by Lisa Jackson
“Then there’s no reason I can’t talk to them.” Stretching his full height out of his chair, Sloan looked down at the shorter man.
“Later. Right now I have to sort out who did what to whom and who’s gonna press charges.”
“Why would Calhoun accuse Purcell of being involved in Casey McKee’s abduction?”
“Who knows? Drunks say lots of things, most of which don’t make much sense. Calhoun’s been a suspect since day one, so he’s probably trying to put the heat on someone else. As for Purcell, well, that whole family’s crazy. Old Otis, Slim’s dad, is still raisin’ wolf pups even though years ago one bit his daughter and made a helluva mess of her face. She just got it fixed a few weeks ago—some plastic surgeon recommended by Skye Donahue—well, anyway, that’s neither here nor there, I suppose. Back to the boys, believe me, if either of their stories changes, I’ll let you know.”
Hammond clapped him on the shoulder as he held open the door. Sloan left but not before he decided that he’d find a way to speak with both Purcell and Calhoun before the day was out.
He spent the day downtown, eating lunch at the Shady Grove Café, listening to the local gossip, drinking coffee and talking with a few men who’d seen the fight firsthand. He checked out Steve Jansen’s operation again and wondered if he should go so far as to break into the office to get a closer look at the books, perhaps a second set not meant for public inspection—not just those subpoenaed by the D.A.—and see for himself if there had been any bodywork done to a black or dark blue pickup, the one that had forced Jonah McKee’s Jeep over the edge of the canyon.
Steve Jansen’s was the only auto-body shop in town and he was related to Barry White. After all, Steve, though he protested his innocence and swore he had nothing to do with the kidnapping, owned the cabin where Casey had been held.
According to Hammond Polk and the FBI, Steve was a suspect, but came out clean. His books had been gone through with a fine-tooth comb and his phone records studied. His story that Barry had a key to the cabin and used it at his leisure, usually during hunting season, seemed to hold water.
But Sloan wasn’t convinced. Steve’s name cropped up too often to be just a coincidence. It wouldn’t help to talk to Steve; his story was down pat. But what about Jimmy Rickert? Maybe it was time to talk to him again.
He had to do something and soon. Time was running out and he needed to get away from this mess and away from Casey. He was still waiting to hear from a couple of boot companies, but hadn’t seen the lanky stranger whom he suspected was part of the conspiracy. He had to move fast before he became even more entangled in a relationship with Casey. She’d almost been his undoing last night. He remembered the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her skin, the sweet taste of her lips...oh, hell, he couldn’t think like this! It was getting in his way.
Never before had he been so torn. On the one hand he wanted to be with Casey day and night, make sure she was safe, be with her every minute; on the other hand he knew that being with her was an emotional trap. He’d sworn to himself long ago not to get involved with another woman, and before he’d met Casey, he’d kept his vow. Since Jane’s death, there had been no woman who had touched his heart, and he planned to keep it that way. All he had to do was find out who was terrorizing the McKees, put the bastard behind bars, collect his money and run.
But first, he had to find a killer. He started walking to McKee Enterprises where Max had given him temporary use of an office complete with telephone, fax machine and computer. Somehow, someway, and sometime soon, he’d flush out the creep. A grim smile caused his lips to curve. When he did, he hoped that he didn’t kill the son of a bitch himself.
Kiki arrived in a bad mood. “Anything worse than car trouble, I’d like to know what it is,” she groused. “And me with everything I’ve got to do for the wedding and Christmas. Lord, that car better not break down on me again.” She kicked off her boots on the back porch, bustled into the kitchen and tossed her coat over a peg near the door. “Good thing I got a start on dinner yesterday,” she said.
“You need help?” Casey asked.
Wrapping an apron around her thin waist, she shook her head. “Don’t think so, but thanks for offering just the same.”
The doorbell rang, Reuben barked and Kiki’s scowl deepened. “Now who the devil is that?” she wondered aloud.
