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Again.
Knowing she’d caused another man’s death brought guilt crashing down on her from all sides. If only she hadn’t insisted on spending the night on the mountain. If only she hadn’t come to Colorado, in the first place. If only she’d recognized the disaster brewing at Marycrest Prep.
If only Hugh Miller hadn’t died.
Before the depressing thoughts could overwhelm her, she forced herself to deal with the next unpleasant task. “I wonder if it would be possible to use your phone?”
“Of course,” Mo said. “But are you sure you’re up to it? You’re still awfully pale.”
Lexie saw Mo’s gaze taking in her disheveled appearance and she ran a hand through her tangled, shoulder-length hair. “I must look a mess.”
Mo’s smile was genuine. “Honey, on our best day there aren’t many of us who look as good as you do now.”
Lexie dismissed the compliment with a quick, “Thanks. And now, if you could just direct me to the phone…” She started to rise again and was surprised and distressed to find her knees still rubbery.
As if sensing her distress, Mo moved back to the couch and sat down beside her. “Listen, honey. Why don’t I make that call for you. Is it your family? Your mom and dad?”
The older woman’s kindness touched Lexie. From the moment of her arrival everyone at Destiny Canyon Ranch had treated her like…well, like royalty. And no one had been more thoughtful and welcoming than Mo Garrett, herself.
“It’s just my father,” Lexie explained. “My mother died when I was very young.” That bit of personal information slipped out unexpectedly, leaving Lexie to wonder why she’d revealed even that much about herself to someone who was, for all intents, still a virtual stranger.
“Anyway,” she went on quickly, “I think it would be better if I talked to my father myself.” And that, Lexie thought ruefully, was the understatement of the year.
“There’s a phone in the hallway, and one on the wall in the kitchen. My niece, Jolie, has been after me to buy one of those cordless things, but I just haven’t seen the need—until now, that is. Guess we must seem pretty old-fashioned to you. I suppose everyone in Atlanta has a cordless phone.”
With an inward groan, Lexie recalled making up the address in Atlanta when she’d called to make her reservations. The lie had been fabricated on impulse. At the time, she’d just wanted to cover her tracks. Obviously, she hadn’t covered them well enough.
Looking back, she realized the lie hadn’t really been necessary. Even if Boston’s social news story of the year had somehow made it this far west, she doubted Mo Garrett would have been interested enough to read it.
The lie about coming from Atlanta now seemed silly, especially when in only a matter of hours all her lies would be revealed. Besides, the truth about her fictitious Atlanta address would be a minor aside when compared to the truth about her identity, and the awful truth behind why Hugh Miller had been murdered.
Suddenly, Lexie felt utterly heartsick and desperately alone. In an uncharacteristic and unexpected surge of unchecked emotion, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek.
“Are you sure I can’t make that call for you?” Mo asked again.
Lexie shook her head and swiped at the pools of moisture gathering in her eyes. “Thanks, but no. I think it would be better if he heard about what has happened from me.” With her emotions so close to the surface, she wondered if she had the strength to deal with the inevitable confrontation that would follow. Wouldn’t it be better to wait until she felt stronger, more in control?
Besides, how could she give her father an accurate report of her physical condition before a real doctor had examined her? Upon further assessment of the situation, it seemed to Lexie not only preferable, but prudent to delay the conversation.
“You know, maybe you’re right. Maybe I should wait to call my father until after the doctor checks me out.”
Mo’s smile was understanding. “Any father would want to know if something like this had happened to his daughter. But I have a feeling that whenever you call, he’ll just be so relieved to know you’re safe it won’t matter that you’ve waited to contact him.”
“You don’t know my father,” Lexie muttered almost to herself.
“No. But I’m sure your well-being is all he cares about.”
There was no way Lexie could respond to Mo’s observation. It would be nice to think that every father had only his children’s best interests at heart, but in her own case, Lexie knew better. In fact, she’d never had any illusions about her place on her father’s list of priorities.
Of course he cared about her personal safety, but the precious family name, an unblemished public image and positive public perception mattered more. Far more. And that was precisely why the call to him could wait, she told herself resolutely.
With a sigh, Lexie leaned back against the butter-soft leather cushions and closed her eyes. She figured she must have dozed off, because she felt disoriented when she heard footsteps and Mo talking in a low voice to whomever had entered the room.
“Of course, I’m all right,” Mo was saying. “It was all over by the time I got there.”
