by Terri Reed
Tired of being falsely accused of murder, he bit out, “No. I wasn’t.”
Kelly nodded. “Unfortunately, we can’t corroborate your alibi. Penny and Carl Kirk didn’t hear you leave, but they can’t swear that you were at the house, though they are certain you wouldn’t have left your daughter alone. However, that would not hold up in court.”
“In other words, I’m sunk since they have an eyewitness, and everyone would rather believe this person than me.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Do I get to know who’s accusing me?”
Kelly consulted his notes. “Mrs. Southworth. Her apartment faces the back alley of the Whiskey Saloon. She saw George come out the back door. A tall man wearing a cowboy hat approached George and led him away.”
“That describes half the men in this town.”
Kelly made a noncommittal gesture. “But how many other men would George willingly leave with?”
“You don’t believe me, either?”
“I didn’t say that.” Kelly took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a second before replacing them. “Would you consider taking a polygraph test?”
Anger churned in his gut. A lie-detector test. “Sure, if that’s what it takes to prove my innocence.”
“I’ll make the arrangements.” Kelly stood. “Don’t worry, Wyatt. You’ll get through this.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Left alone in the interrogation room, Wyatt massaged his temples. He’d get through this. It seemed as though that was all he was ever doing—getting through life as best he could.
But would his best be good enough? He could only pray that it would be.
* * *
Jackie arrived at the sheriff’s station just as the sun was setting. She had a strange sense of déjà vu as she entered the redbrick building. Had it really been only two days since she’d first stepped into Wyatt Monroe’s life?
She spotted the lawyer, Bruce Kelly, and blocked his path. “Did they find the primary crime scene? Is that why they hauled Wyatt back here?”
He grimly shook his head and explained.
“That’s what they’re holding him on?” Flimsy at best. “Why aren’t you demanding they release him?”
“I will,” he shot back. “Wyatt has agreed to a polygraph. I’m on my way now to arrange it.”
“Even if he passes, you know it won’t hold up in court if this should go to trial,” she stated. She’d seen people pass the lie-detector test and be as guilty as could be.
“In Wyoming they are admissible, to a degree. If he takes the test and passes—”
“He’ll pass.”
He held up a hand. “I have no doubt he will. However, we need this to convince the state investigator.”
“Fine. Did the state guy agree to it?”
“Yes.”
“Then get the test done quickly. His daughter needs him.”
Kelly nodded and marched away.
Jackie strode toward the desk where a sergeant manned the reception area. “I’d like to speak with the sheriff.”
The sergeant eyed her for a moment, then picked up the phone. “Hey, that lady’s here.”
So he’d been expecting her. Go figure. A couple minutes passed before the sheriff ambled out of an office and made his way to her. “What can I do for you, Ms. Blain?”
As if he didn’t know. “I’d like to talk to Wyatt.”
“Sorry. No visitors.”
“Why are you doing this? He’s your stepson. Don’t you have any love for him? For Gabby?”
He gripped her by the elbow and tugged her away from the curious stares of the officers nearby. He lowered his voice. “Of course I do. But I can’t be breaking rules for him. The state’s investigator is here. He’s calling the shots.”
“Then let me talk to him,” she insisted.
“And say what? What can you possibly do for Wyatt?”
Her boss’s words rang in her head. Your role is to be the dutiful niece. Not the cop or the bodyguard.
What about friend? Wyatt was in sore need of a friend right now. Someone who believed him.
What if he murdered his wife? The doubts and suspicions reared.
“Tell me about Wyatt’s wife.”
Sheriff Landers scowled. “Her death was ruled an accident.”
“Then why do people think he killed her?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You know how people are. The husband is always suspected in the death of a spouse.”
What he said was true, but he was holding something back. “Did you know Wyatt agreed to a polygraph?”
His eyebrows twitched. “I didn’t. But that’s good. That will at least clear him and steer the investigation in a different direction.”
“Which direction? Do you have other suspects? Have you looked into the Degas Corporation? They have a motive to hurt Wyatt. What about Pendleton, the representative? Did you ask him where he was the night George was murdered?”
One thing Jackie knew for sure: murder could be as complicated as it was simple. She had a feeling everything about this case was complicated. It would be simpler if Wyatt were the culprit and much more complicated if a big, multimillion-dollar corporation had anything to do with George’s murder.
SEVEN
Sheriff Landers’s expression closed, shutting Jackie out. “I can’t discuss this with you, Ms. Blain. I suggest you return to the ranch and wait for Wyatt to be released.”
She shook her head in frustration. “I’m not going anywhere until you release Wyatt.”
His facial features softened, and he sighed. “You might have a long wait.”
“That’s fine. I can be patient when I need to be.” Which wasn’t often.
He tipped his chin in acknowledgment and walked away. Jackie found a bench to park herself on. She knew it could be hours before Wyatt was released. A polygraph test took two or three, and that was only if the Lane County sheriff’s department had a tester and the equipment in-house. If they had to wait for someone to come from another county or state even, then it could be tomorrow or longer before he was released. She closed her eyes and silently prayed.
