Cowboy with a Cause

by Carla Cassidy

  “Has there been anything else strange happening in your life?” he asked.

  Adam looked at the pictures on the wall, all of them void of glass. “The photo glass was broken on all the pictures.”

  Cameron raised a sandy eyebrow as Adam explained about the peculiar event.

  “I thought I had done it in my sleep,” she admitted.

  “Nothing was stolen? No sign of forced entry anywhere in the house?” Cameron asked.

  “We didn’t really look around. I think I convinced Adam that I was responsible for it, but now I’m not so sure. I certainly don’t remember doing it, but it was apparently done in the middle of the night.”

  A combination of relief and new fear shot through her. If she hadn’t broken the pictures, then that meant somebody else had been in her house that night and that also meant she wasn’t losing her mind. What was frightening was the idea that somebody had come and gone from her house, moving things, touching things, somebody who didn’t belong and had no reason to be there.

  Cameron leaned back in the chair, looking as weary as a man could look and still be alive. At that time Ben and Jim entered the living room.

  “The screen was removed from the outside and the window was opened, but whoever did it left no fingerprints behind,” Jim said. “Must have worn gloves.”

  “I vacuumed around the window, in the corners and around the bed and the outside of the closet, but I didn’t see anything substantial,” Ben said as he hefted the small vacuum he’d carried in with him. “I’ll get the contents checked at the lab and see if we can come up with anything.”

  Melanie looked at all the men and she knew what they were all thinking but not saying. “The man who sneaked into my bedroom while I slept, he was probably the same person who killed Candy Bailey and Shirley Cook, wasn’t he?”

  Cameron’s frown deepened and he gave a curt nod of his head, a nod that once again caused fear to shudder through Melanie. “Yeah, I think it’s possible it’s the same perp. Did you know Candy or Shirley? Have any kind of interaction with either of them?”

  “No to both questions. So what happens now?” she asked, aware her voice sounded tiny and afraid, just like she felt at the moment.

  Cameron stood from the chair. “To be honest, I don’t know. We’ll investigate to the best of our ability, but as far as I know, you’re the first woman who has survived an attack by this guy. I don’t know if that means he’ll go for another target or he’ll stay focused on you in an attempt to finish what he started.”

  If Melanie was seeking some sort of reassurance from the sheriff, it was definitely not going to happen. As she caught and captured Adam’s gaze, she saw the fear that lit his eyes and knew that fear was for her.

  Chapter 10

  It was two o’clock in the morning and Adam and Melanie sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and waiting for the residual adrenaline of the night to finally pass.

  The officers had left, any evidence that might have been collected had been carried away and Adam had double-checked every window and door in the house to make sure they were all locked up tight.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t hear the window open,” she said as she cupped her fingers around her mug. “I’m not even sure what woke me up.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t have the window locked,” Adam chided.

  “I guess I got lazy,” she admitted. “But, trust me, I won’t be lazy again. When I think of what might have happened if I hadn’t awakened...” She shook her head and frowned. “This whole place is going to stay locked up like Fort Knox from now on.” Her eyes held a haunting darkness that he knew only time would take away.

  She took a sip of her coffee and then set the mug back on the table. “I guess I thought I was safe because I wasn’t a waitress at the Cowboy Café, because I had no ties to the place.”

  “Despite the fact that the first two murder victims worked at the café, I don’t think Cameron was ever tied completely to the theory that the deaths were specifically about the people at the café. The evidence shows that Candy Bailey might have invited her killer into the cabin where she was staying, and Shirley Cook’s killer came in through an open window in her living room. Cameron believes the killings were ones of convenience, of victim availability, rather than specifically tied to the café.”

  “So I played right into his hands by having my bedroom window unlocked.”

  “That’s what I would guess,” he replied.

  She frowned and looked out the kitchen window, where the darkness of night was complete. “It’s hard to believe that somewhere out there a man is wandering the streets, checking out homes to find an easy access to a woman he can kill.”

  “I think the most difficult thing to fathom is that this man is one of us, somebody we might stand next to in line at the grocery store or someone who might sit at the booth next to us at the café. This isn’t just some crazed stranger who has drifted into town, but rather this man is one of us.”

  “Know any crazies in town?” she asked with a forced lightness.

  He leaned back in his chair, taking her question seriously. “I know a lot of people I consider slightly odd. I find it odd that old man George Wilton eats at the café every day and yet complains about how bad the food is there. I find it odd that Thomas Manning arrived in town a year ago and the only time he’s seen is when he goes to the café for a meal and reads while he eats.”

  Adam frowned, wondering if Cameron had ever looked closely at Thomas, who was a relative newcomer to the area. Nobody had been murdered before his arrival. “But odd doesn’t a murderer make.”

  “I think it’s safe to assume that he’s the one who broke the pictures and moved my things around. That means he was in the house before tonight. Do you think he’ll come back here again?” Her voice was small and trembled slightly as she once again picked up her mug and held it between her hands.

