Well, maybe not nothing. The sheriff had struck her as a man to be reckoned with, a man who wouldnt be easily fooled.
Once again a little frisson stirred through her body as she recalled the cool blue glitter of those farseeing eyes, and it was followed by the surprised realization that, like the first time it had happened, when shed first seen Roan Harley standing on her front porch, this wasnt exactly an unpleasant sensation.
What are you looking at me like that for? Mary said to Cat, who was still crouched on the back of the sofa, staring at her with what she could have sworn was a sneer of contempt. Just because you took a fancy to him. Youre a cat-what do you know? The mans dangerous, Im telling you.
The cat gave her one of his slow-motion blinks and turned his face away.
Mary shrugged. What had she expected? She was, as she had been for ten long years, utterly and completely alone.
Taking a purposeful breath, she crossed the living room to the door that opened onto a short hallway and thus to the houses two bedrooms and only bathroom. She went into the bathroom, turned on the light and closed the door.
With only the briefest glance at her image in the medicine cabinet mirror above the sink, she pulled the clip from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders, not in the vibrant tumble of curls that was its true nature but in limp straight strands. She scrubbed her scalp vigorously with her fingers for a few moments, then opened the cabinet below the sink and took out several plastic bottles with applicator tips, a small glass bowl and a number of odds and ends shed become all too familiar with during the past ten years.
Slipping disposable gloves onto her hands, she squeezed dollops from the plastic bottles into the glass bowl and mixed them thoroughly. Then, using a small soft brush, she began to dab the resulting jelly-like gunk onto the strip of flaming red at the roots of her dirt-brown hair.
Roan entered the sheriffs station through the front door, removing his Stetson as he nodded at the dispatcher ensconced in her cubbyhole behind a pane of bulletproof glass. At that hour, the business day and visiting hours at the detention center being long over, the lobby was empty. There were no washed-out women balancing babies on their hips waiting to visit their no-account husbands in the lock-up, no parolees keeping appointments with their parole officers, no unhappy teenagers and grim-faced parents waiting to pay traffic fines. The silence had a suspenseful, waiting quality, like a held breath.
The blast of the buzzer announcing the unlocking of the door to the inner sanctum sounded raucously, making him wince as it always did. The combination sheriffs station and county detention center was a relatively new facility, having been one of the first major promises Roan had made good on after getting himself elected sheriff. Considering that the one it replaced could have been taken straight off the set of a Hollywood Western movie, the effect had been to boost the countys law-enforcement capabilities from the nineteenth to the twenty-first century in one giant leap, vaulting over the twentieth in the process. The facility had been all state-of-the-art at the time, with the latest security safeguards considered necessary in this age of terrorism. Roan had no objections to the protection, even if any terrorists to be found in the environs of Hart County, Montana, were likely to be of the homegrown drunk-and-disorderly-cowboy or disgruntled-hunter variety. He did wish that buzzer could have been toned down a bit, though.
As the outer door closed behind him he paused to stick his head through the open top half of the dispatchers doorway and said in an undertone, He still here?
Donna gave him a grim look and tilted her head toward the back of the building. Down there in your office.
Roan nodded, slapped his hat against his thigh and continued on down the hallway. He didnt hesitate at the door to his office; the way he saw it, postponing the moment wasnt going to make it any easier. He took a firm grip on the doorknob and turned it.
Chapter 4
The man standing with his back to the door pretending to study the large topographical map of Hart County and its environs hanging on the wall behind the desk jerked around when Roan walked in, then pushed past the corner of the desk and came toward him.
He was a tall man, similar to Roan in both height and build, but now he seemed to have folded in on himself, so that his buff-colored Western-style suede jacket hung from his broad shoulders like a coat on a rack. His normally strong-sculpted features appeared shrunken, too, and his skin, yellowed and darkened to the color of old parchment, draped across them in ill-fitting folds and hollows. Only his eyes seemed as sharp and intense as Roan remembered, their ice-blue glare glittering out of shadowed sockets like the eyes of a starving wolf homed in on his prey.
Hes aged twenty years, Roan thought. But he wasnt all that surprised. Hed seen the look before, on his father-in-law, Boyd Stuarts face, right after Erin had died-the look of a man fixing to bury his child.
Good to see you, Senator, he said as he clasped the big, rawboned hand. Just wish it didnt have to be for this. Cant tell you how sorry I am. He meant it sincerely. He hadnt had much use for Jason Holbrook, but he wouldnt wish the pain of losing a child on any man.
