by Nancy Bush
“Well …”
“With Sam?”
“Shhh.” She glanced back at Brook’s door, grabbed Delilah’s arm again and pulled her even farther away. “Okay, you caught me.”
“Oh, great. Colton and Sabrina, and now you and Sam. Do you know what hell it is being around you all?”
“It just happened.”
“Bullshit. Nothing just happens. We talked about this. What about working with him?” Delilah reminded her, arching an eyebrow.
Ricki lifted her hands in surrender. “I mighta overthought that. Maybe we can work together.”
“It’s a damn lovefest around here,” Delilah said sourly.
Ricki smiled at Delilah, which did not improve her mood. “What about that guy from Century Petroleum? Tom. He was looking at you pretty hard the other day.”
If I wanted blue eyes, I’d go after Hunter Kincaid … Nope. That wasn’t true. She didn’t want Hunter, either.
“I can complain about you guys all I want, but I’m not looking to date anybody. This romance stuff … Dad and Pilar …” Delilah gave a mock shudder. “So where were you heading off to?”
“Back to work.”
“To meet Sam again.”
Ricki glanced down at her clothes and made a face. “I hope I don’t smell too bad.”
“You found a way to get through last night. Oh, wait. Guess you didn’t have clothes on.”
Ricki ignored her. “Why are you up so early?”
“I went to the stables to see Firestarter.”
“Who?”
“Kit’s name for the new colt.”
“Firestarter,” Ricki repeated dubiously.
“He’s an adorable little guy. The new male in my life, I guess.”
“How was Kit? I’ve been worrying about her. I’ve tried to get her to stay with us, but she won’t.”
“She seemed just fine.”
“Davis has been looking after her.”
“Then I think you can stop worrying.”
“Do you?” Ricki questioned.
“He’s a stand-up guy. Why?” Delilah asked, when Ricki thought that over. “Is there something I don’t know?”
“No … I just wish Kit would let me help her. Maybe Davis can get through to her.” She shook her head, then said, “Damn, I’m going to have to buy all new clothes.”
“How about I go to the foreman’s cottage, pick up your clothes and Brook’s and bring ’em here to wash.”
“Would you?”
“Ricki, you practically made me sign in blood that I would organize this wedding and everything that goes with it. That’s what I’m doing. So, yes, I’ll get your clothes. Mrs. Mac’ll probably help out.”
“You’re a godsend.”
“Yep.”
Ricki smiled at her, but it was clear her thoughts were somewhere else. With Sam, most likely. “Hopefully the fire department’s finished with their investigation and will let you in. Maybe you can ask Hunter,” Ricki suggested.
“There’s an idea,” Delilah said carefully, as Ricki gave her a big hug before heading back down the stairs to leave. “Thanks a whole lot,” Delilah called after her. “Now I probably smell like smoke, too.”
Ricki made a very rude gesture with her finger, which she delivered with a grin, and Delilah gave it right back. Smiling at herself, she headed back to her bedroom, tiptoeing carefully as she gathered up new clothes and her toiletries. She then headed down the hall to the bathroom, stripped naked and stepped into the shower. Turning on the spray, she let the hot water pound her skin and steam the room around her.
Ask Hunter. Oh, sure. Like that’s what she was going to do.
Fifteen minutes later she was dressed in jeans, her boots, a black turtleneck sweater and was reaching for her jacket, ready to head out, when she saw Mrs. Mac arriving early. “Gotta make breakfast for this crowd,” the housekeeper-cum-cook said.
“You need some help?”
“Heavens, girl. You got enough on your plate with the wedding.”
“I’m going down to the foreman’s house and try to get some clothes for Ricki and Brook, bring them back here to clean,” Delilah said.
“Good idea. I’ll help you, but I’d wait a bit. I think the fire department’s coming back this morning.”
The thought of running into Hunter changed Delilah’s mind about the timing of her trip to the cottage. She could go later. Instead, she turned back to the great room as Mrs. Mac headed into the kitchen. Delilah purposely pushed thoughts of the fire and Hunter from her mind as she stared up at the rough-hewn boards of the soaring ceiling.