Lexie opened her eyes.
“Lexie, honey,” Mo said in a gentle voice she might have used to awaken a sleeping child. “This is my brother, Lucas.”
The tall, broad-shouldered cowboy standing beside Mo nodded in her direction. “Miss Dale.”
The whiteness of his western-cut shirt was a dramatic contrast to hair so dark the sun streaming through the window behind him picked up blue highlights. His long legs were encased in dark blue denim. His boots were black, like the Stetson he held in one large, tanned hand.
“Lucas is the sheriff of Bluff County,” Mo said.
Lexie realized she was staring hard and inappropriately long, but for the life of her she felt powerless to look away. She’d been in the company of some of the most attractive and eligible bachelors in the world, but if she’d ever set eyes on a more arrestingly handsome man, she couldn’t remember when.
And it wasn’t merely his impressive physique or the aura of strength that seemed to surround him that captured Lexie’s attention. Nor was it the rich darkness of his hair or the strong outline of his chiseled profile that held her full attention and made her forget for that moment why he was here.
It was his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes, the color of a priceless gemstone, with the same stunning clarity and fascinating depth. The kind of eyes that could look right through a woman or touch the deepest corner of her heart.
“I read the statement you gave my deputy, Miss Dale, and I’d like to clarify a few details, if you don’t mind.” His voice was deep, rough-edged and strangely appealing. It was the kind of voice that left no question who was in charge.
“All right,” she said uncertainly. She tried to tell herself her slightly breathless state was a remnant of the ordeal she’d endured this afternoon on the mountain. But deep down, she sensed it had more to do with her unexpected reaction to Mo Garrett’s blue-eyed brother.
Chapter Two
“I’ll try to keep this brief, Miss Dale. I know you’ve been through a lot already, today.”
Sheriff Garrett seemed not only thoughtful, but competent and articulate, qualities Lexie hadn’t expected to find in a small-town sheriff.
“Ready?” he asked.
She took a deep breath as he settled his tall, athletic frame into the winged chair opposite hers and she reminded herself that all she had to do was repeat what she’d told Deputy Ferguson. If she kept her answers short and to the point, perhaps she could get through this interview with her anonymity intact. Now was not the time to allow a case of simple chemistry to muddle her thinking.
With a bit a luck and just the right verbal maneuvering, she could keep the handsome lawman from delving too deeply into Hugh Miller’s murder, at least until the proper authorities arrived to take control of the situation.
“Just start at the beginning, Miss Dale,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened, all that you remember.”
“As I told your deputy, everything happened so quickly. One minute I was riding along, enjoying the afternoon and the next thing I knew Hugh had been shot. I was attacked by a man wearing a black ski mask.” She added, “I’m sorry. There isn’t much more to tell.”
His smile was understanding. “It isn’t unusual for the victim of a violent crime to want to forget the incident. But later, sometimes hours or even days afterward, important details come to mind. I know it’s the last thing you want to do, Miss Dale, but I need you to try to remember those details now.”
For some reason, she didn’t want him calling her by the name she’d assumed for her trip to Colorado. Her lie felt somehow more indicting coming from his lips. “It’s just Lexie,” she said.
He smiled again. “All right, Lexie it is. And please, feel free to call me Lucas.”
But at the moment, she couldn’t have said his name if she’d tried. Her mouth had gone too dry to speak. There was just something about the man, a compelling mix of gentleness and strength that affected her in ways she couldn’t begin to explain.
“Perhaps you remember more than you realize. Was there anything unusual about his clothing? Did he wear a wristwatch? Maybe you noticed a tattoo?”
“I think he was dressed all in black. There wasn’t anything odd, except for the ski mask.”
“Did you hear the gunfire?”
“There was only one shot,” she said.
“It must have echoed in the canyon.”
“No,” she said. “There was only a popping noise. He must have used a silencer.”
When he made a note, Lexie wondered if she was saying too much. Of course, she wanted the killer to be apprehended, but to encourage this investigation was futile.
“Maybe there was something unusual in the way he talked,” Lucas suggested. “You told Deputy Ferguson he spoke to you.”
Lexie shook her head. She didn’t want to think about the attack, the physical violation. She didn’t want to remember the hissing sound of her attacker’s voice in her ear.
“Do you have any idea why someone would want to harm you, Lexie?”
