Welcome to Mystery, Montana, a small town with dark secrets…
The body found in the Dunrovin Ranch stables isn’t just a crisis for Wyatt Fitzgerald’s family or his top priority as sheriff—Gwen Johansen is both the victim’s sister…and Wyatt’s ex. And in a small town like Mystery, events of the past don’t seem to fade. Maybe she’d misjudged his potential when they were younger, but now he could be her greatest ally—and not just in the investigation. That is, if he can work his way around a broken heart. With the killer circling, the clock is counting down on more than Christmas, a time when family means everything and forgiveness is the best gift of all.
Something was wrong.
The store was a mess. The glass teapot, the one he had noticed the day before, was on the floor, shattered into several pieces. Beside it on the floor was a bloody handprint.
It felt like the world was collapsing around him. He glanced back at Gwen. She didn’t need to see this, but he couldn’t keep her from the truth…or what they could possibly find if they went into the shop.
“Gwen,” he said, turning around slowly to face her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, all the playfulness that she had been exuding disappearing.
He shrugged. “I can’t be sure until I look.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He could make her wait in the car, but whoever was gunning for her had to be someone they both knew, someone close to them, and it was likely it was someone who could lure her out of the car…and do whatever they deemed necessary.
He couldn’t risk it.
MS. CALCULATION
Danica Winters
Danica Winters is a multiple-award-winning, bestselling author who writes books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana, testing her patience while she tries to hone her skills at various crafts—quilting, pottery and painting are not her areas of expertise. She believes the cup is neither half-full nor half-empty, but it better be filled with wine. Visit her website at danicawinters.net.
Books by Danica Winters
Harlequin Intrigue
Mystery Christmas
Ms. Calculation
Smoke and Ashes
Dust Up with the Detective
Wild Montana
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
Deputy Wyatt Fitzgerald—The finest (and sexiest) deputy in Mystery, Montana, who finds himself neck-deep in a murder investigation that calls into question not only his investigation skills, but a whole slew of his family’s history. Wyatt had always hoped to find Gwen back in his life, but he never imagined it’d be under these circumstances.
Gwen Johansen—A no-nonsense cowgirl and Wyatt Fitzgerald’s former high school girlfriend whom Wyatt’s never quite gotten over. Though she equally loves and hates her family, when her sister turns up dead, Gwen will do whatever it takes to find the person responsible—even if the murderer is close to home.
Bianca Johansen—An angelic and unassuming small-town vet who is found murdered on Wyatt Fitzgerald’s family’s ranch, launching one of the hardest cases Wyatt will ever have to investigate.
Eloise Fitzgerald—Foster mother and caregiver not only to the people in her life, but to the animals, as well.
Alli Fitzgerald—The ex-wife of Wyatt’s brother and head groundskeeper at Dunrovin Ranch.
Christina Bell—Alli’s sister and Monica Poe’s friend, who finds herself deep in the center of the conflict that is taking over the ranch.
Winnie Bell—A precocious little girl who loves taffy and everyone who works at the ranch.
William Poe—A shady county tax appraiser who thinks everyone and everything belongs to him—even the women of Mystery, Montana.
Monica Poe—The trophy wife who appears to be cooperating with Wyatt’s investigation.
Carla Johansen—The town drunk who always seems to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and who has a knack for taking things from bad to worse.
To Mom
You show me what it means to be empowered.
I couldn’t have done any of this without you.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from Frozen Memories by Cassie Miles
Prologue
There was nothing that could make a woman go crazy more quickly or more profoundly than a man. The same went for mares and studs, and the proof was the lame horse that had brought Bianca to Dunrovin Ranch in the little town of Mystery, Montana.
The paint had her rear end backed into the corner of her stall, an instinct to protect herself from predators who, if she’d been in the wild, would have already taken advantage of her injury and moved in for the kill.
Bianca snorted slightly at how the instincts between animals and people were the same. When everything was stripped away—the names, the relationships, the social frameworks and the money—humans were nothing more than animals.
According to Mrs. Fitz, the paint mare had been in heat and had gotten into a fight with another mare when they’d turned the paint out. Normally the two mares had gotten along, their hierarchy and roles within their social group well established, but due to the proximity of a buckskin stallion, things had taken a turn for the worse and the mare had injured her foot in the fight. Bianca wasn’t sure if the animal’s leg was sprained or broken; she’d have to get her hands on the horse before she’d know.
“Hey, baby,” Bianca cooed as she slowly opened the stall’s door and moved in closer to the mare.
