The Masked Man

by B. J Daniels

  Yeah. He made a few calls on the way back to the marina, talked to some of Shane’s former friends, guys his nephew had dumped when he’d moved on to less-desirable types.

  A guy nicknamed Raker told Mac that all he knew about Buffalo Boy was that he’d worked on a big ranch that raised buffalo. “Never said what ranch,” Raker said, anxious to get back to flipping his burgers. “But Buffalo Boy and Shane were talking about going down there and maybe working for the summer.”

  Mac had a pretty good idea whose ranch it was. He called Pierce and asked if Shane had been on the payroll and wasn’t surprised that his old friend didn’t have a clue.

  “I have people who run the ranch,” Pierce said.

  “Ask those people and get back to me.”

  “I can’t see that it matters—”

  “It matters.” Mac hung up, wondering how much.

  As he drove through Bigfork, he noticed the sign on a two-story brick building: The Best Buns In Town.

  It was foolish. Dangerous. His worst plan yet. But he had to see the woman he’d made love with in the cottage last night. Trevor Forester’s former fiancée.

  Mac knew he was taking a hell of a chance. He told himself it was nothing more than curiosity. The truth was, she’d been haunting his thoughts ever since last night and that damned first kiss. Too much was at stake to have any woman on his mind—especially this one.

  The bakery was busy, all but one table occupied as he pushed open the door. A little bell tinkled over his head, and he was immediately assaulted by the warm sweet buttery scent of cinnamon rolls—and the knock-him-to-his-knees sight of Jill Lawson.

  Chapter Five

  Jill looked up as the bell over the door jangled and she saw the man come in. She gave him only a quick glance. The place was hopping, just as it was every morning at this time. Zoe hadn’t come back. Jill had tried to reach her at home, but there was no answer. She was worried. Worried about Zoe’s reaction to Trevor’s murder.

  Now Jill wished she’d had the sense to close the shop, but she’d needed to bake this morning to try to keep her mind off what had happened. Not that it had done much good.

  “Can I help you?” Jill asked as the man walked up to the counter. At first glance he looked like a lot of summer people—thirtysomething, tanned, blond, dressed in cutoffs, T-shirt and Mexican sandals.

  That was why she was surprised by the tiny shock of awareness that made her skin tingle and her gaze dart up to his. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, the mirrored kind, so all she saw was her own reflection and the startled, flushed look on her face before he pushed them up and rested them on his head.

  He was boy-next-door handsome, yes. But with an edge. And he was obviously fit, his shoulders broad, arms muscular and matted with blond hair, legs long, tan and strong-looking.

  That still didn’t explain her reaction. Or his.

  A lock of blond hair hung over his forehead. He looked like a man who was comfortable with himself, with his surroundings. So why did he seem surprised by her reaction to him? Startled by it? He was probably used to women falling all over him.

  “I’d really like one of those cinnamon rolls,” he said. “They smell incredible.” He smiled then, almost tentatively, as if afraid of her reaction.

  She returned the smile, hoping he didn’t notice just how flustered he made her. “Would you like coffee with that?”

  He glanced toward the empty table by the window. “Please. I could use the caffeine. Black.”

  She rang up his order and took the money he’d set on the counter. “I’ll bring it over to you if you’d like to grab that seat.”

  Her hand trembled as she scooped a cinnamon roll from the pan and slid it onto a plate for him. It was just nerves. A delayed reaction to Trevor’s murder. To everything that had happened.

  But she knew what had her shaken was her reaction to the man in the cottage last night. Surely she wasn’t now reacting like that to all men, was she?

  She added a fork to the plate, poured a mug of coffee and headed to his table, aware he’d been watching her intently the whole time. Probably wondering what her problem was.

  “Thanks,” he said as she put the coffee down in front of him. “This is a great place you have here. I wish I’d known about it sooner.” He was studying her, frowning a little as his gaze skimmed over her bruised cheek and forehead.

