Satisfied there werent any trip wires, she said, Never enter a questionable door without checking for a bomb. Too many targeted people have walked into a deadly blast.
Wyatt blinked and stared, his gaze bouncing between her face and the gun in her hand. You really do this stuff for a living?
She grinned. Yep. She toed the door open and then entered, leading with her weapon.
What in the world? Wyatt said as he stepped in behind her.
The placed looked like a twister had recently touched down.
FOUR
Wyatt knew the mess he was seeing wasnt normal for George. Despite their differences, Wyatt had been inside Georges house several times. The old man had been particular about having things orderly and neat. One of the many things George would get after Wyatt about. He didnt feel the ranch was as organized or run as efficiently as it could be.
But he never had a solution, only complaints.
Everything has a proper order, George would say. If you dont honor that, you end up with nothing but chaos.
Ironic that Georges life should end in chaos. His place trashed, his body broken and his death a mystery. Didnt get much more chaotic than that. Regret slammed Wyatt again. George had been decent. But now it was too late to tell him that.
Jackie advanced, her weapon drawn. She opened a closet door, peered inside and then shut it. She moved down the hall and out of sight. A moment later she returned, her weapon out of sight. No one here but us.
Did the sheriffs people do this? he asked, appalled at the idea that theyd destroy Georges house.
No way. Jackie set her hands on her hips. This place has been ransacked. The sheriffs department wouldnt have done this. And if the sheriff had found the house like this, thered be crime-scene tape up. She shook her head. This was done recently.
Meeting her gaze, he asked, Motorcycle guy?
Hard to say.
He stared at the couch, its cushions ripped apart and the stuffing strewn all over. The coffee table had been dumped on its side. Books littered the floor in front of a bookcase that ran the length of the wall from carpet to ceiling. George had loved his books. The cover jacket of one caught his attention.
Stepping gingerly over a broken picture framean image of George with Wyatts father, Emersonhe bent to pick up the book.
Freeze!
Startled by Jackies barked command, he stilled, bent forward with his hand outstretched. His gaze shot to her. What?
She unzipped her parka to reveal a black waist pack. She unzipped the pack and withdrew two sets of disposable gloves, the kind you see in doctors offices. She handed a pair to him. Only touch the edges of anything. We dont want to leave any prints or smudge any viable ones.
Disconcerted, he took the gloves. We should call Landers.
We will, once weve had a chance to poke around.
If there was something here worth finding that would lead to Georges killer, dont you think the law and whoever did this would have found it?
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Maybe. Maybe not.
Shaking his head, he picked up the book, careful to touch only the edges of the faded gilt spine. The brushed-cloth cover was frayed at the edges, the pages inside yellowed. He opened the cover flap and read the inscription.
Emerson Stone Monroe, 1854
Wyatts great-grandfather and his fathers namesake.
This had been his fathers favorite treasure. The volume he held in his hand was a first edition, American printing, worth some money. Wyatt hadnt seen the book since he was a kid. Hed wondered what happened to it. Why did George have my fathers book?
Whats that? Jackie asked. Shed moved to the desk in the corner and was methodically looking at every item on the surface and in the drawers.
Moby-Dick. It was my fathers at one time. Not sure why George had it.
See, you found something odd that anyone else wouldnt have known was out of place. Maybe your dad gave it to him as a gift.
Could be.
Check it. Maybe George hid something in it.
Wyatt leafed through the pages and discovered an envelope addressed to George in Emerson Monroes rigid lettering. Wyatts heart squeezed tight. He knew what this was. Upon his fathers death, Wyatt, Wyatts mother, Carl and Penny Kirk, and George all received an envelope from Emerson. Wyatts letter was tucked away in his top dresser drawer. Sadness crept in as he recalled every word hed memorized.
Dear Son,
If youre reading this, then I have left this earth. I know I havent always been the best father or made the best decisions, but I want you to know that I love you. I am proud of you. Proud of the man you are becoming. A man so much better than me.
