Leif? What if she’d been there alone when the man came calling? Why had he stayed around, waiting in the woods for her to return?

  Clearly he wasn’t just there to rob and plunder.

  “Why would anyone be stalking me?” she said, voicing her fears aloud.

  “Good question. If I’d gotten my hands on the son of a bitch, we might have some answers.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. Had you not been here, who knows what he might have tried?”

  Leif took her right hand in his and squeezed it. “I am here, and I’m not going anywhere without you until we get some answers.”

  That was only partly reassuring. Leif was the last person she needed to start depending on. No matter what he promised, he was only there for the rest of the weekend at best. Then he’d go back to his penthouse life in Dallas, a life she’d never fit into even had she wanted to. “You’ve already done enough, Leif. I can handle things from here. You should get back to the ranch.”

  “You make it hard for a man to play hero.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “My attempt at it. I’m not actually the hero type. But I am a man.”

  A fact of which she was most definitely aware.

  “Now, let’s explore the rest of the house,” Leif said. “Then we’ll call the local sheriff and apprise him of the break-in.”

  “Not Detective Morgan?” Joni asked, her anxiety still running high in spite of Leif’s unruffled, businesslike method of handling the situation.

  “We’ll call him, too,” Leif said. “But the local sheriff is right here on the scene.”

  “That makes sense, I guess. And then you will have definitely done enough. I can have someone else change the locks for me.”

  “You are determined to get rid of me,” Leif said. “Have you never dealt with an attorney before? We are as tenacious as a bulldog with his teeth in a steak.”

  “You may be stubborn, but I’m realistic. You have a daughter who needs you and whom you need.”

  “Exactly. So let’s get moving—unless you’d rather wait here while I check out the house.”

  She’d rather fall asleep and wake up when the current nightmare was over. But avoidance wasn’t her style.

  Besides, Leif would only notice the obvious. She’d pick up on every nuance of change. She’d know if a rug was out of place, if her comforter was wrinkled from someone sitting on her bed. She’d be able to tell if her intimate belongings had been rifled through, as she imagined a pervert stalker might do.

  Joni took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, determined to do what was necessary without sounding too dependent. “I want to look for myself, and I’d like to start in the bedroom.”

  “You got it.” Leif put a reassuring hand on the small of her back.

  It was easy to see why Serena had not wanted him to get away. But in the end, she hadn’t had a choice any more than Joni would have. But Leif was here now, and she couldn’t help but be thankful for that.

  The bedroom door creaked as she eased it open. Slowly. With trepidation. Relief settled in quickly, along with embarrassment. Apparently she’d been reading too many suspense novels.

  The bed was made as neatly as it had been when she’d hurried off with Leif that morning. No drawers appeared to have been rifled through. The only change was that the window was open, and she knew she’d left it shut.

  “He opened the window,” she said, walking over to close it. “I guess he wanted to be sure he heard an approaching car. When he did, he must have escaped out the back door.”

  “Check to see if any of your jewelry is missing—or anything else he could convert to quick cash.”

  “If he took every piece of jewelry I own, it wouldn’t get him enough money for a good high.”

  Still, she opened the top drawer of her chest, where she kept an extra watch, two pairs of silver earrings and some costume jewelry. “Jewelry all present and accounted for.”

  She opened the other drawers. Everything was still as neat as a pin. “Nothing seems to have been touched.”

  “You still need to report the break-in,” Leif said, “but we should check the rest of the house first.”

  She turned to follow Leif out of the bedroom. When she did, she saw the sheet of paper on the floor near the edge of the tailored white bed skirt.

  “Wait,” she said as she bent to pick it up. The side facing her was blank. When she turned it over, she found a grainy image of Leif and another woman standing on some steep steps. A note was scribbled in red crayon beneath the picture.

  A murderer and her corrupt attorney. Stay away

  from Leif Dalton.

  Leif stared at the note over her shoulder. “Son of a bitch.”

  “The prowler must have left it on the bed or the dresser and then the wind blew it to the floor,” Joni said. “But why? Who’s with you in the picture? Where was this taken?” The questions spilled over themselves as her muddled brain tried to make sense of the note.

  “That’s a picture of me and Jill Trotter right after she was acquitted,” Leif said. “It was in half the newspapers in Texas the morning after the trial ended.”

  “It doesn’t look like the woman I knew as Evie Monsant. She had dramatically changed her appearance.”

  “Trying to escape her past,” Leif said.

  “But who in Oak Grove would hate her enough to leave this note for me to find? Few people are even aware that you and I know each other”

  “Someone who objects to your spending time with me knows and they apparently think you should be warned away from me.”