  “I’d love to be able to tell you no with real certainty, but I can’t. I can’t begin to imagine what he’ll do next. I don’t know if he’ll seek out a new victim or come back here for you.” He leaned forward. “But one thing is clear. I’m going to make sure you stay safe. I’ll bunk down here on the sofa so that I can hear if anyone tries to enter the house from the lower level.”

  “I’m just surprised he decided to choose me since you live here with me.” She took another sip of her coffee but kept the mug between her hands. “I mean, from what I understand, both Candy Bailey and Shirley Cook lived alone.”

  “Tonight my truck wasn’t out front, where it normally is parked. He knew you were in here all alone.” A surge of anger welled up in Adam. “He must have been watching...waiting for the opportunity when I’d be gone.”

  Her eyes were almost black as she held his gaze. “I truly thought I was losing my mind, that somehow I was going insane. I don’t know what’s worse, going crazy or knowing that some killer has come and gone through my bedroom window as if he was an invited guest. I guess I sleep more soundly than I thought I did.”

  Adam sat up straighter in his chair. “There won’t be anyone coming in through that window again. If it makes you feel better, I’ll completely board up that window to make sure not even a teensy fly can make its way inside.”

  Adam’s blood ran a little bit colder as he pictured the intruder entering the house to break the photos and erase a caller ID number from her phone. He’d obviously come in while Melanie slept on a number of occasions. Why hadn’t he killed her then? It made no sense.

  “Who would want to make you believe you’re going crazy?” he asked.

  She laughed, the sound holding no real merriment. “I can’t imagine.” The smile fell from her lips. “Why would somebody make me want to think I’m insane?”

  “I don’t know.” He gazed at her speculatively. “If you die, what happens to this house?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “I’m not sure. I have no heirs and I’m paying off some back taxes my mother owed, so I gue
ss it would just go up for auction.” Her eyes narrowed as she obviously followed his trail of thought. “Which would make it very easy for Craig to get it for next to nothing.”

  “Maybe this really wasn’t the serial killer. Maybe it was Craig trying to hurry things along,” Adam speculated. “There’s no question that this house could be prime commercial property after simple rezoning.”

  Melanie shrugged. “I don’t think it makes much of a difference who kills me. Dead is dead.”

  “For sure,” he agreed. “But we aren’t going to let that happen. I’m going to mention all of this to Cameron and make sure he checks out Craig’s alibi for tonight.”

  He could tell she was getting tired. Her shoulders had begun to slump and the tension that had wafted off her all night was slowly dissipating.

  “Maybe we should call it a night.” He got up and carried his mug to the sink. “I’m just going to go upstairs and get a pillow and a blanket and I’ll be right back down.”

  She nodded absently as her gaze once again went to the darkness outside the window.

  He took the stairs two at a time, wondering if he’d ever be able to forget the sound of her screams, the terror that had lit her eyes as he’d finally managed to pull her out of the closet.

  He didn’t want to think about how close tragedy had come. There had already been too much tragedy in his life. He’d lost his parents and his sister and Sam. He didn’t want to lose her, too.

  It took him only moments to grab a pillow from his bed and find an oversize fleece blanket in the hall closet. He grabbed the handgun from the top shelf of the closet, where he’d placed it when he’d moved in, and carried them all downstairs. He threw the pillow and blanket on the sofa, placed his gun on the coffee table and then went back into the kitchen to find her still seated at the kitchen table.

  “Are you going to be all right?” he asked softly.

  She jerked, as if his voice had startled her, and then offered him a hesitant smile. “I’ll just be glad when this night passes and the sun shines again.”

  He watched as she moved away from the table and carried her mug to the dishwasher. Once she’d loaded it, she followed Adam into the living room but halted just outside her bedroom door, her eyes once again dark and filled with a hint of fear.

  “You have a gun?” Her gaze was locked on the weapon on the coffee table.

  “I do. Does it bother you?”

  She nibbled on her lower lip, her gaze remaining on the gun. When she finally looked back at him, there was a hint of a cold resolve in her eyes. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

  “I’ll be right here with the gun,” he said and sat on the sofa to prove his point. “Somebody would have to get through me to get to you.”

  She nodded and then wheeled herself into the bedroom. Adam waited until he saw the illumination from the lamp next to her bed and then he unfolded the blanket and prepared to lie down, even though he knew sleep would be a long time coming, if at all.

  He took off his shirt and then shucked his jeans, deciding his boxers and his gun could handle anything that might go awry for the rest of the night.

  The light in her room was turned off as he placed his head on the pillow and pulled the fleece blanket on top of him. All the what-ifs in the world took possession of his thoughts.

  If he hadn’t stopped to have that pie and visit with the men, would he have managed to get here in time to catch the perpetrator? God, he would have loved to have that man close enough to wrap his hands around his throat, to squeeze until his eyes bulged with the same kind of fear he’d instilled in Melanie.

  If he’d lingered over another cup of coffee, if he’d driven slower than he had, would the perp have managed to drag Melanie from the closet? Would Adam have come home to find Melanie dead in her bed?