  “Are you here for the summer?” she asked, trying to make her usual conversation as his long, tanned fingers curled around the mug to move it out of the way so she could put down the plate with the cinnamon roll on it.

  His fingers brushed hers.

  The shock wave arced from her fingers through her body. She jerked back, dropping the plate the last couple of inches. It rattled down on the tabletop.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, feeling foolish for jumping the way she had. Her fingers still tingled where he’d touched them, and her heart was pounding.

  “My fault. Static electricity,” he said. “It’s the dry heat.”

  She nodded, momentarily distracted by his mouth, a generous mouth, the lips almost…familiar. “Have we met before?” She couldn’t believe she’d said that as she raised her gaze to his. “I’m sorry, that sounds like a line. I didn’t mean—”

  “It happens to me all the time,” he said easily. “I guess I have a generic look.”

  Generic? No. Like Trevor? Yes. His body was about average height. Muscular. A lot like Trevor’s had been the last time she’d seen him. Except this man was stronger-looking, harder—

  The bell over the door jangled, and she swung around to see Deputies Duncan and Samuelson enter the bakery.

  “I’m not usually…” Words failed her as she looked again at the man at the table.

  “You’re swamped,” he said. He seemed to study her. “It looks like you have everything under control.”

  She smiled at that because it was so far off base. Without another word, she hurried to the counter, the air thick with the scent of warm, cinnamony baked buns.

  She couldn’t believe the way she’d embarrassed herself. She shot a glance at the man she’d just served. He was watching the deputies with interest. Again she felt an odd jolt of…something familiar.

  “We’ll take a couple cups of coffee, black, and—” Deputy Duncan looked at Samuelson, who shook his head “—just one of your cinnamon rolls.” Duncan smiled.

  But Jill knew they hadn’t come here for her coffee or cinnamon rolls. She rang up their order and took the cash Duncan handed her.

  “Keep the change,” he said. “When you have a minute, we’d like to talk to you.” He and Samuelson headed for a table that had just been vacated.

  Jill heard the kitchen door swing open and wondered how her father had gotten back so soon from making deliveries.

  But it was Zoe. “I’m sorry,” the girl said quickly, looking contrite. “I didn’t mean to run out like that. It’s just that…”

  Yes, it was just what? Jill waited.

  “…I’ve never known anyone who was murdered before.” Zoe’s eyes were wide with genuine fear.

  “It’s all right,” Jill said, and reached for Zoe. The girl stepped into her hug and held on to Jill with a force that surprised her. She’d always thought that nothing could scare Zoe. “We’re all upset. Can you help finish up here? I think we’ll close early.”

  Zoe nodded wordlessly. “I can stay as long as you need me.”

  “Great. Bus the tables and then start on the kitchen.”

  Jill filled two mugs with black coffee and scooped a cinnamon roll onto a plate, added a fork and, taking a breath, walked toward the deputies. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She felt as if she was losing her mind.

  Coffee breaks over, the bakery started to clear out. Except for the man at the table by the window—and the deputies sitting in a back corner.

  She glanced toward the window, still surprised by her reaction to him. Hadn’t she known she wouldn’t b
e the same after making love to that man last night in the cottage?

  She returned her attention to the deputies as she neared their table. Why were they here? Maybe they’d brought some good news. She was tired of running scared, waiting for them to arrest her for Trevor’s murder. She was tired of feeling helpless.

  And if it was bad news? Well, then, she’d find her mystery lover or the other Scarlett. Or both. And if that wasn’t possible, she’d have to find Trevor’s murderer. Whatever it took to prove her innocence.

  She wondered if she should get a lawyer, then vetoed the idea. She had nothing to hide. Not anymore. She’d bared her soul to the deputies after baring everything else last night to a total stranger.

  She put the two black coffees on the table, then the cinnamon roll, and sat down, aware of the only other customer watching her. “You wanted to ask me something?”

  MAC FINALLY GOT his heart to settle back down. He couldn’t believe her reaction. Or his. Coming here had been beyond stupid. It was almost as if she’d known on some level who he was.