The horse gave a long huff as it looked over at her. It had the wide eyes of an animal in pain and it was breathing hard. Her left front leg was swollen and angry-looking, and from the state of it, it was easy to see why Mrs. Fitz had been upset when she’d called. If a horse broke a leg, which appeared to be the case here, it sadly often ended with the animal being euthanized.
It was the worst part of her job—making the choice between life and death.
In preparation for the worst, she’d already drawn up the syringe of Beuthanasia and left it in her bag just outside the stall in an attempt to keep from spooking the animal more than necessary. Though the recommended dose was two milliliters for every ten pounds, she’d doubled it. It was always better to have too much of the powerful anesthetic—it was more humane. One little prick of a needle and a squeeze and the numbness would wrap the animal’s world in a shroud of darkness.
The mare moved to paw the ground in agitation, but as she shifted her weight, she stumbled and squealed in pain. The sound made the hairs on Bianca’s arms rise. She personally knew all about pa
in—though hers was of the emotional kind. The kind no one noticed, until they looked deep in her eyes and then—fearing what they saw would catch—they turned away.
The whites of the mare’s eyes were showing, her chest was flecked with saliva and sweat rolled down her coat. These were just more signs that what Bianca feared doing most may be just the thing she would be forced to do. She already hated herself for the choices she had made in her private life. This would only make her feel worse.
She watched the horse carefully as she approached with metered caution. A hurt animal was a dangerous thing.
“It’s okay, girl,” she whispered.
The mare threw her head and staggered as the motion forced her to catch her body weight on the injured leg.
“No, sweetheart, no, calm down.” Bianca moved closer and gently ran her hand down the mare’s leg. From touch alone, she couldn’t feel a definite break.
Maybe she could save the animal after all. Some of the dread she’d been feeling drifted from her. Perhaps today, instead of taking a life, she could save one.
Bianca stood up and traced her fingers over the star on the mare’s forehead. The horse’s ears flicked to the right, like a finger pointing to something just over her shoulder.
Bianca turned to see what the animal was looking at. The person was small, but they moved fast.
The needle plunged into Bianca’s neck. The anesthetic burned as they forced the syringe’s contents into her.
Bianca’s scream echoed through the stable as she grasped at the empty syringe that protruded from her skin. She fumbled with it, pulling it out and watching in horror as the needle fell onto the hay strewn at their feet.
Red boots... She recognized those horrible boots.
The darkness flooded in from all sides as the anesthetic pumped through her body.
She’d been right. More Beuthanasia had been better.
Death came quick.
Chapter One
Everyone in law enforcement would admit the worst aspect of the job was notifying the next of kin when a loved one died. Today that job fell on Wyatt Fitzgerald’s shoulders... Well, not fell exactly, so much as it was a weight he’d offered to bear. The fact that they were only a few weeks away from Christmas only made it that much harder.
He parked his patrol unit at the end of the Johansens’ driveway, as far from the front door as possible so he would have plenty of time before he would have to face them—and his former high school girlfriend, Gwen. The last time they had spoken, almost a decade ago, she’d made it clear she hated him. What he was about to do would only make her hatred for him worse, and he wouldn’t be able to hold those feelings against her.
Though it was early in December, he was surprised they hadn’t started to decorate for the holidays. When he’d been younger, they’d always had the Widow Maker Ranch decked out, complete with handmade pine-bough wreaths and thousands of lights. From the look of the derelict place, with its shabby siding and in-need-of-new-shingles roof, it was like the Johansens were just waiting for someone to arrive with news like his.
This moment, his coming to the door with the news of the death of their beloved sister and daughter, would be etched in their memories forever. And he would always be remembered as the catalyst for this tragic change in their lives. Without a doubt, they would always blame him for the hurt they were about to experience. In a way, he felt almost responsible for Bianca’s mysterious death.
The snow crunched under his boots as he made the long march up the driveway to the ranch house’s door. Maybe he should have brought along the other officer. They’d always been taught to go in pairs. It made it easier to face what had to be done. But this time, under all the extenuating circumstances, he felt this was one journey he had to make on his own—that was, right up until the door was within his line of sight.
He would make it quick. Like a Band-Aid. One rip and it would all be over—at least for him. Then the real pain would begin for them. He cringed at the thought of how Bianca and Gwen’s mother, Carla, would take the news. Ever since her husband’s accident with the hay tedder at Dunrovin Ranch, she’d never been the same and she’d never forgiven his family or the crew that helped run the place. To her, everything about the accident had been Dunrovin’s fault, and therefore its owners—Wyatt’s parents—were to blame.
His stomach clenched as he realized this moment, his coming to the door with tragic news, was something Carla had gone through once before. Their shared past would amplify everything. He hated having to be a part of her pain once again.
