by Shayla Black
“I don’t know . . .”
“If not now, then when? The timing couldn’t be more perfect. There’s not much going on around here now. I’ll have Sawyer if something comes up around the ranch. Josiah is staying for a few days . . .”
“Ah.” Granna smiled. “And you want to be alone with him. Why didn’t you say so?”
“I was trying.”
Her grandmother pried apart some hamburger buns, slathered butter on them, then set them facedown on the griddle. “I’m sorry about Davis, Maggie girl.”
She hesitated, and Josiah eased a step back, just out of the room to give them some privacy. But if he turned and walked away now, they’d hear him on the squeaky wooden floors.
“I know, Granna. And I felt like I let you down. I just couldn’t love him.”
The older woman sighed. “Clarisse called me last week. She apologized to me and wanted me to convey that to you. Apparently Davis came out to his family. You were right.”
“I hope they accepted him and that he’s okay.”
“They were surprised—”
“I don’t know why. It might not have been obvious at a glance, but anyone who spent much time with him should have been able to figure it out.”
“Maybe they didn’t want to. Anyway, they’re all doing their best to be supportive now. Davis introduced them to a young man he’s dating, someone named Martin. Apparently, he’s much happier.”
“I’m glad for him.”
Her grandmother shot her a glance full of both love and sadness. “Oh, honey. I know you are. You have such a big heart, even if you don’t think so. I want you to be happy, too. I want you to find a good man like your sister did.”
Maggie scoffed. “As beautiful as Shealyn is, there’s no way she was destined to spend her life alone.”
“You’re beautiful, too. Don’t you know that?”
To his surprise, Maggie squirmed and shrugged. “But she’s really sweet, too. We all know I have . . . What does Papa call it? ‘A crusty outer shell.’ It’s fine. I’m happy alone.”
“Magnolia Rose,” Granna chided. “Don’t you lie to me. And don’t you think that’s how you’re going to end up. You’re not unlovable. Don’t let your mama’s choice to bring you here make you think you are. She didn’t bring you here because she didn’t care about you. She brought you here because she did. She was sick and—”
“I know. Just like I know I was better off here than on the streets with her. It sucks that she has no idea who my father is. It would have been nice if he’d cared enough to want to meet me . . .”
“Maybe she never told him you existed.” Granna’s expression softened. “Your mama doesn’t remember much about that time in her life.”
“She told me a lot of those years are hazy.” Maggie gave a brave nod, but her face held something . . . It was heavier than wistfulness, more profound than sadness. “It’s fine.”
She was lying. She wanted someone to love her and was one hundred percent sure she would never find her One.
Josiah held himself back from crashing their conversation, taking Maggie in his arms, and assuring her she was beautiful, intriguing, funny—all the things that made a man fall. But what the hell did he know about love personally? High school aside, his one significant foray into romance had been full of deception, betrayal, and bullshit. And maybe he’d just seen too much of the bad in the world to believe in lasting goodness.
He should stay the hell away from Magnolia. But he had no idea where he was going to find the will.
The ladies went back to cooking, and he waited a few moments before seeming to step into the hall and enter the kitchen. “I’m going to head out and grab some things in town since I’m staying for a few days. Anyone need anything?”
Maggie’s grandmother bustled around the room to check her kitchen supplies, then disappeared into the pantry around the corner. Maggie herself sent him a questioning stare.
“I won’t be long. Where can I find the deputy?”
“No telling, but I’d start just off exit 523 on I-10 eastbound. He likes to run a speed trap out there. Profitable for the town. If not, try the Cypress Creek Inn. He usually likes a late lunch, and this is about the right time.”
“Thanks.” It was surprisingly hard not to touch Maggie. Instead, he just nodded.
After the older West woman handed him a short grocery list, Josiah was jostling down the dirt road in his truck. Since he had to drive through town, he found the deputy at the restaurant, washing down the last of a grilled chicken breast and broccoli.
“Deputy Preston?” Josiah held out his hand.
“Yep.” The guy, who looked around thirty and in exceptional shape, shook it. “Who the hell are you?”
“It’s complicated. Have a minute?”
The deputy wiped at his neat dark mustache, then glanced at his watch. “About four, then I’m back on duty.”
“I’ll talk quick. Mind if I have a seat?”
“As long as you’re not here to plead your case about a speeding ticket Sheriff Wayne wrote you . . .” The guy gestured to the chair beside him, obviously wishing Josiah would get to the point.
“No. Name’s Josiah Grant. I work for a group of freelance security operatives out of Louisiana.”
“You’re a ways from home.” The deputy turned to him with a curious stare. “You one of those badasses who came with the wedding party?”
“Cutter is a colleague, yes.”
His expression turned slightly less suspicious but no less bored. “Were you an Agency man? You have that air.”
Preston clearly wasn’t obtuse if he’d guessed Josiah’s CIA past. “Back in the day.”
“So what do you want? To see how we keep order in a small town?”
Preston also had a chip on his shoulder . . . “I want to talk to you about Enlightenment Fields.”