  She shook her head, still befuddled by the note. “Warning me about you would be one thing. Breaking into my house to do it is something a lunatic would do.”

  “Or someone who takes their grudge against me very seriously,” Leif said.

  “A grudge against you for doing your job? Everybody’s entitled to legal representation. That’s how the system works.” She tossed the note onto the dresser.

  “Careful how you handle evidence,” Leif said. “You don’t want to smudge fingerprints—if there are any. If you have a plastic bag, we can put it in that until we get it to Detective Morgan.”

  Evidence. The word made it sound so official and criminal. But still she didn’t see the point in breaking in when the note could have been just slipped under the door or—

  What was she thinking? Of course there was a point. The intruder had planned to wait for her and show her the picture. The note had probably been scribbled quickly when he realized that she hadn’t returned alone.r />
  Leif picked up the note carefully, touching only the tips of one corner.

  “I’ll get a bag,” she said.

  By the time she returned, Leif was on the phone. It was obvious he was talking to Detective Morgan. She pulled the window shut and locked it.

  “The detective plans to return to Oak Grove early evening,” Leif said once he’d finished the call. “He wants to come by here then.”

  “To pick up the note?”

  “To talk to you. He’s going to call Sheriff Garcia now and have him or one of his deputies stop by and pick up the note.”

  “So the local law enforcement agency and the DPD are working together on this case?”

  Leif nodded. “That’s usually the way when a high-profile crime takes place in a smaller community. The DPD will have a lot more manpower, expertise and equipment available to them.”

  “If the detective is coming out here tonight, he must suspect the break-in and Jill’s murder are connected.”

  “If it is, he’ll find out.”

  “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Twiddle my thumbs and wait for the lunatic who broke into my house to stop by for tea?”

  “No tea and no shotgun receptions,” Leif said. “I’ll wait with you until the sheriff comes and then either you go with me to the ranch or I drop you off at the house of a friend until I can pick you up and bring you home.”

  He reached for her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, and, like magic, his touch softened the jagged edges of the fear that had stitched itself around her heart.

  But the cushion of protectiveness was only an illusion. She could not expect Leif to be at her side until Jill’s killer was found. “You can stay until we’ve talked to the sheriff,” Joni agreed. “In the meantime, I’m going to grab a quick shower. Help yourself to whiskey or coffee or whatever you see in the kitchen that you might like. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “Take as long as you need. I’ll give my daughter a call and tell her we’ll be there soon, hopefully before she hears of my current notoriety.”

  “You should leave now, Leif. It’s Effie you need to be taking care of, not me.”

  “Give it up, Joni. No way am I leaving here without you.”

  In spite of her protests, that was the best news she’d heard all day.

  * * *

  SHERIFF ANDY GARCIA arrived just as Leif was pouring himself a mug of fresh-brewed coffee. He escorted the lawman back to the kitchen and poured him a cup of the strong brew, hoping for a chance to talk to him before Joni joined them.

  The sheriff took a seat at the kitchen table and then wasted no time in getting down to business. “Do you have the note that was left in the doc’s bedroom?”

  “I do.” Leif handed it to him and then watched as the sheriff studied the scribbled writing though the plastic. His brows furrowed and he squinted as if he were deciphering a hidden code.

  Garcia scratched his ruddy chin. “How long have you and Dr. Griffin been friends?”

  “I met Joni yesterday at the Dry Gulch.”

  “Ah, the Dry Gulch. I guess that means you’re kin to R.J.”

  “I’m his son,” Leif admitted reluctantly.

  “Here to cash in on your soon-to-be inheritance?”

  Garcia did not mince words, but this time he had it all wrong. “I couldn’t care less about the inheritance.”

  “So what brought you out to the ranch? I don’t recall seeing you out this way before.”

  “My daughter flew in from California for the Thanksgiving holidays. She wanted to see her grandfather.” Not that Leif could see how that was any of Garcia’s business.

  “So where’s your daughter now?”

  “At the Dry Gulch Ranch.”

  “Good. This is not the kind of situation you want to drag her into the way you did Dr. Griffin.”

  There was no missing the sarcasm now, and this was getting them nowhere. “For the record, I was as shocked as everyone else to find that the murder victim was a former client of mine.”

  “Jill Trotter, quite a famous case around these parts. Lots of people were convinced she was guilty. That would tend to make someone a few enemies. Any one of them might have tracked her down and took justice into their own hands.”

  “What they perceived as justice. Mrs. Trotter was acquitted,” Leif reminded him.

