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In the past ten years, the Delaney Dude Ranch had become a popular vacation place for tourists. It was open ten months out of twelve and closed for a month in the spring and another in late fall for maintenance and repairs.
“I was surprised to discover that Mark was the first of you all to get married,” he said.
“Matthew might as well be married to the ranch. He’ll probably never take a bride. Luke is so busy romancing everyone in the four-county area, he’s a lost cause when it comes to monogamy and marriage.”
“And you?” His blue eyes seemed to be searching inside her, seeking weaknesses—or secrets.
She met his gaze evenly. “And I’ve decided I’m not cut out to be somebody’s wife. I like living my life my way, without compromises or conditions. I’m set in my ways and perfectly happy alone. And what about you?” she asked curiously. “Do you have a wife tucked away somewhere? Perhaps a couple of kids?”
“No wife. No kids. I’ve been pretty focused on my ministry and that hasn’t left much time for anything else.” He leaned back against the red plastic booth. “I have a lot of plans for the church, which I understand from Reverend Templeton is slowly dying from apathy. But eventually I’d like a wife and children.”
Was this the reason he was eager for Erin to be acquitted? Perhaps he intended to take up where they had left off long ago.
It surprised her that the thought of the two of them together after all these years still possessed the power to hurt. She’d thought she’d become inured to the pain and knew she had to move past it in order to do the best possible job for Erin.
“When do you begin your work at the church?” she asked.
“Reverend Templeton is giving his farewell sermon tomorrow, and I’ll take over starting next week.” He paused a moment. “I was sorry to hear about your father’s death.”
She eyed him and said dryly, “Really. You were probably one of the few people who were sorry to see him go.”
His gaze was so tender, she felt as if it reached inside her and stroked her heart. “Things never got better between you and your father?”
Johnna didn’t reply as the waitress appeared with their orders. She placed Johnna’s salad before her, then offered Jerrod a flirtatious smile along with his burger and fries. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, and Johnna knew from the look in her eyes she was offering something to Jerrod that certainly wasn’t on the menu.
“I think we’re fine,” Jerrod said, his gaze not leaving Johnna. The waitress pursed her lips in disappointment, then twirled and left.
“Isn’t it some sort of sin for a woman to look at a preacher like that?” she asked with a burst of irritation.
Jerrod laughed, the deep rumble stirring the embers of memories Johnna thought dead. “I’m a minister, Johnna, not a saint. And we were talking about you and your father,” he said softly.
Johnna picked up her fork and stared at her salad. “No,” she countered, “you were talking about my father.” She set her fork down, her appetite buried beneath the weight of thoughts of her father.
“Nothing changed, Jerrod. From the time of my birth until his death, Father blamed me for killing my mother in childbirth and for not being born a son. He wanted a John, not a Johnna. I never could do anything right in his eyes.”
She didn’t want to think about Adam Delaney. It was bad enough that he still controlled her from the grave, setting up ridiculous terms in his will that forced her to spend far too much time working on the dude ranch.
“I’m sorry, Johnna.” He reached across the table and touched the back of her hand. His touch shot fire through her, and she jerked her hand away from his.
“Soon after you left Inferno, I did, too.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You did? Where did you go?”
“I went to Phoenix, enrolled in college and lived in a tiny apartment off campus. I was there almost six years, but I came home regularly on breaks and holidays.” She picked up her fork and speared a piece of lettuce, trying not the remember those first few months away from home, when she’d realized she was pregnant. “What about you? Where did you go when you left here?”
“Dallas. Uncle Cyrus gave me the name of one of his eccentric friends, and he was eccentric enough to believe I was worth investing money and tutelage.” A smile curved his lips. “He was a preacher and took me under his wing and taught me about things I’d never known before.”
“You mentioned that you were staying with your father. How’s that going?” Johnna picked at her salad, not having regained much of an appetite.
Jerrod sighed. “Okay. Dad is still a mess, but I’ve finally come to the realization that I’m not responsible for saving him from himself. I’m looking for a house for us. I’d like to get him out of the trailer.”
They fell silent as they each focused on their meals. As Johnna ate, she found her gaze drawn again and again to Jerrod.
As a young man, Jerrod had been handsome, but now, at twenty-nine, he had a quiet self-confidence, a strong maturity that had been absent years ago. And these traits transformed him from handsome to devastating. His finely honed features were more interesting now, with maturity and character reflecting within. His thick, dark hair invited feminine fingers to dance in the strands, and his sensual mouth looked as if it had been shaped just for kissing.
Even if he and Erin didn’t work out, Jerrod would have no problem finding women interested in him. The waitress was a perfect example of how Jerrod’s attractiveness drew female interest. If it was his choice, he’d spend few nights alone in Inferno.
Suddenly Johnna needed to be away from here, away from Jerrod. The enormity of taking on a murder case, coupled with the past that she seemed to be having trouble keeping firmly in the past, made her need action.