The deputy sat up straighter. “Yeah?”
“I went there to check it out today as a favor to Shealyn’s husband. I met Mercy.”
“A looker, isn’t she?”
“Hmm.” And probably a damn fine recruiting tool. “She mentioned you weren’t a fan of the group.”
“Are you?”
“Considering they’re bullying Shealyn and Maggie’s grandparents to sell their spread and I’m pretty sure they’re up to something illegal, no.”
Now he had the deputy’s attention. “You know something I don’t?”
“We’ll come back to that. Got any leads on Ben Haney’s killer? Maybe evidence that his murder was committed by someone belonging to the sect?”
“You know I can’t comment on an active investigation. Besides, it’s too early to have forensics back. I guess you hotshots who worked CIA aren’t used to waiting in line for results.”
Josiah sidestepped his barb. “Check for possible links between Haney and Enlightenment Fields. I’m not here for long and I’d like to make sure the Wests stay safe—”
“That’s my job, and I’m capable of doing it. No one asked you to stick your nose into Comfort’s business.”
“You know, we’re ultimately on the same side. I’m trying to establish how dangerous Enlightenment Fields might be. If they killed Haney for his land, the Wests are likely next.”
The deputy mulled his words, his mouth flattening in a grim line. “Point taken. Between us?”
“Absolutely.”
“We dusted the crime scene for prints and found it clean, except those belonging to the victim and his housekeeper, who had been there earlier in the day. She had a verifiable alibi for that night, so she’s not the culprit.”
“Any sign of forced entry?”
“None. But out here, that’s not a surprise. A lot of the old-timers, especially those who live in the country, never lock their homes. Nor did we find any extra hairs or fibers at t
he scene. Whoever killed Ben knew exactly what they were doing.” Preston hesitated. “But I found a fresh set of tire tracks in the yard that didn’t belong. The vic drove a Ford F-250. So did his housekeeper. Tire size on a vehicle like that is two seventy-five. The size of tires that made these tracks are one ninety-five or thereabouts. They belong on a much smaller vehicle, probably a sedan of some sort. That might not seem like much of a clue to a city boy like you, but out here the number of people who drive something that small is finite. It’s just not practical for most.”
“Suspects? Who in town drives a car that small?”
“Only a few folks. The Weaver boy who came back from the big city and opened the liquor store a few years back. Mrs. Silverman, who manages the Dollar General. Trudy Hines, who owns the Kountry Kurl. And Magnolia West, to name a few.”
There was no way Maggie had anything to do with Ben Haney’s murder. She’d probably put on a brave face to hide her grief during her sister’s wedding, but she was hardly the kind of woman who would swat a fly, much less pitchfork a grown man. But Deputy Preston was the sort who would only hear logic. “Maggie was tied up with her sister’s wedding on Friday night. Houseful of people. Someone would have seen her leave.”
The deputy shrugged. “She wasn’t actually a suspect. None of those people are, in fact.”
“What about Mercy?”
“Interesting question . . .” A gleam lit up the deputy’s eyes.
“I doubt she could have killed him alone. She has the will to carry out something like this. But the strength? She’s a small thing. You’ve seen the crime scene. What are your thoughts?”
Preston nodded. “You might be on to something. But I never said Haney’s killer acted alone.”
“Footprints?”
“Not inside. Outside the house, someone took the time to rake the dirt in the front yard, someone who knew I’d be investigating and that I’ve been nicknamed Scout for a reason.”
Someone smart, Josiah conceded. “For shits and giggles, if Mercy had the will but not the strength to carry out Haney’s murder to grab his land, who would she have brought with her as the muscle?”
“Probably a guy named Newt. He’s a little slow up here”—Preston pointed to his head—“and pretty big everywhere else. He worships Mercy. I’m pretty sure he would do anything for her, even commit murder.”
Josiah made a mental note to track the guy down on Tuesday night. Because there was no question he had to go back to Enlightenment Fields and dig up whatever clues he could.
“Does Newt have a smallish car?”
“No, but I’ve seen Mercy driving around town in a flashy red Mercedes that probably shares the same tire size as the killer’s vehicle.” Speculation lit up the deputy’s face. He wasn’t admitting that Mercy was his prime suspect, but he was definitely thinking it. “Analyzing the soil from her tires wouldn’t tell us anything now. First, West Texas dust is the same no matter which dirt road you travel.”
“And if she was the mastermind, she was smart enough to have washed the car since then.”
“Exactly. As far as we can tell, nothing was taken from Haney’s place. Whoever did this came there with murder on his—or her—mind.”
“I suppose if you tried to serve a search warrant to Enlightenment Fields, you’d need to take the National Guard with you to do it.”
“At least. I don’t have any evidence, but I suspect they have some high-powered weapons in that place.”
“AR-15s. I’ve seen them.”
Preston’s dark brow rose. “What else can you tell me?”
“Nothing yet, but Mercy invited me back on Tuesday night. I let her think I’m a prospect, a wandering soul who’d been looking to Ben Haney for answers to help me straighten out my messed-up life.”