  A surge of protectiveness he’d never before experienced in his life swelled in his chest. He wanted to keep her safe, not just for her sake, but also for his own.

  He couldn’t imagine not seeing her smile the first thing every morning. In the short time he’d been living here, he’d become accustomed to her face, her laughter and her beauty, both inside and out.

  He released a sigh, recognizing that the adrenaline that had driven him since he’d arrived home earlier was finally beginning to ebb.

  He’d just started to nod off when he heard Melanie call his name. Instantly tension coursed through him. He grabbed his gun and hit the light switch as he stumbled into her room.

  Danger! His brain registered it, but it was not the kind of danger he’d anticipated. There was no stranger in the room, no sign of any trouble—except the trouble that might come from an instantaneous burst of desire.

  Danger sat in the center of the king-size bed, her shiny blond hair slightly tousled and her midnight-blue nightgown with spaghetti straps exposing far too much of her creamy skin. Danger came in the darkness of her blue eyes and the whisper of a tentative smile that curved her lips.

  He lowered his gun to his side. “You called me?”

  She averted her gaze from him as a faint pink stained her cheeks. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m still afraid. I was wondering if maybe you wouldn’t mind bunking in here with me just for tonight.” She scooted over to the edge of the bed and gestured to the empty space beside her.

  She was going to kill him, he thought. It was going to kill him to sleep next to her on that bed, with her scent dizzying his head and his desire thrumming through his veins. Still, there was no question that he was going to do what she needed, even if it did kill him.

  * * *

  There was no question that the moment Melanie had gotten into bed, the fear of that moment when she had awakened and knew she wasn’t alone in the room returned full force.

  She tried to shove it back, telling herself she was safe, that there was nothing to worry about. Adam was in the next room, on the sofa, and he’d said he would hear anything that might portend trouble.

  Still, it wasn’t enough. Her breathing became painful and her heart banged with a flashback of those moments of utter terror. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be okay alone, but she wasn’t.

  When she called his name and he appeared in her room, clad in a pair of dark blue boxers and clutching a gun, she recognized she didn’t want him in her bed just to make her feel secure. She wanted him in her bed with his arms wrapped around her, with his lips pressed to hers. She wanted him to make her feel alive and vital and whole by stroking her naked body.

  “Whatever you need from me, Melanie,” he finally said.

  She reached out and turned on the bedside lamp despite the fact that the overhead light illuminated the room. He flipped the switch that turned off that light and in the glow of the lamp walked around to the opposite side of the bed.

  He placed his gun on the nightstand and then got into the bed and under the sheet, keeping his body so close to the edge that she knew if she breathed hard, he’d fall off the bed and hit the floor.

  For several long minutes they remained that way, tension a third occupant between them in the bed. “Are you comfortable?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “Sure. I’m fine.” He was obviously lying through his teeth. “What about you? Feel better with me in here?”

  She hesitated before replying, weighing the pros and cons of what she wanted and what would be best for both of them. She had no illusions of any happily ever after with Adam or with any other man. If she encouraged him tonight to make love to her, it changed nothing.

  Except she would have a single sweet, hot memory to carry her through the years. Could she live with that? Would a memory be enough? Probably not, but it would be better than no memory at all.

  She turned to face him, his features barely discernible in the moonlight that filtered in through the window. “Actually, I don’t feel much better. I think it would help if you moved a little closer to me.”

  She didn’t want to actually come out and ask him for what sh
e wanted. She wanted him to need her as much as she did him. She wanted to let him know that she was extending an invitation, but she didn’t want to be the one to answer it for him. She wanted him to make a move on her because he couldn’t stand not to, because his desire for her overwhelmed his common sense.

  He moved an inch closer, still too far away for them to even accidentally bump into one another. “Is that better?” he asked.

  “Maybe it would ease my mind if you could move close enough to put your arm around me.” She held her breath as she waited for his reply.

  A small deep moan escaped him. “I have to tell you, I want to do what you need, Melanie, but you’re playing with fire here.”

  As he moved closer, close enough that his body warmed her side and he gathered her into his arms, she closed her eyes and relaxed against him. “Playing with fire?” she said softly.

  “A roaring inferno,” he replied gruffly. He’d whispered the words against the back of her ear and she fought against a shiver of excitement. “Melanie, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the softness of your skin beneath my hands. I’m not going to lie. I want you. I want you in a way that’s slowly killing me inside.”

  They were the words she’d longed to hear, words that chased away the fear that the night had held, promising to replace it with something wonderful, something beautiful.

  “I want you, too.” She turned over in his arms and faced him.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Unless you intend to eat my foot, there’s no way you’re going to hurt me,” she replied with a touch of humor. “Adam, don’t treat me like an invalid. Treat me like the fully functioning woman that I am.”

  She barely got the words out of her mouth before his lips touched hers. Gently at first, his lips teased and tormented, until finally she opened her mouth to encourage him to deepen the kiss.

  And he did, his tongue delving inside to battle with hers as a roar of excitement resounded in her head. His arms tightened around her as the fire in his kiss half stole her breath away.