by B. J Daniels
Blythe felt her blood run cold. “You think it wasn’t an accident? That someone pushed her?”
Karen nodded. “You were with Jett during the time when he recorded the songs. Do you remember seeing Luca’s small blue notebook?”
The chill that ran through her made her shudder. She hugged herself against it, the warm spring sun doing nothing to relieve the icy cold that had settled in her.
“I was afraid that might be the case,” Karen said. “Luca had found out that Jett planned to release another of her songs. That is why she was so upset with Martin and Jett. Jett had told her he no longer had the notebook.”
He’d lied. No big surprise there. “You think either he or Martin killed her to shut her up.”
“If I’m right, then you might be the only one who saw him with that notebook of Luca’s songs,” Karen said. “Luca’s song that he recorded is set to come out next month.”
Could this explain the accidents on her road tour? Jett was always around since he’d been closing for her. And he was in Montana. But if anyone had rigged the brakes on the sports car she’d rented, it must have been Martin. Unless Jett had come to town earlier and Martin had let him into the Grizzly Club without anyone knowing it.
She would bet there was a back way out of the club, one only the residents used.
Blythe felt sick. “Thank you for telling me.”
Karen shrugged. “You were once like my sister. Whatever happened after that…” She stood. “Good luck, JJ.” Her tone said she thought Blythe would need it.
Karen was studying her. “You seem…different.”
“I’m not JJ anymore. As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead. I’m Blythe again.” She’d started going by Blythe in high school because it had sounded more mature, more like the musical star she planned to be. “JJ” had been Martin’s idea.
“You do know that there never was going to be a reunion tour of Tough as Nails,” Blythe said.
Karen looked amused. “I knew that. I think Betsy and Loretta did, too. Got to wonder why they came all the way to Montana, don’t you.”
Blythe could see that Karen was trying to warn her. Jett might not be the only who wanted her dead.
“You going to keep waitressing when this is all over?” Karen asked, sounding skeptical.
“I might. It’s honest work and I think I need that right now.” She didn’t say it, but the next time she picked up a guitar, she hoped it would be to sing a lullaby to one of her children. With Logan Chisholm.
“If you’re ever in Whitehorse again…” She realized that Karen didn’t seem to be listening. She was staring across the street.
Blythe followed her gaze and saw Logan leaning against his pickup watching the two of them.
“A friend of yours?” Karen asked, turning her gaze back to Blythe. She broke into a grin. “You finally found that cowboy you always said you were going to run away with.”
Blythe knew they would never be close again, not like they’d been as kids, but she hoped they stayed in touch. Maybe time would heal the friendship. She sure hoped so. Impulsively, she hugged her former friend.
Karen seemed surprised at first, then hugged her tightly. “Be careful. I hope I get to hear about this cowboy someday.”
Blythe glanced at Logan. She’d asked him to stay clear of her. “He’s one stubborn cowboy,” she said as they started back across the street toward Karen’s car.
The truck came out from behind the space between two main drag buildings where there’d been a fire a year ago. Sun glinted off the windshield, the roar of the engine filling the spring air as the driver headed right for the two of them.
Chapter Twelve
Buford called the airport only to find that none of the four, Jett, Karen, Loretta or Betsy had taken a flight out of town. He was in the process of calling rental-car agencies when Betsy walked into his office.
“There is something I think you should know,” she said. She was nervously twisting the end of a bright-colored scarf that hung loosely around her neck.
He motioned her into a chair across from his desk. “What do I need to know?”
“It probably doesn’t mean anything, isn’t even important,” she said haltingly.
“But you’re going to tell me so I can be the judge of that, right?”
She nodded solemnly. “Ten years ago I overheard a conversation. I didn’t mean to. Everyone thought I’d already left. I was always slower than the rest of them at getting out after a performance.”
Buford tried to curb his impatience. “What did you hear?”
“Martin Sanderson. He was making one of the band members an offer,” she said.
“JJ.” He quickly corrected himself. “I’m sorry, I guess she was Blythe then.”
Betsy shook her head. “It was Karen. She was apparently Martin’s first choice. I heard him tell her that she had more talent than Blythe and that he could make her a star.”