“I’ll get it.” Casey hurried to the front door, flung it open and found herself staring face-to-face with her friend. “Clarisse!”
“Hi, Casey.”
Casey hugged the other woman fiercely. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been the one who was worried. The police and FBI told me what happened and...” Tears starred her eyes. “Oh, God, Casey, I was so upset. Then someone from the shelter called and said you’d been looking for me and I hauled the kids into the car and just started driving. I guess I had to see that you’re all right.”
“Well, come in.” Casey looked around. “Your boys, where are they?”
“They both fell asleep in the car and I left them there until I knew... well, the police seemed to think that I had something to do with your disappearance—” Her throat caught and she avoided Casey’s eyes.
“Don’t be silly. They know better now. They were just checking every possibility. Come on, let’s get the kids and bring them inside.” They trudged through the snow together and found Charlie, Clarisse’s five-year-old, strapped into the passenger seat, his head lolling to one side. Brian, the two-year-old, was holding his blanket and blinking as he awoke. “They’re adorable,” Casey said, and a pang of longing swept through her.
She wanted children someday, but in her mind’s eye she didn’t picture two blond boys with startling blue eyes. No, she saw herself as the mother of dark-haired children with tanned skin and brown eyes, who bore a striking resemblance to Sloan. But that was crazy. Sloan didn’t want a wife or kids; he’d told her so himself. And she wasn’t in the market for a husband. But as she opened the side door and helped a groggy Brian out of his car seat, she experienced a longing so intense it nearly hurt.
Charlie was beginning to wake up. “Can’t we play out here?” he asked, eyeing the snow-laden barns and outbuildings. “Where are we...who’s she?” He pointed a condemning finger at Casey and his lower lip protruded.
“That’s the lady I told you about. My friend, Casey.”
“Hi, Charlie.”
Rubbing his eyes, Charlie said, “Don’t like her.”
“Oh, honey, sure you do. She’s your friend, too,” Clarisse said placatingly. “Casey, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s take these two guys inside and see if Kiki can rustle ’em up some hot cocoa.”
“With marshmallows?” Brian asked around a yawn.
“If you want ’em.”
They lugged the boys into the kitchen, where Kiki muttered about being behind schedule, yet managed to scrounge up hot chocolate, marshmallows and cookies. Charlie was enticed from his grumpy mood, and Clarisse managed to balance Brian in her lap and help him keep his hot drink from spilling while she talked and sipped coffee.
“Outside!” Charlie announced when he’d had his fill. “Let’s make a snowman.”
“Snowman.” Brian wriggled down from his mother’s lap, but Clarisse wouldn’t release him until his jacket was zipped to the chin, his mittens were in place and a stocking cap had been pulled over his ears. His brother got the same treatment, and soon they were both outside trying to roll snowballs and build snowmen.
Casey and Clarisse carried refilled mugs into the living room where they could keep an eye on the boys through the windows. Tucking a leg beneath her, Casey settled into the deep cushions in a corner of the couch and sighed as she watched the siblings argue, then work together. “You know, they’re about the same age as my niece and nephew.”
“Nephew?” Clarisse said. “I thought Max was divorced and he only had a daughter—Hillary, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, well, I guess you’re not up-to-date.” Quickly Casey explained about Jenner and the son he’d only met recently. “Cody’s a dynamo,” she said proudly. “The spitting image of his father. Even though I’ve only known of him for a little while, I can’t imagine him not being around. And what a change it’s brought to Jenner. All of a sudden, he’s gone from a touch-me-not type of cowboy to father of the year.” Chuckling, she shook her head, then caught the pain in her friend’s eyes. “Oh, God, Clarisse, did I say something wrong?”
“No, of course not.” Clarisse dashed her tears aside. “I was just thinking of Ray. Father of the year, he wasn’t.” She sounded bitter as she stared through the window at her sons.
“Or husband of the year, either,” Casey added sympathetically.
A muscle worked in Clarisse’s jaw and she fought valiantly against an onslaught of tears. “That I could have dealt with,” she said.