She didn’t want to be sitting here, studying the gorgeous features of the man she’d once loved with all her heart, a man who had absolutely no place in the safe, careful life she’d built for herself.
“I need to go,” she said briskly, and shoved her barely eaten salad aside.
“But you’ve hardly touched your food,” he protested.
“I’m not hungry. I suddenly realize I’ve got a lot to do. I’ve got to talk to Chet, gather reports and plan a defense strategy.”
“You’re going to need help.”
She nodded, having already thought of that. “I’ve got a friend in Phoenix, a lawyer friend who I’m hoping will come out here to help.”
He touched her again, his warm hand reaching out to cover hers. This time she fought the impulse to pull away. “I’m not a lawyer, but I want to help in any way I can.”
He removed his hand from hers and Johnna stood. “I’m sure Erin appreciates your support.” She opened her purse to get money for her meal.
“It’s on me,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, and closed her purse. She murmured a quick goodbye, then left the diner, hoping the heat of the midday sun would burn away the feel of his hand on hers.
Fifteen minutes later she was ushered into Chet Maxwell’s office, where the chubby prosecutor greeted her with a big grin. “I hear we’re going head-to-head on the Kramer murder case.”
Johnna raised an eyebrow in surprise. “News travels fast.”
He laughed and gestured her into the chair in front of his desk. “This is Inferno. The minute you walked into the jail this morning, half-a-dozen people began talking.”
“I don’t know why we bother publishing a newspaper every morning,” Johnna said wryly.
“So.” Chet sat behind his desk and reared back in the oversize chair. “I assume that’s why you’re here—the Kramer case.”
For the next hour Johnna argued, cursed and conceded points of law with Chet. She came away from the meeting knowing that Erin would be charged with first-degree murder and that Chet intended to ask the judge for no bail.
He promised to have his secretary personally deliver copies of all pertinent paperwork to her office in the next couple of hours.
Johnna left his office and walked the three blocks to her own law office. She unlocked the door and entered the small office that comprised two rooms—the reception/lobby area and her private office. Her receptionist worked on a part-time basis and didn’t work on Saturdays.
Johnna headed to the private office and sat down behind her desk, her thoughts tumbling turbulently in her head. Her father had never seen her office. He’d never shown any interest in the fact that she’d passed the bar, leased an office or begun a practice. But then, he’d never shown any interest in her other than to tell her how utterly worthless she was.
In retrospect, Johnna realized her relationship with Jerrod had begun as a rebellion and it had been the first time she’d achieved her goal, resulting in her finally gaining her father’s attention. They’d had the biggest row of their lives over her seeing Jerrod.
But it hadn’t taken long for rebellion to become something deeper, more profound, and the love she’d felt for Jerrod had been the first good thing in her life.
And then he’d destroyed it.
Funny, most of her anger had never been directed at Erin. Erin hadn’t broken promises, destroyed faith or betrayed trust by sleeping with Jerrod. No, Jerrod had done all those things by sleeping with Erin.
Pain ripped through her as she remembered the night of his confession. She’d waited for him as usual at the end of the lane leading to her family ranch, her heart singing with the knowledge that soon she’d be in his arms. But when he’d arrived, he hadn’t taken her in his arms; instead, he’d told her that the night before he’d had sex with Erin. And that was the night Johnna’s world crashed down around her.
She’d been so sure he’d deny it, that he’d tell her he’d never so much as kissed Erin McCall. But he hadn’t denied it, and the memory of that moment of truth still had the power to make her ache inside.
Shoving aside those thoughts, she picked up the telephone and dialed the long-distance number that would connect her to Harriet Smith. She didn’t want to think any more about Jerrod McCain. She had to focus on Erin’s case.
She was grateful to hear the raspy deep voice that picked up on the second ring. “Harry, it’s me.”
“Johnna! What a pleasure to hear your voice.”
“And yours,” Johnna replied, warmth flooding through her as she thought of the older lawyer who had played an integral role in Johnna’s pursuit of a law degree. Without Harriet’s support and friendship during the grueling years of law school, Johnna might have given up.
“What’s up?” Harriet asked.
“I need your help. How would you like to second-chair a murder trial?”
“Tell me where and when and I’m there.”
Johnna smiled. “Here and yesterday.” For the next few minutes the two women finalized things, then hung up.
It would be good to see Harriet again, although she’d refused to consider being a houseguest of Johnna’s and instead, had asked Johnna to get her a room at the local bed-and-breakfast.
Ninety minutes later Chet Maxwell’s secretary knocked on the door of the office and handed Johnna a manila envelope. Johnna thanked her, then went back to her desk and began reading and making notes.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been working until she stopped to stretch and realized the room was growing dark with the approach of night.
Checking her watch, she was shocked to see it was almost nine. She’d worked through dinner and the lonely evening hours. Now night shadows deepened to possess the tiny town and Johnna was exhausted.