He took a long breath in a failed attempt to calm his anxiety and knocked on the front door. The glass rattled as he tapped, loose thanks to the years of neglect since Mr. Johansen’s death.
The last time Wyatt knocked on this door had been the night of their senior prom. If only he could go back in time to the days when his biggest worries were centered on how much playtime he would get in the Friday-night football game, and whether or not Gwen would be free to watch.
The curtain was drawn back and Carla’s face appeared in the window. Her nose was red and purple and covered with the spider veins indicative of a long-term alcoholic—not that he could blame her after the life she had led. Her wind-burned skin, the mark of all serious ranchers, had more lines than he remembered and her hair had turned gray, but she still had the same dark eyes of a haunted woman.
“What the hell do you want? I’m fresh out of doughnuts,” she said through the glass, her words slowed by booze even though it was early in the day.
“Mom, seriously?”
He recognized Gwen’s voice and his heart picked up pace as she stepped into view. Some feelings really didn’t change over ten years, no matter how much they should have.
Unlike her mother, Gwen was even more beautiful. Her long blond hair was haloed around her face, as wild as the woman it belonged to. She looked at him and her mouth opened in surprise, her hands moved to her hair and she tried to force it to submit. Pulling it back, her blue eyes picked up the bits of the morning sun, making them glow with life. Her eyes were just like Bianca’s, reminding him of the death that had brought him here.
Gwen opened the door and stood in silence for a moment as she stared at him in his full uniform. Without saying hello, she turned to her mother. “What did you do last night?”
He shifted his weight, uncomfortable that she was chastising her mother in front of him like he wasn’t even there.
Carla rubbed her nose drunkenly, like she was trying to process her daughter’s accusation. “I wasn’t doin’ nothing.”
“Then why is Deputy Fitzgerald standing on our doorstep?”
So they weren’t on a first-name basis anymore. Apparently she wasn’t feeling the effects of nostalgia like he was. He forced his feelings down. It didn’t matter what she thought of him; that wasn’t why he was here.
Carla looked at him and frowned as though replaying the events of last night through her mind. As he looked at her, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was still drunk from the night before, or if the alcohol on her breath was just this morning’s continuation of last night’s party.
“I don’t think I was driving.” She leaned around him, looking out into the driveway for a car that wasn’t there. “Bubba drove me home. I kinda remember...”
Gwen crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at her mother. “Are you kidding me? You don’t even remember how you got home last night? This has to stop. It’s only a matter of time until you’re going to get into real trouble—” Her glare shifted to him as if she remembered exactly who he was. “So what did she do this time? How bad is it?”
The look on her face made him want to be standing anywhere but in her bull’s-eye.
“Actually, I was here for—”
“Where’s Bianca?” Carla interrupted, glancing be
hind her for her other daughter—a daughter who wasn’t going to come.
“Mom, be quiet. Bianca will be along,” Gwen said, moving between her mother and the door as if she was so embarrassed by her mother’s ramblings she wanted to hide her from his view.
He cleared his throat, wishing he had loosened the top button of his uniform before he’d made his way to the door. Even his body armor felt tight, and he gave it a slight tug in an effort to dispel some of the discomfort he was aware wasn’t really physical.
“Actually, I’m here about Bianca.” As soon as the name fell from his lips, Gwen’s scowl disappeared, replaced by a wide-eyed look of fear.
“She’s upstairs,” Gwen said, absently motioning toward the wooden staircase that led to the second floor of the ranch house. “Do you want me to go get her up?” There was an edge to her voice, a sharpness that came with panic.
He moved to touch her, but stopped and gripped his hands together in front of him to keep his body and emotions under control.
“I’m afraid to tell you this, Ms. Johansen,” he said, moving slightly so he could look the older woman in the face as well. “Mrs. Johansen. I’m sorry, but in the early morning hours, we found Bianca’s body. She is...deceased.”
He knew he should have just said dead, but he couldn’t get the word past his lips. It was too harsh for Bianca, the veterinarian who’d been a regular at Dunrovin. He’d seen her so many times over the years, and they had a friendship based on their mutual attachment to animals—and her sister. In fact, Bianca had been kind to him, offering him tidbits about Gwen’s life and her dating status, and once in a while pushing him to make his move to get her back. But he’d always brushed away Bianca’s urging. He and Gwen had already had their chance—he couldn’t go through that kind of heartbreak. It nearly broke him once. He couldn’t risk something that raw again.
“Deceased?” Gwen said the word as though she tasted its full, bitter flavor and spat it out.
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