Emerson
With shaky hands, Wyatt slipped the single sheet of paper from the envelope and read the letter Emerson Monroe had written to his friend George.
George,
Watch over my son. See that he makes good decisions and exercises good judgment. Traits you have that I dont. Thank you for being a good friend.
Emerson
Wyatt wasnt sure how he felt about the note or the fact that his father had asked his friend to watch over him. Had George stayed on the ranch all these years out of duty to Wyatts father? He felt as if hed taken a hoof in the gut. Memories of all the times Wyatt told George to worry about his own responsibilities while Wyatt took care of the day-to-day running of the ranch horrified him.
He opened the book to replace the letter and envelope. A small scrap of paper fell out. He picked it up and stared at the numbers written across the front.
41557922-104952393
He turned the scrap of paper over. Blank on the
other side.
Do you know about this upcoming town-hall meeting?
Jackies question drew his attention away from the strange numbers. Theres one a month. Nothing special about them. Mostly a chance for folks to get together. Why?
She held up a flyer just like the one he had at home. She flipped it over. Look at this.
In big, bold letters were the words KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT OR ELSE.
Tucking the piece of paper back into the book, he crossed to her side. Sounds like a warning.
Yep. And whatever George knew got him killed.
Why didnt Landers find it?
It was stuck to the back of a National Geographic magazine. She pulled out her cell phone. Time to call the sheriff.
Twenty minutes later they greeted Landers in the driveway.
What are you two doing out here? Landers asked.
Wyatts defenses bristled at the accusing tone in his stepfathers voice. I own the house.
Landers cut him a sharp glance. Im well aware of that. However, you shouldnt be anywhere near the place, not while youre still a person of interest in the investigation. He pinned Jackie with a hard look. You should know this.
She shrugged, clearly unrepentant. Im a private citizen now. Came here with the property owner. No laws were broken.
Jackie had said something before about having been in law enforcement. At the time he hadnt thought too much about it, but now he was curious to know in what capacity she had served.
It doesnt look good, Landers groused.
Murders never pretty, boss, Jackie shot back.
Wyatt fought the urge to laugh. He really liked her spunk.
We did find something of interest, though, she said.
Landerss gray eyes widened. You went inside and searched the house?
To make sure whoever trashed the place wasnt still lurking about, Jackie stated. She held up the flyer for the town meeting with her gloved hand. Id say George had an enemy. We just need to find out who.
Not we, Ms. Blain, Landers said in an adamant tone. You two stay away from my investigation.
Some would consider you investigating your stepson a conflict of interest, Jackie said, her tone bland.
Landers narrowed his gaze. Ive already put in a call to the state police. Theyll be sending someone over to assist.
Jackies mouth quirked. Good to know.
Landers reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and used it to take the flyer from Jackies hands. Now, I suggest you two go back to the main house and stay there. Let me do my job.
With a snap, Jackie yanked off the plastic gloves. Have you found the primary crime scene yet?
Exasperation crossed Landerss face. Stop fishing, Ms. Blain. You know I cant divulge information on an ongoing investigation.
Jackies lips twisted in a wry half smile. Ill take that as a no.
Why do you say that? Wyatt asked, finding their banter entertaining and informative.
Because if they had found the place where George had been murdered, then they would be asking you questions to see if they could place you at the scene. But because youre still walking around a free man, Im guessing they have yet to determine Georges whereabouts the night of his death.
Landers looked at Wyatt, his gray eyes probing, almost pleading. Wyatt, for your mothers sake, please dont do anything to throw any more suspicion on yourself. Stay close to home and out of my way.
With that, Landers strode away, carrying the threatening note by the corner. Wyatt stared after him, pleased by Landerss show of concern for his mothers peace of mind.
Whats up with you and your mom? Jackie asked, peering at him intently.
I havent talked to her. The last thing he needed was to deal with his mother. Her calls had increased in the past twenty-four hours. Shed want to smother him with concern and demand an explanation. Just as she had the night Dina had died. But he wasnt willing to tell anyone what happened that horrible night. No matter what.