  He took a bite of the cinnamon roll. It was amazing. So was Jill Lawson. He knew he should just leave. He’d found out what he’d come for.

  She was bruised, but all right. Better than all right. He’d been worried last night when he’d parked on a street by her apartment and seen lights on and the sheriff’s department cars parked right outside.

  There was no doubt that she was under a hell of a strain, but she seemed to be holding up all right. He picked up a newspaper from one of the other tables and pretended to read it as he picked up what he could of the deputies’ conversation with her. Just as he’d suspected, her apartment had been broken into the night before.

  But he was shocked to hear that the burglar had still been on the premises when she’d returned and that she’d fought him off. That explained the bruises. He swore under his breath. The burglar must have been after Pierce’s damned coins and thought Trevor had hidden them in Jill’s apartment. Until the coins were found, Jill Lawson was in danger, just as he’d suspected last night. The reason he’d spent the night in his truck outside her apartment.

  He glanced at her. She was adorable, no doubt about that. Slim but nicely rounded in all the right places, a body he knew intimately and a face that reminded him of angels, as corny as that was. She had dark-lashed, intelligent brown eyes that complemented her apparent strength of character.

  He watched her, impressed. He’d already found out that she’d started the bakery right out of college and had made a real success of it. He could understand why. This cinnamon roll was like none he’d ever tasted. But she also had to be a damned good businesswoman.

  The emotions she evoked in him, however, came from some deeper place. It wasn’t just her looks or her success. This woman had touched him.

  He closed his eyes, letting the bite of cinnamon roll melt in his mouth, shocked at the sensory effect it had on him. Just as Jill did. What was it about this woman? She had captivated him in the cottage last night with a single kiss, but her cinnamon rolls could bewitch a man in ways he hadn’t even dreamed.

  He opened his eyes with a silent curse. What was he going to do about Jill Lawson? This mess had him between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t very well tell Jill about the coins without jeopardizing his nephew, let alone taking the chance that the sheriff would find out that Pierce had stolen the coins to start with.

  Damn, what was he going to do?

  “MS. LAWSON, we spoke with several of Trevor Forester’s neighbors,” Deputy Duncan said quietly. “They told us about an argument you and Mr. Forester had a week ago Sunday.”

  She stared at the deputy. “I didn’t see Trevor a week ago Sunday.”

  “Ms. Lawson, the neighbors saw you leaving after the argument with Mr. Forester,” Samuelson said.

  She tried to contain her anger. “No, what they saw was a woman driving my red Saturn. Obviously Trevor’s other fiancée. The same one he rented the Scarlett O’Hara costume for at Guises and Disguises.”

  “Yes, we know that Trevor rented a Rhett Butler and a Scarlett O’Hara costume—and so did you,” Samuelson said. “Trevor didn’t pick his up.”

  “But someone picked up the other set,” she said.

  “Yes. The clerk recalls you picking up the costumes and discussing who was going to pick up the other Rhett Butler,” the deputy said.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “I only picked up the one costume. The clerk is mistaken.”

  “That is possible,” Duncan acknowledged. “She admits she was busy with all the costume rentals because of the Foresters’ big party.”

  “We searched the cottage,” Duncan continued. “There was no ring or anything else of yours that we could find. Nothing that would indicate you had a liaison there last night. The bedsheets and cover weren’t even wrinkled.”

  “We never made it to the bed,” she said, her voice falling. “Someone took my ring and my underwear. That should tell you something.” But what? Had her mystery lover taken the items? Why would he do that except to cover up what had happened there? She felt heartsick and changed the subject. “What about my car?”

  Duncan shook his head.

  “When you find it, you’ll find this other woman.” Right now it was the only lead Jill had to the other Scarlett. That and the woman’s voice.

  “We have deputies looking for your car,” Samuelson said. “If it’s out there, we’ll find it.” He leaned toward her. “Come on, Ms. Lawson, stop wasting our time. You weren’t in the lake cottage making love with some complete stranger last night. You went to the island to see Trevor, didn’t you? What happened? You had a fight? You’d found out about this other woman.”