“Karen didn’t take the offer,” Buford said afraid he saw how this had gone down.
“She said she couldn’t do that to her friend. Martin laughed and said, ‘Well, she won’t feel the same way when I make her the same offer.’ Karen said he was wrong. That he didn’t know Blythe the way she did.”
“I would imagine Karen was upset when she heard that her friend had taken the deal and not looked back,” Buford said.
Betsy shook her head. “That’s just it. Karen didn’t react at all. We all knew she had to be devastated, but she is so good at hiding her true feelings. If anyone hates JJ, it has to be her. She was betrayed worse than any of the rest of us. So you can see why there was no way the band could survive after all that. It was clear that Karen’s heart definitely wasn’t into it.”
Betsy had quit worrying at the end of her scarf. She got to her feet and seemed to hesitate. “Jett said JJ’s car had been tampered with and that’s what killed that girl who took it.”
“Your point?” he asked even though he had a good idea where this was headed.
“Karen’s father was a mechanic. She loved to work with him on weekends. She knew all about cars and didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. One time, when they were dating, she even fixed Jett’s car for him.”
LOGAN HAD BEEN WATCHING Blythe and another woman he’d never seen before visiting across the street. Was the woman one of the former members of her old band? They had seemed deep in conversation, making him anxious.
When they’d finally stood, hugging before heading across the street, he’d relaxed a little. Whoever the woman was, she apparently didn’t mean Blythe any harm.
Then he’d heard the roar of the pickup engine, saw it coming out of the corner of his eye and acted instinctively. Later he would recall rushing out into the street to throw both women out of the way of the speeding truck. Now as he knelt on the ground next to Blythe, his heart pounding, all he could do was pray.
“Blythe! Blythe!” When she opened her eyes and blinked at the bright sunshine, then closed them again, the wave of relief he felt made him weak.
“Blythe,” he said, part oath, part thanks for his answered prayer.
“Logan,” she said, opened her eyes and smiled up at him.
“Is she all right?” he heard a voice ask behind him.
“She’d better be.” There’d been a few moments when she hadn’t responded. They’d felt like hours. He’d never been so scared.
She looked around at the small crowd that had gathered. He saw her confusion.
“Do you remember what happened?” he asked.
“Karen?” she said and tried to sit up.
“I’m right here,” the woman who’d been with Blythe answered. “I’m fine.” She didn’t sound fine though. She sounded scared. Her skirt was torn, her top soiled, and like Blythe she’d scraped her elbow and arm when Logan had thrown himself at them, knocking all three of them out of the way of the pickup.
Logan could still hear the roar of the engine, the sound of the tires on the pavement, and see
the truck bearing down on the two women crossing the empty street.
“Okay, everybody stand back, please.” Sheriff McCall Crawford worked her way through the small crowd as Logan was helping Blythe to her feet. “Someone tell me what happened here.”
A shopkeeper told the sheriff what he’d seen. “It appeared the pickup purposely tried to run the two women down.”
Blythe leaned into Logan, clearly still shaken. He put his arm around her and tried not to be angry with her, but it was hard not to be. She was determined to risk her life—and push him away. He wasn’t having it after this. Whatever he had to do to keep her safe, he was doing it.
“Did anyone see the driver?” McCall asked.
Blythe looked to Karen who shook her head. “The sun was reflecting off the windshield.”
“So you couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman?” the sheriff asked.
“No.”
“What about you?” McCall asked Logan.
“I heard it coming but I was just trying to get to Blythe before the pickup hit her.”
“None of you saw the pickup’s license plate, either?” the sheriff asked.
More head shakes.
“It was covered with mud,” Logan said. “The pickup was an older model Ford, brown, that’s all I can tell you.”
She nodded. “I’d suggest you see a doctor,” she said to Blythe, who instantly started to argue.
“I agree,” Logan spoke up. “She definitely needs her head examined. I’m taking her over to the emergency room now.”
“Very funny, Logan,” she said under her breath.
“Okay, if you remember anything…” McCall turned to Karen. “I’d like to speak with you if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll be at the emergency room, if you need us,” Logan said. “I’ll see that Blythe is safe from now on whether she likes it or not.”