As it turned out, she only had to wait five hours, which consisted of five cups of coffee, a bag of chips, a Danish and power reading every magazine and newspaper she could find in the police station.
She jumped to her feet when Bruce Kelly and Wyatt approached. One look at Wyatt’s face and concern sliced through her. His complexion was ashen. Grayish circles rimmed his eyes, and his hair looked as though he’d run his hands through the thick strands a few times.
“Well?” She held her breath, not daring to assume anything.
“He passed,” Bruce said. “He’s free to go home.”
Relief washed over her like a spring rain. It took every ounce of control she had to keep from launching herself at Wyatt and hugging him. He looked as if he needed a hug. But not from her. “Come on, cowboy, let’s get you home to Gabby. She needs her daddy.”
Wyatt gave her a tired, grateful smile. “Thanks.”
The temperature outside had dropped considerably. She zipped up her jacket as they walked across the parking lot to her SUV. She was sharply aware of him as he followed her to the driver’s side. She tucked in her chin and titled her head to look into his eyes. The light from the parking-lot lamp cast shadows over the planes and angles of his face. “Yes?”
“Mind if I drive? I’m too antsy to be a passenger.”
She understood. His life was careening out of control. Driving at least gave him some semblance of power over his destiny. She pressed the keys into his hand. “Here you go.”
He curled his fingers over hers and kept her in place. “Why did you come to the station?”
; The gentle pressure of his skin touching hers was making it hard to concentrate on the question. Why indeed? “I made a promise to my aunt and uncle that I’d make sure the investigation was done fairly.”
“Isn’t that what Mr. Kelly’s for?”
He had her there. Without a good answer, she shrugged and slipped past him to move around the back of the vehicle toward the passenger side. He came around the front and met her at the door, which he opened for her. “My lady.”
Her heart did a funny little jump that made her insides all soft and squishy. She shouldn’t care, but she liked his gentlemanly manners. More often than not, she was the one opening car doors to hustle a client inside a vehicle. Not having to do so made her feel feminine, cared for—things she wasn’t used to feeling.
Attraction zipped along her nerve endings and almost made her forget her vow to never, ever again get involved with someone she worked with, including the person she was protecting.
Even if Wyatt wasn’t technically her client.
But getting involved with him would only complicate the situation, not to mention put her heart at risk of being decimated. She knew what that felt like. She didn’t want to feel that way again.
Why did she find herself attracted to men who were off-limits?
Granted, the limits were self-imposed, but still...
She blew out a sharp breath. She couldn’t forget what Trent had told her.
You are not trying to prove his innocence. Or guilt. You are not his bodyguard.
Better stop thinking of Wyatt as anything other than her aunt and uncle’s employer. She had to get control of the ridiculous way she reacted to his mere presence.
A hard feat, considering he sat only a few inches from her. His every move distracted her. He placed his Stetson on the seat between them as if to put up a physical barrier. Better able to think when not looking at him, she forced herself to pay attention to the road ahead as Wyatt drove sedately out of town. He sped up on the long stretch of highway leading to the ranch.
Darkness had quietly claimed the land, covering the pastures she knew stretched out along either side of the road. Against the night sky, the silhouette of the Snowy Range Mountains was visible.
Stars twinkled in the heavens. A clear, cold night. A beautiful night.
Yet Jackie couldn’t appreciate the beauty when her mind was churning with all that had happened, despite her best intentions not to think about it. There was a murder to solve in order to clear Wyatt’s name. Problem was, she wasn’t sure where to look. Someone had warned George to keep his mouth shut. But why? What had George known that had been worth killing him for? Who wrote the note? And who had led him to his death?
Was there a connection between the mining company and George’s death?
If she were working this case, she’d do a thorough background check into Degas Corporation and their representative, Richard Pendleton.
But she wasn’t working this case. Or any case. Those days were long gone.
She really needed to return to Boston. Get back to her life.
Wyatt had his lawyer. He’d passed the polygraph, and though the test did not conclusively prove his innocence, it did open up the possibly that someone other than Wyatt was guilty. The sheriff and the state investigator would have to start looking elsewhere for George’s murderer.
There was no reason for Jackie to remain in Wyoming.
At the mailboxes, Wyatt turned onto the road that would take them home.
Jackie gave herself a mental shake. Not her home. Wyatt’s.
A deafening noise jarred Jackie, setting her senses on alert. The SUV vibrated and swerved into a skid. They’d blown a tire.
“Hold on!” Wyatt yelled as he struggled to maintain control of the vehicle. The skid became a spin on the snow-packed road. The world flashed by in swirling shades of darkness, reminding her of a carnival tilt-a-whirl.
She braced herself with her left hand on the dashboard and the other on the door. “Lord, please protect us,” she breathed out.
The front end of the truck slammed into a deep V on the side of the road.