  Jill tried to keep her voice down. “If I had killed Trevor, do you think I would be stupid enough to say I was making love to a stranger in the lake cottage right after?”

  “People tend to not think things through when they’re under a lot of stress,” Duncan said. He sighed. “The problem we’re having here is that you seem to think you need an alibi, and quite frankly, you came up with one that only makes you look even guiltier.”

  MAC TOOK THE LAST BITE of his cinnamon roll, mentally kicking himself for coming here. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the discussion between Jill and the deputies heating up and caught enough of it to deduce that the deputies thought Jill murdered Trevor Forester.

  It hadn’t dawned on Mac that she might need an alibi. He swore under his breath. He was her only alibi? Great. The problem was, he couldn’t tell the deputies the truth for several good reasons.

  Which meant Jill Lawson was on her own with the authorities. At least for the time being. It also meant he had to stay out of her sight. He didn’t think it would take much for her to realize he was the man from the cottage last night. Little more than another accidental touch could trigger it.

  But Mac was more worried that if he spent any time around her, he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He’d do something stupid like confess all. Or worse, kiss her again, and he feared where that would lead.

  He stole a glance at her, jolted again by just the sight of her, let alone the memory of the two of them last night in the cottage. He felt like a schoolboy. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Worse, he found himself wishing Trevor Forester was still alive so he could kick his sorry ass. For cheating on Jill. For ever being her fiancé in the first place. For putting her in this position—and Mac, as well.

  He couldn’t believe what a jackass Trevor Forester had been. This morning Mac had checked out the engagement ring Jill Lawson had thrown at him. He’d found faint initials on the inside of the band. They appeared to have been filed down, making him even more suspicious about where Trevor had gotten the ring. Mac remembered what Pierce had said about suspecting Trevor Forester was the burglar who’d been robbing area houses.

  He suspected, like Pierce’s coins, Trevor had stolen the ring.

  Mac had sent a description of the
ring to an old friend of his, Charley Johnson, at the Kalispell Police Department, to see if the ring came up on any stolen-property list. From what Mac had learned at the bar last night, Jill and Trevor hadn’t been engaged long and there’d been no recent burglaries. If the ring was stolen, then it could mean that Trevor Forester had been a thief for some time.

  Not that any of that helped Mac figure out what Trevor might have done with the stolen coins. If the burglary was more than two months ago, the coins could be anywhere.

  What bothered Mac was that it appeared someone thought the coins were still in Bigfork. Why else had Jill’s apartment been hit last night?

  “Everyone knows you and Trevor weren’t getting along,” one of the deputies said, his voice carrying. “You said yourself you were going to break off the engagement.”

  Jill had planned to break her engagement to Trevor before she’d come to the cottage?

  Mac tried not to take too much pleasure in that. He kept reminding himself that what happened last night could never happen again.

  He watched her worry her lower lip with her teeth, making him unable not to recall her mouth on his. Jill Lawson was a dangerous woman. Smart, pretty, competent, sexy, independent—the kind of woman a man could fall in love with, the kind who made a man think about settling down, something Mac had no intention of ever doing. Not again. Jill Lawson was the ever-after kind, and Mac hated Trevor Forester for having somehow gotten this woman to love him.

  “Can I get you more coffee?”

  Mac looked up to see a girl with green hair holding a coffeepot.

  “No, I have to get going, but thank you,” he said, aware that the girl had seen him watching Jill and the deputies. “This is the best cinnamon roll I’ve ever eaten. Please give my compliments to the baker.”

  “You got it,” the girl said.

  Mac slipped a generous tip under his cup, feeling the girl’s gaze on him. He couldn’t come back here again. It was too dangerous.

  But he hated like hell to leave the deputies badgering Jill. He hated like hell to leave her alone. He feared that the man who’d searched her apartment last night hadn’t gotten what he’d been looking for. That meant he’d be back, and that meant Mac would be spending his nights watching her apartment.