He’d expected Blythe to argue and was surprised when she didn’t. Had it finally sunk in that she was in serious danger?
Blythe glanced around. “Where is Karen?” she asked.
“She left with the sheriff,” Logan said.
“I was hoping to at least say goodbye,” Blythe said.
“Sorry, but I think she wants to put as much distance between the two of you as she can. Apparently she’s having trouble with the idea of someone almost killing her—unlike you.”
It wasn’t until they reached the hospital that Blythe finally felt her scraped elbow and the ache in her hip where she’d hit the pavement. Logan had refused to leave her side, standing in the corner of the emergency room watching the doctor check her over.
The incident had scared him badly. She could see that he was still worried about her. There was a stubborn set to his jaw that told her he’d meant what he’d said about not leaving her side. The thought warmed her and frightened her. Whoever had tried to run her down today would be back. She was determined that Logan Chisholm not be in the line of fire when that happened.
“No concussion,” the doctor said. “I’ll have the nurse put something on the scrapes and you are good to go.”
As the doctor left, Logan stepped over to her bed. She looked into his handsome face and saw both anger and relief. He’d hurled himself at her and Karen, throwing them out of the way, risking his own life to save hers. Could she love this man any more?
“You saved my life,” she said.
He chuckled. “Doesn’t that mean you owe me some debt for eternity?”
She knew what was coming. “I hate that you risked your life today because of me. I can’t let you keep doing that.” He could have been killed today. Karen, too.
“How do you plan to stop me?” he asked, leaning toward her.
She felt her breath catch, her heart a rising thunder in her chest as he leaned down, his lips hovering just a heartbeat away from her own before he kissed her. Her pulse leaped beneath her skin. But when she reached to cup the back of his neck and keep his mouth on hers, he pulled back.
“You are coming home with me or I’m moving into your apartment,” he said. “Which is it going to be?”
She could see that there was no changing his mind. “I’ve missed the ranch and the horses. I’ve missed you, too.” All true. “But Logan—”
“Then it’s my place,” Logan said, cutting her off.
AFTER THE SHERIFF’S VISIT ABOUT Aggie’s murder, Hoyt had insisted on staying at Emma’s side until the new housekeeper arrived. He took several weapons from his safe and dragged her out to the barn for more target practice.
“I want you to be able to shoot without hesitation,” he told her, thrusting a pistol into her hand.
“I can shoot and you already gave me a gun,” she said. “That’s not what you want me to be able to do.”
“No,” he agreed meeting her gaze. “I want you to be able to kill if you have to and without a second thought.”
Anyone could be taught to shoot a weapon. Killing, well, that was something else.
“What about you?” Emma asked after shooting several pistols and proving that she could hit anything she aimed at.
“I’m not worried about me,” he said.
“I am.” She looked into his handsome face, saw how much this had aged him. They’d been so happy when they’d first married—before Aggie Wells had come back into his life first with accusations of murder and then with her crazy story about Hoyt’s first wife being alive and a killer.
“Can you kill her?” Emma asked him.
His gaze locked with hers. She saw that he wanted to argue that his first wife was already dead. But maybe even he wasn’t so sure now.
“I would do anything to keep you from being hurt. Anything.” He pulled her into his arms and held her so tight she couldn’t breathe.
He believed he could kill his first wife, his first love, a woman who had broken his heart in so many ways.
But Emma prayed he would never have to look into Laura’s eyes and pull the trigger. If anyone had to do it, Emma hoped it wasn’t him.
She took the pistol he handed her and aimed at the target on the hay bale and fired. Bull’s-eye. But could she put a bullet through another woman’s heart?
“SO DID YOU SEE HER?”
Buford smiled as his fourteen-year-old granddaughter Amy met him at his front door. “I saw her.”
Since the call from the Whitehorse sheriff about an attempt on JJ’s life, he’d been distracted with the case. He’d forgotten that this granddaughter knew he’d been to Whitehorse to see her music idol.
“Is she more beautiful in person than even on television?”
“I couldn’t say. She’s quite attractive.” He could tell his granddaughter had hoped for more. “She seems very nice.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Nice?”
He didn’t know what else to say. “I liked her.”
That too met with an eye roll. “You like everyone.”
If only that were true.