Wyatt put his arm out to save her as the impact flung her forward. The air bag deployed, jamming her arm into her shoulder socket and slamming into her face and chest. Pain exploded through her from multiple points of contact. Her skin burned and stung at the same time. Just as quickly as the air bag inflated, it deflated. A horrible chemical smell filled the cab of the truck. She choked on a cough before catching her breath.
With a groan, she righted herself, wincing as she moved her left arm. Something sticky trickled down her forehead.
Wyatt was slumped forward over the steering wheel, the deflated ends of the air bag sticking out from beneath him.
Fear spurted through her. “Wyatt!”
She nudged him. Nothing.
Her heart contracted painfully in her chest. “Please, Lord, don’t let him be dead.”
* * *
Wyatt groaned as sensations assaulted him all at once. His face hurt. His ribs throbbed. Gravity pinned his body forward over the steering wheel. The seat belt dug painfully across his chest, and an acrid smell burned his nostrils.
“Wyatt, come on. Wake up. That’s it.”
Jackie’s voice drew him fully awake. He opened his eyes and found himself staring out the front window at dirt and snow lit up by the truck’s headlights.
In a flash, he remembered the bang of the tire blowing and the truck sliding and then spinning right into a ditch. He turned his head and winced. Sharp pain jabbing behind his eyes made sweat break out on his brow.
He forced himself to stay focused and sucked in a breath at the sight of Jackie next to him. Blood dripped from a gash on her forehead, red abrasions covered her pretty face and her wide blue eyes were clouded with pain.
“You’re hurt.” He coughed as his lungs seized from breathing in the chemical agent released with the air bag.
“Yeah. My shoulder hurts like crazy,” she said, holding her left arm tight to her body.
He pushed himself back, bracing a hand on the steering wheel as he reached for his cell phone to call for help.
The back window exploded in a spray of glass.
A bullet slammed into the radio.
“Down!” Jackie yelled and reached out to pull him from the line of sight.
Ducking, he worked to free his seat belt. “I didn’t hear the shot.”
“Suppressor” came her terse reply. “Help me with my belt.”
Once he was free of the seat belt, he worked at unclasping hers. She immediately slid to the floor. Wyatt lay across the seat.
“We have to get out of here,” Jackie said, “or we’re as good as dead.”
His heart rate ratcheted up even more. Unfortunately, they couldn’t drive away because the front end of the SUV was nose down in a ditch. He didn’t like how vulnerable they were.
She shimmied around so she could reach the door handle. Planting her feet on the door, she gave it a hard shove. It bounced open on its hinges and slammed back shut.
More bullets riddled the truck.
One image formed in his head. Gabby. No way would he leave her an orphan.
Wyatt scooted closer to the door, and together they got it open. Jackie scrambled out; Wyatt followed headfirst, using his arms for support. He tumbled into the deep ravine packed with snow, rocks and debris from the road, righted himself and crouched, ignoring the painful ache in his ribs. He got his phone out and dialed the sheriff’s department.
After quickly explaining the situation to Eleanor, the dispatcher, he hung up. “Help’s on the way.”
Grimly, Jackie held a gun in her right hand. “Keep your head down.”
Purpose hardened on her pretty face. She was a bodyguard. A woman inte
nt on keeping him alive. He hoped she didn’t get any more hurt in the process.
She made her way to the back of the truck and crawled up the lip of the ditch to peer out at the expanse of pasture on the other side of the road.
The spit of dirt flying sent a jolt of fear through Wyatt. The bullets came too close to Jackie. She dived to the side and scrambled around the truck. She hissed in pain and clutched at her left arm, but the determination on her face never wavered.
She crouched beside him. “Whoever’s shooting at us is positioned out in that field. I’m betting he’s got a powerful scope and a tactical rifle.”
“How can you tell?”
“I can’t for sure. But it’s what I’d have if I were out there,” she replied, her breath coming out in a visible puff against the cold air.
Disturbed by the thought of her as a sniper, he asked, “What do we do now?”
“Hope he stays put while we wait for the sheriff,” she said.
Wyatt didn’t want to sit on his hands. He wouldn’t stay put if he were a sniper. He wanted to find out who was trying to kill them. “Shouldn’t we do something?
“Negative. We’re safer here using the truck as cover and waiting for the cavalry.”
“Isn’t it your job to go after the bad guy?”
“In another line of work, but now my job is to protect you,” she said, moving so she could see over the top of the ditch. He grabbed a handful of her jacket, ready to yank her out of harm’s way.
They heard an engine turn over. Jackie tensed beneath his hand. Wyatt strained to listen. The rev of the engine was not a car or motorcycle, but the purr of a snowmobile.
And it was drawing closer.
* * *
“Come on,” Jackie urged. “We have to find better cover.”
“There’s nowhere to go,” Wyatt said grimly, staring out at the inky shadows of the flat pastureland on the other side of the road.
“We need to get away from the truck.” She gestured for him to follow her. “We can use the darkness as cover and pray this guy doesn’t have night-vision goggles.”
Though he trusted she knew what she was doing, he sent up a quick plea. Okay, God, we need You now.