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“I’m divorcing him,” she said, biting her lip as she struggled to find the right words. “It’s been hard. I mean, I was taught that love was supposed to last forever, that when you said your vows, it was for a lifetime. And there’s the kids to consider.” She smiled faintly as she watched her older boy try to heave one large snowball on top of the other. “I wanted us to stay together, to be a family, you know, the all-American dream—successful, good-looking husband, two children, nice house—and I convinced myself that we had it all, that if Ray didn’t drink, but then—” her voice wobbled “—then he hit Charlie. Afterward he was apologetic, promising that it would never happen again, but I’d heard the words a hundred times before with me. I couldn’t let him start with the boys. That’s when I woke up from my all-American dream and knew that I’d only been fooling myself. Ray would never change.” Her eyes, filled with tears, lifted to meet her friend’s. “Oh, Casey, I can’t tell you...when I saw him hit Charlie...oh, God...” Her voice failed her and she shook her head, slowly regaining her strength. “Well, that’s all in the past now. I’m through crying tears for Ray James.”
Tears stung the back of Casey’s eyes. “Good for you, Clarisse. He’s just not worth it.”
“I know that now.” Clarisse reached into her purse, took out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “And now that I know that, I’ve decided to make a new start. Here. In Rimrock.”
“You’re kidding!” Casey cried. “But why here?”
“Because of you mainly, I guess,” Clarisse admitted. She unfolded her wallet and withdrew a cashier’s check. “Here’s the money you loaned me. I don’t know what I would have done without it.” She tried to hand the check to Casey.
“No, Clarisse, you don’t have to—”
“Please, take it back. I’ve got a little money of my own now. My grandmother came to my rescue, and so the boys and I are fine. We just need to find a place to stay and then I’ll look for a job. Eventually Ray will pay child support, so—” she shoved the check into Casey’s hand “—don’t argue with me. I’m a new woman these days. A woman who’s in control of her own life.”
“Without a job or a roof over her head.”
“Temporary setbacks,” Clarisse said firmly. She forced a smile. “Things will work out.”
“Of course they will.”
“Uh-oh.” Clarisse was on her feet in an instant and running to the door. Casey looked over her shoulder and spied Brian, face red, tears streaming from his eyes, his mouth open long before he let out a wail loud enough to wake the dead. Just as he began to scream, Clarisse was out the door and across the yard. Snatching him up from the ground, she held him close to her. Casey couldn’t hear the exchange, but understood from the devilish look in Charlie’s eye that he had either shoved some snow inside Brian’s jacket or washed his face with it. Either way, Charlie didn’t seem the least bit penitent even though his mother was obviously scolding him while trying to calm his little brother.
Casey glanced down at the check and smiled. Ten thousand dollars plus a little extra for interest. She didn’t really want the money. As far as she was concerned, Clarisse could keep it until she got back on her feet, but she didn’t want to argue with her friend or her newfound pride.
With Brian propped on one hip and Charlie in tow, Clarisse returned to the open door. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” she said, her breath fogging the air.
“Nonsense. You just got here. Come on in.”
“Later, maybe. We’re all wet, and besides, I really need to get into town and try to find a motel for the night. I want to start looking for an apartment or a house in the morning.”
“I think I can solve that problem,” Casey said, her mind already spinning ahead with an idea that would work so well she couldn’t believe the family’s good luck.
“Don’t even suggest we stay here. I wouldn’t impose on your family, especially not with everything else that’s been happening.”
“You won’t have to. And come on in, for goodness’ sake. A little melting snow won’t hurt this place,” Casey insisted, hurrying through the den and snagging her coat from the clothes tree near the door. The small family tagged after her. “Drive me into town. I want you to meet my soon-to-be sister-in-law. I think you and she can solve each other’s problems.”
“You’re scheming,” Clarisse guessed as they walked outside again and followed a path broken through the snow to the parking area. “I’ve seen that look before.”
“It’s not a scheme. Come on.”
They strapped the boys in the back seat and climbed into Clarisse’s car.