Pilar had hired Carolina Solsby of Carolina’s Table, a local caterer, the only one in town actually, but now that the wedding was going to be at the house, there were new considerations. Sometime today Delilah planned to hit a rental store—again, the only one in town—and order enough folding chairs to accommodate all the guests attending the ceremony. Pilar had blown in late the night before—Delilah had heard her as she’d lain awake in the twin bed beside Brook’s—and Delilah planned to go down the checklist with her on what was yet to be done to get ready for the new venue.
She was pacing off the room, wondering how many chairs would fit and still leave space for an aisle up the center, when a shadow fell across her. She looked up. A man in a black Stetson filled the doorway. Startled, she sucked in a sharp breath before recognizing her brother, Tyler.
“Jesus, Tyler. What are you trying to do? Scare me to death?”
“Scare you?”
“Yeah, scare me.” She looked past him. “Where’s Jen?”
“Still in bed. What are you doing up so early?”
“Seems to be the question of the day. I have a job,” Delilah reminded him shortly. “This wedding is supposedly coming off in a few days and it’s not going to do it by itself.”
When he didn’t respond, she shot him a look, seeing tension on his face. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
He swept off his hat and ran a hand through his auburn hair. He looked a lot like Colt, with maybe a little more Dillinger added in. He and Jen lived in Colorado, where he ran his own smaller ranch while Jen raised their children.
“Does something have to be wrong?” he parried.
“Word games. Great. Just what I’m looking for.”
Tyler walked up to the fireplace and gazed down at the ashes left over from the blaze Ira had built the night before. “Well, there is something.”
“Mmm.”
“Jen and I aren’t … getting along too well.”
Delilah thought about her earlier remarks about love with Ricki. She hadn’t considered Jen and Tyler, maybe because it seemed like they’d been married forever, since right out of high school. “Oh. Just going through a bit of a rough patch … ?”
“Rough,” he said, grimacing.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Jen wanted to come to Dad’s wedding and I didn’t. She loves this kind of stuff and I can’t stand it, and let’s face it, she always wants to remind Dad that she’s a Dillinger, too, now. Doesn’t want to be forgotten.”
Delilah looked at Tyler closely. Even though Tyler was only two years younger than she was, he’d always seemed to be in his own world when they were kids. Delilah didn’t know him as well as she did Colton and Ricki, but on the other hand, she probably knew him better than they did. Their youngest sister, Nell, was the “oops” baby who’d shown up seven years after Tyler, so none of them had ever been as close to her in the same way. Now Delilah realized, with something of a surprise, that she was probably Tyler’s go-to ear in the family.
“What are you saying?” she asked him.
“This is going to sound bad, but I don’t want to be married anymore.”
“You’re right. That does sound bad. Does Jen know how you feel?” Delilah asked carefully.
“Not yet.”
“She really doesn’t know?”
“Well … she’s gotta suspect,” he said slowly. “I h
aven’t been coming home much lately.”
“Dammit, Tyler.” Delilah gave him a hard look. “Is there someone else?”
“No.”
He said it too fast and Delilah glanced away. She’d been through this too many times not to know where it was going. Her life in Southern California had been a string of cheating males. And here in Prairie Creek wasn’t any better. Her father had cheated on her mother. No one talked about it, but it was one of those rumors that moved in and out, a whispered word here, a sideways look there. Her uncle had died during a tryst with Mia Collins when the homestead fire broke out. Even Colton had left Sabrina back in the day and had a brief fling with Pilar that had produced Rourke. And then, of course, there was the real reason Delilah had wanted to run far and fast away from Wyoming: Hunter. Who’d cheated on her with his ex-girlfriend, Abby Flanders. Okay, Delilah had just been a kid then, and Abby was a few years older, but she and Hunter had been so close. She’d believed he loved her, and she’d certainly thought she loved him.
Tyler’s casual words reminded her of how she’d learned he was a cheat, how much it had hurt.