The sudden change in the direction of his questioning caught her off guard. Darn it! Why hadn’t she called her father when she’d had the chance? If she’d discussed the situation with him or one of his advisors she would have been better prepared to answer loaded questions.
When she realized he was still waiting for her reply, she pushed a hand through her hair self-consciously and swallowed the panicky feeling she knew would be her undoing. Giving her statement to Deputy Ferguson was one thing. Holding up under Lucas Garrett’s blue-eyed scrutiny was proving to be quite another.
“You know, on second thought, I’m not really sure I’m up to this, yet.” Her gaze shifted to Mo as she entered the room carrying a coffeepot and mugs on a tray.
“I promise, this won’t take long,” Lucas said before his sister could come to Lexie’s rescue for the second time today.
“But I didn’t see anything,” Lexie reiterated. “I told your deputy and now I’m telling you.”
“But you were there.”
She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, recalling the sight of a stricken Hugh Miller falling from the saddle, remembering the feel of the attacker’s rough touch on her skin.
“I know it’s difficult. But it’s important. We need your help to catch this guy.”
Despite her resolve to stall and postpone, Lexie felt drawn to Lucas’s sympathetic coaxing. And once she started talking, it only took a few minutes to recount the events of the attack.
As she spoke, she relived the attack that had come out of nowhere, the arms grabbing her from behind, the smell of the chemical-soaked rag and her subsequent descent into oblivion. “I barely remember your sister helping me into the Jeep,” she finished.
“She was out cold when Tucker and I found her,” Mo put in. “And other than poor Mr. Miller, there wasn’t a sign of anyone else around.”
Lucas’s expression turned grim and Lexie guessed he was imagining how close his sister had come to becoming a third victim. “There must have been something,” he said. “The killer didn’t hike down that trail. He must have had a vehicle or a horse.”
“Or maybe he planned to use our horses to make his escape,” Lexie said. As soon as she spoke, she realized that she was taking a more active part in this investigation than she’d intended.
“But he left those horses behind.” Lucas considered for a moment. “Seems to me, Lexie, there was a reason for drugging you and tying your wrists. Can you think of why he might have done that?”
Abduction. Kidnapping. But that was a line of questioning she knew better than to pursue. “I wouldn’t even try to second-guess a motive.”
Something else occurred to her. “Your men have been on the trail investigating this afternoon. Surely you’ve found clues indicating whether the killer was on horseback or in a car.”
His eyebrows raised, acknowledging her intelligent assumption. “We found tire tracks.”
Her correct deduction pleased her, and she permitted herself another question. “Where?”
“Just around the bend in the trail. About a hundred yards from where we found Hugh Miller’s body.”
“I didn’t see a vehicle,” she said. “And I didn’t hear an engine starting up.”
“Let’s go back to last night, Lexie,” he said. “You spent the night on the mountain. On your way up the trail, did you see anyone else? Another rider? Hikers? Someone in a vehicle, maybe?”
Lexie shook her head. “No. No one.”
“What about this morning? Did you see anyone on your way down the trail?”
“No.”
“When did you realize Hugh Miller had been shot?”
Lexie hesitated. “I— I’m not sure.”
“Was it when you heard gunfire?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s talk about that muffled pop,” he said, consulting his notes. “How did you know it was a silenced gunshot?”
“I’m familiar with firearms,” she said defensively. This interrogation was veering onto potentially dangerous ground. “My older brother owns an extensive weapons collection.”
She was impressed that Lucas had picked up on that bit of information. Unfortunately, this interview was largely meaningless. Very soon the entire investigation would be removed from the local sheriff’s auspices and taken over by a higher authority. The FBI, probably. Or maybe the Federal Marshal’s office. She didn’t know exactly how these things were handled. But she did know her father, knew he’d demand a full-scale investigation by the country’s top law enforcement officials be launched.
She also knew he’d insist the local authorities, which in this case meant Sheriff Lucas Garrett, be removed from the case before the ink had a chance to dry on her statement.
Lexie poured herself a cup of coffee and lifted the mug to her lips. Too bad Lucas Garrett wouldn’t have the chance to finish this investigation. He seemed intelligent, thorough and highly motivated to solve the crime.
He added sugar to his own coffee before asking, “How many gunshots were there?”
“I told you before. Only one.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Lexie nodded.
“But you didn’t see a gun or the shooter?”
“I told you, I didn’t see anything.”
“Were you and Hugh Miller riding side by side?” he asked.