Jenner was talking with Chester in the doorway of the barn. He spied his sister, and when she ducked into the car, he started hobbling in her direction, but Casey only smiled and waved. She was not going to be held prisoner in her own home, for Pete’s sake, and if Jenner didn’t like it, he could follow her into town.
As they drove down the lane, Casey checked the sideview mirror and swallowed a smile when she saw Jenner rip his hat from his head and throw it into the snow in frustration. Served him right. He could talk a good story, but if the situation was reversed and she was bossing him around and telling him that he had to stay housebound until God-only-knew when, he wouldn’t take it lying down.
As for Sloan, she was tired of hanging around the house wondering what he was doing. She’d never been one to sit idle and she wasn’t going to do it a minute longer. Not for Jenner. Not for Max. And especially not for Sloan Redhawk.
“I’ll buy you a beer when we get into town,” she said, winking at Clarisse.
“A beer?”
“Well, a soda, if you prefer. But I think we should celebrate:”
“Okay, fine.” Clarisse gave her a cautious smile. “Celebrate what?”
“Freedom.”
With a laugh, Clarisse said, “You’re on!”
They spent the afternoon in town and shared French fries and soft drinks at the Shady Grove Café. Casey felt like a tour guide as she described some of the businesses that had been in Rimrock for over a hundred years and fielded questions from Clarisse about the kidnapping.
“I couldn’t believe they thought you were involved,” Casey said. “Oh, turn here.” She pointed to Pine Street, and Clarisse took the corner. The streets were almost clear, with only a light dusting of snow powdering the pavement.
“I guess my timing wasn’t so great,” Clarisse admitted. “It’s not really a surprise that everyone thought I might be involved. But why would I ever—”
“You wouldn’t. Pull in here.” Casey indicated a small parking lot near the old Victorian home that Skye had purchased from Doc Fletcher this past summer. The house was huge and rambling and had once housed Fletcher’s medical practice in the basement. After his family had moved out, Fletcher had carved the house into apartments and moved his medical practice into a new clinic on an adjacent lot. “This is Skye’s place. She bought it before she decided to marry Max and now she’s looking for someone to manage it. I thought you
might be interested.”
Clarisse stared up at the magnificent old building with its wide porch and snow-covered roof. “Surely she must know someone who wants the job.”
“Well, there was Jenner, but he wasn’t interested. Too tame, you know, and then when Beth showed up, he decided that he needed a place of his own. He’s still living in the basement unit, but he and Beth are going to get married around Valentine’s Day and move out to an old lodge they plan to turn into a working dude ranch. So if you and the boys can bunk in a one-bedroom unit until Jenner moves out, then you could have the basement. It’s not huge, but it does have two bedrooms—an adjustment Jenner made after he found out he was a father—and it would help you get on your feet.”
Clarisse’s eyes shone and she swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, whatever it is, save it for Skye. And keep your fingers crossed that she hasn’t found someone else.”
“I’m sorry, I only have a minute,” Skye apologized as she bustled up the laurel-lined walk linking the clinic with the apartment house. “There’s a little lull now and I should be doing some paperwork, but my next appointment is in—” she checked her watch and sighed “—twenty minutes.”
“This’ll only take a little while.” Walking briskly up the back steps, Casey made hasty introductions, explaining quickly about Clarisse’s predicament without going into the reasons why she and Ray were splitting up.
“It’s true I do need a manager,” Skye admitted. “Tina Evans, who lives upstairs with her daughter, has been helping me out, but she’s changing jobs and doesn’t really have the time, and since Jenner’s going to move and I’m hardly ever here anymore... well, come on in and let me show you around.” She gave Clarisse and the two boys a quick once-over, glanced at Casey and seemed to make up her mind as she snapped on the lights of her kitchen and guided them through her own unit. They had to walk around boxes in the process of being packed. “Excuse the mess, if you can. You could have this place and use the sun-room as the second bedroom,” she said, “and then when Jenner moves out downstairs, you can either stay here or move into his place.”