“And now that your savior is gone, whatever will you do?” the deputy asked, tongue-in-cheek. “Certainly, you need someone else to give you guidance.”
“You got it. Here’s my card.” Josiah pulled one from his pocket. “If you can think of other things you want me to ferret out while I’m inside, I’ll do my best to snoop.”
Kane Preston snapped it up. “Why are you helping me?”
“The sooner we figure out if Enlightenment Fields is the kind of group who would kill over land, the sooner I can be sure the Wests are safe.” Josiah tapped his finger on the table, then stood. “I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER 7
Josiah returned from town with everything Granna had requested. While Maggie helped her grandparents with last-minute packing, he checked the perimeter of the property, inside and out, almost compulsively tightening door handles everywhere. At the back of the house, he added a sturdier lock. He augmented the double doors in the dining room, which overlooked the patio, with a sliding deadbolt. He padlocked each of the side gates flanking the backyard. When she found him securing all the downstairs windows, she scowled and followed him.
“What the devil are you doing? You might be used to the big city, but out here, people rarely lock their doors. Nothing happens in Comfort.”
“You mean other than your neighbor’s horrific murder two days ago?”
With all the business of the wedding, she’d pushed her grief about losing the sweet Mr. Haney aside and focused on making Shealyn’s big day the happiest possible. Now that her sister was gone and her grandparents were leaving, she couldn’t help but think about the victim and the community he’d left behind.
“Do you really think anyone from Enlightenment Fields would break into the house to kill me, especially so soon after Haney’s death? Wouldn’t that be suspicious?”
Josiah latched the last of the windows on the bottom floor, then headed for the stairs, sparing her a glance over his shoulders. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“I get that, but locks won’t hold someone back forever who wants to do my family harm. You’re only going to be my bodyguard for a few days. Then what? I’m going to have to take control of our safety. Tell me what I can do.”
“I’m going to try my damnedest to make sure it doesn’t come to that,” he said, not even looking her way as he ducked into the guest bedroom.
Was he serious? “Since this is my house and my life, I deserve to know how to fix this situation.”
“Right now, the less you know the better.” He moved to the next window, latching it with an economy of motion.
Maggie resisted the urge to stomp her foot—barely. “Stop being macho. I can handle the truth.”
“I’m not being macho. I’m being protective.”
“It’s the same thing. How will me staying in the dark help anything? If our culty neighbors are guilty, shouldn’t I be on the lookout or trying to help you gather clues or—”
“No. You should act the way you always have and let me do my job.”
Josiah spared her the briefest glance as he turned and sidestepped his way past her in the door frame, almost as if he were being cautious not to touch her.
What the hell?
“You want me to act the way I always have?” she challenged.
“That’s what I said.”
Oh, he had no idea what he was asking for . . .
Maggie followed him down the hall to her bedroom. As soon as he walked in the door, he stopped short. Behind him, she wondered what he thought of her personal space.
A few years back, she had redecorated it, painting over the yellow walls she’d had as a kid, muting them all to gray except one. That, she’d covered with a big wallpaper mural of a pink rose. The flower splashed across the bottom right corner just above her black padded headboard, its petals flaring out against the white background, all the way to the pale gray ceiling. She’d tossed a black-and-white geometric-patterned rug over the dark hardwood floors. A pristine white spread covered the bed. Bursts of color in every shade of pink surprised the eye all around
the space.
“This is your room.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.” Why did his statement make her nervous? “How could you tell? Process of elimination?”
Josiah shook his head. “It looks like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s bright. Unexpected. In your face.”
Maggie frowned. Was that good or bad? Oh, hell. She shouldn’t worry or wonder about his opinion. They’d had sex; they weren’t starting a romance. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could—or would—change who she was for any man.
“That is me,” she quipped. “Take it or leave it.”
Josiah stopped his visual tour of the room and turned to her. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Get defensive whenever anyone sees the real you?”
It was something she did automatically, without conscious thought. And he’d noticed. That realization, along with the silence and the heavy weight of his stare, made her feel exposed, vulnerable. “We fucked last night. That’s it. It’s not like the answer matters to you. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”
When she turned to head for the safety of the kitchen downstairs, he snagged her by the elbow and pulled her closer. Josiah didn’t force her to turn and face him, but she felt the heat of his chest against her back. His scent wrapped around her. Suddenly, her heart was galloping. She felt short of breath.
“And that right there,” he murmured in her ear. “Whenever anyone tries to understand, you get prickly and push them away.”
She forced herself to stay calm and find her emotional center before turning to him. “You suddenly looking for more than sex?”
“No.”
“Me, either. So stay the hell out of my psyche.”
Maggie jerked her arm free. To the visible eye, she didn’t rush. But mentally, she made one hell of a beeline for the stairs.
Why did she push back whenever people—especially a man—wanted to get to know her? She had her suspicions, but really . . . This wasn’t the most important item on her plate right now. She had a dead neighbor, a potential threat knocking at her door, and an interloper in her house. If he didn’t want to share what he thought, knew, or plotted, well . . . she had her own crew.