  “Right. Of course. That still leaves us with the problem of finding out who was upset enough about her getting off scot-free to want her dead.”

  “You’re skipping a few steps there, aren’t you, sheriff? There’s no evidence that Jill’s murder was related to the trial.”

  “Not yet, but this note here is pretty good evidence that she still has fervent enemies. Obviously, you do, too.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” Leif agreed.

  “But not how you see things?” Sheriff Garcia said.

  “Leif sipped his coffee. “The problem at hand, as I see it, is finding out if the man who left that note had anything to do with Jill Trotter’s murder. If he did, Joni Griffin will need protection.”

  “So now you’re telling me how to do my job?”

  “I’m just stating the facts. The man broke into Joni’s house and was still hanging around when we arrived. That’s reason enough to think he might not have run at all if Joni had come home alone.”

  “I’ll find out who left the note,” the sheriff said. “Not much goes on around here I don’t know about.”

  “Did Jill Trotter complain of being stalked or getting notes before she died?” Leif asked.

  Garcia’s mouth drew into tight lines. “I’m here to ask the questions.”

  Which likely meant the sheriff had either not received complaints from Jill Trotter or had ignored them.

  “Can you describe the man you chased through the woods?” the sheriff asked.

  “Only that he was about my height, muscled, moved like a younger man, maybe in his twenties or else in good physical shape.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “Jeans, a dark-colored pullover, not black but maybe wine-colored. Didn’t see his hair. He wore a baseball cap, turned backward. It had a logo, but I didn’t get close enough to identify it.”

  “Did you see a weapon?”

  “No.”

  Joni joined them in the kitchen. Her short hair still damp from the shower, her freshly scrubbed skin glowing. The emerald sweater she wore with a pair of worn jeans made her dark eyes more bewitching than ever.

  Garcia stood and introduced himself, his tone and demeanor becoming far more congenial the moment she entered the scene.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee, refilled theirs and then joined them at the table.

  Garcia dropped a few questions about the broken lock and finding the note. Finally the sheriff got down to the inevitable questions about romantic relationships.

  Joni reached up and pushed a wet lock of bangs to the side. “I haven’t had a date with anyone since moving here nine months ago.”

  “But you must have been asked out a few times in the nine months you’ve lived in Oak Grove.”

  “A few,” Joni admitted. “Unfortunately, I’ve been too busy working and getting familiarized with the job to have much of a social life.”

  “Yep. I’ve heard from some of the ranchers what a hard worker you are. They say Blake was smart to hire you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Garcia pulled a pen-size recorder from his shirt pocket. “If you would, just say the names of the men who’ve shown any type of romantic interest toward you into the recorder.”

  Joni looked up quickly and stared at the detective. “A romantic interest? What does that entail?”

  “Anything that made you think they wer
e interested in getting to know you on a more personal level.”

  “I’m not comfortable doing that.”

  “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m not going to go around beating down doors and arresting guys without just cause.”

  “I can assure you every name I’ll give you is a solid citizen.”

  “I know you believe that. But some guy who’s keeping pretty close tabs on you is unhinged enough to break into your house.”

  Leif made mental notes of the names Joni supplied. Surprisingly, he recognized four of the five names. One was R.J.’s wrangler, Corky, who’d flirted openly yesterday at the ranch.

  The second was Latham Watson, though Joni qualified his inclusion, insisting he’d only asked her to join him to attend a local rodeo his daughter, Ruby, was competing in and that it was merely a friendly gesture.

  Both of those admirers knew she’d spent time with him yesterday. If they’d stalked her house last night, they’d also know he spent the night with her.

  The third name he recognized was Carl Adair, the son of a local, wealthy rancher known for his exploits with Dallas socialites. Leif had run into him at Dallas social events. Their history was a bit strained, since one of Carl’s dates once had too much to drink and had flirted shamelessly with Leif at a fund-raising gala.

  Naturally, Carl would have made it a priority to meet Oak Grove’s new sexy veterinarian.

  The fourth name was Joey Markham, a mechanic at Abe’s Garage. No doubt that was the man who had practically drooled all over himself when they picked up Joni’s truck.

  The last name, Evan Singleton, the one he didn’t recognize, was another young, single rancher in the area. He’d asked Joni out on several occasions, and she’d always turned him down. Just not her type, she said. Whatever that meant.

  “A lot of suitor wannabes to collect in nine months,” the sheriff noted.

  “It’s not the way it sounds,” Joni assured him. “You asked for the name of anyone who’s flirted. A lot of guys flirt with every available female they run into. It’s just their way.”

  “Don’t I know it? I wasn’t inferring that you did anything to solicit their attention.”