Everything had all fallen apart the night of the homestead fire, when Hunter had been with Abby while Delilah was waiting for him on the tire swing beneath the lone pine tree that stood like a sentinel between the main house and the old homestead. It was their special “trysting tree,” as it had been named by Delilah’s mother when Ira had wooed her. Delilah had been lost in anticipation of making love to Hunter, her face turned up to the pinprick stars that pierced the dark heavens above, when she’d seen the orange glow of the fire. She’d jumped to her feet just as the old homestead windows popped and shattered. Flames shot out in a loud roar, smoke boiling out in black-gray clouds. Delilah had first run toward the fire. She’d seen a dark figure running away from it, but hadn’t been able to see who it was. Heat and sparks had thrust her back and she’d turned away, choking, in the direction of the new house, meeting her father and Colton as they rushed headlong toward the blaze, both of them barking at her to get to safety. Somehow Hunter made it to the fire, too, and tried to help Colton and Ira save Judd and Mia, but it was only Mia who’d survived.
Later, there were questions about why Hunter was there, questions he wouldn’t answer, so rumors abounded that Hunter had set the fire for unnamed reasons. Some even thought he might be the drifter/arsonist who had plagued the area that summer, even though the authorities later caught the man who was responsible. Didn’t matter. People wanted to blame somebody and a Kincaid was at the top of the Dillinger list.
Only when Abby stepped forward and said that Hunter had been with her, that she and he had seen the fire from her nearby parked car, just over the line into Kincaid land, had the rumors died down. Questioned about that night, Abby had said she’d quickly started her engine and driven Hunter there at his insistence. Delilah had wanted Hunter to deny it, for him to say something else: that he’d been near the old homestead because he’d been secretly there to meet her. But he didn’t. He let Abby’s story stand, and over time Delilah had come to realize that the reason he did was because it was the truth.
Now, she looked at Tyler and said with feeling, “You need to tell Jen right away that you’ve been cheating. She deserves that much and more.”
“Hey, I’m not the bad guy here,” he protested.
Aren’t you? she thought.
Before she got into a bigger argument with him, she headed toward the stairs, grabbed two black Hefty bags and slammed out the front door to the foreman’s cottage.
When Ricki got to the station she was the only one there except for Chet Norcross, and even he was yawning.
“Sam’s not here yet?” she asked him.
“He shows up about eight.”
Ricki looked through the front window. As if to prove Chet wrong, Sam’s Jeep wheeled into the parking lot at that moment. Breaking into a smile, she headed outside to meet him.
“You beat me,” he said, his dark eyes warm, as he climbed out of the car.
“I’m fast that way.”
“Ahh …” He sent her a faint smile. “How’s Brook?”
“Sleeping. Delilah’s taking charge and Brook idolizes her, so I left. I want to get on this arson case.”
“I already put a call into Raintree. He’ll get back to me as soon as he’s got the report from Kincaid.”
Jack Raintree was the fire chief. “And I also want to go over who was at Big Bart’s again the night Amber Barstow disappeared. If we zero in on Black Hat as our guy, maybe somebody will remember something more. I know we already went over the people who were there, but there’s got to be something.”
“Come into my office.”
“Sorry about the clothes. Mine all smell this way.”
“I didn’t mind last night,” he pointed out, sliding her a look packed with meaning.
“But you did notice.”
“Hard not to. I just didn’t care.”
They smiled at each other and Ricki’s mind took a quick trip down memory lane that was X-rated. She hoped to high heaven she wasn’t blushing.
Once inside his office, Sam closed the door but didn’t turn on the lights. He pulled her into his arms in the darkness and said softly, “I’m only going to do this once at work.” Then he kissed her hard until she felt her knees weaken and her body start to slip down.
Before anything else could happen, he drew back and exhaled heavily. Then he flipped on the lights and they squinted at each other in the sudden brightness.
Man, I love you, she thought happily as Sam opened the blinds and she sat down opposite his desk.
“I’ve got the list right here,” he said, tapping onto his computer and sending a page to the printer.