Jackie tucked her arm around Wyatts and led him to his 4x4. Come on, cowboy, weve another stop to make before we do as the sheriff asks.
* * *
Half an hour later, they stood at the fence line on the southwest corner of the property. The fresh snow from last nights storm had covered the tire tracks of the motorcycle. They drove along the fence for several yards but saw no signs of damage or tampering.
Our mysterious cyclist most likely doubled back and left the property, Jackie said. She had her hands jammed into the pockets of her parka. Wild blond curls stuck out from beneath the edges of her bright pink beanie. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright in the winter sun.
Attraction flared and he tamped it down because the last thing he needed was to be distracted by her beauty.
What form of law enforcement were you in? he asked.
She met his gaze. I was a deputy sheriff in Atkins, Iowa.
That explained the driving. But then again, being from Boston also explained her driving. He shook his head. Youre just full of surprises.
Her grin knocked him back a step. Keeping himself immune to her charms was proving impossible.
I like to keep things interesting.
Though his mouth felt as if he had cotton balls stuffed into his cheeks, he asked, What made you decide to go into law enforcement?
With a shrug, she said, I wanted excitement. I grew up watching reruns of Charlies Angels. The original series. Her grin widened. I wanted to carry a gun.
Warning bells clanged in his head. This wasnt a girl who wanted to shoot pop cans off fence posts with a pelt gun. She wanted to chase drug runners and wear spandex. What was spandex, anyhow? All he knew was that it melted next to Wyoming campfires. He adjusted his hat. And which character did you want to be?
He was sure shed say Farah Fawcetts. She was an icon even beyond the TV show.
Sabrina.
The tomboy. Okay, so much for thinking he could predict anything about Jackie Blain. Why?
She was the smartest, the most savvy and the one who saved the day more than the others.
He couldnt say whether her assessment was true or not. Hed only seen the show a few times. And only to watch Farrah. Why did you change professions?
Her expression grew pensive. Personal reasons.
Concern hit him like a cold wind across the plain. Were you injured?
The thought of a bullet tearing through her perfect skin slammed through him, making his fist curl to keep himself from reaching out to her.
She let out a humorless laugh. No. Nothing like that.
Hardness settled in her blue eyes, making them shine like crystal. She looked away, and he glimpsed a shadow of hurt. Something bad had happened to her, something that still caused her pain. But apparently she had no intention of sharing her inner turmoil with him.
Which was fine with him. He had enough of his own secret torments. He didnt want to take on anyone elses.
Yet he couldnt stop the welling compassion making him want to take her in his arms and soothe away whatever haunted her.
He jammed his hands into his pockets.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
We should get back to the house for lunch, he finally said when he couldnt take the tension any longer. Gabbyll be wondering about us.
Im sure shes having fun with Spencer, Jackie said, her expression clearing, her smile tender. Hes getting spoiled with so much attention. Im afraid when we go back home hell be one sad puppy.
Wyatt had a feeling there would be several sad people, too.
* * *
When they arrived back at the ranch, Wyatt put the book hed taken from Georges house on the bookshelf in the living room. He supposed he should have okayed it with the sheriff, but because the book belonged to the Monroe family, Wyatt didnt see the need to ask permission. Hed apologize later if need be.
Gabby skidded to a stop in the doorway. Daddy! she squealed and ran toward him.
He scooped her up into his arms. White powder dusted her nose, and a smear of chocolate ran the length of her chin. What have you been up to?
I made chocolate-chip cookies, she said with pride.
He lifted his nose to smell the air. Hmm. I can smell them baking. What a big girl you are to be making cookies.
She grinned. I am a big girl.
There was a knock at the front door. Wyatt set Gabby down. Go on back to the kitchen, he directed her and headed toward the living room as Penny came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron.
Ill get it, Wyatt said. He reached for the doorknob and opened the door.
The man standing on the porch wore a thick wool coat over a navy blue suit, white dress shirt, red power tie and black, shiny wing tips. His salted hair was barely visible beneath the wool watch cap pulled low over his ears.