Her exhaustion was physical. Her shoulders ached and her back was sore from sitting for so many hours. But her mind whirled with all the information the reports had contained.
Sheriff Broder and a couple of his deputies had responded to a disturbance call and had arrived at the Kramer home at eleven-thirteen Thursday night. Erin answered the door, dazed and obviously beaten and led them into the living room where Richard Kramer lay sprawled on the floor, dead from several blows to the back of the head. Nothing had been found at the scene that appeared to be the object used to hit the victim.
The report had described Erin as “nearly incoherent” and “hysterical.” The statement she had given the sheriff later that night was the same as what she’d told Johnna.
Johnna packed the files and reports into her briefcase, then shut off the office light and locked the place up tight for the night.
Although she only lived a few blocks from her office, she’d driven her car that morning because she’d intended to drive out to the ranch and put in a couple of hours work there. But now it was too late to go to the ranch.
Main Street had shut down for the night and the street was deserted. Inferno wasn’t the place to live if you liked nightlife. There was only one bar, at the edge of town, that remained open after 8:30 p.m. The rest of the town folded up at that time.
She approached her car and frowned as she saw that something appeared to be smeared across the dark blue paint of the hood. As she walked closer she realized it was white spray paint.
“Terrific,” she muttered. Apparently some of the bored youth of Inferno had run amuck. Then she spied the note tucked beneath her windshield wiper.
She plucked out the note and opened it.
DROP THE KRAMER CASE OR DIE.
The words were handwritten in block letters, and Johnna stared at them for a long moment as a shiver of apprehension crawled up her spine. She tucked the note into her purse, then drove her damaged car down the street to the police station. As she drove, she contemplated exactly what the note meant.
Perhaps somebody thought Erin was guilty as hell and resented the fact that anyone intended to defend her. This possibility determined that whoever had painted her car and written the note was probably a moron who didn’t understand the way the judicial system worked and didn’t realize that somebody would defend Erin no matter what.
Or her initial reaction might have been right—kids out for a night of mischief who’d heard she was Erin’s lawyer. In either case, whoever was responsible apparently didn’t know Johnna very well. They certainly didn’t realize that when she was pushed, she didn’t quit. She pushed back.
It had become habit for Jerrod, after tucking his father into bed, to pour himself a glass of iced tea and sit out on the porch and relax as the night shadows cooled the day’s heat.
After he’d left the diner earlier in the day, he’d met with Shirley Swabb, a real-estate agent, and she’d taken him to see several houses that were for sale in town.
The trailer park was dying, was for all intents and purposes dead. There had once been no less than twenty trailers in the area, but now there were only twelve, and three of those were abandoned and now were just ugly tin skeletons awaiting an official burial.
However, it wasn’t the demise of the trailer park that encouraged Jerrod to look for a new home for his father and himself, rather it was the need to remove his father from the haunting memories of his wife.
Jerrod’s mother had lived in the trailer for eight years before she’d left to buy the proverbial “pack of smokes” and never returned. That had been nearly twenty-three years ago, and still, at least for Jerrod’s father, her spirit lived in every room.
Jerrod sipped his tea and tried to remember the woman who’d given birth to him. He had very few memories of her, and his strongest were of a woman who’d been miserably unhappy.
He thought of his father. How horrendous it must be to be tormented by thoughts of a lost love for twenty-three long years. And yet, hadn’t Jerrod himself been tormented by thoughts of Johnna for the past nine years?
He rejected this momentary illumination. Ridiculous, he scoffed. He’d gotten over Johnna Delaney long ago. The fact that he’d had no real relationship with a woman since her had nothing to do with anything other than he’d chosen a lifestyle and embraced a set of moral standards for himself that didn’t allow for passionate, uncommitted relationships.
Still, when he’d felt her hand, small and soft beneath his at lunch earlier in the day, he’d wondered if the magic that had once sparkled between them might still exist, or if it had been forever extinguished beneath the weight of betrayal and the poison of cutting words.
A car approached, its beams slicing through the darkness and momentarily blinding him. It parked in front of the trailer, and he stood, surprised to see the woman who had been on his mind.
He set his glass down and left the porch to greet her. “Johnna,” he said, wondering what on earth had brought her here.
“Thought you might like to see the new paint job somebody did on my car.” She gestured to the hood.
Jerrod moved around to the front of the car to get a better look. “When did this happen?”
“I’m not sure. Sometime this evening while I was in my office and the car was parked out on the street.”
“Did you report it?” he asked, trying not to notice how the moonlight brought out the rich luster of her hair and gave her features a soft, silvery glow.
She leaned against the side of the car. “Yeah, but I’m sure nothing will come of it.” She dug in her back pocket and handed him a folded piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“A note that was stuck under my windshield.”
He tried to make out the words in the darkness, but couldn’t. “Come on up to the porch,” he said.
Together they walked to the tiny porch and he read the note, then looked at her sharply. “You showed this to Sheriff Broder?”