“Let’s start with the women,” Ricki suggested. “Allison talked to Black Hat for a while, flirted a bit, but she was waiting for Doc. Maybe he tried somebody else before he chose Amber. Somebody who hasn’t admitted it yet, for whatever reason.”
“All right,” Sam said, settling behind his desk, his gaze on Ricki.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m probably looking at you.”
They both broke into grins. “If we take it from the top, time-wise, we start with Mariah Kincaid,” Sam said, dragging his eyes away. “She was about an hour too early for Barstow, but we don’t know what time Black Hat arrived.”
Ricki nodded. “She was home for Thanksgiving and she stopped at the Buffalo Lounge with her brother, Blair. Katrina talked to Mariah. Couldn’t get hold of Blair.” Because the Kincaids had been at the bar too early, Ricki had let Katrina talk to them. But now, she wanted to dig a little deeper. “I’ll call Mariah. Although we both knew her and what a liar she was.”
“It’s been a lot of years since high school,” Sam pointed out.
“You’re right.” She wouldn’t want anyone holding Brook’s reputation against her from their old school. “Katrina never could get hold of Blair. Called his cell multiple times but he never returned her call. He lives in … ?”
“Cody. Foreman at a ranch out there. Lives on the property.”
“That’s right. And Mariah’s in Jackson. Runs an interior design shop that caters to the rich and famous around there.” Ricki had read the report the department had compiled, but she also was constantly fed information from the townspeople. Kincaid and Dillinger doings were always at the top of the gossip list.
“Grady said both Kincaids were there when they said they were,” Sam said.
“Only because that’s what it says on the receipts. I don’t think he would notice the exact time,” Ricki said. “He was tending bar and it was a busy night.”
Sam wrote both Mariah and Blair’s phone numbers on a notepad, ripped off the sheet and handed it across the desk to her.
“Who’s next on the list?” Ricki asked.
“Miriam Trothbury.”
The septuagenarian who lived at bars.
“She’s yours,” Ricki said, and Sam laughed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“So, you caught last night’s fire at the Dillinger ranch,” Whit Crowley drawled as Hunter stepped inside Prairie Creek Fire and Rescue’s front door.
The lieutenant was leaning against the counter that ran along the back wall of the room, next to his good buddy, Bill Graves, each of them holding a cup of coffee. They were blocking the short hall that led to the fire chief’s office; whether by accident or design, Hunter couldn’t tell.
“That’s right,” Hunter said.
“Just happened to be on the scene,” Crowley said. “Lucky you.”
“Heard you gave a speech to the Dillingers,” Graves said in his gravelly voice.
“You going back there today?” Crowley asked.
Hunter had asked Casey Rawlings to keep an eye on the burned property until he got there, which would be a bit later because first he wanted to talk to Jack Raintree, the fire chief, about a number of things. He’d called the chief and made this early-morning appointment with him. He wasn’t sure if Raintree knew anything about Crowley’s moneymaking scam to squeeze extra cash from fire victims, but he was going to find out. One way or another, Hunter was going to bring Crowley’s misdeeds into the light of day, no matter what blowback came with it.
“Where’s that pup of yours, Rawlings?” Crowley asked, sliding Graves a look.
“I’m not his keeper,” Hunter said.
“Maybe you should be. Seems he’s got kind of a big, yapping mouth. Yap, yap, yap.”
Hunter didn’t visibly react, but inside he felt his pulse speed up. Who had Casey talked to?
“Don’t think we’ll be seein’ him around much more. Right, Bill?”
Graves nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off Hunter.
“He’s a volunteer,” Hunter reminded them shortly.
Whit Crowley’s lips pulled back into the semblance of a smile as he set his coffee down on the counter behind him. “I told the chief the boy just couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. They’re plenty of other guys who wanna play fireman. Might be a good idea to get rid of the yapper.”
Hunter tried to hold down his simmering fury with Crowley. “We’ve got some real crime happening around here, Whit. Homicides and set fires. Not any of your manufactured stuff.”