Holbrook gripped Roans hand tightly in both of his-a politicians handshake-then released it. Hell of a thing, he muttered as he swiped a hand over hair that was still luxuriant but more silver now than gold. Just a hell of a thing. He coughed loudly and abruptly, then narrowed his wolfs stare at Roan. Tell me youre gonna find whoever did this. Tell me youre gonna get the son of a bitch that shot my boy.
Roan met the older mans gaze with an almost identical one and quietly replied, I mean to. I believe I will. He laid his Stetson on the top of his desk as he rounded its corner and pulled out his chair.
Senator Holbrook was pacing again. He paused to frown distractedly at nothing. Youve called in the state boys-thats good. Thats good. That detective that picked me up at the airport-seems like a good man. Seems to know his stuff.
Roan nodded and sat. I think he does. Names Kurt Ruger. Partners name is Roger Fry-hes not here right now. I sent him with the forensics evidence to the lab in Helena. Theyre both good men.
Holbrook aimed the scowl at him again. Sure thats going to be enough manpower? I can have the FBI in here by tomorrow morning. In fact, if this was in some way directed at me
The chair creaked as Roan leaned back in it, deliberately adopting a casual attitude, masking the tension he felt with calm eyes and even tone. At this point theres nothing about the shooting that would indicate a national security connection. In fact, were pretty certain this was local.
Localas in
Personal.
Ah. The senators mouth tightened. Then he rubbed a hand hard across his eyes, as though the fire in them burned even him. I see, he said heavily, and hauled in a breath. Wellokay then, I dont want to step on your toes, Roan. Just trying to help. You let me know if you need anything, now, you hear me? Anything at all. Just find this guy.
Localas in
Personal.
Ah. The senators mouth tightened. Then he rubbed a hand hard across his eyes, as though the fire in them burned even him. I see, he said heavily, and hauled in a breath. Wellokay then, I dont want to step on your toes, Roan. Just trying to help. You let me know if you need anything, now, you hear me? Anything at all. Just find this guy.
Oh, Roan said softly, Ill do that.
Instead of leaving then, the senator jerked out one of the chairs that faced Roans desk and perched himself on the edge of the seat, then leaned forward with shoulders hunched and hands clasped. Okay, so tell me what youve got so far. Any leads? Any suspects?
Getting down to brass tacks, thought Roan. The fact that hed anticipated this didnt make it any more welcome. He shifted warily. Now, Cliff, you know I cant-
Holbrook silenced him with an impatient gesture and grimace. Dont give me that, Roan. You think I cant get access to anything you or those state boys have got? Take me one phone call. I hope youre not gonna make me do that. Lord, son, this is family.
Family. Roan let out a breath, hating the jolt that had kicked inside him at the word. He doubted the senator, given his current frame of mind, even realized the implications of what hed said. No sense making anything of it.
He shrugged. Weve got some ideas. Pretty good idea what happened, anyway. For starters, it looks like Jason most likely knew the person that shot him.
The senators eyes narrowed. Thats why youre saying it was personal.
Roan nodded. He was shot at fairly close range, no sign of any struggle-in fact, it looks like Jase may not have known he was in serious danger, not until it was too late.
Holbrook let out a groaning breath and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.
And, Roan added reluctantly, some of the forensic evidence suggests there may have been a woman involved.
The senators grunt didnt sound surprised by that information; the man knew his son as well as anybody did. He put a hand over his eyes and said tiredly as he rubbed, Soyoure looking at, what, a jealous boyfriend? Husband?
It was the moment and the question Roan had been dreading, but he didnt see how he could avoid answering it. He couldnt explain his reluctance, or the pulse tapping in his belly, as if he were about to betray a personal confidence. From a woman hed just met, and a suspect to boot. Weird.
Could be. Seems he had an altercation with a woman outside Busters last night. He cleared his throat, but the words still came hard. This woman seems to be the last person to have seen Jason alive.
Holbrooks head jerked up and his eyes sparked like coals coming to life. So? Why isnt she in here? Why arent you questioning her? He paused, then did a double take and said incredulously, Are you telling me a woman might have done this?
Roan made a gesture of impatience that rocked his chair, making it squeak again. Im not saying that, no. At this point, anythings possible. He reined himself in, leaned forward and placed his clasped hands on his desktop. Cliff, Ive just come from questioning the woman. Shes voluntarily turned over her gun and a DNA sample, both of which will be on their way to the lab first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, were running a check on her-appears shes new in town, hasnt lived here more than a few months. He paused, hating, for the senators sake, what he had to say now. Whatever else Jason Holbrook may have been, it didnt change the fact that he was this mans child. He coughed, then spat it out. Theres something you need to know. Theres a good possibility Jason may have assaulted this woman. May even have raped her.